PUBERTY BLUES, by Ganymede

    PART 3


WARNING:


This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts between men and 
MINOR boys. I do not condone either incest or child abuse, however 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 single copy 
has been placed in the Nifty archives. Feel free to post it to appropriate 
newsgroups or send it to your friends. If distributing my story for monetary 
gain, please contribute $50 to a charitable organization providing services 
for boys.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or 
dead, is unfortunate.

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!





     PUBERTY BLUES, by Ganymede

     PART 3





+++++++++++++++++++ Thailand ++++++++++++++++++++++++

 But Hannah's parting comment was nothing compared to the open acceptance of 
man-boy love in the highlands of Thailand. When Phan and I had finally 
recovered enough strength to rise from his parent's bed, the perspiration that 
previously glistened on our naked bodies had finally evaporated. I sat on 
the edge of the bed and surveyed the beautiful young body I had been united 
with. Had both of us been virgins? A man and a boy, neither experienced before 
they lay down together, had taken their first steps towards becoming lovers. I 
admired his body, the slenderness of his hairless brown limbs and narrow torso 
that seemed to defy the possibility of intercourse by size alone. There were 
blemishes here and there, though none of them were unsightly. They were the 
marks of boyhood, small scars some still reddened, typical of a child from a 
third world country and a tropical climate. 

As I held him, my hands on my hips, he grinned cheekily. A wet fart gurgled 
from behind him. A moment later a dribble of my milky fluid trickled down 
the inside of his thigh. It was something he would have to get used to if I 
continued to be his lover. Depositing my seed in any other orifice seemed 
highly unlikely, although his pretty mouth was also well suited to the role. I 
wiped my fingers through my expelled juice and smeared the wetness over his 
leg. It was hot and the slipperyness was increased by the absolute 
smoothness of his silky skin. 

"We go down now. They wait for us still. We go down, before it all come 
out," Phan said hesitantly. 

I regarded him as my curiousity was piqued. He apparently did not care to 
elaborate further. I pulled up my briefs and jeans and straightened my tee 
shirt. Phan had not started to put his shorts back on. They lay on the floor 
ed where I had tossed them in my eagerness to see him naked. Only his tattered 
white tee-shirt covered his naked sex organs. For some reason I understood 
that it made no difference to the guests whether Phan was dressed or nude on 
this, the most important event of his young life to date. 

I embraced him, cupping both firm cheeks of his bottom in my hands and he 
stretched on tiptoes to bring his soft lips to mine for our first real kiss. 
His tongue pushed forward, seeking entry into my mouth as his body squeezed 
against me. My fingertips pressed into his slime-filled crack, marvelling that 
only a few minutes earlier my thick penis had been entirely contained inside 
him. Now, only the looseness around his anus and my fluid was left as a 
reminder of what we had shared, that and the memory of a writhing Thai boy 
as he reached the pinancle of existence and discovered the ultimate pleasure 
of his first orgasm from anal sex. 

The kiss we shared went on and on until our saliva mixed together like the 
fluids that existed within his lower abdomen. His kiss, like his coupling, was 
infinitely better than any woman I had been with. Finally we parted and 
after I gently wiped the accumulation of juices from his crack and the 
inside of his thighs, I kissed him again. With me leading the way, we 
climbed down the ladder into the family compound. It was obvious that the 
guests and Phan's family were waiting for us to return after the unwritten 
contract between man and boy had been sealed. Like my new found friend I had 
become a benefactor, not only of the young boy who had given me his 
virginity but for the entire village as I contributed to his welfare until 
he reached adolescence. 

Chris waved in friendly recognition of my new found self. Like him, I was also 
a boy lover with an important social role in the poor Thai village. I had 
partaken of the joy only known to others like ourselves. In the culture in 
which I had lived in all my life, only a few lucky men have experienced the 
wonderful joy of loving a young and eager boy. It was very different in the 
highlands of Thailand where man-boy love was a common occurrence. While 
accepted, even openly endorsed by the boy's parents, it was still a special 
relationship when his partner was a westerner of great wealth. Then the 
union took on greater meaning as the boy became a source of income. 

My friend and co-conspirator in this place of socially sanctioned pederasty 
inned triumphantly as I passed by him and Udon. Younger brother and older 
brother exchanged a knowing look and Phan smirked lewdly at his sibling, 
proudly walking with his knees apart to give him a distinct bow-legged gait. 
They had become equals again, a condition that had not existed since Udon 
had become Chris' lover. 

Phan's father led us towards a group of men who had gathered around his 
grandfather. They parted as we approached and then closed behind us. We 
moved with the uniform mass of a Rugby scrum towards the meeting place that 
was reserved only for men. Only minutes earlier Phan had gained the right to 
enter the most sacred place in the village. This was as new for him as it 
was for me. As was my right, I was the honored guest. Phan walked unsteadily 
on my right, his small hand held firmly in mine, his legs apart as if he had 
just spent the afternoon on horseback. Indeed, he could not have been very 
comfortable. My penis had bruised his tender body, abrading delicate and 
untouched flesh as I forced my way into him.

 Just as I assisted him to climb down from his parent's house so too I had 
to help him climb the nine feet into the air when we reached the men's hut. 
I carefully supported him from behind to make sure that he did not fall 
backwards as he tried to lift each foot to the next rung. There on the steps I 
finally glimpsed his small bottom and realized the extent of the injury I 
had inflicted. What should have been a small puckered opening was no longer 
small and anything but puckered. His anus was wide open, still dilated from my 
thick penis and glistening with the greasy paste of fat that I had rubbed into 
him. For a few seconds I could not understand why there was wetness on the 
inside of his cheeks and on the underside of his small scrotum. And then I saw 
even more of it on the insides of both of his lean thighs. Slowly it dawned on 
me that my semen was still dribbling out of him despite the quantity that I 
had already wiped from his body earlier. 

There was a large woven cane seat in the center of the hut and Chris indicated 
that I should stand beside Phan while he sat down. I did not understand what 
was happening but it was clearly part of a local tradition that celebrated the 
arrival of manhood, even if it was still hairless. Phan sat obediently, 
waiting as the men gathered around him. His grandfather, as village elder 
and oldest relative, stepped forward and knelt before Phan. He smiled at his 
young grandson ently placed his hands on the boy's ankles. He lifted them up 
and pushed Phan's knees to his shoulders before positioning the thin legs over 
the arms of the chair. 

Another boy from another culture would have been embarrassed by the men's 
leering stares as they looked at his exposed bottom. Phan smiled shyly as he 
father came even closer and peered at his son's opening. It still bore the 
unmistakable signs of our love making although the small anus had begun to 
close up again. Perhaps I should not have felt proud as I observed the dark 
ring of flesh that encircled the entrance to his rectum but there seemed to be 
reason why I should feel guilty. He had submitted willingly and I had known 
more pleasure within its tight confines than I had ever experienced. No 
woman had been able to give me the same joy. I had been initiated just as Phan 
had been initiated by me. While I could not speak for phan, I realized that 
I would never be able to have sex with a woman again. Together we had 
savored every precious moment of it, in every sense of the word I had 
discovered how to make love. However, my penis was abnormally large by Asian 
norms and Phan's tender body had been subjected to considerable stress. 

What was depressing to me was very much the opposite for the men gathered 
around us. They talked softly in a language I did not even begin to 
understand. Their smiles and frequent gestures towards Phan and the obvious 
references to his exposed rump and my comparatively large anatomy provided 
adequate communication that made words unnecessary. However, even if I could 
not understand what was being said, Phan certainly did. He smirked at his 
brother and in front of his audience began to become aroused again. I looked 
on in fascination as the short shaft that was already familiar to me 
achieved full erection.

"He's quite the show-off," Chris said as he leaned towards me. "There is a lot 
of interest when a boy from the village loses his virginity, especially if 
he is good looking. It's also considered to be particularly good luck if the 
man is well endowed."

"I can't believe this is happening," I replied. "Back home they would lock you 
up and throw away the key for even touching his dick, let alone what I did 
to him." 

Chris nodded sagely. "Thank God there are still places left like this. These 
men understand what it's like to love a boy. Most of them have watched Phan 
grow up and I dare say they have all thought about being in your position at 
one time or another. If you hadn't come along I imagine one of them would have 
had the honor of deflowering the kid."

"Well, I certainly count myself lucky after this." 

After a minute or two, Phan's grandfather knelt before the now uninhibited boy 
who was revelling in the attention being paid to him. His little hairless 
penis was completely erect but it still did not reach beyond halfway to his 
navel. In the ways that counted, he was still a young boy. By now I was 
becoming used to the morality of these Thais. They were completely uninhibited 
about sex and the sexuality of their children was openly accepted, even 
endorsed when the partner was wealthy. However, even knowing that Phan's 
parents had accepted me as his lover did little to prepare me for what 
followed.





+++++++++++++++++++++++++++    Gosford   ++++++++++++++++++



"The movie was okay," Tristan acknowledged dubiously.

I smiled as I walked beside Tristan as we went up the path towards his 
house. At eleven-years old it was socially unacceptable for a boy to be 
enthusiastic about enjoying a movie that was intended for younger children. 
But Tristan had enjoyed the movie as much as I had, although for different 
reasons. About half way up the path he stopped and turned to face me. He 
smiled and swallowed nervously. His hand moved slightly, tenatively seeking 
mine again. We had held hands through most of the movie, and the entire way in 
the car, parting only to get out our respective doors. I met him in the 
middle, the boy's thin, warm fingers brushing mine as my hand closed around 
his. I squeezed tightly as if to convey my greater strength and then relaxed 
so that our fingers were intertwined. Tristan breathed deeply and his eyes 
flickered as he looked behind me.

"Someone will see us," he whispered urgently. "I guess you better go. I'll see 
you tomorrow," he added guiltily.

Already he knew enough to realize that what he felt was wrong. I could try all 
I could to protect him from the shame society would place on him, but I 
would fail. Like me, he could not help the way he was. Had it been inside 
him from the day he was conceived, had it emerged because his mother was a 
lesbian, had it been a voluntary action on his part? His longing was part of 
him as much as any other part of him. He was the way he was and it could not 
be changed merely because some righteous souls thought love like ours to be 
wrong. What right did society have to condemn this boy to shame for feelings 
he could not help. And my feelings were more despised than Tristan's, a 
function of age but exponentially worse. Despite my misgivings, all those 
people I knew who said it was evil, I could not leave him easily. 

"I want to say goodnight before I go," I said. "I had a great time. I hope you 
did too."

Tristan nodded. "I always have a great time with you, you know that. Thanks 
for everything, Peter."

"There's nothing to thank me for. I really enjoy having you with me. 
Besides, you didn't eat that much at the restaurant, and you still get into 
the movies for half-price. You cost me all of about ten dollars tonight, kid."

"That wasn't what I was thanking you for. I think you know what I mean. I 
really like you, Peter," Tristan murmmured.

"I like you too,... a lot," I replied. I was very aware of how stressed my 
voice was and what an understatement the six words were for my true feelings.

Again Tristan looked behind him. "I guess you had better go, before someone 
sees us standing here."

I smiled at the visibly anxious boy. "They'll only think that we're friends, 
or maybe that I'm your uncle, or a friend of the family, or something like 
that."

"I want to,... I want to say goodnight,... but well,... I want to go somewhere 
private, Peter," Tristan whispered as his nervousness increased.

I glanced over my shoulder. There was no one on the street that I could see 
and it was unlikely that there would be for a few more minutes at least unless 
a car pulled up at one of the nearby houses. If anyone saw us standing there 
in the middle of the front yard it was likely to be his mother or Hannah and 
the consequences of them seeing me with Tristan did not bother me. And yet I 
understood the need for privacy, even if it was for his confidence and self 
esteem.

One the side nearest the driveway, a large dark tree loomed close to the 
house. Light spilled from the kitchen window but in the shadows it was 
impossible for any one to see us. Gently I led Tristan forward, walking 
towards the discreet darkness that offered anonymity in a vigilant world. I 
recognized the moment for what it was. This was the turning point in a young 
boy's life. It was the time when Tristan would take the first difficult 
steps to assert his individuality and express that part of him that brought 
his guilt..

He came hesitantly, dragging on my hand and uncertain of where I was taking 
him, yet reluctant to hold back for fear of being left by himself. The 
desire that had been dormant within him for eleven years was beginning to 
surface. He was overpowered by an insistent need to be with me and to discover 
why he was different to other boys. I stopped in the darkness with the tree 
trunk behind my back. It was quiet and private. The boy looked around 
furtively and then his eyes came back to mine.

"You wanted to say goodnight?" I suggested softly. "No one can see us here."

Tristan nodded shyly. "I didn't just want to say goodnight, you know." He 
paused, shifting his feet unconciously in the grass. "Uh,... well I do want to 
say goodnight, of course, but not like right away, okay?"

"What do you have in mind then?" I teased. I sensed his excitement building 
like a volcano that could explode at any second. But Tristan was a very 
unassertive boy sometimes and he needed my help now more than ever before in 
his eleven years.

"I don't know," he shrugged uncertainly. 

"I'd like to keep holding your hand," I said gently, "Forever and ever. I want 
you beside me more than anything else."

"I like holding your hand too," Tristan murmurred. He sighed, consciously 
aware of what he wanted to say but unable to make his request. "Can I ask 
you a question, Peter? It's sort of, well it's personal."

"Of course. Don't be timid, Tristan. You don't have anything to be worried 
about."

"Well it is,... you know,... it's about us. I don't want you to stop liking 
me."

I nodded slightly. "There's nothing that you could say or do to make me stop 
liking you, okay? Don't be bashful, Tristan."

Tristan glanced sheepishly down at his feet as he mumbled. "If I wanted,... 
well if I wanted to kiss you,... would you get angry? Would you be mad? I know 
most people think it's wrong for two guys to kiss but Mum said it was okay,... 
if I wanted to kiss you.... Do you mind?"

"Of course I don't mind. Besides it isn't wrong for two guys to kiss."

"It isn't?"

"Not really. Would you mind if I wanted to kiss you?" I answered.

He looked up again quickly as he heard my own awkwardness as I asked the 
same question. Our eyes met as we exposed our souls. I wondered whether he 
could hear my pounding heart. He had to, it was loud enough in my ears. 
Tristan seemed to tremble slightly as he continued to gaze into my eyes. His 
hand suddenly felt hotter and wetter, as if he was perspiring in the cool 
night air. He was nervous, but then, so was I.

"I want to kiss you, Tag," I said softly. "It isn't wrong if we both want 
to, you know. It's just the way we are. Neither of us can help it." 

That was the first time I used his 'pet' name. Until then his mother, and 
sometimes Hannah, called him that and no one else. He smiled slightly, 
accepting my familiarity. Slowly he nodded, moving his head back and forth 
three times in slow motion. Each nod was a deliberate acknowledgement of the 
fact that he wanted to kiss me. His mouth appeared to quiver with anticipation 
as my head lowered. Reassuringly, I placed my hand around his lower back and I 
held him gently with my fingertips pressed into his knobbly spine just above 
his tailbone. I guided him forward, or rather restricted his instinctive 
need to back away as our heads came closer. With his head barely reaching to 
my shoulder, there was a long distance between our mouths. But Tristan reached 
up, standing on his toes as I bent forward and suddenly our noses brushed 
clumsily together and our dry lips touched.

It was a chaste kiss that lasted only a second or two before we were apart 
again. My heart rate surged again and Tristan breathed out with relief. Either 
it had been easier than he had expected, or perhaps he had been afraid that I 
would reject him, but it was a long sigh. My left hand came to his cheek and I 
caressed his smooth skin. For nearly a minute he stood absolutely still, 
absorbing the gentle touch of my fingers as I stroked from his jaw to his 
temple. My fingers drifted aimlessly, sometimes touching his soft ear lobe 
or pushing into his silky hair.

He needed time to think. Finally, after what was an interminable silence, 
his face looked up and he beamed happily. His solution was right before him 
all the time. Unlike me, he had not realized it until that moment.

"We love each other don't we, Peter? That's why it isn't wrong for us to 
kiss," he asked demurrely.

I nodded, my head moving with deliberate care just as his had done a minute 
earlier. "I know it's hard to understand, Tag, but it's true. I know I love 
you."

Tristan smiled shyly, ever the modest boy. "Mum said I would feel funny inside 
when I told you that I loved you and she's right. She said I would know I 
loved you only when I said it aloud to you. I feel so weird all over."

"You mum is right, Tag. I think it's because you feel so happy. I feel the 
same way. You feel like you're trembling and you can't stop it. I know I 
feel like I'm ready to burst." 

It was the truth. Not only was I shaking but my penis had never been as hard 
as it was at that moment. Not even Phan had produced an erection that 
physically hurt me with its stiffness. I ached for relief but realized that it 
would not happen tonight, not unless I took control or waited until Tristan 
went inside his house.

"Being in love is one of the most wonderful feelings,... no it's definitely 
the most wonderful feeling in the world," I added.

"Uh huh. It's not like I'm cold, but there's goose pimples all over me." 
Tristan murmurred contendedly.

I pulled him closer into my warmth and held him tightly with my hand around 
his back, my fingers riding over the curve of his firm buttocks. He wriggled 
slightly, pressing his chest harder my stomach and offering himself to my 
enveloping arms. He wanted to be hugged.

"I had a really nice time tonight, Tag."

"I did too."

"I really like being close to you."

"So do I. It's nice hugging you, Peter."

"I enjoy your company," I said innocously but I knew exactly what I 
intended. "I like holding your hand, Tag. It makes me feel even closer to you, 
even when your sitting beside me, I want you to be closer."

"I don't think anyone saw us in the movies," he said guilelessly but already 
well aware of the need to guard his relationship with me from the watchful 
eyes of others. There were too many people who would destroy what we felt
for each other.

"I want to kiss you again, Tristan Alexander Gordon,... and I mean really kiss 
you this time," I said slowly.

"You mean with our tongues don't you?" he asked uncertainly. "Mum told me 
that's how people kiss when they're in love."

I nodded as I wondered how much his mother had told him about what happens 
when two people fall in love. I began to suspect that Tristan knew exactly 
what being in love with me would involve. He had been well prepared by his 
mother, at least in terms of theoretical preparation if not practical 
experience, and that was my job. I relished the thought as we gazed deeply at 
each other.

The next kiss came without the awkwardness of the first. It is surprising 
how practice improves one. He puckered, instinctively closed his eyes, and 
lifted up on his toes. His lips were soft and dry only for an instant. I 
moistened his lips as I pulled him closer. Hot and wet, lips far softer than 
Phan, gentle kisses. Warm air exiting from his nose streamed across my 
cheek, sighs from deep in his chest like a cat's purring as we parted. He 
smiled shyly, his eyes now open. Breathless, he touched his lips with the 
tip of his tongue as if tasting me, the lingering wetness we had placed 
there together. He quivered as a thrill of understanding rippled through him.

"You didn't use your tongue," he admonished playfully.

"Neither did you, Tag," I replied. My hand caressed his firm bottom, 
squeezed gently on one side, my fingertips venturing into the crease between 
his small, fat cheeks.

"I was waiting," he teased. "I wanted you but I was too scared."

"You weren't going to bite were you?" I asked.

"'Course not! I don't mind if you put your spit in me. It's just like drinking 
from the same bottle."

I grinned. The last time, only the week before, Tristan had assiduously 
wiped the top clean before drinking after me. How quickly he forgot! I 
squeezed his buttocks again, then cupped the firm flesh in one hand as I 
wondered whether my answer to his mother and Hannah had been honest. One day 
the prize of his virgin body would be mine for the taking and I would hurt him 
because that was what happened when a man loved a boy like Tristan.

"You like playing with my bum, don't you?" Tristan giggled.

"You have a beautiful bum young man," I laughed as I wondered again just how 
innocent this eleven-year-old boy really was. At times he surprised me. "And 
yes, I like playing with it. I like boys with cute bums."

I reached with my hand and slowly lifted his chin upward so that our eyes met. 
He gazed back at me, neither innocent or wanton, merely curious. A slight 
smile flickered across his mouth as his lips came together and his eyelids 
sealed. I kissed him tenderly at first as I clutched him tightly against me. 
Then, only a moment before we parted, I licked his lips with my tongue and 
darted inside his mouth as his teeth parted in surprise. The rest of my tongue 
followed quickly and I pushed into him. He sucked. God only knows where he 
learned how to do that. Perhaps it was a natural response, perhaps a 
conditioned reflex, but Tristan pulled me in and held my tongue deep within 
his mouth. Young lips moved urgently against mine, rubbing frantically 
before his own tongue sought to penetrate my mouth. We embraced, kissing 
deeply, tongues fully extended, writhing, licking, sucking with earnest 
affection. His tongue made love to mine.

I should not have been surprised when I felt his sudden motion, humping his 
aroused sex organs into my thigh as his lower belly pressed tightly against my 
own rigid member. Our kiss ended, other pursuits more demanding, both panting, 
trying to get off. I could feel the spike-like stiffness in his young penis, 
poking and prodding me and then slidding against my thigh like a little 
sausage. I grasped his cheeks, pulling his agitated body closer as I felt 
the gradual building of my climax. I wondered whether Tristan knew what was 
about to happen to me, if not to himself. The thought of cumming in 
my briefs did not bother me but the urgency with which I was now thrusting 
against Tristan perturbed me greatly. Hesitantly I eased him away and gave his 
forehead a chaste kiss.

"You better go inside while you can. You have a big day tomorrow," I gasped.

"Aw,... Please?" he whined. "Do I have to?"

I grinned. "Yes you have to. I'd like to stay out here with you all night, but 
you have to go to bed."

"I'd like you to come inside. You could go to bed with me," Tristan whispered 
conspiratorially. "I could sneak you past Mum and you could sleep with me 
tonight."

"What about Hannah?"

"She won't mind. Hannah's cool. She teases me about playing with it all 
the time," Tristan admitted shyly.

"And do you?"

He smirked and shrugged. His answer was a slightly raised eyebrow, a mere hint
that he did. "She talks to me a lot about sex and stuff as well," he added

I took the bait. "So what has she told you?" I asked.

"Oh,... stuff about my thing,... my penis. And semen, and all that stuff."

"Hmmm," I mused innocously. "That's all?"

Tristan giggled. "Nope. She told me about why it gets stiff sometimes. I 
have a stiffy now. So do you. I can feel it. Your's is really big. It's huge 
compared to mine."

I nodded. "I'm a man, Tag. It's supposed to be bigger. Yours will get bigger 
during the next few years too. You have to be patient."

Tristan grinned. "I know that. You know what else Hannah told me?" I shook 
my head. He paused. "She said it was normal for guys to play with them." He 
smiled at me and then decided to answer my earlier question. "I play 
with mine in bed all the time. It feels nice when he's hard."

The image of Tristan in his bed with his pajamas hiked down to his knees 
fascinated me. I could imagine his fingers caressing his hardness, stroking 
against tender skin, his scrotum drawn up tightly. Too young for his orgasm to 
release semen I reasoned, but the pleasure would still increase the same way 
that Phan experienced until his body was racked with spasms of joy. How I 
had delighted in taking Phan to that same point, watching his brown body 
contort, gasping for air as he bucked against my jerking fist. It amused me 
that the aftermath was always so short lived, sometimes a matter of minutes 
before he was hard and ready for more. I wondered whether Tristan was the same 
way. I grinned at the boy I loved more than life itself.

"Is that why you want me to go to bed with you?" I teased. I regretted the 
words as soon as I had uttered them. I had no intention of coming onto Tristan 
like a dog in heat, or worse.

"Well,...." Tristan smiled. "Kinda, if you wanted to, well I'd like it too, 
I guess,.... Sometimes,... when I play with him,.... I pretend you're 
touching me there," he admitted shyly.

"Sometimes?"

"Okay, most times if you must know. Are you mad, Peter?"

"Well hardly, Tag. It would be an honor to touch you there. There is nothing I 
would rather do, in fact."

The eleven-year-old boy grinned in the darkness. His heart was beating quickly 
and he shivered, not from cold but from excitement that rose up inside him and 
threatened to consume him. "You can, if you want, Pete,..." he whispered 
nervously.

My ears heard the words and my mind reeled under their meaning. I could not 
have heard him clearly was the only thing I could think. He had just offered 
his beautiful young body to me. I stared at him in disbelief. My dreams were 
coming true as I gazed down into his perfect face. "I'd like that very 
much,... Only,..."

"Only what?" Tristan asked as his voice quivered nervously.

"Only we don't have to go inside to do it. You don't have to be in bed."

Gently I eased him into my warm embrace, closing both arms around him in a 
loving hug. He was at his most fragile, exposing a desire that society 
deemed wrong in one so young. He relaxed slightly but I could feel the tension 
in his limbs. Although he was frightened he made no effort to pull away. He 
wanted what I wanted. I rubbed his back lovingly as we stood together. I 
felt his chest moving against me, his firm belly pressed tightly into the heat 
of my crotch, his stiff sex squashed into my thigh. I could feel his hot 
breath through my shirt. He was mine. I kissed the top of his head and brushed 
my lips against his silky hair. He wriggled slightly, rubbing his genitals 
harder, pushing his belly forcefully against my erection. For a pre-
pubescent boy he was very excited. Each movement seemed to be charged with a 
sexual intensity that was quite out of character.

"You shouldn't do anything you don't want to do," I cautioned lamely. 

That provoked a soft giggle and he wriggled again. "That's okay. Hannah said 
you might want to stick your hand down my pants. It's okay with me if you
want to play with him. You can,... if you want."

My mind raced. My hand slid between us and for a moment, as I lingered at 
his belly, I considered going no further. Temptation was overpowering. My 
fingers led the way until I reached the waistband of his jeans. It was 
decision time. It was enough to bring on a stroke. Again lust won out over 
reason. In one way at least Tristan was no different to Phan. I felt his 
flat belly pull in to give me room to slide my hand under the denim. Thank god 
he was not wearing a belt. His loose shirt moved away as Tristan's arms locked 
around my neck. My fingers touched warm, alive boy-belly. The skin was 
softer than anything I had ever touched. He sighed softly as my finger tips 
passed under his waistband, then the palm of my hand pressed into the firm 
muscles of his belly. His stomach pulled in again and my hand slid down 
further. I reached the elastic of his underpants. It was decision time. This
time restraint ruled.

There was little room to move my hand. His underpants felt strange. The 
pointed projectile was taut in the soft cloth. And it was hot. Hot and 
moist, and very, very hard. Tristan sighed again. I wanted to ask him if it 
was okay to touch his penis but words failed. My fingers enclosed the rigid 
shaft. I marvelled at the small size of it. It felt a lot like a finger 
without any joints, a bone covered by hot sweaty skin. I squeezed gently but 
firmly, then drew back to stoke the tip. I wondered whether he was 
circumcised. As stiff as he was, it was difficult to tell under the cloth. 
At his age I suspected that the foreskin would still cover his glans even when 
he was erect but I could not feel more than the tiny bulbed end. There was 
only one way to find out for sure. I moved my fingers along the little 
shaft, noting the free movement. Though much bigger, Phan's prick had the same 
flexibility. Perhaps Tristan wasn't cut after all.

"Ohhhhhh,...." Tristan moaned. "Hannah said it would feel good,.... but it
feels incredible. Oh Peter,... it feels awesome."

"Hm, you like that huh?" I teased. Tristan nodded urgently. I eased him away 
slightly and withdrew my hand from its heated prison. He was startled, 
momentarily dismayed as his pleasure was rudely interrupted.

"What's wrong?" he demanded. "I don't want you to stop."

"Who's stopping, Tag." I said softly. My fingers tugged at his zipper. It 
opened easily.

"Not here! You can't take my jeans off here."

I finished opening his zipper. "I'm not taking anything off. All I'm doing you 
dummy is improving the access. Besides, even if I stripped you stark naked, 
Tag, no one would see you here under the tree. No one that is, except me."

It was true. We were concealed from sight. The moon had disappeared behind a 
bank of clouds. In fact it was all I could do to make out the boy's features 
in the darkness. He grinned and I saw the white of his teeth. My fingers 
tugged at his underpants and pulled them down until the elastic was looped 
under his scrotum. His little penis pushed forward and brushed my hand. My 
fingers enclosed it, holding the bare smoothness for the first time. I held 
his manhood, more accurately his boyhood for he was a long way from becoming a 
man. I expected it to be small, my discussion with his mother and father had
prepared me for the physical characteristics of Klinefelter's as much as the 
emotional problems I might find with Tristan. But other than the small size of 
his sex, it was a perfectly normal penis. 

Under the sensitive thin skin I could feel the firmness of his penile shaft, 
the sponginess of his urethra as it coursed beneath. What he lacked in size he 
more than compensated for in sheer stiffness. I wondered whether it was simply 
a matter of less volume resulted in higher pressure inside to accommodate 
the blood that flowed into an erection. I touched the tiny glans. He was 
circumcised. No surprise there for a boy born in the 1980's, I figured. My 
fingers drifted down the thin organ to the base and followed a natural path to 
his scrotum. Despite what I knew of the side effects of Klinefelter's, I still 
expected to find a plump little ball-sac such as I had grown used to with 
Phan, only smaller. Not so with Tristan. By comparison, his testicles were 
tiny. Even if one was ignorant of the effect of an extra female chromosome, 
the size could not be dismissed as a simple indication that Phan was further 
along the road to puberty than was Tristan, who was still very much a little 
boy.

Sometime, sooner or later, I knew that the responsibility to tell Tristan 
the details of his condition would fall to me. For good reason, his father had 
never fuliflled the parental obligations due to his offspring. His Uncle 
Chris, while being someone who he loved dearly, was not in the position to 
comfort and supporthim  through the process of coming to grips with being what
his mother once referred to as 'almost as much a girl as he is a boy.' Her 
assessment was very close to my own observations.

My fingers eased back onto his penis, already cooler from its exposure to 
the night air, but certainly no less stiff than when I had first unveiled 
it. I had a faint recollection of how soft Phan's hard cock had been, almost 
impossible to believe that a thing so stiff inside could be so smooth and 
delicate on the outside. My fingers floated across the sensitive tissue, 
scratching gently with my little fingernail at the rippled skin at the 
junction of his penis and ball-sac. Remarkably, the perfect little 
instrument of passion seemed to grow even stiffer. It stuck straight out 
from his groin like a little thin key waiting to be turned to unlock Pandora's 
box. Gentle stroking was in order and Tristan sighed as I began to rub him. 
Perhaps he had done this before in the sanctuary of his own bed, but under the 
dark sky, there was an added allure than intensified our mutual enjoyment to 
the degree that it might as well have been the very first time that he 
experienced such indescribable pleasure.

For one so young, Tristan really got off on being masturbated. Two or three  
minutes of slow rubbing was enough to get him to the point of shaking 
uncontrollably. His head flopped back and forth as I elicited groans of 
delight until it finally found a resting place against my chest. His hips 
moved rhythmically as he aided my motion with his own instinctive humping. God 
only knows where boys learn how to fuck. I swear it must be inherrent within 
everyone of them. Tristan needed no direction and certainly no encouragement 
from me. He understood exactly what he needed and the back and forth 
movement of his slender body was precisely what was needed. At times he 
alternated with a change in rhythm, rotating his pelvis and driving his aching 
little prong hard into my palm. I could tell he needed the relief that only 
orgasm would bring but I held him off. 

Ten minutes or so into our nightime escapade, I stopped and went back to 
kissing him. This time our kisses were very different. It was remarkable how a 
little prior experience plus getting one's dick rubbed, added to affection. 
His kiss was nothing less than passionate at it took me quite by surprise. Not 
even Phan at his very best kissed like Tristan that night. Full tongue 
kisses that went on and on until we were both breathless and our lips were 
raw. It was as if we were making up for lost time. I lost complete track of 
time. Holding his penis and scrotum comfortably cupped under my hand, I 
sucked, licked and kissed just about every square inch of his face. Finally 
I moved down his neck and nestled into the softness just above his collar 
bone. Now Tristan just wanted to be held tightly. His sexual frenzy had 
dissipated and his erection slowly deflated. He was content to be loved and 
kept warm in my embrace. In some ways, important ways for both of us, I had 
become the male parent that he had never known. As that realization came to 
me, I carefully extricated my hand, lifted his underpants up, and closed his 
zipper. There would be plenty of time for dick games but this was not one of 
them. Now I was more than happy just to kiss him.

It was sometime later, much later, that I finally gathered my senses and 
realized how late it was. "It's getting late, Tag," I whispered. "maybe we 
better say goodnight."

"You could come inside with me," he grinned. "I wonder if Mum would mind if 
you stayed a while in my room."

"I wonder," I mused, highly appreciative of the possibilities.

"Hannah wouldn't mind." Tag grinned again. "She'd probably want me to brush my 
teeth first but I don't think she'd care if you slept all night in my room." 

"Oh!" I chuckled. I gave his bottom a parting squeeze and then a playful 
swat for good measure. "Well not tonight, Tag. I want you up and ready to go 
by seven tomorrow. Now off you go."

Tristan grinned cheekily. He was as happy as he had ever been, perhaps more so 
now that he knew his love for me was returned. "I love you, Pete," he 
acknowledged softly. He turned as he started to back away into the light 
that spilled from the kitchen window.

"I love you too, Tag," I whispered in reply.

He grinned and covered the next few meters in a few joyful bounds until he 
reached the steps at the back door. "Not as much as I love you," he called 
back as he disappeared inside and the screen door slammed behind him.





+++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next day ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



The sea was relatively calm, only a gentle swell from the offshore current 
made BOY-O-BOY rock to and fro. I cut the engines back to idle to save fuel. 
The early morning breeze had faded during the last hour until it was barely 
more than a few knots. It was just enough to carry away the sweat on our 
bodies as it formed under the hot sun. Tristan yawned, not bored with the 
activity of fishing as much as by the dearth of fish. There had been all of 
one strike since we had motored out of Gosford three hours earlier. He 
smiled as he looked at me.

"Can I sunbake up here?" he asked with a playful grin and a sideways look that 
appeared to convey more than his request.

I returned his smile. "I thought that's what you've been doing for the last 
few hours," I replied.

I turned slightly and allowed my eyes to travel along the full length of his 
glistening, brown body. Tristan reclined in the seat adjacent to mine, the 
back tilted into the last position so that it became a couch. He was stretched 
out in the sun with only his neon-blue swimming costume to protect him from 
the usually hot sun. It was seldom this hot in Spring. His thick, curling 
blond hair sparkled and long unkempt strands glistened like gold threads is 
disarray.

"I mean SUN-BAKE, you know?" Tristan smiled shyly. "Like as in all- over," 
he added as he realized that I still did not grasp the meaning of his request.

"You mean all-over, like as in the nude, Tristan?" I asked, too quickly.

I left my heat jump. I had known Tristan Gordon for ten weeks now and the 
precocity of this uninhibited eleven-year-old boy still surprised me. But so 
much had happened in the space of the last two weeks that it was hard to 
believe. No, it was impossible to believe.

>From the very first time the subject of my friendship with Tristan was 
broached, I had been stunned. With disbelief, I had listened to his mother and 
her friend as they discussed his future. In the course of two months I had 
found the two women to be open-minded on most subjects, but as they talked I 
discovered that they were even more progressive than I realized. Our long 
conversation centered around the idea of Tristan's latent homosexuality and my 
own inclinations towards young boys.

It was impossible not to admire their honest and forthright approach to the 
difficult and vexing problem of raising a gay boy in the 1990's. Beginning 
that afternoon, it was apparent that a change had occurred between us. I was a 
business partner and CEO of the company they had started, but I was also the 
man they now trusted with Tristan's well-being. From that time on, I became 
less of a family friend and more of a potential suitor for him. It was a 
role that I wanted more than anything else.

Although little was said about the desirability of me having a sexual 
relationship with Tricia's son, there was an implicit recognition that it 
would occur in the near future. For one thing, they actively supported my 
relationship with Tristan. Of course they counselled me to proceed slowly 
and not take advantage of his innocence and inexperience. He was, after all 
only eleven years old and he needed time to discover his true feelings. 
Until then, it was entirely appropriate that I was his close friend and 
confidant. But while they encouraged me to 'date' him, for that was what I was 
doing when we spent time together, they discouraged any opportunities that 
might provide more than mere 'necking'. During the times that we were alone 
together, there was little possibility that Tristan would not be in control. 
His safety was assured. If anything happened with me it would only be 
because he wanted it to happen. And it would happen in due course, of that I 
was certain.

Both Hannah and Tricia knew that the seeds that had been planted when he was 
many years younger were now close to fruition. They had watched him grow 
from a baby to a pre-teen boy; and during his eleven years, they had 
deliberately shaped and moulded his psyche until his sexual orientation 
would be a forgone conclusion by the time he was physically mature. In time, 
Tristan would come to understand his own feelings and appreciate who and 
what he was. His words brought me back to the present.



"Of course I mean in the raw," Tristan said petulantly. "I said SUN-BAKE, 
didn't I?"

"Yes, I guess that's what you said. No one's going to see you out here," I 
added.

"Except you!" Tristan smirked. We looked at each other. "And you don't count," 
he added with a teasing smile.

"Well thanks a lot," I grumbled playfully. "I take you out fishing and show 
you a good time and the best you can do is insult me."

Tristan giggled boyishly. "You know what I mean," he returned. "I don't have 
to worry about you seeing me." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Not after 
last night, anyway."

"What did your mum say when you came in so late?" I asked teasingly.

Tristan shrugged as he started to unfasten the cord of his swimming costume. 
"It wasn't all that late," he said mischieviously.

"Come on! I know they were still awake when you went inside," I added. "What 
did they say?"

He grinned again, still refusing to provide information on what was said 
when he went inside his house and left me standing, still very aroused outside 
the back door. My young friend lifted his hips up, and tugged his shorts 
down his slender legs. He was a small boy, slightly built with thin arms and 
legs, a narrow chest and a slender waist. He was tanned from head to toe. Like 
the rest of his body, his genitals were similarly small and brown from 
exposure to the sun. 

For the second time I saw his sex organs. Now, in the daylight, I was overcome 
by the brief glimpse before he twisted onto his belly and lay down. Twelve 
hours earlier he had been charged with sexual excitement. His boy's body was 
galvanized with prepubescent ardor as he allowed me to fondle his erect penis. 
He trembled as my hand squeezed between his belly and the waist-band of his 
shorts. Finally, overcome by the waves of delight that surged outward from his 
groin and desparate for more stimulation, he granted me access. I opened his 
zipper and exposed his sex organs to my devoted hand. I adored the boy and 
my zeal was apparent as I brought him ever closer to an elusive orgasm.

"I ought to throw you over the side, Tristan. Maybe if I'm lucky the sharks 
will nibble on your dick," I laughed.

Tristan giggled again. "Maybe! We could use something better. The bait that 
we've been using isn't working, that's for sure," he teased playfully.

"Boy-dick is the best bait available," I added playfully. "But it does 
depend on what you're trying to catch." I watched his amusement change to 
shock."We might be able to use yours to catch a small shark."

"Yeah, a very small shark," Tristan grumped.

"You have a nice tan, Tristan," I admired as I changed the topic.

Suddenly embarrassed by my crude comment about his diminuitive sex organs 
and disturbed by my constant gaze that focused emphatically on his groin, he 
rolled onto his belly. Even his small bottom was tanned a delicious golden-
brown. Perhaps it was because of his father's Scandinavian genes, but 
Tristan Gordon had the kind of skin that tanned easily and stayed that way for 
a long time. This boy had spent a lot of time in the nude and I was curious 
to find out more.

"So what did your mum say, sardine-dick?" I teased persistently.

Tristan turned to look at me over his shoulder. It was a sour expression 
that first greeted me. But I had been around him long enough to know that he 
was never angry for very long and even then it was often pretended. After a 
moment he smiled again, becoming increasingly less inhibited before me as he 
grew accustomed to my humor.

"You gave me a hickey on my neck," he complained cheekily. He tilted his 
head to the side and pointed to the left side. "See!"

"Nice one! Are you angry because I made fun of your penis, Tristan?"

"Of course I'm not angry. It justs bugs me a bit. I'm just, well,.. I don't 
know,... Sometimes I wish that I had a bigger one."

I grinned. "Every boy alive wishes he had a bigger one, Tristan. You're not 
going to change the size of it by wishing it was bigger so you may as well 
enjoy what you've got. So tell me what happened when they saw your hickey last 
night."

"Hannah saw it and she was surprised, that's all. All Mum said was that she 
didn't have to ask me whether we had a good time. It was pretty obvious what 
my answer was going to be."

I laughed. "Did you tell them what happened?"

"Hardly!"

Tristan raised his eyebrows and sighed with exasperation. He was fast 
approaching the stage of infatuation. With love came loyalty but he was 
still too young to realize that I cared what his mother thought. He sighed 
again as his allegiance yielded.

"I told them I had a good time, okay?" He watched me cautiously as I nodded. 
"Anyway, you know as well as I do that they expect us to do things when 
we're together. Mum said it was okay if we do stuff. Well, not EVERYTHING, but 
you know what I mean."

I knew what Tristan did not know. Sooner or later either his mother or me 
would tell him that he was suffering from Klinefelter's Syndrome but by then 
my courtship would be over and we would be lovers. Until then, it was enough 
that he knew his mother accepted his relationship with me. He was still too 
young for EVERYTHING, anyway. EVERYTHING would happen in due course and at the 
appropriate time when he was ready. Meanwhile, as Tricia observed, there was 
still a lot we could do together without doing that.

"You better put some lotion on your bum," I observed. "Or you won't be able to 
sit down later on.

Tristan nodded and glanced around the bridge for the sun-tan lotion. "I 
can't see it."

"That's because I've got it here," I taunted as I held up the plastic bottle 
and shook the dark-brown fluid back and forth inside it. "What's it worth to 
you, babe?"

The boy grinned and reached out his hand towards me. "Come on, hand it over."

I shook my head with pretended resolution. I tossed the bottle up in the air 
and caught it again. "That sun sure is hot. I can see your bum getting 
redder every minute. Ouch! You won't be able to sit down."

"I don't really need it with my skin. I don't use lotion that often when we go 
to the beach and I almost never get sun burn."

Cheated of my victory, I handed the bottle over. Tristan smirked 
contentedly, flipped back the plastic cap, and squeezed some onto the palm 
of his right hand. I watched as he smeared it over his small buttocks. Now 
they glistened like the rest of him.

"You ought to let me do that," I suggested mischievously. "It must be hard 
to reach back there."

Tristan's head jerked as he turned to look at me. The expression on his face 
was fascinating. He was both surprised and disturbed that I had suggested such 
an overt intimate contact with him. Until that moment, my suggestions had been 
covert and implied intimacy rather than outright acknowledgement of the desire 
which had yet to surface and insistently demand his attention. Although he 
smiled shyly, his eyes sparkled with increased interest. It was the same 
interest that had been present twelve hours earlier.

"No,... I don't,... think,... so," he answered with tempting slowness.

His hand lingered on his firm cheeks, moving in slow circles that providing 
a sybarritic pleasure as his fingers trailed across his lubricated flesh. Once 
his fingers dipped down into the recess of his crack. It was only for a second 
and his eyes flickered as he peeked at me to see if I had been watching. I 
wondered again just how much his mother had told him about sex. I knew that 
the topic had come up, but no more than that. I winked meaningfully and 
Tristan turned away quickly. He appeared to have a well-founded grasp of the 
importance of that part of his anatomy and it was clearly off-limits to me.

I tried to imagine what it would feel like to replace his small hands with 
my own hands. I would feel the twin globes of his bottom, full and rounded and 
very firm. I would massage him and gradually work my fingers into his crack, 
going ever deeper until my fingers touched his anus. Eventually I would do 
much more than merely touch that prized orifice. Both it, and his innocence 
would be mine when I finally took his virginity. With Tristan, I was 
learning to be patient.



He lay so still that I thought he may have dozed off. For a long while I 
motored slowly, enjoying my long stares at the naked eleven-year-old boy 
beside me. Without his clothes and half asleep, he seemed both fragile and 
strong. Long minutes ticked by as we motored across the verdant ocean. I 
watched seagulls rising and falling in the distance and I lifted the 
binoculars to my eyes. With the swell it was impossible to see what was in the 
water but it could only be one thing, a school of fish. I opened the 
throttle and the twin diesels came back to life. Thirty-eight feet of motor 
yacht surged forward and within a few seconds BOY-O-BOY was up and planing.

"It looks like it's time to get the boy-dick on the hook," I chuckled.

"Huh?" Tristan said sleepily as he lifted his tousled head up. 

"There's a school of fish about a kilometer ahead. And you wanted to go 
fishing didn't you?"

"Yeah!" Tristan exclaimed as he leaped to his feet.

Standing only a foot away, Tristan presented me with my first close-up view of 
his genitals in the light of day. Very unlike the previous night, his penis 
was limp. Small and slightly retracted into the soft puppy-fat of his groin, 
it was still more than enough to make my heart beat faster. My silence 
concealed most of the surge of excitement and awe that passed through me, 
but I still trembled. He was a beautiful boy, smaller than most boys his 
age, and almost unblemished in his perfection. Also unlike the night before, 
his scrotum was now relaxed from the heat of the sun. No longer a wrinkled 
little lump under his penis, the soft skin was folded and formed a silky 
pouch. But despite its looseness the rounded shape of his tiny testicles could 
only be discerned with difficulty.

"You have a nice tan, babe," I repeated. "All-over is an understatement, I 
think. Even your bum is brown."

He laughed and twisted his head around further to look down his body. His 
bottom was small and rounded and brown like the rest of him.

"Aunt Hannah, Mum, and I go to a nudist beach. Sometimes Mum and I go by 
ourselves." Tristan admitted. "It's up the Hawkesbury a bit. I think that's 
where Mum went with Hannah today."

I nodded with interest as I studied the naked boy. "I don't know of too many 
beaches up there. You'll have to show me one day. Maybe we can SUN-BAKE 
together," I suggested wickedly.

"It's not really a beach, like at the ocean. You can swim there but mostly 
people just lie around and sun-bake without anything on. Hannah says that 
people do that all the time in Sweden."

"Well, I love your tan, Tristan. What can I say, even the sardine is 
tanned," I laughed. 

Tristan smirked and inspected his front with a quick downward glance. "I don't 
want to use him for bait, okay?"

"Okay!" I replied playfully.

I eased the trottle to slow the engines back to idle. The boat settled down 
from the plane and the bow wave disappeared as we motored up towards the 
diving seagulls. Every few meters the water was churned by a sudden movement 
below the surface.

"What kind of fish are they?" Tristan asked.

"Barracutta I'd say. There must be a few hundred of them, babe. They're 
feeding on a school of something or other. Tailor, if I had to guess."

"Do you think we'll catch one?"

Quickly I pointed to the middle of the disturbed water. "Look there!" I 
shouted. The dorsal fin of a shark broke the surface. It moved sinuously 
across the water, running parallel to the boat. "That's a shark! It must be 
about three or four meters. A grey-nurse by the look if it."

"Wow! I've never seen a shark, except at Taronga," Tristan said effusively.

I could see his excitement. Tinged with fear, he had a good grasp on the 
railing as if the shark could leap three meters feet out of the water and 
swallow him whole. There was no doubt that the shark would make a quick 
snack out of my thirty-five kilo young friend if he fell overboard. Extra 
caution would be the order of the day if we went fishing.

"He could eat you, couldn't he?" Tristan added as if he read my mind. 

"The ones at the zoo are a lot smaller than he is," I observed. "But to answer 
your question, yes. He could take an arm or a leg off in a second. Do you want 
to go back?" I asked.

Tristan glanced at me. "I'm not scared," he said simply. "I want to catch 
something before we go back."

"Even a shark?" I challenged.

He grinned cheekily. "Not if we have to use my dick as bait."

"No,... I don't,... think,... so!" I said. His earlier teasing was still 
strong in my mind as I eyed his groin. As Tristan giggled, I added, "Let's 
go catch some fish, sardine-dick."

I shut the engines down and stood up. BOY-O-BOY rocked in the ocean swell, now 
drifting. Tristan followed me down the ladder to the aft deck. He was 
oblivious to his nudity as he watched me bait a hook by deftly sliding the 
small fish through the curved barb. I opened the bail, lifted the rod back, 
and cast some twenty meters into the melee of fish. I passed the fishing rod 
to Tristan.

"Why aren't we going to use those?" he asked curiously. He used his left 
hand to point towards the outriggers set up for big fish.

I chuckled. "We don't need them. You better hold the rod with both hands and 
sit down."

I placed my hand on his bare shoulder and guided him into the nearest chair. 
For a boy with Tristan's slight build, barracutta were big-game. I stood 
behind him and rested both hands on his shoulders. He felt warm and alive. His 
slippery oil-slicked skin was very soft. I was very aware of the bones of 
his shoulders. His shoulder blades stuck out like tiny wings as he gripped the 
rod tightly. Only seconds passed before the first fish struck. In one motion 
the line became taut and the reel screamed in protest even as the tip of the 
rod went into an exaggerated arc. The fishing rod seemed to jump as if it 
was alive and Tristan's body moved forward with it. I grasped his shoulders as 
hard as I could and pushed the naked boy down into the chair. His thin arms 
had as much as they could do just to hold onto the rod as the line shrieked 
out of the reel.

"Jesus!" Tristan squealed. "I got the shark I think!"

If the barracutta went more than ten kilos I would have been surprised but 
Tristan's excitement was overpowering. His effervescent enthusiasm was equal 
in magnitude to my own when I caught my first swordfish. He shouted effusively 
as I helped him work the fish towards the boat. He almost had the fish 
beside the boat when the shark approached. I had been watching it on and off 
the entire time during Tristan's five-minute battle and now that the fish 
was tired, the shark was ready for lunch.

"Damn!" I swore loudly.

There was no way I could get the fish aboard in time. I contemplated cutting 
the line but one look at the boy's trimphant grin squelched that idea. At 
the worst he'd end up with the head and nothing else. It was a pity we 
hadn't used the outriggers and the high-strength fishing line with a wire 
leader. Then Tristan would see some real fishing. Instead, I picked up the 
gaff and moved to the side of the boat nearest the struggling fish. As if 
the barracutta sensed the approach of the shark, its panic increased and the 
water was churned into turbulence.

"The shark!" Tristan bellowed as he saw the shark's fin surging closer.

We watched the dorsal fin sweep nearer and then, only a meter or two from 
the stern, it slid under the water. I swung the gaff into the water in a broad 
sweep, aiming for the leaden grey nose of the shark. Its mouth was wide open 
and its teeth were like daggers. I saw the small, ferocious eye staring at 
me as the shark rolled onto its side. An over-used hyperbole perhaps, but it 
was the pure distillation of evil. I missed by a hand-breadth. The shark 
turned away and for a second it swam parallel to the boat. It was so close 
that I could have leaned down and touched it.

"Jesus! Did you see it?" Tristan's cry interrupted my thoughts.

"I'd be hard pressed to miss seeing it." I aimed the gaff and snagged 
Tristan's still struggling barracutta behind the gills. "Nice fish, babe," I 
said with open admiration.

I lifted my boy's catch from the water, heaved it over the side, and let it 
flop onto the deck. A myriad droplets of water splashed over us as it 
flopped around. Tristan lifted his bare legs up onto the seat as the fish 
squirmed and jumped with slowly decreasing energy.

""Wow! Just look at him! Wow! He's huge! I can't believe it! Wow!" he gushed.

"Yeah!" I laughed. "Your first fish is a beauty. I guess you don't want to 
throw him back, do you?"

"No way. He's awesome. I thought the shark was going to eat him," Tristan 
gasped as the thrill faded and his adrenalin reduced to more normal levels for 
an eleven-year-old boy.

At that instant, perched on his chair with his knees against his chest, 
Tristan was the sexiest thing imaginable. His little penis was pointed upwards 
and for the first time I realized that he had become erect sometime during his 
battle with the fish. His scrotum had shrivelled again until it formed a 
crinkled mound that was flattened to the underside of his penis. There was 
no sign of his testicles, so tightly was the flesh contracted.

His arousal excited me and I felt my own penis lurch and begin to harden 
rapidly. I wanted to lift him out of the chair and take him in my arms. I 
wanted to carry him into the cabin make love to him. It would be a celebration 
of his first fish with an initiation of my own. His eyes followed mine and 
he blushed as he realized the source of my fascination.

"I got a stiff one again," he mumbled.

"A real stiff one by the looks of him. He looks like a little spike," I 
teased.

"Why?" Tristan demanded all of a sudden. "My mum says its because,..." he 
hestitated and added, "... because my body is ready for sex."

I swallowed. "Uh,... well that's true most of the time, babe. Boys can get 
erections for other reasons too."

"Like what?" Tristan asked "He only gets stiff when I play with him." He 
giggled. "Or when you play with him."

"Sometimes it happens because you're excited," I answered. I guess your body 
feels good because you're naked and you're happy about catching a fish. And 
even it wasn't for those reasons, having an erection at odd times is pretty 
normal at your age. Besides it's good for you to feel sexy," I added.

Tristan blushed immediately. I chuckled at his discomfiture. It was 
interesting to see him embarrassed. He very unlike the aggressive boy who 
had proudly displayed his erection to me only twelve hours earlier. But 
then, he had been sexually aroused for the first time in his life by another 
person. He was aroused now and by implication, he had assumed it to be 
sexual in origin.

"So having an erection doesn't always mean that you want to have sex," I 
continued patiently. "At least now I can't call you sardine-dick for a 
while, can I? Spike maybe but not sardine."

"No, I guess not! Can I ask you a question?" Tristan asked uncertainly.

"Of course," I nodded, suspecting the nature of his question had to do with 
what was projecting upward from between his legs.

"Doesn't it,... well like,... you know,... bother you?"

"What, that you get an erection from being stark-naked when you catch your 
first fish? Of course not, babe! I think it's nice that your penis got 
stiff. It was certainly nice last night and it's definitely nothing for you to 
be embarrassed about," I added reassuringly.

Tristan grinned as he remembered. "Yeah, it was fun last night, wasn't it?"

"And you know we're friends, so we can always talk about things like this. 
If your penis gets stiff while we're together, I really don't mind. In fact, I 
rather like it when its sticking out. If it's hard because you want to have 
some fun with me then so much the better. I certainly enjoyed meeting Tag 
Junior last night."

"What do we do with him now?" he asked as he blushed. He glanced down at his 
groin momentarily and then thinking the better of it, then slowly pointed at 
the now inert fish.

"Unless you want to use it to catch the shark, I suggest we put it in here," I 
replied as I lifted up the hatch that covered the port tank. "It'll also 
save on using your dick for bait ."



We caught, or rather Tristan caught three more barracutta before I called a 
halt to the carnage. The shark disappeared, also having eaten his fill. I 
rinsed off the deck, put the rod away, picked up two cans of softdrink, and 
led the way back up to the bridge.

Still on an excitement high, Tristan bubbled as he reviewed his fishing 
exploit. He stopped just short of wild exaggeration. The shark grew from three 
or four meters, to five meters, to six or seven meters, until it approached 
the length of the boat-twelve meters. He slumped back into his seat. His 
legs fell on either side, opening wide to display his boy-genitals to the 
envigorating warmth of the sun. Tristan smiled gleefully, now less inhibited 
than I had ever seen him. He was totally ignorant of his immodest pose and the 
effect that it was having on me. I gazed at him in silence as I absorbed the 
slender naked body and fixed him in my memory forever. Infatuation for both of 
us was the order of the day.

"That was fun!" he exclaimed. He interrupted my silent reverie and I looked 
away from him. It was more fun than I had ever had before, and not only the 
fishing. "Could we do it again sometime?" he asked sweetly.

I nodded as I started the engines again. "You better put some lotion on 
now," I teased. "Otherwise you're going to cook the sardine down there."

"Oh, he's okay. I thought you liked me tanned all-over?"

"I do. The sun is much stronger out on the water, that's all," I explained.

"Why were you staring at me just then?" Tristan asked uncertainly.

"Because I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," I answered. 
It was an honest answer.

"Oh! I thought,... maybe you wanted to,..." he suggested uneasily before he 
stopped himself in mid-sentence.

"That I wanted to what?" I prompted casually. My heart leaped. It would be the 
perfect ending to an already wonderful day and after what had happened the 
night before, it seemed like a natural continuation.

"I dunno." He smiled shyly, ever the embarrassed boy. I could sense his 
increased excitement as he continued towards his unknown goal. "Maybe,... 
well,... like you wanted to put lotion on me down there, that's all."

Tristan's head lowered all of a sudden as he avoided my eyes. As before, 
when I had suggested that I apply the suntan oil to his bottom, he was 
surprised and disturbed. This time, however, the suggestion had been his 
own. That he had suggested physical contact with him made my adrenalin surge 
as much as his own. Suddenly I was aware of my promise to his mother to go 
slow with him. He was, after all, only eleven years old.

"No,... I don't,... think,... so," I said gently. "We better get back."

"Are you angry at me?" Tristan asked. He was nervous as he spoke.

"No! of course I'm not. We're friends remember, Tristan? I thought that 
maybe we could go up the Hawkesbury and look for your mum and Hannah."

Tristan giggled boyishly. "You mean we're going to sun-bake? You and me, in 
the buff, together?" he asked enthusiastically.

I did not answer his question. Instead, I engaged the engines and began the 
trip back to Gosford. Other than two weeks in Thailand, I had never been naked 
in public but the idea of being naked with Tristan for the rest of the 
afternoon was extremely enticing. I wondered what his mother would say. I 
suspected that she would not be overly perturbed. In fact, I suspected that 
she had something of the sort in mind when I talked with her during the 
previous afternoon.


++++++++++++++++++++++ Several Weeks Later +++++++++++++++++++++++


"Peter?"

I looked up quickly and smiled as Tristan's mother stopped in the doorway to 
my office. During the last few weeks I had become increasingly fond of her, 
a condition that stemmed as much from my growing affection for her son as a 
direct result of an appreciation for her skills as a fashion designer. Under 
her aesthetic guidance I was beginning to believe that there might actually be 
a hope for the company to survive beyond Christmas.

"Hi! How's it going?"

"Good! I've started doing some mock-ups for the new beach line."

I nodded agreeably. As always, Tristan kept me well informed, even to the 
details of modelling his mother's trial creations whenever I was available. 
The latest, a line of kid's fashions for the summer of the following year, I 
had seen only three nights earlier as he paraded half-naked around his 
bedroom. A few minutes later we were wrestling and I nearly tore the swim 
shorts off him as I undressed the wriggling youngster. My excuse was that I 
was getting him 'ready for bed', although at the time my intentions were 
considerably more like trying to get into bed with him.

"So Tag was telling me," I grinned. "Did he tell you that there's still too 
much cloth for me."

She raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Until he's stark naked, I'm beginning 
to think there's always going to be too much cloth for you."

"You're right about that. Actually Tricia, I really like what you did with the 
trunks. It really suited him."

"I cut them pretty tight on his bum, didn't I?"

"Uh huh! But he has the body for it. I like it when he shows what nature 
gave him. And not only the back end for that matter."

She smiled and sat down in my spare chair. "It wasn't how I first designed 
them, you realize, Peter. I was going for the sloppy look that all the kids 
seem to want nowadays. It was Tag's idea. Do you know what he said to me?" I 
shook my head. "The little bugger said you wouldn't think he was very sexy 
if he wore them to the beach. The way he put was, let me think, 'Peter says 
I have a sexy bum and these make me look like I don't have a bum at all!"

"Boys will be boys!" I joked. "But he does have a sexy bum."

"I'm sure he does! Every boy likes a compliment, expecially boys like Tag, I 
expect. Anyway, I gave him a slap on his bottom and it started me thinking. So 
I took a handful out of the rear."

"And?" I prompted.

"I was,... well I was shocked. You're not wrong. He is sexy, and especially 
his little bottom. Anyway, I started thinking about what you said last week 
about developing a market niche for us and,...."

"And you agree with me about putting together a new line of clothes that 
emphasize the essentials," I finished boldly.

"Well, I don't think that's necessarily true,... but it makes for an 
interesting possibility, doesn't it? If you look at the latest things coming 
out of Paris, then it might be worth making our lines a bit more avant garde."

"Meaning what Tricia? We add a few more colors, take out a centimeter in the 
crotch, put another crease in the leg? I'm not talking about following 
Paris. I want to break some rules and set the fashion Down Under. I want us to 
do an entire wardrobe for boys in their preteen and early teen years and I 
want the clothes to shriek BOY-SEX!"

"Somehow I doubt whether their parents will buy them," Tricia returned. "A 
little hint of what's underneath might work, but not an outright display."

I chuckled and locked my fingers together as I studied her across my desk. I 
wondered where I was headed. Without market analysis there was no way of 
telling whether markets existed or not, but it was an intriguing 
possibility. I would buy them if no else did.

"How about a line of clothes just for boys who want to look sexy. Something 
like the trunks Tristan had, only more daring. I don't mean more skin 
necessarily, but a bit more wouldn't hurt. I guess I'm thinking about 
conveying more of the interesting shapes underneath."

"We could modify one of the existing summer lines. Tighten the seat a bit, I 
suppose," Tricia volunteered uncertainly.

"No, that's not what I'm after. This would be a special line. There would have 
to be two sizes, say tens and twelves."

"We could market them for active boys, so we only have to do a slim and 
regular fit," Tricia suggested. "Fat boys are not all that sexy so we could 
skip the large sizes."

"Maybe we have just one color range, something that we could make up on a 
single production run when we get past the Spring lines. I'm thinking about 
some trunks, shorts, and a casual shirt. And maybe some slacks, and a dress 
shirt. Say six items max with a lot of nice clingy silk for the dress 
clothes and spandex for the rest."

Tricia smiled. "I'm sure Tag would like the idea even though he hates spandex. 
Maybe we ought to include some underpants as well."

"Not underpants, micro briefs! But they'd have to be very sexy! Throw in nylon 
so they can double for a swimming costume and we'll be set."

"So where do we sell them, Peter?"

"They'd have to be exclusive, very exclusive, and naturally very expensive. 
How about a special display in our stores? We need a name too, something 
like 'Boys Will Be Boys' or 'Only Boys'. No, I have it! How about 'ALL BOY'?"

"You sound a lot more like me every day, Tricia," I laughed. "You're on the 
right track! Something to capture the fleeting moments before puberty sets 
in and destroys perfection."

"Be serious with me Peter for a moment. Just who do you think is going to 
buy them? I don't think there are all that many pedophiles around."

I continued to laugh. "Well, for one, I certainly would! But jokes aside, I 
suspect that a lot of parents would be interested in dressing their little 
Johnnys or Jasons to attract girls."

Tricia nodded thoughtfully. "It might work, you know. After all the fuss about 
Calvin Klein in the States, it makes you think, doesn't it?"

"They hit trouble with their adds. We don't have to put out kiddie porn to 
sell them. The name alone might be all we need. In fact, I really like 'ALL 
BOY', although Tristan doesn't exactly fit the name."

"He's still a boy," Tricia said flatly.

"I've noticed," I grinned. "You know something? The color should be blue, 
not just any blue but that shade you were showing me last week."

Tricia smiled. "Indigo? The one that's almost the same color as your car?" I 
nodded. "That's Tag's favorite color. I can't imagine why."

"Neither can I, Tricia." I grinned. "And that gives me an idea. I have the 
perfect name. We could call the range,... wait for it,... 'PUBERTY BLUES'!"

"You're joking!"

"No I'm not. It says it all, Tricia. Blue for boys. And puberty,... well, a 
boy of ten or twelve is a fleeting memory for his parents. And along with 
puberty comes,...."

"SEX! Okay, I get the idea. You haven't convinced me, and don't get your hopes 
up, but I'm starting to like the idea."

"Why don't you design the line around Tag?"

"I'm not sure he needs any encouragement. From the way he's carrying on, I'd 
say he has a very bad case of puppy love right now. The last thing he needs is 
to be wearing sexy clothes around you. I'd like to keep him a virgin for a 
while longer."

"He's a very sexy boy," I admitted. "He won't be a virgin forever."

"And you love him so much that it would be sooner rather than later," Tricia 
teased.

I signed in exasperation and smiled at her. While Tristan's mother knew 
exactly how I felt about her son, I was uncertain whether he did. At times 
we were very close, much closer than mere friends would be, but at other 
times, our relationship bordered on ambivalence. I sensed that we had 
reached the crossroads. The thought greatly depressed me.

"Why don't we sleep on it?" Tricia suggested.

I nodded. "That's probably a good idea. But it's about time we did something 
to make a change in what we do around here," I said ambiguously.

Tricia examined me carefully as if searching for some sign of what I was 
thinking. "That's probably true. Don't you think it's about time you slept 
with Tag?"

"Huh? W-w-what?" I stuttered in shock.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear me, Peter. You and Tag have been friends for 
six months now. You were friends at first but now it's a lot more than puppy 
love for him. Now he loves you. There's no point in trying to hide it. I've 
even come to understand it."

"Understand what?" I asked quickly.

"In your own way you love him as much as I do. Maybe it's time you became 
lovers in the full sense of the word."

"Tricia, I,... I want to be Tag's lover more than anything else."

"Peter, you also know about his problem. Sooner or later Tag's going to have 
to find out why he's different to other boys. I'm sure he already suspects 
that something is wrong with him. I know you can help him through what lies 
ahead, especially if,... well if you're his lover,... then he'll accept that 
he can still be happy."

"I know I can make him happy," I said agreeably.

"He'll be happy just being with you, I'm sure of that. Alex wants to arrange 
for Tag to go to a specialist, an endocrinologist, in a few months."

"Why?"

"Because he'll need hormone injections in order to go through puberty. I think 
Tag should know that he has Klinefelter's by then. He has to know what it 
means for him,... for the two of you. I want him to know that he can still 
have a very happy life."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" I offered.

"Someone has to! He won't start the injections for a few years yet so 
there's no rush. However, it's important that some of the tests get started."

I nodded. "I think he has to know the truth, Tricia."

"Alex thinks you should be the one to tell him because Tag thinks so much of 
you. He also trusts you,... because he really does love you, Peter. He's 
more likely to understand that it really isn't a big problem if you tell him."

"I'll try," I said uncertainly.

I wondered about my own ability to convince Tristan that having an extra 
chromosome was not a problem. How did one tell an eleven-year-old boy that 
he was nearly as much girl as he was boy?

"Before you tell him, Peter,... I want you to be lovers,... I want you to have 
sex with him. I want him to know it doesn't matter to you."

"You do?"

"Tag already knows that he's gay because we've talked about it several times, 
but if he knows that he can have a good life with you,...."

"Then,...?" I murmurred.

Tricia smiled and nodded. "We've talked and we think it's the best thing 
that could happen to him."

"We?" I prompted.

She smiled. "Hannah and I have talked about it with Chris and Alex, of course. 
Hannah, Chris, and Alex were in favor of the idea, needless to say. I'm not 
sure that I was for or against it. I don't to lose Tag, Peter. But if I
do, I guess I'd prefer it was you who he went to."

I smiled and swallowed selfconsciously. "I'll share him with you," I said 
lightheartedly. "I don't plan on taking him away from you, Tricia. I only want 
to love him and have him love me back."

She returned my smile. "That's all that I want too, Peter." 



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thailand +++++++++++++++++++++++



"You guys are loud enough to wake the next village," I said with mock anger.

On the plus side, the motion on the other side of the bed was a reassuring 
sign that our own lovemaking was appropriate, but it also kept us awake.

"I already told you that Udon and I have sex at every opportunity." Chris 
laughed. "Sorry about keeping you awake. Just go back to sleep. We're almost 
finished!"

"Yeah right!" I hissed. "The bed is bouncing like a trampoline and you're  
rutting like the world is about to end. For God's sake, it's past midnight."

Although his English was barely enough to understand, the action beside him, 
it was enough to elicit muffled giggles from Phan as he heard, felt, and smelt 
his older brother submitting to his lover with surprising ardor.It aroused him 
and he rolled into my arms, more than prepared to set up a similar rhythm on 
our side of the bed.

"And just what do you want?" I teased.

Again he giggled, reached down and wrapped his little fist around my penis and 
squeezed meaningfully. "I want you stuff me with him!" he demanded in a 
voice that was loud enough to be heard across the room.

His use of an expression I had not heard since I had arrived in Thailand 
surprised me. I wondered whether he had picked up the colloquialism from his 
brother. He certainly had enough experience at being 'stuffed' by Chris.

"Boys will be boys," Chris laughed. "I told you he was going to be as horny as 
Udon."

I grinned in the darkness and kissed Phan, thinking that I could never be 
happier than I was at that moment. Even squeezing his hand tightly, he was 
unable to make his fingertips touch his thumb and yet my penis could pass 
through his opening with comparatively little difficulty now. His anus was 
resilient, stretching wide to accomodate my girth, closing up only a few 
minutes after I had withdrawn from the mushy heat inside his rectum. My hand 
glided over his flank and followed the ridge of his spine to the beginning 
of his bottom. Phan purred as my hand followed the firm roundness of his upper 
cheek, pulling my fingers along his well-greased crack until I touched his 
anus. His hips pushed back against my hand and I started two fingers into 
his slick passage. 

I could hear Udon groaning as Chris pumped into him and I longed to share 
the same pleasure with Phan. I dispensed with the preliminaries and advanced 
to the next stage by rolling Phan onto his back. He needed no encouragement. 
He was a remarkably limber boy, able to lift his knees up by grabbing both 
ankles until they touched the bed on either side of him. Thus positioned, 
Phan's crack was wide open and presented to me, although I could barely make 
out the shape of his body in the darkness. My fingers brushed against Phan's 
fingers as I positioned the tip of my penis at his orifice. He was 
masturbating with one hand and used the other to center my glans. I pushed 
forward firmly and felt Phan push back at me. I heard a sharp intake of breath 
as my penis pierced him. For several seconds his anus gripped my glans with 
surprising strength and then he relaxed. My penis eased into him, sinking 
another inch into his tight passage before I paused. Phan moaned, reaching 
up to place his arms around my neck to pull me down.

We kissed, allowing nature time to do what needed to be done. I felt his 
muscular spasms, his sphincter's valiant struggle failing before my persistent 
onslaught. The pressure faded and was replaced by a fabulous moist heat as 
my penis penetrated deeper and deeper. The bed creaked loudly, ancient springs 
protesting as Udon and Chris reached a crescendo, oblivious to us as they 
neared orgasm. Excited by their frenzy, I started to thrust into Phan, 
taking gentle stabs into his willing body before easing away again. He 
loosened quickly.

I hear Udon's nearly incoherrent babbling, urging his lover on to greater 
pace. Chris was gasping, his body glistening in a sheen of sweat as he 
jerked and shuddered. No longer able to control their passion, they were 
like two wild animals focused on a single purpose, that of ejaculating 
simultaneously before their bodies were exhausted. 

I became inspired, using the full length of my penis for the first time to 
give Phan pleasure in ways that he had not experienced. The effect was nothing 
short of a miracle. Underneath me, I could sense Phan's joy building like a 
volcano ready to erupt. He became hotter, writhing as perspiration flowed from 
him and moistened his body until he was drenched. His anus dilated, 
accepting my penis without difficulty, basking in the mutual sensations of 
movement. 

Suddenly I became aware that Chris and Udon were still and I glanced to the 
side. In the dim light I could see that they were watching, smiling, moving 
pelvises in slow motion, extracting every feeling from the orgasm that shared.

A minute later I came in Phan's bowels for the fifth, or was it the sixth 
time? It was every bit as wonderful as the first time and I thought I could 
never be happier. He lay quietly under me, too drained to move, too content to 
want more than to share our sweat-covered bodies and the slimy stickness 
between my groin and Phan's buttocks.



"There's nothing like a good fuck to get you to sleep," Chris announced 
loudly. "You slept like a log, Pete. Boys have that effect on me too. I 
don't know whether it's the sex or the body heat."

I raised myself up on an elbow. He lay on the other side of the bed, his 
body partially covered by a sheet.

"Good morning mate," I said sleepily. I glanced around the hut. "Where's 
Phan,... and Udon? After last night I'm surprised you aren't screwing him 
again?"

"I got him already," Chris laughed. "Like I said, you slept like a log. The 
lads said they needed to pee. I expect they really wanted to wash the cum 
out of their bums. The bed was wet under Phan's bum. I can't imagine why," 
he guffawed.

"Oh! I guess there isn't a toilet, huh?" I asked absently. Chris shook his 
head. "That's a real shit," I added. "Maybe I should have gone to Phuket 
instead."

"If you had a choice between an en-suite bathroom and what you did last night 
to young Phan's bum, what would you take?" Chris asked crudely.

"Last night?" I returned innocently. "Oh that? Hmmmm, let me think about it 
for a few minutes. 

"Christ!" Chris laughed. "You fell asleep with your tool stuck all the way 
up a boy's arse and you want to think about it."

"I did?"

"It was still in him this morning. Udon thought it was pretty cool!" He pushed 
the sheet away and came to feet. "Well, time to go see the jungle," he added 
as he pulled on a pair of shorts.

For a moment his meaning escaped me. I followed him out of the hut. We were 
barely halfway out of the compound when Phan and Udon came back. Like us 
they were dressed only in shorts, not like ours with legs that nearly 
reached the knees but soccer-style with loose short legs that exposed most 
of the upper thigh. Each boy was grinning broadly but as they approached 
Phan's expression became shy. He stood several feet away as Udon came up to 
Chris, wrapped both arms around him, and gave him a very affectionate hug. 
After a moment, the hug became more passionate as Udon rubbed his belly 
against Chris' crotch, and his own groin against Chris' leg. It was overtly 
sexual and clearly intended to arouse. Chris leaned down and kissed the top of 
Udon's head, cupping the boy's behind with his hands to lift him higher so 
that they could kiss properly.

I grinned at my own bashful boy, still uncertain about his new role as my 
lover. Around us, the village was awake and yet no one paid us the slightest 
notice. It was as if a man hugging and kissing a nearly naked boy was a common 
sight. 

Finally they parted and Udon smirked at Phan. The younger boy shrugged and his 
eyes flickered as he looked at me. He would need a few more days to get used 
to his new position in the village and I knew exactly how to help him. I 
reached for his hand and held it tightly in mine.

"I'll see you in a half-hour or so, Chris," I muttered self-consciously. "Phan 
is going to show me where the toilet is."

"I assume that means that you're going to piss in his bum," Chris laughed.

"Who said anything about pissing?" I asked. 

"I guess this means you'll be coming back here with me next year, huh?" 
Chris asked. I nodded and placed my arm around Phan's shoulders 
possessively. "Good! I need the company. You'll have to start a savings 
account for him, you know Peter. I think I already told you what the deal 
is. Even a hundred dollars a month helps a lot, and he's worth every penny 
of it."

I nodded agreeably and followed Phan. With little difficulty he understood 
that I wanted to return to the same place where I had first met him the day 
before. Although the morning was still early, the sun was very hot. It was a 
long walk down the path I was glad when we were far enough into the jungle 
to take off our shorts. Phan scampered along beside me, shamelessly naked 
and oblivious to the leaves and branches that flicked against his bare skin 
while I cautiously picked my way through the tangled foliage, very content 
to watch his little bottom wriggling in anticipation until we reached the 
waterfall. Every step of the way I fantasized about what I would do with
him, secure in the knowledge that my fanstasies had a 100 percent chance
of being realized.



When we returned to the village two hours later my entrepreneurial spirit 
was in overdrive although my sex organ had been thoroughly deflated for more 
than fifteen minutes after two incredible orgasms. Sex with Phan was 
becoming a habit. I was beginning to realize that I could not live without a 
boy in my life and from my limited experience and biased perspective Phan 
was the ideal companion. My idea was an interesting one and it dawned on my 
while we lay locked in each other's arms beside the splashing waterfall. 
Like Phan, it was a constant source of energy.

As it turned out, it would have been far cheaper to send Phan's family a 
hundred dollars a month. The pipes and electric cables alone cost much more 
than three thousand dollars, but it had to be a very cheap price for the 
pleasures I experienced at night with Phan, and frequently during the 
daytime as well. During the day we sweated as much as when we were in bed next 
to Chris and Udon. My idea caught on with his family slowly but they helped as 
soon as they realized the benefits of hydro-electic power. 

From the top of the waterfall I diverted a steady flow of water through a 20 
centimeter pipe. Below, on a base of crudely cemented stones, was the 
generator. The water wheel was made from the saw blade, with fins made from 
scraps of steel welded to the circumference. The power supply varied 
erratically from 130 volts to 200 volts depending on the water flow and the 
distance from the generator. It was enough to run twenty lights and three 
refrigerators, and provide a hazardous power supply for radios and televisions 
if anyone was brave enough to plug into the circuit.