From: FCPHAW@news.delphi.com (FCPHAW@DELPHI.COM)
Date: 3 Aug 1995 21:45:53 -0400
Organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation

FAN CHA PHAW PRESENTS:

The following story contains adult sexual material. If you are 
under the legal age to read such material, exit now and do not 
continue reading.

If you are offended by homosexual sex, or by boy-boy, or 
man-boy sex, exit now and do not continue reading.

Fan Cha Phaw does not condone the activities of the actors in 
this story. Fan Cha PHaw does not advocate the breaking of 
any laws.

Ishmael Wilkins


SURPRISE!!!

THE FOLLOWING IS A STORY BONUS


Reflections of a Summer Day
by J.K.

We are in Florida, the boy and I, canoeing down the 
Suwannee River together. He is 11, a bundle of hyperactive 
energy, bubbling over with uninhibited love and affection. We 
paddle around a bend, and come upon an isolated sandbar, 
shimmering in the sun and surrounded by the wonders of 
nature. Brightly colored butterflies dance across the surface of 
the sun-baked sand, adding to the beauty of the natural 
surroundings. We've been on the river for three hours and now 
we are ready to rest. It is midday, and the hot sun overhead is 
shining brightly. We still have another seven miles to go 
before we reach our destination.

"Let's stop here," the boy says in a clear, high voice. I am 
more than willing, so we cut across the river's current, 
beaching the canoe as we connect with the sandbar. Climbing 
out of the canoe, we both pull it to shore.

"This is the perfect place!" the boy shouts, as he struggles 
with his life preserver. He pulls it off, dropping it to the sand. 
Clad only in a tight-fitting green nylon bathing suit, he is sun-
drenched perfection, a beautiful specimen of pre-adolescent 
boyhood. As he scampers before me, I can clearly see the 
gentle round twin curves of his bottom and the small bulge of 
his sex outlined under the bathing suit. He runs through the 
sand, chasing the butterflies that flutter away. As I take off my 
life preserver he faces the water and dives in. He is laughing 
and splashing, music to my ears, challenging me to jump into 
the water after him.

"In a minute," I tell him. I walk over to the canoe to take out 
the neatly folded beach blanket and a plastic bottle of 
Coppertone, then find a level spot and spread out the blanket, 
which is large enough for both of us. Turning to face him, I 
bellow like a bull and beat my chest with my fists. Then I run 
into the water after him, lift him into the air and throw him. 
He ends up a couple feet away, landing in the water with a 
resounding splash. He flails, laughs, and sputters up water. I 
am a child again, if only for a little while.

For the next half-hour we swim together. The water is cool 
and refreshing. I take him on countless rides, him clinging to 
my shoulders as I breaststroke through the water. I throw him 
again and we engage in a splash fight. He wins, but my 
reward is his boyish laughter. A love radiates between us, a 
kind of love that only a man and boy can share, one that is 
sincere and honest, without flaw and endless. We leave the 
river, tired after our games, but cool and happy. 

We walk over to the canoe, where we eat our lunch, peanut 
butter and jelly sandwiches, chips and soft drinks. He looks 
into my eyes and smiles as he eats his sandwich, a beautiful 
smile that runs from cheek to cheek. His face is smooth and he 
has a slight, sunburnt pug nose, a few freckles, soft long eye 
lashes, and green sensual eyes. His smile melts me and leaves 
me trembling within. I smile back, glad that he has been 
allowed to come with me.

He finishes eating and takes the fishing pole out of the canoe. 
"I'm going to catch me a whopper," he chimes as he scampers 
over to the point of the sandbar.

"Good luck," I tell him. "You wore me out, so I'm going to lie 
out in the sun for a few minutes to rest and catch some rays." I 
walk over to the blanket, and laying on my back, I stare up at 
the blue, cloud-speckled sky. After a while he lays down on 
his side next to me.

"The fishing's no good," he says. Then, reaching across my 
belly he picks up the bottle of suntan oil. "Will you put some 
of this on me, please?" he asks.

"Of course." He hands me the bottle and rolls over on his 
stomach, resting his chin on the back of his hands, his elbows 
out. As I open the bottle, the smell of coconut and bananas 
fills the air. I squirt some of the oil between his shoulder 
blades. With the palm of my free hand I start spreading it over 
his smooth, warm flesh. His skin is already tan and breathing 
with life. I rub the oil around his neck, massaging his muscles 
in the process. I gaze down at his damp, dark blond hair, 
drying in the warmth of the sun. A butterfly flutters around us 
as he lies there not moving, both of us loving every minute of 
it.

I squirt a little oil down the center of his back in a thin line, 
and rub it into his flesh, feeling his sturdy back muscles and 
the ridges of his spine. I slide my hand down along his left 
side, feeling the solid cage of his ribs beneath his warm, 
radiating skin. My fingers glide back up to the damp furrow of 
his armpit and he giggles at my touch. I deliberately tickle 
him again before moving over to his right side to repeat the 
process. I then glide my hand to his lower back. As I get ready 
to squirt some more oil there, he tells me to wait.

"I want to be dark all over," he says.

I lean back to watch as he moves to a sitting position. He 
unties the string of his bathing suit, then peels it down over his 
pale white midsection and brown legs. He kicks out of the 
suit, then rolls back over on his belly, now completely naked.

My heart is thumping fast a I squirt a drop of oil on the dip 
between his lower back and bottom. My free hand moves 
down to rub it in, following the soft curves of his bottom. The 
skin feels much cooler there, as my hand slides over his ass 
cheeks from one mound to the other. I let my fingertips 
wander down along his cleft, passing lightly over his small, 
puckered anus. I squirt a little oil on the back of his legs and 
rub it around underneath his cheeks and over his upper legs. I 
do one leg, then the other, sliding my hand down over sinewy 
muscles all the way to his heels.

He rolls over on his back. Placing both hands behind his head, 
he says, "Do my front now." Even though he could do it 
himself, I could not resist the opportunity to run my oil-
covered hand over his naked flesh once more. I glance down 
the length of his body and see a firm chest, bird cage-like ribs, 
and soft belly. His limp cock is small and circumcised. I 
notice a slight hint of fine, golden, sun-enhanced fuzz fringing 
the base. Underneath, two acorn-sized balls, nesting in a 
hairless, brown, wrinkled sack complete his perfect boyhood.

I squirt a little oil in my hand and start at the very center of his 
chest. Resting the flat of my hand there, I can feel his heart 
thumping strongly and quickly, showing his excitement. I start 
rubbing the oil in, my hand gradually sliding down the 
contoured ridges of his rib cage, pausing to tantalize his bead-
sized nipples, then moving into a hairless armpit. He giggles 
as I tickle him, sensitive to my light, fluttering touch. I do the 
same on his other side before moving my oily hand over to the 
curve of his belly. I squirt a little oil just above his slightly 
indented belly button, and he sucks it in, causing a squiggle of 
oil to dribble in. I slide the palm of my hand around in circular 
motions on his belly, working my way down toward his hips 
and groin. His breathing accelerates. I pause, and he looks up 
and smiles once again. I sense then what he wants me to do. 
The smell of bananas and coconut fills the air. More 
butterflies dance around us.

I slide my hand down over his hairless pubic mound to cover 
his soft, warm cock. I rub his cock gently with the palm of my 
hand and feel him stiffen underneath. Once it's hard, I gently 
roll it against his groin before sliding my hand down to cup 
and juggle his boyish orbs. Released from my hand, his cock 
springs upward, sticking out in a slim, rigid four inches of 
throbbing boyflesh. I cup his balls once again before sliding 
my fingers up, making a fist around his proud, slim erection. I 
rub him up and down a few times and he coos in delight. I 
release him and start to move my hands to finish oiling his 
body. But he sits up and grabs my wrist with his small, strong 
hand.

"Don't stop. Rub me a little more, please," he whispers.

I look at him and smile, "You're something else, aren't you?"

He lets go of my wrist and lies back, putting his hands behind 
his tousled head. I wrap my fingers back around his erect cock 
and resume gently stroking him.

"That feels good," he sighs as he closes his eyes. A few 
seconds later his body trembles, he gasps for breath, and his 
hips lurch forward to meet my downward stroke. His cock 
starts to pulsate as he lets out a little cry. I am rewarded with a 
tiny drop of thin, clear fluid that spurts quickly out, barely 
coating my fingertips. Then he lets out a long sigh as he 
collapses back against the blanket. I release his now-limp 
cock and finish rubbing oil from his thighs to his feet. Then I 
lean back to admire his oily body shining in the sun.

Once rested, he scrambles to his knees and, picking up the 
bottle of oil, says in his clear, high voice, "It's my turn to do 
you."

"All right," I tell him, not expecting him to have volunteered.

I roll over on my back, but before I can relax he says, "Come 
on, get naked like me."

What can I say? I sit up and smile at him as I untie my bathing 
suit and pull it off in one swift motion. He stares at my naked 
body, then, satisfied, kneels down beside me. I roll over on 
my stomach and relax, the warm Florida sun caressing my 
body.

He squirts some oil on my upper back and with his small, 
enticing hand, he starts to rub the oil into my skin. His 
slippery hand slides over my shoulders, around my neck and 
down across my upper back and shoulder blades. He squirts a 
thin line of oil down my spine, maybe using a little too much, 
but it doesn't matter. He rubs it into my lower back, then 
slides his hand over my firm, muscular ass cheeks. He rubs it 
over one cheek, dancing his fingers over my cleft to the other. 
Finally my bottom is completely covered, and he moves down 
to rub the oil down the backs of my legs to my ankles.

"There," he chimes. "Now roll over so I can do your front."

I roll over onto my back and stare up into the face of this 
golden angel. He squeezes a little oil into the palm of his hand 
and rubs it slowly over my chest, shoulders and around my 
neck. Deliberately he slides the ball of his thumb over my 
erect nipples, then slides his oil-covered hand down over the 
center of my chest toward my stomach. He presses the tip of 
his index finger into my belly button, sending chills surging 
through my body. He then glances down at my thick erection, 
and leans over and whispers into my ear, "You got a big one."

He squirts the last of the oil into his hand, then, tossing the 
empty bottle aside, slides his fingers through my thatch of 
pubic hair to the base of my cock. He slides his fingers around 
to gently squeeze and cup my balls, rolling the large twin orbs 
against each other. The he moves his fingers up to slide them 
along the 6-inch length of my cock. He squeezes the rigid 
flesh, forcing some pre-seminal fluid to dribble out from the 
tip. He rubs it, mixing it with the oil. By now I am so highly 
charged that nothing could prevent the inevitable. After a few 
more strokes, I let loose, spurting thick jets of white sperm 
into the air and all over his hand. He holds my pulsating flesh 
until I'm spent, then squeezes out one last drop, gets to his 
feet, and goes over to the water to rinse off his hand.

He lays back down beside me and snuggles up, resting his 
head on my shoulder, and throws his arm across my chest. I 
curve my arm around him to caress and stroke his back. As his 
small fingers entwine themselves in the sparse hair of my 
chest, my hand wanders down to cup his small, rounded ass 
cheeks. Our slick, oil-covered bodies rub against each other 
and we are at peace, sharing our deep love for one another in 
harmony with the beauty of our surroundings.

Man and boy, joined by love and affection, we close our eyes 
to nap, dreaming of life and the love that binds us.

But that love is not to be. A thick gray cloud covers the warm 
sun, and suddenly the world plunges into darkness. In the 
distance thunder wracks the stillness, and I sit up, drenched in 
a cold sweat, staring around at the four dark, dingy walls that 
make up the prison cell where I have lived for the past three 
years. I stand and stare out of the small barred window. It is 
raining, and as the rain falls, I feel tears sliding down my 
cheeks. Alone and scorned, I crave for that summer afternoon. 
Somewhere a boy's voice also cries, remembering a hot 
summer day, canoeing down a slow-moving river with the 
man he loved, only to have the love discovered and 
condemned by a homophobic society.

In the distance the thunder roars.

The end