Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2012 12:13:15 -0500
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthierdc@gmail.com>
Subject: Drawstring Pants

					Drawstring Pants
					by George Gauthier

				Chapter 1. Kit

The blond youth gamboled happily in the gentle surf, half-swimming and
half-wading in waist-high water, letting the force of the swells push him
right off his feet and roll him around in the shallows. Time and again he
tumbled bare ass over teakettle only to come up laughing, his open hands
slapping playfully back at the waves. As a boy just turned seventeen, the
youth cared little for any loss of personal dignity. The pair of farmhands
watching from the bluffs could make of it what they wished.

This was fun! Refreshing too.

The cooling touch of seawater on his nude body carried away the body heat
he had generated during his morning run along the beach and before that
along the dirt tracks that threaded the well-tended vineyards and orchards
inland. Satisfied with such a fine start to his day, the boy executed one
final dive, his lithe form sliding under the surface, then emerging from
the green seas and white froth and salty spume. Slogging up to the high
tide line, he faced the sun eyes closed, arms held out wide savoring the
moment and the feeling of oneness with nature. It was at moments such as
these that Kit could understand how early man had worshipped the sun. Then,
with easy steps, the boy climbed the wooden staircase up to the modest
beach house he shared during the summer.

Though they had seen the boy often enough before, his bemused onlookers
watched entranced, and why should they not? For this was a youth with the
kind of physical beauty that caused double takes. He was blessed with an
irresistible combination of a supremely sexy body and boyish good looks. He
was much prettier than any boy rightly ought to be. His fine-boned features
made him a walking wet dream for any male who appreciates a beautiful
boy. For the rest of humanity, female and male alike, he was that nice boy
next door, except much better looking, of course. Passersby would snap
their heads back for a second look at the boy, wondering, sometimes right
out loud, how anyone could be that good looking.

A breathtaking exemplar of the youthful human male, Kit Hungerford looked
very much like a marble likeness of a Greek demigod come to life, perhaps a
son of a marine deity like Poseidon or Oceanus. Though short of stature and
slight of build, Kit had the wiry physique and well-defined musculature of
a trained athlete and dancer. With the build of a fawn, you would call him
slender rather than skinny. The boy sported a surprisingly strong upper
storey for a middle distance runner. He stood a mere three inches over five
feet (160 cm) and carried no more than 110 pounds (50 kg) on his petite
frame.

Over the spring and early summer, the rays of the sun had turned his
flawless skin to tawny gold, with none of that delectable expanse marred by
tan lines. Also absent was any hint of body hair, even at the fork of his
legs. Thanks to modern depilatory techniques, Kit's skin was as smooth as
silk. Factor in a body-fat percentage in the low single digits and classic
washboard abs, Kit's physique was one of those that were more about quality
than quantity.

Kit was intensely proud of the beautiful body he had so recently grown
into. His slender frame packed a tight musculature including corrugated
abdominals, and narrow hips. His skin was smooth and flawless and utterly
unmarked by body hair.

His genitals were in proportion. Cock and balls were reasonably sized but
he wouldn't be scaring the horses. He could cover himself with only one
hand when he was soft, but it took both small hands to wrap around his
erection when he was hard. Kit was gratified that his genitals didn't look
all shriveled like with a lot of guys. The column of his cock was smooth
and not gnarly with veins. The foreskin hugged his cock head leaving just
the tip visible.

As for his facial features, you would have to call the boy pretty rather
than handsome. Kit's features were delicate with an elfin quality to them:
a flawless bronzed complexion, a straight nose, finely arched brows, a
chiseled jaw line and pointed chin, and high cheekbones. His large green
eyes were blessed with eyelashes so long they could never have been meant
for any boy. On top was a slightly wavy close cropped thatch of hair the
color of corn.

Knowing that folks were watching, Kit elected to wash the salt off in the
outdoor shower, which was just a plumbing fixture suspended over a drain
board at the corner of the house. There was nothing to block their view of
the pretty nude youth as he went about his ablutions, slipping on bath
gloves, soaping up, running his hands all over his delectable body,
touching himself everywhere, then bending all the way over, ostensibly to
reach his lower calfs and ankles but really to better display his shapely
bum. The truth was, Kit was something of an exhibitionist. He thought that
as long as you did not really offend anyone, what was the harm of a little
public nudity?

Kit never pushed his luck too far, largely confining himself to nearly
deserted areas. The route of his runs lay along a remote stretch of
seashore on Long Island's North Fork. Not really a resort area, the North
Fork was rural and largely given over to farms and small towns, quite
unlike the rich enclaves of the South Fork or the gay Mecca of Fire
Island. In the vineyards, the farmhands had long since come to take him in
stride. If the boss's "ward" wanted to run around like a participant in the
ancient Olympics, well so what. Everyone should simply regard this
stunningly beautiful nude boy as a work of art.

Everyone in town knew his wealthy benefactor, Mr. Logan Killian:
businessman, gentleman farmer, industrial promoter, and ally of the local
power brokers. Tall, red-haired with sky blue eyes, he had been the town's
"most eligible bachelor" for nearly a decade before coming out as gay after
he met Kit.

Financially secure from inherited wealth, investments, and real estate
holdings, tall and powerfully built, blessed with masculine good looks, and
still several years on the sunny side of thirty, Logan Killian readily
acknowledged their mutually beneficial arrangement. It had brought an end
to years of loneliness and denial. He told his friends that he had never
been happier. Kit had drawn him out of his shell and out of the closet and
let Logan be himself. It says something of the man that though publicly
acknowledging his sexual orientation had cost him some business, it had not
cost him any of his friends.

In public Kit and Logan always identified the boy as Logan's "ward" though
no court had put him in the older man's care. Legally emancipated on his
sixteenth birthday, Kit had been on his own and at loose ends when Logan
had taken him under his wing.

Still in the nude, Kit had just finished breakfast when the phone rang. It
was Logan, who had rushed off to the office early that morning.

"Hello Kit, I've just finished my eight o'clock. For my next meeting I need
that portfolio I left on the credenza. Can you run it over?"

"Sure thing, Logan. Be there in a jiffy."

Now what to wear for the short drive over? Kit stood naked in front of his
bedroom closet and considered his options. As a matter of course, he
dismissed the thought of underwear. Kit saw little point to it. To him
underclothing was a crutch for those with poor personal hygiene -- sloppy
guys who couldn't seem to help leaving skid marks in their briefs. As a
conscientious gay male, Kit was meticulous about matters of personal
hygiene at the nether end of the alimentary canal.

Yes, these drawstring pants would do nicely. Very classy. Made of white
cotton gauze, not quite a peekaboo fabric thanks to its crinkled surface,
the semi-translucent fabric would show off his deep tan nicely. He drew the
pants on and tied a shoelace bow in front, then rolled wide cuffs up to
just below the knees. Deciding the waist rode much too high, Kit loosened
the ties then knotted the drawstrings so the pants hung quite loose and low
on his hips, displaying a good part of his Adam's girdle in front and
leaving the garment perched precariously on the curve of the boy's pert
rump. One good yank, Kit thought naughtily, would drop them to his
ankles. A thin gold neck chain completed his ensemble.

Kit decided to forego footwear entirely. After so much running barefoot,
the calluses on his feet were nearly as effective as moccasins. Now with
nearly his entire torso bare, plus his lower legs and feet, the boy had a
lot of skin on display. That was just the look he wanted: one of
understated elegance, comfort, and sensualness. Maybe this was not proper
business wear, but then Logan's stuffy real estate office really could do
with a breath of fresh air, sartorially speaking. And who better to deliver
it than a breathtakingly beautiful teenage boy?

Of course the only car that would do for this errand was Logan's two seater
open cabin English sports car, the one with the steering wheel on the
right. The show-off in Kit loved that car in warm weather. It had no top
and the steering arrangement put the driver next to the side of the road,
near passersby.

Kit slipped into the driver's seat and took off, careful not to go too
fast. Even well-meaning cops tend to overestimate the speed of sporty jobs
like the one he was driving. Then there was the jealousy factor when aging
and overweight straight cops observed a half naked pretty boy tooling along
in a costly sports car. More than once Kit had been pulled over just for
the cussedness of it. Wise beyond his years, Kit never let his temper get
the better of him. In such situations, he kept his cool and was always
polite and submissive, especially so when the cop who pulled him over
started off calling him Twinkle Toes or Tinkerbell. By now though, most of
the local cops knew who he was, so it was mainly the state police he had to
look out for.

Ten minutes later, Kit pulled into a parking space right in front of
Killian's offices, which were in a former bank building, one of the modern
sort, all glass and steel and terrazzo floors. A stainless steel sign
overhead spelled out the name of the firm, Mercury Properties. The firm
specialized in commercial and industrial real estate, rather than
residential. The front part held a rotating exhibit of architects' models
of buildings and installations. Several workstations with large monitors
allowed visitors to make virtual visits of premises they might be
interested in. Offices were to the rear.

Kit felt terribly naughty at the thought of traipsing across these august
business premises barefoot and wearing next to nothing really, just a pair
of loose fitting drawstring pants. He knew he would be the cause of a minor
sensation if not an outright scandal. Still, the mischief was upon him, and
anyway, Logan was waiting for the portfolio.

As he pulled open the heavy glass door, the chill from the air-conditioning
raised goose pimples on Kit's flawless skin and stimulated his nipples to
visibly erect as if he were in heat. Fortunately that was as far as his
incipient arousal went, especially given the flimsy and nigh onto
translucent drawstring pants which were his only garment.

The floor felt cool under Kit's feet as he breezed into the building
waiving airily to a couple of staff members he knew and spinning around to
give everyone a good look. Eyebrows were raised and jaws dropped, then
rapidly replaced by broad smiles. All except for one older man who scowled
at the brazen lad and another man, in his forties, who stared at him with
unconcealed lust.

Mildred Stone, Killian's secretary, nodded for him to go right in, smiling
indulgently at the boy's unorthodox garb. Then she had worked for Killian
senior back in the day, and was quite fond of her current boss and very
accepting of this nice boy who had put an end to Logan's melancholy.

Kit found Killian conferring with several businessmen.

"Gentlemen" Kit said, acknowledging them with a nod. Then he handed over
the portfolio. "Your portfolio, Sir."

Logan smiled warmly at the boy, but business was business. There would be
time for the two of them in the evening.

"Thank you, Kristopher; that will be all. Take the rest of the day off!" he
added grandly.

Kit grinned and left the men to their deliberations.

Too bad. On the drive over Kit had fantasized that Logan would take him
right there in his office to make up for rushing out early, foregoing their
usual morning encounter. In his mind eye, Kit saw Logan calling out to the
secretary that he was not to be disturbed, then telling the boy to lock the
door behind him. Logan would swivel his chair around while Kit made his way
to stand right in front of the man, who would reach up to run his hands
proprietarily over the boy's bared chest and down his ribs and abs to his
hips, twirling the tip of a finger in the deep navel, thumbing the sharp
hip bones through the fabric.

Then, taking hold of the simple knot, Logan would draw the ends apart,
undoing the knot entirely and letting the pants fall to the boy's ankles,
revealing Kit in all his glory.

Kit would have offered himself like that, wearing just a faint sheen of
sweat, his manhood tumescent, sticking straight out, the purpled glans
shaped like an arrowhead at the end, a droplet of fluid glistening on its
tip. How terrific that would have made Kit feel, displaying himself
shamelessly, a pretty boy in heat, cock proud, and strutting his stuff,
whirling so Logan could see him from every side, the boy's sexy body in a
state of full arousal. There was a composition for an artist to paint, of a
boy bursting with youthful male assertiveness. Gosh, what did that say
about himself. He was turning into such a slut these days

Still it was too bad Logan had not made a move at the office. If only Logan
had bent Kit over his desk and had had his way with him! Kit sighed and
focussed his mind on the present. No point driving distracted.

			Chapter 2. Logan

"That's quite some courier you have working for you Killian," one of
Logan's guests said offhandedly. "Against the window, those pants of his
were practically translucent. They all dress far too casually for an office
environment, all those messengers, but most wear cycling attire, in my
experience."

"Indeed" Logan agreed, bringing a quick end to that discussion.

Logan couldn't help thinking back to the time Kit had indeed worn cycling
attire while playing bicycle messenger. Logan had called the house and
asked Kit to bring the tablet which Logan had left at his home office to
the nearby industrial park. It was hot that day too, the previous
summer. So Kit rode up to Logan in a sheen of sweat and a pair of
abbreviated bicycle shorts -- very low rise and with a short inseam. They
were made of an airy, lightweight, porous, and nearly sheer tan-thru
fabric. Colorful patterns printed on the fabric fooled the eye into
focussing on its surface rather than looking through the flimsy cloth to
see the boy beneath. When he finally got the chance to strip the garment
off the boy's hips, he was surprised at how small a ball of cloth it rolled
up into. There was practically nothing to it but air and color.

It was some months earlier that they had met in that same industrial park,
man and boy, and hit it off right away. Kit was out and about, training at
parkour, the running/climbing/tumbling sport also called free running that
was all the rage. Though much of the old Navy land had been redeveloped for
light industry, in back many of the old structures remained, a veritable
paradise for a boy who was into parkour. There were old airplane hangers
and sheds, an abandoned electrical substation, a fuel park and pumps and so
much more. Just right for an adventuresome boy to clamber over.

Parkour was also a fine excuse for running around next thing to naked. No
equipment was allowed, not even gloves. You relied on the capabilities of
the human body alone. Which was why Kit's parkour outfit consisted of only
low-top canvas shoes and tan-thru bikini shorts. (Kit hated tan lines)

Kit had thought he was alone, but suddenly a man on the ground called up to
him.

"Hi, there, kid. That looks like fun. Mind if I join you".

"You, a suit, up here?" Kit gave back. "I don't think so." He added
laughing at the very notion.

Rather than being angry or discouraged, Logan was charmed. No way he could
just walk away from this sassy scamp. Not when Logan was gay and, at
sixteen, Kit was enticingly cute and sexy, especially with that hint of
mischief in his face.  And his laughter was infectious.  Setting aside his
jacket and slipping off his tie and shirt, Logan climbed the drain pipe of
the next building over, swung himself up onto the roof, picked his way
across the narrow box girder that joined the two buildings, and crab walked
up the slanting roof to sit down next to the boy who was his quarry.

"Still don't think so, kid?" Logan asked, eyes twinkling.

"How the hell did you do that?" Kit asked incredulous.

"I worked high iron for a couple of summers back in the city." he said
off-handedly. "So this is no big deal. It helps that when I come out here,
I wear sturdy shoes and not oxfords. Do those plimsolls on your feet really
give you enough support?"

"What they give me is a good grip on masonry, metal, and pavement."

"Hmmn, light brown plimsolls and a light brown pattern printed on that
skimpy bikini with maybe one-inch along the sides. Not so coincidentally
pretty much the same shade as your over all tan."

"You know, kid, from down on the ground you looked like you were stark
naked."

"I realize that. It's the whole reason for these colors. What's that French
notion: 'epater le bourgeois' or shock the middle class?' And sometimes I
run around in a string thong, with only a triangle in front and nothing in
back. Well, not nothing exactly, but the string in back just disappears
between the butt cheeks." Kit added, with a mischievous grin on his face.

"I'd like to see that. What about the cops?"

"Actually it is perfectly legal though just barely -- er no pun
intended. Once my lawyer made that clear to the authorities, there's has
been no trouble. So Mr. High Iron. Would you care to come along -- but on
second thought, no. I'll bet you couldn't keep up with me."

"Probably not, to be honest. Small and lightweight like that, you are quick
and agile. But I could go most anywhere you could, if not so fast. Anyway,
forget Mr. High Iron, the name is Logan. And what do I call you anyway. I
can't keep calling you kid.

"Actually "kid" is pretty close, since my name really is "Kit", short for
"Kristopher".

"Anyway, aren't you afraid someone will see us up here, Logan? All right, I
am a kid, but what is your excuse? What could you say to the authorities or
the owner? A grown man playing King of the Mountain?" Kit challenged.

"Actually they would be very polite with me and say something like, 'Oh,
this would be some kind of inspection, wouldn't it, Mr. Killian. Is there
anything we can help you with, sir?' As for the owner, you're looking at
him."

Kit shook his head, smiling. He was delighted by the big man's company and
his snappy comebacks. And he was certainly easy on the eyes. Logan's white
tank top Logan hugged his powerful torso and bared shoulders a gymnast
would be proud off.  Kit found himself wondering what it would feel like to
be enfolded in the embrace of those powerful arms. So far most of his
sexual adventures had been with boys his own age, but he had recently
become attracted to grown men too.

"OK, so how about we just play follow the leader, non-competitively. I
won't try to shake you off my tail, and you try to keep up?"

"Fine. And a very nice tail it is too." the man added sotto voce -- though
not low enough that the boy couldn't hear it."

"Better and better." Kit thought to himself.

They took off for an energetic clamber over some of the more difficult
structures in the installation. Kit had the advantage of agility and small
size, while Logan had superior upper body strength, longer reach, plus a
superb sense of balance. After a while, it was Logan who took the lead, and
so it went, back and forth, for over a hour.

At that point, as Kit ran across a roof, the structure underneath started
to give way. He threw himself to the side wall and held on as masonry
crumbled and steel twisted. Kit found himself perched precariously on a
stretch of brick wall that threatened to fall over at any moment. Logan
circled around the bad section and approached the stranded boy from the
other direction. He took a firm grip on a pipe and reached out to the
stranded boy. Kit's only chance was to jump across the open drop to a
narrow ledge on the intersecting wall and grab Logan's wrist.

They looked across at one another, man and boy. Logan could see that the
youth, though scared, did not lack courage. It was a matter of trusting a
complete stranger with his life.

"You can count on me, Kit. I won't let go of you. I won't let you down. Not
today. Not any day," he declared fervently.

Gulping, but instinctively trusting the man who reached out for him, the
boy gathered himself and pushed off. His landing was wobbly, but before he
could fall, Logan locked his big hand around the boy's right wrist. Turning
with the boy's full weight on his arms and shoulders, the big man then
swung Kit bodily from the ledge to a window opening, from which he could
scramble atop the roof proper. The pair collapsed together into a heap and
held each other close.

"Whoa, that was close!" the badly shaken boy remarked. The big man shook
his head and crushed the boy to him.

"Much too close, little Kit. It would have been awful to lose you just when
I had found you. I couldn't have borne it, the sight of you at the bottom
of a dark hole, this sexy body of yours broken and crushed, that pretty
face of yours twisted in pain or staring blankly in death."

The man's eyes brimmed over with tears at the close call.

"But I am all right, Logan. A bit battered and bruised, maybe. I can see
that your iron grip on my wrist left a purple bruise, but I am very much
alive. Not to mention very glad to be in your arms at last."

He turned his face up toward Logan. Taking his cue, the big man kissed the
boy full on the lips. It was a first kiss, a tender kiss, a kiss full of
promise. They both smiled giddily, then kissed again, this time holding the
kiss. Logan's tongue parted the boy's lips and invaded his mouth. Tongues
thrust and parried. The blood pounded at Kit's temples.

"Uh, Kit, much as I am enjoying this, there are better places for it than a
crumbling rooftop."

With that the duo climbed down to the ground and took stock of the
situation.

"We'd better wash some of that dirt off you, Kit. Now I happen to know that
there is a small stream just the other side of those woods. Even a secluded
swimming hole of sorts. How does that sound."

"Sounds great as long as you get naked too!"

"Naughty boy! What could have put such thoughts into that pretty head of
yours?"

			Chapter 3. Bonding

"First thing Kit, let's swing by my car for a change of clothes. These
pants of mine are a wreck. We can also pick up the shaving kit I keep in a
flight bag. I've got soap, moist toilettes, bath gloves and a whole lot
more. One thing I have learned in working around derelict real estate is
how easy it is to get filthy through no fault of your own."

Logan dropped off his suit jacket, shirt and tie into a plastic bag the
pulled out the flight bag and draped a faded track suit over his arm. The
pair then walked into the woods. This was familiar terrain for Logan. He
led them along a stream to a clear pool backed up behind a low earthen
dam. Flat rocks lined the near side and then mossy flats.

"Not many folks come out here Kit thanks to a rumor that this land was once
a toxic waste dump. Not true. Fact is the Navy never built on this part of
their property or used it for any purpose other than as a buffer for a
shopping center a klick north of here. No one knows about this little gem
except me and now you."

"Time to get cleaned up."

Nodding his agreement, Kit loosened his shoelaces and kicked his plimsolls
right off. Flashing Logan a grin, he slipped his bikini off, pausing just
long enough for Logan to get a good look at his bare bum. Logan watched
entranced as the boy sashayed into the water, buns dimpling fetchingly with
the swing of his hips.

Kit stepped into the water close to the exit of the pool and dunked
himself. Using a bar of soap provided by Logan, he cleaned his bikini,
partly by beating the soap cloth against a rock then rinsing it off. Then
he soaped up and got himself all squeaky clean. Satisfied with that, Kit
climbed out of the pool and hung his garment in the sun to dry.

"It won't take half an hour in the sun," he explained, smiling at
Logan. "Your turn, now to get clean."

Actually, though he was sweaty, Logan wasn't all that dirty. Most of the
dirt was on Logan's clothes since he had been full dressed during their
adventure. Nevertheless, Logan did need to bathe, if only to smell sweet
for his assignation with this delightful creature in whose company he
was. So he had taken off his shoes socks tank top and stood there in a pair
of white boxer briefs looking regretfully at his trousers.

"With these tears and scrapes and the tar from that roof they are just good
for rags, now."

Hanging them on a bush he reached for his shorts, but Kit forestalled him,
already down on his knees, peeling Logan's tight undershorts off his hips
and down to his ankles. Logan lifted one foot at a time to let the boy slip
them off entirely. Neither said anything, just holding a pose that to both
seemed perfectly natural: the older dominant male upright, on his feet,
looming over the nude youth on his knees before him, as was only proper for
a young submissive.

Little Kit looked so damned cute and sexy down there between the man's
legs, pretty face turned up worshipfully, looking hopefully at Logan's
genitals. Logan nodded his permission and the boy leaned forward and kissed
the head of the man's already turgid penis. His tongue flicked out and
licked the corona and poked naughtily at the piss slit.

"I couldn't wait any longer. Please let me serve you, sir." Saying sir to
this grown man just felt natural to Kit.

Logan patted the boy's hair affectionately, smiled down at him, then took
hold of his shaft running the head around the boy's lips.

"Open up, Kit."

As Kit's lips parted Logan slipped the head of his cock and the first
couple of inches inside, giving the boy that much to work with. Gosh this
boy's face was so impossibly beautiful. Logan's thumb followed the line of
the high cheekbones and chiseled jaw line and the straight nose, cupping
the chin as the boy continued to suck him. Logan took care not to just ram
his cock down the boy's throat. He really wasn't sure how much experience
the boy had. After all, he looked so damn young. That brought a sudden
worry.

"Uh, you are of age, aren't you Kit?"

"Sixteen last month, sir." replied with a satisfied nod.

Maybe Kit was barely legal, but he was no beginner at oral sex. The boy's
tongue and lips soon had the older male fully aroused, his cock engorged,
the veins snaking down its length purple and angry. Logan was ecstatic from
the way the boy's expert ministrations had aroused him. He gasped as the
boy's mouth enclosed his cock head in a warm moistness. Then Kit started
sucking in earnest.

As for Kit, the boy looked cross-eyed at the length and thickness of the
huge cock joining them. Sure, this wasn't his first time on his knees, but
two years of oral sex with boys his own age hadn't fully prepared him for a
grown man. With his relative inexperience, he was not sure he could handle
a cock this big, badly as he wanted to please Logan.

And to please himself. In truth, Kit had never wanted anything more in his
life than to make love to this big handsome man. Just the smell of him made
Kit's mouth water and his nether hole twitch in anticipation. He wanted
this man to take him at both ends, to exploit both of his boy holes. After
all, this was what sexually submissive boys like Kit had been put on earth
for in the first place.

The rush of hormones kicked Kit's teenage libido into overdrive. He went at
it with a will, sucking, licking. and slurping. When Logan sensed the boy
was ready for more he slipped him another couple of inches. That left a
flesh tube five inches long joining the man and the boy.

From that point it was Kit who took the lead, swallowing that big cock,
leaning forward when he was ready, allowing more of the shaft to slip down
his gullet, fighting his gag reflex, nostrils flaring to take in air around
the blockage, easing off a bit when he must, but going at it once again,
determined to deep throat Logan completely. That is what a proper boy does
for his man.

Finally the cock was fully lodged in Kit's throat with Logan's pubic hairs
pressing against the boy's lips. Logan didn't try to hold the boy there,
knowing that the impaled youth had struggled to to breathe around his
cock. He pulled back to let the boy take in air through his
nose. Synchronizing their movements, they developed a rhythm that soon
brought Logan to the brink of climax. Abruptly, the man slapped boy's.

"Tut tut, Kit. Hands off your cock. You can serve only one cock at a time,
and mine goes first." Logan admonished.

Frustrated but obedient Kit crossed his wrists behind his back as if in
bondage and stopped working his own cock, concentrating on pleasuring this
man who had so forcefully taken charge of him. He shivered with the frisson
of his own abject submissiveness. He knew that dominant males like Logan
liked to keep a boy in his place, sometimes through trash talk or
humiliation, or even with bondage and beatings. Kit didn't really want to
be beaten, but he thought it would be exciting for this man to maybe spank
his ass red or string him up to a tree and take a switch to his butt for
some minor infraction of discipline. And wouldn't it be really sexy to be
rendered utterly helpless, locked into handcuffs and leg irons. You can't
get more submissive than that.

Aroused as much as he was, it did not take long for Logan to climax and
spurt his seed down Kit's throat. After the first three pulses, Logan
pulled back so that the head of his cock rested on Kit's tongue. He wanted
the boy to develop a taste for his manly cum. As Logan's gism continued to
erupt, it filled Kit's mouth to overflowing. Some of it escaped, dribbling
down his chin. Drained, Logan pulled out entirely, grasped the shaft of his
cock and painted his semen all over the boy's face with the head of his
cock as paintbrush, marking him as one male does another.

"I have marked you as mine now, Kit. I want you to take that as seriously
as I do. Now let me get my second wind while I clean up and then it is your
turn. Both your ass and your cock. Remember, hands off till I get back."

Logan bathed in the pool while Kit waited impatiently leaning back on his
haunches. He kept his hands off his cock but couldn't help rubbing his
chest and belly and playing with his aroused nipples. Logan looked over and
smiled. Yes, there was one boy who needed it bad. Suddenly a thought came
to Logan

"You're not a virgin are you, Kit? I mean anally."

"No."

"Have you been with many men before?"

"Just with boys my own age or a little older. It's funny, but until just
recently I was rather turned off by the idea of sex with an older male. It
felt icky. You know body hair and pubic hair and whiskers and all. But now
I like the contrast with boyish sorts like me."

"Yes, that is why bottom boys like you get themselves permanently depilated
these days to keep that boyish look and feeling. No hair on chest, pits,
groin, arms, legs, anywhere, ever. No beard either. I take it that nowadays
you don't mind a bit of chest hair or the treasure trail leading down to my
pubes."

"No, that was then. Nowadays I like for a man to be masculine. Though a bit
of body hair goes a long way. I mean, if it's all over the back and
shoulders, then Ugh! You look just fine with light swirls of hair around
your pecs and that sparse treasure trail down to your pubes. I didn't even
mind it just now when I got a couple of wiry pubic hairs stuck in my
teeth. It made me feel incredibly slutty."

"Good. From now on you can count on me to set you snuffling at my pubes, to
munch on them and to comb them with your teeth."

"Now listen, Kit. This is going to be different. I will be careful with you
this afternoon, but I cannot promise that it won't hurt. At times the pain
will be pretty intense. Try to get your head around it. Think of it as a
rite of passage, losing your male maiden head. If you bleed back there,
that's your virgin's blood. I promise you that much pleasure will follow
the brief pain. And don't think that, big as I am, I cannot fit inside you
all the way without tearing you up back there. Your sphincters will survive
intact if a little sore. Trust me on that score."

"Now when the pain gets bad, squeeze your booty muscles. Bear down as if
you were trying to force a big turd out. I know that sounds backwards, but
it works, as legions of bottom boys could attest over the centuries."

Kit nodded his acceptance. In truth he was practically a virgin back
there. He had done it twice before but both times as a willing subject for
sexual experimentation by bottom boys like himself who wanted to see what
it felt like to take the other role. This was the first time he would give
his ass to a man full-grown. In a very real sense, this would be his
deflowering.

As Logan stalked out of the shaded pool, Kit got onto all fours facing away
from him, knees wide apart, genitals dangling between his slender thighs,
offering the man his ass, his cherry.

"That's right. Now put your head down and cross your arms in front. Chest
and belly down, butt up. Just like in those porno videos you beat off to."

Blushing furiously, Kit kept his ass high while touching his chest and chin
to the mossy ground, forearms crossed and braced in front of him. Logan
smiled at the way the boy's posture emphasized the heart shape of his
lovely bottom, from firm buttocks to narrow hips. He leaned forward to
explore the boy's torso, squeezing the firm deltoids, fingering the
prominent ribs, massaging the V of the lats. Kit had an impressive
musculature for one so very young and slender. No wonder he was so good at
this parkour stuff.

"All right Kit, now brace yourself. I am going to take you doggy style this
first time because it is easier on you. Now let's get you ready. The first
thing you are going to feel back there is my fingers lubing your anal
sphincters. Umm, this crinkly whorl is tight, but then you are a virgin for
all intents and purposes. There that should do it. I am going to slick up
your boy teat too, but don't play with it till I tell you to."

Taking a good hold of the boy's butt cheeks with his fingers, Logan
inserted his thumbs into the nearly virgin orifice and pulled it open,
drawing a sharp intake of breath from the boy. Logan carefully stretched
the tight bands of muscle, let them relax then stretched them again. That
satisfied him that this near virgin boy could take it, for despite what he
had told Kit, it always gratified him that such a tiny orifice really could
take a monster cock like his.

With his own cock slicked all along its length, Logan put the purpled head
right up to brown anal whorl, provoking a whimper from the recumbent
boy. That was just what Logan had been waiting for. A soft whimper of
submission is a virgin's boy's admission to himself that he really was
going to take a man's cock up his ass. It was the final admission to
himself that his male anatomy aside, his sexual identity called for him to
take the passive role, to be penetrated rather than doing the honors
himself. Sexual pleasure for his sort of boy would come as much from his
holes as from his external genitalia. It was the moment a young male became
forever in his own mind a bottom, a submissive, a pussy boy, the passive
partner in anal sex. Logan felt the boy shudder from his conflicted
emotions of humiliation and lust.

The big man's first thrust got the head and the next inch of so of cock
through the constriction. He held himself there while Kit moaned and
struggled to accept his fate. The boy's first instinct was to pull away
from the source of the pain, but Logan's kept him firmly in place by his
grip on the boy's hip bones. Accepting the inevitable, Kit breathed deep,
readying himself for his anal ordeal. The boy worked his inner muscles as
Logan had taught him, squeezing down and pushing out. The boy's efforts
were clumsy and not terribly effective, but at least he was trying. Logan
patted the back of the boy's head affectionately, sorry that he must
inflict even temporary pain of a sweet kid like little Kristopher
here. Tender as his feeling were for this delightful boy, Logan hardened
his heart to Kit's sobs and tears and whimpers. This virgin fuck was for
the boy's own good, after all.

And he would make it up to the boy, very soon now with ten times as much
pleasure as pain.

Logan gave Kit another couple of inches and swiveled his pelvis, searching
for and touching the boy's prostate. That set him off like a electric
shock. In an instant the hormone drenched teenager was dizzy with lust, his
eyes rolled up into his head, his slender body shuddering helplessly in an
internal orgasm. Sweat poured out of him, getting his body all slick. Logan
held him tight, delighted by his success. It felt so good to hold the
squirming sweaty sexy body of this impossibly sexy youngster as it
shuddered in the throes of passion. Kit was undoubtedly the sexiest and
most beautiful boy he had ever encountered in real life. And he was
learning. The way his ass muscles were squeezing his cock almost set Logan
off early.

"What's happening to me?" Kit wondered aloud.

"Your reward. My cock just found your joy spot, Kit."

"Never heard of it."

Logan laughed indulgently at the boy's naivete'.

"Then you are lucky to have found the right teacher, Kit. Your days of
teenage fumbling are over. What I can teach you about the male anatomy will
make you an expert lover. For now let's concentrate on today's practical
exercise. We'll go over the theory back at my place real soon."

With that, the man slid the rest of his cock into the boy's welcoming
hole. Kit gasped and moaned and bit his lip at this final total
penetration. Somehow his body accommodated the monster cock that had
invaded it and taken possession of his teenage body and impaled it as if on
a spit. He wondered what he must look like now, on all fours, his small
body practically engulfed by a man more twice his weight, covering him like
a stallion does a filly. It all felt so very right, Kit wanted this feeling
to last forever.

And things got even better when Logan started long dicking him, slow and
deep, driving his cock till his pubes scraped the boy's tender cheeks,
drawing out slowly, the sliding back in, the shaft often finding his sweet
spot and setting off another internal orgasm. Kit was in teenage sex
heaven.

"Go ahead, play with yourself now, Kit. We must be both about ready to
explode."

It didn't take long for Kit, his sex drive already in high gear, to reach
orgasm. The boy screamed with his release, nearly swooning from the force
of his multiple ejaculations. Logan lay himself atop the boy, sweaty chest
to sweaty back, then drove his cock one final time and started shooting his
gism deep into Kit's innards, claiming the youth as his own. Then he too
collapsed, utterly spent.

They lay there exhausted but exhilarated, Logan stroking the boy, gentling
him like a rider does with a nervous filly. With his right hand, he reached
right under the boy, to the gobs of ejaculate his teen cock had spit out
onto the moss. He scooped some up on his fingers and offered it to the
boy. Kit's tongue slurped as he licked the fingers clean. Logan got some
more but this time traced the boy's high cheekbone and straight nose with
his own jism.

			Chapter 4. Sharing their Lives

"Wow that was intense!" Kit enthused, earning a kiss from Logan.

"Another satisfied customer" Logan declared smugly, though in jest.

I guess that's true then, isn't it Logan. You must have been with so many
boys."

"Not as many as you might think, Kit. I have been very discreet out here on
the North Fork, living almost like a monk. No hanky panky with the
locals. When business takes me into the city, I cruise the bars and
sometimes call an agency. It's convenient that I own a pied-a'-terre in the
West Village in an apartment building that's half mine."

"Actually I have been halfway out of the closet for years even without a
public announcement. It has not escaped my attention that my friends and
their wives have stopped trying to play matchmaker or asking me when I was
going to get married. Until today, I wondered if I would ever find someone
to love, to share my life with. Now I think I might have."

"You mean me? Logan, you don't even know me. Not really."

"Not yet, but I want to get to know you better. In fact, I'd like to try to
make a full-time relationship work. Do you think we could try, the two of
us, man and boy. I'd want us to be open with folks around here about our
gay relationship. None of that 'He's just my houseboy' stuff. Can we give
it a try?"

"OK by me. You're not only sexy as hell but interesting just to be
with. But fair warning. For all you know I might be a punk looking for a
score or some drugged out loser who is planning to rob you blind. What's to
keep me from feeding you some sob story, something that will make you want
to charge to the rescue as my white knight?"

"Do you have sob story? Should I get out the Kleenex?"

"No. Not at all. Oh, I am an orphan all right, but I'm pretty well fixed
from my parents' insurance and all. My dad died back when I was seven. He
was a car dealer with three sales lots around the Island. My mother
remarried much too soon to my father's business partner, Jed. Not a bad guy
really but with no interest in another man's kid, especially once it became
obvious that I was gay. Then my mother got sick and took more than a year
dying."

"Jed just wasn't the nurturing type either with a dying wife or an unwanted
step-son. He openly took up with a younger woman during my mother's
illness. Claimed that a man had his needs. I could see the way things were
going, and I wanted out on my terms. I've always been a brainy kid, so I
took extra courses over two summers and the year in between so I could get
my high school diploma early. That was two months ago. I was just shy of
sixteen."

"Anyway, when my mother died, we came to a parting of the ways. He agreed
to let my mother's lawyer petition for my legal emancipation. That way I
was on my own and he was shot of any responsibility for me. Money was not
an issue. Jed had inherited my dad's share of the business and then
expanded it, while my mother got the house and investments and insurance. I
got all that was left when she died, at first in trust, but now under my
own control.

"That makes you what, a poor little rich boy?"

"With as close to two million as makes no difference. Hey, maybe I should
be eyeing you as the unscrupulous adventurer and fortune hunter," he added
with a grin.

"Unlikely. I'm worth fifteen million, easy."

"Wow."

"Would you like to come over to my place after we clean up?

"Sure."

Logan's place was only a few miles away, an easy distance for Kit if he had
cared to run it. They took an unpaved back road across acres of
vineyards. Kit was surprised that Logan's place was a two building
combination of farmhouse and beach house. The beach house fronted on Long
Island Sound. It was of all wooden construction, with lots of glass facing
the water and a wooden staircase leading down to a fairly rocky beach. It
was not winterized for cold weather. An enclosed walkway joined this
structure to a stone farm house, which looked out on extensive vineyards
and out buildings. The farm manager and cook lived on the property, and
there were barracks for the extra help at harvest. The farm house gate on
the nearest paved road was nearly half a mile from the main house.

Logan's father had built the house and put in the vineyards on formerly
neglected land. Logan himself had added the beach house for his own use and
to house guests. In winter guests could stay at a smaller guest house next
the the main house.

Nothing fancy, the farmhouse was just that, a home, not a manor house nor
anything grand. It was as much a workplace as a residence since it was the
nerve center of a sizable agricultural enterprise. The vineyard sold most
of its grapes to other operators. They were only getting started in
winemaking and in just a small way, for household use and for free
distribution to the farm hands as a yearly bonus.

On their arrival the workers greeted Logan cordially enough though eyebrows
were raised as a near naked teenager got out of the boss's car. What could
the boss want with a kid a decade younger. And if it was what they
suspected it might be, then the boy was surely jailbait. He couldn't be
more than fourteen.

Logan was shrewd enough to guess their thoughts and let it be known through
his farm manager, Ted Knowles, that no, the boy he was calling his ward
might look fourteen years old, but he was sixteen, the age of consent, and
was legally an adult. Tongues still wagged, but Logan was a good boss to
work for and jobs were scarce way out on Long Island. And everyone knew how
things were on Fire Island, not so very far away on the South Shore. So no
one got too bent out of shape.

Kit moved in with Logan the next day, putting his boyhood home, of unhappy
memory, on the market, listed with a residential broker whom Logan had
recommended. Anyway, a boy his age should have more of his assets invested
for long term growth. Especially now living with Logan, he had little need
for income -- just personal expenses. Logan continued to pay all household
expenses himself. They kept their finances strictly separate, and Logan
would not let the boy invest in any of his projects, not wanting to seem to
take advantage. Anyway the boy was too young to invest in real estate in
any serious way.

Logan wasn't so head over heels in love that he didn't think to protect his
interests. He had a private detective run a background check on the boy to
verify his bona fides. The detective's report bore out Kit's claims in
every respect. With frank candor Logan showed Kit the report. He then
arranged for Kit to hire another detective to run a check on himself. As
Kit's client, not Logan's, the second detective was duty bound to deliver
an honest report. That was the way Logan insisted it be with them: no
secrets and no suspicion of hidden agendas.

Mildred was the first to know about their relationship. As Logan's
secretary she dealt with the detectives so she got to read both
reports. That eased her fears about this young boy who had so suddenly come
into her employer's life. Mildred was very fond of Logan, having watched
him grow up, a sort of Dutch Aunt always there for him. She had known he
was gay since he was ten and had seen how lonely Logan's closeted existence
had left him. Once she saw how happy Kit made him she became their biggest
supporter and defender. She wouldn't hear any criticism of "that nice
Hungerford boy", not from anyone.

Kit got on well with the farmhands too and pitched in a couple of days a
week, helping with simpler tasks, digging, driving posts, and staking. He
didn't mind hard work and never abused his personal relationship with
Logan. Though he was not one of the hired help he took orders from the farm
manager or straw boss just like everyone else. That earned him the respect
of the men.

One hot day that first summer Logan walked the rows of vines to where a
work party was planting new grapevines. After a couple of hours of hard
work, all four were dirty and sweaty. In the heat, the other three guys
were bare to the waist, but Kit was working stark naked, except for a
baseball cap perched on the back of his head. Logan pulled out a camera and
took a series of snapshots of the nude teenager pushing a wheelbarrow
around. He couldn't resist teasing the brazen teenager.

"What's that point of that cap if is so far back on your head that it
cannot possibly shield your eyes from the bright sun?"

Kit sighed, the kind of sigh that only teenagers can manage. "If you must
know, Logan, it's a fashion statement."

"See." he said whirling around to present his back and his bum to an
appreciative audience then explained:

"The contrast between the cap on my head and my unclothed hairless body
accentuates my nudity and boyishness. Not that I am trying to tempt your
staff to bed. All of them are disgustingly straight, more's the pity!", he
said with mock regret.

"I am not complaining, Kit. Actually, I like your look a whole lot. But
what is this I hear about your running the back roads without a stitch on,
not even a baseball cap?"

Kit shrugged. "You know how much I like to get naked, to let folks see me
that way or as nearly as I can get away with. I mean, what's the harm? By
now everyone on the property has seen me naked lots of times."

"Yes, but though these gravel roads run through my property, they are
really township or county roads."

"Well, if it's the law you are worried about, don't be. The two deputies
that patrol around here were in school with me, though a few years
ahead. We weren't really friends then, but they know me and don't hassle
me, as long as I don't run starkers through downtown Riverhead. Oh, and I
do have to blow them now and again to keep them friendly."

"Shameless boy!" Logan said, shaking his head in mock reproach. That was
his boy all right, an oversexed exhibitionist, if the truth were
known. Still if anyone ever looked good with all his clothes off, it was
Kristopher Hungerford. Renaissance artists would have fought over him, both
for the right to sculpt or paint him or for the privilege of taking him to
bed. Well, Logan was no Leonardo, but he figured he owed it to humanity and
to posterity to record the existence of the extraordinary unclothed beauty
of one of the loveliest youths ever to have been born on the planet.

Too bad he or Kit couldn't post their pix right on Facebook, but that site
had silly rules against nudity to appease the prudes. The duo found ways
around that including links from their Facebook pages to a non-commercial
website where the boy was endlessly portrayed in posed and candid
photographs and video clips. Kit was often featured on YouTube too, though
none of their postings had yet gone viral.

Kit always liked to keep an even tan in spring and summer. He spent much of
his time outdoors in the nude, whether reading in the backyard, by the
pool, at the nude beach. He went windsurfing on the Sound or paddle surfing
in the sheltered waters of Great Peconic Bay and adjoining waters, always
in the nude. He would stand upright the better to display himself, waving
to those he encountered: boaters, fishermen, clam diggers, and other water
folk. If he had to wear something it was just a pair of shorts, no
shirt. Much of his summer wardrobe of shirts and shorts and pants are made
from tan thru fabrics. The cloth didn't let all the sun's rays through but
enough. Over the winter, bundled up or huddled in the stone house, he
turned pale again.

During the winter, Kit kept in shape riding an exercise cycle. He rode
three days a week, two hours a day, all the while reading books and
magazines on a tablet perched on the shelf between the handle bars. That
alternated with swimming laps in one of those small pools where you swam
against a continuous current of water. Always in the nude, just like the
ancient Olympians, he explained to Logan.

Afterwards, he would lie down on a mock polar bear rug in front of the
fireplace, comfortable as a cat, head resting on the polar bear's head
cradled by his forearms, eyes half closed, luxuriating in the the radiant
heat from the crackling fire. The dancing flames cast interesting
highlights of yellow and red and gold on his bare skin. And just like a
contented cat, he just begged to be petted.

Logan got down on his knees next to his boy and petted Kit's head, drawing
a purr from the boy just like a cat's. Kit had let his blond locks grow out
longer to give Logan that better grab he wanted for greater control when
Kit gave him head. Logan stroked the boy's shoulders and lats, amazed at
how soft his skin felt, nearly as soft as a baby's. That was from the body
lotions and oils Logan liked to massage and work into it. He poured a bit
of a non-greasy lotion on his hands and rubbed it lightly all over the
boy's back, starting at the shoulders and giving special attention to the
firm globes of his buttocks. Done on that side he gave the buttocks a light
slap. That was the signal for Kit to turn over.

He did turn over and stretched, very much like a kitty cat, a contented
smile on his pretty face. He lay there, spreadeagled and vulnerable, an
offering to the gods. Logan held him down by the wrists and leaned forward
for a deep kiss. The boy arched his back and spread his legs to give the
man access to every orifice and crevice of his body. Logan went at it once
again, rubbing and massaging.  He spent time tweaking Kit's sensitive
nipples, thumbing and twisting and pulling on them. Logan knelt between
Kit's slender legs, rubbing them, marveling at how smooth a boy's legs felt
without body hair. By now the column of the boy's penis was fully swollen
and erect. Logan had to be careful not to massage and coat the cock too
vigorously or he would set the boy off prematurely.

Kit drew his knees up and out to give Logan better access to his butt and
hole. Soon Logan was applying lube to Kit anal whorl and to the sphincters
it guarded. Kit was the kind of sex partner Logan craved: complaisant and
submissive in foreplay, wild and out of control as the hormones raged
through his teenage body.

He propped the boy's legs up on his shoulders and put the head of his cock
at Kit's hole. Kit looked up at Logan adoringly, eager to be taken. Logan
was the sort of man he craved: powerful, forceful, and commanding. As for
Kit, he was no shy virgin, not even that first time around the pool, Kit
was the sort of boy who was born to be fucked hard and often and by men who
knew how. Which is just what Logan proceeded to do.

Afterwards, as they lay together all sweaty and spent, Kit sighed.

"Life is good!" while Logan added:

"Yes, Kit, now that we have found each other."

Then it was time for a shower. Afterwards, Logan slipped on a robe but Kit
elected to stay naked. Basically, Kit didn't have much use for clothing,
certainly not in private and as little as possible in public. The way he
figured it, when you were young, in shape, and as good looking as he was,
then nudity should be the default condition. After all, weren't we born
that way, he noted with ineluctable logic. He did make practical
concessions to the elements.

Kit neither worked regular hours nor went to school full-time. He was all
done with high school. During his first year with Logan he took advanced
placement tests for non-technical subjects including English composition,
French and Italian, subjects he had taken in high school plus German which
he learned on-line from Deutche Welle. A lifelong reader he also polished
off American and World History based just on what he already knew. He
thought the history tests were ridiculously easy. He also took a few
traditional college courses locally though that was mostly to meet other
young people and for access to a campus and to extra-curricular
activities. He was active with gay student groups and sometimes brought
friends over.

Basically Kit was a youth at loose ends, with a lot of time on his hands,
not knowing where he was going but in no great hurry get there. He knew he
did not want a nine to five career, but he did want to work at something
constructive. Yes, he could probably grow his investments to where he
wouldn't have to work at all, but loafing for the rest of his life didn't
appeal to him at all. Kit had been given gifts including a class A
brain. Surely he could make himself useful to society and earn a decent
income too, a good middle class income, thank you, not chump change behind
a counter or cash register.

As an employer in several distinct lines of business, Logan knew something
about matching people to jobs. He steered Kit to the world of vocational
counseling: books and websites, tests and counsellors. That helped Kit sort
some things out. Kit knew himself well-enough to rule out any of the
"helping professions" like doctor, nurse, social worker, counselor, relief
worker, etc. He did not think he was especially selfish, but that sort of
caring for others just wasn't in his nature. He was just too self-centered
and honest enough to admit it. Some occupations sounded utterly boring
including actuary, archivist, and accountant, to name just the A's.

And Kit didn't want to go to college full time either, certainly not to
some residential college that would take him away from Logan. Anyway, at
sixteen and so small for his age that he looked fourteen, Kit probably
shouldn't be in a residential college anyway. Living in a dorm, sharing a
room with several older guy, he wouldn't fit in socially. Even at the local
college, some of the gay students were uncomfortable hanging out with a boy
(whom some called a child) who didn't fit their age cohort, no matter how
personable he might be.

Meanwhile the two of them had each other. They made occasional visits to
New York City and Fire Island. Kit was welcomed to barbecues and lawn
parties thrown by Logan's old friends. Logan entertained in return. His
guests actually looked forward to seeing what outrageous outfit Kit would
prance around that afternoon. It was as toss up which was more popular:
that skimpy flesh colored bikini that molded itself to his genitals or a
tiny string thong, just a triangle of fabric the size of Kit's hand held in
place by elastic cords not much more substantial than dental floss.

Everyone could see how much the young couple were in love and wished them
all the best in the bright future that beckoned.

			Author's Note

This story was inspired by a photo on the internet of a beautiful youth
standing inside a modern glass and steel office building, dressed in a pair
of white drawstring pants and nothing else. To drool over. Go to:
gaycultes.blogspot.com/2012/01/reflete.html

This is a stand-alone story. Virtually all my other stories were published
in continuing series of stories, though each tale stands pretty much
alone. They can be read in almost any order. There are two series of
historical novelettes. The 'Daphne Boy' tales depict an eternally youthful
protagonist and his perilous adventures in exotic climes and times. The
settings for the 'Naked Prey' series are equally exotic, with timelines
anywhere in the last two millennia, but each story has its own cute twink
protagonist. All my young heroes seem to have a lot of trouble keeping
their clothes on.

My other series are the 'Track and Field' stories in Gay/College and my
'Mer-Boy' stories in Gay/Beginnings. For links to all my stories, look on
the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive for George Gauthier.

Comments and feedback welcome at georgegauthierdc@gmail.com