Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2001 07:57:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: Wishus Teglin
Subject: Stupid Johnny chpt 3

Stupid Johnny
A Boylove Romance

Chapter Three

by Teglin
with the invaluable assistance of  Michael and Kallen

Dedication:

Once upon a time, a friend of mine named Michael was driving along a
country road in his native Poland, and came upon a ragamuffin of a little
boy, dressed in tatters, struggling all alone to push a cart much too big for
him.  Looking miserable, hungry, cold.

It was one of those moments - we all have them - moments we look back
on with such great regret.  Because Michael wanted to stop.  He wanted to
talk with the boy, see if he was ok, if he could use some food, or perhaps a
helping hand, or just a kind word.  But he didn't stop.

Why didn't he stop?  Why don't we all stop, in moments like that?  Why
do we let convention, or fear, or doubt, or hurry, or sometimes just plain
selfishness keep us from meeting the moment?

Well, Michael helped me write this story.  It's all about what might have
been.  It's dedicated to that little boy on the roadside.  And every other boy
anywhere in the world who might someday need one of us to stop ... just
for him.




Copyright 2001 by Teglin.  You may freely copy this boylove romance and
distribute it.  Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way.


WARNING:

This boylove romance contains descriptions of sexual acts between a man
and a minor boy.  Their sexual relationship is very important to the story,
as part of their love-making, but it is their spiritual relationship that I
wanted to explore even more, as the very essence of boylove.

If this story is illegal where you are, or for your age, or the concept of a
man/boy romantic relationship offends you, don't read further.




Glossary:


Jasio  =  Yasho
Podhorowski = pod-ho-rouskee
Piotr Ostoja  =  Pyoter Ostoya
Leon Koczurba  = Le-own Kotschurba
Beskidy = Beskeedy
Jodlowka  = Yodlovka
Sosnowka  = Sosnovka
Rzeszow = Dgeshow
Polska = Powlska
Misiu = Meeshoo
babciu = bubshoo



Chapter Three


Droga Starego Krola (Old King's Road)
Rzeszow Administrative District, Poland
September 15, 1959  1:03 A.M.


It was like falling into a dream when I next awoke.  Even before I opened
my eyes, I felt the boy.  Cuddled in my arms, his soft buttocks pressing
down against my erection - oh how I felt him pressing against me along the
entire length of his body - his head still resting against my chest, my arms
still in his grasp, forcing me to hold him tight, his legs drawn up in my lap.
Our bodies were so warm and cozy together.  It was like he was fitted to
me, and together we made up one living, breathing creature capable of
enduring anything - the cold, the dark.  The future.  In this dream, we had a
future.

When I did open my eyes, the dream deepened, for high up above, framed
in the rear window of our sedan, was the constellation of Orion!

"Make Orion the Hunter your guide," Tomek would tell us back during the
war, before every one of our winter raids.    "Just like Orion, you will come
and go in the night.  You will hunt silently.  Move quickly.  Get your job
done, before the Hunter is gone from above."

How many times through years since then had I dreamed about such
moments, and always I would see the great Orion, his belt studded in
scintillating diamonds, coursing above us.  Then I would awake, and the
image of Orion would disappear, leaving me with my heart pounding and
surging in my ears.

This time was different.   Orion stayed, and Jasio and I were the hunted,
not the hunters.  Still, my heart hammered just the same.  I was wide awake
instantly.  Aware!   Eyes open, ears straining against my raging pulse.
Aroused like always in these moments, every muscle tensed.  And my penis
so hard that it almost hurt.

"Look!"  Tomek used to whisper to the whole troop, "look at that horny
little bastard," pointing at me and grinning.  "Piotrek always gets a hardon
before a raid."

Of course he was right.  I never felt so alive as at such moments.  Moments
like this one.

"Let your little dickie be your guide, Piotrek," Tomek would sputter out
sarcastically.  We all would laugh.  I didn't care.  I reveled in it.

Now was no different. Well, my penis was no longer so small.  If Jasio
awoke, he'd feel a veritable log between my legs - 21 centimeters long, and
as thick and as hard as a stout branch.  Wet too.  Damn.  I'd be leaking
precum from now till ... till I could relieve myself.

I don't know what it is about me, but I can keep an erection for hours at a
time.  Especially one unbidden like this, one that comes upon me because I
am going into battle again.  The excitement, the adrenaline flow, the need
for keeping my senses on edge.  The need!  Even if I could distract myself.
Even if I got my rampant dick to soften for a moment, it would rise again
till my need was fulfilled.  Till the moment was over.

Damn that Tomek!  He'd laugh and say, "Don't you touch that dick,
Piotrek.  I think it's smarter than you.  And braver!  Always leading the
way!"

Well, I ought to have plenty to distract me now.  I had a boy to feed and
clothe and bathe.  Above all I had to keep him out of the clutches of our
pursuers until I could come up with a plan.

So here I sat in the dark - my watch showed 1:00 AM under Orion's
haunting glow - just hoping I wouldn't wake up Jasio.  Would he
understand that the chase was on?  That he had a part in it?  Would he
really want that part?

Would he understand my beating heart, my quickened breath, the glare of
my roving eyes - or the unrelenting hardness of my manhood pressing up
against his bottom?

There was nothing for it, but to get started.  The very hairs on the back of
my neck stood on end.  I sensed that someone was out there, searching for
us already.  The KGB.  The Polish police ... someone.

Taking care not to startle him, I pulled my arms slowly apart, reluctantly
releasing him from my embrace.  His hands loosened their hold just as
slowly, and it seemed to me, just as reluctantly.  They slid down and
dropped limply to his tummy.

He didn't stir.  Just slept the sleep of an exhausted, mistreated little boy,
who for once was warm and dry and comfortable.

Hnnh!  I suppressed a chuckle.  He was as comfortable as a boy could be
who had slept in a man's lap for three or four hours.  Worst still, a man
who sported a hardon that stabbed upwards mercilessly.
.
When I slid my hands under his thighs, they felt so warm and moist, where
our flesh had touched for so long.  His skin there was like satin, so soft to
my touch, but he was so slender that there wasn't a lot of pliant flesh there
- just the firmness of his muscles, and the long sleek lines of his legs.
Higher up, against my left wrist, I felt the cushiony softness of his bottom
as I lifted him, practically holding him suspended in the air as I scooched
out from underneath, and then let  him down upon the car seat.  The big
coat slid down with him, exposing my bare shoulders and chest to the frigid
air within the car.  I shivered violently while I laid him flat upon the seat
and made sure that the coat still covered him everywhere, propping it up
just a bit near his head, so he could get some fresh air to breathe.

Quickly I reached for my shirt where I had thrown it after drying the boy
and put it on.  The sharp bite of its still damp cloth really just invigorated
me.  I felt every muscle within me tighten, both against the cold and with
the need to get going.  Still my penis, held tight against my pubis by my
belted pants, was straining and hard.

My breath was visible in the sparklingly clear night air, when I got out of
the back seat and closed the door as gently as I could manage.  There was
nary a sign of anyone around, but  I didn't waste any time looking around
before getting back into the driver's seat, and starting the engine.

It was so clear out that I left the lights off for the time being.  Good that I
did, too.  Because as I backed the car off the side road onto the tarmac of
the main road, I glimpsed small wavering lights back along the way.  Just
about where the turnout was.  Probably Leon had rousted out the farmers,
and they were already searching for us.  I wondered if they could hear our
car engine.

At any rate, that settled one thing.  I hoped all the decisions Jasio and I had
to make would be so easy.  We'd have to drive on into the mountains, into
the unknown, instead of back down the road to the last town I had passed.
One thing was for sure, they wouldn't have any vehicle on that collective
that could match the power and speed of my GAZ.

After the first good bend in the road I switched on the lights and sped up,
and tried to relax back into the seat.  God, I was so on edge!  My mind was
racing, my heart was still pounding, and my penis still strained against the
imprisonment of my pants.  As I drove, trying to imagine all the
possibilities - where we would find food and lodging, how best to contact
Pawel, how much time we had - I kept squirming in my seat, and reaching
down again and again to grasp my tool and squeeze.  My every move was
tantalizing, causing the fabric of my waistband and belt to press down and
grate against my super-sensitive glans.  It electrified me, adding even more
tension and urgency to the decisions at hand.

I kept looking back over my shoulder too, as if to reassure myself that
Jasio was still there, in my care.  He had slept through everything - all the
moving around, when I settled him down prone on the back seat, tucking
the coat in, making sure that no part of his body was bare to the frigid air;
all the noise, doors closing, the engine barking to life; the jostling as I
backed out and up onto the tarmac.  He was out to the world, and in a
way, I dreaded the moment when he would wake up.  What would he
think, waking up in a moving car?

It's not like I was kidnapping him.  I honestly felt like he had given me all
the signs that he trusted me.  I had told him that I would take care of him.
He had pulled my arms tight about him.

Still, I worried.  I didn't want him to be scared.  I didn't want him to think
I'd do anything to jerk him out of his world - but I had to do something!  I
couldn't just take him back to those farmers before I had got him some
new clothes, fed him - maybe even get him a medical check - and damn
sure I wasn't going to take him back there without some leverage.

This mountain road wasn't making anything easier.  Each passing mile
proved that the villages, so close together down on the plains, had no
reason for existence up here beneath the rising walls of the mountains.

The road followed a rift up into the range - it kept crossing and recrossing
the same fast-running stream, twisting in tight curves around jutting rock
outcrops, and skirting the very edges of looming crags.

We were on the road for a good 30 minutes, with not even a hint of
habitation.  I was seriously considering the alternative, and was about to
start looking for a place to turn about and reluctantly dare the fates down
on the flats, when the very next turn brought me up hard.  It was a fork in
the road, and one that was definitely not on my map!

Thankfully, I had the presence of mind not to slam on the brakes and
tumble Jasio onto the floorboards, but I did pull the car over to the side of
the road as much as possible, and slowed to a stop.  Then I just sat there
starring ahead, leaning forward over the steering wheel.  My first thought
was one of panic - so much for my well-laid plan to get over the mountains
using the Old King's Way!  Which way WAS the King's Way?

My second thought was one of astonishment, because in the shadows cast
by the headlights high upon the great citadel of rock rising up between the
two roads, was something straight out of `The Arabian Nights'.  Looming
there, conjured  out of the very stygian blackness of this forested mountain
passage was a huge flat rock face filled with petroglyphs, hieroglyphs, or ...
or whatever else such things are called - great symbols carved, hammered,
chiseled, directly into this virgin stone outcropping that sprang up before us
from the very core of the great mountain range.

Road markers.  Signs.  Symbols. I didn't know how to decipher all of
them.  Even in the dark, with the light from the car slanting shadows
upward from every pit and cavity within the great carvings, I could see that
some were ancient, weathered by the passage of hundreds, probably
thousands of years.  Others were by the hands of much more recent
artisans, and all too easily recognizable.

On the right side - for there were actually two very different sets of
carvings - rose two towering, majestic emblems of the Great White Eagle,
the traditional standard of Poland's old royal families.  One of the Eagles
was crudely hammered - a stark figure from out of the Dark Ages.  The
other was magnificently detailed - an almost living relief of the mighty
eagle, no doubt from the time when Poles ruled all the Slavs.  Below these
royal crests, the words `Droga Starego Krola` showed that here was indeed
the King`s Way across the mountains.

On the other side, hanging over the other route, were a multitude of
carvings.  Dominating them all was another famous family crest upon the
face of a great shield.  I recognized it immediately - what Pole wouldn't
know the bold banner of the great Podhorowski family?  Two interlocking
horseshoes, one a bit smaller than the other, but facing away from the other
- it was the symbol of the divided loyalties of a family often more powerful
than the royals at times in our nation's past.  That wasn't what hit me
though.  Superimposed upon that ancient crest, was a much more recent
defacement - two interlocking gashes of jagged lightening - the emblem of
the German SS - again one smaller than the other.  Those hated symbols
almost brought the bile up into my throat, even though someone had
obviously chipped away at them, trying to remove their disfiguring, spider-
like scrawl upon the Podhorowski crest.

There were other emblems upon the left-side rock face.  All different, but
following a very obvious pattern.  Two plain circles, one smaller and linked
with the larger.  Two Byzantine crosses, the smaller superimposed and
offset over the larger.  Two barely decipherable petroglyphs, perhaps very
ancient Runes.  To my mind, and in my still very much aroused state, the
two slanted lines, connected only at their bases, looked like nothing so
much as potent phallic symbols.

Below all these were two words - Grecka Droga.

The Greek Road.

The road beneath these enigmatic symbols was hard-topped also, but a bit
narrower than the King's Way, and oddly enough it was paved with
concrete.  It had the look of heavy usage in years past, with faint oil and
exhaust stains running right up the middle of it, but even in the tire paths
there were weeds growing up here and there from fissures in the pavement.

I almost felt I was hallucinating.  Here I was in a lonely mountain passage,
rock cliffs rising on all sides, and this ... Greek Road ... with it's haunting
reminders of both the recent and the ancient past, had appeared as if by
magic in the dark of the night!  I swear, I kept staring ahead, wide-eyed,
but ever so slowly I reached back with my right hand and stretched to feel
the blanketed form of the little boy in the back seat.  I touched the curve of
his hip, and just held my fingertips there for a moment.

Yes.  This was all for real.  Jasio and I were indeed here.  The rising bulk
of the mountains on either side of us were not imaginary, the fork in this
road was not some figment.  Nor was the choice.

To the right?  Would that lead us sooner to respite?

Or ... to the left?

I just couldn't shake the feeling that this Greek Way had appeared out of
thin air ... just for me and Jasio!  As if luring us.

No. Guiding us.

I had had premonitions before.  An unexplained sense of ... purposefulness,
fate, Providence ... I don't know what to call it.  I felt it that long-ago
moment in `39, when I laid down the shovel I had used to bury my mother
and father, and turned to see Tomek standing watching me.  I had felt it
just yesterday morning, talking to Pawel on the phone.  Truth be told, I had
been practically struck down by the feeling, yesterday evening, on this very
road, when I stopped so suddenly, realizing that I had to return to Jasio.

"I don't know what it is, Misiu," I suddenly uttered out loud, still staring
up at the symbols marking the Grecka Droga, "but I think we must go
left."

I heard Jasio sigh then and rustle the coat, as he turned over on the seat.  I
looked back to make sure he was still completely covered and adjusted the
covering about his feet.  He hadn't awoken, but somehow I felt his
continued, peaceful slumber was a sign.  All was well.  Notwithstanding
those ugly SS slashes etched into the rock face, we would go left.
Certainly not all the way to Greece!  Hopefully soon to find some food,
and a place to rest without fear of discovery.

I eased the car back into gear and took the chosen way, passing directly
underneath the extraordinary set of glyphs.  I reached down and felt that
my penis was no longer engorged.  For the moment at least, fear, or ...
uncertainty drained away at my spirit.  The sense of purposefulness waned
for a moment, as I gave in to doubt.  What had I gotten Jasio into?  Was it
right that I consign his destiny to the rule of my feeble premonition?

Cement.  Even that made this Grecka Droga unusual.  I could only imagine
that it was some kind of war-related construction.  The Germans had left
their concrete scars all over our land.  And yet, this way had obviously
been marked and used for countless centuries before the war.

I took the road a bit slower, but pushed on ever deeper into the forest that
seemed to close in upon us - huge boles rose up now right at the very edge
of the pavement.  I rolled down the window a bit.  Even with the steady
rumble of the engine, there was an eerie sort of  `quiet.'  A calmness and
darkness disturbed only by the moving car.  There was a sibilant gurgling
off to the left, and through the thickly clustered tree trunks, the headlights
reflected off a small brook that tumbled over a rocky bed.

A bare rock cliff rose just to the right of the road, less than twenty meters
away, but the further we went the height of that great rock wall diminished
- the only real indication that we were still gaining ever so slowly in
altitude.

Two kilometers along the Grecka Droga, and the trees started to thin out
and recede from the edge of the road, and the brook disappeared.  The high
rock wall off to the right was now a mere ledge, and then it simply blended
into the ground as I drove the car up a slight rise and suddenly found
ourselves in the very center of a courtyard - a cobbled, leaf-strewn expanse
- with small white-washed lodges in either side of us, and straight ahead a
much larger structure - like a rustic inn. This, apparently, was the end of
our road.

The place looked empty, unoccupied, but well-kept.  Not abandoned.

Definitely not abandoned, for as I drove the car slowly up to the steps of
the main building, out shuffled a wizened old crone.  She must have been
90!  Or a 100.  Stoop-shouldered and gray, draped in a disheveled robe of
sepulchral white, no doubt thrown over her nightgown when the sound of
our car rousted her from sleep.  I glanced at my watch.  It was almost
exactly 2 AM now.

The woman was certainly not too old and weak to sling a double barreled
shotgun under one arm, and to hold a flashlight in the other - both pointing
in my general direction - but her whole body was shaking.  It was a slow,
rhythmic rattling of her ancient bones.  Not from the cold or fright - she
looked anything but frightened as she glared at me - perhaps it was from
some affliction of age.

I suppressed a most disconcerting urge to chuckle, figuring it wouldn't
take all that much steadiness of aim for her to blast a man-sized whole
through my windshield if I enraged her any more than she already was.  For
she looked likely to blast away.  Not at all happy to have her sleep, nor
perhaps her privacy, disturbed.

When I brought the car to a complete stop, I hesitated for a split second,
then just turned off the engine and lights and very slowly rested my hands
on the steering wheel where she could see them.

She looked grim, and very much intending to be taken seriously, when she
motioned with the flashlight that I should step out of the car.  I got out, but
left the door open, not wanting to startle Jasio awake at this very moment.
What if he suddenly arose, poking his head up over the front seat?!  Would
she fire away?

I stepped away from the car, happy to see that she turned with me, keeping
the gun and flashlight aimed at me.

It was cold in this mountain air!  And here I was without my coat again!  I
must have looked quite the frightened innocent, standing there rigid against
the cold, trying to suppress my own shivers.

"The Grecka Droga is closed," she croaked out, her voice hard and
inflexible.  "Turn your car around and go back down the road.  Your kind
aren't welcome here, anyway."

Again I felt that incongruous urge to laugh.  It was hard to take the old
witch seriously!

"And what is my kind, old woman?" I tossed off banteringly, through teeth
clenched against the cold.

"You're a Commie.  That's your kind.  I don't need your kind around
here."

"You do know it's illegal to have a gun, don't you?  Much less to point it
at som ...."

"Piss on you and your Commie rules," she said, and then she worked up
her toothless gums and twisted her mouth into the most horrifically ugly
grimace I could ever imagine, and spat out a huge wad of some brownish
gunk that splattered expertly right on my shoes!

I jumped back, keeping my hands still by my side.  She might be old and
toothless, but I realized I had better not take her threats lightly.

"I didn't kowtow to the Nazis, and I won't bend over for the likes of you
either.  I served the Podorowski's!  Nobles, by birth and nature.  I spit on
your kind," she muttered angrily, and I saw that she was about to wrestle
up another gob of spittle for my pleasure.

I decided to take a different tack.  Jasio needed a place to sleep.  And some
food.  I did too, for that matter.

"Pardon my intrusion.  I'm sincerely sorry to show up here at such an
awkward hour.  However, you obviously have rooms here, and that's all
I'm asking for.  A place to stay the rest of the night, perhaps a bite to eat in
the morning?" I pleaded, holding my hands forward, palms out.

"Get out, I said," she repeated, unimpressed by my soft words.

"But I can't go on driving forev ...."

"That's exactly what you can do, for all I care.  Now for the last time, get
out!  I know how to use this cannon if I ...."

"But I have a boy with me!" I blurted out, still pleading, seeing that she
was about to raise the shotgun to point it more directly at me.  "He needs
rest, a good bed, some food, some clean clothes - he's had a hard time out
...."

"Shut up!" she barked at me, then she looked towards the car and quickly
shone the flashlight through the windows.  It was maddening to just stand
there and watch her blazing that light through the windows towards Jasio,
it`s beam shaking slowly along with her whole palsied body.  Had I made a
mistake?  Should I just lunge forward and wrestle that gun from her hands?
Would she harm ....

"A boy?" she asked suddenly, looking back at me suspiciously.

"Yes, he's in the back seat now, sleeping."

"Let me see, then." she answered gruffly, as she started down the steps.  I
wished she would drop the gun.  It wavered about wildly as she descended
the steps.  I reached hesitantly as if to help her down, but she motioned me
away with the flashlight, grumbling under her breath.

I shifted towards the back door of the car to open it for her, keeping a
wary eye on the gun.  If she so much as hinted at a threat to Jasio, I would
cut her down..

"No!" she yelled at me angrily.

"But I thought you wanted to see the boy," I answered meekly, backing
away from the car again.

"It's you I want to see, stupid.  I know what boys look like," she said as
she waddled closer to me and pointed the flashlight right up into my face,
blinding me.  I just stood there stiffly.  I could have pounced on her, taken
the gun from her then, but for some reason I ... I just felt her authority, as if
she had the right to inspect me.  That it was important for me to let her
have her way.

I couldn't see her with the glare in my eyes, but I could hear her rasping
breath just below me.  She was no taller than Jasio, and came only up to
my chest level.

She punched me in the chest with her finger, and said very solemnly,
speculatively, "you have a strong face, Communist.  Do you also have a
strong heart?"

"I ... think so." I answered, taken aback at her question.

"Will you care for the boy?"

The question hit me like a lightening bolt out of a blue sky!  What could
this old hag know of ... what could she know of me, of how I felt, of what
kind of man I was, of my past, of ... my present?  What could she sense?
What could she read in my face?  Did she know?  Did she sense ...
anything?

"Well, will you care for the boy?!" she repeated, this time impatiently.

"Yes! Yes ... babciu.  I will care for him," I answered solemnly.

"I'm not your grandmother" she grumbled, and lowered the flashlight.  She
started towards the car.  "But you can call me that for his sake," she said,
waving the beam of light in Jasio's direction.  "Now show me the boy."

I hastily strode to the back door and opened it, then started to lift the coat
from Jasio's head.  She had just enough time to see the soft lines of his
forehead and nose, when she said, "Alright.  You can stay.  For the boy."

"I thank yo ...."

"Don't thank me.  It's for the boy.  We shall see if it's for you also.  Now
come with me," she ordered as she started to shamble off towards the
steps.  "I will give you a key.  You bring me his clothes.  And yours too.  I
will wash them.  You can have breakfast at 8.  Then you will take a bath in
the warm spring."

Now for what I was dreading.  How was I to explain that we had no extra
clothing.  "Yes, ma'am.  But ... I'm sorry, babciu, but ... uh ... neither the
boy nor I have any other clothes."

She stopped and turned again towards me, and again she shone the
flashlight up into my face.  "Why would you travel the Grecka Droga
without ... have you ... did you take this boy by force from his family?" she
demanded fiercely.

"No, grandmother.  I assure you he came willingly.  As far as I know he
has no family.  He was being mistreated by the farmers down on the flats,
he has no parents and ...."

"You mean the farmers of the Jodlowka Collective?" she asked sharply.

"Yes.  I found the boy beside the road.  I ... hit his cart, with my car, and I
feared that ...."

She spat again.  This time off to my side.  "Save your explanations for the
morning, Communist," she said dismissively.  "I've seen your face.  I have
also seen the faces of the farmers of the collective.  I know them all too
well.  You will do as I say. I will bring you some clothing.  Then I will
wash your things."


--------------------------------



Grecka Droga (The Greek Way)
Beskidy Mountains
Rzeszow Administrative District, Poland
September 15, 1959  2:33 A.M.


The fire crackled and flickered in unsyncapated, arrhythmic counterpoint to
my cooing voice.  Its life-giving, warming tendrils licked up against the
rock-lined confines of the hearth, offering our only source of light.  It was
pitch black outside in the darkest hours before the dawn, but inside our
cabin I could finally look upon him.

Him.

Jasio.

I murmured to him unceasingly - about all the possibilities, about all the
improbabilities.  Or perhaps I spoke mere nonsense.  Whatever it was, I
couldn't stop it, no more than I could keep from glancing over at him on
the bed, where he lay in the deepest slumber, still wrapped in my coat.

Everything seemed so right again.  I finished setting out the clothes that the
old woman had lent us, then let my hand linger over the impossible softness
of the flannel nightgown she intended for my boy.

I wondered how long it had been since he had felt something so soft
against his skin - something soft enough for him, good enough for him,
worthy of him.

I grasped the nightgown and traipsed silently in my bare feet to his side.  I
had already stripped to my shorts, and now I slipped out of those too,
letting them drop to the floor trailing precum all the way down my legs,
and releasing my heavy penis to swing out, free and hard - in that same
unrelenting arousal that I had known was going to mark this day.  My
erection had returned along with the sense that so far, I had made all the
right choices.

"Let Orion the Hunter be your guide ...."  Well, the mighty Hunter had
done well for the Hunted, this night.

We had our sanctuary.  New clothes.  The promise of a welcome to the old
woman's table.  The offer of a cleansing bath in the Grecka Droga's warm
springs.

Plus we had time.  Time to plan Jasio's future.  Time to just ... be.

Selfishly, as I stood above him, stroking my engorged penis with one hand,
and feeling the softness of the gown in the other, I acknowledged that
another reason I was aroused was that I wanted the Time most of all.
Time to just be with him.

"Little Angel Boy, it's time to get your nightgown on and then get you
properly under the covers," I whispered to him as I sat down just above his
head on the bed.  The nightgown might be soft, but sitting on the bed was
like being suddenly enveloped in a cloud!  The comforter alone was 15
centimeters thick with down and like silk to the touch.

I practically glided Jasio upright upon that frictionless coverlet, slipping my
hands under the coat to gently grasp his upper arms from beneath, and just
pull him onto me.  The coat fell away ... the firelight, reflecting off the
dark, polished lacquer of the log walls, played in shades of tempered gold
upon his pale flesh, highlighting the little crease at his belly-button, casting
a dark shadow below that, where his flat tummy disappeared within the
coat.  The flare of his hips, and the flattening of his buttocks upon the
silken surface of the coverlet were mere hints of what lay out of view.  My
penis extended hot against his thigh - with a mind of its own, wanting to
burrow beneath his flesh and feel the pressure of his body abrading its
tenderness.

His head lay propped within the crook of my neck, resting warm against
my cheek.  I felt the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my chin, as I
gathered up the fabric of the nightgown in both of my hands, and then slid
it over his still unkempt and unwashed hair.  It fell easily to his shoulders,
then cascaded slowly in lovely folds to his tummy, where it puddled
concentrically about him.  His thin arms dangled like a puppet's within the
gown - I was his marionette as I searched beneath the fabric for each of his
little hands in turn and guided them up and through the arm holes.

He was light as a feather against me, and I considered for a moment sitting
like that all through the rest of the hours until dawn.  I knew he'd sleep
better if I laid him down, however, so I pulled the edge of the comforter in
towards us, then simply slid Jasio over onto the mattress.

His little white bottom and the backs of his thighs and legs blended into the
creamy white of the bed sheet.  Angel boy, in truth.  His legs seemed to
extend in smooth white perfection forever, belying the fact that he was just
a child.

I pulled the hem of his gown down over the mounds of his bottom and
smoothed and tugged it even lower, down to his calves.  Then I flipped the
edge of the comforter over him and stood to smooth it all the way to the
wall.  Now Jasio was where he belonged, ensconced in a bed just right for
a sleepy little boy - so soft, so thick, wrapping him in comfort and warmth.

I froze as Jasio moved under the covers, pulling his legs up and curling into
a fetal position.  He pushed one hand up from beneath the covers then, and
twined his fingers around a lock of hair laying upon the sheet just at his
forehead.  For the briefest moment his fingers twiddled in the silken
strands, then fell lax again, curled in upon themselves in a little circle.  His
lips parted, and just the glistening tip of his tongue darted out to wet his
lips.  He murmured softly, the opening note of some sweet melody that
submerged back into the silence of his dreams?  Or perhaps it was a
whimper, for his other hand emerged from the covers, his fingers curled
again right at the tip of his nose, and he settled his thumb into his mouth
and started suckling on it.

Circles.

My eyes lifted from the circles formed by his delicate fingers, to look about
our one-roomed sanctuary in amaze.  The patterns ... that motif upon the
picture rock, above the intersection of the roads  ... they were everywhere
about our room too.

Oh, it had the trappings of the typical resort cabin - a closet, and a little
alcove beside that for a polished metal sink and ceramic faucet.  Hot and
cold water - I supposed piped in from the warm spring and the mountain
creek.  The bed was set against one wall, with a narrow walkway between
it and the wall facing the courtyard.  But set in that wall was the oddest
shaped window.  A white lace curtain covered it thinly, but through that
veil I saw the message drawn in the window pane.  It was in the shape of a
large rectangle, and overlapping that, a smaller one, creating an irregularly
shaped trapezoid that had to have been hand-made and glazed.  Another
similar window, over the bed, looked out upon the blackness of the forest.
There were a wooden table, it's surface carved by some skilled craftsman
into the shape of two tear-drops, overlapping - and again, one smaller than
the other ... there was a woolen throw rug between the foot of the bed and
the table ... and once more, the interlocking circles, one smaller than the
other ....

For a moment perhaps no longer than the catch of my breath, or the beat of
Jasio's heart, I sat suspended in time, for suddenly my eyes fell back upon
the bed, where the bend of my knee almost touched Jasio's hand, and I saw
... hallucinated ... the pattern..  Perhaps it was only what I wanted to see.
Me.  Jasio.  Man.  Boy.  One touching the other.  Lives intertwined.
Circles of existence.  Once so separate, now together.   I was transported
back out onto that place where we met, when I first beheld the little boy
staring up into my face, and how for a moment, our circle of existence was
all that there was in the entire world.  Now on this bed, once again, we
might just as well be the only two people in the entire universe.  We were
One, because we came together.  We were One, because our circles of
existence ... overlapped.

I reached down and looped my own fingers through his, wishing I never
had to let him go.   Still, there were things I had to do before I could steal
the remaining hours of the night with him in my arms.

In a daze, I stood and turned back to the hearth and squatted to place
another couple of logs on it.  My penis jutted out lewdly, wobbling
between my widespread legs.  As I knelt to stand back up, I saw a drop of
my precum that had fallen to darken the red brick edging the hearth.
Wasted?  Useless?   No.  Not wasted.  I don't know if I truly even wanted
release at that moment.  My continuing erection made me feel even more
this boy's protector and guardian.

With the screen securely back in place, I walked over to the table,
determined to ignore the tightness, the fullness, in my groin.  My balls
ached and hung as heavily as I could ever remember them.  My penis
begged to be held and stroked.  But not now.  The old woman had told me
to bring our dirty clothes to her at breakfast time.  There wasn't much to
do, other than getting all of Jasio's collection of odds and ends out of his
coat.   I shook the cobwebs from my brain, and feeling a bit like I was
invading his privacy,  I spread the coat out on the table and laid it open
with a clunk and clatter - a small broken wrench fell out, with a twisted
metal wire attached to it through a hole in the handle.  I set it on the edge
of the table.  A wad of rags bulged from an inside pocket.  I lifted them
out, and placed them right below the wrench.  Then a fork, with two tongs
broken off of it, a sewing thimble, a large key - its haft broken off at some
point, but obviously hammered back together.  Next I drew from the coat a
notched stick.

I shook my head in amazement.  There was such mystery to each of these
things.  I wondered how he found them, why he kept them, how he used
them?  I counted the marks on the stick, and examined their order.  Thirty-
two little cuts taken out of the bark, evenly spaced, leaving light yellow
gashes.  The last four were crudely crossed and slashed.   Then a space,
and seven more notches below those.

Every item, just like that stick, with a purpose beyond my ken, took it's
place in neat rows on the table top.  Every one had some meaning for the
boy, and I intended to make sure he found them all when he woke up.

There was no doubt.  This boy was a marvel.  It both thrilled and dismayed
me to touch his things like this.  I felt a kind of awe, and thought back
upon his cart.  Then I remembered that strange arc of small obelisks set out
so orderly next to Leon's cottage.  Jasio's Field of Corn.  And here was
Jasio's Broken Wrench.  Jasio's Knotted Ball of String.  And Jasio`s ...
Coat of Many Wonders ...

Had I stumbled upon a little prodigy here?  A boy who could turn junk into
a working, innovative machine?  A boy whose ingenuity and curiosity had
not only been ignored, but actually scorned?

Once again, I wondered most of all, what could I do about that!?  What
could I accomplish in this one or two days, before everything came
crashing down on us.

By the time I finished retrieving all the odds and ends from his coat, it was
going on 3 AM.  I bundled all his old clothes and mine into the coat and
placed it outside on the steps.

Yawning uncontrollably as I closed the door and turned back inside, I
stretched, then stepped back to the bed hesitantly, giving my penis another
wrenching, punishing twist and squeeze.  It was tormenting me.  I needed
to go ahead and jack off right then and there.  I needed it desperately.  I
feared that not even exhaustion would make it go down otherwise, but I
didn't want to waste even the few moments necessary for that in a solitary
release.  I wanted to be with him!  That was the meaning of this moment.

Cautiously I slipped in under the comforter, and in the tiniest of little
nudges, I snuggled up against his back, holding my penis up against my
stomach.  He might feel it there when he awoke, but there was little I could
do about it.  I released it feeling the softness of his nightgown, and the
firmness of his back beneath that, pressing against it.  His gown would get
soaked there, but there was nothing I could do about that either.  Lovingly,
I then slid one arm underneath and the other over him, to draw him into my
embrace.

My arm was his pillow.  Perhaps not so soft as the real one that I used for
my own head, but surely comforting, in a different way.  At least I hoped
he would feel that.

I held him like that for the longest time, till even the firelight had cast its
last glimmer upon the wall.  To my surprise, just the feel of Jasio next to
me - just those moments of BEING with him - consumed all my inner
tension, fulfilled my desire, met my need - all those elements that made me
so hard - were spent just getting to know him.  For the time being at least,
I felt the expression of my man-ness in our embrace - my whole body was
against his, not just my penis.  I had no more need of an erection.  I had
only to hold him.  I swear that as I grew softer, I felt even more intimate
with him, feeling like I could perhaps hold him even closer.

Long moments they were, but all too short for me.  In each of them I tried
to live a lifetime - feeling what it was like to have a boy's curling hair
pressed, unmoving, into the flesh of my bicep;  marveling at what it felt like
when a boy's hot, sweet breath kissed the tender flesh in the crook of my
elbow;  listening for the faintest whisper of that little boy's breath.  When I
could steal a thought from those sensations, it was but to lose myself in
others:  did I know before these brief moments, that if you place your
fingers in a sleeping boy's palm, he will curl his own fingers about it just
like a baby?  Had I ever imagined that the smell of a boy - even an
unwashed boy - was earthy, but sweet at the same time - a cleanliness that
must come from his very youth?  It was so penetrating within the confines
of our covers.

Each new sensation served as a reminder that I had gone the better part of
my life alone.  Stefan was a lingering memory.  Tomek too.  It seemed that
memories were all I was to be allotted in this life.  To those I would now
add a few precious hours with Jasio.

At some point - I remember I had my right palm resting right over his
tummy, my eyes closed, trying to sense the tiny little gurgles inside there,
imagining the infinitesimally slow movement of his diaphragm - he suddenly
stretched out his legs and arms, his thumb plopping from between his lips.
He uttered a little groan of satisfaction, and then turned over right there in
my arms.  Now it was his turn to nudge in closer to my body - I swear he
snuggled in against me, seeking the touch of our bodies together, seeking
our shared warmth, perhaps wanting that sense of being safeguarded and
treasured that I wanted so much to give him.

Then I remember placing my hands on his bottom and pulling him in even
tighter.  I lingered there, feeling the pliant softness of his cheeks and the
little vale between them.  I fell asleep as my conscious caresses gave way to
the slow rhythm of my hands traveling up and down his thighs and bottom,
and I joined him in a complete surrender to ... us.