Date: Tue, 26 Oct 1999 18:32:04 PDT
From: Wishus Teglin <teglin@excite.com>
Subject: Three Weeks To Heaven, Book Two, Chapter 3

Three Weeks to Heaven, A Boylove Romance (M/b)

Book Two, Chapter Three

by Teglin
teglin@excite.com


FOREWORD:

As with Book One of this story, I am indebted to Ganymede for my
inspiration to write.  His stories remain the best in the boylove genre.  I
wonder how many men have come across one of Ganymede's stories, and found
their innermost feelings and dreams validated, and thereby have come to
embrace their love for boys as the positive good that it is.

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

Copyright 1999 by Teglin.  You may freely copy this boylove romance
and distribute it.  Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any
way.


WARNING:

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

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



Chapter 3


With my formerly ramrod stiff member no longer resisting his downward push,
in the tight confines of his anus, Rolando's buttocks collapsed onto me,
right on my fast softening cock.  I heard little Demetrio let out a little
squeal of shock, as he pulled his hand free of our bodies.

As if not believing what had happened to the cock that he was just starting
to insert deeper inside himself, Rolando started squirming, his anus
blindly seeking out the hardness that was no longer there.

He was whimpering.  I could hear the disappointment and disbelief in his
animal-like mewlings as he lifted himself, to look down between us, to
where our bodies were together, but no longer joined.  Now he raised his
head and looked straight at me.  In the light cast by the moon, on this
perfectly clear night, I could see the wrinkling of his brow, see his
consternation.  His black orbs were glittering, stabbing in their
intensity, staring at me, questioning me.  I felt his hands tighten around
my arms as he held himself stiffly above me, straddling me.  He gave me one
last firm, punishing jolt in my crotch, his soft buttocks pressing down on
me hard.  It didn't hurt of course, but it expressed his outrage.

"Why!" he said accusingly, but quietly.  "I think you ... like me!"  He
emphasized his words with the movement of his head, jerking his forehead
towards me.  His hair splayed about me.  With each motion, he squeezed on
my arms, his hands hot on my flesh, his fingers trying vainly to pinch and
dig into me.  He was too slight, too delicate, too much a little boy to be
able to hurt me physically, but I felt the hurt just the same, felt his
hurt.

I knew I had hurt him.  Not physcally, any more than he was hurting me now.
I had wounded him in his heart, in his belief in himself, in his erstwhile
knowledge of what he as a boy meant to a man like me.  I knew this
instantly.  In withdrawing from this boy, because of my shame about
betraying my beloved Wishus, I had spurned him, had refused his offer of
his body.  In my own confusion of desire and doubt, passion and commitment,
I had hurt a boy!

"Rolando, I--"

He released his hold on my right arm long enough to hit me on the chest a
couple of times with his clenched fist, hitting me with his palm more than
his knuckles.  Feeling the soft blow, knowing that he was outraged, and was
hitting me as hard as he could, suddenly I realized how befuddled I had
become through this whole day, this long day of watching his every
movement, seeing him look at me fiercely under lowered brow, seeing him
flaunt his beauty before me.  Yes, indeed he did have great power over me.
But it was because he was a boy!  He was just a little boy!  And I had hurt
him.

I quickly grasped both his arms just above his wrists, wanting to still his
anger, wanting to tell him that I was sorry.

"Rolando, let me--"

He pulled back as hard as he could and started swinging his head from side
to side, and I could hear him sobbing now.

"You watch me ... all day, meester!" he sobbed out.  He quit trying to pull
away, and instead looked at me questioningly.  "I give myself to you,
because you take care of Demetrio, you are good, you want me ... why you
not let me fuck you, I want to repay you, this is all I have, I can't --"

"Shhhh," I tried to calm him.  I released my hold on his wrists and grasped
him around his back and shoulders, and pulled him towards me.  He
resisisted for just a split second, but then let me pull him down onto my
chest.  Where I had passionately kissed his left ear and cheek just moments
ago, just before I had tried to enter him with my manhood, now I brought
the side of his head against mine, pulling him down against my left
shoulder.  His soft hair was like a cushion, as he let me turn his head to
lay flat against me.  I gently kissed his forehead through the strands of
his hair, and started caressing his back and holding his head.

"I did watch you all day, Rolando.  You're so ... beautiful, I couldn't
take my eyes off of you.  And remembering how I found you, and taking you
away from Big John, I couldn't stop thinking about you all --"

"Why you take me?  Why you take care of Metrio, if you not want me," he
pleaded, trying to raise his head.  I gently held him still.  "Why you not
let me show you ... me and Metrio don't take nothin, we pay, like I --"

"I had to take you, Rolando.  After what that man did to Demetrio, and the
way I found you, I had to get you away from there.  Look, I don't know what
... what he meant to you ... but --"

He stopped my musing abruptly.  "Mama want me and Metrio to have a better
life, so she ... teach me how to please Big John, how to make a man happy,
so we can have a good life, so --"

So he had been raised by his mom as a boy prostitute.  That's how he had
come to be with Big John.  He and his little brother.  "Did Big John give
you what you
... wanted?" I interrupted in a husky voice, wanting to answer finally, once and
for all – had I taken this boy from where he wanted to be?

"He give us food and a place to stay.  Better than living in a cave, with
mama!" I could hear the hurt and defiance in his tone.  Then, more
strongly, as if making a declaration, "and he fuck me, every night, every
day!  He love me.  I do not love him, but he teach me to want him inside me
every day, every night!  It's all I have, meester.  It's all me and Metrio
have, to keep us alive --"

"You don't have to do that anymore, Rolando.  You don't have to sell
yourself like that anymore, son," I hastened to tell him.  "I'm going to
take care of you and your brother.  I won't make you do that anym ...."

"You don't understand, meester.  This is all I have.  You don't let me fuck
you, and --"

"And I'll still take care of you," I tried to reassure him again.

"Big John was mean, but he want me!  He fuck me because he want me.  I
think you want me.  I think you take care of Metrio and me --"

I could see that I wasn't going to get him to understand just yet that he
didn't have to prostitute himself to me in order to survive.  I guessed
only time would take care of that.  But I sensed more here.  To this boy,
making love was all mixed up with security and comfort ... and just to
ensure something to eat for his little brother and himself!  But more than
that, I felt like he was telling me that he needed the loving.  He needed
what Big John had given him.  The fucking had become a necessary part of
his being.  He had not said it, but the way he had acted certainly seemed
to say that he not only needed what Big John had given him, but he enjoyed
it physically, and emotionally.

How was I going to replace that, for him?  I couldn't.  Not and remain true
to Wishus.  But how to tell him that?  And still have him understand that I
would care for him and his brother?

It suddenly dawned on me that Demetrio was kneeling beside us.  I turned my
head away from Rolando, to see his little brother kneeling there, on his
haunches, his tiny little hands clenched and wringing, and he too was
sniffling and whimpering, not understanding what had just happened.  No
doubt only half-understanding what Rolando and I were saying.

I gently lifted myself at the waist, bringing Rolando's still clinging form
up with me, and reached with my free right hand to gather Demetrio to me.
He unwound himself from his kneeling crouch, and scrunched himself to me.
Holding them both against me with my upper arms, I clumsily pulled my
blankets up around all three of us, and laid back down.

I felt the wetness of both boys' tears on my chest.  But soon Demetrio
drifted off to sleep, the day and these last events, finally catching up
with him.  A moment ago he been silently watching me and Rolando fuck, even
helping to guide my penis into his brother's body, while fingering his own
little stiffie.  Now he was a babe in my arms.

I turned back to Rolando.  He was exhausted too, from the long day, from
the tension of our hectic love-making, and from the catharsis of our words
together, after I so abruptly interrupted his attempt to give himself to
me.

"See if you can sleep, Rolan." I whispered to him, still nuzzling his hair
and his forehead.  I let him slide his body off me, so that he could lay
with is belly against my side.  I held him tight, firmly, letting him know
that I cared for him, even if I couldn't complete what he had started.

He was too tired to talk.  I held him like that, silently, for what seemed
like half an hour.  He quit crying and sniffling soon enough, and shortly
after that, I felt the tenseness in his being give way to the security I
was offering him at this moment.  At least for the moment.  I fell asleep
myself after a while, sandwiched between these two lovely boys, lulled by
the heat of their bodies and the magical feel of Rolando's sweet breath on
my neck, of his silken hair falling across my lips, of his now limp boyhood
pressed into my thigh.  My last thoughts were like a prayer, that somehow
I'd find a way to let him know all about me and Wishus, about what kind of
man I was, and that I would indeed take care of him and his little brother.


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



I awoke at the very break of dawn, with the two boys still huddled on
either side of me in our blanket cocoon.  They both had their heads beneath
the blankets, and I felt the moist warmth of their breaths against my
sides.  It felt so wonderfully fulfilling to awake thus, knowing I had
comforted and warmed them through the night.  But I immediately felt
something else, too.

Guilt, was it?  Shame again, at what Rolando and I had done last night?  A
sense that I was in the wrong place, with the wrong boy beside me, that I
had betrayed Wishus.  I had become so aroused by both these boys, and
shared such intimacy with them, while Wishus was patiently awaiting me up
in his mountain valley.  He needed me.

Yet these boys needed me too.

They had both slid down off my shoulders during the night, so I had little
difficulty slipping from between them without disturbing the blankets too
much.  I hastened to the fire pit to search for a live ember.  The early
morning chill was like these thoughts of guilt and betrayal.  It wrapped
about me unpleasantly.  I had to do something to ....

What could I do?  Now I had these boys.  Joey needed me too.  But I was
leaving Wishus behind!

No!  I knew that wasn't what was bothering me.  I had dealt with that,
already.  I had to leave Wishus.  No choice.  He would be ok with the
Knights, until I returned in just a couple of weeks.

I found my ember, and gently blew it into a flame, letting it lick up to
ignite the small twigs I placed over it lightly, then started crossing
larger and larger sticks over that, absent-mindedly.

The fire was growing, but I couldn't shake the chill.

It wasn't leaving Wishus that bothered me.  It was what I had done with
Rolando.  Making love with hi ....

Suddenly it hit me – I had NOT made love with Rolando!  We had shared
fevered, passionate sex last night, but ....

Wishus and I had made love.  From our first tentative kisses, to the moment
of our parting, we had made love.  Each kiss was a little moment of union
of our souls.  The sex we had was a sharing of our love for each other.

Had I felt the same way with Rolando?  Somehow, it began to make me feel
better, that I hadn't.  Yet that disturbed me too!  I certainly had not
betrayed my love for Wishus, but what did I feel for Rolando?
Astonishingly, I wondered at the fact that not once yesterday, had I wanted
to kiss Rolando, like Wishus and I had kissed.  Yes, I had wanted to taste
him, to kiss him all over his face, to nibble his ear, but ... not once had
I wanted to meld with him, to really kiss him, and show him how much I
loved him with that one act.

Perhaps that was part of this guilt, or uneasiness, I was feeling.  Not
that I had used the boy.  He had initiated the sex.  But what had I given
him in return for his offer of his body?

Damnit, I hadn't treated him like a boy!!!  All day long I had watched and
wondered, entranced by his loveliness.  By the knowledge that he had been
fucked.  He had been nothing more than flesh to me, tantalizing, tempting
....

I stood up, and turned from the fire towards the blankets, and shook my
head in amazement.  There sleeping so peacefully under my blankets was not
some mysterious siren, but a boy needing my help!  Yes, he was an
incredibly beautiful, perhaps unsurpassably beautiful boy, but boy
nevertheless.


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


The mare lifted her head to the hay bin and snagged a few strands of the
fodder, tugging and jerking it loose.  The boy's familiar scent wafted to
her nose.  She stepped forward and nudged the spot where he slept, right
where he had climbed and burrowed into her feed bin, totally blanketed by
the hay.  She was feeling playful this early in the morning, after the
strange events of the night before.

It wasn't every night that the boy, or anyone else for that matter, came to
the barn and slipped into her stall to comfort and brush her softly, to rub
her long nose, whispering soothingly.  All the strange noises outside of
the night before, the red glare, the awful suffocating stench in the air,
all were forgotten now.  Right now she had her friend here, and it was time
for him to get up.

The boy had come quietly into her lonely stall, so late at night.  He had
patted her and caressed her for the longest time, then crawled slowly up
into the hay bin, and snuggled in deep.  They had both slept then.

She loved the boy.  He had started bringing her sweet green grass, lately.
Once in a while there was even a carrot, or some dried fruit, in his hands!
He was light as a feather on her back.  Not like that harness the man made
her wear.

She nudged the hay again, wanting his companionship so early on this
strange morning ....

... Wishus awoke to the sounds of the mare's snorting, and knew immediately
where he was.  The horror of the night before came flooding back in on him
just as quickly.

For the longest time, last night, he had sat watching, crying, horrified,
as the cabin burned to cinders.  After a while he could cry no more, but
that just left him feeling more lonely and lost than ever.  He had felt so
empty.

Teg gone.

Uncle Ben and Auntie dead, or gone.  Could be either.  They wouldn't even
have tried to ....

He had felt the cold, when the fire finally began to die to simmering
coals, but didn't want to edge closer to the ghostly patch of glowing
ground, where once he had lived and slept.  Everything was gone now,
everyone was gone.

What he had wanted right then was to get to his Tower!  To feel Teg there,
to
....

But then he peered into the darkness, into the trees, and chills of another
kind crept over him.

His small body had shuddered, wracked with dry sobs of despair.  He
struggled against the helplessness.  Teg would not want him to be like
this.  So ... if he was afraid to hike up to his safe haven in the dark,
what would Teg tell him to do?

The barn!  He saw it then, noticed it for the first time, now that the
glare of the fire was dimmed.  Across the clearing, on the other side of
the cabin site, still standing!  Too far away to have caught fire on this
calm, cold, windless night.

A feeling of guilt had swept over him.  Here all along he was feeling
abandoned and lost, forgotten by everyone, and he had forgotten about
Molly!  Teg had shown him how to take care of her, to feed her, curry her
hair.  How to calm her when she was frightened.  They had become good
friends, and he knew he should have let her out of the barn just in case it
too caught fire.

Wishus started to rise, but felt a stabbing pain in his right shoulder.  He
had sat motionless for so long, and with the chill now creeping in on him,
that his wrenched arm complained at the sudden movement.  Holding it
steady, he stood more gingerly, dropping the edge of the blankets that he
had held onto so tightly through his fiery vigil.

Carefully he moved his arm. So long as he moved slowly, it seemed ok.  So
nothing was broken.  He'd just have to avoid extra strain.

He closed his eyes against the darkness around him, and sighed deeply, then
breathed in haltingly, trying to keep from crying again.  Maybe ... maybe
Molly
... needed him, too.

So he had edged around the remnants of the cabin, fearfully avoiding
looking too closely at that part where his aunt and uncle might have
perished, and slipped in through the barn door and into Molly's stall,
feeling his way in the near pitch black of the night.  Just standing with
her, feeling her body warmth, had made him feel better.  It wasn't too long
before his soothing words for Molly had the exact same effect on him.  He
lost that edge, the wide-eyed expectancy and fear, that had kept him awake
and staring into the flames earlier, and began to feel the need for nothing
more than rest.  The hay bin, where he could stay with Molly, yet not be
trampled on in the night, seemed like the perfect place.

It was cozy and warm in the hay, and even now, in the morning, with Molly
nudging him, he was reluctant to climb out into reality.  Too soon to see
what was left of the cabin, in the daylight.  Too soon to have to start
thinking of what he was going to do now.  He just wanted to lie here for a
minute and forget everything that had happened, and just think of Teg.

"Oh Teg, why can't you come back right now?  Today ...." he sighed
wistfully.



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


"It's been a long day, Teg," Wishus muttered, as he trudged towards the
pond slowly, with head down, his hair falling in unkempt clumps on either
side of his char-smeared face.  He walked woodenly, his legs just worn out
from climbing up and down, to and from his canyon city repeatedly.

The sun hung towards the western ridge line now.  It had glared down on him
all day, not making his endless treks any easier.  The air in the valley,
and even up in the side-canyon, was still, dry, and hot, the sky completely
cloudless.

Time for relief.  He wanted to just soak in the pond for a while.

He espied Molly lazily cropping grass out in the meadow, and knew he had
made the right decision earlier, to just release her.  He couldn't take her
up the canyon trail, and definitely did not want to leave his city every
day to tend to her in the barn.

Wishus had also definitely decided against riding into town.  No way he was
going to contact his folks back East!  Nope.  He was staying right here,
where Teg would be expecting him.

"Remember when we came here, Teg?" he said, as he stepped onto the area of
short grass around the bank. He had been talking out loud that way all day
long.  Made him feel less alone.

He understood his need for it.  And his need, all day long, to remember
being with Teg up in his city, sharing sweet kisses that just made him feel
like they were a part of each other, or hiking the canyon trail, stopping
occasionally to grab Teg's hand and pull him tight, or here at the pond,
frolicking and ....

Suddenly he felt something, a tenseness, a tighntess within his whole body
...  and it hurt so!!

It hurt, gripping deep in his chest, and ... he felt it too ... down
... there ....

Wishus looked down, and then reached for the hem of his worn and dirty
nightgown, and started slowly to scrunch it up, pulling it higher, slowly,
tentatively, feeling each movement of the soft woolen cloth pressing
against the tip of his hardened little peepee.

"Teeeegggg --" he breathed out, as he felt the open air suddenly on the
under side of his standing shaft, and on his naked balls.

He lifted the fabric all the way up to the rope that he had tied around his
waist.  His penis stuck straight out from the pearl-white flesh of his
crotch.  He stared as it pulsed with his heartbeat, and felt each pulse,
coursing deep into him.  He stared wide-eyed at his tool, wondering at its
hardness, and just soaking in that excruciating ... pain ... that seemed to
center around his peepee, and his balls, and even deeper, into his very
belly.

No, it wasn't a pain, he thought.  It was too delicious to be called pain.
But it did hurt!  Stabbing all the way up into his chest!

"Oh Teg, I want you here!  Now!"  He moaned, suddenly grasping his little
two- inch shaft in one fist, and squeezing hard.

He remembered how wonderful Teg had made him feel here, at the pond.
Holding him so tight.  Reassuring him about ....

Wishus released his grip from his dick and jerked his hand up, as if it
were burned.

Absently he looked at his hand, and back down at the stiff little rod still
standing so defianly from between his legs.  A mix of emotions and memories
shot through his mind.  The shame everyone had piled upon him back home,
when he had told his folks about getting hard just like this when his Uncle
Tom kissed him.  The shame, the rejection ... but then that glorious moment
when Teg had held him so close, right here at the pond, and had told him
that he had done nothing wrong.  That to get hard like this, when you loved
someone, was right and good!  And that when two boys ... a boy and a man
...could feel like this for each other, it was something truly special.

The boy stood still, staring down at his throbbing member, but in his
mind's eye seeing Teg..  Teg, the way he had been that time when he turned
so quickly, and Wishus saw that Teg too was hard, and his huge, man-sized
peepee swung around like the baseball bat they had been playing with before
running to the pond.

"You love me too, Teg!" Wishus said out loud, still looking down at his own
tumescent flesh.  "You showed me ...."

Wishus smiled.  For the first time that day he felt good.  All the fear
about the fire, about his aunt and uncle ... about just surviving out here
all alone ... all the fear gone!  He stole his small hand back to his
penis, and stroked it lightly, softly, reverently - barely touching it.

In an instant he knew what he was going to do, and his smile broadened.  He
know now how to feel Teg's presence here with him!  He felt the electricity
coursing through him, the anticipation ....

First, though, he had to clean up!  "Us gods have to be clean, you know!"
He remembered yelling that to Teg the first time they came here, that time
when Teg just made him feel like the grandest little boy who ever existed!
And now, he wanted to be clean for Teg again!  Then get back to his
Shaman's Tower.

With shivering fingers, he started struggling with the knot that held the
rope around his waist.  He giggled at his excitement and clumsiness, then
guffawed loudly when he saw his outthrust penis flapping up and down, and
all around, in time with his antics.

Flinging the rope to the ground, he quickly lifted his nightgown up over
his shoulders, and over his head, and gloried in the feel of the slightest
little breeze against his now naked body.

He stooped, to pull off the crude moccasins he had crafted from leather
scraps he had found in the barn, and giggled again, feeling the coolness on
his behind, in the moist cleft between his buttocks.

Never before had he felt so attuned to his body!  He felt the tightness in
his balls.  The taut stretch of his foreskin over his straining dick head.
Even his nipples felt taut!  He could not recall ever even thinking about
his nipples.  They were just ... there ... but now he looked down and saw
that they were all hardened and crinkly, each with a tiny little pinkish
knob sticking out ... hard, like his peepee!

Bringing both hands up, crossing them, he lightly touched his nipples, and
felt a delicious tingling.  They almost demanded that he press harder, but
when he did he had to gasp with the shock that ran all the way down to his
dick!

His breath was suddenly coming in short gasps also, as if he were desperate
for air, but could not breathe deeply enough.

"Not now!" he admonished himself, remembering these same feelings from when
Teg had .... "Later!  When I can think about Teg --" He pictured Teg's own
larger nipples, surrounded by all that smooth, silky hair on the man's
broad chest, and wondered how Teg would feel if he touched him there too.

Teg ... turned , facing away, pulling his pants down, revealing his hairy
butt, with just a glimplse of his even hairier, heavy balls hanging down
between his legs ... Teg turning around so fast, when Wishus cried out,
because he had sprouted a hardon just watching the man disrobe ... Teg
standing there with the biggest, longest peepee Wishus had ever seen, or
even imagined ... feeling scared, and yet so strangely excited all at once
... feeling Teg pull his little body so tight against his manly frame,
feeling the shock of his little hardon pressed so tight against Teg's
stomach ... feeling Teg's own hardon pushed down beneath Wishus' buttocks,
and resting inside his crack ....

Wishus jumped into the cold water of the pond, and started to feverishly
scrub and wash the grime and soot from his body.  The late afternoon was
slipping away, he realized, and he had no more time to stand here dreaming
of Teg.  He had to cleanse himself.  He wanted to feel just perfect.
Clean, and pure, for what he was going to do tonight.

What he had to do tonight!

He didn't know if he could make it through all this, if he couldn't feel
Teg's presence with him tonight!


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



"We sleep with you again, tonight, Meester," Rolando said matter-of-factly,
as I watched him and his little brother carrying their things over next to
mine.

They had both gone to the edge of the clearing to relieve themselves, while
I had started spreading my blankets.  We had eaten supper, washed up, and I
had washed Demetrio's wounds from a bucket of warm water.  Now it was dark,
and time to sleep after another day of pushing our mounts to the limit.

A good day too, in which I had done just as I told myself I should.  I had
treated Rolando like a boy.  Talking to him, getting him involved in the
cooking, the cleaning, caring for Metrio.  Both boys had responded in kind,
obviously feeling safe with me.  Metrio even cracked a pinched little
smile, on occasion, though each time he winced through the pain of his
scab-hardened lips.

Don't get me wrong.  After all, they were both boys!  I was hard half the
day, just being around them.  Hearing their voices, stealing glances at
Rolando's incredible loveliness ... stealing glances at everything, like
the time Metrio bared his little penis so openly, to take a leak against a
tree!  And I was hard every time I remembered what had happened just last
night.

It was different today, however.  I admired them both, and still wanted
them both – I can't be around a boy and not want him – but we seemed
like a little troop now, after another long day together, more familiar
with each other now, and having long since shed the tension of our strange
meeting yesterday.

I had dropped their saddle and bags across the fire from mine, expecting
that tonight Rolando would join in the close circle around the fire.  He
and Demetrio could curl up for a good night's sleep, with no more thought
for any sense of debt, or any need to pay me back.  I hoped that he had
accepted the fact that I was going to care for them, no strings attached.
I was not Big John.

Now to hear him declare that they were going to share my blankets again,
took me aback.  My penis was only now beginning to soften, after Demetrio's
bathtime.  Handling him, once again almost burying my face between his butt
cheeks, as I lovingly bathed every inch of his body, fondling his little
boyhood, and his ballsac, just taking care of him, had provided me with
long moments of nearly orgasmic joy.  I figured that after last night,
bathing Demetrio was the closest we three would ever come to sex again.
Now, on the contrary, they both stood before me, with looks of suppressed
glee, as if they knew something about the situation that I hadn't figured
out yet.

"Rolando, I – I – I," I found myself stammering, feeling foolish.  I
gulped, trying to push down the sudden lump in my throat, wondering if it
were going to happen again tonight.  The desire – no way I could ever
extinguish my desire for these boys!  But did I have to endure the awful
temptation?!  Wanting to remain true to Wishus, but having Rolando offer
himself to me again!  Desperately wanting to hold him.  Feel him.  And
Demetrio!  Why couldn't he just be the little boy in my care?! Why did I
have to keep thinking of his little penis, or the little cleft between his
buttocks, where I had washed him so clean – his perfect, smooth little
butt that I could grasp in one hand!

"Rolando, y-you don't have to ...."

"It's too dark and cold here, Meester," he interrupted me, looking back
into my questioning eyes with all the calmness and control that I had seen
in him yesterday.  And something more.  He held whatever was humoring him
in check, but I could see a glint in his eye, like he had crafted a plan,
perhaps a new approach.  Demetrio was not so controlled.  He burst out
giggling, then winced and held his hand against his cracked lip.

"Wh ... what's going on, boys," I stammered, looking quizzically from one
to the other.

"We are afraid.  We sleep next to you, like last night."

It wasn't a request.  Just a statement.  I knew he was making all this up
... there was no fear in this boy's eyes, and it was still early evening
– not at all dark.  With all his control, he made no effort to act a
part.  Just stood there before me, one arm about Demetrio's shoulder, with
that barely concealed little smile.  A knowing smile.

I looked at Demetrio.  Certainly no fear there.  He hadn't a bit of his big
brother's guile.  He was grinning from ear to ear.  Whatever it was, it was
an awfully big joke.

I suspected what I was in for, with these two, but having Demetrio stand
before me so gleefully, suddenly set me at ease.  Dangit, time to remind
myself once more: they were boys!  This Rolando might be the most perfect
beauty ever to live, he might be the very personification of all the gods
of love, in a boy's form, with all the skills and wiles of a god, but he
was NOT Wishus!  I could do this!  I could hold this deity tight to me, and
still not betray my love!

Give me your best shot, I thought to myself, looking back at Rolando now, a
half-smile forming on my own lips.

I reached out suddenly, surprising both boys, and wrapped my arms around
their waists, and pulled both of them down upon me, laughing.  They
collaped onto their knees, against my chest, and I squeezed tight, then
kissed both of them on the tops of their heads, making a loud smacking
noise with each of them.  As I pressed my lips to their heads, I loudly
sniffed their hair, sounding like a rooting hog, I guess, and making them
squirm even more.  There's something so intimate about nuzzling in a boy's
hair like that, even playfully, and I felt the juices flowing in my loins
again.

"Afraid, are you!" I laughed, totally free from my own fears now, just
enjoying the feeling of my again hardening cock, feeling them squirm
against it.  I started tickling them both.  I was going to enjoy this, and
I was just going to treat Rolando like a boy, and make him know it, no
matter what he had up his sleeve.

Demetrio laughed and wiggled about in futility, but Rolando struggled back
out of my grasp, and knelt back on his haunches.  Still in control, this
little one, but now wondering, his brows raised, smiling just a bit more
broadly and openly now.  But wondering.  His chest rose and fell quickly,
as he panted from our little struggle, causing the long hair hanging down
across his shoulders to ruffle like a living cascade.  I almost reached out
to touch his slightly parted, full red lips, wanting to feel their infinite
softness, but his gleaming, dark, lowered eyes, looking up at me slyly,
told me I had better not give in to my worship of his being.

"Oh, Demetrio is very fraid of the dark, Meester," he continued his little
charade.  "And he wants me here too, so we all be safe together," he said,
but the glint in his eyes told me that he knew I knew.  "You spread your
blankets for us, Meester."

"Oh, alright," I played along, no longer at all averse to feeling two boys
beside me all night long.  Even if Rolando had no more than a warm blanket
in mind, which I doubted very much, this was alright by me.

Gracefully, rising smoothly onto his feet without even touching his hands
to the ground, Rolando suddenly loomed over me.  How does a young boy, only
12 years old, thin and slight of build, `loom' over anyone?  Depends on
whom he's standing before.  He stepped closer to me.  In my eyes he was
BOY!  The flesh underneath his girl's dress emmanated the heat from his
boyhood, and from all that made him boy – not just his penis and his
life-giving testicles, but all the essesnce of BOY that I lived for.  Even
in this moment of playfullness, I worshipped the ground this BOY stood
upon.

His little brother, the little miniature version of BOY, took advantage of
my momentary lapse of awareness of anything but Rolando edging closer to
me, and laughed as he pulled free of my absently grasping hands.  He didn't
go far either, but taking his cue from Rolando, he turned to stand on my
right, closer than necessary.

Ah, but necessary for what?  I felt my pulse quicken.  Idly, without even
looking down, I reached for my blankets to spread them out as instructed.
My eyes roamed from one boy to the other, neither more than a foot away
from my kneeling form.

"Uh, boys?"  I started, gulping again.  "Perhaps ...."

"We take our clothes off," Rolando deadpanned, looking down at me smugly.
His hair cascaded forward, almost masking the movements of his arms and
hands as he started to lift his dress up.  "Momma always say to keep warm
have to hold us close.  You take your clothes off too, Meester, and hold us
close.  Denuda, Metrio," he barked softly to his brother.

I didn't know which way to look, now.  What with Rolando slowly, teasingly
pulling up the hem of his dress, and Demetro suddenly fumbling at the
drawstring of his pants.

"Really is kind of cool to be taking off my longjohns," I said
half-heartedly.

"Need to touch our skin together, that's what momma say.  You keep us warm
and protect us, we keep you warm too."

My eyes were about level with Rolando's crotch, so he knew he could lure me
into his little trap, because he could see that I wasn't looking up as he
spoke, but rather I tracked every slow upward movement of his hem.

Could there be more perfect boyflesh anywhere, I wondered?  His slim,
smooth calves rose in heavenly sculpted curves to his little knee caps, not
all bony and angular like one might expect of someone so young and thin,
but just melding smoothly under his brown skin, then giving rise to the
hidden power of those thighs that had squeezed me so tightly the night
before, rising and flaring out ever so slightly below his hips, and in
towards his pubis.

At which point I lost focus on Rolando's perfect, boyish figure, when the
tip of his half-hard penis came into view, drooping down just in front of
his dangling balls.  There was a little droplet of golden nectar captured
in the pucker of the tip of his foreskin!  A little droplet of his pee that
had lingered for me, refusing to fall as he had walked over to me, hiding
from the fabric of his dress!  His little, hairless cocklet was short
enough that, when soft, it's tip didn't even brush against his dress as he
walked.

Almost unbidden by conscious thought, I lifted my left hand and in one
quick, natural, fluid motion, I brought the tip of my index finger to the
tip of his little dick – so close, yet hardly even touching that dearest
piece of flesh that I had had in my mouth less than 24 hours ago.  I
pressed in slightly, barely feeling the silky smoothness of his frenulum,
and the droplet slipped onto the pad of my finger.

Entranced, I brought it just as smoothly to my lips, and tasted it.  I
wondered if he was thinking the same as I at that moment, that I had every
right to take in this fluid from his body.  I, who had lain before him last
night, and let him ram his hardened dick into my mouth over and over.  Yes!
This was the kind of payment I would take.  Part of him so freely offered,
and freely taken – not by design, as in his mistaken efforts of last
night to oblige me, for rescuing his little brother.

I savored the salty pungency of his pee.  BOY!  I would partake of this
boy, THESE BOYS, tonight.  I didn't know the details of their plan, but I
knew what Rolando and Demetrio had in mind.  What they offered tonight, I
would take.  Absolutely KNOWING what was in my heart and my mind, that I
would remain true to my Wishus.  Preparation for Wishus perhaps!
Initiation!  Rites of passage, that I must take towards being all the man
that Wishus needed and wanted.

My thoughts were fevered now, my passion building.  I shivered, not from
the cold,but from anticipation.  Rolando snickered softly, whether at
astonishment that I had tasted his urine, or in awareness of what he was
doing to me again.  I didn't mind.  He could laugh.  He could revel in his
control over me.  I certainly did!

The twin columns of his thighs were a bit larger, more powerful than
Wishus', but with the same taut, smoothly contoured delicacy, rising to
that most alluring part of a boy, where his legs meet with his body,
forming that little satiny, cushiony triangle of flesh around his boyhood.
So too were Rolando's dick and balls bigger, and heavier, than were my
Wishus'.  Rolando's testicles hung lower.  I could tell he was just on the
verge of entering puberty.  Wishus'scrotum seemed to hide up protectively
behind his penis, while Rolando's ballsac was stretched low, with his
little balls within starting to hang down boldly, growing heavy with his
seed, one a little lower than the other.

With both boys standing so near me, I felt the radiance of heat from both
their bodies, in the still, pleasantly cool air of the evening.  That heady
smell of a boy's crotch, a mixture of the boy's own sweat and faintest
trace of their urine, all fermented in the close confines of their
clothing, was now released and wafted like an intoxicant over me.

As Rolando continued to lift his dress over his head, I dropped the
blankets that I had been fumbling with unconcsiously, and reached my arms
about the legs of both boys, pulling them even closer, in my desire to
drown in their magical scents.

I pulled gently, and Rolando barely bent at the knees, with his dangling
cocklet and balls just above my upturned face.  Demetrio was so much
lighter and slight of build.  My grasp threw him off balance, and he had to
lean forward into me.  I felt his hands grasp my head and right shoulder,
even as I felt the hot, pliant flesh of his little penis push into my
cheek.

In my obsession with Rolando, I had not noticed that Demetrio had
completely stripped, and quite obviously he had been pulling on his little
tool!  It was hard.  He speared me with it.  My rough, shaven, but bristly
stubble must have stabbed him right back, because he let out a little cry
of shock, and instinctively tried to jerk away his midsection.  He said
something in Spanish, in his sweet little boy's voice, a lilt of surprise
and giggling delight.  Rolando translated.  "Metrio say you always taste my
prick, but you only tickle him."

That was enough invitation for me!  I had turned to the little six year
old, to find his inch and a half long tumescent penis staring with its one
eye directly at my mouth level.  I had washed him twice now, and dreamed of
the forbidden pleasure of making love to such a little boy.  A dream no
longer to be denied.

I felt a surge in my own rampant dick, a tightness in my loins.  God!  I
might cum just by touching this little boy – knowing that I wasn't just
going to wash him, but I was going to ravish him, and he would enjoy every
minute of it.

I turned back to Rolando, and quickly kissed both his little knees and gave
him a parting hug, pulling his legs tight to my cheek, as if to say to him,
"stay right there, I'll be right back!"  Then I withdrew my arm from around
his legs and turned completely to Metrio.

Savoring the anticipation for just a moment, feeling a surge of desire
coursing through my whole body, I almost threw myself at the little tyke,
grasping him not just with my hands, but with my entire arms and body –
practically encasing him within my own flesh.

My hands roamed all over his back, molding to his form, tracing his
shoulder blades, cupping his buttocks, caressing the backs of his thights
– all the while squashing him to me.  I roamed just as freely with my
face, rutting in his flesh like a hog searching for acorns in the ground,
breathing in gutterally, covering his chest, his tummy, his hips, his
thighs, with kisses and slurrups.

This was the boy I had lovingly, painstakingly washed, bathing every inch
of his body, touching him everywhere, but oh so very fatherly!  Now I gave
in to a different instinct.  Not a baser instinct, because I was filled
with just as much desire to please and care for him as before.

I was indeed like an animal, but thankfully, my abandon did not shock or
frighten the little boy.  I heard both he and Rolando giggling at my
antics.  Probably they were so pleased that I was so eagerly playing along
with their schemes.

When Wishus got hard, his glans just peeked from behind the tautly
stretched opening of his foreskin.  His tiny pee-slit showed, at the tip of
his glistening, reddish, tender glans.  Demetrio's dick head was totally
hidden even now, when his darling little dick stood up hard, proud of its
inch and a half length.  Fully a quarter of an inch of his foreskin
puckered narrowly closed beyond the glans, carefully safeguarding its
virgin treasure within.  It was all the more beautiful sight, because the
swell of his glans, underneath its sheath, was outlined clearly.  I could
see that his helmet shaped glans was long and pronounced.  It had a dark,
almost bluish hue, through the covering of his foreskin.

Gently cupping his butt cheeks in my hands, I drew him to me.  More calmly
now, focussed totally on this special prize, I snaked my tongue out and
started tracing hot, wet lines around his stalk, slipping from side to
side, top to bottom.  I heard myself mewling, savoring his taste,
practically cumming with desire to taste his little cock.

So tiny was Metrio, that my face was almost as wide as the breadth of his
hips!  I was about to suck a little boy doll, and hopefully discover that
even at age six, I could make him have an orgasm.

It was obvious that he felt something so mightily pleasurable that he
wanted more, because he started twisting his hips about, trying to
anticipate the next direction of my wandering tongue and lips.  He kept
stabbing at me, and started mewling himself, every time he pressed his dick
head against my cheek or lips.

I steadied him with a firmer hold on his butt, and opened my mouth and
sucked all of him in, then held him there while I started my tongue's
exploration of his shaft.  At fist I licked and laved hap-hazzardly,
feeling for the contours of his glans, feeling the ridge of his urethral
canal, letting his drooping foreskin rest lightly on my tongue.  I
shivered, marvelling that he was a miniature version of Wishus, and even of
my own much more massive penis.  So hard, yet with that infinite softness
of a little boy!

I drew back and ever so gently clamped my teeth over that dangling
foreskin, and pulled on it, stretching it, even till his dick was all the
way out of my mouth.  He squealed, and half-screamed something.  I was
afraid I had hurt him, and felt a sudden drop in the pit of my stomach, and
almost released him.

"He says he likes that!"  Rolando saved me.  I turned a bit, and looked up,
still with Demetrio's foreskin pinched between my teeth, and nodded
gratefully.

Rolando stood majestically beside us, so tall in comparison to his little
brother, towering over my kneeling form.  He had one hand on hisp, the
other stroking his own erection.  He was so beautiful, from his feet all
the way up to that long, lustrous cascade of his silken hair.  Again I felt
my cock surge, knowing full well that in bare moments I was going to
explore Rolando's boyish perfection too.

But for now, I returned to servicing my little Demetrio.  I had calmed down
now, and was no longer in a frenzy to slake my own taste for boy flesh.
Now I wanted to delight the little bunchkin.  I remembered how he had stood
last night, pumping his little tool while Rolando humped me.  Now it was
Metrio's turn!

Wishus had loved it when I got down to business on his little dick, and
started to rhythmically suck and pump up and down on his shaft, tightening
my lips and tongue around him.  So that's what I started doing for Metrio.
In and out, in and out, in and out.

I was glowing inside, astonished at the tininess of the boy in my arms.
Every instroke, my head fell into his tummy.  I felt the soft warmth of his
tummy against my forehead.  My little lover and I were both getting into
the rhythm, when I felt a hand trying to grasp my right hand, where I was
busily kneading Demetrio's butt.  I figured I had gotten too rough for him
perhaps, and he wanted me to ease up.  Another little shift in my stomach
– of all things I didn't want to hurt this little tyke, the same boy I
had rescued from Big John's brutal treatment.

Again, it was Rolando to the rescue.  It was his hand on mine.  Not
skipping a beat, pumping on Demetrio's cocklet, I refocussed my eyes from
the little boy's pubis to try to peer around him questioningly.

"I will show you what Metrio likes," Rolando said, as he knelt behind his
little brother. There was a edge to his voice, a sultry edge now, as if
Rolando too was getting into the fever of our action, and anticipated
something special.  My heart started to skip faster.  I suddenly felt
Rolando pull my middle finger up, and then felt the delicious warmth of his
lips closing around it, and the wet warmth of the inside of his mouth!  He
sucked in my finger just as I had sucked in Demetrio.  He was wetting my
finger, plainly laving all around with his tongue, depositing as much of
his spittle on it as possible!

He released me, and I felt him guide my finger directly back to Demetrio's
butt!  Into his little crack, which Rolando parted with is other hand,
directly to his tiny anus!.  Oh God!  I almost fainted there and then, as
Rolando expertly placed the pad of my finger against his little brother's
anus, and pushed in.  I must have spluttered, and lost my rhythm.

"Keep sucking, meester!"  Rolando commanded.  "He like that, and he like
this too.  Now you let him get used to your finger inside him, then you
push in deeper.  He likes it all the way in."

I couldn't believe my ears!  But I believed what I felt.  Demetrio was
apparently no virgin, but I certainly was, and now for the first time in my
life I felt a little boy's anal ring tightening around my finger.  It was
every bit as enthralling to me as the night before, when Rolando had easied
his own butt down on my cock.

Instinctively, once inside him, I held my finger still, knowing that to
push to quickly, or too hard, would surely hurt him.  Just as last night,
when I almost cried out to beg Rolando to let me go deeper into him, but he
held me there for what seemed infinity – so I steeled myself to
patience, feeling the heat of Demetrio's tight flesh around my finger tip.
So soft, yet so hard and powerful.  Kind of the opposite of a penis,
physically, I realized – but also the same, soft and hard at the same
time.

I resumed my in and out ministrations on Demetrio's penis, and now with my
finger lodged in his anus, I had enough of a good lover's sense to bring my
other hand around and start gently kneeding his little balls.  They were so
tiny that they retreated from my touch almost magically – I certainly
didn't want to use any kind of force at all to grasp them, so contented
myself with rolling his silken-soft scrotum between my fingers, pulling and
kneading.  Then I let the middle finger of that hand slip along his
perineum till it met with my other finger lodged between his buttocks! I
had this little boy front and back, and in between, letting him fell
forward into my mouth, cupping his little crotch with my left hand,
supporting him, and plunging into him from the rear!

"Go deeper now," Rolando urged me.  So I started with imperceptible little
motions with my finger, letting Demetrio's natural lubrication inside his
rear start to smooth my way.  Ever so gently I started to push in.  Perhaps
I'm uncoordinated, but I lost my sucking rhythm again, and kind of paused
on his shaft, concentrating on my finger in his rectum.  It was deliciously
hot, and wet in there!  The silken walls of his rectum molded to my finger.

I felt him tense, his whole body going taut against me, still leaning into
me.  I had the good sense to keep licking him, keeping up the wonderful
sensations on his dickhead, while I explored deeper into his body.  He
breathed in short gasps now.  I wondered if it hurt, or if he was feeling
pleasure.

"Entry mas!" I thought I heard Demetrio utter softly, yet tensely.

"Go deeper!"  Rolando translated.

So I felt reassured.  Demetrio wanted me inside him!  It was like magic,
those words!  Like they gave me the ability, and the right, to pleasure him
to the utmost.  And like they magically turned me into a pleasuring
machine.  Suddenly I did regain my rhythm, and started sucking and loving
his little dick, and at the same time, I started pushing in rhythmically
into his rectum, letting the slickness take over, and draw me in deeper and
deeper.

The air was filling with the scents of Demetrio's flesh now.  That musky,
nerve- tingling scent coming from his hole – not a fecal odor at all,
just so personal to him, and brought out by me!

He was also now filling the air with his grunts of pleasure.  Each breath
he took was audible – short cries of what must be excruciating pleasure
– yes!  The same that I had felt last night, when Rolando teased my dick
with his expert anal pressures.  I didn't know what was the source of
Demetrio's pleasure, whether it focussed on his penis, or from deep within,
where my finger was now plunging to my second knuckle into his hole.  I was
fucking this little six year old with my finger now, and his grunts
acknowledged the pleasure I was giving him.

I knew he was indeed going to cum, this little six year old was going to
cum!  I knew it when I felt his hands one me again, now tightening their
grip.  He had his right hand around my neck, grasping my hair there and
pulling it tight.  His left hand had entwined itself into the fabric of my
longjohns on my shoulder, and I imagined he might rip it apart.

In and out, I continued, both in front and in his rear, feeling his heat
inside me, and on me, and feeling his every muscle start to stiffen and
jerk, in that uncontrolled, electric moment of delerium when he came.  He
screamed into the still evening air, and if anyone were around to hear us,
I suppose they would have thought a little boy was being murdered.  I knew
better, and felt so gloriously happy for him, and for myself.  He plunged
forward into my mouth as hard as his little six year old body could, and
then ricotched back onto my plunging finger, time and again, letting his
cum peak.  I let him do that till I felt him slump onto me.  I rocked back
on my heels, and pulled his limp form with me, letting his dick slide from
my wet lips, letting his body slip down, forcing my finger from his anus,
as he came to rest with his head on my chest.

I brought my finger up to my nose and sniffed in deeply of our fuck.  I
wondered if there were any other smell so wonderful, so intimate –
perhaps it could only be better if I had deposited my seed within him, and
our bodily juices had intermingled.  I slipped the finger into my mouth,
and sucked Demetrio's being into me.

I shuddered.  My whole body wracked by the exquisite pleasure of holding
this little boy to me so close, knowing that I had fucked him with my
finger, and he had loved it.

"Dear Wishus, this should be ...."

Rolando interrupted my thoughts.  "Now you do me, Meester.  I want it,
too."

I quickly opened my eyes, and literally lost my breath.  Just the thought
of loving Rolando, like I had just loved his little brother, was
mind-numbing.  What would I give to be able to delve into Rolando's rear
with my exploring fingers!

"What ... what do you mean, Rolando," I stuttered, feeling the pressure
return, the desire I had for this boy, against the determination I had.to
remain true to Wishus.  I could not, I would not, fuck Rolando with my
dick, but I would not hesitate to bring him off like Demetrio, if he would
allow me.

 "You just fuck Metrio with your finger, Meester, now you fuck me!  We get
you ready for me.  This time you stay hard, Meester.  And this time I make
it easy for you."

"Now, Rolando, we've been through tha ...."  I started, thinking that he
had more in mind than my finger up his rear, then I stopped in
mid-sentence, seeing what he had in his hands.  While Demetrio and I had
been in the throes of the little boy's orgasm, Rolando had obviously been
busy.  He had the phallus out!  The wooden phallus, bigger than life,
longer than life, yet carved to such perfection that it seemed to indeed be
alive, glistening with the lubricating cream that Rolando was smearing onto
it as he held it up before his hungry eyes.

Something gripped tight about my heart.  I remembered seeing this huge
phallus sticking up out of Rolando's upturned butt, back at Big John's
ranch.  I had wondered then if it were some form of cruel torture, or if
Rolando had relished it inside him.  I remembered Rolando's look, when he
boldly retrieved the phallus, and placed it into his saddle bags.  I
remembered penetrating him with my own cock, just up to my dickhead,
wanting so much to plunge deeper, but wondering and fearing what it would
do to the boy.  Now he wanted me to ... what?!  Instead of my finger, he
wanted me to plunge this phallus into him?

The way he was looking at it, told me so.  He smoothed the cream over the
hard wooden surface lovingly.  This phallus was anything but an instrument
of torture for Rolando.  He had the intense gaze of passion, and that
pinched, tense look of anticipation – an anticipation of something so
immensely wonderful and pleasureable, that it is almost to be dreaded.
Something that one cannot live without, yet something that is consuming,
that takes control ....

I had read of the opium dens of China, and of men and women giving
themselves over to that drug, letting it possess them.  Looking at Rolando,
I felt I understood that kind of obsession.  Yet, was this something to be
feared, or something altogether good, as compared to the evil of being
possessed by a drug?

I began to sense what Rolando had meant when he said he needed to be
fucked!

Looking into Rolando's eyes, as he lavished his care on this wooden phallus
– nothing more than a pale substitute for a man's real phallus – I
sensed what it would mean for Wishus when we finally made love, as a boy
and his man must!

"Spread the blankets, please."  Rolando said it so softly, so plaintively,
that I felt his need.  This boy was hurting inside, his need was so great.
He didn't even take his eyes off the phallus, as he closed the container of
the cream.

I kissed the now sleeping Demetrio on his forehead, and gently lifted up,
and placed him beside me on my blanket, then hastened to spread the blanket
out further.

The fire had died a bit, but in the growing darkness now, Rolando's form
was backlit by the flickering, yellow glare.  His eyes were still on the
phallus, which he held almost reverently in both hands before him. He was
on his knees, sitting back on his heels, his body ramrod straight above his
hips.  He had taken his hair and swept the whole mass over his shoulder
farthest away from me.  His loveliness was beyond belief, in every detail,
every curve, every line of his body, from his rounded buttocks, resting on
his heels, up along the natural curve of his back; his tautly defined
chest, half-veiled by his hair.  His straight, erect penis, sticking out at
a 45 degree angle from his crotch.

I felt I was witness to some kind of reverent ceremony, that I was to be
initiated into secrets of awesome power tonight.  This twelve year old boy
was going to teach me.  He didn't know it, but he was going to teach me how
to make love to Wishus.

Suddenly Rolando turned his head towards me and smiled so gently, so
sweetly, holding out the phallus towards me.  "Take it, Meester, I need
your help."

"I ... I will do ... whatever I can, Rolando.  But .... "

"I will lay down, you put him in me. OK?"

So meekly did he say it, so plaintively, so pleadingly, that once again I
sensed his need.  It hit me, deep inside.  I had denied him last night, and
he had cried when I refused him my own cock..  Now he was afraid I would
deny him again.  Yet he needed this so much.

"Yes, honey, I'll put ... him in you."

"Good."  I heard his relief.  So their little scheme, to get me into sex
with them, had led up to this.  I still suspected that he would ask me to
fuck him again, and I just couldn't bare to hurt him anymore.  I prayed
that this fake phallus would do what I could not.

He layed down on his side, facing me and the sleeping Demetrio.  Then he
pulled his legs up, in a fetal position, holding them behind his knees,
pulling his torso towards me, opening his bottom to me, reveailing the
puckered hole between his butt cheeks.  Against the coppery colored skin of
his thighs, and peeking from between his cheeks, his hole looked mysterious
and dark.  Used.  Anything but virgin, like Demetrio's.  So small, so
hidden there in his most secret of places, yet not the perfectly smooth and
tight little hole of an unloved boy, but puckered out a bit, as if prepared
for the entry of his man.  Not wounded, not abused, not bleeding and hurt
– just used.  Ready.  Waiting.  Wanting.

I held the instrument gingerly.  It was lubricated and slippery all along
the shaft, so he did intend it to be pushed into him far more than just the
tip.

"Put him there, now," he directed me.  No longer did he speak in the
commanding tones he had used with Demetrio, nor with the insistence of last
night.  Now he was almost supplicating me.  I had something he wanted very
much.  He could have taken it from me, and fucked himself, but he very
plainly wanted me to do it.

I kneeled over him, and he watched with wide eyes as I started to put the
realistically carved dick head up to his opening.

"No, not that way," he said. "The curve should go the other way.  That way
it touch my special spot."

Your ... special spot ...," I uttered dumbly, having no idea what he was
referring to, but wanting to know.  I rotated the shaft, so that it would
enter him as if the man it was attached to were facing him.

"When it touches that spot, it feels ... oh, I don't know how to say it
...."  He rushed, sounding impatient.  "Put it in, please!"

With him holding his legs up like that, I could quite happily have dropped
the phallus, and just buried my face right in the center of all that
glorious boy flesh.  Rolando's three inch cock was stiff and straining free
of his foreskin.  All but the ridge of his plum-colored glans was visible.
I could see how tightley stretched was the skin at his frenulum, where his
foreskin attached to the skin of his shaft.  His dick lay flat against his
pubis, pointing directly up to his face.  His loose hanging balls, dangled
towards the blanket; his scrotum was darker than the skin of his thighs.

I imagined just laying down there and licking and sucking from his anus to
his stiffie.

"Please put him in!" he pleaded again, bringing me back to reality.

I swear that his anus winked at me!  I saw that he was tightening and
loosening his sphincter, whether consciously, or in instinctive preparation
for penetration, I didn't know.

The dark brown, bulbous head of the phallus, was so much bigger than his
much-experienced hole, so I hesitantly pressed it against him, and too
gently started to position it.

"There!  Push!" he demanded, saying it in his sweet, little boy's voice.
All the more commanding to me, that a boy wanted it.  He grabbed hold of
his erection roughly, seemingly without conscious thought, and seemed to be
holding on for dear life, not pumping it, but just pulling upwards, and
squeezing hard.

I pushed harder, and suddenly the whole head of the wooden cock seemed to
just slip within, as if being suctioned.  Rolando's anus stretched around
it miraculously, as the boy let out a gasp.  I heard his breath coming in
staccato puffs, then suddenly he sighed, releasing all his tension.

"Yes!" he wailed.  I looked up and saw that his face was now relaxed and
almost beatific, the softest, sweetest little smile gracing his lips.  This
boy's little anus had just stretched from it's tightpucker to take in what
was easily a 4 or 5" circumference of the dick head, and he lay there in
apparent ecstasy!

"Finally!  Now ... push him in slow ... very slow, Meester.  Don't ... take
him out
... like ... you did ... last night!"

I complied, my eyes transfixed on the slowly disappearing shaft, and the
dilated ring of muscle, which was being tugged inwards too, all around the
shaft.  Shifting my hands, I inadvertently let the phallus slip back just a
fraction of an inch, and Rolando gasped again, but quite obviously in
pleasure.  So I started doing that on purpose, to vary the inward motion.

"That is good, Meester.  You learn fast ... now come up here ... please
hold me up ... I show you how ... I want to be fucked!"

"Let go of the ... cock?" I asked.

"Si, you come ... hold me.  Raise me up."

I quickly repositioned myself up the blanket, hesitantly releasing the
phallus, to let it stick out of his body by itself.  I knelt behind him
now, while he turned onto his back.  He lifted himself on his elbows
slightly, and I scooted up under him, careful to gather his streaming hair.
Gently I lowerd him onto the incline of my thighs.

He pulled his legs up again, and said, "Now you must hold my legs back
here, and I show you.  This is the way a boy has to be fucked.!

The phallus waved about wildly in the air, protruding obscenely from his
rectum, as I replaced his hands with my own behind his knees, forcing his
butt off the blanket so that he could easily grasp the shaft of his
imaginary fucker.

I looked down his lovely, little boy's form, from his head down to his
drawn up knees, in between which the now free-standing phallus stood out
proudly from his butt.  He now had at least four inches of the shaft inside
him.  It shook, and twitched in the air, melded with the body that encased
it.

Just ... hold me ...," he whispered now, as he stretched his arms out and
grasped the phallus with both his little fists.

I did hold him, knowing that I had to spread his legs wide apart, as he
began to pull the shaft deeper into his bowels fully another inch.  He
groaned loudly, and long, and I saw the muscles of his stomach tense
convulsively.

The he pulled the other way, and the cock eased back slowly, till only the
head was still within him.  The shaft was slick with his body's juices, and
the scent started to fill the still air.  I breathed in deeply, loving the
smell now.  Not even stopping for an instant, seeming to need the phallus
back deep inside him immediately, Rolando stabbed it in again.  This time
moving in faster, more forecfully than I had.

"Oh, you don't know ... how it feels ... so good ... to have a man
... inside you
..." he continued to instruct me, struggling to concentrate between breaths.

In and out, he started up a rhythm, punctuated by the wet suctioning noises
coming from his hole, at each change of direction.

"When it touch me ... there!" he groaned and tensed again, "I never
... want him to ... leave me!"

The magical spot seemed to be when the head of the penis was a couple or
three inches inside him.  I remembered going about that deep, or a little
less, when I was finger-fucking Demetrio, but I had felt nothing other than
the soft, cushiony sides of the void within the little boy.

Whatever that special spot was, it dawned on me that Rolando was going to
cum without even touching his dick!  That neglected member swayed from side
to side across his pubis.

"I like it when ... my man ... start to fuck ... me harder and ... deeper."
He indeed was increasing the tempo.  I tried to picture the giant Big John,
laying on top of this little boy, plunging his huge cock into the small
body.  All the while with Rolando begging for more.  In and out, deeper,
harder, twice a day filling him, morning and night!  Till it was something
Rolando lived for.  Till the pleasure, and the sense of being loved, and
needed, and owned, became all important to him.

Watching Rolando fuck himself with a lifeless wooden phallus, I knew once
and for all that this was what I must give to Wishus.  What I must share
with my beloved.

I cried out silently, through all the distance between us, wanting Wishus
to know this most perfect union between man and boy.  " I hope you feel all
my love now, dearest Allouicious, and when we are together again, I will
give you all my love through all time!  I want to be with you now,
Wishus!!"

Rolando's body shuddering against my legs, brought me back to where I was,
rather than where I wanted to be.

He kept pistoning in and out, his head bent down one moment, concentrating
on his anus, then slamming back against my belly the next, when the stabs
of pleasure hit him with overwhelming force.

The way his whole body was bent over it, it seemed like his very being was
concentrated there at his fuck hole.  He started a rhythm with his legs, in
time with his pumping hands, using my hands as a fulcrum, letting him lift
his bottom higher with each in stroke, and then letting it fall slightly as
he pulled out.

At first it sounded like he was wheezing, but soon his high, almost
continuous moan of pleasure, told me he was going to cum soon.  He simply
could not endure this much longer!

I stared wide-eyed, almost afraid for him, seeing that he was plunging
fully six or seven inches of the huge phallus into his body now, and he was
roughly jerking it from one side to another with each stroke, almost as if
he were plowing himself, trying to widen his own hole.  I knew it was silly
of me to fear for him, because he was plainly in throes of ecstasy that I
myself could hardly imagine.

Then he screamed loudly, and I knew he had orgasmed, fucking himself.  His
legs involuntarily spasmed out, breaking my hold, straightening themselves
out, convulsing and pounding the blankets, as the boy's body was wracked
with waves of pleasure.  The phallus was clenched tight between his cheeks,
and buried beneath him.  I feared it would rip him apart down there, but he
just squirmed about on it, either oblivious to its position, or revelling
in it.

He yelled out streams of Spanish, whether lewd blessings upon the phallus
that still penetrated him, or prayers of thanksgiving for his ecstasy, I
had no idea.

I just held him, and gently smoothed the sweat streaked hair from his brow,
glad that he had recaptured at least part of what he had lost, when I took
him from Big John.



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



He didn't like to admit it, but as the sun fell lower and lower, and the
dark shadows started to lengthen into odd shapes on the far canyon wall,
Wishus felt afraid.  Even here, standing above his city, next to his
Shaman's Tower.

Just weeks ago he would have been safely esconced in his 5th Avenue, third
floor bedroom, back in New York.  Now he shivered against the growing
chill, and the sudden thought of ancient ghosts.

He was just a little boy, all alone, where being alone didn't mean he could
traipse downstairs to his mommy's bedroom.  Being alone here meant that his
guardians were dead, or gone.  His parents had sent him 2000 miles away
... and the one person on Earth whom he could rely on totally, was miles
and miles away over the high mountain ridges.

Teg would return, however.  That much Wishus absolutely knew.

He had to return!

Tears again.

Wishus was so tired of crying.  He had cried when Teg rode away.  He had
cried himself to sleep every night since.  He had cried watching the fire
take away his aunt and uncle.  Now there was this awful, empty, loneliness
he felt, and all these horrid shadows.

Wishus felt so meek.  Suddenly a wave of helplessness and hopelessness just
overwhelmed him.  Teg would never return, and even if he did, he would find
his little boy ....

"No!" Wishus cried out, and heard the echoing cries go slamming back and
forth across the canyon.  Even his own voice was frightening, when it
shattered the quiet of this lonely wilderness.

He clumsily and quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks, and angrily
grabbed his sleeve, to wipe the sniffles from his upper lip.

He knew what he would do, what he had to do, if he were to survive all
this.

"I'll do it, Teg!"  he weakly called out in a breaking voice, but this time
with his head down.  No echo came back to mock him.

He had it all planned out.  So, very quickly, feeling the fears, the
ghosts, and the dark shadows starting to creep back in on him, he stooped
low, and stepped into the Tower.  Feeling a sudden rush of panic, as if
some monster were just outside the door now, he screamed, and fumbled
furiously with the heavy rock slab.  Grunting with the effort, struggling
against the pain in his wrenched shoulder, realizing that it was indeed a
lot heaver now that Teg wasn't here to help him, the despair almost
overcame him.  Couldn't anything go right for him!?

The slab suddenly lurched and shifted into position, just as Teg had shown
him it would, and it fell firmly over the door.

The little boy flopped back, off balance, stumbling back across the floor
till he fell onto the thick cushion of the bed that he and Teg had made.
Just that afternoon, Wishus had freshened it with a new layer of juniper
bows.  With his blankets spread over it, it was almost as comfortable as
his feather bed, in the old days.

He giggled, feeling suddenly so relieved.  The big rock slab had shut out
all his looming fears.  This was his very own little fort, just as Teg
intended it.  Now there was just him, the four walls reaching up to the
solid cavern roof, and the flickering yellow glare from the small fire in
the corner ... that, and his memories of Teg.

He quickly got back up and loosened the rope around his waist, then lifted
his nightgown off.  He folded it carefully and laid it at the foor of the
bed, then reached for the blackened brush that he had fished from the cabin
ruins.

He had planned every little step, and calmly continued through his ritual.

He had bathed in the pond, eaten, and prepared the Shaman's Tower for
tonight.  Now safely within, it was time.  Now he could just quietly and
clearly think about Teg, and those days when they were together, and the
days when they would be together again.

Just a rough stubble remained on the brush, so Wishus began to carefully
and slowly draw it through his hair.  After the fire, and all the work
today, he wanted to feel his hair straight and freee of tangles again.  He
had alsways loved the feel of his long tresses as he brushed them, and had
always taken great care of his hair.  He loved to feel it soft and cool
upon his bare shoulders.  Teg had loved his hair too.  Wishus had sensed
that from the very beginning - Teg was always touching the boy's tresses,
sifting the strands through his fingers, leaning in to smell ... "you smell
good," Teg used to say.  That always made Wishus just glow inside.

The boy looked down at his pale, slim body, and giggled again, remembering
the look in Teg's eyes whenever the boy was naked.  Wishus had never before
been really conscious of his body, but now he knew that he was beautiful.
His Uncle Tom must have thought he was beautiful, too.  Wishus had seen
that same kind of look in Uncle Tom's eyes.  Kind of a ... desperate look,
or a pleading look, especially with Teg!  Like Wishus had something that
Teg just couldn't live without.

It all seemed to center on his peepee!

Such a small, tiny, little thing, but it seemed to have the power to make
Teg's own huge ... dick ... so hard and long!

Wishus suddenly forgot all about brushing his hair, and dropped the brush
beside his bed.  He laid back on the soft mattress and let both his hands
wander naturally to his stiff little penis.

He closed his eyes and tried to breath slowly and evenly, to calm himself,
but he felt something building within himself, like his blood was suddenly
rushing faster through his veins.

Just like he had felt that night when he woke up next to Teg, and his
peepee was so hard.  And Teg had shown him how to ... jack off.

Never before had Wishus felt so wonderful, and so loved, as that night.
Now, that same feeling in his peepee was there again.  Perhaps if he just
kept his eyes closed, and started stroking himself, he could feel like Teg
was right here with him ....

With one hand he started to lightly slide up and down on his little cock,
loving that special tingling everytine he brushed the head, so tight and
bulging under his foreskin.  His balls too, demanded his touch - it was
like they were attached to some place deep inside him, and he needed to
pull and tug at them gently, to relieve the building tension within.  Yet
the tension never stopped, it just grew, and grew.

His other hand stole slowly up his tummy, to his chest, to once again
explore those new centers of pleasure that he had discovered that afternoon
at the pond.  He let his fingertips sweep over one nipple, then across to
the other, and wondered at the fact that they too seemed to be connected to
that gnawing center of ... hurt?  Pleasure?  A nagging feeling deep inside,
that he wanted to get stronger, yet felt compelled to try to relieve by
massaging himself all over!  It was a tingling ... a burning ... some kind
of raw nerve that begged to become his sole focus, yet spread its tentacles
to his balls, and all along his peepee.  It was like a hurt, because it
ached so terribly, yet ... so wonderfully!  The harder he pumped on his
peepee, the harder he pressed and caressed his nipples, all the more the
hurt demanded!

His balls, his dick, his nipples - they were all part of this special
feeling that Teg had revealed to him ... Teg had touched him other places
too!

Wishus remembered when Teg had sucked him.  His big hands roamed Wishus'
body, but then one hand slipped down, down, below his peepee, to his butt
hole!  That had felt so good too!

Wishus rolled over slightly and let his left hand drop from his nipples,
over the upthrust curve of his hips, across his butt, to seek that other
place.

He kept pounding up and down on his little prick, feeling like it was now
the very center of that wonderful feeling - it seemed to command that he
stroke and clench it full-fisted now, harder and harder, faster and faster.
His breathing was now raspy and loud, and his skin was sweaty from the heat
of his body.

He inserted his middle finger into the hot, moist crack between his
buttocks, and slid it down, feeling his nerves suddenly on edge there too.

Teg had rubbed over and over his hole, the spit dripping down from his
mouth on Wishus' cock, making it so slippery.

Quickly, feeling like a dam was about to burst in his groin, Wishus brought
his left hand back up to his mouth, and wet his middle finger, tasting the
sweat from his own bottom.  It was something he never would have done
before, but now it just seemed the right thing to do, and he loved the
musty taste!

He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he was about to lose control of
his body, so he just as quickly swept his hand back to his butt hole and
started rubbing, like Teg had.

Oh God, it felt so good!  It tickled, it itched, it tingled, it ... ached!
Crying out for him to rub harder, demanding that he relieve the building
ache just within his hole!

He pushed harder, and felt the tip of his finger plop past the firm ring of
his sphincter.  The sensation was like the final trigger, starting the
explosion of electrical shock with him.  The excruciating pleasure seemed
to build to overflowing, within him, then to surge from his butt, from his
nipples, from his balls, all the way up his shaft to the very head of his
peepee!  He suddenly felt so raw there, so infinitely sensitive, that he
could not bear to continue pumping.

Wishus fell back, gasping for breath, one hand still on his dick, holding
it tight, the middle finger of his other still knuckle-deep inside his
anus.

"Teg!  I ... did it!  Just like ... you showed me!  Teg!  Teg!  Come back
to me!  I did it ... Teg!"


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


Coming down off his orgasmic high, lying limp against me, Rolando suddenly
spoke, in a dreamlike voice, "Now ... Meester.  I can feel ... you hard
too.  You put your ... cock in me ... now."

He reached slowly back down between his legs, pulling them up again, at the
same time, and took hold of the shaft of the phallus.  It too lay almost
limp now, hanging from his rectum, with only its head still lodged inside
him.  Its heavy, wooden balls rested on the blanket.  I couldn't believe it
when he started once again to push it in, slowly now, but he groaned weakly
with the same sound of need that he had used earlier.  Thinking him lost to
the world, and totally oblivious of my presence now, I was shocked at his
request.  Had this all been planned, as I had feared, just to renew his
attempt to get me to fuck him?

I fumbled for a reaction.  I cared for him too much to ever want to hurt
him.  And I didn't want him to cry again, as he had last night.  Stupidly,
I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"I'm not going to put it anywhere," I tried to sound as if I were joking,
"especially if you can't stop calling me `Mister!'"  I gently nudged his
shoulder with the palm of my hand.  "Now I told you several times today
that you could call me Teg, or Teglin, or just `hey you!', but not Mister.
Don't you think we're
... well, don't you think we've been through enough by now?"

He slumped back again, and let his right leg fall back to the blanket.  I
heard him sigh, and I could just barely feel him shake his head.  In
disbelief?  Disappointment?  I was lost now, helpless to know how to mend
this boy's spirit.

He looked up at me, the hurt showing in his eyes and his furrowed brow.
With one hand he lifelessly withdrew the phallus, and tossed it onto the
blanket.  He tried to push his body up off me, twisting his head back to
stare at me.  His look hit me like a splash of cold water.  The ecstasy
that had smoothed his features so angelically just seconds before, was all
gone.

"You fuck me, Meester, then I call you Teg, or Teglin, or even `hey you',"
he mocked me, listlessly, as if he had given up.  "You fuck me.  Now."

"Rolando, I ... I thought you understood I can't ... I mean, I won't.  You
don't have to ...."

"You fuck me tonight.  You tell me that way, that you take care of us
forever."

"No, you don't have to do that anymore." I almost pleaded with him to
understand.  "You're mom was ... well, she just didn't know, Rolando, that
...  things aren't like that everywhere.  You don't have to sell yourself
anymore.  Not just because you're with me, but ...."

"You tell me that," he said quietly, and continued in a monotone,
controlling his emotions, holding back the tears.  "But you don't know.
You are not Mexican.  I don't think you ever eat other peoples' trash just
to keep from starving ...  Momma did know.  She knew the only way.  What
she teach me, what Big John give me, it's all I got, Meester.  You don't
give me that, I got nothing."

His words were like ice water thrown in my face.  Did I so little
understand this boy?

 "You tell me I can't have that ... and ... I --" he struggled to continue,
fighting back the tears.  I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, and
pulled him up to my chest.  I kissed the top of his head gently now, trying
to reassure him, trying to understand what he wanted, what he needed.

"I'm telling you, Sweet One, that I will make sure you have a good life.
You don't have to f .... make love with me for it.  Or with anyone else.
Can't you understand that?"

"But you are the one who don't understand, Meester!"  I felt him shake his
head `no', his silken hair gliding under my chin.  "I want it!  I need
... to ...  I have to have you ... have a man ... inside me, or I ....  You
don't fuck me, I feel ...  like ... I am lost...."

"Rolando!"  I rasped out forcefully, through my own emotions, hating my
inability to comfort him.  To make him understand, or to understand him.

"I can't make love with you, Rolando ... believe me, I would ... just die,
if you were my boy, my love, I would fuck you night and day, if that's what
you wanted, just to show you my love, but I ...."

"Why you can't feel that way, Meester?  You say I am beautiful, you want
me.  I know you want me, but you DON'T want me!"

"Rolando," I tried to stay calm, not wanting to hurt him further, and
thinking that the truth might be the only thing that he would understand.
"I can only do that with the one I love, and ... I ... there is another
... boy, waiting for me ...."

"A boy?"

I swear, I could physically sense the relief in him.  He tensed with new
energy, and the intensity returned to his gaze as if I had just given him
reason to believe that all the doubts, and fears, and every other emotion
of inadequacy or loss, that he was feeling, might be needless.

"What boy," he asked, softly.  Not defiantly, or accusingly.  I heard
wonder in his tone.

"His name is ... Wishus --", I couldn't help but whisper the name of my
dearest, reverently, and with a sense of utter joy, and even relief, that I
had said his name out loud in the presence of another, revealing my love to
someone who might understand it.

"And this boy, Wishus, he waits for you?  You go to him?"

"Yes."

"You do like me, but you have someone else?"

"Yes."

"He is the only reason you will not fuck me?"

How to answer that?  I was heart and soul in love with Wishus, and in the
face of 37 years of loneliness, and against every condemnation of society,
I could not imagine it ever being different.  Wishus was a part of me, and
I knew I was a part of him, and one day we would be One.  Yet, if not for
Wishus, what would I have felt for Rolando?  Not knowing, I said what I
thought was good for Rolando to hear, and perhaps indeed the truth of it.

"Rolando, I think if I had never known Wishus, then I would fall to my
knees before you, and worship you with all my heart, and love you till the
oceans go dry, and ... and I would fuck you continuously, till you would
beg to have me withdraw."

He remained silent, and still, for the longest time.  Finally, I lay back,
pulling him with me, so that once again he and Demetrio could sleep at my
sides.  I held him to me, and wrapped the blankets about us.

"You have a boy.  And that is why you won't fuck me." I heard him whisper.
He seemed lost in thought, so I didn't answer.  I knew what he meant.  I
knew that he had needed to know about Wishus, otherwise he just would never
have understood why I couldn't commit to him totally.

Perhaps I couldn't have answered, anyway.  I felt the cold on my cheeks
before I really realized that I had started to cry.  The long moments of
silence had given me plenty of time to think.  Holding these two sweet
boys, I wanted so much to give them everything they needed, and deserved,
but how could I fill the void in Rolando's heart?  What he wanted, I could
never give to anyone but Wishus, now.

Oh, my dear sweet Wishus.  I cried for him too.  Cried for myself too, I
guess.  I pictured him in his bed, up in the loft of the Knight's cabin.
Lonely, probably a little scared, wondering if I would return.  The one
person on Earth who had total claim to my heart, yet I still had more miles
to put between us.