Date: Wed, 6 Aug 2003 20:12:14 -0600
From: Tom Emerson <thomas@btl.net>
Subject: THAT VALLEY - FILE I
THAT VALLEY
Bisexual pedophilia and incest.
FILE I
"Aaron, listen. You have to. I know you're a kid, I'm a kid, too,
and I know you're out there and I know you can sneak away and I'll be
talking to the fog. You know what could happen to me and the other three
if it wasn't foggy? What would I tell the sergeant, that I was out to get
you? He'd laugh me straight into a camp. We end up there, too, you know,
and not just one or two and now and then. So at least listen. There is a
way and I want you to at least think about it and talk about it with your
sister and the others. It's nothing easy, in fact you may decide my
superiors are the better choice, but at least I want you and them to make
the choice.
"Okay, you're musicians, but don't think you my friends and I are
going to be able to get you through the mountains based on those talents.
They'll help, yes, but if the ten of you are going to make it, you're going
to have to travel a road you never dreamed of, and forget avalanches,
bears, and marauding patrols. This may be worse, but, on the other hand,
it's as sure as anything's going to be in Germany for the next twenty
years, so at least listen. Throw a stone so I don't get a case of
laryngitis for nothing."
Half a minute went by and there was a thud from the interior of the
cemetery. Heinz tried not to smile, the very act in his milieu now taken
as the rictus of wolf lips.
"Thanks. I'm not moving and I'm not with anybody, and I'm not
asking any questions about where your sister and the other students are.
The fog's getting thicker so I can talk louder, but you might move a little
toward my voice so you can hear everything.
"I don't know quite where to start, because, while I know a little
about this road, being, you know, at the coltish stage of development, but
only the first few kilometers, and that, with luck, is just enough to help.
I'm no expert, here's probably no such thing, but I do know the first mile
-- that-s almost two kilometers -- leads south and leads east.
"Like any group that yells and hollers a lot, the Nazi Party is full
of brazen hypocrites who pass out pink armbands and sleep with pink boys.
Not all of them, some are dangerous through and through, with a soft spot
only for entrails, but enough to form a network, and they're all high
enough to have telephones, and of sufficient comradeship in certain
alternative areas to share what we can call, for now, and for lack of a
better phrase, good fortune.
"What's happening in our country now is often seen as a mechanical
necessity. A huge number hate it, but the English won't let refugee ships
through the Suez Canal and, according to lore, there simply is no place
else. It's a shame, more ghastly than is comprehensible, but paroxysms of
history abide little sanity, so there's really not much use in saying it's
other than it is, because it is extremely dangerous, and you, Nammi and the
others have to move. You have this one night to talk it over and make your
decision.
"If you're at the barn on Mr. Werner's farm at sunrise, Josep, Reyn,
Max, and I will spend a day there with you, then lead you to the next house
in the direction of the border. And remember what I said about this road.
You will earn your passage into Switzerland with a series of acts with
young adult German males, possibly with a few young females mixed into the
bargain. Oddly enough, there will be no physical pain, the club, if you
want to call it that, feels there's enough of that at the academic and
dueling-club levels. In fact, just the opposite. You will, for the most
part, be well fed and comfortably housed, provided with papers, clothes,
and a thousand dollars each in U.S. funds to tide you over when you get to
Geneva.
"The other side of the coin is psychological. Yes, you will be used
gently, even affectionately, and yes the club members are the pick of the
pick of young male beauty, many just a few years older than I am. But, you
will be used repeatedly with as many as four or five men for each of you
each day and night. You will have to lie next to Nammi many nights, young
men with both of you, and you -- I hope you're sitting down -- will
have to be the first to be a man with her, and not in private.
"So you've got a lot to think about, the ten of you. Nammi, at ten
is the youngest of you, but none of you are over fourteen. There are two
other brother/sister pairs, not counting Dix and Shelly, because she's
older than he is, and there are certain sensibilities, in fact, more
niceties and decorum than you might imagine. Try to remember, we are not a
monster class; we are a highly disciplined and accomplished nation that
came through the Industrial Revolution without poverty, and we are vastly
threatened by Russia. It's not just party rhetoric that we are defending
our fatherland, that we face ruination and enslavement by the eastern
hoards, be they peasants or philosophers, and of a dozen major backgrounds.
Try to see it just a little, once in awhile, from our point of view; that
half the trauma that's occurring is based on the fact that our farting and
remarkably unappealing leader -- I think the whole thing boils down to
the fact that he, Hess, Himmler and the others are such an ugly and
disagreeable pack of mutts there's no other place for them in Germany --
is hated by Churchill because, though gassed and maimed in the last war, he
only rose to the rank of corporal. In the end, he had about as many
stripes as teeth. If out chief ass kicker was a drawing room type of
fellow, policies and agenda, identical, we'd be fighting Stalin along side
England. As I said, little sanity however diligently one might look
"All this is to say you have a lot to live for. I know you're armed
and could plan something along that line. If you were among the throngs,
yes, you would not have much hope, but a small group of you, fluent in
English, delivered to an outraged world, will not only survive but they'll
probably make a two hour movie of you, not the true story, but perhaps they
can use music to cover over the seamier sides.
"Aaron, it's early yet, I don't have to return to camp for two
hours. What I'm going to do is talk about Josep, Reyn, Max and myself.
I'm not going to take any shortcuts and leave anything pertinent out of the
stories. I'm telling them to give you perspective, in hopes of not hearing
a series of muffled shots during the night. To let you know that, in the
first place, what happens happens to million of young girls and boys all
over the world, though it's sanctioned and sanctified nowhere on earth, in
other words, to let you know that it's survivable, and, in the second
place, that what happens in the next week will not make the slightest
difference, any more than if we fed you beef or pork, well, hold the pork,
sorry, beef, chicken, or fish on your journey. You won't walk sideways
down the street, you won't lurk under bridges, you won't be stoned and
branded. And, not to get ahead, you will learn simple, detached, physical
things that one day in the future will guarantee your keeping any romantic
partner you want. In other words, the skills of the trade without the
stigma of the trade.
"Aaron, many German boys learn while they summer in the mountains
and run from their various camps and retreats to spend time amongst the
shepherds. Traditionally, older boys are mum on what happens, only
allowing that something does; serious, not frivolous, and fondly
remembered, if not shared. We are simply told that no boy has ever been
hurt in the least, and that we can trust, implicitly, and then the
whispering is over until we're mature enough to continue it, if we wish.
"Let me say here at the beginning, or as close as I can get, anyway,
that I'm talking about a particular valley knows as That Valley. What
happens in the rest of the country when city boys go out in the summer, I
don't know. Probably either more or less than one might think. That
Valley is, as far as I can tell, whispered about at parties, and, my guess
would be, in church. We're chosen for it, something you guys and dolls
should appreciate, through a subtle nod and maybe even secret handshakes
-- I'm too young to know the adult side of it. In my case and Josep's,
we think it was two of our uncles who arranged things, based on what
happened in September of 1938. In summary, not only were the boys vetted
and filtered, so were the shepherds, and, if I can editorialize a little as
we -- I hope it's still we -- go along, when it came to picking the
older teens and young men to tend the cattle and sheep in That Valley, the
system worked rather well. And let me say again here, near the beginning,
that however scared I was on that first long climb, I came to love what
happened, oddly enough, for its innocence, naturalness, and plain, outright
physical beauty to eye as well as from the loins. I'm not going into
advertising in the unlikely event I live through this mess, and I'm not
trying to sell you anything now. I'm doing my best, and my three barracks
mates will do theirs, to get you out and get you safe, at a cost that you
may even one day see as not only an investment, but the best one possible
under the circumstances.
"That Valley is one-hundred kilometers south-east of Strasbourg,
France, and sixty from the Swiss border. The threat of the foreign whip
makes men monsters, so it's huge luck that we're here in the south, now,
because playing our little game for five-hundred kilometers would not be
survivable for any of the fourteen of us, however copiously we gave of our
strength and energy.
"I suppose it goes without saying that the rules in That Valley were
all but nonexistent, and, in fact, it's that very counterpoint to the usual
Teutonic way that causes the whispering among the adults, with tiny
leftovers shared with boys of eleven, my age, plus a few months, that's
when I made my visit, but what you might not suspect is that the
regulations so open and inclusive that it was not just myself who was
dry-mouthed and practically quaking in my boots on my first climb to the
hills, but Nell, my nine year old sister. Her mouth was dry, too, she said
so.
"Yes, we were hand in hand, and yes, Nell, well, you know, looks
like the classic pictures of Heidi, straw hair in braids, gamin face you
could take for a boy's if she wore a cap, huge blue eyes, and, yes, she was
wearing a simple linen shift, and in hiking boots. I was in my boot, tunic
and leather shorts. And yes, the story of the climb was not drawn out. We
heard Gustav's herd -- cows -- twenty minutes after leaving the road,
and met him ten minutes later.
"Well, you're a fine pair," the nineteen year old said as the
nervous young couple approached, knapsacks on their backs. The shepherd
(and medical student) yodeled in welcome -- ya-la-ri / ya-la-ra /
ya-la-ri-ri-ri-ra -- and pulled bread that was actually warm from his
rucksack, following it with both butter and cheese, which established the
tall Nordic athlete's credentials as civilized with the new arrivals. Both
Heinz and Nell were nonplussed at seeing their names molded into the crust
of the golden loaf. Gustav laughed at their wide-eyed surprise. "And you
thought there was nothing to tales of sylphs and sprites. How remarkable."
The children grinned nervously. "Not a bit of it, and you know it,"
the London medical student said, "just a whisper here and a note there.
Very little chance involved, and no magic. In fact, we're together
primarily because we all speak English, which may actually be a bit of
magic."
"Well, you seem very nice," Nell von Schlegel said, "and your cows
seem happy."
"So ye be knowing about cows then, lassie," Gustav said in an
accurate brogue.
"Well, I know they have to have company," the girl said, her milky,
early-summer skin flushing. "I mean, the girls at school talk, and the
dragons go ever so far out of their way to keep us from the boys, so there
must be something to it."
"Well, yes and no," Gustav responded. "In fact there's so little to
it, that in itself is one of the reasons children like you are sent to
valleys like this. Yes, for a fact, it can get in your head, the conflicts
between teachings and feelings, but you're the wrong age for that, what
with algebra looming in you futures. You don't have time to worry and fret
over this confusion and that enigma. And that's not to say it's as simple
dismissing it with `let's have it over and done with, and eat,' either.
That's a bull's approach, but you two look smarter than five hundred, each,
of them, so it's not just huff-huff and off the mountain."
"Good," brother and sister said in unison, showing considerable
relief.
"Does that mean we can talk and ask questions?" the somewhat more
precocious girl asked, her brother nodding at her side as they sat on the
grass and gnawed on the hot, moist bread.
"The more the merrier," their guide said, "and, since this is my
first time as a shepherd and you're my first flock, I have a list to ask
you."
"That would be an easier way to start," Heinz allowed, his shadow
nodding her agreement.
"Well," the Nordic beauty mused, "to begin with, it's all downhill
from here back to your camp and your family. No questions are ever asked
of children here, and no tales are ever told beyond those required to have
kept That Valley functioning for eight hundred years through war and peace.
There are no fences, no chains, no doors, and no locks. Even in a storm
you can pass safely down to the road with naught but the sniffles for your
adventure. I hope that might answer some of you questions."
Hansel and Gretel nodded, visibly relaxing and settling back on
their elbows, then moving apart and looking expectantly at their handsome
guide, coaxing him to lie between them.
"The big question is," Gustav said, "and I know the answer already,
or you wouldn't be here, is how the two of you get along in the normal
course of things. How close you are. How much you share and how much you
fight, how much you help, and so on. But I'd like to hear from you own
lips how true this is, your good behavior, that is, and to the extend you
can articulate it, how you feel about each other, and Heinz, it might pay
for you to forget your sister's slim legs sprouting from beneath her pretty
dress, and the pretty dress, too, when you answer."
"I like her even in a house mop and barefoot; any way she's
dressed," the boy said, flushing slightly at the obvious but unintended
double-entendre. Gustav let it slide.
"And you, Nell?"
"I love my big brother," the girl responded. "I think everyone can
tell."
"Fine," their guide said. "Let's review. The camp site is hardly
more than ten minutes away. You're strongly attached to each other in an
affectionate and friendly way, the young female loving her older male
escort."
Both nodded.
"And that I suppose brings us to the more wicked side," their
teacher said, "questions about whether you have ever kissed or touched each
other. No restrictions on that in That Valley. I heard from my
predecessor that he had girls and boys with him over the last three years
that had considerable experience from age seven, on, though most were
virgins. The rule is tell all simply because keeping secrets is a
violation. The logic isn't perfect, but when it comes to rules, there has
to be one to be the exception."
Neither child nodded.
"Yes," Gustav mused, "I don't quite understand it, either."
"Then it must be emblematic of the whole country," Heinz observed.
"After telling you that you have a lucky sister," the young man
said, "I'll agree, but also agree to keep out of it. The issues deserve
much talk with your family and around your table. Here, we are free from
all of it. When the war escalates, it is probable that bombers from all
the involved nations will circle That Valley so their crews can have a look
down through the sights at what's going on. That closes the topic, if it
can be done without making a rule."
Both children nodded in relief, trying not to smirk at their host's
absurd take on European-deployed air power.
"Have you ever spied on each other?" was the next question.
"I guess I wanted to," Heinz said, "but..."
"How would you have felt, Nell," the young man asked, "if you're
brother had been successful?"
"I think it would have happened pretty soon," the girl replied,
"because I kind of wanted the same thing and I kept feeling it stronger and
stronger, and mother and father are very gentle and affectionate with us,
so I felt they wouldn't feed me to a wolf if they knew I was leaving my
door a little open so Heinz could see me if he wanted to, because he must
pass my room to get to his, and the bathroom."
"And how would you have felt, assuming you and your brother were
alone in the house, if, having done what you said, you'd heard his nervous
voice asking if he could come in. Not: "Hey, sis, it's me," but, "Nell, is
it okay if I come in for a little while?'"
"I think I would have had to whisper," the girl mused softly.
"What words do you think you'd have used?" the query continued.
"'Mother and father aren't going to be back for an hour,'" the girl
quoted.
"And if he'd suggested locking the door to your bedroom?"
"I would have nodded because by then I don't think I could have even
whispered," Nell replied, flushing beautifully.
Gustav was not a demanding inquisitor, and the three lay back to
watch the clouds sail over for several minutes, trusting, and letting wave
after wave of raw anticipation wash over and half drown them.
"Are you too scared to whisper now?" the nineteen year old asked.
"Not as much as I'm going to be," the girl managed to reply.
"And I'm not as scared as I want to be," her brother added.
"Would it help if we stripped out of our boots and shoes and let the
cattle tend to themselves for awhile?" the shepherd asked.
"I think so," both replied.
There are many obvious advantages to advanced civilization, and some
obscure ones. That fact that wolves and bears had not frequented the
skirts of these mountains for centuries, for example, allowed a shepherd to
relax his vigilance from time to time. Gustav sat up and began with his
hiking boots. "It will be aesthetic," he said as his guests sat up to
follow his example, "if you leave yours on. Heinrich, my predecessor in
this part of the valley said the contrasts between heavy leather footgear
and a child's pale, slim body is a major artistic realization, and, should
a bear venture on the scene, why it would be nice to have someone well shod
enough to run after it at full speed and not go limping along, hobbling on
one foot, then the other.
Both children new their friend was trying to be funny, and they
appreciated it, but the sight of him now without his tunic, his powerful
chest bare to them, left them too dry-mouthed to even smile, though the
trusting glow in their young eyes provided a window on their momentarily
stymied humanity. Then the young man stood, letting his shorts and briefs
fall to his ankles and stepping, naked, from them. Not at all an
exhibitionist, he nonetheless displayed, which made the staring children
grasp each other's hands and squeeze. There was a massed power about his
waist focused in the hard shaft standing high from under his flat belly
that made Nell and Heinz gasp audibly. If they were going to look artistic
in their leather boots, their leader seemed to pull it off without any
shoes at all. He was beautiful, just past tenderly boyish and yet male
enough to electrify the nine year old girl from her knees to her tummy.
Her brother felt about half what she did, but it was enough to dramatically
tent his leather climbing shorts.
Hands still linked behind his neck, the young medical student
dropped to his knees, moving between the wide-eyed children in his charge.
"Would you like to help me?" he asked Nell, "because it's going to be
difficult pulling his shorts and underwear over his boots. We may even
have to take them off for a minute."
"And spoil my beautiful brother?" the girl thought to herself,
saying nothing as she quickly shifted to the right hip of the boy, across
from the fully developed stag that scared her to her toenails.
"I'll do his shirt, and help you in a minute," the young man
suggested, the girl answering with her fingers at her brother's now heaving
waist.
"Have you ever seen him bare chested?" Gustav whispered, as he undid
the eleven year old's first buttons.
"Not for years," the girl said, gazing intently as the older male
finished his work and spread her older brother's light, cotton shirt wide.
Instinctively, Heinz copied the instructor and moved his hands behind his
head, enjoying, in a very nervous way, being stared at as much as he liked
staring at the powerful, bare chested athlete and at least half as much as
he knew he was going to love staring at his pretty sister's bare girl
chest.
"Touch him if you want," Gustav suggested, "and I'll finish his
shorts." The girl responded immediately, shifting to her brother's right
flank and looking into his blue eyes as her fingers found his panting chest
and began the toboggan ride from child to girl. As Gustav worked slowly
with belt and buttons, her gaze flicked to his progress and back to the
boy's face time and again. She toyed with his face, neck, and especially
beautiful shoulders, his arms, his flanks, and his heaving preteen chest.
As his hips rose, helping the young man, she squeezed Heinz's right
shoulder with her left hand, ran her finger's low on his flat belly, and
stared as the shepherd pulled down his shorts, then his underpants, leaving
him jutting five hard inches from his waist and within inches of his
sister's exploring fingers. There was a struggle with the boots -- any
bear was going to have to take him as he came -- but it lasted only a
minute and then the mature eleven year old was naked but for the heavy
leather and socks on his feet.
Immediately, it was the girl's turn, and she lay, scared but
welcoming, as the males, the adult huddled over the nearly naked boy,
opened her blouse, and began touching her panting chest. Though nascent,
Nell had both distinguishable mounds and budding nipples and would probably
not have been mistaken for a boy her age, in the light or dark, under any
circumstances. Her brother continues to fondle and caress her, both their
eyes glowing, as the older male stripped her of her shift and underwear,
guiding the latter carefully over her boots, and in less than five minutes
had her as naked as her older brother. Both males knelt at Nell's feet and
she shyly spread her legs and raised her knees. Gustav excused himself for
a minute and retrieved a Leica from his knapsack, carefully manhandling the
naked children into various poses as he composed and took several photos,
always seeming to contrast the heavy hide of their footwear with the
delicate skin of their immature bodies. Looking at each other, Heinz and
Nell knew he was right, there was something visually engaging about it all,
indefinable as it might be, and they cooperated fully in holding the
various tableaux while he carefully steadied and operated the beautiful
camera.
How quickly they became used to it. Their parents had never
forbidden or chastised, just set a modest example which the children had
happily followed. Now all but naked together, with their handsome stallion
of a teacher enhancing their faith in the future, they huddled against
their naked man as he whispered to them.
"Believe it or not," (and it does strain credulity), he said, "we
have an appointment."
"But we want to stay with you," Nell said.
"The three of us, pet," the man soothed, "I'll be with you as long
as you want."
"Where?" Heinz asked.
"Half a mile from here, in the forest," Gustav replied, "and we
should set off about now." He stifled any further questions with a kind
look into each puzzled face, took a child by each hand (camera around his
neck), and they circled the cows then headed into the woods, the males
remaining hugely erect as they made their way.
"The objective of this excursion," the shepherd explained as they
walked, child on each side of the man, "is to teach girls, and, to a
certain extent, boys, about the beauty of the mature male at its most
absolute."
"You're absolute," Nell observed, "and Heinz is about an inch away."
(She used the English measurement as x centimeters or millimeters was
overly scientific and underrly poetic for the occasion.)
"Thank you," Gustav blushed, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to
accept the compliment until you repeat it on the return trip."
"Then give us some hints," Heinz suggested.
"You'll be happy that I didn't in about five minutes," their leader
laughed. "But I can tell you there's nothing new under the sun, at least
in this case, that it's been part of That Valley tradition for eons, that
there's no initiation, you know, with hazing and that nonsense, and that it
will give you a secret to tell the right partner at the right time for the
rest of your lives."
"Are we allowed to have two?" the schoolgirl asked, apparently
thinking in terms of strudel.
Gustav laughed, hugged her slim, bare shoulders, and whispered:
"hush."
Scant minutes brought them to a clearing with a large, enclosed pen
at its center. Children brought up on tales of forest witches could hardly
help but shudder at the heavily crafted log structure, and Gustav was
especially gentle as he lead them closer to a heavy wooden door at one end
of the edifice. He knocked and in a few moments the door opened. Josep,
Heinz's age emerged and sat on the edge of the small porch attached to the
building. "We've fed him the right herbs," he said to Gustav, "we found
plenty of all of them. It's okay to come in."
"Fairy tales can come true, it could happen to you, if you're young
at heart." It doesn't fit the time frame, but so accurately describes the
eleven and nine year olds it earns its place.
"The herbs are to calm him," Gustav reassured his puzzled charges.
"Heinz, you know Josep from town, he speaks English, and that's why he's
here." The boys nodded to each other and smiled. "I know him, too," Nell
added, no frown on her pretty face. "He was in That Valley last season and
seemed to have an instinctive way with the buck, so that's another reason
he's here as our host."
Neither head nodded.
"Call it," Gustav said, "the most sophisticated fertility rite ever
performed by any culture, and, with that as an introduction, it might pay
us to go inside and see what all the fuss is about."
Both heads nodded, they dropped from the porch, climb the steps, and
Josep swung the heavy door. Inside was lighted by torches. Trussed and
mounted in the center of the room was a young six-point male deer, very,
very much alive. The beautiful animal was positioned with his forelegs
three feet off the ground, and a cot covered in red silk was positioned
directly beneath the powerful animal's body. Without a word of coax ing or
suggestion of enticement, Nell moved to the cot and lay on her back, heavy
boots planted securely on the just-wide-enough improvised bower. Gustav
and Heinz knelt on red silk pillows at the girl's left flank while Josep
looped his left arm over the animal's lower back and began fondling the
three year old animal with his right hand, finally fully exposing the
beast's massive, pink erection. Their host held the animal hard against
his base, freezing his hand rigidly in place to give his handsome guests
time to catch up with themselves. The heavy breathing eased after some
minutes -- acclimatization -- but still no one spoke. What in the
world was there to say if you were sharing the very center of the world?
And after a quarter hour, it happened in near silence. Josep began
masturbating the beautiful animal, the heavy breathing returned, and after
five minutes the five hundred pound animal's hot, white seed began at first
splashing, then steadied into a fast, hard pulse as Josep resumed his iron
grip at the base of the steed. Nell was at first slicked by the wild
spurting, then covered from her face to her thighs, first with ounces of
hot, wild semen, then four teacups full.
When, after two minutes, it was over, Josep gently tended the
animal, releasing him, and leading him to the porch where he jumped to the
grass and thudded into the woods. In moments the older boy returned, and,
standing at Gustav's right hip he slicked his hand on Nell's deeply puddle
belly and began masturbating the tall, powerful athlete. In a minute the
leader's sperm was splashing on the nine year old's bare chest, and that
went on almost a full minute. The host male then guided Heinz to his
sister, wet both male and female with the feral semen, and guided the boy
as he mounted the by now wriggling and entirely welcoming child. In five
minutes the eleven year old was fully inside his kid sister and his
buttocks dimpled rhythmically with his mating. When, panting wantonly, he
froze rigidly against the child, everyone in the room could imagine what
was happening high between her long slim legs with their heavy leather
boots.
Nell had her firs climax with Josep, the experienced thirteen year
old bringing her to screaming cliffs three times before he froze hard and
slack faced against her, eyes glazed, as she passed out. When she came to,
a minute later, Gustav was fully mounted. She grabbed with arms and legs,
Josep hurriedly fitting a flash to the Leica, and clawed and screamed the
more, her boots bather the young adult's buttocks, for half an hour before
he released, holding her still as death, a torrent of fresh, not seed deep
inside her.
So, at parties, church, hunts, and social gatherings, the whispering
has gone on for nearly a thousand year. Whispers about That Valley.
THAT VALLEY -- END FILE I
THAT VALLEY -- FILE II
The second thump of a landing rock was comfortably closer. Again,
the strapping fourteen year old tried not to smile. There was too much
hideous in anything to do with Nazi humor.
"You know Reyn as well as Josep and me. His is a mountain story,
too, but it involves skiing and a blizzard. He was thirteen, two years
ago, and out with his seven year old sister, Gretchen.
"Are we going to be safe?" the by now worried young athlete asked
her equally fit older brother.
"You'll be in scouts in another year, and you won't have to ask a
question like that," Reyn replied, "we're in the woods, it's March so it
won't last too long, and I know how to build anything you might like short
of a castle on the Rhine."
"Well, I'm glad you have that hatchet," the girl allowed.
"And food, and matches, and guess-what about the water and
firewood."
"It's still scary," the girl said, and, indeed, it was a mere hour
until dark. Only there would be no dark. The boy gave the girl his heavy
sheath knife and taught her which bark to trim, while he lopped off dozens
of branches quickly dragging them to a bare spot on the floor of the late
winder forest. Chopping, trimming, and more chopping and a six-foot
lean-to appeared, complete with a bed of saplings and boughs, and a six
foot long pile of kindling and semi-dry logs lay three feet from the
opening of the improvised shelter. A child could see that the improvised
camp would be as warm and cozy -- at least -- as a bed at home.
"It's not going down to below twenty [F.] or so at this time of
year," the boy observed and by now his sister was smiling warmly at him,
and not for the first time. They melted snow and dined on buttery bread
with cheese. It got dark, the fire of more beauty with each passing
minute, and then they were very much at home.
"If you did build a castle," the wry pixie asked her brother, "would
you want me to be a princess or a queen?" Something -- everything --
in the seven year old's voice bid the boy think hard. It did no good, the
harder he thought, well, let's leave something up to the imagination.
"What would you want to be?" he asked in return, voice, where was
his voice?
"Think about it," the girl coaxed, "the two of us alone together in
a grand palace. Would you want me to be your sister, the princess, or the
queen, your..."
"I guess I'm catching up a little," the boy said, "but since
everyone would say the same thing, I guess that's what I would want."
"No me," the vixen chirped. "If they ever think of something to
rhyme with `no way', then I'll use it, but, meantime, I know what I'd want,
I'd want to be your wife, your queen, every day and every night."
There was a long silence.
"I'd want that to," the now intensely agitated boy finally was able
to whisper. "I guess I would have wanted that when you were four and I was
nine, maybe a year later."
"Funny how that fits," the girl responded. "Almost like we're
brother and sister, same track, same train."
"I know what you mean," the boy stammered, "but the thing is you're
so young, months before you're seven, and, you know, kinda not the biggest
girl in your class, which will probably change one of these days, because
I'm the biggest boy in my class."
"In the shower, too," Gretchen whispered.
"I guess so, but that doesn't mean anything."
"It may not but it does now," the girl said, perhaps a trifle
cryptically.
"What it really means, Gretchen," Reyn said, "is that even if we
believe we can be outside the code in a secret or at least in a private
manner, there would still by physical problems, you know, trying to be
husband and wife."
"But I'm an athlete," the girl said, "parallel bars, vaulting horse,
mat, you know, splits all the time. I'm not some angelic cake decoration,
and I could break your nose with one swing."
"Are you really serious about it or just kidding around?" the
thirteen year old said.
"About loving you, serious, but I don't want to put you on the spot.
Your morals are as important to you as your heart and head and I don't want
to tamper. But serious? About loving you? Shakespeare couldn't do me
justice. I rage with passion for you as I fall asleep and eat, drink, and
breathe it all day long. Since we read and study a lot at home, it hasn't
made a difference in my schoolwork, but unless we are married as best we
can be I can't promise a single thing about next year or, for that matter,
avoiding trolley wheels with any particular care."
More long moments they sat. "Plus," the girl whispered at last,
"even if we hated each other, we have to stay warm under just the blankets
in our knapsacks." Reyn had been thinking exactly the same thing.
"I should build another shelter," he said, "in case, you know, you
change your mind. You talked about not putting me on the spot, and I think
you should have a spot refuge. From what I've heard, when a boy gets to a
certain point, he can't, you know, stop, even if she wants him to."
"When I start crying and sobbing, you start building," Gretchen
responded, making her brother chuckle with a delight not totally inspired
by laziness.
"Hi," they whispered to each other, and it's difficult to chronicle
love more succinctly.
"Do you know about the physical part?" the older brother asked
tenderly.
"Frogs seem to have it best," she replied, "even the next day. I've
seen that much. How about you? What's your story?"
Don't you just dread it when someone says "story" in one of my
books?
"I've always wanted to tell you," the bother said, and in the fire's
blaze she could see him color.
"And I'm guessing here," the cutie observed, "nothing to do with
frogs or toads."
"Thanks," the boy said with a trace of a laugh, "that makes it
easier."
"Can part of it be talking?" she wanted to know, "I mean sharing
something secret, you know, in detail."
"Yes," Reyn said.
"Perfect answer."
"Thanks."
"I'm not in a playful mood," Gretchen noted, "but even so it seems
like a game of twenty questions might, you know, be suitable, only I'll
begin by assuming your secret has nothing to do with the size of a
breadbox."
The boy nodded, and, spontaneously, both children removed their
boots and eased out of their heavier hiking clothes, settling, lightly
dressed, side by side, lying on their backs under their thin blankets.
They were very comfortable.
"Don't you think it will still hurt?" the boy asked when they'd half
caught their breaths.
"Don't you think changing the subject might get you hurt?" Gretchen
shot back with a delightful giggle.
"Okay," he mock-sighed, "ask your questions."
"She or he?"
"Damn," the boy answered, "second grade isn't like it was when I was
a kid."
"Girls and boys both have secrets," the child observed, "and some of
them are excellent, and some of them are about boys and boys. I all comes
across as being very natural, so much so, it got me to wondering if you
could be a kid without at least something happening."
She did have a way of looking at things.
"It wasn't a boy," Reyn said. "Anyway, he was nineteen, and it's
hard to measure at that age, because a nineteen year old in college or with
a steady job is a man, while lots of others are still kind of boys, plus,
it depends how they look; boyish or mannish. Darl was very boyish, in that
way, but a champion skier, which made him a man."
"Is this going where I think it is?" the razor sharp seven year old
asked.
"Twenty questions?" her brother murmured, "you'll have the grail,
Judge Crater from the States, and the "Titanic", longitude and latitude to
the tenth of a second before we get to number six."
"Twenty questions," the pixie responded, "and you'll be trying to
explain to your little -- almost baby -- sister, how it happens we're
stuck in a blizzard, off skies, when something happened with you, on
skies."
"Couldn't you ask at least one more," Reyn mock-sighed.
"So it's all true?" but how little surprise there was in her voice.
"We got sidetracked by a snowstorm," the boy said. "We could tell
it was local and would pass in a couple of hours, we were well equipped,
hatchet, food, matches and blankets."
"And just to top off this little wedding cake of ours," the girl
said in as mysterious a voice as a female can conjure up, "you've been
trading with me to borrow the radio for the last week. With all it's
weather reports."
"If there was a question there I missed it," the boy said.
"My only one is to wonder if any girl in the world ever had more of
a brother than you are. Lord, I don't want to wait for my wedding night, I
want to be able to whisper stories to the devil and end up totally raped in
the bargain. I can tumble and dance, and read, which is the important
thing, but a bear could get us tonight, and I don't want to die with those
as sum lifetime accomplishments."
"We just moved a hundred yards off the trail, you know, when it
really started coming down."
"Did you suspect anything?" Gretchen asked.
"Maybe a little," the boy admitted, "because we could have made it
to the road. Thanks for the question."
"How much?" the girl, amply rewarded, continued.
"More scared than anything else," Reyn recalled. "Because I guess
you could say there had been some tension. It was my fault, I kept wanting
to be near him, and, you know, the other boys were always around and they
like being with him, too. So he had to maybe push me a little away."
"Oh, god, this is so predictable," again, with a mock-sigh, hard to
pull off when one is panting openly, "he suddenly bought a radio."
"That's the first thing we did alone together," the boy
acknowledged, trying to keep a look of hopelessness from his eyes, not that
there was any hope, but just for form's sake.
"Men," she half panted.
"So, anyway," Reyn went on, "I didn't connect the radio like an
almost too-bright someone I know, and I more thought he wanted to talk to
me, maybe about the team."
"And how long did that last?" the girl said, now doing well as an
interlocutor.
"Before we got ten feet from the trail," the boy replied, "he said
he wanted to talk about something personal with me, not about anything even
partly official, and if I wasn't in the mood for conversation, or if I had
any special reason to be back in town, we could still make the road
safely."
"That would have made it so he'd have had to carry me," the tomboy
said.
"I just stopped in my tracks," the boy responded, ignoring the fact
his pretty sister hadn't formed her statement as a question.
"Did his voice get like yours is?" There, back on track.
"That was the first thing that made me feel something and made
something, you know, happen."
"With, you know, what fat men can't see...?"
"Kinda."
"Well, I feel it too," Gretchen said, "in everything you say. Feel
it more than hear it. All over but mostly, you know..."
Indeed.
"So what did he say next?" was the following question.
"He came up close behind me, his skies between mine, and took my hat
off and kissed me on top of the head."
"Maybe I shouldn't interrupt with any more questions," the little
prodigy observed.
"It took a long time to happen," her brother responded, "and then it
went on and on, so there was plenty of time for questions, then, and since
it's only seven in the evening, and we haven't hiked far enough to wear
chalk of a goat's hoof, I guess it's the same, now."
"Meaning he talked with you?"
"Well, it's kind of hard to explain. First, I was really happy just
finally -- finally -- being really alone with him, so I didn't feel
like saying much. He was scared because he might scare me. A couple of
times he asked me if I wanted to ski down into the valley, and I said no.
Then he started quizzing me, just like you, asking me if I'd ever spent
time in private with a man and how I'd feel if we happened to be alone
together in the gym and both wanted to take showers at the same time, or if
we were hiking and found a nice pool and wanted to swim but didn't have
suits."
"That would wipe civilization out for me," the girl mused.
"Looking at things your way," Reyn said, "I see clearly enough, in
retrospect, that I had, as he questioned me, not a thought in my head about
home, hearth, town band, or the dark side of the moon."
"Did you know it used to be two thousand miles away," the girl said,
"now it's over a hundred times that far, a few inches a year. Think what a
giant thing that would have been to see. Man would have never had to
develop any art or clean up anything." What WOULD piles of dirty dishes
and laundry matter with such a nightly presence? She had her point.
"He kissed you on the head..."
"He didn't overdo the caveats and cautions," the boy said. "I mean,
it's hard to explain. He wasn't urgent or demanding, or evasive and
contriving, but I guess all of them together. Not casual or
matter-of-fact, but both of them. I though it was going to be without
words, but after he'd kissed me again, and I just remained still, he
whispered that he wanted to take me in the woods about a quarter mile,
build a fire, and engage in homosexual activities for two hours, and if
that's what I wanted to happen, I should proceed, which is what I did as
soon as I had enough strength in my legs, and I could feel him shaking,
too, to do so without falling on my face."
"Best race I ever heard of," Gretchen said.
"I guess the outcum was never in doubt," the mildly experienced boy
thought to himself., chagrined he didn't dare say it to his witty kid
sister (but kind of proud of himself, too). "Of course," he did say, "I
was in pretty good shape from all the cross-country and herringbone climbs,
so we weren't in any danger of our skies growing roots into the ground as
soon as the spring thaw took hold."
"Since growing roots is what it's all about," the girl, a bit of a
locker room veteran, even if physically naïve, mused to herself, as her
brother had done, "I don't know why you went anywhere." Aloud, the child
asked what kind of words the two used.
"I guess the kind of formal and polite ones," Reyn replied.
"I think I like them, too," Gretchen mused, "even if they're sort of
squishy and dipsy-doodle compared to the words the working-class girls use
when they come to the gymnasium."
"Same with boys, but I guess you've figured that out on your own,"
he responded. "Somehow the vulgar terms trivialize it, strip away the love
and don't even leave affection."
"Maybe they think it's sloppy enough without being sentimental," the
girl noted, "but I still wonder if, you know, maybe one word couldn't be
used with someone really special to make it a little more animal."
"Jens Strass said his little cousin used it, she's your age, and the
word, coming from such an innocent mouth, got him really excited."
"So you wouldn't mind if I tried it once?" the pixie wanted to know.
"In the right time, place, and circumstance," Reyn allowed.
"I'm thinking in terms of eight o'clock, seeing as it's just after
seven," she responded.
"So you want to know everything that happened after we built the
fire?"
"Unless he said anything while you were moving away from the trail,"
the girl replied.
"Well," Reyn said, "Darl's kind of a prodigy. I mean you know him
as a coach and for skiing, but he's almost ready to take his degree in
theology, even though he's nineteen. I mean, yes, I like being around him
because he's attractive, what they call cute in the States, but even more,
because he makes sense of things. So, yes, we did talk quite a bit as we
poled our way through the woods. First, he admitted right out that he was
the devil's disciple, not in the sense of bringing misery and ruin, but in
the sense of preventing a dominate spirituality and fait spoil your life.
Since he knew about wicked, he was able to draw the fangs of wicked,
thereby reducing it to a pet. He didn't strain the analogy, just pointed
out that boys are attracted to pets of all danger levels, and the secret
was finding one that excited you but didn't poison you."
"That's pretty good," Gretchen nodded.
"I guess if something happens with us tonight," Reyn went on, "we'll
have sort of a pet within a pet. The fierce one, doing, the tame one,
talking."
"I hope they're tortoises," the seven year old said, "so they both
live a long time."
"Well this is the best night of my life," Reyn said, "so I hope
you're right."
"It's the best of mine, too," the sister agreed, "and it even feels
like we should surely die of being together, fair being fair, and not that
we can be together from now on and until we get married, and even after
that if we find the right partners for not-quite-wholly-wedlocked
matrimony."
"What if we end up with each other?" he asked.
"It would be a laugh," the girl allowed, and that did it for both
the siblings, motivated and inspired as they were in their efforts to
restore straight faces in honor of the occasion, and bring to it the very
dignity they censured others for lacking by virtue(?) of crude expression.
As engagements go, it was a good one, and they returned to the story at
hand.
"Too much philosophy is far worse than none at all," Darl said as
they reached a clearing in the forest and automatically went about the task
of making a fire. "I mean if the wigs don't agree, what can there be to it
beyond entertainment? With it, you have anarchy, every man an ideological
island, and without it the regimentation to build a pyramid. There is no
philosophy of no philosophy, anyone who stands rock solid and denies the
least vestige emphatically, therefore if there is no not, how can there be
anything to measure against it, or, more philosophically, where do you
start measuring, since there is no not? A hundred cults with a thousand
offshoots, but it's all just a hairball, rooted not in nothing. Every
mandrake among them gets up to speak, none say there is none, all say mine
is best."
"I hope it doesn't get worse," Reyn said to his athletic older
companion.
"Nineteen-thirty-eight is not the year to talk about things not
getting worse," the theologian responded, intriguing his young friend with
an actual bite of his hard cracker.
"You don't say," the boy quipped in response.
The fire was soon blazing and the coach and skier removed their
knapsacks, retrieved their blankets, and sat on a fallen tree. Reyn, a boy
generous at heart, wished every youth his age could share such an
experience, and it is likely Darl felt the same. They remained nervously
motionless for some minutes. "Do you do things with other boys," the
eleven year old whispered.
"I've wanted to," Darl replied, "maybe three times, but I've always
been too young to be where I was, drawing extra attention and a plentitude
of scrutiny. Nothing happened to me in my youth except this: when I moved
into a certain dorm room there was a long letter taped under the drawer in
the desk -- I don't know how long it had been there, and never tried to
trace it. It was written by a boy your age to a friend of his, my age,
now. It beat twenty novels for its insight into affection, love, and
reality, on top of which it was graphic to the extreme. Since the
practical, real, friendly love in the letter exceeded all I had read, seen,
heard, or knew, that letter utterly changed me and made me, an agonistic,
into a devil whose work it would be to plumb the depths of the religion
which forbad this love, first to learn it, then to work toward destroying
it in the name of Frank and Marshall, the child and young man in the
letter."
"And girls?"
"I have a special girl and we're both keen on being married, but
between school and skiing we've had little difficulty maintaining a chaste
relationship. In other words, none."
"Are you nervous?"
"I think that's why I said so specifically what I wanted for us,"
Darl replied, "I mean inviting a boy into the woods for `homosexual
activities' is not the phraseology of someone who knows what they're doing.
I'm lucky the police aren't half way up here by now."
"I feel sorry for them," the boy responded.
"Who?" the young adult asked.
"The police," Reyn said.
"Yes," the coach sighed, "there was much in the letter like that.
People -- not just Frank and Marshall -- just sort of up and, you know,
falling madly in love; a witty phrase, a droll comment, a silly aside, yes,
according to them it can happen just like that."
"Just like that?" the boy responded, gently snapping his fingers in
Darl's face, eyes glowing.
"Before that," the man assured the boy.
"Do you know what to teach me from the letter?"
"In theory," Darl whispered, "but look at all the theories in
theology " He managed a nervous smile, warming the boy's heart till it was
a twin of the blaze three feet away.
"If you make lots of mistakes, won't you learn by them?" Reyn the
Gracious asked.
"I just use old-fashioned words," the scholar said, "as in the
letter. I'd like to have you look at my penis."
"Do you want to look at mine, too?" the child whispered.
"Yes," Darl said. Looking into each other's eyes they busied
themselves under their blankets, then pulled them aside. Darl stood neatly
eight inches from his uniform pants, Reyn almost six. It was cool enough
the re-covered themselves after a minute. "You're beautiful," they tripped
in unison, too nervous to emit other than an unintended soft bark of
laughter.
"Do you do things in bed at night?" the young man asked,
"masturbate?"
"Yeah, the kids are always talking about it, I mean they call it
`jerking-off' right? but I don't think most of them know how to really do
it, either."
"Since my objective in life is to do what I can to divert the
resources squandered on organized, industrial religion," Darl replied, "I
decided I had to take one trip on their track and not do it, even though,
after reading the letter, I'm pretty sure I know how. What I don't know is
whether character, pseudo-character, or perversity is the underlying
factor."
"But you CAN learn from mistakes, right?" the boy said, "I mean I
wasn't wrong about that."
"Too vague," the older male replied; "four years of mistakes and
twenty years later, four more, to understate the probable coming reality,
considerably."
"But doesn't that make the case?" the boy wanted to know, "these are
jackrabbits in combat boots, you're the greatest student at Heidelberg in
fifty years. Simple logic says if they can't learn through error, you must
be able to."
"The paradox," the young man mused, "is that you are so massive in
learning from whatever the opposite of a mistake is, that, according to
your logic, our relationship is at least problematic."
"Then maybe we'd better start making mistakes instead of musing over
them," the boy suggested.
"If the letters are accurate," Darl responded, "it's going to be
very, well, there's really no other word than `messy' than `sloppy', and
neither fits. There may be a great deal of fluid of a particular
appearance and consistency and we must be careful no undetected splatter
gives us away, though, from the letters, in an emergency it's possible it
could be excused as mucus from the nose, assuming, of course, there was
just a trace."
"Then we can roll in the snow and inspect each other," the boy
noted, to his companion's nod.
"It's meant to happen with me first," the man quoted on, "because
there may be a letdown after it happens with a boy your age, and if that
happens, if you suddenly feel cold about it, it wouldn't be good for me to
be splashing you."
"I understand," Reyn whispered.
"There's some writing concerning the lips and tongue," the
instructor pointed out, "I guess if kind of boils down to two things.
First, it is tempting, if you really like your partner, to use your mouth
on his penis, to buck your head up and down, listening for encouragement.
This is fine for experienced boys, but the two hazards face a virgin.
First, the adult may not be able to advise the child of the incipient
ejaculation because the approach is so exciting, an adult often can't
speak. Second, the semen of the adult has a strong, salty flavor. A boy
your age, to be agricultural about it, has a mild and lightly salty seed,
by all accounts, a hot joy to the tongue. A male my age, maybe not, maybe
too intense. Therefore, if you want to experiment with your lips and
tongue this first time, you might get a sudden rush of heavy, slimy semen
in your mouth. All of these are in the mistakes department, so, if you
wish to test your theory, letting it happen that way might be the way to
learn."
"Can I make that one next time?" Reyn asked. "I really want to
watch it happen, especially if it happens with you first."
"I want to watch, too," the older male agreed, "and I want to take
at least some of yours on my tongue. Would that be okay?"
"Yes," the boy replied.
"And there's another thing to talk about," Darl continued, "and
remember I said it's probably going to be messy, so, what I need to know is
if you'd like me to spill on your belly and thighs, or mine, while you
watch."
"Mine," the boy said.
"Then," he went on, "there's the way we become fully aroused. We
can do it by ourselves while we watch each other, or we can use our hands
on each other, which the letter emphasized is the better way."
"But we'll still be able to watch if we do that, right?" the boy
said.
"Yes," his friend said. Both sat a few moments close, side-by-side,
Reyn on his teacher's left. The older male was the first to lower his
blanket and expose himself. Reyn shifted slightly on the fallen tee trunk
and moved his hand to the nineteen year old. Instinctively, he slowly
pulled down the athlete's heavy foreskin, exposing the hot pink/purple of
his swollen, glistening glans. The fluid was pretty obvious, and he spread
it, then began stroking up and down, quickly responding to the throbbing
heat in his hand and setting up a muscular rhythm."
"Open your coat and pull up your shirt," Darl whispered, "and hold
me against you so it will all get on your bare skin." Using his left hand
the boy complied, finally moving to his right and crouching between his
stag's legs, masturbating him hard and fast, holding him against his own
panting body. A minute passed, both males staring avidly at the pink slash
of the boy's bare skin and the purple, feral maleness pressed hot and slick
against it. Darl braced the boy, allowing him to use booth his by now avid
hands. It went on for four minutes. "I'm cumming," the nineteen year old
managed to grunt, and then both stared as one thick gush of semen after
another pumped from the adult's straining body all over the bare front of
the eleven year old boy.
"Can I taste a little before you put snow on it?" Reyn whispered.
Darl leaned to him, wet is tongue, then faced the child. The boy stuck out
his and they experimented.
"It's nice," was the youngster's opinion, and he nodded as the older
male returned to his white, slick belly. A little at a time the man got
the boy used to him, but finally the weather became a factor and, rubbing
the young skier with a handful of snow, the man helped him secure his
clothes, fastened his own, and they returned to their respective positions
in front of the fire to warm up.
"I though, you know, it would go away while you were cleaning me,"
the boy flushed.
"You didn't get back to normal at all as far as I could tell," Darl
admitted, "and I guess I take that as a supreme compliment."
"That's still inside me," Reyn responded, "just like your was."
"So you liked it?"
"Offer me an Olympic medal," the youngster replied, "and I'd have to
blow my head of for want of being able to decide which I'd rather have a
dozen of. Times with you, or silver and gold. I loved it. It was the
most beautiful thing I've ever imagined. If girls had, you know, a third
eye and could watch what an adult was doing inside their bellies, there
wouldn't be a virgin over six on the entire planet."
"That would solve so many problems," Darl agreed, "that we'd become
extinct in three generations due to overpopulation."
"And your sister is?"
"Three," the boy replied, "but Nell's a tiny thing. We're going to
have to wait."
"Take a little very friendly advice then," the theology student
suggested, "and don't wait too long. Use a little pressure, as I did with
you. To miss being with her as we were just together, and as I'm soon
going to be with you, would be a tragedy, and it's worth the risk of a
negative outcome."
"She likes to ski, already," the boy noted as they quickly began to
warm up in front of the well-crafted fire.
"That's likely to be a plus," the adult agreed, "but think of it
this way. Thin ice, with a perhaps paradoxically green pasture on the far
side of the river. In other words, a lot to be gained, but a substantial
risk involved in obtaining it. You have to move cautiously across the ice,
but if you freeze, stand jittery and shivering in one spot, you certainly
won't reach the pasture, and you may fall through. Any bold display and
stomping advance, and you'll very likely fall through."
"What if she makes a bold advance in my direction?" Reyn asked.
"Then be sure of your ice," Darl advised. "Some parents and member
of that generation are very tolerant of illicit `goings-on', even encourage
them directly or indirectly, while in other families the knowledge could
cast a spell -- a curse, if you will -- that might last for generations
or even prevent generations, boy in military school, girl in a convent. In
fact," he continued, "be very careful that nothing happens for the sake of
the thrill, for sake of indulging in taboo just because it's wrong. This
is not to say that you need be madly in love, but that there should be an
underlying flow of affection and companionship -- friendship and respect.
Doing it for the thrill, like breaking into an empty house when you have no
need of shelter, well, I doubt we'd be together if I thought you were cheap
goods of that nature. And remember this, if you choose: you can be happy
and fulfilled without anything of the nature occurring. I've been. Yes, I
yearned a time or two over the years, but then I went back to my book or my
skies and the feeling passed. If you get a lot done every day you'll find
yourself hard pressed to worry about those events which did not happen. On
the other side of that coin, if she proved predatory, demanded constant
attention, wanted what we're sharing incessantly, and this is not
impossible -- perhaps I'm thinking of you as an older brother and how I'd
feel -- think how you'd respond to what might be the biggest nuisance
imaginable. That's why adult activities are proscribed for children. They
may favor them to a degree that precludes other important facets of the
young life: study, hobbies, reading, sports and friends come quickly to
mind. In a wealthy and tolerant family, perhaps there could be an ideal
wherein a brother and sister shall we say had their own private room and
spent a lot of time there, but all you have to do in this world is stand
still to miss out, lie still to miss even more. Doing so might make a
glorious weekend, but it would also make for a sad year, never to be
recovered. And I don't mean to be discouraging. I'm in favor of your
mating with Nell, as soon as possible. The world is not going to get
better before it becomes profoundly worse, and, to be frank about if, if
your pretty little sister ends up a toy of the Russians it may stand her in
good stead to be able to remember a gentle, sweet, glowing brother."
"Can a boy make a baby in his sister?" the eleven year old wanted to
know.
"As easily as any other male can," the scholar replied, "starting
when she's twelve or thirteen, that kind of depends."
"Would the child come out all strange?"
"Well," the man said, "if your parents are related and perhaps your
grandparent there'd probably be a strong chance of at least crooked teeth.
If they all brought fresh blood to their relationships the chance of you
and Nell producing a defective child is only fractionally more likely than
any conventional couple doing so. At the dawn of human history there must
necessarily have been a very high degree of inbreeding, and we survived.
The common house cat is much the same as it was a thousand year before
Christ, and cats breed indiscriminately with their close relatives. It's
too controversial a subject to be researched rationally and objectively
-- empirically -- but the letter alluded to secret research that
suggested incest might even be a vector in producing prodigies, savants,
and geniuses; favorable genes pooling rather than unfavorable ones that
might cause retardation and physical problems. Not that there's anything
inherently wrong with a snaggle-toothed retarded child. In fact they tend
to be most enjoyable company, and often find a niche as good as anyone's
when they grow up. Since our National Socialist leaders seem pretty far
gone on science, there are probably sophisticated experiments going on at
this time. Who knows, one the one percent chance we dominate after the
war, edicts very much in favor of you and Nell may become accepted policy
and even law. Even mass societies can change almost overnight as has
happened with religion time and again. How would you feel if there was a
law that said you HAD, for the fatherland, to marry your sister."
"Great," the boy replied, "but I don't suppose Hans Fenkel would
feel the same about his fat, disagreeable little sister."
"Yes," Darl nodded, "and lots of boys have older sisters, or none."
They were warm enough now to stop theorizing, working with their
minds toward a better world, re-arranging things so boys would stay home,
oblivious to brass buttons by virtue of pink ones, and let wars and
conflicts wither on the vine, and, finally, establishing a right that would
last a thousand years. Nor did the fire get all the credit. Talk of
spawning; friendly, handsome brothers with adoring, wriggling little
sisters was, of and by itself, incendiary. Without further words, they
moved again together. Reyn stood, instinctively spreading wide his long,
muscular skier's legs ad the nineteen year old dropped to his knees and
moved in front of the child. The boy's penis was jutting from the thick
wool and leather of his uniform, a modest show of his soft, babyish skin
forming at backdrop for his hard, uncircumcised near-adult boner. A trace
of blond silk over the boy gave Darl to know, from his reading, that his
climax would be hot, hard, and wet. He blew softly on Reyn, two hands
almost clapping gently on his head in response. Blew more, then touched,
then licked, ensuring the grip of the young boy. With his right hand the
teacher fondled the preteen, immediately stimulating the child to young
manhood, swelling him a full inch. "How lucky a girl, to do with him as
she pleased," the older male mused as he gently pulled back his student's
foreskin, "and why in the name of all that's holy should anyone object to
this gentle, friendly play among consenting partners of any age and
relationship?" Yes, it made no sense. Let them become lust-crazed,
drooling zombies, as they never had in history, and then come out with the
laws and statutes, to solve a problem. Meantime, throw the laws out. Leff
people lone, as they say in the writer's adopted country.
He cupped Reyn with his left hand, big and heavy, according to the
letter, for eleven, pulled the sexy foreskin gently to the base of the
shank, looked a long time, blew softly, kissed, licked, and very gently
engulfed. The boy's hands went rigid and the flow of his hot sperm began
immediately, pumping almost savagely from deep within his shaking body
again and again. His semen was a boiling, full-flavored nectar, slightly
saline, at first copious then massive in quantity, spurt, spurt, spurting
wildly for a full half minute before it eased to a tantalizing flow, and
finally a few drips and none.
They mated again three times, fully, happily, and contentedly, each
wondering the while at the natural feeling of it all and powerful glad they
had not waited another freaking minute. The snow flurry eased, they just
skied off and left the fire, a privilege of the winter camper, and returned
to the valley, little the worse for wear from their ordeal.
[The writer has about twenty stories on Nifty under various pen names, many
with politically insensitive commentary.]
"THAT VALLEY" -- END FILE I
Posted by Thomas@btl.net
xxx