Date: Wed, 8 Jan 2014 08:46:09 -0500
From: Susan
Subject: Vignette 13

*RULES OF ENGAGEMENT*
1. No kids allowed. There's Dr. Seuss for you.
2. It isn't cheap porn, it's literature. If you want the other, go
somewhere else.
3. If you live in a backward, repressive state that doesn't allow you to
read the things you want, move!
4. Vignettes, 1 thru 29 are copyrighted.
5. If we can't agree than love occurs regardless of age and gender, put
this down and get a life.
6. Support Nifty. Give generously.

.


*Introduction*

It seems that Ganymede has once again picked up the pen.

First, Summer Days, and then Azure Dragon, with rumors of other tales on
the horizon. Does he not realize that his fans have missed him dearly. I,
for one, want more?

Once again, I dedicate this to Ganymede, my David, with the fond hope that
he will continue writing. And to Kelly too, though he's eight years older
than when I first penned vignettes. He's in college now, studying music at
Miami, still with the same perky grin he had at ten. I will always remember
his giggle when he romped on the couch with David (see Vignette 1). Life
would not be worth living without them.

Susan

*Vignette 13 *

by Susan.

It's Saturday, just past midday when I return from Walmart. David and Kelly
have spent the morning getting ready. There's a stack of things beside the
glass wall overlooking the deck. A cooler, tackle boxes, two overnight
bags, Kelly's favorite pillow, a cardboard box full of odds and ends, and a
kite. So much stuff, and it's only for a single night. Curiosity always
gets the better of me, especially when they're not around to see. I strain
to hear, expecting the thump of bare feet at any moment. Usually, shrill
cries follow whispers and giggles when they're misbehaving. Not a sound,
which could meaning anything at all, or nothing, They're outside since the
house is silent, however the wide open sliding door to the sundeck could
mean that they might come back at any moment.

I wander over and make a feeble pretense at straightening the curtains. I
can't help smiling when I see what's in the box, half hidden by Kelly's toy
motor boat. There's a bottle of baby oil, which is what David uses when he
gives Kelly massages. I've watched him do it often, usually on the sun deck
with Kelly face down on a towel. He's slippery and shiny with baby oil
slathered on his supple back and thighs, so lithe and sexy as David's hands
slide about that it takes my breath away. Of course, Kelly wears briefs or
his swim-team Speedo whenever I'm around, but on the boat, with no one to
see them, he'll be naked, and so will David. The bad news is there's only
an inch of baby oil left in the bottle, barely enough for the two of them
to have some fun.

With a smirk, I place a jar of Vaseline right next to the baby oil. I know
what it's for. It's necessary lubrication for a certain ten-year-old,
though David didn't put it quite like that. Over morning coffee three
months ago, with Kelly safely on the school bus, he informed me that my son
had discovered masturbation. My little boy was growing up, doing what all
boys do eventually, but it still surprised me that Kelly was masturbating
on a daily basis. Propitious or not, but that very morning, David added
`Vaseline' to my shopping list. When I asked why, he smiled and said `he
needs it. He's getting sore... his lips I mean.' His words, not mine, yet
Kelly's lips are anything but chafed. His lips are like mine at his age, a
little too full for a boy, especially when they're red.

Surprisingly, I don't see the tube of KY jelly that should be there. David
prefers it, though it's not something we will ever talk about again. Equate
jelly from Walmart is half the price and just as slippery, but it isn't for
himself. Only the best will do for Kelly. Instead, I find an orange-red box
with a picture of a woman kneeling, panties pulled to the side, looking
back. It's an odd thing to find until I see the label on the box,
'Anal-ese'. 'Anal-ese', I read again, mouthing the words with a breathless
thrill as my thoughts ricochet from 'anal' to 'ese' and back again. I dwell
upon the simple truth of what it means. David's thing inside my son. Inside
his anus. With ease! The final proof of what I've suspected since Kelly's
birthday. In truth, it's patently obvious they're having anal sex, though
I've tried my best to ignore it.

David is indulging in sodomy with my son, that's what the tube is for. It
has to be; he wouldn't use it for anything else. To make their act of love
an easy matter rather than the painful process that one might expect when a
man of David's size penetrates a little boy. There's no other reason for
the box to be there.

All along, I've needed proof. Confirmation of what I think is going on
between them. Something more than wet marks and starchy stains in the
middle of David's bed. Going by what I've seen, not the least of which are
Kelly's love letters, I'd be surprised if the tube of 'Anal-ese' wasn't
used up before they return. I glance around, hearing not a sound. They're
still down at the boat. I'll see them coming.

I squat down and lift out the small oblong box. I use my fingernail to
extract the flap. An unopened tube slides out, bright red and white.
Printed along the side, 'desensitizing lubricant', 'where less painful anal
penetration is desired', 'cherry flavored and scented'. There is pounding
deep inside me, so strong it's almost scary.

Why 'cherry flavored'? And then it hits me. However, I'm not surprised. I
suppose it makes sense that taste is important. The very idea is
disgusting, so it unsettles me. David doing that to Kelly's bottom. Putting
his tongue where his thing has been, inside my Kelly. Or?... I swallow.
Would Kelly put David's thing inside his mouth afterwards? Perhaps he
would.

They'll be gone all night. The two of them, alone together with 'Anal-ese'!
It's easy to imagine what will happen. The boat moored in a quiet cove,
hidden among the reeds on one of the many small islands that dot the
Intracoastal Waterway. David and Kelly downstairs, lying on the bed, on up
in the cockpit, surrounded by fishing gear, both naked and greasy after
massage time. It's hot enough that they'll sweat a lot, but they'll be
having sex with ease. With 'Anal-ese'. 'Desensitizing lubricant'. I wonder
what effect it has. 'The lubricant part is easy to guess. It's the same
reason why there's a tube of KY in the nightstand next to the bed they
share. 'Desensitizing' what? Making Kelly's anus less sensitive? It has to
be for that, and David's thing as well. I can't help but press my thighs
together. Both of them, man and boy, their bodies dulled to the sensations
of making love. I think it through with unruffled logic. With 'Anal-ese'
they will be doing it longer, harder, and deeper than they normally would,
and probably not just once or twice. Oh my!

After a quick glance through the window, and a few deep breaths, I search
inside David's overnight bag. I'm not sure what I expect to find, certainly
not `whatever.' I put it back before I realize. I take it out again and my
hand trembles as I realize what it is. It's simple enough to be home made,
a thin fawn-leather strap with metal press-studs attached to a brass ring.

"Oh my!" I giggle like my son. It's way too big for him.

I search through the rest of David's bag, but there's nothing else worth
reporting. Then, I open the zipper on Kelly's bag. He always packs a mess;
a couple of scrunched up tee shirts and his favorite soccer shorts, two of
the half-dozen pastel bikini undies that David brought back from New York
for him. His never-without teddy bear is buried under his beach towel. I
can't stop thinking there's a matching boy-sized one for him. Instead, I
find the last thing I expect to find in the side pocket of his bag, wrapped
in a sealable plastic bag.

A cold hotdog is a strange thing for Kelly to take as a snack. However,
it's not a hotdog, although it has the same length and thickness, and the
same smooth skin. What gives the game away is its color, not as brown as
the ball-park hotdogs I buy, and it's translucent, like jelly. `Dildo'
takes a moment to sink in. I've always imagined they were bigger. This one
is small enough to be boy-sized. Surely David doesn't put it in Kelly's
bottom? My face grows hot. I quickly put it back in the side pocket of
Kelly's overnight bag and look up just in time.

Kelly, with disheveled hair, is clowning on the dock, waiting for David.
Air guitar strumming and lip-syncing to *Little Red Rooster* which booms
from David's boat. He laughs as he comes up the dock ramp, expending his
seemingly endless energy by dragging on David's hand. It's easy to tell
when he's happy. They're going fishing overnight! Kelly loves to fish.

There's a distinctive look, a mien if you will, that a boy has when he's
sexually active with a man. I started noticing it after David took him to
Disneyworld. I thought nothing of it at the time, just that they were
closer after spending the weekend together, but it was there all the same.
So many little changes after that, a little more cloying than previously
when he's sucking up to David, eyes downcast or constantly peeking at him,
a demeanor that is both bold and shy, and a tendency to be moody or giggly
for no reason at all. That's my boy. Not that I mind. He's in love. It's
puppy love at his age, but does it really matter? What happens in private
makes him happy. It's why they're taking baby oil, `Anal Ese,' and a little
dildo I've never seen before.

I greet them at the door, meeting David's inquiring gaze with stoic
acceptance that he's the most important person in Kelly's eyes. I play
second fiddle in that orchestra. He doesn't say anything. I glance away
after a moment. Kelly's shirt is gone, leaving him bare from the waist up.
It must be on the boat. Without thinking why he might have left it there, I
feast wantonly upon his suntanned skin. He's bronzed and lean, and sexy
too, although I could never say that to him. There are some things that
greatly disturb me, yet I can't deny the way I feel. I see his navel, with
a little ring of skin around it, an innie hole, to show where he was once
connected to my body. His only attire consists of a pair of faded swim
shorts. They're at least two years old and the Hawaiian floral pattern is
barely visible, but the shorts are still quite loose around his middle. I
like the slender look, and so does David, but it's more than that.

"How was music?" I ask my son before my thoughts take off.

David takes Kelly to piano lessons two times a week and waits to pick him
up.

"I'm playing Borodin."

He's adopted a manner that bespeaks of body awareness, with a tendency to
showing off by wearing almost nothing. Some parts in particular he exploits
to his advantage, whether clothing, posture, or gait. He's downright sexy.
No wonder they're using `Anal Ese.'

After finding KY in their bedroom, I went online and researched `anal sex.'
Anatomically, I'm well informed because there's a vast amount of
information on gay websites, though nothing at all about boys having
intercourse with men. Now, his butt draws my attention even more than
what's in front.

"By the way, that package came from Amazon," David says offhandedly.

He means the package I wasn't supposed to open.

"It looks like you have everything," I say, casting my eyes over the pile
beside the door.

It's safer to avoid the things I want to say. When David's near, Kelly's a
different boy. He stands side-on and close to David, brushing his bare
chest against David's arm, hungry for attention. He has a way of making
contact which makes me tremble. It's very deliberate, while it appears
accidental. I've seen him do it often enough to know he's a willing
accomplice.

Doesn't he realize the effect he has on David? David steps closer, his arm
no longer touching Kelly's chest, but moving to Kelly's waist, drawing in
to give him a playful hug. Kelly's butt is like two small melons, which is
hardly a sensual metaphor. They part with giggles from my son, squirming as
if something's in the way. It's only for a second or two that there's any
room between them, but it's long enough to see the bulge in David's shorts.
That thick long ridge is impossible to miss.

"Everything but the kitchen sink," David agrees with a sly smile.

Does he know the thoughts that clamor in my head? Perhaps he notices that
the tube of 'Anal-ese' isn't where he left it in the bottom of the
cardboard box, but sitting on top of Kelly's model boat?

"Can you imagine how much stuff there'd be if we went for a week?" he adds.

He reaches out and fondly ruffles Kelly's windswept hair.

"You'd never get it on the boat," Kelly chimes in with another of his
infectious giggles. "Mom, we were talking just now, about how cool it would
be..."

He pauses mid-sentence and looks to David for reassurance.

"If we took Boatie down to the Keys this summer," David finishes.

'Boatie', as David calls it, is his 27 foot express cruiser that's never
had any other name as far as I know, certainly not after Kelly called it
that. Supposedly, it has berths for six, but it's cramped with the three of
us aboard. There's a kitchenette which is barely large enough to make
coffee, and a toilet, which David persists in calling a 'head'. It's fast,
but there isn't a shower that's worthy of the name, and the
air-conditioning works only when Boatie is tied up at the dock. Despite its
size, Boatie keeps David and Kelly happy on the weekends because it's been
fitted out for fishing. Judging by the wall-length mirror David installed
in the aft cabin, I assume they use it for something else besides fishing.
It's almost more than I can stand.

"We'll have to stay for a week or two, Susan. Otherwise it isn't worth the
trip," David adds. pointedly "We'll leave as soon as Kelly gets out of
school. Before it gets too hot."

I breath out. "Oh?"

'Oh' is all I can manage to say. David knows how much I dislike being on
the boat for more than a few hours at a time. It's cramped and the smell of
fish makes me nauseous. I think of David and Kelly being alone together for
that long, sharing the big queen berth in the aft cabin, having sex
whenever they want, watching themselves in the mirror that fills the wall
behind the bed. Kelly will be suntanned all over, because knowing David,
they'll be naked whenever they're alone. Mostly fishing and swimming, but
water skiing too. My son, is he water nymph or merboy?

I don't know what to say beyond, "Okay by me if he gets straight As this
term."

Kelly has three more weeks of school before his final exams. If David's
serious about going, Kelly will have a lot of studying to do between now
and when his summer vacation starts.

Kelly glances at David. I see him smile. It's sly, and crude, and
disturbing in a way that belies his age. Sometimes he acts more like a
teenager than a ten-year-old. Then, even as I watch them, David winks at
him. It's the sort of I-know-what-you-want wink that makes him seem like a
dirty old man hanging out in a mall food court.

"No problem," David says.

The two of them immediately share a knowing smirk. I felt left out again.
I'm the interloper in a relationship that has no place for me.

"I suppose..."

I catch myself before I say something unpleasant. David lifts his hand and
places it on Kelly's bare shoulder. His fingers squeeze in while his thumb
strokes close to Kelly's neck. There's a red blotch near his shoulder that
wasn't there when I went to Walmart. What were they doing on the boat that
gave my son a hickey? What bothers me more is Kelly's smirk, as much as
saying they did something else besides make out the whole time.

"Two weeks is a long time," I mutter.

David shrugs. "I thought you might want to drive down instead of come with
us, Susan. If you do, we won't have to overload the boat."

"That way you can stay at a hotel and we don't have to rent a car, Mom,"
Kelly pipes in.

He sounds so young, too young to be the passive partner in our asymmetric
love triangle.

I get the message. Being a convenience is better than nothing, certainly
better than staying here by myself while they're in Florida. Deep down I
know there's more to this vacation than meets the eye. With me at a hotel,
it will be a honeymoon for them.

"Mickie said there were some very nice bed and breakfast places at Key West
right on the water," I say. It might even be fun.

"That's even better than a hotel. It'll give us a place to dock. He'll be
able to get an occasional bath that way," David jokes. He holds his nose
and pretends that our precious Kelly smells.

"It's you who always smells sweaty, not me," Kelly teases back, mimicking
his mentor in juvenile behavior.

I help them carry their stuff down to the dock. Kelly runs ahead, an
overnight bag slung over each shoulder, pillow and kite clutched tightly to
his chest. David brings up the rear, lugging the cooler with tackle boxes
perched on top.

"He's so happy," I observe over my shoulder.

David grins and nods, his gaze following my offspring as if he's the only
person in existence. I know I'm being irresponsible allowing Kelly to spend
the night alone with him and `Anal Ese.'