Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1999 12:44:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: bpell@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: Chronicles Of St.Barnabas Final Chapter

                  17. Nunc Dimitis


      It was the last service.  Ericson rose from the choir to sing
   the solo, "Hear my Prayer," by Mendelssohn.  It was
   Ericson's swan song, his last and finest moment as a boy
   soprano.  Next year he would be in prep. school.  Oh, how I
   envied those boys!  If only they knew what a treat was in
   store for them, those hairy, horny, football playing jocks,
   having a tender, pink, hairless morsel of a boy-and such a
   pretty one!-thrown to them, and one moreover who posi-
   tively adored being sodomized!
      I thought of wasted opportunities at St. Barnabas, all the
   good times I could have had with Ericson if I had been
   bolder sooner.  But I still loved Ronnie more.  He was my one
   and only boy.  But when it came to fucking, there was just no
   comparison.  Ronnie would lie there and let you fuck him;
   you could do what you liked with him; but if he enjoyed it, he
   certainly wasn't about to admit it, except that last time in
   New York.  But Ericson-here was that rarity, a boy who
   loved the feel of a man-sized cock shoved up the entire
   length of his hot little ass!
      And here I sat, listening to him sing that lovely song, his
   pure sweet voice rising clear and bell-like to the highest
   vaults, a voice seemingly made purer, sweeter, more quintes-
   sentially BOY by having had a cock up his bottom.
      All was not bleak.  With luck I would see Ericson this
   summer.  I'd asked him where he would be, and he'd said
   Cape Cod.
      "What a coincidence!" I'd lied.  "Me too!"
      "Really, sir?  Where abouts?"
      "Wellfleet," I'd said, pulling a name from the air.
      "Right near us!  We're in East Dennis!  Hey, maybe we can
   get together!"
         Yes, maybe we could.  Literally.  Two bodies joined by my
      branch.  Come hell or high water I would find a place in
      Wellfleet.  Maybe it would work out.
         " 0 Lord, hear my prayer."
         I would buy a movie camera and take pictures of him
      running naked in the dunes, turning cartwheels, long, sun-
      bleached hair flowing in the sea breeze.
         " Ofor the wings, for the wings of a dove.  " The lovely voice
      of the child rose to the vaulted ceiling, making the church
      spin for me.
         then there was Ronnie.  My love.  I would see him for a
      week or so in New York before he was packed off to camp.
      Maybe we could get the use of the "hideout" again.  Bernie
      would be in town, but maybe he'd let us use it during the day.
      It would be like old times.
         And there was always next year.  Ronnie wouldn't be in
      my dorm any longer, and I would miss seeing him everyday
      in the showers, and having him come into my room for a
      tussle, or just for a talk.  But Georgie would still be there.  I
      caught sight of him now as the choirboys recessed-no
      longer bare-kneed, for he had turned twelve.  But there came
      Ladd and Tucker, bites and scratches marring the soft
      smooth flesh of their nine-year-old knees.
         Down in the choir room it was chaos.  Boys flinging off
      their choir robes like butterflies flapping their wings,
      whooping and hollering.  No more school!  Back to the loving
      arms of their parents.  And more important, a long summer
      of boyhood fun.  How few those summers really were!  How
      swiftly they sped by!
         "Come here, Eric," I said to Ladd, as he was about to
      dash out of the choir room.  I drew the little fellow close by
      his waist.
         "You're going to be in my English class next year, you
      know."
         "Yes, sir, I am."
         "And you'd better behave, because you know what hap-
   pens to boys who don't!"
     "Yes, sir."
     "They get their bottoms spanked good and proper!" And
   I emphasized the point with a few spanks and a pat on his
   little rear end.
     "So see that you behave!" I said with a wink.
     "Yes. sir!  I will!  I will!" he cried, giving me a big broad
   smile.
     I knew I could count on him not to.


        There are 5 other BL- Classic novels

        The Chronicles of Fenway Academy The sensuous
        love affair between a 13-year-old boy and his prep
        school dorm master that leads to a motor-bike
        odyssey across America.

        The Chronicles of the Desert Ranch School A 13-
        year-old boy's sexual education in an Arizona
        boarding school and his dramatic involvement with
        ,its strange headmaster.

        The Chronicles of Scout Troop 131 Young boys
        playing, swimming, romping-and loving-in the
        leafy, sun-filtered paradise of an English Boy Scout
        camp.

        The Chronicles of the Starcross Complex Richie's
        dual attraction to boys and adventure leads him
        ultimately to an island nation of boy-lovers

        The Chronicles of the Koster Dilemma An Ameri-
        can boy tapes the tale of his sex life since age
        eleven-and sends the cassettes to an ultra conser-
        vative sex research institute.
        Available from' selected bookstores and mail order
        services in Europe, America and Australasia.

        The Auto-biography of a child-porn Star The true 
	life story of an 11 year old boy befriended by his 
	P.E teacher who is a child-pornographer.It is only Years 
	later the boy finds out the pictures he allowed his P.E
	teacher to take of him had been published in 
	several kiddie-porn magazines of the decade.A fascinating
	read from cover to cover and a nostalgic look back to
	the 1970's. This is a rare book and Acolyte have only
	50 copies before it was banned.