FOR MONEY OR LOVE  (man/boy) by Ganymede (Copyright 1995)



WARNING:



This story will contain graphic descriptions of a variety of sexual 
acts between men and a MINOR boy, and his special problems as he grows to 
realize who and what he is. Generally, relationships are mutual and are 
based on informed consent.

If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material is 
illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for 
such material, do not read further! You have been warned! Read at your 
own risk!

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or 
dead, is unfortunate.

WHY ISN'T THE STORY POSTED TO ALT.SEX.STORIES

I have little interest in presenting my work to a newsgroup whose 
primary interests are in other areas. If you want to send this story to 
alt.sex.stories, other newsgroup, or post it elsewhere, I ask only that 
this header remains in place and that the text is unchanged. Each chapter 
provides a convenient place for posting sections, should you wish to 
place the story elsewhere.

This is the first part of a story that will eventually exceed 
several hundred pages. The second part will take some time before it is 
finished.

Because of my desire for privacy and security I cannot accept 
comments or criticisms by email. If you wish to provide support and 
suggestions please post to alt.sex.stories.d, and, if necessary, I will 
email you from there.

FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in your 
place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then 
exit now!





FOR MONEY OR LOVE -- Ganymede.



Introduction

"Well, what do you think, Casey?" I asked. I handed over the sheet 
of paper. Casey studied my handwritten scribble, deciphering my notes 
slowly. I grinned and took it back. "Let me read it. We don't have all 
day. Okay, here goes.

"Gay Times in the Caribbean.

"Eros, a luxury, 70-foot motor-yacht departs weekly from St. 
Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands on a 7-day cruise of the wonderful 
islands of the Caribbean. We cater for unique life-styles with 4 cabins, 
each with private bath and queen-sized berths for couples seeking fun 
and excitement in tropical ports or the most romantic and secluded 
anchorages. Explore the depths of the coral reefs, dive on Spanish 
galleons and search for gold doubloons, wind-surf, or take one of our 
two inflatables to the beach for a romantic evening. Our four-star chef 
prepares superb meals. Local and French cuisine are specialities.

"Basic rate per person is $1,500 per week (air fare not included). 
Discounts are available for advanced purchases and off-season travel. A 
gay time is a way of life aboard Eros. Reply to xxx 345-2919."

Casey giggled and cuddled closer to me, entwining smooth slender 
legs with mine. A small, suntanned hand circled over my belly, inching 
slowly over my swim-shorts and towards my penis until fingertips 
brushed against my penis and squeezed my glans gently.

"Yeah! I like it."

"The advertisement or my dick?" I asked crudely.

Casey giggled. "Both!" A few seconds later. "Do you want to do 
it?"

I smiled. I needed to fax the advertisement to several gay 
newspapers in the U.S. But they had waited this long and they could wait 
another half hour or so.

"Yeah! I always want to do it." I laughed. "You got anything on 
under that sun-dress?" Casey's head shook slowly. "Nothing? Not even 
panties?"

Casey's head shook again. This time with playful eagerness and a 
smile of anticipation that threatened to become a lewd grin. I reached 
for the small, suntanned hand and pulled it towards me. Casey came with 
it, grinning cheekily and straddling my hips with accustomed ease, 
finding a natural position directly over my stiffening penis.

We were sheltered from prying eyes on the foredeck. During the 
last two weeks it had become our favorite place on Eros. There, we could 
enjoy the heat from the afternoon sun on our bare bodies as we 
suntanned, or engaged in other more active pursuits, because while the 
sun was hot, the temperature was still comfortable. The breeze kept the 
yacht swinging lazily at anchor. Beyond the port bow, the palms came 
right down to the beach. The glare from the white sand and the 
sparkling, azure-blue water was dazzling, but we were oblivious to it. 
My attention was riveted on Casey fumbling with the cord to my shorts.

"You want to go diving again afterwards?" Casey asked coyly.

I nodded, remembering what had happened in twenty feet of water 
the day before. "I never would have thought that diving in the raw could 
be so much fun? It must be the company I keep."

"What do you think they'd say if they knew who paid for our boat?" 
Casey asked as the cord finally came untied. I felt my shorts being 
tugged downward by small, strong hands. No longer patient, Casey wanted 
me naked, immediately.

"Who's they?"

"Anyone I guess. Like the guys who read our ad?"

"I expect they'd be surprised to know how their tax dollars are 
being spent."

"But it was our money. Well,... it was kind of ours," Casey 
giggled.

"It depends how you look at it. I doubt if anyone would believe 
us, anyway."

I grinned as my shorts came past my knees and my erect penis felt 
the life-giving warmth of the sun and Casey's small, sweat-moistened 
hand. I picked the hem of Casey's sundress up and lifted the brightly 
colored material, exposing lean brown legs and a diminutive sex organ. 
I liked the floral pattern of Casey's dress but I liked him naked even 
more. Now undressed, Casey smiled shyly and lay down over me.



Chapter 1. The Client

 Nearly twelve years old, just two weeks to his birthday, and Juan 
Fernando awoke once more to the noise of sex. The sounds were loud and 
insistent. It was as if the sounds were stealing his innocence as they 
pounded relentlessly through the thin wall. He fingered his penis with 
precise and meticulous stokes on the sensitive skin that enclosed his 
tiny glans. As he concentrated on the delight that this gave him, he 
listened. Minutes passed and he began to squeeze and rub the bulbous tip 
that he felt beneath his foreskin, pinching it until he squirmed with 
pleasure. The sounds were unmistakable, a staccato beat from the 
movements of two bodies locked in passion. There was a rhythmic endless 
noise, the squeaking of bedsprings and the frenzied knocking of the 
headboard of the heavy brass bed frame against the wall. The staccato 
was accompanied with strained breathing that came in gasps, and 
frequent, drawn-out moans that were almost painful. He listened even as 
he tried to bury his head into his pillow and submerge himself back into 
the peacefulness of sleep. But like most mornings, sleep would not come 
back to him again. Juan lay still, wanting only for the noise to end, to 
hear the groan of orgasm in the adjoining room. And then silence would 
return.

Against the white of the pillowcase and in the darkness before 
dawn, his tousled, chestnut-colored hair was almost black. One wisp, 
lighter than the rest brushed his forehead. It was a curling gold-hued 
lock that, in the light, would have glistened with a hint of red. Though 
summer had long since ended, his hair still evidenced long hours spent 
in the Californian sun and chlorine from the municipal swimming pool. 
His hair was long, far too long for a boy in the mid 1990's. His 
features were exquisite, a sublime mix of two races with skin of a color 
that would evoke a poet to call honey-colored. He was neither dark like 
an Asian nor pale like a European--he was a delicate blend of a 
Philippine mother and an American father.

His father existed only as a few pictures in a shoebox. They were 
dog-eared pictures that showed signs of endless handling as much by 
himself, his mother, or by his younger brother. One picture was of a 
U.S. Navy lieutenant, a carrier pilot, that was taken on the flight deck 
of the USS Enterprise at the base at Subic Bay. The others were taken at 
various locations along the west coast of Luzon in the Phillipines. The 
boy did not need to be told that the girl in most of the pictures was a 
Philippine hooker who was probably no older that he was. Even though the 
photos were twelve years old, he easily recognized his mother. Despite 
his questions, Juan never learned much more than the fact that soon 
after the eruption of Mount Pinatubo, his father had brought his mother 
and the two children to the U.S. on the promise of marriage. John James 
Hunter disappeared shortly afterwards. For the next three years they 
had been illegal immigrants and she had continued to ply her trade in 
order to survive. She had not stopped.

"Ohhh! God! Do it deeper! Ohhh, fuck! Faster!" The anguished 
scream of his mother's passion penetrated the wall and seared a cry of 
ecstasy into his mind.

The boy twisted onto his side and pulled half of the pillow over 
his head to drown out the noise that followed. He held the pillow 
tightly and pressed it hard against his ear. He knew what happened now. 
He knew the noises became even louder. He closed his eyes and tried to 
block out the shame he felt within him. A single thought struggled free 
inside him and built into a crescendo until it screamed louder than his 
mother's passion and he could no longer avoid its presence. In his 
imagination, the man's thick penis entered his body. He could feel it 
pushing, piercing, pumping, pounding inside him. It penetrated him like 
his mother was penetrated and it forced a vagina inside him where there 
was none. Unable to resist, it turned him onto his back. He lay 
breathing with fractured gasps until he heard his mother's grunt of 
orgasm. But the noise went on and on, still striving for relief and 
instinctively he pressed his slender, smooth legs wide apart. Now 
splayed out on the bed like a frog ready for dissection, his hips 
contorted and lifted upwards to meet imaginary downward thrusts. The 
movements of his thighs were slight at first, in synchronized jerks with 
the knocking against the wall, but the tempo increased until he was 
thrusting upward in unison. His body and mind yielded to it, wanting it 
deeper and faster. Not male, not female, he struggled in a lonely 
confusion as the red-hot shaft merged into him, never realizing that his 
own small appendage was every bit as hot and hard as the one in the room 
next door, as hard as the one that existed in his mind.

More grunts from the room next door, then the final desperate 
slamming of the bed against the wall with the dying throes of 
ejaculation. He felt the man's seed squirting out as it sprayed his 
virgin womb with a torrent of sperm. Not even twelve years old and he 
knew what happened. He knew from the silence that the man had slumped 
down over his mother's inert body, the rigid penis now softening as the 
excess semen dribbled out of her and onto the sheet. His dream, if that 
was what it was, began to fade. His body relaxed as he suddenly realized 
that he was tensed. It was as if an overwhelming pressure existed within 
him. In the final moments his back had arched and his legs had strained 
with the force of slender muscles pulled taut until he was lifted off 
the mattress. His firm buttocks had squeezed tight as if to resist, or 
to open his vagina wider. But there was no vagina between his legs just 
as there was no semen inside him.

Again Juan turned onto his side. Now he rubbed at his genitals, 
pretending that his hand became wet as his fingers dragged through the 
folds of his labia. But he felt the silken skin between his legs, the 
wrinkles of his retracted scrotum, and the residual hardness of his 
penis. The accelerated growth of his scrotum and its precious cargo 
passed unnoticed. He was beginning to ripen but his testicular growth 
had been slow and was easily denied or overlooked. Six months ago, in 
the heat of summer, his scrotal sac fell short of the length of his 
penis when he stood before a mirror. Now, with winter approaching, his 
testicles were bigger and heavier and dropped below the puckered tip of 
his foreskin, but there was nothing else to indicate that puberty was 
approaching with stubborn persistence.

Juan sighed tiredly. His eyes closed again. This time he brought 
forth memories of his mother. He remembered easily because the memory he 
sought was an incident that had occurred less than a week earlier. It 
was a vivid memory. She was lying on her back and a stranger, a client, 
was half kneeling, half lying over her. There was more than enough light 
from the lamp beside the bed to see the man's penis. The man's reddened 
tumescent shaft was clearly illuminated. It was enormous compared to 
his own. He watched in a silent jealous rage as the man ejaculated over 
his mother. The massive shaft was engorged with blood and it glistened 
with the slick juices from inside her as spurts of semen rained down 
over her dark flesh. It was only one time of many times that he had 
watched from the doorway. He cupped his hand over his genitals and 
pulled his small penis and testicles upward to stretch the scrotal skin 
taut. Though a little painful, there was now a soft furrow between his 
thigh and groin, and he pressed his fingers against his urethra to make 
a fold of flesh that stretched down between his legs. For a few all-too-
brief seconds he pretended that it was his clitoris. Unlike most 
mornings, this time it gave him no pleasure. He released his captive sex 
organs and opened his eyes.

Even in the dim light through the curtains he could see that his 
younger brother was still asleep. His lips tightened and he breathed out 
with a sigh of relief. He pushed the comforter way and sat up. He was 
almost naked. Juan wore underpants but they had been pushed off 
hurriedly during the night and now they were only on one leg, just below 
the knee. The white of the cloth contrasted sharply with his amber skin. 
He leaned forward and pushed the warm cloth the rest of the way down to 
his foot. He put the other foot through the empty hole and pulled them 
upward again as he came to his feet. The underpants had a high waist 
that reached past his navel and were at least one size too small for 
him. They were tight on his buttocks and served to accentuate the cleft 
between his round cheeks. It emphasized the roundness of his small 
genital bulge, his boyhood clearly evident. For a moment he 
contemplated tossing his pillow at his ten-year-old brother but the 
temptation was overcome by an even more pressing need to urinate. He 
left the room.

The door to his mother's room was still closed. He went into the 
bathroom, tugging his underpants down even before the door was closed 
behind him. Like a girl, Juan sat down on the toilet. He directed his 
stubby penis downward between his legs with two fingers, not bothering 
to retract his foreskin. Within seconds, the hot stream splattered into 
the water beneath him. Once started, he did what he did every morning--
in fact just about every time he urinated. He pressed his knees together 
and slipped his hand away from his groin. He looked downward and smiled 
shyly. Now he looked like a girl, or rather, there was no visible 
manifestation of his gender. He was sexless and it was more than enough 
to satisfy him. His bladder emptied quickly and the pressured stream 
changed to a trickle. He stood up, pulled his underpants back up. A 
small dark spot formed in the cloth before the pointed tip of his tiny 
uncircumcised penis but it went unnoticed.

Juan was just about to leave the bathroom when the door opened. 
The first thing he realized was that he had not seen this man before.   
The next thing he realized was that the man was naked. From the color of 
his skin and dark hair, the man appeared to be Mexican or Cuban. It came 
as no surprise to Juan for increasingly, his mother's clients were 
foreigners. The man stood before him with a knowing smirk. Without the 
pretense of modesty, he grasped his genitals meaningfully.

"I gotta piss, kid. Get the fuck outta here!" the man said 
crudely.

The boy was transfixed, his eyes riveted on the man's penis. It 
was the first time Juan had seen a man's penis so close before. He 
stared at it in awe, blocking the way to the toilet. The penis was 
flaccid but the purplish veins were still distended. He could see that 
a glistening wetness coated it. Juan swallowed. The man's other hand 
reached out, cuffing the boy on the shoulder. He stumbled as he was 
shoved to one side.

"I said, get the fuck outta here you little queer. I ain't pissin' 
with no audience." Louder this time.

The boy looked up, startled. Juan tried to back away but he came 
to the half-open door and stopped against it. He was mesmerized more by 
the sheer size of the man's penis than by the flood of yellow urine that 
abruptly burst forth and drummed loudly into the toilet. The thought 
that gripped him and prevented him from moving was that this penis had 
been inside his mother. Again he was envious. But it wasn't the penis he 
coveted. He was envious of his mother. Without knowing why, the boy 
yearned for it to be inside him. Juan wanted it, not with the same 
grudging desire he saw in his mother as she serviced her clients, but 
with a greedy longing that emerged from somewhere deep within him. He 
stared, enthralled, preoccupied with the images that easy sprung up 
from the imagination of a boy.

The man looked back at the boy. "I always gotta piss bad after I 
fuck. Your mother's a great fuck. You know I just got through fucking 
her, don't you kid?"

The boy looked at him in dumb fascination. So absorbed was he by 
sight of the man's penis and his own fantasy that he didn't realize the 
man had stopped and was now standing before him shaking away the last 
droplets. As one splattered against his bare leg his spell vanished and 
he looked up.

"What are you looking at, queer? You want my cock? Is that want 
you want kid? I ain't no queer but I bet you'd make a good fuck. I bet 
you fuck just like your momma."

The boy swallowed. His eyes were still cast downward, still 
focused on the man's genitals, still engrossed.

"You want to suck me off, kid? You want me to fuck your face, 
don't you?"

Juan shook his head and tried to back away. His movement was 
stopped by the bathroom door behind him. The man reached up over the 
boy's head and pushed the door roughly. For an instant it was restrained 
by the flesh of the boy's buttocks and then it closed with a loud slam. 
Finally, Juan looked up. He shifted his feet nervously, thought for a 
few seconds, and slowly shook his head in denial. The man laughed as he 
reached forward. Both hands settled on the boy's shoulders 
possessively. Juan shook his head again, this time vehemently.

"I don't want to do that, man," Juan whined

That he was ashamed was clearly revealed in the bright crimson 
flush in his face. But the excitement that Juan thought was well hidden 
was also revealed. He trembled visibly and swallowed. Just the thought 
of it, of having the man's penis in his mouth was enough to make his 
throat dry. Only it wasn't dry, he realized. He wasn't afraid. The 
strange feeling in his mouth came from the undeniable knowledge that he 
wanted it there, that he could already taste it. Again his mind sprang 
free, recollecting another time, another night, and another man. How 
many times had he witnessed his mother doing the same thing that this 
man was now offering to him. And she had, she had taken the penis 
offered to her. She had taken it into her mouth and sucked. Juan had 
watched from the shadows. He had watched and wanted, just like he wanted 
now.

"Of course you do. It's written all over you. Vistoso! Maricon" 
the man taunted.

"Huh? What is?" Juan asked. "I don't understand Spanish," he added 
nervously.

"You want to suck me, queer boy? I bet you suck cocks really good 
too, just like your momma. You sure got the mouth for it."

"What do you mean, it's written all over me?" Juan asked again.

"Look at you, boy. Your dick is standin' out hard. You can't take 
your eyes off me. If you not queer, I sure don't know what straight is."

"I, I, I'm not," Juan stammered uncertainly.

But he glanced downward and saw the white cloth of his underpants 
stretched outward into a little pointed tent over his groin. Again he 
tried to shake his head, to pull away and leave the room, but the man's 
hands held his shoulders firmly and slowly pushed downward. Not with a 
lot of force, but enough to let the boy know what was expected of him. 
Juan knew who was in control. There was little that he could do to 
resist. He tried to shake his head one more time in futile resistance. 
His opposition was ineffectual. Juan submitted. His knees buckled and 
his legs seemed to collapse under him so that he sank to the vinyl 
floor. When he stopped he was kneeling before the naked man. The big, 
hungry penis swayed just inches before his eyes.

"No," he countered. It was little more than a whisper from his 
lips as he succumbed and slowly leaned forward to bring his mouth even 
closer.

But even as he had tried to resist he had wanted not to. As he 
stared at the living pendulum before him he could think only of his 
mother. In vain he tried to block out the sight of it. He closed his 
eyes but still his only thoughts were of her. Through closed eyelids he 
could see her clearly, kneeling in the same position, reaching up, 
caressing it, fondling the lengthening shaft with slender fingers, 
soothing the hardening flesh with warm soft lips, tantalizing the very 
tip of it with the pliant, wetness of her tongue. The hot softness of 
the man's now swollen glans pushed between Juan's lips even before he 
tasted the saltiness of it.

The man's hands moved from the boy's shoulders to cradle his head, 
restraining it as the inward pressure increased. The boy gagged after an 
inch had gone inside. As soon as the bitter taste of urine, semen, and 
his mother's vaginal fluids filled his mouth he wanted to pull away. 
Bile rose upward in his throat as the man forced another inch into the 
small mouth. Juan's tongue was depressed and his jaw ached as he forced 
his mouth wide open. The one thing he knew that he could not do was to 
bite. Juan gagged again, now fighting the urge to vomit as the intruder 
bulged into his mouth and swelled his cheeks. He reached upward and as 
he remembered his mother doing and cupped the man's testicles. He held 
the huge, hair-covered sack in the palm of his right hand, intrigued by 
the sheer weight of its contents. Then with the fingers of the other, 
Juan stroked the long wiry strands of pubic hair that covered the man's 
groin, just as she had done.

The man pushed forward and gripped the boy's head. He pushed his 
fingers into the delicate ears and twisted them into the soft locks of 
Juan's hair to restrain his movement. Another inch of thick, engorged 
penis pushed between the boy's perfectly shaped lips.

"That's good, kid. Real good! Now suck it!" The man pulled back, 
paused momentarily, then pushed forward again. "Suck it! Go on! Suck it 
right inside, you little queer!"

Juan sucked. He sucked with all his might. He opened his mouth as 
far as it could go and then he sucked as if his life depended upon it. 
It seemed to slide into him until it could go no further. The onslaught 
of the man's penis was stopped in the back of his mouth as it rammed 
hard into his throat. To Juan, it felt as if the entire length of the 
adult penis was inside him. He dared not even try to breath.

It was not the memory of his shame or the shock upon being 
discovered but the sound of laughter that stayed with him from his first 
time. Not the man's laughter but his mother's laughter. The door swung 
open without warning. She stood there and glared down at him as she took 
it all in. And then she started to laugh. The man pushed Juan back 
viciously so that his penis was yanked free from the confinement of the 
boy's mouth. There was a resonant, sucking pop. He turned sideways and 
smirked at Juan's mother.

"He was just cleanin' me off. Your kid sucks cocks better than you 
do," he teased.

The woman's laughter seemed raucous in the bathroom. Juan cowered. 
He breathed in quick short gasps, suddenly aware that he needed air now 
that the huge penis no longer plugged his airway.

"Well, you didn't pay for my boy to suck you off, Leon. Besides, 
he only had about a third of you in there, didn't he? I'd hardly call 
that sucking your cock."

For the first time, Juan saw the man's aroused penis. Fully erect, 
it was easily nine inches long, easily three times the length of his own 
penis. It was many times larger. The shaft was swollen thicker than his 
wrist. The glans was rounded and as big and purple as a ripe plum. It 
was almost absurd to believe that it had gone inside his mouth. Even a 
third of its length was a remarkable achievement for a twelve-year-old 
boy. As he cringed and waited for his mother's wrath, he felt a strange 
satisfaction.

"Get your ass out of here, Juan." She continued to laugh.

The young boy shuddered even as he wondered why she was laughing. 
"Mom? Mom please? Please don't be angry with me. I didn't mean to. Mom?"

"Just get out of here. Get out, child! This is no place for a 
boy."

The man laughed harshly. "He did okay for a kid. He sure wanted to 
suck my cock. I think you better have a talk with him. A boy like him 
could get into a world of hurt with the wrong dick."

"Well he's not suckin' on this one. This here is woman's work," 
she laughed. "You can go find your own cock to suck, if that's what you 
want Juan. Only next time find something that's more your size."

She stepped closer to the man. Juan came to his feet precariously. 
He saw his mother's hand clasp the man's penis possessively. He saw her 
bright-red finger nails squeeze into the ruddy flesh, still moistened 
from his saliva. He looked away indignantly, irritated by his own 
helplessness. For the first time in his almost twelve-year-old life 
Juan recognized his mother as a rival. This time there was no dispute 
about who was the victor.

"See! I told you he wanted to suck my cock," the man observed 
crudely. He pointed at the dark, wet spot on the front of the boy's 
underpants. "He pissed himself just suckin' on it. Your kid's a born 
cocksucker!"

"Maybe, Leon, but he sure ain't suckin' on yours. If he wants to, 
well he can find his own. I told you to get out, didn't I," she added as 
she glanced at her nearly naked son. "Get your ass out of here, now!"

Juan turned and ran back to his room. Nearly two days passed 
before the incident in the bathroom was mentioned again and then it was 
not with his mother.



Chapter 2. Home Alone



It was two days later that Juan and his brother, Jamie, came home 
from school to an empty apartment. It was just like every afternoon for 
as long he could remember. It was not unusual for his mother not to be 
home when they arrived. She worked at a bar, beginning in the early 
afternoon and going long into the evening. Her client for the night, if 
she found one, was almost always a customer. The two boys would be by 
themselves again. Juan found his key in the bottom of his jacket pocket.

"I want to go down to Brian's place, Juan," Jamie stated as he 
hesitated in the corridor.

"You're supposed to do your homework," Juan countered as he opened 
the lock. He turned back to his brother.

"I can do my homework there. His mom said it was okay for me to 
stay for dinner. Besides Juan, there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Did you ask mom this morning?"

The younger boy, some two years younger than Juan shook his head. 
The two boys were a lot alike. Unknown to either boy was the fact that 
Jamie, with his slower temper and greater wit was more like his father. 
Both boys had names whose origins were to be found in the man who sired 
them. Other than a slight physical resemblance, it was their only link 
with a man who had died almost ten years earlier. Juan Cassidy, age 28, 
had died in aborted takeoff from the U.S.S. Enterprise barely a month 
before Jamie had been born.

"Mom was still in bed. She was with that same guy, you know, the 
fat Mexican creep who was here last week. I sure wasn't going to ask 
her," Jamie added defiantly. "They were fucking, man! You could hear 
them doing it, Juan."

Juan shrugged but inside he felt his frustration blossom. He was 
also angry. He had heard the same noises during the night. It started 
again before sunrise. Even though the two boys had grown up with it, the 
f-word from the mouth of what appeared on the surface to be an innocent 
ten-year-old was particularly obscene.

"Yeah, he was the same guy. He's usually with Mom on Fridays," he 
acknowledged. "I heard it too. I guess it's okay. But you gotta be back 
here by ten, Jamie."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jamie chimed. He grinned and shoved his 
backpack towards his brother.

"What about your homework?"

"I don't have any," Jamie answered swiftly. The lie went 
undetected for several seconds and then it no longer mattered. The 
younger boy had already turned and run down the corridor towards the 
stairs.



Juan started his homework as soon as he had changed his clothes 
and prepared his snack. He settled down in the living room where the 
late afternoon sun still penetrated the otherwise gloomy confines of 
the apartment. He spread his math book on the floor beside him, slurped 
his milk and began. Math was his least favorite subject, it took the 
longest, and he wanted it out of the way. Nearly two hours passed before 
Juan put the math book away. He stretched his legs. The sun had long 
since left the room and now he was sitting in near darkness. The track 
suit he wore had come from the Goodwill store. At one time it had been 
expensive and it still bore the signs of quality. The plush cloth was 
velvety and warm and had a fuzzy softness that felt nice against his 
bare skin.

He stretched back and lifted his arms behind his head so that the 
top was pulled upward. He yawned in boredom. The firm flesh and lithe 
form of his lower belly was revealed and as soon as he felt the cool air 
he glanced downward. He was slender and his waist narrowed more than 
most boys. Freed from the mental struggle with his math homework, his 
thoughts shifted. He wondered how much different his body looked 
compared to that of a girl of his own age. There was the obvious 
difference, of course, but if he overlooked that he decided that he came 
close. Some of the girls in his sixth-grade class already had breasts, 
or what purported to be breasts but were still the ripening mounds that 
heralded things to come. But breasts did not interest him in the same 
way and he grinned to himself and lifted his hips up from the floor. The 
elastic in the waistband offered no resistance and he quickly shoved his 
sweat pants downward to his feet. As usual, he wore no underpants. He 
pushed his penis and testicles between his thighs and clamped his legs 
tightly together. He continued to look downward but now he smiled in 
satisfaction. The hairlessness of his groin was accentuated by the 
absence of his genitals. The smooth skin was stretched over what 
remained from the puppy fat of his pre-teen years: a v-shaped mound of 
soft flesh that would eventually disappear and become his pubis. There 
was a small dip at the junction of his invisible penis and a thin, dark 
line at the point of attachment. As his penis started to become erect 
the dip increased in size, becoming ever more prominent and in the 
darkness, more like a vagina but not enough to really please him.



The doorbell had broken six months earlier and had never been 
fixed by the landlord. But then the landlord was a faceless corporation 
whose only goal was to accept the rent checks and send out warnings when 
they were received late. He was startled out of his reverie by the sound 
of someone knocking on the door. For a moment he thought it was his 
brother but the knocking was insistent and stronger. Hurriedly, Juan 
sprang to his feet. He tugged his pants upward as he ran into the hall. 
It took only a single glance through the peephole to determine the 
visitor. Without hesitation, he opened the door.

"Hi Bruce," he said. The note of eagerness in his voice was not 
missed by the man that stood before him.

"Hi yourself, mate," the young man returned. "Is your mom home, 
Juan?"

The boy shook his head. "She's at work. She won't be home until 
late." He studied the man with obvious affection. Over the last three 
years he had come to like his mother's pimp. "You can phone her from 
here, if you have to. I don't think my mom wants to work tonight 
anyway," Juan added. "She was kind of sick last night after dinner. I 
guess she has a cold or something like that. She usually comes back here 
alone if she doesn't feel good."

The inflection in his voice revealed his growing disgust. His 
mother was a whore and they both knew it. Bruce only visited the 
apartment when he was bringing a client to her or collecting his 
commission.

"I don't have to call her, mate. That's not why I'm here." They 
glared at each other. "Don't be angry with her. It's a job, Juan. It's 
better that welfare."

"Yeah. That's what she says too. She only does it for the money. 
But it still doesn't change what she does with them. And she doesn't 
even need the money, at least she wouldn't if she didn't spend it on 
crack."

Bruce nodded understandingly. "Are you going to invite me in or am 
I going to have to stand out here in the hall." Juan grinned and backed 
away, leading the way into the darkened apartment. "Where's Jamie?" 
Bruce asked quietly.

"He's with a friend from school, a kid called Brian. He lives 
downstairs. Jamie's staying there for dinner," Juan volunteered.

Bruce nodded. "Home Alone, huh?"

Juan smiled. "Yeah, only I'm not rich like that Culkin kid."

The man returned the smile. "You're much better looking than he 
is."

"Yeah, sure I am. What do you want my mom for, mate?" Juan asked 
playfully. He mimicked the man with a feigned accent that left a lot to 
be desired.

Bruce smiled at the boy. "I don't want her, mate." He paused as he 
closed the door behind him. He locked it. "She asked me to stop by today 
and have a talk with you."

"Huh? Talk with me about what?" Juan asked quickly.

"Oh, this and that." Another pause as he looked steadily at the 
boy. Juan was not tall for his age. The top of his head was still 
several inches lower than the man's shoulder. He looked young, barely 
old enough to understand. "Mostly about sex," he added quietly.

Juan smiled at the man he almost adored. He loved the accent. 
Bruce was Australian, or had been until a few years ago when he finally 
decided to live in the 'States,' as he called it. 

The boy shrugged. "I know some of that stuff already. From 
school," he added.

Bruce leaned against the wall. "Sure you do, mate. With you mom 
being, well being what she is, you probably know more already than most 
guys your age." He hesitated. "She told me about yesterday morning."

Juan reddened. He stared at the floor as the last two days of 
shame and guilt boiled to the surface. He had not expected this. He had 
always thought of Bruce as his best grown-up friend. And now even Bruce 
knew what he had done. He silently hated his mother even more than when 
she had laughed at him.

Bruce led the way back along the hall and into the living room. 
"Let's talk about it, okay mate? So you sucked a guy's dick? Her john, 
right? I bet she was pissed."

He dropped down onto the sofa. The boy remained standing, his 
silhouette framed in the doorway. Juan did not answer.

 Bruce spoke quietly, without condemnation, with reassurance, with 
open acceptance. "You have to be careful doing that. Sex is dangerous 
for a youngster, especially for a boy who's as good looking as you are." 

"You really think I'm cute?" Juan asked awkwardly.

"Very! Come over here and sit down. That's better, mate. Now, sit 
down. Be honest with me Juan, do you really think you're gay?"

Juan pondered the one question that frightened him more than 
anything else in his life. It was a question that he had considered time 
and time again. It was a question he had never answered.

"I like being around girls," the boy admitted quietly. He wondered 
whether he had lied and slowly decided that he had not. He did like 
being with the girls in his class. It was as if he had more in common 
with them than he had with other boys his age. He had known that for a 
long time, for as long as he could remember.

"Yeah, sure you do," Bruce said dubiously. "There's nothing wrong 
with being gay," he added.

He reached around the boy's head. His arm rested gently against 
the slender shoulders and he stroked a thin upper arm. He leaned toward 
Juan. "Being gay is okay, Juan," he whispered into the boy's ear. 
"There's nothing to be scared of," he added as Juan shivered and tensed 
as if he was about to pull away.

The boy nodded and pushed his tousled hair back from his forehead. 
It was an instinctive move but as his fingers combed the long locks it 
quickly became a feminine gesture. "You think I'm gay, don't you Bruce?" 
he asked nervously.

"I know you are. I think I've known from the first time I saw 
you."

"Shit!"

Bruce smiled reassuringly. "I know how you feel. I know I was 
really pissed. I expect I felt the same way that you do right now. I 
guess I was about your age the first time I did it, mate. I'd been in 
the States all of three weeks."

"So, how do I feel?" Juan asked arrogantly.

Bruce answered sincerely. "Ashamed for one thing. You'll get over 
it. I remember I felt cheated. I didn't want to be gay."

"Why me?" Juan asked plaintively.

"Hell! I don't know. It just happens. Maybe we were always this 
way."

"My mom knows, doesn't she?" Juan sighed dolorously. "That's why 
she asked you to talk with me." The man nodded patiently. "So, what 
happens to me now?"

"That's up to you Juan."

The boy's lips compressed tightly. He sniffed wretchedly and 
slowly swiped at his eyes. His distress heartbreaking to the man. "You 
can, if you want to," he whispered.

"If I want to what?"

"You can do it to me if you want to. I don't care," Juan said 
crudely.

Bruce laughed. "You can forget something like that. But if I was 
into boys it would be a different story. You're incredibly sexy, even 
for a kid."

"Yeah?" Juan asked. He clung to the man's words, desperate to find 
security and stability in his turmoil. Finally, he vacillated. "What do 
you mean?" he added curiously.

"Not all men like young boys that's all. In fact, most gays don't 
go after kids. They like older guys. Besides, you're a lot better off 
with someone your own age," he added sincerely.

"Oh!" Juan paused. "So, why not? Why can't a boy do it with an 
older guy like you?"

"Well I guess there are a lot of reasons why not. It's against the 
law for one thing, mate. Until you turn eighteen you're jail bait. But 
besides that, well you're still a kid and there are a few things you 
can't do until you're older."

Juan giggled. "Like make that white stuff come out of my dick?"

Bruce nodded as he chuckled. "That's one of the things," he 
acknowledged.

"Some of the guys at school say they can do it, you know, make 
stuff come out when they jack off." Juan leaned back against the man's 
muscular torso and nestled under his arm. "Is that what I have to do to 
before I, well you know, do it?"

"No, it's not essential," Bruce acknowledged with a grin. "But it 
helps if you've got some spunk."

It was almost dark in the room now and Juan snuggled closer into 
the man's warmth. He could smell the strong scent of after-shave and he 
liked it. There was also a musky odor, not as strong, but far more 
enjoyable. Then he remembered that the man in the bathroom had a similar 
smell only he hadn't noticed it at the time as being pleasant. He liked 
Bruce.

"Bruce?" he asked quietly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, mate. What is it?"

"Will you do it with me?" Juan asked nervously. His voice became 
quieter, almost conspiratorial as he added, "You know, when I'm older?" 
Bruce nodded and gently squeezed the boy's thin arm. It served to draw 
them even closer together.

"There's plenty of time left for you to have sex, mate. First 
thing is for you to grow up a bit."

"Yeah, but, well,... Why not now? Why do I have to wait until I'm 
older?" Juan interrupted.

"There's no rush, mate. You'll only get hurt if you rush into it 
at your age. Any way you look at it, you're still just a kid. Give it a 
couple of years. Don't be an idiot and end up like your mom or me. 
Believe me it's no fun. Have some fun first with your own friends." 

Juan twisted away and glared back at Bruce, suddenly distrustful 
of the man he liked so much. "You said what she did wasn't so bad," he 
countered angrily. Then the ugly thought struck him. "You do it too, 
don't you?" he demanded.

"What?"

"You do it for money, just like she does, don't you? WELL? DON'T 
YOU?" he shouted.

Bruce nodded diffidently. He was a long way past caring. During 
his teenage years he had carried more guilt than most people knew in a 
lifetime. Twice he had attempted suicide and twice he had failed. He had 
tried booze, then pot, then cocaine. Nothing worked for him, except sex. 
No longer caring to hold anything back, he answered honestly.

"Sometimes. I'm getting too old for the trade if you know what I 
mean. When I was younger, most of the times I did it was for money. 
That's how I met your mom. We were both working downtown. I guess you 
were about seven or eight at the time."

Juan settled back down next to the man as the next question came 
to him. "So, if some guys even younger than me can make sperm, why can't 
I?"

"Some guys just start sooner, that's all. Just be patient, you're 
probably closer to it than you realize."

"Huh? How can you tell when I'll be able to cum," Juan asked 
innocently.

Bruce smirked. "The best way if for you to pull your pants down 
and show me, mate."

Juan giggled childishly. "Here? In front of you?" 

Bruce did not reply. He looked at the boy reclining beside him, 
not believing what he had just said. He shrugged nonchalantly as if 
seeing Juan's naked body was of no interest to him. He had always 
believed that a naked boy would hold no interest for him, even a boy who 
was as beautiful as this one. But he was interested, very interested 
indeed. His throat was suddenly dry and he swallowed. He felt a thrill 
of excitement and he could not help but smile at the boy. He had never 
this way before when he looked at a young boy. Juan seemed like a 
forbidden fruit, a delicacy that could easily become addictive. 

"Yeah. Why not, mate?" the man answered eagerly.

"You got to promise you won't tell anyone, especially my Mom,?" 
Juan said with a sly smirk.

Both man and boy silently regarded the other. The clock ticked 
loudly, the hands moving interminably onwards as it pursued an unknown 
destiny. Juan did not wait for Bruce's answer. He stood up and stepped 
back from the couch. With clumsily attempted seduction and a slowness 
that revealed his lack of expertise, his hands moved to his waist. Like 
a stripper he wriggled his hips sensuously as he pushed downward. His 
sweat pants were almost to his knees before he stopped. He straightened 
up, unsure of how far he should go. Bruce regarded him in silent 
fascination. In the dim light from the street lamp outside the window, 
the boy's body was little more than an outline in the darkness. He 
reached over and switched on the lamp next to the couch.

"So?" Juan inquired. There was a note of urgency in his voice. It 
was a demand for acceptance, hopeful even for appreciation. Bruce said 
nothing. "I don't have hair down there yet," Juan added, still desiring 
admiration.

"So I see." Bruce took a deep breath as if to quell his rising 
disquietude and gazed at the half-naked youthful body before him.

The sight of the boy's bare thighs made his heart surge. Juan's 
loose-fitting top sagged down beyond his navel, covering his lower 
belly. His genitals seemed to peek out from underneath. He looked in awe 
at the proudly displayed body, his eyes focusing on the boy's diminutive 
sex organs with an intensity that disturbed him. The child, for that was 
what Juan was, was absolutely perfect. Unblemished by even the 
slightest trace of hair, his penis projected outward as if cushioned by 
his rounded scrotum. Unlike himself, the boy was uncircumcised. It gave 
the youth a mystery that had always seemed to elude him.

"Like I said, you're sexy," Bruce breathed out. He hesitated as he 
examined the boy carefully. "I bet you're going to be cummin' sometime 
next summer, mate. Your balls have already started getting bigger."

"What about my balls?" Juan asked uncertainly.

"A kid's balls have to get bigger before he can cum. It looks like 
your's have just started. I reckon your cock will start getting bigger 
soon too. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, you'll probably start sprouting 
hair in a few months or so."

It was Juan's turn to grin and he beamed back happily. Bruce 
extended his hand and their fingers touched, then clasped, and finally 
locked together. They watched each other silently, each afraid that any 
sound might break the fragile bond between them. 

"Take your pants all the way off," Bruce demanded. His voice was 
husky though gentle and it reassured the boy that his nudity would not 
go unappreciated. Still holding Bruce's hand, Juan shoved his pants 
down to the floor, lifted one foot and then the other until they were 
off, and kicked them off.

"Do you want me to take everything off?" the boy asked 
shamelessly.

"I don't want you to get cold, mate. You'd better leave your top 
on."

Gently he pulled on the boy's warm hand, feeling a clammy 
moistness between the thin fingers. Juan took a single step until his 
legs brushed against the man's jeans.

"You're beautiful," Bruce said. His voice trembled like a teenager 
on his first date. "God, you're beautiful."

With his other hand he reached forward and lightly caressed the 
smooth, bare thigh that was nearest to him. His hand flowed along the 
lithe form. He felt the quiver of young muscles as they tensed and then 
relaxed slowly. He felt the swelling as the boy's small buttocks began, 
then the full roundness of the firm flesh of his cheek. His fingers 
traced a line parallel the boy's crevice, barely an inch from entering 
a darker, hotter zone. Resisting the temptation to go further, Bruce 
looked upward and met Juan's eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly. "If you 
don't want to do it, I want you to tell me, mate."

Juan's head moved slightly, nodding his acquiescence. Like any boy 
on the precipice of discovering his sexuality, he lacked confidence. 
Unsure even of his own desires, but primarily afraid of what lay before 
him, he equivocated.

"Can we stop if I want to?" he asked.

"Whenever you want to stop, just say so."

The boy considered his options momentarily. "Are you going to do 
it to me?" he whispered urgently. It was unknown, a vague undefined 
territory that somehow encompassed his body and focused on his 
genitals. It was what his mother did with her clients. At the most 
fundamental level, it involved sucking Bruce's penis, a thought that 
was not unattractive to the boy.

Bruce shook his head slowly. "Not now. You're not ready for that 
yet."

He exerted just enough downward pressure to bring the boy gently 
onto him. Juan sat in man's lap. Oblivious to the coarse cloth beneath 
his buttocks, he was aware only of the warmth that seemed to flow 
between them, from the man's groin into his thighs and buttocks. More 
content than he had ever been, he reclined into a strong embrace and 
sighed quietly as the arms enclosed him and held him tightly.

"Are you scared?" Bruce asked quietly.

Juan sighed again. "No. You make me feel good all over. I like 
being here with you." Bruce playfully squeezed the young boy. It was a 
strong tender hug of affection. "You feel like a big bear," Juan said 
dreamily. "I like you holding me."

The man smiled to himself. Unseen by the boy, he leaned forward 
and nuzzled the silky head that barely came up to his chin. Like Juan, 
his feelings were foreign to him. They were very confusing. Was it 
simply a matter of the boy's age? If that was the only difference then 
it did not seem to be enough to account for what he felt. No, it 
definitely was not the same, Bruce decided. There was more to it than 
mere maturity or the lack thereof. With a man there was a sense of 
equality, even if he usually was the passive partner. With Juan came the 
roles of coach, teacher, and mentor. It was not a task that he 
immediately relished though the opportunity to enlighten the youngster 
offered interesting possibilities. His thoughts were interrupted as 
Juan stirred against him with a playful wriggle.

"What happens now?"

"What do you want to happen?"

"I don't know. I'm the kid and you're the grown-up, remember. 
You're supposed to teach me."

"No shit!"

"So teach me!"

They both laughed. It interrupted the stress of the moment. 
Laughter turned to tickles as Bruce slid his hand under Juan's top and 
jabbed his fingers into the boy's ribs.

"Yyyoouuch," Juan screeched. His voice, still unbroken, hit a 
soprano high. "No! Don't you dare! I hate being tickled. Stop it! Bruce, 
don't! Please!"

Bruce jabbed again and then transferred his squabbling, grasping 
fingers to the boy's lower belly. He stopped barely an inch from Juan's 
penis. Frantically Juan tried to protect his exposed groin. He realized 
too late that it was a trap and Bruce's fingers poked and prodded into 
his armpits. The boy writhed above the man, squealing and yelling and 
enjoying every wonderful second of it. He fought back but with 
decreasing resistance as his strength ebbed with his raucous laughter 
and lack of breath.

"Stop it! Oh God. Not my dick again! No! Shit! Don't Bruce! 
Please."

"Say you'll do whatever I want!" Bruce commanded in mock 
sternness. "Say it! Now!"

"Fuck you," Juan swore as he giggled hysterically.

He tried to grab at the man's groin but his attack was easily 
fended off. Bruce tossed him onto the couch and pressed him down into 
the cushion. He dragged the Juan's dark blue top upwards so that it was 
gathered under his shoulders. The boy's bare, lightly tanned torso was 
heaving as he struggled to regain himself. He had lost the battle but he 
had won the prize he wanted. 

Bruce leaned over him. "Say it, you little cocksucker," he 
demanded as he pressed his thumbs into the tiny indentations of the 
boy's nipples. "Say you'll do whatever I want!"

"You want me to suck your cock, don't you?" Juan gasped amid 
continuing giggles. "I can suck you off just like I did to my mom's 
john."

"Maybe. I haven't decided what I want you to do yet, mate."

"I bet his cock is way bigger than yours is," Juan taunted.

"Maybe," Bruce replied. The excitement he felt was unlike any he 
had known. The beautiful boy lying on the couch had an incredible effect 
on him. His heart was pounding so hard that it felt as though he would 
explode any second.

"I could barely fit his cock in my mouth, it was so big," Juan 
added in a sing-song teasing voice. "It was AWE...SOME."

Bruce gazed down on the inert, nearly naked boy, his eyes drawn to 
the small genitals. Juan was not fully erect but he was not far from it. 
His penis had stiffened more than enough to reveal his excitement. 
Compared to the massive organs of his previous partners, the boy's penis 
was tiny. Its small size made it appear delicate, like a fragile jewel 
that adorned the center of the young body. It served only to increase 
the man's arousal.

"What if I want to suck yours instead?" Bruce countered. 

He tried to imagine the taste of the juvenile sex organs but he 
could not. He had always wondered how his own penis had tasted when he 
was still immature. Bruce reached for the small penis and smirked. Juan 
responded like a child who was denied the pleasure it sought. He pouted, 
half in jest, half serious. 

"I'll suck you, okay," Juan said quickly. Then without warning he 
changed his mind. "I'll do what ever you want, mate," he mocked.

He shivered as Bruce's fingers brushed lightly against his belly 
and descended slowly down his hip and onto his thigh. Then back again, 
leaving a tingling trail of excited nerves as it travelled ever closer 
to his groin. The man's fingers stroked into the moist furrow between 
leg and scrotum and then continued back to the junction of belly and 
thigh. Their eyes met knowingly and Bruce's fingers enclosed the stubby 
shaft of an almost rigid penis. They breathed out in unison. Juan's 
penis jumped as it flexed instinctively in the endless search for even 
greater stimulation. His testicles had tightened into a small 
inflexible knot that was as wrinkled and large as a walnut shell.

"That feels real good, doesn't it?" Bruce inquired as his fingers 
massaged the small glans that was hidden under the boy's foreskin

"It's great," Juan sighed.

Two fingers and a thumb enclosed his penis and gripped the satin-
smooth skin. Bruce's hand began to move imperceptibly but it instantly 
evoked another sigh. "Yeahhh," the boy breathed out in immediate 
response. Surprisingly, the response was born of instinct for Juan had 
never masturbated properly. In six months of self-pleasuring he had 
never discovered more than the delight that came from fingering and 
squeezing the sensitive skin of his penis.

"That's nice," he murmured.

Bruce's finger's gripped the small shaft harder and expertly 
pushed down the length of it. The foreskin easily retracted and the tiny 
glans appeared. Sheltered from the irritation of clothing, its delicate 
membrane was blue-purple in color with a crimson slit on the underside, 
what was now the upper side. It was the first time that Bruce had seen 
an opening displaced and he stared in fascination. The slit was where 
the glans merged with the shaft. It was not an unusual birth defect and 
was less serious that most, merely one of inconvenience when urinating, 
rather than requiring surgical correction.

If Juan had been circumcised, the position of his orifice and the 
appearance of his glans would have been disturbing. As it was, the 
opening occurred at the point where the corona began to flare so that it 
was well hidden by his foreskin when it was not retracted. From the 
urethral opening, to the tip of Juan's penis was a deep depression that 
made a prominent groove in the boy's glans. That single defect marred 
the absolute perfection of the young body but at the same time it served 
to establish an almost mystical aura about him.

"It must be hard to piss straight," Bruce mused aloud.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" the boy asked. His response 
came too quickly, his ignorance feigned.

"Oh! Sorry! Nothing, mate."

"You were talking about my dick. I'm not a complete idiot. I know 
I pee from underneath instead of from the end." The boy shrugged. "I was 
born like this. It's some kind of birth defect. They told me at the 
clinic once, you know, the place where Mom goes for her tests, only I 
forgot what it's called."

Bruce nodded sagely. "It makes you look different. I kind of like 
it. You're special."

Juan smiled awkwardly. "It's not like I have six fingers or 
something like that. Most of the time you can't even see it. It's only 
when it gets stiff like this and the skin pulls back."

He reached down and touched Bruce's fingers with his own. "If you 
don't like it you can pull the skin back over it." Bruce's hand moved 
away. "I didn't say to stop," Juan complained. "It feels really great. 
I've never rubbed it up and down like that before. Keep on doing it," he 
added excitedly.

Bruce grinned back at the boy. "I don't believe you've never 
jerked off before. You do play with yourself, don't you?"

Juan shook his head. "I play with it all the time, only I don't do 
it like this. I don't know why, I suppose I never thought you could it 
like that. It feels much nicer like this. I guess I just found out how 
to do it properly." 

He looked down and studied the rhythmic movement of the man's hand 
as if to commit every action to memory. He giggled. "You're making it 
really stiff by doing it like that. It feels like it's going to explode 
any second."

Bruce raised his eyebrows and then gasped in mock horror. "Blood 
and bits of boy-dick all over the room. What is you mom going to say?" 
he teased. "That's how it's supposed to feel, mate."

His fingers slid along the short shaft, moving with surprising 
speed. He concentrated on the now-very-swollen glans. The small penis 
appeared even darker in color than it had been only a few minutes 
earlier. Tiny blue veins swelled up on the underside and the minute 
meatus opened up with each upward motion. The boy wriggled 
uncomfortably as the tension began to grow exponentially. His leg 
muscles ached. His breathing became erratic until he was gasping for 
each lung full. Bruce's hand moved expertly, taking the boy to ever 
increasing heights with every variation that he tried. Then without 
warning, Juan grasped the pillow beside him and buried his face as he 
cried out for mercy. His orgasm came and went in a flash as the lower 
half of his body jerked quickly with a passing spasm. His first time was 
gone before he realized it had even happened. He groaned from deep in 
his chest and pushed his face harder into the pillow.

Bruce grinned and released the captive penis. Juan's orgasm had 
been dry as he expected but the short rigid organ had quaked under his 
fingers as if to expel its fluid. He reached up and gently brushed the 
hair back from Juan's forehead as he lifted away the pillow. The boy 
looked at him dumbly. There was a sense of wonder in the dark eyes, of 
bewilderment, of pleasure, of gratitude, and of embarrassment. 

"What happened?" he murmured.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah I liked it. But what happened? I felt like I was going to 
die for a second. I felt great until then. Shit! What did you do to me? 
There was this weird feeling down there. It was awesome, like I was 
going to explode or something."

"You had an orgasm, that's all." Bruce caressed the smooth cheek. 
"That was the first time it happened to you, wasn't it?"

"I never felt anything like that before," Juan replied. "Never!" 
he added adamantly.

They gazed at each other. "Is that how it feels when you do it? 
When you have sex?" the boy asked curiously.

Bruce nodded and the boy sighed in contentment. His satisfaction 
lasted until the next question came to him. He tried to postpone the 
inevitable. "Bruce, if I ask you a question, will you promise not to 
laugh?" he queried nervously.

"I'll try," the man answered. "Are you afraid you hurt something? 
You didn't. You'll feel better in a couple of minutes."

"No! I feel okay now, just tired." The boy summoned his courage 
and blurted it out. "When you were my age, well did you want to be a 
girl?"

"A girl? What? Instead of a boy?" Bruce answered in surprise. He 
glanced down at the boy before him. There was something about the 
question that frightened him. It went far beyond an attraction to his 
own sex. He sensed the boy's confusion as he watched the dark eyes try 
to avoid his own. He answered honestly as he gently stroked the warm 
softness of the inside of Juan's thigh. He marvelled at smoothness--
there was no hair, not even a faint dusting of peach-fuzz.

"No! I always wanted to be with a man. I didn't want that. Why? Is 
that what you want?"

"Oh! No! Well, I guess not. I mean, well,... sometimes I think 
about it, you know that I'd kind of like to be a girl. I think that I'd 
be happier if I was, instead of being a boy."

"If you were a girl, you know we couldn't have done what we just 
did?" Bruce added placatingly. "There's nothing to hold onto with a 
girl."

"Yeah, I guess not." The boy smiled slightly and then paused 
thoughtfully. "But you could fuck me," he responded.

"You don't have to be a girl to be able to do that," Bruce 
observed.

"I don't understand." His heart leaped with immediate joy and his 
slender body quivered with a surge of adrenaline. His mouth remained 
opened in awe. "You're kidding me, Bruce," he denied momentarily.

"Guys can fuck each other, you dummy. What do you think gays do 
together?"

"Uh? I thought,..." The boy blushed visibly embarrassed by his own 
ignorance. "I thought,... well that they sucked and did other stuff like 
that. But!... How do they fuck then?" Juan asked slowly as he pondered 
the mechanics.

"How do you think, mate?"

"I don't know. If I knew I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" the 
boy chided. "I thought you were supposed to be the teacher. Some teacher 
you turned out to be."

"It goes in your backside." Bruce laughed. "You don't have a cunt 
so you use your butt instead."

"Liar! You're kidding me."

"Hardly mate. Why do you think they call it butt-fucking for? I'm 
sure you've heard the expression from kids at school."

"I guess. Yeah, I suppose so. But, well,... I didn't think it 
meant anything. It really goes in my bottom?" Juan asked in 
astonishment.

"It really does."

"But the guys at school, they make dirty jokes about doing it back 
there. I always thought they were making it up. I thought that was what 
made the jokes funny, doing it where you poop from. Besides my mom 
doesn't do it like that."

"She doesn't have to."

Juan shrugged and slowly smiled as he realized the extent of his 
ignorance. "No, I guess not. But isn't it dirty? That is where I poop 
from," he admitted.

"I guess it depends on how you think about it. I don't think it 
is, but then I that's because I do it. Not everyone thinks like me. You 
and I are part of a ten percent minority."

Juan nodded and as he did so, Bruce's hand gradually crept from 
the boy's bare thigh closer to his now relaxed penis. Juan grinned in 
willing assent to the continued invasion of his private parts. But this 
time instead of enclosing his penis, the man's fingers moved to his 
testicles. They began to rub, gently massaging the tender eggs back and 
forth as they rolled within their silken purse.

"Bruce, but I don't understand. Well how do guys do it, then? Does 
it go inside? I guess it has to if you fuck, doesn't it?"

"Of course it goes inside your butt."

The boy's mouth opened again in awe. "The whole way in?" he 
choked.

"Sometimes. It depends. Some guys don't like it all the way in."

The boy's astonishment did not abate. Juan remembered the size of 
the man's penis from only two days earlier. "There's no way it could 
fit," he thought aloud. Then he realized that he had spoken and he 
looked sheepishly at Bruce. "I was just thinking about the guy who my 
mom caught me with. I never saw one big as his before. There's no way he 
could fit in me."

Bruce chuckled. "Well mate, if you can suck it, you can probably 
fuck it."

Juan grinned back at the man. "Well you didn't see it. Man, it was 
huge," he retorted. "There's no way it could fit in my butt-hole," he 
added with emphasis as he continued to dispute the truth of Bruce's 
claims.

But even as the boy examined the anatomical difficulties of 
engaging in anal sex he began to appreciate the possibilities. Though 
gradually accepting that there was no logic to it, there did appear to 
be a peculiar thrill that accompanied the notion of having a man's penis 
inside his bowel; if it was indeed possible.

The man shrugged. "You'll find out in your own good time, mate. 
There's no rush to get your arse stuffed. You'll probably hate it the 
first few times anyway. It hurts like hell until you get used to having 
it in there."

In response, Juan pouted. With his bottom lip pushed forward, Juan 
was irresistible. The urge to kiss the boy came suddenly. Bruce leaned 
forward and over Juan but as he neared the young mouth he sensed the 
beautiful body below him become tense. At the last moment, Juan's head 
turned to the side, instinctively resisting the intimate contact that 
the man proffered. The unwelcome kiss landed on his cheek and 
immediately, the boy's hand wiped defensively across his face.

Bruce pulled back. "Sorry, mate," he muttered awkwardly as the boy 
turned back to look at him uncertainly. Too late Bruce remembered his 
own boyhood and the first time that he had been kissed. He had been 
repulsed at the time. He had just been much more intimate than Juan had 
been and he had felt nauseated as the man's lips engaged his, sickened 
as the man's tongue penetrated his mouth. He wondered why a boy could 
engage in oral sex with apparent impunity and then become chaste and 
squeamish when a single kiss was exchanged. From the outset he had not 
been revolted when the man had sucked his penis or when he returned the 
favor.

With that in mind, Bruce lowered his head over the boy's genitals. 
This time there was no rejection as his lips brushed against the small 
penis. His tongue touched the warm skin and he licked it thoroughly, 
going back and forth across the sensitive flesh. He nibbled on the tiny 
glans, placing his teeth behind the corona, and expertly massaging the 
rounded end with his tongue as hard as he could. He brought his right 
hand back to the boy's small testicles. Again he squeezed them, this 
time harder than before, palpitating them with deliberate though 
carefully applied pressure.

Under Bruce's ministrations the boy's penis began to stiffen 
again. It took less than a minute to shrug of its stupor and resume its 
former rigidity. As he felt the hardness return Bruce remembered his own 
youth. The frequency with which he had erections was still there, but 
the ability to recover so quickly from orgasm was only a dim memory. 
There had been but a few times with his first lover before he had become 
sexually mature. It had lasted all of three or four months.

Fully erect, but stiller smaller than the man's thumb, Juan's 
penis was easily engorged. Bruce sucked with a vacuum that threatened to 
detach the small shaft. Then seeking more of the boy's delicious body, 
Bruce pressed the testicles forward and into his mouth. Juan gasped. The 
sensation was unlike anything he had known. At once very hot and wet, it 
pulled him inwards with a force that threatened to tear him apart. A 
wonderful glow rose through him and his blood rushed to fill the vacuum 
that was his genitals. He groaned and his hips lifted up urgently to 
meet the insistent suction, to give all of himself. His entire body 
seemed to be focused in three short, very hard inches of his penis. His 
knees drew up, higher and higher until his heels were digging into the 
couch and his thighs gripped the man's head resolutely.

"Oh God," Juan whimpered. "Oh!"

With his fingers covered in the saliva that drooled from his mouth 
and its imperfect seal around the young boy's genitals, there was ample 
lubrication for what naturally followed. Bruce's hand pushed under 
Juan's buttocks, easily finding the boy's anus several inches beyond 
the tapered end of his scrotum. The tip of one finger pressed into the 
heat that emanated from the tiny depression. The puckered flesh yielded 
as Bruce's finger began to push inward.

For a moment Juan's hips lifted up in an instinctive response to 
protect himself. He had never been touched there and his reaction was a 
natural escape to avoid the violation of his privacy. But Bruce's finger 
moved with him, squeezing forward and penetrating the tight band. He 
entered the boy's anus only as far as the first joint and then the 
onslaught stopped. Juan had struggled only for a few seconds, his anus 
tightening in a vain effort to eliminate the intruder. He relaxed slowly 
and breathed out as he realized that he liked it. And then the finger 
began to move in a circle, loosening him as it began a cautious probing 
of his rectum. As the finger wriggled and squirmed so did Juan. It was 
impossible not to like it. A strange and wonderful feeling surged 
through him. It began where Bruce's finger was, where his mouth was, but 
it ran through his body like wild fire. He writhed in ecstasy and his 
anus began to dilate as Bruce's finger stabbed deeper and faster into 
him. He felt the pressure building inside him again and the sense that 
he was about to explode returned.



Chapter 3. Cherry Stains



That was how Juan's mother found them. After five more minutes the 
boy still had not orgasmed even though he had been at the brink most of 
the time. His aching body glistened with sweat. Even though his frenzied 
jerks had faded as he became accustomed to its presence, his hips 
continued to move as Bruce's finger pumped into the loose flesh that had 
once been a tight virgin anus.She stood in the doorway and watched for 
several seconds before they became aware of her presence. Startled, 
they parted instantly. She smirked as she looked first at Juan and then 
Bruce, and then she sneezed loudly.

"Well just look at you two queers. Goddamn fucking cold!" she 
swore angrily. "Coleman sent me home, the fuckin' asshole. Didn't want 
me snottin' over the customers, he said." She dug into her open purse, 
extracted a tissue, and wiped her nose. She looked back at them with 
contempt, her disgust clearly visible. "And what do I fuckin' find when 
I get home? I find two queers getting it off on my couch. God, Bruce, I 
asked you to talk to him about sex, not screw his goddamned ass," she 
shouted.

Bruce shrugged unconcernedly. "Sorry, Julia. Things kind of got 
out of control. But really, what did you expect? A little father-son 
talk with your son?"

"Not this, that's for sure." She wiped at her nose again and 
pushed the tissue back in her handbag. "Yeah, I bet things got out of 
control. I thought you had a thing for young men, Bruce. Not some piss-
ant kid who hasn't even got hair on his cock yet."

"That's what I thought up till now," Bruce acknowledged with a 
smile. "Juan is something else," he added as he glanced down at the boy. 
Juan's face had reddened in embarrassment and he looked away as he tried 
to hide his shame.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is, for a faggot."

"So what if he's a wonk, he sure is sexy," Bruce smirked. "It's 
about time he started getting his rocks off."

She started to laugh. "If you're saying that blowing my john was 
only the start for the little faggot, well I guess you're right, Bruce."

Juan's teeth clenched and then he screamed in frustration. "I hate 
you. I don't like what I am but I can't help it."

His mother turned on him viciously as she released her pent-up 
anger. "Just get out of my sight, damn you. Go to your room and stay 
there."

There was a long resentful silence for the time it took Juan to 
gather his sweat pants and socks and leave the room. As the boy passed 
through the doorway next to his mother she grasped his shoulder.

"Where the fuck is your brother?"

"He's downstairs with Brian. He's staying for dinner. I told him 
to be home by ten, okay," Juan retorted.

He walked awkwardly as pushed past his mother. He wanted only to 
escape to the privacy of his own room. They waited until they heard the 
door to his bedroom close.

"Well?" Julia asked.

"I'm sorry. Like I said, things went a bit further than I 
expected." Bruce paused and sighed thoughtfully. "You already knew he 
was queer, didn't you. So, what did you expect?"

"Well not this, that's for sure. Did you really think I wanted you 
to screw him?" Julia asked.

"Probably not," Bruce acknowledged. "But he's sitting on a gold 
mine, so to speak."

"Meaning what exactly?"

Bruce smiled and stroked his upper lip thoughtfully. "He's as cute 
as they come. And he's as gay as any kid I've ever seen."

"So what?"

"He could easily make two hundred a trick, if he wanted to that 
is. Maybe even double that with the right people."

"Get real. The kids hustling downtown make nothing like that. 
Forty bucks, sixty tops," she retorted. "I'm lucky to make a couple of 
hundred on a good night and you really think he could make it on a 
single trick. Get real."

"I'm not talking about him working Vaseline Valley, Julia. And 
even if I was, the kids who are making forty or fifty a trick are a lot 
older than he is. Anyway, mostly they're only doing blow jobs for that," 
Bruce explained patiently. "They're drugged out of their minds and not 
one of them have his looks. The kids that don't have Aids are rotten 
with the clap." He stood up and took several steps towards her. "Besides 
Julia, he wouldn't last more than a week. The first time the cops pulled 
him in, they'd keep him locked up. Just one look at your rap-sheet and 
he's on his way to Juvenile Court."

"Great idea!" Julia snorted. "So, smart ass, then why don't you 
tell me exactly how he's sitting on a gold mine."

Bruce smiled patiently. "That's easy. I know some guys who'd pay 
big bucks for a boy like yours. It's kind of a kiddie fuck club. A boy 
like Juan would fit right in and do real good. There are five or six men 
with more money than you or I'll ever know. Juan is the kind of boy 
they'd be interested in recruiting, even though he's younger than most 
of the kids they get. He could bring home three, maybe four hundred 
bucks every weekend."

Julia's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "What's the catch?"

"There isn't any. Juan would spend weekends with them and a few 
other boys. They have a farm back in the San Gabriel mountains. It's a 
nice place. There's a big old hacienda with a pool, even some horses, 
and unless things have changed there's a chef whose cooking is out of 
this world. He'd have to be discreet, of course." 

Julia nodded, thought for a moment and then nodded again. She 
smirked. "Sounds like Juan would have himself a lot of fun."

"He'd be a lot safer with them than flogging his arse on the 
street," Bruce added.

"How come you know so much?" Julia sneered.

"I spent a couple of years with them. I started going out there 
when I was fourteen. They used to pick me up after school on Friday. I'd 
stay there until Sunday."

"Five or six men," she mused. Her interest was piqued. There was a 
little hesitance as her anticipation of additional wealth was 
confronted by a mother's reluctance to involve her son in such 
depravity. "You mean he'd be fucked by all of them?"

Bruce nodded. "Most likely. Not at the same time, of course," he 
added as an after thought. "Of course, Juan would be better off with one 
guy I know. He's got more money than Croesus, but he's very particular 
about his young friends. Still, I think he would be very interested in 
making young Juan's acquaintance. Juan's more than cute enough to 
interest him and he's at the right age, too. The guy is into young 
boys."

"So what's the catch this time?" she inquired.

"None. Same kind of deal if Juan makes the cut. He spends Friday 
nights with him and comes home with six hundred bucks for his trouble. 
It might even be more. I've heard about one kid who pulled in a grand 
every time."

"You're kidding, Bruce. You say he'll make twice what he'd get 
with the other guys. What's he have to do with this weirdo for that kind 
of money?"

"Same thing! He gets laid a few times every Friday night. The guy 
is okay. He's good with boys though you probably wouldn't expect it if 
you knew him. But you do know Paul Luchiano, don't you?" Bruce queried.

"You're joking. Luchiano?" Julia asked in surprise. She started to 
laugh. "This is unreal. I'm getting screwed every Friday night by Testa 
and my friggin' kid is gonna get his ass humped by Luchiano. I don't 
believe it! Testa would have a fit if he found out!"

Bruce lifted his hand deprecatingly. "Between Testa and Luchiano 
they must control half of the crack in the city. I don't think anyone 
knows that Luchiano is into little boys? You better make real sure your 
Mexican boyfriend doesn't find out. They'd kill each other as soon as 
spit."

Julia nodded. "But isn't Luchiano married?" she continued 
suspiciously.

"Yes, but so what? It only means he has to be more careful. Juan's 
going to be the luckiest kid in LA if Luchiano takes him to bed. He 
couldn't do better if he was getting knocked off by Jacko."

"Who?"

"Jacko. You know, Mikey," Bruce laughed.

"How come you know about Luchiano? Don't tell me you got it off 
with him too," Julia snickered.

"Not wrong! From the time I was about Juan's age, right up to my 
fourteenth birthday. Of course, that's the problem with Luchiano. He 
only likes young boys, the pre-pube kind. Once Juan starts to fill out 
and mature he'll get the boot. He's got maybe two years left until that 
happens. Still, he ought to make at least seventy or eighty grand out of 
his ass by then, maybe even a whole lot more if he really hits it off 
with Luchiano."

"You really think that he could get more than if he went out to 
this farm place you mentioned?"

"At least twice the bucks I guess. Luchiano always takes good care 
of his little friends. Once Luchiano's finished with him, then Juan can 
always hike his little butt out to the mountains. If he plays his cards 
right he might even make enough for college," Bruce grinned.

"I don't believe the boy can make that much workin' tricks," Julia 
said arrogantly. "Juan's only a kid. He doesn't even know what his 
cock's for yet."

"That's exactly why he can make. Bloody hell, it's just a matter 
of demand and supply," Bruce interrupted. "With his looks he'll learn 
his dick's worth more with a guy like Luchiano than just wanking if by 
himself. And if I'm right, it'll happen quickly enough. There's a lot of 
pervs out there ready to teach him what his dick's for, and a lot more 
besides." He looked at Julia quizzically. "So, what do you think?"

"About what? About turning my son into a whore? What's in it for 
you?"

"My usual cut because I'll set it up. I'll take a third of 
whatever the kid brings home."

"Two hundred bucks or more for just setting it up? You must be 
crazy!" Julia snorted.

"Okay! Okay! So I'll pick him up from here and take him to 
wherever Luchiano wants him. I'll even bring the kid back here when he's 
done."

"If I was to say yes, why would Juan want to go through with it?" 
Julia asked cautiously.

"Let me put it this way. Like I said, he'll have more fun than 
sitting around here wanking his tool by himself. Luchiano will take him 
to some real nice places. All Juan's got to do is get his heels up a few 
times a week and he's in clover."

Julia shook her head. "I didn't mean that. Would he do it? I don't 
want him running off to some counsellor at his school as soon as he gets 
scared. Do you think he'd want to do it?"

Bruce shrugged. "He's a smart kid, plus he's a faggot. I'll need 
to have a talk with him beforehand, of course Julia. I wasn't kidding 
earlier when I said he was sexy. I think he'll go along for the ride, so 
to speak." The man chuckled. "He'll figure out the benefits pretty 
quickly."

"All right! If you can talk him into it, I won't say no."

Julia started to walk into the kitchen. Bruce followed close 
behind her. She went to the refrigerator, opened it and took out two 
cans of beer. They popped them simultaneously and clinked the cans 
together before drinking. It sealed the deal. 

"So if Juan's interested, what happens next?" Julia asked.

"I need to get a few photos of the boy first, in the raw. I need 
something I can show to Luchiano, enough to see if he's interested."

"How soon before you can set it up with Luchiano? There's only a 
few days until Friday. I want to know what's coming down."

"Yeah, sure yer do! What's the sweat for? Christ! I expect it'll 
take a day or two at most. But if Luchiano wants him, well it'd be a 
good idea for Juan to have a bit of practice first, if you know what I 
mean. If he's still a virgin the first time, God only knows what he'll 
do when Luchiano tries to screw him."

"Does it hurt?" Julia asked. She took another long sip, savoring 
the coldness in her sore throat.

"Do you really care?" Bruce returned. "How much do you plan on 
letting Juan keep for himself?" he countered.

She gave him a dismissive glance. "You want to break him in for 
Luchiano?"

"Do you have anyone else in mind for the job?"

Julia laughed. "Well my darling son tried to suck off one of mine 
a couple of days ago. I thought maybe I'd bring the guy back to finish 
the job."

Bruce shook his head as he smiled. "Juan told me about the monster 
dong. Do you want to kill the poor bugger or break him in? No way, 
Julia. This has got to be done with finesse. We don't want to damage the 
merchandise, do we?"

"So why don't you do it? He likes you. Why not right now? "

"Now? Tonight?"

"Why not, Bruce? It's as good a time as any. Besides his brother 
is out of the way and you can use his room. How long will it take 
anyway? Do you have somewhere else to go?" she teased.

"Not all that long," Bruce answered. The proposal was interesting 
and he considered it with growing fascination. "It'll be over before 
Jamie gets home. What about you?"

"I'm going to bed. It must be the damned flu, I think. I feel like 
shit."

Bruce nodded. He remembered the beautiful boy lying almost naked 
on the couch. The softness of the warm young flesh was unforgettable. At 
the time the desire had been there for both of them although he had 
dared not admit it, not even to himself, especially not to himself, he 
corrected.

"You got a frog in here?" Bruce asked as he reached for Julia's 
handbag.

"A what?"

"A frog! You know, a frenchie. I nor just flippin' his dick, you 
know. I'm gonna need a rubber for him."

"What the hell do you need that for? He sure ain't going to get 
pregnant, now is he?" she taunted. "Are you afraid of getting his shit 
on you cock, is that it?"

For a moment Bruce ignored her jibe and then he smiled. "You know 
why as well as I do. Now-a-days a kid like Juan better start out 
learning properly. At his age you can just about guarantee Juan's going 
to bleed like a stuck pig. He might not get a second chance."

She passed her worn leather handbag over silently and Bruce 
expertly searched the side pocket. He extracted a single condom in its 
cellophane packet and then removed a tube of K-Y. It was half finished. 
The end of it was rolled up clumsily and the top was smeared with clear 
ooze.

"Why does the little fucker need that for? I guess his little ass 
must be too dry to fuck, is that it?" Julia taunted as she leaned 
forward to recover her handbag. "Just give it back to me when you're 
done, okay."

Her eyes followed Bruce as he turned and left the kitchen. There 
was no question in her mind that she had done the right thing. Even 
conservatively, she counted on six hundred dollars, less three hundred 
after overhead and expenses. Bruce's two hundred dollars for delivery 
and a hundred for Juan, still left more money than she needed for crack. 
The only problem was that the money wouldn't last for more than a few 
years. And then she smiled as she wondered whether Jamie would follow in 
his big brother's footsteps. That raised an interesting possibility.



Chapter 4. Used Merchandise



It was nearly eight o'clock before Bruce came back into the 
kitchen. He had wrapped a towel around his waist to cover his body. 
Julia glanced up from her slumped position at the kitchen table. Four 
empty beer cans were lined up like soldiers and a fifth can was within 
easy reach. She wiped her mouth as Bruce sat down in the seat before 
her.

"Where's Juan? You finished fuckin' the little brat's ass didn't 
you?" she slurred loudly.

Bruce breathed out. "He's asleep." He reached for the can of beer. 
"If you're interested, he's okay. Just worn out, that's all. He'll get 
over it soon enough."

"You been up his ass all this time? Christ, it's been over two 
hours," she demanded hotly.

"Hardly, Julia. Mostly we were talking. He has a lot to learn. 
He's a good kid," the man acknowledged as much to himself as to Juan's 
mother. 

"Did you tell him about Luchiano? He's gonna do it, ain't he? The 
little fucker, I can tell from your face that he said he would."

"Yeah, he's going to do, Julia. At least he's going to try it once 
or twice with Luchiano and see if he likes it."

"He fucked with you okay, didn't he?" she demanded. "He liked I 
bet. He's a goddamn queer just like his father was. Just as soon as I 
was pregnant with him, the bastard goes off and starts screwing my 
little brother."

"Yeah, Juan's okay." Bruce drank slowly and then opened his other 
hand. He dropped a wadded-up handkerchief onto the table and spread it 
out. The cloth was no longer white. The center of it was smeared and 
streaked with red blood. It was still wet.

"What's that?" Julia belched.

"You might say they're cherry stains. What did you expect?"

"Cherry stains? Christ, what did you do to him?" Julia asked. She 
coughed and reached out for the beer can.

"I think you've had enough booze for tonight," Bruce answered as 
he refused to hand it over. "I told you Juan was a virgin. You know 
Julia, I forgot how tight a kid's spink was before it got stretched 
out," he teased. "He's okay. There's always some blood the first few 
times. He'll bleed a bit till he gets used to it."

"So did he like it?" Julia persisted. "Did he like having your 
cock up his ass?"

Bruce shrugged. For a moment he wondered whether Juan had derived 
any enjoyment at all from it. He wasn't sure whether any boy actually 
liked it the first time. He tried to think back, wondering whether he 
had. Mostly for a boy of Juan's age it was a matter of tolerating the 
pain until it ended, of trying not to cry as a man-sized penis pounded 
into his gut. That Juan had cried at first had come as no surprise to 
him, but after the initial penetration and his anus had relaxed, it had 
seemed to get better for the boy. His wailing had slowly turned to a 
quiet puppy-dog whine that was almost of pleasure. And at the end, as he 
pumped faster and deeper into the loose, sucking hole, increasingly 
desperate lunges that heralded the approach of his own orgasm, it had 
seemed that the boy was pushing back at him as he grunted. Had Juan 
enjoyed it? It was more than likely. He nodded cautiously as he watched 
for her response but there was none.

"He was as horny as a bitch in heat," Bruce stated flatly and then 
added sincerely, "Yeah, I guess he liked it by the end. I don't imagine 
young Juan will have too many problems by the time Luchiano takes him to 
bed."

Even though it was true, his answer shocked him. Juan had been 
reluctant at first and it had taken a long while to coax him into it. It 
was not seduction. Though the nearly twelve-year-old boy had ever been 
with another male, he was eager to explore. What had held him back was 
neither innocence nor immaturity. It was simply a deep-rooted fear of 
his mother. Once Juan had understood that Bruce was in his room with his 
mother's approval, his fear began to dissipate. As he learned that his 
mother actually sanctioned what Bruce wanted him to do, his inhibitions 
began to crumble. Not much more than an hour after Bruce had closed the 
door behind him, he began to insert his penis into the boy's small anus.

In the beginning there had been little pleasure in it for either 
of them. Long accustomed to accepting a passive role, Bruce was 
reluctant to do what was expected of him. His diffidence was exacerbated 
by the fact that he had never been attracted to young boys. He had been 
mechanical, avoiding the boy's eyes as he took on the role of instructor 
and carefully probed into the tight orifice. There had been no passion, 
at least none that Bruce had experienced. Bruce drank again, now finding 
solace for his guilt in the cold beer.

"Is the kid ready for Luchiano?" Julia asked.

Bruce looked up suddenly. "Uh? Is he ready? Yeah, I guess he is. 
It wouldn't hurt for him to do it a few more times first. He's still got 
a lot to learn but mostly the kid needs to get used to having a man's 
dong stuffed up his brownie."

"What did he say when you told him about Luchiano?"

"Nothing much. He sulked a bit. I guess he expected he was gonna 
get if off with me from now on," Bruce replied. "Maybe I will in a few 
more years. Right now it would be a goddamned waste."

"It's a pity you're queer, Brucie," Julia taunted loudly. "I could 
do with a man about now. I always knew you were into guys, but I hardly 
expected you to take on a little kid. You must be a great fuck, 
especially for a kid like him. Yes, I can just imagine how much little 
Juan liked you humping against his ass."

"I do okay. Your son can hold his own too for that matter, Julia. 
I guess he's just like his mom in that respect." Bruce smiled slyly. The 
last two hours with Juan had been as close as he would ever come to 
copulating with a member of the opposite sex. "Anyway, a few weeks from 
now and he'll bang like a shit-house door."

"Then it's a pity he only has a few years left to spend with 
Luchiano, isn't it." Julia belched again and reached under the table to 
scratch her crotch. "He's nearly twelve now. He isn't going to be a cute 
little boy much longer."

Bruce regarded her curiously. "Well short of putting his balls on 
the chopping block there's not much either of us can do about that, now 
is there? Talk about damaged goods, the little poofter wouldn't be worth 
shit without his nuts."

That was a lie but Julia would never know it. There something he 
could do but only he and Juan would ever know about it.



Juan lay on the bed, still naked and exposed to the cool air of 
the evening. He was not asleep, though he had drifted off only a few 
minutes earlier in a restless escape from the pain in his lower abdomen. 
For a while his thoughts wandered aimlessly, eventually coming back to 
the problem that now confronted him. He had never been so confused about 
his feelings, about who he was. And he hurt inside. The pain was dull 
but relentless, an ever present burning ache of tortured and bruised 
flesh. The tender lining of his rectum had been abraded. His once-tight 
anus had been forced open as he was impaled. Bruce's penis rammed into 
him. The muscular band of his anus had been stretched beyond it's limit 
as it endeavored to accommodate the man's organ and a small fissure had 
formed. 

Juan turned uncomfortably onto his side and carefully drew his 
knees upward until they were against his chest. In that position the 
pain was bearable. It slowly faded to a sensation of fullness, a 
continuing feeling that the man's penis was still enclosed inside him. 
He wiped the wetness from his cheeks with the corner of his pillow and 
sniffed loudly. A strange, though not unpleasant aroma lingered in the 
room. It was tinged with the pungent odor of feces, Juan could not 
determine its origin, though it was a smell that was reminiscent of the 
yeasty dough that came from the bakery he passed on his way to school.

He lay quietly, thinking to himself and remembering what had 
happened on his bed. With each minute the fullness inside him seemed to 
increase until it felt like it was bulging into his belly. He cramped 
and he groaned as the pressure increased. For one awful moment he 
thought that his bowels had released. He farted and air gurgled wetly as 
it gushed in a wheezing expulsion through his dilated anus. Absently, 
his right hand felt his buttocks and he cautiously examined the cleft 
between his cheeks for the feces he expected to find. He felt wetness 
only as his fingers pushed into the cleft and brushed against the 
swollen node of his anus.

Bruce had wiped him clean afterwards. Bruce had carefully turned 
him onto his belly and placed his legs apart. Then with meticulous care 
and gentle dabs with his handkerchief, the man had removed the sloppy 
mess that had formed between Juan's thighs. It was done with such 
thoroughness that it was as if the man was expunging any sign of what 
had transpired on the boy's bed. He wiped away the evidence of his 
guilt. Juan's fingers felt the heat that now oozed out of him. It was 
slippery, like snot. It was just like the stuff that Bruce had used to 
'lube' him. His deft fingers pressed into the slime, sliding in the film 
between them. He gently tested his anus with a light pressure. It did 
not hurt the way he expected it to, in fact the coolness of his fingers 
felt nice. He probed it again and felt the it give way. The openness 
surprised him. His anus appeared to be wide open, a gaping hole into the 
dark depths of his body. That frightened him and for a long time he 
wondered whether he had been permanently damaged. He realized that he 
had been injured for he had seen the blood on the handkerchief and knew 
that it could only have come from one place. His panic had been quickly 
squelched as Bruce explained that it was normal, that it would stop 
quickly, that he would bleed until he got used to it. Without even 
thinking, the boy continued his process of discovery. Two of Juan's 
fingers penetrated the puffy opening, gliding on the residual of gel 
that had remained inside him. His anus offered to no resistance and 
within seconds both fingers could go no further. His knuckles squeezed 
into his crack as he pushed as hard as he could. He sighed as he felt 
his own fingers and the delicious sensation returned. It easily 
overwhelmed the pain he felt. He moved them back and forth, simulating 
the motion of Bruce's penis. The sensation changed and immediately 
became more intense, more demanding, more enjoyable. The pain vanished.

"Oh man," he muttered to himself in disbelief.

His fingers squirmed, twisting like two squirrels in playful 
combat. He gasped as his nerves began to tingle and without warning the 
feeling became infinitely better than anything he had felt with Bruce. 
For the nearly twelve-year-old boy it was impossible to believe that his 
body could feel so wonderful. As before, the pressure in his lower 
abdomen began to increase. He stopped only when it became painful to 
continue. He felt as if he would burst if he continued a moment longer. 
With reluctance, Juan pulled his fingers free of the sucking, mushy 
tissue that held them. Air burst out him. The explosion of gas was 
violent and it frightened the boy. Again he examined his buttocks, this 
time less cautious than before. He found nothing and he breathed out in 
relief. He lifted his right hand up and inspected his fingers. He had 
expected to find feces on his fingers but there was none, not even a 
trace of brown. He brought his fingers closer to his face and curiously 
smelled the glistening streaks that coated them. He immediately 
identified the source of the strange aroma. It was a nice smell he 
decided. He wiped his fingers clean on a corner of his pillow.

Slowly he straightened his legs out, moved them to one side, and 
sat up on the edge of the bed. Three thin folds of skin formed at his 
waist. He glanced downward and studied his small, wilted genitals. 
Although his erection had disappeared as soon as Bruce's penis had 
started into him, he still felt drained. His exhaustion showed in his 
shrivelled penis and scrotum. Juan was no longer oblivious to the 
soreness inside him. It had returned as soon as he had started to move 
in a sitting position. He shifted uncomfortably and looked around his 
room, barely recognizing the familiar surroundings that his been his 
home for five years. Suddenly he felt very tired, as if the strength in 
his body had been suctioned out and he existed only as a shell. Every 
movement was now an effort for him. He sat quietly. His mind was in 
turmoil, even thinking in any logical way was impossible, but he knew 
that he should not try to stand.

 Juan looked at the night-stand between the two beds and 
hesitantly reached for the evidence. It was the proof of what he had 
done. He fingered the rubber sheath of the condom tentatively, first 
prodding it with his forefinger as if it might bite him before 
cautiously rubbing it. He could see the white fluid inside the 
translucent membrane. It was a slippery gooey fluid, similar to, though 
thicker than cream. He examined the yellowish membrane carefully, 
mystified by the change in its appearance. When Bruce had shown him how 
to put it on it had looked very different. No longer a tightly coiled 
band, the used contraceptive had become stretched out into a long, thin 
tube that was soggy and cold.

Once Juan had agreed to do it, things had happened quickly. There 
was, in the urgency of the moment, a rush of uncertainty but Bruce was 
adamant. By that time, the man was also naked and they were lying on the 
bed together. Even though Bruce had insisted that they would stop 
whenever Juan wanted, upon reflection the boy knew that it would have 
happened no matter what he said. In the privacy of his own room, Juan 
had been confronted for the first time by his own desires and a man who 
was as gay as he was. His decision was both instinctive and impulsive. 
Juan had gradually become more and more excited until it seemed that 
every part of his body was tingling with the thrill of contacting the 
man's bare flesh. His penis had become very hard, considerably harder 
than Bruce's penis. It had stiffened until it was so rigid that it might 
even snap off if mistreated. When the time came he had straddled the 
man's legs and followed the directions he was given. He had been 
surprised as his unrolled the pliable skin down the man's penis for it 
had not looked as though it was big enough to cover the swollen six-inch 
shaft. But it stretched over the bulging veins and made them less 
prominent and unrolled all the way to the hairy pubis. And then he had 
smiled eagerly. He realized what would happen next and he greeted the 
knowledge with enthusiasm.

Presently he picked it up by holding the slimy film between two 
fingers. The outside of it was still wet. The wetness came from him, and 
from the stuff that Bruce had squeezed into his anus. He mused quietly 
as he examined the contents again, closer and more carefully. Though as 
well informed as any twelve-year old boy, Juan had never seen semen 
before, at least not like this. He had seen the telltale dark spots on 
his mother's sheets, the crumpled moist tissues on the night-stand, 
even the starchy cloth of her clothes, but never the real thing. There 
was a lot more of it than he had expected. It was funny to think that 
the stuff inside could make babies and kill at the same time but he knew 
enough about Aids to know its deadly consequences.

For a few seconds Juan wondered how it would have felt if it had 
gone inside his bottom instead. He smiled as he remembered the feeling 
of Bruce's penis jerking inside him right at the end, only moments 
before he had stopped moving. It seemed as though he could feel 
something squirting into him, a distinct pressure and then a sloppy, hot 
sensation deep inside him about where the man's penis ended. At the time 
it had frightened him because Bruce had become increasingly frantic. By 
then the man's hips had come tightly against his thighs with each inward 
thrust.

Even as Bruce had started the long process of inserting his penis 
into the virgin boy, Juan's position had been uncomfortable. He could 
not move. His legs were lifted up and pushed into his chest and held 
there so that he could not offer even the slightest resistance. His bare 
feet felt cold. He had only wanted for it to end but he needed it go on 
and on forever. He sighed, remembering how it seemed to get looser once 
Bruce's penis was inside him. It felt terrible at first. There was an 
immense pressure concentrated in a very small spot. It came in waves, 
each stronger than the last. After several minutes Bruce had stopped and 
hugged him. The worst was over, he said. It would only get better. He 
was shaking, quivering with fear that his agony would get worse until he 
died. Like a huge stake, the man's penis was being driven into him. His 
body tried to resist but each tightening spasm on the invading penis 
caused cruel tremors. It was as if every motion tore him further apart. 
Stretched to the limit, the young body relinquished its innocence and 
finally accepted defeat. Bruce's penis slid the rest of the way into his 
rectum. The worst was over, the onslaught for this time at least, was 
finished.

When Bruce resumed, it was with gentle thrusts that went back and 
forth as he rocked against Juan's buttocks. As the young body loosened 
the good feelings began. They became stronger and stronger until his 
earlier pain was only a dim memory. But those first joys were only a 
precursor for what followed. The sensation became ever more enjoyable. 
With every minute the delight intensified, becoming better and better 
until Juan's body began to move in unison. With every forward thrust 
that slammed into his, his narrow hips braced and his slender belly 
muscles became taut, resisting its power so that he felt the full force. 
He wanted to lift up to meet it but movement was impossible. Each thrust 
came into his belly with a rush that pushed the air from his lungs. He 
grunted as he exhaled and then sucked for air frantically as Bruce's 
penis pulled back.



Juan stood up gingerly. He winced as the pain seared his fragile 
body and he braced his legs against the bed as he tottered weakly. He 
closed his eyes and tried to focus his effort on not falling down. He 
breathed deeply. He was aware of a void inside him, an unpleasant hollow 
feeling that now existed where Bruce's penis had been. He concentrated 
on trying to remove the emptiness in his bowel, squeezing unseen muscles 
of his lower abdomen that pulled his testicles fractionally higher. He 
winced again as a small spasm came quickly and more air gurgled from his 
anus.

Still carrying the dirtied condom daintily, he shuffled to the 
bathroom. The urge to defecate was upon him without warning and he 
slumped down onto the toilet seat. There was another painful cramp, 
another spasm, and another explosion from his exhausted bowel. It was 
wetter than before and it felt as though muddy ooze had squirted out. 
Tiredly, Juan's head dropped down to his knees and he cried softly as he 
wished the pain would go away.

It took ten more minutes before Juan considered trying to stand up 
again and he did so carefully. He wiped the tears from his face and 
realized that he was okay. The pain had abated to an uncomfortable 
rawness that necessarily accompanied his bruised flesh and slightly 
torn anus. He moved with deliberate slowness to the vanity and splashed 
refreshingly cold water over his face. Feeling better, he dampened a 
wash cloth and cautiously sponged between the small cheeks of his 
buttocks. Juan quickly decided that the coldness was nice and he wet the 
wash cloth again after meticulously rinsing out the dark fecal stains. 
His anus was swollen and bulged outward to form a sensitive lump between 
his cheeks. Each gentle dab he applied with the wash cloth was soothing 
to him.

Satisfied that he could do all that he could to relieve his 
discomfort, Juan rinsed out the wash cloth and flushed the toilet. The 
fluid that had been expelled from his bowel disappeared in a brown swirl 
as the boy watched curiously. With it went his shame and guilt.

Both Julia and Bruce were surprised when Juan walked into the 
kitchen. For his mother, it was the first time in several years that she 
had seen her son with nothing on. Not since he had started the third 
grade, when he entered a period of modesty, had she looked upon his 
exposed body. Since then, he seldom disrobed even as far as his 
underpants in her presence.

Now denuded before her, she did not look away from the boy, but 
studied him carefully. She had always known that both of her sons were 
like their father, both exceedingly handsome, but even in her drunken 
confusion she realized that without his clothes, Juan was astoundingly 
beautiful. She wondered when he changed from an awkwardly proportioned 
boy with the softness of baby fat to the lithe slender youth who now 
stood shamelessly before her. Though still immature, her son was 
beguiling. The color of his skin was not only much lighter than hers but 
he was hairless. There was a softness to his smooth, nearly translucent 
skin that made her jealous.

Her son stood close to Bruce as if seeking his protection while he 
flaunted his newly discovered sexuality. The boy's genitals were 
distracting to his mother. The small appendage between Juan's slender 
legs that should have been easily dismissed as impotent and 
ineffective, could not be avoided. It was as if the child's sex was 
misleading.

"You okay?" Bruce asked quietly.

Juan nodded silently and glanced down to meet the man's eyes. 
Before he looked up again they had formed a secret bond. Then, for a 
moment Juan stared at his mother impudently, boldly challenging her to 
acknowledge his presence. She simpered back at him.

"Get some clothes on," she commanded. "Go cover yourself up," she 
added.

Juan smirked. "Why? Bruce has seen it, Mom In fact he's already 
done a lot more than just see me naked, hasn't he?" He looked at his 
mother, a reprehensible stare, of reproach and blame. Juan tensed and 
breathed deeply. "You let him fuck me," he said quietly. There was 
silence in the kitchen. "Well didn't you?" he screamed angrily. The 
woman glared back at the boy. "You want me to fuck his friend too, don't 
you?" Juan spat out.

"You do what you want to do," Julia spattered. "You're old enough 
to decide what you want up your ass."

"What if I don't want to fuck this guy?"

"That's up to you but it's about time you did something to help 
out. I've worked hard to keep you and your brother. I've gone without 
things. Besides, you might as well sell it as give it away."

Juan sobbed. "You want me to be a whore like you, don't you?" He 
paused and wiped his eyes with the back of hand. "All you want is money 
for more drugs," he added hotly.

"For money or love?" Bruce said. "That's the big question, isn't 
it mate? You either do it because you love the guy or because you want 
the money. You can take your pick but any way you look at it, well it's 
still fun, isn't it?"

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll do it," Juan said plaintively. "I'll do it 
with Bruce's friend. He can fuck my butt and you can have your damned 
money. I don't care. I hate you!" he shouted as he ran from the kitchen 
back into his own bedroom. Julia and Bruce looked at each other.

"Don't worry, he'll get over it," Bruce said apologetically. "He's 
just angry right now because he doesn't understand. I better go have a 
chat with him."



Chapter 5. Dressing Up



On this Friday, as he had for the previous Friday, Juan came 
straight home from school. Already a routine had been established and he 
had no time to waste talking with his friends. He unlocked the door to 
the apartment and then locked it again once he was inside. He did not 
need to call out to know that no one was there. His mother would soon 
come back with a client, the Mexican who had become a Friday regular, 
but not for another hour or two. Jamie would spend the night at Brian's 
place and Juan would be long gone by the time the two boys came home 
from school. He dropped his Rams-jacket on the table next to the door.

Juan went directly into the bathroom, unfastening the buttons on 
his new Levis shirt as he went. Not bothering to close the door behind 
him, he reached into the shower and turned on the water. He continued to 
undress, dropping his shirt on the floor as he unfastened the clasp on 
his new Guess jeans and opened the zipper. He kicked off his new Nike 
sneakers as he went over to the toilet. He pushed his jeans downward 
until they were almost at his knees and sat down. He removed his socks 
and then tugged the still-stiff denim together with his new briefs down 
his slender legs and past his feet. His clothes, now-discarded on the 
bathroom floor, were the spoils of his first time with Paul Luchiano. 
They had purchased the clothes in the morning, after breakfast, after 
Mister Luchiano had entered him for the third time. The Rams-jacket had 
come later. The jacket and his new Nike sneakers had cost a hundred 
dollars, the first money that Juan had ever made by himself.

Juan sat quietly. He waited patiently, it always took time. He had 
never been able to defecate on demand. He looked around the room, taking 
in the decrepid and fungus-stained fixtures, the stained vinyl floor, 
the perpetual damp odor that seemed to emanate from every corner of the 
apartment. After several minutes he stood up again and glanced down into 
the toilet bowl. Bruce had been adamant that Luchiano wanted him clean, 
both inside as well as outside, but there wasn't much that he could do 
about it. He stepped across the low threshold and into the shower.

"Youuchh," he squealed. "Goddamn fucking shit!" he cursed loudly.

He darted back from the scalding water. The water was never that 
hot in the morning when he showered. It was hard to get the temperature 
adjusted and he stood with his back pressed into the wall as he waited 
amidst clouds of steam. The boy began to soap himself. He cautiously wet 
the soap under the spray of water and went to work. He built up a good 
lather on his chest and belly as he enjoyed the slipperiness of his 
soap-covered body. He lifted up one foot, and then the other, as he 
painstakingly cleaned between each toe. If nowhere else, Juan washed 
with religious care as he cleansed his genitals, groin, buttocks, and 
lower abdomen. If Mister Luchiano wanted him clean, then he would be 
clean, spotlessly clean.

He returned to his buttocks and used his left hand to spread his 
firm cheeks apart. He washed the crevice between the two globes with 
particular emphasis before pushing one soapy finger into the small 
depression of his anus. His movement was precise, a deliberate pressure 
that increased until the muscle gave way and his finger pierced and 
became an unyielding knife of sinew and bone as it stabbed into his 
rectum. Juan began to move his finger back and forth, then around and 
around, as if testing his elasticity. Satisfied, a second thin finger 
joined the first, pushing much harder to go into him. As his hand and 
outstretched fingers bore forward, he endeavored to relax, even to push 
back. He gasped, not in pain but in surprise as his anus submitted. He 
felt the sudden ingress of his fingers, revelling in the warm 
comfortable feeling. That feeling was totally unlike a man's penis 
inside him, an evisceration he had quickly come to accept and finally to 
enjoy.

After testing the water temperature and finding it satisfactory, 
Juan rinsed off and began to shampoo. Everything, every part of his 
young body had to be spotlessly clean for Paul Luchiano. Before he had 
finished in the bathroom, he had washed his entire body again. He had 
even brushed his teeth twice. The boy dried off thoroughly, rubbing the 
large, well-worn towel over his body vigorously until his bare skin was 
tingling and several shades pinker than normal. Finally, he wiped the 
mirror clean of steam and inspected himself. Gratified that he was as 
clean as he had ever been, Juan left the bathroom and headed back 
towards his bedroom to get dressed.

Juan stopped at the door to his mother's bedroom. The afternoon 
sun streamed in through the partially open blinds. Her bed was unmade 
and the sheets were pulled to one side. The boy smiled as he saw the 
lonely pillow in the center of the bed. He wondered and then smiled 
again as he dismissed the thought that had first come to him. There was 
no way that his mother would do what he did. She would never do that 
with any man. But if there was another explanation he did not know it. 
He knew only that Mister Luchiano had used a pillow under him to lift 
his hips higher, to position his buttocks so that the angle was right.

Some of her clothes lay on the dresser, others spilled from the 
drawers or had fallen to the floor. Invitingly, a pair of glistening 
black panties hung over the corner of one open drawer. The boy stared at 
it, feeling a strange temptation. He shivered involuntarily as he 
stepped forward and entered into his mother's room. He was drawn with 
irrational magnetism to the dresser. He stopped before it, reached down 
and brushed the black nylon with his finger tips. The material was 
iridescent and as soft as silk, so flimsy and delicate that by contrast, 
the soft cotton of his own underpants was rough. He stroked it again in 
silent thought, paused for a moment, and then slowly picked it up. The 
desire seemed to rise up inside him, challenging him to dare to wear it. 
For only a few seconds he resisted but he wanted to feel it against him. 
He touched the satin sheen against his cheek and he quivered with 
excitement. It was a sensation that the young boy had never known. It 
exuded a feminine mystery, an aura that magically made his heart beat 
faster. Juan's breathing accelerated. He stared at it, knowing that he 
wanted to feel it on his body, but he dared not. Twelve years of 
conditioned inhibitions stood before him and the inviolate glossy cloth 
that offered what he wanted more than anything else. He swallowed as the 
temptation became ever stronger. There was no one to see him. No one 
else in the world would ever know what he had done. Juan shuddered as a 
sudden thrill rocketed through his lean body. His mind was made up and 
he sat down on his mother's bed.

He moved slowly. His lingering pace was not from hesitation but 
nervous excitement. Juan trembled with every breath as he placed his 
feet through the lace-trimmed holes. The black nylon crept inch by inch 
up his legs to his knees before he stood up. Even his hands shook as he 
felt the coolness if the slick silk against the warmth of his bare 
thighs. He breathed heavily, trying to control his racing heart. It 
pounded inside his chest. In less than a minute his penis had become 
painfully stiff so that it jutted outwards into the flimsy garment as a 
cruel reminder of his male sex.

The boy quaked as he walked toward the mirror that hung behind the 
dresser. Before him, he saw the slender form of a beautiful girl. She 
was still without breasts and her waist was boyish, but a girl 
nonetheless. He gazed in awe at his own reflection, as much in disbelief 
as in fascination at his own transformation. Although his mother's 
panties were several sizes too large for the boy they were designed to 
stretch. The waist band clung to Juan's narrow hips, following a line 
across his belly about an inch below his navel. He twisted around and 
with some difficulty, examined his behind. There, the difference in 
size and shape between a twelve-year-old boy and a grown woman, size 
five, was considerably more apparent. The cloth was loose over the firm 
flesh of his small buttocks. It was unappealing, even though it felt 
very nice. He turned back to the mirror and examined himself again. This 
time he noticed the incongruity of his rigid penis.

"Damn!" he swore loudly.

He pushed it downward angrily but it sprang back inflexibly. Juan 
yelped loudly. "Goddamn shit!" he cried in a combination of pain, anger, 
and frustration as his maleness reasserted itself. But there was little 
the boy could do about his penis. His now familiar erection, had never 
been this stiff before. Not even with Bruce had the boy's now-throbbing 
penis ached like this. Unknown to the boy, tiny blue veins made ripples 
on the tightly stretched skin as it pulled back against his glans. 
Although his penis was uncomfortably hard Juan was not further 
distracted by it. He turned back to his mother's dresser, driven by a 
primal instinct that quickly prevailed over taboo.

His natural inclinations, no longer curbed by fear of his mother, 
triumphed. Hurriedly he searched through the top drawer. Uncertain of 
what he was looking for, he roughly pushed more underwear and a 
nightgown to the side. His excitement had reached the stage of panic as 
he pulled a bra from the tangled mess. For a moment he held it up to his 
chest and then dropped in to the floor. Without breasts, it had no value 
to him. A camisole of thin black nylon caught his attention next. Juan 
held it against himself and studied the mirror. In the last minute his 
temperature had risen quickly and his hot skin revelled in the coldness 
of the sleek fabric. It was as smooth and delicate as the briefs that 
covered his genitals. It covered even more of his fevered, naked body. 
Even though he had watched his mother dress before this, he was now 
unsure of how she got into it. Juan contemplated the garment as he tried 
to resist again. But the fight against his desire could have only one 
outcome. He lifted his thin arms up over his head, and let the camisole 
enclothe his slight frame. Again, his mother's camisole was too large 
for him but this time its size accentuated his figure. The folds of 
glossy black fabric draped over his torso, suspended from a ring of 
intricately patterned lace. It reached almost to his knees.

"Awesome!" he murmured as he surveyed himself again.

His bare skin tingled. The heightened titillation of his already 
stimulated flesh electrified the twelve-year-old boy. The thrill was 
unimaginable. It could be a dress, a ball gown, or even a nightie. Again 
he rummaged through his mother's dresser. Each piece of new apparel was 
both fascinating and exciting to him. In the second drawer he found the 
photographs and for a brief moment wondered why his mother had kept them 
there as he picked them up.

In its own way, the discovery of the photographs was as much a 
revelation on that Friday afternoon as anything else. Little more than 
a week earlier he had posed for Bruce. Only six polaroid photographs 
remained because two had been given to Luchiano the next day. In each 
photograph, his unattired body confronted him in increasingly lewd 
positions. Stripped of his innocence, Juan had cavorted stark-naked. 
Before the camera he was unnaturally aggressive. In the first picture 
Juan lay back in the pillows, his legs wide apart as he flaunted his 
genitals. It was not the first picture that Bruce had taken, that 
picture was gone forever. Still distrustful and shy before the camera, 
Juan had turned away, giving only a glimpse of his face. Yet there had 
been the mischievous smile of a self-conscious boy whose perfect body 
was modestly revealed. Juan reluctantly admired the boy in the picture, 
reserving his judgement that he was actually as beautiful as he 
appeared.

By the time the next picture was taken Juan's apprehension had 
begun to fade. He had turned to face the camera. His head was bent 
forward and his long hair cascaded over his forehead and partially 
concealed his face but little else was hidden from view. His hands were 
on his hips with one finger from each lying in the crease between his 
thigh and belly as if pointing downward to his genitals. By the time the 
next photo was taken his inhibitions had all but dissipated. On Bruce's 
instigation he had begun to fondle himself and he saw a close-up of his 
lower belly and groin. In the very center was his small penis, held 
precariously with one finger and his thumb. At first his feelings were 
ambiguous as he gazed at the picture. Then, for nearly minute he 
grappled with the undeniable image of his sex as he tried to avoid what 
now confronted him. Though barely realized, what he felt was 
resentment. He found no pleasure in the photograph. His genitals had 
suddenly become a loathsome, misshapen appendage on his body.

Juan placed the photograph at the back of the pile and looked at 
the last one. He was immediately drawn to this photograph. Unlike the 
previous photograph that had captured his deformity in its entirety, 
there was no sign of his sex--though the picture was anything but 
sexless. Again, upon Bruce's suggestion and after some cajoling, he had 
turned onto his belly and positioned himself in a frog-like crouch. 
However, unlike a frog, he reached behind himself to expose his 
posterior in a welcoming spectacle of parted buttocks and a small 
orifice that appeared, upon closer scrutiny to be abnormally large. 
Although he had been embarrassed at the time the photograph was taken, 
he was now awed. For Juan, the image that he now confronted was neither 
aberrant nor unnatural. The picture, and its consequences, were so 
exciting that it alarmed him. He gazed at it uncertainly as his dilemma 
gathered momentum. As he remembered the feelings he had discovered 
during the last week he shivered. He shivered with the same anxious 
thrill that he had experienced only a few minutes earlier as he stepped 
into his mother's underwear. He shivered as he remembered the pain that 
had become so pleasurable that it seemed as if he existed only for a 
single purpose. It no longer mattered to him that it hurt terribly at 
first, his delight at being held by a man and becoming the receptacle 
for his penis was reward enough. Juan's young body tensed as his 
sphincter tightened instinctively. It squeezed on the special place 
that he had discovered and he sighed quietly.

His attention turned back to the dresser and he dropped the 
photographs into the drawer, unconcerned whether they were in the same 
place. He picked up the tube of lipstick and leaned towards the mirror. 
Juan had watched his mother often enough to imitate her make-up. His 
hand began to shake as he removed the metallic-gold cap and slowly 
brought the vivid-red point up to his perfectly shaped lips. His first 
attempt was clumsy and he smeared his upper lip but he persisted. The 
end result of his endeavor was crude and distorted, a parody of his 
mother's expert application. He studied his ungainly reshaped mouth in 
the mirror curiously. The effect was inelegant but he was not 
disconcerted. He picked up the shallow pan of eye-shadow and the plastic 
brush that lay beside it. The hue was a vibrant mix of purple and brown, 
a color that suited his mother's darker complexion but one which was too 
intense for his own skin and softer features. That did not stop him 
however and he brushed heavy-handed and inept strokes under his 
eyebrows. His face became a caricature as he imitated his mother, 
concealing his natural beauty with a graceless and inexpert 
embellishment.

It was only after he had stepped back from the mirror to examine 
the complete transformation that he saw the clock and realized how late 
it was. He had five minutes before Bruce arrived to pick him up. Jolted, 
Juan hurriedly tugged his mother's underwear from his body and ran naked 
back to the bathroom. He soaped his face thoroughly to remove all traces 
of cosmetic before he picked up his clothes and went back to his own 
room. He dressed quickly, choosing to wear his aged track-suit over his 
new sport-briefs and pack his jeans and shirt in his gym bag just in 
case Mister Luchiano took him to dinner. The door bell rang once, paused 
a few seconds and then rang again with a strident impatience. Juan ran 
from his bedroom back into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush, and 
brushed his now-dry hair again. He dashed for the front door as the bell 
began to ring continuously, collected his Rams jacket, and ran for the 
stairs as the door slammed behind him.



"What took so long, mate?" Bruce demanded as Juan got into the 
car. Bruce accelerated and the Camaro leaped forward, its wheels 
spinning on the gravel that had broken away from the edges of the 
parking lot.

"Sorry," Juan acknowledged. "I had to do somethin' first," he 
added.

"Yeah, sure you did. You showered didn't you?" Bruce asked 
angrily. "Goddamn, we're going to be late. What were you doing up 
there?" he smirked. "I bet you were wanking yourself, you little 
poofter." Juan shook his head vigorously. "You've been getting that 
cute little ass of yours ready for action like I told you, haven't you?" 
Bruce challenged. He smiled at Juan as he pulled onto the street. "How's 
ya jack, mate?"

"My jack?" Juan asked uncertainly as he stuffed the gym-bag 
between his legs.

"Yer ass kiddo. You know, your bung-hole, dopey! Does your butt 
still hurt?"

Juan shook his head again and looked away. He turned his head to 
watch his apartment building disappear. As he wondered whether Jamie 
was home from school, he felt a strange sense of deja-vu and a cold 
chill came with a feeling that he would never see his home or his 
brother again.

"It's okay," the boy muttered. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I did 
what you said. You know, with my fingers back there."

"Great, mate. Now listen, Luchiano wants things a bit different 
this time, okay. You were all right last time, but not great. He told me 
you cried. When he wants to stuff you, damn, you don't say no again, do 
you understand?"

"But Bruce, it hurt really bad. I told you it was the middle of 
the night when he wanted to. I did it the next morning when he wanted 
to," Juan complained.

"Don't whine, boy. Luchiano's paying big bucks for you and he 
expects to get his money's worth. There's any number of kids willing to 
get knocked off for what you're getting. If he wants to fuck your ass 
twenty-four hours a day, then you let him. You don't cry about it again, 
understand?"

Juan tried to block out what Bruce was saying and he stared at the 
passing cars. He watched with resentment as they went past a van with a 
woman and two children in it. The boy in the back seat was about his 
age. Inwardly he sighed and wondered why life had been so unfair to him. 
Slowly he turned his head, bringing his attention back to the car he sat 
in.

"Okay," Juan answered glumly. "You don't know how bad it hurts 
afterwards. He's bigger than you are."

"Yeah I know how it feels. It doesn't hurt all that much and he's 
not that much bigger than me. I was screwin' with him before you were 
born, remember?" Bruce glanced at the pretty though pitiful boy beside 
him. "It'll feel better in a few weeks, mate," he added quietly. "Once 
you get used to it, it doesn't hurt that bad."

"Yeah, sure," Juan replied. "I guess," he added without 
conviction. "Are we going to the same place in Venice again?"

"Nope! Luchiano wants you out at some fancy hotel in San Bernadino 
this time."

"That's miles away. Why do we have to go all the way out there 
for?" Juan asked. "It was kind of fun at the beach," he admitted as an 
afterthought.

"Don't ask me, mate! I'm just the chauffeur, aren't I. Now listen. 
This time it's going to be different," Bruce said as he reached the on-
ramp to the Harbor Freeway.

"Different? How?" the boy asked curiously.

"You're going to do a bit of acting for tonight," Bruce replied. 
"Luchiano wants to get you on video. I guess so he can watch you on 
telly during the rest of the week. I think he's got the hots for you, 
mate," he teased.

Bruce stabbed at the brakes as an old Pontiac swerved into his 
lane. "Fuckin' hell, these wogs can't drive," he swore angrily. Bruce 
leaned on the horn in futile protest and then glanced back at the demure 
boy beside him. "What's the matter, mate? You're not afraid of flashing 
your gorgeous little bum on the boob-box, are you?"

"Uh? No, I guess not," Juan responded. He blushed immediately.

Bruce chuckled at the boy's embarrassment. "Get used to it, Juan. 
Luchiano always gets what he wants. All you have to remember is to do 
what I tell you."

"Yeah, sure. Just tell me what I have to do." Juan paused 
thoughtfully. "He wants to watch me get fucked doesn't he?" he asked.

"You're not wrong, and I bet it'll be worth watching too, mate. 
But then I've seen you get your arse filled before, haven't I? Still, I 
won't mind seeing it again. Oh! Oh! Mister Luchiano, do it harder! Oh! 
Oh! Faster, man!" the man taunted as his pelvis bucked in a rude 
imitation of intercourse.

"You're going to be there?"

"I'm the photographer," Bruce added. He licked his lips 
suggestively.

Juan looked at the man with contempt and shrugged dismissively. 
Bruce grinned triumphantly. "You're a real creep sometimes," the boy 
retorted.

Bruce laughed and put his hand into a paper bag that lay between 
the front seats. He pulled a small carton and tossed it into Juan's lap. 
"Here, you're going to need these tonight."

Juan studied the box for the few seconds it took to realize its 
contents. "I've still got two rubbers from the last time," he said.

"So? There's ten more in there. I'm sure you and Luchiano can find 
a use for them. Just remember what I said."

"Yeah, I know," Juan interrupted. "I gotta use one every time I do 
it, no matter who it is. Except you said that if I love the guy, then 
it's okay."

"That's not what I said, mate. You want to die young, is that it? 
I said if you do it without using a rubber on his bloody cock, then you 
better love him enough to trust him with your life, because that's 
exactly what you're doing. Don't be a stupid little bugger," Bruce said 
angrily. "Every time a guy's tool goes up your arse, you're playing 
Commie Craps."

"What?"

"Russian Roulette! You know what that is, don't you?" Bruce 
replied.

"Yeah, I know" Juan answered impatiently. "And I'm not stupid!"

"I know you're not, but kids can still do stupid things at your 
age. Just remember what I said! Every fuckin' time, mate! It doesn't 
matter whether the dick belongs to one of your little buddies from 
school, a guy like Luchiano, or even me. You use a rubber no matter 
what, understand? No rubber, no dick gets in your arse, or your mouth, 
for that matter. You can jerk off all you want, but nothing goes inside 
you, either front or back!"

"There's no need to shout at me," Juan answered.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't mean to get angry. You've still got plenty 
of K-Y left, haven't you?"

"Yeah," the boy responded sullenly. "We didn't use all that much 
last week."

"That's probably why it hurt so much. Try putting some inside 
yourself first," Bruce explained patiently. "Luchiano never was much 
for lubin' the tube before hand. I guess he likes some fuckin' 
friction."

They sat quietly for several minutes as Bruce concentrated on 
manoeuvering through the fast-moving traffic. They were just past the 
Santa Monica Freeway before Bruce spoke again. He reached back into the 
paper bag and removed a large bottle full of small white-colored pills.

"I've got something else for you, mate," Bruce said quietly as he 
passed the bottle to Juan. "These will help, if you want them?"

"Shit, man, I don't do drugs. I told you I'm not stupid," Juan 
retorted angrily. He twisted away and pushed the bottle towards Bruce. 
There was a interminable silence as he stared out of the window. "Only 
dummies do drugs," he added righteously as he repeated the standard 
phrase from school.

"They're not that kind of drug," Bruce expounded. "Don't worry, 
you won't get high from taking them. You said you wanted to be a 
girl,... if you really want to, well then, these will help."

Juan turned swiftly with his mouth wide open in surprise. "These 
will make me into a girl?" he asked breathlessly.

"I didn't say that, mate. I said they will help, that's all. No 
pill is going to make your dick and balls drop off. You're stuck with a 
dick, but it hasn't got to be a big one."

"I don't understand," Juan questioned as he picked up the bottle 
with growing enthusiasm. "What use are they? What do they do then? 
What's this Des-junk mean?" he added as he pointed to the typed label, 
'Deslorelin'.

"These little dudes will put the brakes on your balls, so to 
speak. They'll stop you from getting bigger down there. Hell, you might 
even get tits after a while. But believe me, these pills are fuckin' 
expensive, even when they're brought in from Mexico like these were. If 
you don't want them, I'll take them back and save the fuckin' money."

Bruce reached out as if to take the bottle back. Instantly, Juan 
moved the bottle out of reach and held it tightly. He studied the bottle 
silently as he breathed deeply. "You mean I just take these pills and my 
dick doesn't get any bigger. I stay just like I am now?" he asked and 
then added suspiciously, "For how long?"

"I dunno mate. Let's say you take all of the pills in this bottle. 
How old are you now?"

"Twelve," Juan grinned happily. "Today's my birthday."

"Well, fuck me with a fence post. Why didn't you say something, 
mate? Happy birthday! Remind me to tell Luchiano and he'll give you a 
birthday prezzie," Bruce laughed as he gyrated his hips obscenely. 
"Hmmm, so if you're twelve now, and there's s'posed to be a thousand in 
there, well they should last you about three years. Maybe even enough 
for four years if you start out taking one every couple of days."

"What should I tell my mom?" Juan asked anxiously. "She'll find 
out real fast and I know she'll think I'm doing drugs or something like 
that."

"Not that she'd care," Bruce finished. "Don't worry about her. 
Just take the label off and tell her you're taking vitamins. You can 
tell her you're taking extra iron so you can get a harder dick for 
Luchiano. She'll understand. Not that your cock could get much 
stiffer."

Juan nodded uncertainly, not sharing in Bruce's crude humor. "You 
really think I'll stay like this?" he asked hopefully.

The boy's voice wavered as he wondered about his future and Bruce 
shrugged vaguely. "Maybe! You know, you can't be a girl no matter how 
much you might want to be, mate, but it'd be the next best thing for 
you. Of course, there may be some side effects," he added hesitantly.

"Side effects? Like what?"

"Jesus, I'm not a doctor. I guess you might stunt your growth. I 
mean from the look of you, you probably not going to be that big when 
you grow up. It'll probably stunt the growth of your dick too. The side 
effects are your problem, mate. Maybe the pills will even make you 
sterile, who knows?" the man laughed. "But then I guess that's not much 
of problem for you, is it? A poofter like you? You don't plan to get 
married and be a daddy, do you?"

Juan shook his head and gazed curiously at the bottle of pills. 
Bruce chuckled as he answered for the boy. "No I guess you don't. Hell, 
then I guess the worst thing that might happen is you get turned off sex 
for a while. You might even have trouble getting a hard-on."

"Mister Luchiano will be pissed," Juan giggled frivolously.

"Don't bet on it, kid. Luchiano doesn't much care whether you're 
turned on or turned off, just so long as you pull your cheeks apart for 
him when he wants to stick his dong up you. Just pretend you're horny 
when he wants to stuff you, okay?"

The man stretched back in his seat, straightened his arms like a 
racecar driver, and smiled at Juan. The boy fumbled as he scratched the 
white, sticky label of the bottle using his thumb. Within a minute there 
was nothing left other than a smear of adhesive on the glass.

"Yeah, just pretend you like to do it." Bruce chortled. "You won't 
have a problem anyway. He'll like you a lot more without hair on your 
dick."

It was pleasantly warm in the afternoon sun that streamed through 
the side window as they headed east. Juan yawned and settled back in his 
seat. "How far to where we're going?" he asked sleepily.

"Depends on the traffic," Bruce answered. "At least an hour at the 
speed we're going now. God, how I hate the afternoon traffic. It's a lot 
worse on Fridays. Must be all those damn Mexo's heading south for the 
weekend."

"I'm going to sleep," Juan murmured.

"You might as well because you aren't going to sleep much 
tonight," Bruce chortled. "Not on your birthday, that's for sure." 

He reached towards the boy and playfully squeezed the small soft 
mound of the youngster's groin. "Ooooh Juan! Let me put it up you, 
birthday-boy. Let me do it again," he snickered in a vulgar simulation 
of what awaited his small companion in San Bernadino.

"Fuck you," Juan cursed mischievously.'You're not putting anything 
up me again." He grinned evilly. "Not unless you pay me first."

"That's what you think. You've got to pay for my pills first. Hey, 
maybe I'll take it out in fucks. What do you reckon? Every time you pop 
one of those dudes, I'll pop you," Bruce gibed.

The boy tensed angrily as he clutched the bottle possessively. 
"The hell you will. I'm not paying anything for these. You only want me 
to take them so Mister Luchiano will keep me around longer and you and 
my mom can get more money."

"Believe what you want. Anyway, I didn't think you were that 
interested in old men. Luchiano is old enough to be your daddy. Hell, 
with your mother, he could even be your grandfather, mate. I'm surprised 
you wouldn't rather have a young guy like me humping your arse."

Juan shrugged as he curled up in the bucket seat of the Camaro. 
"You said before, last week when you drove me to Venice, that there's 
nothing wrong with me doing it with him. He's okay, I guess. Anyway, I 
don't care that he's older than you." Juan closed his eyes. It was only 
a momentary pause. "He's okay!" he repeated with conviction.



Chapter 6. The Luckiest Boy in LA



By the time they arrived in San Bernadino, dark clouds were racing 
across the sky from the west. Long plumes of ragged cloud heralded the 
strength of the wind and the rain that was on the way. The first last 
drops splattered onto the windscreen as Bruce pulled into the driveway 
of the ElDorado Resort Hotel. There was a bustle of activity at the 
porte cochere, crowded with the arrival of weekend vacationers and 
golfers. Bruce parked the car as close as he could get to the main 
entrance to the hotel but it was still several rows back.

He reached over and shook the sleeping boy's shoulder roughly. 
"Wake up mate, it's time to go to work."

Juan struggled awake, rubbed his eyes blearily and looked around 
him. "Huh? Are we there?" He yawned sleepily and arched his back in a 
graceful, feline motion. "It's raining," he observed.

"No shit! Looks like you're going to spend your birthday getting 
humped," Bruce guffawed. "No golf for you this weekend."

"I don't play golf," the boy said flatly. "Why does he want me all 
the way out here, anyway?"

"I already told you I don't know. Maybe Luchiano likes to play 
golf. Let's get on with it. You're already a half-hour late."

Bruce opened his door and went to the rear of the car as Juan 
slowly placed the bottle of pills and the box of condoms in his gym bag. 
He was stiff from his sleep and he stretched his legs while he waited 
for Bruce to get a grey nylon bag containing the video camera from the 
trunk. He followed the man across the parking lot, swinging his bag in 
wide oscillations that came close to the ground. The boy went up the 
front stairs, not reluctantly, but with a dawdling pace that reflected 
his interest in the people milling about in the foyer. He watched with 
interest as two boys, obviously twins, about ten or eleven years old 
romped with an older man, who Juan guessed to be their father. The boys 
cavorted in, on, and over a large couch as they giggled and tickled each 
other and the man. For an instant, Juan felt strange. He did not 
recognize it as jealousy.

"Stop dawdling, mate," Bruce said angrily. "I told you we were 
late."

"Do we have to check in or something?" Juan asked as he saw the 
line of people ahead of them. His head swivelled as he glanced back at 
the twins and wondered why he did not have a father of his own.

"No! Just follow me and shut up." Bruce whispered. You're staying 
in Luchiano's room and the last thing he wants is for people to know 
he's got a hot little boy-hooker up there tonight."

Juan followed Bruce past the registration desk until they came to 
the elevators. Again he glanced back at the good looking boys frolicking 
on the couch. They were barely visible through the crowd in the foyer. 
As the elevator door opened, he realized that he was intensely envious. 
With a father of his own, he imagined he would not be standing where he 
was at that moment. He would not be dominated by his mother to the point 
where he was powerless, but mostly, he would not be uncertain about his 
desires, his sexuality, or even who he was.



It was a slow ride to the top floor of the hotel. The elevator 
stopped at every floor as people got on and off. Only Juan and Bruce 
were left on board by the time the doors finally slid open on the roof-
garden level. It was a very different place to the hustle and bustle in 
the foyer. Thick carpet sponged under their feet as they stepped out. 
Bruce looked one way and then the other as he endeavored to get his 
bearings. Juan looked around him with astonishment. He had never seen 
anything as beautiful as what lay before him. Before the elevator was a 
garden full of luxuriant plants but the centerpiece was a sparking 
fountain that cascaded in a azure-blue swimming pool. 

"Wow," he gasped. "This place is awesome, man."

"Yeah. Luchiano likes his boys to be happy," Bruce replied. "Come 
on! maybe he'll let you go for a swim if you behave yourself."

Now excited, Juan followed the man along the corridor. They passed 
several doors before Bruce stopped. He knocked gently and then stepped 
back. The door opened into a darkened room. Juan could discern the 
outline of a man standing silently beside the door as if seeking 
anonymity. He followed Bruce into the room. The door closed and locked 
securely behind him and he shivered impulsively as he turned around. The 
hall light came on and as it did Juan recognized the man beside him. 
Paul Luchiano studied him quietly as if inspecting merchandise before 
making a decision. He was attired in a bathrobe and from the open front 
it was apparent that he was otherwise naked. In those first few awkward 
seconds, Juan shivered again. On the way home the previous Saturday 
Bruce had made him was well aware of the man's power. Despite the 
passion that Paul Luchiano had for young boys, Juan was exposed to 
considerable danger. The boy smiled shyly at the man who demanded his 
young body for unnatural acts.

"Hi Mister Luchiano," Juan said in voice that was barely above a 
whisper.

"Hi kid. You found the place okay Bruce?"

"I'm sorry about the delay, Mister Luchiano. The traffic was 
terrible," Bruce explained quickly. He walked several steps further 
into the room and turned around. "Nice place for a skin-flick," he 
added.

Though Juan would never know, the room he stood in was in fact a 
part of the Christobel, a suite of rooms that doubled as honeymoon, 
executive, and even gubernatorial accommodation. Luchiano placed his 
arm around the boy's shoulder and guided him forward towards the open 
door of the bathroom with a gentle, though firm push.

"Do you want to use the bathroom, kid? What's his name?" Luchiano 
asked as he glanced sideways at Bruce. "It's Carlo or Jamie or something 
like that. No, it's Juan isn't it?"

Juan nodded diffidently. He was only momentarily disappointed that 
Mister Luchiano was unsure of his name. It seemed illogical that a man 
could have intercourse with him and still forget who he was. He did not 
think that he would ever forget the name of man who did that to him. He 
stopped in the doorway.

"I don't need to use the bathroom, Mister Luchiano," he said. "I 
showered before I came."

Luchiano turned quickly. "I didn't ask if you showered, kid. I 
told you to use the bathroom. I don't want shit on me again, understand. 
Go clean yourself out," he added angrily.

Juan reddened and bolted into the bathroom. Shame swelled up 
inside him, matching the tears that immediately formed in his eyes. He 
swore silently to himself, pulled his sweat pants and briefs down, and 
sat on the toilet. Through the open door he could hear Bruce and Mister 
Luchiano talking in muted tones.

"I brought the camera like you asked," Bruce said and then added 
apologetically, "You should lighten up on him. He's only just started 
doing this. Give him some time to learn."

"Yeah, sure. Just don't ever bring me a kid who craps on my cock. 
And I don't want him crying again either. If he doesn't like it this 
time, he's finished as far as I'm concerned."

There was a long silence. Juan strained, trying frantically to 
empty his bowel. Nothing came. His fists clenched in impotent rage as 
his frustration grew. He had followed Bruce's advice exactly, even 
skipping breakfast and lunch that day. Now he was hungry. He squeezed 
down again, exerting every muscle in his abdomen in a fruitless attempt 
to excrete. Then without warning, tiny hard beads of feces were 
eliminated and dropped like marbles into the water. The water splashed 
up, wetting his buttocks with cold droplets. Now relieved, his 
attention turned back to the conversation in the adjoining room.

"I didn't say he wasn't good looking," Luchiano interrupted. "He's 
a beautiful kid. I haven't seen a body that gorgeous for years. You're 
right, okay!"

"Just give him a few weeks, Mister Luchiano. He's a good kid."

"Yeah, he seems to be," Luchiano added innocuously. "I guess I 
shouldn't have yelled at him. It's just that I'm under a lot of pressure 
right now. The fucking FBI is running my stuff off the street and what 
they don't get, the fucking Mexicans are taking. Then there's the 
goddamned blacks. I thought I had a deal put together with the Crips and 
they ripped me off for sixty thou'."

"Just go a bit easy on the kid."

Luchiano paused for a moment. "You know, I didn't intend to say 
that to the kid. I'm sorry about the long drive out here. I've got some 
action going down today and I need an alibi. Does the kid know about the 
video?"

"Yeah, I told him. I don't think he's all that keen on getting his 
ass on the tube but I know he'll do whatever you want," Bruce said.

"I hope so! He's a smart kid. If he does what he's told, he'll 
work out great. I know last time was an accident. Actually, you know, I 
like him a lot. Even without his weird dick, he's a lot different to the 
other kids."

"He fucks pretty good too, doesn't he?" Bruce laughed. "So, is he 
worth the six hundred bucks?"

Luchiano laughed. "Yeah, he's worth every cent. If he does 
whatever I want, I up it to a grand. But there's got to be no more 
tears."

"Sure thing. His mom will be happy," Bruce replied. "Did you know 
it's his birthday today. It'll make a nice prezzie."

"Yeah? The kid is what, ten, eleven?"

"No! He's twelve."

"Well, he looks a lot younger. I think he's the skinniest kid I've 
ever been with, but you know, that boy's got the cutest goddamn bubble-
butt I've ever seen. Have you got that camera ready, yet?"

Juan could barely believe what he had heard. Bruce had told him 
there was a lot of money to be made, but a thousand dollars. That was 
more than a lot of money. He would do anything the man wanted and he 
would never cry again. He stood up and wiped his hindquarters carefully, 
but that was only the first step. He walked to the vanity and turned on 
the hot water, adjusted the temperature, and rinsed out a wash cloth. He 
used soap and warm water, working the soap bar along the entire length 
of his crevice before wrestling one and then two of his slippery fingers 
into his anus. He dried himself off thoroughly with a large, fluffy 
towel. He was ready to leave the bathroom when he remembered Bruce's 
caution about lubricating himself. He opened his gym bag, removed the 
top from the K-Y tube and squeezed some over his fingers. The 
crystalline ooze was cold on that highly sensitive part of his body and 
he barely suppressed a yelp of surprise. Still, it felt good on his 
tender flesh as he massaged the gel into his small opening. Satisfied, 
he searched among his clothes in the bag to find one of the two condoms 
that were loose inside it.

"Get a move on in there, Juan," Bruce commanded.

Juan pulled his briefs and sweat pants up, slipped the condom into 
the pocket of his sweat pants, and walked back into the room. Luchiano 
sat on the side of the vast king-sized bed while Bruce reclined against 
the table as he fiddled with the video camera. Juan glanced at the two 
men, instinctively recognizing that he was the center of attention. 
Their eyes followed his every movement, absorbed in the seductive sway 
of his slender body and his alluring face. That he could beguile a grown 
man with an almost mesmeric power was something that Juan had realized 
only in the last week. He turned on his captivating charm. The boy 
smiled at Luchiano provocatively. From somewhere inside the twelve-
year-old boy, a prepossessing maturity awoke. He closed the gap as he 
walked slowly across the room, not stopping until he stood only a few 
tantalizing inches away from the older man. From the corner of his eye 
he watched Bruce lift the video camera to his eye. He grinned with the 
most tempting smile he could manage, his dark eyes flashing as he 
entrapped his prey.

"Do you want me to take my clothes off now?" Juan asked in a muted 
though audibly excited voice.

He casually dropped his gym bag beside the bed. Luchiano and Bruce 
shared a quick, knowing look. There was no doubt that the boy was a fast 
learner.

"Maybe you should undress the kid, Mister Luchiano," Bruce 
suggested. "Let's see him in his birthday suit."

Luchiano's hands lifted up with deliberate slowness as the small 
red light on the top of the video camera began to flicker. His hands 
went to the boy's narrow hips and rested momentarily on the bony pelvis. 
His thumbs crooked inward and looped into the waist band of Juan's sweat 
pants. He stopped briefly as he felt the warmth emanating from the firm 
smooth flesh underneath and gently caressed the boy's belly. Juan 
smiled shyly and pressed forward. However, what appeared to be a visible 
indication of his willingness to go further was initially little more 
than a juvenile attempt to make Bruce jealous.

Unseen and unrealized, the video camera recorded a time of 
17:54:33, the precise instant at which Juan's pants were tugged down. 
What started as a teasing game quickly became increasing obscene. 
Within a few minutes he was totally naked, his clothes, socks and shoes 
discarded wantonly like a stripper. The last thing to come off was his 
briefs. He danced before the camera, swinging his hips languidly and he 
twirled the last vestige of his modesty in the air. As his erect penis 
bobbed proudly up and down, he balled the small soft clothe and tossed 
it towards the camera and climbed onto the bed. The time was 17:58:40.

Before the camera, Juan's inhibition diminished rapidly and he 
became ever more intoxicated with the freedom of his naked body and the 
satisfaction of its effect on the two men. By 18:02:00, he no longer 
needed gentle prompting from either man. He cavorted with crude but 
immature lust, no longer afraid or ashamed of recording his sensual 
movements as he straddled Luchiano and thrust his thighs in a depraved 
simulation of intercourse. The faint whirring sound of the camera was 
barely heard, even by Bruce as he gazed at the monochrome image of the 
twelve-year-old boy. He zoomed in, focusing on the small, rigid penis 
and taut scrotum until it completely filled the viewfinder. Up close, 
the boy's still-unripened genitals were unbelievably beautiful in their 
hairless state. He watched as Luchiano's hand enclosed the small penis 
and after carefully retracting the foreskin, began to masturbate it. 
Juan's penis danced with a life of its own, throbbing with the vibrant 
energy of youth as the foreskin pulled back and forth over the flawed 
glans. Whether the blemish on the boy's otherwise perfect body caused 
Luchiano any consternation was unknown to him. He suspected it added to 
the boy's charisma. He zoomed back, keeping the camera centered at the 
object of his interest, until he could see both the man and the boy.

At 18:10:30, Luchiano removed his robe with some assistance from 
his willing assistant. Juan grinned cheekily as he romped shamelessly 
about on the bed. That he was stark-naked before the camera was no 
longer of concern to him. He relished every touch on his bare flesh, his 
penis rampart and rock-hard as his heart pounded with unrelenting 
excitement. He straddled the man's thighs and brought their genitals 
together in an awkward embrace. Then like a jockey, he rode triumphantly 
as he rubbed back and forth with an urgent motion of his hips and 
thighs.

"Hey Mister Luchiano, let me get some shots of his butt," Bruce 
suggested. "Kind of before and after, if you know what I mean."

Luchiano laughed and tossed the boy onto his back. He held the 
youngster down with little effort. "God, he's horny, isn't he? Yeah, you 
better before it's too late."

Both men laughed as Juan struggled playfully to escape. The older 
man grasped his ankles and pushed back, forcing his legs apart and 
against his belly. Bruce moved forward, zooming in as he approached the 
bed.

"Now that's what I call a cherry," Bruce laughed. "Stick a finger 
in him, Mister Luchiano. He'll like that. Whoa boy! Take it easy!"

Juan bucked as he felt his orifice penetrated. Other than the K-Y 
inside his rectum and the slight wetness that had escaped during his 
exertions, there was no lubrication. He yelped and tried to pull away 
from the finger that wanted to violate his inner sanctum, but his feeble 
struggles and pleas for mercy served only to further excite both men. 
Luchiano's finger jabbed at him and broke through the resistance of his 
sphincter. It was 18:15:45 when Luchiano's finger could go no further 
into the young body and his knuckles ground into Juan's crevice.

Within ten minutes, Juan's anus was sufficiently dilated to easily 
accept two adult fingers. Every second was recorded. It began with the 
first minutes of his torture as he was forced open and his body resisted 
with painful spasms and continued through the gradual loosening of his 
small orifice and stretching of the hot tight tube of his rectum, to the 
writhing, frenzied ecstasy as his still-undeveloped prostate was 
prodded, stabbed, and massaged. At 18:25:40 he lay on his back, gasping 
for each breath and shuddering as his bowel sucked noisily on Luchiano's 
expert fingers. His penis became soft and partially withdrew into his 
abdomen and his scrotum became taut and wrinkled until it was little 
more than a shallow mound that emerged from his soft puppy fat.

"He's not going to get much looser. His fuck hole is wide open," 
Luchiano observed as he looked towards the video camera. He noticed the 
large bulge in Bruce's jeans and laughed. "It certainly looks like 
you're ready. How's it look so far?"

"Yeah, I'm all set," Bruce acknowledged with a smirk. "It looks 
great, Mister Luchiano. You could sell this. Why don't you get him on 
the edge of the bed, that way I be able to get it all on tape?"

Luchiano responded by withdrawing his fingers. The suction was 
broken with a loud wet, pop and Juan grunted as his pleasure was 
interrupted. He glanced at the camera, frustration clearly visible on 
his face as much as an expression of 'look what you're missing, mate'. 
He felt himself being dragged across the bed, coming closer to the end 
until his buttocks hung out over the edge. The boy gazed up at the man 
who now stood before him. Luchiano's penis was engorged and reddened 
with the pressure of his erection. It was threatening and powerful and 
Juan wanted it. Releasing his ankles, the boy grasped his cheeks and 
pulled them apart as wide as he could. At the same time he lifted his 
buttocks upward, presenting himself for the man's pleasure. Juan's 
desire reigned supreme, all caution was gone and Bruce's warnings about 
always using a condom were forgotten.

Luchiano moved and expertly directed his penis downward as he came 
into position. The tip of his penis was directly aimed at the boy's 
dilated orifice. Juan grinned, drawing his legs closer to his chest as 
he breathed quickly. His heart was pumping frantically and his bowel 
ached. He longed to feel the man's penis inside him. He felt the warm, 
hard fullness of it as it touched his anus and he quivered with 
anticipation. Even though it would hurt terribly at first, what came 
later was more than enough compensation for the pain. Even the bleeding 
didn't bother him, though he hoped it would not happen again. He felt 
the man's penis swelling against him, the pressure increasing as it 
sought entry through the narrow opening. He took a deep breath and 
pushed back as he tried to relax his body at the same time. He could 
feel it expanding, stretching, forcing its way inside.

"You better put a rubber on, Mister Luchiano," Bruce said in a 
gentle reminder. "You can't be too careful these days, even with a boy 
like Juan. It just ain't worth the risk."

Luchiano turned around. "Goddamn," he said resentfully. "I almost 
had the head in there too. Yeah, I guess you're right."

Luchiano stepped back. His penis, released from it's appointed 
task, sprang upward and slapped loudly against the his belly. "You got 
one?" he demanded of the boy's pimp.

"Juan's got them."

"Well boy, don't just lay there. Go get one so we can start 
fuckin'," Luchiano ordered in rude jest.

His desire thwarted momentarily, Juan twisted away and climbed off 
the bed. He found his sweat pants and removed the tiny cellophane 
packet. He held it out to Luchiano who smirked at the boy.

"Well boy, put the darn thing on."

Juan grinned back at the man and dropped to his knees. Luchiano's 
raging penis bounced before him. The huge, loose scrotal sac was swollen 
with the man's massive testicles. Unlike his own, they were covered with 
thick, dark hair. He remembered the man in the bathroom and it suddenly 
seemed like a long time ago. Silently, the boy leaned forward and 
brushed the red, hot glans with his lips. It was wet at the very tip and 
his tongue touched it, adding his own moisture as he tasted the sweet 
saltiness of the man's juices. Impulsively, his mouth opened wide and 
his head came forward to swallow it.

"Put the bloody rubber on first, mate," Bruce interrupted. "Then 
you can suck and fuck it as much as you want."

Juan glanced upward and smiled shyly, embarrassed at his own 
enthusiasm. He brought the package to his mouth and nipped the clear 
cellophane with his teeth before it tore it open and extracted the 
cream-colored rubber ring. Awkwardly he placed it on the blunt tip of 
the man's penis and tried to push it downward. His efforts were clumsy 
from inexperience but were exacerbated by his eagerness. He tried again 
and finally succeeded in getting it unrolled over the flared corona. 
After that, the going was much easier.

At 18:31:30 the man's penis was suitably sheathed and ready for 
action. Juan stood up immediately, no longer as excited by the thought 
of having it in his mouth as filling the persistent void that seemed to 
exist inside his abdomen. He removed the tube of K-Y from his gym bag, 
climbed back on the bed, and resumed his previous position. Again 
Luchiano moved forward, depressing the end of his penis until it came to 
its target and with ease, the head began to burrow into the boy's 
opening. Again Juan took a deep breath and pushed back. He felt a sharp 
pain but it paled against the terror of deliberate and protracted force 
that was necessary to enlarge his anus enough to accept the man's penis. 
He waited for the suffering to end.

The boy's agony was abruptly abbreviated only a second or two 
before the glans would have pierced him. The knocking on the door was 
loud and insistent and both men were startled.

"Fuck! Who in the hell is that?" Luchiano swore loudly, his 
question directed at no one in particular. "I told them downstairs that 
I wanted no interruptions tonight."

"It's probably the maid or someone," Bruce suggested. "You want me 
to get it, Mister Luchiano?"

"Yeah! She's probably here to turn down the bed and collect her 
tip. Why don't you let her in so she can see me fuckin' the boy. Shit!" 
he added angrily. He stepped back and glanced around the room, quickly 
deciding that there was no hiding place.

"Get in the bathroom, boy," he ordered. His desire circumvented 
again, the boy balked. He stared back at the man in disbelief. "Get 
moving! And take your clothes with you," Luchiano added as he reached 
for his own robe that lay on the other side of the bed.

Juan hesitated, then realizing the urgency of his predicament 
leaped from the bed, his arousal vanquished. He grabbed his sweat pants 
and top, looked swiftly around the room for his briefs but did not find 
them, picked up his sneakers and socks, and ran into the bathroom as 
Luchiano finished putting on his bath robe.

Luchiano started towards the door but stopped halfway and looked 
back. Other than the tube of K-Y lying on the bed, there was nothing to 
show what was happening only seconds earlier.

"Get that lube out of sight," he said as he pulled the bathroom 
door closed. Bruce moved quickly. He placed the video camera on its 
side, grabbed the white and blue tube, stuffed it into Juan's gym bag 
and looked around the room again to make certain that all the evidence 
of depravity was gone. He listened to the sounds of a strained 
conversation in the hall.

"What in the hell?" Luchiano demanded. "I told you to keep miles 
away from me."

"Yeah I know. No one followed us. We checked the whole way. Donnie 
even got off the friggin' freeway four times. I thought we better come 
here, Mister Luchiano. I was sure that you'd want to know."

"What's so dammed important that you couldn't tell me on the 
phone. You got Testa right?" Luchiano asked.

"Of course we got him. Romano Testa is not going to be a problem 
again, boss. I got good three shots at him. I put two in his head for 
good measure, just about blew him to kingdom come, took out the back of 
his head and half of his face. A 45 magnum will do that."

Luchiano laughed. "Good work, Eddie. That'll send a message to the 
fuckin' Mexicans to keep off my turf. No problems, right?"

"Not really Mister Luchiano. We followed him to that apartment, 
the same one he always goes to on Fridays. It was just like you said, he 
had some hooker with him. They was fuckin' at the time when Donnie and 
me came through the door. He died with his cock hard and hot. She was 
kind of Asian-looking, a really pretty bitch for a whore. Kind of shame, 
actually. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five."

"Did you kill her too? I don't want any witnesses, Eddie."

"Of course. I think the first slug went right through Testa and 
got her as well. I made sure she was gone. There ain't no witnesses, 
Mister Luchiano."

"You're not gonna guess what we found there, boss," Donnie 
guffawed.

"You're going to be happy, Mister Luchiano," Eddie interrupted. He 
held out a briefcase. "There must be a coupla hundred grand in here. 
That's why we came out here. I knew you'd want to see it."

Luchiano led the way back into the bedroom. He carried the 
briefcase. Thunder roared in the distance only seconds after the corner 
of the room flashed with the added illumination of lightening. The men 
were startled and Eddie's hand instinctively moved towards his breast.

"What in the hell?" Luchiano swore. "I just knew it was going to 
fuckin' rain. I come all the way out here for some golf tomorrow and now 
it fucking rains. Still, this makes up for missing my tee-off."

Another flash, closer than the last. Thunder boomed ominously. It 
was close enough to rattle the sliding door that opened onto the 
terrace. The first big drops of rain began to splatter against the door.

"It must be for their next run to Columbia," Luchiano observed as 
he placed the briefcase on the bed, opened the metal locks, and lifted 
the lid.

The briefcase was full of oblong packages wrapped in white plastic 
and taped securely. On one package the plastic had been ripped apart and 
the grey-grey engraving of a one-hundred dollar bill was visible. 
Luchiano counted rapidly in his head. There were two rows of six making 
twelve packages in all, each about two to three inches high. The 
briefcase was almost filled completely. 

"There must be $50,000 in each one," Luchiano mused. "That'd be 
six hundred grand. Those Mexican bastards are doing better than I 
expected. This doesn't make up for what they took from for the last few 
years but it sure helps."

He grinned at the two other men and then glanced around, finally 
realizing that Bruce was still in the room. The boy's pimp was silent, 
regarding the men as he listened carefully. He leaned against the table, 
unaware that the red light on the video camera was still flickering. 

"You did real good guys. Maybe now I can afford my young friend," 
he added jocularly. Luchiano stared down at the money, still surprised 
at his good fortune, though gradually becoming suspicious. It seemed 
much too easy somehow. He lifted the briefcase up and dropped the 
packages onto the bed cover. His lips pursed thoughtfully as he examined 
the opened package.

"The money looks okay," he thought aloud. "Old notes from all over 
the place, maybe its dyed, numbers aren't consecutive. It looks good," 
he repeated.

Luchiano turned his attention to the now-empty briefcase. He had 
survived when others had failed simply because he depended on raw 
instinct and suspicion at such times. Getting the money as well as a 
successful hit made him cautious to the point of becoming irrational. He 
studied the briefcase carefully. It was an imitation designer model, 
labeled 'Coach', but made in any number of 'knock-off' shops in Mexico 
or even in L.A. It appeared harmless enough. Except for the inside 
lining. He felt a sudden despair as he began to pull at the inside 
corner of the lining where it had lifted away slightly from the side. It 
had been glued down, though not thoroughly enough. Angrily Luchiano 
ripped it away. Under the lid was a flat, grey box. It was wafer thin. 
He jerked it free, studied it for a moment and then savagely crushed it 
by slamming in hard into the edge of the table. It folded into a v-
shape, splitting at the rear to expose two small batteries.

"Fuck!" Luchiano swore. "You stupid, fucking idiots."

"What is it Mister Luchiano," Eddie asked instantly.

"It's not a wire, Mister Luchiano," Donnie added. "I can't see no 
mike or nothing."

"Of course it's not a fuckin' wire, dumb-ass. There's no mike 
because it's a fuckin' FBI beamer. It only transmits location. Damn! You 
stupid bastards. They're are probably coming up the elevator right 
now," Luchiano said in growing panic.

"Jesus! I'm sorry Mister Luchiano," Eddie grovelled. "I can get 
rid of it."

"Too damned late for that." Luchiano took a deep breath to control 
his panic and steady his thoughts. He needed to act fast. "Okay, here's 
the plan. Eddie, you stick the money in the bottom of that gym bag over 
there. We'll send my young friend out with it. The cops probably won't 
stop a kid. And you Donnie, get out in the corridor and watch the 
elevators. I'll go talk to him. Now move!"

Eddie and Donnie jumped, knowing that their lives depended on the 
speed at which they moved. Bruce watched, uncertain as to what he should 
do. He realized that he had just become an accessory after the fact to 
murder in the first degree. He was also a witness and his life also 
depended on his actions during the next few minutes. He thought quickly, 
evaluating his options. It was highly unlikely that Luchiano would let 
him leave with Juan and the money, but if he stayed it was likely that 
he would be dead by the next morning as Luchiano cleaned up the loose 
ends.

"Mister Luchiano? What about the video?" Bruce asked nervously. 
"We should get rid of it as well, shouldn't we," he added hopefully.

Luchiano spun around. "What? Oh, the video? Yeah, get rid of it. 
Stick it in the kid's bag as well. It'd be really dumb to get busted for 
kiddie porn."

"I don't think it will fit. Besides it's pretty heavy."

"Not the fucking camera you dope. Just the damned tape," Luchiano 
shouted as he opened the bathroom door. He did not need to turn the door 
handle. The door was partially open with several inches between the edge 
and the frame. He wondered how much the boy had heard.

Juan had heard every word. When the men had talked about Testa's 
murder they had been right next to the bathroom. He felt no sorrow, no 
remorse, just a miserable wretchedness about what he had heard. There 
was no reason for him to lament the deaths of a man and a woman he never 
knew but he was distressed. He tasted bile in his mouth. Juan was more 
scared than he had ever been. He cowered against the vanity, still 
partially undressed as Luchiano came into the room. Juan wore his sweat 
pants, socks, and shoes and he sobbed uncontrollably as he tried to 
insert his arms into the top to locate the sleeves. He didn't know why 
he cried. He was just very frightened. 

"Stop bawling and listen," Luchiano said as he roughly shook the 
youngster's small shoulder. Juan nodded, wiping the tears from his face 
with the soft fleece of the top. "What did you hear?" he demanded.

The boy stared at him dumbly as tears trickled down his cheeks. He 
shook his head in denial. "You heard, didn't you?" Luchiano asked again.

Juan quavered and his eyes flickered in recognition. His head 
shook again as if he had no control over it. "It's none of your 
business, okay? Whatever you heard, you're going to forget. It never 
happened and you never tell anyone. If you do, you'll end up the same 
way."

"Yes, Mister Luchiano. Whatever you say," Juan whimpered.

"You're leaving here in a minute, kid. I'm asking a lot from you 
but I know you'll do fine. You're going to go to the fire escape at the 
end of the hall," he explained. The boy nodded obediently. "Okay, you go 
down three or four floors and then go out and take the elevator back 
down to the ground floor."

Again Juan nodded as he sniffed loudly. "Good boy. Now I want you 
to wait there for fifteen minutes. If I don't come down and get you by 
then I want you to leave the hotel. You go out the front door. You 
should find a taxi somewhere around there. I want you to take it to this 
address and wait there for me to come get you. Here's some money for the 
taxi. You're a smart boy so you shouldn't have any problem."

Luchiano passed a business card to the boy and watched as he read 
it and placed it in the rear pocket of his sweat pants. Juan swallowed, 
his throat was dry and his breathing was strained. Something was very 
wrong but he did not know what.

"Okay, Mister Luchiano," he whispered nervously.

"Good! Now here's five hundred bucks for today. I'll give you 
another five the next time I see you and we finish off what we started 
tonight. Now listen carefully. I've put something in your bag. It's 
something that's very important to me, understand. I don't want you to 
even open your bag. You give it to no one, you never put it down, okay? 
You keep it with you at all times."

"What is it?" Juan asked uncertainly.

"What it is, is none of your damned business, boy. You just keep 
it a secret and you don't tell anyone,... especially the cops, okay?"

"Okay," Juan mumbled as he finally retrieved the sleeve that had 
been causing the major problem.

"You're a beautiful boy," Luchiano said quietly as he observed the 
lithe body before him.

His eyes were attracted first to the tiny nipples. They were soft 
and only slightly darker than the rest of the boy's smooth, sleek skin. 
There was very little muscle on the slender body, barely the slightest 
fullness to indicate his breast line. Juan's shoulders sloped downwards 
and accentuated the narrowness of his chest. His ribs were defined by 
upward curving lines that ended in the shallow depression of his 
sternum. His waist was tapered with a tiny navel that was slighted 
extruded. It made a delicately sculpted bulge in an otherwise flat belly 
before it disappeared under the sweat pants. He was perfectly 
proportioned. It was only with the greatest difficulty that Luchiano 
dragged his eyes up and cleared his mind of the anticipated ecstasy that 
come so close.

"Once this is over, you and me are going to have ourselves some 
great times," the man acknowledged quietly. "I think we're going to 
become very close friends, you and I."

"Yes, Mister Luchiano. I know we are," Juan mumbled again. He 
glanced up at the man just before he lifted his top over his tousled 
head. He smiled shyly as he also remembered what had almost happened in 
the adjoining room. "Yeah, and I'm really looking forward to it," he 
added softly.

They left the bathroom together. As they came back into the 
bedroom Luchiano's arm was around Juan's shoulders. It was both 
comforting and reassuring to the boy. He smiled at Bruce. Eddie closed 
the zipper of Juan's gym bag and handed it to Luchiano.

"Hey boss, what should I do with the gun?" he asked.

"What?" Luchiano growled. "Don't tell me you brought the fucking 
gun here as well. I told you to lose it."

"We didn't have time, Mister Luchiano. We came straight here," 
Eddie explained anxiously. He scratched his head nervously. "I'm sorry, 
boss."

"Give it to me, you idiot," Luchiano demanded savagely. He reached 
for the proffered weapon. As he took possession, he glared at it. The 45 
caliber Smith and Wesson Magnum was a heavy gun but one whose balance 
was honed to a high degree. "I ought to blow your fucking brains out 
Eddie."

Luchiano sighed and opened the zipper of the gym bag just far 
enough to slip the revolver inside. He slid the zipper back and passed 
the bag to its owner. "You take good care of this bag, boy, and I'll 
always take good care of you."

Juan nodded obediently. Yes, Mister Luchiano. I promise." Again he 
smiled docilely at his benefactor.

"What are we gonna do about the briefcase, Mister Luchiano? And 
this here camera?" Eddie asked as he picked up the video camera. 

"Put the friggin' camera in the fucking case. He's taking them out 
of here when the kid leaves," Luchiano said as he pointed to Bruce. "Now 
get the hell out of here. Use the stairs at the other end of the 
building," Luchiano added as he shoved Bruce towards the door. "I'll 
call you tomorrow morning to arrange for someone to pick it up again. 
Otherwise, you're dead!"

At precisely 18:36:43 Juan and Bruce left the Christobel and 
headed quickly for the fire stairs located at either end of the 
building. There was no time for farewells. As Juan turned the corner in 
the corridor he could hear the elevator opening a hundred feet behind 
him. There were muted voices of several men. He started to run. He 
turned the handle and opened the door into stairwell. As the door 
started to close behind him, he grabbed it and carefully eased into the 
jamb. In less than fifteen seconds his pulse had rocketed and he was 
panting. He listened carefully, trying to slow his breathing so that he 
could hear. Nothing.

He started down the stairs. He placed his feet on each metal tread 
as lightly as possible but still the noise seemed deafening. One flight 
of stairs, then the next. He felt his hands shaking and he clenched them 
tightly, locking the strap of his gym bag in death grip. He paused on 
the next landing and tried fruitlessly to slow his breathing and frantic 
heartbeat. A door slammed, one story, maybe two above him. He panicked 
and began to run, leaping from one stair to another, finding the next 
step several risers lower. He pivoted at the landing and nearly slipped 
as he started down again. Another flight of stairs and then another.

"I think someone's on the stairs," a voice shouted from above him.

He stopped and pressed back against the exit door. He could hear 
footsteps clattering loudly as his pursuer took up the chase. He turned 
the door handle and the door swung open behind him. For a second he 
stood there thinking. Mister Luchiano had said go down five floors. Was 
this five floor? What if he was on the wrong floor? No, Mister Luchiano 
said three or floor floors so it probably didn't matter. He had to get 
to the elevator. Although the loud cracks, unmistakable sounds of 
gunfire coming from a 38 caliber S&W Police Special, echoed 
resoundingly against the bare concrete walls of the other stairwell, 
Juan didn't hear them and even to the Eldorado guests, it sounded like 
more thunder. As the door closed automatically behind him, Bruce Denman 
died.

Juan started back along the corridor at a jog but stopped at the 
corner. This floor was laid out similarly to the top floor where he had 
come from except that there was no garden or swimming pool. There also 
seemed to be a lot more doors. Concealed behind the corner, he carefully 
peaked out keeping his eyes as close to the wall as possible. His head 
darted back. There was a man standing at the front of the elevator. He 
wore a dark grey suit. Juan peeked again. The man was pushing the 
button, stabbing at it impatiently. Was he a cop? He could be but Juan 
didn't think so. Maybe he was a detective? Maybe he was with the FBI? 
The boy felt his terror building as he waited for the door at the end of 
the corridor behind him to open. He was trapped.

Why Juan Fernando chose to knock on the door of room 737 remains a 
mystery, but of the 635 rooms in the Eldorado hotel he chose the right 
one.



Chapter 7. The Man in Room 635



By six-thirty I had gulped down my dinner and returned to my room 
to continue my preparation for the next day. There few things that I 
like less than to dine by myself in a restaurant. However, this time was 
my own fault and a result of my own choosing. My research is one thing 
that I really enjoy, though it comes at a cost. Once or twice a year, my 
sponsors require a formal presentation and my participation in one of 
their confounded conferences. God how I hate conferences, and 
networking, and presenting papers, and listening to endless streams of 
other academic papers. I always dine by myself when I go to conferences.

Frankly, I hate the people who go to conferences. They go to 
drink, talk about women, and deride other participants who are drinking 
elsewhere. There is one thing I like even less than people who go to 
conferences and dining alone; public speaking. At six-thirty, I had 
less than fifteen hours to go and a lot of work to complete before I 
took my turn at the overhead projector and lectern. My presentation was 
scheduled for the next morning at nine o'clock. Nine long months of work 
and God-only-knows how many hours of computer time would be presented in 
a twenty-page summary entitled, 'Laminar Flow on Synthetic Airfoils: A 
New Perspective Using Burton's Method of Simulation'. I was Burton.

I picked up my highlighter and commenced underlining my notes for 
the third or fourth time. I wondered whether I should have had 
transparencies made of the definitions of the variables. There were too 
many equations. There were too many dependencies. I should have brought 
my lap-top. Maybe I could have demonstrated the results better than 
using graphs and an overhead projector. I wondered whether the audience 
would be interested to know that I could get a theoretical ten-to-twenty 
percent decrease in the drag coefficient just by using ______ [deleted 
in the interest of national security]. I smiled to myself. They would 
be. Twenty percent less drag corresponded to,... God, had I left the 
data on the aerodynamic implications behind in Galveston. I riffled 
through my notes and then breathed a long sigh of relief. I could 
imagine the excitement of the 'techies' from the USAF. Even the generals 
would be interested once it had been explained to them. Hell, I might 
even get some applause at the end of my halting and inarticulate 
presentation.

I turned the page just as I heard someone knocking on my door. I 
did not expect any visitors simply because I had chosen to stay at the 
Eldorado. It was a deliberate decision to stay some distance from the 
Norton Air Force Base, well away from the other participants. As I 
walked to the door I wondered who it could be. Room service probably, I 
guessed.

The child who greeted me was of indeterminate sex and race, though 
I estimated its age to be close to that of my youngest daughter, 
somewhere around eleven. However there was no uncertainty about one 
thing, the child was beautiful. In fact, the child was very beautiful, 
the kind of memorable beauty that carves out a place in your mind and 
can never be forgotten, or for that matter never fully reconstructed 
from memory. For several long seconds I studied the young person before 
me. The face was feminine with delicate features that were framed by a 
long, glistening, brown mane. Not Caucasian, not Asian, just very 
beautiful. But the child's hair was unkempt and in that respect more 
male than female. The child's clothes were also those of a boy--faded 
dark-blue sweat pants and top and ubiquitous, though expensive 
sneakers.

"Yes?" I asked abruptly. "I think you have the wrong room," I 
added quickly.

"Mister, I'm sorry." There was a long pause as the child struggled 
to catch its breath. The voice was high-pitched, almost soprano though 
scratchy as it continued to gasp for air. "You gotta help me, Mister."

Now the child was more boy than girl. What was it that had 
resolved the ambiguity? I studied him again and realized that he was 
more beautiful than either of my daughters. I wondered again whether I 
was mistaken, perhaps the child was a girl. The hair was far too long 
for a boy. The soft lips and dancing eyes also bespoke of a gentleness 
that was unnatural in a male. He had been crying, that much was very 
evident. His reddened eyes were large with dark, liquid pupils, still 
moistened with his recent tears. He swallowed and I watched the small 
mound of his Adam's apple bob in his slender throat. I smiled at him. 
The child was most definitely a boy. He trembled, physically shivering 
as he waited for my response.

"Please, Mister, you gotta help me," he begged. Perhaps it was the 
urgency in his plea for help that got my attention.

"What's the problem?" I asked cautiously. I studied him carefully. 
I was not by nature, suspicious, but there was something about him that 
I found strangely threatening.

"They're after me. Some men are chasing me," he answered 
breathlessly. He glanced over his shoulder and looked around behind him 
as if expecting someone in pursuit. He trembled suddenly and I watched 
his face become pale. "I think I'm going to be sick," he gasped.

He shuddered and his slender body seemed to heave as he lunged 
forward. I stepped back and he rushed past me. I heard him gagging as he 
choked back his rising vomit. I started to follow the boy into my 
bathroom but for some reason unknown to me, what I can only describe as 
the strangest sense of deja vu, I turned around and closed the door 
behind me. By the time I entered the bathroom I discovered the boy 
leaned forward over the vanity basin. He was still shaking as I 
approached him. Irrationally, I placed my arm around his fragile 
shoulders and steadied him. We stood side by side for more than a minute 
as he slowly regained his composure and his breathing became less 
frenetic. Finally he straightened up, visibly exhausted.

"I'm sorry, Mister," he murmured, "Really I am. I feel okay now."

"Are you sure? You don't look too good. I think you better take it 
easy for a while. Maybe even sit down," I answered. Even as I heard 
myself speak, I was aware of the tenderness in my voice. I had intended 
to be the voice of authority and escort him back to the door so that I 
could return to the more immediate demands of my work. Instead, I had 
just invited him to stay. I wondered what on earth was happening to me. 
All I could do was gently caress his shoulder as I gazed down at the 
soft, brown waves of his hair.

"I'm really okay," he said quietly. He wiped his mouth with the 
back of his hand and smeared saliva across his cheek. His hand came back 
and made another swipe, this time across his upper lip and past his nose 
as he sniffed loudly. I released him and pulled a towel from the coils 
of the metal rack attached to the tiled wall.

"Here, I'll do it." I dabbed at his face with the dry, abrasive 
cloth for a moment before I realized that was not enough. His gym bag 
was lying on its side and was between me and the basin. I reached 
forward to move it to one side and the boy's hand darted out. For an 
instant he panicked as he dragged the gym bag away from me and closer to 
him. His hand shook unsteadily, still gripping the strap as I turned on 
the water, wet the corner of the towel, and proceeded to elaborate on my 
task. I took my time, wiping his forehead and cheeks and finally his 
small, slightly upturned nose. It must have tickled because he smiled 
weakly at me. It was a delightful smile, his dark eyes glistened and his 
trauma seemed to disappear.

"That's better," I acknowledged as I dried his face. His closeness 
was exhilarating. I felt the warmth of his breath on my hands and the 
very life of his body seemed to brush against mine and stir something 
deep within me. I stepped backward hastily.

"Thanks, Mister. Thanks for letting me use the bathroom, and 
everything," he said apologetically.

Again the high-pitched voice pierced my mind and I was reminded 
again that he was far more like my youngest daughter than a young boy. 
I nodded gracefully as I accepted his all-encompassing appreciation.

"No problem. But can you do me a big favor and stop calling me 
'mister'. It makes me feel like an old man. Why don't you call me Matt?" 
I grinned at the boy reassuringly. "What's your name, anyway?"

He hesitated guiltily and looked away. For a long time he seemed 
to forget who he was and then he shrugged as if he no longer cared. 
"Juan, I guess."

"Hi Juan," I said and then added, "Why don't you come into the 
other room and sit down. If you want to, you can tell me what the 
problem is. Maybe I can help."

I suspected that the boy had fabricated his story about men being 
after him, but in L.A., or at least being so close to L.A., who knew. 
His story seemed very unlikely however I had to admit that something had 
definitely upset him. He was still very scared. He nodded his 
acquiescence and followed me into the bedroom. He gripped his gym bag so 
tightly that I imagined that I could see the white of his knuckles. I 
sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for him to take the seat beside 
the small table that was next to the window. He flopped down and stared 
at the floor sulkily.

"Now, what's the problem?" I asked.

"There's no problem, Mister. Sorry!... Matt." He glanced up at me 
and our eyes met for an instant as he corrected himself and then he 
resumed his sorrowful stare downward.

I smiled and shrugged. "Okay. It's just that you come barging into 
my room with some story about people chasing you, you're scared stiff, 
and you threaten to puke all over my bathroom, and now you say there's 
nothing wrong. Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care what you believe," Juan mumbled ungraciously. "I 
already said thanks."

"Maybe I can help, Juan. If you tell me what the problem is, I'll 
do whatever I can," I prompted unsuccessfully. He ignored me. I tried 
again. "A boy your age shouldn't be going into a stranger's room alone. 
Man, who knows what could happen to you. I could have been an axe 
murderer."

That got a feeble laugh from him and he looked up again. "But 
you're not, Mister. Sorry, Matt. It's okay, really it is. As soon as I 
feel better, I'll leave, okay. I just need a few more minutes."

I nodded sympathetically. "Do you want to call someone to come and 
pick you up? Like your father?" I suggested.

That got a response but hardly the one I expected. He snarled 
angrily as he came quickly to his feet. He moved with remarkable 
agility. "I don't have a father!"

"Oh! Well I'm sorry. How about your mother or someone else?"

That was the wrong question again. He started towards the door, 
raising his voice as he went. Each word seemed to be torn out of him.

"Get real, Man! She doesn't care where I am. She's a total, 
fucking bitch!"

"Sit the hell down!" I shouted back at him, hoping that the 
adjoining rooms were unoccupied. My response was automatic. I had 
always had a short temper and my wife and two step-children had done 
little to improve it. The boy stopped and glared at me furiously. At 
this, I was more than confused about what to do next. I decide to 
placate him. I wanted to reason with him but above all, I wanted him to 
stay, even if only for a few more minutes.

"I'm sorry, Juan. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Please sit down. 
I really would like to help you if I can." 

That was the right approach. I watched his expression soften. The 
distress that had contorted his expression into one of utter contempt 
and rage seemed to fade and he slowly relaxed. He smiled faintly.

"My mom is a bitch," he said haltingly. His voice was little more 
than a pained whisper. "I hate her."

I was stunned by the sound of loathing in his young voice. I 
wondered about my own voice, it was both surprisingly sincere and 
affectionate. It was as if I wanted this boy to trust me more than 
anything else in the world. All thoughts of my morning presentation and 
the trauma that accompanied it had gone. I wanted to help Juan.

"I'm sorry, Juan." I rasped my fingers into the palm of hand as I 
tried to find the words that would break through what still appeared to 
be an impenetrable barrier.

"That's okay."

"Why are they after you?" I asked gently.

"I don't know."

"Did you steal something?"

Given the way he continued to clench it, the gym bag looked very 
suspicious and was a likely contender as the hiding place for stolen 
property. The boy shook his head in denial. I believed him. There was 
something about the sensitive face and the tousled hair that made me 
believe in him.

"Then what?" I continued helpfully.

"Nothing. I don't know why."

"Okay! Are they trying to hurt you?"

"I don't know."

"What happened?"

Silence. I studied the boy closely and began to sense the enormity 
of the problem within him. He was fighting me. He was fighting himself. 
He was scared stiff.

"I think a man was chasing me."

"Chasing you? Where? Here in the hotel?"

"In the stairway."

"Oh!... Do you want me to call the police?"

"No!"

Juan bit his bottom lip He breathed out with a long, painful sigh.

"You've got to help me to help you, Juan. Why shouldn't I call the 
police?" Silence again. "Were the police chasing you?" Juan trembled 
and started to move towards the door. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! I didn't do anything! I don't know."

"Okay! Come back and sit down."

Juan shuffled hesitatingly back to chair and flopped down again. 
For a moment I wondered why pre-teen boys and girls insist on dropping 
inelegantly from a standing position into a sitting position.

"Do you feel all right? You look very pale."

"I'm okay. I guess I'm just hungry, that's all."

"Do you need some money for food?"

Juan shook his head and dug in his back pocket. My eyes opened 
wide as he flashed five one-hundred dollar bills before me.

"I guess that answers that question," I laughed. "But it's never a 
good idea to go around flashing money in front of strangers. Especially 
that much money."

"I figure I can trust you, Mister,... Matt." He grinned back at 
me. "If you can afford to stay in this place, you aren't going to steal 
money from a kid like me."

I laughed again. Little did the boy know that my hotel room was 
paid for the US Department of Defense. "Well it's still not a good idea. 
Do you want me to order you up some food?"

His eyes opened further and he grinned again in anticipation of 
filling his hungry stomach. It had been twenty-four hours since his last 
meal of any magnitude.

"I can eat here?" he queried. "I don't want to go downstairs, at 
least not yet."

"Room service will bring it up here. What would you like?"

"I can pay, Mist,...Matt," he suggested and then smiled. "Anything 
would be great. I'm starving. A hamburger?" he added hopefully.

"Don't worry about it. Uncle Sam will pick up the tab," I said as 
I walked towards the telephone.

I ordered too much food, at least according to Juan. But he was 
obviously hungry and his arguments to the contrary, I went ahead and 
ordered two 'El Toro specials', also known as a cheeseburger and fries, 
a large coke, and an apple pie and ice-cream. I walked back to the bed 
and resumed my place. Juan's face was expressionless but I could sense 
his consternation. Among his other pressing though unspoken problems, 
he was appreciative and he could not find a way to tell me. He brooded 
silently and I returned to my work although my attention was split 
between trying to memorize the major points of my presentation and the 
boy who had now curled up in my lounge chair. His question interrupted 
my train of thought, which was somewhere between the drag dynamics of 
high altitude reconnaissance aircraft and the repetitive distraction 
offered by a very slender young boy. At 75,000 feet and Mach 2 and 
above, drag could still be as much a problem as it was at low altitudes 
and fighter-interceptors like the F-16. Every few seconds my eyes 
flickered as my attention was diverted to Juan.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh! I'm working on a paper that I have to present tomorrow 
morning," I answered absently as I endeavored to refocus my thoughts.

"Are you from L.A.?"

His soprano voice sang in my ears with reedy though musical 
disruption. "Me? From L.A.? No! I live in Galveston. Do you know where 
that is?" I replied as I shoved the papers to one side and looked at 
him.

He smiled sheepily. "It's in Texas, like it's on the Gulf of 
Mexico, right?"

I nodded with surprise. So much for the propaganda put out by the 
National Geographic Society that today's kids have no knowledge of 
geography. He followed up immediately with another question.

"What are you doing here? Are you on holidays?"

"I already told you. Well kind of," I corrected. "I'm here for two 
days. I came to present a paper at a conference tomorrow morning."

Juan grinned and shifted into an even more comfortable position in 
his chair. His legs draped over one armrest while his back was against 
the other, he was the image of absolute indolence and very unlike the 
frightened boy who had pushed his way into my room. I began to sense 
that this was one very complex boy. Again I wondered what his problem 
was and what had caused the terror that I had observed only a few 
minutes earlier. I went back to work reluctantly.

Another question came before the minute was out. "What kind of 
paper is it, Matt?"

"It's got to do with making planes fly more efficiently," I 
replied. It was a gross oversimplification but there was no point in 
describing the complexities of polymers and air friction to a boy who 
couldn't have been more than ten or eleven years old. "How old are you, 
Juan?" I asked without even thinking. 

"Twelve." There was a long pause and again I tried to concentrate 
on my work. "My birthday's today," he offered.

 I smiled. "Well congratulations, Juan. Happy twelfth birthday." 
Immediately I wondered what a twelve-year-old boy was doing wandering 
around a hotel on his birthday. I tried to resume my study of the 
simulation results for the F-16 and then suddenly remembered that I had 
not really answered the boy's question. "I'm working on a certain type 
of polymer, that's a kind of plastic. It's very slippery, rather like 
teflon."

"That's the stuff they put on the bottom of frying pans," he 
offered quickly. He hesitated and stretched himself out by arching his 
back like a lithe, graceful feline. "So food doesn't stick on it. If you 
painted it over an aeroplane it would probably make the plane fly 
faster, right?"

I perked up and grinned at my young friend. "That's the basic 
idea. Only the polymer that I've been using is a lot better than 
teflon."

"Can you fly planes as well?"

"Fly? Me? Yeah, I used to. The last time I was at the stick was 
about ten years ago, I guess."

"I'm going to be a pilot. My dad,..." he began and then paused, 
"My dad was a pilot. He used to fly Hornets,... uh, F-18's off a a flat-
top out of Subic Bay," he announced proudly.

I sensed that the boy was inventing his story again, however there 
was no way to be sure. I wondered how many boys knew the lingo and I 
suspected that many did. I nodded.

"Your dad must be a good pilot, Juan. That's about as hard as it 
gets. I trained on F-5's for a while after I finished college. It was 
right at the end of Vietnam and they were brand new then. Talk about an 
awesome ride. Not like a Hornet, of course, but back then nothing came 
close to them."

Juan nodded in return and thought for a moment. He breathed out 
slowly before he looked up. "I think my dad's dead," he said quietly.



At that moment there was a knock on the door and a voice announced 
room service. I put my papers back on the bed and started towards the 
door. I stopped as my hand reached for the lock and I turned around. 
Juan had moved adroitly across the room and was partially concealed 
behind the bed where I had been lying only a few moments earlier. He 
grinned at me cheekily, waved his hand, and dropped from my sight as he 
slid downwards to disappear beneath the bed. He reappeared only seconds 
after the waiter, having delivered the tray and pocketed his two dollar 
tip, finally closed the door behind him. We were alone again.

The boy closed on the food like a hungry vulture, circled the 
table, and pounced even before I had locked the door again. By the time 
I came back he was halfway through the first hamburger and had made a 
good-sized dent in the french fries. The Eldorado was not only generous 
in size but it was also evidently good tasting if one judged by the 
hungry smacks of his mouth masticating and the dribble of sauce that 
oozed down his chin. He grinned between bites, each time taking a 
mouthful that defied good manners and seemingly contradicted the size 
of his jaws. Watching Juan eat was a fascinating experience, a 
delectable diversion that was as enjoyable as the hamburger he 
consumed. It was only with the greatest will power that I turned back to 
my notes and the F-16 simulation results.

"Are you married?" he piped almost as soon as my attention had 
focused on the numbers.

I looked up, startled, though not in the least bit upset. Then, as 
I tried to remember his question, all I could think of were the other 
times that I had tolerated no interruptions. My impatience did not 
endear me to either my wife or my children.

"You are, aren't you?" he followed up between loud chewing sounds.

"You're gross!" I laughed. "Do you think you could try to eat with 
your mouth closed."

Juan shook his head and took an absurdly large bite of the 
hamburger. I laughed again as it disappeared and then reappeared 
between the brilliant flash of his teeth.

"I'm not gross!" he denied hotly. "Man, this is a great burger, 
maybe the best I've ever had. You're married, aren't you?" he asked 
again.

"Huh? Who? Me? Married?"

"Who do you think I was talking to? Your pillow?" he giggled 
cheekily. "Are you married?" he persisted.

I shared his amusement. The very thought of him asking the pillow 
if it was married was suddenly ridiculously funny and we began to laugh. 
We laughed until we were hysterical, until tears formed in our eyes, 
until Juan almost choked on what remained of the burger.

"Yes, I'm married," I finally choked out. "But not to my pillow," 
I added with attempted seriousness.

"I guess not," he observed slyly. His smile grew to a smirk and 
then became a lewd grin before he finally collapsed and amid boisterous 
guffaws, proclaimed, "It'd be hard to do it with your pillow."

"Do what?" I asked with barely controlled innocence.

"You know!" he eventually managed.

"No I don't! Do what with my pillow?" I feigned as I examined the 
pillow beside me with an exaggerated scrutiny.

Juan snorted derisively as he struggled to control his laughter. 
"It'd be hard to do it,... you know,... it would be hard to FUCK it," he 
chortled.

"I think it'd be a lot worse than hard, it'd be darned near 
impossible. Why don't you try it and see for yourself," I said slowly.

 I picked the pillow up, glanced sideways at my young friend, and 
sent the pillow flying in his general direction. It caught him on the 
side of the head with a glancing blow and we both laughed long and hard. 
I could not remember when I had laughed so much. It was only with the 
greatest difficulty that I managed to regain my composure and present a 
sense of mature responsibility. Juan was considerably more interested 
in puerile behavior. He swivelled around in his chair, managed to pick 
up the pillow with a contortion that defied human anatomy, and held it 
between his legs. Red-faced from his laughter, he met my eyes and with 
a salacious grin, pretended as if he was about to hump into the soft 
white mound. Even though things were rapidly getting out of hand, for a 
moment I contemplated letting him go unrebuked. I wondered how far he 
would go. The mere thought of seeing the boy become sexually aroused was 
both thrilling and frightening. With the utmost effort, I dragged my 
eyes away from his playful entertainment.

"That's enough fun for now," I said sternly. "I've got hours of 
work to do, Juan."

Reprimanded, he shuddered and the grin vanished from his face. 
"Sorry," he mumbled.

He began to eat again, only slower. He was no longer the 
boisterous, excitable boy of a few minutes earlier. I preferred him the 
way he had been before I interrupted the game. He finished everything 
except one slice of tomato and half of a bun. He burped noisily, 
exhibiting the crudity of a pre-teen male enjoying life. I looked up 
again. It was impossible to be angry with him for more than a few 
minutes. He smiled shyly.

"I'm sorry, Matt," he murmured. "Thanks for the burgers and all 
that."

"That's okay. It was a pleasure," I added.

His smiled widened immediately and he began to clean up the mess 
on the table. 

"Do you have any kids?" he asked curiously.

"Huh? Kids? Are you asking me or the pillow?" I teased.

"You? Let's not start that again. So do you?"

"Two, kind of!" I replied.

"What sort of answer is 'two kinda'? You either have them or you 
don't," he added.

"Well, I'm not their real father," I explained. "They're both 
girls. There's Cassie, she's almost eleven, and Julie, she's, uh, 
fourteen, I think."

"How long have you been their stepfather?"

"Hmmm? Nearly four years, I guess. I think Cassie turned seven 
right after they moved in with me."

"You like Cassie the most," Juan observed swiftly. "Is she 
pretty?"

"Pretty? Yes, I'd say so."

"I think you'd make a great dad," he said thoughtfully. "I think 
they're lucky." He considered me for a moments as he scratched the back 
of his head. "So what's you wife's name?"

I laughed. "Hey what is this, twenty questions? Leah, if you must 
know."

"It's cool! So, do you love her?" he asked with deceptive 
sweetness.

There it was in the open, expressed so innocently by a boy who I 
had known for less than a half-hour. It was the most perplexing question 
that I had ever tried to answer. My answer was both confusing and 
disturbing.

"I suppose so." I glanced down at my papers guiltily as I imagined 
that the boy had seen through my uncertainty and realized the lie for 
what it was. "Of course, I do," I ended with attempted conviction.

Our eyes met at the precise instant that someone knocked sharply 
on the door. Juan raised his eyebrows quizzically and pointed at the 
tray on the table beside him. Room service again? I doubted it and from 
the expression on the boy's face it appeared as if he shared my 
consternation. Needlessly I raised my finger to my lips and got to my 
feet. The knock was repeated. Perhaps it was the abruptness of it that 
made me cautious. The sound was loud and demanding.

"I think you'd better hide," I whispered. Juan nodded and pointed 
to the bed again. I shook my head. "That's the first place someone would 
look."

The boy blanched and swallowed uneasily. "The bathroom? I could 
get in the shower?" he suggested immediately. His voice, though muted, 
was anxious. Juan was as edgy as I was. There was another knock on the 
door.

Again I shook my head. "That's the second place." I glanced around 
the room. There were no hiding places. Even the closet was open. Without 
doors, the racks of shelves and rail were visible even from the entry 
door. The only hope of concealment was outside the room. I stepped past 
Juan as he picked up his gym bag, pushed the thick brocaded curtains to 
one side, and fumbled with the latch. It had been some time since the 
sliding door had been opened and it jammed in its track after I had 
opened it less than a foot. But twelve inches was more than wide enough 
for my young friend. Through the opening, the noise of rain seemed 
deafening. It came in sheets, driven by gusts of wind that hammered 
against the door. Juan slid past me, out into the rain and the darkness 
of the balcony beyond. With some difficulty I closed the door after him 
and secured the latch, rearranged the curtain, and started towards the 
door.

"Okay! I'm coming," I shouted in response to yet another knock on 
the door.



Chapter 8. The Drowned Rat

I opened the door without bothering to check in the peephole. 
Three men were in the corridor. They were already several feet back from 
the door and on the point of departure. The man who stepped forward 
first was an assistant manager-type from the hotel. He wore the same 
burgundy-colored jacket and gold-figured insignia as all the hotel 
staff.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm very sorry to disturb you but...," he said 
apologetically.

I interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure you are. What's the problem? I'm 
very busy," I returned angrily.

"I'm sorry sir. These gentlemen are with the FBI. They're in the 
process of searching the hotel. If it isn't a problem they would like to 
take a look inside your room."

I swallowed anxiously. I had not expected the FBI. I wondered what 
Juan had done. It did not seem possible that he would be involved with 
a Federal crime. It was inconceivable that he had done anything that 
bad. Shoplifting perhaps, maybe even snatching a handbag, but nothing 
worse than that.

"I guess so," I answered hesitantly. "Just be quick about it. I 
have a lot of work I need to do tonight."

I backed away and stood to one side as the two FBI agents entered 
my room. It was a cursory inspection for there was no where to hide 
other than under the beds or in the shower. One man, the taller of the 
two stopped before the sliding door that opened onto the balcony. Again 
I swallowed and desperately tried to control my panic.

"Who are you looking for?" I asked edgily. I wondered whether they 
could sense my agitation, even I could hear the querulous note in my 
voice.

The tall man glanced back at me irritably. "A boy! Maybe ten or 
eleven. He's dressed in sweats and probably carrying a bag of some 
sort."

"A boy about ten?" I asked incredulously. "What on earth has a kid 
that age done to bring in the FBI?"

"Sorry sir," he replied with overstated politeness. "I'm not at 
liberty to discuss that. There's a balcony outside, isn't there? Would 
you mind if we looked outside?"

He stepped towards the door and my heart sunk even further. His 
hand reached out and, like me, fumbled momentarily with the latch. I 
needed a diversion, anything to distract him.

"Um! Look I really have to get back to work," I said as I turned 
to the hotel staff person. "Don't you need a search permit for something 
like this?"

"Not when we have your permission to search, sir. Besides, it'll 
only take a minute more," the other FBI agent insisted. "Then we'll be 
out of the way and you can go back to work."

"Well I'm very busy right now." I gestured to my papers spread 
haphazardly across the bed.

"What are you working on, sir?" the agent asked in a feeble 
attempt to distract me in return. "It looks very interesting."

"Sorry, it's classified. I doubt if you have the clearance, even 
in the FBI," I responded craftily. "In fact you shouldn't even be in 
here."

Under other circumstances my ploy may have been successful but 
even as I considered pursuing it and ordering them out, the door slid 
open and the tall man peered out into the pouring rain for several 
seconds before he turned back into the room. 

"Nothing, Max! It's raining like crazy out there. The kid must 
have gone down another floor or two. Gerry only thought he came out on 
seven. It may have been level six."

The tall agent closed the door again and relatched it and the 
three men started towards the door. It was still open and they passed 
through after extending their gratitude for my cooperation. I locked 
the door after them and took a deep long breath. My heart was pounding 
frantically and I ran back to the window. For the second time in about 
two minutes I clumsily attempted to open the latch. It jammed in a half-
open position and refused to turn any further. 

"Goddamn," I swore loudly.

My struggles were ineffectual and I became increasingly frustrated 
as I turned and twisted the aluminum catch to the point of metal 
fatigue. It was impossible that Juan had been on the balcony and not 
been seen. Then, without warning the latch turned and I slammed the door 
back. The rain was a torrential downpour and I stepped out, oblivious to 
its force. Within a few seconds I was literally soaked to the skin. 
There was no sign of the boy.

I stared fruitlessly at the balcony rail and seriously wondered 
whether he had jumped. The mere thought sickened me and I shuddered with 
revulsion as I approached the handrail and peered over into the 
blackness.

"Juan," I called as loudly as I dared.

I sensed the boy's presence before I actually saw him. He was 
clinging to one of the three diamond-shaped metal panels that made up 
the face of the balcony railing. His bag was slung over his shoulder, 
his fingers clenched the metal tubing with desperation, water streamed 
over him and cascaded in rivulets down his face. 

The boy looked up at me and smiled cheekily. "So, can I come 
inside again if I promise to behave myself?"

"God! You're soaked!" I exclaimed as I reached down to him and 
grasped him firmly by the arms.

"No shit, Matt! It's raining if you didn't notice," he grinned 
back at me.

"Maybe you ought to stay here tonight," I teased.

"Here? Hell no! I guess they've gone?" he asked uncertainly.

I lifted the boy upward and swung him bodily over the railing. 
Even thoroughly soaked, he was not heavy. Then, as his feet reached 
safer ground he grinned at me with sincere appreciation.

"Thanks, Matt," he panted in relief as he wiped his forehead. 
There was a constant stream of water dribbling from his hair. He looked 
like a small drowned animal that one might find after a storm.

You're very welcome, Juan," I returned graciously. "You look like 
a drowned rat, you poor thing."

I locked my arm around his slender shoulders and was at once 
startled by the apparent fragility of the boy. He was shivering and his 
teeth chattered. Even as I escorted him back into the room he began 
shaking. The extent of his stress was very disturbing. With every step 
Juan became more disquieted until he was trembling uncontrollably. 
Water dripped from both of us as we entered the room. It was impossible 
to tell where the rainwater ended and his tears began. He sobbed 
endlessly, wailing from deep inside his chest with a fearful moan. That 
sound frightened me more than anything else that evening. I felt 
helpless as I regarded the young boy. He needed my support but I was 
unsure of what I needed to do beyond drying him off and getting him 
warm. With my arm reassuringly around his shoulders, I guided him into 
the bathroom and positioned him so that he leaned against the vanity. 
The bag dropped from his shoulder onto the floor. He was too exhausted 
to care what happened.

I lifted his water-saturated top upwards, dragging it over his 
head and along his thin, tanned arms. It fell to the floor in a sodden 
heavy mass. Without even stopping to think what I was about and aware 
only of the need to eliminate the cause of his physical discomfort and 
increase his body temperature, I knelt down before him. I clasped the 
cold cloth of his wringing-wet sweat pants and tugged them down to his 
feet. I had expected to find underpants and fully intended to leave him 
dressed only in that last vestige of modesty. He was wore nothing 
underneath. For the first time in my adult life I was confronted by a 
naked boy, and as I immediately realized, a very beautiful young boy. 
Nothing could have prepared me for the shock I faced.

I am not prudish by any means. It was not impossible for me to 
imagine being sexually aroused by a young girl and occasionally my 
private fantasies had gone in that direction. Indeed, my stepdaughters 
had an undesirable effect on me sometimes when my guard was down. With 
increasing frequency, I had even begun to think of Cassie as being not 
only sexy, but highly desirable. But a young boy?

In the cold outside and in response to his fear, Juan's genitals 
had shrivelled. His stubby, little penis and wrinkled scrotum were all 
but asexual. His genitals provided only mere traces of his maleness and 
yet I became charged with a previously unknown excitement. I was not 
aroused like I would be by my wife, or even by her youngest daughter. I 
experienced a wild, mind-shaking thrill that quickly became so intense 
that the probability of a stroke did not seem to be farfetched.

Juan's entire, shivering, wet body was covered in the tiny pimples 
of gooseflesh and I grabbed a towel and began to urgently dry him off. 
However, my response was as much directed by concern for his well being 
as it was for my own. The sight of him, standing naked and unprotected 
before me, chilled my spine. I quaked with each rub of his lithe body. 
Each touch of his cold, though very alive flesh sent a weird panic 
through me. I dried off his torso as I tried to direct my attention away 
from his perfect body by cloaking his nudity whenever possible in the 
thick, white towel. Each time I covered him for as long as I could stand 
to be without refreshing the object of my desire. Time and time again I 
patted, brushed, and grazed the smooth skin of his bare body, only to 
reveal more of him as my urge to see him became uncontrollable. Again 
and again I lifted the towel away to study his absolute perfection. He 
was very beautiful, even to my jaded eyes.

And then I dried his legs, briskly massaging the firm lean muscles 
as I worked my way from his feet to his thighs. I rubbed his buttocks 
thoroughly and swiftly worked the towel into the deep recess of his 
crack. He did not seem to mind my violation of his privacy but I avoided 
his groin assiduously, instinctively knowing that if I touched him 
there, it was over. But what was over? It was not that he would reject 
me because there were ample signs that he did not mind my gentle 
towelling, indeed he seemed to appreciate the attention as he gradually 
warmed and ceased shivering. No, if I touched him there, I would have to 
accept the consequences of my action. I would have to admit, if only to 
myself, that a twelve-year-old boy had awakened in me the most 
frightening and depraved desires that a man can feel.

His bare skin reddened quickly but I continued to agitate his 
sensitive body with the abrasive towel. I wanted to stop but I could 
not. I wanted to go on touching him forever. Finally, only one small 
part of him remained untouched. To continue to dry him off when he was 
already completely dry and tingling from my exertions, was ridiculous. 
I stopped and slowly came to me feet, placed a dry towel around his 
shoulders, and gave him a brief friendly hug.

"Okay, it looks like you're still alive," I teased, "Why don't you 
go into the other room and get under the covers and warm up."

"Thanks Matt," he murmured gratefully. "I already feel better. I 
was scared stiff that I wouldn't be able to hang onto the railing much 
longer. I thought I was going to die any second. If you hadn't come out 
when you did, I know I would have fallen."

"That's okay," I acknowledged. "It was the FBI, Juan. They were 
looking for a ten or eleven-year-old boy. I know they were looking for 
you!"

Juan shrugged. "I'm twelve." It was a harmless denial. I smiled at 
him gently and he beamed back at me. "You're wet too," he observed after 
a while. "Maybe I'd better dry you off now," he suggested happily.

My penis was as hard as iron, a complete and absolute contrast to 
the tiny, limp organ between Juan's legs. I shook my head as I tried to 
direct him out of the bathroom with a gentle shove. The boy made it 
patently clear that he intended to stay with me until I was as dry as he 
was. With his slender legs braced he looked at me with resolution, 
raising a single eyebrow in direct challenge to my authority. I grinned 
back at him.

"I think I can dry myself off," I said.

Again he shrugged. "We're both guys," he observed with a smile. 
"You don't have anything that I don't have. Except your's is a whole lot 
bigger than mine, of course."

It was impossible not to like him. It was, as I also discovered, 
impossible to resist him. Just the mere intonation of his precious 
soprano voice was enough to bend me to his will. I started to undress, 
not only to humor him, but because I wanted him to see me as naked as he 
was. I wondered what effect I would have on the boy, hoping that it 
would be similar to the effect that he had on me. However, the chance 
that a twelve-year-old boy would be turned on by a man who was old 
enough to be his father was incredibly remote. I hoped against all 
reason that he would not reject me.

To my surprise he was interested, that much at least was obvious. 
Juan leaned back against the vanity and watched as I unfastened the 
buttons of my shirt and dropped it on top of his water-logged clothes. 
His eyes flickered over my chest. He was visibly fascinated by what he 
saw. I took a deep breath and unfastened my belt and opened the zipper 
of my trousers. They were the bottom half of my best suit, the one that 
I had planned to wear the next morning for my presentation. All thoughts 
of my presentation evaporated in the face of what I now confronted. 
Juan's eyes were riveted on my hands as I began to push my trousers 
downward.

That my penis was erect was obvious well before my underpants came 
into view. I observed Juan's piqued interest even as he observed the 
results of my interest in him. His eyes opened wide and there was a hint 
of a smile as the corners of his perfect mouth twitched. I bent forward 
at the waist, removed my socks and trousers, and straightened up again. 
Juan's breathing had slowed to deep inhalations that signaled his 
efforts to control his excitement. We gazed at each other uncertainly 
and with considerable interest. The boy was naked except for the towel 
draped over his shoulders. For one so young, he was remarkably 
uninhibited. His bare body was shamelessly exposed for me to see and 
appreciate, it was as if he had been nude for all of his twelve years. 
He grinned with unabashed amusement and adopted a lewd pose with his 
hands on his hips.

I was naked except for my damp underpants and they concealed my 
very stiff penis insofar as it was possible to hide a massive bulge. But 
what was really confusing was my sudden and overwhelming nervousness. I 
was uptight, forestalled by many years of conditioning that proscribed 
my excitement as taboo. I did not want the boy to see my penis although 
I was perfectly content to scrutinize his flawless body. I started to 
dry myself off. I was nowhere as wet as Juan had been.

"Not fair," he whispered huskily. "You have to strip as well."

"That's probably not a good idea," I muttered.

"Why not? I have seen a man's cock before, you know. It doesn't 
bother me that you've got a hard-on," Juan said impudently. He looked 
downward to my groin with a blatant stare. The boy did not blush. 
Instead his eyes opened wide with profligate interest in my anatomy.

"What if it bothers me?" I asked.

He smiled as he shrugged. He continued to stare at me as I tried 
to wipe myself dry and cover the evidence of my arousal, wondering as I 
did so whether the boy suspected that my penis was that way only because 
of him. Nearly a minute passed before the brooding silence between us 
was broken.

"Have you ever done it with a boy?" Juan asked curiously.

"What?" 

"You heard me!" he smirked incorrigibly. "Have you?" he repeated 
licentiously.

"With a boy?" I repeated. Juan nodded. I shook my head and he 
smiled.

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you," he stated with conviction. It 
was not a question. It was a statement of fact. "I know you're thinking 
about it. That's why he's so stiff. Well, isn't it, Matt?" he asked 
persistently.

His voice was lustful. No longer able to control his dissolute 
desire, he was quickly become more excited. It showed in the gradual 
stiffening of his own penis. With every downward glance I watched it 
lengthen and lift upwards a fraction.

"No!" I countered the instant that I realized the effect that I 
was having on the boy.

I could feel the heat rising with the blood into my neck, flushing 
my face to a crimson shade of embarrassment. He simpered with a knowing 
look at my aroused penis. He knew exactly what had caused my erection. 
It was the same thing that explained the heat in his own groin. I was 
turning him on just as he had aroused me.

"It's because you're married, isn't it?" he demanded. "Is it 
because you're afraid she'll find out,... or because you might like it?"

I tensed as I fought against his truthful appraisal of my dilemma. 
I was unsure myself. Was I attracted to young boys? My penis certainly 
appeared to think so and apparently even a twelve-year-old child 
thought so as well. Was my reluctance because of my marriage? I had 
married late in life when most other men had already raised their 
children to grade school or even high school age. Had my marriage to 
Leah been nothing more than a last resort to avoid the loneliness that 
accompanies getting older. I had often wondered. And for that matter, 
what did Leah see in me beyond a provider for her children after her 
previous husband had stopped paying child support.

I sighed and straightened up, more uncertain than ever about my 
life. Had I been living a lie? I tried to take my eyes away from the 
naked, brown body before me. It was impossible for me to look elsewhere 
for more than a few seconds. His short, squat penis was now very hard. 
It jutted into the air like a proud little soldier standing at 
attention. Each breath I took was a deliberate effort, a slow controlled 
attempt to focus my thoughts and redirect my interest to something other 
than Juan's genitals and his lithe, smooth body. I was not prepared for 
the momentous decision that confronted me. I wanted so much to say 
something that would provide the impetus for the two of us to take 
advantage of our natural inclinations. I also wanted to say no, to go 
about my life without entering a forbidden zone that could bring nothing 
but unhappiness. Now that he was also sexually aroused, Juan was not 
about to allow me to escape so easily.

"I,... I guess. I don't know," I said sadly as I shook my head. 

His lips pursed and for an instant I sensed that the youngster was 
as dejected as I was. Perhaps that was what bothered me more than 
anything else, much more than his rigid penis that pointed directly up 
at me in a direct challenge. On the evening of his twelfth birthday, his 
life had been reduced to this; to a sordid and shameful association with 
a stranger in a hotel room. It was a time when he should have been 
having innocent fun with his friends and extracting the essence of life 
itself. Juan was no longer a child, some where that had been stolen from 
him. Under any normal circumstances he should have been living with the 
freedom and energy of youth as he took the first stumbling steps towards 
manhood. Instead he was here with me on the brink of debauchery that he 
should have no knowledge of. 

"Do you want to do it with a boy?" he asked softly. He was still 
determined as he pursued his desire with relentless eroticism.

I clenched my teeth to avoid making the answer that I wanted to 
make. The force of my desire, submerged deep inside me like an archaic 
and undeveloped seed, exploded. My desire burgeoned like an orgasmic 
release from captivity of reason, prudence, and morality. I nodded. Our 
eyes met briefly and realization sparked between us.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Juan?" I questioned as my 
interest mounted. My penis seemed to inflate, swelling even more until 
the veins were distended and the glans was dilated in a dark, bulbous 
mushroom.

"What do you think?" he giggled."I already know I'm gay and 
besides, I'm old enough to know what I want to do." 

"I guess so but maybe you're way too young to do what you want," I 
argued pointlessly.

"My age has nothing to do with it. Anyway, if you must know, I've 
already done it before."

"Having sex with boys your own age isn't the same," I proposed in 
a feeble effort to impede the speed at which we were racing towards the 
inevitable confrontation that lay before us.

"I haven't done it with another boy, yet." Juan giggled cheekily. 
"Boys aren't the same anyway."

"Then?..."

"Don't be a dumb ass. Of course you aren't the first grown-up I've 
done it with."

"That doesn't make it right," I countered.

"It doesn't make it wrong either," he smirked smartly.

"You do it for money, don't you Juan?" I asked distastefully. That 
was the only explanation for his aggressive and corrupted behavior.

"Maybe! Okay, sometimes! Only I want to do it this time, okay," he 
retorted. "You don't have to pay me," he added.

"Is it because I helped you earlier? You don't have to do this. 
You don't owe me anything. I helped you because I liked you and you 
needed help."

"Not exactly! If you don't want to do it with me, then fine. I 
don't care," Juan added angrily as his tension elevated.

I sighed. "Juan, it isn't that I don't want to," I said honestly. 
"I do! I really want to. It's just that, hell, I'm old enough to be your 
father. I really don't think it's right."

"But you want to?" Juan asked uncertainly as he tilted his head to 
one side quizzically.

"God! Juan, look at me! My cock has never been this hard in forty-
two years. Of course I want to. I want to more than anything in the 
world." I declared.

"If you really want to, and I want to, then why shouldn't we? No 
one is going to know besides us," he affirmed. "Your wife won't know 
unless you tell her." 

We gazed at each other, each knowing the negotiation had been 
concluded. My penis dwarfed that of the twelve-year-old boy. His 
delicate little organ was easily overpowered by my seven-plus inches of 
aching stiffness as it protruded like a ramrod into my briefs. There was 
a primitive magnetism that hovered between us, of animalistic origins 
that predated Christianity. By the standards of contemporary morality 
we were depraved, although we would never be so judged by ancient 
standards. For us, the union of man and boy was entirely appropriate.

"You better take off your undies," Juan teased joyfully. "They're 
dripping, but I think it's only water."

 I did what the boy asked, barely cognizant of his vulgar 
appraisal of my arousal. I eased the damp cotton cloth away from my hips 
and dragged it downward and outward so that my erect penis sprung free 
of its confinement. I shoved them away, well past my knees until they 
were sufficiently loose on my legs to slide the rest of the way to the 
tiled floor. I stepped free and stood up straight to confront the boy 
with my naked and very excited body. He appraised me with what should 
have been an inexperienced eye, but was not.

"You've good a really big one, Matt," he observed with 
considerable awe.

"It's not that big," I denied with a quick smile at the visibly 
entranced youngster. For more than a minute his eyes had not left my 
genitals.

"Maybe you should let me be the judge of that!" he replied 
mischievously.

"Okay! So what's your basis for comparison, Juan?" I teased. "How 
many men's cocks have you seen, anyway?"

It was a stupid thing to say but my curiosity was aroused. The boy 
grinned and continued to examine my distended penis from a safe 
distance. He raised his eyebrows, a playful admonition that he knew far 
more than he was letting on. 

"I've seen plenty of them," he admitted with a sly smile.

"It sounds to me like you've been checking them out at the 
urinal," I said with an exaggerated sideways glance. "Of course, I 
expect you haven't seen too many stiff ones."

His smile widened and he started to laugh. "Okay! But I have seen 
a few hard ones and yours is the biggest."

"So how come a boy your age has seen a few hard-ons?" I asked.

"Why do you think?" he retorted.

I shrugged sadly. "You already said that you did it for money. I 
expect you've done it a lot."

"I've only done this a couple of times. That is what you want to 
know, isn't Matt?" I nodded awkwardly. "So I know what happens, okay?" 
Juan added confidently.

I swallowed and sighed quietly. Despite my continuing excitement, 
in a way I also felt very depressed. "Did you do it for money with all 
of them?"

The boy shrugged. "That's my business. I do what I want to do, 
okay?" He glanced at the ceiling and his eyes focused on the heating, 
lamp, and ventilator fixture. "I only did it with one guy for money," he 
said quietly. "The other guy, well he was sort of a friend."

He paused as if the admission was painful to him. He was still 
young and despite his sexual precocity, he still had some of the natural 
honesty and innocence of childhood.

"If you must know, I've only done it once before for money. I was 
supposed to do it again tonight. That's why I'm here. We kind of started 
but we had to stop before anything really happened."

"Because of the police?" I suggested.

Juan nodded. He reached out and took my hand in his. The warm 
softness of his small hand enclosed mine. He leaned forward until his 
bare belly brushed against me. It was a delicious feeling as firm, silky 
smooth flesh touched me. His hand tightened on mine and my rigid penis 
compressed into his belly and lower chest. He moved from side to side, 
rubbing our bodies in a gentle embrace, squeezing ever tighter against 
me as his other arm locked behind me. The sensation of his skin against 
mine sent electrifying thrills up and down my spine and made my penis 
throb with unparalleled joy. Unable to resist the boy, my free hand 
slipped down his lean back and lovingly clasped his buttocks to draw him 
harder against me. He continued to rock his hips in an undulating motion 
that agitated my penis to such hardness that it was painful. Even my 
testicles were pushed from side to side as they squashed into him, 
compressed into his flat, muscled stomach somewhere in the region below 
his tiny navel.

"Maybe we should do this in the bedroom?" I suggested with throaty 
excitement.



Chapter 9. For Money or Love



Juan nodded. Still hand in hand, we walked back into the bedroom. 
There were two beds but the one nearest the window was where I had been 
working earlier. With naked, beautiful Juan standing by my side, there 
was no choice. My priorities had been rearranged in a way that I had 
never dreamed possible. My presentation could wait until the next 
morning. The discarded papers, reports, and computer printout that 
covered the bed were suddenly of little interest to me. I turned to the 
adjoining bed and hurriedly yanked the bedspread back. The sheets were 
brilliant white, virginal and untouched. It was I reflected, a perfect 
setting for the sodomy of a twelve-year-old boy.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.

Juan nodded. He smiled and climbed onto the bed, pushing the 
bedspread and the top sheet back as he went. He lay down and looked 
fixedly at me. His dark eyes sparkled with such intensity that I 
shivered. He swallowed and then licked his lips as he continued to study 
me. Within, he felt a confused desire that was far stronger than 
anything he had known before. However, even as he trembled with growing 
excitement, Bruce's words haunted him. His heightened arousal was 
accompanied by a painful, guilty anger. A boy had sex either 'for money 
or love'. That was what Bruce had said. Only there was no money 
involved. In those first lonely seconds by himself on the bed, Juan knew 
that he wanted to be loved more than anything else. He had never been 
loved in twelve years.

"Yeah, I want to," Juan said hoarsely.

He lay down on his side, placing his left hand under his head as 
he reclined in the large fluffy pillows. Again I marvelled at the 
beautiful, naked boy, entranced by the smooth perfect body displayed 
before me, his dark skin hairless and lustrous under the yellow light 
from the bed lamp. My interest was concentrated on his groin just as his 
eyes were fixed on mine. It was, I realized, a mutual attraction. What 
Juan found so stimulating in a man who was old enough to be his father 
was matched by my corresponding fascination in his immature sexuality. 
I trembled like a virgin on her first night. By contrast, Juan looked 
remarkably relaxed although the same could hardly be said for his penis. 
It defied gravity and stayed parallel to the center line of his body. 
His scrotum had retracted fully and had become a small wrinkled lump 
that all but concealed the shallow swellings of his testicles.

"Are we gonna get it off or are you going to stare at me all 
night?" he giggled cheerfully.

I reddened slightly. My hesitation came from inexperience, from 
not knowing what came next. I wondered how a man and boy had sex. Did it 
mean that I was gay? Did getting it off in Juan's lexicon really mean 
that he intended for us to engage in anal sex? I moved closer to the bed 
and slowly eased down until I lay beside him. We faced each other and I 
looked into the boy's deep, dark eyes. Like magical pools, they absorbed 
my gaze. I was captivated. I imagined that I could see so far into him 
that I saw the boy's soul. In the silence of the moment, I was awed by 
the wonderful mystery that lay before me. His slender body seemed to 
quiver with excitement. I sensed the sweet warmth of his breath, the 
radiant heat of his naked flesh, the aura of youth, the anticipation of 
discovering his sexuality. It would take only a few brief minutes before 
I experienced the joy of satisfying his body and gratifying my own 
needs.

Side by side, the difference between our bodies was less important 
than the thirty-year difference in our ages. In the bathroom I had 
towered over the young boy much as my penis dominated his own puny sex 
organs. Juan's 70 pounds and 55 inches were not only considerably less 
than my 175 pounds and 72 inches but his smooth sleek nakedness and 
less-than-three-inch erect penis was a sharp contrast to my aged body 
and seven swollen inches of adult phallus. Now, the size and 
powerlessness of his body seemed to become less significant. That Juan 
had been, and probably still was a prostitute no longer bothered me. In 
fact, it added to the titillation as I began to contemplate the 
possibility of intercourse. Although his youth would always be a factor 
in any relationship we might explore, his physical capacity was not in 
question.

"Well?" he grinned temptingly.

I decided to play hard to get. I smiled slightly. "What happens 
now is up to you, my young friend."

He smirked as he reached down and the tips of his fingers caressed 
the length of my penis. His touch was feathery and his fingers floated 
back and forth. One small finger traced a line to the tip, circling in 
the juice that leaked out. He smeared it over my glans as he smiled 
tantalizingly. My penis throbbed mercilessly as his fingers grazed over 
it, stroking against the glistening glans with tormenting repetition.

"I bet you like that," he observed. I groaned in ecstasy. "Yeah," 
thought you did. Your precum is really pissing out, Matt."

He squeezed the tumescent bulb and inflicted the most excruciating 
pleasure until it inflated to a purple turgidity that was unfamiliar to 
me. He grinned crudely as he milked the clear fluid from the slit. It 
was a vexing smile that electrified me and denied his tender years as 
his lips formed a circle. It was intended to whet my appetite and kindle 
a desire that ignited a fire inside me. Juan was impossible to resist. 
I nodded eagerly and pushed his shoulder. I guided the eager boy 
downward to his self-appointed task.

"I'm not gonna suck him yet," Juan proclaimed. "We have to use a 
rubber for that, okay."

"Okay," I grunted. "God you feel so good, Juan."

I watched his tousled head, amused by the continuing delectable 
touch of his fingers as he harassed my sex organs. Silently, he provided 
an unseen agony as each tender caress extracted delight. I stroked his 
soft long hair, musing as the boy indulged me, savoring each and every 
second as I waited. I was in nirvana when I sensed the warm moistness of 
his breath. Every nerve ending in my body tingled but they were 
concentrated on my distended penis.

His lips and tongue were softer than anything I have ever felt. So 
soft was his first contact, that at first it did not seem possible that 
his mouth had actually touched my shaft, but he had. Under his gentle 
lips, the skin of my penis became wet and slippery. His small tongue 
licked along the length of my penis, from my scrotum to just short of 
the glans, tickling and tantalizing me to almost delirious delight. He 
rubbed it against his cheek, crooning to himself as he massaged my 
testicles with his thin, strong fingers. Every few seconds he would 
glance up at me expectantly and I smiled back radiantly. Each time he 
raised his eyebrows and went back to work with greater passion than 
before. Juan was not showing off, he simply was exulting in his ability 
to make me happy.

The urge to return the pleasure intensified until I could no 
longer stand it. I wanted Juan to feel as good as I did, although I 
expected that he derived a certain thrill from what he was doing to me.

"Okay," I finally gasped. "Now it's my turn. Come on, kid, let me 
see your beautiful, little dick."

My hands moved to his hips and I clumsily repositioned him. I 
intended to gratify him orally, to give him the same glorious bliss that 
I felt but the angle was all wrong. What should have been a mutually 
satisfying 69 was physically impossible even when he straddled my face 
and leaned forward to lay above me. His small genitals were underneath 
him, located somewhere between our bodies where they were inaccessible 
to me. Although he could hump against my belly, the only way I could 
bring my mouth to its intended target was to position him so that he 
could reach only the tip of my penis.

I lifted my head up and looked along his bare back. The little 
bumps of his spine were visible from his hairline all the way to the 
start of his buttocks. His cheeks were small and deliciously firm like 
two canteloupe halves but of a vastly smoother texture. Although the 
narrow cleft between his cheeks widened at either end, his opening was 
still concealed from my view. Instinctively my hands grasped the soft 
skin and as I felt the resilient flesh of his buttocks, I opened him to 
the world. Juan was not a virgin, that much was clearly evident in the 
fullness of his little anus. The rim was reddened and puffy, in all 
probability still swollen from a recent invasion. He had been 
interrupted, or so he had told me, and I guessed the interruption had 
occurred at an inopportune time for his companion, if not for me. But 
despite my misgivings, his little, dark brown hole was intensely 
arousing. I studied it carefully as Juan continued his own playful 
examination of my penis and testicles. That tiny, partially dilated 
opening into his body fascinated me in a way that I had never imagined. 
Captivated, I touched the little node. It was surprisingly slippery as 
I felt the moist heat that emanated from his body.

"Ohhhh!" Juan gasped. "Man!"

I recoiled with the vivid impression that I had soiled his 
innocence with my vulgar inspection. 

He groaned. "No, don't stop. I want you to," he instructed and his 
buttocks pressed back at me as his knees moved up and forward. "That 
feels so nice."

His cheeks opened wider of their own accord and he presented his 
alluring aperture for my scrutiny. The breach of his orifice was 
partially displayed and I saw the crimson of his rectum as it 
disappeared into him. It was a new beginning for me. Enchanted, I 
stroked the sensitive perimeter, encircling the tiny hole as I inhaled 
deeply. Except for the pleasant aroma of soap from a freshly washed 
body, there was no smell.

"Yeah, just like that, Matt. Ohhh! Yeah, I like it. Right there is 
cool!"

Again my finger travelled around the tight radius of his little 
orifice and then cautiously I probed into the very center. Juan sighed 
and trembled slightly. I hesitated as I wondered what he felt. His 
response was encouraging and I pressed my finger further into him. It 
burrowed into the soft tissue of his anus. Juan shifted slightly, 
aligning the axis of his body with my inquisitive digit. He wiggled his 
hips seductively. Bewitched by the boy, I penetrated a little further 
into him by applying a slow, constant pressure.

"Oh, God!," he moaned quietly. "Yeah, Matt!, That feels so good."

I did not stop until my finger was ensconced beyond the second 
joint and he was quivering with delight. That the boy enjoyed the 
feelings I gave him only served to entice me further into him. It was 
only when my finger was fully inside him as far as it could go that I 
realized how easy it had been. The lining of his rectum was surprisingly 
slippery and my finger moved without restraint on a generous film of 
lubricant until my knuckles were hard against his crevice. It felt as 
though my finger was enclosed in a wet, hot tube. It did not feel overly 
constricted, but it was very alive as momentary cramping spasms 
tightened on my finger and squeezed.

"That feels really awesome. Move your finger around a bit, Matt," 
Juan instructed. I twisted my finger and stroked the sensitive tissue 
inside him. He groaned and shuddered as my finger brushed against his 
prostate. "Yeah," he moaned. "Right there! Do it there!" he commanded 
abruptly.

Again, as I rotated my finger inside his bowel and pushed 
forcefully into what appeared to me to be a highly sensitive spot, I 
wondered how recently Juan had been penetrated. I had no way of actually 
knowing that he had been, but it seemed to me that he was so relaxed and 
spongy that it could not have been more than an hour or two at the most. 
There was no sign of the tight, puckered anus that I had expected to 
find on a boy and the presence of the clear slime-like lubricant 
confirmed my worst suspicions. Although I could not help but feel 
envious as I wondered who Juan's companion had been, I was not jealous 
as I considered how much he had paid for the boy's affections. How much 
was a boy like Juan worth? A lot, I guessed.

"Am I doing it right?" I asked as I resolved to take my pleasure 
as I found it. Already the pressure inside his bowel was fading and my 
finger moved easier. The tube-like rectum dilated quickly, softening 
with every cautious stab of my finger until the firmness of his 
sphincter was gone.

I was very curious as to the source of what was obviously 
providing a greatly enhanced delight for the young boy. Juan's hips 
forced back, straining with a frenzied tension. His movements became 
increasingly desperate as he pumped erratically against my finger with 
a wretched and ardent passion that was very disturbing to me.

"Yeah!" Juan gasped. "Yeah! That's where I want it, Matt. Just do 
it right there, okay!"

His hips jerked spasmodically as he took control. Capriciously, I 
yanked my finger away from its hot mushy container. The boy's response 
was startling as he sprang back, raising his hindquarters so that my 
finger was immediately impaled again.

"You must really like that," I teased. "Feels pretty good huh?"

I twisted my finger and stabbed it downwards and rubbed into his 
belly, aiming for the place where he seemed to experience the greatest 
pleasure. In the loose tissue there seemed to be a firmer region, a tiny 
bulge that greeted my finger. I squashed it back and Juan yelped. 
However, even in my ignorance, I knew that his cry was not from pain.

"Yeah," I added. "I guess you really like it right about here."

I prodded him again and again, and with every twisting plunge of 
my finger Juan writhed, jerked, and shrieked with boundless delight. I 
was astounded by the boy's thrilling response. I savored the 
contortions of his naked body, his lithe smooth limbs shaking 
uncontrollably as he relished my precise stimulation of a million 
acutely sensitive nerve endings. Each motion seemed unpredictable. Both 
Juan and I were spurred on by a wild and impassioned ecstasy. His 
fulfillment would come only with his orgasm and I fully intended to 
satisfy him. He shuddered violently as he approached the plateau that 
preceded the final precipice, his slender legs tensing until the long 
muscles and tendons were stretched taut.

"Oh!" he groaned. "I never,... Ohhhh! Man, that's so cool. Do 
it,... only harder,... please Matt," Juan pleaded as he gasped for air.

I chuckled at the boy's predicament. Only one finger had brought 
my young friend to the brink of orgasm. One finger had, within a period 
of just a few brief minutes, reduced to boy's rectum to quivering jelly. 
His anus was fully dilated and had loosened to the point that my finger 
moved freely into him. As I pulled away, there was a soft, wet sucking 
sound from his bowel and he whimpered quietly. Two fingers, even three, 
inside his anus would not be an impossible feat. I knew that I had to 
try.

I removed my finger, noticing the slime that covered it was 
slightly yellowish in color and flecked with creamy mucus-like strands. 
With two fingers pressed tightly together, I returned my attention to 
his little gaping hole. The first joint presented no problem and I 
penetrated him without difficulty. However, as my fingers widened my 
progress quickly slowed until it stopped. His anus seemed to be far too 
small to accept my fingers any further than the second joint and as it 
was, my other fingers got in the way.

"You okay, Juan?" I asked softly.

Juan had stopped moving. He lay very still. Only the slight 
trembling of his legs told me that he was conscious. "Am I hurting you?" 
I asked with concern. His head shook.

"I'm all right!" he whispered. "Let me get used to it first."

I shuddered as I sensed the boy's discomfort. I had not wanted to 
hurt him and I slowly withdrew my fingers. Juan's head shook again.

"Don't!" he ordered. "It's okay, really it is. Don't try to force 
them in. It just takes time for it to stretch back there."

I wriggled my fingers and pressed slowly back into his rectum. He 
gasped as his anus was pierced again. "Do it in circles again," he 
instructed and then added, "Do it right where my butt-hole starts. 
That's the best way to make it bigger."

I followed his instructions to the letter. I rotated and wiggled 
my fingers, gyrating into the loose hole with playful twirls and twists, 
but concentrating my efforts on the already protracted rim. The nodal 
bulge of his anus had long since disappeared. Now the slippery flesh 
swelled into his distended opening, diminished slightly at his 
slackened sphincter, and then mushroomed into a much larger cavity 
inside. Suddenly, his anal vent seemed disproportionately large for his 
slender body and I noticed immediately that even the firmness just 
inside his body had evaporated.

I grinned pruriently. Now entranced by the primal smell of his 
gaping anus, I leaned forward until my nose pressed between his 
widespread cheeks. The aroma was intriguing. It was not an unpleasant 
earthy smell, or even a foreign smell. It was a sweet odor, a scent from 
deep inside him that held me spellbound. It seemed familiar, an 
intimation of rising dough, a trace of something musty and dank. It was 
a smell of musk, not unlike the smell of a woman's vagina, although 
infinitely more enticing. It was an aphrodisiac.

I inhaled, enthralled by the bouquet that greeted me as I nuzzled 
into the deep, steamy cleft before me. There, with my nose squashed into 
his nether opening, the odor and the close contact finally overwhelmed 
my inhibitions. I licked him, drawing my tongue along his crevice. I 
pushed into Juan's anus and tasted the raw flavor of his bowel. Like his 
smell, there was a sweetness that I relished. I pushed further, pointing 
my tongue outward as far as it could go, wanting only to be deeper 
inside him.

"Yeahhh!" Juan cried. "Yeah! Do that!!!"

I barely heard him. My mind was filled with carnal thoughts, wild 
and ardent desires, lascivious intentions. I kissed and sucked 
furiously, stabbing my tongue into the mushy softness as Juan's body 
heaved turbulently. I was barely aware that his mouth closed over the 
end of my penis for the first time before his head jerked away.

"I gotta get something, Matt," he cried urgently. "I gotta go to 
the bathroom."

He dragged himself away, clambering over me to the end of the bed 
until he lurched to the floor. For he moment he gazed back at me. He was 
breathing quickly. His entire body seemed to shudder with each breath, 
his chest vellicating. That he was intensely aroused was clearly 
visible but his little penis was no longer erect and I was surprised. It 
had contracted, shrivelling as it withdrew into him until barely an inch 
was visible. With a few changes and very little effort Juan would make 
a remarkably beautiful girl.

He grinned mischievously. "Don't leave! I'll be right back... Oh, 
and keep him nice and hard for me, okay," he ordered.

The boy ran from the room and into the bathroom as I looked down. 
My penis was harder than it had ever been. The shaft glistened with 
Juan's saliva as it throbbed, pulsing with every pounding heartbeat. 
The glans was nearly purple in color, swollen like a fat, ripe plum 
ready to burst and spill its juice. I touched my rigid organ, slipping 
my fingers along the spit-coated length until I came to the base. My 
pubic hair was slicked back and my scrotum was a mere fraction of its 
normal size. It was impossible to believe that a mere boy had done this 
to me. He ran back. Shamelessly naked, he leaped onto the bed and 
straddled my legs by kneeling over me. He hurriedly stripped the 
cellophane covering of a package of condoms and tossed it over his 
shoulder. It landed on the floor. He smirked at me.

"You gotta wear a rubber now, okay?" he demanded.

I nodded obediently and watched as he opened the as he opened the 
box, removed one small packet and dropped the others on the floor beside 
the bed. The condom was as much for his protection as for my own.

"If you want me to, I'll suck you off," he suggested as he 
extracted the creamy-yellow ring from its clear plastic packet. I 
smiled broadly at the sensuous boy before me. He giggled as he reached 
for my hard penis. "But then you've got to promise to do it to me 
afterwards. Okay?"

I was astonished. "Do it?" I asked uncertainly. "You mean do it in 
your bottom?"

"Yeah! You can do it in my mouth first if that's what you want,... 
but you've got to promise to fuck me afterwards, Matt."

"You really want me to do that to you?" I asked nervously. "I 
don't want you to do something that you really don't want to do."

"Fuck!" he swore in exasperation. "Don't be a dummy, Matt. Of 
course I want to do it. That's what guys do! Don't you know anything?"

He placed the condom on the top of my penis and expertly unraveled 
it down the shaft. It was the first time that I had used a condom since 
I was a teenager and my penis appeared strangely foreign to me in its 
thin rubber covering. Now sausage-like, I found the sensation on my 
penis to be intensely arousing. It was impossible for my erection to 
become harder but it felt as if it did inside its lubricated casing. He 
squatted on his haunches and studied his handiwork.

"Well?" he asked gleefully.

"Uh? Well what?" I returned.

"Well, what do you want to do first?" he answered with a lewd 
question of his own. "You want me front or back?" he explained 
impatiently.

I trembled with the immediate panic of unbridled lust. My 
excitement attained a level hitherto unknown to me. I was unable to 
reply and I stared at the naked twelve-year-old prostitute in shocked 
confusion. Juan leered as he picked up a white and blue tube he had 
brought with him from the bathroom. I had only seen K-Y lubricant in the 
drug store and it added to the disorder in my already chaotic mind.

"Do I lube him, or what?" he persisted.

"You're very sexy," I said quietly.

It was an admission of my just-discovered appetite for young boys. 
I tried to concentrate on the wall behind him and avoid the decision 
that confronted me. For a few seconds I wallowed in self loathing and 
guilt, but the wall was mirrored and to my consternation I saw his 
slender dark back, the firm mounds of his buttocks, and the object of my 
licentious desire. I yearned to satisfy my craving for his tender flesh, 
for the hot containment of his strong young body around my penis. I 
wanted Juan to know my depraved and corrupt lust.

"Back," I murmured. "If that's what you want?"

Juan grinned. "Yeah!" he acknowledged triumphantly as he unscrewed 
the cap.

"But you've got to promise to suck him later on," I demanded 
unreasonably and with mock severity.

Juan giggled. "Okay! I'll suck him off afterwards. Promise!"

It was impossible not to laugh with gleeful anticipation as Juan 
squeezed out a copious quantity of the crystalline gel from the tube and 
placed it on the night-stand. I gazed at him as he smeared it over his 
fingers, and began to apply it to my latex-sheathed penis. We had known 
each other for not much longer than one hour and we were both stark 
naked and negotiating the conditions for sexual acts of the most 
depraved kind. We were also incredibly excited. Once finished, he 
repositioned himself. He knelt on the bed, lay face down and placed his 
head in the soft pillows as he parted his small cheeks wide open for my 
inspection.

"Okay, I'm ready," he smirked. "You have to go slow at first."

"Are you sure?" I asked again, increasingly less confident as my 
nervous guilt intensified. "It's going to hurt a lot isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered testily. "Just go slow until I tell 
you. It's really small compared to your dick but I'm pretty sure it'll 
fit."

"I don't want to hurt you, Juan," I countered reluctantly

"You won't if you just do it slowly. Then it won't me hurt very 
much at all."

Juan paused and took a deep long breath. As he did so, he realized 
that this was the first time that anyone had cared enough to worry 
whether he was hurt. He closed his eyes as he remembered the terrible 
pain of his first time. Even though Bruce had been careful, his patience 
was as limited as his experience with seducing immature boys. Until 
Bruce's penis had actually penetrated him, Juan's small sphincter had 
resisted valiantly. The pressure had increased until it felt as though 
his entire body was split apart and he was forced open. Bruce's penis 
rammed into him unforgivingly and without mercy. The rim of his anus, 
stretched to breaking point. Then, unable to loosen further, ruptured. 
He had cried as red blood dribbled onto his scrotum and was smeared 
across the sheets. The thin lining of his rectum had been so bruised 
that his bowel movements had stopped for two days. It had been awful and 
it had only been a little better with Mister Luchiano. Instinctively, 
Juan recognized that this man was very different. At least I gave the 
impression of caring about him.

"It's not like I'm a woman or something, okay? My butt-hole still 
has to stretch a fair bit before it stops hurting. If you try to put it 
in too fast, then it's really bad," Juan explained patiently. "I know 
it's the first time you've done it with a boy but just go really slow 
and I'll be fine."

I nodded and came to my knees, adopting an ancient position behind 
the boy that seemed to be natural. My movement was spontaneous and 
emerged from an innate appreciation of the beautiful boy below me. I 
closed the gap between us, bringing the fat head of penis to the boy's 
opening. His fingers touched it, grasped it, pulled it forward and 
positioned it. Impulsively, I pushed forward. Juan responded with a 
visceral grunt. His eyes closed, focusing on something deep within the 
secure privacy of his imagination.

"You okay?" I asked nervously.

The boy grunted again and I reasoned that I was to continue, only 
very gently. I squeezed against him, sensing the pressure of his fingers 
as he guided my movement. His body seemed to swallow me, ingesting the 
turgid glans of my penis with comparative ease. If there was any pain, 
Juan endured it without complaint. As the flared head entered the soft 
enclosing heat, I bore down ignorantly, wanting only to be contained 
fully inside him.

"No!" Juan yelped. His body jerked as the pain came and went in an 
instant. I backed away guiltily, withdrawing my penis from its tight 
confinement until his fingers gripped and prevented further outward 
movement.

"No! Don't take it out! Slowly! Okay?" he gasped. "I gotta get 
used to it first, that's all."

Duly reprimanded and fully accountable for my impetuous, though 
innocent thrust, I resolved to proceed at an unhurried pace. With gentle 
squeezes I entered the youngster at barely a fraction of an inch every 
minute. But my speed, though slow, was anything but casual. His small 
body gradually crept up the length of my rigid penis. Once the glans was 
completely inside, my leisurely pace was unnecessary but by then I 
wanted to prolong the delight of entering his body for the first time. 

I took most of my weight on my knees and elbows as I leaned 
forward over him. Other than my penis, now deep inside him, only his 
buttocks and thighs provided a connection between us. And yet, we were 
joined as one body. Every motion of his young body was transmitted 
directly in mine. The sensitivity of my penis magnified even the 
slightest tremor into a fabulous alive feeling that our bodies were 
truly joined. Juan was the natural extension of my penis. As I stroked 
his sweat-moistened flanks, I touched the aching length of my penis. My 
fond caresses of his head became a gentle fondling of my glans. I 
indulged his body with my penis, never moving further than an inch at a 
time and only when the soft fullness inside him relaxed enough to invite 
me back again.

"You okay?" I asked again as my penis reached it's full depth.

Almost seven, wonderful inches had slowly but resolutely been 
inserted into the twelve-year-old boy's rectum. Only the last three 
quarters on an inch remained outside him. It was too thick to go in. I 
rested there, unable to go further, unwilling to withdraw. Minutes 
passed and Juan's strained breathing gradually slowed. His head was 
turned to one side and I saw complete and utter bliss on his face.

"Yeah, I'm okay! Stop asking every minute, all right. I'll tell 
you if it hurts and I want you to stop," he smiled contentedly. "You 
feel so good now," he added. "I knew it would fit up my butt if you went 
slow enough."

"So, how does it feel having a man's cock inside you?" I teased 
playfully.

"Nice! Really nice. It feels like its so full back there that I'm 
going to explode if you move it." Juan giggled cheekily. "Are you sure 
you haven't fucked a boy in the ass before now?"

"Never!" I admitted.

"You're cool! It's pretty big but I really love having your cock 
in me."

I swallowed. "You're awesome!"

"You like it better with a boy, don't you?" Juan hissed. "I'm a 
better fuck than your wife, aren't I?"

"Much better," I confided in his ear. I licked his ear lobe 
slightly and he giggled again. I tongued him again, slurping into his 
ear with a forceful swirl that made him laugh loudly.

"Why?" he asked after his amusement was mastered. "What's it like 
with a woman?"

"It's,... well it's different. You're a lot tighter inside."

"Even now?" he asked quietly. "It feels really loose in there."

He toyed with it, using some hidden muscles deep inside him to 
squeeze to, then slacken, then tighten up on my penis. His bowel 
movements sent wonderful shivers through me. Any reluctance I still had 
about sexual intercourse with a pre-teen boy was surmounted. He was more 
than enough to satiate the cravings of any man.

"Yes," I breathed. "You're wonderful. It's hotter, and tighter, 
and,..." I tried to find the words that expressed the sublime delight I 
had found inside his body. No woman could come close to the unparalleled 
pleasure to be obtained from a boy like Juan. I gazed down at him in 
admiration as he continued to work the muscles inside his lower abdomen.

"If you don't stop that I'm going to cum any second," I groaned.

I marveled at his innate ability to understand my needs. It was as 
if he anticipated my body's desires and satisfied them with the natural 
motions of his own body. Thirty years separated us in age but we were 
like peanut butter and jelly. We were joined inseparably together and 
had become infinitely more than a man and a boy. It was impossible to 
tell where Juan ended and I began.

"That's the idea," he teased.

The boy was goading me on, wanting the agitation of my penis, but 
unwilling to ask for it. His hips oscillated, sending a sure sign to my 
penis to begin. I shuddered, overcome by the intense stimulation of my 
sex organ. In slow motion, I started to pump against him. My thighs met 
his buttocks once.

"Ohhhh! Jesus! I,... I'm cuming," I groaned in despair.

I wanted only for the orgasm to stop but the more I tried to hold 
back, the faster and stronger it approached. My testicles tightened and 
my penis jerked as white-hot seed squirted out of me. Three spurts came 
quickly, filling the end of the condom, before it paused. Juan stirred, 
his hips wavering as he sensed my release. His entire body began to 
move, squeezing with every ounce of strength remaining to him. It was 
the incentive I needed. My penis spurted again and again, matching every 
grasping shudder of his body with a spray of semen until I was drained.

I felt my arms giving way and I rolled to one side and toppled 
onto the bed next to Juan. My penis pulled free of nirvana with a wet, 
succulent pop. I was exhausted after twenty-seven minutes.

"So what's it like to fuck a girl," he taunted as soon as I began 
to show signs of recovery.

"Not like this, that's for sure. You were incredible! I never 
realized a guy could do that by just squeezing on it," I chuckled. "You 
feel all right?"

Juan nodded and inspected his bottom with his fingers, relieved to 
find only yellowish slime with the faintest trace of blood. "You sure 
made my butt-hole big enough," he observed shamelessly.

"I thought you were the expert at this stuff," I said. It was the 
wrong thing to say and I knew it immediately.

He shrugged and pretended to be nonchalant about his prior 
experience. "I haven't had that many dicks up me okay! I just know my 
butt-hole has never been this huge, that's all!"

I smiled at my young friend. "I'm sorry, Juan. I really didn't 
mean that the way it sounded. I was trying to say,... well, I wanted to 
say that I was glad one of us knew what to do."

He grinned cheekily. "You did great, Matt. Especially with it 
being your first time with another guy and everything." He flipped at my 
now softening penis. "It's a pity the old guy lost it so quickly. We 
were just getting started. I can't do wet cums yet like you, but I can 
still get it off."

"I'm sorry," I admitted. "It happened so damned fast. If you 
hadn't been squeezing on him, I think I would have lasted longer."

It was then that I first realized that there must have been some 
pleasure in what we had done for the boy. In fact, there must have been 
a lot of pleasure. I twisted onto my side and looked at Juan. He was 
still smiling even as his unrequited excitement dissipated. I wanted to 
kiss him and for a brief instant I sensed that he wanted to kiss me 
back. His lips seemed to quiver and he licked them momentarily. He gazed 
back at me with a challenging expression.

"We can do it again later on," he beamed and then added, "That is, 
if I can stay here with you tonight."

I nodded eagerly. Juan flopped onto his side and straightened his 
legs out. He winced with the change in position and the change in 
pressure on raw, bruised flesh that had taken the brunt of my attack.

"It hurts, doesn't it," I asked swiftly.

The boy nodded and compressed his lips as another painful spasm 
caught him by surprise. He cramped again and he shuddered as a vicious 
streak of pain tortured his bowel.

"What can I do?" I begged.

Juan shook his long tousled hair sadly. I watched in dismay as he 
cramped and gasped in distress. His knees drew up and his arms locked 
around his legs protectively. He lay like a fetus, suffering his body's 
aches and discomfort in Stoic silence. After a minute he turned away 
from me. He hesitated and then staggered to his feet.

"I gotta use the can," he murmured.

"Do you want me to come?"

"Don't come in," he strained. "I'm okay, really I am. It'll take a 
while. Why don't you watch TV or something?" he suggested.

I watched him shuffle out into the corridor, engaged in a private 
suffering as I admired his lithe dark body. He was an intensely erotic 
child. His small buttocks, so recently the center of my universe, were 
from a distance, still unmarked. The injury I had done to him was hidden 
well within the deep cleft. Perhaps it was my imagination but he seemed 
to wobble as he walked, bow-legged with tottering steps, his young body 
physically exhausted from accommodating my passion. Guiltily, I picked 
up the remote for the television and switched it on as I heard the 
bathroom door close.

The TV was tuned to an obscure LA-region station, primarily news 
and local events in the Mexican community. Automatically my finger 
jabbed at the channel changer but I stopped at the next station. For a 
moment I had heard something about the Eldorado Hotel and I backed up 
quickly. A reporter was standing on the front steps of the hotel. It was 
a live broadcast.

"....The FBI are working with the LA and San Bernadino police in 
an investigation of an apparent link between tonight's action at the 
Eldorado and an earlier gang murder in the LA suburb of Gardena. Romano 
Testa was found at ten minutes past six this evening. He had been shot 
in the head and chest. Also killed were a Philippine woman whose name 
has not yet been released. Police believe that the woman, the renter of 
the apartment in which the murders occurred, was a twenty-six-year-old 
prostitute with an arrest record for several minor offenses. Neighbors 
have told our on-site reporter that she had two children.

"According to the FBI, Testa was a major player in the illegal 
drugs from Colombia. His death may be related to recent incidents 
involving the LA Mafia and the Mexican community. Testa had been 
arrested previously on drug-related charges and it is believed that he 
had taken control after Domingo Latero was murdered in a similar gang-
style incident last year.

"FBI traced two men from the apartment in Gardena to the Eldorado 
Hotel in San Bernadino. Paul Luchiano, long believed to be a Mafia boss 
was arrested at the hotel just after seven p.m tonight. Police have 
informed us that he will shortly be charged as an accessory to murder.

"A late breaking item: an unidentified informant has just informed 
K-R-X TV that police are still looking in the San Bernadino area for a 
boy aged between nine and twelve years old who is believed to have 
information. A search of the hotel earlier tonight proved unsuccessful. 
Anyone having information on the whereabouts of the boy is advised to 
contact the San Bernadino police. He is identified as having medium-
brown, shoulder-length hair, medium-dark complexion, and a slender 
build. He was last seen in the Eldorado Hotel about six-forty this 
evening and was wearing dark-blue sweat pants and top.

"Saint Geraldo's soccer team has charged to victory once again and 
defeated,..."

I changed the channel with shaking hands. Juan had information on 
a murder? No, that wasn't what the reporter had said. The police wanted 
him because he was believed to have information. About what? I dreaded 
the answer to that question as I wondered what I had missed at the start 
of the broadcast. What had I heard about the Eldorado that piqued my 
interest? I knew that I had heard the words `unidentified man shot and 
killed by the police at the Eldorado'.

I kept changing the channels, trying one after the other in a 
fruitless attempt to learn more about the events at the Eldorado Hotel. 
I was frantic to know how Juan was involved. I was certain that he had 
done something terrible, something much worse that simply engaging in 
illicit sexual activity with a grown man. However, there was nothing 
else to be learned and I finally stopped changing when I reached the 
Disney Channel. A movie had just started and I recognized the opening 
scenes from "Shipwrecked". I had watched the video with Cassie on a 
rainy Saturday afternoon a few weeks earlier. The hero, a young Swedish 
boy, began his adventures as a cabin boy aboard a sailing ship but spent 
most of his time parading around desert island. I had teased Cassie 
relentlessly that afternoon but even I had to admit that beautiful, 
blond Stian Smestad was a gorgeous specimen of a boy.

Casually, I began to fondle my penis. My raging erection had 
diminished almost the instant that I had ejaculated. About five or six 
minutes and still encased in the latex skin, the sensation was not 
particularly pleasant. Whether it was a reaction to swimming in my 
copious semen, from the lubricant within the condom, or just as a result 
of the extra heat and irritation afforded by the membrane itself, I 
neither knew nor cared, but it began to itch. I tugged the used condom 
off and gratefully rubbed my semen-soaked penis against the sheets. I 
was fascinated by the amount of semen I had released after comparatively 
little effort on my part. The stimulation inside Juan's hot, clutching 
body had been overpowering. My fingers held the stretched out sleeve 
daintily as the thick, white fluid drained to the bottom and filled the 
end.

Juan emerged from the bathroom. He closed the door after him and 
ambled slowly back to the bed. He placed his fingers to his mouth, 
swallowed and sipped from a glass of water. He walked with considerably 
less difficulty than he had about ten minutes earlier. He smiled as he 
saw me, still naked, still lying where he had left me fatigued

"I've got another one of them," he grinned playfully and then 
added, "If you've got some more to put in it." he smirked, knowing full 
well that he had left my semen depleted with his voracious body.

"How do you feel?" I asked as I squashed the soggy end of the 
condom. "If you want an aspirin or something, I've got some in my bag."

The boy placed the glass of water on the table and came over to 
the bed. "I'm fine now. I just had to take a pill, that's all. By the 
way, you probably shouldn't use the can for a while, it's pretty stinky 
in there."

"Diarrhea?" I asked.

Juan shrugged. "Nah, I just pooped a load, that's all."

"What's the pill for?" I asked suspiciously. Suddenly I found 
myself wondering whether Juan was taking drugs. Perhaps that was why the 
police wanted him. After all, the news story had been about a drug-
related murder.

"Uh? It's kind of a vitamin. It's got iron or something like that 
in it. Bruce said they would make my dick stiffer if I took them 
regularly, like every day or two, but I think he was kidding me."

I nodded, still suspicious. "You're not doing drugs are you, 
Juan?"

"I'm not a dumb ass. Don't you believe everything you hear about 
kids doing drugs. Not all of us do!" He grinned mischievously. "What's 
the movie about?" he added as he settled back down on the bed beside me.

"I've seen it before," I acknowledged. "It's about a boy who gets 
shipwrecked and runs into some pirates. It's okay. Do you want to watch 
it?"

"Sure!" he stretched out next to me. "Unless you've got another 
idea," he added suggestively.

Juan was so close that I could feel the warmth of his bare skin. I 
could read his mind as easily as I knew my own. I understood exactly 
what he wanted and what he expected me to do. It was almost impossible 
to believe that he intended to have intercourse again, and right away at 
that. Under normal circumstances I would need an hour at least, perhaps 
longer. The expression on his small face was striking. His eyes were 
ravenous as they examined my body, devoured my limp penis with a quick 
glance, and then decided I was acceptable prey.

I laughed. "I have! However, I think it would be a good idea for 
you to rest up for a while before we do it again."

"You really want to do it again,... tonight?" he questioned. His 
expression was instantly swapped for one of triumph.

"Of course I do. That is, if you do?" I replied. He nodded 
eagerly. "Next time, young man, I'm going to make you cum all over the 
place."

Juan giggled. "I already told you, Matt, I'm still too young for 
wet ones."

I chuckled again and I rubbed my hand through his tousled, long 
hair. "So? It'll still be fun trying. Who cares if it's wet or dry, just 
so long as you do it. Anyway from the look of you it won't be much 
longer before you're shooting sperm everywhere."

"Maybe," he said flatly and without much enthusiasm. "I guess I'll 
start eventually, but I wouldn't take any bets on it happening soon," he 
added mysteriously.

"Huh? Maybe, but your balls look like it isn't that far way. I'm 
certainly in no hurry, that's for sure. I like you just the way you are. 
Anyway, there isn't very much you or I can do about it either way. You 
start when Nature says you're ready start."

He smiled enigmatically and studied his small hairless penis for a 
moment. It was lifted up slightly by the recent swelling in his ripening 
testicles, though it was still immature and disproportionately small 
for this slender body.

"Well, I still wouldn't take bets on me having wet ones soon, 
that's all," he said with an air of superior knowledge.

Juan reached out and took the condom from my hand. He inspected it 
as he rubbed the thin latex membrane between his fingers and made the 
semen squelch inside it. He grinned at me cheekily.

"It's weird stuff isn't it?" he observed as he squeezed my semen 
up and down the rubber tubing. "I mean,... well it doesn't look as 
though it could hurt me if you did it inside my butt."

"It wouldn't hurt you," I said truthfully. "But you're smart to be 
careful. The whole point is that you don't know who's safe and who has 
Aids."

"Yeah, I guess," he said without conviction. "It would be really 
dumb to get fucked by a guy and then die because you were too stupid to 
use a rubber."

I nodded and playfully caressed his soft hair. "Do you think he's 
cute?" Juan asked as Stian climbed into the rigging of the clipper ship 
and revealed the smooth golden tan of his legs.

"Huh? Is he cute? Yes, I s'pose so," I muttered.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful, naked youngster next to me. 
There really was no comparison with the boy on television, unless you 
were partial to blond boys. Whatever advantages Stian had because he was 
blond, Juan surpassed with his effeminate features. I remembered when I 
had first seen the boy outside my room. From the outset, his sexuality 
was indeterminate. Like a complex mechanical structure, the precise 
physical and emotional conditions of manhood were supplemented by vague 
and ambiguous features that were as much female as male.

"He's cute, I guess. He's certainly not as good-looking as you 
are, Juan," I acknowledged quietly. For some reason, I had wanted to say 
`beautiful' but the word seemed inappropriate to describe what I now 
knew to be a twelve-year-old boy.

"Yeah?"

Juan snuggled closer against me and lay his head on my shoulder. 
He watched the television over my chest as his fingers casually stroked 
my side. Occasionally his fingers moved onto my chest and playfully 
tugged at my hair or rubbed over my nipples, giving little pinches as he 
went. I stroked his cheek, drifting my fingers over his little ears, 
tracing delicate lines over the smooth skin of his neck and jaw, 
sometimes going as far as his shoulders but never lower. We watched as 
the clipper ship reached the Indian Ocean. It foundered in a furious 
storm as pirates attempted to take control. As Stian dived into the hold 
of the sinking ship to rescue the girl-heroine, Juan giggled.

"Do you think he's straight?" he asked softly. "I really thought 
he was going after his sailor friend for a while and now he's chasing 
her. I hope he doesn't fuck her?"

"Not on the Disney channel!" I choked. "Would you rather have him 
gay?"

"Wouldn't you?" Juan returned quickly. "Would you fuck him if you 
had the chance?" he teased.

"Not if you were around," I replied honestly.

"I'm around now," he giggled. "So,...." his voice trailed off 
leaving his lewd suggestion hanging like a temptation unspoken.

"So! That's what you have in mind, is it?" Well, we're going to 
wait until the movie ends, young man," I said in mock seriousness. 
"You're going to stay here with me tonight so there's no rush. Besides, 
Juan, you look wiped out."

Right on cue, Juan yawned sleepily. 

"Tell me what happened become you came here, Juan," I asked gently 
as I gestured vaguely above me. He shook his head as his lips 
compressed. "Juan, you have to trust me. Please? Tell me what happened 
with the, uh,... what was his name,... Luchi,... uh,... Luchiano guy?"

The boy shuddered and jerked away. "How do you know about Mister 
Luchiano?" he demanded. He was suddenly frightened and he cringed back 
away from me. "How do you know about him?" he repeated as his voice 
became louder and more panicked.

"It was on the TV while you were on the bathroom. There was 
something about this place and then they talked about a murder in LA and 
I think, at least I think they said that he was involved somehow. Uh, he 
was arrested a bit after you came in here."

"Goddamn shit," Juan swore. "What in the hell am I supposed to do 
now?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what happened?" I suggested.

"I can't! Don't you understand?" He paused as he breathed out with 
a sigh of frustration. "You don't know who Mister Luchiano is, do you?"

I remembered what the reporter had said. "He's in the Mafia, isn't 
he?"

"Yeah, I guess he is. My friend, Bruce,... well,... he kinda told 
me that Mister Luchiano was into drugs and all that and I had to be 
really careful. Don't you see, Matt? I can't tell you! They'd kill me! 
I suppose they'd kill you too if you knew."

He was shivering now. All thoughts of amorous affection vanished 
as he huddled next to me with his thin brown arms locked around his 
legs. I tried to break though the barrier that the boy had erected 
between us.

"Mister Luchiano,... he's the man who was paying you to have sex 
with him?" I suggested softly.

There was no response but his silence was as good as an admission. 
It was surprisingly easy to figure out what had happened earlier that 
night.

I thought quickly as I spoke. "There was two people murdered in LA 
tonight. This Luchiano guy, he was the one who organized it, wasn't he?"

Something had happened while Juan was still in the man's room. He 
had seen or heard something he should not have. He was a witness, that 
was the only reason why the police and the FBI were searching for him. 
I placed my arm around Juan's bare shoulders. Suddenly I became very 
aware of the little frightened boy. He was very different to the 
aggressive, sexy boy who had seduced me earlier in the evening with his 
beautiful young body and intoxicating manner.

No matter what, I resolved that I would take care of my young 
friend. I owed the beautiful boy that much, if only as an inadequate 
reward for the incredible happiness that he had given to me in the space 
of a few hours. Over the sound of the movie, I heard Juan's subdued 
sobbing. He was crying softly, letting his fear escape in the tears that 
trickled down his cheeks. I pulled him closer to me protectively, my 
only means of providing security to him against a hostile world. Juan 
was in a terrible predicament if what I expected was actually true. As 
a witness to a Mafia killing, his life was as tenuous as that of the 
intended victim. If he went to the police, or even the FBI, and was 
given protection, he would be eventually found by a Mafia hit man. If he 
tried to keep his silence, they would still kill him. It was a matter of 
simple insurance and risk management. Juan was an intelligent boy. He 
was more than smart enough to figure out that his life would be 
extinguished shortly no matter what course of action he followed.

After a few minutes he calmed down sufficiently to lie down again. 
He was visibly tired and he cuddled up against me as if seeking my 
warmth. I massaged his bare back with firm rubs and gentle caresses and 
within minutes he was fast asleep. My attention was shared among trying 
to complete my speech for the next morning, following a movie in which 
I now had very little interest, and keeping watch over the wonderful 
naked boy beside me. He slept fitfully, often breathing quickly and in 
shallow gasps as he tossed and turned. He was dreaming and I watched his 
eyelids flicker then become still, then resume a rapid fluttering that 
conveyed his inner torment.

By ten o'clock I was too tired to watch the closing scenes of the 
movie, too exhausted to continue my study of the smooth slender form 
next to me, and no longer interested in polymers and their coefficients 
of friction. I turned the television off, tossed my notes onto the next 
bed, and settled down to sleep.



Chapter 10. Midnight Affections



It seemed as though I didn't sleep very long before I woke up 
again. For several seconds I lay half awake, barely remembering what had 
happened earlier in the evening. My young companion stirred slightly 
and turned onto his side so that he faced me. His breath brushed my 
shoulder and he snuggled closer. He was deliciously warm and soft as his 
sleek smooth skin contacted mine and melted into me. Like velvet, his 
firm belly grazed against my penis. That slight touch was more than 
enough to make me quiver. My heart surged and blood flooded into my 
organ. It stiffened rapidly, like a horny teenager, until it was rock-
hard and anxious for more than mere proximity to the slumbering naked 
boy. Now wide awake, I wanted more than a passing glance against Juan's 
inert body.

Again, the memory of what we had shared earlier returned to me. I 
smiled as I stroked Juan's forehead. There had been a fabulous oozing 
heat inside his young body that had sucked me in until I was united with 
him. And then, as his insides had become loose, his passion had been 
inspirational. I would never forget the eagerness with which he coupled 
with me. His slender dark body had tightened instinctively, using 
hidden strength from muscles somewhere in his bowel to compress my rigid 
penis with undulating waves until I lost control. Unfortunately, I had 
orgasmed quickly and the oneness that I had felt with him was short-
lived.

The reason why I had woken returned. Not only was my penis now 
very erect and hungry for contact with the sleeping boy beside me, but 
I realized that my bladder was painfully full as well. And yet, despite 
the discomfort from an increasingly pressing need to urinate, I could 
not leave the boy alone. Gently I rubbed the engorged glans of my penis 
against his silky belly, musing silently about how it would feel to 
orgasm over his flawless flesh. I could imagine my semen gushing out 
over him, thick white spurts splattering down onto his lithe brown 
abdomen until it formed a puddle in his navel. I would massage it over 
his smooth body, working the wetness over his narrow chest and belly 
until he was bathed in my slippery juice. It was impossible not to be 
jealous as I wondered how far Juan had gone with other men? My penis 
throbbed with excitement, desperate to interrupt Juan's repose and 
communicate my need for intercourse.

Unable to put off the inevitable trip to the bathroom any longer, 
I carefully eased away from the beautiful naked body and climbed out of 
the bed. Lovingly, and with some guilt, I placed the sheet over his bare 
torso and sheltered his perfect body from my prying and perverted eyes.

The door to the bathroom was closed. The bathroom light was on, 
illuminating the sodden mess of our clothes, quickly discarded in the 
heat of the moment, dropped wantonly to the floor as we undressed. I 
urinated with some difficulty as I forced my still-rigid penis 
downward. The pressure eased in my bladder and the rush of urine 
relieved my arousal. The stiffness faded until my penis was no longer 
rigid though still elongated and swollen.

I smiled to myself as I contemplated what my wife would say if she 
found out that I had spent the night with a boy-prostitute who was not 
even in his teens. My transgression would be viewed as evil, not only 
because I had enjoyed every blessed moment but because he was beautiful 
in a way that she could never acknowledge. As I shook off the last drips 
it was impossible not to make the obvious comparison between Juan and my 
wife. She paled in contrast. He was sexy in a way that I had never 
imagined possible. My discovery was both wonderful and exciting. Juan 
may have supplied his body to meet the depraved demands of other men, 
but above all, he was a sensual boy. He was not immoral or corrupt but 
simply expressing a natural lust. Perhaps he was oversexed and lewd, but 
he was mine, even if only for one unforgettable night.

I started to pick up the wet clothes, wringing out streams of 
water over the basin before I straightened them out and hung them over 
the shower rail. My trousers were unwearable without dry-cleaning but 
my morning presentation was the furthest thing from my mind as I 
wondered what Juan would wear in the morning if his clothes had not 
dried out. Nothing, hopefully. I could spend the entire day with him in 
bed, both naked as we explored the physical limitations of our bodies. 
I studied Juan's pants and top, sizing up the boy who had worn them. Now 
cold and wet, they seemed too small for a twelve-year-old boy, smaller 
even than Cassie's clothes, and she was a year younger.

With the clothes over the rail and the towels over the side of the 
bath, the bathroom looked considerably less like a whorehouse. Only one 
thing remained to be dried out and that was Juan's gym bag. It lay where 
he had abandoned it on the side of the vanity near the mirror. Knowing 
that I would violate his privacy by opening it, yet suspecting the 
worst, I knew I had to inspect it. I glanced around behind me and 
carefully pulled the zipper open. Inside, the dark blue of wet denim 
jeans confronted me. I started to tug them out of the bag.

"What are you doing? That's my stuff!"

I spun around. Juan was standing in the doorway. Visibly angry, 
his eyes narrowed as he glared at me. I took my hand away from the jeans 
quickly.

"I'm just spreading out our clothes so they can dry off by 
tomorrow morning. There's still a lot of wet things in your bag," I 
replied guiltily.

"It doesn't matter!" Juan returned quickly. "That's my stuff!" he 
repeated.

"What have you got in here, anyway?" I asked as I lifted the bag 
up by the handle. "This thing is heavy. No wonder you almost fell off 
the balcony."

"Nothing!" he retorted. Juan hesitated. "Just my school books and 
stuff, that's all." Then suddenly aware that we were both stark naked 
and that I was half erect, he grinned. "I woke up and you weren't there. 
I wanted him," he added as he eyed my groin meaningfully.

I grinned back at him, relieved that his anger had dissipated. 
"Well they sure are heavy. I think we ought to get your jeans out so 
they can dry. We ought to get your books out as well. They'll be ruined 
if we don't."

"I don't care," he said. He smiled slyly. "You want me to suck him 
now?" he offered. I glanced at the opened gym bag and wondered what was 
inside that needed such protection. He watched my slow response and 
sensed my suspicion. "But maybe,..." he paused, "you'd rather finish 
what you started," he added huskily as he raised his eyebrows 
suggestively.

"You want me to fuck you again?" I asked with pretended 
consternation.

Juan shrugged. "I want what you want," he murmured.

His small hand casually moved to his genitals and he cupped his 
fingers under his little scrotum as he backed away from the doorway. His 
thumb looped around his penis and he squeezed gently. His dark eyes 
glistened in the light from the bathroom, beckoning to me. I nodded and 
he smiled.

"You butt's going to be real sore tomorrow," I teased. 

"I'll survive," he giggled. "You better go find the rubbers, Matt. 
I think they're somewhere near the bed. I've gotta pee first."

Whatever was inside the gym bag could wait. I grinned as I stepped 
forward. As I passed beside Juan, I lunged for him and clasped him 
around the chest and hips. Effortlessly I lifted him up into the air and 
swung him around so that he was head down. He laughed as he struggled to 
escape. His legs flailed valiantly and dangerously close to the 
ceiling. Afraid that he would fall, he locked his arms around my legs, 
then reassured, grasped my penis with one hand and squeezed it tightly 
as I carried him towards the bed. As I lifted him even higher to deposit 
him on the bed, his firm buttocks were only a few inches from my nose. 
With his legs wide apart, I smelled the musky aroma of the juices from 
deep inside his body. It was an intensely arousing smell.

"I really have to pee," Juan complained gleefully as I eased him 
down onto the bed so that he took most of his weight on his thin arms.

"You want me to fuck you or not?" I demanded crudely.

"Yeah, I want to. But I have to pee first. I'll do it on the bed, 
otherwise," he added amid hysterical giggles. I let him drop and he 
collapsed onto the bed. 

"You better hold the end of your dick really tight. That's the 
advantage of having a foreskin. But if you do have to go, just do it on 
your side of the bed," I laughed.

I squatted down to find the condoms. Fortunately my hand came to 
it immediately and I stood up again, withdrawing one of the packets as 
I climbed over the grinning boy. I knelt between his outstretched legs. 
In the few seconds that it had taken to come from the bathroom my penis 
had reached the apogee of erection. It pulsed with the sudden surge of 
adrenaline as I leaned formed over the submissive boy. He waited, like 
a virgin before Priapus, knowing that the huge phallus before him would 
soon be deep inside him again. He licked his lips and breathed heavily 
as he watched me unroll the condom down the length of the shaft. Even in 
the dim light reflected from the bathroom, I could see that the boy's 
excitement was every bit as much as my own. Instinctively, we both 
understood that this time would be very different to the first time.

As soon as the condom was on, Juan took over. His hands trembled 
as he covered my penis with K-Y. He knew enough to lubricate it 
thoroughly. Making a tube with both hands, he began to masturbate me. 
Within seconds my penis became impossibly stiff, hardening until it 
throbbed between his fingers. No longer able to hold back, I clasped 
Juan's ankles and jerked his feet upwards. I pushed back, positioning 
his feet behind his ears and lifting his buttocks upward as his hands 
clenched his legs just behind his knees. I trembled with excitement as 
I brought my penis towards him. For a moment I considered whether I 
needed to add more lubrication to his anus but the thrill of seeing the 
boy's dilated hole overpowered my sense of caution.

I probed between his cheeks, forcing my penis like a wedge into 
his crack and he wriggled back at me. He repositioned himself, lifting 
his hips up as he curled, then anxiously squirming as my penis sought 
his opening. No longer timid, not fearful of injuring him, I eagerly 
pushed forward. Juan jumped as he felt the fullness of my glans bearing 
into him. His eyes opened wide and he gazed at me breathlessly as I 
squeezed harder. His flesh seemed to yield, swallowing the tip of my 
penis with little difficulty. Juan nodded avidly.

"`s in," he gasped in surprise.

I paused, triumphantly grinning at the eager boy. He was still 
skittish as he remembered the terror from the previous times. Always 
aware of the pain that came from being penetrated, yet yearning for the 
presence of my penis inside him, the young boy had become apprehensive 
of my maleness. But this time there had been no pain. I spoke the words 
we both thought. 

"I didn't hurt you did I," I whispered. It was not a question but 
a simple statement of fact.

"Put him in all the way," Juan breathed cautiously.

"I'll go slowly. Tell me if it hurts."

I pressed forward. Juan's anus felt like a very tight ring of 
rubber as it slowly inched along the shaft of my penis. One long, slow 
thrust took engulfed more than four inches of my penis. His eyes were 
wide with amazement as he felt my penis and displace his insides.

"Oh God!," he groaned.

He swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded abruptly. I pushed 
forward again, sliding on the slippery film of lubricant and mucus 
inside him. His body shivered uncontrollably as he realized that my 
penis was almost entirely impaled within him.

"You're,... you're in,... all the way," he gasped as he felt my 
testicles squash into the side of his buttocks. 

I nodded back, shaking my head vigorously as I absorbed the 
delicious heat. His life seemed to flow into me, filling me with his 
youth and energy. I pulled back gently and forcefully came back into him 
as I began to thrust. I felt my penis bottom out and he shuddered as I 
began to distend his bowel and stretch whatever elasticity remained 
inside him.

"So big!" he moaned. "Oh! God, do it to me! Like that! Yeah, do 
that!"

On every outward stroke, I terminated at his prostate, squeezing 
and flexing my penis in that most sensitive of places until he could 
stand no more of it. After several minutes, his legs found their way up 
on my shoulders and I leaned onto him, enveloping his naked body as I 
hugged him. One hand encircled his shoulders and prevented him 
movement, the other arm supported his back and buttocks. I nuzzled him, 
caressing his cheek and forehead with playful kisses. He did not kiss me 
back. Even as I extracted his manhood with each demanding thrust, his 
reluctance to engage in the last acknowledgment of his homosexuality 
was too much for even his lack of inhibition. He smiled back at me, then 
looked away. Although I did not know it at the time, I suspected that he 
had never been kissed by a man before.

In the thirty years since I had been Juan's age, if I had ever 
known, I had forgotten what it was like to be a boy prior to the onset 
of puberty. Without the final relief of ejaculation, a young boy's 
orgasm is unfulfilling. Denied the end result of a wet climax, a 
prepubescent boy's desire continues unabated. So it was with Juan. If 
the sudden spasms that racked his slender sweat-covered body were 
orgasms, which is what I believed them to be, then he must have 
experienced half-a-dozen that night. Somewhere between the third and 
fourth ones, Juan's muscular control faded and his rectum suddenly 
became loose and spongy. It was shortly after that, as he writhed 
frantically and then bucked with a sudden spasm that he lost control of 
his bladder. The wet warmth that flooded out between us was less 
discomforting to me than to Juan. He shuddered uncontrollably in a 
paroxysm of delight that left him light-headed and distracted. But 
while Juan was perturbed and bewildered by his body's spontaneous 
release, I bathed in his copious urine, shamelessly.

I continued to thrust into him. My rhythm was relentless, pulling 
back slowly in the hot suction of the fluids inside him, never 
withdrawing further than his prostate, always letting him feel the full 
power and length of my penis on the return stroke. When my own orgasm 
was imminent, I slowed, or stopped until the moment passed. Again and 
again I delayed the inevitable, giving Juan pleasure unlike any he had 
ever known. But there is a point beyond which no tactic works. My semen 
has been building at the dam for somewhere close to an hour when I knew 
it was over. Even a tiny movement of my sensitive organ inside the boy's 
bowel was enough to bring me inexorably closer to the moment of release. 
It came closer and closer until it seemed as if only a few seconds 
remained before we both died. Juan's eyes were closed. He was barely 
breathing. He had reached the point of physical exhaustion, his slender 
body all but drained of passion.

As I pumped into him savagely, his big dark eyes opened wide in 
amazement. We groaned together as he felt my penis jerking 
spasmodically. My hips pounded hard and fast against his slender, 
shuddering body, slamming powerfully against his raised buttocks as I 
struggled to get it all out. It was over in a few seconds. We collapsed 
together and I rolled to one side to avoid crushing him. My softening 
penis pulled free from him. Just a few seconds before midnight Juan fell 
asleep again.



Chapter 11. The Transformation



Both Juan and I slept late. I don't remember anything after I 
pulled the gooey condom from my penis. I slept soundly, cuddled up close 
to the sleeping boy and nuzzled into his soft scented hair. I slept 
until the time he woke me up, but what a way to wake up. It was not 
unusual for me to be erect and ready for action in the morning, though 
my hardness was usually wasted. It had been at least five years since I 
had sex in the morning. Because of the two girls living under the same 
roof, my wife was adamant that intercourse occurred only at night. 
Besides, she was not much of a morning person and it usually took two or 
three cups of coffee before she warmed up. My erection was not wasted 
with Juan.

My penis had responded naturally to his gentle touching and as I 
awoke, I felt his soft lips tickling along the length of my shaft. His 
fingers caressed my scrotum with the faintest contact, fluttering 
across the skin as he manipulated by testicles from one side to the 
other. As I stirred and twisted slightly into a more comfortable 
position, I flexed my penis so that it bumped against his mouth. Even 
with my eyes closed I sensed his amusement. I performed the tightening 
motion again so that my penis bobbed up to his nose. Juan giggled and I 
felt the luscious, wet heat of his tongue at it slurped scintillatingly 
over my aroused organ. I opened my eyes with suddenly increased 
interest. Somehow, I had expected him to be long gone. The boy had come 
into my life so unexpectedly, and his impact had been so devastating, 
that it seemed both illogical and inappropriate that he still be there. 
But there he was; a slender boy-buddha, a more beautiful sight I had 
never seen

"Hi sleepy head! Awake at last?" Juan said playfully as he looked 
up from his self-appointed duty.

He grinned shyly. His dark eyes sparkled. Sometime earlier, he had 
gotten out of bed and opened the curtains. Now the sun flooded into the 
room. He was sitting cross-legged beside me and leaned forward over my 
thighs. The sheet was dragged down past my knees. From the moisture on 
my groin it was not the first time that he had licked me there. I 
grinned back at him.

"Hi yourself! It looks like you're having fun," I observed.

"I promised you that I'd suck him," Juan smirked. "And I always 
keep my promises."

"How long have you been awake?" I asked as I stifled a yawn.

"Oh! A while,..." Juan answered. He winked at me teasingly and 
then added mysteriously, "Long enough to do it. You won't believe what 
I did while you were asleep."

I raised my eyebrows challengingly and then smiled back at him, 
more than prepared to play along with his game.

"Do you feel okay? I didn't hurt you, did I Juan?" I asked. 

"I'm okay! I told you already, Matt! Stop asking how I am, 
pleeaassee?"

I replied with a cheerful nod. "I thought you always used a 
rubber," I added suggestively after a quick glance downward.

Unable to continue the pretense, Juan started to laugh. He 
squeezed the shaft of my penis as hard as he could. The pressure was not 
all that much but it was enough to make the glans swell and darken. A 
clear droplet of precum oozed out of the slit. His finger expertly 
smeared it away and rubbed the slippery fluid over the head of my penis. 
Again, Juan leaned forward as his mouth opened. His small teeth were 
perfectly white, like something from an obscene toothpaste commercial. 
His tongue licked his lips. He smiled as he breathed heavily with 
growing anticipation.

"Ohhhh, that's so nice."

My sigh in response to the languid trace of his tongue came 
quickly. Juan's velvet-soft tongue travelled the saliva-slicked length 
of my shaft and then poked and swivelled into the loose folds of my 
scrotum. I felt the warmth of his cheek on my penis and his fingers 
moved to gently squeeze my testicles. Less than a few seconds passed 
before Juan squirmed around and scrambled over me. He lay down beside me 
with his head directly next to my groin. My face confronted his own 
perfect genitals. It was the first time that I saw his small sex organs 
up close and it was a truly beautiful sight. I was speechless. His penis 
was very hard, but even fully erect it was barely the size of my thumb. 
The foreskin was more than long enough to cover the rounded knob of his 
glans and still leave a puckered tip at the end. While his testicles 
were still small, it was clear that the onset of puberty was not more 
than a few months away for the hairless boy. Too bad, I thought. I liked 
him the way he was, smooth and hairless.

"Can I suck him?" Juan's voice trembled with growing urgency.

I nodded immediately as my heart beat accelerated. I could feel my 
excitement building as the movement of the boy's fingers became faster 
and stronger. His tongue returned to swirl over the sensitive skin of my 
penis again and again. I turned my head to the side and saw the box of 
condoms on the night-stand. The tube of K-Y was nowhere to be seen and 
for a moment I wondered what had happened to it. But we didn't need 
lubrication for what Juan had in mind.

I tore open one of the packets as Juan's lips began to kiss my 
penis lightly, then as kisses turned to gentle bites and I watched his 
mouth open wide to take my penis into him, I guided him away with a 
gentle shove to the side. I sat up, leaned forward, and clumsily placed 
the condom on my throbbing penis. Juan grinned at me cheekily.

"I would have done that," he said.

"Yeah? Before or after he was in your mouth?" I teased.

Juan shrugged nonchalantly as he moved closer to me and reached 
for my penis. "You know, the rubber really tastes crappy," he 
complained. 

"Then don't suck him." I laughed.

 Slowly the boy smiled at me. "You know, the first time I sucked a 
man's dick I didn't use one. `Course, the guy didn't cum in my mouth. He 
was about to, I think, but we kind of got interrupted before he did it," 
Juan added lewdly.

"Well now you know better. There's a lot of risk for you, for 
either of us in fact, and besides we barely know each other."

"I feel like I've known you for years," Juan said. He smiled 
smugly. "Do you want to see something really weird?" he added.

"What? Can you suck your own dick?" I laughed. "This I've got to 
see."

"Suck my own dick? Uh, I've never tried to do that," Juan said 
seriously. He looked downward. My fingers were stroking the soft, 
still-flabby flesh where his penis joined to his pubis and scrotum. Hair 
would eventually sprout there and his puppy fat would disappear, but for 
now the skin was delicate and very sensitive. He giggled playfully as he 
watched my fingers caress his rigid little penis.

"That feels great," Juan acknowledged. There was a long pause as I 
continued to fondle his little penis by massaging the tiny glans under 
its thin covering. "Pull the skin back past the head," he suggested 
enigmatically. I watched as he took a deep breath. He was visibly 
worried about something.

If there was one thing I learned in grade school, it was to follow 
instructions. I obeyed despite my misgivings. His foreskin retracted 
with very little effort on my part. It had obviously been well exercised 
in the past and the opening stretched wide enough to allow the easy 
expulsion of his small, purplish glans. At first, I was not surprised as 
I studied Juan's sex organs with a feeling that could only be described 
as awe. And then I gasped as I suddenly realized that the minute slit 
that should have crowned the very tip of the little helmet-shaped head 
was not there. My sudden intake of air occurred only when I inspected 
the underside of his small rigid penis. The sight of his deformed glans 
was totally unexpected. There was no sign of his meatus. I pushed the 
boy's foreskin downward with the unpleasant sinking feeling that comes 
when one discovers that absolute perfection is flawed and all is not 
what it should be. The slit, if that was what the rounded and 
unnaturally shaped orifice could be called, was nearly at the junction 
of his foreskin and under the flared head of his glans. It was not the 
displaced opening that caused me consternation as much as the two broad 
ridges in his glans that were caused by a tube-like furrow that, under 
normal circumstances, would have been Juan's urethra.

"I have a funny looking dick," Juan said softly. "It's weird isn't 
it?"

I examined the flawed object of my affection as I answered 
honestly. "Yeah, I guess it is. No, it's not weird,... well, it's 
different, that's all.... It doesn't bother me that you're different, 
Juan," I added with sincerity. I smiled and gently touched the head of 
his penis with my tongue. That there was no opening in the tip was 
strangely exciting to me.

"Well, I think it's weird-looking. And it's hell to piss with," 
Juan continued sheepishly. I nodded understandingly, uncertain of what 
I should say next.

"It doesn't appear to stop you from wanting to have sex, Juan," I 
teased. "For a twelve-year-old boy, you must be the horniest thing 
alive."

Juan grinned at me and gently brushed his lips against the bulb 
end of my condom. "So Matt, if I want you to suck mine, what am I going 
to use for a rubber?" he asked with boyish bravado.

His question presented a dilemma, both because I was still 
uncertain whether I wanted to reciprocate and return the pleasure, and 
also because an adult condom would obviously be ineffective on his boy-
sized erection. I had never engaged in oral intercourse -at least cock 
sucking- before, though the opportunity, now raised to me, was of such 
interest that my heart began to beat faster with the mere thought of 
taking Juan's genitals into my mouth.

"What does it taste like,... the rubber I mean?" I asked awkwardly 
of the boy.

Juan shrugged again. "It's gross, man! It's kind of,... well I 
don't know,... it's like sucking a balloon or something. Bruce, he's a 
friend of mine, he says that it tastes like pencil erasers. I suppose it 
does, kind of."

"It doesn't sound very good," I admitted diffidently, though still 
enthusiastic about sucking the delicious morsel.

"If you promise me that you haven't got Aids or anything, I'll 
suck yours without using one if you want me to," Juan offered. 

"The hell you will," I countered. "I don't know who taught you 
about using condoms, but whoever it was, he did the right thing by you."

"Yeah, well,... The rubber tastes really gross, man!" Juan flipped 
at my rigid penis.

"Maybe you should just jerk him off," I said.

"Boring!" Juan whined. He smiled and took hold of my penis with 
his fingers. His fingertips and thumb could not meet unless he squeezed 
tightly. "You have a big dick, Matt," he acknowledged crudely. 
"Maybe,... " he paused. "What if I want him in my butt again?"

I raised one eyebrow in response to his question and answered it 
with silence. We looked at each other.

"You want to do it again?" Juan asked softly. "You do, don't you?"

"You're going to hurt yourself," I warned.

"It's my butt, and anyway, if it doesn't bother me, why should you 
worry. Besides, I think it's supposed to start getting easier, the more 
you do it up there," he replied with some uncertainty.

Juan smiled and scrambled to his knees. He looked over the side of 
the bed in a futile effort to find the tube of K-Y. "Where the fuck did 
we put it?" he asked. I shrugged. He gave up and glanced back at me as 
his fingers explored between his cheeks. "I'm still pretty slippery 
inside, I think. We could try doing it without it. I suppose we could 
even use some spit on him to get started."

"It's got to be in here somewhere. Maybe it's in the bed?" I 
suggested.

Juan leered at me as he reached out and grasped my rigid penis. 
"I'm game. If I'm not slippery enough back there, then we can look for 
it."

"You're a spunky little guy, aren't you?" I laughed. "Okay! Here's 
the deal. This is your idea so you can do all the work this time. I'm 
going to lie here and enjoy it. It's your turn anyway."

The boy smirked as he realized what I had in mind. Without a word 
he straddled my legs. Kneeling over my thighs, he began to rub my penis. 
His hand moved rhythmically as he sought to induce the maximum degree of 
stiffness. I flexed my penis, trying to increase the blood pressure 
beyond it's already elevated level. After a minute he was satisfied. He 
leaned forward and drooled bubbly saliva over my penis. He grinned 
mischievously as he looked up at me and shamelessly smeared it over the 
latex sheath. He added some more saliva before he wriggled forward and 
positioned himself so that his knees were next to my flanks and his 
buttocks were directly over my rigid member. Awkwardly, he tried to 
settle down as he attempted to guide the tip of my engorged shaft to his 
opening. I felt the soft, warm skin of his firm cheeks. I reached down 
and gently drew the two globes apart, splitting his crack wide open and 
exposing his inner sanctum. Juan settled down, his fingers expertly 
directing my penis into the moist heat that emanated from his little 
orifice.

I pulled his bottom open even further as he pushed downward. His 
expression changed quickly as his face contorted, not from pain but as 
a result of trying to accept my huge penis. He strained down as if 
trying to defecate. Then he gasped suddenly as he felt the fullness 
embed itself, stretching his anus to the limit as my penis started to 
penetrate. Juan gasped again as he realized that the mushroom head was 
partially inside him.

"Jesus," he murmured. "Matt,... Matt, I think it's going in." 

Juan took a deep breath before he tried again. I could feel the 
constriction of his small anus. It was impossibly tight, like a small 
tube that could not be accessed no matter how hard we tried, but ever 
inviting another attempt.

"Push up hard,... when I push down,... okay?" Juan instructed. He 
panted heavily as if the words alone caused him great effort.

He closed his eyes and I watched his body tense. A quick breath 
and then he shoved downwards, grinding and wriggling as he forced 
himself against my penis. Watching Juan struggle onto my penis was 
incredibly exciting and, as it turned out, I did not need to assist. The 
swollen glans of my penis pierced him like a blunt stake, bursting 
through his body's resistance as his anus swallowed it. He groaned 
loudly and stopped his downward thrust. His eyes closed tightly as if to 
block out the pain. His lips were clenched as if to prevent the cry that 
threatened to break out.

My own response came immediately. As I felt his body engulf mine, 
I lifted up. My penis rammed upward, sliding on the residual lubrication 
inside his taut, hot body. My upward motion caught him by surprise and 
his eyes opened in amazement. In slow motion, my penis sunk further into 
him. One long, forceful thrust was all that it required. With each new 
inch inside him, Juan's expression became more shocked. When I finally 
stopped, my penis was totally enclosed in his bowel. Juan was sitting 
hard against my body, his scrotum pressing into my lower belly as mine 
was squashed into his crevice. It seemed impossible that my penis could 
have penetrated so far into his slender body without coming out again. 
It was so deep inside him that it seemed that there should be something 
bulging out his belly.

We were both breathing heavily, each stunned by the ease and speed 
at which my penis had achieved entry. Juan gazed at me silently as his 
rectum began to adjust to the presence of my invading organ.

"It feels,... so big," he whispered at last.

"Does it hurt?" I asked concernedly.

I was afraid that I had gone too quickly, pushed too hard, entered 
too far. There did not seem to be any where near the amount of space 
necessary to hold my massive shaft inside his narrow hips and slender 
waist. Juan shook his head abruptly.

"It's okay.... Don't ask again!... Ever!" 

I felt his sphincter shudder as it tried to evict me. There was a 
quick tremble through Juan's body as he fought back against his 
resisting spasm.

"Just try to relax," I suggested.

He smiled weakly. "Jesus! What do you think I'm trying to do?.... 
God!... It's huge, Matt. I feel like,... like I'm going to burst,... if 
I move even a little bit."

"Then don't move!"

"I don't plan to,... for a while at least.... It went in so 
easily, Matt."

"Maybe it does get easier after a while. God, you're so tight."

"I hope so.... It feels awesome.... Try to move him a bit."

I flexed my penis and made it jerk a fraction of an inch. Juan 
grunted. I flexed it again and produced another grunt. Juan's body 
spasmed as his sphincter tightened reflexively. It was a hopeless fight 
that had no chance of victory. It was followed by a sharp intake of air 
as the boy summoned his strength. I felt him pull away slightly and then 
settle back down again. He swallowed as his body swallowed my penis 
again.

"Man, that's absolutely fucking awesome," he breathed out.

 Juan took another still-deeper breath and closed his eyes in 
concentration. He lifted away slowly as his thighs tensed. I felt my 
penis being dragged through the incredible heat of his rectum. It was 
compressed so much that it seemed to be stretched out before his flesh 
yielded its grasp. He pulled away until only the glans of my penis 
remained inside him, grabbed by the constriction of his anus. He 
breathed, swallowed again, and began the slow push down again as his 
lithe body trembled with growing delight. My penis slid back inside him, 
going all the way before he relaxed again.

Remarkably, I saw that his small penis was shrivelled up. I 
wondered when Juan's erection had faded and then realized that it had 
happened almost as soon as my penis had taken possession of him. I 
fondled the tiny organ gently, amused that it could be so lifeless when 
its owner's body was experiencing so much joy. I stretched it out, 
caressing the smooth skin lovingly as I teased the little bulb of his 
glans.

Minutes passed quickly as Juan continued his slow movements. Each 
downward thrust seemed to be less stressful and more enjoyable until it 
was obvious to both of us that his bowel had loosened considerably. As 
his rectum stretched, his penis became stiffer. Stimulated at both 
ends, Juan became increasingly charged with frenetic energy. His back 
and forth movements became faster and more demanding as his penis and 
prostate were tortured. Some tightness was still present at his anus 
when my penis was completely inside him but it was no longer painful for 
him. Deeper inside him there was a delicious sloppy juiciness and a lush 
heat that sucked on my penis silently every time that Juan moved against 
me. I could have stayed there forever.

My orgasm came only a minute or two before nine o'clock. By then, 
my presentation was the furthest thing from my mind. I existed only to 
satisfy the beautiful naked boy who sat triumphantly above me. Judging 
by his frenzied motions and the growing expression of pure ecstasy, I 
was certain that Juan had climaxed as well only moments before he 
collapsed. Any doubt that I might have had was dispelled by the 
contented smile of unadulterated bliss as he lay above me. His slender 
body heaved with each gasping breath.

We lay together in silence for a long while. The aroma of our 
union lingered and I breathed deeply, savoring the pungent smell of sex. 
Juan lay over me, unmoving as he sought solace in my embrace. I caressed 
his slender, smooth back with gentle strokes from his moistened 
buttocks to his bony shoulders. He was exhausted.

I could not believe what had happened. In those wonderful seconds 
that preceded my release, my mind had been whirling in frenzied 
confusion. I wanted to shout out that I loved Juan, that I loved him 
more than I had ever loved anyone else. Such feelings would have been 
impossible only a day earlier. Physically drained, but more satisfied 
emotionally than I believed possible, there appeared to be no other 
solution than to keep the boy with me. Without him, life did not seem to 
be worth living. My mind reached its decision despite all logic and 
caution to the contrary.

However, my first problem was how to get Juan out of the hotel. If 
what I expected had occurred, it was highly likely that ever exit was 
closely monitored. How could I get past both police and Mafia? 
Curiously, my solution came in a way that was totally unexpected.

"That was better than fucking a woman, isn't it?" he whispered 
obscenely.

His dark, liquid eyes looked into mine. He knew the answer as well 
as I did. We had shared something very special. It was more than lust 
but neither of us wanted to acknowledge it aloud.

"Much, much better. It's a pity I didn't marry you," I added.

"Even if I was a girl, you still couldn't marry me," he said 
quietly.

Juan giggled as he rested his cheek on my chest. My fingers moved 
downwards into the deep cleft between his buttocks. I felt the slimy 
looseness that marked the entrance to his body. He did not possess a 
vagina but he had what I wanted more than anything else in the world. My 
finger slowly stroked against the spongy flesh as it circled the dilated 
opening. For the time being at last, his little hole was stretched 
beyond its elastic limit. My finger slipped inside and carefully probed 
into the weakened lining of his rectum. Juan moaned softly as my finger 
entered to its full depth, curled, and rubbed carefully into his bruised 
prostate.

"Huh? Because you're too young?" I asked.

"That's nice! Yeah, because I'm only twelve! And I guess because 
you're married already," he answered quietly. I sighed. I was married, 
unfortunately. "Maybe you could adopt me or something,... but you 
already have two daughters."

It was at that moment that I was struck again by the similarity 
between Juan and my stepdaughter, Cassie. In appearance, there was 
little likeness beyond the small mouth and delicate lips. And yet in 
other ways, in certain mannerisms, in the strange aura of still-
unformed sexuality, in the femininity that Juan exuded, they were very 
close. Juan could easily pass as a girl. Nobody would be looking for a 
girl!

I removed my finger from his anus, gave him a playful, loud slap 
on the bottom, and rolled away from under him. I sat up, turned around, 
and looked back at the beautiful naked boy beside me. My mind was made 
up.

"What's up? Is something wrong?" Juan asked. "You don't want to do 
it again already, do you?" he teased.

"No! Well, yes. Of course I want to do it again. But not now! 
Nothing's up! Everything is wonderful! Juan, I've got a wonderful idea 
but the first thing I've got to do is get you out of here."

"Huh? Out of your room? I don't understand."

"No, you dummy. Out of the hotel! Don't you think they'll be 
looking for you?"

"Oh! Yeah! I guess so! I suppose the cops will be downstairs. And 
Mister Luchiano too, for that matter."

"Right on! We have to move fast. Room service will want to get in 
here soon and clean up. I was supposed to check out today and,... Shit! 
It's nearly nine-thirty! Fuck! I was supposed to give my presentation at 
nine! Hell!"

Juan rolled onto his back and started to giggle. "What's so 
funny?" I demanded.

"You are! I like it when you cuss! You sound just like a kid! 
Shit! Fuck! And hell!"

It was impossible not to laugh with him as I stomped into the 
bathroom. I shouted out orders as I went.

"I'm going out for a while, Juan. I want you to stay here. Lock 
the door after me and don't open it to anyone. Understand? No one! If 
the maid comes around, don't answer. She won't be able to get in."

"Where are you going?"

"Shopping. I have to buy a few things to get you out of here. I 
have a great plan to get you out of here."

"A plan? What sort of plan? The cops are sure to see me if I leave 
here. And even if they don't,..." Juan's voice trailed off, leaving the 
thought unspoken. He had disobeyed Luchiano's instructions and he had a 
good idea that the consequences would be very unpleasant.

I dropped the used condom into the toilet and hoped that it 
wouldn't float, rinsed my face off and came back into the bedroom. Juan 
was lying on his side. His right leg was lifted up and bent at right 
angles as he used a couple of tissues to clean between his buttocks. The 
temptation to stay with him was incredible.

"It's pretty messy back there, huh?" I asked as I opened my 
suitcase and located my jeans.

Time was running out. I was beginning to wonder whether the 
conference organizers would call the hotel to find out where I was. If 
so, my time was very limited. Then I remembered that I hadn't filled out 
the registration form. No one from Norton knew where I was staying. My 
panic eased slightly.

"Real messy. There's stains all over the sheets. I didn't bleed 
but."

"I'm glad your butt didn't bleed, but don't end you sentences with 
but," I chided as I dressed.

Juan grinned and tossed the balled-up tissues at me. "It's your 
mess in my butt, but."

"No way." I laughed. "Remember I was the one with the rubber."

"Okay!" the boy agreed happily. "But it wouldn't have happened 
without you."

"Not wrong. Maybe you can sponge the worst of the marks out while 
I'm shopping," I suggested.

"I'll try. How long will you be gone? I should get dressed too, 
right?"

"No, I'll be buying some more clothes for you. Anyway, I doubt if 
your clothes are dry. I'll be gone about an hour at the most, so you can 
take a shower. Use my toothbrush, if you want," I added as I put my 
shoes on. I started towards the door and stopped. I turned around and 
smiled at Juan. "Remember beautiful, open the door to no one. Oh, and 
don't answer the telephone, either." He nodded. "Okay, now come over 
here and give me a good-bye hug," I said.

Juan needed no prompting. He hopped off the bed with surprising 
agility and trotted across the floor as if nothing untoward had happened 
to him since he woke up. Only a few minutes earlier he had been too 
exhausted to move. I reached out for him and pulled him into my embrace. 
Naked boy-flesh jumped into my welcoming arms and I hugged him tightly. 
Lithe and still hot, his bare sweat-moistened skin was incredibly 
arousing. His contact was invigorating to say the least. I gently 
squeezed his bottom and eased him away. Juan followed me into the 
hallway and we stopped before the door. He looked like a whore after a 
long, hard night as he grinned at me and shamelessly pressed his small 
genitals into my thigh. Again we hugged, this time longer and with more 
force as we merged together.

"Lock it and don't open it for anyone!" I instructed as I 
cautiously opened the door and looked outside. I tousled his ruffled 
hair before leaving. I heard the lock turn behind me and I walked 
quickly to the elevator. 

By my count there were four policemen in the lobby and two 
standing in the corridor that led out to the rear parking lot. I didn't 
know what to expect from the Mafia but the man sitting near to the front 
door looked awfully suspicious. No one showed any interest in me. I 
walked quickly out to my rent-a-car in the parking lot before I looked 
back to see whether I was being followed. By myself, it was highly 
unlikely that I would raise anyone's suspicions. The nearest mall was 
only a few blocks away. I had discovered it on my way back from the 
Norton Air Force Base.

Thank god for hypermarkets. Everything you ever wanted under the 
one roof and reasonably priced as well. I went straight to the Girls' 
Clothing section. There was a good selection in the pre-teen sizes, 8 
through 12. The easy part was determining the size I needed to buy. 
Judging Juan beside what I knew Cassie wore, I figured he was a ten, or 
close to it. He was much thinner than Cassie, and somewhat shorter, even 
though he was nearly a year older. Deciding what clothes to buy was much 
harder. What I wanted was something that a boy would never wear. I 
wandered through the aisles. Definitely a dress, of some kind, though 
not the sort to fit the upper body too closely. Better still, a skirt 
and a loose-fitting top. I picked through the rack and finally decided 
on a denim skirt that would go with almost anything. The top was more 
difficult and I settled on two contenders, one was a Texas-style white 
cotton shirt with embroidered shoulders. It was something that Cassie 
would wear. The other was LA style, a dark-red tee shirt emblazoned with 
a picture of a punk-rock band.

Continuing down the aisles looking for the other essentials of 
girl-dom, I picked out a pair of white tights, then a pair of black 
ones. With my lingering memory of the naked boy in the hall, it was easy 
to imagine Juan in them. With his slender legs, the result would be 
simply stunning and more than likely be enough to get him laid at the 
first opportunity. I cruised deeper into the Underwear section and 
selected a packet of panties before I spotted the ultimate in girl's 
underwear--low-cut, glossy-nylon briefs with brightly colored floral 
patterns. I ditched the panties and picked out three pair. Even if Juan 
didn't wear them, they'd make an interesting present for Cassie.

I looked over my selection and pondered what else I needed to buy. 
Something warm, something fashionable, a vest of some sort? Maybe a 
jacket? I expected that Juan would go for a denim jacket but not Cassie. 
I ambled back towards the clothing section. This close to winter the 
selection had been picked over. I pulled out one jacket that looked 
interesting. Floral-patterned black leather! It was the only one left, 
it was size 10-12, and it was expensive. Eighty-two dollars, and it 
probably would not fit Cassie for more than a few months, if at all. I 
smiled to myself as I remembered that I had just spent the night doing 
unbelievably enjoyable things with the most wonderful boy in the world. 
I placed the jacket in the cart. Juan more than deserved it.

But I still needed something else, something that emphasized the 
girl and prevented any association with a boy. I formed a mental picture 
of Juan's features, of Cassie, and the differences between them. Make-
up was what I needed, lipstick and eye-shadow, even nail-polish. I 
glanced around, reluctant to go into the Cosmetics section. But there 
was no need to go anywhere. In the center aisle was a selection of 
junior kits, prepackaged trays of make-up essentials ready for 
Christmas shoppers looking for last-minute stocking stuffers. Almost 
blond, Cassie would want the lighter, muted shades but with Juan's 
darker coloring, I picked the matched set of burgundy and purple. As an 
afterthought I threw in a tri-color box of hair coloring. Like Cassie, 
Juan would look awfully cute with a punk hairstyle.

This was going to be very expensive I decided as I examined the 
things in the cart. I still needed shoes and a curling wand. Several 
minutes I headed off to the check-out counter. Even as I neared the 
counter, I remembered one more thing. Tape! The last thing I wanted was 
an accidental erection on the way out of the hotel. One hundred and 
ninety three dollars, and a buck-fifty for the tape, and I left the 
store and headed back to the hotel. 



With my purchases concealed in a large shopping bag, I quickly 
made my way back to my room. I approached the door to room 635 with 
trepidation, half expecting to find policemen waiting inside. I knocked 
lightly on the door, waited a moment, and inserted my key. The door was 
still locked and I knocked again, a little louder this time. I waited 
with growing fear that something was wrong, knocking several times as 
three minutes passed. However, when I pressed my ear hard against the 
door, I easily guessed what Juan was doing from the sounds coming 
through the panel. A few seconds after the noise ended, I heard the 
faint sound of someone against the other side of the door.

"It's me," I whispered. "Open up. I've been waiting here forever."

There was an audible click and the door opened inwards. I stepped 
inside and quickly closed the door behind me. Juan was as naked as he 
had been when I left the room nearly forty-five minutes earlier, though 
his wet skin and hair indicated that he had stepped out of the shower 
only seconds before. He continue to towel himself dry as I locked the 
door. Now that I was fully awake and refreshed from the cool air 
outside, the boy seemed even more beautiful than I remembered. I studied 
him carefully as he briskly rubbed the towel over his slender body. 

"Sorry Matt," Juan grinned. "It didn't take you very long. Are 
there cops downstairs?"

"I counted six of them and there was one guy who looked like he 
might be from Sicily. Did anyone come by?" I asked nervously as I guided 
him into the bedroom. We had a lot to do and there was no time to waste. 
Juan shook his head and obediently sat down next to the table. The 
morning light streamed through the window and cascaded onto his bare 
flesh. In the sun, Juan's smooth tanned skin had a golden hue, while his 
untanned regions were deliciously and temptingly pale.

"What did you get?" he asked curiously as he eyed the shopping 
bag. "I'm hungry. Did you get some food? Are you going to tell me what 
the plan is?"

I was suddenly aware that I was very hungry and I was not 
surprised that the boy was similarly starving. Food had not been on my 
mind when I was shopping and I regretted my forgetfulness. Still, if we 
had more time, Juan looked good enough to eat.

"`Fraid not! You'll have to wait for breakfast. You're going to 
have a sex change. When we walk out of here you're going to be a girl, 
young man."

The boy stared at me in surprise as I grinned at him. "A girl? 
You're going to make me into a girl?" he finally mumbled self-
consciously.

"Not quite, but you'll look enough like a girl so they don't stop 
us downstairs. They won't be expecting you to walk right past them in a 
dress."

I chuckled happily as I pulled my first trick out of the bag. I 
opened the box, quickly looked for an outlet, and plugged in the hair-
curler. Juan's gently waving hair was about to become tightly curled. 
While it heated up I opened the tri-color box of washable hair dye, 
selected the purple shade, and wiped the sponge through the center of 
his hair. BY the time I finished there was a magenta plume beginning 
from his forehead and tapering all the way to the nape of his neck 
against a plum-colored streak about two inches wide. As the curler did 
its assigned task on the back of Juan's head, I went to work on his 
finger nails. His fingers were long and thin and the nails were narrow. 
The nail-polish color was an iridescent imperial-purple. If Juan had 
been a girl, it would have been an ideal match for his dark complexion.

 His nervousness, or what I imagined to be nervousness, slowly 
faded and he began to smile as he watched me in the mirror. He was 
reluctant about the hair dye at first but as the curls formed he quickly 
became more enthusiastic. With each finger painted, his hands became 
less and less boy-like. I relocated the curling wand several times. The 
effect was startling. His hair was more than long enough to curl several 
times and it was still wet enough to do exactly that.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I changed to his face and began the 
most difficult part of my assignment. Privately, I wished that I had 
watched either Cassie or her sister more closely. But even with my 
inexperience, the eye-shadow, highlighter, and lipstick wrought the 
most surprising changes imaginable. Strangely, the alterations suited 
him well. Anything but an aberration, there was a metamorphosis that 
emphasized his delicate features and his big, dark eyes. By the time I 
finished the last touches of make-up, Juan was no longer male. He, more 
accurately she, was now an extraordinarily beautiful girl.

I let Juan pick out the clothes he wanted to wear. Black tights, 
black and gold briefs, punk tee-shirt, skirt, and shoes. I stood back 
and watched Juan dress. He grinned happily. It was hardly the reaction 
I anticipated but one that was strangely satisfying to me. With each new 
piece of clothing, he surveyed the result in the full-length mirror. I 
was amazed at the transformation. Twelve-year-old boy had become ten or 
eleven-year-old girl and was every bit as alluring as the original 
model.

I remembered the tape at the last minute. "There's one more 
thing," I said.

"What are you going to do with the tape?"

"What if junior decides to stick out at the wrong time?"

"Oh!" Juan giggled. "Yeah I guess that could be kind of 
embarrassing. Only he's hard now and he's pretty much hidden under my 
dress," Juan observed.

"We're not taking the risk. Drop your panties and lift up the 
skirt so I can see the equipment," I said crudely.

Juan complied and I moved closer. His penis was inflexible. It was 
incredibly stiff, much harder than he had been earlier in the morning. 
His sex organ had flushed and reddened, tiny blue veins bulged, and his 
glans was swollen under the foreskin. I was fascinated as to the source 
of what was visibly an intense arousal for him. That dressing up in a 
girl's clothing stimulated the boy to this degree was so remote that I 
did not consider the possibility.

I walked into the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and 
returned to the bedroom. Juan's erection had not abated. After several 
minutes of cold compresses, the stiff little penis began to wilt. As 
soon as the pressure eased enough, I looped the tape twice around the 
end of a small softening penis and relocated it underneath. Positioned 
into the soft scrotum, with one small testicle on either side, Juan's 
penis reached back to the beginning of his crack. I secured the tape on 
the insides of his cheeks and inspected the anatomical modification. It 
was crude but highly effective.

I lifted the satin-smooth briefs and tights up from his knees and 
smiled. Between the legs, Juan could easily pass for Cassie, even in a 
bikini swimsuit. He was no longer a boy.

"Okay," I laughed, "it looks like you're ready." 

Juan smirked as he studied the reflection of a very different 
person in the mirror. "Awesome! Hey Matt, I really do look like a girl," 
he breathed out in admiration.

I acknowledged his appreciation with a big smile as I began to 
pack my bags. I was more than pleased with the end result, though not 
solely because of the outward effect of my accomplishment. I sensed that 
I had pleased Juan in a way that neither of us really understood.

"If you want to take any of your stuff with you, you better put it 
this," I said. I passed him a nylon bag that had contained fifty copies 
of my paper. Under normal circumstances, I would have used it to store 
copies of other papers that I picked up at the conference.

"Take out whatever you want from your gym bag but leave the wet 
things out of this one. Maybe I can find you a plastic bag for anything 
you really want to keep. We'll ditch the bag and your other clothes in 
the trash on the way out of here."

Juan nodded and darted into the bathroom. I grinned as I watched 
the lean body, still awkward in a skirt, tights, and sandals, but 
looking very much the part of a pre-teen girl. I silently prayed that my 
plan would work.

Five minutes later we left the room. After a brief scramble under 
the bed I found the K-Y, the box of condoms, and a missing shoe. I 
hurried Juan out and closed the door after me. On the way to the 
elevator, I placed the shopping bag in the trash chute. It bulged 
considerably and was already damp from Juan's wet clothes. Even the 
various wrappings from the new clothes went into the trash. Other than 
a few dirty smears on the sheets there was no sign of what had 
transpired in Room 635.

"Okay, Juan. I want you to listen closely." I said breathlessly. 
My heart was pounding and I clenched my hand tightly around the handle 
of my bag to stop it from trembling. "When we get out, stay close. I 
want you to stay next to me. I have to check out first. While I'm doing 
that I want you to keep back about twenty feet from the desk, don't look 
at the desk clerk. Just kind of amble around looking bored."

Juan nodded nervously, shuffling his feet, grasping his new bag 
tightly.

"Jesus, I can't keep calling you Juan, can I?" I muttered. I was 
as nervous as my young companion. "Just remember from now on, you're a 
girl. You have to act like a girl but don't overdo it. What on earth 
will I call you?"

"How about Cassie? That way you won't forget my name," Juan 
suggested after a moment's thought.

"Uh? Hmmm,..." I equivocated guiltily. Naming Juan after my step-
daughter seemed very wrong and yet it was also appropriate. "No! Not 
Cassie,... Casey! From now on you're Casey!"

"Casey?" Juan said carefully as he tried the name on. "Yeah! I 
like it! Casey what?"

"Casey Burton, you dick-head!" I laughed. "Okay, here we go," I 
added as the elevator came to a stop and the doors began to open.

END PART ONE