PUBERTY BLUES, by Ganymede

    PART 4



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 4



++++++++++++++++++++++++++  Port Macquarie ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 



For the tenth time in ten minutes Tristan sighed. He was bored and he stared 
out the rain-spotted window as the guard posts flashed by. I had never seen 
him remain quite this moody before and it bothered me, but then, it was his 
first time away from home and the company of the two women who had ruled his 
life until I came along. The wipers swiped back and forth making a swishing 
sound that was slightly louder than the quiet purr of the engine. There was 
a long incline as the road climbed into the hills north of Port Macquarie 
and I pushed the accelarator down. The cat's purr began to increase as the car 
rocketted forward. Pussy-cat quickly became ferocious Jaguar as the red needle 
lifted with past 100 kilometers per hour. I did not ease off until we were 
past 180 (about 110 mph for you Yanks) and the guard posts were zipping past 
in a fuzzy blur. At the top of the slope the road turned sharply to the left 
and began a series of sweeping bends as it approached the top of the hill.

I backed off and braked as the sign indicated that I was going about twice the 
desirable speed in dry conditions. The car slewed a meter or two to the left 
as it skidded in a stream of water that cascaded over a rock face and raced 
across the road. A quick correction, a little more on the brakes, and a 
sharp dab at gas and I recovered from what was rapidly turning into a spin. 
I backed off further, my heart pounding with its second thrill of the day. 
It paled in comparison to the joy when Tristan slid into the car and we left 
for our week-long holiday together. But was it holiday or honeymoon? Only time 
would answer that question.

Tristan sat quietly and as I peeked surreptitiously downwards at the slender 
form beside me, I was awed. During the last few seconds his legs had moved 
apart slightly and although he was not fully erect, there was definitely a 
small bulge over his sex organs. More accurately, what I observed was a fold 
in his shorts, where the cloth had tightened into his crotch. As I drove, I 
constantly peeked at the delicious sight, not caring that Tristan noticed my 
interest. As the minutes passed it appeared to get no larger and I finally 
decided that the bulge was nothing more than a fold in the material.

I easily imagined the small treasure concealed under his shorts. Tristan-
junior and I had become considerably more than good friends during the three 
months that followed my first tentative exploration. Like Tristan, I would 
never forget tnat warm spring night as we stood under tree outside his 
house. Like the rest of his beautiful body, I knew that his sex organs, 
although very small, were perfect. His manhood, what there was of it, was 
ideally suited to his precious young body but then, I have never appreciated 
big cocks, especially on small boys. And if I ever harbored any doubts about 
the advantages of boys with big cocks, they had been effectively dispelled 
during my two weeks with Phan.

"What did your mum say to you?" I persisted after several minutes.

We had the same conversation five hours earlier when we left Gosford and 
headed north. He had been in a funk since we left.

"Nothing!"

"That isn't an answer," I prompted. "You don't have to tell me if you don't 
want to, Tag."

"I know!"

His Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. His tongue licked absently at 
his bottom lip and then he chewed on it thoughtfully. "I can't tell you, okay! 
I don't want you to get mad at me."

"Okay, Tristan. I know something is bothering you. Maybe I can help, that's 
all. Besides, when have I ever gotten mad at you?"

"You haven't! But this is,... well it's different okay?"

"I understand. Sometimes it helps to share your problems with someone else."

"You sound like my mum again," Tristan snapped petulantly. "I can't tell you 
what she said, Peter."

"There's no need to get upset, Tristan. Like I said, I understand. I just want 
to help if I can. Maybe I can't."

"You got that straight at last." Tristan smiled weakly. "It's private, okay?"

"Okay Tag, I'm sorry," I answered calmly. It was time to change direction. "So 
are you excited about spending the next week away with me?"

"What do you think?" Tristan grinned. "I've been so happy. It's all I 
thought about all week "

I laughed and shook my head. "You did? And I thought it was just me. I 
wasn't sure you even wanted to come," I teased

"No way! Don't be a dope, Peter. I wanted to come more than anything. You 
don't have to do this, you know?"

"Do what?" I asked innocently.

"You know!"

"Huh? What ARE you talking about, Tristan?"

Tristan gave me a shy smile that bordered on a blush. His eyebrows lifted 
slightly as he glanced up at me and then quickly looked away again. I took the 
opening that he had provided. It was about time that I showed some initiative.

I spoke quietly. "I'm excited about spending a whole week alone with you. I 
guess I'm really a dirty old man at heart."

Tristan smirked as he glanced at me for a second. His eyes crinkled. "Tell 
me something that I don't know, Peter. Anyway, you aren't so old. I happen 
to know you can still get it up."

My first reaction was that I heard him incorrectly but as I glanced 
sideways, he grinned cheekily. He was fully aware of the effect of his obscene 
comment although it was quite out of character for him. Accordingly, my second 
reaction was disbelief and my mouth dropped open with surprise. It finally 
changed to sexual arousal and I felt my penis lurch and start to become taut 
in my jeans.

"Uh, well,... sometimes,... I guess," I said awkwardly.

Tristan smirked crudely and his eyes dropped down with deliberate interest. He 
intended to harass me.

"Like right NOW, huh?" he asked in a husky voice that was so much deeper 
than his usual boy-soprano that it contradicted his age.

"Uh,... yeah, I guess."

He turned away and gazed out the window for almost two kilometers. It was a 
full minute later before he spoke again. This time his tone was quiet and 
uncertain. His voice quavered as he spoke.

"When my mum told me about sex, she told me what guys did together." He 
glanced at me expectantly and I nodded seriously.

"When two people love each other they show their love by having sex," I said 
gently. "It doesn't matter if they're guys, or even a man and a boy, like 
us. Just so long as they love each other."

Tristan's shoulders hunched and his hands clasped thoughtfully. "Mum said it 
was okay if we,... If I wanted to,... If we love each other then it isn't 
wrong to do it. That's what she was saying to me when you pulled up in the 
driveway."

"Uh, yeah.... I kind of thought it was something like that," I answered as I 
spoke my thoughts aloud. "I love you. I love you very much, Tag." I watched 
him cautiously, understanding that this was the moment that I had been waiting 
for for nearly six months. It was about time that we took the final step to 
becoming lovers. But he was still an eleven-year-old boy and that, 
compounded with my other knowledge, produced an insurmountable problem for me. 
No matter what, I would not seduce the first boy I loved.

"Do you love me a lot?" His voice was stressed and he quivered uncertainly, as 
if he was very afraid of my answer.

I nodded. "I love you very much."

I wondered where Tristan was leading to with his question. "Mum said you've 
had sex with other boys," Tristan said flatly.

"There was only one boy. His name was Phan. He was about twelve or so," I 
said.

"Did you like doing it with him?" Tristan asked with casual but disturbing 
interest.

"It was okay, I guess," I volunteered. "I didn't love him, at least not the 
way that I love you, Tag. A long time ago I decided that you were going to 
be very different to me. Does it bother you?"

"Because you did it with him? No, it doesn't bother me but only because you 
love me."

"I met him in Thailand a long while ago." Eight months seemed like an 
eternity. "I was there with your Uncle Chris," I added absently.

Tristan smiled. He was unperturbed, but he was curious--his uncle's prediction 
for Asian boys was common knowledge.

"My uncle does that stuff with boys too, you know?" Tristan offered 
gratuitously. "Mum said he used to do it with Alex, when he wasn't much 
older than I am now."

"Some boys start earlier than others. There's no rush for a kid to lose his 
virginity," I answered slyly. "There's plenty of time for that."

"Yeah, I guess! Hannah said Alex did it with Uncle Chris just after he 
turned twelve! So that means he wasn't much older than I am. I'm old enough!"

That sounded a lot like something Hannah would say. I took a deep breath and 
tried to control my thoughts from coming to the inescapable conclusion that 
Tristan's statement implied. There had to be an alternative reason, but for 
the life of me I could not fathom it. Part of me believed that Tristan was 
still too young to know that such things could happen. But it was as if he 
understood my consternation.

"You're like Uncle Chris, aren't you, Peter? You want to have sex with me, 
don't you?"

"Uh,... I,.... I don't know.... Maybe!" I said with such hesitation that I 
could not believe my nervousness.

"I know you do," he added confidently.

"You come you're so sure of yourself all of a sudden?"

"Mum said it was OKAY! Mum said she was sure you'd want to have sex with me. 
If I know what I want to do, and you do too, then she said we should just go 
ahead and do IT!"

I laughed. "What happened to Tristan-the-innocent?" I teased.

He smirked. "Go figure, Peter. I don't plan to be a virgin forever. Isn't that 
why I'm here with you? I'm going to have sex sooner or later and Hannah 
reckons it might as well be sooner as later."

"Uh, I suppose so." I grinned at the boy I loved more than anyone else in 
the world. "I love you, Tag. I want to be the man who teaches you about sex, 
how to love someone, but more than anything, I want you to love me back."

"Okay! I love you, Peter. I thought you realized that. Even my mum knows I 
love you. We talk about it a lot. And Hannah's always teasing me about it. 
Uncle Chris and Alex know as well so just about everyone knows we love each 
other."

"Oh! And what does your mum think about you being in love with me?" I asked 
gently.

"It's okay by her because she really likes you a lot." Tristan giggled 
boyishly. "You want me to get naked?"

"Here? Now? Uh,... I don't know," I replied.

I was extremely worried as I wondered whether Tristan really understood what 
the love between a man and a boy entailed. That would come, I thought to 
myself. I voiced my thoughts aloud.

"Do you know what it means to make love,... for a boy to be with a man?"

"Huh?"

"Do you know what it means to make love?" I repeated.

"What are you talking about?" Tristan demanded. And then he grinned. "Oh! 
That! I reckon I do. Mum and I talked for a long while about it. I know what 
happens when two guys do it, okay? Mum said if you wanted me real bad, then 
you'd probably want to do IT to me and I could decide for myself when the time 
came."

"What,... er,... what did she say about IT?" I asked awkwardly.

"I know what guys do. I know where your thing goes, if that's what you mean, 
Peter"

I swallowed. "Huh?" I repeated dazedly. "What goes where?"

"Your thing goes in my bum!" Tristan answered proudly. 

"What goes in your bum?"

"You know!... She said you'd want to put your dick inside my bum, at least I 
s'pose that's what she was talking about. She said you'd want to do that 
because you loved me. It's how guys make love to each other, she said."

"You want me to do that to you?" I asked in disbelief.

"I guess so. Only,...."

"Only what, Tag?" I continued unabated.

I was increasingly excited, both by the boy's sexual overture and the 
understanding that came to me in a flash of inspiration. We were going to do 
IT! And, IT would be sometime soon, IT would be sometime very soon!

"Mum said it would probably hurt me a fair bit even if you were careful and 
tried not to hurt me, Peter."

I smiled with as much reassurance as I could manage. I had no intention of 
lying to him. "She's right. I would try to be gentle but it still hurts 
until you get used to it. You want to do it too, don't you Tristan?" I asked 
gently.

Tristan's head nodded slightly. "Last week, Mum suggested that I talk to 
Alex about it. I went over to his place for dinner and we talked for a long 
while."

"What did Alex say?" I prompted.

"He said it hurts pretty bad, but he expected I'd be okay if you were really 
careful. It doesn't hurt that much after the first few times. He said I 
would get used to having your penis inside me and then it would stop 
hurting, except when you first start, of course. It hurts pretty bad going in, 
but that's all."

"Alex is right," I acknowledged as I remembered my experiences with Phan. 
The pain of my entry faded quickly once he was used to having my penis 
inside him. With a young boy, 'IT' didn't hurt as much as some people 
believed.

"My mum says I'm gay," Tristan volunteered seriously.

"I think you are too,... but that doesn't mean you are gay. Only time will 
tell. What do you think, Tag?" I asked.

It was a strange question to be asking an eleven-year-old boy and he 
shrugged as he considered it. "I don't know, Peter. I've never really 
thought about. But if it means that I'm gay because I love you and I want us 
to have sex, then I guess I am."

I needed time to think, to plan, to accept the offering that had suddenly been 
placed before me. But there was little I could do to interrupt the powerful 
urge that arose within me. Months of longing, tortured frustration, hungry 
desires, came to the surface. Tristan was impossible to resist. I wanted to do 
'IT' with him and I wanted to do it NOW!

A minute later I reached an unmarked road, braked quickly as I approached 
the intersection, and turned off. I braked the car again as we fishtailed on 
the loose gravel. The road was deserted. There was no sign of human 
habitation. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle.

"I know what I want to do,... if you want to that is," Tristan said 
suggestively. "It's really okay, Peter," he added quietly. "I love you and I 
want to have sex and everything."

I glanced at the young boy beside me and he smiled back at me. His eyes held 
mine as I waited at the start of the road that led into the bush. It was a 
decision of monumental proportions. I could easily turn the car around. We 
could continue on our way, postponing the decision to another time and content 
with our fantasies. We were still a long way away from where I planned to stay 
for the night, but I was also an hour ahead of schedule. I wanted to make love 
to Tristan. I nodded.

"Let's go," Tristan added.

He was silent as he watched the unfamiliar landscape pass by as we crawled 
along the dirt road in low gear, turning one way and then the next and 
splitting off into unmarked tracks that all looked the same until I was 
hopelessly confused. Without Tristan, I would never find my way back to the 
highway. After the sixth turn, all resemblance to a drivable road surface 
disappeared. The road was dotted with water- filled potholes and I slowed 
the car to a crawl as I negotiated my way around the side of the hill and 
descended into a confined valley. At the end of the road was a wire-mesh gate. 
Beyond the gate I could see piles of sawdust and long pieces of wood. I had 
brought Tristan to an abandoned saw-mill. I thought of Phan and my visit to 
the mill in Thailand and for once I did not get an erection thinking about 
him. I had other things on my mind and a boy who I truly loved. Still, it 
was a remarkable coincidence.

For an instant I thought about turning back but as I stopped the car, 
Tristan jumped out and, without a word, ran over to the fence. As the engine 
idled, he opened the rusted latch, and swung the gate back on noisy hinges. He 
jogged back to the car and dropped into his seat. His pretty face was dotted 
with raindrops and his long silver-blond hair was suddenly bedraggled.

"This is it, Peter!" he said with a cheeky smirk.

"Are you sure, Tag?" I asked as I drove through the open gate and into a 
yard littered with decrepid machinery.

"It's what I want. It's what we both want, isn't it? Go over there," Tristan 
added as he pointed between two jumbled heaps of wood.

I continued to follow his directions, going past more machinery and then a 
large pipe perhaps a foot in diameter. Tristan's slim body seemed to tense 
momentarily and he turned away quickly and looked down into the car as if he 
did not want to see me. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. The last 
thing I wanted to do was to force him into something he was unprepared for. 
I squeezed the car between the two piles of lumber off-cuts and then 
cautiously continued over the bumpy ground down a narrow path that led towards 
a creek. As soon as we left the yard, the path was completely enclosed by 
trees and the light level inside the car decreased as we entered the gloom. It 
was a beautiful place despite the unattractive entrance and the rain.

"You can stop over there, Peter," Tristan said quietly.

He pointed to a clearing that was no larger than my car. Indeed, from the tire 
marks I could see that other cars had parked there. The trees parted and the 
view opened onto the creek as it dropped over several rock ledges with small 
waterfalls from the continuing rain. I turned off the engine, put the car in 
low gear, and pulled up the parking brake for added security. I was not 
going to depend on the engine compression to stop us. I breathed deeply and 
then looked at Tristan. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

"You want to get naked, Peter?" he asked uncertainly.

"I only want you to do what you want to do." I wanted to reassure Tristan that 
I wanted him, but I wanted it to be his decision.

"Great answer!" Tristan said impatiently. "Do you want to do it or not?"

"Why are you doing this, Tristan? What are you trying to prove?"

"I'm not tryin' to prove anything,.... except that I love you!"

"I already know that. You don't have to do this to prove you love me, Tag. And 
I don't want you to do it because you think it's what I want."

"I'm doing it because I want to, okay! Well are we going to do it or not?" 
he demanded anxiously. 

His frustration was disconcerting to me for in all the months that I had known 
him, he had always been passive and quiet. But, more than that, I had never 
encountered a sexually aggressive boy before. They existed only in my 
fantasies. Not even Phan came onto me like this. And he was older by two 
years. He had been in my bed often enough and he could be very aggressive 
during sex, but during my experience with him I had always been the dominant 
partner. An eleven year old boy was supposed to be innocent, wasn't he?

In every way Tristan was the boy I dreamed about. He was a beautiful boy, an 
effeminate boy-child who so often dominated my thoughts that he was part of me 
but I had yet to learn how difficult it was to anticipate what he would be 
like from moment to the next. I would discover that while Tristan generally 
passive and withdrawn--perhaps by nature or because of the side effects of 
Klinefelter's Syndrome, he is sometimes aggressive. Thus, it was fortunate for 
both of that Tristan was aggressive when I finally stopped the car-- otherwise 
nothing would have happened because I was far too much of a coward to take the 
lead.

But despite his swift denial, I suspected that Tristan was seeking to prove 
his love to me. There was no other explanation for the way that he was 
coming on to me. That he was sitting in the car next to me wanting to have sex 
was both a positive and a negative. Perhaps I would have felt more amenable to 
the situation if I could be certain it was a matter of making love to 
fulfill an inner need, but neither did I want him to give his wonderful 
young body and innocence to me or anyone else merely to make me happy. He 
was far too precious for that.

"Tristan," I began awkwardly, "You don't have to do this. I want you to do 
only what you want to do."

"Are you deaf or something, Peter? Listen to me. If I didn't want to do IT, if 
my mum didn't want me to have sex with you, would I be here now?" he burst 
out. "Think about it. Even Hannah knows we love each other."

His voice faltered, breaking stressfully as he avoided my eyes. I thought 
about what he said and his words bothered me terribly. I could sense the 
anxiety in his young body, the need for love , and the urge for 
gratification deep within his consciousness. I realized that his mother's 
analysis of the boy's sexual orientation was one-hundred percent accurate. 
Tristan was gay, perhaps because of genetic predisposition, but what he wanted 
was a fundamental part of him.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

I looked past him, watching the water cascading down the rock ledges. Even the 
enclosing bush seemed to protect us as it offered a degree of privacy equal to 
that in my own bedroom. No one would see us here. No one would know unless 
Tristan or I told them. We were together with his mother's blessing. 
Finally, I withdrew back into the closed cabin. Tristan was still glaring at 
me. His lips were pursed and he tensed as he spoke.

"Well if you're not interested then we might as well go."

"I didn't say that, Tristan. Maybe you should get naked, just in case," I 
added.

"Get real! If I strip off, then so do you," he answered cheekily.

"I guess that's fair. So who goes first?"

"You do!" Tristan said quickly. "I asked first, remember!"

His eyes never left me as I clumsily unfastened my belt, opened the button, 
and slid the zipper down. It took nearly a minute before the bright red of 
my bikini briefs came into sight and it was among the most exciting minutes of 
my life. I could tell that Tristan was similarly excited as he stared at me. 
He was almost unmoving as he concentrated. His lips were apart as he 
breathed through his mouth. Each deep breath made his slender chest rise and 
fall dramatically. Just as my jeans opened up, his pink tongue licked at his 
bottom lip. It was impossible for him not to see the huge bulge that my 
erect penis made in my briefs. My glans was poking into the thin nylon and 
it was pulled taut, all the way to my navel. With slightly more than seven 
inches in the erection department, I was not overly large. However, given 
Tristan's visible awe, I was more than sufficiently well endowed for him.

"Okay, you're next!" I said playfully.

"You haven't stripped, yet" Tristan pointed out. "I still can't see your dick, 
Peter."

"Oh! So that's what you want, huh? You want to look at my dick, kid?"

Tristan shrugged and pretended to be disinterested but his body still trembled 
at the very idea. He could not conceal his enthusiasm as his excitement 
increased. I lifted my hips up and tugged my jeans and briefs down until my 
groin was exposed. My thick cock flopped out and lay half- erect against my 
thigh, protruding outward and towards Tristan with growing interest in his 
slim young body. Within the space of a few seconds it reached full erection.

"You have a real big one, Peter," my young companion said shamelessly.

He sounded impressed and he gazed wistfully at my thick, rigid penis as it 
bobbed up and down. It certainly was not the first time that Tristan had 
viewed my anatomy, but this time was very different to all of the others. 
Quick glances as we undressed together, even casual caresses or rough grab-
fights, paled in comparison as we neared the moment for which we both existed.

My penis jumped as I instinctively flexed my muscle. It was hungry for him and 
I wanted him to know what I wanted even as I wondered whether it would ever 
fit inside his lean body, if indeed that was what he had in mind. It seemed 
highly unlikely that his narrow pelvis could accommodate my penis, let alone 
stretch his anus wide enough to allow my entry. Even if he was willing, with 
Tristan's lean body it was likely that he would be injured by the brute if 
he engaged in the type of encounter that he now seemed to be proposing with 
me. Getting my penis into Phan's larger body was problematic the first time. 
It took forever to get him to relax enough to allow the head to penetrate 
his anus and then he did not enjoy it until I had been there for some time. 
I shuddered to think what it would be like for Tristan.

"It's probably going to hurt like hell. You don't have to do this," I 
acknowledged. I hesitated, thinking that I may have gone too far. "Unless 
you want to," I added.

I wanted to give him a way out from what I expected was about to happen. It 
was not fair otherwise. He was too young and I loved him too much to take 
advantage of like that. I waited.

Despite what one reads in sex stories, my own experience as a boy, and what 
happened in Thailand, I have long known that most boys do not engage in anal 
intercourse until their late teens, and sometimes never. Perhaps the desire 
for anal penetration comes as the boy matures, loses his inhibitions, and 
begins to seek pleasures that offer greater satisfaction than mutual 
masturbation or oral sex. But I have also wondered whether nature intervenes 
to protect the easily damaged body of a young boy--instinctively he realizes 
that his first experience will be very painful. Thus, he approaches anal 
intercourse with suspicion, reluctance, and in some cases, dread and if he has 
any measure of control of what he does, anal sex is at the bottom of the list. 
I was surprised, therefore, when Tristan appeared to have few reservations 
about taking my penis into his eleven-year-old body.

"I want to, okay? I want him inside me," he said with some uncertainty. He 
hesitated as he gathered his confidence. "I guess it will hurt a lot but I 
don't mind. Alex said that you would try to not to hurt me."

"I'll try to be gentle, Tristan. I promise I won't go in all the way. The 
thickness of my penis is the biggest problem and I'll go very slowly," I 
said reassuringly. Tristan shrugged as he contemplated my penis bravely. 
"You don't have to do this you know."

"Yeah, I know that. I want to, Peter!" Tristan looked at me and I could see 
the reluctance in his large sad eyes. His lips compressed thoughtfully.

"It might be too big, Tag."

"I bet you'll still get it in back there if you go real slow. Alex said that 
the size was a problem only if you had a really big one. He's big, but he's 
not that BIG! Alex showed me some pictures of men who had really big ones."

I had to laugh, it was impossible not to even though he had handed me what 
most men would consider to be an insult. From Trista, and considering the 
reason why he mad the comment, I was anything but insulted. In a way it was 
a compliment, a young boy's admission that I was more than big enough to 
keep him very happy for years to come. Still, despite his words, he stared 
at my rigid penis fixedly as if assessing its size and the pain he would 
have to suffer if I tried to put it inside him. He was silent and I 
suspected that he was even more uncertain than he appeared. As he contemplated 
what it would be like, he trembled and breathed heavily. Tristan was a 
courageous kid and he was quickly becoming more excited. Already his arousal 
was overwhelming his reason and that could only mean one thing. We were 
going to do it!

"Are you sure you want this?" I asked again. I knew the answer to my 
question even before I asked it. 

He nodded slightly. "Alex said we had to use something to make me slippery."

He seemed to blush slightly as he spoke, well aware of the depravity that 
his question revealed. He was not the shameless, brash boy his words conveyed, 
but he was both sensuous and sexually aroused. His sexual desire had been 
present from the time I had first kissed him under the tree. And now his 
excitement was beyond his control. His embarrassment contradicted his 
question, which interpreted by my logic could only mean that he fully intended 
to go all the way. The moment of truth was fast approaching and deep inside 
I was glad that Alex had instructed him in what to expect should that moment 
arrive.

"You do have something we can use, don't you?" Tristan asked hesitantly. "He 
said it would hurt terribly otherwise. 

I shook my head dumbly. That Tristan and I would have sex during the drive 
north had not occurred to me. If we were going to have sex, I needed something 
with which to lubricate him. I silently reprimanded myself for my 
forgetfullness and lack of foresight.

"Do you have something in mind?" I asked with interest.

"What did you use in Thailand with uh, Phan?"

"We mostly used some of his mother's cooking oil," I admitted.

"You're joking!" Tristan said with unconcealed shock and some amusement. "Like 
peanut oil or olive oil?"

I shrugged absently. "It sounds gross, doesn't it, but it does the job okay. 
It goes up a whole lot easier than using pig fat, which is what they generally 
use for boys in Thailand."

At the time, the thought of using pig fat as a lubricant for the rectum of a 
young boy like Phan had been nothing less than shocking but it was a common 
occurrence in his village. It was also very exciting and I had fond memories 
of the first time I had penetrated him using the still warm oily fat of a 
recently cooked suckling pig. It was both highly inventive and strangely 
appropriate given the poverty in that part of Thailand. However, cooking oil 
made an excellent lubricant in my experience with Phan and much better for him 
than the questionable use of animal fat that could easily be tainted by the 
endless heat. It was also in keeping with my general belief that nothing 
should go in the bottom end that did not go in the top end as well, a 
consideration that was especially important if one indulged in oral-anal 
love after the primary activity was completed.

"Yeah? Uhgg!... That's really gross, man!" Tristan wrinkled his little nose in 
disgust. "You're not using pig fat on me, that's for sure Peter."

I grinned. "You know, Tag, I never thought about using it for that purpose 
until the need arose for something slippery. You learn to make do but 
cooking oil works a lot better and it's not as smelly afterwards."

"That still sounds pretty gross if you ask me."

"There is special stuff available for guys to use, you know Tristan. It's 
called K-Y. It's sort of like a jelly and it's very slippery."

I did not tell him that it also tasted terrible. Although I preferred one of 
nature's lubricants, Phan also used the greasy fat of a roasted pig for the 
one time when he was the dominant one. It was not a particularly pleasant 
experience and for good reason we did not repeat it.

"That's what Alex said. How slippery does my bum have to be?" Tristan asked 
curiously.

"Cooking oil makes it pretty slippery. It's okay," I answered. "Any kind of 
oil would probably work I imagine but his mother had an oil made from local 
flowers or something."

"It isn't as greasy as fat either," Tristan volunteered with a sly grin.

"Well, I don't have either with me. But I think I've got some suntan oil 
behind the seat. It probably isn't too different to cooking oil," I 
acknowledged as I laughed.

"Okay!" Tristan smirked. "I guess that will have to do. If it isn't slippery 
enough then we can buy some at the next town. I'm game to try it if you are!"

"I bet you are. You better be sure you want to do this before we start 
something that you don't want to finish," I said cautiously.

"I'm sure! I've wanted to do this for a long while."

"Okay, then it's your turn to strip, Tristan." 

I reached behind me and searched in the bag I had placed in the rear seat 
before I left on the drive south. If it was not for the rain I would have 
the top down and then we would need the protection the suntan oil provided. 
Now it would serve an even more useful purpose. I found it easily and turned 
back in my seat. Tristan had not started to remove his clothes. Perhaps he was 
getting scared? I hoped not for my excitement had reached unimaginable 
heights. I longed to be deep inside his slender body, to become one with him.

"I thought you'd be stark naked by now," I laughed.

"It's going be darn near impossible to do anything in here," Tristan answered. 
"There's no room to move."

I grinned. Tristan seemed to have a more accurate idea of what sex between a 
man and a boy involved than I did, and I wasn't the virgin. Of course he was 
right, but it was raining outside and there was no where else to go unless 
we waited until we arrived at the guest-house later in the day. I wasn't in 
the mood for waiting more tha a few minutes. 

"You may want to get soaked, but I don't," I said.

Tristan smiled. "I guess not. Maybe we could drive back up to the shed," he 
suggested. "It looked pretty dirty in there but at least there's room to 
move."

I shrugged. I wondered whether this was the excuse that he needed to not 
have sex with me even as I remembered that he had also offered a viable 
alternative. The shed offered an interesting possibility should the car 
prove completely impractical. He sighed and licked his bottom lip and I sensed 
that he as aroused as I was.

"There's no room in here to do ANYTHING," he stressed.

Tristan was right. My XJS coupe was a great car but it was next to useless for 
doing anything like this. At least I had never tried to do anything in it with 
Tristan. Beyond the occasional heavy 'petting', I always transported my 
young friend either back to my apartment and the comfort of my own bed, or 
returned him to his own house. I contemplated the problem and tried to 
invent a way in which a physical union might be achieved. There was no 
immediate solution which did not require impossible contortions from both of 
us.

Firstly, there was the transmission hump and console that provided a barrier 
from one seat to the other. The bucket seats themselves were closely 
sculpted to the human body and were far too small to accommodate two people 
side-by-side at the same time. And even with the steering wheel tilted up, 
there would still be insufficient room in the driver's seat for Tristan to 
straddle my hips. To make matters worse, the rear seats were barely big enough 
for young children and the trunk was filled with our bags. His seat offered 
the only possibility but a cursory study was enough to tell me that his head 
would be hitting against the lining of the roof. He was right, there was no 
way we were going to have sex in my car.

"I think you're right, Tristan," I acknowledged lightheartedly. "Maybe we 
better go up to the shed. It can't be that dirty and if it is, well we can 
always do it standing up."

I tried to be graceful and not allow my disappointment to show through. I 
was more excited than I had ever been and it was next to impossible not to 
convey my agitation. There had to be a way, given that we had come this far. 
My penis throbbed with anticipation of plundering Tristan's buttocks for the 
first time. I could almost feel my engorged organ pushing resolutely forward 
as I penetrated his fabulous body to the hilt. Even the potential for stains 
on the butter-soft leather did not bother me. And then an idea came to me that 
was so elegantly simple I was surprised that it was not included in the 
owner's manual.

"I've got it!"

"How?"

"Never you mind. Just get naked, Tag."

I flipped the cap off the bottle of amber-colored suntan lotion, squeezed a 
liberal amount into the palm of my hand, and transferred it to the swollen 
length of my penis. I was going to fuck Tristan, no matter that it was 
ergonomically impractical, it was certainly possible.

Without a word, Tristan began to prepare himself. He wanted to be fucked and 
he was not reluctant to let me know. He grinned lewdly as he watched my hand 
sliding up and down my now-glistening, oily shaft. Even before he lifted his 
buttocks up and began to drag his shorts down, he conveyed both his fear and 
what he wanted. He looked at my penis with a furtive hunger, his eyes narrowed 
and focused on the stiff organ that jutted upward from my groin.

"You have to promise to stop if it hurts bad, Peter," he said flatly as he 
settled back into his seat.

"I'll go real slow," I promised. "And I'll stop as soon as you tell me to. I 
don't want you to be hurt either."

His shorts and brilliant-white underpants were bunched up and still several 
inches above his knees. He was a long way from being naked but I could see all 
that I needed to. With slightly more than two inches in the erection 
department, Tristan was unusually small for an eleven-year-old boy, but normal 
enough for a Klinefelter's Syndrome victim. His small size was not an 
imperfection in my eyes, given my predilection for small cocks. Tristan 
Alexander Gordon was perfectly endowed for my needs.

His penis was tiny, a delicious morsel of highly sensitive pink flesh that 
pointed abruptly into the air. It was shorter than my little finger and only 
slightly thicker. His darker glans was no bigger than my fingernail. Below, 
his scrotum valiantly attempted to compensate for the size-deficiency of his 
penis. While still not large by any stretch of the imagination, Tristan's soft 
pouch was disproportionately bigger than his penis, although it would be 
dramatically smaller when the skin tightened and it was drawn up. His 
testicles were immediately noticeable by virtue of their small size, their 
presence observed only as two tiny jelly-beans.

The vast difference in size between our penises excited me to a degree that 
was impossible to believe. While Tristan's diminutive sex organ was not the 
first boy-sized penis that I had seen since I was a boy myself, it 
completely fulfilled my fantasies. That was the trouble with mature boys 
like Udon--his cock was a man-sized instrument that demanded satisfaction, 
while Phan's barely pubescent cock was a promissory note for things to come 
when its owner was old enough and mature enough to provide visible evidence of 
manhood.

My experience with Phan and all my intuition told me to go slow, letting 
Tristan direct the pace at which our love proceeded. The thrill I 
experienced from seeing Tristan's bare groin and compact genitals 
overpowered me. I grasped Tristan's slender hips and lifted his slight 
weight of no more than seventy pounds up from his seat. I repositioned him 
as easily as one positions a pillow under a lover's hips before fucking him. 
As soon as I moved him into the intended position I realized immediately 
that it was an ideal posture for what I had in mind. It would be a very 
different story had Tristan been of the opposite sex.

His buttocks were placed over the console, itself several inches higher than 
the seat I was sitting in. One of his long, hairless legs lay across the 
seat extending beyond the edge bolster and down under the dashboard. His other 
leg was bent under him and his foot was braced against the knee. His torso was 
pushed down so that it was against that leg and his head was tucked in against 
his chest. All in all it was an uncomfortable position that could not be 
achieved easily, if at all, unless one had the limber body of a healthy 
young boy.

It was, however, an ideal position for what I wanted. Only his buttocks, two 
well-tanned globes of smooth, firm flesh projected across the console. His 
position naturally levered them apart and exposed his crack in its entirety. I 
had only seen one boy's anus before and I was considerably surprised by what I 
saw. I expected to find a smaller version of Phan but what I observed was very 
different indeed. As a boy begins grows into manhood and he experiments with 
sex, something which is quintessential to his perfection is lost forever.

The first thing I discovered was that Tristan's anus was even smaller than I 
expected. At first I ascribed this to the fact that he was a virgin but in 
truth, and on closer inspection, his anal orifice was not that small. It 
appeared smaller only by virtue of its proportional relationship to his 
small bottom. It presented a distinctly interesting possibility, that my large 
penis might actually fit inside him if I was both lucky and patient.

The second thing that struck my attention was that his opening, unlike 
Phan's hole the last time I had seen it, was still puckered. His anus appeared 
as a tiny node enclosed by minute folds of dark, pink skin which disappeared 
into his very core. That the opening was surrounded by a band of darker, 
browner, skin that approached a width of two centimeters, was equally 
fascinating. It was that ring which made his anus appear small as much as 
anything else. Perhaps because it was not as dark as the band on Phan's 
anus, but to me, Tristan's desirability was multiplied a hundred fold by it. I 
was also amused by the delicate line that traversed the length of his 
perinaeum. It connected his small scrotum to his anus like a well-marked trail 
that one could follow in the dark from one place of pleasure to another. 
Without even the slightest trace of hair, it was very different to anything 
I had ever seen before.

Tristan's body was so beautiful that I found it difficult to believe that he 
was still a virgin. I wondered why my penis had not already penetrated his 
tiny orifice and taken his innocence. Had I done so, I would have marred his 
perfection forever. In time, a pathway would be beaten to Tristan's back 
door but for now, beyond the normal darkness that surrounded his anus, there 
was no discoloration or signs of bruising or rupturing of the skin. I took a 
long look, thinking how he would appear after I had finished and he was no 
longer a boy-virgin.

Unable to say anything in those first few magic moments, I brought my still 
oil-slicked finger to the line of his crevice and pointed it at the small 
target that stared back at me. I touched the very center of the crinkled 
indentation and like a reflex, it softened and then grasped at the tip.

I inserted my finger into Tristan's anus with comparative ease. Even as it 
pushed inside I thought of Phan. I remembered the first time that his young 
boy's anus was pierced by my finger, and then minutes later by my penis. How 
many times had I remembered that first inexpert entry as a painful and 
difficult insertion? How wrong I was now, at least as far as Tristan was 
concerned because my slick finger slid in to the second joint before either 
Tristan or I realized it. But while my entry was a relatively simple matter, 
my efforts to expand his stimulation by massaging his tiny prostate was 
considerably more difficult.

I prodded around inside his hot tube, feeling the delicate structure of the 
inside of his rectum as I went deeper. Before I knew it, my knuckles were 
compressed into his crevice and my finger could go no further. Barely more 
than a minute had passed since I had brushed his anal node. There was a 
wonderful heat inside Tristan's bowel that made my finger itch to go deeper, 
if that were indeed possible. But the pleasure for Tristan was closer to the 
surface and I cautiously probed his lower abdomen like a doctor examining 
for prostate lumps.

My problem lay in locating his prostate in the first place. There was no 
problem when I had performed the identical procedure with Phan. In to the 
knuckle, curl my first finger so that it was curved back towards his pubis, 
and rub the 'hell' out of the first, firm, chestnut-shaped lump that my finger 
came in contact with. It was impossible to miss the target on the very first 
try with Phan. But as I twisted my finger I found that there was no lump to 
rub, or if there was, I could not find it. At the same time, I began to wonder 
whether Tristan was experiencing any pleasure from my anal massage. He lay 
very still. Even his breathing was slow as he took deliberate breaths. 

"It doesn't it hurt too much, does it Tristan? I'll stop if you want me to," I 
asked with concern. "Are you sure you want this?"

There was no answer for several long seconds but finally Tristan's mussed-up 
head moved slightly, which I presumed to be an affirmation although it was 
difficult to tell what he wanted me to do. However, I knew what I wanted to 
do. Most boy-lovers, both experienced and inexperienced, would recommend 
that one finger, then two, and perhaps even three fingers should be used to 
loosen a boy's anus before anything larger than a finger is placed inside. 
It sounds like good advice, and it is, although it's probably unnecessary once 
a boy has become accustomed to having a man's penis inside him.

In the heat of the moment I found that I was suddenly impatient. Six months 
was simply too long to wait to act out one's deepest desires. I had no 
thoughts of causing pain to the boy I loved, just a demanding urge to be 
inside his sweet, young body. I brought the head of my penis forward. Just 
as I had hoped, the console positioned Tristan's bottom at the ideal height. 
His anus was in a direct path and at a perfect angle. I placed my hands on his 
hips, securing his movement by placing my fingers into his pelvic ridge and 
parting his smooth brown cheeks with my thumbs as I guided my penis between 
them. 

There was a brief period when I honestly thought that my penis could never 
penetrate his slender body. I used to have the same feeling with Phan as my 
glans squashed into his crack and snuggled into the indentation of his anus. 
After that, no matter how much pressure I brought against his unyielding hole, 
I made no progress until his sphincter had the time to relax and he 
submitted to my advance by pushing back at me. Then, my inward movement was 
both hesitant and awkward, no more than a fraction of an inch at a time 
until my glans was contained inside him.

So I was unprepared for the suddenness with which the head of my penis and the 
first inch of my shaft popped through Tristan's muscle and into his bowel. 
Judging from Tristan's quick gasp, he was also surprised. Every time I did the 
same thing to Phan he would complain how much it hurt when I broke through his 
resistance. Similarly, the one time when Phan's penis entered me, I have to 
admit that the feeling is considerably less pleasurable than I would like it 
to be. But there was no complaint from Tristan as my cock sank into him. I 
rested with the head fully inside him. His body responded of its own accord, 
following its natural inclination to expel foreign objects as they came to the 
muscular ring of his inner sphincter. He squeezed down on my penis with savage 
cramps that stopped almost as soon as they started. 

I could not believe my luck. It look forever to get my penis inside Phan's 
rectum and within only a few brief minutes, Tristan's body had yielded to 
accept my penis. I pushed forward gently, my mind whirling with enthusiasm and 
fascination as I found no resistance ahead. His looseness had to be 
explained by more than the fact that Tristan was incredibly excited. I could 
not imagine that an eleven-year- old boy would accept three or four inches 
of penis with such speed and apparent ease. It did not seem to hurt him at 
all.

There was only one explanation beyond Tristan's eagerness and the position 
in which he was placed and it amused me as I thought of it. An eleven-year-old 
boy lacks the muscular development of a thirteen-year-old. And the internal 
sphincter is neither more nor less than a muscle, albeit one that is 
involuntary in most of its actions. I moaned softly as Tristan's body held 
mine for the first time, gripping me with his lust as his intense internal 
pressure consumed my penis. It is no wonder that pederasty has prevailed 
throughout the history of mankind. A boy like Tristan was created for the 
single purpose of fucking.

The wonderful wet heat inside his body was awe-inspiring. So very different to 
Phan, his young slender boy's body exerted the most delightful pressure 
along the four inches of my penis inside him. His bowel engulfed me, holding 
me possessively even as I possessed him. Occasional tremors surged between us, 
tightening cramps as his body locked onto mine and then relaxed, constant 
flexing of my penis as I tested him. Every minute that I stayed within him 
loosened his quivering rectum until I discovered 'paradise'.

Now completely dilated, his body absorbed mine and my penis felt less like 
it was impaled than it was enclosed within a living sheath of sensitive, 
nerve-filled boy. I had not even begun to move when I felt Tristan orgasm. 
Pure anal pleasure swept through his lithe body and he spasmed on my cock as 
he groaned loudly. One, two, three, four swift cramps came as he shuddered and 
groaned out his relief. I could not see his penis but I did not need visual 
support to know that he had not ejaculated. Gratefully, that messy, wet 
pleasure would largely be denied to him. Unlike Udon or phan, Tristan would 
never ejaculate copious quantities for me, or anyone else.

I continued to rest inside him, poised halfway within his body as I waited for 
my time to come. He would need several minutes at least to recover his 
strength and he would need all of it for what I intended to follow. His 
initial orgasm had opened the way and I felt the pressure on my cock fade. 
He was now much hotter inside, and before, where his bowel had resisted my 
penetration, there was now a lush juiciness that invited my penis deeper. He 
bathed me with his rich fluids, occasionally squeezing on my shaft as if he 
wanted to be certain that it was still inside him. I had little fear that he 
could not take all seven inches of my penis and I was determined to try.

As Tristan's breathing slowed, my penis began to move. Short movements at 
first, using only the slackness in the skin. My glans squeezed forward no more 
than half an inch before easing back again. My movement was concentrated 
somewhere in the region where I expected his prostate to be because Tristan 
began to writhe. He wriggled, shifting his buttocks as he rearranged himself 
and secured an alignment that was both conducive to further penetration and 
greater stimulation of the very core of his body. He pushed back slightly. 
It was an unmistakable sign, one that a boy gives when he wants more. It was 
not the savage rearward push that Phan gave me, but a slow backward pressure 
that made my heart leap with joy.

I complied with his unspoken request and for the next two strokes, I did not 
pull back. Another inch sank into his hot body and again it felt as if I could 
go no further. Tristan's sigh was more than enough to inform me that he was 
a very happy boy.

"You doing okay, Tag?" I asked softly.

"Yeah, its good, Peter. It only hurts a bit. Just go slow, okay."

"Okay!"

"You sure feel nice back there but I wish it would stop rainin'," Tristan 
breathed out. He breathed out. "I'm getting a cramp in my leg, lying like 
this."

"You feel great too, Tag. You still want more?" I asked.

I was not expecting an answer. The answer came as Tristan groaned and again 
squeezed back at me deliberately. He wavered and then nodded slightly. Like 
me, he had passed the point of self-control. All he wanted now was to continue 
the sensations that possessed him, as his trembling rectum joined my throbbing 
penis and demanded even more of it inside him.

"You feel so big inside me," Tristan whimpered as I eased back slightly in 
preparation for my next advance. "Is it nearly all in me? It feels like it 
is."

"Uh! yeah, you've got most of it. You're a brave kid, you know that, don't you 
Tag?"

"It doesn't hurt that bad any more. I just wish we could do it outside. It 
hurts me being cramped up like this. My leg has gone to sleep."

"Sorry, but it's still raining, Tristan. We'd be soaked in a few minutes. If 
you want, I can finish up quickly."

"No! I want you to go nice and slow. I like it much more like this, especially 
when you take it the whole way back. It's really not that bad," Tristan 
gasped. "I'll live!"

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm okay! You feel so good even though your dick is hurting me a bit." 
Tristan sighed again from deep in his chest. "I thought you would hurt 
something awful, but you feel really nice."

"How does it feel?"

"Good. It feels cool, like I'm filled up with your dick but like I still 
want more of it inside me. It feels nice, Peter. I like it slow like this."

"You're a great kid, Tag. I mean that! I think I'm know why I'm so much in 
love with you."

Tristan did not answer and after a few more seconds I took the initiative 
and began to fuck him. I did it slowly, exactly the way he wanted. I worked 
him over slowly, using the head of my penis to massage his prostate before I 
tried to do deeper. With every forward thrust I tried to come back a little 
less before I pushed my penis deeper into him. Nearly two minutes later my 
pubic hair brushed against his cheeks and a minute after that I could go no 
further. All seven hard inches were somewhere inside his wonderful body. It 
was the ultimate disappearing trick. Like magic, my penis vanished as the 
round rim of his anus closed around it.

What lay within Tristan's wonderful body defied description. At once hot and 
wet, and soft and firm, the slick velvet walls were unbelievably smooth as 
my penis slid back and forth. Little puppy-dog whines came from the boy's 
mouth, expelled as each breath was exhausted and synchronized with each time 
my cock reached into his belly. Some writers have described the experience 
of anal sex as the uniting of two souls and I could not agree more. The 
sense of being joined together cannot be stronger. There is no higher form 
of love, no greater pleasure than the physical union of a man and a young boy, 
penis and bowel inseparably joined until their love is exhausted. 

The texture of Tristan's insides were like no other I had ever experienced. 
Each sensation was magnified a hundred-fold over what I felt with Phan, each 
year that separated them in age contributing to the special joy I discovered 
that afternoon. Continually I wondered why I had not had sex with Tristan 
before. So many months had been wasted.

How often with Phan had I experienced that final minute of frenzied fucking, 
my man's penis throbbing and pounding inside his tight bottom until I 
delivered what felt like a liter of semen to his hungry body? The first time I 
had sex with Tristan was absolutely nothing like that. How could I miss the 
essence of boy-love? For the first time in my life I placed my partner's 
satisfaction above my own. I fucked Tristan the way he wanted to be fucked-- 
slowly and deliberately working my penis into his sensitive body, taking 
what pleasure I could find as I revelled in his continuous ecstasy. It was the 
first time that I had truly made love to boy and not just fucked him.

Every few minutes Tristan came to a peak, often staying there for a minute 
at a time. So often did he shudder and writhe on my penis that I began to 
wonder whether he was actually orgasming or merely experiencing some lesser 
form of heightened pleasure. Although his tiny testicles had been drawn up 
protectively to form a tight little knot, they continued to protrude from 
between his thighs. The wrinkled,,rounded lump cushioned my groin as his 
cheeks greeted my pubis. I pumped into him relentlessly, never going faster 
than I did when I masturbated. But the feelings I derived from being totally 
inside the youngster I loved were infinitely better than any which I could 
achieve from another person's hand, even Tristan's.

As my orgasm welled up inside me I resisted the temptation to increase the 
speed. Tristan wanted it slowly, and slow it would be. My pace tortured my 
already aching penis until I was desperate for release. Every nerve begged for 
relief from the delight that abounded within the small body before me. 
Instinctively I realized that when my orgasm finally came, it would be nothing 
short of a miracle. Tristan seemed to sense that the moment was upon us and he 
squeezed his rectum down, tightening his body around my penis by using all the 
strength that remained to him. It was enough to take me over the precipice. My 
juice gushed out.

I stopped moving with the first involuntary spurt, silently pleading for it to 
stop but knowing that it was over for me. The second spurt came as Tristan's 
bowel gripped my cock and then there was nothing I could do. I pushed into 
him, shoving my penis to its full depth so that my semen would be deposited 
deep within him. I felt my testicles triumph as more of my blessed seed 
squirted into him, joining with his own succulent juices and mixing as I 
pumped again and again. Then I stopped moving, very aware of Tristan's 
gasping, his body shaking and trembling as my penis continued to jerk of its 
own accord.

I lifted away, leaving my penis impaled between his small pale buttocks. I 
gazed downward to see the last half inch of my penis, glistening with oily 
wetness as it exited from his well-stretched anus. From the scarlet lip of 
Tristan's anus my semen was already escaping. I saw a creamy white dribble 
ooze out and in a wonderful way, it consecrated our union.

"Are you okay?" I whispered at last.

"Yeah! Peter, I felt you cum. You put lots inside me," Tristan breathed.

Already his breathing was beginning to return to normal. He sighed softly 
and wriggled on the seat again as he tried to find a more comfortable 
position. Still holding one hand on his hip, I placed the other around his 
chest and lifted him up. I pulled him over the console and onto my lap. He was 
exhausted, a limp teddy bear that I wanted to cuddle until his strength 
returned. He flopped against me and groaned. My penis was equally limp and 
lifeless. It stayed within him as he relaxed into my enclosing arms.

I did not care that my semen was leaking out of him. I felt the warm wetness 
increasing on my groin. It was a good feeling to hug and hold him. I wanted to 
kiss him but his mouth was not where I could reach, and like Phan, he would 
probably not want me to. After sex, all Phan wanted to do was be quiet until 
he fell asleep. I was surprised when Tristan's head swivelled around and his 
eyes, now wide open, greeted mine.

"God, that felt so good, Peter," he murmured.

"You were wonderful, Tag. I can't believe we just did that. I love you so 
much."

"I love you too. It was fun, wasn't it?" Tristan smiled knowingly. He 
playfully squeezed that marvellous muscle inside his bowel. "I was really 
afraid he wasn't going fit at first. Then when you got the head in, I knew 
we could do it. I was surprised that it went in so easily," he said.

"I was surprised too. It didn't seem to hurt too much."

"I was worried you know, Peter. I was sure it was going to hurt real bad. I 
shouldn't have been. I guess it makes sense," he added. 

I hugged him again, wishing as I did so that I had taken the time to remove 
all of his clothes so that I could feel the rest of his hot naked body against 
mine. I contented myself with the warmth of his thighs and buttocks and the 
heat that drained from his body through the length of my penis. He felt 
good, very good.

"Why does it make sense?" I asked.

"Because Alex told me what to do, I reckon," he answered.

"What did Alex tell you to do?"

"He said to put my fingers in there to make it looser. He told me if I 
wanted to do it, then I'd have to get my hole bigger for you." 

"So how long do you do it for, Tag?" I continued. 

The thought of Tristan inserting his fingers into his beautiful body so that 
he could accomodate my penis depressed me but I wanted to know.

"Pretty long," Tristan admitted guiltily. "I do it at night, when I'm in 
bed. I pretend I'm with you only it's not my fingers in there.... Well you can 
guess what I pretend you're doing to me."

Lovingly my fingers moved towards his groin, sliding over the bare warm skin 
of his hip and following the v-groove between his lower belly and thigh. My 
fingertips brushed against the velvet skin of his hairless pubis then followed 
the gentle swelling of his small scrotum. Under my fingers I felt his tiny 
testicles move away as I pressed into the silky folds of skin. The skin was 
softer than anything I had felt before, so soft that I had to concentrate just 
to feel it. It was warm and cool at the same time. Tenderly I massaged his 
little eggs, fondling the delicate structures carefully so as not to cause him 
any discomfort. His testicles were so much smaller than Phan's that I was 
stunned. So small, so wonderful, so much a part of his fabulous young body, so 
unlike Phan's nearly pubescent balls.

My fingers moved slightly, transferring their attention to his penis. He was 
still limp, as limp as he had been almost from the time I had inserted my 
penis into his tight rectum. When I fucked Phan he stayed erect, rubbing his 
penis as I pumped into him. No so with Tristan, his erection disappeared as 
more engaging pleasures took control. Now I stretched his small penis 
outward by pulling gently on the fat little glans. I stroked the soft skin 
with more love that I could ever imagine having for another male's organ. It 
began to stiffen almost as soon as my fingers moved across the stubby shaft 
and across the sensitive head. As it lengthened and hardened, his small size 
became even more apparent. I began to masturbate the youngster. I held his 
small sex between one finger and my thumb, concentrating most of my movement 
of the rigid shaft and occasionally lifting up to agitate the swollen, 
darkened head until Tristan began to squirm with growing discomfort. Then I 
stopped and returned to fondle his testicles until his agitation faded. I 
masturbated him for a long, long time. He approached orgasm on several 
occasions, but each time I allowed him to ease back down and recover his 
control. I could have easily taken him to the peak but rubbing on his 
beautiful erection was of far more interest to me.

One too many times I went back to his glans and rubbed it between my finger 
and thumb. The tip remained dry but its sensitivity was infinite and each time 
Tristan became increasingly excited. This time, he shifted suddenly, almost as 
if he orgasmed and his movement was enough to pull my penis free from its 
captivity. Now I held him tightly, replacing the attachment with his body with 
a close embrace. If I masturbated him any longer his penis would become too 
sore to touch. Gently I kissed his neck, savoring the delicate skin behind his 
ear with a playful nibble down to his shoulder. I wanted to turn his head to 
mine, to kiss him on the mouth and taste his lips, hopefully even his 
tongue. Tristan was a great kisser.

"How long is pretty long?" I whispered.

"About an hour a day I suppose. Alex said the more I did it in my butt the 
easier it would become and the more I'd like it."

"An hour a day is what I'd call pretty long, especially at your age. Did it 
hurt you, Tristan?"

"Not any more! But you know, it used to hurt at first," Tristan answered 
sulkly.

He left the obvious unstated but he did not need to say more. I understood his 
feelings and the discomfort he had suffered at his own hands. He had a 
reason to sulk. I understood how he had learned to give himself pleasure. Each 
night alone in his bed his fingers had found their way to his anus until his 
discomfort had ebbed until there was only delight. Then, this delightful 
eleven-year-old boy would have been overcome by joy. He had continued his 
private pleasure until now, until he finally accepted who and what he was 
and I became his lover.

I nodded understandingly. "You liked it, didn't you Tag?"

"I didn't say that!" he retorted angrily. "It doesn't hurt, that's all."

"Don't be angry. It's okay, I understand Tristan, really I do. You feel bad 
because you don't want to like it."

"I,... I guess. But I love you and I love what you did to me. Only I don't 
want to be gay. Kids s school make fun of me already."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Because,... because,... I'm different to the, Mum says. I 
know she's right. I'm gay, aren't I?" he asked bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Tristan. No one should make fun of the way you are, especially 
when you're only eleven. It doesn't matter whether you're gay or straight, 
no one should make fun of something that you can't help. You're too young to 
have to face that kind of cruelty."

I paused and took a deep breath, wondering whether being gay was truly one 
of life's cruelties. For this young boy it seemed appropriate but given the 
extent of his other problem, his sexual orientation was natural. This was 
the time I had hoped would never come. I dreaded what was to follow.

"Tag, remember when you and I first became really good friends? Do you 
remember when your mother and I talked with you that afternoon after we went 
fishing?"

Tristan shuddered. I could feel the tension in his slender body as he 
remembered what had happened only five months earlier. It was a very painful 
memory for him.

"I remember! Mum said I had a kind of sickness and it would get worse and 
worse as I grew up. Only it wouldn't kill me or anything."

"But you would be different to other boys," I finished. I took a deep 
breath. This was IT.

"Tag, you have a condition called Klinefelter's Syndrome. Only males get it. 
It started a long time before you were born, while you were inside your mum. 
To make you part of her and your father joined together. Normally the sex of a 
baby boy comes from what's called an X and a Y chromosome, an X from his mum 
and the Y from his father. A baby girl has two X's. For some reason, Tag, 
you got two X's and a Y instead. That means you have some qualities that are 
less male than other boys."

"You mean I'm as much girl as boy?"

"Not exactly! You are a boy, only you're a very special boy. It's one of the 
reasons why you love me and why I love you so much. It's because you have this 
condition that your mum wanted you to come away with me."

"If it won't kill me, then what does it do to me?"

"Compared to other boys who have it, you're very lucky. Most kids are 
retarded."

"So! I know I have a learning problem. It's hard for me to concentrate."

"That's true, Tag, but you're also very intelligent. It is the reason why 
you like to do things that most other boys aren't interested in. You're 
sensitive in ways that boys generally aren't," I smiled reassuringly. "The 
other problems are physical. Your dick is a lot smaller than other boys, and 
so are your balls. When other boys start to grow into men, then the 
differences will be even stronger. You won't be able to have children when 
you're older."

"So!"

"There are other problems as well that we will talk about later on." Tristan 
slumped against me and I could feel his thin body quaking as he sobbed. "I'm 
really sorry, Tristan. Really I am," I said helplessly. 

It was not difficult to imagine the shock that Tristan felt. I could imagine 
his fear, the terrible anguish as he slowly realized that he was more 
different than he had realized. Unless I was mistaken I had introduced a 
complication of devasting proportions, one that was far worse than some 
viral infection that would take his life.

"I hate being like this!" Tristan added vehemently. "I want to be like other 
boys. I want to be normal."

I nodded and held him tightly, wishing that I could squeeze out his pain 
with my hug. But I could never make him normal.

"I love you, Tag. I love you, not only because of what you are, but If 
anything, what I had just done to this eleven year-old boy was to reinforce 
the damage that his had already done. I felt ashamed. I had taken advantage of 
a little boy at a time when he needed protection. And then I smiled, unseen by 
Tristan as he settled back against me. Had I really taken advantage of him 
or had I given something that he wanted instead?

I had often wondered whether I took advantage of Phan. He was an intelligent 
boy but he was still relatively immature in many ways. He was also 
impressionable and easily overwhelmed by my western sophistication. Easy 
pickings with a few well-placed words and some attention. At least that was 
what I had decided was the formula for success the next morning after I had 
taken him back to his parents' bed and fucked him for most of the night. 
Phan had been an easy conquest. But by the following week I was not so 
confident and I was beginning to suspect that Phan had seduced me instead. 
If he did, then it was to no avail as far as explicit rewards were concerned 
because unlike Chris, my relationship with did not involve either an 
opportunity for future financial aid or a reward for past services.



I nuzzled the back of Tristan's neck, rubbing my nose in his soft long hair. 
He needed me now more than ever before. His face turned slightly so that his 
cheek brushed against my own. We sat together quietly and breathed as one, 
each treasuring the wonderful shared intimacy that accompanies intercourse and 
its aftermath. Again I felt the urge to kiss him. Now it would be a relatively 
simple matter to turn his head and guide our lips so that they met. I resisted 
temptation with great difficulty.

"It sure stinks in here," Tristan giggled softly.

Suddenly I was aware of the smell that filled the closed car. It was a 
pleasant aroma, a sweet dank odor of boy-funk such as I had never known 
previously. Not from Phan, not from the hundred or more times that I had sex 
with him, could I remember such a delightful smell. There was, of course, 
always a musky smell in the hut after anal intercourse, but never one so 
fascinatingly sweet. This smell came from deep inside Tristan's virgin bowel 
and it was entrancing. I inhaled again and again. My penis had brought this 
nectar to the surface and like ambergris, what should have been unpleasant, 
yielded the most admirable perfume that a man could smell.

With my penis under Tristan's squirming buttocks, it was only a matter of time 
before my semen began to dry out. No longer slippery, it became sticky, and 
then it began to itch. For a few moments I contemplated getting it hard 
again and trying for a repeat performance. I wondered whether Tristan was up 
for an encore if I could get it up again. Alternatively, perhaps I could 
persuade Tristan to clean it off. Phan had few qualms about sucking my cock 
until I had been inside him. It was a different story then--even the boldest 
of boys become inhibited sometimes. I was intrigued by the possibility that 
I might convince Tristan to take my penis into his mouth. So far he had needed 
little encouragement to do what most boys required long cajoling for. When I 
had penetrated his beautiful bottom, he had most definitely pushed back at 
me to aid the inward progress of my glans. Unfortunately, Tristan glanced at 
my watch. A moment later he gasped aloud and tried to climb off me. 

"What's wrong, Tag?" I asked. 

Then I glanced at my watch as well and I could not believe the time. It was 
impossible that I had been parked there for nearly two hours. One hour and 
fifty minutes to be precise but it had been the best time of my life.

"I don't know about you but I'm starting to get hungry," Tristan whined.

"What's really the matter, Tag? You're not worried about your mum are you?"

"No! It's okay with Mum if I do it with you. She wants me to do it with you, 
especially well,... if I want to do it."

"Is it because we're both gay?

"You don't understand, Peter," Tristan choked.

I swallowed. I understood what was bothering him and I was unable to avoid 
my responsibility. I owed Tristan something for the joy I had discovered 
inside his beautiful young body. For the first time since Tristan had taken 
his shorts and underpants down I could see his face. He turned enough so 
that I could see his face. His large eyes were marked by wetness that heralded 
tears and he sniffed loudly.

"You don't understand," he repeated with difficulty. "I don't want to be 
different!"

I needed time to think. My feelings came honestly. "How can you be so dumb?" I 
asked naively.

"I'm not dumb!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Tag. I mean I don't care that you're different. I 
love you just the way you are."

"Yeah, right!"

"I love you, Tristan," I added gently. "I don't how else to say it. I love you 
the way you are."

Tristan appeared to ignore my claim for nearly a minute but he could not 
deny that he had heard it. His response took me by complete surprise.

"I want to live with you, Peter. Please? Please let me live with you," he 
implored.

"Uh,... I-I-I don't know, Tristan," I stumbled. "I mean,... well I'd like to 
say yes, but,... well what would you mum say. I don't think she'd agree, at 
least not until you're a lot older. What would peole say?"

Tristan shrugged nonchalantly. "No one would know! Anyway, who cares what 
other people say! We wouldn't do anything for them to find out. And Mum did 
say I should do what I want to do. I love you. I want you to do it to me 
whenever,... whenever we want."

"Tristan, you can't live with me. You don't even."

Tristan's head swivelled around on his thin neck and his eyes met mine, albeit 
from side-on. I could see the worry in his face. He was a boy who was 
tormented by something beyond his control. Being gay was one thing but the 
added complications of Klinefelter's Syndrome was likely to be a singularly 
unpleasant experience that would only become worse as he grew older. That 
problem, combined with his natural inclination would provide many 
opportunities for other boys to ridicule him openly. Living with me could only 
make the situation unbearable.

I shook my head firmly as Tristan's eyes searched mine. 

"Please?..." he implored. "I can't leave you. I don't care what happens to 
me after this. I have to. I love you! I,.... I want to kill myself."

I shuddered. He was not joking. How many gay boys attempted suicide. Too many. 
Too many boys like Tristan had relinquished their young lives when they 
could not accept the torment of being homosexual in a world little changed 
from that of Oscar Wilde. It was still the love that dared not speak its name. 

"You said you loved me," Tristan stressed. "If you really loved me as much 
as you say you do,... We could say you were really my father?"

"For God's sake, it isn't that simple," I reacted. "I'm not your father, 
Tristan. Even if I tried someone would eventually report us to the police."

"So!"

"So I'd be in jail and you'd be sent back to your mum, or worse, they might 
take you away from her and put you in some kind of home."

"Then you don't really love me."

"I do love you, Tristan. I think you're a wonderful boy."

"Do you? Do you think I'm cute? Do you think I'm as sexy as your boyfriend 
in Thailand?" Tristan asked quietly. His tense voice quivered and then 
raised without warning.

"I'm really sorry Tristan," I answered apologetically.

I sighed again from deep in my chest. How different I felt to only a few 
minutes earlier when the beautiful boy in my lap was under my complete control 
and my only purpose in life was to give him pleasure. How could any man not 
admire his perfect body and reward him with loving caresses and lots of wet 
kisses among honest words of endearment. With a boy like Tristan Alexander 
Gordon a man had a special responsibility. However well intentioned my 
affection was, it fell far short of what he needed. He needed a father who 
loved him without question and who did not place the demands on his young body 
that I would.

Tristan read my mind.

"If you let me live with you,... you can do it whenever you want. You can fuck 
me all day and night if you want to," he offered.

"That sounds like a nice idea." I grinned. It was a nice idea, a very nice 
idea indeed. It was a pity that it was so impractical. We sat silently and 
listened to the erratic fall of raindrops on the roof. The drizzle was 
steady but by the time the rain fell from the thick canopy of leaves, it had 
formed large droplets.I don't know how long the silence lasted but it seemed 
like an hour. I was thinking as hard and fast as I could. Certainly I could 
ask Tristan's mother whether her son could live with me. After a week, maybe I 
would have solutions to the other problems. I spoke carefully as I outlined my 
plan.

Even before I had finished Tristan agreed. It was a promissory note of 
things that might eventuate if all went well. As soon as he said 'YES!' I 
hugged him tightly. I wanted to be inside his body again, to feel him 
squirming and writhing as I possessed his young body and took advantage of his 
offer. It would complete our love, the small deposit of my semen deep inside 
his bowel would be the final seal. But no matter what new position I invented, 
the cabin of a Jaguar XJS is too small for want I had in mind.

I lifted Tristan up and dumped him, still with his shorts at his knees, in the 
seat next to mine. He grinned cheekily as I lifted up and pulled my jeans 
upward, closed my zipper and secured my belt. Tristan got the message and 
dragged his own clothes up as I started the engine and began to back out of 
the narrow hollow in the woods. I reversed all the way up to the shed before I 
finally located a place to turn around.

We left the gate wide open. By the time I got back onto the highway it was 
nearly three p.m. I was hungry and so was Tristan but I had no intention of 
stopping for lunch. I cruised at just over 120 kilometers per hour (70 mph), 
fast enough to avoid attracting the attention of the constabulary. As we 
drove, I developed my plan. Tristan Alexander Gordon could become my son.

At Coff's Harbour, I finally got the urge to pull into Wendy's on the main 
street and order from the drive-thru. We were both famished. A couple of 
burgers and fries later and I felt replenished and ready to go on. But where 
to go to? Our plans called for us to be two hundred kilometers further north 
for the evening, but that was before I spent two hours fucking, fingering, and 
feeling up the beautiful boy beside me. To make matters worse, I was 
expected at Jacaranda House, a bed and breakfast-come guest house where 
Chris had suggested that we stay the previous evening before we left. Its 
manager, sixty-year-old Ms. Anna Broadley, now held a single room with a 
queen-size bed, awaiting my arrival that evening.