Date: Fri, 2 May 2003 08:02:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ganymede
Subject: Paradise 5

WARNING:

 This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving men and MINOR 
boys. Such descriptions are an integral part of the story. While the 
story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious 
literary value. 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!

As a friend recently said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has 
the right to censor an imagination, or dreams." With that in mind, know 
that this story is not true! Further, it is not intended to promote 
illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can 
love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is 
my goal to help readers appreciate that love. The sexual acts described 
in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these 
acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors. If the 
subject of man/boy love 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! 

By downloading this story:

 "... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury that 
you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to have 
access to material intended for mature, responsible members of society 
capable of making decisions about the content of documents they wish to 
read...." 

The story is copyrighted under my pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been 
placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. The story cannot be used 
to derive monetary gain. The story cannot be placed in archives that 
require payment for access, or printed and distributed in any form that 
requires payment either directly or indirectly. Any similarity to 
individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. 

THE NIFTY ARCHIVE:

The Nifty Archive needs your support. If you enjoy reading this story, 
please remember that it is available only because of the Nifty Archive. 
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***********************************************************************

My sincere appreciation to two friends whose comments on this story have 
been very helpful. It is because of them, and the e-mails I have received
from many other fans, that I have decided to post the rest of Paradise 
on Nifty rather than restrict its availability. 

Perhaps, as some people believe, my descriptions of sexual activity, 
rather than  being satisfying to the reader and an integral part of the
story, have become boring! I have always endeavored to write stories that
promote the love of boys in a favorable light, recognizing that sex 
and love must go hand in hand for a relationship to be truly fulfilling.

My stories are ongoing experiments: from the first story, Summer Dreams, 
testing the proposition that love could exist between a man and a boy, to
A Nice Boy, which took an Orwellian view of today's attitudes to that love.
I have tried to incorporate deeper messages in most of what I write, while
elevating the act of love to approach the level of literature.

If my critics are right, then I have failed. I have always believed 
that when the occured, it was the time to stop writing.

***********************************************************************

Paradise. By Ganymede


Chapter 8


On the 1:10,000 chart, the island was a smudge of a sand bar without a 
name, at least no name other than the one that Joey and I had given it. I 
don't know why it was unidentified. It was no smaller than most of the 
uninhabited islands that had names. What was more, from my GPS 
measurements, it was certainly larger than the size the map said it 
should have been. However, it was out of the way, and unless a skipper 
was prepared to invest a few hours in figuring out how to get through the 
reef, it was unapproachable except by rubber raft. Even then it was a 
dangerous task if the waves were of any size. We had ended up on Joey Cay 
entirely by happy accident. A leaking stuffing box and a worn-out cutlass 
bearing on the starboard propeller shaft caused me to seek a safe harbor 
for a day or two until I could fix it. We beached the boat at close to 
high tide and waited for the tide to drop. At that time of year there was 
just enough change to expose the shaft for about thirty minutes every low 
tide. With two tides per day, it took forever. There was nothing else to 
do except go fishing and have sex. Joey and I fucked on the beach for 
what seemed, and probably was, hours on end. We fucked for long stretches 
at a time, the kind of sex that opens up a boy's insides so much so far 
that you begin to think he'll never be tight again. After a while his 
hole stopped closing up when I was finished. There was not even a twinge 
of pain when I rammed my cock all the way inside him. Nothing but joy! It 
was the way it was supposed to be. With practice, a man and a boy became 
a fucking machine. 

"Go up and spot the heads, Joey," I instructed, backing off on both 
throttles and bringing the bow around to line up with the cluster of palm 
trees. 

There were some large heads of coral just waiting to tear the bottom out 
of the boat as we came through the channel. Joey nodded and scampered 
off. It was a pleasure to watch his agile body as he climbed around the 
cabin to the foredeck. He got to the pulpit and climbed up onto the 
rails, bracing himself as the boat nosed into the aquamarine shoals. I 
cut both engines back to idle, occasionally slipping out of gear to slow 
the vessel to a crawl. We went forward very slowly. Joey used his hands 
and arms to give direction. He concentrated totally, eyes gazing into the 
water as he tried to decipher the patterns. Dark meant danger, mostly. 
However, sometimes it indicated something on the bottom and not coral. 
The problem was it was difficult to tell what was what until you were 
right on top of it and then it was a matter of wild gesticulations to 
correct the course one way or the other, or in a few instances to go 
full-astern. That his nakedness distracted me so much that my 
concentration wavered back and forth, made the danger even worse.

"Go closer to the beach, Dad," Joey yelled over his shoulder. "It looks 
deeper there."

.I turned the wheel slowly, watching carefully while the bow turned. 10 
degrees, 20 degrees, bringing the sand ever closer. Joey signaled to go 
closer still. Another minute and we crawled over a patch of coral, 
leaving some jagged cauliflower heads just beneath the keel. 

"Slow! Slow! Oh shit. There's another one. Go right, Dad. I mean 
starboard! Hard!" he screamed over his shoulder, his arms waving 
frantically.

 The bow missed the coral head by twenty feet. The stern swung much 
closer, so close that I could have leaned out and touched the nearest 
clump had I been interested in seeing my arm ripped off. I pulled both 
engines into neutral and allowed the engines to idle and coasted, 
allowing the speed to dwindle until we barely had enough movement for 
steering. Again and again I found myself looking forward. His bottom 
resembled two small melons that had been pressed together, as if hiding 
something precious in the cleft between them. He waved again, indicating 
a course closer to beach, without the gesticulations of before. I smiled 
back. Surely he wondered what was up, or perhaps he could see for 
himself, for I had become aroused by the sight of him. It was standing 
out further than one of the throttle levers.

The next few minutes passed very slowly, but finally I turned the boat 
around and eased stern-first into the narrow gap that I had selected for 
our hiding place. Conundrum was effectively screened by low scrub and a 
dense thicket of palm trees. The tops of the outriggers and the tuna 
tower were just low enough that they were out of sight. From the ocean we 
were almost invisible, and even from above, a plane would have to be 
directly overhead before we were spotted. Joey trotted back from the bow. 

"So much for dinner at Fernie's tonight, like you promised huh?" he 
smirked up at me. 

I smiled back at him and clambered down from the bridge. The chicken in 
the galley would be a surprise. Together we went to the stern and peered 
over. The water was clear enough to see dozens of small colorful fish 
returning to where they had been before the boat scared them off. I 
handed Joey a stern line. He grimaced and handed it back to me.

"Why me?"

"Maybe because you're the only one who's naked," I suggested lightly. 
"Tie it off to a palm tree or something will you, babe."

He climbed onto the side and paused, poised sleek and brown, ready to 
dive. Joey diving was one of my favorite sights. He slid into the water 
like an arrow, making only the slightest splash. He emerged and a few 
strokes took him to the steeply sloping bank. He clambered up and 
pretended to shake himself like a dog. I coiled the line and heaved, 
landing the end next to his feet. He looped it around a palm tree, made a 
hitch for additional purchase, and put his weight against it. Even with a 
mechanical advantage of two, seventy plus pounds of boy was unlikely to 
be able to move twenty-five thousand pounds of boat, but Joey strained 
and grunted until Conondrum's stern was so close to the embankment that 
it was possible for me to step onto dry land if I wanted to. Satisfied, 
he looped the rope around the trunk a few times and tied it off. 

"You doin' the bow line too, pussy-boy?" I teased.

Joey shook his head tiredly, turned around and bent over. His hands moved 
to his buttocks and he mooned me as he spread his cheeks far enough apart 
to reveal his reddened anus. It looked as if it had been used once too 
often. Laughing, I tossed the bowline to shore and jumped off to join him 
on the beach. I gave him a friendly slap on the bottom, taking care to 
avoid the tender area. He followed me like a puppy until I reached a 
suitable palm tree. I secured the line. With the small change in tide 
level, it was remotely possible that the boat might be grounded without 
an additional line to hold it in the deepest part of the inlet, but it 
was not a risk I was prepared to take. An inner sense warned me to be 
ready to leave at short notice. 

"Can we go explore?" Joey asked.

"I don't think there's all that much to explore," I answered, not adding 
that we had already explored the island at length previously and all we 
had found was the remains of a small cabin. "If you feel like getting 
that cute little butt of yours up there, you can see all there is to 
see," I added, pointing to a palm tree. 

"You reckon I can see the whole island from up there?"

"Maybe. I think I'll stay down here with a cold beer."

Joey grimaced his reply and added a grunt just in case I had missed the 
point that he was making. It left me no choice. Boys have an innate need 
to explore, so I accompanied Joey on yet another circumambulation of the 
island. Not a lot had changed. There was some driftwood on the far end of 
the beach that would be useful if we wanted to make a fire. Some of the 
coconuts we found on the beach had been broken open with a machete, 
implying that our island had been visited by others. 

We continued down the beach, skirting around a group of palms that had 
been uprooted in a recent storm. It was on the other side of the palms 
that we saw the marks in the sand. I counted four grooves where two boats 
had been left on the beach when the tide was high. They were not deep 
marks, not like the grooves that would come from fiberglass dinghies, but 
wide and shallow. It was the sort of mark that the pontoons of an 
inflatable boat would leave when it was driven onto the beach in order to 
stop it. I don't know why we edged away from the beach, following the 
footprints in the sand. Curiosity perhaps, or some innate sense that made 
us go that way. 

"That's interesting," I said, pointing down at a patch of sand that was 
undisturbed by the wind. "It's about the same size as your foot."

Joey brought his bare foot close, lining it up with the footprint in the 
sand. There was almost no difference in the length. He nodded at another 
set of prints.

"Those are bigger than my feet."

"Yes, but not by much."

"So a boy was here then. No. I mean two boys?"

"At least two kids," I observed. "What about those?" I pointed to where 
there were more footprints on the other side of a tree.

Joey walked over to the footprints. Again he aligned his foot. "It's a 
different boy, Dad."

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"Duh. He's walking in the same direction and he's over here. Besides, 
he's got smaller feet I think, but only by a little bit. Just call me 
Sherlock Holmes."

I laughed. "That you are, Joey. Now how can you be sure that they're they 
boys or girls?"

"Is there a difference between boys' and girls' feet?" he asked 
seriously.

"None that you'd notice from a footprint, so don't assume these belong to 
boys," I reprimanded with a laugh.

We discovered the remains of a fire a dozen yards from the water, the 
sand disturbed considerably. There were beer cans everywhere, at least a 
couple of dozen without actually counting them, also a number of condoms 
that had been used recently enough that their contents was still a murky 
white. Joey grinned, apparently no stranger to thin rubber membranes 
although as far as I was aware, his own experience was limited to 
balloons.

"There sure is a lot of them," Joey smirked. 

I had stopped counting after eight. There were between twelve and 
fourteen condoms on the ground. Most were of the unusual variety that 
weren't carried at the pharmacy on Pier Street. They were ribbed and 
textured, black or red latex. Only a few were of the traditional cream-
color. They had all been used, having that typically stretched, unrolled 
appearance.

"It looks like there was an orgy," I acknowledged with a smile. I bend 
down to pick up an unused condom, a black one still in its cellophane 
packet.

"What's that?"

"Huh? This?" I asked, holding up the packet.

"Duh! I think I know what a  rubber looks like!" Joey smirked. He waited.

"Oh! You mean orgy? An orgy is when people get together to have sex. They 
usually exchange partners," I added sardonically because in truth, I 
could not see the point of having sex with someone I did not love. I 
tossed the packet into the air and caught it. I had never used a condom 
with Joey simply because I never did anything with anyone else to need 
one. Until then, I had never imagined he would have sex with someone 
besides me. Maybe I was deluding myself. He knew about AIDS and he was 
old enough to start taking precautions.

"Duh again! I think I ought to know what an orgy is by now, Dad,' Joey 
said with a show of exasperation. "I meant that," he said, pointing to 
the ground.

I knelt down, running my fingers through the sand. Only the smallest edge 
of silver metal could be discerned. It was shining in the sun, a 
brilliant diamond among the glistening sand crystals. I unearthed an 
ankle bracelet, with links that were somewhat thicker than a woman's 
wrist bracelet might be. It was broken at the clasp, but still holding an 
unusual looking charm. It was circular in shape, actually two circles 
together, one within the other, each with a round-headed arrow that was 
interlocked with the arrow of the other circle. I held it out to Joey as 
I reflected on the immediate possibilities. The last time I had seen that 
symbol was on a necklace that Fernando said the fishermen had found not 
far from a dead boy named Vincente. But other than that? I might have 
seen it again that day as well, but I couldn't be certain.

 "Damn!" I muttered.

"What's up?"

"Nothing! I'm trying to think where I've seen this before," I said 
absentmindedly. "At least, I think,... no,... no,... I'm sure. I only saw 
it for a second or two when we were talking."

"Huh?"

"My passengers today," I explained. "There were two men and a boy. I'm 
certain the boy was wearing something around his neck. It might have like 
this. He was wearing a necklace, that's for sure. I think there was one 
of these on it as well," I said, touching the ornament. 

I didn't mention the tattoo I had observed on the inside of the boy's 
thigh for the simple reason I didn't want Joey to think I was looking at 
other boys.

Coincidence? The probability of random events did not extend to that 
degree. 

"Weird, huh Dad?" Joey said in a muted voice intended not to disturb my 
train of thought. He wasn't paying much attention to what I was saying.

I nodded. All of it was weird, the footprints in the sand, the 
indications where people had coupled, the discarded contraceptives, even 
the charcoal remains of a fairly large fire. The number of nights during 
the last few weeks that it had been cold enough to need a fire for warmth 
on the beach was a big fat zero. Indeed, even for someone who had a heat 
fetish like I did, it would have been just plain uncomfortable.

"There were boys here," Joey remarked. His toes pushed yet another latex 
sheath to the side. "That just proves it."

Again, I nodded. "It seems there's a brain at work inside you after all, 
kid. Maybe it's just math that you have a problem with. So how did you 
come up with that conclusion? The necklace?"

Joey didn't answer. "Lots of people wear necklaces in the Caribbean. I 
have at least a dozen that you've bought me."

"That's true.  Hell, this could have been here for years."

He scowled good-humoredly, scanning the ground for more signs. He was a 
detective in the making. His expression was determined., yet he was still 
unconvinced that he was right. Instead of explaining his conclusion, he 
wavered. 

"I still think some of them were boys and the rest were men."

"Based on?" I prodded.

"Well, about half of the footprints are smaller for one thing. There was 
one boy who has very small feet. At least his feet are about the same 
size as mine." He glanced at me for reassurance.

I smiled back. "They could still be girls, or even women with small 
feet," I suggested lightly.

He rolled his eyes, practicing to be a teenager again. "Yeah, right. 
Since when do you need KY for girls, Dad?"

He pointed at one, then another of the crumpled up blue and white tubes. 
I had missed it, but he had seen them lying half-buried in the sand. It 
was time I laughed. It was almost a relief. Too many coincidences had 
that effect on me. 

"You're turning into a very observant kid. It must be in the genes, or in 
the shorts in your case. When you wear them that is."

He smiled at that. "You don't need KY to fuck a girl, do you?" he asked, 
no longer quite as confident as he had been.

"Nope. At least not in my experience."

"What if you used a rubber?"

"It would help, I guess."

"You need lots of it for a boy," Joey observed. 

Even if we didn't use KY, he was still the expert on the receiving end. 
He knew exactly what it took for a satisfying fuck. 

"That's true. And if you're worried about the rubbers breaking, you don't 
use oil or Vaseline," I added. "Hence the KY."

"Two tubes for maybe five or six boys," he mused. "Palm oil would have 
been a lot cheaper."

"Probably more fun, too," I joked. "It's even more fun without a rubber."

He grinned. "You just like greasy butts, Dad."

"Yeah, that I do, kid. There's nothing quite like a tight greasy boy-
pussy."

"What's it like with KY? Is it better?"

I wasn't surprised by the question, but I was surprised that he had 
forgotten we had started out using KY as the lubricant. That was two 
years ago, in the distant past when we lived in Chicago. However, his 
mind was working overtime, figuring that if they used two tubes of KY 
when it was so expensive, relatively speaking, then it had to be good. I 
shrugged absently. My answer surprised even me.

"There's probably some left in the tube. You want to find out what it's 
like first hand?" I said suggestively.

Joey glanced up from inspecting the ground, met my eyes, then hesitantly 
looked around the area. Absently, he groped his crotch, curling his 
fingers around the small spongy hemisphere of his balls. It was no secret 
when he was interested in the possibility of having sex. As always, his 
cock came erect quickly when he started in that direction. Dangling limp 
one moment and hard as iron the next. It was reassuring to me

"I'll take that as a yes," I teased.

He smirked, now stroking up and down on his dick with two fingers and a 
thumb. "You think some kids really got fucked here, Dad." He glanced 
around, mentally adding up the signs, lots of footprints and knee-prints, 
signs where bodies had been in the sand. "It looks like there were a lot 
of boys. Maybe six right?"

His voice quivered with excitement, almost as if he was about to 
participate in his very first orgy. I watched as he breathed deeply, 
filling his lungs. He changed his mind as quickly as he became excited. 
There were other things on his mind besides what it would be like to have 
sex with other men and boys.

"Dad?...."

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think it's weird?"

"What?"

"This," he answered, gesturing around him. "I mean, well,....We've been 
living here forever, right, and the only people we know who are like us 
are Fernando and Roddy. Some of the guys I know from school have sex 
together, but they don't do it with men, at least not as far as I know. 
Then, all of a sudden you meet that guy at the dock, and I meet Vincente, 
and they're doing it too."
He glanced at me for support and I nodded in agreement. It was weird. Put 
together with the unusual symbol something inside me was saying it was 
very unlikely that we were observing a series of random events. 

"Then we find this place, and you can see where there were guys doing it. 
Even there," he added, pointing at the trunk of a fallen palm tree."

There were signs in the sand, the impression of small bony knees and feet 
pushing down almost in an attempt to get away from the weight behind him. 
The boy with the small feet had been kneeling first, then leaning over 
the trunk. At some point he had lying over the rough scaly bark, his legs 
splayed wide, kicking at the sand. It must have been uncomfortable for 
him, maybe worse than uncomfortable. I wondered if Joey noticed that 
there was not just one set but several sets of man-sized footprints going 
to the palm tree where the boy had been sodomized. The men, and at least 
one boy had moved around, getting better vantage points, waiting their 
turns. Feeling sickened, but driven by the relentless need to know more 
that haunts every good detective, I walked closer and squatted down in 
front of the trunk. From a distance it had appeared to be brown spots on 
the thick scales, but up close the spots of blood were unmistakable. 

"It's blood isn't it?" I heard from behind me. I didn't answer. "Poor 
kid. They must have hurt him pretty bad."

"Probably," I admitted without turning around. I ran my fingers through 
the sand several times before I found what I was looking for. The condom 
was streaked with dark brown, the color of dried blood. I regarded it 
with revulsion. There was another one not far away. I pushed sand back 
over it. Two men, probably more. 

"Dad?"

"Yes, Joey."

"Do you think he did it with them, with all the men I mean?"

"Maybe."

"It can't be any fun if you don't love each other."

I wanted to hug him. "It might be because of he was getting paid to do 
it, or he didn't have any choice."

"Why does someone do that to a boy?" Joey asked. He pointed at the tree 
trunk.

"I don't know." I was not prepared to venture an opinion.

"But why hurt him so much that he bleeds?"

I sighed and stood up again. "Guilt. Maybe anger at themselves. Or they 
lose control and can't stop themselves," I replied. Those were the 
classic Freudian explanations of violence to a child.

Joey nodded thoughtfully. "I used to bleed a bit when I first started 
doing it. Remember?"

I lifted my eyes from the ground to meet his gaze. "Yes, I remember. You 
were a very brave boy. Most kids would have been scared to death when 
they saw the blood."

"I wanted to do it," Joey said bluntly. "You told me it was going to hurt 
for a while until I got used to it. Dad, do you think this was his first 
time or something?"

"You mean was he a virgin?" I asked. Joey nodded. "It's impossible to 
tell. He might have been. He was fairly young, I think."

"Why would all those men,...." His voice trailed off, the question dying 
before it was out, looking back at the tree trunk. "I'm glad I only do it 
with you."

 "Me too," I admitted.

He glanced back again, this time looking up at me. He was so fucking 
gorgeous that he often stopped me in my tracks. I stared all the time, 
usually too long. At first he was embarrassed, but no any more. He 
laughed at me and called me a dirty old man, and I was. I was in love, 
infatuated, obsessed by the beautiful half-Hispanic boy who I had sired. 
He smiled slightly, giving me the 'look'. Buck-naked with the beach and 
lagoon behind him, bright blue sky and wisps of clouds overhead, he was 
gorgeous. Seeing him there in that secluded place, where other boys had 
sex with men not so long ago, was enough to take my breath away. 

It wasn't just that he was stark shamelessly naked. I was used to that, 
or I should have been by then. Indeed, it was when he wasn't naked, when 
he was cleaned up and properly dressed in something other than an 
unwashed tee-short and swim shorts, that there weren't any words I could 
think of to describe him. It was like trying to describe a sunset over 
the lagoon. Movie-star material came close, but it was trite.  I wasn't 
about to resort to cute, or sexy or pretty, not even beautiful. To my 
eyes, biased as they were, he was beautiful, dressed or naked, but lots 
of boys were beautiful. A few of the boys who had laid in the sand where 
I was standing were probably in the beautiful category. However, Joey was 
special. Not the one-in-a-thousand kind of special, but the once-in-a-
lifetime special. My own son fulfilled every fantasy I'd ever enjoyed, 
and I was a professional fantasizer when it came to boys. Just looking at 
his face made for an instant boner!  Thank god he didn't smile all the 
time.  I saw him naked every day and it didn't change anything. My 
erection wouldn't go away until I had fucked both him and me senseless.

We tumbled onto the sand, clutching at each other urgently like two 
lovers who hadn't seen one another for years. We wrestled for a few 
minutes, twisting and turning and getting my clothes off until I was bare 
as well, then continuing to enjoy our hot sweaty flesh as we pressed 
front to front and ground our rigid cocks together. Sand got into our 
hair, stuck to our bodies, pricked our private places as we writhed and 
struggled for no other reason than it felt good to be so close. And as we 
began to tire, the kissing started. Brushing away the sand, smoothing 
back his hair, stroking his delicate cheek, touching my tongue to his 
lips. His tongue dueled with mine, licking, stabbing, swirling around 
until our faces were all but covered with saliva. The end of my cock had 
started to become wet almost as soon as we began fighting. 

Impatiently, I tossed him onto his back, legs up in the air, then pushing 
them back until his knees were against his chest. He locked his legs in 
place by crooking his arms around his legs. His anus winked at me, 
pulling inward so I could barely see the ripples around the rim, then 
opening and closing like one of the amoebae-like things that grew along 
the reef. It had to be the sexiest ass-hole in all of creation, 
especially with the oily sheen and that reddish hue to show how recently 
it had been used.. 

"What do you want?" I asked in a teasing voice.

"Geez, old man, if you don't know by now," Joey said in that familiar 
husky boy-whore voice that I loved so much. "I want to use some of that 
left-over KY to do it. How about it?"

"You've used it before, you know." 

From the pained expression he returned, he didn't need reminding about 
the weeks we had spent in Chicago waiting for my early retirement to be 
approved. My apartment was on month-to-month because I hadn't gotten 
around to renewing the lease, which worked to my favor because we left 
the day after I received the letter from personnel. But those two weeks, 
nearly three weeks were heaven sent. I had loose ends to clean up, cases 
to be summarized and filed away, briefings for detectives who would pick 
up the cases where I left off, but other than that, I was on leave. I had 
nearly twenty weeks of holidays saved up, four weeks for every year that 
I had been without Joey. I used it to renew my relationship with Joey. It 
was time well spent. I kept in contact, hoping for a break in the only 
case I was interested in. None of it made much sense. There was no motive 
for my ex-wife's murder, except the possibility of a spurned lover.

"So? I forgot what it's like. Let's fuck, okay?"

His voice, especially for that single vulgar word, was guttural. Strange 
for a boy, rasping with a throaty sound that left me thrilled. My heart 
jumped up and down like my cock, causing Joey to giggle.

"Do you want to try using the rubber as well?" I teased, wondering 
whether it would feel different when my cock was inside him.

"Sure."

"Then you can put it on. It's about time you learned about safe sex 
anyway."

 "He's got the right idea," Joey observed, flipping my steel-hard dick 
with his fingers. 

"Yeah, well it's because he knows what he likes," I agreed 
wholeheartedly. "He's a big fan of boy-pussy. Especially yours. Do you 
know how to put it on?"

Joey shook his head. He watched with interest while I nipped the 
cellophane covering with my teeth and extracted the rolled-up ring of 
rubber. I handed it to him and he grinned and poked at the nippled end 
with his finger tip. It took a moment for him to place the end of my 
glans the right way so that it would unroll as his hand pushed down. 

"That's right," I guided. "Now, use your fingers."

"Like this?" Joey asked as he worked the rubber ring over the head. 

"Now, roll it down the shaft."

Joey smirked, gleefully unfurling the rubber and encasing my cock in a 
sausage skin of thin black latex. It was tight yet comfortable, the 
stretched membrane shining in the sun..

"It's kind of like a balloon, isn't it?" he giggled. "Only you blow jizz 
into it instead of air."

"Yeah." His hand felt nice.

"It looks like a wetsuit. I suppose it is in a way, only it keeps the 
wetness in this," he said, flicking his tip at the bulb on the end.

I laughed. "Without my little enema at least you won't be running to the 
can in an hour or two."

"Ha! It makes your dick look just like Fernando's," Joey said and grinned 
at me. 

"Sounds like you're starting to like big black ones now," I taunted.

"Nope, but Roddy sure does." He laughed. "Fernando fucks him almost as 
often as you do me."

I kissed him on the forehead, then slid down the side of his face, 
leaving little wet kisses wherever I went. He smiled, as happy as a boy 
could be by the time I reached his neck. I contemplated leaving a hickey, 
because no one except me would see him for at least the next few days. He 
half-closed his eyes, dreamily reflecting on what it felt to be ravished 
by a man. I was thinking about what came next. I hadn't used a rubber in 
years. There had been no need to with Joey.

There was a tube of KY lying somewhere in the sand behind me and I had to 
roll away onto my side to feel around for it. Joey helped by climbing on 
top of me, straddling my legs and rubbing my sheathed cock between both 
of his hands. He grinned devilishly, fascinated as my cock became even 
bigger and harder, straining under the thin ebony membrane. He was right. 
It did look like Fernando's cock. Finally, my fingers touched the half-
used plastic tube I was looking for. I flipped the cap off and squeezed. 
The tube crumpled under my fist, but nothing came out until the very end. 
It was more like water than lube and what there was, wasn't enough to 
lubricate a gnat's ass, let alone a boy. 

"It looks like the heat has pretty much killed it," I observed. 

It was hard not to feel despondent because the idea of using a condom and 
KY was right up there with having sex with other people watching. Of 
course, that had happened only a few times with Fernando and Roddy, but 
it was almost the same doing it where there had been an orgy not all that 
long ago. And it was as exciting to me as it was to Joey going by the 
sound of his voice and the look on his face. Having sex with him in the 
broiling heat with sunshine on my back was the final straw. My heart 
pounded frantically. I needed to bury my cock inside Joey's cute little 
ass as quickly as possible.

"Try the other one, Dad," Joey said straight away. His voice was croaky 
with excitement, barely able to speak. "Here, I can reach it."

He leaned to the side, using one hand to hold himself up with he reached 
with the other. He was remarkably agile, but I knew that already. He sat 
up again and handed me the second tube. It was noticeably cooler simply 
because it had been lying in the shade. He watched while I removed the 
cap and began to squeeze. A long silvery bead crept out onto my fingers. 

"That's better," I said with relief. How do you want it this time? On 
your back or on your front, fuck-boy?"

"Whatever. The only thing is I want to watch you do it, old man, 
especially with your wet-suit on," he sniggered. "Just do it now. I don't 
want him going soft on me.

"Going soft of you?"

"Yeah, well that's happened before, hasn't it? Especially when you think 
I'm asleep." 

I pretended innocence and Joey guffawed. "Don't pretend you don't do it, 
Dad. I know you mess around with me at night."

"You want me to stop doing it?"

"I didn't say that. Are you going to stick it in he's really hard, or 
what."

"Yes," I said, still surprised that Joey had been awake at least one 
time.

"Well? Are you going to do it or lie around talking all day?" He was 
insistent, his eyes open again and flickering with the thrill of what we 
were about to do. "I know, Dad," he said quietly. "Do it the way we used 
to do it?. AT first,... When we were still living in Chicago?."

"Okay."

I eased him off me and onto the ground. Joey lay on his back, not quite 
at right angles to me but not far from it. He lifted his lower leg up to 
his chest and bent the other leg at the knee to place his foot on my 
upper leg. I wriggled closer, placing my fingers with the bead of KY 
right behind his ball-sac. I rubbed into his crack, distributing the gel. 
It was hot and slippery  from lying in the sun, but I knew that within a 
few minutes it would start to dry out. Then, it wasn't going to be nearly 
as slick as coconut oil, which only got better in the heat and sweat in 
my opinion. I rubbed as much as possible around his anus, and even 
managed to push some in side. Two fingers went in easily. Not too deeply, 
just enough to get him used to feeling something there. Then, using my 
fingers like scissors to stretch his opening even wider, I started to get 
him ready.

"How does that feel butt-boy?"

"Big." Joey giggled. "It's okay. It's different to doing it with oil. It 
sure is slippery enough."

"You're telling me."
"You can put George in whenever you want, old man."

"I thought I'd keep you waiting for a while longer."

Joey shook his head, then stopped when he felt my cock-head bulging 
against his anus. He took a quick deep breath and waited, nodding 
eagerly.

"In we go. All the way, okay," I teased. 

All it took to get beyond his sphincter was a single continuous push, not 
even a real thrust like he needed in the mornings .It slid in several 
inches, but there was a lot more outside than inside. Joey groaned, 
nodding urgently, still eager for more. His fingers edged between us, 
examining the extent of penetration. I felt his fingertips against the 
latex membrane, stroking up and down as if encouraging me to put more 
inside.

"How's it feel?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He shook his head. "Fuck that feels so good. More. More."

"You just like being deep-dicked by your old man."

"Uh huh. Keep pushing it in, okay."

"I am. I am. Do you know the meaning of the word patient?"

"Yeah. It means hurry up and start fucking me. Put him all the way in me 
and let's get started."

We both laughed, almost like two crazy people. By then, our bodies were 
covered with sweat and sand. When we regained control I pushed steadily, 
holding Joey with one hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other hand 
keeping his uplifted leg in place. 

"Oh man," Joey groaned as the thickest part of my cock eased inside his 
rectum. "Yeah, like that, Dad. All the way in now, okay? Yeah, mmmm,... 
further if you can."

"You got it all, kid."

"No fucking way. I want more, old man."

I didn't encourage him to swear, but I swore so often when he was around 
that it would be hypocritical to stop him from doing it. I grinned at 
him, almost disbelieving that he could possibly enjoy what I was doing, 
let alone want even more inside him. It was tight as it was. I could feel 
that cramped sensation on the end of my cock that meant it couldn't go 
any further into him, even if I had more to give. We lay perfectly still 
for a while, listening to the rustling of the palm fronds above us, the 
lapping of the water on the sand. His face was contorted, but not in 
pain. That had long since gone. The intense pressure that I caused inside 
him was ecstasy, nothing less. He winced erratically, usually preceding 
or immediately after a spasm in his bowels. It was impossible to tell 
which.  Each time he breathed out and tried to relax the way we'd 
practiced ever day and night for two years.

"Okay," he murmured. "I think it's loose enough, Dad."

"Sure?"

"Duh."  

He used his sphincter to pull against my cock, initiating the motion by 
himself. I let him get in one or two strokes before I took over, slowly 
easing away before squeezing up against him. He sighed deeply, nodding 
slightly to show that he was ready for more. From the outset, I made 
every thrust count, pumping slowly and very intentionally. There was a 
trick to having sex with a boy. Joey liked it when my cock was in deep, 
shoving hard against his pleasure spot. So did I. Perhaps it was too deep 
because he winced when every push brought my pubis into the gap between 
his cheeks. On the out-stroke, I stopped only when the rim of his anus 
was about to pull past my cock head. If felt good there, like having his 
lips clamped into the depression around the head.

There was a noisy parrot in the nearby coconut trees that kept up a 
running commentary on my performance. Encouraging if critical shrieks 
came in bursts, simultaneous with my thrusts, mocking Joey's matching 
groans and shudders. I had an audience of one lousy bird yet I felt I was 
needed to show what I could do.

After a while, his inner muscles dilated completely and the spasms died 
away so that there was nothing to impede my thrusting. He half-closed his 
eyes, resting his head on my forearm, gasping with every inward push, 
sighing when I pulled back out. His weakened anus glided up and down my 
cock, excreting wetness that was probably as much from him as what 
remained of my morning orgasm. It gathered at my groin, clumping the 
pubic hair into a sodden greasy tangle. When my black-skinned cock was 
withdrawn I could see the veins swelling beneath the darkness, even the 
flared head starting to appear inside the membrane. If I wasn't careful 
it would pull right out of him. His anus had all but disappeared, just a 
brownish patch around my shaft where it disappeared into him. 

Joey watched, glancing from my face to between his legs. Not that he 
could see much, because he couldn't see more than my lower belly without 
a mirror. Yet, he smiled distantly, concentrating on the sensations deep 
inside him.

"You going to cum soon?" I asked.

"I will if you speed it up." It came out with a grunt.

"I thought you liked it slow and deep."

"I do." He groaned. "It feels nice when it's so loose and slippery."

"You're telling me. We ought to do this more often."

He giggled. "I'll skip school. You can teach me everything I need to know 
from now on."

"Like math, or how to get your butt fucked properly?"

"Yeah, that." He grinned weakly. "Try doing it right on my ass-hole for a 
while."

"Why? Don't you want to cum?"

"I want to make it last."

I backed away in the sand, pulling my cock away. The latex sheath was 
glistening wet. It reminded of the last time I had watched Fernando fuck 
Rodriquez.  Fernando's cock was straight and it slid into his nephew as 
if was meant to be there. It was big and thick, almost too big to go 
inside a boy's body, but it did. Nature had allowed for that. 

When a boy was as narrow in the hips as Joey, it seemed almost absurd 
that a man's cock could go inside him, yet it did and remarkably easy at 
that. It was nearly the same size as his forearm. It was almost like I 
was fisting him with my dick. I rearranged his legs so that one leg was 
over my chest and the other was behind my butt. It had the effect of 
levering his buttocks higher, away from the sand, because the last thing 
I wanted was to get sand inside him. I reinserted the head easily into 
his gaping hole and pressed into him. There was so little tension that it 
slid into him, entering his rectum in a single push. Then, out again, 
sucking when it pulled free again. A few more of the quick thrusting 
movements that made his anus push in and out and Joey sighed deeply.

"What's it like?"

"Nice. Real nice."

"You like it huh?"

"Uh huh! It sure is loose down there."

"Yeah."

I pumped rapidly in and out of Joey's quivering ass-hole, slapping my 
cock back against his slimy hole every time it managed to get away. 
Finally, I used my hand to keep it in place, sliding back and forth about 
an inch  so that the head popped in and out quickly. Within a minute 
Joey's ass was yawning open and coated with wetness. It was glistening 
and slippery and flecked with mucus. I don't think I'd ever seen his hole 
that big. I took my cock away and looked. I could see inside him, into a 
crimson canal, a tunnel of love.

"Oh shit! Don't stop," Joey gasped. "It feels so fucking good."

I slammed my cock back inside him. Fast, hard, all the way into him, then 
out again. It sucked loudly, squelching like a foot in mud. It felt so 
good.

"I wasn't planning on it. You ready to finish this off?" I said as I 
began to pick up the pace. 

He didn't answer. He was too far gone by then. It didn't matter. It 
wasn't going to take me very long. Maybe half a dozen thrusts later I 
felt the tightening in my balls. I groaned, going wild. He liked to watch 
my face when that happened, but his eyes were tightly closed. His teeth 
were gritted, but not in pain. He was close, so close that his muscles 
were straining in that final peak of ecstasy. He gasped, inhaling but not 
breathing out. And then the shudders started. I quaked. My cock jerked 
relentlessly, spilling its fluid into the end of the rubber. Six or seven 
pulses from deep inside, spaced out like every one counted for it all. 
Joey's anal orgasm lasted even longer. I slumped against his trembling 
body, shaking with that mix of passion and exertion that existed only 
with a memorable fuck. I was so drained it was all I could do to breath.

By the time I pulled my cock out, the parrot had cased its torment and 
flown off, hopefully to give advance warning if someone else  dared to 
invade our private paradise. Indeed, it bothered me that other men had 
visited in the not-too-recent past. Joey groaned and slowly rolled onto 
his belly. His hand reached behind him, feeling where my cock had been. 
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. His hole was huge. Lovingly, I 
stroked his back, brushing off grains of sand.

"We better not do that again, least not for a while," I said quietly.

"Yeah." He sounded very weak.

"Hurts?"

"No. Mostly it's numb."

"Very funny. Are you sure it's okay?"

"There's no blood," Joey observed as he studied his fingers. He sniffed 
them. "Smells different."

"No oil, remember?" 

"Yeah." He poked at the bulging tip of the condom where it covered the 
end of  my cock. "Least I don't have to worry 'bout getting pregnant, do 
I?"

"Nope."

"It's full of millions of sperms," he mused drowsily. "One of them could 
be the same as the one that made me."

"Yeah, that's true," I agreed humbly.

Yet, even as the words were leaving my mouth, I had a strange premonition 
that somewhere, sometime in the not-too-distant future a police 
laboratory would find a link between Joey's DNA and a sample of my semen. 
I'd always considered life to be something of a teeter-totter, a 
precarious balance of right and wrong. 

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" I began to slide the condom off my limp organ.

"Nothing? I think I'm going to snooze,... just for a while."

A few moments later, his eyes closed. There was a slight smile on his 
face, just enough to show he was content. It would not be long before the 
shadows from the trees above covered us. Until then, I relaxed in the sun 
and watched Joey's chest rise and fall with each breath.

Chapter 9

The shadows of the palm trees reached the water by the time we started 
back to Conundrum. The breeze had eased, but unlike most late afternoons 
when the air was still, the temperature was almost comfortable.  After 
rinsing off the sand and dried sweat we had shared together, Joey ambled 
along the beach, examining every pile of driftwood for other signs of 
human habitation. I was content to walk slowly and watch his every 
movement. I enjoyed the way his bottom moved, not only because it was 
small and firm, but it gave me joy to know that my cock had been buried 
all the way inside it a few hours earlier. 

 

"So how are we going to let Fernando know where we are?" Joey asked 
suddenly. 

He stopped walking and I closed the gap between us. Conundrum was barely 
in sight and we were less than twenty paces away. It could probably be 
spotted from the air, but otherwise, it would be very difficult to see.

"I've been thinking about that."

Joey ran his hands down his lean abdomen, stopping at his hips. His belly 
was flat, unlike mine. Nut-brown skin, nipples that were almost 
impossible to see, a belly button that looked delicious. I licked my 
lips. He smiled back. 

"Well? Stop perving at me and answer the question, Dad!" 

"I can't help it."

"I not doing it again until tomorrow," Joey laughed.

"Fine by me. We can make out instead. You got any ideas?" I asked.

"We could use Morse code on the VHF. People might think it was static," 
he suggested hopefully.

"With Fernando? He wouldn't know a dot from a dash," I said cynically.

"True. But Roddy does, Dad. We were doing it with our pencils at school 
all last week."

"You were what? Why?"

Joey grinned. "To send messages during class. Pretty smart, huh?"

I wasn't sure what to say. No wonder his grades were slipping into the C 
range. He was bored to tears and his teacher was barely competent.

"How?"

"You tap," he answered flippantly.

"Duh, I know that. How did you do it?"

"Easy. Tap with the point and it's a dot, and the eraser end is the 
dash."

"You guys know Morse code then?"

"Yeah. We figured it out from one of your navigation books. Once we 
practiced it a bit, it was easy. We can do it real fast now."

"Hmm,.... I think you've given me an idea. The only problem is how to do 
it so no one else knows there's a message being sent."

"You don't think people will believe it's static, huh?"

"No fucking way!" I replied. 

I rubbed my chin. I needed to shave again. If I didn't, Joey would be 
sure to complain the next time we kissed. I winked at the beautiful 
brown-skinned boy beside me. His skin was so smooth and mine was like 
sandpaper, 60 grit!

"Speaking of fucking?...." I said suggestively.

"Tomorrow morning,... if you're good." Joey grinned and gazed out at the 
reef and the ocean beyond. We couldn't see St. Angelique although it was 
only fifteen miles away because there was another island in the way. The 
range of the VHS would just cover it.

"Too many boaters around. It'd just take one of them to pick it up and 
figure it was Morse code," I mused. "No, we need a better way. Anyway, 
the chances of Roddy hearing it are about nil, unless we broadcast on 
Channel 16. Then, you can guarantee the cops are going to pick it up." 

It took only a few paces before I stopped again. "You know where the best 
place to hide anything is?"

"You always say it's where everyone can see it, but they don't know what 
it is."

"I've got an idea,...."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. And it involves those steel drums of yours,..." I stopped 
walking and placed both hands on Joey's bony shoulders. "It's so fucking 
crazy I think it might even work."

"What might work?"

"Your Morse code idea."

"What's that go to do with my drums?"

"You'll see."

We climbed back on board and brought Joey's drums up on deck, along with 
a cold beer. We shared the beer while I told him my idea. The trick was 
in keeping the rhythm going while the Morse code was pounded out. I sat 
down and made several efforts to write out the message I wanted to send 
to Fernando. It needed to be short. 

	"NEED YOU 76.21 23.83 ASAP"

The GPS coordinates were essential and there was no room for error. 
Translated into dots and dashes the message was short enough that it was 
pushing the limit for anyone to recognize. There even was a slight 
pattern to it, but it could be accidental. I had Joey play it through. 
Dots were on one drum, dashes on the other. It sounded funny.

"Give it some rhythm," I said. "Like when you and Roddy were clowning 
around at Fernie's place playing that island song."

"Macarena Girl? It's going to take more than that," Joey remarked 
grumpily. He whacked the drums a few times for effect. "You play them as 
well, okay," he said, pointing at the maracas. 

"Yeah, right."

"No I mean it. Don't worry what I'm doing, Dad. Just keep the rhythm 
going. Kinda like a tango only jerkier. One-two, one-two-three."

We tried it for a while. It still sounded wrong to me. Joey laughed. 

"We're getting there, Dad."

"Yeah?"

He shook his head. "Actually, it sounds fucking awful. Let's do it 
faster."

We tried that, banging and shaking away for several attempts. It wasn't 
much better, but it was as good as it was going to get. Finally, I 
switched on the VHS and placed the microphone between my knees, 
depressing the talk-key by pushing on it when Joey reached the count of 
'three'.

"Dese for tha Rod-man on Angie-leek," Joey announced in his island-boy 
twang. He sounded like a radio announcer, calling songs. "You be da man. 
Be switchin' it over frum me to yo." 

He emphasized 'to', not 'ta' the way it should have sounded. Hopefully, 
Roddy would hear the broadcast and switch the VHS in Fernando's bar from 
the hailing channel, 16, to 2. Our timing could not have been better. 
Rodriquez was probably sitting at the counter looking out over the lagoon 
or helping out by washing glasses. It took all of a few seconds before 
someone came back with a squeaky response. Like Joey, Roddy always 
sounded like that on the VHS radio. 

"Yo be callin' dis beach boy  un too?" 

Another second or two passed before anything else was said. This time it 
was an angry boater, probably a tourist from Florida. "This is channel 
16. It's for hailing and emergencies only. You kids need to keep offa 
it."

"Go fuck yo ass," Joey snapped, before I could switch the channel to 2.

 He began hitting the drums, nodding at me to pick up the beat with the 
maracas. After warming up with a fragment of the island song that I had 
heard Joey playing with Roddy, we pounded out the hopefully hidden 
message. Not once, but a dozen times. 

"Yo be getting' tha' tune beach boy?" Joey called out loudly.

Then I released the key and listened. 

Roddy answered, but I could tell that it was Fernando speaking. 

"Ah got dem drums. Keep luvin' dat boss-man," he said clearly. "Be seein' 
ya dat boys boat tam."

Then silence. I switched off the VHS. With luck, Fernando would be here 
to see me at 8.00 a.m. the next day. Eight o'clock was when the boys had 
to at the village dock for the launch that would take them to the 
Georgetown school. When I turned around again, Joey was standing by the 
cabin door, gazing over the reef. He fingered the end of his penis 
absently.

"You keep playing with that dick of yours and it's going to fall off," I 
teased.

"You said it's there for me to play with," he rebuked good-naturedly.

"It is, but not all day."

"You got a better idea?" 

Suddenly, he sounded testy, not at all the boy I was used to having 
around. I expected some warning when his mood changed. He breathed out 
and closed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently.

"What do you think is wrong? I heard what Fernando said on the radio 
earlier."

"Oh that. An arrest warrant means nothing, Joey." I did not sound very 
confident. 

He was so beautiful standing there in the golden brilliance of the 
setting sun that I had trouble thinking about anything else. I loved him 
so much that it hurt inside. I stared until he turned away. His back and 
bottom were just as perfect as his front and groin. I licked my lips and 
tried to think. In Chicago, I would have known what to do. Now, all I 
wanted to do was have sex with him. It was a habit that was impossible to 
break.

"Joey," I began cautiously.

He glanced over his shoulder. It was a cold dismissive look, I thought.

"They won't arrest me," I said quietly. I rubbed my forehead. 

"Why not?"

"Because,..." I sighed. 

If  the police caught up with us before I had managed to find out what I 
needed to know to prove who the murderer was, he was right to worry.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He was worried. 

"No. Do you want to fuck me?"

Joey giggled and turned around. He had not expected me to say that. Maybe 
something else, like 'yes', or 'not now', but not that.

"Like I could do that to you."

"You've never tried."

"There's all that hair in your crack. I'm not sure I could find it." He 
tried to keep a straight face.

"It's not that hairy."

"It is compared to mine."

"True."

Joey regarded me thoughtfully. His worries were only suspended for as 
long as I made him giggle.

"Dad,... what's going to happen if they arrest you?"

"Fernie will take care of you." I didn't add that that was the main 
reason why I wanted him to come to Joey Cay. "It's not going to happen."

"Do you think that Adams dude killed him? Or the other guy he was going 
to meet when he sent Vincente back to the boat."

"We've been through that. What do you think, Joey? You met him too?"

Joey shook his head slowly. "I didn't like him,..."

"So?" I prompted. "It isn't important whether you liked or didn't like 
him."

"He wasn't mean to him or anything like that," Joey answered slowly. It 
pleased me to see he was thinking it through. "I mean if you were going 
to kill someone, like a boy,... wouldn't you,... I mean it doesn't seem 
like something he would do?"

"Not necessarily," I said quietly. 

However, in truth I was thinking along the same lines. The relationship 
between Vincente and Adams wasn't as good as my relationship with Joey, 
but neither was it unpleasant. They were both into sex. And then, on top 
of that, there was the symbol. Two circles and interlocked arrows. It was 
unusual. To see it once or twice over a long period could be a fluke, but 
to see it three times in two days was beyond random chance. Coincidences 
like that were very uncommon. That symbol had a lot to do with the murder 
of the boy. Suddenly, something clicked into place and I looked up.

"Joey?"

"Yes, dad."

"When you were with Vincente yesterday,..." Had it only been a day ago? 
"Did you see anything on him,... here?" I pointed to my thigh.

"Huh?"

"A mark of some kind?" I suggested. I sounded like an attorney for the 
defense, leading the witness through presentation of the evidence.

Joey shook his head. "He was always wearing shorts?. Except when,..."

"What?" I almost shouted.

"When we were by the boat," Joey said awkwardly. "And they were,..." He 
smiled slightly. "You saw them fucking too."

"Yes?"

"I think there was. It was kind of difficult to see in the dark, 
especially with you lying on top of me. There was a weird mark on his 
leg. At least I think there was. It wasn't very big."

"A mark? What kind of mark?"

"I don't know. A mark. Kind of like a,... I don't know,.... A circle. It 
was hard to see because his skin was so dark. It looked a bit strange. I 
wouldn't mind getting a tattoo one day."

"Fuck!"

"Did I say saying wrong?" Joey asked nervously.

"Wrong?" I laughed. "NO!" I shouted. "I think I,... no make that we,... 
have got something to go on at last."

"I don't understand,..." Joey regarded me uncertainly. He was slow at 
putting it together, when he didn't have all the pieces. "The ankle 
thing?" he asked thoughtfully

"Yes, the bracelet we found. In particular, the ornament on it. I think 
it's some sort of a symbol." I watched him think. He was like me in that 
respect. He furrowed his brow from the effort.

"What about it? How do you know it's important?"

"Hm,...For now,  I just do." I rubbed my chin, ready to explain. "Okay. 
Here's what I know. There was a necklace found on the beach some distance 
from where Vincente was lying. It had one of the same charms on it. I'm 
sure of it. I didn't think it was important at the time. At least not 
until we found one back there," I added, gesturing over my shoulder. 
"Then I remembered there was another one on the boy who was on this 
morning's charter, only I didn't see all of it. What I did see was a 
tattoo on his thigh."

"And there was one on Vincente's leg too. At least I think there was a 
tattoo about here," Joey finished, pointing to the inside of his right 
thigh about an inch or two below his crotch.

'There might have been, Joey," I said. "I'll take your word for it. I 
didn't see it. The thing is, on Vincente's body there was a shark bite 
there instead. Only I don't think it was a shark bite."

"What was it then?"

"I think someone cut the skin off off."

There was a long silence. "There's one on Roddy too," Joey said 
awkwardly.

"One what?"

"A tattoo." He did not meet my eyes. Instead he glanced away, chewing on 
the tip of his tongue.

"A tattoo? Where, Joey?" I couldn't remember seeing any mark on Roddy's 
body that was permanent besides the usual coral scars on his arms and 
legs. His knees were a mass of purple weals.

Joey turned back. He considered my question, then he smirked knowingly. 
"Okay. I guess it's no big secret. It's under his balls, Dad, if you must 
know. You can't see it unless,..."

"Yeah, okay. I get it. Let's not go there." 

In truth, there was no reason for me to be surprised, or for Joey to be 
embarrassed. He had spent the last two years having sex with me. Roddy 
had been his best friend for all that time. They had a lot in common.

"We haven't done anything,... well other than,... you know?. He's brought 
butt stuff up a few times, but I would never do that,... except with you 
that is."

He sounded guilty, a little more so than even I  expected him to be. 

"So that's why you wouldn't mind getting a tattoo?"

"Uh huh. You ought to see it, Dad. It looks really sexy."

I dug into my pocket until I found the ankle bracelet. It was heavy 
enough to be solid metal and the color was gold. If it was gold, it was 
probably worth a couple of hundred dollars. I was certain that the 
necklace my young passenger had been wearing was also gold. It was made 
of thick links that made it seem clunky, but it was obviously expensive. 
The necklace that Fernando showed was expensive as well. It was part of 
the pattern. Gifts perhaps? That didn't explain the tattoos on the boys' 
thighs.

"Roddy really has a mark there, one like this?" I asked cautiously. I 
pointed to the ornament. 

Joey nodded cautiously. "It means you're a man's boy," he said quietly.

"Huh?"

"You know, Dad. Like me? I'm your boy." He smiled when he said that. 
"You're a man and you have sex with me? That's what it means." 

I could hear the pride in his voice, and it made me proud of him as well. 
I came back to earth slowly. What we shared was special, but the vast 
majority of people would not understand.

"Okay, and I'm your man. I guess the thing I want to know is where did 
you hear that?"

"Roddy told me."

"Huh?"

Joey shrugged the way he did when he didn't think something was 
important, but I did. "That's what Roddy said when he showed his to me."

"I don't get it. How did Roddy get a tattoo like that?"

"Duh. Fernando arranged it, of course, Dad. He's had it for years. He got 
it a few months before we arrived."

"Oh." 

Fernando had never mentioned it to me. It did not make a lot of sense, 
although Fernando often struck me as a person who would do things that 
didn't always make a lot of sense. It didn't make a lot of sense that 
Joey hadn't told me about it either. Maybe it was supposed to be a secret 
between them. Boys were like that.

"See,..." Joey said pointing to the bracelet. "There's a big one. That's 
the man. And the little one is the boy. See how they're joined. That's 
how it means they fuck. They're on top of each other and the big arrow 
goes through the little hole."

It sounded harmless, and perhaps it was. However, warning bells were 
ringing loudly in my head. My eyes narrowed. Boys with expensive jewelry 
and tattoos, all with sexual symbols? It had overtones of a cult. In 
Florida perhaps, or even on Haiti, but here, in the Dry Exumas? It 
sounded like a boy lover's dream come true, except that one of its 
members had been murdered.

Dinner was jerk-barbequed chicken and a salad of fresh tomatoes washed 
down with cold beer. We went to bed early, no reading because I wanted to 
save the batteries. I did not want to run the engines just to charge them 
up, and there was no way of knowing how long we would be away. We had sex 
instead. Lying in the darkness, sticky with heat, kissing and rubbing our 
sweaty dicks together for what seemed hours before we climaxed. It would 
have been easy to talk Joey into doing something else even if his ass was 
still sore. Instead, I let him climb on top of me. My cock pushed into 
his flat firm belly, reaching from his little boy-balls all the way to 
his ribbed chest. He felt puny, his scrawny body sliding around while he 
ground his squat stiffness against my belly. He didn't tire easily. 
Instead, I lay back, satisfied and weak and he knelt above my knees and 
licked where my semen had spurted. There was as much of it on him as me, 
and no sooner than he finished smacking his lips, I dragged him down onto 
the rumpled sheets and gave him a tongue bath of my own. Licking a naked 
boy who was ticklish had to be the best thing ever invented for a man's 
amusement. It was second only to sex for sensory thrills. He squirmed 
around and giggled and pleaded. He begged me to stop tickling. He wasted 
his time. I took my time. It was past 10 p.m. when I stopped. There was 
no part of his body left untouched. We both needed a shower, but it was 
too late. We fell asleep, my sticky saliva-coated boy pressed up beside 
me so that my arm could cradle his head and my cock could nestle between 
his buttocks .