Date: Tue, 03 Apr 2001 15:39:11
From: Ganymede
Subject: Pandora's Box VII

Pandora's Box VII,   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 VII: Saturday Night.


Almost as soon as the movie finished, in fact while David and Joshua
Rollman were arguing over what we should watch next, the door behind
me opened and Uncle Steven's chauffer, Keith came into the screening
room. I glanced up and he acknowledged me by playfully rubbing his
hand through my pointed bristles.

"I don't if any of you boys are interested, but Mr. Kaufman has
some very cool games that you can play on the big screen, if you
want to that is?"
he offered.

"What kind of games?" David asked. He twisted around in his seat.
"Playstation 2  or something. "

The way David said it, he sounded like a spoiled brat. I would
have given anything to have even the first model of Playstation.

"Yeah, so do I," Joel piped in, or should I say, peeped in.

"I've got most of what's available for Playstation 2 at home,"
David continued as if no one else had anything important to say
on the matter at hand. "At least I've got anything that's worth playing."

"Well, I don't know about Playstation 2," Keith said vaguely. "I
doubt whether you have the same game that Mr. Kaufman has."

"He's probably just got some old stuff. Just before we left to
come here I threw all my old games out," David added.

"Oh, I don't know how old it is," Keith said mysteriously. "It's
one of those jet-fighter games where you play against another
person."

"Yeah, I think I know the one you're talking about. Like F-22
Stealth or something. I play it on my computer sometimes," Joshua
said. "It's okay. I think you can play it across the net too."

"Perhaps it is," Keith said. "I can set it up for you, if you'd
like boys?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm getting really tired of watching movies,"
David said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

"Anyone else interested?" Keith pressed.

"Yeah, me," Joel squeaked.

"And me," Joshua added.

"How about you, Christopher?"

I was startled and I looked up quickly. First, I shrugged, and
then realizing that I really did like Keith and that he was trying
to be nice to us, I nodded eagerly. I was not very good at playing
computer games for the obvious reason that I did not have a computer
to practice on. When I played, it was at Paul's house and he always
beat me.

"Okay," Keith said agreeably. "Give me a few minutes to get it set up."

He walked down to the front of the screening room and pushed a
button on the wall. Immediately, the large white screen that
covered the entire front of the room began to slide upwards.
Behind the screen were what looked like a bank of three large
televisions. It had to be at least twelve feet across. Then he
opened a panel that had been carefully concealed in the wall.
He flipped some switches, and while the computer and screens
began to warm up, he walked over to the center of the room.

"Okay guys," he began with a grin. "Here's the mission. The U.S.
and Russia are at war. There are lots of different kinds of
planes, but I'm going to set this up so there are only two
types and they are well matched in combat. It won't matter
which plane you fly." He held up a pair of glasses, larger
than any I had ever seen. In his other hand, he held a control
device complete with a joystick like Paul used on his computer.

"Now, when you put on the glasses, what you'll see will be in
three dimensions," he explained.

"Yeah, I've played 3-D at the mall," David interrupted. "It
isn't all that hard."

"That's good," Keith said, ignoring him. He continued to
explain the controls. "Now, there's only one rule," he added.
"You have to take turns flying. No one hogs the game."

"Yeah, tell that to Joel," David chortled. "He's the only hog
here."

"I am not!" Joel shouted. He would have been better off ignoring
David.

"Okay boys, that's enough. I think Joel and Christopher should
go first," Keith said in a flat tone that did not invite dispute.

"Them? Why not me?" David demanded. "He won't know what he's
doing," he added glaring over at me. "He's such a geek, he'll
probably break it or something."

I sank lower in my seat. The last thing I wanted to do was play
a game with David looking over my shoulder.

"Christopher and Joel will go first," Keith said pointedly.

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Keith replied. David glowered at me. I
winced uncomfortably. "Okay, Joel and Christopher, come on
down to the driver's seat."

"I'm not sure I want to," I said nervously. "I'm not very good
at this sort of stuff. I don't mind. He can go first if he wants
to," I offered.

Keith shook his head, leaving me no choice but to leave my seat
at the back of the room and go to the front. He handed me a set
of glasses and plugged in the control while I put them on and
sat down.

"Okay boys. The one on the right is flying a Mig, I forget which
model, so that means that your'e flying the F-18, Christopher.
Are you ready guys?"

I nodded. So did Joel.

Several seconds later the screen changed from blue to,.... real
life. I was staring down the  long silver snout of an F-18,
along a very long white runway, into the hazy distance where
I could see mountains and an ocean. The entire room was suddenly
filled with the bellowing sound of jet engines. There were even
voices coming from a control tower, talking to us, giving us
last minute directions and course headings. My hand, the one
on the joystick started to shake. We were cleared for takeoff.
Neon green dials and numbers appeared on the canopy glass. I
could hear a persistent beeping in my ears. The plane was rocking
from side to side and upa nd down as it strained at the brakes.
The engines screamed behind me and flames erupted. After burners!
I could feel my plane surging forward as I pushed the lever down.

Faster. Louder. Within seconds, the heads-up display showed my
ground-speed at over 100 mph. Still faster. 120. 140. 160. I
started pulling against the joystick and the plane rocketed up,
its afterburners blazing in the early morning sky. Rule one was
to gain altitude as quickly as possible.

In the air, everything was different. This wasn't like Paul's
flight simulator. This was real. If I tilted the joystick the
plane shifted, rolled or yawed, and the world around me changed
simultaneously. It was difficult to control. despite my best
efforts to calm myself, my hand was still shaking and every
tremble made the plane jump and twist. Then, through cumulus
clouds, seeing the white clouds exactly as they had been when
we took off from Boston. In a break through clouds,  I looked
down, or thought I did, and saw the ground far far below. There
even realistic shades and shadows, not the boring green and brown
textures that Paul's computer labored to put up on the monitor.

The radar on the heads-up showed me where the enemy was and I
banked into a tight radius turn. Actually, flying was not all that
difficult. I knew what to do. My hand moved instinctively. The
plane shuddered and warning lights flashed as I pulled Gs. It
was unbelievable. I felt exactly like I was flying a thundering
combat jet. The compass swung around raidly, almost too far. I
banked again, reverse direction, correcting until I levelled out.
The enemy was dead ahead, a tiny blinking green blip on my radar
screen. At Mach 2 we closed rapidly. As soon as my targeting
circle was over the blip I launched two air to air missiles.
At thirty miles away, it was likely that one or both would miss.
Then, as Paul had taught me by beating me consistently, I took
evasive action by making a hard turn away from the enemy.

At that stage, I was still climbing at a few thousand feet a
minute. At 40,000 feet I leveled off and turned back towards
the enemy. Joel had done exactly what he should not have done.
He had followed my manouver on his radar and turned with me.
My missiles now had a perfect target for the final kill, the
heat of his exhaust. Just to make sure, I began a steep dive.
Sitting there, in the virtual cockit, so very far from my real
comfortable leather-upholstered seat, I watched the ground
looming bigger and bigger. The mountains were craggy and steeply
furrowed, a brilliant sunrise illuminating every ridge. I began
to pull up on the joystick, levelling out to look for my next
move. I zoomed between two maginificent mountains, dipping down
over a crystal blue lake before flying into a deep gorge.

"Damn!" Joel screeched. "He got me right up the ass."

The other boys laughed as his plane spiralled slowly to earth,
but I was so capitvated by the splendid terrain before me that
I barely heard them.

"Hey, game's over!" David interupted. He shoved at my shoulder.

I shook my head. I was having too much fun. "Got to land first,"
I said absently.

Again, I pulled back on the joystick, lifting out of that
hidden mountain paradise, banking hard as I changed course.
Most people get totally lost when they fly, but I had an innate
ability to know where 'home' base was. Any kid can perform an
adequate take-off, but landings require real skill. From 10,000
feet, the runway was very small. I went through the preparations
in my head, throttling back, watching the airspeed drop to 200
mph, lining up on the longest runway, dipping the nose,
throttling back even further, letting the gravity do the work
for me. I could feel the plane dropping, the altimeter winding
back quickly. Flaps extended! Gear down! Set up for a perfect
landing. Everyone was watching, but only Joel and I had the
advantage of three dimensions. My hand trembled. I hated it
when people watched me. I could do this, but not when I was
being watched. I tried to concentrate. The ground was rushing
up to meet the plane. The runway was right in front of me.

"Watch him fuck it up," David sneered.

"He's doing great," Joel rebuked on my behalf.

"Yeah, right. He's just lucky. There's no way he can do it."

My hand started shaking. David was standing directly behind
me, pushing at my shoulder, doing his best to distract me.
It was working, and he knew it. My suddenly sweaty hand
could barely hold onto the joystick.

"He's going to crash!" he said gleefully.

I crashed. The plane slammed nose first into the ground
only a few hundred feet away from the runway. The pilot
died as it errupted in flames and smoke. I wanted to cry.

"See, I told you he would," David chortled. "Everyone knows
that girls can't fly."

"Fuck you!" I said angrily. I spun around furiously with a
compelling desire to use my TaeKwondo skills to smash him
into little pieces.

"In your dreams even though I only fuck girls," David tormented.
"It's my turn."

He shoved me out of the seat and planted himself down. Joel's
seat was taken by Joshua Rollman. It didn't take a brain
surgeon to figure out that we would not be able to play while
they were there.


I went to find my mother, knowing full well that she would be with
Aunt Sue. I knew I would have to beg her to let me keep the diamonds.
Part of me, the part that soared with excitement said that she
would, but logic said otherwise. It was good bye diamonds and hello
simple gold-plated ring. She was like that. Once something had been
planned, it had to proceed according to plan. As I walked into the
dining room I even contemplated delaying showing her until Mrs.
Meier had departed for Florida. It would be harder to give them
back if she wasn't around.

She waved to me as soon as I entered the room.

"Hi Chrissie," she giggled.

Both my mother and Aunt Sue were drinking champagne from crys-
tal flutes. We had never bought a bottle of champagne. At Christmas
time we splurged on a bottle of sparkling wine and pretended it was
the finest Moet et Chandon that money could buy. I had been allowed
a single glass on special occasions for the last few years. I hoped
this was a special occasion, but I doubted that it qualified.

Well look at that!" Aunt Sue said immediately. She had noticed
the diamond. "It must be close to a carat."

"Steven's mother gave it to me. I have another one too," I
blurted out. "She said I should get my other ear pierced too, so I'm
not asymmetrical."

That wasn't exactly what she said but it conveyed the essential
nature of getting my left ear pierced. I looked at my mother hope-
fully. She sighed. I knew what her answer was going to be and I did
not want to hear it.

"Well then, Chrissie, I'll expect you'll have to get it pieced,
won't you? There'd be no point in having two of them the same if you
couldn't wear them at the same time."

"You're saying I can keep them," I ascertained.

"Why of course, they are present, aren't they Sweetie?"

"Well, yeah. She did give them to me. I was sure you were going
to make me give them back," I replied.

"Why on earth would I do something like that? That one looks
fabulous by the way, Chrissie," she rebuffed good-humoredly.

Aunt Sue laughed. Her laugh grated on my ears. "I'll be first
one to say it, Christopher. Those diamonds would be wasted on her,
but on you, ah! The little star had finally arisen."

I gave her a cold stare and hoped she would leave soon. I
wanted to talk to my mother in private.

"Would you like a glass of champagne, Sweetie," my mother
asked.

A waiter was going past with a loaded tray and she did not even
wait for my answer before her hand swooped and carried off a glass.

"One glass wouldn't hurt him, would it Sue? It's awfully good."

"Of course it's good. It's Dom Perignon," Aunt Sue articulated.
"Actually, I think some would help to relax our little minx."

"Huh?" I asked. "Minx? What does that mean?"

Aunt Sue chuckled. "Don't you worry about that, Christopher. He
will certainly have his hands full with you, I must say. Your first
time and everything too. We'll have to have a deflowering party,
won't we Kate? It isn't every day a boy loses his virginity."

"Hush Sue! For goodness sakes! There are people listening," my
mother rebuked. "Just ignore her, Chrissie. She's had much too much
to drink. She's just babbling."

I stepped back, holding my champagne flute carefully and very
afraid that I would drop it or spill it, or do any other of a dozen
things to embarrass myself.

"Kate, I am merely celebrating your good fortune. It's a pity
that Richard can't see beyond the end of his selfish nose."

"Oh, Sue," my mother said in exasperation. "David's very good
looking and everything, but you already said that he wasn't inter-
ested."

"For this, Kate, I would make him interested," Aunt Sue
slurred. She slurped from her glass. "Well, drink up Christopher,
before it gets warm."

I drank some and had to giggle when the bubbles burst against
my nose. It was different to drinking sparking wine from plastic
glasses. I smiled at my mother, enjoying the spectacle of my aunt
being drunk. I wondered what inanity she would come out with next.
Even if I didn't understand it, it would be funny.

"You're a very lucky boy," she muttered. "To have all this.
Assuming that's what you want, of course. It had to be my luck to
have a bisexual for a son."

I glanced at my mother and she was trying even harder than I
was to avoid bursting into laughter. I tried to decide what a bisex-
ual was. It sounded like it was a person who was both male and
female. Perhaps Aunt Sue was talking about her son, David, but from
what I could tell, and based only on seeing him at the pool, he
appeared to be a lot bigger than I was in the private parts area. He
seemed normal enough to me. He was certainly not half male and half
female.

"Well hello again," Steven's voice boomed as he came up behind
me again.

He had a habit of doing that, and while it surprised me, it was
a nice surprise. I spun around, barely managing to avoid spilling my
champagne down the front of my shirt.

"Hi Steven!" I gushed.

"Hi, yourself. Well doesn't it look nice," Steven said as he
fingered my ear lobe. "It couldn't be on a prettier ear either,
could it Kate?" he said pointedly, not allowing her to answer to
the contrary.

My mother smiled demurely.

"Would you mind if I borrowed young Christopher for a second
time? He's such an absolute delight to talk to. I've discovered that
we have a lot of things in common. We do, don't we Christopher?" he
added conspiratorially. I nodded even though I had no idea what he
had in mind, except perhaps a love of art. "I really do want to get
to know him as quickly as possible."

My mother nodded eagerly and Aunt's Sue's eyes went wide. They
both looked very pleased with themselves, smug even. I followed
Steven out of the room, gleefully anticipating spending some more
time in his company. For a moment I thought we were going back to
the living room, which was already much less crowded than it had
been the last time I was there. Instead, he went outside. It was
dark, not pitch dark, but dark enough that you had to watch where
you were going. After a dozen paces, he stopped by the side of the
pool and waited until I caught up to him.

I came closer, intuitively appreciating that he wanted me next
to him. His arm dropped around my shoulders again and he gave me a
firm squeeze.

"Thank goodness we're finally out of there."

He inhaled deeply and I imitated him. The air had cooled down
as it had the previous night. It was fragrant and fresh. He breathed
again, letting out a sigh that blew over the top of my head. I
didn't mind. I just wanted to be close to him. At that instant, I
was contented in a way that I had never been. I liked being held. He
was strong.

`A man's man.' That was what Bryce had called him. He was
manly. Not at all like Bryce. I was like Bryce. I rested my head
back against his chest, comfortably studying the violet sky above.
There were stars out. There were a lot of stars out. Not like Cam-
bridge, where the Observatory had an artificial sky. In the dis-
tance, I could make out the outline of the mountains. Had Steven
really said that we might visit there the day after tomorrow?

"We probably should move," Steven said softly.

"Why?" I murmured.

Even the thought of being separated from him was enough to make
me uncomfortable. I wanted to stay there forever.

"Someone might see us from the house," he explained quietly.

I wasn't sure why it was important that no one see us, but I
accepted that if it was important to him, it was also important to
me. With his arm still around my shoulder, he steered me alongside
the pool. I could hear the water lapping at the side, the faint
smell of chlorine after the day's heat.

When we had reached the end of the pool, we stopped. The house
was now a hundred feet or more away. No one could see us now, not
unless they came out with a flashlight. Why was our privacy so
important? I didn't know why, but I knew that it was. I pressed up
against Steven and he hugged me again.

"Where are we going?" I murmured.

"Well," Steven began. "We could go into my private garden,
where you were earlier this morning? The only problem is that with-
out a towel, you might get ant bites on your butt. And there are
scorpions around at night too, Chris."

I smiled. He paused there, letting the words sink in. There
were only two ways that he would have known where I was. Either Mrs.
Beaton had told him or he had seen for himself. I accepted that it
was the former, yet part of me wished it had been the later.

"Or?" I prompted.

"There's the pool house?" he suggested.

"The pool house," I agreed with a grin.

I had walked past the pool house a dozen times but I had never
been inside because the door was locked. From the outside, it looked
like the house, except a lot smaller. It was a pavilion with glass
on three of the four sides. It had a large chimney so I assumed that
it had another one of the over-sized and unnecessary fireplaces.

Now the door was unlocked, and Steven slid it back so that I
could go inside. The floor looked exactly like the marble floor in
Widener Library with its soft hues and variegated patterns. There
was a Persian rug in the center and a couple of modernist chairs
placed around a glass-topped coffee table. It was very formal.

Steven sat down in one chair, leaving the opposite one for me.
I would have liked to have been closer to him, much closer. I
watched him as he unfastened the buttons on his sleeves and folded
them up his arms. He sat back.

"Christopher, why don't we start by you telling me about your-
self."

He smiled then and our eyes met. I had never been in a situa-
tion like this and I was very nervous. I was being interviewed. I
swallowed and wished I had something to drink. I did. There was a
nearly full glass of champagne in my hand. I nearly spilled it as I
raised it to my lips.

"Don't be nervous. Just start at the beginning and tell me
everything that you thing I should know about you."

He was trying to be reassuring but all he succeeded in doing
was making me even more nervous. I was certain that as soon as I
opened my mouth I would start to stammer or say something so incred-
ibly foolish that he would think I was a complete idiot.

"I've already told you everything," I said awkwardly. `When we
were taking with Mrs. Meier."

Steven smiled. "There's a lot more to you than that."

"No there's not," I replied adamantly. "I'm a pretty boring
person when you get to know me."

He laughed as I hoped he would. He rubbed his chin.

"What's your favorite food?" he asked offhandedly.

"Lobster with melted butter," I shot back.

"That's no problem, except that it's not kosher."

"Huh?"

"Lobster is considered the same as a pig. Jews don't eat pork,
as you probably know." Steven smiled slightly. "It's a bottom feeder,"
he added, "Like some agents in Hollywood."

"We don't have it very often," I added quickly. I was not at
all sure what he was talking about with agents in Hollywood.
"It's so expensive. Even when Mom buys it from the fish markets.
We only have it for special occasions like birthdays and things
like that."

"You just had some a while ago, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I said guiltily. "I turned eleven. At the start of March."

"Yes, I know. March 6th." Steven smiled. "That and your name are
about all I do know about you, Christopher. That's why we're having
this talk. So I can get to know you better."

"Okay. Next question?" I giggled.

"You want to do it that way? I ask questions and you answer
them?"

I grinned. "Uh huh. That way you'll find out what you want to
know and save me the trouble of trying to figure out what it is you
want me to tell you."

He burst into laugher. "My oh my, what have I gotten myself
into. Okay, it's a deal. However, you have to promise to answer
every question I give you honestly. No holding back?"

"I promise," I said with relief. I sipped more of my champagne
and waited. This would be easy.

"Hm,... this is harder than I thought," Steven said jocularly.
"Okay, I have some questions. How are you at school?"

"I already told you," I reminded him.

"Yes, so you did. Do you wish to elaborate? No, I didn't think
so. Do you like school?"

I grinned. "No one my age likes school. We tolerate it."

He laughed and slapped his knee. "Now honestly. Hold nothing
back," he insisted, still smiling. "Tell me why you don't like
school."

"It's boring sometimes," I answered succinctly.

"And?"

"Kids tease me," I added before I had a chance to stop myself.
He had a way of putting at me at ease simply by looking at me.

"Why do they tease you, Christopher?"

"I don't know."

"What do they say about you?"

I thought for a moment, even prepared a lie, not a very good
one. He would realize it was a lie as soon as I said it.

"They,... they say I,... I look like a girl. Okay?" I said shame-
fully.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. It would be a lot worse if
they said you were ugly, wouldn't it?"

I smiled slightly. "Yeah, I guess so." He had a way of making me
feel relaxed.

"All right. Now, tell me about your friends."

"Okay. Well," I breathed out in relief. "My best friend is a
boy called Paul Saunders. He's my age and in most of my classes.
He's kind of big. He's very nice. He knows a lot of different stuff
about science because his mom and dad are both at MIT."

"He's smart, right?"

"Very. He helps me with science and math and I help him with
other stuff like writing."

"Ah yes, the budding creative writer. Tell me about your other
friends."

"I don't have any. Well, not close friends anyway. There's Lee.
She's a student at Harvard. She's been teaching me Taekwondo since
like fall."

"What level are you?"

"Green. I was going to test for the next level, but I still
have to learn some Korean words." I hesitated to tell him the
real reason why I had not progressed further.

"That can't be too difficult," Steven said.

"I have to work on my sparring too. I have the moves down okay
though," I admitted.

Steven ran his hand through his hair. It was longer than mine.
Perhaps he did not understand the role that sparring played in
TaeKwondo. Sometimes, make that usually, sparring became very
violent, and even though I wore protective cladding, I was scared
stiff. Of course, I was not planning to tell him that!

He nodded thoughtfully. "Any other friends?"

"There's Li Yuan. He's Chinese. I guess you could figure that
out from his name. I hang out with him sometimes. He's doing Karate,
which is a lot like what I'm doing. We practice together after
school."

"Okay, new question, but still about friends." Steven grinned.
"Any girlfriends?"

I shook my head abruptly. I met his eyes and we shared some-
thing in that instant that told me that he didn't want me to ever
have a girlfriend. I didn't want a girlfriend either, so in that
regard we were both going in the same direction.

"Okay so no girlfriends on the scene," Steven said. I grinned
this time as well. "How about a boyfriend?"

"I already told you about Paul."

"I'm not talking about friends and best friends, Chris. I think
you know that. I'm asking whether you have a boyfriend?"

The emphasis on `boyfriend' was unmistakable. I shook my head
quickly and looked away. I swallowed.

"You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. It's when you like someone, I mean really like
them, like with a girlfriend, and you go out together on dates and
stuff, only it's a boy instead of a girl. I don't have anyone like
that."

Steven paused, letting me relax. When I looked up again, he
smiled. "Have you had sex?"

My face turned bright red. "Huh?" I mumbled.

"You heard me, Chris. Have you?"

"Um,... Do I have to answer that?" I said nervously.

"Yes. All of the questions, and honestly."

"Can we change back to me telling you about myself?" I mut-
tered.

"No, you can't. I won't be angry. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said reluctantly.

Steven was watching me closely as I tried to get comfortable in
what had suddenly become a very uncomfortable chair. He was waiting
me out. The silence dragged on, the still unanswered question hang-
ing between us.

"Yeah," I finally admitted. I breathed out. "Please don't tell
my mom," I added.

"I will unless you elaborate," he teased. His eyes flickered
with amusement. "Come on, Christopher. Out with it. I want to know
who, where, when and what."

I inhaled deeply. There was no way I was going to get out of it
without telling him at least a part of what had happened with Joel.
He didn't have to know everything.

"Okay. It was today, with Joel, and we did stuff in his bed-
room. There!"

Steven broke into laugher. He laughed until I started to laugh.
Eventually, we both got over it. He wiped his face with his handker-
chief. I still wasn't sure whether he had laughed about how I said
it, or the sheer absurdity of me having sex with Joel Meier. The
more I thought about it, the more absurd it became.

"Now give me the dirty details. I'm assuming there are some, of
course. What did you guys do?"

"Um,... you really want me to tell you?" I asked teasingly. I
could tell that he wanted to know. I just did not understand why.

"Go ahead. I'm ready for anything," he said as he tried not to
slip back into uncontrolled mirth.

"He asked me if I wanted to see his," I began boldly. "I guess
I wanted to. I mean I couldn't see any harm in it. Then he said I had
to show him mine."

"Ah, the ultimate boy swap. You show me yours and I'll show you
mine. Then what happened?"

"We did."

"That's all? That really isn't having sex, Chris. Not if all
you do is just show another boy your cock and see his in return."

"It kind of went on from there," I admitted awkwardly.

"Ah ha. It's now compare time! Whose was biggest?"

"His was." I smirked. I didn't think it mattered very much.

"I could have told you that. He might be fat, but he's still
going to have a big dick."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I'll explain later on. Then what happened, Chris?"

"He said he wanted to show me something special," I replied.

"Dah-dah," Steven joked as he pretended to make a drum roll.
"Out with it boy. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the
truth."

"He put my thing in his mouth," I muttered, fully intending for
it to be incomprehensible.

"Joel Meier sucked your cock?" Steven asked incredulously.
"Leah Meier's son? I don't believe it!"

"He did," I confirmed.

Suddenly, I wondered whether I was getting him into trouble.
Steven appeared to think it was all very amusing. Then, I remembered
that I had just broken the promise I made to him never to tell. I
glanced at Steven.

"I promised him I wouldn't tell," I said, hoping that Steven
would also become part our boyhood conspiracy.

"Like I'm going to tell Leah, so she can scream at Joel for
doing only what any normal boy would want to do."

"That's normal?" I asked in disbelief.

Steven smiled. "Of course it is. There's nothing wrong with it,
Christopher. He didn't force you and you didn't force him. You
wanted to do it to find out what it was like, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I liked it."

"Why am I not surprised by that," Steven chuckled. "Who doesn't
like getting his cock sucked?"

"Joel sure did," I giggled.

"You did that? Christopher Faran, you little cocksucker,"
Steven laughed. "You actually sucked fat Joel's cock? I'm surprised
you could find it under his belly roll."

"It wasn't that bad," I giggled.

"You liked that, sucking his cock, didn't you?"

I made a silly face, the kind of `look at me, aren't I dumb'
face that kids my age make when they're clowning around. I licked my
lips, thinking back. I had liked it. I met Joel's eyes, hoping my
silence was a sufficient answer.

"You have to answer," he reminded me.

"Okay, okay, I liked it," I retorted, pretending to be angry
when I obviously was not.

"Out with it," Steven said with his authority voice. "How was it?"

"It was okay," I ventured. That was not as difficult as I
anticipated. "It was nice," I added quietly.

"Did he come in your mouth?"

I giggled. It was impossible not to. The way he asked was the same
as if he was asking whether I had a good day, or what I ate for
lunch. There was no reason that I could see not to answer.

"He had an orgasm, but nothing came out," I added blandly,
using my recently acquired knowledge.

Steven laughed, not at me, or what I had said, but at the
simple honesty of it. He showed no surprise that I knew about semen
and orgasms.

"You had quite a day today, didn't you Christopher?"

I nodded. I was happy. I did not feel guilty any more. I made a
silent promise that I wouldn't do anything like that again with
Joel. One time was quite enough. Then, out of the blue, I had the
strangest thought. What would it be like to suck a man's cock? To
suck Steven's cock? Would it be different to sucking a boy's
cock? Logic said it should be the same, because it was the same
thing being sucked, yet something told be it would be very
different.

"What are you thinking about?"

I looked up quickly, aware that I had been staring at the bulge
in Steven's trousers. It was very big. It was so much larger than the
bulge I had often observed in Bryce's leather pants that it was
hard to believe. It was all I could do to drag my eyes away.

"Christopher?" he prompted casually.

"Huh? Oh! Oh, n-n-nothing," I said. I tried to say it as vaguely
as I could but even to my ears it sounded nervous. Why was I so
nervous? Why was my heart beating so quickly? Why did I keep
looking down?