Date: Sat, 12 Oct 2002 18:15:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: 13greengrass <13greengrass@ziplip.com>
Subject: "Little General"

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to people or events is purely
coincidental.  If you're interested in reading my other works on Nifty,
they are listed below. I welcome feedback from all of my readers and
sincerely hope that my work brings pleasure to them.

Other works by Simon:

SUMMER CAMP ROMANCE
SITTING FOR JASON
NO MORE BANANAS
FIVE SESSIONS WITH FRANCISCO
THERAPY FOR JAMES


LITTLE GENERAL

	I called Andre "General".
	The reason for that will become obvious early in this story and
take on more meaning as the narrative progresses.
	I met him back when I moved into my building as a struggling
writer. He and his mother lived just two doors down from me. I came home
one night to find him standing in the hallway outside his apartment door,
silently holding it slightly ajar, peeking in silently with his nose
pressed to the crack. He hadn't heard me come up the stairs and didn't know
that I was standing there. From inside the apartment came the sultry and
heated moans of sex--a woman's smoky growl, a man's guttural groans. The
boy was standing there with his hands in his pants, playing his own peter
like a guitar. I was in a sticky situation. There was no way to say
anything, even in the most hushed tone, without scaring him senseless and
embarrassing him, so I turned and started back downstairs, hoping I might
make another, more noisy arrival and alert him in time to compose
himself. My next footstep scraped slightly on the linoleum and he jumped
and twirled around, eyes wide. He looked about to shout but only gasped and
yanked his hands free, red-faced. I was embarrassed for him.
	"Hey," I said brightly,pretending I had no idea what was going on.
	He was still trembling and sputtering. "Hi," he whispered. He
looked back at the door. The woman inside moaned passionately and he pulled
the door closed without a noise. He blinked at me. There was a noteworthy
bulge in his sweatpants.
	"I'm Stephen," I said. "What are you doing out here all alone?"
      "Um...waiting. I have to wait out here for...I don't know...a while."
      He looked nine, maybe ten, small and slender standing there in a pair
of ripped green sweats and a threadbare tee shirt that was a little too
small for him. It rode up around his waist, barely exposing a cocoa-colored
belly. His hair lay in neat braids over his head, dangling in tiny curls at
the nape of his neck. It was that handsome face that most drew my
attention. His dark brown skin shone in the light of the hallway. His eyes
were so brown they were black.
       I couldn't just leave him out there. Beyond the fact that he was
delicious to my eye, common decency forbade me go inside without offering
the child some assistance. Still, inviting strange little boys into my
apartment at night could really get me into some trouble that I didn't
need.
       "You can wait with me if you'd like," I said, unlocking my door.
       I walked inside, leaving the door open behind me. I went over to my
answering machine and punched a button, kicking my shoes off and rifling
through my mail. The boy hadn't appeared in the doorway yet.
       The first message was from my friend Cassie.
       "Stephen, I have to cancel on Saturday night. Sorry. There's this
guy I met at Rachel's"--there came a whistle--"Yummy as pudding! We're
going to Elaine's. Call me. Bye."
       I poured myself a large glass of water and drank it all down in one
gulp. The boy still hadn't appeared.
       The next caller was my sister. "Hey, Stevo! Aunt Sue's getting
remarried in August of next year." She laughed and hung up. I shook my
head. Aunt Sue was on her fourth marriage. I ripped open the only
important-looking bit of mail I received and looked inside. It wasn't
important at all. The boy still hadn't appeared.
       "Stephen," came the next message. "It's me, Dean. I've been thinking
about you all day and...well...it's making me pretty hot." Dean chuckled
lasciviously. "Today's the anniversary of that time in Central Park when we
both got so drunk." He laughed meaningfully. "Jim Beam. I have a bottle and
I thought we might go to the park and find a quiet place and..."
       I hit the stop button quickly. Of course, the boy was standing
timidly in the doorway. I smiled nervously.
       "Hello," I said, wondering if he had been listening. "Want something
to drink?"
       "What's Jim Beam?" he asked.
       I'm sure I was blushing. I saw him smirk at me.
       "Whiskey," I said. "It's for adults."
       "Gets ya drunk?" he asked.
       "No," I said, then shrugged. "Well, if you drink it, yes."


	His mother was about twenty seven--a shapely black woman with a
headful of braids. She met me that same day for the first time when the
door opened and her boyfriend emerged, adjusting his clothes and smiling
awkwardly at her. I was sitting with her son in the open door of my
apartment leafing through a large book from my coffee table called "Knights
and Armor". Everyone looked surprised to see each other.
	The boyfriend, young and handsome, sniffed and nodded and shuffled
away quickly, glancing back at her with a smile and a wave. She waved
back. "Bye, Ruben baby," she cooed to him, then she looked over at the boy
and me.
       "Hey!" she said. "Andre, it looks like you found yourself a friend!"
       "I'm Stephen," I said, rising to shake her hand. Her long
fingernails were painted gold.  "He looked so lonely out here by himself,"
I explained. "So I figured I'd hang out with him awhile. I hope you don't
mind."
       She looked embarrassed. She looked past me at Andre. "Go on in," she
said to him, jerking her head toward the door. "Get ready for bed."
       He walked past us to the door. He stopped and looked up at me,
leaning a bit into his mother's hip. "Bye, Stephen," he said
softly. "Thanks for sittin' with me."
       "My pleasure," I smiled.
       He went inside and she pulled the door closed, eyeing me
suspiciously.
       "You must think I'm a bad mother," she said. She sneered at me.
       "I don't know you," I said. "He just might be a bit young to be
hanging out in the hallway all by himself at night. He's only ten."
       She nodded as if she couldn't deny that. "We're alone here," she
said. "I ain't got nowhere to take him if I want to be alone with my
boyfriend, ya know?"
       I nodded.
       "We got a studio apartment, man. My living room is my bedroom ..."
She blushed and smiled nervously. "I need my privacy!"  She looked
dreadfully embarrassed, offering such flimsy excuses. "My ma is all the way
in Brooklyn! I ain't got a car!"
       I could have stood silently and let her ramble on, but I just waved
her away and turned back toward my apartment. "I understand," I
said. "Better if you just bring him over to my place when Ruben comes over,
if I'm home. I won't mind."
       "Really?" She sounded stunned by my generosity. I felt transparent
in my desire to spend more time with Andre. I shrugged and tried to sound
nonchalant.
       "Better than him hanging out in the hallway," I said. "I'd enjoy it
too." I stopped in my doorway and looked at her. "What's your name?"
       "Janelle."
       I smiled. "He really likes knights, doesn't he?"
        She chuckled. "Anything about war," she said. "He got some books
from the library last month and looked at `em all day long." She hunched
her shoulders. "Kinda violent, but...it's history!"


       It was tenuous at first. There was an awkwardness to Janelle's first
apprehensive knocks on my door to ask me if I was busy. I made it a point
to not be. Ruben would be standing in the doorway, staring at her hungrily,
heat in his eyes, and she would be presenting Andre to me apologetically,
promising to not be long. Andre would come bounding into my apartment,
straight to the coffee table where he knelt as if before an altar, opening
"Knights and Armor" reverently as if it were a sacred tome.
	The first time, we spent forty-five minutes with the book. I
answered his questions and read the captions beneath the pictures. When
Janelle knocked on the door to collect him, she looked sheepish and
embarrassed and I told her that it was no problem.
	After that, it happened even more frequently and before long, Andre
was spending several hours a night, four nights a week with me. Janelle had
gotten quite cavalier about toting him over as early as six o'clock and as
late as nine on the weekends. I didn't mind. I could see that she needed
some help with him and that she and Ruben needed the time together. Ruben
was a mere blur to me. He was always gone before she came to get Andre and
I only ever saw him when she would deliver Andre to me. Ruben would nod and
smile at me, appreciating my services, unbuttoning his shirt as he stood in
the doorway of Janelle's apartment.
	Most importantly, I got to spend more and more time with Andre. He
came in the door and tumbled into me and I scooped him up and nuzzled his
neck and hoisted him like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder. Janelle
would scurry back to her bower of bliss and Andre and I would fall together
onto the couch. We'd watch TV--Nickelodeon and the Sci Fi Channel--or
read books, always about knights and armies and warriors and wizards.
      I guess we'd known each other about two months when he looked over
his cards at me during a game of Crazy Eights and asked, "Who's Dean?"
      It was one of those questions I knew would come eventually. He'd
heard every suggestive word in Dean's phone message. I admired that he
waited so long to ask such an obviously personal question.
      "A guy I used to know," I said.
      "A gay guy?"
      I nodded and played my card.
      "So you're gay?"
      I looked at him and nodded again. "Yeah."
      He looked at his cards thoughtfully, then drew one and played
it. "You and Dean were like..."--he screwed up his
shoulders--"...boyfriend and boyfriend or somethin'?"
      "Or somethin'," I said.
      "And you did it Central Park?"
      "Did what?" I really tried to look ignorant.
      "It," he said patiently. "Ya know...it."
      "Oh, it!" I played a card. "Spades."
      "Shit."
      "Yes, we did it in Central Park," I said. "It was mediocre at best."
      "Meaty what?"
      "Skip it," I said. "Take your turn."


       We read a lot. I read him stories about King Arthur and the Knights
of the Round Table and we'd gallop around my apartment on pretend horses,
wielding make-believe swords in mock battles, falling and spilling our
imaginary blood on the carpeting. I draped myself in blankets and charged
through the house, a vicious dragon, and he would give out a battle cry and
slay me in the kitchen, straddling me in victory and chopping off my head.
	He moved like poetry, smooth and agile like a cat, leaping from the
couch, dodging me and my gnashing teeth and thrashing claws. When I caught
him, it was always with his permission, unspoken, acted out like a fallen
knight, noble and brave beneath the tickling claws of the dragon.  I would
tackle him to the floor, nuzzling his neck and poking his ribs, and he
would howl with laughter and pretend to try to get away. Not very
convincing with his arms around my neck.


	Andre and I played lots of games but none as exciting as the one he
invented one evening after dinner while we were cuddling on the couch
watching "I Love Lucy". I was lying on my back and he was lying next to me
in the nook of my arm, hugging me with his small arm across my chest, his
leg slung over my hips. It was a natural position for us to find
ourselves. I could mash my nose into the top of his head, smell his hair,
kiss him on the forehead, and he would sometimes sneak a hand inside my
shirt. He liked my hairy chest and belly and I liked his little hands on
me, curious and sensitive, taking in the contours of my torso and running
his fingers through my hair. It was sensual, but not sexual really. He
seemed to be happy just to be with me, talking and laughing. We both came
to dread hearing his mother's knock on the door.
	So this night, he seemed particularly restless, seething with
energy. He clamored on top of me, chest to chest, chin to chin, and told me
about a book he wanted about World War Two that he'd seen advertised on
television. "Can we get it?" he asked.
	"Sure."
	I'd give him the world if I could. Moments after he would arrive, I
would be intoxicated, drinking him in like a fine bottle of wine.
	"Can we go to the store and look for it sometime?"
	Venture from the apartment? An outing? It didn't line up with the
accepted premise of our get-togethers but I nodded happily and said,
"Sure."
	He exploded in boyish exuberance and he kissed me on the lips. It
was fast and rough but heartfelt. He looked down into my face and laughed,
judging my reaction. I was smiling blissfully. He giggled and mashed his
little lips artlessly against mine and held them there, mimicking a movie
star kiss or perhaps what he'd seen between his mother and Ruben. Our lips
parted with a juicy smack and he looked down into my face, his eyes alight.
	It was an off-handed comment that I made. It was without ulterior
motive and utterly ignorant of the affect it would have on young Andre. It
was said spontaneously without any intention of sparking a new game--of
starting a ball rolling that, once in motion, would be seemingly impossible
to stop.
	"Wo," I pretended to swoon. "That just wiped out half my army."
	Andre's smile brightened. He covered my lips with his once more,
pressing so hard that I could feel his teeth through his lips, grinding
into my own. He breathed through his nose and held that pose. He seemed to
believe that the quality of a kiss is determined by the length of time the
kissers' lips are in contact with each other and how vice-like their grips
could be. All other factors escaped him, but then again, he was only ten
years old.
      When our lips parted, I swooned again and said, "There goes the other
half."
	He smiled, victoriously. "I'll kill your army again!" But before he
could plant his lips on me, I made a frail attempt at objecting.
	"You can't kill my army again," I said. "Once it's dead, it's
dead."
	He looked thoughtful, touching his soft lips with his finger. He
was trying to solve this problem and was looking more and more sorry for
having destroyed my troops so swiftly. His eyes brightened then.
	"Pretend you got another army!" he said.
	I was dizzy with the sensations of having this lovely boy in my
arms, hearing his inventions aimed at clearing the path for more lip
mashing. Lip mashing. It clearly wasn't yet kissing.
	"Okay, okay," I said. "I just got a whole bunch of recruits. I have
a mighty army now."
	He looked satisfied with this and dove back down onto me, his lips
a tight line grinding into mine until they hurt. He moaned a little and
touched my face. He had apparently watched Janelle and Ruben more than I
had originally suspected. He was playing a role, a passionate lover, and I
was pleased to be his costar, yet it was naïve and completely pretend,
as pretend as the horses and the swords and the vicious dragon. It was just
a game. But there was something about the nature of it that made him want
to play it. When our lips parted again, I rolled my eyes and acted
overwhelmed (and in a way I was).
	"That wiped out about twenty five percent of my army," I said.
	"Only twenty five?"
	I shrugged. "Maybe thirty."
	He returned to the task, this time applying more pressure and
holding on for more time. Harder and longer. That was his whole
strategy. The little general was learning the ropes and he was catching on
quickly. His fingers played on my neck and ears and I don't know if he
could feel my hard on pressing against his thigh but I know I felt his
against my stomach. I rubbed his back gently, little sentences of body
language, caressing words on his shoulders. When his lips parted, I swooned
accordingly and proclaimed another fifty percent of my army dead. "Twenty
percent more to go," I said. "Then you'll have to deal with my navy!"
	It would be a while before we played the game again. We cuddled
every time he was over, and I would kiss him on the forehead, on the neck
and cheek--a couple of times on the lips even. He was open to it all,
soaking it in, but I never initiated the game. He acted as if he had
forgotten the entire experience.


	Five months later, when Andre turned eleven, I was invited to his
birthday party. I met his grandmother and two uncles and their wives and
children. Of course Ruben was there, glued to Janelle, nibbling her from
time to time. No one seemed to wonder why Andre spent most of the evening
perched on my knee or why, for that matter, this white guy was there so
obviously attached to the birthday boy. Andre opened his presents next to
me, ate his ice cream and cake in my lap, and regularly leapt, airborne, to
land on my back and ride around the party like a little jockey. He spent
most of the evening sitting with me and my gift to him--that book about
World War Two that he had asked me about. It had taken a long time to track
it down.
	After everyone departed, except Ruben, Janelle gave me a
look--the look--a knowing smile combined with a little head roll toward
my door, and I scooped Andre up into my arms and took him back to my
apartment where he curled up in my recliner with me and watched "The Brady
Bunch". Janelle's knock on my door awoke me. Andre was sleeping soundly as
I extricated myself from him and opened the door. It was after ten thirty
and Janelle greeted me with an apology.
	I carried Andre over to Janelle's, to the corner of the apartment
she called "his room", and laid him gently in his bed. Janelle took off his
shoes and I kissed him lightly on the forehead and left. Janelle apologized
and thanked me all the way to the door.
	"Don't mention it," I said. "It's a pleasure to have him over. Next
time you're going to be this late, we should just plan to have him sleep
over."
	"Really?" There was that stunned response again.
	I headed toward my apartment. "Really," I said. "I'd like to take
him to the museum on Saturday, if that's all right. There's a great display
on knights and armor at the Metropolitan."
      Janelle looked puzzled. "Um...sure. What time?"
      "How about one?" I asked. "Feed him lunch and I'll take care of
dinner."
      She smiled broadly. "Okay," she said. "Thanks."
      "Good night, Janelle."


	I won't say that Janelle was a good mother. She was a young mother
who tried to be a good mother but just lacked the maturity necessary to
care for an eleven year old ball of energy like Andre. She was a young
woman with a lot of life to live and the desire to go places and do things
not suitable for a young boy. Andre loved the museum. I rode him around on
my back until my muscles cramped, then we walked hand in hand for the rest
of the way. He chattered incessantly with intelligent questions and clever
observations.
	It kicked off a string of day trips--to the Mets game, to the
library, to the store in search of more books about war and warriors. We
went bowling, skating, and swimming at the YMCA. He was dressed in mustard
yellow trunks that hung low on his hips when they got wet. We cuddled in
the pool, him hanging onto my neck as we moved around in the water, under
and above the surface like a two-headed water monster, feeling his
slippery, smooth skin against me, his legs wrapped around my waist. We were
accustomed to strange looks everywhere we went. Still, we had to be
discreet and the cuddling quickly turned into racing and dunking each
other. White man with a black boy. No one knew what to think of us.
	About three months after Andre turned eleven, he arrived at my
apartment particularly energized. Janelle didn't even bother to deliver him
anymore. She just sent him out to me as Ruben came in to her. Andre would
knock impatiently and when I opened the door, he would burst in, throwing
his arms around my waist, already laughing and ready for fun. On this day,
he hung on extra long. He stood on my feet and we walked around the
apartment that way until tripping and falling onto the couch. His throaty
laugh was like music to me. I would do anything to evoke it. I tickled him
and pulled him close to me, smelling his skin and breath. There was no
explanation for why he was so physical today. He was a boy, fickle and
unpredictable, and I was just lucky enough to have been with him when this
mood overtook him.
	He kissed me on the cheek and I moved my hands up his shirt to
scratch his bare back gently with my fingernails. He loved that and so did
I. It was a way of calming him down or cheering him up or showing affection
or bonding. It served so many purposes that it was always welcome. Now,
however, it was making him moan slightly and he began to grind his crotch
into my stomach.
	"Should I take off my shirt?" he asked out of nowhere. He usually
didn't remove his shirt when I scratched his back and there was something
in his voice that suggested that something else was afoot.
	"Sure," I said. "If you'd like."
	He sat up, straddling me, and pulled his shirt off over his head
with one motion. He tossed it on the floor and started to lay back down,
stopped, then yanked at my shirt, trying to pull it up to my neck. I arched
my back to let the shirt ride up.
	"Just take it off," he said finally, then added. "If you wanna."
	I shrugged and pulled my shirt off. This was all new territory. His
explorations of my chest and stomach were usually done with curious hands
under my shirt. I wondered about what inspired this idea and, as if reading
my mind, Andre wrinkled his nose into a smile and said, "I wanna feel your
hair on me."
	It was said sweetly and without sexual innuendo, or at least that's
how it struck me. He laid down on top or me. His naked torso against mine,
he squirmed, rubbing his bare chest into me. He was grinding against me as
well. I stroked his back with my fingernails. He hardly seemed to
notice. He had a distant look in his eyes, as if all of his concentration
was on the sensation of his nipples rustling in my hair. I was hard as a
rock. His stiffie poked me in the belly.
	"Let's play that game," he said then.
	Those words, just four of them, sang in my ears like poetry. I
tried not to look overly excited. "What game?"
	"War," he said. "Remember?"
	"Ah, yes." I smiled at him. "War."
	War. What a misnomer.
	"What do you have?"
	I recited a quick list of my troops and defenses--army, navy,
marines, air force. He listened to me carefully, absent-mindedly rubbing
the whole of his front against me, and when I was done, he dove into
action. Right from the start, I knew something was different. He didn't
press his tightly closed lips to mine, he touched my lips softly with his,
rubbing his sweet mouth on mine. It was beginning to resemble a real kiss
now. After a long one, he looked down into my face. I did my swooning act
and looked up at him.
	"Thirty percent of my army," I said.
	He looked disappointed but he didn't say anything. He looked
determinedly at my mouth, his target, and tried again. His lips parted
slightly a couple of times. I dared to stick my tongue out, just a quick
swipe to test the waters, and he pulled back a moment, a little
surprised. Then he stuck his own tongue out, between my lips. I met it with
my own and let out a little moan from my throat--nonverbal but audible
encouragement. Our tongues did a little dance, rubbing together like mating
dolphins, and Andre quickened his humping against my belly. When our lips
parted, his eyes were swimming in amusement. He smiled down at me.
	"You just took out my whole army," I said to him.
	"Wowie!"
	He went back to work in earnest. With this new trick, he took
advantage and I lay happily, surrendering my navy, my marines and my air
force. My cock seemed to be trying to burst out of my jeans. I held onto
the waistband of his sweat pants, never venturing lower, not yet ready to
push things in that direction without his clear consent. He sat up and
adjusted himself. I looked at him sitting there, his little boner making
itself known through the fabric. I stared at his lovely smooth chest and
belly and his nipples stared back at me. I resisted the temptation to kiss
him on the chest.
	"Is that all?" he asked.
	I wasn't sure what the question meant. Was that all of my defenses?
Had he "won" the game? Was that all there was to do--kissing? I tried to
read him.
	"Don't ya have any more guys?" he asked.
	"Of course I do," I said. "You haven't killed my sergeant yet!" His
eyes brightened so I knew I was on the right track. "Or my lieutenant or my
major or my general!"
	He rubbed his hands together fiendishly. "Now," he announced. "Your
sergeant dies!"
	I was expecting him to dive down, back onto my mouth, but to my
surprise, he leaned over and placed his lips on my nipple. My nipples are
not particularly sensitive, but his intentions sent my senses singing in my
head. He licked and sucked it arduously, looking up into my face to watch
my reaction. I smiled and closed my eyes and let out a big sigh. I liked
the way he was thinking. As his lips worked on my nipple, his hands rubbed
my chest, exploring my armpits delicately, fingering the hair there as if
petting small animals.
	This sudden surprise attack told me some things about Andre, most
of which I already suspected. Firstly, he was making the connection between
kissing, which is not a purely sexual experience (he had kissed his mother
and grandmother after all) to sucking and licking my nipples, a clearly
sensual, if not sexual, activity. Secondly, he had watched Janelle and
Ruben carefully and frequently and I began to think that perhaps he had
many more surprises up his sleeve for me. Lastly, he was catching on that
the more he intensified and varied his "attacks" on me, the more effective
he was at cutting a swathe through my defenses. I encouraged this when he
took his lips from my nipple and looked inquisitively at me, waiting for my
casualty report.
	"You just wiped out my sergeant AND my lieutenant," I sighed,
smiling.
	He grinned and licked his lips and went at the other nipple. The
rules and object of the game had been clarified. If he desired to wipe out
my kingdom, he was going to have to use his imagination, and he had a very
active imagination.
	The other nipple took out my major and my general and he laughed
victoriously.
	"Pretend you have a..." He paused in thought. "...a magic horse!"
	"A magic horse!" I mused. "Okay, but how are you going to kill a
magic horse?"
	He rubbed his hands together again with a wicked smile and laid
down on top of me. He nuzzled my ear lobe a couple of times, then began to
kiss my neck, dragging his tongue from time to time. He couldn't possibly
have known, but where my nipples aren't sensitive, my neck definitely
is. His breath and his lips and his tongue sent shivers rippling through my
body. He nosed and nuzzled me from one side, across my Adams apple to the
other side, up behind my ear, sucking a lobe sweetly. I groaned out loud
without meaning to. I was swooning for real now and I held the little
general close to me as his troops marched across my libido.
	When he raised his head and looked down at me, grinning from ear to
ear, I'm sure he could see in my eyes how he had affected me. I was
speechless for a while.
	"Well?" he asked.
	"My horse, magic and all, is dead," I announced solemnly.
	He cheered, fists in the air.
      A knock came at the door and we both nearly jumped out of our
skin. It was then when I learned something else very valuable about little
Andre, something I had been wondering ever since that day when we first
played the game. How discreet was he? Did he know that what we were doing
was something best kept from his mother?
	Judging by the way he dove for his shirt, pulling it on manically
before the second knock sounded, he seemed to understand the importance of
being discreet. I pulled on my shirt as well and looked at my watch. Our
little war had been going on for nearly two and a half hours. Amazing. It
seemed like a half hour. Andre was still smiling over his victory when I
opened the door. Janelle was there, looking worn out from her own little
game with Ruben. She smiled and thanked me and Andre marched out of my
apartment, the triumphant victor returning home.
	"Goodbye, General," I said to him.
	He looked over his shoulder, waved and smiled at me.


	Two days later, he knocked on my door again. It was three minutes
after seven when he sauntered in and seven ten when he looked over at me
with a devilish smile and said, "Let's play war." He pulled his shirt off
over his head and threw it across the room.
	I removed mine as well and we settled into the couch in our usual
position. We both had sweats on. I was hard as soon as he lowered his
slender little body on top of mine. "What have you got?" he asked me, all
business.
	A boner, I thought, but I said, "The usual. Army, navy, marines,
air force..."
	"Sergeant, lieutenant, major, general," he added, counting on his
fingers. "Magic horse." He looked at me. "What else?"
	He obviously had a long war planned. I thought for a moment. "I
have a warlock, a wizard and a golden lion," I reported.
	He smiled excitedly. "And..." He was grasping for straws
now. "...and a white tiger!"
	I nodded in agreement. "That ought to keep you busy."
	He had become very good at kissing. It was his chosen strategy
against my army and navy. With his tongue and lips, he leveled my troops,
leaving them piled in heaps in his wake. He cut a swathe through my marines
through my left nipple and my air force through my right. He took out my
sergeant, lieutenant, major and general by attacking my neck and ears,
laving me with his tongue, kissing my neck until my cock throbbed. "What's
next?" he asked me.
	"The magic horse."  I was curious to see what he had in store. He
had reached the limits of where he had gone previously.
	He didn't hesitate much, as if he had already thought this out well
before he even knocked on my door. He snuggled down into the nook of my
arm, looking down at my crotch. My sweats were tenting out. He clearly
noticed it but didn't say a word. He kissed me tenderly, moving his tongue
in and out of my mouth. It was delicious, but while it may have
exterminated my army and navy, it wouldn't be effective against a magic
horse. It seemed to me it would take magic to defeat magic.
	His hand traveled down my chest to my belly, then marched south
over the fabric of my sweat pants until it grabbed my magic horse firmly. I
gasped and heard myself moan loudly into Andre's mouth. He giggled and
prodded my cock through my pants, squeezing and rubbing it. I felt the
tingling all the way down my legs and into my feet. I let my hand drop
down, past his hip, to come to rest on his butt. A grope for a grope, I
reasoned. He didn't object. In fact, he pushed his ass back into my hand,
groping all the while, his tongue exploring my mouth.
	He stopped suddenly, raising his face away from mine, looking at
me. He had taken his hand off my cock but my hand remained happily on his
rump. He looked at me inquisitively. I was out and out swooning now,
sincerely and from the heart, and it took me a while to find my tongue,
which had so recently been in his mouth.
	"You have conquered my magic horse," I said breathlessly. "Now, on
to my warlock."
	Whereas he had surely conquered my magic horse, it was still
bucking wildly in its stable, trying to bust loose from my pants. He took
hold of it again, squeezing it meaningfully, thinking about his next
tactical maneuver. He wiggled his ass in my hand.
	"Are you attacking me from the back?" he asked, smirking.
	I laughed. "Sort of," I said. "Is it doing any damage to your
troops?"
	He was, by now, aware of the pleasure involved in my casualties and
he measured my strategy appropriately. "Yeah," he said, suddenly
bashful. "That killed..." he calculated through his bottom into his
head. "...twenty five percent of my army."
	I smiled, loving the way the game was going. "Well, if pleasure is
what kills," I said. "Then it knocked my warlock on his ass too."
	He looked confused. "You attack me and you lose guys too?"
	"There are casualties even in the most victorious of armies," I
said. "I like my hand there too much to not lose something. I said it
knocked my warlock on his ass. I never said it killed him."
	He laughed at me, understanding this new dimension to the game. He
looked like he got an idea suddenly. He reached back and pulled down his
sweatpants and underwear, exposing his bare ass, and went back to kissing
me, grabbing my cock through my pants and pressing himself into me. My hand
played over his smooth, slender buns. I was delirious with pleasure as my
warlock went down like a bag of lead. Well after he was dead and
decomposing, Andre was still kissing me and sticking his ass up into the
air, allowing my fingers to fall between those heavenly buttocks and come
to rest on his little bud. He moaned and stopped kissing me, resting his
forehead on my chin, concentrating on my fingers playing on his hole.
	"Ohhh," he sighed heavily.
	"Mmmmm," I groaned back.
	He looked into my face, barely able to focus his eyes. "What about
now?" he asked.
	"My warlock is long dead," I said softly. "I'm down to my
wizard. And you?" I wiggled my finger against his anus and he moaned again.
	"My navy and marines are all dead," he said. "But my air force is
still strong."
	"Shall I attack it then?" I asked. This was war, but such courteous
considerations were still in order. He was still in charge.
	He smiled and considered this. "I thought I was the only one who
attacked?"
	"I was just asking."
	He nodded his head. "Okay," he said. "You can attack once."
	I pulled him up and over me until he was lying on his back beside
me on the couch. I pulled down his sweats in front and his stiff little air
force popped free. He was looking down at it, watching my hand move toward
it slowly, touch the velvety head lightly. His eyes grew wide at the
contact. When I took his small dick into my hand and stroked it tenderly,
he closed his eyes and held his breath. I lowered my lips to him and kissed
him. He wrapped his arms around my neck and thrust his tongue between my
lips. My wizard took his fair-sized wand in hand and did a number on him,
wandering down over his little balls, stroking the satin scrotum with the
most precious care. He arched his back, raising his hips in the air, his
cock jutting up in surrender as my magic fingers manipulated him. When our
lips parted, he seemed shocked into silence and I had to unhand his tool in
order for him to hear me.
	"How's your air force?" I asked.
	"All dead," he murmured with a grin. "What about your wizard?"
	"Wounded, but smiling victoriously!"
	He feigned anger and pushed down his sweats, trying to kick them
off over his feet. He was so determined suddenly and my head swam with the
possibilities of what might happen next. Suddenly the dreaded knock came at
the door and he was just as quickly yanking up his pants, jumping up and
down to hoist them to his waist. I was grabbing for my shirt.
	"Where's my shirt?" he hissed suddenly.
	"Over there!"
	He darted across the room and snatched up the shirt. Janelle
knocked again. I was rearranging my magic horse when I opened the
door. Andre had just pulled his shirt on over his head and was pulling it
down over his flat little tummy.
	Janelle was all smiles. She looked unusually coy and friendly. "Hey
guys," she said.
	"Hey mom."
	"Hi," I said. I was bent at the waist, wishing my magic horse would
lie the fuck down. It seemed to be slowly settling back in its stall.
	"Stephen," she said. "I have a favor to ask of you."
	"Shoot."
	"Could you take Andre overnight this Friday?"
	Andre and I looked at each other, then at Janelle. Andre exploded
into a cheer. He charged me and threw himself into my arms. His cock was
already deflated and lying docile and flaccid between those luscious thighs
and against my hip as I held him aloft.
	"No problem," I said.
	"Ruben and I need some time together," she said. "Ya know what I
mean."
	"I know what you mean."
	I meant that. I needed time together with Andre so I knew what she
meant. She, however, had no idea what I meant. Andre was squirming in my
arms, bouncing up and down and waving his arms in the air. He knew what I
meant.
	"All night?" he asked his mother.
	She nodded.
	"Promise?"
	She nodded again.
	He threw his arms around my neck and hugged me. He was getting big
at eleven and a half but I held him in my arms like he was still a little
boy, his legs dangling down on either side of my hip.
	"I'll bring him over at around seven," Janelle said, turning and
starting out. "Okay?"
	"That's fine."
	She was gone, heading back to her apartment. I kissed my boy on the
cheek and lowered him to the floor. "See you Friday, General."
	He gave me a wrinkled-nose smile, eyes mischievous and
sparkling. "You're goin' down!" He turned and scampered out the door.


	If war is hell, then send me to hell. The days crawled by like
molasses. I'd see Andre in the hallway from time to time and he came over
briefly on Thursday after school. We ate Oreos and watched "Hogan's Heroes"
and "Bewitched" until he had to go home to eat dinner. I didn't say
anything about the impending war. I was leaving him an out in case he
wanted one. If he wanted to just let it go away, unspoken, I'd go along
with it.
	He dunked a cookie into his milk and looked over at me. "Are your
troops rested up?"
	He started the whole discussion. I swear it. I was completely
willing to let it ride.
	I snorted. "My troops don't need rest," I said. "They're ready to
go anytime."
	"So are mine!" Clearly I was working with an eleven year old
kid. "What's say we have a little rumble then?"
	"Right now?"
	He nodded. "Just a little rumble," he said. He put his milk down
and moved gracefully across the room and into my lap. He was suddenly a
small ball in my arms, smelling of chocolate and snaking his arms around my
neck. "Pretend it's just a few guys."
	"You mean a skirmish?"
	He didn't know what that meant, but he nodded quickly. "Yeah," he
whispered. "A skirmish."
	"With political ramifications or no?"
	He nibbled my neck. My whole body went "zing!"
	"This is already more than a skirmish," I said.
	"What does sperm taste like?" he asked.
	I had the sensation that my head was a bowling ball about to fall
off my shoulders and roll out the door. I stammered and stuttered and
managed to say nothing at all.
	"Does it taste like cream?" he asked. "They call it cream, ya
know."
	"It doesn't taste like cream," I said. "What has you wondering?"
	He smiled at me and shrugged. "Nothin'."
	"You like trying new foods, don't you?"
	"Not vegetables," he said matter of factly, bumping my collarbone
with his nose. "But fruits, yeah."
	"What about meat?"
	The joke was lost on him. "I suppose."
	"Gravies, sauces, condiments?" I asked. Still, he didn't get it. He
shrugged, thinking about it.
	"Creams?"
	He opened his mouth to speak, stopped, then frowned at me, screwing
his mouth up into a wry grin. "Oh," he said. "I get it."
	"Let's just say," I said. "That your troops will eat well."
	We heard Janelle yelling his name, shouting something about dinner
and picking up his dirty clothes. "Shit," he said.
	"Shit and damn," I added.
	"I gotta go," he said. "We're goin' to grandma's tonight."
	"Glad we could have this little pre-war meeting."
	He leapt over the back of the couch and landed on his feet. He
threw his arms around my neck from behind and kissed me on the cheek. "See
you tomorrow."
	"At the sound of the guns," I emoted.


	Friday arrived finally, despite my growing concern that it never
would. Andre bounded over before six o'clock and had dinner with me while
Janelle primped and preened, awaiting Ruben's arrival. We heard him in the
hallway a little before seven while we were finishing up the dishes and
watching "Gilligan's Island".
	"Hey, Baby!" he crooned. We heard Janelle squeak and titter, the
smacks of kisses, the door closing behind them. It was like cannon fire on
the horizon, sparking our armies to the ready. We began to eye each other
like rivals, smiling, wondering, excited and hard already. He kept tugging
his pants at the crotch, adjusting his little pony in his sweats and I was
tending to my magic horse, which was snorting and stomping, anxious to get
out.
	I poured detergent into the dishwasher. "General," I said,
crouching to adjust the controls. "I'll be with you in a moment."
	When I rose to my feet, he was nowhere to be seen. The TV was still
on, the couch, the usual battlefield, was empty. I looked around in the
living room and didn't find him. I heard him clear his throat in the
bedroom. My heart leapt out of my chest and scampered ahead of me. I
arrived with a brave and debonair saunter.
	Andre was shirtless and barefoot, lying on my bed in nothing but
his pea-green sweatpants. His hands were folded back behind his head. He
was smiling at me.  "Man your battle stations," he said.
	"To arms, to arms," I answered, pulling off my tee shirt, moving
toward the bed.
	I fell onto the bed and into his arms. He immediately climbed on
top of me, straddling me and nudging me with his stiffie.
       "En garde," I said, poking him back with my own.
       He lowered his lips onto mine softly. I didn't know that an eleven
year old could be as passionate as Andre was in that moment, eyes falling
closed, tongue moving into my mouth. He kissed me lovingly and tenderly,
yet there was a heat in the touch of him that set me on fire. It was like
we were trying to climb inside each other. We were already breathing
heavily, already moaning into each others mouths.  When our lips parted and
Andre looked down at me, it was like we had both just run around the block.
      "How was that?" he asked.
	"Army, gone," I reported. "Navy, gone."
	"You took out my army," he said, smiling, panting.
	I rolled over on top of him, crawling up between his legs. He
wrapped them around me and I reached down and cupped his ass, pulling his
crotch up into my stomach. He grunted. I kissed him and tweaked his
nipples. He ran his hands around on my hairy chest. Our tongues
dueled. After a few minutes, I straightened my arms and looked down at him,
shaking my head like I was in the throes of a heavy narcotic.
	"Whew!"
	"There goes my navy," he said.
	"My marines are dead in the water."
	He giggled and scrambled out from under me, pushing me back on the
bed, entwining himself around me, vines reaching up around my neck, lips
nibbling and licking. His hand slipped down into the front of my sweats
where he launched a surprise attack on my magic horse. He encircled it with
his hand and stroked it. It was a clever maneuver and I was caught
unawares. When he straightened his back and looked down at me, he was
smiling knowingly, his fingers still holding his prize.
	"You decimated my air force before they even got off the ground," I
said to him. "And you snuck around my officers and took out my magic
horse. Cunning, I have to admit."
	He was chuckling hoarsely, stroking my dick up and down. "I'll give
you my marines," he said. "My air force is ready for you though."
	He obviously had no idea what I had in store for him. I reached
down and pulled his sweats and underwear down, over his hips and thighs,
rolling him over onto his back. I lifted his feet straight up into the air
and pulled the sweats and briefs off with one long yank. He tumbled back
onto the bed, all shining brown skin, slender legs and arms splayed,
smiling with white teeth flashing. His body was wonderfully sculpted,
defined with muscles and a flat washboard belly. I grabbed him behind the
knees before he knew it and ran my tongue up his thigh, navigating toward
his throbbing base, his mighty tower. I felt him shudder heard him say
something about Jesus. I suspected it was the prayers of his air force.
	I sucked on his inner thighs, up to nuzzle his little ball sack
with my nose, kiss it on the way over to the other thigh, licking, sucking,
back up to poke with my tongue the wrinkly sack and the jewels that stirred
inside. He was groaning.
	"Jesus," he said. "Jesus."
	I flicked my tongue on the underside of his marvelous cock. It
jerked every time I touched it and he was smiling, almost giggling,
squirming against the bed, spreading his legs a little wider. He grabbed my
head with his hands and pulled my face into his sweet-smelling crotch. I
opened up and captured his magic pony, closing my lips around it while it
pulsed and kicked and finally surrendered to my busy tongue. He was
grunting now. He stopped breathing, then gasped for air, stopped again,
gulped for more air. I stroked his balls with my finger, down across the
perineum, back up to his balls. When I raised my head from between his
thighs, all I could see were the whites of his eyes. At the interruption,
he looked up at me and snickered.
	"How's the air force?" I asked.
	"What air force?" he said, catching his breath. "I'm at my
sergeant's funeral!"
	"I'm out one sergeant."
	He guffawed and bent at the waist, reaching down to yank at my
sweats. I fell back on the bed and let him pull them off. My magic horse
rose and galloped around the fort, a happy prisoner to the little
general. He crawled in between my thighs and took hold of my cock with one
hand and cupped my balls with the other. He squeezed and tugged. He looked
up at me, blushing slightly, and licked his lips.
	"Ya dare me?" he asked, bending down so that my cock head was an
inch from his chin.
	"General," I said. "Just watch your teeth."
	He opened his mouth and sucked in the head and half way down my
shaft. It was a wonderfully soft, wet-lipped slide. His tongue lapped at
the underbelly of my horse. He pulled my cock in deeper, almost all the way
into his little mouth, before sliding up off of it, slurping at the tip. He
licked his lips and considered the taste.
	"Not bad," he said, trying to sound indifferent but diving back on
as quickly as he could. He bobbed up and down on me, keeping my cock clear
of his teeth, running his tongue all over it. Looking down into his face,
the concentration, the enthusiasm, was sending me extremely close to the
edge.
	"Keep that up and you'll get a mouthful of cream," I whispered.
	The general stayed mounted on my jutting steed. He smirked and kept
sucking, bobbing with a military rhythm on my horse.  He was watching my
face as he sucked, watching me careen toward my climax, holding me by the
root, tickling my balls with his other hand. My orgasm rushed at me, threw
me back on the bed. I grunted and shouted out and my cannon went off.
	The general was surprised, to say the least. His eyes bulged and he
coughed a bit, pulling back off of it to see another discharge of my mighty
rifle. He laughed and covered it with his mouth, swallowing and
sucking. The cannon kept discharging and I kept jerking on the bed and held
on, like a knight on the back of a dragon, until sperm seeped out at the
edges of his mouth and I grabbed his head and held it still. He pulled his
mouth off of me and sat up, wiping his mouth with his knuckles and laughing
at me. He smacked his lips and assessed the taste.
	"That doesn't taste anything like cream," he said, wrinkling his
nose.
	"It's an acquired taste."
	He was still sucking on his own tongue, swallowing, grimacing. "It
tastes weird."
	"It leveled my lieutenant, my major and my general."
	"And?" He obviously felt he deserved more credit. I didn't argue.
	"And my warlock ran home to his mommy."
	He laughed and cheered. "Ha!"
	I pulled him down next to me and rolled on top of him. I nibbled on
his ears and neck and found that he was remarkably sensitive there. Not
ticklish but sensitive. He giggled and groaned at the same time. I took his
cock into my hand and began stroking, steadily and softly, and nibbled
across his chin and to his other ear. He pulled my head in closer to him,
taking a swipe at my ear with his tongue.
	I was time for some serious oral weaponry--my tongue, a green
beret and navy seal all in one, flicked its way down his chest and danced
on his nipples. They were already hard and enflamed and my tongue sent them
off like fireworks. He smiled blissfully.
	"Oh, wow," he sighed. "Oh wow, oh wow!"
	I snickered at his verbal ejaculations. I reached down beneath his
balls and ran my finger down his crack to his little pink hole. He gasped
when I touched it. My tongue was crossing the border of his belly button,
pausing to invade that little foxhole before heading out toward his
throbbing little pony. It looked like it was trying to pull itself free of
his body.
	I kissed it on the head, licked it, sank down onto it, swirling my
tongue around it, overtaking it. He threw his legs open wider, his feet up
in the air. "Daaaaaaaaamn!"
	I was busting his little bronco with quick thrusts, cupping his
buns from beneath, lifting him into my face. He threw his hands back and
up, plopping onto the bed, giving it all up to my hungry and loving mouth.
      I lifted one of his legs above me and over, rolling him onto his
belly. It caught him off guard and he didn't know what to do. He looked
back over his shoulder at me, frowning, probably bothered by the sudden
inattention to his rowdy little cock. I dove in between his slender buns,
nose first, swiping the crack with my tongue, pushing his hips up so that
he was on his knees. He fell face first into the pillow.
       "Oooo!" He was very surprised. I'm sure that, in all his strategy
meetings, his officers and advisors never anticipated this.
       I spread his cheeks and tickled his bud with my tongue. He rose on
his hands, looking back at me, jutting his ass up into my face. He let out
a long moan, so long that I thought he would never stop, while I licked and
crammed my tongue inside, kissing his little ass lips, sucking the pink. I
reached up between his thighs and stroked his hard cock. He lowered himself
back into the pillow with muffled grunting and panting.
       I didn't want to stop, so I didn't. I was so happy to have my face
there that I just kept on licking. Andre was ecstatic. He blubbered
nonsense into the pillow, peppering it from time to time with "Jesus" and
"Wow". After a while, I stopped and slapped him soundly on the butt. He
laughed and collapsed, rubbing his smarting buns.
       "I didn't know you could do that!" he exclaimed.
       "It was a secret weapon."
       He laughed enthusiastically, still exhilarated with this new
possibility. "That killed my lieutenant, my major, and my magic horse!" He
sounded delighted.
       "What about your general?"
       He smirked. "I'm the general."
       "Indeed," I agreed. "And that little feast made my wizard go up in
smoke."
       "That leaves you with just your golden lion!" He was taunting me
now.
       "Don't forget my white tiger."
       "Oh yeah."
       I was dying to know what he could do against such formidable
foes. At the top of the echelon of warriors, they were presumably the most
powerful. But the little general had figured something out about me and he
didn't waste any time turning it to his advantage. It was obvious that
bringing me pleasure had its impact on my troops, but he had also noticed
that bringing him pleasure did its own damage. It caught me by surprise
when he crawled to the top of the bed and back around, throwing his warm
nakedness down onto me in a sixty-nine, his balls dangling down onto my
nose. He took my cock in both hands and lowered his mouth over it, sucking
on the head and pulling on the shaft with an orchestrated rhythm. He bent
at the waist, lowering his wet puckered hole down onto my face, effectively
sitting on all the orifices through which I breathed. I took hold of his
hips and lifted him off me, grabbing at breath, licking at his delectable
hole. He moaned and swirled his tongue around my cock, bobbing up and down
furiously, slurping and smacking his lips all over it. He obviously enjoyed
my cock in his mouth and I certainly enjoyed my tongue up his ass. I rolled
him over on his side and tucked the back of his knee up into my armpit,
spreading his ass farther for my invading tongue. He held onto my cock like
it was his life support, plunging down onto it, reaching back to my ass to
pull it into his face.
       I launched another surprise attack, wetting my finger in my mouth
and poking at his rosy bud. He grunted once and squirmed his hips. I poked
again, sticking my finger in to the first knuckle. He stopped sucking for a
moment, my cock shoved deep into his mouth. He breathed heavily through his
nose. I pushed it in to the next knuckle and wiggled it. He pulled his
mouth of my dick and looked back at me.
       "Hey!"
       "Hey what?" I wiggled deeper and he giggled.
       "What are you doin'?" he asked.
       "My golden lion is invading your wizard's chamber," I said, and I
pushed in further. He inhaled suddenly.
       "Ouch."
       "Sorry," I said. "Shall I withdraw my mighty lion?"
       "Hold on." He hoisted his knee up farther, spreading his cheeks
more, and took a couple of deep breaths. I felt his hole loosen
slightly. "Are you gonna fuck me?"
       "Doing so would surely destroy my white tiger," I said. "So maybe I
shouldn't."
       A manipulative comment, to say the least. I knew how determined the
boy was to win and I had just told him how to do it.
       "Okay," he said, and I pushed my finger all the way in. I tickled
his prostate and he groaned and growled.
       He was still holding onto my wet cock with both hands. I thrust it
up toward his face and he got the hint. I felt his lips claim me, the
tongue swipe down and around my shaft. He cupped my balls with one of his
small hands, rolling them in his fingers.
       I slipped one finger in and out of him for a while before adding
another. He stopped with my dick in his mouth again as he felt the
intrusion and I made my cock twitch to signal to him. He resumed sucking
and I crammed my two fingers in with relative ease, spitting down onto his
hole and lubing him at the same time. My fingers made a slippery, gooey
sound with every thrust. I bent down to take his cock into my mouth, all at
once, sinking down and taking his balls in as well, all the time, sliding
my fingers in and out of him. He rolled back onto his back very suddenly,
as if he had been thrown back against the bed, and he gave out a cry and a
laugh all at once.
       "Holy shit!" he gasped. He had my cock with one hand now, unable to
concentrate any longer, the whole world unfolding between his legs. I
sucked and plunged with a smooth, languid rhythm, my tongue fluttering. His
anus clamped down on my fingers. I felt him squeeze my cock, too hard to be
amorous. It was all he had to hang onto as he tumbled and slid toward his
orgasm. His legs jerked and he panted like a dog in the hot sun--fast
intakes and little puffs. He threw his head back against the mattress and
shouted.
       "Awwwww, fuck!"
       His body shuddered from head to toe. He made sounds like he was
crying--whimpering and squealing--and in the throes of his climax, he
pulled my cock back into his mouth, murmuring into it like a microphone,
his teeth scraping against the head slightly in his zeal. I felt lucky that
he didn't bite it off.
       Nothing came out of his little cock but it was obvious when the
orgasm was over. His whole body seemed to sink into the bed and he was
panting like he had run a mile. My cock popped out of his mouth and he fell
back onto the bed, splaying his arms out, soft, flat belly heaving.
       I let his wet cock and balls slip from my mouth but I kept my
fingers inside him. As his breathing began to return to normal, I stroked
his butt and back and hips. My hand traveled over his thighs and back to
his chest. All the while, he lay surrendered to my ministrations, a smile
pasted lazily upon his handsome face.
       "How's your wizard, General?" I asked him.
       He laughed. "Soooo dead."
       "And your warlock?" I asked. "You really lost your mind there for a
while, ya know."
       He laughed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Yeah," he
said. "I'll give you my warlock too."
       "I'll bury him next to my golden lion."
       His cock was deflating slowly, wet and glistening from my saliva,
but when I wiggled my fingers inside Andre's glorious hole, the little
snake seemed to change its mind. It twitched twice, then started to grow
again. I slipped in and out of him, poking at his tender spot. "Feel good?"
       He sighed dreamily. "Yeah."
       "There might be more in here than just a wizard and a warlock," I
suggested. His ass was obviously enormously sensitive. His hole had opened
up even more and was easily accommodating my two fingers. "Like maybe a
golden lion?"
       He lifted his head and looked down at me, grinning wryly. "Yeah,
maybe," he said. "But now it's time to take care of your white tiger!"
       "How do you plan to do that?" I asked him, feigning a cockiness that
I'm sure he would find a pleasure to extinguish.  "My white tiger is my
most powerful..."
       He leapt up suddenly, pulling my fingers out of his ass in the
process, scrambling to straddle me. He put his hands on my shoulders as if
pinning me to the bed and looked down into my face.
       "I've watched Ruben fuck my mom," he said. "She really likes it."
       "It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys," I said.
       He smiled, then looked serious. "Will it hurt?"
       I nodded. "At first," I said. "We don't have to, ya know. There's
more than one way to skin a white tiger."
       "Like what?"
       I thought about that. He had sucked on my cock to orgasm and downed
my load. If upping the ante was part of the game, then we were definitely
entering the fucking stage. My pause made him chuckle.
       "Nothin', right?"
       "Well," I said. "We could think of something..."
       He reached back and took my cock, still wet from his saliva, and
poked the head of it against his hole. He clumsily tried to cram it inside,
grunting with the effort.
       "Are you sure?" I asked.
       He nodded quickly, eyes off in the distance. He was concentrating on
shoving my pulsing cock into his asshole.
       "Andre, are you sure?"
       "I want you to," he said. He looked down into my face, sitting down
on my rod, parting the lips of his anus slightly. "I want you to." He
sounded very determined.
       I spat on my hand and reached down behind him, slathering my cock
with the spittle and wiping the rest on his little hole. We were very
slippery now and I grasped my cock at the base and aimed it between his
cheeks. There was a moment of resistance. My cock seemed to be trying to
enter the eye of a needle. Then suddenly, without warning, it popped
inside, just the head, and Andre gave out a squeal of pain.
       My whole body rang out with grief. A cannon seemed to backfire in my
brain. "Oh, god, are you okay?" I started to pull out of him but he
wouldn't let me. He kept nodding, his eyes clenched shut, biting his lip. I
pulled him up and my cock slipped out.
       "No, no, I'm okay," he insisted, grabbing back for my cock.
       I lowered him down onto the bed, cradling him in my arms. "I'm so
sorry..."
       "I'm okay." He was sounding slightly angry, struggling to climb back
onto me.
       "You win," I said. "We'll say my white tiger retreated. Ran away to
live to fight another day." I stroked his forehead and kissed him. He was
trying to squirm out of my arms.
       "Let's just try it again," he said.
       "Okay, okay."
       He stopped and looked at me, very seriously. He looked like such a
small boy to me at that moment.
       "It's okay," he said. "I'll tell you if I want you to stop."
       I nodded. "Okay, but let's do it differently."
       I had him turn around with his back to me, his exquisite, slender
body, cocoa brown and gleaming with sweat, spooning against me. I poked at
his butthole again with my cock and he lifted his leg. I spat and added
more lube, then pushed the head of my cock into his back door. He grunted
in pain and I reached up and pushed my hand against his teeth.
       "Here," I said. "Put my hand in your mouth. If I hurt you too much,
bite me."
       He looked confused.
       "The more you bite," I explained. "The more I'll let up."
       He took my hand between his teeth and I rolled over on top of him,
leveling my shaft to do its drilling. I pushed in slowly, sinking into
him. I felt his teeth tighten on my hand and I stopped about halfway in. He
was practically hyperventilating through his nose, his eyes shut
tight. When his jaw eased up on me, I pushed in again. I made some more
headway and he bit me hard. I stopped quickly.
       It was so warm and slippery inside his lovely tunnel. My white tiger
was roaring in ecstasy, invading the lair of his tender golden lion. Andre
pushed back against me, driving me deeper into him, raising his hips off
the bed, crawling to his knees, and I suddenly found myself buried to my
pubes in his glorious ass. His teeth were still biting me pretty hard so I
just held him there, reaching down with my other hand to stroke his hard
cock. I tugged and slid my fingers up and down on it and with every stroke,
his jaws and anus loosened slightly. I pulled out and pushed back in again,
my cock sliding easily now, and Andre signaled me to continue, his lips
growing soft on my hand, sucking a finger in, licking me the way he did my
cock.
       I began to fuck him. My cock plunged in and out and he laid passive,
ass jutting into the air, riding my white tiger like a conquering knight. I
straightened, looking down at the beautiful boy before me, his head craned
back to look at me, to look at my cock slipping in and out of him. I held
onto his hips and thrust into him, nearly lifting him off the bed, pounding
in and out of him. I could hear him grunting with every thrust, see his
fingers grabbing at the bedsheets, hanging on. My cock moved in and out of
his ass with nothing but pleasure now. He threw back his head and groaned
deep in his throat.
       "Ohhhhhhhh!"
       Having just come in his mouth, I was up for a long fucking, but I
worried that he wouldn't be, this being his first time. Still, he showed no
signs of tiring and appeared to be lost in bliss as my cockhead rammed
against his prostate. I pulled my cock all the way out and told him to roll
over onto his back, put his legs up. He spun and fell onto his back with
one swift movement and I re-entered him. Seeing my cock slip inside of him,
hearing him moan, seeing him smile--I felt my balls begin to boil. I lay
down on top of him and covered his mouth with mine, back to the kissing
that started this whole game. He'd come a long way from the tight-mouthed
face mashings he had once given me. His soft lips parted and admitted my
tongue, greeting it with his own. He growled or purred into my mouth,
wrapping his arms around my neck, pulling me down to him. My cock moved in
and out, bouncing him against the bed, bouncing us like a single ferocious
beast on the mattress. I fucked him long and hard and, just as he was
starting to look tired, I felt my orgasm approaching, charging and roaring
like a wild tiger. I heard a loud growl and realized that it was me. Andre
seemed to understand what was happening as he suddenly looked revived,
reaching back and grabbing my ass, pulling me against him, running his hand
over my hairy buns. He was watching my face closely, reading it, studying
it, waiting for what he was working for. I grunted and seemed to be
speaking a different language, trying to say something that was
inexpressible in any language--the godlike beauty of him, the love in his
eyes, the sensation of me inside him, falling, tumbling into oblivion. My
balls felt like they were climbing into my body, up into my chest. My cock
exploded very suddenly and I howled, throwing my head back and thrusting
with every pulsing ejaculation. Midway through my orgasm, I glanced down at
Andre's face. He was smiling, almost laughing, reaching up to my face with
his soft hands, pulling me down gently. I spasmed and fell onto him,
burying my nose into his neck, my ass twitching, my legs jerking, my hips
lost in some sort of auto-thrust, as if they were short-circuiting. I heard
him chuckling into my ear.
      We were silent while my orgasm subsided into little jerks and ripples
until I finally lay still, my face pressed into his neck. His fingers were
gently raking across my shoulders, petting the back of my head as if
comforting me. I raised my head up and looked into his smiling face.
      "Dead tiger," he snickered.
      "Dead tiger," I agreed. "And your lion?"
	He chuckled hoarsely. "Dead lion," he said. "And I'm not lyin'!"
      I laughed at his corny joke and kissed him on the ear, on the
forehead, on the cheek. He was a part of me. I inhaled him like oxygen. His
lovely little body pressed against me felt so right, so familiar, as if we
had been doing this for a very long time. In a way, we had, when we cuddled
and held each other in front of the television or when we first started
this loving war.
      "I won," he spouted in a sing-songy voice. "Ha ha, I won."
      "You won." If this was defeat, he would win every war forever.
      "With a white tiger to spare!"
      "Yes." I was happy to surrender, thrilled to be his prisoner, elated
to admit defeat at the feet of the little general. My cock was still buried
in his butt. He twitched his anus, sending me a Morse code of sorts,
conditions of surrender, and I answered by twitching back, accepting all
conditions without caveat.
      "Next time," he said. "Let's add a dragon and a..." He searched the
ceiling for inspiration. "...and a bionic gorilla."
      "A bionic gorilla?" Absurd. "Okay."
      "And a bird of some sort."
      "A mystical eagle."
      "Yeah!" He ran his fingers through the hair on my chest. "And what
else?"
      Ambitious little general.