Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an166744@anon.penet.fi
Date: Wed, 26 Apr 1995 17:28:46 UTC
Subject: DREAM CHILD (m/b) [1/2]

DREAM CHILD    (man/boy)


I did not write this. I'm posting it for somebody else. Hope you like
it. Send comments to an166744@anon.penet.fi



"The Dream Child"   written by BASE.               (04/95)


                         THE DREAM CHILD

                               (I)


   The sun set in a blaze of red fury.  The sky itself seemed to share
the boy's rage just as the aimless wind echoed his cold emptiness.
Salty tears fell from his sad brown eyes. His blond hair reflected
the dying light back to the heavens. His young heart perceived only
dismal shades of loneliness as the shadows of night crept from the
darkening hills.   Mac was gone, his hero, but the strong man had
promised to return. And so the beautiful ten-year-old boy would wait
through another cold and dreary night, for Mac who had saved him from
the terrible night; for Mac who had touched him in that new and
wonderful way, for Mac who had shown him the only love he could
recall in his short and bitter life.  And so, until he died, he would
wait for the man to return.

   The sad child's name was Freddie. His parents were only dim phantoms
barely perceptible behind the red wall of horror that bound his
recollection.  His memory began with an abrupt awakening into
unspeakable fear.  He was pulled by violent hands, hundreds of them
it seemed, from peaceful slumber and dragged mercilessly from the
smoking cabin.  His mind contained dreadful visions of evil, half-
naked men with flaming skin and long black hair, horrible visions of
beloved faces hacked cruelly into gruesome chunks of quivering meat.
And then came a brutal ride, bare-backed and at awful speed, filled
with hideous savage yells, drowned in his ears only by his own
uncontrollable bawling. Until finally, the poor child fainted from
exhaustion and fear into terrible dreaming.

   The boy woke and found the waking worse than his wildest nightmares.
He was being stripped by honed and bony hands. Aged women groped
hungrily at his nakedness.  They washed his body roughly, with hot
water, taking special pleasure in hurting his hairless genitals. They
pulled and tugged on his tiny penis and crushed his scrotum in their
wicked hands. They rubbed oily fat on his smooth skin and sprinkled
weeds and salty grist all over his body.  The boy, seeing the raging
fire and skewer realized with indescribable horror that they were
preparing him for a grisly feast.  The hideous, cackling laughter as
he cried and struggled uselessly simply froze his nude body into a
mass of solid fear.  Then, as he nearly fainted again, the air was
broken by thunder claps.  Men, women and naked little children
seemed to run in mad confusion.  Smoke blew in from all directions
so that his eyes stung and a cloud of dust leapt into the air and
enveloped all in a huge and blinding mist. Horses neighed and men
screamed. Scenes of slaughter flashed again before his eyes as he
turned from one terror to the next.  The boy almost longed for the
swift arrow or blessed bullet that would end this night of horror.
But as he wished for death, a tall, strong man, like a shield, stood
over him and looked down on his small nakedness with pity.  The boy
began to bawl,  his red eyes begging for mercy.  The man scooped him
up and brought him out of the loathsome night into a safe and gentle
morning.


   Freddie awoke, wrapped in the man's arms.  They were both naked,
alone in some deep valley with a bubbling river.  He luxuriated in
the silky softness of the man's body hair.  How far he had traveled
or where he was in the wide world, the boy had no idea.  But when the
big man woke and smiled at him, Freddie knew he was safe.  The man's
name was Mac and the boy could hardly believe how strong he was.
His arms were huge and knotty, his shoulders were broad and his
pectoral muscles seemed like slabs of mountain rock, but his face
was gentle and kindly.  His long brown hair and icy blue eyes were
softened by an almost feminine beauty so that Freddie tingled when
the man looked at him. And as the man stood up, Freddie immediately
noticed his huge dick, swinging like some heavy log between the
hairy legs. The man's mature balls hung low and rolled form side to
side as they walked hand in hand toward the water's edge.

   Mac brought the naked boy to the stream and bathed the horrible oil
from his skin.  The man's big hands gently massaged the young boy and
they laughed together as Mac splashed water on Freddie's adorable
face.  The terror of the night was gone now, replaced by new and
wondrous sensations as the man explored the boy's body.  Mac washed
the child's feet and legs in the swift water and then his thighs.  He
scrubbed the boy's back and chest, paying special attention to the
tiny pink nipples.  The repulsive oil was carried away by the
purifying stream.  When the oil was gone, Mac began to caress
Freddie's boy-cock and little balls, gently making amends to the
organs for the torture of the previous night.  Freddie's body tingled
and tickled all over as the man fondled him.  The boy moaned in
pleasure.  He had never imagined such feelings.  His cock stiffened
in Mac's hands as the man began to masturbate the boy slowly. The
little dick head popped in and out of the boy's foreskin as Mac's
other hand massaged the young testicles.  Freddie's body rocked in
rhythm with Mac's stimulations.  They gazed into each other's eyes
and found a kind of love that neither of them had ever known. Then,
Mac took Freddie's cock into his hot mouth and softly suckled on the
engorged head.  The boy gasped as waves of sexual ecstasy shot
through his body for the first time.  Mac sucked on the boy-dick,
thrilling to the child's sweet penis in his aching throat.  With
abandon, Freddie thrust into the man's eager mouth for what seemed
like hours until finally his little body exploded into spasms of
bliss and he collapsed into the man's strong arms.

   Mac stroked the boy's long yellow hair, coaxing his head to down to
his groin. The man's huge cock head rubbed against Freddie's lips,
begging admission.  The boy complied and opened his mouth.  Mac
slipped his dick head onto the boy's tongue slowly.  He knew this
was the kid's first time and was patient.  The boy licked at the
dick head with his little wet tongue and found the flavor
unoffensive. And Mac's moans and trembling made it clear that the
big man was well pleased.  The grateful boy only wanted to please
his hero so he opened his mouth as wide as he could and invited the
man's rigid cock deep into his throat.  Freddie could swallow only
half of it before he gagged, but that seemed to be enough.  Mac
pumped his cock into the child just that far.  He ran his finger
tips lightly up and down the boy's back as the kid sucked him off.
Freddie felt the cock head expand as Mac pushed it into his throat.
That, and the man's petting, made the boy's toes tingle.  Perhaps
instinctively, the kid began to fondle the man's hairy testicles as
he sucked on the cock.  Mac moaned his delight.  But the man had
other plans.

   Mac raised the boy off his pole just as his climax drew near.  He
laid upon a flat rock by the water's edge, his stiff cock pointing at
the sun.  Mac lowered the boy onto himself so their cocks touched.
Gently, mac rubbed their bodies together and Freddie soon mimicked
the motion.  The boy loved the feel of the body man's hair on his
bare skin and the hot hardness of the adult cock on his own rigid
boy-dick.  Delicately, Mac positioned the boy so that his cock began
to probe the child's anus.  The boy winced as the engorged dick head
poked at his tight hole.  He gazed into the man's eyes and knew that
this was something his hero wanted badly.  He would never refuse Mac
anything.  So slowly, very slowly, he allowed the big penis to invade
him.  The dick head pushed aside the sphincter and entered the boy.
Searing hot pain shot through him as the cock head passed.  He
squirmed, squeaked, but endured for Mac's sake.  His own boy-dick was
still at full attention and Mac began to masturbate the boy to take
his mind off the pain. This was like branding a calf, he thought. It
might hurt a bit at first, but afterward, the boy would be his
forever.  As the morning deepened, the man's cock crawled into the
boy's bowels until finally, the entire dick was buried in the kid's
guts.   Mac began to pump in and out.  At once, waves of astonishing
pleasure shot through the child as the huge penis massaged his little
prostate.  He realized that Mac was deeply inside him now.  Although
his asshole burned like a hot coal, the rest of his small frame
tingled with delight.  The mix of sensations overwhelmed the child
and he nearly lost his breath. Mac sensed the boy's feelings and
slowed his trusts.  He continued to masturbate the hard boy-dick,
wishing he could reach the kid's cock so he could suck him off while
he fucked him.  That was not possible for Mac, so he simply rode the
boy until neither of them could take it any longer.  With deliberate,
final trusts, Mac shot his load into the boy.  Freddie felt the hot
juice spray his guts and forever remembered the look of pure rhapsody
in Mac's blue eyes as he came into his boy-hole for the first time.
What a contrast they offered to the morning sky, what with the man's
large hairy body, knotted with muscle and the boy's thin frame and
smooth white skin!  Petting, wrapped in each other's arms, they laid
at the river's edge while the glad morning passed.

   They stayed by the river, passing each day in bliss.  But Mac would
have to leave the boy, sometimes for days, and ride off into the
desert.  The man always promised to return, and when he did, it was
laden with food, skins, trinkets and sweet treats.  But one day,
after they had spent many seasons together, the man did not return.
And so the boy waited, lost and alone in the fierce wild, tormented
by ravenous hunger and bleak loneliness, until the desert took him.
His tiny white bones bleached in the angry sun while the wind pushed
them far into the burning sand.


                             (II)


   Scott McCormack woke with a start from the strange dream. He pushed
his lips together in a dim frown.  What was he to do with these
feelings?  His tormented mind jumped from one grief to the next.  How
could he live with this consuming passion?  All he could dream of was
little boys.  Naked little boys with buttony noses and tiny hairless
genitals.  His own feelings of guilt melded with societies judgements
into the bubbling cauldron of self-loathing that had bewitched
Scott's soul.  Yet all he felt for any boy that he had ever seen was
kindness and love.  He had never touched a child and was sure he
could never live with himself if ever he animated his fantasies.  And
so, such dreams were bound to come, hardly unwelcome, although they
only added to his confusion and doubt.  But never had they been so
poignant, so real, so present to his waking mind.  He could still see
Freddie's sad face like an image burned onto his retina.  The child
seemed to call to him and Scott's heart was filled with pity for his
lonely dream child.

   Scott was sure that the dream had been inspired by the small boy that
he had seen in the hotel lobby.  Scott was, after all, far from home.
A native New Yorker, he had condemned himself to life in San Antonio.
His expanding firm needed a front man in the area and Scott, handsome
and fresh out of law school, was the obvious choice for the job.  So
he actually volunteered. And now, living from a suitcase, his own
loneliness was made plain in his tormented dreams.  The boy in the
lobby had offered the only smiling face he had seen since arriving
in the strange city. The child was adorable.  A sparkling dark haired
boy, no more than 10 years old with shinny blue eyes. Just the kind
of waify, Oliver Twist type that made Scott giddy.  Scott figured the
kid lived in the hotel too, although he obviously did not come from
the kind of money that could afford it.  But the boy was nearly
always hanging around the lobby or pool. He guessed that his mom or
dad was an employee.  In fact, Scott was correct.  The boy's mother
was a maid and they lived in one of the small rooms in the basement.
So, during the summer, the child spent each day loitering around the
hotel lobby or at the pool. As the boy was quiet and gave no offense,
the management looked the other way. Still, while the grown-ups
worked, the boy was alone.  This lonely little boy's name was Richie.

   Richie and Scott would smile at each other in the lobby or at
poolside.  That's where Scott most loved to see the boy, for he would
invariably be clad only in a scant green bathing suit.  His little
nipples and boyish figure made Scott shutter.  And his irresistible
smile and delightful splashing filled the man's lonely afternoons
with happiness.  Soon, the man and the boy were talking and on a
first name basis.  Little Richie would wait at poolside for the
handsome man.  Scott paid attention to him, listened to his small
voice and boyish stories with an interest that no other adult had
ever shown.  The boy was especially attracted to Scott's well
developed body.  Scott enjoyed the gym and had a muscular build that
was nearly competition quality.  The boy thrilled at the man's round
arms and beefy chest.  He looked enviously at the yellow body hair
and massive bulge that filled Scott's bathing suit.  Even the smell
of the man entranced the young boy.  Scott smelled like a man!  Like
dim memories told him his dad had smelled. They would laugh together,
swim together, kid around together for hours each day until the boy's
exhausted mother, little more than a child herself, would call him
home.  The girl was thrilled that this rich man had taken an interest
in her lonely boy, but she was too shy to speak to him.  She would
just call the boy's name, smile at Scott and disappear with the child
into the evening.  And Scott, alone again, would retire to his room
and take his own meal tormented by guilt but still radiant from the
boy's energy.  The man's mind contained a hundred fantasies so that
it was difficult to work at night. Even sleep brought no reprieve.
For then, the dreams would come.

   Always, Scott would dream, not about Richie, but about poor little
Freddie, dreams so vivid that Scott grew afraid.  For they were
growing stronger and more life like with each passing night and in
their fabric, more unlike any dreams that Scott had even known. He
wondered whether he was really asleep, or simply watching some
ghostly drama.  At their beginning, the dreams were deliciously
erotic, but always they would end in heart breaking fashion.
Scott would see the boy riding on Mac's cock, waving the man's
dusty ten gallon hat in the air like a rodeo cowboy.  The boy's
hard little dick would swing in circles, his jelly bean sized
balls bouncing up and down, as the man fucked his little butt hole
raw.  He saw clearly the white hot sperm shoot from the man's piss
slit and drench the boy in hot jizum.  Freddie would lick the
protein rich juice off his fingers and savour the salty sweetness.
And Scott dreamed of the man's hot tongue plunging deep into the
boy's quivering pink asshole, cooling the burn and washing the
soot away.  He saw the boy swaddled in the man's loving arms,
sleeping joyfully under starlight.  But at the end of every dream,
the boy was left alone at the river's edge, pitiful wailing into
the black night. Scott knew, somehow, that until time itself stood
still, the boy would cry in vain.  For he was lost and alone, and
Mac would never come again.

   Scott woke in a cold sweat, it was still deep night and the dream
had been especially vivid.  His body trembled and he found himself
crying.  The sound of the tortured child's voice had wrung his heart
with pity.  It seemed he could still hear the echo of it.  And then,
with a cold thrilling fear, he listened.  Perhaps, he thought, it
was just the wailing of the wind, but as he looked to the window, he
was certain that the air outside was still as stone.  And yet there
it was, on the very edge of hearing, clear, but far, far away, that
sound of a wailing child that had racked his dreams.  This was
crazy.  He was hearing things.  His guilt was torturing him, so he
told himself.  Richie! That was it, he was spending too much time
with the boy and his subconscious was punishing him. He laid back in
his soft bed, but the faint wailing continued and sleep eluded him.
Scott cried with his dream child till morning.  Only when the red
fingers of dawn began to lift the veil of night did he find rest,
for with the first rays of light, the wailing vanished.  The child
had passed through another night of torment, but a subtle change had
occurred.  Some how, in some bizarre way, Scott felt the boy had
become aware of him.

continued in next part.




                         THE DREAM CHILD

                              (III)


   Scott was not a religious man, and his legal mind had been
rigorously trained in relentless logic.  But this was no matter
for theology or logic.  Just as deeply as he knew anything, he
knew that the dreams were a kind of history, remnants of things
that had really happened, but for some reason had gone terribly
wrong.  He knew that the suffering of poor little Freddie was like
a dreadful nightmare from which the boy could not wake up, an
agony so intense that it had spilled over into this world and into
his own tormented dreams.

   The memory of the dreams still lingered in Scott's mind.  It had
lingered all day so that it was hard to concentrate on his job.  His
head was a storm of images and conflicting emotions.  On the one
hand, he longed for the evening, so that he could comfort the lonely
boy, but on the other hand, he was afraid of his own insanity and of
the wailing little voice that cut into heart like a hot knife. There
was also bewilderment and an urgent, unanswered question.  Why was
the boy still lost and why hadn't Mac come for him?  But it was pity,
pity for the lost dream child that overrode all his emotions.  And
then there was Richie.  Scott was sure that somehow, the dreams
involved the little boy he had been seeing. But his guilt seemed to
bury him, like an avalanche of emotion that his heart could not
contain.

   The small boy ran over to him as he laid at the side of the pool.
Scott had already noticed that Richie had been looking tired
lately, but that afternoon, he thought the boy looked haggard,
like he hadn't slept in a week.  Still, even his thin smile and
sleepy blue eyes gave Scott goose bumps.  Combined with his
squeaky voice, the boy was simply delightful, irresistible.
Scott's hand fell on the boy's skinny shoulder and stroked his
dark hair lightly.  But like a slap, Scott became aware of staring
eyes all around the pool and grim faces ready to pass judgement.
His heart sank.  He left the sad boy with some lame excuse and
slunk back into his room.  He had alot of work to catch up on
anyway and no time for the child.  But his heart felt otherwise,
for all he could concentrate on was Richie's small body and
delicate features.  He fantasied about taking the boy back to his
room and lowering his green swim trunks.  He longed to explore the
boy's prepubescent dick and balls, to gently lick the hairless
genitals and relish the boy's bouquet.  Scott was sure too, that
part of Richie's attraction to him was due to the boy's own
developing sexuality.  It was obvious from the way the kid stared
at his crotch and chest.  He knew the boy wanted to play with his
mansized cock and balls, to feel his muscles and be enveloped in
his strong arms.  But Scott was also sure that it was just plain
wrong.  His dilemma was after all insoluble.  Neither his head nor
his heart were unanimous. And what did it matter what a ten-year-
old boy felt or desired?  Oh, he was sure the kid wanted it, but
he gave small consideration to the boy's choice.  He knew that the
law would give none.  And so, as the evening passed, Scott's mind
alternated between work and fantasy until night fell.

   The knock at the door was soft but sudden and nearly startled
Scott from his chair. He was half expecting a pint sized phantom,
but when he opened the door, in the dim hallway stood Richie's
mother. Her face was grave.  Cold fear coursed through Scott's blood.
What had the boy told her?  Really, he had only stroked his hair.  By
rote, he invited her in.  Shyly, the girl accepted and passed into the
room.  Scott offered his chair and he himself sat on the corner of the
bed.  She looked at him and smiled meekly so that most of Scott's fear
melted away.  The girl began by apologizing for the hour, but said she
was desperate and had nowhere else to turn. She could not afford a
doctor.  Scott's fear soon became concern.  Was there something wrong
with the boy?  Not physically, at least the girl did not think so, but
the boy could not sleep.  He had not slept for the past five nights and
she could give no comfort to her child.  There was a pale cowboy, the
boy had said, that kept invading his dreams.

   As the girl began to attribute her son's sleep disorder to the saga
of her husband's abandonment and desperate poverty, Scott was only
half listening.  His blood was frozen in his veins. In a blinding
flash, he knew that the pale cowboy was Mac. He covered half his
face in his hand and looked at the girl with one eye, her words had
ceased to make any sense to him.  His mind raced from one
conclusion to the next, but now at last, he knew part of the
answer.  At least he was sure that his original conviction was
correct.  These were not ordinary dreams. Not if the boy was also
involved. Coincidence was fast becoming the less credible
explanation.  As the girl finished her story with admonishments of
her motherhood, Scott's mind returned to her.  He would do anything
to help the boy, he assured her, she had only to ask.  He hardly
anticipated her request.  The boy needed sleep above all, she
explained.   His little body was near total exhaustion. If the boy
could spend the night up here with him, she was sure he would
sleep.  Scott's heart was beating rapidly now.  It was obvious that
if the boy spent the night in his room they would have to share the
bed.  The implications completely evaded the clueless young girl.
Still, there was nothing he could do but agree.  Underneath the
uncertainty and fear, there was a kind of relief. Perhaps he would
find the solution that both he and his dream child desperately
sought.

   Richie, looking grey and uncertain, entered Scott's posh room.  The
boy looked around at the extravagant furnishings and finally at the
man.  Scott tried as kind a face as he could manage. The little boy
smiled back at him.  The kid was dressed in loose fitting pale blue
pajamas, old and tattered at the cuffs.  Scott lifted the youngster
into his arms, bounced him twice in the air so the boy giggled and
laid down on the bed with the child.  They looked deeply into each
other's eyes.  Finally, the man spoke.

"Your mom says your having trouble getting to sleep?"

The boy nodded.

"You wanna tell me about Mac?" the man asked gently.

The boy's face flushed and then grew white.

"How...how ddid you know his name?" the child asked in astonishment.

"listen kiddo, I'm don't understand it all myself, so I can't explain
it to you.  I just know, that's all.  I...I've been having the same dream
....I think"

The boys eyes grew wide with fright

"Don't...don't be afraid Richie" the man said softly as he stroked
the boy's dark hair  "Mac would never hurt you...he..I... I mean they....
I think they need our help."

The boy buried his face in the man's chest and began to cry.

"Why can't he find the boy, Scott?" Richie sobbed "Gosh, he cries so
loud I think the whole world can hear him.  He cries so much I can't
stand it.  bbbut...but...he's dead isn't he, Scott?  The little boy
is already dead."

The child trembled, his young mind was filled with horror.

"I think so Richie, but its worse than that.  He's lost and alone, and
I don't know why Mac can't find him either."

   The two bewildered dreamers laid back in each other's arms.  The
smell of the boy began to fill Scott's lungs.  As he held the quivering
child, he asked the question he had been dreading.

"Do you know why Mac wants to find the boy?"

"um hum..." Richie looked up into Scott's pale blue eyes.
"...because he loves him."

   Scott peered into the young soul, and found there his own unspoken
question `do you love me like that'?  Scott's finger brushed a loose
lock of dark hair from the boy's forehead.  Richie's small hand reached
out and held Scott's wrist and brought the man's hand to his tender
lips. Scott shivered as the boy kissed it and wrapped his hairy arm
around his small body. Scott panicked.  The jig was up, the kid knew.
And what was worse, now he knew that the kid knew.  Like a black and
blinding fog, guilt descended on his mind and obscured his heart.  He
couldn't stand it any longer.  He simply couldn't let this go any
further.  He couldn't see the boy any more...couldn't see the
child...couldn't see the kid.....and then, as with a searing lightning
bolt, his mind was illuminated.   His heart pounded in his chest as the
whole answer flooded into his brain.  That's why Mac couldn't find the
boy!  Guilt!  The man's ghost had carried his guilt with him to the
grave and it had blinded his soul. For a century and a half, Mac's
shade, twisted by guilt, had wandered hopelessly in search of the poor
child.  And over that immense waste of time, little Freddie had waited,
lonely, frightened, lost, wailing in the wilderness.


                             (IV)


   Scott looked down at the frightened child wrapped in his arms.
He no longer seemed to have a choice.  The next question was inevitable
and rolled off his lips naturally.

"Do you know what Mac and Freddie do with each other?"

The boy nodded again.

"They play with each other's dickies.  An' Mac like to put his boner
in the boy's coolie." he answered in a whisper. "but no one is 'apposta
to know.  That's why they live far away from everybody, by the river"
The boy swallowed and looked longingly at the man.

"You wanna do that with me, don't ya Scott?"

"I...I...don't know kiddo...I.."

"Its okay!" said the boy. "I want you to!  Don't feel bad.  Mac feels
bad too, but I know Freddie just wants him to come home again."

"I think Mac is afraid to come home..he's afraid to hurt Freddie cause
he loves him so much, Richie."

"Mac would never hurt Freddie!" the boy protested. "`Cause he loves him."

"Oh, Richie, I hope your right, little guy".

"You wouldn't hurt me if you played with my dickie like that, honest.
I bet it would be great!"

"Your right, it would be....great" said Scott nervously.

"I'd never tell anyone" said the boy shyly and...well, I love you Scott.
 Don't you love me too?"

"I sure do kid, I really do"

"My daddy didn't love me, and that's why he left...Now, all I got is
my mommy, but she's always working".  The boy said sadly.

   The child's eyes started to tear.  Scott wiped the drops from the boy's
cheeks.  He kissed him softly on the forehead and hugged him tightly.
So what if the world did not understand! So what if the world never
understood! The boy had always understood and now the man, finally,
understood.

   Scott gently laid the boy on his back and started to unbutton
his pajama top.  Immediately, a tiny pole stuck up from the
boy's crotch and the kid smiled wildly.  He giggled as the man
brushed aside his night shirt and exposed his bare chest. He ran
his finger tips lightly over the boy's breast.  He rubbed the
tiny pink nipples and thrilled to the softness of the young
flesh in his quaking hands.  The boy shuttered at the man's
touch. It was all he imagined and more.  Scott's fingers and
hands explored the boy's upper body.  He massaged his arms and
skinny shoulders. He tickled under his hairless armpits and
outlined the bones of the boy's face lightly with his forefinger
and pushed in gently on the kid's buttony nose.  The boy
laughed, squirmed and licked his lips.  Scott tickled up and
down the boy's sides so the child's whole body tingled with
goose bumps.   Then he ran his fingers through the boy's hair
once more before slowly unbuttoning the bottom of his pjs.  The
boy gasped as the man removed his pajama bottoms and unveiled
his stiff boy-dick.  Scott had never seen anything so beautiful.
A succulent three inch pole, delicately cut into a perfect
heart shaped head.  The boy's tiny scrotum hung between his
hairless legs and his little jewels seemed flawless.  Here was
the fulfillment of all his dreams.  Scott gently grasped the
boy's penis in between his forefinger and thumb and pulled up
and down lightly on the slender shaft.  The boy moaned as
fantastic sensations shot through his body.  Scott examined each
testicle with his fingers and tickled the boy under his thin
legs. The kid couldn't believe the intensity of the feelings
that coursed through him.  The man's warm hands were like magic
on his body.  Richie had watched Mac and Freddie `do it' in his
dreams, but never imagined that anything could feel so good.
Just then, the man pushed his face into the boy's crotch and
absorbed the musty boy essence.  The prickly face tickled the
boy's sensitive skin and he laughed outloud.

"BRRRRRRRRRRRR" Scott vibrated his lips playfully onto the boy's
tiny genitalia and the kid nearly choked on his own laughter.

"STOP THAT!" said the breathless child. "Anyway, it MY turn!"

   The naked boy hopped like a bunny on top of the man. His little
boy-butt sat blithely on Scott's raging hardon.  The boy unbuttoned
the mans night shirt and exposed his massive chest.  The kid's tiny
hands ran up and down each slab of pectoral muscle and luxuriated
in the silky blond body hair. He inspected each brown nipple and
made circles around each with his little pinky. The boy poked his
tickly fingers into Scott's hairy armpits and stroked the musty
hairs. The man laughed, pulled his elbows to his side and trapped
the boy's hands.

"Hey!! gimme back my hands!" the youngster protested.

"I can't help it, that tickles!!" said the man, releasing the boy.

   The boy turned abruptly, almost in mid-air, so that his little butt
was nearly pushed into Scott's face.  The kid wanted at the man's
cock.  He rubbed the thick bulge in the man's shorts.  Scott moaned as
he felt the child's hand massage his rock hard cock. The boy wanted
desperately to see the man's big hairy pole.  He pulled at the shorts
ineffectually until Scott raised his buttocks and slipped the
underwear off himself.  His huge nine inch cock nearly frightened the
boy.  The massive head was half as big as his whole hand.  The shaft
was almost too thick for him to wrap his tiny hand around and the
rich mound of yellow pubic hair that nestled the man's enormous
testicles held the boy in awe.  He played with the man's cock and
poked his balls. He pinched the throbbing dick head and looked deeply
into Scott's urethra.  The boy giggled `cause it seemed he could make
the man's penis talk by opening and closing the piss slit.  All the
while, Scott moaned with delight as the boy amused himself with his
massive equipment.  But the boy wanted to try other things.  In his
dreams he had seen Freddie lick Mac's cock and now he wanted to taste
Scott. He lowered his lips to the dick-head and as he did, naturally
spread his ass cheeks so that his little boy hole was almost in
Scott's face.  Scot nearly fainted at the sight of the hairless pink
asshole gaping down at him, mere centimeters from his willing tongue.
He could smell the musty odor.  But just as he was about to plunge
in, the felt a thrill shoot up his spine. The boy was licking around
the tip of his dick head.  Electric waves of pleasure shot through
the man as he felt the hot boy-tongue on his penis.  The kid starting
licking the thick shaft like a dog lapping at a water dish.  Scott
rolled his head on the soft pillow twice, sat up and then plunged his
hot tongue into the boy's anus.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO" the boy gasped in astonishment.

   An earthquake of delight rocked his young body.  The hot tongue
swished deep inside the boy's bowels. Scott marveled at the delicious
flavor of the boy and sucked every bit of juice from the boy-hole.
His tongue drove in and out of the hot crack and he child simply shook
with bliss.  His boy-cock swelled and throbbed in the air.  Scott
slipped his hand in between the boy's legs and grabbed his little dick
from behind.  The hair on his fore arm tickled the boy's testicles as
Scott began to masturbate the child. The boy was half kneeling,  his
arms raised to the ceiling, beating the air in delirious rhapsody as
he tried to keep his balance.  Scott tongue-fucked the boy even faster
and deeper as he played with the kids immature genitals. The boy
folded his hands on top of his head, panting and moaning loudly.

"OHHHHHHHH, HU HU HU HUU, OOOOH, UUUUMMMMMMM, HU HU HU UMMMMMM"

   The child was in a helpless frenzy with only one release.
Scott masturbated the boy rapidly, almost fiercely, until kid's body
stiffened like living stone.  The kid let out a shriek.

"EEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH" and then went limp, nearly falling on his
head between the man's legs.

   The exhausted boy squirmed around and found his face only inches from
the man's aching cock.  Still panting from his first orgasm but aware
that the deed was unfinished, the boy dragged himself upon the man's
heavy thighs. Like some wayward traveler lost in the desert, he plunged
his little mouth onto the oasis of the man-cock.

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" the man moaned as his cock slipped deep down the
boy's throat.

   The enormous head engorged and nearly choked the child.  His little
tongue had no hope of covering even half the man's cock, but just the
sight of the man-sized tool in the little boy's mouth drove Scott mad
with passion. He pumped his dick into the gagging boy.  Richie bravely
opened his throat wide to take in even more of the massive dick.  He
slurped and sucked and flicked his tiny tongue all under the head of
Scott's penis.

"Ohhhhh boy, ohhashhi, awwwooo yeah, Richie, oohhh geeez, oh wow...."
the man moaned softly.

   The man grasped the base of his cock below were the boy could possibly
reach and began to masturbate himself into the child's mouth.  Scott
had never known such ecstasy.  The kid was fairly drinking the head of
his dick while he fed him the shaft as far as the boy could take it.
His hairy balls rolled in between his legs as the child's tiny hands
tickled the hairs on Scott's scrotum.

   " ohhh, geez, oh yeah kiddo, ohhh, wwaaaa...I'm gonna shoooot"  Scott
felt a monster load gushing form his testicles.  He didn't want to
drown the boy, so he pulled his cock out of the kid's mouth.  The boy
instinctively grabbed the cock head and squeezed it, but that only
increased the force of the man's orgasm.  Scott's body heaved on the
bed. Spurt after spurt of white hot cum erupted from the piss slit and
drenched the boy's face and hair.  Dollops of jizum dripped from the
boy's nose and chin onto his bony chest.  Before the man finished
spraying, the child was saturated with sticky man-juice.  Scott looked
at the cum drenched boy and they both laughed.  Richie played with a
white gob in between his forefinger and thumb and brought it to his
lips.  His little tongue flickered in and out of his mouth, cautiously
testing the flavor of the gooey cream.


"Its salty!" the boy giggled.

"I bet it is!" said the man.  C'mere, ya little squirt!"

   The man and boy the wallowed in a slippery embrace.  Scott and Richie
showered away the gooey mess and returned to the soft bedding
freshened, but very sleepy.  As the boy began to nod off, safe and warm
in the man's strong arms, he ventured one last question before sleep
finally took him.

"Scott....what about Freddie and Mac?"

"I don't know, kiddo...maybe, just maybe since we're here together
tonight they'll finally find each other"

   In the darkest hour of the night, as the man and the boy slept
soundly, a dream came to them both.  And in that dream, there was
the bubbling river, rushing into the desert.  Freddie sat at the
water's edge, sobbing.  The eastern sky turned grey, sure harbinger
of dawn.  The boy's shade had passed through another gloomy night.
He had felt a man and a boy, in rhapsody, somewhere deep under the
rushing stream, and that was some comfort, but it wasn't Mac. The
boy began to sob one final lament before he fled the light which
would only revel his loneliness.  When suddenly, before the pall of
sky, like a shield against the dreary night, stood at long last, the
shade of the man.  Mac opened his arms to the child.  The boy dashed
deliriously to the man's bosom.  As their essences met, dawn leapt
into the sky, but the boy and the man, wrapped eternally in each
other's arms, shown the brighter.  For all the long years of anguish
imploded into one undying instant of radiant joy.  And then, on a
soft breeze of morning, their joined spirits passed into the eternal
rest they so richly deserved.


THE END.