Date: Thu, 05 Apr 2001 14:30:57
From: Ganymede
Subject: It keeps coming: Pandora's Box XII & XIII

Pandora's Box XIII,   by Ganymede and Christopher.


WARNING:

This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts
between a man and a MINOR boy. We do not condone child abuse,  how-
ever boy-love as described in this story is an entirely  different
matter. 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 copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy
has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Feel free
to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your friends. The
story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It cannot be placed in
archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed
in any form that requires payment.

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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 and save yourself from a life of sin!



Pandora's Box XIII: Sunday Midnight.


It was after an hour or more, when the ornate gold clock on
the wall showed 11.30 pm. that Steven came over to David and tapped
him lightly on the shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in?" Steven asked pleasantly. I giggled.

David grinned and stepped back, leaving me face to face with
Steven. Fortunately the music being played was a slow ballad, kind
of romantic in fact. I reached up and placed my hands on Steven's
broad shoulders while his hands came to my waist, his thumbs riding
on the ridge of my pelvis and his fingers extending back towards my
butt. We swayed together, both thankful that the music was slow. I
half-closed my eyes and dreamily laid my forehead on Steven's
chest. His hands tightened around me, clasping me tightly to him,
nearly lifting me off the floor. Around and around we went, becom-
ing giddy but not because of wild gyrations. Doing the fast dances
with David had been exciting, but locked in Steven's embrace I knew
that all I wanted was to dance with him like that forever.

That song finished and another one followed that had the same
romantic tempo. I glanced around as we swayed and circled across
the floor. Most of the boy-pairs had broken up and become man-boy
pairs. Everyone seemed happy. David had his head on Gary's shoul-
der, crooning softly along to the music. He looked very happy. I
smiled. It had been fun doing the wild dancing with David, but he
was obviously having more fun now, just as I was. Mark was dancing
with Tyler, and from what I could see, he was doing his best to
seduce him on the dance floor with everyone watching.

Then, standing up on the tips of his toes, Mark began to kiss
Tyler on the lips. It wasn't a quick kiss. It seemed to take a very
long while. I saw Mark humping against his man. He was nearly naked
and it was obvious from how he was moving around that he was sexu-
ally excited. It was so obvious that one would not have had to look
under his loincloth to determine if his boyhood was aroused. In
fact, it would have been next to impossible for the situation to be
otherwise. As I watched, I felt faint pangs of jealousy. Their arms
were wrapped around each other in an embrace that brought them
tightly together. Mark's pelvis still oscillated, but now the
motion was slow and it was directly against Tyler's thigh. His
belly was hard against Tyler's groin. I giggled and Steven leaned
closer.

"That boy is one randy little minx," he whispered in my ear.
"But I wouldn't trade my beautiful little pixie for a hundred like
him. Not even for a thousand boys."

I giggled again and pressed harder against Steven, trying val-
iantly to feel his strong body through my leather armor. At that
moment, swaying against him and covertly watching Mark's antics
with Tyler, I realized how wonderful it was to be able to show
someone how much you loved him. It was even more wonderful to be
able to do it with other people around. It was a little like taking
Communion, with other people witnessing your pact qwith God. All
around me were people who did not condemn me for being different.
These people did not make fun of me. They were people who felt the
same way about each other as Steven and I did. No one cared that
boys and men were dancing together. I hugged Steven as hard as I
could, overwhelmed by being close to him, by contentment. When I
looked up again, most of them had started doing what Mark and Tyler
were doing. Finally, I felt secure and reassured that the desire I
felt for Steven was proper rather the terrible sin that most people
would say it was.

Steven's hand crept down and covered my butt, kneading my
tunic-covered cheeks between his fingers. Surely, he could feel how
hot I was. I closed my eyes, abandoning myself to Steven's graceful
swaying dance. I was carried along, seemingly weightless, flying in
his embracing arms.

The song was very close to finishing when Steven placed his
arm around my shoulders and pulled me firmly against him. His fin-
gers stroked my sweat-moistened cheek, my chin, trailed across my
lips. He smiled gently, his eyes full of love.

"You're a sweaty little nymph, aren't you Chrissie?"

I giggled and pressed against him harder, pushing my sex into
his robe, rubbing my belly against his middle, trying to do to
Steven what mark was doing to Tyler. However, no matter how much I
wanted to, I couldn't rub that small male part of my body against
his thigh. The silver armor that covered my crotch prevented me,
just as the leather armor intervened in my efforts to make contact
with his maleness. Instead, I buried my face into his side, endeav-
oring to smell his strong man's odor.

Steven's hand slowly crept up over the buckles and straps of
my back, climbing higher and higher until his fingers were at the
nape of my neck. I quivered instinctively as he tilted my head up.
His eyes were brown and gentle and I could feel them peering
through mine, into my mind, seeing through my eyes. He smiled ever
so slightly, his expression so full of love that there was no ques-
tion that he loved me deeply. Had there ever been a question?

Slowly, like slow-motion slowly, his head bent forward. I
could feel my heart fluttering, knowing what was going to happen. I
trembled with anticipation, not risking any move that might divert
his interest. I was aware of the sudden silence around me. People
were watching us. It made no difference. I closed my eyes, blocking
out everything except the longing in my heart. Steven kissed me and
I trembled. His lips were warm, soft, gently grazing mine before
moving to my cheek, then to my forehead, my eyes. I began to shake.
His lips came back to mine. Now, his lips were hot and moist and
they settled over mine, stayed there. My body went limp and I clung
to him, feeling his strength, kissing for all I was worth. A long,
deep, wet kiss. A lover's kiss. After a full minute, we parted. I
opened my eyes again. Steven's face was inches away from mine. He
had lifted me compeltely off the ground. No wonder I felt like I
was flying.

"I think that maybe it's time that we went outside for a
while, don't you Chrissie." Steven sounded breathless as he eased
me back down onto my feet.

It was not a question. I did not even try to answer, to show
that I agreed with him. I needed time to think, but not to answer.
I was confused. I was exhausted and excited, a strange mixture for
an eleven-year-old boy that could quickly deteriorate into a cata-
tonic state. Holding my hand, we left the dance floor, barely aware
of a few catcalls behind us and some ribald comments about `getting
him loose first' and `doing nothing that might waste it before the
big event.'

Once outside, Steven closed the door behind us. The noise
faded. We walked a few paces towards the stern before we stopped.
The city had all but disappeared. Far away in the distance was a
lighter area where the sky appearing to be illuminated from below.
That distant place was Los Angeles. The jet-black ocean all around
us was dead still. I inhaled the smell of the sea and sighed,
barely aware that Steven was still holding me close against him.
Overhead, the sky was alive with stars and there was a huge silver
moon. It was so romantic, standing there with Steven beside me,
watching the bottom of the distant orb get very close to touching
to the horizon. There was mystery and magic simply being there, but
seeing it draw ever closer made the moment even more unforgettable.
I had a strange feeling that if I could just see the moon touch the
earth, everything would turn out the way I wanted.

It was very pleasant on the stern deck, perhaps because it
was out of the breeze as the ship churned its way through the water
at fifteen knots. I began to cool down. Steven's arm eased onto my
chest, his fingers clasping my chest armor near my side, the palm
of his hand over my heart. He tightened his embrace, pulling us
closer, so close that I could feel the back of my body merging into
his. I reached up, placing my hand over his, keeping it there. I
wanted to kiss him again and again, so that we could stay there and
not have to go back inside.

>From behind and using only one hand, Steven removed my helmet
and placed it on a ledge. He still held my hand, but now entwining
my fingers within his.

"You have such beautiful hands, Chrissie," Steven admired. "So
soft. And your fingers are so long they're like the fingers of pia-
nist."

"I've been taking lessons, but I'm afraid I can't play very
good," I giggled.

His other hand began to stroke my cheek. "You know what hap-
pens now, don't you Sweetie?"

I nodded shyly, trying to decide if he wanted me to say what
it was that was going to happen. I know what I wanted to happen. I
turned my head around and looked up into his eyes. His gaze was
steady and sure, and I saw reassurance there. This moment, this
precious moment was surely the beginning of the rest of my life. I
nodded again, just in case he missed the first nod.

I heard muffled voices and I looked over my shoulder. There
was a soft scraping sound, the sound of a deck chair being moved. I
peered into the darkness and saw two silhouettes close together.
One was much bigger than the other person. The shorter person was
unquestionably a boy who might have been thirteen, perhaps younger.
I listened as hard as I could. I heard a low groan, a soft whimper,
the sounds of what had to be heavy breathing. It came as a surprise
because it did not look as if what the man was doing to him to him
was all that energetic. I tried to figure out was happening, but
from their positions, it seemed that the one thing that was not
happening was sex.

"You don't need to be watching them, Chrissie," Steven said.

Still holding my hand, he began to lead me back towards the
stern where the ship's speedboat and personal watercraft were kept.

"What were they doing?" I asked as soon as we were out of
hearing.

Steven smirked. "The man had his fingers in him," he
explained.

"Why?"

"Somehow I knew you were going to ask that question, Chris-
sie," Steven laughed. "Um,... it's one of the ways I'm going to
loosen your anus so we can have sex. I move my fingers around
inside you so you get stretched."

"Oh?" I giggled, thinking about the `tongue' way I already had
personal experience with. I also knew about the `fingers-in-the-
butt' method too because Bryce had told me about it.

"I think the boy is the other virgin," Steven added off-hand-
edly.

He turned me around so that I was facing him. I saw the same
reassurance that had been there from the first moment I had seen
him even though he seemed to spend his time trying to surprise me
from behind. He smiled gently. His hand lifted, stroked my cheek,
traveled slowly across my lips.

"Don't be scared, Chrissie," he said softly.

I tried to nod. Instead, I simply stared mutely into his eyes.
Was I scared? In those few brief moments of reflection, I really
did not know how I felt except that I had been waiting all my life
to be there alone with Steven.

"I love you." His words sounded distant, yet like any truth,
undeniable.

My legs weakened and I needed to sit down, but Steven's arms
kept me there. I could barely breath. I trembled suddenly, again
the insistent thought that this was right for me. I had nothing to
be frightened or ashamed of. But if that was right, why was my
heart beating so fast? Why was I so hot? Why did I feel like some-
thing was trying to escape from within me?

Then, Steven kissed me. I was surprised by that, although it
seemed entirely natural and only to be expected. I wanted him to
kiss me. His lips came down onto mine and his hand closed around
the back of my neck. It was a hard demanding kiss, forcing our lips
together, his bristles scratching my chin, my cheek, my nose. Then,
just as suddenly, the kiss became soft and wet and I knew he was
pushing his tongue into my mouth the same way that he had done in
the limousine on the way to the dock.

The air was sucked from my lungs and I trembled, almost as if
life itself was being drained from my body. I was being pulled into
him, absorbed, taken over. I could not remember ever feeling so
weak. I would collapse if Steven let go of me. Then, the air came
back in a rush. I heaved and gave a momentary gasp when his lips
lifted away from mine. I was stunned. My heart was pounding under
my armor. Surely Steven could feel it.

"N-n-n-o-o-m-m-o-r-e!"

That whimpering, pleading, anxious voice could not be mine.
The urgency, the deep-down desire, the frantic compulsion, was that
mine? Again, the over-whelming need to escape, to let go and
accept, and discover what truth was. The truth about me, whatever
it was, loomed before me. Everyone else knew, why not me? The image
that filled my mind was Steven, but in his calm loving expression
and in the tender way that he held me to him, everything came to a
head. I had been trying to hold that part of me in abeyance for as
long as I could remember. I could hold back no longer. I realized I
was shaking, but not with cold. A wave of excitement swept over me,
inundated my reason and finally took over. I was giving in at last,
accepting, kissing Steven the way I wanted to kiss him. Totally.
Absolutely. As his lover.

When love was romantic and ideal, like with Sir Galahad in the
days of King Arthur, women swooned when they were kissed by
knights, not eleven-year-old boys. Perhaps I did lose conscious-
ness. I have no memory of how I ended up lying on the deck, but I
did. Steven crouched over me, his lips still locked on mine, his
tongue either in my mouth, or my tongue in his mouth. I could not
decide. His hand roamed up and down my legs, from just below my
knees where the sandal straps ended to high up my thighs.

His other hand stroked my face, fondled my ears, caressed my
hair. His lips moved away, depositing little wet kisses on my brow,
on my nose, on my eyelids as they fluttered closed. I sighed,
yielding everything to him.

This was love. It was different to what I expected. It was a
lot more than liking someone a lot. I loved Steven, and from the
way he was touching and crooning to me, I knew that he loved me
back. Then back to my lips, his tongue extended, no longer forcing
into my mouth but returning to where it belonged. I kissed back,
pushing my tongue along side his, sharing saliva, disbelieving that
I could be doing what I was doing. Every boy I knew, except for the
boys on the ship, would have said it was gross and disgusting. How-
ever, it wasn't. It was utterly fantastic.

He broke off the kiss long before I wanted to stop, but lin-
gering for a moment licking playfully on my nose before it ended so
that I did not feel abandoned. He made me giggle uncontrollably. So
right. His face was so close to mine that even in the darkness I
could see every handsome detail. His eyebrows were thick and dark,
like pieces of black wire, and so very different to the thin arched
lines that remained above my eyes. There were crinkles at the cor-
ners of his eyes, eyes that held my gaze, revealed love and lust.
He was breathtakingly handsome.

So in the silent private darkness of night, it happened. It
was magical, and captivating, and unforgettable. He lifted my legs
up, bending my knees, his hand brushing against my small buttocks,
pushing the tunic out of the way, feeling with his fingers, finding
the tiny opening in my moist hot crevice. I groaned at his first
touch. Not that he tried to penetrate me, but at the intensity of
what I felt. It was so intense that for a long while I even forgot
to move my legs as far apart as possible. His finger circled, rub-
bing over what was still puckered and tight. No one had to tell me
that I would never be the same way again. After he was finished, I
would be different there forever.

His finger pressed into me. Not very far, just far enough that
I felt it going inside. It was dry, slightly uncomfortable, incred-
ibly thrilling, surprisingly familiar. Why did I think that?
Strange, but the feeling was familiar to me. In a way, the sensa-
tions were the same as I felt when I had put my own finger just
inside my anus, but now infinitely stronger. Overpowering. I gasped
when Steven pushed his finger in a little further. I squirmed down,
trying to get even more of his finger inside me, suddenly realizing
that my knees were close together.

Further apart, lifting my right knee, higher, putting my leg
to the side. But I had waited too long and he took his finger away.
I wanted to cry. He almost licked his finger, but then he thought
better of it and brought his forefinger to my mouth. I understood
what was expected of me. I licked his finger, swiping my tongue
back and forth over it until it was slippery and wet. Then, back
again, driving into me, boring and pushing, twisting its way
through my tiny anus, not stopping until it was well and truly
inside me this time. My anus clamped down like any normal boy's
anus would do. Being gay does not eliminate the body's frenzied
effort to protect the untouched, the instinctive need to preserve
anal virginity.

There was only one thought in my mind. Relax. Make it go
loose. Don't force it in. Relax it, that muscle, whatever Bryce had
called it. Sphincter? Yes, the sphincter muscle, the muscle that
controls the opening to my rectum. My job was to make it relax.
Steven will do the rest. Whatever I do, don't fight it. Close my
eyes. Concentrate . It can't be that difficult.

No matter how hard I tried, the muscle kept tightening up.
There were biting spasms every time that Steven's finger tried to
go deeper, to push further into me. I sighed in frustration. Bryce
had made it sound easy. I just had to relax that part of me. It was
simple, wasn't it? My body was clamping on it, trying to squeeze it
out. Damn, it was out. I groaned.

Without saying a word, Steven shifted so that his head was
beneath my legs. Both of his hands held my cheeks, pushing them
apart, lifting my buttocks higher. He licked me, cautiously probing
the tip of his tongue into my crack. Wetting everywhere, poking at
my hole, using his fingers in the slipperiness to massage the rim.
There was the sound of footsteps and I glanced around me quickly,
shamefully, hoping that no one was there. Not that it bothered me
that someone might be watching, not when Steven was with me, but I
was worried that someone had come take him away from me. No one was
there. Just darkness and the refreshing, awakening smell of the
sea, and the continuous deep rumble of the ship's engines. And
Steven. And my magnificent Steven was doing the most enchanting
thing with his tongue.

I could not help smiling, unseen even by him. The delight I
felt, that he was giving me there, in the place that most people
consider to be dirty, defied description. It was so much better
than in the stateroom when he demonstrated the meaning of `rim-
ming'. He was getting me ready, and we both knew it. I placed my
hands next to his, gripping my cheeks, pulling them even further
apart, relieving him of the need to keep my crack opened, giving
him the access he needed. His left hand slipped under my back, tak-
ing hold of the leather straps of my armor. He lifted my rump
higher, exposing it by pulling the tunic down my back. His nose
nuzzled my scrotum, nudging my testicles around until I wriggled
and squirmed. Steven's face burrowed between my cheeks, his tongue
instantly going even deeper than his finger had been.

I whimpered, trembling uncontrollably, doing my best to relax
until I discovered that I did not have to. His slippery wriggling
tongue was inside me, then swirling around my anus, then plunging
in and out, tantalizing me until I writhed on the deck.

I groaned again when his tongue left. I had been cheated.
Pressure had been building up inside me, inside me where Steven's
tongue had been stabbing. When he did it quickly, the pressure
increased exponentially, becoming stronger until my trembles
became shudders, until my hands clenched at my cheeks and practi-
cally ripped them apart. Then, what I least of all expected, the
pressure stopped and his tongue had gone.

However, my dismay lasted only for a minute. I was barely
aware of what he was doing. From somewhere inside his robe, he had
obtained a tube of something that was about the same size as the
antiseptic ointment that I had been using on my ear lobe. He
removed the plastic cap, squeezed a long bead on his finger, then
another equally long one beside it. I glanced with the natural
curiosity of an eleven-year-old boy. It glistened in the silvery
moonlight. His fingers returned. Not one, but two of them, held
tightly together in a powerful, irresistible wedge of bone and
rough skin, driving into me. This time, his fingers were slippery,
very slippery. I barely had time to realize what he was doing. In
an instant, my sphincter closed and kept him back, locked around
his fingers in a straggling grip. No! No! Don't cry out! Relax!
Make it loose for him. I have to help him get inside me!

His fingers surged through my opening, getting thicker the
further they went into me. Forcing, becoming tighter, oh so tight,
and so amazing that two of his fingers could actually get so far
inside. My hands and feet twitched uncontrollably as his fingers
began the process of massaging my insides. Every few seconds I
shuddered. Anyone who has been `finger-fucked' knows exactly what I
am talking about. It's irrational, erratic, uncontrollable, irre-
pressible, sporadic jerking. I could barely breath. Still his fin-
gers kept pumping back and forth, doing what men have always done
to boys to get them ready for sex.

Without warning, Steven's fingers pushed into me even further,
beyond the second joints, all the way to the knuckles, until there
nothing more, even though I suddenly appreciated that something
much larger could fit inside me. I whimpered every time his fingers
eased back in the hot slick tube of my rectum. It felt better on
the outstroke than when his fingers pushed back. Then, my anus was
abraded, tingling with mounting discomfort. It was a hint of the
soreness that lay ahead if he kept on doing it.

"You're getting looser already, Chrissie," Steven whispered.
"I thought it would have taken much longer."

I nodded wildly, bumping the back of my head against the teak
deck. Steven's slippery fingers were moving around inside me, curl-
ing and twisting, rubbing against something inside me that made me
want to shriek. In a moment of sanity, I had the strangest insight
that I was nearly delirious. Not from pain, but from the pleasure
that seemed to be bursting out from within me, from out of control
delight that came in waves and broke over me, and pushed me down
onto Steven's fingers. And all I could do was lie there on the
deck, shaking, completely abandoned and unable to do anything
except gasp for air.

"I'm going to put three fingers in you now," Steven said
softly. "Tell me if it hurts, Chrissie."

It didn't feel different, not at first, except that Steven's
fingers were outside, or barely inside me. It was impossible to be
certain, except that they were pushing hard into my anus and not
going very far. What I felt pushing into me was now much bigger,
impossibly big. I strained down, doing what Bryce said I should not
do. I tried to pass the mother of all loads. Steven's three fingers
went in further, but it hurt like hell. I quickly stopped doing
that and went back to what I was supposed to be doing. Relaxing.
Convincing my muscle to open up and let his fingers inside me. His
fingers rotated, cork-screwing, and my anus was the bottle. I sti-
fled a scream, closed my eyes, concentrated as hard as I could on
one thing and one thing only.

Three fingers did not have to go in as far as two fingers did
before I realized the pressure was building up again. Unlike ear-
lier, my anus was suddenly less sensitive, not numbed, but dulled
in sensitivity so that I was less conscious of the tightness. The
discomfort that had been there before seemed to have vanished. I
relished the sensations, each one different as he explored my
innards, probed into my rectum, stretched my anus and sphincter
muscles until I was wide open and there was no pain left. Then two
fingers replaced where three had been, pumping through my dilated
hole so rapidly that I had to hold my breath for fear I would cry
out.

Around and around, finding the place that Bryce said was
inside me, where the feelings became even better, were such a thing
even possible. However, it was entirely possible and Steven's fin-
gers ploughed back and forth over the spot that made me writhe
uncontrollably. My entire body was located in one small place. All
my muscles were dedicated to pushing against Steven's fingers. My
legs began to shake, almost vibrating as the muscles and tendons
became taut. Legs further apart! My left leg shifted, placing my
foot on the deck. My other leg lifted higher, wrapping over
Steven's shoulder, bouncing off his back.

My pelvis began to thrust hard, levering my back off the
floor. The strange sounds had to be coming from me, but I was cer-
tain that my teeth were gritted, my jaws clenched. Steven's fingers
were right on top of that special place, pushing, rubbing, poking,
stabbing. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Unbelievably
intense. Bursting. Tossing my head from side to side. So close. But
close to what? Now! Now! Was I shrieking. The pressure peaked and
exploded. My muscles clamped in a single powerful contraction,
grabbing Steven's fingers as I writhed in ecstasy. The spasms that
followed were less intense, but no less impressive. The sensations
would be etched in my mind forever. I slumped back, limp, barely
aware that I was a shivering, groaning wreck.

Steven moved up beside me. His fingers, hot, slippery, wet,
wiped across my cheek, brushed my lips, rubbing his fingernails
under my nose. The smell was agreeable, satisfying. My smell. My
body's smell. The smell from inside. Sweet. Not at all like poop. I
thought of the bakery I waked past on the way to school. That
smell. A nice smell.

He kissed me, licking where his fingers had been, not worrying
that he had soiled me. His lips, soft and endearing settled over
mine. His fingers, two, perhaps three of them, pushed back inside
my anus, back into my aching canal to quiet the urge inside me. We
lay there, kissing tenderly. Slowly, I began to think again. Bryce
had told something of what I should expect, but not this. Not this
overwhelming euphoria, the satisfied exhaustion, the desire to keep
on doing it until it, whatever it was, happened again.

What had happened to me? Reason began to invade my mind. I was
confused, yet somehow I realized that this was not the time to ask.
Steven would answer. He would explain, but the moment was too spe-
cial to waste like that. Shamelessly, I placed my hand over his
hand, the one with the fingers stuffed in my anus. I had to get
control of my thoughts, but every movement of his fingers made it
impossible. He had to stop or I would lose my mind. Steven stopped
kissing me and smiled.

"So, my little pixie-boy liked that I see," he said quietly.

I don't think he expected me to answer. It was all I could do
to smile at him and nod.

"The best part comes next, Chrissie," he murmured. "Are you
ready, Sweetie?"

I sighed. How could anything possibly be better that what I
had just experienced? There could only be one thing. The thing that
Bryce had talked to me about. Steven was going to show me, finally,
how men and boys made love. Curiously, I had always been interested
in that, that unspoken male act that my mother had alluded to, then
finally explained to me just one night earlier. At that moment
there was nothing I wanted more than to do that with Steven, yet I
still needed one more thing to happen before we did that. One thing
remained to be done, the thing that I had done with Joel. It was
only fair.

"I haven't even seen your thing," I mumbled. "Please, Steven?"

Steven smiled. "You haven't, have you Chrissie? I'm sorry. I
should have done that earlier."

Casually, his hand reached down and lifted up his robe. Like
me, he wasn't wearing underpants. The moonlight was enough to see
everything that I wanted to see. For any boy who has not grown up
around a man and had the chance to see him naked, that first sight
of adult genitals comes as both a surprise and a shock. The first
thing I realized was that there was a lot of hair. Thick, black
hair, very unlike the white and black hair that made his beard
appear gray. It grew thickest around his genitals, almost hiding
them. It would have hidden his penis if it was not already half
erect. I stared at it, feeling both fear of it and attraction to
it. This was what made a man a man. My Steven was a man's man, a
bear of a man. His penis was at least six inches long, perhaps
longer, but it was difficult to be exact with all the hair around
the base. It was thick too, as thick as my wrist, a disturbing com-
parison when my penis was about the same size as my finger. And it
was darker, so much darker in color than mine that I had the amus-
ing thought that it belonged on a black man. I wanted it inside me.

"It's big," I whispered in awe.

Steven smiled proudly. What male is not consumed by pride when
he's told that he has a big penis? I examined it from a respectable
distance, reluctant to touch, yet knowing I would soon yield to
that innate desire. As I watched, it continued to grow, adding
another inch in length, and still not fully erect. I was nervous as
I began to think about where it would be in just a few more min-
utes. I was also excited, so aroused that I could not stop myself.

"Can I touch it?" I asked meekly.

Steven nodded. I reached out, my fingers barely grazing the
hot hard shaft. It was like touching velvet. The skin was smooth,
but not nearly as smooth and soft as my penis. Steven's penis was
rippled with lines, swelling twisting lines just under the skin.
Unlike mine, there was no skin on the end. I kept my fingers there,
just underneath, feeling its weight and power. Compared to a boy's
small sex organ, Steven's penis was huge. The head was swollen and
even darker than the rest of it. It looked angry, defiant, hungry.
I realized my hand was trembling.

"What do I do?" I asked humbly.

"What do you want to do?" Steven replied.

"Uh! I don't know," I muttered. He could tell I was fright-
ened.

"It won't hurt you, Chrissie, at least not like this. It might
later on, but I'll try not to," he added gently.

"I don't know." I licked my lips, surprised that I was think-
ing what I was thinking. "I don't know what I want."

"Well, some boys like to suck men's cocks," Steven answered
reassuringly. "I don't want you to be afraid of it, Sweetie.
You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Sometimes
it takes abit of getting used to."

"I,... I, I'm not afraid. Can I suck it?" I asked timidly.

"If you want," Steven said with a soft laugh. "I think you'll
enjoy it more than you think you will, Chrissie."

With Joel, I had closed my eyes at the moment of contact. Maybe
that's a natural reaction. I leaned towards him, watching his penis
waggling before me like the ultimate temptation. Kissing it would
be a little like kissing a plum. However, this was not Adam being
tempted by Eve. I licked my lips again. So dry. My heart was pound-
ing relentlessly. I swallowed. Joel's penis was tiny compared to
Steven's. I would have to open my mouth very wide to get even the
head past my teeth.

I closed my eyes and extended my tongue. Touched it, his mag-
nificent rigid penis, on the very tip, where the slit was. It was
tangy, sweet, a little salty, even soapy. A myriad flavors in one,
indescribable foreign taste. My tongue moved out of the way and my
mouth opened wide to allow it to pass inside. I thought better of
it and instead, my lips settled over the bulging head, kissing it
respectfully. I brought my tongue around the side of it, swiping
back and forth over the tip the same way that I had done to Joel
after he had instructed me in what felt best. Suck and swirl, suck
and swirl. Then, opening my mouth wide, hoping my teeth would not
scrape, I went down another inch, until the head was inside and my
teeth could rest safely behind the flared out rim. I could not use
my tongue. There was simply no more room in my mouth. Keeping my
mouth wide open, I did what I thought was the next best thing. I
began to slide my lips up and down by bobbing my head. Immediately,
I tasted more of that slimy ooze.

Already the taste was pleasant, as if I had known it all my
life. This was Steven's taste, every bit as much about him as the
smell from his armpits was his smell. I was suffused with happi-
ness. My desire blossomed, bursting forth with uncontrollable pas-
sion. I began to kiss, and lick, and suck, glowing with
anticipation, hungry to take more of his penis into me. I moaned
around Steven's penis, not taking it far enough within my mouth
that I would gag, but far enough that it could become part of me.

Instinctively, I timed my breathing, alternating with my
efforts to push further down onto his penis. With a few practice
attempts, I discovered what every gay boy discovers sooner or
later. I could breath through my nose at the same time as I sucked
Steven's cock. Within moments I felt Steven become tense. His hands
were on the back and sides of my head, cupping my ears so that I
could not hear. He brought my head down lower than I would have
dared by myself. His penis went in far enough that it occupied the
beginning of my throat for a few brief moments. Then, he lifted my
head away again so that I could gasp. His engorged penis came all
the way out of my mouth.

"That's enough for now, Chrissie," Steven muttered. "I don't
want to waste it, not that coming in your beautiful mouth would be
a waste because it wouldn't be. I've been saving it up for some-
thing else, that's all."

"Waste what?" I asked ignorantly.

But already he was beginning to stand up. His arms scooped
under me, lifting me as well, as if I weighed nothing at all. Then,
like a lamb carried to the sacrifice, Steven carried me inside. The
lights had been turned off, and except for an area in the middle of
the room, everything was in darkness. The dance area was illumi-
nated by a single spotlight. A dozen people were locked in pairs,
barely moving, kissing, groping, doing what men and boys were sup-
posed to do when they were in love. There were other couples in the
room but it was all I could do to make out their silhouettes
against the moonlight coming through the windows. The music had
been changed from disco-rock to classical. I heard the distant
sounds of Ravel's `Bolero'. Then, I shivered. Everyone was staring
at me again.

"Everyone knows I'm taking you back to the stateroom, Chris-
sie," Steven said softly as he walked carefully across the carpeted
floor. "The next time they'll see you, they'll know you're not a
virgin. There's nothing to be ashamed of. All the boys here have
done this. Even David, but it was a couple of years ago."

I had no idea what Steven was talking about, except that we
were going to our cabin to have sex. I could feel people's eyes on
me, men's eyes watching me, the same way that men had always looked
at me.

My thoughts at that moment were as jumbled as they had ever
been. For too long I had teetered between self-reproach and bur-
geoning self-pride. For years, for as long as I could remember I
had believed that being watched by men wherever I went was some-
thing for any boy to be ashamed of. Over the years, what had begun
as guilty-what-have-I-done penitentence as only Catholics under-
stand, had grown into embarrassment, and finally into humiliation.
Part of me resented that men intruded into my privacy with their
leering lust-filled eyes. Yet, I was also proud that I diverted
their attention, that they found me desirable in some bizarre way,
at least enough to feast their eyes.

The only difference was that now I did not feel exposed and
vulnerable. I wasn't scared, but I closed my eyes until Steven
reached the stairs that led down to where our cabin was.

Steven carried me all the way to the huge canopied bed. He
turned around and sat down, repositioning me so that instead of
lying in his arms, we were face to face and I was kneeling over his
legs. His face was nearly at the same level as mine. Intuition told
me what to do. I closed my eyes and his mouth came against mine. A
long kiss this time, gentle, passionate, giving and taking tongues,
exchanging enough saliva that a doctor would say we were irrespon-
sible. Who cared if we shared germs? I bubbled with excitement,
taking quick breaths through my mouth whenever our lips parted.

Behind me, Steven's fingers were unfastening straps and
unbuckling buckles that held my chest armor. He pulled the piece of
white hard leather from between us, discarding it on the floor with
a soft thud. Then, his hands moved higher on my back, detaching the
connections that kept the two shoulder parts together, releasing
the straps that secured the shoulder armor to my body. Still, his
mouth stayed fixed to mine. I kept my eyes closed tightly, vaguely
aware that he was undressing me, very aware that my heart was
pounding inside my chest just as if I was running very hard.

His hands tugged on my satin tunic, pulling up the short
pleated skirt until it came past the one belt that remained on my
body. This belt retained the thigh armor and the silver triangular
shield that protected my groin. His hands kept moving, pushing,
pulling the tunic higher up my body. Instinctively, I raised my
arms above me head. I trembled as Steven's hands brushed over my
bare back, stroked my flanks, rubbed across my shoulders. I hugged
him tightly, closing my eyes to mere slits against the light,
blocking out everything except my lover. We kissed again and again.

His hands flowed down my back one last time. Instead of making
a return journey up my sides, they continued down, down across the
white leather belt, down onto my small suntanned buttocks. His
hands cupped my cheeks, parted them again, the same wide-open way
that he had exposed my crevice before when we were outside on the
boat deck. His fingers tickled my anus, swirling around the slip-
pery rim, dipping into the still dilated opening. I felt coolness,
assumed that more of the silvery beads of lubricant were being
applied. His fingers were poised to penetrate, but he hesitated,
just two tips lodged into the dimple of my anus, then slowly, ever
so slowing began pushing into me again.

Dimly, I thought of my mother, sitting alone in her bed in
Palm Springs. Would what I was doing have her approval? I no longer
cared. I had Steven. His fingers squeezed deeper, rotating, lifting
up into the muscular band inside me, pushing deeper into the deli-
cate hot void beyond. I groaned, nestling my head into his shoul-
der, relaxing that muscle as it had never been relaxed before.
Then, something bigger replaced his fingers. It was much bigger. It
was also very hot.

"Just relax, Chrissie," Steven droned in his reassuring way.
"You're doing great. It won't take very long now."

What would not take long? What was pushing into my anus? It
felt like a stake was pushing into me. I did not dare risk opening
my eyes. In the darkness there was a chance to escape to the place
I always went to when I could no longer stand how I felt. But I
knew what was happening. I wanted it to happen. It was Steven's
penis and it felt big and thick, and hard. Steven was pushing hard
enough to lift my knees off the bed, hard enough to lift my body
into the air. I could feel my anus being stretched tighter and
tighter. I could feel the heat from his distended penis flowing
into my body through the hole we shared.

"It's okay, Chrissie. Just a little bit further and we can stop
for a while."

How much further? It didn't hurt, not the way I had expected,
not the way that I was afraid it would hurt. Whatever was in the
lubricant Steven had used took care of the pain I would otherwise
have been subjected to. Instead, it just felt big, very, very big.
And now it was inside me. I could feel it there, lodged partially
through my sphincter, still too large to go in all the way even as
I continued my struggle to relax. However, it hadn't stuck there,
not really. In a flash of insight I understood what Steven was
doing. He was letting me get used to it before he went the rest of
the way.

I trembled, still thinking of my mother, of Aunt Sue, even of
Steven's mother. I was doing what they had done in order to have
babies. Then, I remembered my only role was to get my legs
as far apart as possible. I brought my knees up against Steven's
hips, almost squatting down to get my legs into the position I
wanted them. Wide apart, one leg behind him, the other splayed out
across the bed, placed so wide that my cheeks were tight and my
crevice was opened fully. Steven's hands came under my arms, lift-
ing me up, dragging the thick brutal wedge out through my anus.
Then down, pushing on my chest, driving upwards and into me. I
gasped when the broad swollen head finally surged through the por-
tal to my body. My virginity was gone in that single deep stab.

There was no cheering, no clapping. There was just silence as
Steven and I realized what had happened. My body cramped, clamping
viciously, rejecting what I hungered for. Instantly, I struggled to
relax. I clutched at Steven's head, wanting to kiss him, wanting to
share the special nature of the deed that was done only once in a
boy's life. There was only one first time. There would never be
moment like this in the rest of my life. Steven stopped there. My
anus had been breeched. His penis was sufficiently deep in my rec-
tum that it wasn't going to come out any time soon. I was whimper-
ing against his shoulder with my teeth biting into his robe. I was
so happy that I wanted to cry. I had Steven inside me. Actually
inside me!

"I'm not a virgin any more, am I Steven?" I croaked in his
nearest ear.

"No. You're my boy now, Chrissie. You belong to me now." He
voice was gentle, deep, comforting.

I sighed, settling my head back on his shoulder. I was per-
fectly content. I had what I wanted, what any gay boy wanted.

"Does it hurt, Chrissie?" Steven asked huskily.

I could tell he was as nervous and excited as I was. His hands
moved to hold my buttocks. One hand for each firm little cheek. I
could feel his penis flexing, throbbing, anxious to finish what it
had started.

"No,... Not really,... just big." I managed to say before I
gasped.

My sphincter was still fighting, ever obstinate, ever trying
to eject what it thought was not supposed to be there, my desires
to the contrary. It took all of my faculties, that extreme applica-
tion of willpower over involuntary reaction to relax.

"You're doing great, Chrissie," Steven said as his hands
stroked my back.

"You,... can,... go,... deeper,...." I said hoarsely. Was that my
voice? Why did I sound so distressed?

"Later, Chrissie. You need to get used to it a bit at a time.
There's no rush."

I sat there, suspended by his powerful arms, my butt cheeks
contained in his strong hands. His penis was not yet even close to
being half way inside me and I felt full. Bryce had to be making up
what he had said to me on the telephone about having a man's penis
all the way inside him. Not that it mattered, I had all that mattered,
but I did want more inside me.

"Okay, Sweetie?" Steven said after a while.

Okay, what? What was he going to do? Was he?... I gasped as
Steven firmly pressed on my hips, keeping me from moving as he low-
ered me down cautiously. The sensation was like something bulging
inside me, like an inflating balloon, only harder, and hotter. I
could feel my body melting around it, becoming one with it, joining
with Steven's huge penis. It was going further, much further. Then
Steven's hands lifted me up and after a few moments, eased me down
again. It was as if he had pulled my anus out of my body, then
pushed it back again. I groaned even though it had not hurt. Then
again, a longer, slower thrust back and forth, tearing the anus out
of me before ramming it back again. And again after that. I felt my
body shuddering, twitching hands and feet and shaking legs. I could
not control anything except my anus. It was as relaxed as I could
get it.

"Getting looser, Chrissie," Steven said throatily. "Not long
now."

I tried to answer him, to say something about it not hurting,
but all that came out of my mouth was a moan. He lifted my body up
again, let it drop down even further. Then up yet again, dragging
his penis through the tight tube of my rectum and almost out of my
anus. However, I realized he was right. My body was responding. The
hole was loosening. The muscle was slackening. Gradually I realized
that the penis we shared had finally began to move in the way that
I wanted. Every thrust loosened my anus further. It was still
tight, but now I clung to his neck and tried to help him. Up and
down. Then up again, pulling and pushing the flared head of his
penis through my bowels.

I heard a distant voice, a man's voice say `ride `em cowboy'
just before he laughed. Then, `you're one happy little fairy now,
aren't you'. Then, `fuck that beautiful little boy-pussy, Chris-
sie'. I kept moving, barely aware of what I was doing and even less
aware of what was happening around me. The silver shield, intended
to protect my genitals flapped uselessly and annoyingly against my
thigh and lower belly. I wished Steven had taken it off as well.

We were into a rhythm by then. A slow rhythm certainly, but
still over-whelming for a boy's first time. This was not a wild
frantic ride. This was gentle careful probing, making love and
testing the limits of my endurance, getting me used to what lay
ahead. The sensations began to change, adapting as my rectum opened
up and allowed even more of Steven's penis inside. It reached into
my bowels and found that special place that lies within every boy,
gay or straight. Within seconds I climaxed.

I was not ready for it. I screamed as my body jerked wildly.
The spasm was over in a few seconds. He dragged me up and away,
relieving the pressure deep inside me, where his penis had been but
no longer was. I clutched at Steven, sucking against his neck. I
knew what a hickey was, and if he was going to do this to me, I was
sure as hell going to get my revenge. He had stopped and I wasn't
ready for that either.

"Fuck me! Harder!"

My voice, wailing, begging him, trying to push down, trying to
force his penis back into my clutching rectum where it belonged.

"I don't want to hurt you, Chrissie."

Steven's patient voice, firm, resolute. I pushed at him,
scraping my nails across his neck, raking his cheek. I was frantic.
So close. So far away. I fought against him, Steven wanting me to
stop, me wanting only to keep the penis moving within me.

"You're ,.... not,... hurting,... me," I implored bitterly. "Keep
going!"

"Are you sure?"

If ever there was a dumb question, that had to be it. Was I
sure? Was I sure of anything except that I needed Steven inside me,
needed his penis to keep moving. There had to be more where that
had come from. What had happened to me anyway?

"Do it," I demanded, struggling, groaning, trying to push down
again. "Harder, Steven. Faster."

It changed then. My body had loosened up as far as it needed
to go. Steven's penis could move back and forth through my anus
with almost no friction. We were ready to go the rest of the way.
The rest of the way where? All that I wanted was for Steven to keep
doing it.

We started again. Moving easier, smoother, faster, harder.
Sliding up and down that thick male shaft, plunging back and forth
as the pressure slowly built up inside me, until I began to think
it was never going to end, until even I could hear the wet suction-
ing sounds coming from under and behind me. This was not the sort
of thing I learned in Health class. This was not about making
babies, but it was what every gay boy needed to learn.

The second climax took a long while to build up inside me. It
was almost like my body had given up on ever being able to repeat
it. Once was enough. It lingered in the background of my mind, com-
ing tantalizing near at times, then fading when Steven began to
tire. It returned without warning. All of a sudden I became tense,
recognizing what was happening and I strained down with all my
might. My face contorted as the spasms ripped through me. Not one
but many, as Steven continued to lift and thrust me down. He slowed
as my frantic jerking ceased, finally stopping with his still very
hard penis embedded almost all the way inside me. That was when I
finally opened my eyes and looked upward.

There was a mirror in the canopy, a mirror that reflected
everything below it. I gazed up at it, aware that I was having
trouble breathing, that even though Steven had stopped moving, my
hips were still jerking up and down. I blinked, then closed my eyes
tightly, wondering whether what I had seen would disappear when I
reopened them. I waited for a few seconds.

It was still there. This time my focus was better, my pupils
adjusting to the light contrast. Under the yellowish lamp light I
could see the back of Steven's body and two smooth brown arms that
were draped around his neck. I turned my head further, bending my
neck back until I could see the rest of my body, the white towel
that he had placed beneath me.

"S-s-s-t-t-even," I stammered fearfully.

Even as I called his name, I realized what it was. Blood. My
blood. Tiny crimson spots of it on the towel. Steven's hands
grasped me and held me tightly.

"It's okay, Chrissie," he said urgently. "There nothing to be
scared about, Sweetie."

"B-b-b-ut?" I tried again, just as incoherent.

I did not know what to do. I had not exepcted this. I buried my
face in Steven's robe, trying not to burst into tears. I could feel
my panic getting stronger as the realization sank in.

"It's just a little bit of blood. Don't be frightened, Honey."

"B-b-but I'm bleeding. L-l-look at it," I muttered shamefully.

I hated the sight of blood. Now this! Cautiously, I lowered
my head to look behind me, ready to sulk and show my displeasure.

"It's okay, Chrissie," Steven said softly. "It'll stop as soon
as we stop fucking."

"Y-y-you're sure?"

"Yes. I can stop right now, if you want? I don't want to hurt
you, Chrissie."

"I, I, I don't, Steven? I, I want you to finish inside me," I
murmured.

"I'm almost there. Just a few more seconds. I love you,
Chrissie. I want to remember this night forever. You're my boy now,
aren't you Chrissie?"

As if the prove the point, Steven flexed his hardness and I
jumped as it jerked deep within my bowels. It was still there,
still ensconced between my cheeks, the end lodged next to my spine.

"Uh huh!" I answered proudly.

He turned my head around then, made me look over my shoulder,
showing me the blood. There was not that much, just spots on the
towel under me, a few spots on his thighs. His fingers brushed
through my blond spikes, fingered the gold chain that hung loosely
around my neck. His lips came onto mine, covering my mouth, sealing
us together. Kissing ever so gently, then touching tongues, rubbing
them together. Slowly, my fear dissolved.

He took my hand, guiding it betwen us. I touched his penis
where it entered me. It was not shocking, not dreadful or disgust-
ing, not even outrageous. It was where it was suposed to be.
Steven's penis disappeared into my anus, stretching it wide, so
tight that the rim was thin and curled up at the front. I could
just see the bottom of Steven's glistening wrinkled scrotum, but it
was enough to show that I was a boy perched above a man's thick
erection. The skin around my anus, the remaining shaft, even the
back of my rounded little scrotum, was slippery and wet.

I groaned as I felt Steven lifting me up. I could not take my
eyes away from his penis. I stared mindlessly, watching as Steven's
huge organ slowly reappeared. It came out slick, covered in a
glossy slimy film, more and more of it until all that was left
inside my anus was the helmeted head. My mouth open in an ecstatic
wail, teeth clenched, fighting to keep the penis deep inside me. It
pulled free in loud slurping suction, a sound was very much like
pulling a shoe out of thick mud.

Steven laughed. I glowered at him and then glanced up at the mir-
ror above me, seeing the face of a pouty little boy. Again he
laughed, but this time I giggled. There really was a funny side to
having sex. I glanced back where our bodies had been joined. The
sight was mind-boggling. The image that confronted me was incon-
ceivable. Steven's penis, still very much erect bobbed up and down,
bumping against my outspread thighs. It was streaked with reddish
slime. I felt with my fingers, finding my anus as a huge hole. It
was impossibly large, a gaping entrance into my body.

Steven lifted my leg, lifted me bodily up, spinning me around
like a rag-doll so that I faced outward. His hands fumbled in front
of me, unclasping the metal shield over my male part. It clattered
to the floor. Again I glanced down, this time seeing my pitifully
small genitals, my precious gold and diamond ring, the ring that
recognized Steven's ownership of me. My penis had shriveled into a
puny thing, yet it had gained significance beyond its size. This
was my boy part, the only part of my body that identified my gender
because my face certainly did not. Whenever I looked up at the mir-
ror, the face that gazed unwaveringly back at me was not the face
of a boy.

Almost as soon as I had taken up the new position sitting
directly over Steven's thighs, I was lifted up again. I felt
Steven's hands underneath me, positioning his penis in my crack,
searching for the unprotected opening. I stretched my legs apart,
knowing I was vulnerable, wanting to be exposed for him. It pierced
my hole again, ramming upward quickly as I dropped down onto it. I
didn't have time to do my relaxing routine, but by then it was
probably unnecessary.

With my legs on either side of Steven's powerful thighs, there
was nothing I could do to stop the inevitable ingress. His penis
pushed into me even further than before, well past his circumcision
scar. I opened my mouth and wailed. There was no pain, just the
suddenness of almost complete penetration on the first attempt. His
hands lifted me up again and forced me down even harder, so hard it
hurt. But it also felt good, being impaled, feeling his manhood
going deeper inside me, deeper than it had been before. Again, and
then again after that. Within seconds I was twisting and turning,
and gasping for air, my feet barely touching the floor before I was
lifted high into the air. I watched my expression change, recogniz-
ing rapture as my body yielded and my inhibitions were finally sub-
dued. I gazed longingly up at the boy's face wondering why he
looked so incredibly happy. Was that beautiful boy really me?

The pressure began to build again even before Steven's penis
was close to bottoming out. In seconds, I was in ecstasy. He
stopped forcing me up and down, but instead splayed his legs out,
forcing my legs even further apart. They were pushed so far outward
that I was suspended over an open void, my weight carried by the
thing that was lodged inside my bowels. Positioned like that, I was
unable to hold myself there and I dropped down even lower, until no
more could do into me, and there was no more left to go inside. I
was full, so full of Steven's throbbing penis that there was no
room inside for it to move, or me to do anything except breath. I
groaned, grateful to him for letting me sit there, poised above
him.

"Okay, Chrissie?" Steven murmured in my ear.

"I think so," I answered uncertainly.

I struggled to take my weight on my thighs, yet I was weak and
the way I was positioned, served only to lever my buttocks further
apart. He pulled me back, holding me tightly against him until
he was nearly lying on his back. I dared to look up to the mirror,
knowing what I would see between my legs. It was both satisfying
and frightening to see the massive hair-covered man-thing that
disappeared into me. Not that there was a lot to see of Steven's
penis. What was frightening was how little there was of it to see.
Just the full scrotum and the base of his penis, the last half-inch
or so remained. The miserable shriveled thing that dangled between
my thighs was barely enough to show I was the same sex. His penis
was dark drown and heavily veined, so different to the soft,
smooth, pale thing that poked from between my legs.

His scrotum was huge, roughened and wrinkled, and also covered
with thick curling hair. Lots of hair. I thought of Bryce's comment
about him being a fur-ball, and I managed a weak smile when I won-
dered if Bryce had intended to say furry-balls instead. The one
thing that was more remarkable, even more than the thickness of the
flesh-stake that Steven had managed to ram through my anus, was the
difference between our testicles. It was like comparing jelly beans
with chicken eggs. They were the same only in their basic shape and
ultimate function. Other than that there was very little similarity
between the reproductive organs of a man and boy

Then, the sitting and waiting was over and Steven sat up began to
lift me up and plunge me down, hard. I groaned and whimpered, and
closed my eyes as the stress instantly increased. His hand grasped
at me, grabbed my limp sex, began to play with it by tugging it out
lengthwise. The stimulation that my body had been exposed to was
more than sufficient to produce an almost instant erection. My
penis snapped to attention, as rigid as a bone. There was a murmur
of approval from Steven as he stroked it lovingly. The short length
of my penis and my two tiny testicles nestled below, now drawn into
a tight knot, were emphasized by the sparkling ring of diamonds and
bright gold. Yet, even if I could not read the inscription of let-
ters, there was no secret who I belonged to.

I watched, gasping for each breath, as Steven bounced me up
and down, pummeled my body with his man's sex. With almost sadistic
pleasure, he delighted in dragging my inflated penis down, letting
it recoil with a loud slap against my lower belly. The flow of
blood kept on, swelling further than it had before, straining every
tiny vein into cruel purple, the flesh becoming crimson and puffy.

"You do it now, Chrissie," Steven said.

He took hold of my body again with both hands on my sides and
began to pound me up and down furiously. I rubbed my sex furiously,
abandoned to the ecstasy from both inside and outside. My penis
kept getting harder and darker, throbbing as my frenzy increased.
Reason was forsaken and I began babbling, imploring him in deliri-
ous shrieks to keep on. I wanted it faster. Steven was oblivious to
my wails, that frantic voice that gagged inside my throat as I
tried to beg for mercy. He was intent on reaching his own Nirvana.
I had not expected it to be like this. Merciless, brutal sex. This
was what Bryce had been trying to tell me. This was what I would
live for from now on. This way we both got what we wanted from life.

I glanced up again, too boldly perhaps. My mouth was dis-
torted, eyes wide in fear of the unknown, nostrils flaring, shaking
my head like a crazed person when sanity has been consumed.

Then something burst inside me and I shuddered violently,
almost collapsing to the floor. However, he held me upright, bounc-
ing me on his thighs again and again as spasms burst through me, an
endless cruel crescendo of jerking. I felt my penis throbbing,
jumping under my fingers, giving up its secret, still unformed
fluid. My orgasm was painfully dry. The orgasm in my rectum was
anything but dry. For the first time I felt Steven's fluid explod-
ing in savage spurts, thick hot cream being squirted in copious
streams into my preteen body. I had a vague appreciation that it
was like a hot-water faucet had been turned on and my body was
filling up rapidly.

I knew it was semen. Steven's part of the baby we could never
make together rushed into me and took possession. In a way, this
made me his boy more than anything else. It was over in seconds. It
would never be long enough. Seconds should have been hours. Yet, I
was content. He stopped moving and clutched my sweating body
tightly to him, keeping his sex inside me for the dying bursts, the
final ooze of fluid, allowing his organ to loose its hardness
before he took it out.

I could feel his penis softening, slowly pulling back through
my dilated passage, now so enlarged that there was no tension left
to hold him inside. It flopped against my thigh, slimy and hot and
still dribbling semen. My hand ventured down again to explore the
end-result of what we had done. It was a gruesome discovery, that
gaping hole beneath my very dark scrotum, a penis that was still
straining erect and bulging with swollen veins. It was irreconcil-
able with the precious band of jewels that Steven had placed upon
me. Then, I looked up again, into the brilliant mirror overhead. I
saw a face in shock, just realizing what had been done to me, the
irrefutable evidence of virginity lost, the bloody mess between my
buttocks.

Steven reached down and stuck his fingers into me. He pushed
two fingers back inside the yawning orifice that had been my anus.
I barely felt it. Two fingers were not nearly as large as what had
been there just a few moments earlier. He felt around, probing
beyond my sphincter, all the way up into the void, then pulled them
out. They were dripping with the milky fluids that he had deposited
inside me. He smeared it on my face, held his fingers under my nose
while I inhaled, then before my lips until I understood what he
expected of me. I licked it off with uncharacteristic eagerness,
barely thinking about the germs that might be there, about where
his fingers had been in order to get it on them in the first place.

It was not disgusting, not really. It didn't even smell bad,
and there was no taste to it. It was merely what was inside me, and
what caused the wet streaks on Steven's penis. If anything, the
intimacy of sharing again, what we had just shared in mutual
ecstasy, reinforced the appropriateness of how our bodies had been
joined.

Yet, in the aftermath I felt an overwhelming sadness. Beyond
the immediate let down that it was finished, I regretted that it
had lasted such a very short time. All that remained of the most
incredible experience of my life was the copious fluid that Steven
had deposited within me, and even that I sensed, was slowly drain-
ing down from where it had spurted.

Instinctively, I tried to keep it within me by clamping my
buttocks together, using the muscles in my buttocks like a vise,
pulling inward until my cheeks were firm and pinched. From within,
I tried to tighten the opening, exerting but in reverse the control
of the other muscle, the sphincter muscle that Bryce had made me so
aware of. Even though my fully dilated anus was nearly numb, I
began to worry about the tenderness that would be there later on..
It was so loose that I worried it had been permanently stretched.
I don't think I had ever been so aware of any part of my body as I
was in those first few minutes after Steven's penis was no longer
inside me. I was content to sit still, doing my best to stem the
downward tide and trying to keep Steven's fluid inside me for as
long as possible.

After a minute, Steven helped me to stand up. My legs were
wobbly and I tottered uncertainly until he placed his arm around
me. Without his help, I would have collapsed onto the floor and not
been able to get up again.

"Are you okay, Chrissie?" he asked concernedly.

How was I to answer that? Was I okay? I was alive and breath-
ing, even if I was barely able to walk more than a few feet. All I
wanted to do was to sit back down, or lie down on the bed and rest.
I nodded vaguely, knowing that if he had suggested doing it again,
I would have agreed eagerly.

"You were incredible," he muttered. "Truly incredible, Chris-
sie."

I was not in the mood for talking, at least not then. I had
been humbled.

"I'm going to get you something to clean you up. Stay here
Chrissie and don't move. I think I need a drink," Steven added with
a grin. "You just about wore me out, you know."

If I could have laughed I would have at that moment. How on
earth could he expect me to move from where he left me? He headed
off in the general direction of the bathroom. I supported myself
against the wooden column that held up the corner of the canopy. I
was afraid to sit on the bed, fretting that the fluids might stain
the expensive bedspread if even a tiny amount escaped. I kept the
tension in my anus, cognizant that I was fighting a battle whose
outcome could only be a mess.

After a minute, Steven returned. He had cleaned his blood-
streaked penis off and he carried a small white towel, not much
larger than a table napkin. He sat down and gently turned me so
that I stood side-on in front of him. He guided me to lean face-
down and over his thighs. With the fingers of his left hand he gen-
tly parted my cheeks and dabbed at my opening with a folded corner
of the towel.

"It doesn't look too bad," he said absently.

"Has it stopped bleeding?" I asked nervously.

I had nearly forgotten about the blood that I had observed,
perhaps because there was no discomfort other than a persistent
itch somewhere inside my rectum.

"Yes, Sweetie. You'll be sore tomorrow though, I bet."

Lovingly, he began to stroke my buttocks, running his fingers
around in small circles, tracing either side of the dividing line.
It was soothing and I sighed loudly.

"It's almost always bad the first time," he whispered. "How
does it feel, Chrissie?"

"Okay," I murmured.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. It feels really sloppy inside, that's all."

Steven squeezed my cheeks lightly. "You were so good. I'm
sorry I'm so large. I didn't want to hurt you, Chrissie. I really
wanted it to be good for you too."

"You didn't hurt," I chided. "It was good, Steven," I added,
hoping that I sounded convincing. I was afraid of what it doomed me
to being.

Was it good? I was so confused. I had just done what homosex-
uals did and I had enjoyed it. That could only mean that I really
was gay. No boy wanted to be gay. Not at my school, not at any
school. It guaranteed a life of unhappiness. Everyone around me was
pushing me in that direction. I was pushing me in that direction
even though I knew I would not like going to school again.

"You're worried about the blood, aren't you Chrissie?" Steven
answered. "Don't be scared. There's no need to be. A lot of boys
bleed a little bit on the first couple of times. The only damage I
can see in there is a little fissure."

"What's that?" I asked timidly.

"It's a little tear in your anus. It'll heal in a few days. It
will itch a bit, and it might hurt when you poop, but that's all."
Playfully he slapped my buttocks with the palm of his hand. "You'll
live, Chrissie. What's more if I'm not mistaken, you'll be wanting
to do it again before long."

How could he know that? I twisted my head and gave him a know-
ing smile. It was reassuring to see him smile, to see love in his
eyes, to know that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. He didn't
have to say that. It was obvious.

"Chrissie, if you want we can stay here," Steven said after a
few moments. "Or you can put some clothes on and go back upstairs.
There are some people who I'd like you to meet, but it isn't all
that important. Considering what you've just been through, it's up
to you."

I grinned. It was nice to be in charge once in a while. Lying
in bed with Steven would be nice, but I knew what I wanted. I was
beginning to turn into a party animal.

"Let's go back," I said. "Do I have to put all the armor stuff
back on?"

Steven helped me to stand up again. My strength was slowly
returning. He held my hand in his, squeezing on my fingers. He
could hold whatever part of me he wanted, but I wanted him to hold
me and never let me go. He bent down and lifted away the armor and
straps until he found what he wanted. He held up the tunic and the
leather belt with the jeweled buckle. Obediently, I lifted my arms
up and he slipped the tunic over them. It dropped down until it
reached my head, then he arranged it so that it hung neatly. He
fastened the belt around my narrow waist.

"I really look like a girl now, don't I?" I asked as I studied
my attire. It was a very different costume without the armor.

"Yes you do," Steven agreed. "A very beautiful girl too,
Chrissie. Do you mind?"

"Not if you're with me," I answered honestly. "I sure wouldn't
like to go to school looking like this though."

Steven laughed. He hugged me, lovingly rubbing my bottom
through the pleated skirt. "And I wouldn't let you go like this.
Around the house, by all means, but not to school. You'd come home
with two black eyes."

"Only if they caught me," I giggled. "Steven?"

"Yes, Chrissie?"

"I love you."

"Really? maybe that's why I love you too," he laughed. He
tightened his grip on my buttocks. "Right now, Honey, you're full
of my love, and I plan to put even more there before you get back
home."

He brushed his hand over my head, kissed my forehead, and with
his arm around my shoulders, guided me out of the room and back to
the lounge. Some people were standing near the food and drink, oth-
ers were still in the disco area, a few had found quiet corners for
debauchery. As we entered, there were a lot of whispers in what was
clearly a muted approval. All eyes were on me again. Yet, for some
reason it did not perturb me. I smiled shyly and stayed right
beside Steven.

After a minute or two, Mark hurried over with Tyler. He
smirked at me knowingly. Tyler have him a reproachful look, but
that was nothing to Mark.

"Well?" he demanded boldly. "How was it?"

"Cool!" I smirked back at him.

Tyler laughed. "Maybe he'll stop worrying now."

"You were worried about me?" I asked in surprise. Mark
shrugged and tried to be nonchalant.

"He acts tougher than he really is," Tyler said.

Steven chuckled. "He's fine, Mark. There was a little bit of
blood that's all. Oh, and my little pixie had three orgasms."

"Three?" Tyler and Mark said simultaneously.

Steven nodded and held up three fingers. "It took me by surprise
too. I knew he was enjoying it and all while I was doing it, but I
never expected him to get off. Just once would have been great."

"Cool!" Mark grinned. "How's it feel not being a virge any
more?"

"Okay," I said warily.

"Just okay?" Steven teased.

"It was the best ever?" I giggled.

"That's better. Just don't tell me you want a repeat perfor-
mance already. I was hoping to get a drink and something to eat."
Steven hugged me tightly against him. "If you let me take my little
ex-virgin over to the food for a while, Mark. I'll bring him back
in a couple of minutes. With all these over-sexed boys on the loose
I don't want to leave him alone for a second," he added, winking at
Mark.

We went over to where the food was and checked out what was
there. Steven directed me to the lobster platter, selected one that
was larger than the rest, and held it up to my mouth. Clearly, he
expected me to eat it right from his fingers

"I can't," I said awkwardly.

"Why on earth not, Chrissie? I thought you loved lobster."

"I do," I said glumly. "But it's not, you know,... kosher."

"And you're not Jewish," Steven laughed. "So it doesn't mat-
ter. At least not yet. So eat up and be merry for tomorrow the
world ends."

I was not sure what he meant by that, but I regarded him with
a questioning expression. He was not about to elaborate, not unless
I asked him to, and I was not about to ask. The silence lingered
until I gave in and opened my mouth. The lobster tail was the best
I had ever eaten. I could have stayed there and eaten them for the
next hour. My mother would died!

"Okay, Chrissie," Steven began as I wiped my lips with a nap-
kin. "Tell me again why wouldn't you eat it?"

"I told you," I answered shyly.

"It's not kosher. Why is that suddenly important to you,
Chrissie?"

I shrugged. I did not want to answer in case he thought I was
ridiculous. The silence dragged on until Steven reached down and
picked up another one that was nearly as large as the first one.

"I'm going to make you eat these until you tell me," he chor-
tled.

"No way!"

He brought it to my mouth, rubbing it against my lips. It
smelled great and tasted wonderful, but not nearly as nice as his
penis.

"Open up, Chrissie?"

"Steven," I scolded. I started to giggle as he pushed the thin
end of the lobster tail into my mouth.

"Eat or tell!"

"I want you to like me," I admitted.

"Huh?" He was honestly astonished. "I don't understand,
Sweetie."

"I want you to like me," I repeated awkwardly. "You'll like me
more if I don't do things that you don't like. I want to be just
like you."

"Oh! I see. So you want to eat kosher from now on because I
do?"

I nodded nervously.

"Okay, then what about your penis, Chrissie? That's different
to mine."

"I don't mind," I said nervously. I breathed out. "You can
circumcise me if you want."

Steven laughed. "Well, I'm glad. It might hurt for a while,"
he suggested. "And there'd be some blood too, Chrissie."

"So! I want,...." I stopped and smiled shyly. "I want mine to
look like yours."

He nodded understandingly. "So do I, Chrissie. But tonight,
you eat lobster. Lots and lots of lobster because you never know,
it might be the last lobster you ever eat."

I licked my lips and allowed him to feed me. Oh, it tasted so
good. Just lobster tails, cooked to perfection, soft and juicy, and
delicious. Not one, not two but half a dozen, until my belly was
full and I was beginning to slow down.

"Just one more, Chrissie," Steven teased. "One more little
lobster tail, okay?"

I shook my head. "I'll explode," I grinned. "I love them,
Steven, but I'm so full I couldn't eat another one."

He stopped then and we moved further along the banquet table
to food that looked like it might be kosher. Then Steven ate,
gratefully taking the food from my fingers as I fed him in turn.
People watched us, but no one laughed. They understood what it was
like to be in love. It did not matter to them that we were man and
boy.

After that, Steven and I picked up glasses of champagne at the
bar. We shared champagne too, drinking from one glass until it was
empty and then moving to the next one. Then, when we could not find
Mark and Tyler, Steven led me back onto the dance floor. We danced
for an hour, until 2.00 am., watching other people disappearing one
by one, or should I say two by two because they always left in cou-
ples, a man and a boy together. I did not have to ask where they
were going. I knew by then. I knew from the ache between my but-
tocks and the persistent urge to have Steven's penis back inside
me. Finally, there were only the two of us left. After one last
dance, during which we kissed non-stop, we slumped into each
other's arms. I was exhausted. It was a wonderful way to finish the
party.

I was nearly asleep by the time we reached our cabin, that
splendid stateroom that Mr. Durand had provided for my first night.

I crawled, bleary eyes and yawning, onto the huge bed. I was
too tired to realize that the bed had been turned down, the pillows
fluffed, that an unopened tube of lubricant had been conveniently
placed within easy reach of the bed. I flopped down, curled up on
my side, nestled my head into the pillow and closed my eyes. Before
sleep overtook me, I gradually realized that Steven was lying
behind him, that his hands were lovingly caressing my back. After a
while, perhaps only a few minutes but it might well have been
hours, his hands began gently stroking my buttocks. I felt his fin-
gers digging into my cheeks, opening them, placing the tip of his
penis where it needed to be. He pushed cautiously, slowly, taking
his time to get through the narrow part. It didn't hurt. In fact, I
may have been asleep when his penis penetrated me again. I think I
felt it sliding into me, seeking my heat, filling the void inside
my belly. I think I felt his breath on my bare brown shoulder, the
urgency of his thrusting, his erratic jerking. I'm sure that I
heard him moaning, gasps getting closer and closer together, and
the long groan at the end. Was it suddenly hotter deep inside me?
Then lying still, the faint sensation that his penis was still
inside me, that we were both very happy that we loved each other.