Date: Mon, 09 Apr 2001 17:14:59
From: Ganymede
Subject: Pandora's Box XIV

Pandora's Box XIV,   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 XIV: Monday Morning



Monday morning, the morning after the best day of my life and
I woke up with an erection and my first hang over! If my mother
ever found out, she would kill me without hesitating. Everyone, me
included, knows that eleven-year-old boys should not drink, but
if they do get drunk, guzzling champagne is the only way. However,
I could not remember drinking that much champagne, or even being
drunk for that matter, yet something inside me told me that I had
been drunk during the night. My throat felt like it had fur in it
and my head was woozy. I sucked my cheeks in, licked my teeth, and
swallowed, not liking the taste at all. Then, I tried to turn
over.

Gradually, I came to the realization that there was a very
heavy load on my chest so I couldn't move. I tried to push the
weight off me. When that didn't work, I defied common sense and
opened my eyes into the bright light of the morning sun that
streamed through one of the portholes directly onto my face. I
remembered where I was after a few seconds of blinking rapidly.
Amid my growing mental confusion, whatever I saw around me made no
sense at all. Then it all came rushing back. I recognized the
stateroom and with that as a basis, I even remembered some of what
had happened during the night. Tired of having the sun in my eyes,
I turned my head and looked upward.

The cover had pulled part of the way down. I saw two bodies
reflected in that huge overhead mirror. My smooth brown body was
lying side on, and a much bigger hair-covered body was pressed up
against me with its thick arm across my chest. I grinned
immediately. How could I have possibly forgotten Steven? He was
amazing. That was the only word that I could think of. Amazing. A
man's man, that's what Bryce had called him. Now, he was my man.
My man. The man who made life worth living.

He was so handsome that it was impossible to stop looking at
him. I loved everything about him. I loved his beard, scratchy at
times, so soft at other times. His powerful arms that gave me a
loving hug whenever I needed it, and even when I didn't. His
chest, hairy, masculine, so comfortable to lie on, even better to
sleep on. The thick trail of hair from between his dark brown
nipples, spreading downward to his belly, nearly hiding his deep
belly-button, then narrower but ever so black and curly leading
towards his crotch before it disappeared under the cover. His lips
fascinated me, already so accomplished at kissing mine, lips that
had sucked my penis until I thought I was going to lose my mind
because it felt so good. I loved everything about him! There was
nothing that I would change.

So I lay there in infatuated silence, taking in every
beautiful detail of Steven's body, at least the half that I could
see, and committing it to memory, which according to my friend
Paul, is easiest done by thinking about something as often as
possible. Yet, there was still one detail that I wanted to see
more than any other and there was only one way to see it. However,
it would mean disturbing him and risking the chance of waking him
up. I had to push the sheet down lower, but there was no way of
doing that without lifting his arm off me.

There was, of course, a very viable alternative that I slowly
became aware of. If I couldn't see it, then at least I could feel
it, and I could do that without lifting Steven's arm. After all,
the sense of touch is one of the most fundamental ways of
understanding the world around us. I giggled art the very idea of
touching his penis while he was still asleep. Then, the
realization struck me that the soft, warm, slightly moist
pressure that I could feel right behind my buttocks was actually
Steven's penis and my excitement increased exponentially. From
that point on, putting my hand on his penis was inevitable. Why
fight the inevitable?

I moved my hand over my side, under his arm, and cautiously
eased it down between us. Steven was pressed up so tightly against
me that there was almost no room for my fingers. I wriggled away a
couple of inches, reluctantly because it meant that his penis was
no longer compressed against my bottom. It felt nice, having it
there. Carefully, I stroked the very end of it, the helmet-shaped
part. It was soft, yet it was also firm, almost like sponge rubber
in that if I squeezed it between my fingers, it immediately
regained its shape.

So I lay there, in a sleepy stupor, exploring in tactile
curious silence, absorbing the sensations of his warm satiny skin
in my fingertips, become familiar with that part of Steven's body
that had suddenly and irrevocably become essential to mine. It was
a strange feeling, knowing where it had been, knowing what it had
done inside me. Somehow, it had affected me. Somehow, I had been
changed by it. It was not that I looked any different. Nor did I
feel different, except for a dull persistent ache in my bottom,
but I sensed that deep down I had changed. During the night I had
discovered something about myself that until then had been a
secret. I had been searching for something all my life and I had
found it. Then, the realization came. In a flash of insight I
understood how I was different. I was gay. That was me, the lowest
form of life, the queer disgusting thing that people loved to
hate. I was a faggot. End of discussion. Yet, I didn't care. I was
happy just being with Steven.

Unlike the night before, when I had a hazy memory of his
penis being sleek and slippery when it had finally pulled from my
body, now it was sticky in places and covered with a crusty layer
elsewhere. It was also a great deal smaller than I remembered, now
small enough to fit in my hand. It was so soft, so natural to hold
it, so much a part of me that I could not let go of it. I could
not understand why his penis was limp while mine had been erect
since I woke up. For some reason, I expected it to be erect, which
only goes to show how inexperienced I was. I had almost no
knowledge of sex. I did not know that my morning erection was a
natural and very normal occurrence. In the same vein, I had yet to
make the formal connection that erections were the physical
manifestation of sexual arousal. I did know that physical
stimulation could cause my penis to become hard and it felt good,
but that was all. Until that morning I had only a vague
appreciation that the same stimulation could be provided to a
grown man by an eleven-year-old boy. I still had a lot to learn. I
set about doing what was surely the most natural thing in the
world for a boy to do. At least that was how it seemed to me.

Steven's penis was limp for a long time. It was not at all
responsive to my efforts to explore and play with that part of his
anatomy. I began to worry that something was wrong, that I was not
doing it properly. I tugged on it gently, rolled it between my
fingers, scratched the silky-soft head with my fingernails, and
following the unwritten code of boy behavior, I even attempted to
rub it up and down, which is next to impossible with a limp penis
that insists on flopping everywhere.

Then suddenly, it shrugged off its lethargic mood and sprang
into action. My hand pulled back quickly as the realization struck
me that I had procured an erection, a very large, very hot, very
hard erection. It was nearly a minute later before I dared to
touch it again. I suppose I expected that it would go down, but it
was just as hard as it had been when I took my hand away. By then,
my arm was shaking and my hand was clammy. I took a deep breath
and tried to calm myself, tried to reason with myself. Something
inside me said it was not right to do what I wanted to do.
However, there was no way that I could resist that irresistible
urge that exists in every gay boy. Within less than a minute I was
back to touching Steven's penis, exploring his manhood, rubbing
his cock, feeling his penis get bigger and harder.

It seemed to pulse under my hand, quivering with a life that
was independent of its owner. Steven was still sound asleep but
his penis was very much wide awake. Then, without warning the urge
to touch became something else, infinitely more interesting, more
exciting, much more troublesome. Again, I tried to hold back,
obeying some vague notion that I should not be doing what I was
doing. It had to do with what my Health teacher called `good'
touches and `bad' touches. What I was doing were `bad' touches,
but to me they were touches that felt very good indeed. That was
the trouble with grade-school sex education. They don't tell you
how incredibly good sex-stuff feels. Even though I could no longer
get my fist around it, Steven's penis belonged in my hand. There
was no question in my mind. The problem was that it also belonged
somewhere else and I very much intended to put it there if I
could.

I gave in to my urge, just I accepted that I would all along.
There was no point in trying to resist in the first place. What I
wanted to do, I had to do, and it was remarkably easy to do it.
With one arm underneath my hips, I used my fingers to spread my
cheeks apart. It was still surprising wet and slippery inside my
crevice, although why I thought it was surprising at the time I
have no idea. Perhaps it was because Steven's penis was so sticky
and dry. With my other hand I guided Steven's penis down, pointing
it directly between my cheeks so that it was aligned with my
crack. I pressed back. It was in the wrong place, at least that
was how it felt to me. It slipped along my crack and slapped up
against my spine.

"Damn," I said aloud.

I tried again, this time levering Steven's penis down
further, moving it around and around until it was beginning to
burrow its fat rounded nose into my opening. I liked how that
felt, swelling into my anus but still finding no where to enter. I
pressed back harder, wriggling around so that it was aligned with
what I hoped was the place where it needed to be to go inside me.
Then, taking a deep breath, I pushed back. At the same time, I
endeavored to relax my inner muscles, trying to make the middle of
my body become slack, loosening what was trying to close up. It
was a strange sensation. I was very conscious of what was
happening, an awareness that my opening was stretching to accept
his penis, but it still had a long way to go before it was
anywhere near large enough. So I kept rubbing, getting used to the
spongy heat parting my crack, oozing its slippery saliva-like
fluid, waiting for that first little bit to penetrate. I only
needed to get the head inside, and not all that far either,
because I already knew that the rest would follow as soon as my
body was used to it.

I worked it back and forth, gripping the engorged shaft in my
hand and massaging the head around and around until it began to
feel as if it might actually be able to fit through my opening. I
went through my relaxation routine, imagining that every muscle
in that part of my body had been numbed so I couldn't do anything
except relax. Carefully, I repositioned the head. Relax! Make it
go loose! Push gently, not too hard. Be careful. Now breath! Push
again. Okay, there it goes.

I groaned when the bloated head of Steven's penis finally
squeezed through my anus, through the taut grip of my sphincter,
stopped, poised to enter into the void beyond. I breathed out,
making certain that it was in far enough before I dared to take my
hand away. If my hand had been trembling before, now it was
shaking and my heart was pounding. However, I had achieved what I
wanted. I paused there, waiting just as Steven had waited the
first time. I could not remember what had happened during the
second time, yet I suspected that he had gone slowly as well. In
fact, my memory of the second time was hazy, like a vague image in
the mind that one cannot be sure was a dream or something that
actually occurred.

I was just about to push back again, to finish what I had
started, when Steven woke up. He might even have been awake for a
few moments and was merely waiting to see what I would do if left
to my own devices. His hand gripped my hip and he jerked me back
against him. He was not trying to hurt me. Instead, he was not
awake enough to realize what he was doing. I gasped as his penis
surged deeper, plunging through my anus like a hot knife through
butter. My body melted around his, yielding to his advancing
organ.

"Oh! Oh God!" I wailed when his penis was getting very close
to full depth.

He pulled back then, suddenly, pulling nearly all the way
out, not waiting before he slammed back up against me.

"Oh! God! Steven!" I was almost crying.

Then, he pulled back again, this time all the way out so that
the knob on his penis slapped against my scrotum. I felt his
frenzied efforts to reinsert it, gripping my cheeks, forcing them
wide apart, guiding his rampart sex back. He paused again, this
time with the head centered directly over my anus. Then pushing,
not that hard that I felt there was any risk of being injured, but
hard enough that it was going to go inside me and there was very
little that I could do to stop it. I relaxed as best I could under
the brunt of a very blunt stake of hard man-flesh.

"Steven, it's starting to hurt," I moaned. He stopped
moving, stopped pushing, cradled my genitals from behind with an
arm draped over my side.

"You'll be okay, Chrissie," he whispered in my ear. "You're
just sore from last night. It'll stop hurting once you get
loosened up again."

I nodded awkwardly. "Am I bleeding?"

"No, I don't think so, Chrissie. I'll try to be more careful
from now on. I know it hurts," he said softly. "It just takes a
while to stretch, that's all. You'll be okay in a few minutes.
You're being so brave, Sweetie."

"Yeah, right," I sniffed loudly. "I'm nearly bawling my eyes
out."

"Most boys would be crying by now," Steven joked feebly.
"Chrissie, you're doing great. Just concentrate on trying to stay
relaxed."

"I'm trying, Steven," I whimpered. "Sometimes I can help it.
It just hurts too much."

"I know, Honey. It won't be much longer."

He eased back, just far enough that the pain faded. Even
still, it was not a pleasant feeling, not like the first time. His
penis was lodged behind my sphincter and every time I breathed, it
seemed as if it was tearing my anus out. I clenched my teeth and
began to focus all my efforts on staying relaxed and not
struggling when the cramps came, because they were definitely on
the way. I gasped as my involuntary muscle tightened, holding back
the cry of pain that threatened to break from my mouth. Then
another. I shuddered, silently begging for the cramps to end. It
seemed to take longer for my body to accept having his penis
there. However, care and patience paid off. Gradually the
pressure eased, the spasms became further and further apart, and I
could breath without resorting to whimpering.

"It's okay now," I said after a while. Part of me wanted to
get it over with.

"There's no rush, Chrissie." Steven stroked my side, keeping
his hand moving slowly up and down. It was soothing.

A minute after, Steven started moving again, using slow
motion, carefully prodding into me a little bit further at a time.
He seemed to be more aware of my body, more intent on providing me
pleasure than he had been before. If I even so much as winced, he
stopped. Gradually, he began to increase the pace again. My body
began to feel looser. Instead of feeling like he was tearing my
anus out of me, there was now a feeling that his penis was
actually sliding back and forth, sliding easier on a film of
slippery wetness.

I did what I could to give him access, remembering Bryce's
advice about draping my leg back over his. I lifted it as high as
I could, bending my knee at an awkward angle. It was not
comfortable, but lying like that my cheeks were as wide apart as I
could get them. Steven's hand tightened on my hip as he pushed
even further into me. I began to shudder as his penis reached into
that special place deep within me. Again and again, his penis hit
it, each time making me tense up inside and increase the downward
pressure to bring greater contact. My efforts paid dividends. The
feelings became stronger, so overwhelming that all I could do was
lie still and try not to scream. I understood what was happening.
I had begun the build up to the final crescendo. Steven held me
tightly against him, sometimes bucking with short hard thrusts,
but usually he used the slow, deep strokes of a man that left no
question about his strength. It was like my body was being
pulverized from the inside out. It was so overwhelming at times
that I had to squeeze my eyes shut to stop from losing control.

Then, without warning he rolled onto his back, taking me with
him, keeping his throbbing penis inside me. My legs dropped beside
his. I was exposed and vulnerable, splayed above him. He lifted up
beneath me. Most of my weight was held by his penis, at least that
was how it seemed to me. It pushed in further and I groaned as it
displaced my insides. His hands moved over my front, his fingers
finding sensitive places and tormenting them. Not tickling, not
really, but making me squirm. My nipples, tiny though they were,
received the greatest attention. He rubbed them between his thumb
and first finger until they were hard and pointed, and then he
started in earnest. All the time, his penis stayed deep inside my
rectum, moving relentlessly back and forth, but not that far in
actual distance. The head abraded that special place where the
feelings were the best. I had a terrible feeling that I would wet
the bed if I gave in and let go.

When he used his fingernails to scratch my nipples I writhed
uncontrollably, thrashing around on top of him. My nipples seemed
larger. They had swelled up and they tingled even when he was not
touching them. But when he touched them, stroked them, squeezed
them, rubbed them, it was all that I could do to stop from shaking
wildly. I wanted him to stop at the same time that I wanted him to
squeeze and pull even harder. My whole body felt like it was
jerking up and down, no longer responding to my brain.

"Yes, Chrissie, fuck yourself," Steven growled. "Fuck
yourself on my big hard cock. Do it boy!"

What was he talking about? What was I doing? Why was I
shaking so much that my head was flailing from side to side? And
down there? What was happening down there? I opened my eyes and
gazed up into the mirror again. I should not have been surprised
by what I saw. That little boy, spiked disheveled hair, mouth wide
open, glaring in some mind-numbing frenzy, eyes wide and wild. And
Steven's head beside mine, a face distorted and no longer human.
Then down, seeing what was happening, what I was doing. My feet
were wide apart, toes curled up and digging into the bed, my legs
straining with muscles and tendons standing out like cords,
slamming down on Steven's penis, struggling to lift off again.

"Oh God, Chrissie, I'm close," Steven gasped in my ear.
"Faster. I'm so fucking close. Do it faster, you little fairy."

I was his fairy, his little faggot-boy, his gay boy. I gave
it everything I had. Plunging up and down, knowing that his penis
was so deep inside my bowels that it could not come out easily. I
was going to explode, and there was the same sense of blowing up
in the part of Steven's body that was inside me. His penis was
getting larger, harder, quaking inside me. Just a few more
seconds. That's all I had to last. A few seconds. Again and again.
Oh so good, so incredibly good that I screamed, let it out, gave
in and allowed my body to find relief. I made a super-human effort
as I felt my strength being poured out, sucked into some black-
hole. I had only one time before I had to stop, thrusting myself
down onto his penis as hard as I could. Then I could fell his
penis pulsing, squirting, spurting, shooting his hot gushes of
semen all the way up inside me. That wonderful flood, the
realization that his man-fluid was inside me again, slumping back
as his penis continued to jerk into the sloppy loose tube within
my body. As my panic ebbed, I could feel him still ejaculating.

"Oh God, Chrissie," Steven groaned. "So wonderful! I can't
believe you just did that."

Did what? What had I done? I was too exhausted to think. I
could not stop my body from trembling. What had happened? That
sensation, that awesome sensation of being close to death but very
alive at the same time, had come and gone in a few seconds. That
was all the time it had taken. Just a few seconds, but time had
stopped for me.

"Are you okay?"

`Okay'? What was okay? Why couldn't I breath, or think, or
stop trembling?

"Uh, I, I, I guess," I muttered.

"You're beautiful. You're absolutely incredible, Chrissie."

He was smiling. I could see his face in the mirror, beaming
with joy. He turned and nibbled on my nearest ear, sticking his
tongue inside until I giggled and jerked my head away. Then his
hand cupped over my shriveled sex, held it between his fingers,
absently fondling his ring, my ring, twisting it around and
around. Why was my penis so tiny? Why wasn't it big and hard?

"I love you," I murmured. I meant what I said. I did love
him.

"No!" Steven said in mock surprise. "I can't imagine why
you'd say something like that, Chrissie."

"Unless it's true," I giggled.

I did not have to wait long.

"I know it's true, because I love you too, Chrissie," Steven
whispered. "I hope I didn't hurt you, Sweetie."

"I'm okay, Steven," I answered uncertainly. "It just feels
funny back there. I'll be fine in a little bit."

It was impossible to tell whether I had been hurt. It felt so
big and loose down there, like I had been stretched too far. It
was hot too, heat from the friction, heat that had been dragged
down from inside me. It felt wet too. I hoped it wasn't blood.

There was a soft knock at the door followed by a muffled
voice.

"Good morning Mr. Kaufman. Breakfast will be served at 8.00
am. Mr. Durand would appreciate it if all of his guests are there
promptly. That's in fifteen minutes on the main deck."

Then Steven laughed.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"I could lie here with you for another day, and do what we
just did again and again, but we have to get up and get dressed."

"Why can't we stay in bed?" I whined.

"Because we'll be crossing into US waters in a few minutes.
That's why we got the wake-up call. We might get a visit from the
Coastguard, although it's unlikely. It wouldn't do for them to
find us in bed."

I giggled. "I suppose not."

"So we have a rule about everyone being at breakfast. It's a
celebration for you too."

"Huh? For me?"

Steven nodded and gave my penis a parting squeeze. "You'll
see, Chrissie. We'd better get up, lover-boy."

Gently he lifted my hips up. I felt his penis slide out of
me. It felt strange not to have him inside me. Instantly, it felt
a lot larger inside me. It felt like there was a huge void that
had to be filled. He rolled me onto my side and came to his knees.
He spread my buttocks apart, looking at where his penis had been.

"Your ass-hole sure is big, Chrissie," he teased. "What have
you been doing?"

"Getting fucked," I smirked. "By you! Am I bleeding?" I added
nervously.

"Yeah, a little bit. It's already stopped. Where did I put
that towel?"

He dabbed the towel into my crevice, wiping away whatever
blood there was before I could see it.

"That's better. Are you ready to get up, Chrissie?"

"I guess. I feel so tired," I replied.

"Probably because you did most of the work this time. I just
lay there and you did it all by yourself. I guess you were trying
to make up for last night."

"Huh? What about last night?" I asked uncertainly.

"Don't you remember, Chrissie? After we came back from
dancing?"

I yawned and shook my head. "I fell asleep?" I smiled. I
could remember some of what had happened. "We had sex again,
didn't we?"

"Yes. Well I had sex, and you did too for a while," Steven
grinned. "I guess you were too sleepy. You were awake some of the
time, but you kept drifting off during the best parts.."

"Oh! What happened?" I asked innocently.

"You got fucked really hard," Steven chortled. "You mean you
don't remember anything?"

I shook my head again. Steven rubbed my head affectionately.
He leaned over and kissed me on the lips, then my eyes. He
finished by licking my nose.

"You're hot, Chrissie, whether you're awake or asleep."

I needed his help to sit up. My rectum ached when I moved. I
was glad that he had placed the blood-stained towel under my rump.
I was afraid of leaking on the sheets. I was naked, my skin dark
against the white sheet. Even my sandals were gone.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked grumpily.

"I undressed you last night," Steven chuckled.

"You undressed me?"

"Well that's not quite true. I seem to remember you managed
to get your belt off, but your tunic was sort of stuck about
halfway up so I couldn't see your head. I didn't think you'd be
very comfortable sleeping like that. Especially with your sandals
on and all."

"Very funny," I said in as disgruntled voice as I could
manage.

"Are you always this mean tempered in the morning?"

"Yes!" I started to laugh. "My mom says I'm even worse on
weekends."

"It's Monday, Chrissie."

"Oh! Yeah I guess it is." I looked at Steven shamefaced.
"Sorry I'm grumpy."

"That's okay. It's a side of you that I hadn't expected."

I grinned. "Well, you had your chance to ask me, didn't you?
It's too late now. You're stuck with me, Steven."

Steven laughed. "I see it more as an honor to have you
around. However, you're full of surprises, aren't you Chrissie?"

"Huh? How so?" I asked.

"Well, I thought you might be gay as soon as I saw you, but
only because you looked so sexy. I had no idea that you had a such
a hot little ass."

I wasn't at all certain whether that was a compliment or not.
I was gay, there was no doubt in my mind, but I wasn't sure that I
wanted Steven to acknowledge it so openly. Would he think less of
me if I was gay?

"What should I wear?" I asked, changing the topic to
something that was less personal.

The white tunic was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor at
the bottom of the bed. It hardly seemed appropriate to wear it
again when the fancy dress party was over. There was my tuxedo in
the closet, but it too formal.

"I bought some other clothes for you especially for this
morning," Steven said slyly.

He stood up and walked across to the louvered doors of the
closets. He opened one, the same one where he had taken my costume
from the night before, and reached in. He retrieved a fancy white
and black bag with the name `Michel, Le Boutique pour des garcons'
on the side.

He reached into it and pulled out a shirt and shorts and the
smallest pair of underwear that I had ever seen. If my mother had
bought me micro-briefs, then Steven had bought me super-micro-
briefs. They were red and made from a glossy nylon so that they
were like the briefs that I had seen in the girls department of
Filene's. The shorts were also `micro'. They were made from blue
denim and had very short legs. He held up a short-sleeved shirt
that was bright yellow like the spring daffodils that sprouted in
Harvard Yard.

"I think the size is right," Steven said as he handed them to
me. "Boy's size 10?"

"That'll work," I grinned. "Mom says I'm small for my size. I
think she means my age, but she always gets it wrong."

I started getting dressed, watching Steven's splendid body
as he followed suit. I liked that he was hairy. He was my very own
grizzly bear. I pulled on the briefs and giggled. They were cut
very tight and they emphasized my crotch and butt to the point of
indecency. Yet, I silently admired my reflection in one of the
ornate mirrors, knowing full well that if I dared to wear them to
school I would be the laughing stock of every boxer-wearing boy
there.

"Very sexy," Steven said.

I turned around and caught him staring at me. His hand was
casually stroking his penis which was already lifting higher and
was well on the way to becoming erect again.

"Yeah, right?" I said testily.

Steven stared at me. "Don't you like being called sexy?"

"It would be okay if it was true," I replied warily.

"You don't think you're sexy?" he pressed.

I shrugged and continued to put on the shorts. The shorts
came several inches below my navel and barely an inch or two down
my thighs. They were tight, not uncomfortably tight, but they
pulled in the same places as the briefs I was wearing. I pulled
the copper-colored zipper up and fastened the button. I felt like
I was wearing a permanent wedgie both in front and in back! The
shorts pulled into my crack, emphasizing each hemisphere of my
cheeks. In front, the material pulled either side of my crotch,
accentuating what was there until it was almost noticeable and not
wishful thinking. The shorts also called attention to my legs,
making them appear longer, thinner, and browner. Side-on, I
glimpsed Steven, his eyes fixed on me, watching my every move.

"Chrissie," Steven said softly.

He stepped closer to me, reached out and took my chin in his
hand, tilted my head up so that our eyes met.

"Chrissie, you are the sexiest boy I have ever seen," Steven
announced.

"Me?" I asked as I pulled my head away to avoid looking into
his eyes. He was telling me the truth and I was not at all sure
that I was ready to hear it. I had never thought of myself as
being sexy. It was as nonsensical as thinking of Paul as being
sexy. Sexy was Michael Johansen and the other boys at school who
played select soccer.

"Of course you!" Steven exclaimed loudly. "Everything about
you screams sex, pure unadulterated one-hundred-percent sex. S-E-
X. Why do you think men look at you all the time?"

I shrugged again, now staring at the floor. "I don't know," I
said softly.

"Well, it's because you're a very sexy boy, Chrissie, that's
why," Steven answered.

I put on the bright yellow shirt, buttoned up the lower third
and decided that it looked better hanging out instead of being
tucked into my shorts. There was a `v' of brown skin all the way
down to my navel.

"When I said you were very sexy I was wrong," Steven said
mockingly. "We'd better make that incredibly sexy."

"Ha-ha," I said with my most sarcastic voice.

I wriggled my butt at him and sashayed across the room. His
eyes followed me all the way to the bathroom door. I brushed my
teeth, straightened my shirt so that it framed my neck, and
brushed my hair. Without using more mousse there was no way to get
the spikes back so I settled for a `blond-on-top' look that was
still `cool-looking' even if it wasn't as daring as spikes. Steven
meandered in to brush his teeth as I was washing the eye-shadow
off. He watched me from behind, engaging my eyes in the mirror
every time I looked up.

"Did I ever tell you how incredibly beautiful you are,
Chrissie?" Steven said cheerfully.

It was impossible to overlook the admiring tone, the way he
gazed at me as if he was crazed. I felt like a dork. And worse
than that, even without the eye-shadow, there were dark areas
above my eyes. The face in the mirror was haggard and I blinked
realizing I was still tired. For a boy who was used to at least
nine hours sleep a night, less than six hours amounted to a life-
threatening deprivation.

Worse than how my face looked was the unpleasant realization
that it was wet behind me. Not very wet but it was certainly damp
enough to be uncomfortable if I didn't clean it up quickly. I
tightened my buttocks to relieve the constant ache that was there.
I grimaced.

"What's up, Chrissie?"

"My butt," I said. "It's sort of sore and it feels like it's
messy."

"I'm sorry."

"I've got to use the toilet," I said as I started to unfasten
the button on my shorts.

Steven smiled and shook his head firmly. "If you have to
poop, that's fine, Chrissie, but I'd rather you didn't go
otherwise."

"Why not? I have to get your stuff out of me before it leaks
everywhere."

Again he shook his head. "I'd prefer if it stayed inside you,
Chrissie. There are some men who are perfectly happy to pull their
cocks out just before they cum so it goes over the boy's body. And
there are other men, who like to do it inside a boy. And then
there's me. I want to be able to look at you and know my semen is
still inside you."

"It won't hurt me, will it?" I asked nervously.

"If you were a girl, we'd have to worry about you getting
pregnant, but having babies is not something that men and boys
have to worry about. Trust me, it won't hurt you Chrissie."

"Oh! It just feels so gooey," I said awkwardly.

"You'll get used to it. After a while, you won't want it any
other way. It's my special gift to you. Besides it's good for you
to try to keep it inside."

"Why?"

"It'll help to tighten your hole up afterwards and get you
back to normal faster. You have to keep your buttocks squeezed
together when you feel it starting to drain down. It also helps if
you pull up with your sphincter."

"Okay," I answered.

I was unconvinced but happy to do what he wanted. I had been
doing what he suggested for a while at that point because it
helped to reduce the ache inside my bowels. It didn't feel as if
anything had been permanently injured. It just felt bigger and
sort of tender back there. Now, I did it deliberately,
concentrating on using my muscles to close my anus and get it to
resume its normal size. Steven finished brushing his teeth.

"Hurry up," I rebuked. "I'm starving."

We hurried upstairs, with Steven slapping me playfully on
the butt almost all the way there. Already, most of the guests had
gathered, again mostly in man and boy pairs. The fascinating
thing, and reassuring too, was how natural it appeared for them to
be holding hands or smooching. I watched one couple near the
window. The man had his hand in the boy's lap and was making no
secret that he was playing with the boy's penis. I wondered how
many of them had been doing what Steven and I had done. Most, I
expected, judging from their tired faces.

The crew had effected a remarkable transformation in the
lounge. Other than the dance floor, there was no sign of the party
that had ended six hours earlier. Even the dance floor had been
converted to a dais, with a long table that set aside for the
guests of honor. It was laid out with plates and utensils for six
people, and on either end there were bouquets of bright red long-
stemmed roses in crystal vases.

Mr. Durand hurried over as soon as he saw Steven. He extended
his hand and they shook warmly.

"Did everything go as it should?" he asked as he smiled down
at me. "I missed you last night when you came back upstairs. I
was,- er,-. Engaged at the time. You might say I was tied up with
young Jeffrey."

Steven laughed. "From what I've heard about you, Louis, I
think it was probably young Jeffrey who was tied up."

Mr. Durand laughed. "Nothing wrong with a bit of light
bondage if both of you want it, is there? Well, enough about me.
Let's talk about you and Christopher. How did it go with your
delicious little pixie?"

"Surprisingly good," Steven chuckled. "He slept like a
baby."

"They always do when they're exhausted. I imagine he's sore
this morning. I was talking with Tyler and he alluded to the
number three?" Mr. Durand said ambiguously.

I reddened. How could Tyler possibly know that Steven and I
had sex three times. Steven smirked knowingly, not answering.

"Well, let me get Robert and his boy and we'll get this show
on the road. "

Mr. Durand leered at me, then turned and walked towards
another group of people. "Go on up to the dais, Steven," he said
over his shoulder. "He's on my right side, of course. I'll be
along promptly."

"Chrissie," Steven said as I started to move towards a seat,
"He wants you on his right."

I stopped. "Why?"

"Because it's the place of honor. Mr. Durand thinks very
highly of you. Remember what I said about you when we were in our
room downstairs?"

I shrugged. "You mean about me being sexy?"

"I'm not you're only fan," Steven chuckled. "Mr. Durand
would be all over you in a flash. You'd need your Taekwondo to
fight him off."

I giggled. "Then he'd better be careful or I'll kick him in
the nuts."

"He wouldn't like that at all. Of course, Jeffrey would
probably thank you. He'd get a good night's sleep for once. You'll
sit there, next to Mr. Durand," he added pointing to a seat next
to a high-backed antique-wood chair with expensive-looking
upholstery.

A few moments later. Mr. Durand approached with another man
and two boys in tow. He introduced us to Robert, the man, and Sam,
a nice looking boy about twelve years old who was dressed a lot
like me in that he wore the same short shorts but he had a bright
red shirt instead. The other boy was Jeffrey, who wasted no time
cuddling up to Mr. Durand, who immediately fawned over him. It was
just like watching two lovesick pigeons in Harvard Square. Robert
and Sam took the seats to Jeffrey's left and Steven and I sat on
Mr. Durand's right. As soon as we sat down, the rest of the people
moved to the smaller tables that had been set up in the lounge.

Breakfast was enjoyable and I ate heartily. For most of the
time I was barely aware of the tenderness behind me. It was nice
to sit beside Steven, to have his leg pressed against my nearly
bare thigh, to have his fingers occasionally drift along my thigh,
going higher and higher until they slipped under the leg of my
shorts and stroked against the nylon covered lump of my genitals.
Mostly I ate fruit, lots of fruit. Golden pineapple, lime-green
kiwi fruit, slices of California oranges, even blueberries that
had been steeped in sugar until they were syrupy. I had a
chocolate chip muffin as well.

Mr. Durand tapped his fork against his empty glass and stood
up. The room quieted quickly. He surveyed his audience. He smiled
and acknowledged people with a friendly wave.

"Good morning," he began. "I hope everyone managed to get
some sleep, but from some of your faces I wouldn't take bets on
it. We'll be docking shortly and I must say that it's been a real
pleasure to have you all on board. I hope everyone has had a good
time. I know I did, and while I shouldn't speak for Jeffrey, I'm
quite sure that he did too especially given how he was walking
earlier."

There was a ripple of laughter and Jeffrey grinned and rolled
his eyes as if he was embarrassed.

"Now, to business. This morning I'd like to introduce our two
young guests of honor. On my left is Sam Lightner. Sam is twelve
and a half, and from what I heard for most of the night, because
their room was next to mine, he was certainly making up for lost
time. I guess that's only to be expected now that he's officially
Robert's boy."

The laughter was louder that time. There were even a few
hoots and catcalls, including a very loud, `Do it again, Sam,'
which produced sustained laughter from everyone.

Mr. Durand had to raise his hand to get attention. "And on my
right," he said as he glanced down at me with lust-filled eyes,
"has to be the luckiest man and boy I've ever seen. Christopher
Faran has only just turned eleven, but from what Steven says, he
really ought to be a teenager, which goes to show that having big
balls isn't required to have an active sex life."

Everyone laughed again and I sank into my seat, wondering
what was so funny, especially since my `balls' were so tiny.
Steven patted my crotch affectionately before giving my little
bulge a friendly squeeze.

"Would the two boys stand up?" Mr. Durand asked.

Steven gave my shoulder a light rub and started to lift me
up. I stood nervously and awkwardly made my way from behind the
table so that I stood beside Mr. Durand. Sam Lightner stood
adjacent to me. He was nearly a foot taller than I was. He was a
cute boy with long blond hair and a pert little nose.

Mr. Durand shook hands with Sam and welcomed him on-board.
Then he turned to me. I shook his hand and smiled. Everyone
clapped. I felt like I had just joined a very selective club.
There was a pervading sense of friendship and brotherhood, that
all of us shared something important, not unlike a fraternity that
brought men and boys together.

"Gentlemen, if you'd be so good as to give your boys their
gifts," Mr. Durand said with a smile.

Steven stood up and walked from behind the table. He held a
small red box in his hand. He smiled at me and passed it to me
with a whispered `I love you, Chrissie'. I smiled back at him and
opened it. Inside was a gold bracelet, larger than would fit on my
thin wrist. Instantly, I realized what it was. It was a gold ankle
bracelet, just like the one that Mark wore. I glanced to the side.
Sam had been given a gold necklace and he was just putting it on.

I lifted the ankle bracelet out of the box. It was heavier
than I expected. Perhaps it was solid gold. Steven held out his
hand and I gave it to him. He knelt down in front of me. His hand
flowed down my calf to my ankle, lifted my foot up, placed it on
his thigh. I grinned proudly, aware that everyone was watching,
but not caring that they were staring at me. Steven fastened the
chain link with one of those invisible connectors that can't be
opened again once they are closed. His chain was permanently on my
ankle. I smiled shyly down at him. Then, he stood up, took my hand
and led me down the stairs and onto the main floor. I did not need
to be told that I had just joined a very selective, and secretive
club.

There was more applause. I heard Mark's voice and David's
voice. I was barely aware of people gathering around me, shaking
my hand, and Steven's hand always on my shoulder as he presented
me to his friends. Everyone congratulated him, welcomed me, some
giving me affectionate hugs, even a few kisses from some of the
older men, including a nice kiss from Steven's friend, Ganymede.

The next time I glanced out the stern windows I was surprised
to see buildings. They were very close. All around us were other
boats, although few of them were as large as the vessel that we
were on. The vibration that had been continuous since we had first
stepped on board, slowed, then stopped. A few minutes later, amid
good-byes and promises to meet again soon, Steven and I left the
lounge.



Up on the dock, Keith was loading our belongings into the
back of the limousine. I waved but he didn't notice me. Mr. Durand
was waiting at the gangplank. His boy, Jeffrey, was standing
impatiently beside him. Jeffrey was a lot older than I was,
perhaps in his mid teens. He ignored me and was almost rude to
Steven. Mr. Durand shrugged.

"Ah the trials of adolescent boys. You live only to love
them, and then you find that half the time you're not sure whether
they love you or hate you," he laughed. "At least he's good in
bed."

Jeffrey grimaced and gave Mr. Durand a sour look.

"So, Christopher, are we going to see you on board again
soon?" Mr. Durand asked me.

I glanced up at Steven and he gave a `we-will-see' shrug.
Still, he smiled at me. For no other reason than he winked
meaningfully at me, I knew he had something he was planning
something. Perhaps he was thinking of inviting me back again in
summer. I wondered if my mother would let me go. She might if it
was only for a week or two.

"Louis, thanks for everything. We had a wonderful time,
didn't we Chrissie?" Steven said warmly.

I nodded eagerly. Jeffrey's expression was positively
acerbic. His nose even wrinkled. For some reason, he did not like
me. I stared at me feet trying to avoid his eyes. He watched me
continuously.

"I'm beginning to think Jeffrey is turning into a boy-lover
himself," Mr. Durand chuckled. "The way he's giving your
Christopher the eye, it's probably a good thing you're leaving
today."

Steven laughed. "Well, Louis, one can only hope so. Better
him going afterboys than have him chasing girls."

He shook hands with Mr. Durand. Again, Mr. Durand turned to
look at me. He smiled at me and nodded appreciatively.

"Christopher, if Steven ever abandons you, I want you to call
me right away," he joked. "I'll be over to pick you up before you
put down the telephone."

"There's no chance of that happening," Steven laughed. He
hugged me tightly. "I've got plans for this one."

"I hope so, Steven. Boys like this one don't come along very
often," Mr. Durand said. He held his hand out and I shook hands
with him.

"Good-bye Mr. Durand, Sir, and thank you for having me," I
said with as loud a voice as I could manage. "It was a lot of
fun."

He laughed. "It's a pleasure, Christopher. Be good to your
Uncle Steven and don't grow up too fast." He turned to Steven.
"Take especially good care of him, Steven. He deserves the very
best."

"And I plan to make sure that he gets it," Steven said
agreeably. He placed his arm around my shoulders and hugged me. "I
guess I had better get my boy home before his mother starts to
worry about him. Louis, again thank you."



With that, we disembarked and walked up the gangplank to join
Keith. He opened the limousine door and I followed Steven inside.
The door closed as soon as I sat down. A moment later, the car
surged forward. A few minutes later we were back on I-10 and
headed east towards Palm Springs.

"Did you have a good time, Chrissie?" Steven asked.

His arm was still around my shoulders and I was resting up
against him with my head burrowed into the side of his chest. I
nodded. There were a lot of things I still did not understand. I
had a lot of questions that needed answers. He stroked the side of
my face, caressing my cheek, touching my lips ever so gently. I
looked up at him.

"Steven?"

"Yes, Chrissie. What is it?"

"I was just thinking,-." I hesitated. "Earlier, when you
said the other people on the ship were like us? You meant because
the men all like boys?"

"Yes. And all of the boys like men."

"It's kind of weird, isn't it?" I asked self-consciously.

"If you mean weird because there are men who are attracted to
boys, it isn't all that weird."

I thought for a second. "It's different to being gay though,
isn't it?"

"Yes, Chrissie. I don't know if any of the men who were on
board have had a relationship with a man, but I seriously doubt
it. The type of man who loves a boy usually isn't interested in
men. In fact, some of the men you met are married. Quite a few
have children of their own."

I digested this. "So they like women and boys?" I giggled.
"And they don't like men."

Steven nodded. "That's largely true, Honey. One way of
thinking about it is that in a way, a young boy has some
attributes that make him almost female in some ways."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one thing, you have a beautiful body. You're nice
and slender and your body is very smooth, just like a woman's." He
paused, thinking. "Boys' voices tend to be high pitched. In fact,
when some boys sing, they can easily be mistaken for a girl or a
woman. And of course, a boy's sex organs usually aren't all that
big. In some ways, the more effeminate a boy is, the more he meets
the feminine aesthetic. "

"Hm,- so you like me because I look like a girl?" I mused
with pretended seriousness. It was almost impossible not to
giggle.

Steven laughed. "I'm way beyond the like stage. Just in case
I haven't told you lately, I'm in love with you, Chrissie. And
yes, one of the reasons why I love you so much is because  you are
such a beautiful little fairy."

"I love you, too." I grinned at him.

Steven thought for a moment. "It's different for the boys,
however," he added ambiguously.

"Different how?" I asked curiously.

"Well, most of the boys are budding homosexuals, Chrissie.
They're attracted to men. What excites the boys is almost the
complete opposite of what excites their man friends."

"So it all kind of balances out," I suggested with a teasing
smirk. "You like, I mean you love me because I'm sort of like a
girl, and I love you because you're a man's man."

Steven chuckled. "Where on earth did you hear that,
Sweetie?"

"A man's man?" I giggled. "From Bryce. He called you a fur
ball too, I guess because that's what you are, but mostly I think
of you as being a bear-" I grinned. It was beginning to make
sense. "So, you like me because I'm skinny and smooth and I like
you because you're strong and hairy," I said as I ran my fingers
through the thick black hair on his upper chest. "And you smell
like a man."

"Yes. And you have a small dick and I have a big one."

I twisted onto my back and lay back over him. His left arm
held me in a strong embrace. His right hand began to unfasten the
two lower buttons on my shirt. He pushed the sides back, exposing
my chest and belly. His fingertips tickled as they moved over me,
settled on my nipples, quickly bringing them to hard little
points. Then, flowing down across my ribs, over the rippling
muscles in my belly, circling around my navel until I erupted in a
fit of giggles.

"You're so brown and smooth," Steven said longingly. "I
think a boy's chest and belly is one of the most beautiful things
there is."

"Better than his butt?" I teased.

"No! That's the second most beautiful part, I think." He
smirked. "And this delicious little thing gets first place," he
added, rubbing his hand over my crotch.

"You can take my shorts off, if you want," I offered
mischievously.

"You aren't afraid of Keith seeing you now, Chrissie?" he
teased mercilessly.

Just a day ago, and it seemed like a very long time. I shook
my head. For nearly a minute, Steven's fingers continued to rub
over my small boy-bulge. He could probably tell from the
increasing firmness that he was beginning to have an effect on me.
I was content to lie there, supported in his arms. He could do
whatever he wanted to me. Part of me wanted to have sex. The other
part hoped that he would not. I was worried that it would hurt.

"I think we'd better stop before this gets out of hand,"
Steven said softly.

"Because of Keith?" I asked uncertainly.

He shook his head. "No, Chrissie. I'm not worried about him.
Because if we keep on doing this, it will lead to something," he
answered ambiguously. "I think you need to rest a while before we
do it again."

"I'm not tired or anything," I said hopefully.

"I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about hurting you,
Chrissie."

How did he always know the thoughts in my mind? "It doesn't
hurt," I said awkwardly.

"Not at all?" Steven asked.

I shrugged. There was no point in pretending. "It hurts a
bit," I said softly.

"I thought so. Tempting though you are, my delicious little
fairy, we had better not. At least not until we get you home. Do
you want Doctor Lehr to get mad at me?" he laughed.

"No," I replied. "Why would he get mad at you, Steven?"

Steven smiled, not answering as he straightened my shirt and
refastened a few of the buttons. I reached up and ran my fingers
through his beard. It was so soft. I traced my finger back and
forth over his lips. After the fourth or fifth time, he kissed the
tip of my finger. I did it again, back and forth. This time his
mouth opened and I let my finger follow his lips inside, into his
mouth. His tongue licked my finger. He sucked on it, drawing more
of my finger into his mouth. I gazed up at him. My heart was
beating quickly. I moved my finger from his mouth to his cheek,
coming closer to his eye, over his nose.

"You are so beautiful, Chrissie," he whispered in awe.

"So are you," I sighed.

Steven smiled. I gazed into his eyes, absorbed by his energy,
by the intensity within him. He had a way of looking at me that
made me feel safe.

"I wish you were my father," I murmured.

"Why?"

"Because I could stay with you then," I said softly.

"You'd rather live in Palm Springs than in Cambridge?"

His voice, like his face, was neutral, yet I could detect
something that said my answer was important to him. I sighed.
There was no point in talking about it. In two days, in just
thirty hours, my mother and I would leave to fly back to Boston.
She had her job at the salon and I had to go back to the torment
of school. With my eyebrows the way they were, it was not going to
be pleasant, not that going to school was ever really pleasant.
With luck, there was a chance I could come back to see Steven in
summer. I didn't say that to Steven. It was a bit like inviting
yourself to a friend's house.

"Chrissie?" he persisted.

"I'd miss my friends," I said after a moment.

"I understand."

He sounded sad. He sighed softly. He leaned down as he lifted
my head up. He kissed me gently, just touching lips. I melted into
him. Closing my eyes, licking my lips, trying to show him that I
wanted more than a single brief kiss. His lips came back onto
mine. This time his mouth stayed pressed onto mine. His tongue
probed between my lips, behind my lips, swirled over my teeth,
made me open my mouth. Our tongues joined, playfully wriggling
together in our shared saliva. His arms tightened around me,
pulling me closer as he tried to achieve the impossible task of
merging us completely.

I pushed my tongue into Steven's mouth as far as it would go.
He sucked on it, pulling it through his lips with little tugs.
Then he licked it with his tongue. So soft. So alive. My arms
lifted up and wrapped around his neck to keep him there. Sooner or
later we would have to stop, but at that instant I wanted to kiss
him forever. Sooner came. It took a few moments to regain my
breath. Steven stroked my cheek, my forehead, even my eyelids.

"Steven, you said a lot of boys don't like kissing. Why?" I
asked absently.

He smiled and shrugged. "Kissing someone on the lips usually
means that you love them, Chrissie," he answered softly.

"I don't even kiss my mom on the lips," I admitted.

"Neither do I," Steven added. "I guess when a boy kisses
another guy on the lips it means he's accepting that he's gay.
They can suck each other's dicks and pretend they're just having
fun. Like you and Joel did. It didn't mean all that much to either
of you I expect."

I nodded thoughtfully. "He kind of acted a bit weird, but it
was fun. If Joel wanted to kiss me, I don't think I would have."

"Why not?"

I giggled. "Because he's a boy. He's okay and everything, but
he's still a boy."

"You're very funny, you know Chrissie?"

"Steven?"

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"If you're worried about hurting me if you put it in my butt,
why can't we do something else?" I asked awkwardly.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know. I'm the kid, remember?" I chortled. "You're
supposed to teach me all I need to know about sex."

"You're a horny little boy, aren't you Chrissie?" Steven
laughed. "Do you remember what you did last night, before we went
back to the room?"

"The first time?"

"Yes."

I giggled. "I sucked your thing."

"Did you like it, Chrissie?" Steven asked teasingly.

"Yes," I giggled.

"Was it as good as sucking Joel's cock?"

"Hm,-" I pretended to think about it. "Can I suck your cock,
Steven?" I asked. It was hard not to giggle.

"Scoot further over on the seat so you'll be comfortable,
Honey," Steven said.

By the time I laid back down, Steven had opened his zipper
and unfastened the button on his trousers. He lifted his butt off
the seat, pulled his pants and underpants halfway down his thighs
and revealed his penis in all of its tumescent glory to a very
attentive eleven-year-old boy. It was already very close to full
erection. I gazed at it in awe. There was something about his
penis that demanded my respect. There was only one way to pay it
the homage that it was due. My mouth opened, following an inner
urge that was more powerful than seemed humanly possible. I had to
have his penis in me. I breathed through my mouth, licking my lips
furtively, thinking about how much I wanted to have his penis
inside me. Only then, could I be completely happy.

"Now Chrissie, I guess it's time you learned how to do this
properly," Steven said with a knowing smile.

His fingers fondled the nape of my neck. He was drawing my
head closer, scratching behind my ears the same way you played
with a cat's ears. His legs moved further apart, showing
everything to me. His penis was huge. So was his scrotum. His
testicles were enormous. If I wanted to hold them I would have to
use both hands. It was enough to make a boy purr. The head of his
penis was just inches away. I licked my lips and opened my mouth
as far as I could.

"That's right, Sweetie. You have to open your mouth as wide
as you can to get it inside, Chrissie," he said encouragingly.
"But don't rush out and do that right away. Take your time. A lot
of boys make the mistake of going down too quickly. Tease it
instead."

"How?" I mumbled.

"Work your way up to it. You might want to begin by kissing
it, Chrissie," Steven suggested.

I giggled. His penis was tempting, even more tempting that
Joel's. I had not been able to see much of it the night before.
Now, in the bright light of day I could examine it to my heart's
content. I liked how the head flared out, how the slit in the very
tip opened and revealed dark crimson within, how his dark hair
curled and tried to hide it. There was hair everywhere, even on
his scrotum, thick, black hair that continued back underneath
him.

I kissed it right on the tip. There had been no taste at all
to Joel's penis, although the sensation of putting that hot silky
skin inside my mouth seemed to have a sweet taste. Steven's penis
did have a taste, just like the night before. I licked over the
slit, the source of whatever it was that I tasted. It also had a
slimy feel to it. I kissed it again, and then lifted my eyes to
see if I was doing the right thing. Steven nodded encouragingly. I
kissed the tip again, bringing my hand forward to hold it steady.
I swirled my tongue over the bulbous head and slowly brought it
down the side. His penis felt nice against my tongue, so warm and
oft, that I licked back up again, then around and around the head.
I pressed his now wet penis into my cheek, pushed my nose into his
scrotum, inhaled his scent. I squeezed my hand, pushing his penis
through the closure provided by my fingers and thumb. Steven
groaned.

I shifted back up to the tip again. The taste was stronger,
and more of whatever caused it was oozing from the slit.

"What is it?" I asked curiously. I rubbed my finger through
the shiny wetness.

"It's pre-cum, Chrissie. It's slippery stuff that men make
so they can get their penis in easier."

"In where?" I asked before I thought about it. I giggled.
"Oh!"

"Oh, indeed."

"You only make it come out when you want to do it in a boy's
butt?" I asked innocently.

Steven laughed. "No, Chrissie, it happens with women too,
but you definitely need more of it with a boy. You see a woman
makes her own slippery stuff."

"Oh! It tastes kind of strange," I acknowledged. I sucked
some more off the tip, tasting it with my tongue and making sure
to get it into my taste buds. "It's salty sort of," I said as I
looked up at Steven to see how I was doing,

Steven chuckled. "It's a hard taste to describe, isn't it
Chrissie?"

"I like it."

"I hope so. Now, once you have the man all excited, you need
to go down on him."

"Huh?"

"Go down. It means to take his cock into you mouth as far as
you can."

"Okay."

"There are a few tricks to it Chrissie," Steven said as he
fondled my hair. "First is breath through your nose. Don't go too
far down or you'll gag. And keep your teeth out of the way. Some
boys even pull their lips back over their teeth so they don't
scrape."

"Huh?" I asked anxiously. I tried to pull my lips back over
my teeth.

"Don't even try it, Chrissie. My cock is so big it'll never
go inside with your lips like that. Just watch your teeth. If they
touch my cock, I'll let you know quick enough."

I opened my mouth wide, as wide as my jaws would allow, until
they ached. It was like being at the dentist, except for what was
going into my mouth. The head of Steven's penis went in past my
teeth. I had a mental image of biting it off. I lifted away.

"That was very good, Chrissie. Keep doing that and you'll be
deep throating me before you know it."

"Huh? What's that? Deep throating?"

"It means putting your penis all the way inside someone's
mouth," Steven explained.

"Oh! Like being deep-dicked?" I asked innocently.

"Where on earth did you hear about that?" Steven asked. "From
Bryce?"

I giggled and nodded. "You did it to me too, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, Chrissie. I probably shouldn't have," Steven
admitted. "It wasn't a smart thing to do, I guess."

"Why not?"

"I could have hurt you badly. We're lucky I didn't rupture
you."

"You were being very careful," I admonished playfully.
"Anyway, I liked having all of you inside me."

Steven rubbed my head affectionately. "Talk about opening
Pandora's Box. I'm beginning to think I've created a sex-crazed
monster."

I growled at him with my best monster impersonation and went
back to licking the slimy stuff off the end of his penis. It was a
bit like licking an ice cream, except this one was hot rather than
cold. And it tasted better, a lot better.

I tried as hard as I could, but even with my mouth all the
way open, his penis could not get that far into my mouth. Once the
flared rim was behind my teeth, I could relax my jaws slightly. I
could use my tongue to play with it. There was enough of his penis
outside my mouth that I could use my hand to rub it. I used
strokes that were based on the frequency of Steven's groans. The
faster or more that he groaned or gasped, the faster my hand moved
and the faster my head bobbed up and down. It wasn't long before
Steven was humping up against me and cradling my head so that his
penis pushed even further into my mouth.

"Okay. Chrissie, I'm getting close," Steven panted after a
few minutes.

I glanced up at him, keeping my lips over his penis, still
rubbing as fast as I could although my arm was getting very tired.
I was not sure how much longer I would last. Steven groaned and
pushed harder against my head, trying to force more of his
throbbing penis inside my mouth.

"I'm going to do it in your mouth, if that's okay with you
Sweetie." He gasped loudly, pushing frantically on my head before
allowing me to lift up for air. "It'll taste strange, but it won't
hurt you. It's no different to doing it in your butt."

I closed my eyes, getting ready for something I did not
understand beyond what my Health teacher had told us about how
babies were made. A man's semen had to go into a woman's vagina,
except that this time it was going to happen in my mouth instead
of my butt. I was going to have Steven's semen in my mouth.

"Get ready, Chrissie. Any time now. There won't be all that
much. Just swallow it," Steven instructed.

He began to thrust up at the same time as he pushed my head
down. Faster. Harder. Plunging his penis all the way to the back
of my mouth. I struggled to keep breathing, to keep my teeth from
scraping his penis. He groaned. I could feel his penis straining
into my mouth. I could feel it getting even stiffer between my
fingers. If it was rigid before, now it was as hard as steel. Then
it jerked and I felt the hot thick fluid bursting out, spurting
into the recesses of my mouth. There might not have been a lot of
it in Steven's mind, but there was a lot of it my mouth. All I had
to do was swallow. It was salty. It coated my tongue. It filled my
mouth. More and more of it spurted out, in gushing waves, not one
or two but seven or eight. I made myself swallow and saved myself
from puking. I swallowed again, feeling it slide down my throat. I
sucked against my cheeks, savoring the taste. It was strong,
manly. It was Steven's taste.

My head slumped against his thigh, his penis slapping
against my forehead and cheek, still ejaculating his semen
although now it trickled out and dribbled down my nose as I tried
to breath.

He did not say anything. I closed my eyes, thinking I would
rest for a few moments. I felt the car's relaxing motion, heard
the muted sound of the road, everything getting softer, quieter. I
was happy. I could taste him still, that part of him that had
spurted into my body. I curled into Steven's warmth and fell
asleep.