Date: Fri, 12 Nov 2010 14:08:36 -0500 (EST)
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: Tatawaw

TATAWAW

Copyright 2009 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute without the
author's permission.

Please note: this story depicts men having oral and anal sex with
consenting boys from age 6 to 15, in a loving and safe environment. If this
offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under
the age of 18, read no further.

The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.


Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Hermie will be happy at Tatawaw
Chapter 2 - Getting naked in public
Chapter 3 - "Stop!" means exactly that
Chapter 4 - Hermie's first lesson
Chapter 5 - In the mood for action
Chapter 6 - Give him a nice fuck
Chapter 7 - Fuck your little baby
Chapter 8 - Eyes glued to the televised action
Chapter 9 - Every school day is a challenge
Chapter 10 - Four other boys are missing
Chapter 11 - Letting the new boy come along
Chapter 12 - You want to suck my pene?
Chapter 13 - Yes, Santa. I'll be good
Chapter 14 - A Mexican Christmas
Chapter 15 - DON'T TOUCH IT!
Chapter 16 - Some sad news
Chapter 17 - You remember our secret?
Chapter 18 - Better than my dildo
Chapter 19 - More little boys happy like me





Chapter 1 - Hermie will be happy at Tatawaw

We have three hours to kill in Houston, Continental's hub. The flight from
Mexico City touched down a little after 2:30 and the one to Edmonton
doesn't depart until six. We find the fast food court. Then the video
arcade. Of course we make stops in the men's room as well. I help Hermie
use the urinal which was still a new experience for him. In the slums of
Mexico City he used outhouses, squat holes, or just peed on the side of the
muddy streets. Showing him this new technology gives me a chance to admire
and handle his adorable little hairless uncut cocoa nail, as well as allow
him the opportunity to look at my equipment. He has seen men peeing often
enough that my big cock flaccid doesn't seem to impress him though. I am
tempted to show him my hardon. Tempted to teach him about blow
jobs. Tempted to fuck his tight little virgin asshole! But I manage to
resist. He'll be learning all those lessons in due time and in a much more
conducive environment. I can wait a few more days until Hermie is ready to
play those games.

I think about Fr. Ricardo however. He has spent the last six months with
the boy, sharing his own bed, giving him his daily bath. The priest must
have the will of a saint to resist the temptation so long. This morning,
after giving Hermie and me a delicious breakfast, the good priest had to
send us on our way. He took out a St. Christopher medal and hung it around
the boy's head. I saw tears in his eyes, that he tried to hide them from
the lad. He was going to miss his little Hermano, but he knew the
seven-year old would be happy at Tatawaw. With the support of all the men
there and the blessing of the saint, Hermie was bound to thrive in his new
life in the Canadian Rockies.

The December Texas sun has already set when the Edmonton flight takes
off. I settle into my roomy seat. Tatawaw's director, Percy Comley, insists
his staff always fly first class. When the seat belt light goes off, I
unbuckle and nod to my seven-year old charge that he could also. He
immediately stands and stares out the window, as he did for the first
flight. The scenery is primarily clouds, punctuated with the occasional
mountaintop, and the less frequent lights of a town or city. But he can see
a million stars. It's a wondrous sight for my little fellow passenger, on
an airplane for the first time in his young life.

There are only three other passengers in first class, so Sven, the young
flight attendant with his blond locks and well-fitted uniform, is bending
over backwards trying to find things to do for us. "Can I get you a pillow
or blanket, Sir?"

I look up and smile at Sven. I think about Harry, the brunette attendant on
the southbound flight five days ago. He and I enjoyed a fabulous fuck in
the lavatory. As much as I wouldn't mind repeating the experience with this
towhead, I have to resist the temptation. My present business is to deliver
Little Hermie safe and sound to Tatawaw. When I pat the lad's sweet ass, he
turns and smiles at me with those saucer wide black eyes. "Tired?" I
ask. Hermano screws up his face and I repeat the question in Spanish.

"No. Señor Larry." He grins and returns to the show outside. I wonder when
the kid will conk out. It amazes me that he's still so wide
awake. Fr. Ricardo told me Hermie was up at 7, all excited about his big
trip. It's now twelve hours later.

I finally turn back to Sven, whose package is mere inches from my
eyes. "Not right now, thank you."

I let the boy stare out the window and enjoy whatever fantasies he has
swirling in his head. I put the earphones on and begin to think about this
past week. It's Saturday and I've spent the last three days in Mexico City,
going from one bureau to another, getting all the paperwork in order so I
could take this orphan out of the country. Take him to his new life. But
that also gave me time to begin to bond with the youngster and also get to
know Fr. Ricardo.

The self-sacrificing priest, now in his mid 50s, has devoted the last
twenty years, serving the poor in the slums of Mexico City. As I
accompanied him on his rounds, I saw he is as concerned about physical
needs as spiritual. And whether he's giving out food, clothing, medicine,
or the elements of the mass, the good man is revered by all in his parish.

He explained that five years ago, the local bishop thought he was working
too hard and suggested, no insisted, he take a break before he worked
himself into an early grave. The bishop authorized a sabbatical so
Fr. Ricardo could spend a year at Newman Theological College in Edmonton
and complete his Masters of Theology. It was a good change for the
man. That year revitalized his engine. He palled around with two other
students, one from Detroit, Michigan, the other from Regina,
Saskatchewan. The three priests became known as the three musketeers, going
out every Friday night for a beer, and taking time on weekends to hunt and
hike together. Sharing a tent, they also shared their innermost secrets,
confiding in each other things they'd never even told their own
bishops. Things in fact, they were reluctant to admit to themselves.

The Canadian suggested they spend winter break at Tatawaw. He had been to
Tatawaw before and knew it had some diversions his fellow students would
enjoy. They could spend their days skiing and their nights enjoying a
different form of entertainment.

Fr. Ricardo recalled his five days at Tatawaw with fondness. He had spent
most of his time there with Chip, a nine-year old who had been at Tatawaw
less than a year. A former street urchin from Montreal, Chip reminded the
priest of so many kids in his parish, and he knew Chip would have been
heading for trouble if someone had not rescued him and brought him to
Tatawaw. "He was always a happy kid. Everyone used to call him 'Chipmunk'."

The Father was pleased when I told him that Chip is still there. At 14,
he's the second oldest boy in the place. It's been years since anyone dared
call him Chipmunk. A typical teenager, he often has an attitude, and comes
close to being insolent to the staff. But beneath his snotty exterior hides
a sweetheart. An excellent student, he has developed a handsome athletic
physique but kept his boyish face, which he capitalizes on to curry favor
with the guests, who tend to prefer younger boys. Charm replaces
cheekiness, as he plays them like johns. Being older, he'll often share a
drink with his guest, or a smoke, or a game of pool. The man often suggests
a little wager, and of course Chip the hustler will come away with a tidy
sum. He will be leaving Tatawaw when he turns 16, but is already in line
for an apprenticeship on a cruise ship out of British Columbia.

After Fr. Ricardo went back to Mexico, he kept in touch with Comley, who
was very interested in the priest's work with the poor. Our director
adopted the Mexican parish as his personal charity, and encourages the
wealthy guests to send generous contributions to the priest to help him
carry on his good work.

So Fr. Ricardo knows first hand that Hermie will be happy and well cared
for at Tatawaw. That he will get a first rate education. And that he will
enjoy the intimate company of Tatawaw's adult male clientele.





Chapter 2 - Getting naked in public

Sven takes our dinner orders. I look at my watch and remember I have to
move it back an hour. What a flight this is. In less than five hours, we're
not only crossing one time zone but 30 latitudes as well; one third the
distance from the equator to the north pole.

I run my hand through Hermie's black hair, and he giggles. I'm glad he's
happy. This is a big day for him, a great milestone in his young life. It's
good to see him so happy after all he's been through. Fr. Ricardo told me
Hermie's parents were two teenagers in his parish, children themselves. Of
course, they didn't use protection so little Maria was soon
pregnant. Father had to give Raul credit. Unlike a lot of seeders, he
didn't just abandon his girl friend but stuck around trying to help. But
without a steady job, there wasn't much he could do. They found a wooden
shack a few blocks from the church and set up house. They relied on Father
for food for the baby. But their problems were overwhelming and the parents
turned to drink as an escape. Maria was pregnant a couple more times but
didn't carry either baby to term. When Hermie was five, he woke up one
morning and realized the house was on fire. He ran outside naked, but his
parents were in too deep a stupor to move.  Maria's mother tried caring for
Hermie, but she still had six kids of her own. After a year and a half, she
begged Fr. Ricardo to take the orphan and find a good home for him. That's
when he contacted Tatawaw and asked if there was room.

While our lawyer worked with a Mexican lawyer to iron out the details of
international adoption, Father tried to prepare Hermie for his new life. He
painted a glowing picture of this wonderful place in the mountains of
Canada. He told him how he'd be able to go to school, how there would be
lots of other boys for friends, and how nice men came from all over the
world to play with the boys. Since I speak fairly fluent Spanish, Comley
dispatched me to get Hermie now that the time has come.

Around nine, ten Mexican time, I realize Hermie is finally starting to get
tired. I decide I better get him dressed for landing. This morning, when
Fr. Ricardo drove us to the airport in Mexico City, it was already 60
degrees. By the time we land it will be 7 degrees. I tell the sleepy boy to
stand in the aisle and Sven hands me my carryon bag which I open up on the
seat Hermie vacated. I take out the extra warm outfit I brought for
Hermie. I tell him to take off his shirt and then his pants. I see his
brand new tighty whities are stained so I have him them off as well. Hermie
doesn't seem to mind getting naked in public. Sven and the other passengers
don't seem to mind either, judging from the way they stop what they're
doing to look. I notice a couple guys begin to rub their crotches, and the
third, a middle eastern looking businessman in his forties, has to dart
into the lavatory he just came out of five minutes ago.

Reluctantly, I take out a fresh pair of undies and slip them over the boy's
ass, then a warm pair of trousers, then an undershirt and flannel shirt. I
give him his new parka which matches mine. I show him the snow pants,
mittens and boots he'll don when we land. I also get my own parka and
gloves ready. Sven takes the bag back and Hermie settles into his
seat. Bundled up nice and warm, he does begin to nod off and I buckle his
seat belt.

The Captain announces, "We will be landing in Edmonton in about forty
minutes." I remember the first time I flew into this airport. I was a fresh
young teacher who had spent three years teaching language arts in a middle
school in Rocklin, California, an upper-middle class suburb of
Sacramento. I should have gotten tenure there, but in my third year there
were reports I had inappropriately fondled one of the boys in my class. No
proof. But accusations were enough to dismiss a non-tenure
teacher. Furthermore, there would always be this question mark on my
record. Other school districts would wonder why I had lost this
position. So I figured my teaching career was over, and began to look for
other employment. But in the middle of July, out of the blue, I got a
letter from Tatawaw with a job offer. I immediately packed my bag and flew
up here. I later learned one of Tatawaw's regular guests was from Rocklin,
knew I was a great teacher, but also knew about my problem, and
understood. I'll always be grateful to him.

I've got a long drive ahead of me so I ask Sven for a good strong cup of
coffee. Before we leave the plane, I bundle Hermie into his snow pants,
mittens and boots. He can hardly walk, and I end up carrying him in one arm
and our luggage in the other. It is going on ten, but the snow on the
ground is reflecting so much light it seems like noon. Hermie is wide awake
again. The mountains around Mexico City get a little snow, but the last
snowfall in the city itself was over years ago.

As we head for the parking lot where I left the Tatawaw SUV five days ago,
I decide it's time to give Hermie his first lesson in Canadian culture. I
set him down and show him how to pack a snowball. Soon we are pelting each
other and laughing our asses off.

When we get in the car, Hermie falls into a deep sleep. His little mind has
had enough excitement for one day. I call Comley on my cell.

"Hey Boss. I'm just about to leave the airport."

"Hi, Larry. How's the little package?"

"He finally fell asleep. He's been excited all day. He can't wait to get
there."

"Oh, I'm so glad he's happy. I'd love to meet him when he gets here, but
let's see, it'll probably be three before you arrive. I think I'll wait
until breakfast."

"Who did you decide to bunk him with? Juan or Travis?" Juan is a handsome
nine-year old orphan from Spain. His Spanish and Hermie's are as different
as Brooklynese and Australian, but at least they could talk. Travis is ten
and black. He was found living under an overpass in East LA with a woman he
called his aunt. He knows a smattering of Spanish.

"No. I think that would delay his language skills. It's important he start
speaking English as soon as possible. I decided he'll start out rooming
with Paul. They're nearly the same age. I told Paul already and he's
thrilled to take our new little brother under his wing."

"You know best, Sir. See you tomorrow."

I thought about that word, "brother." For the first time in his life,
Hermano will be able to live up to his Spanish name. He'll have fourteen
brothers, age seven to fifteen. They came from all over the world, but are
now one healthy family.





Chapter 3 - "Stop!" means exactly that

Comley is right about the English. The kid has to learn to communicate with
the other boys, the staff, and the guests. But he's got a sharp mind. I
know he'll pick it up quickly. As the language arts teacher, this will be
my responsibility. I may translate a few words for him here and there but
mostly he'll learn his new language through immersion. He won't forget his
native tongue, of course. Since we have so many international guests, all
the boys at Tatawaw speak at least two languages, some of them three or
four. We have an extensive stock of Rosetta Stone software. Hermie can use
the English disks.

I make a pit stop in Edson and it is just after three when I pull into the
drive at Tatawaw. We don't have a sign on the road. Comley prefers to keep
a low profile. Guests coming for the first time are told to follow the
signs to the Marmor Basin Ski Resort. Then, after they turn off route 93A,
they have to mind the odometer to spot our driveway.

I carry Hermie inside, but he continues to sleep, breathing a soft rasping
noise. Not surprisingly, Paul's room is empty. Tatawaw's other seven-year
old is apparently spending the night with a guest. I undress Hermie and
take a long lingering look at his lovely naked body. Rich creamy brown. A
mere forty-five pounds and forty-five inches. Jet black hair and eyes. He's
going to be a popular choice with our guests. I tuck him into the big king
sized bed, turn out the light, give a wave to Harrison, and leave the boy
to his dreams.

All the rooms at Tatawaw are monitored 24/7 by a system that rivals the
casinos at Vegas. The security personnel can zoom any camera or switch to
night vision, as needed. It was installed for the boys' protection. Most of
our guests are in compliance with our policies: a boy's "Stop!" means
exactly that; a boy's butt is for caressing, not whipping; a boy's
self-esteem is to be nourished, not belittled. A guest knows if he goes
beyond the limits, even in the heat of passion, he will be sent packing and
not welcomed back. So, the cameras are monitored constantly. I know
Harrison is on duty in the security office so I give the camera a
salute. Of course, in addition to security, the cameras also serve as
entertainment for the staff and instruction for the boys.

Boys' rooms, staff rooms, guest rooms: at Tatawaw, they are all outfitted
identically. One huge king sized bed, two dressers, a flat screen TV, a
refrigerator and microwave, a large closet, and a doorless tiled alcove
with the toilet, bidet, sink and tub/shower. Large windows provide views of
the snowcapped peaks. Of course, the boys' rooms are filled with all their
toys, books, music, sports, and personal property. When Hermie wakes up in
Paul's bed, he'll find he's sharing it with five stuffed animals. On the
shelf is a play station. On the wall is a poster of the Chicago Bears, a
reminder of home. Paul spent the first six years of his life in
Cabrini-Green with his mother and various uncles, all black. Paul inherited
their kinky hair and thick lips and will probably have a broad nose, but
his skin color is lighter than Hermie's. After his mother was killed in the
crossfire of a gang turf war, Paul ended up at Tatawaw, the second youngest
boy here then and still. (According to Fr. Ricardo's parish records,
Hermano was born two weeks earlier than Paul; they will both turn eight in
March.) Paul's uncles had already introduced him to oral sex, so he had a
head start when he arrived here.

Paul is a favorite among our Japanese guests, and his room reflects
this. On his dresser are a soroban, a buddha and a camera, all gifts from
men he pleased. In one corner hangs a mobile of origami cranes and on the
wall by his mirror is a drawing of Mount Fuji with some Japanese
characters. I can't tell you what they mean, but Paul can. He's been
working his way through Rosetta Stone Japanese. He is a Japanophile; he
even loves sushi.

I get to my own room and flop into bed. It's been a long day.





Chapter 4 - Hermie's first lesson

The next thing I know I am being attacked in my own bed by two small imps.

"Wake up, Sleepyhead!" They are shouting in my ears and dragging the
bedclothes off my naked body. Now they're bouncing up and down on either
side of me. I open one eye. What a happy scene greets me. Bouncing on my
right is Paul in one of his kimonos, and on the left in his new Tatawaw
white bathrobe in Hermie, laughing away.

"Well, Good Morning, Boys!"

"It ain't morning! It's after one, Larry. Comley sent us up here to sees if
you was dead!"

I sit up, then struggle to reach for the sheet to cover up my morning
hardon, but the boys flop down on either side of me and wrap my arms around
them. I am the thorn between two roses. Hermie's robe falls open to show
his lovely boytool.

"Well, I see you've met your new brother, Paul." I repeat the message in
Spanish for Hermie.

"Yeah, Dr. Yamomoto wanted to hit the slopes first thing this
morning,--he's leaving today,--so I went back to my room and I finds Him in
my bed," pointing across my chest. "I been showing him around. I gives him
his new bathrobe and shows him his new clothes and we went to breakfast and
meets some of the guys and then we takes a bath and then Comley comes in
and helps us dry off and the three of us go round the whole house showing
Hermie stuff."

"Me like Señor Comley!" Hermie tells me in English. Sort of.

"Hermie wanted to come gets you before, but Comley said to lets you sleep."

"What the fuck day is it?"

"Sunday."

"Oh good. Then there's no school. Sure could use a cup of coffee."

"I thought you might, Larry." Comley walks in with a hot mug in his hand.

"Oh, you're an answer to prayer." Paul releases my right hand so I can take
the mug and begin nursing it, as Comley grabs one of the pillows and throws
it over my still-hard cock. How can it relax, after all, with two
seven-year old assholes in such close proximity. "So, Boss, what do you
think of our newest boy?"

Comley doesn't bother covering Hermie's dick though. "He is a real
delight. He's been smiling at everybody and asking a million questions. You
better get busy and give this boy some English. Some real English, not like
Paul here!"

"Hey!" Paul pretends he's offended.

"Well, Boss, you have to remember Paul's native language is Japanese." We
all laugh, even Hermie.

"Pierre has some brunch saved for you. Better get up if you want it hot."

"OK, you heard the man, Boys." They finally let me get up. I grab my white
robe and show Hermie it matches his. All the staff and all the boys have
matching robes. And matching khaki pants and blue shirts and red ski
jackets and so on. Sure, we own personal clothes, but Tatawaw provides us
with a full regulation wardrobe.

Comley watches me. "You're going to have some trouble getting that closed
in your present condition." I glance down at my dick, relentlessly
insisting on some morning attention. "Paul, why don't you give him some
help with that. We'll call it Hermie's first lesson."

"Super, Mr. Comley." So here I am, standing in the middle of my room, with
a seven-year old black boy who thinks he's Japanese sucking away at my cock
while his new Mexican brother looks on with saucer eyes and my Boss watches
appreciatively. If I think about it, whoever is on security right now is
probably watching as well, but one tends to forget that all our actions at
Tatawaw are being televised.

Comley sits on a chair and takes Hermie in his lap. He speaks softly to the
boy though I wonder how much the lad understands. "You see, Hermie? Look at
how nice Paul is sucking the cock. Larry looks happy, doesn't he? Men like
it when little boys suck their cocks. You see how Paul looks up at Larry's
face? He wants to make Larry feel real important. You see how he keeps
moving the cock in and out of his mouth? You'll learn to do that too. I'm
sure real soon you'll be just as good a cocksucker as Paul and all the
other boys." I glance over at the two of them. Comley is fondling Hermie's
sweet dick. The boy is resting his head on Comley's chest, sucking his
thumb but keeping his eyes glued on me and Paul.

I feel my nuts tighten. I clench my eyes closed and grab Paul's head in my
hands. "Oh, Fuck! Oh, yeah, Kid! You sure know how to welcome a guy back
home!" I'm not thinking too straight but I guess it's been about a week
since my last blowjob. Before I flew to Mexico, I spent the night with
Vasily, the twelve-year old from Russia. "Shit! I need this, Kid. I really
fuckin need this. Don't stop! Don't ever fuckin stop!" An electric wave
sweeps through my entire body. I freeze, firmly grasping Paul's little
head. Then I scream, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" as my cock explodes in his talented
mouth. The soldier expertly swallows each volley: one, two, three, four.

Finally sated, my body relaxes. I wobble unsteadily, open my eyes and look
down at my morning lover. "Thank you," I whisper. Paul lets my cock go and
smiles up at me, jizz dripping from his beautiful lips.

"¡Ay, caramba!" Hermie says softly. I look over at him. He is entranced.

I sit down on my bed and wave him to come over. Both boys sit on the bed
beside me and I take turns kissing each one. "You just had your first
lesson at Tatawaw, Hermie. Paul is an excellent teacher. He'll teach you
lots of other things."

Suddenly Paul jumps up. "Come on, Lazybones! Pierre will be mad if you
keeps him waiting any longer." I don't even have a chance to freshen up
before I am dragged by two laughing boys to the kitchen.





Chapter 5 - In the mood for action

I feast on eggs and toast and Canadian bacon, as the two boys watch me,
gobbling syrupy pancakes and drinking soda. The brothers from India go
running by in their red parkas, but stop to greet me. Hermie already knows
their names. "Buenos días, Kumar, Tito."

Kumar is 8, Tito 13. "Hi Hermie! Having lots of fun?"

Paul brags, "I just teached Hermie how to suck cock. He watch me sucks
Larry."

"Wow. That's cool. Sorry, we gotta go." And just as fast, they were gone.

"So little Hermie's already learning the ropes." Shumba walks in. "Ropes of
cum, I mean," he snickers. Several superlatives apply to Shumba. At 15, he
is now the oldest boy in the house. Also the boy who's been here the
longest, and the darkest, having emigrated from South Africa nine years
ago. And the one with the largest cock, nearly eight inches of black
steel. Shumba is wearing his own jeans, with deliberate rips in the knees
and ass, and a leather vest, open to show off his adolescent chest rug, and
work boots. A typical teenager, he considers himself too grown up to parade
around in official garb. He doesn't get too many requests from guests,
mainly those who want a big black young hunk to make bottoms out of
them. I've had his handsome thick ebony cock up my ass a few times and it
never fails to satisfy. Shumba keeps busy helping out around the house, and
preparing for his high school exams. He's planning on going to Selkirk
College in British Columbia to study hotel management. Most of our
graduates end up in some branch of the tourism industry, capitalizing on
what they've learned here about satisfying visitors. "Oh, I almost
forgot. Paul, Dr. Yam wants to see you before he leaves."

"Shit, Shumba, why didn't you tells me!" Paul scampers away, his kimono
flying.

"I just did." He steals a toast off my plate and winks at Hermie, who
giggles. "Come on, Hermie. Let's let the old man eat his breakfast." He
takes the boy's hand.

"Where are you taking him?"

"To the gym. I'm gonna teach him to play basketball."

"Like that?"

"Do I look like a fuckin idiot? We'll change into our gym clothes,
right. Hermie?" The younger boy smiles and nods, not knowing what the hell
was said.

I head back to my room to send Fr. Ricardo an e-mail. Tell him how well
Hermie is adjusting to his new home and new family. The good priest will be
pleased.

A few hours later, I am properly dressed in my official clothes, but my
cock is calling for attention again, so I decide to see whatever tight
young ass is available. I head for the security room. Marshall is on
duty. "Hi, Marshall. Who's free now?" We scan the monitors together. I see
Shumba and Hermie still playing in the gym. "Has Shumba taught him anything
other than basketball?"

"No, Chip dropped by before and asked him if he wanted a fuck but Shumba
said no."

"Well, I do. But Chip and Shumba are too old. I need a tight one. Too bad
Hermie isn't broken yet."

"Yeah, we're all looking forward to using his ass. Let's see, Paul is still
with Dr. Yam. They finished fucking, oh, ten minutes ago." Right now
they're enjoying a loving hug and kiss. "You want me to rewind?"

"No thanks. I'm in the mood for my own action. What's Vasily doing now?" I
think about that night last week.

"He and Glenn went cross-country skiing with a couple guests. Probably
won't be back 'til suppertime." Glenn, age 10, came from Montreal last
year. "And Kumar and Tito went Christmas shopping with Jerry."

"Yeah, they seemed to be in a big hurry when I saw them earlier." Jerry
teaches math. "Among other gifts, I know Tito will be looking for something
to give his boy friend. Since the start of the ski season, he's been seeing
Harold, a nice young man from the ski patrol. When he's not entertaining
one of our guests, Comley lets Tito go off premises if he wants, to spend
the night with Harold up at Marmor Basin. It seems to be serious.

"Ah, yeah, here's little Juan. He's just getting started with that guest
from Germany. But there are five others in the rec room watching TV. See?
One of them should do the trick." Marshall suddenly realizes his unintended
pun and we both laugh. I thank him for his help and head briskly for the
rec room.

None of the preteen boys are really involved in the show on TV, some lame
sitcom. Janek, the eight-year old from Poland is competing with Travis on
the Wii. Whenever one of them scores, they start punching each other
good-naturedly.

Adrian, a Chinese lad from the Philippines is a year younger than Travis,
is studying. He is a quiet boy, extremely obedient to his elders. He is not
the most popular boy, regarded by his peers as a Miss Goody Twoshoes.

Finally, Chitto and Bullie are telling private jokes and laughing their
asses off. These two brothers come from the Cree nation. Over the years, a
number of Cree boys have gone through our training. "Tatawaw" itself is a
Cree word meaning, "Welcome," which Comley thought was an appropriate name
for this unique establishment. Chitto ("Brave One") is eleven and his
little brother, Chebona Bula ("Laughing Boy"), who is known to everyone as
Bullie, is six. Once a week, they attend a Cree language lesson by
satellite to maintain their heritage, so they're often jabbering away in
their own private tongue.

Janek stops playing when he sees me come in. "Hey, Larry! Did you have a
good trip?"

Travis pipes up, not waiting to hear about my travels. "Hermie is swell. I
like him a lot. Comley caught me talking to him in Spanish and told me not
to."

"Yes, he needs to learn English. Can any of you fine boys spare me an hour?
I can see you're all very busy."

Adrian laughs at my droll wit. "What do you need, Larry?"

"I need a nice tight boy ass to fuck. I've gone a whole week and I need one
bad!"

Travis, Janek and Chitto laugh and start chanting, "Larry needs a fuck!
Larry needs a fuck!"

"Shit, Larry, if you're all that desperate, I suppose I can give you some
time," says Chitto like he is granting me some huge favor, the cheeky
little redskin.

"No! Fuck me! Fuck me! I want Larry to fuck me!" Dear sweet little Bullie,
jumps, his shirt half out of his pants. He isn't yet jaded. Men have been
fucking the little six-year old for only a couple months and he still
thinks it's the greatest thing since wampum. He grabs my leg and starts
petting my package. "Please, Larry, Please?"

I look down at his straight black hair, still long in back and gathered in
a pony tail. "You bet, Bullie! You know you're my favorite." I look at the
other four. Adrian has already picked up his book. Chitto and Travis sneer
at me, and Janek sticks out his tongue.





Chapter 6 - Give him a nice fuck

We head back to my room, Bullie holding my hand tight and skipping. We pass
Old George, the janitor. George offers us each a candy. He always keeps a
pocketful. Bullie takes one; I decline. George pops mine in his
mouth. "Larry's gonna fuck me, George. He ain't fucked no one in a whole
week and he needs my ass real bad."

"That's great, Bullie. You be sure to give him a nice fuck then."

"I will, George. I promise. See you later. Thanks for the candy." I look
back over my shoulder and Old George is trying to stifle his laughter. I
just shrug.

George is a bit overweight and is kind of slow moving around. He blames it
on arthritis. And he needs to stop to pee like every half hour it
seems. "Damn prostate," he says. But he is dedicated and gets everything
done in due time, keeping the halls polished, the plumbing in good order
and the electricity safe, and making sure there is plenty of heat for all
the semi-clad bodies in the house. When he needs some extra muscle, he can
call on Chip and Shumba, and Comley will pay them for helping. George calls
the younger lads his eye candy, and will take one to his room every couple
weeks or so for some fun. I hear he can still deliver a pretty good
fuck. Of course he's on Viagra.

I close my door and look at my little lover boy, as we both kick off our
shoes and socks. His grin extends from ear to ear. I pick Bullie up off the
floor and cradle his bottom on my arm as we kiss. A long lingering
kiss. Eyes closed. As anxious as both of us are for this fuck, we are not
in a hurry. We both intend to savor every moment.

I bring us over to the bed and sit down. We unlock our lips and smile at
each other. I sit Bullie on my knees with his feet around my waist. I begin
to unbutton his blue shirt as he sweetly unbuttons mine. We both giggle a
little as nervous fingers work to push round ivory through cloth
slots. Having released my last button, right above my belt, Bullie looks
again at me and hangs his arms loose. Most of his shirt is already already
out of his pants. Boys' shirttails don't like being imprisoned. So I only
have to free one last corner and then I gently slip the shirt off his tiny
shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I slip my hands into his waist and
grab the end of his size 5 white undershirt, pull it up over his head, and
let it join the shirt. Bullie has gorgeous tawny skin, like a soft doe or
rich amber, like the color of his khakis when he accidentally wets his
pants. His hairless torso shines like a bronze statue and his two little
nipples are like miniature chest nuts. I rub them with my thumbs. His navel
is an outie.

Bullie reaches to pull out my shirt. I purposely push my belly out against
my waistband to make him struggle a little. He tugs and tugs and succeeds
in freeing my shirttail. Then he reaches up and pushes the shirt off one
shoulder, then the other. He slides it down one arm and off, then the other
arm. We leave it lie behind me on the bed. Bullie scrunches the material of
my undershirt in his hands, grabbing some of my belly hair in the
process. He pulls it out of my pants and begins pushing it up my chest. I
hold his waist and he stands up on my knees. He puts his hands on my head
to steady himself and I lift my arms up to the ceiling. Shakily, he pulls
my shirt up. When he gets the material to my wrists, I think he is about to
lose his balance. I quickly pull one hand free and wrap my arms around
him. My face is against his trouser fly, and it smells delicious. I rub my
hands along his buttocks caressing them like two little grapefruits. I
stare up at him. Again we smile. I shake the last remnant of my undershirt
off my wrist and it drops on top of his.

Bullie places his hands on my head again and I unbutton his waist, then
unzip his fly. I guide his khakis down to his ankles and he precariously
lifts one foot, then the other to get his pants off. I run my hands up and
down his skinny hairless legs, like two pieces of driftwood worn smooth by
the wind and water. I fondle his boytool through his Scooby-Doo cotton
undies. That makes him giggle and squiggle, but he makes no effort to get
away. He does however plop his ass back down on my knees and reaches over
to unbutton my waist and unzip my fly.

"We can't take my pants off sitting like this, can we?" Bullie wags his
head. He hops down to the floor and I lie back on the bed. I lift my ass up
so Bullie can pull my khakis free. Then I lift my feet out straight and he
pulls my pants off. I spread my freed legs to show him my light blue 2xist
bikini briefs. Then he hops on to the mattress, we both scooch over to the
middle of the bed and lay our heads down on the pillows.

Bullie's shoulder is tucked into my left armpit and I kiss the top of his
head. My left hand begins to rub his ass through the cotton. The little
six-year old's left hand draws tickly circles in my chest hair. I look down
and see him intent on his mission. Bullie is a hunter, moving silently
through the undergrowth like all his ancestors, seeking his prize. He works
his way along my treasure trail and reaches my briefs. He slips the tips of
his fingers under my waistband.

I too slip my fingertips into his Scoobies and run my middle finger up and
down along the length of his crack. I feel his lovely hole, the entrance to
his saptuaan, his longhouse, where the most sacred tribal rituals take
place. As a white man, I am truly honored to be granted this privilege.

Bullie wiggles free from my arm and kneels above me. We smile at each
other. I reach over and gently lift his waistband over his precious little
nail. Six years ago, the doctors at the hospital cut his foreskin, so his
pretty brown helmet grins at me. His smooth little ballsack is still quite
tight. Such a lovely little boy. I slip his tighties down to his knees. He
flops over, takes his undies off and flings them to the floor. Then kneels
again and rubs my package. I bend my knees, plant my feet flat on the bed
and raise my ass an inch. The Cree boy slips my briefs off my hairy ass, up
my hairy thighs, then down my hairy shins. I raise my feet high up in the
air so he has to stretch to pull this final item of clothing off. Now we
are two naked savages, in complete communion with Mother Earth. May she
bless us.





Chapter 7 - Fuck your little baby

Before we continue, I grab the tube of KY and a Trojan from my bedside
stand and tuck them beside the pillow making sure Bullie sees where they
are. Still on his knees, he begins handling my cock. It responds
immediately to his ten tiny fingers, and points its eye up toward
him. Bullie lifts one leg over my body, bringing his knee down on my chest
in the process, but eventually his legs are spread wide, his two feet
tucked into my armpits. He bends forward and kisses my dick slit. I have a
perfect view of his smooth brown hole which seems to be winking at me, and
his little Cree weewee.

He takes my cockhead between his baby lips and suckles it like a
pacifier. I am in Heaven. I open the KY and coat my fingers. Now I can
explore that inviting hole that beckons me inside. It is tight, but I use
gentle pressure and my first finger feels his love tunnel relax a
little. As my finger pushes past his sphincter, he moans contentedly and
sucks more fervently on my cock. I squeeze a second finger in and Bullie
gives me an appreciative grunt. Here I am, a grown man with a naked
six-year old boy perched above me in bed, his sweet baby ass gripping two
of my fingers, his sweet baby dick like another tiny finger pointing down
to his favorite playmate, at least at the moment, his sweet baby mouth
chugging away on my turgid cock, and his sweet baby hands massaging my
balls.

After a week with no fuck, my cock is ready in short order. Bullie knows it
also. His lips let go and I pull my fingers out of his butt. I get off the
bed and position his tiny body on his back, with his asshole right at the
bed's edge. I stand beside the bed and spread his legs wide; he hooks his
feet around my waist. This position works well for Bullie. I give his hole
a generous lube, then roll on my condom, lean forward and touch my cock to
his anus. On target, I lean further forward and plant my hands above his
lovely little shoulders. We smile at each other and I start slowly
pushing. Bullie closes his eyes, wrinkles his nose, and grits his teeth as
he tries to open for me. I don't push further until I feel him accept
me. He laughs. He's happy to finally have me inside. I laugh too and slowly
push deeper, until I reach that spot I know is far enough. He pisses of
course. He always does at this point. About half my cock is inside now. My
hands keep his body from moving away as I begin to piston slowly in and
out. I watch his reaction closely for any sign of pain. If he were to wince
or cry, I'd stop, but the horny little kid is enjoying his fuck as much as
I, so I increase the tempo. In and out, in and out, faster, faster. Bullie
gleefully shouts his encouragement, "That's it, Larry! You're the best!
Fuck your little Baby Bullie!" I can't vocalize anything other than a
grunt.

As I fuck faster and harder, my nuts start to ache and send a spasm
throughout my body. I stop and my whole body grows stiff. Bullie stops
talking and looks up at me wide eyed. I nod, pull out, pull off the condom
and shower his tiny body with my cum. We both cackle out loud, as burst
follows burst.

When I'm finally spent, I pick him up and press his sticky chest against my
own and kiss him a hundred times, while I stick three fingers in his gaping
hole. "You're the best, Larry!" he repeats.

"No, Bullie, you're the best! You're the best damn fucker in this whole
house!" We collapse back on the bed where we continue to kiss and laugh and
hug. Bullie wiggles around to get my cock in his mouth again. He licks the
cum off. "Mmm, mmm, that tastes good, Larry!" Now we're both giggling.

"Come on, Bullie, let's get showered. It's almost time for supper."

We get in the shower together, and Bullie takes the soap and washcloth and
gives my cock a thorough cleaning. Then I kneel down and clean his pretty
little bottom, inside and out. We lather each other up head to toe, shampoo
each other's hair, and rinse off. We step out and I stand Bullie up on the
sink counter to towel him dry. We keep arguing. "No, you're the best!" "No,
you're the best!" I quickly dry myself and we go out to retrieve our
clothes.

"Do you think they look too wrinkly, Larry? Comley doesn't like it when we
look messy."

"You look beautiful, Bullie," I assure him as I button his shirt and tuck
it into his khakis. At least temporarily. My own shirt didn't fare so well,
since it ended up on the bed underneath all the action, so I take a fresh
one out of my closet. Fully dressed, we look at ourselves in the mirror,
nod our joint satisfaction and head to supper hand in hand. By the time we
get there, we're both skipping.

At meals, the staff and boys, those not attending to our guests, sit around
a long table at one end of the kitchen to enjoy Pierre's delicious
offerings and catch up with what everyone has been doing.

The four boys we left in the rec room are already seated. They apparently
never did find anything exciting to do. Bullie high fives Janek, Adrian and
Travis and sits down beside his brother, Chitto, who begins to question
him. The two yak away in Cree, while looking at me and laughing. Talk about
making a guy feel self-conscious! I'm happy though that Chitto looks out
for his younger sibling.

Kumar comes in with Jerry, instead of his brother, Tito. He claims they
found lots of neat things to give people for Christmas, but isn't letting
on what exactly they bought. What isn't a secret though is the fact that
they forced Jerry back to their room for a threeway. Jerry joins me on my
side of the table. "Forced?" I ask him. He laughs.

Comley joins us with Harrison and Old George. George puts four spoonfuls of
sugar in his coffee. Harrison tells me Vasily and Glenn are eating supper
with the men with whom they spent the day cross-country skiing. And Juan is
still with the German. They'll spend the night with their guests as well.

Paul, wearing a kimono, comes in with tears in his eyes. He always gets
very attached to the guests he entertains, and when they leave, he gets
emotional. He sits beside Comley who gives him a big paternal hug.

Finally Chip, Hermie and Shumba come in, the Mexican carrying the
basketball. He sits beside me. I ask Hermie in Spanish how his day went.

"No, Señor Larry, talk English!"

"Do you know English now, Hermie?"

"Si, Señor Larry. Hermie know lots English: 'basketball,' 'cocksucker,'
'Christmas,' 'mash potatoes,' 'asshole,' 'Sayonara,'..."

"'Sayonara' is Japanese, not English." Hermie glares at Paul, who finally
smiles.





Chapter 8 - Eyes glued to the televised action

After supper, Comley asks Hermie and me to come to his office. "Hermie, I
know you're learning lots of English, but I want Larry to be here to
translate this time." I begin repeating Comley's words in Spanish. Hermie
nods. "Are you happy here, Hermie?"

"Si."

"That's good. Let's say 'yes' though. It's important to learn to speak
English."

"Si. Uhm, Yes."

"We have some rules here, Hermie. You will have chores to do. You have to
make your bed, keep your room clean. Sometimes Pierre or Old George might
ask you to help them."

"Si. Uhm, Yes." Hermie shakes his head. It's hard to remember, but he is
determined.

"Also, you have to be neat and clean every day. Always bathe and always use
the bidet when you shit. Hang up your clothes so they don't get
wrinkled. Our guests like our boys to be neat and clean."

After I translate, Hermie proudly says "Yes," remembering this time.

"Our guests are very nice men. From all over the world. They come so far to
be with us, so we always want to make them happy."

"Yes."

"Let me show you." Comley turns on the wide screen tv which is hooked into
the security cameras. "See here's Tito with Mr. Nelson. Nelson just arrived
this afternoon and when he booked his room he asked for Tito, because he
remembered how nice Tito was last time. See how nice they're kissing. You
like to kiss, don't you, Hermie?"

"Yes," he answers halfheartedly. He's kissed people of course, but never so
intently as he sees Tito doing on the big screen.

"Now see where Nelson's hand is? Our guests like to touch the boys there,
and the boys like to be touched. You will like it also, Hermie."

Hermie is very quiet now, his eyes glued to the televised action taking
place just down the hall.

"Now what's Nelson doing?" I translated the question, and then Hermie's
Spanish reply.

"That's right! He's taking off his pants and his underpants. Tito is
helping him. You will learn to help the men undress, Hermie. Now see Tito
is holding Nelson's cock. Listen to the words, Hermie."

I tell Hermie what Tito was saying, "You have a wonderful cock. It is very
big."

Comley adds his commentary: "Men like it when the boys compliment their
cocks. Can you guess what Tito is going to do, Hermie?"

"Cocksucker," he whispered, drawing on his new English vocabulary.

"That's right, Hermie. Tito is getting ready to suck Nelson's cock." I
glance over at Comley and notice he has his own cock out and is jerking
away as he watches. I open my fly and soon join him in his voyeurism. "Tito
is a good cocksucker. All our boys are good cocksuckers. Do you want to be
a good cocksucker, Hermie?"

"Uh huh," he answers, not really thinking about the question. Comley
doesn't tell Hermie that when Tito was admiring Nelson's cock, he was also
inspecting it. If he found any suspicious sores, he would find an excuse
not to suck it. One thing Hermie will learn at Tatawaw is how to avoid
contracting diseases passed through oral sex.

"Now look at how big and hard Nelson's cock is. Have you ever seen a cock
so big, Hermie?

"No!"

"Tito did a good job of sucking it, didn't he?"

"Why did he stop?" I tell Comley what Hermie asked.

"Well, now they're going to do something else. Look, they're both taking
their clothes off now. Tito is giving Nelson something. You know what it
is?"

"No."

"It's called a condom. Look, he's helping Nelson roll it on. Always use a
condom, Hermie. No bareback. Never. Our guests know that. And look, that's
called lube. That's so your asshole doesn't get hurt. We don't want any
boys to get hurt here. Now Tito is leaning over the side of the bed. See
how he pulls his buttocks apart? That's his way of showing Nelson he really
wants him to fuck him." Comley turns the volume down. He doesn't think
Hermie needs to hear the screaming right now. He also doesn't bother
explaining there are other fucking positions. Hermie has enough to absorb
right now. We all watch in silence as Nelson pounds into Tito's 13-year old
asshole. After he pulls out and sprays cum all over Tito's butt, Comley
turns off the TV.

"Don't worry, Hermie, you won't do that for a long time. We will never ask
you to do anything you're not ready to do. But you talk to the other
boys. They'll all tell you they like fucking. Now Larry will walk you back
to Paul's room. Paul will be there tonight in bed with you. You get a good
night's sleep, little man. Tomorrow is a busy day."





Chapter 9 - Every school day is a challenge

The alarm goes off. Sunlight is streaming in the large picture window. I
shut the alarm off and nudge the 14-year old beside me. "Come on,
Chip. Time to wake up."

"Shit, Larry, what day is it?"

"Monday. We both have to go to school today."

"Go fuck yourself!" He turns over and buries his head under a pillow. I
pull the bedclothes off him and smile, looking at the lovely hairy ass I
was feasting on last night.

After putting Hermie to bed with Paul and all his stuffed animals, I
stopped by the teenager's room to see if he was in the mood for some
action. Chip was practicing his electric guitar (with earphones, so as not
to keep anyone awake.) His roommate, Shumba, was studying. He's determined
to keep his grades up and not jeopardize his admission to Selkirk next
fall. Both were in their boxers. Chip told me he was indeed horny, was just
about to wank off in fact, so he put his slippers on (nothing else) to join
me. I reminded Shumba it was a school night and he promised not to stay up
too late.

Chip and I really went to town. My earlier fuck with the six-year old was
great of course, but there's a different kind of joy in fucking (and being
fucked by) an adolescent. And while I find the little assholes tasty, when
I rim Chip, it's oddly delicious. Must be the teenage hormones. We finally
fell asleep around two, both covered in cum.

I turn on the TV loud, then grab the pillow off Chip's head.

"Fuck you, Larry. Let me sleep." Then he mumbles, "Like another ten hours
or so."

"Nope. It's time to rise and shine, Chipmunk!" He hates that nick.

"I bet Glenn won't be in school. The russkie or the spik, neither." He
means Vasily and Juan. He knows these three boys spent the night
entertaining guests.

"Don't let Comley hear you using slurs like that. You're not too old for
him to whip your ass."

He looks at me and guffaws, knowing Comley is an old softy who'd never hurt
a fly. "It's ok, they call me Froggie." Chip finally sits up. "But I mean
it, if they don't gotta go to school, why the fuck do I?"

"Simple. Because I 'gotta' go!"

Chip stands up, and stretches his arms over his head. With his morning
hardon, he is poking out in all directions. He yawns loudly and tries to
shake the sleepies out of his head. Through squinty eyes, he looks around
for his boxers. I pick them up and toss them to him. He bends over to put
them on, farts, and makes no apologies. He only finds one slipper.

"By the way, Froggie," I grin. "Fr. Ricardo sends his love."

Chip opens his eyes and looks at me, betraying a little smile. "I'm fuckin
surprised he remembers me. I was a little shitfaced kid."

"Oh, he remembers you. Here,..." I dig through my top drawer and pull out a
small box. "...he sent you this."

Chip opens it, a St. Christopher medal. "Fuckin old priest's still fuckin
superstitious, I see." The teenager thinks he has the whole world figured
out, but he puts the chain around his neck anyway. He doesn't bother to
thank me or the padre, but I know he's touched. Later, I'll write and tell
Fr. Ricardo how much he loved his present.

Chip tosses the empty box at my wastebasket, misses, and doesn't bother
picking it up. He goes out the door, scratching his ass, half shod with his
boner sticking out his fly.

Every school day is a challenge at Tatawaw. Fourteen boys, aged 6 to 15,
each one requiring an individualized curriculum. All the boys are supposed
to get their core lessons every day: Language Arts with me, math with
Jerry, science with "Doc", and Social Studies with Bart, who also acts as
dean. Then they also need to be scheduled for the language lab,
instrumental music lessons, choir practice, and athletics, which at this
time of year consists primarily of skiing lessons.

However, if a boy is entertaining one of our guests, that takes priority
over schoolwork, so some students show up midmorning or not at all. Like I
said, it's a challenge, but one that invigorates me as a teacher.

I skip breakfast to check up on the lessons I'd left for all the boys the
week I was gone. About half of them were completed.

This morning, only eight boys are in their places for opening exercises. As
Chip predicted, Glenn, Vasily and Juan are still with guests. But in his
stupor, he forgot that Tito is also occupied.

Hermie is sitting beside Paul, ready for his first day at school. They both
are freshly bathed and neatly dressed, just the way Comley likes. Chitto
and Bullie are also at their desks. But poor Bullie's shirt refuses to stay
tucked in his pants. Adrian is the neatest. What the fuck? Does he iron his
clothes each day? Travis too is dressed for school, although his mind is
elsewhere. He's tapping away on his desk with his pencil. Only Chip and
Shumba, the teens, are not wearing the khaki and blue "uniform." They have
on their own clothes. Chip looks like he could use Adrian's iron.

Fifteen minutes late, eight-year olds Kumar and Janek come running in. Bart
states the obvious: "You're late, Boys."

"Sorry, we lost track of the time."

"They were 69ing," tattles Adrian. A number of his classmates glare at the
snitch.





Chapter 10 - Four other boys are missing

As I work through the lessons, calling each boy up to either read or take a
spelling test or go over his creative writing, I think about four other
boys who are missing from the room. Last year Tatawaw lost Andy, Chung,
Bucket and Jake.

Andy, a talented violinist, graduated in June and went on to train at
Julliard. He'd been at Tatawaw eight years. He came here from Regina with a
lot of emotional baggage. His father beat his mother as well as the four
kids. He claimed Andy wasn't his and called him "The Bastard." When Andy's
twelve-year old sister ended up in the hospital with a torn vagina, the
authorities finally stepped in and put all the kids into foster homes. Andy
didn't talk much when he came here. He was always very serious. It was
nearly a year before he felt free enough to get intimate. I respect Comley
for never pushing a boy to perform when he isn't ready. He knew Andy would
eventually come around. The key that unlocked his solidly shut door was
music.

Andy began taking piano lessons, and then took up the violin. Through
playing, he found a release for his pent-up frustrations. He played three
hours a day or more. His teacher down in the village was amazed by his
passion. Eventually he was able to show the same passion in bed.

Chung, age 13, had only been here two years. Like Adrian, he too was a
Chinese boy from the Philippines. Unlike Adrian, he was a happy-go-lucky
kid. Fearless, he was always up for a challenge. We had to keep reminding
him to use condoms. He preferred bareback. However, an STD was not what
killed him. He was on the slopes one day, and decided to attempt the
widow-maker trail. It was way beyond his skill level, and the ski patrol
found his crumpled body in a ravine just off the trail. In all the years
Tatawaw has existed, his was the only death. We were all stunned.

Bucket's real name was Christopher, but he was such a horny bottom, that
one guest remarked he was a talented cum bucket,--meant as a real
compliment. The nickname stuck. When he'd see a car arriving, Bucket would
grab his parka and run out to greet the new guest. "Hi, Mister. I'm
Bucket. What can I do to help? Can I carry your suitcase? Can I suck your
cock? Can I show you your room? Can I show you my ass?" More times than
not, Bucket would moon the man right there in the parking lot. Soon after
he was twelve, this enthusiastic and insatiable bottom was adopted by one
of the guests and is now living in Holland.

Jacob Weisenbaum was born in Ottawa to an affluent young doctor and his
loving wife. They had everything going for them, and faced the future with
confidence. One night when Jake was two, his parents hired a baby-sitter, a
high school girl they knew from the synagogue, and went out to attend a
friend's wedding. Jake never saw them again. When they were driving home
from the reception, a drunk driver ran a stop light and broadsided their
car. Jake's mother died on impact, and his father twelve hours later from
massive internal injuries.

Jake was left a generous trust fund that couldn't be touched until he was
21. Social services began shuttling him from one foster home to another
while they looked for someone to adopt him. As he grew older, each home was
worse than the last. When he was nine, he was rescued from a very abusive
family and brought to Tatawaw.

Jake was finally in an atmosphere where he could experience some love. He
had a real family again. He was extremely grateful and couldn't do enough
to thank us. His desire to please made him popular with the guests, as did
his developing sexy body. He was an excellent student, excelling in math,
science and French.

One winter, an Israeli man came to Tatawaw. He found out Jake was Jewish
and revealed he was a rabbi. He immediately took the boy under his wing. He
returned twice a year, and kept up an e-mail correspondence. Jake was soon
learning a third language, Hebrew. He installed a mezuzah by his bedroom
door, and began wearing a yarmulke. (Sometimes that was all he wore.) On
Friday nights, if he was not tied up with one of our guests, Jake would
head up to the Marmor Basin Ski Resort, where a local rabbi came to hold
weekly services for the patrons there.

When Jake turned twelve, he prepared for his bar mitzvah and the rabbi from
Israel came to conduct the rite. Jake was now a man. In more ways than
one. He had already shown some signs of puberty, a cracking voice, acne,
black hair on his balls, and creamy cum. In addition, he was discovering
something important about himself. He realized he was hetero. On the ski
slopes, this handsome boy found himself the object of many teenage female
flirts. He had a few sexual encounters with the opposite sex and liked it a
lot. Some Playboy centerfolds now hung in his room. And he no longer felt
comfortable having sex with men. But he felt if he didn't, he would be
letting Comley down after all that he'd done for him. Finally Comley had a
long heart-to-heart with Jake and assured him he needn't feel bad. No boy
at Tatawaw is ever made to do anything which makes them feel uneasy. Comley
knew it was no good for Jake to pretend he was something he wasn't. By the
time he was fourteen, Jake was living with a wealthy family on a farm in
Manitoba, and from all reports had a harem of local chicks.





Chapter 11 - Letting the new boy come along

When class ends on Monday, Jerry passes out the allowances. Each boy gets
his age times three in dollars each week. Jerry teaches the young ones to
split it three ways, 1/3 for spending, 1/3 for saving, and 1/3 for
sharing. So the boys have money to use for personal items. They also get to
keep any tips they may get from our guests, some of whom are very
generous. By the time they leave Tatawaw, most boys have a tidy nest egg
saved up. Hermie looks at his $21 in amazement. He's never held so much
money. I help translate what Jerry tells him.

Throughout his first week, Hermie makes tremendous progress. He begins to
communicate with all his "brothers" in English. He starts to read;
Dr. Seuss is a favorite. He is beginning to master the Bunny Slope. He
performs his chores enthusiastically. He insists on stamping his own
identity on Paul's room, and a map of Mexico and a flag are now competing
with the Japanese decor. Old George brings a four foot wide sombrero he
found in the store room. Hermie puts in on and disappears beneath it. We
add another hook to the wall to hang it up.

On Friday, a businessman from Tokyo arrives. Mr. Ito is one of our regulars
and of course requests Paul. Comley tells him about Hermie and asks if he'd
mind letting the new boy come along, just to observe. Ito says of course,
he doesn't mind. The boys are paged and Ito walks to his room with one in
each hand. Comley asks me to keep an eye on them, see how Hermie manages,
so I join Marshall in the security office. He sets me up with a monitor and
a pair of earphones.

Paul and Ito are talking a blue streak in Japanese, until the man remembers
the new boy and says they must speak English now.

"Awwww," Paul complains. "Well, OK." The boys help unpack while Hermie and
Ito get acquainted.

"How long have you been here, little Hermie?"

"Six days." He holds up six fingers, in case his English isn't right.

"Do you like it here?"

"Si. I mean Yes."

"How many men have you been with so far?"

I can see Hermie struggling to decipher the code in his head. Ito is using
longer sentences than he is used to, plus he has an accent. "Men? Uh, no
men. Only you."

"Well, Hermie. I don't mind if you watch us. Come on, Paul, give Ito a big
hug." He throws open his arms and Paul presses himself into Ito's
body. Hermie jumps up on the bed to watch them. Ito picks Paul up and
kisses him lasciviously. Hermie probably remembers watching Tito with
Mr. Nelson. Ito puts Paul back on the floor and the boy goes to work
opening the Asian's fly and pulling out his cock. Between his fingers and
his tongue, he soon has the cock fully erect. Hermie looks at it and
probably decides it isn't as big as Nelson's. Paul is now sucking
vigorously. Hermie moves away from the side of the bed. I realize he is
remembering Tito and thinks this blowjob will also be followed by a
fuck. But Ito is gripping Paul's head tight and starts to shout words in
Japanese. Soon he is pouring his seed into his little lover's mouth. Voyeur
Hermie has saucer eyes. When Ito finishes, he releases Paul's head from his
grip. Paul pulls off, smiles up at the man, then turns to Hermie and opens
to show him a mouthful of cum. It starts dripping down his chin. He licks
Ito's cock clean, and pushes it back into the man's pants. He knows from
experience what Ito wants.

Ito turns to Hermie. "Did you like that?" Hermie nods. "Thank you,
Paul. You sure know how to make me feel welcome." He looks at his
watch. "Well, it's time to go to supper. Come on, Boys."

Hermie jumps off the bed, comes over and looks in Paul's mouth. Paul grabs
his friend's hand and spits some cum into his open palm. "Taste it." Hermie
licks his hand and makes a face. Ito and Paul laugh. The man takes the
boys' sticky hands again and heads out of the room. I hear him and Paul
singing some Japanese children's song.

I tuck my own cock back in my pants, thank Marshall and go. On my way to
the kitchen, I see Ito and the boys eating. All three are laughing. Hermie
seems comfortable even though it's his first time in the guest dining
room. Over supper, I give Comley my report and he is pleased. He tells me
he'll take over the surveillance this evening. I know Hermie is in for
quite a show. Paul is always excited when he's got a Japanese cock up his
ass. Luckily, tomorrow is Saturday, for both boys are going to be up late
tonight.

The next morning, around eleven, I see Ito heading outside with his camera,
so I head to Paul and Hermie's room and find them both naked 69ing.

"Good morning, Boys."

"Buenos días, I mean Good Morning, Señor Larry."

"Should I come back later?"

"No," Paul says, sitting up. "I's just showing Hermie what it feels like."

I ask, "Does it feel good, Hermie?" He giggles. I suggest, "You want me to
suck your pene?"

"No, hehehe."

"You want to suck mine?"

"No, hehehe. Maybe 'nother time, hehehe."

"Did you like watching Paul and Señor Ito?"

"Si. They were having lots fun."

"Well, soon, you will be having fun like that also."

"Señor Ito say I can watch more when he come back."

"Yes, I think he likes you, Hermie. I think you make him happy just like
Paul." Hermie giggles again. "See you later, Boys." As soon as I turn to
leave, they go back to their mutual blowjob.





Chapter 12 - You want to suck my pene?

On Monday, after our morning shower, Travis and I get dressed for
breakfast. I find it hard to sleep in my king sized bed unless I'm sharing
it with another warm body. Usually a different body each night. Last night,
ten-year old Travis was available and willing.

When we get to breakfast, Hermie is already there, fully dressed, wide
awake, ready for a new day. Still groggy, I grab a coffee mug.

"Well, Good Morning, Hermie. I'm surprised you aren't with Señor Ito and
Paul." Hermie had spent the entire weekend with them, including three
nights. He'd eaten every meal with them. Played hide and seek with
them. Walked around and took pictures with them. And of course, watched
repeated oral and anal sex between man and boy. He got a good idea of the
ways boys make the guests happy at Tatawaw.

"Paul he with Señor Ito now. But Hermie say I got school. I gotta learn
read. Señor Ito say school is portant. He let me go."

"Good for you, Hermie." I bend over and kiss his head. He doesn't mind.

"Señor Larry?"

"What is it, Hermie?"

"Do you still want to suck my pene?"

I look at him. "Do you want me to?"

He looks up at me with those big dark eyes and nods. "Si. Yes."

"Really?" He nods again.

"Here?" He jumps up on his chair, opens his pants and lets them drop, then
pushes his undies (Spongebob) down to his skinny thighs.

I bend at the waist and take his boytool in my mouth, scrotum and all. As
Travis watches us, I begin to suckle this scrumptious morsel.

Hermie starts giggling, sings out "Stop!" and pulls back from me. He pulls
up his undies and pants and sits down. "Thanks, Señor Larry. That was
good." Good? It must have lasted all of twenty seconds. But I guess it's a
start. I sit down to my breakfast.

Bart comes in. "Good morning, Larry, Travis, Hermie."

"Señor Bart, do you want to suck my pene?" Travis and I look at each other
and grin.

"Sure, Hermie." Again the boy jumps up on his chair, drops trou and offers
his boytool. And again after a few seconds, just as Bart is getting into
it, Hermie quits. Travis and I can't help laughing. Bart doesn't think it's
so funny. To Hermie, it's all a wonderful new game.

As others come into breakfast, they are asked the same question, "Want to
suck my pene?" Now Hermie isn't even bothering to sit down. He stands on
his chair with his pants at his ankles, as man after man, and boy after
boy, gives him a few moments of oral sex. But there is nothing sexual about
it. Neither sucker nor suckee gets hard. It's like tickling; something fun
to do for a few seconds. No one gets mad now because they can see this is
not prolonged fellatio. The whole table is laughing when Comley comes in
and receives the same question.

"You sure are a funny little boy, Hermie," Comley says after he gets his
two licks in. Hermie looks around to see if he's missed anyone. "You don't
want to get your nice pants all wrinkled. Either pull them up or take them
off altogether and fold them neatly."

Hermie looks at Comley, weighing the options. He pulls his feet out of the
pants, turning the legs inside out in the process. Comley helps him fold
them and sets them on an empty chair along with Spongebob. Then Comley sits
next to him. "You like that game, don't you, Hermie?"

"Si. Yes." He giggles.

"I like it too. But Hermie, I don't want you to play that game with the
guests." I know what Comley is thinking. Our guests would misinterpret
Hermie's ultraquick blowjobs as teasing.

Hermie spends the rest of the day pantless, making sure he scores everyone
he knows on staff as well as all his brothers. Clever educator that I am, I
incorporate his game into my teaching. I take his pile of vocabulary flash
cards. Whenever he reads ten consecutive cards correctly, he gets to choose
someone in the room to suck his dick. The class cooperates
beautifully. Jerry picks up on it for his addition lesson. I notice by the
end of school, Hermie is letting the suckers suck longer. Apparently,
getting his baby cock sucked doesn't feel too bad. I'm pleased with
Hermie's progress; I think he has earned his allowance this week.

Over the next couple days, the sucking game progresses to the point where
the blowjob becomes a true intimate union. As well as getting, Hermie also
begins to give. He sucks off the youngest boys: Paul, Bullie, Kumar and
Janek. He is afraid to put anything bigger in his mouth.





Chapter 13 - Yes, Santa. I'll be good

It's the week before Christmas. The building is decked with pine garlands
and red ribbons. There's a huge tree in the front hall. Gifts are hidden in
every secret nook. The closest stores to buy anything are either down in
the village or up at Marmor Basin, both overpriced. The nearest decent
shopping is Edmonton, five hours away one way. So most presents were bought
online and shipped in. Throughout the month, Derrick the mail clerk has
struggled to keep everyone out of the mail room. When someone comes for his
mail, he has to wait outside the door while Derrick retrieve it. Otherwise
everyone would be snooping to see what other people ordered.

All the boys have been rehearsing for the concert. Hermie is pretty good
remembering the words to "Jingle Bells" and "Frosty the Snowman," and he
plays the drum for "The Little Drummer Boy." For the more complex
arrangements, he just stands there looking cute. "It's the Most Wonderful
Time of the Year." "Silver Bells," and "Let It Snow!" are sung in four part
harmony. There are plenty of young sopranos and altos. Several of the men
on staff help fill out the tenor and bass sections. Chip and Shumba have
been practicing their own song in secret and we are all anxious to hear
what it is.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, some of the shaggier boys get their
haircuts. The guests are asked to please release the boys after lunch so
they can make final preparations for the concert/party. Bart gathers all
the students in the gym and has them strip naked. He passes out their
costumes: tight shorts made of shiny green vinyl, and a short red jacket
that leaves the chest and midriff exposed. This way, Bullie doesn't need to
worry about keeping his shirttail tucked in. Finally, the boys don knee
length socks with red and white stripes, pointy green elf shoes and elf
hats. At four, they march into the dining hall, which has been rearranged
with rows of chairs for the guests and a small platform for a stage. As the
boys parade in, the guests find the queue of tight covered asses very
appealing.

The program includes, besides the choral pieces, some solos; several of the
boys have beautiful voices. Also, there are performances on the piano, a
trumpet, a violin, and three guitars. The finale is Chip and Shumba's
secret surprise. They have gone offstage during Adrian's haunting rendition
of "Greensleeves." Now they appear again, their asses to the audience. Bart
puts on the tape recorder and the boys turn to face the audience, each
holding a box wrapped in Christmas paper in front of his crotch. The song
is Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg's infamous "Cock in a Box," and it
brings the house down.

Now it's party time. Each man draws a name from a hat and that boy becomes
his personal elf for the party. Hermie ends up with Mr. Miller, an oilman
from Texas. There are only twelve guests at the moment. (At Christmas, most
people spend time with family.) So Jerry and I draw the last two names. My
elf is Chitto. The men and boys pair up, sample all the goodies Pierre has
put on the groaning board, and listen to the piped Christmas music. Some of
us dance. Others sit and kiss and fondle.

We are all waiting for the big arrival. Few noticed Comley quietly leave
the room with Doc and Bart. After a while, someone turns off the canned
music and we hear jingle bells coming down the hall. We all look at the
door and in come Doc and Bart, wearing only the skimpiest black leather
jocks, black harnesses, and reindeer antlers. They are pulling pulling a
throne on wheels with a jovial Santa ho-ho-ing loudly. Chitto and I laugh
together. I look over at Jerry. I know, he like myself, is glad we were
asked to draw names. Otherwise, we'd be reindeer as well. Doc, especially,
must be embarrassed as hell.

"Ho ho ho!" Santa greets everyone in the room by name. Only the very
youngest, specifically Bullie, Paul and Hermie, are fooled. Santa takes out
a scroll marked Good Little Boys! and reads the first name: Shumba.

"Yeah!" Shumba leaves his adult partner, high fives his pal Chip and
saunters up to Santa to get his gift. He has to sit on Santa's lap of
course, but when he does Santa's gloved hand ends up under his ass and his
fingers are groping the boy's ample package through the green vinyl.

"Oh, Yes, Shumba here definitely feels like a good little boy." Santa gives
the boy's package a good feel up and corrects himself. "No, Shumba is a big
boy now. You are still good though aren't you?"

"Yes, Santa."

"You're not to big to take a nice big candy cane up your ass are you?"

"No Santa."

"That's good, because Mr. Klein is an important guest here and we wouldn't
want him to be disappointed tonight."

"Don't worry, Santa. I'll be a good boy."

"I know you will, Shumba. Now here's your present." The reindeer hand him a
new laptop.

"Thank you, Santa."

Santa goes through the list from the oldest on down. Each boy gets felt up,
gets teased and gets his present, in each case something he very much
wants.

Near the end, Santa calls for Hermie. "¿Hermano, eres un buen muchacho?"

"Si, Señor Santa." Hermie is in awe that Santa speaks his language. Maybe
not like a native, but still Hermie understands him perfectly.

"Señor Santa sabe Hermano es un buen chico, un niño muy bueno. Hermano,
Señor Miller será feliz esta noche." Santa spreads Hermie's skinny little
legs apart and points to his anus. Then he addresses Miller in
English. "Now Hermie's little Christmas box here isn't ready to be opened
up yet, and that's ok. We can wait. But,..." Santa looks at Hermie and
asks, "¿Te gusta chupar pene, Hermano?"

"Si, Señor Santa."

Santa points to Hermie's mouth and looks back at Miller. "Santa knows this
will happily open up for you, Miller." In the last few days, Hermie finally
worked up the courage to wrap his lips around a fat cock. First he sucked
off the teenagers, then Comley, Jerry and myself.

"¿Estás aprendiendo a hablar Inglés, Hermano?"

"Poco."

"Oh, fuckin, Gracias!" We all laugh. That was a real struggle for Comley,
but I admire him for going the extra mile for the little immigrant.

Santa looks at sweet little Hermie. "Hermano, ahora tengo un regalo muy
especial para un niño muy bueno."

The reindeer give him a snowboard, like the ones he's seen other boys
riding.

"Gracias, Señor Santa."





Chapter 14 - A Mexican Christmas

After Santa passes out all the presents, the revelers go back to eating and
drinking and carousing. Pants begin to come off, especially the tight green
shorts on the boys. Then one couple at a time, when the mood is right,
disappears to a bedroom. I look at Hermie, bare assed, leaving with
Mr. Miller. He's carrying his new snowboard and grinning from ear to
ear. It will be his first night alone with a guest. I have a few
misgivings. He has learned a lot in the few weeks he's been here about
entertaining men. And I know Miller will find him a real charmer. But he
hasn't been fucked yet and hasn't sucked a guest cock yet. Hopefully, the
oilman will find his gushing personality enough to make up for the lack of
skill. If there is any problem,--and there probably won't be,--Harrison is
watching everything on camera, and won't hesitate to intervene. Also,
Hermie knows the word, "Stop" and knows what it means. So I set aside my
concerns, take Chitto's hand and head for my room.

On Christmas morning, everyone in the house is tired. Yet we all wander
back down to the dining room, knowing that Pierre has prepared a great
assortment of pancakes and muffins and other treats. Knowing also that this
is when the rest of the presents are exchanged. By tradition, everyone
comes wearing only their white bathrobes and slippers.

I grab my coffee and plop down on the floor. My robe drops open but I don't
care what shows. Even my cock is tired after all the busy times it spent in
Chitto's eleven-year old asshole.

I see Miller come in with Hermie. They are both smiling and I breathe a
sigh of relief. Hermie's lips are shut tight, however. When he passes Paul,
he opens his mouth to show a mouthful of cum. The boys high five.

When everyone is present, Comley (who sounds suspiciously like Santa)
starts passing out the presents, announcing who for and who from. Staff
gets presents from kids, and vice versa. Guests have presents for certain
boys. The exchanges go on a while. There are expensive gifts, gag gifts,
clothes, toys, electronics, books. My students give me aftershave, a best
teacher coffee mug, a signed copy of Billy Collins' latest book, a
subscription to Freshmen, a set of anal balls, among other things. I give
Hermie a subscription to Highlights; figure it will help him with his
reading and English skills. He also gets an iPod, a warm sweater, and a
stuffed bear with a stuffed prick sticking out between his legs. When he
opens the gift from Comley, it's a realistic dildo, albeit in an
appropriate size, only five inches long and less than three inches in
circumference.

"Gracias, Señor Comley." Hermie immediately puts it in his mouth.

"You get it nice and wet, Hermie, and then I'll help you stick it somewhere
else." Comley continues distributing the gifts. Eventually, there are no
more boxes in the pile.

But then, Pierre enters rolling a cart with a large box. "Hermie, will you
come up and join me?" Hermie jumps up, grinning, drops his dildo on the
floor, and stands excitedly beside Pierre with his bathrobe hanging wide
open. "Hermie hasn't been with us very long, but he still wanted to give us
something for Christmas, so everything in this box is from him." We all
look at each other. The kid is the best secret-keeper of anyone. I remember
three days ago, Hermie spent the night with Pierre and was awfully tired
the next day. Apparently they didn't spend the whole night sucking each
other. "In Mexico, Hermie told me, it isn't Christmas without el
Nacimiento." Pierre takes out a manger scene and Hermie sets it on the
table. "Here, at Tatawaw, at Christmas time, no little boy should be left
out. Especially not this one." Pierre holds up the Christ child.

Then Pierre takes two big trays out of the box. "Here are a couple treats
that the boys all love in Mexico at Christmas time. Cinnamon tortillas and
Christmas cookies. Some of you may know the cookies by their German name,
pfeffernusse." Pierre and Hermie each take a tray and pass them around.

Old George takes one of each. "Did you make these, Hermie?"

"Si. Señor Pierre help me."

"Hmmm, delicious." George takes a few more before letting the tray get
away.

"We aren't finished yet," Pierre continues. Now we all wonder what else
could be in the big box. Hermie reaches inside and brings out sparklers and
passes them out. I can see Comley worrying that we're going to burn the
house down, but he bites his lip. The beaming smile on Hermie's face right
now would almost make the conflagration worth it.

"And finally, one more thing." Pierre lifts a big piñata out of the box
and hangs it where the mistletoe hung last night. Old George steps forward
with a broom. So, he was in on the scheme as well. The boys take turns
getting blindfolded and taking three whacks apiece at the air while
everyone cheers. It's a great show with their bathrobes flying open as they
spin around, showing off their pretty asses and floppy boy dicks. When it's
Shumba's turn, I comment he might do better swinging at it with the bat
between his legs. Finally, Travis makes contact and tons of wrapped candy
cascade down. Everyone, young and old, but all boys at heart, with our
bathrobes flying, dive to the floor in a happy orgy. Old George is
practically on top of me, scooping up the goodies.

Everyone makes a point of giving Hermie a big hug, before heading off to
play with their new toys, or otherwise enjoy Christmas Day. I see Tito and
the man he's entertaining dressed for a day of skiing. I'm glad; it will
give Tito a chance to see his boy friend Harold and exchange gifts and
Christmas kisses. Chitto and I go back to my room to try out my anal balls.

A few days later, Hermie comes to me with a piece of paper. "Señor Larry,
Paul say I gotta write revolutions for New Year."

"You mean 'resolutions.' That's a good idea, Hermie."

"I want you look at what I wrote, see if I did it right." He hands me the
paper.  Hermie's New Year's resolutions: 1. i will talk english good 2. i
will suck cock good 3. i will ski good 4. i will fuck good 5. i will play
basketball good

"Hermie, those are wonderful resolutions. And I know you'll keep every one
of them."





Chapter 15 - DON'T TOUCH IT!

It is February. Every week I send Fr. Ricardo a glowing report on Hermie's
progress. The boy is certainly keeping his first three resolutions. He
already reads on a second grade level, and speaks clear English. He hardly
ever says "Señor" any more, and I sort of miss it.

He is an expert cocksucker now, and the guests who take him are very
pleased. Even though they know they can't fuck his asshole, they still get
in addition to the blowjob, a satisfying handjob and a stimulating
rim. Plus, of course, they get a delightful enthusiastic little playmate
who is eager to please. I know. Several times, he and his teddy bear have
kept me company in my big bed.

And Hermie has worked his way off the Bunny Trail on to the beginner's
slope. He loves to ski, but likes his new snowboard even more. He even
tries hotdogging.

As for the basketball, that is on hold for now. When the weather isn't
right for snow sports, then he'll work on his hoops.

So that leaves the fucking resolution. Comley has been coaching him. Hermie
accepts his finger and even his thumb. Comley has taught him all about
condoms and lube. He's been showing him how to use his dildo, cautioning
him not to rush it. Hermie's young schoolmates have been helping as
well. They tell him how great it feels and they let him watch when one of
the teenage boys or one of the staff fucks them. Hermie has begun to let
the youngest boys fuck his ass. He carefully measures the thickness of
their erect dicks, and so far has allowed five of them inside: Paul,
Bullie, Kumar, Janek and Adrian. Juan is next on his list. So technically,
I guess Hermie's cherry is no longer virgin. Still the men are beginning to
wonder whose will be the first big cock in his precious hole. Chip and
Shumba have started taking bets on who will be the lucky man to really open
the Mexican boycunt. Odds have it that Comley and I are both strong
contenders for the title.

Boys vary in every way possible. No two are alike. When it comes to getting
their asses fucked, some seem to be ready from day one, like little
Bullie. Others take a long time. At Tatawaw, the staff respects these
differences. Comley believes in giving each boy as much time as he
needs. Above his desk, he has two advertising posters. The older one
pictures Orson Welles saying, "We will sell no wine before its time." The
newer one is for LU cookies, with the slogan, "Decadence cannot be
hurried."

Another way boys differ is in their orgasms. Most of the younger boys enjoy
the sex games a lot but have never achieved a true orgasm, even a dry
one. When it does come, it is an awesome milestone.

Janek is spending the night with me. We've done the usual, the common bath,
the 69ing, the mutual rimming and the fucks. Our first fuck tonight was
doggy style, then came spread eagle, and finally a lap fuck. Now we are
just cuddling in bed, stroking each other.

"You're a beautiful boy," I tell Janek. His dark brown hair is tucked into
my left armpit and his dark brown eight-year old eyes look up at me. He
grins demurely.

"I love you, Larry." His fingers run the length of my shaft, as he admires
the pole that minutes ago was up his ass. It is sticky but he pets it
lovingly. "You fuck the best of anybody here." My mind knows he's just
saying that. The boys at Tatawaw learn early to say the things the men want
to hear. Yet in my heart, I half hope there is some measure of truth in his
praise.

"Thank you, Janek. A beautiful ass like yours brings out the best in me."
My left hand cups his butt. I bring my right hand over and begin to play
with his little uncut one and a half-incher. It is late and we've had a
busy night so far. I've had Janek in my bed often in the 15 months since he
arrived and this is our normal routine. I expect we'll both be asleep soon.

"Larry, thank you for the new Wii game you gave me for Christmas. It's my
favorite present." I run the back on my right hand along his sternum. I
love to listen to his darling little voice in bed.

"You know, Hermie asked me to fuck him last week, so I did. I stuck my
czlonek in his posladki." He giggles. He loves to use words from his native
Polish. But I don't think he got those words off Rosetta Stone. I gently
hold his czlonek in my fingers, nonchalantly toying with it. "Hermie says I
fucked him good. Do you think you'll fuck him soon, Larry? I told him you
fuck the best of anybody here." I laugh softly and plant a kiss on the top
of his head. Some day Janek will have a handsome Polish kielbasa between
his legs, but for now his little wiener is just perfect. I slide the skin
along his shaft and his little pink dickhead peeks through his foreskin. He
is fully erect now.

"Adrian fucked him also, but I think I done it better, cause Adrian's
czlonek is so small, and he's older than me. You know how small it is. I
bet it didn't even go in Hermie's posladki, it's so small." I am about to
caution Janek about dissing other boys. We want all our students to respect
each other. But I don't want Janek to feel bad either, so I start to
mentally work out what I'm going to say.

"But Paul, he's younger than me and his czlonek is huge!" I grin. I guess
to Janek, two inches would seem huge. "Isn't that funny, Larry, he's
younger and his..." Janek stops in mid sentence.

My eyes have been looking at his pretty little dickhead. I look up into his
face. It's frozen. His mouth is wide agape. Suddenly his little body begins
to shake. My God, is the kid having a convulsion? Finally, he says,
"L-L-L-Larry, let go." I release his cock from my fingers. "Uh-uh-uh."

"What's the matter, my Sweetie?"

"It feels s-s-s-so funny."

"What does, Janek?"

"M-m-my czlonek."

"Where, here?"

"DON'T TOUCH IT!" he shouts.

I feel terrible. I frown, but I'm sure I haven't hurt his little dick. I'm
always gentle. "You know what, Janek?"

"W-w-w-what?"

"I think you just had your first orgasm?"

"I d-d-d-did?"

"Uh huh!"

"W-w-w-wow. So that's what it's like." Janek had heard the word. Everyone
talks about orgasms, wet ones, dry ones. But you can't really describe
it. Until you have one, it's just one of those glorious mysteries.

"Does it feel like you have a sharp tingle in your..."

"DON'T TOUCH IT!"

"Hehe, I won't, Sweetie." I know when a boy experiences his first dry
orgasm, his dick is hypersensitive. "Would you like a drink of water,
Sweetie?" I start to get up and he starts to shake again.

"DON'T MOVE!"

Wow. He really is sensitive. I lie as still as I can. His dick is still
rock hard.

"When will it stop, Larry?"

"Don't worry. It will stop, Sweetie. Just try to relax. Does it hurt?"

"Uh, no, I guess not. But I ain't never felt nothing like that before."

"You're growing up, Sweetie." I can tell he likes the idea that this is a
rite of passage. Just like his first blow job and his first fuck were. Just
like his first ejaculation will be in about three years. All the milestones
in life that create wonderful memories.

We both lie looking at each other, smiling, in silence. The Pole's pole
remains hard, and every few minutes there is another round of spasms, but
gradually they subside and after probably half an hour, his dick finally
softens. Soon after, the baby falls asleep sucking his thumb.





Chapter 16 - Some sad news

For a week, Janek doesn't let anyone touch him. I don't mean touch his
genitals. I mean touch him. Period. When one of our regulars, the man from
Rocklin, arrives and asks for Janek specifically, Comley tells him he is
"indisposed" this week. The guest sends Janek a big "get well soon" mylar
balloon, and enjoys his stay with obedient little Adrian.

We keep a careful eye on Janek, just as we do any lad who's going through a
trying time in his young life. We're glad when he resumes wanking; that's a
positive sign. However, instead of stopping when he gets a hardon, like he
used to, he now keeps beating his Polish monkey until he gets the
"tingles." He has discovered a whole new aspect of masturbating he'd never
known about. And he enthusiastically begins sleeping with men again,
screaming every time they bring him over the edge. If his dry orgasms are
this intense, we can't wait to see what his wet ones will be like!

It is the day after Valentine's Day, which this year is also Family Day
here in Alberta. It is the height of our ski season, and every room is
booked. Very few of our boys are at the staff table for breakfast, and
there are so many absentees at school that the few remaining (the four
teenagers, Shumba, Chip, Tito and Vasily, who turned thirteen last month)
declare it a school holiday and hit the slopes. The faculty can't argue
with their logic. But Comley asks the guests to release their boys for
supper on Monday so at least we can celebrate that meal as a family.

Pierre prepares a special feast. Just as he is serving his famed bavarian
pies for dessert, Comley gets a page from Marshall. Later we learn why Old
George was missing from the family celebration. After supper, the young
boys return to their guests, and Comley gathers the staff along with the
teenagers for a special meeting.

"I have some sad news, Men. This evening, Old George was busy repairing the
ceiling fixture in room 42 when he fell off the ladder. Marshall witnessed
it, thank God, and summoned the EMTs from the village. They found him still
unconscious. It turns out, he didn't just fall. He passed out and
collapsed. They are now rushing him to the hospital in Edmonton. I know
some of you aren't very religious, but for what it's worth, I'm asking
everyone to say a prayer for this wonderful man."

In the morning, the young boys learn the news, and the mood in our
classroom is somber. Not knowing what else to do, we write him get well
wishes. We give Comley the letters along with Janek's balloon, before the
boss takes off for the long ride to the hospital.

It is late at night when Comley gets back. He stops by my room, as Vasily
and I are finishing our fuck.

"No, don't bother getting dressed. I just wanted to tell you how things
are. The doctors' diagnosis is this. Old George had a blood sugar level of
498, and apparently went into diabetic shock."

Vasily is worried. "I didn't know he had diabetes."

"No one did. Including Old George. But shit, we should have seen it
coming. We all knew about his massive sweet tooth, and of course he was
overweight and always tired and all. But hindsight is always
clearer. Anyway, there's something else, and Vasily, what I tell you now
has to stay in this room." We both listen carefully, for it sounds like
even worse news is coming.

"Old George doesn't have much will to fight this. He says he's lived long
enough already. Shit, the guy's only 54 for God's sake." Vasily and I look
at each other. Everyone assumed the man was in his seventies at least. "He
says he's done everything he ever wanted to and it's time to make room on
this earth for someone else. I told him he was full of shit, but I don't
think I convinced him much."

"What can we do?"

"I'm not sure how much we can do, other than show him our love. I'm going
to send one staff member and one boy to Edmonton each day to visit
him. Vasily, if you want to, you can go tomorrow with Doc. I'm hoping he
might give us some insight." Not many people know that our science teacher,
Doc, actually was a medical doctor before coming to Tatawaw, a
pediatrician. He was brought up before his provincial ethics committee on a
morals charge and lost his license. Apparently, he had a hidden camera in
his examining room and used it to amass an array of kiddy porn. He can't
practice medicine any more, but at least he will know what questions to ask
at the hospital.

"Now, Vasily, when you visit George, you can't let on I told you about his
feelings. I'm not planning to tell anyone else. You understand?"

"Yes Sir." Vasily shows a maturity beyond his years.

When Vasily and Doc return Tuesday evening, Comley and I meet with
them. Old George is still not improving. His doctors are very concerned.

On Wednesday, Pierre and Travis are dispatched to the hospital. Pierre
feels terrible, blaming himself for putting so much temptation in front of
George.

On Thursday, I take Hermie for the long trip. Comley hopes that maybe the
little boys might be able to work some magic. It is the first time Hermie
has been away from Tatawaw since he arrived. The last time we drove this
route, it was pitch black and he was sound asleep. Now he is wide awake,
taking in all the scenery.

"Is Old George going to get better, Larry?"

"We all hope so, Hermie. If he wants to get better, I'm sure he will." I
wonder if perhaps I said too much.

"I hope so too, Larry." Hermie is unusually quiet for the trip east. He
points to a hawk and asks me what kind of bird it is. I start a game of I
Spy with him, but he soon loses interest, so we drive most of the way to
the hospital in silence. It's eerie.

When he sees George, however, he is his bubbly self. "We seen a hawk this
morning, George. When you look out that window, do you see birds, George? I
bet you do. Larry teach me this great game call I Spy. He say I spy the
letter A and then I gotta see what he means and I know he can't see my
asshole so I look and then I see a arrow on a sign and I'm right and then
we do B. It was lots fun. Last night I slept Mr. Haas. He's from Holland
and he's got a pretty big cock but it don't taste as good as yours,
George. You see what I'm wearing? It's the sweater you give me for
Christmas. It's my favorite present." I wonder if George realizes it's the
first time the kid has put it on since boxing day. Hermie keeps up his
banter and George is laughing, which I take to be positive.

"Señor Larry, can you leave me and George alone for a while? I gotta tell
him a secret." I go out to get a cup of coffee. When I come back, Hermie is
kissing George goodbye. "See you real soon, George. Remember our secret,
OK?"

"I will, Hermie. I'll remember."

Before we leave Edmonton, we eat the picnic lunch Pierre sent with us. We
make the usual pit stop in Edson; we both need to use the john bad. As we
stand peeing into the toilet from opposite sides, I see Hermie
grinning. What did you say to George when I was out of the room?"

"Can't tell you. It's our secret. Hehehe." As he giggles, his stream flops
around and catches my pants. "Oops, sorry, Larry, hehehe."

"You know you called me Señor Larry at the hospital."

"Really? I guess I forgot. Sorry."

"No. I don't mind." We zip up, and after filling the gas tank, we head back
home.





Chapter 17 - You remember our secret?

When Bart and Tito come back Friday night, they have good news. The doctors
say George has made a turnaround. His condition is dramatically
improved. On his tenth day, he is released and comes home to a hero's
welcome. A dozen staff members meet him when he arrives, pat his back, and
escort him to his room. When he opens his door, I see tears in his
eyes. Every boy who isn't entertaining a guest is on hand to greet
him. They've decorated his room with a welcome back banner, streamers and
balloons.

George gives Pierre the new diet regimen he was given at the hospital. "The
doctors say if I control my sugar with what I eat, then I won't have to go
on pills or insulin. I got two months to show them I can do it. Also, I'm
going to start exercising. I see you all laughing, but I mean it. Thirty
minutes a day, that's what they told me. Now, Shumba, you know where I
stash my candy bars. You take them all and pass them out to all the other
boys. Save some for the boys who aren't here. You make sure you don't leave
any behind. I don't even want to touch them. Boys, you listen up. Keep your
bodies healthy while you're young. Don't let yourselves get like old
George, you hear? It's not worth it. I got type 2 diabetes. That means I
wasn't born with it. It's something I got by not living right. Not eating
right. This should be a lesson to you. Right, Doc?"

Now that the crisis is over, life returns to normal at Tatawaw. Nothing has
changed except for George's routine. He eats his vegetables and protein and
eschews his sweets. We all admire the weight he is losing. He's beginning
to look his age. Every day, after school, he takes a boy outside for
exercise. At first it's a leisurely half hour stroll, but after a couple
weeks, it becomes a brisk aerobic walk. When they get back, they go to
George's room, shower together and have a fuck before getting dressed for
supper. George is definitely showing more energy now.

It's Saturday and Chitto and I are just getting back to Tatawaw after a
morning of cross-country skiing. We meet George heading out the front
door. Seeing he is alone, Chitto asks, "Do you want me to walk with you
today?"

"Thank you, Chitto, I'd like that very much, but right now I have to drive
down to the village. I'll be back in an hour and then we can walk." George
tells Chitto he has to go buy some screws at the hardware store. It's true,
he needs supplies for screwing. But I know he's not going to the hardware,
but to the pharmacy to replenish his supply of Viagra. He does more fucking
in one week now than he used to do in three months.

A few nights later I have Tito in my bed and we're both starting to
snuggle. His name means "of the giants" back in India, and his pubescent
cock is beginning to live up to that title. I'm just settling in for a good
taste of it, when Comley rings my room and insists that we both get our
asses down to his office immediately. We grab our bathrobes and paddle
barefoot down the hall. "Are we in trouble, Larry?"

"I don't think so. We haven't done anything wrong that I know of."

We see others converging on the office as well, and when we arrive, other
boys and staff, a couple guests even, are already there. Later I learn,
another group is filling up the security office. All eyes are on the large
screen.

We see Hermie in George's room and for some reason, Comley knows this is
going to be special. He turns up the volume.

"You do remember our secret, right, George?"

"I sure do, my Boy." George takes the boy up in his arms, without so much
as a grunt, and gives him a big hug. "When you told me you wanted me to be
the first man to fuck you, I couldn't believe it. I told myself I got to
get out of this fuckin hospital. Hermie needs me back at Tatawaw. You gave
me something to live for, my Boy. You saved my life, Hermie."

"I love you, George. I hope you fuck me for years and years and years."

"Well, we'll start with tonight, OK?"

"OK, hehehe."

George stands the boy on his bed and begins undressing him. After getting
his shirt off, he bends down and nuzzles the lad's bare chest, causing him
to giggle and the rest of us voyeurs to chuckle. When he takes Hermie's
shoes off, George kisses and licks his little feet, causing more
giggles. "These little toes are so sweet, I'm afraid my blood sugar will go
up." Hermie giggles some more. George takes Hermie's khaki pants off and
lays them neatly on his chair. "Don't want to wrinkle these, now, do we?"
Hermie shakes his head and giggles, as George kisses his way from the
ankles up to the thighs. "Oh my, who do we have here?" looking at Hermie's
underoos. "Why it's Superman! That's perfect, because I think my Hermie is
super. I'm going to leave those on for a few minutes. Now why don't you
undress me, my Boy?"

"OK." George sits on the bed to let the boy take off his shirt. Hermie then
licks the janitor's hairy chest and suckles his tits. The boy gets on the
floor and takes the shoes off. Then kisses his feet, imitating George in
every move. Most of us in Comley's office have our cocks in our hands. Some
are holding the cock next to them.

George stands and Hermie takes off his pants and tries to fold them but
doesn't do such a neat job. George stands in his camo boxers. We can see
his bulge. "You want to take a shower first, my Boy?"

"Hehe, OK." They both take off their underwear and head into the
alcove. George opens his medicine chest, pops a blue pill in his mouth and
takes a glass of water. The camera zooms in on their shower. Hermie's
lovely brown body looks even more enticing silhouetted against George's
pale skin. They play in the water, splashing and scrubbing each
other. George grabs a towel and pats the boy thoroughly dry. Hermie takes
another towel and rubs George's cock and legs and ass, and giggles as
George shakes water from his hair down on to the boy.





Chapter 18 - Better than my dildo

They come back to the bed where George sits with Hermie kneeling in front
of him, giving him an expert blow job. He's had lots of practice and George
is soon sporting a glorious old hardon, a good seven inches from its hairy
balls to its purple head. As Hermie pulls off smiling, an arc of clear
precum still links his lips to the slit.

"Are you ready, George?"

"Yes, my Boy. Are you ready?"

"Uh huh. Hehehe. What do I do now?"

"You just let Old George take care of everything, my Boy."

"OK. Hehehe."

George stood up, picked the seven-year old up and put him on the bed. The
boy was lying down with his legs hanging over the edge. George picked up
his ankles and bent him in half. "Hold your knees, Hermie." Over the years,
we've learned this is the best position for a small boy's first fuck.

"OK. Hehehe." For some of the voyeurs, this is the first view they've had
of the Mexican's lovely brown rosebud. "Don't forget the lube, George."

"I'm way ahead of you, my Boy." He is already spreading KY on his fingers
and begins massaging the target. "Have you been fingering yourself,
Hermie."

"Si, hehehe. And I been using my grande dildo like Señor Comley taught
me." When he's nervous, Hermie seems to revert back to Spanglish.

"Good boy. Then I know you are ready for George's old cock."

"Don't forget the condom, George."

"Don't worry, my Boy. I've got it right here. I won't get you pregnant."
Hermie giggles again. "I don't want to make that mistake again." I look at
Comley. He shrugs. Apparently, George has some secret skeletons hiding in
his closet. Hermie looks between his legs and watches George don the
rubber.

The kid repeats, "Are you ready now, George?"

"Yes, my Boy. Are you ready?"

"Uh huh." There is no giggling this time.

George leans forward until his cock presses on the rosebud. He smiles at
Hermie and continues the pressure. I can see Hermie trying to figure out
what to do next. Trying to apply what he knows about fingers and dildos to
this new invasion. He gives a quiet grunt, and we watch George's cockhead
disappear. "Excellent, my Boy. You let me in."

"I did?" Hermie's eyes widen as he feels a big cock beginning its travel up
his boycunt.

"Yes, Hermie. Now just relax." George waits for the love muscle to get used
to his thickness. The man knows what he is doing. He will not hurt the
child. After a minute (which for us watching in agonizingly long), George
can move a little further in. "Are you all right, my Boy?"

"Si, Señor. You're better than my dildo."

"When you use your dildo, do you push it in and out?"

"Si, Señor. That's what Señor Comley taught me to do."

"So, you go like this?" George begins his thrusts.

"Si, Señor. I like that."

That's all the encouragement George needs. He begins ramming the seven-year
old ass, even though he only enters a few inches. The boy is grunting
loudly, but smiling. He pisses himself but doesn't seem to notice because
he is exhilarated by the experience. Suddenly, George stops and
freezes. Hermie knows what's going to happen and waits. George yells a long
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa! We can see his cock pumping out its seed into the boy's
cunt. I'm also starting to spout. Not wishing to mess up Comley's office, I
try to catch it in my bathrobe. Tito comes to my rescue and wraps his mouth
around my geyser.

I look back at the screen, just as George is pulling out. He holds the
filled condom up and lets it dribble on to his little lover's belly. The
white cream sparkles against the cocoa skin.

Hermie giggles and cricks his neck. "Can I see it, George?"

"Sure, my Boy." George grabs his hand mirror off the dresser and holds it
so the boy can examine his gaping hole. "See, no blood. Isn't it
beautiful?"

"Hehehe." The boy is giggling again.

"I hope I didn't hurt you, my Boy."

"It didn't hurt none at all, Señor George. It felt fuckin bueno. Can we do
it again?"

"Sure, my Boy. You just give Old George a few minutes, and he'll be ready
to do it all again."

"Super Bueno!"





Chapter 19 - More little boys happy like me

George and Hermie lie down on the bed and cuddle. "Hermie, why did you pick
me for your first fuck?"

"Cause Bullie, he say you fuck the best of anybody?"

"Did I say that?" Bullie is sitting bare assed on a guest's lap. Every man
in the room has been told the same lie and yet it never fails to do the
job. I know George is pleased to hear it.

"And why did you want me to fuck you tonight, my Boy?"

"Do you know what tomorrow is, Señor George?"

I can see poor George, sapped of all energy, is having trouble thinking
straight. "It's not your birthday, is it, Hermie?"

"Si, Señor. Mañana tengo ocho años de edad." He holds up eight fingers
to make sure George understands.

"Wow. You're all grown up. You're a big boy. Happy Birthday, Hermie."

"Gracias."

"Be sure Jerry raises your allowance."

Comley shuts off the TV. "Show's over. Let's give them some privacy. I
think you've all had enough inspiration to go back to your rooms now."

When Tito and I get our asses down to breakfast the next day, everyone is
talking about Hermie's deflowering. The two stars of last night's show have
not made their appearance yet.

Bart asks, "Hey, Chip, who had Old George in the pool?"

"No one. He wasn't even in the running. Most guys were betting on Comley or
Larry."

"How much is in the purse?"

"$980"

"So what happens to it now?"

There are several suggestions: Give the money back. Give it all to
George. Save it for another pool. Finally it's agreed to give it all to
Hermie as a big birthday present. He earned it.

Hermie and George finally come down to breakfast and are greeted by wild
applause. The two are grilled: "How did it feel, Hermie?" "Is he tight,
George?" "When can I fuck you, Hermie?" I ask, "How many fucks did Hermie
get his first night?" But both of them are mum. They just smile and eat
their pancakes.

Chip says, "Hermie, we all want to wish you a happy birthday. You'll have a
party this afternoon, but we want to give you this present now." He hands
him a big envelope. Hermie's eyes are huge as he opens it and finds the
money from the pool.

"Hey, Hermie, what are you going to do with all your money?" The boys start
giving him ideas, expensive electronics, new skis; Adrian suggests saving
it for college.

"I'm going to send it to Fr. Ricardo, so he can help more little boys be
happy like me." There isn't a dry eye in the room.

I say, "Here,..." I take out a twenty, "...let me make it an even
thousand."

Pretty soon, others are adding to the amount, not just staff members but
Hermie's brothers and several of the guests who hear the story. At the end
of the day, Comley sends Fr. Ricardo a money order for $2,500.

It's a long time before I get my chance to fuck the little Mexican. He is
booked nearly every night with one of our guests. On nights when he isn't
assigned to entertain them, one of the other staff members seems to grab
him before I can. Even the teenage boys are getting their cocks up his
hole. Here I was one of the pool favorites and I end up dead last.

I'm certainly not complaining however. I have a great life. I have great
friends, young and old, that I care deeply about. And I have a fulfilling
job at the best fuckin place to work in all of Canada. Make that the best
boy-fuckin place!

---

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments
about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank
you.