Date: Sat, 17 Jan 1998
From: Teglin <teglin@excite.com>
Subject: Three Weeks to Heaven, A Boylove Romance (M/b)

Book One

by Teglin


FOREWORD:

Inspired by the writings of Ganymede, although written without any 
pretense that the finished story would be worthy of compare to his.  
I will forever be grateful to Ganymede for his wonderful portraits 
of boylove.

Dedicated to the boy, wherever he may be, who needs love and care.  
In short, dedicated to all boys, anywhere and everywhere.

Copyright 1998 by Teglin.  You may freely copy this boylove romance
and distribute it.  Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any
way.


WARNING:

Beginning in Chapter 4, this boylove romance contains descriptions 
of sexual acts between a man and a minor boy.  Their sexual relationship
is very important to the story, as part of their love-making, but it is
their spiritual relationship that I wanted to explore even more, as the
very essence of boylove.

If you are under age 18, or the concept of a man/boy relationship offends 
you, don't read further.



Chapter 1

The ennervating fragrance of Doug Fir wrapped around me like a warm 
blanket as I rode down the mountain trail.  The air was heavy with the 
scent, almost choking in its intensity.  No breeze could penetrate down 
to the ground, although I could hear it slicing through the pine needles 
up in the canopy. 

The slope hung precipitously over the valley below.  Glimpses of a long 
meadow and a rock-strewn stream running with cold snow-melt teased me, 
keeping me expectant and awake.  There was something down there for me.
I did not know what it was, but it was there nevertheless.

I hoped it was rest that awaited me.  I wanted nothing more than to break 
this unexpected and unwanted journey by flopping down next to the stream 
or in the shade of an Aspen grove.  48 hours in the saddle since getting 
the telegram: "Teg. Need trkr. Renegade tk J."  

Only Bill Sanders, my old college fraternity brother, had ever called me 
Teg, so I knew this was for real, even though I hadn't known that he had 
brought his son out to the mining district.  Well, I had only been West 
for ten years, myself, but in that time I had learned to track.  I could 
follow a fish through lake water, and though Joey's trail would be two 
weeks old by the time I got over the mountains to Elizabethtown, I never 
doubted what I had to do.  I just hoped the cavalry was on the trail 
already.  Likely that bunch of Comanchee that was raising hell out on
the Staked Plains.  Unfortunately, the army was not always successful 
tracking down small bands of renegades.

Right now I needed rest.  So did my bay.  His head was dragging.  Back up 
on the ridge line he had slipped on the loose rock once too often.  I was 
drooping too, I guess.

Until I glimpsed the boy down in the valley.  A fair-haired youngster - I 
could see that much, from above.  Golden blonde lockes reached to his 
bare shoulders.  He was naked to the waist, skin the color of alabaster 
in the noon-time sun.  He wore knickers, his calves showing white below
the dark material of his pants.  Now that was odd out here in the West.  
I hadn't seen a boy in knickers since coming West myself, to start 
ranching.  Not that I got to see too many boys out on the Mogollon 
Plateau, much to my regret.

Of course, I started getting hard instantly, and felt the usual quick-
ening of breath and pulse.  Couldn't help it.  Well, that's why I came 
West in the first place, to escape the heart-rending, never-to-be 
requited passion I felt for boys.  And the embarrassment.  You see, Teg 
Junior, down between my legs, had a mind of his own.  Just the scent of 
a boy, much less the vision of loveliness that now presented himself to 
me, would make my penis stand up to attention.  It was the kind of situ-
ation I was forced to avoid, but desired more than anything else.  It 
would be comical if it weren't so dangerous.

Now my seven inches stretched out painfully, flaring against the rough 
confinement of my jeans.

Yes, it could get more than embarrassing at times, holding this uncommon 
love for the little ones.  But there it was.  I would not change it if I 
could.  It was at one and the same time my curse and my greatest joy.  
Just to be around a boy like the one down there in the meadow, just to 
be able to watch his every movement, to hear his every sigh, or the soft 
tones of his lilting voice, to watch him brush his hair back, or to 
witness the stretch of his lithe body as he flung a rock into the stream - 
those were just a few of the treasures that I can only find in a boy.

Of course, the brief glance, or a moment in his presence, was all I could 
expect of this or any other boy.  The fate of a man like me is not often 
kind.  Not since the passing of the Classical Age in Rome, as far as I
knew.

Common sense, and a high regard for my own freedom, told me that it takes 
much more than love to share a relationship with a boy, even if he returns 
your love.  You have to have that, of course. I would never force my 
attentions upon anyone, and can't imagine any circumstances that would 
ever lead me to do so.  You also have to have either the permission of 
the child's parents, or some circumstance which places the youngster in 
your care.  Neither was ever very likely.

However realistic I was with my passion, unrequited love never stopped my 
errant tool from showing its feelings.  I willed my penis to subside as I 
continued down the trail.  If I were going to rest by that stream, I 
wanted to at least be graced by the nearness of that boy.  Having a tent 
sticking out in my crotch might frighten him, depending on how old he was.

Couldn't really tell yet.  Hopefully pre-pubescent.  I admired them about 
age 8 to 12.  Old enough to have an independent personality, but before 
they lose their incredible smoothness, their slim, delicate charm.  
Muscle development and lankiness would mask that forever.

Before I came out of the woods at the base of the slope, I got down out 
of the saddle, brushed myself off and smoothed my hair back into place.  
Yeah, just like a young suitor, not yet dry behind the ears, getting 
ready to escort his girl to the social.  That's the way I always feel, 
meeting a boy for the first time.  They do that to me.  My heart beat 
like a drum and I felt like my stomach was tied up in knots.  Not to 
mention the tension in my loins.  My balls would ache from now until I 
could get alone and milk them.

Putting my hat back on and taking the reins in hand, I stepped out into 
the meadow.  The boy was standing on the bank of the babbling stream with 
his back towards me, arched in statuesque glory.  What a sight for my 
tired eyes.  I breathed in the scene.

The stream meanedered off along the relatively flat valley floor as far 
as I could see in both directions.  Where the boy's home was I could not 
fathom, as the bottomland was clear of any structures.  The hint of a 
breeze painted my face soothingly, and gently fluttered the gossamer 
strands of the boy's hair.

His figure was that of about a 10 or 11 year old.  My eyes traced the 
lines of his shoulders, from the long slender neck that peeked through 
the fluttering tresses, down to arms almost effiminate in their sleek, 
unmuscled perfection.  His shoulder blades flared beneath his satiny 
smooth skin, as he swung his fishing pole out into the clear water.  
He was a thin boy, his ribs outlined in symmetry along his dimpled 
backbone as it curved down to disappear under his sagging trousers.  
The drawstring was loose enough that his waistband had slipped down 
the curve of his hips to lodge teasingly just below the beginning of 
the crease between the twin globes of his buttocks.  Perfectly formed, 
slim legs, devoid of hair where I could see his calves beneath the 
knickers, made him look taller than he really was - perhaps 4'10" or 
so at the most.  He was barefoot - I saw his shoes and shirt cast 
carelessly aside over by a lunch basket.

I swear I had to force myself to breathe upon seeing this angel up close 
for the first time.  He stood still now, like a child of the gods with 
the sun burnishing his creamy, unblemished flesh.  I could have stood 
still there, as well, perfectly happy just to observe, but I did not 
want to scare him if he turned.

"Halo there," I called out as calmly as I could as I approached slowly.

He turned, startled, dropping his pole.  For a moment he did indeed look 
frightened, but quickly regained his composure and granted me a wary 
smile of guarded welcome.  My kind of boy!  Willing to give me a chance 
to prove myself, but not blindly trusting.

"Hi, mister," he said in a soft, rather high voice, a song-bird like 
voice that I'll never forget.  It had a flute-like quality, as gentle 
as his smile.  I will never forget my first look at his face, either.  
A Nordic god-child, indeed.  Sparkling green eyes with flecks of golden-
brown, that made Nature's own green meadow grass seem lifeless by compare.  
His eyes were cast below thin, silvery-blonde brows, so fine that they 
were almost invisible.  Lips red and full - I longed for a forbidden 
kiss instantly, but failing that, if only I could be allowed to gaze 
upon his countenance for a brief while!  His every feature accentuated 
the delicacy of his frame.

My god-child's fright did not last long, nor his wariness.  I have to 
admit, happily, that I have that effect on kids.  They seem to sense 
that something in me that loves them - well, the boys, anyway.  Not 
that I have anything against girls, mind you.  There's just no attrac-
tion there.  I've never seen a female, young or old, that could compare 
to the winsome beauty of a young boy.

I think the little guys sense not only my love for them, but that they 
are completely safe with me.  Must be my rugged good looks!  At 6'2", 
all bones and lean muscle from the last ten years of work on my ranch 
back near Flagtown, I exude strength and carry myself with a carefree 
gait.  I have dark brown hair, and it needed cutting just at this moment, 
hanging down like this boy's.  But my hair falls straight, with no natural 
curl like his.  

Nothing much riles me.  Except the kind of thing that got me on this trip 
in the first place.  Yes, and the boys.  Nope, they had nothing to fear 
from me.  Sure, when I meet a beautiful boy I want him fiercely, I can 
fantasize as much as any lover.  But notwithstanding my complete famil-
iarity with the Classical writings on Greek love, well, I was perforce 
still a virgin.  My dream was that someday, if I led a good life, I would 
meet a boy who wanted me in the way I wanted him, but till then I would 
love and protect from afar.

I could see this one looking me over just like I did him as unobtrusively 
as possible.  He seemed to like what he saw, his smile widening off-hand-
edly.  As for me, I certainly liked what I saw.  It was an effort to 
maintain my composure.  His bare chest just begged to be carressed by 
my hands, if I ever dared sully his perfect skin with my work-roughened 
fingers.  Tiny little reddish nipples, surrounded by aureola no larger 
around than the tip of my little finger - they glared at me from his 
peerless white skin - skin that was almost a translucent pearl-white.  
His pants swayed down in front, far below his pert little belly-button.  
That little nubbin peeked out of a firm belly that sloped gently into the
velvety, V-shaped, but still hidden pubis. His waist was narrow, accent-
uating his hips, and giving him something of an effeminate grace.  The 
merest hint of his pelvic bones, undulating under his satin flesh, seemed 
to channel my gaze down.  The knickers were fairly tight, and buttoned up 
along the side, so there was no excess fabric to hide the bulge that I 
expected to see between his legs, but it was barely apparent.  God-child's 
treasures were obviously small and as dainty as the rest of his frame.   
I could imagine his little penis, perhaps an inch long when resting soft 
upon his pearl-encasing, totally hairless scrotum.

That's when I got in trouble again.  I swear I wasn't consciously willing 
all these lascivious thoughts - they come upon me unbidden when I see a 
boy.  And this was no average boy.  Teg Junior did it to me again.  My 
shaft snaked like a pole out of my pants leg and lifted out, still point-
ing down, but with its head forming a visible knob in my crotch as it 
strained to come upright. By the time I was aware of it, my arousal was 
impossible for him to miss.

He didn't miss it.  Just as I became aware of the throbbing pulse in my 
straining manhood, I saw his gaze lower as he took in my towering frame.  
The shock in his eyes was like a dagger to my heart.  I didn't want to 
hurt this little guy, this demi-god of Creation.  He deserved love, 
caring, protection, not what he must have been thinking when he saw my 
untoward condition.

For the barest moment his eyes sought mine, and thankfully I saw a look 
not of fear, but of confusion and questioning.  Involuntarily, I guess, 
his little hands turned palm out, fingers unconsciously bending as if he
were trying to grasp for something, almost as if he were pleading for
something.  I swallowed hard and turned away to hide my shame.  I couldn't 
fathom what that look of pleading meant.  I was more flustered than I had 
ever been with any other boy.  And let me tell you, I don't get flustered 
by anything or anybody except boys.

Was he pleading for mercy, out of fear?  No, it wasn't like that at all.  
Desperately I hoped it wasn't like that.  More like an entreaty, like he 
was tugging at my soul.  Or was that mere wishful thinking on my part?  
Love is a funny thing - it always seeks a soulmate, and here I was hoping 
that this boy was feeling the same way I did.

Another funny thing - it was at that moment that my passion for this 
unnamed boy transformed from the physical to a spiritual plane.  That 
just made me harder, of course; the thrill of loving and caring for this 
boy as more than a beautiful object made me painfully turgid.  If my 
God-child were pleading with those doe-like eyes, then I wanted nothing 
more than to meet his every need.  

While fiddling with the saddle ties, I stole a glance his way.  He too 
had turned half away, and was looking down at the ground, where one foot 
parried with a loose rock.  Through the swirling, silken strands of hair 
which veiled his face, I thought I saw sadness in his expression, a kind 
of disconsolate hopelessness, like I had just disappointed him in some 
way.  Like he was used to disappointment and was shrugging it off.

Fumbling with my words just like I did with the saddle, I yammered out 
something like, "Ah ... nice ... nice day for fishing ...."  I prayed 
that he would answer me, that he wouldn't up and run away from this 
stranger who had just walked up, sprouted a hardon, and couldn't even 
complete a sentence.  Aw heck, I just hoped he didn't even know what an 
erection was - naw, honestly I knew from his reaction that he did.  Maybe 
still he would grant me a few moments to bask in his glory.

"Ye ... Yeah," he kind of stammered too.  I glanced over again, and it 
seemed like he had shrugged off whatever doubts my erection had caused.  
He stooped to retrieve his fishing pole, stretching his pants taut 
against the firm globes of his buttocks.

I sighed to myself, both in relief and in awe at his beauty.  "Mind if I 
sit a spell and ... keep you company?" I said.  

Well, there it was.  Whatever he said next would seal my fate, for longer 
than this one afternoon.  A boylover doesn't encounter the epitome of 
boyhood, and ever forget each precious moment in his presence, each scent, 
each exchange of glances, and perhaps a passing touch.  I would never 
forget him, whether or not he graced me with his company for the next 
few hours.  The brief wait for his response was tense enough to cause 
my rampant flesh to subside.  I really just hoped to sit there with the 
boy!

"Sure, sir ... I ... I'd like the company," he said in his contralto, 
sing-song voice.  For a moment I thought I heard a wistfulness, a trace 
of sadness in his tone.  Like he wanted me to stick around as much as 
I wanted to be there.  Like he truly needed a companion.  Was I mistaking 
his demure, rather shy hesitancy?  Trying not to be too obvious, I 
watched him from beneath my hat brim as I began to loosen the cinch strap.

He was waiting for my response, I could tell.  He even glanced my way 
with that pleading look again.

The mercurial ups and downs of my own emotions, as I had waited for his 
reaction, dissolved in a flood of relief and unnatural joy.  I'm telling 
you, that's what boys do to me.  I do get smitten easily, and this angel 
had me hooked completely.

"Call me Teglin," I hastened to respond to his offer of companionship.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Teglin!" he said as he flashed me what could only be 
described as a joyous smile, as if to say: thanks for granting me this 
great favor!  Me grant him a favor?  If only he could know what his words
meant to me!

"Just Teglin, son.  I'll be grateful if you'll cut that 'Mister' part."

Like I say, kids usually like me, but this boy was if anything more des-
perate for companionship than I was.  I wondered what would make him 
feel like that, was he in some kind of trouble out here?  Were his 
parents mistreating him? I struggled to come up with something to say 
that would show him that I cared, but I didn't want to take any further 
chances of scaring him off, by sounding too desperate myself.

"You know what," I said, "I'd appreciate it if you would just call me Teg.
Not many do, and it would make me feel good, like I have a friend."

"Sure, sir ... I mean, Teg," he giggled, even as his face began to blush 
slightly.  It looked like my god-child had an affliction similar to mine.  
His complexion was so fair that his emotions were betrayed without 
conscious effort.

Well, his giggling made me grin, as they say, like a mule eating briars.  
My father, a rather staid Boston banker, would cringe to hear me use a 
phrase like that, but if you've lived out West for ten years, you're 
bound to slough off some of the polish of the Eastern elite.  I certainly 
had long since lost any pretense I had ever learned in the Ivy League 
clubs.

In my exhuberance, I must have become less than gentle loosening the 
cinch strap on my bay's saddle, because he suddenly lurched agains me.  
I was still grinning foolishly, but suddenly I was flat on my back with 
the freed saddle and blanket esconced across my chest.

That just made the little devil burst out laughing and slapping his knees, 
while I looked up at him in befuddlement.

I gave him some time to enjoy himself at my expense, quite pleased 
actually that the ice was good and broken, and we could be more free 
and open with each other.  Finally I fixed a glare of mock exasperation 
on him and called out, "Well, are you just going to leave me here, 
trapped under all this leather?"

He traipsed over, still giggling, and although we both knew that I did 
not really need the help, he proceeded to pull the saddle and blanket 
off me.  As he stood over me I drank in his loveliness, practically in 
awe.  That's not something I could hide very well either, and of course 
he noticed the intensity of my gaze.  At times past, I've had more than 
one boy tell me, "don't look at me like that," when much to my amaze I 
had been staring too closely.  It's not a conscious thing, perhaps my 
eyes get too big, perhaps the child can see the longing there - I don't 
know.

Well, god-child stopped giggling, but my attentiveness seemed to please 
him in some way, because he gave me a quircky kind of smile, with his 
eyebrows raised knowingly, as if to say that he knew I was faking help-
lessness, just to have him hover over me, but he did not mind.

Gone completely was that pleading, desperate look of just moments before, 
to be replaced by something more akin to a simple question - he must be 
wondering what it was that I found so fascinating about him.  Well, he 
didn't seem to be bothered by it, but I could see his mind churning 
behind those heavenly emerald orbs.

Never had I seen anyone so fair and blonde as this boy!  Even his lips 
were shaded more flesh-pink than red.  I tried to memorize even more of 
his features, because this dream was not going to last forever.  I would 
want to remember every last bit of him.  Yes, I would fantasize about the 
boy, while I furiuosly stroked my blood-engorged penis, but I wanted 
this memory for much more - for my devotion.  He was truly a demi-god.

He had small, delicately formed ears hidden within his cascading tresses, 
which framed his thinnish features.  A slim nose, pale cheeks, the skin 
soft, glowing, almost transparent.

Much to my surprise, the god-child extended his little hand towards me, 
as if he were going to lift me bodily.  Short thin fingers, a small, 
smooth palm - a hand that had never known much work.  Could he be the 
product of frontier ranchers?  The purity of his complexion and the 
delicacy of his frame bespoke the East.  Was he displaced too?  Or was 
he sickly and unused to the outdoors?  No!  Definitely not that.  This 
boy may be fine boned and his beauty unsullied by days in the sun and 
wind, but he was the epitome of boyhood - vibrant, glowing, healthy ... 
perfect.

Emboldened by his acceptance of my rather too-obvious beguilement, I 
dared to reach up for his hand.  Soft and warm, the feel of it almost 
made me forget myself again.  I could actually feel the fine bones 
beneath his flesh, and the very pulse of his beating heart!  Careful 
not to hurt him, I playfully tugged him down onto me.

There I was, in boy-heaven, me on my back, he sitting astonished on my 
belly.  Both of us laughing uproariously.  I drew my legs up, to keep 
him from rocking sideways onto my stiffening dick, although I could 
definitely feel the pressure of his bottocks on the very head of my cock.  
He didn't notice it, and just settled in and put one arm up across my 
knees.  He propped himself there, just as pretty as you please, looking 
comfortable and smug.

"Hey," I said, tapping his closest knee, "you can get up now.  I'm not a 
chair."

"Nope," he said defiantly, triumphantly, "you thought you were going to 
trick me.  Now I think I'll just sit here."

I wasn't about to argue.  Now this was rest and relaxation!  A moment ago 
I was riding hot and weary down a mountain-side.  Now I reclined in meadow 
grass, beside a cool stream, with a beautiful boy sitting possessively on 
my stomach!

Well, I clasped my hands behind my head and gazed contentedly into the 
boy's face.  There was literally a halo of reflected sunlight glimmering 
through his silvery blonde hair.  An angel if there ever was one.  Some 
quandery.  Now I did not know whether to think of him as a representative 
of the Olympian gods or an angel of grace.  Truly he was both.

"Alright, I freely recognize your right to stay where you are," I conceded
happily.  His chin jutted out in triumph.

I felt emboldened to say, "might I ask who it is that has made of 
me a cushion for his comfort and pleasure."

His smug smile of victory was suddenly replaced by a bashful grimace of 
embarrassmemt.  He looked down.  "You'll laugh if I tell you," he said in 
a low, quiet voice.

"Never," I said.

He sat there clapping my knees together with both hands absent-mindedly, 
twisting his body away from me. "Yes, you will.  If I do tell you, you 
have to promise not to laugh."  He sneaked a peek at me to see how I would 
react to his demand.

"As champion of our recent encounter, it is yours to command and mine to 
obey.  I'll not utter a peep if you'll only tell me."  At that moment, 
with the heat from his soft bottom permeating into my stomach, with him 
squirming idly against my raised legs and lightly brushing the tip of 
my penis, I didn't really care if he ever told me his name, so long as 
he remained with me.

You have to picture the scene to imagine the Nirvana that I was in.  It 
was like he was part of me.  He was so close that I could smell his boy-
scent, a fragrance so unlike that of a man.  Even though he had been out 
playing in the meadow, a sweet, musty mixture of soap and his very own 
bodily exhalations wafted to my nose.  I've admired many boys from afar, 
and had had some close contact with Bill Sanders'boy, but not 
intimately like this.

I visually traced every line of his profile.  I drank in details of his 
beauty.  His sensuous lips turned down ever so slightly at the corners, 
the lower lip full and soft, the upper rested upon the lower in the shape 
of a symmetrical curly-que, the flattened point just below the two little
ridges that led to his nose.   His nostrils were so tiny and narrow.  And 
I swear that I could see the light of the sun through the membrane of his 
precious little ears, so delicately formed were they.  His little fingers 
flexed playfully, clothed in pink-white skin that was devoid of the misuse 
of hard work or age.  Little digits made for a magical touch.

He had long eyelashes of fine strands, eyelids with a warm pinkish sheen. 
His lashes fluttered, making him a coquette without any conscious effort.

The world could have come to an end at that moment and I would have gone 
happily knowing that I had witnessed, had even been touched by pure, 
virginal, boyhood.

"Wishes," I thought I heard him whisper.  I wondered if it truly came 
from his lips, or like the breeze, through the pine boughs of the forest 
so close by.

"You ... you wish ... something?" I said hesitantly, in a hushed tone 
matching his.

"Wishus,"  he said more forcibly.  He was still looking down, as if 
afraid to meet my gaze. "That's my name.  My nickname."

"Wishus.  Wishus,"  I twice breathed his name softly, wistfully, 
wondering how this name might be a window into his soul.  

"I like it.  Very, very much," I said reverently, and I meant it.  It 
struck me.  "It's musical, and brings to my mind some kind of a ... of 
an expectation ...."  I caught myself thinking out loud, but didn't 
regret it, because he suddenly beamed with a smile and looked directly 
at me.  It was a remarkable transformation, like I had just drawn the 
curtains on a window, through which poured life-giving light.

The god-child slipped off my stomach excitedly onto his own knees, 
facing me intently, leaning into and grasping my upraised knees in a 
bear hug with both arms.

"It's short for Allouitius.  I hate that name," the words tumbled out 
of his mouth in a rush.

"I don't know why ...," I started to protest, but was drowned out as 
he continued.

"I don't want anyone calling me Allouitius," he proclaimed, certain 
that no one would dare to contradict this dictum of his.  "Momma used 
to call me Allie, but that's a girl's name, so I came up with Wishus."

"I like it.  I like it a lot," I again tried to interject.  You can't 
imagine what a sweet little smile of acknowledgement he gave me at that.  
I mean, his whole body snapped to attention, he cocked his head to one 
side, flashed me a smile ever so briefly, then continued on with his 
discourse.

"Too bad my grandfather was named Allouitius.  That's where I got it 
from.  Allouitius Knight.  He was actually a drummer boy in the 
Revolution.  You believe that?" he exclaimed in a voice that rose in 
pitch melodiously.

"Sure, I believe it if you ...."

"Well, that's what they say, anyway."  He proceeded to give me the 
whole family history.  I listened in rapt attention, not believing my 
good fortune.

Have you ever had a half-naked boy, clad only in his knickers, draped 
all over you, his animated body wriggling and flexing this way and that 
as he talked?   Wishus' taut little tummy was wrinkled like a washboard 
when he relaxed and scrunched down, with his chin momentarily atop his 
hands, which were clasped atop my knees.  A second later he would be 
stretched up to full height, and his tummy was smoothed out.  His little 
belly button, hidden under a fold of skin, would wink at me as he moved.

I don't know why, but I was entranced by his slim neck.  I could see the 
rising columns of tendons and muscles, encased in the softest, silken 
textured flesh, so white and pure.  I wanted to lovingly brush his hair 
back and nuzzle in the little crevice between his neck and collarbone, 
and give him soft kisses.

Actually, I was entranced by his every feature.  He would raise his arms 
and I could see the concavity of his little armpits.  There too I longed 
to plant a kiss.  His eyelids were so thin that they glowed from within 
with the warmth of the tiny cappilaries that carried his life's blood.  
His little nipples stood out hard and erect in his excitement.  They 
begged to be caressed.

I wanted to touch him everywhere with a depth of emotion that constricted 
my heart, and throbbed with an aching pressure in my testicles.  My penis 
was still rock hard, and receiving a constant, indirect massage as Wishus 
pushed and squeezed my knees.  I knew I might cum at any moment, which 
might cause another crisis of embarrassment, but I guessed that Wishus 
wouldn't notice, unless I could not contain my reactions.

All these musings rushed through and mingled in my overloaded mind with 
the boy's chatter.  I soon realized that he was not only beautiful and 
pure on the outside, but smart, innocent, vivacious - and talkative!

Having exhausted his grandfather's story, from which I gained an inkling 
of the long and proud bloodline of his family, he suddenly veered back 
onto the subject of names.

"Teg.  Teglin, I wonder where your name comes from," he said, pursing 
his lips, wrinking his brow, and looking off into the distance musingly.  
Then he looked at me questioningly.  This being the first opportunity 
for me to speak, I figured it was my turn.

"Welsh, I think," I said.

"Oh, Wales, that's on the Western border of England.  We learned that 
last year in school."

"You have a school out here?"

"No, silly."  he harrumphed, giving me another variation on his many 
facial expressions, this one indicating his complete and utter disgust 
with my thought process.  Actually, this expression too was laced with 
his patented sweetness.  I don't think he had mean bone in his body.

"I mean back home, in New York.  I just came out here last month to live 
with my Aunt and Uncle.  My parents sent me out here because they were 
so asham ..."

Suddenly he froze, horrified, realizing he was giving away something 
too personal.  Again he looked down in melancholy.  But this boy was 
irrepressible, his exhuberance was not to be denied.  He so quickly 
masked the unpleasant thought, that I knew he had had a lot of practice 
denying whatever it was.  Right at this moment, I think he just desper-
ately wanted someone to listen to him.  Did that indicate a deep lone-
liness?  What kind of hurt was he trying so hard to avoid thinking about?  
Having me here seemed like a balm to him, that he wanted to use up as 
fast as he could, before I disappeared.

That brief moment of introspection, some sad memory, was washed away as 
he resumed his talking.  I could tell by his eyes that he saw my inevi-
table concern, but he seemed determined to brush it aside and focus on 
gayer thougts.  My erection began to subside nevertheless.  I was amazed 
at my own reaction.  Just the hint of a cloud over this demigod of mine 
made me want to do something, anything, to aid him.

For now I could only listen.  That's what he seemed to need now - someone 
to listen.  I suspected that since being shipped out West for whatever 
reason, he had been one very lonely and lost boy, shut off from every 
familiar aspect of his life.  At least my own exile from the East had 
been voluntary.

So listen I did.  We must have talked, well, he mostly talked, for a 
couple of hours.  He eventually propped himself up against my saddle, 
facing me, and we had a gloriously long conversation.

I found out all about his trip West.  It hadn't been a happy parting 
with his folks.  I could tell that.  I wondered what kind of people 
would divorce themselves from their young son.  Wishus skillfully 
avoided any further hint about the cause of his exile.  He wasn't 
getting along with his Aunt and Uncle, who he said had taken him just 
to get a subsidy from his parents.  His Aunt was in the last stages of 
a pregnancy, and his Uncle had turned out to be something of a ne'er-do-
well.  He also drank to excess, as far as Wishus was concerned.  No, he 
wasn't abusive, just inattentive.  Wishus was basically uncared for,
in both senses of the word.

His predicament made my heart wrench.  I was powerless to help.  Worse, 
I would be leaving him as soon as I recuperated enough to get back in 
the saddle.  At the most, I would give myself till tomorrow morning 
before I needed to get back on my way.

I resolved to devote my every waking moment to this child for the few 
brief hours I was here.  I was already thinking about my return trip, 
when I would get to see him once more.  After that there was little hope 
for more than an ongoing correspondence.  But there I was, already 
dreaming that Wishus would even want to keep in contact with me.

For now he certainly did.  At one point during our conversation, he 
lifted his feet up onto my stomach.  It took me a few moments to get 
up the courage, but I finally reached out and non-challantly carressed 
and massaged his feet and calves.  His surprised smile and the content-
ment pictured in his visage were all the reward I would ever need.  I 
kneaded his soles, tweaked his toes playfully, and coursed up and down 
his lower legs.  All the while he continued his discourse on his life 
and family.

And all the while I kept thinking that this was my moment, the moment 
I had been waiting for all my life.  I liked myself at this moment, 
thrilling at my own honest reaction to this intimacy with a boy.  Wishus 
was giving me a window into my own soul, and what I saw there was wholly 
good: tenderness, caring, compassion.  And yes, there was passion too.  
I didn't try to hide that from myself.  I wanted this boy more than I 
had ever wanted any other, but that desire paled in comparison to my 
concern for his welfare.  

It was an all too brief interlude.  The inexhorable march of time and the 
lowering of the sun marked its end, when Wishus suddenly looked up in 
shock and noticed that it was late afternoon.

"Oh no, I promised to catch some fish for supper!"  He jerked upright 
then jumped up and ran to his pole, his lithe form so tense that I could 
sense he was more than just surprised at the late hour.

"Your Aunt and Uncle won't be angry if you come back empty handed, will 
they?" I called out to him as I stretched my lanky frame and rose to my 
feet also.  From what he had told me, I didn't think he was afraid of 
being physically punished.

"No, no, but ... I wanted to do something to ... I wanted to make a good 
impression for a change.  Do something to help out.  Now they're going 
to think I'm just useless."

I could almost feel his anxiety, and tried to imagine what it would be 
like to be ten years old, unloved, rejected, desperate to fit in to a 
family he had not even chosen for himself.  I felt a lump in my throat, 
a sign of my own desperation to find a way to help Wishus in some small 
way.

"Uh, maybe I can help," I said as I strode to his side, where he was 
fumbling to retrieve a worm from a cup.  Of course the bedraggled worm 
was lifeless after sitting in the enclosed container in the sun for hours.

"Will you?" he jumped to accept my suggestion, almost pleading.  His hands 
were moving furiously, clumsily, as he crimped his arm around the pole and 
snaked the fishing line up between two fingers to get at the hook.  Of 
course he caught the point under his skin, but it was superficial and he 
easily removed it. 

"I can't get this.  No matter what I try to do, I mess it up."  He was 
starting to whine and sniffle, and I knew tears were likely to follow 
soon.

"You know what?"  I said as I reached out and calmly but firmly grasped 
his fumbling hands.  He looked up helplessly.  I smiled down into his 
reddening eyes reassuringly, then cupped one hand under his quivering 
chin and said, "We can get some better bait first, then I'll show you 
just where to lay the hook.  We'll have a whole string of trout before 
you know it."

"Really?" he squeaked in a tiny voice, his throat constricted by emotion, 
but I could see a twinkle of hope in his eyes.  A twinkle of trust, it 
was.  Now I had to live up to that trust.

All he needed was a helping hand and a little instruction, and once again 
the transformation was remarkable.  Soon we were hopping through the tall 
grass, laughing and romping, trying to outwit a grasshopper to impale on 
the hook.  Wishus was again the bundle of pent up energy bursting to be 
released.  We would have had our grasshopper a lot quicker, but my mind 
wasn't on it.  I just wanted to watch my little god-child as he crouched 
and leaped and crept through the meadow, his every motion fluid and 
graceful.  He was one of those boys favored by fate with the natural 
athletic skills and reflexes to match his physical beauty.  He just 
needed a mentor.  Even as I thrilled at every moment I spent with him, 
I felt deep down sadness that he wasn't likely to get that fatherly 
guidance out here in the wilderness with an uncaring Uncle.

Once we had a fat, juicy grasshopper, I lovingly guided Wishus' little 
fingers with my own in getting it hooked, then stood behind him with my 
hands on his arms as he tossed it out behind a rock in the stream.  I 
towered over him protectively, encasing his fair form in my near embrace, 
then we just stood there patiently with my hands resting lightly on his 
shoulders, gently, gently massaging.

At one point he leaned back into me and I gasped involuntarily with the 
joy of it.  He cocked his head back and peered up at me with that 
quizzical look again.  I didn't know if he understood the effect he 
had on me, but I made no effort to hide my complete contentment.  I 
did refrain from pressing my hardening penis into his back.  He no doubt 
felt it anyway, but there was nothing I could do to avoid it but to back 
away.  That, I was unwilling to do, knowing this boy needed me for this 
moment.

I know, that sounds like the kind of rationalization that you might
expect a boylover would make, and no doubt it was, but everything we 
were doing together was building up Wishus' self-esteem.  I felt that 
he was going to need that inner strength after I was gone.

I saw not even a trace of disapproval, or shock, or fear in his eyes.  
Only the same reflected contentment that I felt.

Well, as he looked up at me, I almost leaned down to peck him on his 
forehead.  Finally some reserve of good sense got the better of my 
passion, and I refrained from that too intimate act.  I did lean down 
and sniffed and tousled his hair, and said off-handedly, "You smell 
good."  He harrumphed and punched me with one elbow, but remained 
leaning against me.

At that very moment we got our first bite.  For the next hour we pulled 
them in one after the other, and got our string.

I was just unhooking the sixth catch of the day, when Wishus' Uncle Ben 
rode up.

"Uncle Ben!  Look at our string!"  Wishus literally leaped down the 
stream bank to where we had pegged the knotted lariat upon which five 
trout swam desultorily.  He proudly strained and tugged, half lifting 
the catch out of the water.  It was heavy enough that he almost pulled 
himself into the cold stream instead, but he beamed up at his Uncle.

The man looked a little befuddled, if you had asked me. Maybe he had 
already been drinking or was just naturally slow, but he failed to 
respond as Wishus obviously wanted him to.  The lad just wanted to be 
acknowledged for a change, to be complimented on his great feat.  He 
was going to provide supper for the family, after all!  His Uncle looked 
dumbly at the fish, at me, at Wishus, back to me.

"Looks like you had some help," he said finally, in a dull, uncaring 
tone.  He did not sound drunk, just plain uncaring.  I could understand 
him focussing on my presence - I was an unexpected stranger on his land, 
standing with his charge.  But it should have been easy enough for him to 
take the scene in at a glance - my grazing horse, me unhooking another 
trout, Wishus safe and excited.  In my opinion, Uncle Ben should have 
understood that my presence was no threat and he could safely take the 
time to congratulate his little nephew, then go on to find out what I 
was doing there.

Wishus, bless his little heart, was downcast.  His shining triumph 
stripped from his grasp by the unthinking comment of his Uncle - it 
was what he had talked about for the last hour, how his Aunt and Uncle 
would see what a food provider he could be.

"Yes, sir," Wishus answered his Uncle disconsolately, dragging the trout 
string towards me.  "This is Mr. Teglin.  He helped me a lot."

"Well, once I showed him where to drop his line, Wishus did the rest, Mr. 
Knight," I hastened to add.  "Why, Wishus even strung the catch."  I 
looked from the man back to Wishus, and gave him a slight nod.  I wanted 
to encourage him to buck up, and take the credit.  He deserved it.  I was 
telling the truth, because I had made sure not to do too much.  I had 
wanted Wishus to experience it all, so he would be confident when I was 
no longer there to help.

Wishus responded to me with a shrug and a weak little defeated half-smile 
that was definitely not heartfelt.  It had a hard time making itself all 
the way to his eyes.  They looked hopeless, as if he wanted to say, "it's 
no use."

"Teglin ... I'm sorry, sir, but I don't believe I've ever heard your name 
around here, Mr. Teglin," Ben knight said agreebly enough.  I guess he won-
dered how I knew his name, but he did not know of me.

"No, sir.  I have a place over on the Mogollon.  Just passing through here.
Came upon your nephew here.  He was kind enough to allow me to rest.  Well,
sir, I can't resist a chance to cast a line out in a fishing stream.. Hope
you don't mind, sir," I said, doffing my hat.

"Not at all, sir,"  Knight said.  "You're welcome to your rest.  And a good
supper.  I suspect you've helped my nephew a little more than you let on.  
It's only right that you should share in the fruit of your labor.  Mrs. 
Knight would string me up if I didn't invite you in."

I looked questioningly down at Wishus.  He had been following our intro-
ductions.  "You will come in to supper, won't you Teg ... Mr. Teglin?" 
he said, perking up a bit from the sting of his disappointment.

If Wishus wanted me there, I'd not dream of declining the invitation.  I 
was just sorry to have our time together end like this so abruptly, and 
it was disturbing to witness the lack of sensitivity for the boy's needs 
on the part of his Uncle.

It was an afternoon that I would never forget, a heavenly interlude, 
during which I had been granted audience with a god-child.  I knew 
that we would never have the opportunity to be alone together again, 
and he would not be so free with his emotions with me in the presence 
of his folks.  So the inevitable parting would begin now.  I could only 
mask my own discouragement and make the most of the opportunity that 
remained.  

For now, it was back into the so familiar mode that all boylovers must 
know - observe from afar with furtive glances, plant silent, wistful 
kisses into the ether, and let the boy go.



Three Weeks to Heaven, a Boylove Romance
Book One, Chapter 2

The long good-bye started off just as I had feared.  I was used to it 
all - the pretence that a boylover must maintain, that he is not so very 
interested in the boy.  The polite attentiveness to the prattle of the 
adults, when all you really want is to watch the boy.  The fear of being 
caught unguarded, with the longing too intense in your eyes.  All of that, 
I had endured before, back East.  All of that I had thought to escape by 
coming to the empty West.

Now it hit me like never before, because this time I loved the boy.  I 
mean I truly loved him.  I did not just admire Wishus, as I had so many
other boys, in passing, through the years.  I loved him.  Not lust.  Love.
I assure you there were no embarrassing moments with my arousal in front 
of Wishus' Aunt and Uncle.  My longing for the boy had transcended to a 
plane beyond mere physical attraction, to one built of concern and passion 
so strong that it took all of my energy, both physical and emotional, to 
keep from crying out during the meeting with his Aunt, the frugal supper, 
and the conversation afterwards.

I did not show it outwardly.  As I said, I am practiced in this one aspect 
of boylove.  Nevertheless, I felt it, painfully.  Knowing that I might 
never see my god-child again after tonight made each passing moment more 
unbearable.  I did resolve to accomplish one thing - I wanted to get a 
sense of Wishus' relationship with his guardians, and to find some way, 
through suggestion, to ameliorate the life that had been dealt him.  
Perhaps I could even offer more material aid, financially, if I could 
get some sense whether they would invest whatever I sent into a better 
life for the boy.

They were not bad people, but I did not like them nevertheless.  They 
were providing shelter for Wishus, but not a home.  Through the whole 
eveining that he watched and listened to us, not once did they ever 
invite him into their arms, either literally or figuratively.  He was 
just there, he was their ward, but he was not a loved part of their 
family.

It was a sad, sad evening, made all the more so by the contrast between 
Wishus of the meadow,  and Wishus the boarder in this cold abode.  Gone 
were the quircky smiles, the exhuberance, the playful wit that I had 
somehow released in him this afternoon.  Now he sat pensive, his eyes 
ever active, going from one speaker to the next, a lonely and alone boy, 
hanging onto every word desperately.  More than once his gaze met mine, 
and in the dim light I thought I saw that same hurt and pleading look 
that I had seen when we first met, and I had shocked him with my erection.  
I had no more idea what that look meant now than earlier in the afternoon.  
Not trusting my reading of his gaze, since I had too much of my own emo-
tions invested in him, I knew I must not imagine that anything about me 
was so important to him, but the hope persisted.

The Texas-style cabin was split into two rooms by an open, roofed veranda.
Each room had a loft.  Wishus slept above the general living area, where 
we sat now, while his Aunt and Uncle would cross into the other room.  We 
all sat inside that evening, for it was still too cool out, this early in 
the mountain Spring.  We sat in wooden chairs pulled over from the supper 
table.  Only Mrs. Knight had a rocker, where she kintted for the expected 
baby.  Mr. Knight offered me a drink, then sat idly next to the table, 
occasionally freshening his own glass.  I am not a drinker, so the one 
glass was more than I wanted.

I was in part thankful for the gloom of evening, because I could more 
readily watch Wishus.  Flickering yellow light from the dying fire in 
the hearth, and from one tallow lantern, washed the boy's silent form 
in waves of gold.

He had brushed his hair before supper, when Mrs. Knight had us all wash 
up.  Now his tresses flowed full to his shoulders.  Here and there was a 
natural ringlet, burnished with the glow of the flames, seemingly alive, 
bathed in ever-shifting patterns of shadow and light.  His flawless 
pearly-white skin now looked tanned and sun-bronzed, but it still radi-
ated from within with the virile energy of his youth.  The god-child sat 
with his feet up in his chair, his legs tucked together beneath him to 
one side, making his whole body lean lazily against the chair arm, his 
head cocked sideways and resting on the palm of one hand.
  
Golden lockes draped loosely across one whole side of his face, nearly 
masking one eye, while on the other side his hair hung freely away from 
his cheek in undulating curls.  This pose lent him an air of mystery - 
what did he see through those golden strands of hair, why didn't he brush 
the veil back - it was all of a piece with the boy I was yearning to know 
more about - part of him was so free and open, unabashedly eager for 
attention, while another part remained hidden, as if on guard against 
being too exposed.

He had donned a loose-fitting, white tunic over his knickers, and had 
pushed the sleeves up, leaving his slender arms bare to my view.  In 
the flickering light I again traced his every curve and angle, noting 
the lack of musculature.  It made him look all the more vulnerable.  
The wide, open collar of his tunic laid bare the symmetrical flare of 
his collar bones.  They merged with the curve of his little shoulders, 
the whole forming a bow scarce two hands breadth apart, from which sprung 
his slender, satiny neck. 

A dainty, effiminate boy, some might say, but that was only his outward 
appearance.  Beneath, there flowed all that boyish energy that I had 
witnessed today.  Arms that showed no ugly bulge of muscles, flexed with 
pent-up tension as he listened attentively to every word we spoke.  
While he rested his head on one hand, his other arm shifted restlessly, 
at one moment lying across his thighs, then wrapped tightly around his 
calves, pulling them in even closer.

All scrunched up in his chair, a little golden bundle with eyes wide 
and open, watching, waiting ... for what?  I wished for one of the Old 
Masters to paint him in that pose - a study in the dark hues of night 
contrasted with the inner glow of pure, virginal, exquisitely beautiful 
boyhood.

Wishus was watching me too.  I was not blind to it.  His every glance, 
the occasional solemn, brooding stare from under his lowered brow, both 
thrilled and pained me.  That too is a familiar refrain for a boylover, 
always wanting to read the most into a boy's attentions, but always 
distrusting of one's own hope and imagination.  Of course I wanted his 
attention, I wanted his thoughts on me, but my yearning was tempered by 
concern.  However glorious was our afternoon together, it must come to 
an end now.  I would be leaving.  I was used to the hurt of unspoken 
love, but for him, if he cared for me, our parting would be too much to 
bear.

The conversation continued in the way it always does out West, when 
strangers brought together briefly, want to know everything from each 
other.  As the evening drew on, and the fire died out completely, leaving 
only orange-yellow coals, the room began to grow chilled.  I noticed it 
when Wishus finally drew both his arms in, tucked tightly across his chest.  
What wouldn't I have given if I could have wrapped him in my arms!  Well, 
I did the next best thing, finally breaking my spell of despair.

While Aunt and Uncle were momentarily lost in some ramble concerning an
acquaintence of theirs, I said quietly, leaning towards Wishus, "Son, 
would you be kind enough to fetch my coat - the sheepskin coat?"

"Sure, Te ... Mr. Teglin," he didn't even hesitate, but with the nimble-
ness of youth unwound himself from his fetal embrace and scampered across 
the bare wooden floor to where my coat hung on a hook.  He brought it to 
me with that same open and pleasant desire to please that colored his 
every action earlier in the day.  I marvelled again that his parents 
were so cruel as to send this angel of good will out of their home and 
that his guardians were apparently oblivious to his charms.  It should 
not have taken a boylover to see the many wonders in this boy.

As I took the coat, Wishus started to turn back to his chair, but I said 
as nonchallantly as I could, "Wait, young man.  You know, I bet you need 
this more than I do. Stand just here."

He just grinned in surprise and stood before me as if at attention, his 
little belly arched out and his hands at his side.  I wanted to grasp him 
in a bear hug, but I maintained my air of off-hand unconcern, for the 
benefit of the Knights.  I held up one hand and motioned with one finger 
that he should pirouette around.  He did so, in one gleeful jump, giggling 
all the while.

The tail of his tunic flared up as he hopped around, giving me a delight-
ful but all too brief glimpse of the two cute little dimples just above 
his buttocks, at the base of his spine.  I could smell him again, too, 
as he whirled about, his boy scent still fresh and sweet, but at the end 
of the day hardly unwashed.  Well, my coat had its own peculiar aroma - 
a mixture of me and the sheep, I guess, but Wishus did not seem to mind.  
I held it up for him as he slipped his slender arms through the bulky 
sleeves.

Then he turned back slowly, entranced, with a look of total satisfaction 
on his face, as he hugged the soft and warm garment to his chilled body.  
He closed his eyes briefly, while savoring the feel of it, smiled sweetly 
like a cherub, and let out a soft sigh of contentment.  My work was well 
done!

"Thanks, Te ... Mr. Teglin," he stammered in a hushed whisper when he 
opened his eyes and looked gratefully into mine.  I knew he wanted to 
call me Teg, but for some reason known only to him, he used the Mister 
in front of his folks.  Well, I guess I understood it, since I too was 
more formal with him in their presence - kind of an unspoken agreement 
between us that our developing friendship during this afternoon was just 
between ourselves.  I maintained distance to avoid arousing suspicion.  
Exactly why he did so I did not know.  Still, the contentment he showed 
now told me that we were still best of friends.

"Well ... you just cozy up in that old sheepskin, and before long you'll 
be good and toasty," I said, loud enough that his Aunt and Uncle could 
not help but notice.  I wanted them to think it was no big deal, this 
little act of kindness.  Of course, given their attitude towards Wishus, 
I should not have worried about their being suspicious of my intentions.  
They had to care before becoming suspicious.

Wishus sat back down and totally enveloped himself in the oversized coat, 
luxuriating in its comfort and the sense of protection it afforded.  Every 
once in a while I caught his glance as he peeked out of his haven.  Invar-
iably, he seemed to be saying "thanks for thinking of me."

As time passed his eyelids told me something else, as they drooped lower 
and lower, the warmth of the sheepskin lulling him to sleep.  He was 
exhausted, after our long day together, and romping in the meadow.

Even Mrs. Knight noticed the boy's drowsiness eventually, and startled 
him a little too abruptly, "Allouitious!  Wake up and go on up to bed, 
now."

It was almost comical how large his eyes became upon being so rudely 
awakened, but he took no offense.  "Yes, ma'am," he said as he stretched 
out and stood up.  "Good night, Aunty, Uncle Ben."  Obviously his Aunt 
had never asked for a good night kiss from the boy, since she did not 
seem to expect one.  Inwardly I cringed at that.  A boy his age needed 
that kind of affection.

Turning to me and wrapping the coat even tighter about himself with 
overlapping folds, he said boldly, "Good night, Mr. Teglin.  May I sleep 
in the coat?  I'll give it back in the morning," he hastened to add.  
His little voice had risen with the question, and so sweetly did he ask 
it that even his Aunt did not demurr too forcefully.

"Oh, but he's going to need it ...," she started to say, looking at me 
quesioningly, but I interrupted.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but that's perfectly alright.  I'll get it 
in the morning."

"Well, you heard him.  Up with you, now!" she clapped her hands, and for 
the first time gave him a trace of a smile.

The boy graced me with one more of his own patented gifts, that grateful 
and contented smile of his that just grazed his lips and widened his eyes 
ever so slightly, then he turned and started up the steep, stairway 
ladder to his loft.

I fully expected that that would be my last sight of my boy - this vision 
of his lithe form, snug in my too-large coat, disappearing head-first 
through the loft-way.  Finally only his little feet, and then he was gone.  
Then the sudden void in my heart.  An end to this most wonderful day of 
my life.  No doubt Mrs. Knight would retrieve the coat for me when I left 
long before Wishus woke up.

She started to speak, and I had to force my heart to start beating again, 
and to pay attention to her.  All the while I strained hopelessly to hear 
any movement up above.  And pitied myself that that was all I had left.

"He seems to like you, Mr. Teglin," she said.

"Uh, yes ... yes, we had a good time out there fishing today," I responded, 
still, through habit, trying to minimize the significance of our time 
together.  "Every boy likes to fish, I imagine."

Well, the conversation struggled on after that, although it was useful 
when Mr. Knight offered advice concerning my journey.  Good advice it was
too, probably saving me a day or more in getting over Black Mountain into 
the Santa Fe Valley.

The big surprise for me was when they finally declared the evening spent.  
Both insisted that I sleep right there before the hearth, rather than out 
in the cold barn.  Although the floor would be a lot harder than a bed of 
straw, I certainly did not protest.  In fact I was overjoyed, with a full-
ness in my breast that almost made me cry out.  I was going to sleep just 
below my god-child's loft!  For this one night, I would know he was safe! 
I would hear his every turn and sigh in the dead of the night!

I tell you, after the Knights left I just stood there a moment with my 
eyes closed and tearing up, in silent thanks to whatever higher power 
had made this day complete.  Finally I snuffed out the lantern and spread 
my blankets before the still glowing embers of the coals.  For half an 
hour I lay as still as I might, hearing every creak as the walls shifted 
in the breeze ouside, and thrilling when I occasionally identified the 
rustle of my boy's bed clothes as he turned in his sleep.  Before I 
drifted off to sleep myself, I thought I even heard him murmur once, 
softly, angelically, transported in some little boy dream.

Well, I wanted to lay awake all night, in silent vigil beneath Wishus' 
aerie, but after 48 hours in the saddle, and a glorious day of intense 
emotions, in which I myself had been transported from carnal arousal, 
to playfulness, to arousal again and again, then to spiritual exaltation, 
and back to pensive moments with Wishus - I could no longer fight off the 
exhaustion.  

I know I did send a message up to him before I dropped off, one of those 
futile whispers into the silent night which would have required divine 
intervention for him to hear - "I love you, little boy.  I love you, my 
child of the gods, Allouitious Wishus Knight."

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

I must have slept three or four hours, well after midnight, when I 
snapped awake, knowing instantaneously that I was not alone in the room.  
And I knew it was Wishus there with me even before I opened my eyes.  
The mind is a marvellous engine, capable of integrating varying sensory 
perceptions into a picture, drawing upon a swish of garments, the scrape 
of a bare foot on the wooden floor, the boy scent - and that sheepskin 
aroma!  Oh, I knew it was Wishus and my heart sang!

I breathelessly opened my eyes and there he was, standing over me, still 
hugging my coat to his breast.

The embers had died to ashes, so the only light came from an unchinked 
crack here and there in the cabin walls, and one oil-skinned window.  
Fortunately there was a full moon outside or I would have missed another 
of those visions of loveliness that Wishus was wont to afford me with, 
unintended, just by being himself.

Gone were the familiar knickers and tunic.  Now the coat was wrapped 
around his little boy's nightgown, which flowed in soft flannel folds 
down to his knobby knees.  It looked plain but comfortable, with thin 
vertical stripes disappearing up under the coat.  I could make out the 
lines of his inner thighs from my vantage, looking up beneath his gown, 
but the treasure higher up between his legs was hidden still.

Presented with Wishus so close and in such dishabile, I instantly began 
to grow hard, and could immediately feel the dull, wrenching ache in my 
balls.  I had doffed my outer garments, but was wrapped in blankets, so 
Wishus could not see the true effect he had on me, but he saw that I was 
astonished by his sudden appearance in the dead of the night.

"I ... I'm sorry, Teg," he half whispered.  "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no, Wishus, you didn't scare me," I hastened to reassure him, my own 
voice tarnished with sleep, raspy and hoarse.  "I was just a little ... 
well ... okay, you scared me a bit."  I chuckled, and speaking a little 
louder than he had, said, "Just a little, though."
  
Hey, I know people, and everyone gets a kick out of inflicting a little 
harmless fright, so long as its not done in malice.  I thought maybe 
Wishus would derive a small sense of control and power with my little 
fib.  He could never scare me.  Thrill me, yes!

"You're sure you're alright?" he asked, looking concerned, but then he 
confirmed my reading of human nature by giggling, and brought one hand 
to cover his lips.

"Yeah, I'll be alright, you little scamp," I said in mock anger.  "What 
did you come down here for, just to see if you could frighten me out of 
my skin?"  I chuckled again and lightly rapped his bare foot.

"No," he protested.  "Really, I just wanted ... I really just wanted ... 
I just wanted to see if you were okay.  You might be cold, since I took 
your coat.  That was unfair of me."

I could have eaten him up, he was so sweet!  I knew he really was con-
cerned, and maybe just a little bit lonely ... the way he hugged the coat 
to his thin frame suggested that both the cold and perhaps something more 
were bothering him.  What must it have been like for this little boy, 
god-child though he may be, to have been relegated to the confines of 
his dark loft out here in the wilderness every night - so unlike his 
bedroom back East, where he was always surrounded by family and the 
bustle in the city streets.

Yes, I knew that this boy was concerned that he had taken my warm coat 
from me; it was in his nature to show that kind of care.  But I also 
knew that he, like me, was reluctant for this night to end, when the 
only person who had shown him any warmth and concern in return, was going 
to depart, perhaps forever.

"Wishus!" I breathed his name into the night.

"Yes?" he asked, then quickly knelt beside me, feeling the pull of my 
emotions.  I had but to look up into his angelic face to see, in the 
soft reflection of the moonlight in his eyes, that he was taken aback 
by the force of my utterance.  I rose to sit facing him, then reached 
out and took both of his hands in mine.  They were cold, so I began to 
rub them.

"Wishus, you make me feel quite special, thinking of my confort down 
here.  Thank you.  But I want you to keep the coat tonight, I really do."  
I caught myself almost pleading with him.

"Look, remember, how I asked you to call me Teg, out in the meadow?"

"Yes," he answered me solemly, just loud enough that I could hear the 
true music of his voice.

"Do you remember why I asked you to call me that?"

"You said very few people called you Teg, and if I did, it would make you 
feel like you had a friend."

"That's right," I nodded.  "Well, now I feel the same way about the coat.  
When you wear it, I feel all warm inside, because it's like you're telling
me that we are friends, that you'll share what is mine.  Knowing that you 
wore it tonight, even after you changed into your nightgown, really hits 
me here."  I placed one hand on my heart, then grasped his hands again.  
"Every time I wear it, I'm going to remember you.  And that will really 
make me feel warm."

"So ... so, I should keep it for ... the rest of tonight, until you leave?" 
He said in a voice so thin and tight with emotion.  His eyes glistened more 
than normal, from welling tears, so I knew that I had understood this 
little boy correctly.  He was so alone, and for right now, he was desperate 
to hold onto my presence.

"Yes, Wishus, I want you to have it tonight.  Please.  Keep it ... for me."
My own throat had a lump, and that last phrase was kind of strangled out.

"I will, Teg," he smiled at me through real tears, and withdrew one hand 
hesitantly to smear them away, then sniffled, "I guess I had better ... 
go back up to bed, huh?"  He sounded reluctant, and made no effort to 
withdraw his other hand.  When he brought his hand back down, still moist 
with his tears, and absently began to msassage the skin on top of my hand, 
I knew what he wanted, what he needed.

"Wishus?"

"Yes, Teg?"  he answered in that kind of nasal, hollow tone that we all 
get when tears and sniffles overcome us.

"Will you do me one more favor?"

"Yes, of course, Teg.  Just ask!"  He wanted so much to please me, as if 
he would grasp at some way to repay my simple acts of kindness.

"Will you lay down here with me for a while?" I pleaded in earnest this 
time, wanting it probably more than I was sure he did.  "I'll carry you 
to your bed a little later."

He didn't say a word, but his angel's breath sigh of relief was answer 
enough.  He closed his eyes immediately and literally flowed down by 
my side as I lay down and reached out for him.  I cradled his darling 
little head in the crook of my arm and shoulder, and he snuggled close, 
crossing one arm over my belly.  All the while I had had my raging erec-
tion, so now I quickly grasped his forearm in my free hand and drew him 
tight against me.  This was no time for him to accidently rub against my 
stiff member.

Sure, I wanted to make love to Wishus, but now was not the time to think 
of that.  There never would be a time for that, I knew.  So I would do 
the one thing I could do for him, and for myself.  I would simply cherish 
him for our remaining moments together.

The top of his head brushed my cheek, and I luxuriated in his silken hair, 
carressing him with my lips.  He felt my light kisses and did not pull 
away.

I whispered, "Wishus?"

"Yes ... Teg?" he returned to me, drowsily, from out of a sleepy haze.

I sniffed his hair and rubbed my nose in his scalp.  "You still smell 
good, Wishus," I chuckled.

"Oh, Teg," the boy roused himself in exasperation, then jabbed me weakly 
in my ribs with his free hand, that lay embedded between us.  Then he 
pulled himself even tighter into my embrace, and threw one leg across mine.

Moments later I could hear his regular breathing and I knew that this 
demi-god of boyhood was peacefully asleep again.  No longer alone and 
lonely.

For the next hour I willed myself to lie awake, soaking in the closeness 
and warmth of his body, never loosening my embrace of him.  In his now 
peaceful slumber he ony drew closer to me, never relaxing his grasp.  
I nuzzeled in his hair over and over, memorizing his unique boy-scent.

I whispered to him the whole time, aware that he would not hear me 
consciously.  That alone gave me the courage to say all the things I 
said to him.  But I hoped he would absorb my words of love subconsiously, 
and perhaps they would be some source of strength to him in the days, 
months, and years ahead.

Finally, nearing dawn, the reality of man/boy love could no longer be 
denied.  I could not risk being found in Wishus' embrace.  I moved so 
slowly that he would not even notice, to extricate myself from his hold, 
every move away from him a struggle against my own hopes and dreams.  

I gently scooped his dainty form off my blankets and lifted him bodily.  
His head I held with my right hand against my left shoulder, in the 
hollow of my neck.  In lifting him, his gown had ridden up, and my other 
arm pressed against the bare flesh of his back, my hand cupped his bare, 
incredibly soft rear.  I gasped in surprise, and had to stand there for 
a moment with my eyes closed, to regain my composure.

You'll never know the struggle I endured to keep from looking down between 
the little boy's legs.  I imagined his little penis, lying hidden within 
the protective wrap of his drooping foreskin, and the soft little ball sac 
upon which it rested in the 'V' of his legs.  To actually see it would be 
a memory I would cherish through time immemorial.  I could not adequately 
describe the magnitude of the effort to avoid gazing upon it.  Suffice it 
to say that it left me trembling.  But I knew that to look would be 
tantamount to violating the trust that Wishus had in me.  It was never to 
be, I knew, but if by some miracle I ever did know the joy of seeing Wishus 
in all his natural beauty, then it would be by his choice, not mine.

So, cradling him like a baby, I started climbing the ladder.  My middle 
finger slipped naturally into the moist crack between his buttocks, the 
finger tip hovering a hairs-breadth away from his virgin anus, but this 
time the struggle was easier.  I would not take advantage of this sleeping 
child by penetrating deeper to that ultimate object of all my pent-up 
desires.

It wasn't intentional, but when it happened I did not resist any longer - 
as I slowly, carefully stepped up the ladder, cupping his buttocks, his 
thigh rubbed up and down against my penis.  Halfway up the ladder my 
breath grew ragged and I nearly fainted with the release, as I finally 
came, spilling my seed in huge spurts inside my longjohns, spurts that 
seemed to go on and on.  Never before had I come with such force and in 
such copiuos amounts.  The liquid warmth spread and soaked through the 
fabric, touching Wishus.  It was meant for him, after all, as the natural 
result of my love for him, so I did not feel that I was soiling him.  I 
only held him closer.

I had to pause again to regain my senses.  Then when I finally resumed 
climbing and made it to the side of his bed, I leaned down and kissed 
Wishus on the forehead for the first time, offering him a silent thanks.

I left him there, in his bed, still wrapped in my sheepskin coat, his 
covers drawn up over his legs.  He still slept the untroubled sleep of 
the loved boy.



Three Weeks to Heaven, a Boylove Romance
Book One, Chapter 3


Lack of sleep must have deadened my instincts as well as my senses, 
because for the second time in one night someone was able to walk up 
on me unbeknownst in my sleep.

I had drifted off again after leaving Wishus in his bed and returning 
to my blankets in the room below, hoping for just a few more minutes 
of rest before I had to get back on the trail.  It was out of this 
deep, early morning sleep that Ben Knight woke me with a rasping, 
muted voice.

"Teglin!  Mr. Teglin!"

The first thought that crossed my mind was: what a contrast from the 
way I felt when Wishus had awoken me just a couple of hours before!  
Even as Ben Knight spoke, my first thought was of my boy up in the loft.

"Mr. Teglin, please wake up," Knight called to me again, probably not 
loud enough to wake up Wishus, but verging on it.

I reluctantly sat up, rubbing my forehead.  "Yes, Mr. Knight.  I'm 
awake.  What do you ne ... oh yes, you're waking me for my trip.  
Tha ...."

"No, no." He waved me silent.  "Mrs. Knight had a rough night, and just 
a minute ago I found blood on the bed clothes.  I'm taking her in to 
town, to a doctor, I need your help. I need you to stay here while we're 
gone ...."

Immediately it dawned on me that his plan made no sense, so I said, 
"Hold on, hold on, sir.  Might I suggest that I ride through town on 
my way and send the doctor out?  Surely that would be easier on your 
wife."  It would also get me on my way, as much as I regretted that 
necessity, for it would mean that my departure from Wishus was indeed 
imminent.

"Naw, the doc's too old to come out here.  I'm going to have to take 
her in on the wagon."  Ben Knight dismissed my suggestion with obvious 
annoyance and impatience.  Worry was making him frenetic, and here I 
was standing in his way.  Whatever I could do, I would.  You just can't 
leave a woman in the lurch.  But the same could be said for a child, 
and my best friend's little Joey needed me too.

"Why do you need me to hang around here?" I said.

"I can't take the boy, Teglin.  All I'm asking is that you stay over 
one more night.  We can be back by tomorrow noon.  You said yourself 
that I had saved you that much time by telling you how to get over the 
mountains into Santa Fe."

He rushed through this so fast that I barely had time to comprehend that 
first part - another day with Wishus!  Even as I tried to regain my 
breath, I thought: 'But Joey needs me now!'

The temptation tore at me, and I went through all kinds of half-thought-
through rationalizations, but when it came right down to it, I could not 
stay.  Every lost day was one more in which Joey would be held by the 
renegades.  I could not sacrifice Joey just because I wanted so badly to 
accept this excuse for delaying my goodbye from Wishus.  Certainly not 
just for the convenience of the Knights.

I regretted having to say it, but I did, shaking my head 'no', reluctantly, 
"I can't stay, Mr. Knight.  I would like to help, but I have to get on 
that trail.  You'll have to take Wishus with you."

"No I won't," he said altogether too vehemently, and getting louder all 
the time.  If I couldn't calm him down he could hardly help but wake up 
Wishus. "That boy is helpless.  He'll just be in my way.  He can't drive 
the team, he would just get on Mrs. Knight's nerves, he ...."

"Not Wishus," I protested, motioning with my hands to quiet him.  "Why, 
I've only known him less than a day, but that's long enough for me to 
know that he would be a big help and a comfort to your wife."

"You don't know him like I do, Teglin," Knight said, still too loud.  
"He's just a burden for me out here.  Damnit, I don't know why I agreed 
to let him come out here.  And damn the family honor!  My brother should 
have put him up for adoption or sent him off to a home somewhere.  That 
boy has ...."

"Mr. Knight!" I hissed through clenched teeth, rolling my eyes upwards 
to hint that the boy might overhear us.  The man was rambling, going 
into a tyrade.  I didn't understand what Wishus had to do with the 
family honor, or why he should be sent away.  The most obvious possi-
bility - Was he a bastard?  No, that made no sense in this case.  That 
couldn't be it.  He had lived with his parents for ten years.

Whatever the answer was, Wishus did not need to be hearing any of this 
kind of talk from his guardian, so I continued, "You're going to have 
to take Wishus with you.  My friend's boy can't wait.  I thank you for 
saving me a couple of days getting to him, but I need to take advantage 
of that.  I have to go."

"Alright, go then," he ignored me, and started to stomp away angrily.  
"I'm going to leave him alone here then.  He'll be fine."

"You're what?" I interrupted, probably too loud now myself.  "You can't 
leave a boy his age out here by himself!"

Knight still ignored me and started rumaging around, gathering supplies 
for his trip into town.  His mind was only half centered on me now, and 
I knew he wasn't going to listen to reason.  "Yeah, he'll be okay," he 
mumbled absently. "It's only one night alone.  Now, let's see, where was 
tha ...."

I jumped up, grabbed his arm from behind and swung him around.  The 
stubborn set to his jaw told me that I was going to get nowhere unless 
I mollified my tone of voice.  "Ben," I started, trying to be as reason-
able as I could, "he's only ten.  He's going to be frightened, hungry, 
cold.  You just can't leave ...."

"I don't have time for this, Teglin," he said, shrugging me off.  "The 
boy's going to stay here.  If you're worried about that, then you're 
welcome to stay here.  Otherwise, stay out of my way.  My wife's waiting 
and I have to get the wagon hitched."  He carried a basket full of sup-
plies out the door of the cabin and back across the veranda into the 
other room.

Well, I just stood there dumbfounded, not believing what I had heard.  
It would have been criminal, leaving Wishus out here alone during the 
day.  But to abandon him to chance in the mountain wilderness overnight?  
My heart was in my throat, beating roundly, hammering in my ears.  I've 
already said that I don't fluster easily, and I don't, but this had 
riled me because there was nothing I could do about it.  How would I 
go about forcing the Knights to take their ward with them?  What if I 
rode along with them, taking Wishus on his own horse?  Would Ben Knight 
take care of the boy when I left them in town, or would he abondon him 
there too?  The man wasn't rational; there was no telling what his reac-
tion would be.  I swear, I felt helpless, just like the stranger I was, 
just passing through.  No rights, no say, no influence.

At that moment I happened to look up to Wishus' loft, and there he was 
leaning over the opening, his arms propped on either side - he had heard 
our argument!  He wasn't crying yet, but his eyes were wide with disbe-
lief, astonishment, fear - he looked stunned.  And he was staring at me 
as if awaiting my decision.

Like a flash, it hit me - I had been so wrong when I thought 'there's 
nothing I can do.'  How stupid of me!  What I could do was what I had 
to do.  You can only be in one place at a time.  I was wrong too about 
being a stranger.  Yes, I may have been just passing through yesterday, 
but not now.  A boy needed me here and now.

I was not a stranger.  I was this boy's lifeline.  Less than an hour 
ago we had lain together, his head on my shoulder.  He had cried in 
gratitude when I asked him to stay with me, he was so desperate for 
some caring attention.  Earlier in the day, we had laughed and played 
out in the meadow, and talked for hours.  As much as I had feared the 
consequences for him, Wishus had grown to depend on me.  He knew I cared.  
Hell, if he were as smart as I thought him to be, he knew that I loved 
him.

My heart cried out for Joey, too.  I closed my eyes, still holding my 
head up, and prayed for him right then and there, and affirmed to the 
heavens that I would continue my journey to help in his rescue.  But 
for now, Wishus came first.

That done, I felt justified and right, if not happy about being torn 
between two loyalties.  I opened my eyes and Wishus was still staring 
at me expectantly, wondering, waiting.  I said, as soothingly and 
lovingly as possible, "Wishus, I know you heard all that about being 
left here by yourself, but none of it is true.  I'm staying here with 
you, Wishus, until your Aunt and Uncle get back from town.  I will never 
leave you alone."

He seemed to weaken, as if suddenly growing faint with relief, his arms 
momentarily bending under the weight of his body.  His hair, which he had
brushed back over his neck, cascaded down.  He then steadied himself and 
closed his eyes.  I saw him gulp, like he had just escaped from a dire 
threat and could now breathe freely.

Then my darling boy looked at me with that haunting, pleading, hurt gaze 
that I had witnessed twice before - out in meadow, when we first met and 
I sprouted a hard-on that shocked him, and later in the evening, while he 
sat so silently in his chair watching my every move.  There was something 
there that he needed desperately, but was afraid to ask for.  I swore 
right then and there that I would grant whatever wish he had, if only he 
would reveal it to me.

He did not smile, he was too shaken for that, but he did relax, and in 
a soft, hoarse voice said weakly, "Thanks, Teg.  I ... just ... thanks, 
Teg."

Hoping to cheer him up a bit, I tried to put the whole scene behind us 
as quickly as possible.  I didn't want him dwelling on what his Uncle 
had said.  "You know what, good ole Wishus?  I think you could use some 
more sleep.  Why don't you hit the sack for a while.  I'll see your Aunt 
and Uncle off and then cook you up a breakfast you'll never forget."

"Al ... Alright, I'll try," he said, sounding unconvinced.

"Hey, what do you think about trout gravy!"

"Yuk!"  He made a face, grinned wryly, and tried to shake off the thought.  
"I ... think I will definitely go back to bed if that's what you have in 
mind.  Maybe I'll come down after breakfast."

"Oh, you'll like it, you'll see.  I promise.  Now see if you can get some 
shut-eye.  I've got a big day planned for you.  Let's see: breakfast, 
chores, lunch, chores, supper, chores.  It should be lots of fun!"

"Oh, I can hardly wait," he said sarcastically.  He started to move away 
from the opening, but then paused and looked down at me pensively, forget-
ting our playful dialogue.  "Night, Teg.  I mean, good morning, Teg.  
And thanks again.  I ... I ...," there it was again.  The pleading look, 
and whatever it was that he couldn't bring himself to say.

"Go along, little man," I told him softly.  "I'll be here when you come 
down.  I'll be here."

He nodded, then seemed to freeze in place for an instant, deep in thought, 
lips compressed, still staring at me but not seeing me.  It was but an 
instant, but I knew his mind churned through a flood of thoughts in that 
brief moment.  I knew it was over when he brushed his hair back again, 
and pushed himself away from the opening.  Before disappearing com-
pletely, I saw him hesitate, then he turned back quickly and did something 
that I will never forget as long as I live.  It was like an unconscious 
act, drawn from deep within his soul, not something that he planned or 
thought about.   With a desperate look, his mouth half open to speak, he 
stretched his hand out towards me tentatively, palm open, fingers taut, 
like they were grasping for something just out of reach.  All I heard was 
a strangled, choked back moan, and then he drew his hand back with a jerk 
and brought it reflexively to his mouth.  It all took but a moment, a 
moment frozen in time, and I again knew that he wanted to tell me some-
thing, but could not.  He turned away slowly, unable to say whatever was 
in his heart.

I too choked back the lump in my throat and reached my hand up towards 
him.  I think he saw my gesture before he rushed away to his bed.


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

The Knights got away before dawn, and by sun-up I had the fire going 
again, had cut some bacon, gathered eggs from the coop, and was pre-
paring for breakfast.  I was determined to make this day special for 
Wishus, so I even wrung the neck of one of the Knight's chickens - I 
could leave a dollar for a replacement.  I was going to treat Wishus 
to a fine repast for supper - before this day was done, I planned to 
teach him how to make himself useful around a farm, doing some essential 
chores, helping with the cooking.

If only his Aunt and Uncle had done the same, they wouldn't feel that 
he was such a burden.  I did not doubt for a moment that Wishus would 
gladly chip in to help if he were given the chance.  Just yesterday he 
had gone out intending to provide supper with his catch.

"About time, sleepy head!" I called up to him when, an hour after dawn, 
my straining ears were rewarded with sounds of rustling up in the loft.  
My boy was up getting dressed.

"Well, it was your idea to get some more sleep!" he yelled back down 
playfully, in that high-pitched voice that I was growing to love so much.

I'm not one to dwell on things I can't control, so notwithstanding my 
resentment at the way Ben Knight had coerced me into delaying my journey, 
I was gloriously, deliriously happy to have more time with Wishus.  I 
wanted to spend my every waking moment with him for as long as possible.

"Come on down!" I called up to him again.  "You're just in time to help 
me make the bisquits."

"I ... I don't know," he said doubtfully, much clearer now since I could 
see his foot lowering to the top rung of the ladder.  "I'm not very good 
at ...."

"Wishus," I interrupted him, "I want you to agree that all day today 
you'll never use the words 'I can't', or 'I'm useless', like you said 
yesterday about catching a fish.  You're going to find out today just 
all the things that you can do, not what you can't do."

"Sure!", he said without hesitation, and I could hear the eagerness in 
his tone.  This boy was no quitter, he'ld take on anything.

As he nimbly stepped down the ladder, I paused in my cooking and just 
stood and watched in awe, refreshing my senses - he was simply, utterly 
beautiful!  He had put on his knickers again, and as he came down step 
by step, his back to me, his little butt wriggled and canted, first one 
way then the other.  Well, that was beginning of the first of my erec-
tions for the day.  I knew that Teg Junior would be up and down all day 
long.  Up when I was with Wishus, playing or even just talking to my 
little child of the gods, down in the hopefully rare moments when we 
were apart.  Or maybe not.  Perhaps I would have to take advantage of 
those rare moments to relieve myself with a quick hand job.

Wishus had also donned tall, knee-high socks, covering his calves.  
Black and white vertically striped socks, and his black shoes.  He wore 
the tunic too, this time tucked in.  It was baggy and loose, puffed out 
around his waist - suddenly I knew I had seen this picture before - he 
was the very image of one of those base ball players I had seen in the 
Illustrated Colliers!  He was wearing a base ball costume.  Base ball 
was a new game, and all the rage back East.

"Wishus, you must play base ball, huh?"

"Yeah!" he cried out enthusiastically as he jumped the last couple of 
steps.  "You've heard of base ball?  I'm not much good at it, bu ...."

"Uh, uh, uh!" I admonished him.

"Oh, yeah," he said sheepishly, but with an innocent grin below his 
downcast eyes.  "I forgot."

"You were saying ...?"

"Uh, well ... yes, I play base ball.  I even got to watch the Knicks.  
They're the champs!  They played Hoboken for the league victory ...."

His chatter went on and on, music to my ears.  Obviously the game was 
dear to his ten-year-old heart.  At least his parents had been kind 
enough to get him a costume for it.

"Maybe you can teach me the game later on, huh?" I said when he paused 
long enough for a breath.

"Sure!" He was already standing next to me by the table, where I was 
setting out items for mixing the bisquits.  He jumped close and kind 
of stood behind me on my right side. I thrilled at his touch when he 
grabbed my arm from behind, lifted it, and said, "Yeah, it's all in 
the arm motion.  You have to pitch with an overhand ...."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I chuckled, looking back awkwardly, 
holding my arm up where he had propped it behind my head.  "Can we 
finish breakfast first?"

"Oh, yeah, but can we play afterwards?" he still had my arm in the 
grip of his two little hands, but lowered it and gave me a pat.  
"You'll get the hang of it quick.  You have a strong arm, I can tell."  
And he electrified me by squeezing my upper arm.

Struggling to maintain my composure, revelling in his touch, I said, 
"Well, I can hardly wait myself, Wishus, but before we play we'll have 
to do a few chores, milk the cow, feed the chickens."

"Aw, can't that wait?" he begged, hopping around in front of me, then 
boosting himself up onto the table.  I don't know how I could have 
resisted the pouty, angelic look he gave me.  I tousled his hair and 
just beamed at him, unable to hide my fascination with his beauty.  
I could see the tender little depressions in his cheek, where he had 
lain on a fold in the bed clothes, and his uncombed hair was even more 
wavy and curly than yesterday, hanging about his face in glorious dis-
array.

I put on my solemn face.  "You know how you've wanted to be more useful 
around here?  And how you'ld like your Aunt and Uncle to appreciate you?"

"Yeah," he said, downcast.  "But I heard what Uncle Ben said before he 
left ...."

"You can forget all about that.  You're going to learn to do some of the 
chores.  That'll make them stand up and pay attention when they get back.  
Your Aunt is really going to need the help when the baby comes."

"Yeah, that's a good idea!"  He was excited again, his moods and expres-
sions shifting so easily.  Then all of a sudden another thought popped 
into his fertile mind.  "Hey, Teg, maybe you can tell me.  Auntie couldn't.  
How did she get that baby in her tummy, anyway?"

I was somewhat taken aback by this question, to say the least, and immed-
iately wondered where this conversation would lead.  My heart started 
fluttering, and my half-hard penis, tucked down my left pants leg, now 
began to throb.  I guess I flushed a little, because he said, with per-
fect innocence, "What's the matter, Teg?  I'm sorry if I made you mad, 
like Auntie, but I was just wondering.  I'm sor ...."

"No, honey, don't be sorry!" I rushed to reassure him.  I dropped the 
utensils I had been arranging on the table, and reached up and cupped 
my right hand behind his neck and gently pulled his head forward agains 
my breast.  Then I brushed his hair back.  The concern was wiped away 
from his face and he just smiled up at me expectantly.  "It's just that 
I've never talked to a boy about this kind of thing before.  I ... I 
don't mind telling you about it.  You can ask me anything.  I ... ah ... 
say, I've got everything ready, so you can learn how to mix the bisquits 
while we talk."

"Okay!"  He scooted off the table top and picked up a spoon and held 
it ready like a sword.  "But you'll explain it?  About the baby?"

"Of course.  Now spoon in about ... four big ... four really big heaps 
of flour into the bowl.  Yeah, that's it, big heaps.  Now, keep going ...."

"No, you keep going," he reminded me.

"Okay, alright ... well, you see, a man and a woman fall in love and get 
mar ...."

"Teg, I know that part," he said disgustedly.

"Yeah, I guess you do, so .... okay," I took a big breath, wondering 
again how much to tell him.  "After getting married they do what's 
called making love."

"What's next?" He said matter-of-factly.

"Well, they go to be ...."

"No!  I mean what do I put in next?" he giggled.

"Oh, I thought ... well, now you have me completely confused."  I laughed 
too.  "Okay, put in some salt, however much you think will taste good."

"Sure!  Now, this making love, you said they go where?"

"They go to bed, where the man puts his penis ... you know about that?"

"His peepee?" He said, turning his head sideways to look up at me.

"Yes, but the real name is penis.  Some people call it a cock or a dick.  
Or little ten year old boys sometimes call it a peepee!" I nudged 
him playfully with my hip.  He shot me a look of mock offense.

"Puts it in where?"

"Puts the water in the bowl, of cour ...."

"No!" Now he poked me in the side with his spoon.  "What about the peepee?"

"Okay," I laughed,  "you put a little water in the flour and I'l tell you 
where the penis goes. You see, the man loves the woman very much, and 
when you love someone your penis gets very hard and long, very stiff, 
and ...."

Without even looking at him I sensed that Wishus suddenly grew rigid, 
and froze for a moment, a cup of water poised in mid air.  I glanced 
at him and saw him frowning, looking troubled and pensive.  Then he 
looked up with confusion and consternation written all over his face, 
his puppy dog eyes kind of moist and so vulnerable, and then that 
unspoken look of pleading.  "Uh, Teg," his voice had risen high again, 
"can ... can we talk about that later?"  He licked his lips nervously.  
"Wh ... what do I do now with the bisquits?"

I felt like a heel.  Yes, he had brought up the subject, but I had 
carried it too far, out of my own crass desire to discuss this kind 
of thing with the boy.  I had been acting like a predator, I had been 
all too eager to agree to talk about sex with this boy, because deep 
down I wanted to touch him and make love to him more than I wanted life 
itself.  I hated myself at that moment, but determined immediately that 
I would make up for it.  Never again would I lead Wishus into an area 
where he didn't want to go.

I put my arm around his shoulder and hugged him to me again.  I spoke 
softly, knowing without looking down that he was listening.  "Wishus, 
I believe in saying whatever it is that is on your mind.  And I want 
to say something now.  I know that what I said must have bothered you 
in some way, and I'm sorry.  But don't let this keep you from ever 
asking or telling me anything you want."

"Sure, Teg," he said just as quietly, his voice muffled with his cheek 
pressed against my side.  Then he looked up and smiled.  "I'm not mad 
or anything.  I asked about it, didn't I?  There just something I ... 
something happened ... that ... let's talk about it later, okay?

"You got it, little one."  I squeezed him again and felt his arm snake 
across behind my back.  He could barely reach my other side, but he 
grabbed a handful of my shirt and drew me even closer to him.

Well, I felt like a king then!  And just stood there reveling in the 
sensation for a moment.

"Uh, Teg?"

"Yes, Wishus."

"The bisquits?"

That brought me back to reality, out of a glimpse into boylove heaven, 
and we proceeded to finish breakfast, using the dutch oven for the 
bisquits.  Wishus was going to be a natural cook.  He still had that 
same natural competence, that unconscious grace of motion that I had 
seen in him the day before.  He could pick up any task easily enough 
if I just took the time to explain the whys and wherefores.  It was 
the same way with the chores.  Although he had lived in the big city 
all his life, he quickly mastered the basics for the care and feeding 
of the livestock, and the simple repairs that we made as we saw the
need for them that morning.

Through the whole morning I took every opportunity just to watch my boy, 
glorying in his physical beauty, his form, his fluid motion, and his 
spirit.  A few times I caught him in a quiet moment lost in some deep 
thought.  He always looked troubled during those moments, and I wondered 
over and over about what sad event had clouded my boy's life.  

In an open area right in front of the cabin, Wishus taught me this new 
game called base ball.  We threw the stuffed hide ball back and forth, 
and then he produced his pride and joy - a big, smooth stick he called 
a bat.  With that held high up over his shoulder, I had to 'pitch' him 
the ball, and he proceeded to whack it here and there.  Guess who had to 
chase his ball around everytime he hit it?  Well, he set stones out in 
the grass to be the bases, and would run like the wind while I chased his 
ball, laughing all the way, stepping on the bases and yelling "home run!"

After an hour of that, while chasing another of his whacks, I finally got 
smart and refused to pitch it again.  Instead, I ripped my shirt off and
flopped down in the shade of a convenient tree.

Wishus didn't protest too much.  He was just as dirty and sweaty as I was.  
His hair clung in sweat-darkened strands to his cheeks and neck, and his 
face was flushed red.  Against the irredescent, creamy white of his 
natural complexion, the hot flush make him look like a little Christmas 
elf.  I could see the tracery of the tiny blood vessels in his cheeks.

He flopped down perpindicular to me, using my belly as a pillow for his 
head.  Even suffering from heat exhaustion, I became aroused again 
instantly, but for once his nearness seemed the most natural thing to 
me, as if our time together had made us closer and closer, and his head 
was right where it should be - resting on me.  Even my heart accepted 
the goodness, the rightness of our intimacy, and instead of racing ahead, 
it actually began to return to serenity.  Not to say that I ever lost that 
tightness in my chest and in my groin, the ever present tension borne of 
my love for this boy.  

I idly pulled on bedragggled lockes pasted to his forehead, and ran my 
fingers slowly across his brow.  My head was propped on the protruding 
root of our shade tree, so I could watch Wishus' every move.  I scanned 
him lovingly from head to foot, drinking in his charms.

He glanced at me time and again, craning his head sideways, smiling 
contentedly.  We lay there panting for a few moments before he finally 
smiled even more sweetly and said, "You look happy, Teg."  And I knew 
at that moment that my happiness brought him joy.

It shocked me.  It was not the kind of observation that a ten year old 
might be expected to make.  The blood coursing through my loins surged 
and I felt the head of my cock almost bursting against the fabric of my 
jeans.  I almost cringed, it felt so sensitive.   Without thinking I 
blurted out with too much obvious emotion, "being with you makes me happy, 
Wishus." 

And there it was again, damnit.  I had done it again, overstepping the 
bounds.  He suddenly gave me a doubtful, querulous kind of look, then 
picked up a twig and started peeling it.

I didn't know what to say then, but I know I did say a prayer - oh please, 
don't let me ever hurt this boy!  Now my heart did race!  Such a simple 
comment he had made.  Expressing his awareness of my feelings!  But was 
he ready for my expression of love?

Not sure of what he was feeling, I reluctantly, tentatively withdrew my 
hand from is brow.  Before I even knew what happened he shot his hand up 
behind his head blindly and grabbed my retreating hand and guided it back 
forcefully to his forehead.

He possessed me at that moment.  I actually found it hard to breathe, and 
my heart beat furiously, my penis strained in my pants leg and I felt 
myself cumming convulsively.  You will say that it is not possible, to be 
so aroused that you cum without even touching your dick, but you can't 
know the magnitude of my emotion when Wishus took hold of me.  I felt 
the release, and the warmth of my semen spread through the fabric of my 
jeans.  I must have gasped, even while trying to control the 
uncontrollable.   

My love looked up at me again with those deep green eyes, that familiar 
expression of pleading writ so plain.  He said simply, "Don't stop.  I ... 
I like it.  I ... like it when you ... brush my hair there."

Struggling not to gasp again, I could only answer raggedly, softly, "I ... 
I'll not ... stop, Wishus.  Not until ... you tell me to."  He let go of 
my hand and I resumed slowly stroking and tracing his hairline with the 
pad of my trembling fore-finger.  Back and forth, sootheingly.  With my 
other hand I loosened the clammy hair from his moist cheek.


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


I must have nodded off for a few moments, because the next thing I remem-
ber was a hazy thought: 'that damn fly, why is it attacking my chin?'  I 
slapped at it, my eyes still closed, and felt not a fly, but a stick!  
I popped my eyes open and there Wishus was, turned on his side, but with 
his head still resting on my stomach, giggling and with a twinkle in his 
eyes as he quickly withdrew his stick.

"You were snoring!" He said, laughing, showing perfectly white, bright 
teeth.

"I was not!  I never snore," I protested, acting wounded to the core.

"Oh, you'll never know how loud," he responded emphatically.

"Well, I'll outlast you tonight, and if you snore I'll be sure to wake you 
up appropriately," I remonstrated.

"Ok, you try," he said doubtfully, then pressed his lips together and just 
lay there, looking perfectly contented, idly flapping the stick softly 
against my chest.  I marvelled at his many faces.  Now his lips, normally 
turned down just slightly at the edges of his mouth, were pressed together 
and turned up.  They moved in barely perceptible tics as he breathed, or 
as he flexed his jaw, or as his inner thoughts were reflected by little 
degrees in his changing smile.  After all our exertion, his lips were 
fully red now, as if painted to contrast with his fair skin.

I reached out to caress his hair some more.  I loved touching the fine,
silken strands, each seemingly a slightly different shade, from silvery- 
laced gold to creamy yellow.  Immediately as I touched him his face sud-
denly went slack, as if his thoughts were transported far away.  At least 
he did not look fearful, doubtful, or pleading - any of the wide range 
of emothions I had seen in him during the last 24 hours, so I didn't 
withdraw my hand.  I did sense some kind of concern in him.

"What are you thinking, Wishus?" I asked quietly, hesitant to break into 
his revery.  

He sat up, folding his legs across one another, his hands in his lap, 
still fiddling with the twig.  Looking down at it, he responded in a low 
tone, as if he were unsure that he wanted to tell me.  "I ... I was 
surprised that Auntie and Uncle Ben left me here with you.  That's all."

"Oh, Wishus, don't feel bad about that.  They were so worried about the 
baby that they ... I don't think they really would have left you alone ...."

No, I don't mean that," he interrupted, looking up at me with now very 
troubled eyes.  And now I did see that so familiar pleading and wounded 
look.  "I mean ... I'm surprised they left me with you ... a ... a man."

"What do you mean, Wishus?" I asked, astonished.  Why wouldn't he be left
with a man?

He still looked at me, now with tears beginning their slow path down along
the side of his nose.  When he spoke again, it was in a weak little voice, 
choked with sadness, and his lips trembled.  "Teg, that's why my parents 
sent me away, because of something I did ... with a man ... with my Uncle 
Tom.  They caught us out in the garden.  I ... g-gave him ... a kiss.  
Right here."  He put one finger to his lips.  "I did ... l-like him, and 
he wanted to kiss me, and took me into the garden that night.  I told 
them I wanted to kiss him too, but that didn't make any difference.  That 
just made them madder, and they sent him away, and me ... and me, too ...."

As his words spilled out and I realized what he was telling me, my heart
overflowed for the boy.  I pulled myself up against the tree trunk, and 
reached out both my arms for him.  "Come here, little boy," I said, looking 
up at him from a lowered brow, my expression one of total sympathy - heck, 
I was on the verge of tears myself.  So this was the almighty high crime 
Wishus had committed against the family honor!  His Uncle Tom had forced a 
kiss on him, and his parents couldn't live down the thought that their son 
might be queer.  Now Wishus was confused, because he had been punished so 
severely for something he had seen no harm in, for reciprocating his 
Uncle's love, and for telling the truth about it!

Wishus crawled into my lap and I pulled him tight to me, and let him cry, 
resting my chin on the top of his head.

"There, there, Wishus," I crooned, my jaw moving against his head.  I 
wouldn't have broken contact with him at that point for anything.  "I 
know now why the Fates brought me to this valley to see you.  I was 
brought here to tell you that you did nothing wrong, Wishus.  If you 
liked your Uncle, and wanted to kiss him, then it was the right thing 
to do."  And I meant it.  And not just because I'm a boylover.  A boy 
his age should never have been punished for expressing innocent affection.  
I didn't know about the Uncle, but I knew that Wishus had done nothing 
wrong.

"But I ... I feel like it was ... my fault," he sniffled doubtfully, 
obviously wanting to believe me, but still struggling with weeks of 
doubt, loneliness, and despair.  "And ... and it's going to happen 
again.  You'll hate me ... my Uncle Ben will send me away and get mad 
at you ... but I can't help it ... I can't help what I feel ...."

It finally got through my thick skull.  My boy wasn't just crying for 
what had happened in the past.  His doubts, that pleading look of his - 
they were all a part of what he was feeling now.  For me!

I took a deep breath to calm myself, then said, "Wishus?"

"Yes, Teg?"

"What do you mean about how you're feeling?  Tell my what it is that you 
are afraid of."

"I'm going to ruin it for both of us, Teg. It's all going to happen again,"
he whined, and I felt him shake his head despairingly.

An electric bolt shot through me.  Hope so long crushed down and dormant, 
rose, poised to devour me in its twin jaws of disappointment and denial.  
I took another deep breath.

"Why do you say that, Wishus?  Is it because you want ... to ... you want 
to kiss me?"  I held my breath now, and waited.  I thought - yes, Teglin, 
thankfully you expressed yourself correctly this time.  You could have 
made that question a sarcastic accusation, trying to hide your own hope, 
or you could have made it a snide denunciation, trying to keep from being 
denied yourself.  But you didn't!  You made the question one of acceptance, 
of approval, of invitation.  It was an open door, through which Wishus 
could enter of his own free will, only if he wanted to.  He could enter 
and accept a greater measure of your love, or stay outside and still have 
your undying devotion.  You did it right.  You made it his choice!

I waited an eternity.

Then I heard his answer, so low and hesitant, barely audible ... "Yes, 
Teg."

Blood coursed through my veins in delirium!  Verily, I had journeyed down a 
mountain trail into a vale called Heaven!

Even now, I steeled myself to act only for Wishus' benefit, and at his 
behest.  I would not let 25 years of unrequited boylove overcome what I 
knew to be best for this boy.

I did breathe again, and willed my pounding heart to be still.

"What you want is ... is what I want ... Wishus," I managed to say between 
halting breaths, still holding him tight to me.  "You are a good person, 
full of good thoughts ... and nothing you ever would want to do could be 
wrong.  If you want to ... kiss me, then I want you to know it's allright.  
You will do what's right, Wishus!  You're that kind of boy."

"I ... I am?" He finally dislodged his head from the weight of my jaw and 
looked up at me with his doe-like eyes, his tears drying now, and the 
beginnings of a hesitant smile forming on his lips.

"You are.  You most definitely are a child of the gods, who can do no 
wrong, Allouitious Wishus Knight."

"Oh, you promised not to call me that" he stuck his tongue out at me indig-
nantly, but grinning widely even so.  Even his eyes were lit up with his 
joy.  "I'll make you pay for that," he said, sliding off my lap onto his 
knees.  "Now you have to pitch to me some more!"

"I do?" I said, trying to look dismayed, and failing miserably at that.  
I was transported beyond joy to exhultation at the turn of events.  Wishus 
really did care for me!

"You do have to pitch for me," he stuck out his botton lip sternly.  As he 
got to his feet, he said, "Now get up ... please."

"Oh, allright," I groaned as I stretched to my feet and began to dust 
myself off.  "Where's that drat ball?"

"Oh, here it is," he said delightedly, scampering to pick it up.  He 
returned it to me then turned back towards the open field.  "Come on, 
slow poke," he waved me to follow.

Before I could even put one foot forward he stopped in his tracks and 
turned back on his heels.  "Oh!" he kind of squealed.  "I forgot," he 
said, and suddenly he looked all sheepish and began to blush.  He hesi-
tated just a moment, then jumped to me, stood up on his tip-toes, grasped 
my left arm, and planted a loud, wet kiss just below my shoulder.  Then 
he shot me the most radiant little smile, looking pleased with himself, 
and ran off into the field.

I stood stunned, then slowly felt the spot where his lips had grazed my 
soul.  I traced their moist pattern, and just held my fingers over that 
holy spot.  "I'll not wash that arm for a good long while," I thought, 
shaking my head in amazement.



Three Weeks to Heaven, A Boylove Romance
Book One, Chapter 4

"Let's go swimming!"  I heard Wishus call to me after triumphantly 
striding across home base for the umpteenth time.  I heard him, but 
it didn't quite register, because I was in a daze, a kind of boy-
induced delerium.  While rounding third base, where I tried to touch 
him with the ball, Wishus had, for the third time - kissed me!  He 
had grabbed at my ball-toting hand, paused, lowered his head while 
looking up at me impishly, and planted his two lips on the top of 
my hand - then sped off laughing.

Well, it was really the second kiss he gave me, because I didn't know 
if I should count the time he was poised to throw the ball back to me.  
He had grinned, looked at me, then down at the ball in his hand, back 
at me again - then he raised the ball to his lips, kissed it, and threw 
it to me.  "For you!" he shouted.

I was dumbfounded, but not dumb, so when I caught the ball, I cupped 
it in both my hands and brought it lovingly to my cheek and just held 
it there, smiling back at Wishus.  "Thanks!" I called to him.

A couple of moments like that, and the wet kiss he had planted on my 
arm an hour ago - well, I was truly walking in a boylove daze, wondering 
at the workings of Wishus' mind. He had told me he wanted to kiss me, 
and now he was doing it in the most delightful, if roundabout, ways.

He was so obviously thrilled to be able to show his affection for me.  
I saw the glee and triumph in his eyes and his pose everytime he saw 
my reaction to his little kisses.  And yet he was hesitant to approach 
these feelings directly.

Who could blame him for these tentative steps through the door into my 
soul.  He had been severely punished for responding to his Uncle Tom's 
love.

I was content to take whatever Wishus wanted to give, and to always be 
there for him ... ah, but there was the rub, I would be gone tomorrow. 
It was a thought I did not want to intrude into this day.

"Teg, let's go swimming!" He called out again, now approaching me.

"Uh ... sure, but don't you think the creek is a little cold for swim-
ming?"

"Naw, not in the creek, at least not here.  Up around that bend there's 
a beaver pond.  It's a little warmer."

I was doubtful, but pursed my lips, raised my brow in a devil-may-care 
attitude, and said, "lead the way, my Sun-God."

He laughed.  "Your what?!  Your ... Sun God?"

"Yeah, you're all golden, your hair sparkles in the sun, your skin 
shines - you're truly my Sun-God!"  

He took my worshipful praise with his hands on his hips, his head 
cocked, looking bemused.  "You think I look like one of the Greek 
or Roman gods?" he asked, and I could see how astonished and pleased 
he was.

Standing there, with the waving green grass of our ball field for his 
background, bathed in the pure sunlight from above, looking like the 
fair young Apollo in all his lithe splendour, I knew Wishus was worthy 
of my devotion.  

"You're far superior to those lesser gods, Wishus.  You're a ten year old 
boy.  The gods worked hardest of all to create ten year old boys, and when 
they were finished, Zeus himself proclaimed that their work was too well 
done, because the boys were more beautiful and intelligent than their 
creators.  And of all ten year old boys, Wishus, I know you to be the 
greatest of the great."

"Oh, Teg ..." he waved a hand at me dismissively, but he couldn't hide 
his pride.

I sniffed the wind, making a show of it.  "But ... ah, let me see, how 
shall I say this.  Remember last night, and yesterday, why you poked me 
in the ribs?"

"Oh, you mean when you said I smelled good." he grimaced, although still 
unable to completely mask his delight.

"Yeah, well, you don't smell that good anymore!"  I shouted that last part 
as I took off running towards where he said the swimming hole was.

He yelled at me, "You can't beat your Sun-God to the pond!"  I looked back
and saw him already catching up with me.  He scampered up to me, like a 
little fawn dancing around the elder in the herd of deer, and jabbed me 
in my side again.

I stopped running and just stood gasping for air over him, grinning at 
him, my eyes feverishly devouring his every feature, from his golden hair 
to his little boy feet.  I was totally unable to mask my love and admira-
tion for him, even if I had wanted to.  I must have looked foolish and 
love-struck to anyone else.  Because I was.

Wishus stood there and took in all my ravenous glances, beaming up into 
my face, not saying anything, but obviously happy.  After a long, silent 
moment, he finally let out the most winsome little sigh of contentment, 
tossed his head to fling his hair out of his eyes, and reached out for my 
hand.

"Come on, Teg.  Let's go swim - and clean up!  Sun-Gods gotta smell good, 
you know!"

We walked like that, our arms swinging, his little white hand all swal-
lowed up in mine, all the way to the pond.


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


No sooner did we arrive at the banks of the beaver pond, when it finally 
dawned on me, from out of the rapture I was in, that I had a problem.  My 
ever present arousal had been safely tucked down my left pants leg all 
morning, but when we took our clothes off to swim, it was going to stand 
out - and I mean it was going to stand out!  I had absolutely no hope 
that I could will it to a flaccid state while standing nude in Wishus' 
presence.  Not to mention the fact that he would be nude too!

Wishus didn't even hesitate, but immediately started shucking his tunic.  
"Come on, Teg, let's jump in!  It won't feel too cold after a minute," 
he said enthusiastically.

A glimmer of hope!  Once I hit the cold water, surely my dick would 
shrivel to a miserable little stick bearing little resemblance to its
rampant glory.  Now, if only I could distract Wishus long enough so 
that he would be looking the other way while I ran into the water.

Rumminating on that plan, I sat down and slowly began to take off my 
boots, while making off-hand glances at Wishus stripping.  Of course, 
that didn't alleviate my problem any.  There he was, not six feet away, 
his tunic off and his fingers at the precious little bulge of his tummy 
just below his belly button, deftly untying the drawstring of his 
knickers.  In that pose, with his hands together just above his crotch, 
his bare arms framed his bare chest.  My eyes were drawn to his little 
nipples, now soft and unaroused, tiny dimples hidden in the sensitive 
skin of his aureola, the only color in the expanse of his satin-white 
torso.  

With his head down, concentrating on the knot of his drawstring, his 
hair hung loose and swished about in sprays of gold over the upthrust 
bumps of his shoulders.  I had held and massaged those shoulders, and 
longed to feel their contours again.

He had no inhibitions at all, and began to slide the tightly clinging 
knickers down over the slight swell of his hips.  Well, I wasn't making 
off-hand glances anymore, and I wasn't looking at his chest.  I was 
staring breathlessly, desperate now to see, with Wishus' permission, 
what I could have stolen a glance at last night.  I would not look at 
his boyhood last night, because Wishus had been asleep then, secure 
and trusting in my arms.  Now he stood before me openly, baring his 
treasure to me of his own free will.  

Wishus didn't see my focus.  He was too eager and excited to notice, 
keeping up a steady chatter about the pond, pointing out the beaver 
house out in the middle and explaining how they had built the dam.

My Sun-God was facing me when the waist band of his knickers slid down 
to uncover the little mound of his pubis.  Time seemed to stand still 
for me.  I must have had my hands poised, frozen, over my boots, as his 
diminutive penis and loose hanging scrotum were revealed in all their 
untouched, pinkish-white delicacy, because suddenly he glanced at me, 
and noticed my awkward position.

"What are you waiting for, Teg?" he said innocently in his flute-like 
voice.

I reddened instantly, the flush burning under my skin.

"Oh," he said, following my gaze.  "It's kind of small, isn't it?"  He 
placed both palms on his lower belly and pushed in, glancing at his dick
and then back at me wryly, with one brow up and the opposite corner of 
his mouth compressed tightly, as if to say, 'what can I do about it?'

He giggled, then said, "and its wrinkly!"  He seemed not the least taken 
aback by my obvious stare.

"It ... it's just the right ... size for you, Wishus.  Perfect like you
are," I said hoarsely.  Both of his brows popped up at that, and he smiled
broadly in gratitude.

I had been right when I envisioned the size of his penis.  Hidden within 
his dangling, red-tipped foreskin, I could see the outlines of his glans.
The coronal ridge was no more than an inch out along the shaft from his
pubic mound.  His lovely little ball sac hung in pink folds close up under-
neath his tool.  His testicles were so small and delicate that I could 
barely see their bulge within his scrotum.  The white of his pubis and 
inner thighs was even more pure and virginal than the rest of his perfect
body.  Never touched by any hands other than his own, I guessed.  At least
since he was a baby.

He slipped out of his knickers, first lifting one leg then the other, his 
little boyhood wobbling to and fro, and pointing directly at me.  Its 
prepuce extended another half-inch beyond the tip of the glans, and I 
could clearly see the pouty little opening below the frenar band, closed
now, completely hiding the object of my desires.  I wondered if it would
open enough to allow his glans to pop free.  The flesh of the little
opening was slightly reddish, perhaps irritated from long confinement and
chafing against the fabric of his knickers.  Or perhaps it just needed
cleaning.  I imagined cleaning it with my tongue, lovingly probing into
his prepuse, laving its .... 

"Come on, Teg!  Get your clothes off!" He commanded, shocking me back to
reality, as he stripped his socks off.  He stumbled a bit, making him turn 
around, and there it was!  The very center of my universe, where I longed 
to probe with my own love-engorged penis,  His fleshy, perfectly smooth 
buttocks parted as he bent to pull off a sock and his crinkly, pink anus 
opened for an instant to my gaze.

I gasped involuntarily, then had the presence of mind to fake a cough. 
He was still talking and struggling with his socks, and didn't notice my 
shock.  The simple act of breathing was now an effort almost beyond my
abilities, so I forced myself to quit staring and do as he wanted.  I
stood and slipped off my shirt.

"You're so ... hairy," he said, and I realized that he had indeed been
stealing glances at me.  I looked up and saw him standing there with his
mouth open in wonder.  I did have a bit of chest hair, but it was smooth
and not too long, unlike the unruly mess I had seen on other men's chests.

"Yeah, a bit," I admitted, then turned to toss my shirt to one side.  
Conveniently, that allowed me to start shucking my jeans so that he 
wouldn't be able to see my raging hard cock spring up to full attention
when it was released from its confinement.  He did get a full view of my
own bare backside.

"Why don't you run and jump in," I suggested over my shoulder, trying to
stall even as I lowered my pants down below my butt.  

He didn't answer.

"Wishus, you don't have to wait for me, you can go ahead and jump ...."

"Oh no!" I heard him say in a shocked tone, as if he were suddenly 
frightened by something.

Forgetting my state of undress, forgetting my jutting dick, forgetting 
everything in a momentary panic for his safety, I turned to see what 
could be wrong.  My dick swung around like my little boy's base ball bat.

Wishus was looking down at his own penis, dismay written all over his 
reddening face.  It was hard and erect, arching up almost parallel with
the flesh of his belly.  He looked up into my eyes - a horrified, 
questioning kind of look.  He held his hands out from his body, as if 
to avoid touching himself.

"I ... I'm sorry, Teg," He shrilled at me, in a panicky tone.  "I'm really
sorry ...."  He raised his hands and held them out as if begging for an
answer to some unspoken question.  Tears started streaming down his cheeks.

"What's wrong, honey," I rushed to him and squatted down, looking into
his eyes.  I grasped his shoulders gently.

"I'm ... sorry, Teg!"  He glanced down nervously.  "I didn't mean to!  
It just started getting hard ... just like when Uncle Tom kissed me!  
And that's when everyone came into the garden and got mad at me, and 
sent me way, and ..." he was sobbing now, breathing in spasms that made 
his whole body jerk.  I followed his gaze down between his legs, feeling
feint so close to his little stiffie.  The purplish-red tip of his swollen
glans, with its tiny slit, was just peeking out through the tautly 
stretched opening of his prepuce.  Erect, his little boy cock was no 
bigger than my little finger, about two and half inches long and a little 
bigger around than my finger.  It was small, in keeping with Wishus' own 
small frame.  But he was all boy!  His dick pulsed, and I could see blood- 
engorged, bluish veins spidering beneath the translucent skin of the shaft.

I immediately wrapped him in my arms, stood up, and just hugged him.  One
arm I slipped down below his butt to support him, allowing him to lock
his legs around my waist.  The other I moved to snake across his back 
and hold my dear boy close.  I closed my eyes momentarily, trying not to 
think about his penis so hard against my stomach.  Worse still, his fiery 
hot, infinitely soft scrotum was crushed against me.  My own member was 
pushed down by his buttocks and it sought its natural resting place within 
his cleft.  It had started to soften in my own panic, but now began to 
stiffen again from the magical contact with Wishus' moist inner sanctum.

He gasped all of a sudden, and his head jerked back, his eyes closed in 
agony.  "My pee-pee!"  he screamed.  I looked down, and saw that my embrace
was causing his dickhead to flare against his straining foreskin.  It must
have been an exquisite, unbearable sensation for him, making him squirm.
That of course only heightened the sensation.  I held him more firmly,
and pulled his head back to me.

"It's alright, Wishus,"  I started crooning, over and over.  "It's alright.
It's alright, my Wishus.  Be still, now, honey."

"I ... I'll try, Teg," he said bravely, but then continued, "I hate it!
When it get's like this I know something bad is going to happen!"

"No, Wishus!  No one and nothing is going to hurt you as long as I am 
around.  Ever!  And when you get hard like that ... it makes me feel so
wonderful!"

"Why?" he pleaded, pushing his head back again, and looking me straight
into my eyes, just inches away.  He still sounded frightened, but at least 
he was willing to listen to me.  He searched my eyes, staring deep into 
my soul, begging for an answer.

"Don't you remember, dearest.  I told you this morning.  When a man's 
penis gets hard it means he loves his ... he loves the other person."

"But you're not a woman, Teg. I'm not supposed to get like that around 
men!  That's what my father screamed at me.  That's why he sent me away!
And I don't get hard around mommy, or my father.  And I love them.  Only
since yesterday, when you were around, and once with Uncle Tom.  I don't
know why it happens, I just can't help it, I feel like I ... like I want
you to ... like I want you for something ... oh, I can't explain it ...."

I had listened to his attempt to explain his feelings with an awareness
of my dreams come true.  But while I wanted to shout and leap with joy,
instead I listened and nodded, and just cherished him.  He noticed the
moistness in my eyes, and my suppressed emotions, because he suddenly
stopped and said, "What's wrong, Teg.  Did I say something bad?  You 
don't want me to feel that way?  You ...."  

"Shhh ... shhhh," I stopped him again, and hastened to reassure him
before he lapsed back into tears, mistaking my attitude.

"Listen to me now, Wishus.  Some men ... some boys ... like you
and me ... well, we're not like other men and boys, Wishus.  We get hard 
at other times.  We can love a ... we can have a very special kind of 
love, dearest.  We love other ... boys, or men.  We get hard to show
our love.  If your penis got stiff when you looked at me, I think that's
the grandest gift of love that you could ever give me.  You get stiff 
like this when you want to be ever so close to a special someone,
when you want to become ONE with that person you love.  It's like you
want to form a physical union with that person, Wishus."

Wide-eyed, and wanting to accept my words, I could tell, he said, "Teg, 
your thingie ... your p-penis ... has been long and hard lots of times.  
Yesterday, and all day today."  And he surprised me by quickly reaching
down below his butt and blindly but unerringly grasping my hard shaft
right behind my glans.  My breath came in stutters as I tensed to his
grip.  

Then he released me, and clasped both hands behind my neck again.  "Teg,"
he said accusingly, "you've been stiff like that ever since we met, and
you're definitely hard right now!"

Well, I started to blush, and smiled sheepishly, "Uh ... you noticed, huh?"

"Yeah, I noticed!" he exclaimed.  "But I didn't know what it meant.  
Sometimes it made me afraid, when I remembered what happened with Uncle
Tom.  But sometimes it made me all tingly, and I wanted so much to ask
you ...."

He paused, hesitating.  All I could think of at that moment was that I 
finally knew what that hurt, pleading look of his was all about.

"Teg, does that mean that you love me too?  That you want to ... to be
one ... with me?" His voice rose sweetly, expectantly.

"Yes.  Yes!  Wishus!  I do love you, darling Wishus!  More than anything
in the world, more than life itself, I want to be ONE with you."  Well,
I did want something else.  I wanted to cover his face with feverish 
kisses at that instant, but just hugged him even tighter to me.  I had 
never been happier in my life, to be able to tell him of my love, both 
in words and by the evidence of my arousal.  For the first time in my 
life I did not have to hide my passion for a boy!  For this boy!

I clasped him to me, and he too held me tight, his arms clenched around 
my neck, and his head pressed hard into the crook of my neck.  His 
sniffles had long since stopped, but I felt the chill as his still wet 
cheek touched my skin.  I just stood there silently, rocking him slowly 
from side to side.

We must have been a sight, a 6'2" man standing there in obvious arousal,
his long pole esconced between the butt cheeks of the equally aroused
little boy, whose legs were clamped around the man as if his life depended
on it.

Finally he breathed into my ear, "It was wrong, what my father said?"

"Wishus, I'm not going to say anything against your father.  All I can 
do is tell you what I know to be true.  Some of us are made differently
from everyone else.  But being different doesn't make us bad, or wrong.
I think it just makes us special."

He thought about that silently for a moment, then must have accepted my
words, because suddenly he was off on a new tangent.  "But Teg?  How do 
we become one?  How do we ... what did you say ... how do we form a ...
a union?"

Now I blushed again, this time in panic.  I didn't want this moment, 
when we had revealed our special love for each other, to be sullied in any
way.  I knew I could never consummate our union in the way that nature
intended.  How could I tell him that my penis should enter into him, to
form that ultimate union of man and boy, which the ancients had
proclaimed the highest form of love.  

I've already admitted that I was a boylove virgin.  Well, having never
desired a woman, I was just plain a virgin, and I couldn't imagine the 
pain that Wishus must endure if I were to plunge my tool into him.

I struggled to say something, anything, but the truth about how we must 
consummate our love.  "I ... we must ... Wishus, once before I told you 
that you didn't have to talk about what was bothering you, remember?"

"Yes, Teg."  He nodded.  I felt his cheek move against my neck.  Then he
pulled back and I could see the gratitude in his eyes.  He remembered.

"Well, now I ... I just want to be with you, like this.  We'll find a way 
to be one with each other, dearest.  We'll find our way, okay?"

"Sure, Teg," he agreed, "we'll talk about it later, if you wish."  And he 
leaned into me, pressing the side of his head against mine, then kissed me 
on my forehead.

I pulled his head down and did the same, brushing my lips to his forehead
just at the hairline.  He pushed back, looking a little surprised, and 
touched the spot where my lips had rested.

Gracing me with a pleased little smile, he then puckered his brow and said,
"Teg, I'm still all stiff.  It feels ... kind of good, you know, but kind
of strange, and tingly.  Like it's going to hurt, but not hurt!  Does that
make sense?"  He looked bemused, pursing his lips, concentration wrinkling
his brow.

"It makes perfect sense.  There are ... ways to ... make that kind of good
'hurt' go away, and here's one of them!"  I shouted as I leaped, plunging
both of us into what I knew was going to be a very cold beaver pond.

And I was right!  It was cold, and our dicks did shrivel to pitiful, cold-
hard relics of their former glory.  When we rose spluttering and gasping 
for air, and stood on the bank, Wishus' little dick was just a cute little
bump protruding half an inch from his goose-fleshed pubis.  His balls had
completely disappeared into the warm depths of his body, and his scrotum
was a crinkly little oval washboard, a little pinker than the surrounding
flesh.

He laughed, pointing at my own manhood, now barely long enough to stand
out from my dark brown bush.  My own balls were too big to escape like
Wishus', but were held tight beneath my cock.  Seeing my boy's attention
on it, Teg Junior wasn't to be denied his moment, and began to rise 
immediately.

"Uh oh, Teg," Wishus giggled, pointing.  "It's not working for you!"

"That's because I'm still with you, Wishus.  I can't help it if you're
so beautiful!"

He looked taken aback.  "Beautiful?!"  He smiled broadly.  "You think I'm
beautiful?  Boys can't be beautiful!"  He put his hands on his hips, as 
if he were defiant, but his smile told me otherwise.   He loved the idea
that I found him beautiful.

"You, Wishus, are the loveliest of Nature's creations," I said with heart-
felt sincerity.  "You're the most wondrous of beauties, totally unspoiled,
clean, good, bright, smart ...."

"Okay," he said, doubtfully accepting the compliments.  He thought for a
minute, and then the pieces of some puzzle must have fit in his mind's eye,
because he suddenly exploded into action, clapped his hands down hard on 
the outsides of his thighs and started cavorting about, shouting, "Teg 
wants to be ONE with me!  And I'm beautiful!  I'm beautiful!  
I'm beautiful!"  

He was as happy at that moment as any boy I have ever seen, and I felt
wholly good.  I had given this boy confidence in himself in more ways than
one.

He kept shouting to the echoing mountainsides, flapping his arms and 
scampering about, flaunting his newfound self-esteem, and exhibiting his
nude perfection to all the world.  Suddenly he paused, and faced me, 
grinning widely, then shouted at the top of his lungs, "but if Teg wants 
to be one with me, he'll have to catch me!"

With that he leaped back into the frigid pond, splashing me with the cold
water.  I leaped after him and we romped about until we were almost numb.
Let me tell you, it was hard catching that slippery little eel, but the
plain fact was that he wanted me to catch him.  We played grab-me all
over the pond, our water-slicked bodies sliding smoothly against each
other, our hands exploring wildly, touching everywhere.  It was too 
cold for there to be much sexual tension, and I think both of us just
wanted to feel the other.  He touched the hair on my chest, slapped my
rear, playfully flopped my cold-shrivelled dick about;  I man-handled
him, throwing him up into the air and letting him splash down.  More than
once my hands sought his little boy treasures, but I was just as content
to touch his arms, his legs, his feet, anywhere and everywhere.

Finally, unable to stand the frigid cold any longer, we helped each other 
out onto the grassy bank.  He was shivering uncontrollably, so I picked 
him up again.  He wrapped his arms and legs around me like a blanket and
I sat us down in the meadow grass, in the full sunlight.  Teg Junior was
already getting warm and hard, and Wishus giggled when he felt my tool 
seek its accustomed resting place along the crack of the his bum.

I rubbed and patted my boy's back, squeezed the water out of his hair, 
and just pampered him.  He soaked up my warmth and that of the life-
giving Sun, and before long we were chattering away with more than just 
our teeth.

"Now I've caught you," I said, holding him tight.  "But what is my reward?"

"Umhhh, let me see," he mused, leaning back, resting his weight on his 
clenched hands behind my neck.  "I can see, or rather I can feel, that you 
still want to be ONE with me!"  He squirmed his rear on top of my shaft,
smashing it against my own crossed legs.

"I'll always want to be one with you, Wishus," I said, then leaned my 
cheek against one of his arms and snuggled it lovingly.

"Well, you still haven't explained how we do that, so I've thought of a 
way," he said proudly, surprising me.

"Oh yes?  I have to hear this!"  And I did want to hear it, my imagination
running wild, no doubt stimulated by the way he was using his bottom to 
clench and squirm around my manhood.  Surely he knew nothing of Greek 
love!  No, of course not.  He knew nothing of sex at all, except what 
we had spoken about earlier.

"You'll have to promise not to tell anyone ... no, I won't ask you to
promise, because I know you would never reveal my secret."

"Thank you for trusting me!  And you're right.  But what is this secret?
I must know!" I said sincerely, and I was not just humoring him.  He had 
me hooked completely.

With his infinite energy, Wishus almost exploded up from my lap and grabbed
my hand, saying excitedly, "Come on, Teg, get up!  Let's get dressed."  He
tugged and tugged, leaning back against my weight, so I got up!

"I'm going to show you my secret place, Teg," he said in a lowered voice,
as if someone else were around that he did not want to overhear us.  He 
said it with such intensity that I knew this was important to him.

He was a veritble whirlwind getting dressed.  "Come on!  I'll show you my 
secret place, you'll tell me your secrets, and that way we'll be ONE!"

"You know, your right!"  I said, astonished with his prescience.  What 
other ten year old would think of such a poignant way to make us 'as one'.
I tell you, I was not disappointed that Wishus did not know about the 
ultimate form of union between a man and a boy.  His innocence was one of
the joys of my love for him, and I wouldn't have known where to begin in
order to prepare him for our physical union.  His idea was far superior
to anything I could come up with.

My boy's excitement and enthusiasm was contagious, so I hurried to get 
dressed.  He was done before I even had my pants back on, and hopped
about impatiently, like a boy who just had to go pee.  When I had my boots 
back on, he grabbed me by the hand and literally pulled me off across the 
meadow.  I came along like a bull led by the nose, totally enthralled with
this boy in my life, totally devoted to him, and totally happy.


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


Wishus led me into one of the many side canyons that fed into the valley.
The trail hugged one wall of the canyon and climbed higher and higher,
hanging over vistas that would have awed me if I hadn't been awed already 
by an even greater Wonder of Nature.  I had no eyes for panaoramas of stone,
trees, and streams - my whole being was concentrated on Wishus.  My eyes 
were glued to him as he climbed the trail ahead of me.

I made a discovery about myself during that hike.  It wasn't just the boy's
figure that enthralled me.  Yes, my eyes were drawn again and again to his
buttocks, rythmically undulating beneath the fabric of his knickers, soft 
mounds that I had cupped in my hands lovingly.  And to the graceful flow of 
his long, slim legs - I could almost have joined my middle finger and thumb 
around his ankle, he was so slightly built.  And to his bouncing tresses, 
as they washed from side to side across his shoulders, imparting fleeting 
glimpses of his satin-smooth neck, and just the tips of his ears.  Yes, I
drank in those charms, but more - I literally devoured every tiny detail of 
his body with my eyes.  I didn't want just the sexual stimulation that his 
figure afforded me, I wanted to know every square inch of his body, to 
memorize him, to draw his essence into my being forever.  I discovered 
on that climb to his secret place what true boylove is.  I discovered that 
I was no sexual predator, preying on unsuspecting boys in my fantasies.  I
discovered that I could love a boy, I could worship this boy, even if I 
knew I could never touch him again.

I could not speak much during the climb, so focused was I on Wishus' 
essence.  I noticed that the very tips of each strand of his golden hair 
was a pinpoint of captured sunlight.  And there was a little patch of 
scraped skin on his elbow, little striations where his skin had scraped
agains a rock, each tiny raw streak a wound in my heart.  When the uneven 
rhythm of our steps happened to bring my nose close up on his buttocks, I
breathed deeply of his musky, clean, boy-scent, and could swear I felt the 
burning heat emanating from that sacred sphincter hidden within.  I watched
the crease formed with each step he took, where the bottom of his butt 
cheeks met the tops of his thighs.  And I witnessed each ripple of the 
muscles in his calves as he climbed.

Luckily, while I was lost in this boylove trance, Wishus kept up a rolling 
discourse in his sing-song voice, happily pointing out an interesting tree
here, the imprint of a deer's hoof there, or a weirdly shaped rock over 
there - just joyously sharing his world with me.  I felt his joy and his 
overflowing good will even without registering each word.

The climb, and this window into my reason for being, had to come to a 
close eventually.  Wishus broke my trance when he suddenly stopped, 
turned, and reached dowm for my hand.  I looked up and saw pride and
unalloyed joy spreading across his face.

"Here it is, Teg!" he trilled, his voice trembling with the exertion of
the climb, but even more with his emotion.

I accepted his proferred hand and he helped me up onto the flat ledge 
he was standing on.  During the climb to this height, a spell concocted
from Wishus' very being had been cast over me, and now I was a bit
disappointed to have it broken.  Nevertheless, I masked that letdown,
knowing that he wanted to share with me something he thought very special.

"What is this grand specta ..." I started to ask, wanting to sound enthus-
iastic, but when I looked for myself I didn't need his explanation.

I might have stood there with mouth yawning wide, dumbfounded, for 
eternity, if he had not brought me back to reality once again.  "How
do you like my discovery, Teg?" He grasped my left arm in both his hands 
and leaned into me, looking up into my eyes.

I turned my head to look down at him and saw the proudest, happiest little
boy.

"I ... it's ... it's mag ... it's magnificent, Wishus!"  And that was an
understatement.  Before us, sheltered within a cavernous hollow in the rock 
face, was a city!  An obviously very ancient, abandoned city - row upon
row of rectangular dwellings, many resting one upon another, in terraces.
And many apparently in perfectly liveable condition.  It was as if its
builders had just walked away one day, leaving all the material evidence
of their existence.

"Wishus!" I turned to face him square on, and swept him off his feet, my 
hands at his waist.  I twirled him around like that, both of us laughing
and shouting, stumbling over each other's words: 

"It's magnificent!" I said.

"Do you really like it?" he demanded.  

"It's too fantastic to believe!"

I swung him around one last time and then slipped my left arm further 
around his waist and pulled him to me, propping him on my left hip like
a baby, his legs straddling me, one in front of me, one behind.  His 
right arm was hooked about my neck.  That left us both free to turn, 
as one, to survey his city, each of us pointing out the many wonders.

"Who do you think built it?" he finally asked.

"Someone long, long ago!"

"Then it's mine!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, waving one imperial 
hand over his domain.

"I mean ... OURS, Teg." he said earnestly.  "We'll share it!  This can be 
what makes us ONE, huh?!"

"I would consider it a great honor, Wishus, to share the most humble abode 
with you.  Only you.  But that you should grant me a share of your secret
place makes me want to cry out in joy."

He suddenly threw his left arm in a wide arc, the momentum flinging his 
body around on the fulcrum of my hip, forcing me to grasp him as earlier
in the day, with both my arms under his dear little rear.  He clamped his
legs around my waist, wrapped both arms behind my neck and kissed me full
on the lips!

"There!  I've kissed you!" he exclaimed, pulling back and looking smug 
and satisfied.  "I said I wanted to, and now I have!" he giggled.

"We ... well," I stuttered, trying to retain my composure, while reveling
in the taste of his lips.  "Well, I guess the world didn't come to an end,
Wishus.  Now you've done it, how do you feel about it?"

He too remembered our earlier conversation about his unearned shame when 
he had kissed his Uncle Tom.  "You were right, Teg.  There's nothing wrong
with it if you love someone.  I do love you, Teg, and I'm going to kiss 
you again!"

"Mmmmmm ... I ... mmm ... I love ... you too!" I managed to tell him as he 
pecked my lips with his over and over again.

And then he closed his eyes, tilted his head, as if he had done this many
times before, and pulled himself into me until our lips met, crushed 
together.  This time he did not pull back.  I placed a hand behind his head
and cradled him against me.  Breathlessly we ground or lips together, and
I could taste the wetness escaping from his mouth to mine.  More than 
anything I wanted to insert my tongue into his holy cavity.  I had to
truly taste his lips!  I delicately fluttered the tip of my tongue along 
his lips.

He pulled back to breathe, drawing in my breath with a shocked but very 
pleased look.  "I liked that, Teg!" he whispered.  "Does that make us ONE,
too?"

"Yes, Wishus, and so does this."  I pulled his willing head forward, my 
mouth open this time, tongue ready.  He understood immediately and opened
his lips as they met mine, my tongue gaining entrance into his body.  My
boy needed no teacher; making love came naturally to him - he laved my 
tongue lovingly with his own, then when I retreated he followed into my 
mouth.

We dueled like that for more than a minute, muffled moans emerging from
both os us, now that we had learned how to breathe through our noses.

Both of us were fully erect now.  I could feel his little shaft through 
the layers of our clothing, hard up against my stomach.  Instinctively 
I began to rhythmicaly rock him in my arms.  He caught on quickly and 
was soon squirming his dick against me, his moans ever louder.

My own shaft had happily lifted up inside my pants, and as Wishus ground 
into me he inadvertently massaged my super-sensitive glans.  Our pace 
increased, our breaths coming raggedly, our mouths still suctioning one 
another.  On and on we went, truly becoming one.

I felt him begin to sudder uncontrollably, and he threw his head back and
cried out like a wild animal, his aching cry echoing off the cavern wall.
My joy at his first orgasm sent me off myself, and for the third time in 
24 hours I spent my seed inside my clothing, cumming with spasms that 
threatened to topple us off our ledge.

"Oh my God!" Wishus gasped.  "What ... happened ... Teg?!  Arhnnnn!"  He 
was holding himself away from me, his taut thighs almost scissoring me in 
half, he was so tensed.  His arms were stiff and there was a glazed look 
in his eyes.  I think he instinctively tried to keep his dick away from 
any more contact with my body.

"What ... what did ... you feel, honey!" I gasped too, smiling at him, 
knowing that he had just reached heights of pleasure that were impossible
without the kind of passion we had for each other.

"I don't KNOW!" he managed to say through clenched teeth, his body still
convulsing, causing renewed friction on his glans.

I held him a little tighter, helping him to come down off his climax.

"We ... were kissing, then ... I felt ... something in my peepee ... I mean
my ... dick," he rasped, now looking at me questioningly.  He was slowly 
regaining his breath.  "Oh, Teg, it was like an explosion of ... I don't 
know what!  The greatest feeling I ever had.  Did you feel it too?"

"Oh yes, dearest.  We both had what all lovers want - it's called an 
orgasm, when the pleasure starts to build up in your cock, when your lover
touches it just the right way, and you feel love flowing through you, and
I guess - it just overflows, and is too much to contain.

"You started jerking around, Teg!  I thought we were going to fall off the
trail, but I didn't care!  You know what I mean?  All I could do was
scream.  I couldn't control it!"

"That's part of what I couldn't explain before, Wishus, because I didn't
know how to.  That's part of what it means to become ONE with your lover."

"Wow!  It wasn't like that with Uncle Tom!" Wishus smiled at me, offering
me the most wonderful compliment that I could ever receive.

"Maybe that's because ..." I started to say that maybe it was because Uncle
Tom did not love him as much as I did, but thankfully I stopped myself 
before uttering those less than noble words.  I had no cause to belittle
what his uncle felt for Wishus, and I had no reason to further darken
Wishus' memory of that time in his life.  Instead I said, "Maybe it's
because they didn't give you the chance, Wishus.  Whatever the reason,
I'm selfish enough to be glad that we felt it for the first time together,
just you and me.  That's the way love is supposed to feel!  I'm sure of 
it!"

"You mean ... you mean you've never felt it before, either?" he asked, 
surprised.  "You've never ... kissed anyone else ... like that before?"

"Never.  Only you, my little Wishus," I admitted in a hushed, worshipful
tone.  And at that moment, 25 years of pain, humiliation, and self-doubt
melted away, and I was actually overjoyed that I had never made love to
another boy.  I said silent thanks at that moment, that I had always 
been a boylover, and had never made love to man or woman.

Wishus smiled, looking proud but somewhat taken aback.  And I knew he felt
undeniably special.



Three Weeks to Heaven, A Boylove Romance
Book One, Chapter 5

Wishus relaxed his vice-like leg-grip around my waist as his penis lost
some of its super-sensitivity, and sat back down on my arms.  I could
have held him like that forever - my boy clinging to me, his face just 
inches away from mine.  I could see every fleck of gold sparkling in his 
green eyes.  Our orgasmic convulsions had wreaked havoc with his hair,
and now it hung in disarray about his face.  He released one hand from
behind my neck and brushed the wayward strands back behind his ears.

Both of us were smiling at each other contentedly, both sharing a moment
of quiet, just looking into each other's eyes with love.

Then he kind of hitched himself up, sitting upright on my crossed arms, 
and put both hands on my cheeks, pushing them in, squishing my lips, until 
I must have looked like a fish with its perpetual pucker.  

He held my face like that, forcing our eyes to stare deeply into one 
another's souls, and said earnestly, "Teg, can we kiss like that again?"

I just chuckled, although that was hard to do with my jaws frozen into
place by his squeezing hands.  Through my puckered lips I tried to say,
"Any ti yu wan!"

That seemed to satisfy him completely, because he smiled, cocked his head 
quickly from side to side, then pecked me quickly on my lips and squirmed
out of my grasp to stand before me.

He took hold of my hand and started off, tugging me.  "Come on, Teg!  I'll
show you everything!"

We spent the next hour looking through the whole structure.  Wishus led me 
from one room to another, up and down through holes in the ceilings, into
deep round pits.  Some of the rooms were still in very good condition, and
it would not have taken much to make a home there.

While we were awestruck by the grandeur of this city within a mountainside,
neither of us could forget what had just transpired between us.  My eyes
were as often on Wishus as on the dwellings, and most of the time he hung 
onto my arm, often with both his hands, forcing us together as if he could 
not bear to be apart from me.  We exchanged caresses and sweet little 
kisses whenever the urge arose, whenever we helped each other over some
obstacle, whenever we stopped to marvel at some sight, or whenever our eyes
happened to meet.  We were in love, and we did not need much reason to 
want to tell the other of our feelings.

Wishus led me higher and higher through the terraces of the city, until we
came upon one cubicle that appeared in perfect condition.  It was on a 
natural shelf overlooking the rest of the city, and if you stood at its
doorway, you truly felt like the lord over the whole domain.  

Wishus said, "This is my favorite room, Teg."

"Why do you like it?" I asked.

He knit his brow and mused out loud, "Oh, I don't know ... maybe because 
it's up here all by itself, like somebody important lived here ... or ...."
He suddenly grew quiet and looked down, then idly started scuffing the dust 
at his feet.

I moved closer and stood behind him with my hands on his shoulders.  He 
leaned back into me and I could feel and hear him breathe deeply and sigh
long and eloquently - something was bothering him.

"Or what, Wishus?" I urged him to open up.  Softly, gently, I began to 
knead his shoulders and run my hands down his upper arms.

"Oh, I've often sat up here and thought that maybe ... maybe the owner of
this room was a ... an outcast, like me."

At that, sensing the constriction in his throat as he spoke of something
that pained him deeply, I suddenly felt choked up myself and felt an over-
whelming need to do something, anything, to wash away my boy's pain.  But
I could not undo what had happened to him.  Without even thinking about it,
my hands slipped down to his chest and started rubbing him there, as if
I were trying to smooth out the tightness he must feel in his heart.

He reached up and encircled my wrists in his hands, and just held me there,
rubbing his cheek against my arm.

"I've always felt safe here," he continued after a moment.

"That's odd," I said.  "I was just about to say that I feel some kind 
of ... power up here, like there's some mystery associated with this 
dwelling.  Wishus, what if the man who lived here was a medicine man,
what the Indians call a shaman?"

"A shaman, huh?" he responded quietly.  "Well, whoever he was, I've sat
on his doorstep by the hour ever since I discovered this place.  This
is where I come when I feel ... lonely."

I felt a yawning pit in my stomach, thinking of the boy sitting here all
alone, but if he felt safe here, then I should be glad he found it.  That
thought triggered another, and suddenly I was burning with excitement.

"Wishus!" I dropped to my knees and spun him around bodily, my hands on his
shoulders.  I looked into his eyes and he saw my excitement, a look of 
bemused curiosity forming on his face.

"Wishus, I've got an idea!  We're going to fix this place up for you!  This
will be your safe haven!"  My mind was racing.  If ever again his Uncle
Ben decided to strand Wishus all alone, after I was gone, I wanted my Love
to have a retreat like this, a place he could come to and feel secure.

"Well ... uh ... okay!" he stammered, a smile starting to transform his
face.  "But ... how ...?"  I could tell he liked the idea already, because
he started to fidget, looking around with wonderment in his eyes, his 
flowing hair tumbling about his face.   I could see a picture forming in
his mind - oh, this boy was a goer!  He looked about, back at me with a
questioning smile, his shoulders raised in expectation, and seemed to want 
to explode into action.  I drank in the look on his face - he was a little 
pixie, a forest sprite, a little elf, a bundle of energy held in check by 
my hands.

Well, our energies fed one upon another, and I jumped up, and we started 
pacing and planning.

"We'll sweep this room out, fix you a bed ..."

"But we don't have an extra bed, Teg."  he interrupted. "Auntie wouldn't 
like it if I brought mine up here."

"Don't worry about that, my good boy," I scoffed jauntily, patting him on
the shoulder.  "We'll lash together a frame, get some clean hay, and I have
two extra blankets.  Then ...."

"You'll give them to me?  Don't you need them?"

"For you, I'd give my life, Wishus," I said offhandedly, still looking
around, planning.

"Yippie!" he cried, making me turn back to him.  His yell echoed off the
canyon walls as he leapt up into my arms and glued his lips to mine.  For
the second time we were lost to the world, our tongues madly laving each
other's mouths.

I suppose Wishus thought now was the time to renew our "oneness", because
he started humping his little, fast-hardening cock against my stomach.

I reluctantly broke the furious suctioning of our mouths and held him away,
laughing, "Hold on, Wishus!  We can't do this now, we ...."

"Oh please, Teg," he begged, struggling to scrunch his penis up and down
against me, scissoring his thighs around my waist.  I just held him with
my arms around his back.

"No, Wishus.  You've got me hard now, too, but if we're going to fix this 
place up, we'll have to hurry.  And we're going to need all our energy.
You keep this up and you're going to have me limp as a rag!"

"Oh, allright," he said disconsolately, then recovering quickly and looking
at me slyly, he continued, "just one more kiss?  Please?"  He assumed an 
innocent, demure look.

"Uh ... okay ...." I said, suspiciously, wondering what kind of trick he
was planning.  I suspected that he knew he could lead me around like a 
puppy dog if he batted his lashes just right.  I started to comply, then
thought better of it.  "I know you, Wishus.  You think I'll forget what I
just said, once you have your lips back where they belong!  I know what,
first you have to get down, and then we'll kiss ... with no hands!"

"Oh, allright," he pouted a bit, but then jumped down and puckerd up, his
head tilted up and his eyes closed.

Seeing him like that, so eager and willing, I almost relented, then took
a deep breath and said, "Oh Wishus, I want this kiss!  I want it more than
you do.  But I also want to make you a little fort up here, just for you."

"Really?!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes wide.  "You want it too?"

"Yes,"  I sighed loudly, "oh yes!"

"Thanks, Teg." he said sweetly, then leaned his head back again, and 
demanded, "Now for my kiss."

We both giggled, as I lowered my face to his.  I clasped my hands behind
me and met his moist lips with mine, both of us sputtering with barely
contained laughter.  At least it made for a wet, sloppy kiss, with our
tongues straying haphazardly.  Before a half-minute was up, both of our
mouths, chins, and cheeks were covered with the shared saliva.

"Mmmmm ... you taste so ... good," I muttered between slurrups.  "No ...
no, now keep you hands back!"

"I ... like it ... like this ... Teg!" he mumbled between playful licks
at my lips, "but ... I like it ... better ... when you hold me."

Well, I couldn't resist that!  "Oh, sweet boy!" I exclaimed, and I swooped 
him up bodily and twirled him around, hugging him tightly.  We locked our
lips together then, and I just stood there holding him close.  Our kiss 
went on and on - no more giggling, just both of us desperately trying to
swallow the other whole.

Finally, knowing that our time was fleeting, I tried to begin to separate.
"We ... we've ... got to ... stop ... now ... Wishus!" I said, alternating 
each word with continued nibbles on his lips or with soft pecks at his nose, 
his cheeks, his chin.

"I ... won't ... stop ... Teg." he responded, through his own ministrations
on my lips.  Then he drew himself even tighter into my embrace, and placed
his mouth against the side of my neck.  Through more kisses on my sensitive
neck and my ear lobe, he said, "I'll only stop ... if you promise to ... 
to give me a kiss ....every five minutes.  While we're working."  He was 
both demanding and pleading, and the high-pitched tone of his voice told 
me that he just could not bear to let me go.

Oh, I had this boy pegged perfectly - I had seen it from the first.  He so 
desperately wanted reassurance, love, just plain affection, that perhaps 
anyone would have satisfied his longing in some small way.  But Fate had 
crossed our paths, and it was me, a boylover, who was to meet his needs.
We were meant for each other, and whatever might come in the future, I 
resolved then and there that nothing would ever separate us completely, 
except by his own choice.

"Dear Wishus," I breathed into his ear, just loud enough for him to hear,
brushing my lips against the whorls of his ear, "your wish will always be 
my command.  Every five minutes it will be, while we're working to make 
your fort."

"Oh ... okay ... then, let's get started," he said, sliding out of my 
grasp to the ground.  "But how are we going to know when five minutes 
are up?" he wanted to know, his brow all wrinkled in consternation.

"Oh, we don't need a watch for that, Wishus," I said.  "We'll know when
it's time by the way we feel.  Right here." I placed my right hand on my
heart.

He looked up at me in total earnest, and said one of those precocious 
things that continually surprised me.  "Then the feeling will be prac-
tically unbearable, Teg, because my heart is already aching."  He hung
his head shyly and started scuffing the ground again.

I just closed my eyes briefly and sighed, "Dear, dear Wishus."  Then I 
looked down at him and reached out for his hand, and said, "Yes, Wishus,
we'll know when to kiss again when the feeling just gets too unbearable."

And that's the way it went, till near dusk.  For more than two hours we 
trekked back and forth three times between the cabin and Wishus' haven,
bringing blankets, supplies, and tools.  All the while one of the other
of us would signal to the other with a tug on the hand, or a glance of 
entreaty, and we would pause for a deep kiss to renew ourselves.

It kept us both in a constant cycle of arousal, followed by concentration 
on our task.  When we were finished, we were both exhausted, but we had
done a good job.

Standing before his aerie, above the city that he had taken possession of,
I took his hand in mine, faced him, and said, "Now Wishus, you have a 
home away from home, and this is where I want you to come if you ever feel
lonely or afraid.  You can draw strength from this place.  I feel it now,
too.  And you can draw upon what we've shared here."

"My home away from home?" he said, and shook his head in denial.  "No Teg, 
all those other places don't want me.  I'll go back and live with Auntie
and Uncle, but I think I'll call this my real home."

With that consecration, whether or not this had once been the home of a 
shaman, it was truly a sacred place.  Anyplace Wishus called home was a
sacred place.

He reached up and grabbed hold of my collar and pulled me down for one last
kiss.  We stood together intwined in our embrace while the sun went down 
behind us.  A ten year old boy and a 37 year old man, no longer alone, no 
longer lonely.



Three Weeks to Heaven, A Boylove Romance
Book One, Chapter 6

By the time we trekked back down the canyon trail to the valley floor,
Wishus was dragging.  We were both bushed, but I was used to it.

I almost laughed as we walked hand-in-hand, and I would look over and 
see his head starting to weave from side to side, like we all do when
our legs get stiff and we can hardly hold ourselves upright.  The poor
boy could hardly stay awake on his feet!

It was too dangerous to try carrying him on the sometimes precipitous
canyon trail, especially as the sun had already set.  The full moon 
had not yet risen, so I waited till we hit the level meadow grass, and 
stopped.

"Come here, little boy," I said as I turned to him.  I clapped my hands 
once very gently, and opened my arms to him.

He gave me a dazed but grateful look, his eyes rolling up.  A peaceful
satisfied little smile stretched his lips slightly, then he practically
fell into my embrace.  I just lifted him to our now familiar body wrap,
his arms draped over my shoulders, his feet locked behind my butt.  
There was no kissing now, though, beyond my occasional snuggle against 
his exposed neck.  But for the sacred beat, beat, beat of his heart 
against my breast, he was gone to the world.

The rest of the walk was one of those interludes in life where you just
wish time would come to an end.  What more could I ever want than to have
Wishus in my arms, to feel his hot breath on my shoulder, to care for him
like we were the only two people on the face of the Earth?

Back at the cabin, I wasn't about to arouse him for supper, so after 
carefully propping him into the rocker, I climbed up into his loft, 
brought his blankets, down comforter, and his nightgown down to the 
lower level, and spread our beds before the fireplace.

I set the fire, to give us a warm, comfortable evening, undressed, and 
then decided to forego putting on my long-johns.  I wanted to feel him
against my bare skin this night.

I was stark naked now, but amazingly enough, not even hard.  My dick hung
limply, perfectly content now just to be with my boy.

Lovingly, tenderly, I undressed Wishus, from his shoes all the way to 
his tunic, marvelling at his languid beauty, all boy, all slim, soft, 
and tiny.  He never woke, until the very moment I slipped his gown over 
his head.

With his eyes half-hooded, struggling to come awake, he said drowsily, 
"Oh, I guess ... I had better go ... upstairs now, huh?"

"Not on your life, my Love," I said quietly, holding him upright in the 
chair, with my hands on his shoulders.  "You're sleeping by my side 
tonight.  All night."  

He opened his eyes all the way, momentarily, as my words registered 
through the haze of his sleep.

"Thanks, Teg," was all he said, feelingly, as he raised his tired arms 
to me.  I just let him lean forward onto me, then rocked back on my heels 
onto our blankets.  He had already closed his eyes again, and was breathing
in a steady rhythm as I nestled his outstretched form against mine, and
cradled his head in the cushiony cleft between my arm and my breast.

I snuggled and sniffed in his hair, and carried his magical boy-scent into
my own dreams.


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


"Teg ...," I heard him whisper, and felt his lips touch mine.

"Teg ... Teg, wake ... wake up, Teg." He muttered quietly, interspersing
his words with nibbles and kisses on my nose and lips.  I felt his left
hand on my stomach, and his right on my shoulder, as he hovered over me.  
His hair tickled across my cheeks and neck.

"What is it, honey?" I finally responded, reaching up to caress his back, 
and to hold his loose dangling hair back out of his eyes.

It couldn't have been more than an hour since we had slept, because there 
were still low flames floating across the bed of coals.  Wishus' form
was back-lit, the very vision of an angel hovering over me.  A loose 
strand of hair played across my cheek and I gasped, breathing deeply of
Wishus' sweet boy-scent, and elixir of his natural musky body odor, the 
slightly salty-stale aroma of dried boy-sweat, and some undefinable 
perfume that was ... just Wishus - a fresh, pure, warm, full-of-life 
scent that had my dick engorged in seconds.

He too was aroused, because I could feel the slide of his little cock, hard
against my thigh.

"Teg.  I feel ... kind of funny," he kind of whimpered, in a tight, tense 
little voice.

"How do you feel, Wishus?  Oh, I know.  You're probably hungry," I said, 
and I started to lift myself up, thinking to get him something to eat.  
"We haven't eaten since ...."

"No, Teg!" he pushed back on my shoulder, forcing me flat again.  Then he 
moved his hand from my stomach and placed his three middle fingers lightly
across my lips.  "It's not that, Teg.  I ... don't ...."

"Then what is it, sweetie," I murmured, now a little concerned.

He put his hand back on my stomach, and absently kneaded me there, pulling
and tugging at my skin.  "I don't ... I don't know, Teg.  I woke up with a 
stiffie, and my peepee ... my penis feels like it's ... like it's going to 
break open, or something.  It's never been this hard, Teg.  It feels like 
it's going to pop out of that little hole at the end, it's stretched so 
tight, and ...."

"Shhhh, Wishus," I started to interrupt, but he continued his feverish
recitation.

"And I ... my ... my, you know, that soft little skin below my peepee, 
where I can feel two little  ... like little ...."

"Your testicles, Wishus.  Your balls?"

"Yes, Teg, my tes ... my balls hurt, they kind of ache, but it's a weird
kind of hurt, it kind of feels good and bad at the same time ... oh, I
can't explain it, but I've never felt this way before, Teg.  I woke up and 
started looking at you, and I remembered us kissing, and then this ...
pain started ... and Teg?" he suddenly giggled, in an instant going from
a kind of panicky hysteria to a silly, breathless chuckle.

"What, honey?" I asked, not knowing how to react.  Did he want comfort, or
sympathy, or should I laugh along with him.  I felt his knee slide along 
the shaft of my cock.

"Your pee ... penis is hard again, Teg.  Do ... do your balls ache too?"  
His eyes were just inches from mine as he held himself over me, quizzing
me, wanting to understand what he was feeling.  I saw something else in
his eyes - there was an unspoken desire, a need, something akin to lust.
My Wishus had awakened in more ways than one!

"Yes Wishus.  My balls have been aching like that ever since I met you,
yesterday.  It's our love for each other, Wishus.  That's what makes us 
hard, and that's what makes our testicles feel so ... tight, so tense, 
like they are full, to the point of exploding."

"Yes, Teg!  That's the feeling!  But why?" he demanded, scrunching even 
closer to me.  I revelled in his closeness, in his hot breath on my face.
I breathed deep of the air that had been in his lungs.  The soft matt of 
his nightgown caressed my skin and passed his body heat through to me.  
I rubbed his back lovingly, and wondered what to say.

Actually I was surprised that Wishus could feel that ache in his balls.
I thought his orgasm this afternoon, up at his hidden city, had been 
dry.  He had said nothing about a wet cum.  Maybe his balls were just
beginning to mature, and there was a latent need there to spill his 
seed.  I hoped to find out.

"Wishus, we get that feeling ... when two people ... two lovers make 
love, something does come exploding out of their balls - it's called
semen, or cum - and it shoots out through the little hole in the head
of your penis.  When it goes into ... into the ...." I caught myself, 
before saying what I desperately wanted to tell him.

"Goes into where, Teg?" he shook me and pleaded, wanting an answer now.
He was beginning to slowly rub his little dick against my thigh, then he
straddled me completely holding his body off me, looking deep into my
eyes, pressing his crotch into my belly.  I don't even think he was aware
of what he was doing.

I couldn't tell him everything, because I was afraid to.  I knew about the 
ultimate union of man and boy only through the classics, which provided
me nothing more than the ideal.  They didn't tell me how to keep from 
hurting my boy, how to bring him pleasure, taking me into his body, how
to make him feel the glory of our union even through waves of pain.  I
could not risk ever hurting Wishus!

"There ... there are many ways to make love, Wishus," I began, deciding
to avoid a direct answer.  "I can show you some of them, if ... if 
you ... want."

"You mean something different? Not like we did today when we were 
kissing?  I ... I think ... I need to do that again, Teg."  He tilted 
his head a bit, and with his puppy dog eyes, pleaded with me.  "Please
Teg.  My peepee ... I feel ... like ... mmmnnnnh ...," he lowered his
crotch onto my belly again and started a rhythmic, circular, rubbing
motion - wanting to experience again the kind of climax we had shared
earlier in the afternoon.

I moved my hands to his hips, and tried to slow his gyrations.  "Hold on,
honey, I want to show you another way that lovers can have an orga ...."

"I can't ... wait ...," he whined, struggling to move his hips again.

"I'll hurry, dearest.  Now, trust me.  Come on, lay back down on your
blankets, and let me touch you ... in just the right way, and I promise
you'll cum even stronger than before."

No doubt he saw the passion and the lust building in me.  My expression
must have given me away.  You don't contemplate your first intimate 
touch of a young boy's penis without the anticipation showing in your
eyes, the set of your mouth, your tense breathing.  Whatever the clue
was, Wishus believed me, and his own features transformed from pleading 
to a bemused and excited anticipation.  He licked his lips as he pushed 
back from me, sliding his hands across my chest sensuosly.  He lay flat 
on his back beside me, languidly stretching his little body beside mine 
as I rolled to my side, as if drawn to him like a magnet.  

In the fiery, flickering orange-red glare, his smooth skin seemed to 
exude his heated passion.  My eyes were drawn to the holy shrine of his
lower torso, where his slim legs joined.  His nightgown was drawn up, 
just covering his little belly button.  The smooth curve of his lower
abdomen rose and fell, as if with his breathing, but I knew it was 
because of his building passion, his expectation.  His hips were so
narrow, with just a slight broadening, where his buttocks rested on the
blankets.  The sloped valley leading to his pubis led my eyes on to his
little prick, jutting out, the foreskin so tight and smooth, its frenar
band stretched to the limit by the knob of his glans.

"You'll touch me, Teg?" he said, so innocently, holding his little
forearms up off the the blanket, his hands clenching unconsciously.  His
legs wobbled back and forth, to some inner beat - he was the very picture
of an open, expectant, invitation to me - a nervous but willing object,
to be led by me, to be taught by me.

"Oh yes, darling boy, I'm going to touch you," I returned, my voice 
gravelly with my building lust.  I was going to show Wishus how to 
masturbate, and that meant that I would finally get to handle his 
upthrust penis, to examine it, to fondle it, to caress and love it.  
I wanted to make my boy wild with abandon as I brought him to climax.

I started by straddling him, my dangling balls dropping right down onto
his little cocklet.  I could feel the tip of his shaft digging into the
base of my own dick.  

In the firelight, we could both see clearly.  If anything, the fluttering 
flames added to our expectation, with each tongue of fire reaching up, 
casting larger than life shadows on the walls, ever moving.  The 
occasional staccato crack, when an ember exploded to life, pronounced 
my task ... go on, go on, show your boy what it feels like to be handled 
by his man.  At that moment, with Wishus' pale form underneath me, only 
half-clad in his nightgown, with him looking pleadingly up into my eyes, 
then glancing wide-eyed along my body to my huge, swaying tool, I wanted 
to go all the way, to plunge my cock home into his anus.  He didn't know 
it, but that's what he truly wanted and needed!  That's what I desired 
above all else, to complete our Oneness.

Someday, someday, we would fuck!  Someday we would both be ready, but
just now I knew I couldn't do it.  I would not risk his pain or injury
through my own ignorance.  I did not know how to make love to a boy like
that.  I steeled myself, and won my silent battle, and resolved to take
Wishus to heights of love and lust that would make us both satisfied, and
that would indeed seal our union.

"Do it, Teg!" Wishus rasped, in a voice laden with desire.  "Touch me, 
Teg!  Make me feel that way again, like before.  Please ... Teg ... 
I'll ...."

"Shhhh, honey," I calmed him, lowering my lips to his.  He moaned through 
our suctioning mouths, and started arching his body up, struggling to rub 
his little stiffie into my dangling ballsac.

I relented and broke our kiss.  Then I blindly reached between us and felt 
for his dick, cupped his shaft and his balls with my hand and pressed 
lightly, while moving my whole body down until I could gaze at his boyhood.

I removed my hand, and he popped free, all two-and-a-half inches of him,
straining his foreskin to bursting.  I knew he would be supersensitive, so
I started ever so lightly, not even getting close to his glans.  Using my
thumb and middle finger, I took hold of his shaft along its engorged sides 
and squeezed just enough to feel that he was indeed rock-hard.

Then I ever so slowly revolved my fingers around his shaft, till the soft 
pad of my thumb was on the bulge of his urethral canal, and my middle 
finger rested on the elastic, loose skin on the upper surface of his
dick.  With infinite patience, I slid my fingers up his shaft, making 
sure that both thumb and finger made contact with the corona of his glans
at the same instant.  Wishus was already breathing in quick, shallow
gasps, but when I slid his foreskin across his glans he stopped breathing 
altogether, closed his eyes, and shuddered, arching his body up again.

"Oh ... Teg!  That ... FEELS ... SOOO ... GOOD!" he almost screamed.

"Just you wait, dearest," I said, as I carefuly added my forefinger, 
resting it on the top of his shaft.  "Now I'm going to pump up and 
down with my hand.  I love you, Wishus, and I want you to feel every 
stroke."

"It ... it ... feels so ... good, Teg," he repeated, weaker this time,
not being able to take a deep breath.  I didn't relent, starting slowly, 
using his foreskin to ease the passage of each of my fingers across the
sensitive surface of his glans.  Then I slowly reversed the motion, 
pulling his prepuce tightly against his engorged dickhead.  With each 
downward stroke, Wishus' little slit at the tip of his purplish head 
popped free.  I forced it open with each stroke, but never risking his 
injury.  I would not force his prepuce completely over his glans.  Maybe 
he just wasn't mature enough for that.

Each time the tip of his dick popped free, like an eye winking at me, and 
with each passage of my fingers over his glans, Wishus gasped.  Soon he 
had my rhythm and was unconsciously lifting his butt off the blankets with 
each of my downstrokes, trying to increase the excruciating pressure on
his glans.

Pumping just a little faster, increasing the pace with infinite patience,
I was like an obsessed maniac.  I had eyes only for my boy's penis.  The 
more I stroked the deeper red his glans became, to the point that I 
imagined it was going to burst.

Wishus was crying out now, with each stroke, moaning, and lashing out 
blindly with his arms.  He was no longer in control of his being.  My
love-inflicted torture of his little cocklet was driving him to convul-
sions.  Jerky, spastic motions - one leg would rise to hammer my buttocks, 
then he would twist one hip up, then the other.  I feared for my own balls,
straddling him as I was.  But it was a risk I was eager to take, as I 
revelled in his pleasure.

I knew his climax was approaching when he suddenly threw his head back and 
arched his neck, and he started blindly groping for something, flailing,
reaching out with his hands.

"Teg!" he screamed.  I began to beat his tool faster, up and down like a
steam piston.  His little dick was so frail and tiny, engulfed in my 
fingers, yet filled with incredible strength.  I hammered away at it
mercilously, seemingly on the verge of tearing the fabric of his foreskin
as his dickhead strained desperately to come free.

"Yes, honey!" I called to him, almost yelling, knowing that the blood 
would be pounding in his ears.

"It's ... happening ... again, Teg!  Just ... like ... you ... said it ...
would ... eeeaahhh!!"  His voice rose ever higher, until he screamed out
incoherently.

At that instant I knew he came, and I was overjoyed.  I felt the kind of 
convulsive, pre-orgasmic, spurting sensation along the urethra of my own 
shaft, I guess in sympathy with what I knew he was feeling.  Thankfully
I didn't come all the way.  This moment was just for Wishus!

As he thrashed about in the throes of his dry orgasm, I felt a stabbing 
pain in my wrist, and suddenly realized that he must have fastened his
cum-induced vice-grip on the arm that I had resting on the blanket, for I
felt the tips of his little fingers digging into the underside of my wrist.
I endured the pain gladly, knowing that Wishus was using me as the one 
stable anchor as he lost control of his whold body.

His butt bucked up off the blankets once, twice, three times, smashing his
thighs up into my dangling balls.  I took this agony with my own cries into 
the night, joining my animal abandon to his.

His orgasm was dry.  I hadn't expected him to be able to spurt yet, but 
there was no doubt about his ability to feel the excruciating pain-pleasure 
of a climax.

I was marvelling at the way his hair had spread like a halo on the blankets
above his head, when Wishus opened his eyes and found mine staring at him 
greedily.

"My God ... Teg ... I've never ... felt so ... oh, I'm sorry, Teg!" he 
exclaimed when he finally realized that his fingers were drilling holes 
into my wrist.  He released his hand immediately, and started gently 
rubbing up and down my wrist.  He looked at me so sweetly, concern wrink-
ling his brow.

"Don't you worry about that, baby.  I'll wear those scars proudly!" I 
laughed.

"Teg!  Oh yes, hold me like that ... don't let me move ... anymore ...
until I catch ... my breath ..."  I had stopped stroking his dick and had 
again cupped my hand over his genitals, applying just a slight pressure, 
just enough to keep up the pleasure of contact, but not so much that his 
raw tool would start to hurt.

We stayed like that for several minutes, me straddling him, cupping his 
boyhood, he slowly coming back to Earth, breathing more easily.

Finally I released him completely, bent down and kissed the underside of
his now flaccid shaft, then I lay down beside him, gathering him into my
embrace.

He rolled onto his side, his head just below mine and idly played with my
chest hair.

"Teg, that was even better than before," he said, then kissed me on the 
side of my breast.  Your hand on my peepee ... on my ... dick ... almost
drove me crazy.

"That's what I intended, dearest.  I told you there was more than one way
to make ...."

"I want to do you!  I want you to feel the same way, Teg!" he said 
suddenly, rising up on his elbow and looking at me earnestly.  I could 
see he was determined, and once again his thoughtfulness amazed me.

"I love you, Teg, and I want you to feel the same way I did."

"I love you, too, Wishus, and you can do anything you want with me.  But 
you don't have to.  My greatest pleasure is just being with you, honey, 
and taking care of your needs."

"I know," he said, "and that's why I do love you, Teg.  First though, I 
want to be naked like you," he said eagerly, and hopped up on to his feet.  
He lifted his gown off in an instant and stood above me with a lecherous 
grin.

"I'm going to crouch over you, like you did to me, Teg!" he grinned.  
"Your peepee was pointing right at me!  It looked so ... powerful!  It 
still does!" he said, looking down at my prostrate form.  My 7 inches 
were still rock hard and pulsed slightly every heartbeat.  It stood up 
at an angle off my belly.  I flexed it, and it jumped, making Wishus 
giggle.

"Wow!  I don't think I can get my hand around it, Teg!"

"That won't matter, Wishus.  Just a touch from you is liable to send me
off shooting."

"Shooting what?" he asked.

"Uh ... well, remember what I was telling you about ... well, when guys 
get older, like me, they spurt out some ... white stuff ... a kind of 
white liquidy, thick stuff ... when they come.  I'll do that if you 
jack me off ... if you pump up and down on my dick long enough.  You'll 
do it too, when you get a little older."

I had him intrigued now, and a little more excited.  Not that I planned 
to make a lesson out of this, but at least now he would be prepared.  He
kneeled down, very eager and interested, his eyes all wide, and said, 
"Well, what do you call this white stuff, Teg?"

"I call it ... uh, cum."

"When you cum, you spurt out cum?" he cocked his head quizically and 
giggled.  He was so cute, standing on his knees, holding his hands together
like a little choir boy.  But a very naked and lewd little choir boy, his
tummy arched out and his little dick hanging floppily, half-hard, jiggling
with his every movement.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of it, but tried to 
pay attention to his comments.

"Uh ... yes, that's right, I guess.  When you cum, you cum!  Uh, Wishus,
it can get sort of messy." I raised my brows questioningly.  "I hope you 
won't mind."

"Mind!  I want to see this ... white stuff!  What's it for, Teg?  Why do we
spurt out cum from our dicks?"

"Well, it's what's needed to make babies.  When a man puts his penis in a 
woman's vagina, and cums, it's what makes babies - like with your Aunt."

"What's a vagina, Teg?"

"Uh ... women and girls don't have dicks, Wishus.  They have vaginas, or
pussies.  They have a place between their legs, a hole, instead of a penis.
When a man and a woman make love, the man puts his hard penis into the
woman's hole, into her vagina, and spurts his cum there."

"But we can't make babies like that, huh, Teg," he said matter-of-factly,
shaking his head 'no.'

"That's right, Wishus.  But in my mind, our way is better.  More beauti-
ful."

"Why, Teg?"

"Well, because when a man or a boy loves someone, he gets hard.  The person
he loves can see him get hard.  Women can't do that.  Nature didn't give
them that special way to show when they love someone.  I think that when
two guys, like us, get hard for each other, that's Nature's highest form of
love."

"Yeah, just like us, huh, Teg!" he said, scooching close to me and sticking
his penis out even further.  "Look at me, Teg, I'm getting hard again!  
Because of what you said.  And because of the way you treat me.  And now 
I want you to look at my peepee swinging over you while I put my hand on 
yours."

"I'm looking, Wishus!  I can't keep my eyes off your dick.  I want to do
you again.  Can I do you first?"

"No!" he laughed, and quickly put his hands on my chest and pushed me 
down.  "I'm going to ... do you first.  What do you call it, now?"

"Jacking off.  I jacked you off, and I guess if you won't let me do
you again, you're going to jack me off!"

Of course, being much smaller than I, when Wishus straddled me he didn't
quite hover over me as I had him.  My massive form had loomed over and 
dominated him, my much bigger, swaying cock serving as a symbol of my
power.  He had sensed it.  It's an age-old symbol, the might and magic
of the phallus!

Now his shorter legs, when split wide over me, straddling over my thighs,
forced him to rest his thighs on me.  His diminutive boy-cock, although
standing stiff and proud, revealing his love for me, rested in the groove
between my legs.  His bum and his balls were smashed against me.  I 
almost creamed just seeing his lithe form over me, feeling his soft flesh
against mine, his intent so clear as he scooted closer to my dick.  But
the aura of power and dominance that I had presented over him, was some-
how reversed.  If anyone had witnessed the scene, they would have known
that I had supplicated myself to this boy willingly, that I wanted him
to possess me and do with me as he willed.  He couldn't take me by the
naked power of his physical being, but I gave myself up willingly to this
boy, to this most perfect example of beauty and character.

That was the way it should be for every man and his boy, a reflection of
the man's role as protector and mentor.  The boy should be free to express
his love, to revel in new-found pleasures, to receive the man's worshipful
offering of his manhood to the alter of boyhood.

According to ancient and honored testimony, a man must fuck his boy, for
them to form their perfect union. I could not fuck Wishus, for fear of my
inexperience and clumsiness, but I could offer up my body for his pleasure.
Now the object of his desires was my own penis, and let me tell you, I 
intended to let him use me in any way he wanted.

Wishus' little dick pointed proudly at my own, his balls were almost
scarping against my balls as he straddled me.  His eyes had a fire in 
them and if you think a ten year old boy can't know lust, then you've
never seen such a boy with his little fingers reaching out to take 
control of his man's erection.  Wishus' eyes were riveted to my dick.  

I was on tenterhooks as his fingers approached my tool.  I looked from 
his hands to his feverish, enraptured face, and back, again and again,
drawing heat from his eyes - he seemed to be in the thrall of an 
insatiable lust.  I saw him gulp, and lick his lips.

And then he took me, wrapping his soft, warm, stubby little boy fingers
around my shaft, below the glans, one hand just grazing the corona beneath
the tender covering of my foreskin.  Gently, lovingly, his little digits
clampled around me - the heat grew even stronger, his grip pulling my 
foreskin down a bit, revealing more of my purplish dickhead.  He bent
closer, hungrily, devouring my manhood with his eyes, seemingly fascinated
by it.

"It ... it's huge, Teg," he muttered in awe.

"If it's ... huge, Wishus, it's ... because you're ... touching me," I 
managed to say, between short, tentative breaths.  His touch was 
electrifying!  And that it was he, my boy, who was the first to ever touch
me there so possessively!

With my every muscle tense, my natural rection was to jerk my body back.
Lying still under his grasp only made the pleasure of his touch more 
excruciating - I was giving myself to him!  I was, for the moment, truly,
totally in his grasp.

Every muscle in my body tightened, my clenched buttocks lifted my butt off
the blankets as I strained to endure his grasp.  The expectation of his 
caress, the desire for him to start jacking me, made me feel feint.

Suddenly he did something that almost made me shoot off immediately.  He 
slid his hand up onto my glans and formed a little circle with his extended
fingers, and ran his finger tips around the exposed part of my dickhead,
probing the slit at the tip, and then slipping tantalizingly beneath my 
foreskin!

Seemingly unaware of what he was putting me through, he observed, ""Your 
peepee sticks out more than mine."  He was so engrossed in manipulating
my prepuce and feeling the baby soft texture of my glans, that he didn't
notice my thrashing about, and that he was riding my bobbing thighs up
and down.

Speaking through clenched teeth, shivering uncontrollably every time one 
of his fingers slipped beneath my prepuce, I answered feebly, "Pull ...
down ... on the ... skin ... my dickhead will ... pop free ... all the way!

With the hand he still had on my shaft, he slowly pushed down, watching
with glee as my prepuce stretched ever wider over my bulging glans.

Then it popped free!  Wishus exclaimed, "Wow! Mine doesn't do that!"

"Yours ... will someday ... dearest," I panted.

He continued his feathery explorations of my now fully uncovered glans, 
and kneaded my scrunched-up foreskin, now lodged securely below my 
coronal ridge.

"Teg!" Wishus giggled.  You're peeing!" he shouted, and touched his 
index finger to the clear pre-cum that had welled up to the tip of my 
dick.

"No," I laughed.  "That's a ... little of the ... cum I was telling 
you ... about."  I took a deep breath and tried to regain control of 
myself.  It'll be white later on, but the first part is clear.  It's 
a natural ... lubricant, you know what that is?  It lets you rub up 
and down on me without hurting me."

"Well, you didn't hurt me, and I don't have this stuff, this cum," he 
mused.

"I tried to be gentle, dearest, and your foreskin helped - that little 
hood of slippery skin that covers the end of your dick. That makes it 
especially easy to jack off without touching your dickhead directly."

"Hmmm ...," was all he said at that, as he smeared my pre-cum on his 
fingers.  "I'm going to jack you off now, Teg.  Okay?"

"Anything you want, Wishus.  I'm all yours."

"Really?" he asked, in his high-pitched voice.

"For as long as you want."

"Then you'll be mine forever," he said with finality, pressing his lips
tight.  His concentration was still on my dick, though.  Now he stopped 
playing with my glans, and started pumping me slowly, in long, full 
strokes, using my bunched up foreskin to slide up and down my shaft.

With his free hand he plucked at my scrotum, exploring its folds, pulling
at my wiry pubic hair.  He grinned.

"What's so funny, Wishus?  You think my balls are funny looking?" I asked
playfully.

"No! " he protested.  "I just like playing with you like this.  And I 
thought of throwing your balls like a base ball!"

"You had better not!" I lifted my head up off the floor in shock at the
thought.  Then I had a better idea, and said suggestively, "but ... you
could touch them while you jack me off, if you want.  And roll them 
around.  Gently!"

"Okay!  Like this?" he said enthusiastically, his eyes wide and bright.

I was already close to cumming, but when Wishus started slipping my 
testicles through his deft little fingers, while continuing to pump me, 
I could feel my orgasm building.

"Uh ... Wishus ...." I said tensely, taking small, jerky breaths.  "I'm
going ... to cum.  Soon.  It will ... get a little ... messy ... but ...."

"I don't care, Teg!  I just want you to do it.  I want to see it!" he
said lasciviously, again licking his lips unconsciously.

He was a natural, going ever faster up and down, playing me like an
instrument, making me grunt rhythmically with the waves of indescribable 
pleasure, setting the pace of my heaving pelvis.  He was controlling the
uncontrollable.

Now his little grasping hand was travelling all the way from the base of 
my cock, where he rammed his fist into my pubis, to the very tip, where 
his tight grip make my foreskin stretch all the way over my glans.  He was
merciless - not that I was asking for mercy.  His other hand hefted my 
heavy balls, lifting, bouncing, and twisting them.

I had masturbated for many years, countless times, always with the image 
of a boy hovering in my mind.  I had fantasized nothing approaching this
joy, of having the boy I loved straddling my thighs, lost in the 
manipulation of my flesh for the pleasure of us both.

"Yes ... Wishus!  I ... love ... you ... Wishus ... you're making ....me 
cum, Wish ... us ....

The first spurt of my seed shot up through my urethra.  I felt it slip 
irresistibly beneath Wishus' thumb, and then it exploded out of my dick
with such force that it splattered on my chest.

Wishus yelled something.  I don't know what.  I was momentarily insensible
to anything but his hands and the electryfying sheets of pleasure they were
stroking through my loins.

I yelled too, I'm sure.  Something incomprehensible, an animal-like groan,
an amalgam of the love I felt, the physical pleasure, and the release of
twenty-five years of pent-up desire.  I was spilling my seed for a purpose,
finally.  For my boy.  For his pleasure as well as mine.

Spurt after spurt shot out of my shaft, now spilling over Wishus' pumping 
hand.  He was covered in it, and it slipped between his fingers and my 
shaft, making each stroke like the passage of silk up and down my cock.
His hand slipped all the way off my dick head, and he looked at up at me
gleefully, marvelling at that wondrous seminal elixer.

Then he slapped his hand back down on my cock, not pumping, but smearing my 
cum all over my dick and balls.

"Wishus!  That ... feels ... so good ...."

"Did you like it, Teg?   Did you really like it?" He glanced up at me 
briefly, then resumed his caress of my genitals.  He even reached up onto
my stomach and scooped up errant blobs of the cum and smeared it all over 
my dick.

"I was ... it was indescribable ... Wishus ...," I exclaimed, slowly 
coming down from my high.

"It smells like ... some kind of ... soap, Teg." Wishus observed.  He 
reached up to my hairy chest and smeared the cum all around, massaging my 
breast with his outstretched hands.  As he leaned over me, his dick came 
into contact with mine, and he started sliding against me again, his little
shaft getting coated in my cum too.

"You want it again, don't you, Wishus?" I said huskily, excited by his 
passion.

"Yes!  Please, Teg," he moaned, laying down on me and hugging me, still 
humping his dick into me.  "I just got harder and harder, Teg.  My peepee
feels even more ... tingly now than before!"

Ah, for the vigor of youth!  Even as my own dick began to soften a bit 
underneath Wishus' heated rubbing, I could tell that he was as randy as 
before.

I hugged him to me, then moved my hands down to cup his buttocks.  "Hold on,
Wishus, not like this," I said, trying to slow his humping by pressing him 
into my crotch.

"Oh please, Teg!" he whimpered.  "One more time."

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't dream of keeping you from cumming again, but I want 
to show you a different way.  Something I've always wanted to do."

"Oh?" he said, propping himself up so he could look into my eyes 
questioningly.  There was slimy, drying cum on his cheek and in his hair, 
where he had pressed his head against my chest.  "A better way?"

"Well, I don't know if it's better, but I think it will make you happy."

"You've never done it before?"

"No, you could only do this with someone else, someone you love."

"Then you can do it with me!  Will you like it, too?" he asked sweetly.

"Oh yes!  I'm going to enjoy it even more than you, Wishus.  Just because
it's you I'm with."

"He kissed my breast, then said, "let's do it!  Wh ... what do I do?"

"You just lie down, on your back.  That's it," I said soothingly, sensing
a bit of timidity behind his brave words.  I helped him slide off me and
sat up to lay his head down gently.  "You know what, I'm going to stoke up
the fire a bit, so we'll be nice and toasty."

"It's so nice down here ... with you, Teg," he said in a quieter, more
reflective tone.  "Not all ... dark, and ... lonely, like it is up in the
loft.  I really hated that place when I first got here, but I guess I'm
getting used to it.  I just wish ...."

I had finished putting a couple of logs on the fire, and was stirring up
the coals.  They were already snipping at the fresh fuel, and tendrils 
of flame were licking up their sides, lighting our little den even more 
brightly.

I knelt beside him, wondering why he didn't continue.  "You wish ... what,
honey," I said, as I began to caress his closest thigh.  The glint in his
eyes told me that he was bothered by something - there was a tear or two 
hidden there.

"What is it, Wishus," I whispered, and I reached up to brush his forehead 
the way he liked, tracing his hairline, straightening a wisp of hair.  
He was still hard, his little finger-sized penis lifting up from his 
pubis, and straining at the imprisoning band of his prepuce.  I began a
circular caress of his pubis and his creamy thighs, while still smoothing
his brow.  He was bothered by something, but he couldn't resist my minis-
trations - ever so slightly he began to flex the muscles of his thighs
and tummy, trying to make my teasing hand brush against his dick.

I touched his lips ligtly with one finger.  "Tell me, dearest.  I'll do
whatever I can to make it better."

"It's just that ..." he paused again, his voice constricted and hoarse. 
He closed his eyes and sighed, then moaned as my circling hand caressed 
his soft ball pouch, just grazing across his two little marble-sized
testicles.  He arched his butt off the floor as I encircled the base 
of his cock, and then he grabbed my hand and guided it forcefully to 
his root.

"Hold me ... there, Teg.  Don't ever let me go!  I get so lonely up in 
the loft at night.  And when you leave ...," he sobbed and his body 
convulsed and trembled.

Just as he had told me to, I kept one hand on his little dick, holding 
his stalk and letting my index finger stray up to his sensitive, 
foreskin covered glans.  With my other, I passed over his smooth 
chest and shoulders lovingly, trying to calm him.  "When I leave, 
dearest Wishus, it will only be for three weeks.  You didn't think 
I could stay away from here, did you?"

"You might not be able to come back, Teg." he protested weakly, then 
groaned desperately, "Yes! Do that, Teg!"  I had started ever so lightly
stroking up and down on his dick, using just my thumb and middle finger
on his seemingly so delicate, yet steel-hard little cocklet, gliding my 
finger tips from his swollen glans all the way to the base of his shaft
and back, always varying the motion, knowing that this would help to calm
him, knowing that he would need the memory of my loving over the next two
weeks.

I was kneeling by his side, squatting back against my ankles.  My own dick 
was erect again, pointing up as if in salute to my boy.

"I'll be back, Wishus.  You see, you have become my pole star, Wishus.
From this day forward, my life revolves around you.  Whereever my path 
leads me, for whatever purpose - like the rescue of my friend's boy - 
I'll return to you."

"You will, Teg?" he pleaded.

"Yes, I will.  And if you feel lonely, while I'm away, what do you do?"

"Go to my city?  To the Shaman's room?"

"To your city.  To your hideaway.  And if it's nighttime, and you feel 
lonely or scared up in your loft, what do you do?"  By now I felt the
tenseness of fear fade away from him, to be replaced more and more by
his arousal.  Still heeding his command not to let go of his cock, I took
hold of it with my other hand, and then slid my free hand in between his
thighs and spread his legs apart.  While pumping him ever so lightly,
I flattened my other hand and with the broad surface of my palm and 
fingers I began a more sensual caress, sliding along the super-sensitive
skin of his inner thighs, just where they joined his torso, reaching down
below his scrotum to massage his perineum, even grazing his anus with my 
fingers.  I was so absorbed in trying to reassure him, that it didn't 
even register on my consciousness until later, that I had probed all the
way to the very center of my desires.  What kept me from inserting my 
fingers into his hole, I don't know.  Maybe the sub-conscious knowledge
that neither he nor I were ready for that.

Wishus was now writhing under my caresses, his hips rolling from side to 
side.  His quiet sobs had stopped as quickly as they had begun.  He had 
simply once again needed my loving reassurance.

Now through his renewed arousal, struggling to concentrate, he answered 
through clenched teeth.  "I ... I can't go to the ... city at night, 
but I ... I'll think of it, and I'll think of ... you, Teg.  And how you 
love me ... and how you promised ... to come ... back  ... and what you're
doing ... to me right now!" he screamed, as I suddenly released his dick
and swept the flat of my ever moving palm across his shaft, from its base
all the way to the tip, till I inserted my forefinger into his belly 
button.

"So you'll remember this, huh?" I tortured him again, making the same 
excruciating pass over his reddened dick.

"Yes!  Yes!  Teg!  Make ... me ... cum," he screamed again, grasping my 
other arm tightly and pushing it back towards his crotch.  "Jack me off, 
Teg!  Please!  Again, Teg!"

"No, Wishus!  But I will do this!"  And I lowered my head to his little 
dick and sucked it into me, encasing it in the warmth and wetness of my 
mouth.

"Ayhhhhh...." Wishus screamed again, his butt rebounding off the floor
again and again, ramming his dick into me.  I suctioned him hard, 
creating a tight wrap on his dick with my tongue and the walls of my 
mouth.  I held him like that for what seemed like an eternity, although 
it was probably only fifteen or twenty seconds - his butt arched off the
floor, his penis being pulled up from his pubis by my suctioning mouth.
It was like I had him suspended in mid-air by my mouth.  His body 
convulsed and writhed with each merciless swipe of my tongue across his
dickhead.  He yelled out unintelligibly until I finally relented and
released my lip lock.

He fell to the floor gasping.  "What did ... you do ... Teg!?"

"I ... kissed you in a very special way," I said very proudly, sitting 
back on my haunches.  That made my jutting dick stand up even more 
eloquently, proclaiming my love as only a man can.  And I was proud of
myself, that I had pulled Wishus through a difficult moment of doubt, that
I had proclaimed my loyalty and dedication to his well-being, that I had
built him a safe haven in these lonely mountains, and that I had tasted 
his sweet boy cock long and deeply!

"You ... put my peepee ... in your mouth!" he exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Yes, I did!  And I'll do it again, if you'll let me." I said eagerly,
hopefully.

"You don't have to ask, Teg!  Do it again!  It was ... great!" His high-
pitched voice of an angel was tense with his own desperate eagerness.
If all little boy angels were as lusty and beautiful as Wishus, then I
wanted to spend all my time in heaven!

I scooted my right hand under his thigh, raising him so that I could cup 
the globes of his bum, holding him steady.  I kneaded his flesh from 
below, and now consciously slid my thumb into his crack and played lightly
over his anus and pushed into the sensitive ridge of his perineum, running 
between his love hole and his scrotum.

With my left hand I lovingly took gentle control of his shaft again, 
holding it just below his glans.  Without further hesitation I lowered
my mouth to the taut slit peeking out through the opening of his prepuce,
and pressed with the tip of my tongue.

I wanted to taste whatever essence of Wishus was trapped just within the
opening of his urethra - it was a delicious, just slightly salty flavor.
Not unlike what it tastes like when you put your finger in your mouth, 
just cleaner, infinitely softer, and I guess my imagination told me -
infinitely sweeter.

While I had jacked him earlier, I saw clearly that his prepuce was not 
ready to retract fully over his glans, so I was not about to force it 
with the pressure of my tongue.  Instead I started laving his foreskin
enclosed glans, all around, tracing his corona with my tongue, probing
his slit.  In between licks I would make a circle with my lips and wrap 
his glans in them, and suck just slightly.

All the while I gently squeezed his shaft with my fingers, memorizing 
every tactile detail - the way his skin slid like silk over the two blood
engorged structures within his shaft, how I could depress his urethra 
along the underside of his shaft, how his stalk continued deep beneath 
his scrotum.  I pushed, pulled and rolled his balls so gently.

Finally I pulled off and just studied his darling little dick close-up,
a lustful smile of satisfaction on my face.  I was loving my boy in the 
way I had dreamed about so often through the years.  But how could I 
ever have imagined how dainty a morsel a ten-year-old boy's penis was?
My boy's dick was so white and virgin, the skin totally smooth and 
transparent.  I could see the little swollen veins underneath.  His 
pubis was puffed out a bit, tender and white, and formed a little 
depressed ring where his shaft disappeared into his body.

I lowered again and licked around that little ring, then flattened my 
tongue and softly laved across his soft, loose scrotum.  Then I again 
formed a soft ring with my lips and slowly, slowly suctioned his ballsac
into me.  Along came his tender balls.  I applied the slightest pressure,
and for the next few minutes occupied my entire attention pushing his 
tiny balls back and forth within the protective warmth of my mouth.

Wishus was groaning and moaning incoherently.  I felt his hands on my 
head, pushing down,and I resolved not to back off again until he released
his hold on me.

It was no stretch at all for me to keep suctioning on his balls, and at 
the same time to plop his two and half inches of boyhood into my mouth.
It bent to the pressure of my fingers and slipped deliciously across
the taut corner of my mouth, to join the rest of his treasures.

That's when I started concentrating on his shaft in earnest, now sucking 
and pumping my mouth up and down - first slow, then faster and faster.
I was brutalizing his balls with every downstroke.  My right hand joined
in the rhythm, as I rubbed the full length of the edge of my hand, between
my thumb and forefinger, across his sphincter up and down, pushing in just 
slightly.  Soon a mixture of my saliva and secreted juices from within 
his anus, lubricated my finger and I pressed harder and harder, all the 
way from his ballsac to beyond his love hole.

The odor of his nether juices was musty, slightly acidic.  Such an 
aphrodisiac that it was driving me insensible.  I breathed deeply again
and again, and felt almost drunk with the scent.  It was like a drug that
I could not get enough of, each inhalation making me want more.  Never in
my life have I felt like that, becoming totally enslaved to my boy.

Wishus crotch, his dick, hisballs, his anus, his buttocks, were my entire
universe at that moment.  Anyone or anything could have broken in on us and
I would not have stopped my loving of Wishus.  The taste of his boy-cock, 
the aroma of his anal elixer, his moans of building pleasure, drove me on.
He had had two excruciating orgasms already today, and this one promised
to be evern greater.

His rhythmic grunting grew louder and louder, I felt his whole torso begin
to tremble spastically - tremors flashing uncontrollably all the way from 
his chest down to his legs.

My mouth was sloppy with saliva, my hands dripping in our combined 
juices, but I kept pumping, rubbing, sucking, pumping, rubbing, sucking.

Suddenly his tremors didn't die, but slammed his cock into my mouth.  He 
screamed gutterally, unlike anyting I had ever heard from him - a deep
throated, yet high-pitched appeal to the gods.  On and on it went, then
it became staccato, as he was forced to breathe.  All the while his body 
was paralyzed into a stiffened, steel hard slab, rigid in my grasp.

I was happier that I had ever been in my life, knowing that I had caused 
this excruciating pleasure for my boy.

I stopped my sucking, sensing that any more might be totally unbearable 
for him.  I just waited, frozen in place, my mouth still holding his 
boyhood, my hand supporting his clenched buttocks.  I was no doubt as 
breathless as he was, as I waited.

Finally his body jerked, then relaxed, then jerked rigid again, and 
relaxed - he dropped his full weight onto my hand, totally drained of
energy.  His hands fell from my hair.  I lowered him to the blankets 
and let his now softening dick slip from between my lips.

He didn't move, but just stared into the darkness, breathing in short 
rasps.  After a moment he reached out blindly and grasped for me, pulling
me up towards his face.  I followed willingly, letting my soaked hand slide 
from beneath his thighs.

"You ... almost ... killed me, Teg.  I can't believe ... how ... 
wonderful it ... felt ...," he muttered, still unable to turn his head
towards me.

I brought my lips to his ear and whispered to him, "For you, my Love.
I did it for you.  That's the love I will give you for as long as you'll
let me."

He grasped for my right hand, which now rested on his chest, and entwined
his fingers in mine.

"Thanks ... Teg ... I ...."

He was so weak he couldn't even finish his thought, but just closed his
eyes.

I whispered to him, "You sleep now, Wishus, sleep now, baby.  I'll be
here by your side.  I'm going to dry you off, then I'll wrap us tight 
in our blanket, and I'll hold you all night long."

He didn't answer audibly, but he squeezed my hand and turned his face 
to me, his lips puckered weakly.

I touched my lips to his, then let him drift off to sleep ... my boy.



Three Weeks to Heaven, A Boylove Romance
Book One, Chapter 7

When I awoke it was already light outside.  Usually of a morning, I would
have to jump out of my blankets, scurry to the fireplace, coax a near-dead 
ember to life, and get a blaze going.

Not this morning.  I awoke to a crackling hot fire in the hearth, energy-
giving warmth spreading through the cabin, and a gloriously beautiful, 
naked little blonde boy sitting cross-legged by my side, gazing hungrily 
at my morning erection.

Hungrily was indeed the right word.  Wishus didn't even know I had opened
my eyes, although I was lying on my side facing him.  He was fixated on
my long cock, which extended out its full seven inches, levitating above 
the blankets.  I could feel it bounce with my every heartbeat.

It was so quiet - a few birds chirping outside, the fire crackling - a soft
sigh from the lips of my beloved.

He sat like an Indian, crosslegged, one elbow resting on each thigh, back 
lowered so that his head was no more than a foot from my hardon.  The 
golden rivulets of his uncombed hair hung down, framing and hiding most of
his face, but I could see more than just the reflection of the firelight
in his eyes.  His mouth was open, lips moving imperceptibly.  I knew 
instantly, without his saying it, that he intended to suck me.  He wanted 
to taste me, as I had tasted him.

"You can, you know," I said, nearly whispering it.

"What?"  He jerked his head towards me, startled but grinning quizically, 
his hair bouncing and dancing, revealing his smooth cheek, the lobe of 
his ear - and momentarily it parted to reveal his own two and a half 
inch penis, standing straight up between his crossed legs.  But it was 
just a brief look, because he seemed fascinated by my outthrust tool, 
and turned back to stare at it again.  

"I didn't know you were awake, Teg.  I ... want to ...."

"It's yours," I offered.  "You can do with me what you will, Wishus ...
although ...."

"Although what," he licked his lips, still eyeing my shaft.

"Although, I would really rather ... suck yours again."

"No ... it's my turn ...," he said, and reached out gingerly, putting 
his upturned hand under the shaft and hefting it, kind of bouncing it, 
weighing it.

When his soft fingers touched me, I felt the same electric surge in my
loins as last night, when he had masturbated me.

"It's heavy, Teg.  And big.  You ... think I can ... get it in my mouth?"
he wondered.

My swollen glans, peeking half-way out from my prepuce in purplish 
splendour, was the size of a plum.

"I think you can, honey, but ... don't do it if you're afraid of ..."

"Oh, I'm not afraid, Teg!  I just wonder ...."

Sensing that he was indeed wary of the idea of taking my dick into his 
mouth, I decided to make light of it, and try to put him off the subject.
I would have dearly loved to have my boy suck me, to see his head lowered
onto my tool, signifying my possession of him, just as I had shown him 
that I was his.  But it wasn't important enough to me at this moment to
want to risk any fear on his part.  Our love-making should always be free
and consensual.

"You know, Wishus, I think you can get me in your mouth, but you might 
end up with a mouthful of pee!  I'm about to burst."

"Oh no, Teg.  I know you better than that," he shook his head, still 
hefting my prick, leaning over it in fascination.  "It's the white 
stuff ... the cum, that I want," he said matter-of-factly.  I want 
your stuff inside me.  I want your ... baby ... inside me."

"Uh, Wishus, you know you can't have my ba ...."

"Teg!" he said disgustedly, glancing my way briefly again, sticking his 
tongue out at me, "I'm not stupid.  I know I cant have a baby!  But I 
want your ... whatever you called ...."

"My sperm?"

"Yes!  I want your sperm in me, like I was your ... wife.  Don't laugh, 
Teg!" he glared at me defiantly, reddening with embarrassment.

I wasn't going to laugh.  I was too stunned to laugh.  To think that he
would risk ridicule to tell me this, that he wanted my seed, like a 
husband and wife, made me want to cry with pride and joy.  It also made 
me remember my dilemna - there was only one way to properly fill Wishus 
with my sperm.  I must fuck him, in order to possess him completely.  
Fortunately, he did not know that.  To him, drinking my cum was the symbol
that he had chosen to mark our union.  It would have to be sufficient for
me too.

"I'm not laughing, Wishus, dearest Wishus.  I'm smiling because, once
again, you've made me gloriously happy.  I do love you, Wishus.  With
all my heart."

"I love you too, Teg, and now I'm going to prove it ...."

He started to lift my dick ever higher, forcing me to roll onto my back.
I lay there, forgetting to breathe, as he slowly lowered his wide open 
mouth to my dickhead.

I could feel the heat of his breath on the sensitive tip of my glans, 
and saw his little pinkish-red tongue slip out between his lips to taste 
me ....

And then we both heard what we dreaded to even think about.  The screech 
of far-off wagon wheels.  The Knights were returning, and were perhaps a 
half a mile away.

Wishus sat up and looked at me in shock, his lips starting to tremble, 
tears already welling up and beginning to stream down his cheeks.  His 
grasp on my penis slowly slipped away.

I sat up immediately and pulled him to me.  I started to speak, but 
couldn't at first.  I just rested my chin on the top of his head, holding
him close to my chest, feverishly rubbing my hands up and down his back.
Finally, I breathed deep, and said, "it's ... I know, Wishus.  It ...
hurts, doesn't it ... right now.  But ... but, I want you to remember what
I said last night.  We're together now, dearest, and we're going to remain
together.  I'm coming back, Wishus.  I ... I'm going to lease out my
ranch, and then I'll homestead a place near here, Wishus.  You just give 
me three weeks.  That's all.  Can you do that?  For little Joey?  He needs 
me too.  I'm going to go and find him.  Then I'm returning to you, lover.  
You believe me?"

He nodded 'yes', his silken hair gliding under the stubble on my chin.  I
again breathed deeply, burying my nose in his hair, and had to choke back
my own desire to sob.  Oh, what I was leaving!  My dearest, dearest boy!
The boy I had been waiting for all my life.  My reason for living!  The
reason I was born a boylover!  A BOYLOVER!  A lover of Wishus!

I breathed in his scent again, and breathed out heavily, trying to get a 
grip on myself.  Then I continued, "Now, we both have to be brave.  Let's
get your blankets back up to your loft.  I'll start breakfast, you'll show
them that you can do the chores.  And then ... I have to go, dearest.
For Joey.  Just for three weeks.

He pulled his head back, and looked up at me, tears still trickling down, 
dripping onto my now withered dick.  "Allright, Teg," he managed to squeak
out, his voice tearing at my heart.  "But you promised.  You remember!  You 
just promised.  Three weeks.  Three weeks!"  He repeated it desperately,
searching my face, peering deep into my eyes.

"Three weeks, Wishus," I reaffirmed, not knowing how I could make such a 
promise.  I had meant it to be 'around' three weeks.  But now it was 
sealed into a bargain between us.

Braver than I, he was, because he accepted my promise, wiped away his 
tears with swipes of both his hands, stoop up before me, and started 
gathering his gown and blankets.  A determined wooden mask fell over 
his face, and I knew he was struggling to be overcome his fears.

He stopped for a moment and looked down at me sternly.  "Okay, Teg, I 
can do it.  I can wait three weeks.  When I'm lonely I'll go to my fort,
in my city.  But you had better return to me!"  He made a fist and shook 
it at me, a weak, but brave little smile breaking through.

"Come on," he said with resigned finality, taking charge.  "They'll be
here in ten minutes, by the sound of it."

"Uh, Wishus," I said, assuming what I hoped was a look of supplication,
"can I just watch you for a minute, while you climb the ladder?  After 
all, it's my last time to see you ... ah, well, you know, without your
clothes on?"  I ended sheepishly.

That brought the smile back to his face.  He put one hand on his hip
and stood above me saucily, and shook his head in mock disgust.

"What!?" I protested.  I want to see your pe ... your peepee, and your
rear, and your legs and your tummy ... aw, come on."

He took a deep breath, looking proud of himself, the sweetest, self-
satisfied little smile gracing his closed lips.  Then he held his bed
clothes out at arms length, and literally put himself on display for me!  
He pranced towards the ladder, swaying his hips like a coquette, looking
over his shoulder.  Then he half-turned, looked down at his little two-
and-a-half inch dick in mock surprise - it was beginning to lift out
from its perch on his ballsac again.  I laughed at his hamming, and he
strutted on over to the ladder, jutting his butt out at me.

He was all boy!  And he knew it!  He was proud of himself, proud of how
he made me love him.  All 4'10" of him, slim, smooth, golden and sexy.  
All the way up the ladder he looked down at me, not saying a word, but 
his eyes flashed a message.  He wouldn't soon forget what we had shared 
together over the last two days!  I saw him glance at my own upright dick,
and he knew that I wouldn't forget either.

At the top of the ladder, he pulled himself through the loftway, and
straddled the opening, leering down at me as I stared up at all his 
glorious treasures - his balls, his hard cocklet, his open crack, his 
winking little anus.  Then he blew me a quick kiss and giggled, and
scurried away to get dressed.


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


I had met him only two days ago out in the meadow, masking my boy-induced 
awkwardness by fiddling with my horse's saddle straps.  Now, time to 
depart, I was doing it again.

Wishus stood glumly patting my bay's nose, holding the reins for me.  
I couldn't force a smile either.  Each strap I tied brought me closer 
to that awful moment when I would have to take the reins from my boy,
and say good-bye.

I dragged it out as long as I could, stealing painful, hurried and
desperate glances at Wishus, watching the play of sunlight on his 
hair, memorizing the sleek lines of his flesh, from his elbow to his 
wrist, the arch of his back, the prominence of his soft buttocks. 
There were countless ways I had found to admire the boy over the last 
two days, and I never tired of cataloguing more.  Right now, however,
I felt a self-pitying despeartion - how could a memory of Wishus ever 
suffice after I had held him in my arms?

The Knights didn't sense my preoccupation with their ward.  They were 
no more concerned with him now than before, even though he had completed
all the chores that his Uncle had normally done.  I hoped they would
acknowledge some part of his worth after I was gone.

Wishus was not insensible to my glances his way.  Our eyes met more than 
once, and each time I felt his hurt.  I shared his hurt.  We had given
each other assurances of our love and dedication, but those were little
comfort at the very moment of our parting.  Later?  Yes!  But not just 
now.

I jerked the last strap tight and looped it through the grommet.  It was
time.

All I could think about was how I would manage to touch him one last time.
Could I hold his hand, ever so briefly, when he handed me the reins?  
Could I brush his hair back from his cheeks without drawing notice? 
Could I non-challantly rest my hand on his shoulder, and give him a silent
squeeze that he would know how to interpret?

"Mr. Teglin," Ben Knight interrupted my despair.  "I'm sending the boy out
with you as far as the trailhead.  Allright Wishus?"

I almost collapsed!  All 6'2" of me - I almost folded at the knees and
dropped to the ground in relief.  The parting delayed!  And when it came
finally, we could be alone together, out of sight of the Knights!  We
could kiss and hold each other one last time!

I saw the same reaction in Wishus, too.  The color drained from his already
pale face.  He must have suddenly tightened his hold on the reins, because
the bay jerked back angrily.  Wishus briefly closed his eyes and lowered
his head.  All I could see was the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as 
if he were in the throes of an adrenalin rush.

When Wishus didn't answer, I said gently, forcing my voice to steady 
itself, "Would ... would that be okay, Wishus?  You could ride with me. 
I'll get your horse."

"The boy can do that ...," Ben Knight started to say, but Wishus came to
life and cut him off.

"Well, I could just walk back, if you'd give ma a ride out there. It's 
not far," he said coolly, casually, carefully moderating his own tone,
masking his own excitement.

"Sure ... son," I said just as non-challantly, and then pulled myself up 
in the saddle before anyone had time to object.

Wishus came up beside the bay as I reached down for him.  The Knights 
couldn't see his slight form behind the towering horse, so he winked up
at me, smiling meekly, with such a look of relief.  He too knew what this
reprieve meant for us.  More than just a delayed parting.  Now it could 
be the kind of leave-taking that lovers should have - one last chance to 
reaffirm our love and devotion.  One last change to speak of our future,
together.

I lifted all 80 pounds of my boy effortlessly, and caught him under his 
closest thigh with my other hand, and pulled his leg over the saddle 
horn, letting him settle back into me.  We were spooned together, and
I felt a rush of all kinds of wonderful sensations - the warmth of his
slight body against mine, the immediate engorgement of my dick, the 
lightness in my head as I breathed in his scent.  If the Knights had 
been at all attentive to Wishus, they could not have failed to notice
the sudden change in me - I was more alive now!  And they couldn't
even see what their nephew meant to me.

I bent forward into Wishus, nuzzling surreptitiously in his silken hair,
reaching for the reins.  I had to wrap one arm tightly around his waist,
to keep him from falling off.  He grabbed my arm, and I heard him moan 
ever so quietly.

"Hold on, Wishus.  My horse can get a little jittery at the start of a
ride," I said.  Good enough reason for me to continue to embrace him!

He let go of the saddle horn with his other hand, and hooked both of his
hands around my arm now.  We could hardly have fit together any closer 
even if we had consummated our union completely.  Well, I guess that
would be a little closer!  But now his hair was tickling my chin, the air 
I breathed was filtered through his lockes, and I felt the magical
elixer of his being flow through my lungs and into my bloodstream!

He snuggled back into my hardening dick, wriggling his little butt.  My
cock had rested dormant all morning, my despair draining t of energy, but
now with Wishus so close, I felt the surge of blood into my penis.  It
stood up inside my pants, snaking between Wishus and my belly.

"I see you haven't forgotten me," Wishus laughed under his breath as we 
turned away.

I nudged him, "Shhhh ... you little devil!  They'll hear!" I whispered.

We rode like that, without speaking again, across the valley floor, our
thoughts returning to the inevitable parting.  We had had a brief moment 
to forget it, but now it could not be put off.

By the time we had passed the copse of trees that hid the beaver pond, and
crossed the stream to the forest edge, we both knew our time was up.

I felt drops of rain on my arm that held my Love so tight.  I looked up,
but there were no clouds.  I looked down into my boy's face, and saw that
it was not rain, but tears that fell so softly.

He pointed to a break in the tree line, and sniffled, "There ... there it
is, Teg.  The trail."

I couldn't answer.  I could hardly breathe.  The lump in my throat was 
physically painful.

I stopped the horse, and then lifted Wishus bodily from the saddle and 
lowered him like a feather to the ground.  He walked idly into the trees 
and leaned with his back against the bole of a towering aspen, it's bark 
even whiter than his skin, but never so pure.  Its quaking green leaves
were a pale reflection of the living green I knew so well in my darling's
eyes.

I dismounted and dropped the reins, knowing that the bay wouldn't wander 
beyond the patch of grass at his feet.  I walked to where Wishus stood, 
his eyes glued to mine.  I doffed my hat and dropped it to the ground at 
our feet. 

He had stopped crying, so I gently wiped away the remaining tears below 
his eyes with my thumb, and brought it to my mouth.  "I drink deeply, 
from the soul of my beloved ...." I rhapsodized, failing miserably in
quoting from some half remembered sonnet, but succeeding in snatching 
another of my boy's brave little smiles.

We just stood there for a moment, my towering figure dwarfing his, but 
if there had been witnesses, there is no doubt which of us would have 
stolen the scene.

He was wearing his base ball outfit, of course.  Those were the clothes
he felt most comfortable in.  They could have done with a washing about
now, but I was glad he was wearing them.  Somehow it made the previous 
days' events come alive again.  I could look down the loose neck of his 
tunic and see the satiny flesh of his taut stomach, the little crease
of his armpit, the two tiny nipples that I still had not made love to.

"You're so beautiful, my Wishus," I managed to croak through my sadness,
knowing that I had to break the silence.

"Thanks, Teg.  I'm glad ... you ... like the way I look," he tried another
weak smile and tossed his hair back in that practiced way that I loved to
witness.  It left his neck bare, and I had to take a deep breath to remain 
standing, seeing once more how slender and delicate it was.

"I love the way you look, Wishus, but I love the way you think and act
even more.  I love everything about you, dearest."

He surprised me by reaching out and grasping the soft ridge of my now
flaccid penis, lying powerless inside my jeans.  The phallus is supposed
to be a symbol of strength and vigour, but mine was once more drained by
the sadness of my impending departure.

With a wan, cheeky little upturn of his lip, he taunted me,  "If you love  
me, then why are you soft, Teg?"

"I  ... guess ... I'm too sad, Wishus.  Three weeks without you ...."

"I know, I know," he frowned now, but continued idly caressing my tool 
through my jeans.  "I don't know how I can make it, Teg.  I'm going to 
be so lonely ...."  The tears began to trickle down his cheeks again.

"You just remember our time together, Wishus.  Temember what we did 
yesterday, and last night.  Remember your secret place, up in your 
city, remember ...."

"I'll remember what you did for me, Teg.  You're the only one who's 
ever stood by me. Just for me.  We are like One, aren't we, Teg?"

"Yes, Wishus, we'll always be One together ... uh, what are you doing,
honey?"

He had suddenly slipped down the bole of the tree onto his knees, and
reached out for the buckle of my jeans.

I'm not often at a loss to know how to handle a situation, but now I was.
Wishus obviously wanted suck me.  He intended to continue what he had
started earlier in the morning, to show me how much he loved me.  I knew
instinctively what he felt.  He felt that taking my manhood into his mouth, 
as I had done him, was his ultimate gift of love.  It gladdened me, that 
he loved me so much, and yet, my heart was so heavy with our parting, and 
with worry over his fate while we were apart, that I couldn't respond the 
way he had every right to expect.  He pulled my pants down, and there my 
dick dangled, soft and lifeless.

I felt no arousal at that moment, only the deepest sadness.  Why oh why 
did I have to leave this wonderful boy and travel hundreds of miles away 
from him?  I had the most beautiful boy in existence kneeling before me,
his trembling hands grasping my penis, and I could not get an erection!

He fondled me gently, tentatively, hefting my pliant tool in his hands, 
cupping my swaying balls.

"I'm ... I'm sorry ... Wishus," I choked out the words, having to take
in a deep breath.  It somehow seemed to ease the pain of the constriction
in my throat.  "I ... can't get it up.  I want to, dearest ... but ...."

"I know, I know, Teg," he said soothingly.  And what he said next 
absolutely floored me.  "You just told me, Teg, that you'll be back. We'll
be together again. So don't be sad.  I'll be waiting for you, Teg.  I'll
be thinking of you every minute.  You'll be back!  Now, you're going to 
give me this one thing before you go, Teg. You're going to do this for me.  
You're going to get hard for me!"

How could a ten year old boy know so clearly what was in my heart!?  He 
had plumbed the depths of my soul with the wisdom of one much older.  He
know that an appeal to my own love for him, to my desire to please him, 
would make me respond.

I felt feint again, as blood flooded into my penis, lifting it towards 
Wishus.  I had to put my palms out and lean into the trunk of the tree,
causing my dick to lodge directly against his lips.

He didn't even hesitate, but simply opened his mouth and let my bulbous 
glans stretch his elastic lips.  I felt his jaw drop, as he struggled to
open his little mouth enough to let me in.  I felt the wet heat of his 
tongue as the underside of my dick slid across it.  The moist inner walls
of his cheeks formed a tunnel for me. I even felt the smooth, hard, ribbed 
surface of the arched roof of his mouth molding my glans to its shape.

He took me in deeper and deeper, slowly, slowly, gradually accustoming 
himself to my choking presence.  I could feel him straining to accomodate
me, the soft mucous tissue of his mouth enveloping me tightly.  The 
slippery ridges of his teeth set off almost unbearably sharp sensations 
on my dick.  Instinctively I wanted to pull out, while every iota of 
conscious desire made me push in deeper.

There was no stopping this boy, either!  As my shaft diasappeared inch 
by inch into his face, I felt his hands leave my dick and move around 
to grasp me boldly on my butt cheeks.  He took brutal handfulls of my 
flesh in his clenching hands and pulled me into him hungrily.

I heard him moan, and knew he had gotten over any discomfort or pain from
being filled, when I felt his tongue start exploring the underside of my 
cock.

Impaled fully on my hard prick, he had no further need to pull me into 
him bodily, so he released my ass and I felt his soft fingers slide 
dowm my thighs, caressing me.  Then I felt his little elfen fingers
wrap around my shaft.  I still had four unswallowed inches for him to 
hold onto, with my glans flattened against the back of his throat.

He remembered how he  had played with me the night before, because I felt 
his other hand on my balls again, cupping them, fondling them, rolling them
around.

And he remembered how I had loved him with my suctioning mouth, because 
he soon started a tentative in and out motion with his head, bobbing 
gently on the spearhead of my dick.  The slurrupping sound as my shaft
slid in and out across his soft, encircling lips, thrilled me.

I still leaned with my arms outstretched against the tree, but now I 
looked down and watched as my shaft slid in and out of Wishus' mouth.  
The sight of his slim form, kneeling submissively before me, taking me 
into his body, made me feel that I possessed my boy, just as he had taken
control of me the day before.  That sense, even more than the slow fucking
into his mouth, made me build to a climax.

I guess neither of us was experienced in the arts of man-boy love, but 
our ardour made up for our lack of skills, heightening our orgasms beyond
what would be possible for mere sex.  We were love-making!

Involuntarily, I began rocking my hips in sync with Wishus' in and out
rhythm, pushing my glans harder into the back of his mouth, withdrawing 
it further, until on each outstroke his lips were locked just behind the 
ridge of my corona.

Whether consciously or by accident, his hand had pulled my foreskin 
completely back along my shaft, and my sensitive, naked glans received the 
excruciating direct caress of his tongue and mouth.

I was trembling uncontrollably by this time.  I felt my argasm approaching, 
my arms bending spastically, my head jerking back.  My knees were so weak 
that I swear Wishus was holding me upright by my dick!

I never even considered pulling out, to spill my seed uselessly on the 
ground.  Wishus wanted to do this, he wanted to be mine completely, and
I knew without doubt that he would drink my sperm into his belly gladly.

But I did want him to know when it would happen, so he would be prepared,
so he could enjoy my load, not just take it.

"Wishus ... your making me ... I'm going to cum ... Wishus!  I'm going 
to ... cum, Wishus!  Are you  ... ready ... sweet boy?!"

His only answer was to increase his sucking pace, faster and harder.  I 
heard little whimpering sounds from him, almost drowned out by the 
smacking and squshing sounds as he literally man-handled  me with his 
mouth.  Hot driblets of his saliva washed down my thighs, and coated his
hands and my balls.

"I'm ... it's here ... lover!" I yelled as I felt the first powerful
upsurge of sperm, and the explosion of every raw nerve end in my glans.

Wishus gagged!  I heard what must have been a painful attempt for him 
to gulp - an empty, panic-striken gulp for air, with his whole mouth 
filling with my cum.  I could feel him tense, trying to resist the urge,
but he couldn't help it - he bit down on the shaft of my dick - a reflex 
reaction, I knew, because he immediately sensed my shock and eased up.
I panicked too, and tried to pull out, but Wishus was lightening fast.  
He wasn't about to give in to the shock of tasting my cum for the first
time.  He wanted more!  He squeezed my dick tightly with one hand, not
allowing me to withdraw, and his other hand shot back around to my buns
and grabbed a handful of my ass, holding on for dear life!

The boy conquered his panic almost instantly, and I felt him swallowing my
cum just as fast as it spurted out - three, four, five huge dollops.  I
could see my semen was leaking out of his mouth, mixing with the saliva
that had already plastered strands of his beautiful hair to his cheeks.

I took control then, finally able to stand upright without the support of
the tree.  I stood tall and lowered my hands to his head and held him
there proudly.  My huge dick was buried in my little boy's mouth.  He
was willingly submitting to my mastery over him, drinking my life-giving
seed hungrily, savoring it, moaning over it.  He wouldn't let me go.

He had possessmed me for the last two days - and for eternity - and now 
here was proof that I too possessed him.  We were as One as we could be,
two souls merged, and not to be separated.  I was going to leave him
in the flesh, but we would have this to remind us that we would be 
together in spirit.

Finally, I could cum no more.  But unlike the countless times that I had 
masturbated,  wasting my cum, draining myself, now I felt more alive than 
ever.  Wishus had uplifted me.

Gently I caressed his head, then bent slightly and molded my hands to the
sides of his head and tugged lightly, "I love you, Wishus.  I want to kiss
you, darling boy.  I want to thank you, Wishus."

He was reluctant to let go of me.  I felt his tongue licking all over my
glans, and he continued to swallow and suck, cleaning me of every remaining
drop of cum.  Finally he let me plop free of his mouth, and with one last 
slurrup of my dick head, he rose to his feet, beaming up at me proudly,
licking his rosy red lips.  His eys glistened and twinkled in the bright
speckles of sunlight filtering through the branches above.

"I loved it, Teg!" he piped excitedly.  "I did it!"

"Yes, you did it, sweetie," I beamed back at him, both of us for the moment 
choosing to ignore the inevitable parting to come.

I started to wipe the dribbles of my cum from the corners of his mouth, 
but he grabbed my hand and forced my cum-coated thumb into his mouth.  
"I want it all," he said with a wicked grin.  So I ministered to him 
gently, lovingly, cleaning his chin and cheeks, brushing his hair free of
the slime.  The I dried his face with the tail of my shirt.

I dragged out my caresses slowly, wanting to prolong this moment.

"That was so wonderful, Wishus.  I didn't think you could take me in so 
deep!  I love it."

"You really filled me up, Teg," he smirked, and reached down for my now-
limp dick.  He gently squished it.  "I loved the taste, Teg!  Did you like
mine, last night?"

"Um hmm. You want me to suck you again, right now, to prove it?"

"No, Teg," he shook his head.  "I want this to be our last memory."

Well, that brought back the lump to my throat, and I watched silently as 
he bent down to retrieve my pants, crumpled about my feet.  He tugged then 
up and gently packed my cock and balls in, then buttoned me up.

"There, Teg," he patted my crotch and smiled at me in self-satisfaction,
feeling that he had just completed a job well done.  "I guess ... I guess
you're ready now."  Well, that made it a little harder for him to keep 
smiling, but he tried so bravely, with his lips starting to quiver, and
his eyes moistening.

I drew him to me and just hugged him, holding him tight against me.
With his face turned sideways against my stomach, I felt him nuzzle 
into me as he spoke softly, "I did good, huh, Teg?  I did it right?
I sucked you good?  I wanted to show you how much I love you.  I ...."

"Shhhh ...," I soothed, sensing a kind of frenetic desperation building
in him.  "You did good, Wishus."  I leaned down as I answered, and kissed
him on the top of his head, letting my lips rest in his golden tresses,
feeling, tasting, breathing in my Wishus one more time before I had to go.
"I know you love me, Wishus.  So we have that to share over the next three 
weeks.  I couldn't possibly thank you enough for sucking me like that, 
Wishus.  When you held onto my dick and swallowed all my cum, I felt
like ... like you were taking a part of me, to have and to hold, that
I would be with you, in you, all the time I'm away."

Um hmmm." he agreed, and I felt his head nodding against me.

His arms were wrapped around me.  With a deep sigh I reluctantly reached
back with both my hands to grasp his, and gently pried him loose.

My boy knew it was time, and although I held his hands as he stood before 
me, he wouldn't look up.  He kept his face averted.  I saw little convul-
sions ripple his tummy as he tried so valiantly to contain his sobs.

"It's allright, dearest.  It's allright to cry.  Hey, did you ever see a 
grown man cry?"

He looked up at me, his face all pinched, his lips trembling, red splotches
on his cheeks where his tears fell so freely.

I haven't cried often - once when my mother died ten years ago, once at 
the gravesite of little Joey's mother, three years ago, and now.

But I tell you, I wasn't overcome with the sadness, now!  No, I didn't 
want to leave my boy for three weeks.  Bu I knew I would be back.  I wasn't 
crying just for that.  Mine were also tears of gladness, overwhelming, all-
encompassing joy, that after a lifetime of loneliness, of hating myself, 
doubting myself, and giving up on love, I had finally found him.

Wishus saw my joy through his own tears and mine - I must have been a 
sight - I struggled to maintain some composure, not wanting to look silly 
to the boy, but I knew my own lips were quivering, trying to form a smile,
my eyes wide with wonder, but filled with tears.  Wishus couldn't help but 
let the littlest grin of his own show through.

"I love you, Allouitious Wishus Knight," I said proudly, defiantly, knowing
how he hated that name, but feeling like I had to proclaim it officially
to the world.

He harrumphed, and puffed, and sputtered, and scrunched up his lips, "Teg!
You ... well ...."  Then he seemed to give up, knowing that he couldn't be 
mad at me.  "Well, only you can say that name, okay?!"  And he doubled up 
his fist and pounded it affectionately against my stomach.

"Only me, Wishus.  Allouitious.  It's a sweet name, you know."

"Yeah, I guess so, when you say it."

"I'll be saying it a lot, Wishus.  As I ride out to find Joey, I'll be 
thinking of you.  And if you're sitting up in your Shaman's Tower, up in
your city, and you think you hear something in the wind - it will be me, 
whispering, "Wishus ... Allouitious!"

"I'll be listening for it, Teg."

I drew in a deep breath, took his hands again, slowly brought them to my 
lips and kissed them.  "Until we meet again, Wishus."

I saw his tears welling again, as I forced myself to stoop for my hat,
squeezed his hand, and let him go.  Then I turned and strode to my waiting
horse.

I couldn't turn back now.  I hurried to get into the saddle and nudged my 
horse into the forest.

"You be waiting for me, Wishus!"  I called out loud and clear.  "I'll be
back!"

"I will, Teg." his small voice returned to me.  He was crying again, but 
I could clearly hear him through his choking sobs.  "I love you, Teg!"

"I love you, Wishus Allouitious Knight!"


End of Book One
Three Weeks to Heaven, a Boylove Romance

I hope you enjoyed Book One.  Book Two will tell how Wishus and Teg 
finally consummate their union.

-- Teglin