Date: Mon, 2 Oct 2006 10:50:42 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Friedman Subject: A Native Story This story involves references to homosexual sex involving minors. If, for any reason, anyone would have any problems with you reading this, then it's best for you to leave now, or at least first take steps to keep from getting caught (and if you're one of those prudes who objects to gay sex in any form, then one wonders why you're here at this site in the first place). This story is completely fictional, and, as with any such work of fiction, any resemblance to any place, event, or person (living or dead) is purely coincidental. Copyright is to me, and the story may not be reproduced anywhere without my prior permission. Comments can be sent to me at forcewielder2000@yahoo.com (flames will just be ignored!). ~Mark ********* 12-year-old Billy sat with his parents quietly having breakfast. A couple of months ago he'd told them he was pretty sure he was gay. He'd always felt that he could talk to them about anything, and that was certainly something he felt that he could share with them, even though most people wouldn't like him too much for it. Billy began to suspect he was gay after he began imagining living in North America centuries before, when Native American Indians still roamed freely, some of the men and boys wearing little more than loincloths (if that much; he'd learned that in some tribes in warmer climates, males seldom wore anything at all!), and he'd began having urges towards the boys depicted in the drawings and photos of the books he'd read about Native American Indians after hitting puberty. At the news, his mother had smiled and nodded, though she was sure it was just a phase Billy was going through as he became accustomed to the new feelings that puberty brought. 'Pervert,' Billy's father thought, though he didn't say it out loud. He still loved his son, and always would, but he just thought it was wrong for a guy to have sexual feelings for another guy. He didn't know if it was cause by environment, heredity, upbringing, or some combination of those (or something else altogether), and didn't really care. While Billy knew his parents would always unconditionally love him, he could tell they were a little disappointed by the news. They had humorously stated more than once over the years that they expected lots of grandbabies from their kids, and while several of Billy's brothers and sisters were already married with children, and the rest likely getting there in the next few years (Billy being the youngest, with almost 7 years between him and the next youngest, a brother who was very popular with the girls in high school), he knew that his parents kind of expected grandchildren from *all* their children. After breakfast, Billy went out for a walk in the woods near their home. He sometimes imagined that Indians lived there at one time, and hunted and fished in the large nearby lake (though his mother had told him that to the best of her knowledge, no Indian tribes had ever lived in the area, even before the United States government had forced many tribes to move to reservations, and none had moved into the area in the present day, but that still didn't prevent him from imagining). Oh, how he longed to be able to know Indians, and maybe have sex with an Indian boy! He kicked a few rocks as he walked along. Soon he looked up to find that his course had taken him to the lake. He decided to go out rowing in the small rowboat that he kept tied up on the shore. He was so eager that he forgot to pay a lot of attention to the weather; while it was summertime, big storms sometimes blew in unexpectedly. He untied the boat, pushed off, and hopped in. After rowing a while, he noticed the cooler-than-usual breeze and looked up at the sky to discover dark clouds looming overhead. He looked towards shore only to see that he was quite a ways out. He didn't think that he could make it back in time, so he started heading towards a small nearby island. But he wasn't fast enough, and quickly found himself in a big rainstorm. Gusts of wind and large waves rocked the boat violently, and Billy was forced to bring the oars in and hold on to the sides for dear life. Just when he was beginning to wonder if this was the end, he noticed something approaching. The form solidified into an Indian boy, not much older than Billy, paddling towards him in a canoe. Without a word (not that Billy felt he would have been able to hear the other boy anyway in the storm anyway), the boy tossed him a line. Billy grabbed it, and the other boy began paddling again. Soon they arrived at the island (or at least Billy *thought* it was the island; it was kind of hard to tell in the storm). Securing both boats, the Indian boy signaled for Billy to follow. The two quickly arrived at a small cave (which Billy recognized as being on the island in question). After the two boys moved to the back of the cave (where Billy found a small fire burning; in the light, he noticed that the other boy was dressed in only a loincloth and moccasins), the Indian boy indicated that Billy should remove his wet clothing. Despite his desire to have sex with an Indian boy very much like the one standing before him (sex, of course, involved removing one's clothing first), Billy suddenly found himself feeling rather modest. It was one thing to want to do something like sex, something else entirely to actually do it (or at least the first part of it). But the Indian boy stood there, looking at Billy expectantly with an expression of "Well?" on his face. Billy, feeling his face go warm, slowly pulled off his shirt, then his shoes and socks, and finally his pants. He thought he could get by in his underwear, but the other boy indicated that had to go as well, so Billy pulled off his briefs as well. Then the Indian boy helped Billy spread his clothes out on a rock next to the fire to dry. After that, much to Billy's utter amazement, the Indian boy kicked off his moccasins and dropped his loincloth, setting them next to Billy's clothes. If Billy was a cartoon character, his eyes would have literally popped out of his head at the site of a naked Indian boy standing there (and even as it was, Billy felt that his eyes were ready to do just that!). The Indian boy sat down on a blanket spread out by the fire, and indicated that Billy should sit down next to him. Billy did so, hoping that he wouldn't embarrass himself by getting an erection. His parents might be accepting of the fact that he was gay, but this other boy might not be so understanding. The two sat there for a time, not saying anything, listening to the storm outside and the crackling and popping of the fire inside. Then the Indian boy cleared his throat, and Billy looked over at him. The Indian boy pointed down at his lap, and without thinking Billy looked down to see what he was gesturing at. Billy found himself looking at the Indian boy's dick, erect. It and the balls right underneath it, and the pubic hairs that surrounded them, were the most beautiful things Billy had ever seen. He looked up at the Indian boy's face with wide eyes. The other boy looked back, smiling. It wasn't an evil smile, but one that was very kind, almost as if he was saying, "Would you like to...?" Billy's fragile self-control collapsed at that point, and his own dick quickly rose upward. The Indian boy glanced downward at Billy's lap, and looked back up. Then he leaned forward and gently kissed Billy. The two boys, still kissing, slowly sunk down. The Indian boy was clearly no stranger to this, so much that when Billy found the other boy's dick being pushed into his butthole, he didn't even cry out in pain. Some blissful time later, Billy, laying on the blanked drowsily, felt the Indian boy rise, and press something into his hand. *** "...and the Indian boy and I had sex for hours!" Billy, dressed in a warm, dry bathrobe, concluded at the dinner table in his home, where he'd been telling his parents what had happened between the time he'd left the previous day and the time that a search party had found him asleep, naked and wrapped in an old blanket, in the cave that morning, his dry but very wrinkled clothes on a rock next to the smoldering remains of a fire. At his fervent request, they'd searched for the Indian boy, but had found no indication that anyone else had been on the island recently (and, since it was a small town, no one had noticed any Native Americans in the area lately). "That's nice, dear," Billy's mother said, not really believing him. 'Pervert,' his father thought once again, not believing him either. The boy'd simply found an old blanket, firewood, and matches left behind by some previous excursion to the island, and simply had a very vivid wet dream, that was all. His father'd had several wet dreams himself at that age; why should his offspring be any different? Billy sighed inside; he could tell his parents didn't believe him. But that was all right, he decided as he got up and headed into his room. Just because someone didn't believe him, it didn't mean it didn't happen. All right, so maybe the sex with the Indian boy didn't last for literally hours, but it sure seemed like it had! Billy sat down at his desk, wincing slightly at the pain in his butthole. He opened a desk drawer, and pulled out the ornately carved rock the Indian boy had left in his hand, and smiled.