Date: Mon, 17 Mar 2003 20:07:33 +0000
From: Susan
Subject: Vignette 5

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. It's 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.

Vignettes, 1 thru 29.

Introduction: Round Two.

Am I different to, or different from? Does it really matter who I am? Men
are all chauvinsists, I fear. There are even some readers who believe
that a woman cannot love young boys, let alone lust after her son. I
expect they harbor Oedipus complexes of their own. Again, I dedicate this
to Ganymede, my David, with the fond hope that he will continue writing.
And to Kelly too, without whose infectious smile, life would not be worth
living.

Susan

Vignette 5

by Susan.

Breakfast finishes in a rush. Kelly's late, but I don't know why. He's
had plenty of time to get up and get dressed since David's in New York.
He's been gone for three days now. I love having Kelly all to myself, but
I'm beginning to get tired of seeing him moping around the house. Just a
few more hours and David's home again. Kelly hears the bus outside. He
grabs his back-pack and runs through the house, shouting good-bye, still
eating half an English muffin. I hurry to the window to make sure he's
okay. The school bus waits just long enough for him to get onboard. No
sooner than he's on the stairs, the door closes behind him. The bus
lurches forward even before the red lights stop flashing. I watch until
it is out of sight. I won't see Kelly for another seven hours. David will
be home by then. The house is quiet. I wander back to the kitchen. It's
empty and I sigh. Only a minute earlier it was filled with chattering,
hungry boy. Wherever he goes it's the same. His presence seems to change
the world, my world at least.

I sit down again. The coffee is very good. It's that aromatic blend that
David buys from a gourmet store on the mainland. I wonder what he pays
for it. A lot more than at Piggly Wiggly, to be sure, even for their most
expensive coffee. I look at the other side of the counter where Kelly sat
to eat his breakfast. I count five pieces of Special K plus as many
splatters of milk. Special K, for special Kelly. I smile. It really isn't
named after him, but we pretend it is. It's the only cereal David ever
eats for breakfast. He'll be home by lunchtime. I wonder what he will
bring back for Kelly this time. He spoils him, but so do I.

What to do today? There's cleaning up to do, a load of wash, and I ought
to change the sheets. I go upstairs and into their bedroom. Their
bedroom! Not David's bedroom, or Kelly's bedroom, although he has a
bedroom across the hall with some of his things in it for when his
friends come to visit. Their bedroom. There's only one bed, a queen-size.
Even when David is away, Kelly still sleeps there. The sheets are
disturbed only on one side, not at all like when David's home. I pull the
top sheet away, instinctively looking. It's become a habit. Usually,
there's a wet spot or two somewhere near the center. There isn't. Of
course, there isn't. Kelly's barely ten. Yet, in the morning sun, there's
something to be seen where they've laid together. Pale yellow stains, not
one or two but half-a-dozen, some as large as quarters joined together. I
sit on the side of the bed and reach to touch. The cotton sheet is
slightly stiff as if its been starched. That's David's stuff! It feels
dry and stiff, not wet and slippery like it is some mornings, or sticky
when it's had a chance to dry. I rub my finger across the marks,
imagining. Finally, I smile. I always smile. I don't know for certain,
but I hope that where it really came from is where I want it to have
been. I imagine it leaking out after David's finished making love to him.
From inside Kelly, from inside my son! The very idea makes me tremble
with excitement. I stare at the spots. Count them again. There's no way
of knowing whether they were made all at the same time, or over several
times. There isn't very much of it, not compared to other weeks, but
David's been gone for half the time. Even then, I think there should be
more.

I'm certain they had sex on the weekend. Friday night for sure because
David took a new tube of KY upstairs with him when they went to bed.
Saturday morning too, because they were late coming down to breakfast.
Saturday night? Knowing David, most definitely yes. Probably a couple of
times if Kelly had anything to say about it. Now, Sunday, that's a
different matter. Kelly had a soccer game at 10.00 o'clock. But Sunday
night? They went upstairs before the movie finished. That's usually a
sign that they had something they wanted to do in private. And Monday
morning too, because David was leaving on his trip. I count on my
fingers. Five times, or more, certainly no less than that. More, knowing
David, and Kelly too. There are at least five spots. No doubt most of it
stayed inside him, or they used a towel. Those are the only explanations
I can think off. Usually, there's much more to see. Without knowing why,
I lean down over the bed, ostensibly to smell, but I end up kissing the
spots, pressing my lips to the place where Kelly's bottom has been. I
stay there for a while, inhaling deeply with the vain hope of smelling
something. Any smell has long since gone. David left on Monday.

I pull the fitted sheet away from the mattress, balling it up so that it
is easier to carry. Then, I strip the pillowcases off. The fourth pillow
stops me in my tracks. I swallow, staring. More spots. Not yellow, but
brown. I swallow again. It's as if someone has turned the temperature up.
My heat beats faster. A lot of spots, some tiny like droplets, with one
much larger in the center. I stare, fascinated. Kelly's been lying face
down over the pillow. That's the only explanation. There are no others. I
close my eyes, as if blocking out the evidence of my own eyes will
somehow stop the pounding of my heart. I open them again only seconds
later. The stain in the middle is shaped like a heart, I think. A
Rorschach blot of lust. Wouldn't a psychologist have fun with that?

My hands shakes when I touch the pillow case, touch where that dirty mark
has soiled the whiteness of the linen. Like the spots on the sheet, the
cloth is stiff. I swallow and awkwardly lick my lips. This time there's
no question that it's come from inside Kelly's bottom. The color tells me
that. I tremble at the thought, of David lying over him, his thing pushed
inside my son. All the way? I wonder if it fits. I think of him
ejaculating, filling Kelly's rectum with his sperm, his semen gushing out
deep inside my son. I wonder what it feels like when it spurts out. Can
Kelly feel it? While he's lying over the pillow, a lot of it escapes.
It's funny, but I don't laugh. Anxiously, with what must surely be
trepidation, I peel the pillow case away. I have to see. Although the
little spots have gone, the big stain is also on the pillow. It's soaked
through, all the way into the down inside the pillow. I wipe the empty
pillowcase over my face. There's no smell, nothing except the thoughts
that fill my head. I can hear them doing it, Kelly whimpering, David
grunting, then groaning at the peak. If only I could be there to see it.
Just once.

To see them do it! How often have I dreamed of that? To see Kelly on his
back, or lying on his belly over his pillow, giving himself to the man he
loves. If only it was me. I'm just a woman. I'm not what Kelly needs.
Yet, the idea excites me. It excites me so much that I can't stop myself.
There, in their bedroom, I lift my dress, push my panties to the side,
and rub furiously. Pretending. Pretending I'm with Kelly, although I
cannot conceive of what I would do with him. I know that he wouldn't want
to fuck me. I could suck his thing. I focus on doing that, his little
thing all the way inside my mouth. I become a man. I suck him hard, suck
with my cheeks pulled in. And rub. It's over quickly. I take time to
settle down before I remake the bed with clean sheets and pillowcases.
That stained pillowcase, I won't wash right away. I put in in my room.

Then, I straighten up the room. Most of Kelly's clothes are in the hamper
where they're supposed to be. There are just a few things on the floor. A
pair of boxers with jungle animals. He wore those just the day before. I
find a couple of his socks. Then, with nothing else to do except take
everything down to the laundry, I do something I should not do. I open
the drawer of the night stand beside the bed. It's none of my business,
yet I have to look there. I always do.

On top is a three-subject school notebook. It's from this school year,
judging by the class written below Kelly's name. 4-C for the fourth-grade
class taught by Ms. Cameron. I open it, vaguely interested in seeing how
his school work is progressing. The first few pages are English
compositions, marked up in red. I recognize David's handwriting. It's not
as neat as mine. He's been helping Kelly improve his spelling. He jokes
that Kelly's a bit dyslectic, but he's not. He's just lazy when it comes
to checking his work. I smile where I see that he's underlined 'different
from' and written 'to' above. Old habits die hard for both of us. I keep
turning the pages, stopping once to read a page about what he likes to do
on weekends. It's all about the fishing trips he goes on with David. He
describes the last time several months earlier when the kingfish were
running off the coast. Only then do I realize that the book is from the
previous semester. He's been fishing at least a dozen times since then.

I turn the page and read.

David,

I love you . I love you. I love you. I want to keep writing
it again and again. Its all I think about. I love you.
See? I love you! The more I write it the more I know
how much I love you. Because I do. I love you!!!!!!!
I'm suposed to be writing about some dumb poem about
why we are in Afganistan. boring!!!! Instead I
have been writing something else. :) :)
Its called My life and its a poem espesially for you.
I haven't got it completely done yet,
but this is it so far.
I hope you like it. Its on the next page (turn over)

Did you like it? I was going to write its awesum
when we fuck but I didn't. Even if it is I know I
sholdnt write it.
I dont like doing ryhmes as you can see.
Ilove you! I love you!! I love you!!! I love you!!!!

Your special K,

kissesxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxkellyxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxkisses
Ps. I love you
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm pleased to see that he hasn't forgotten his special Kelly kisses,
even if they are no longer directed at me. He kisses with his tongue. He
has always done, ever since he was a toddler. I remember how often I
kissed him in the bathtub, both naked and warm and slippery. I was always
gratified to see his thing rise above the water for then his pleasure was
visible. He was precious then, and no less so now that he is ten. Still,
it makes me sad, but if he cannot love me other than his mother it's
better that he loves David, than someone else.

On the next page is Kelly's poem. I read it first to myself, and then
aloud.

MY LIFE by Kelly
is fun like Disneyworld
is boring if I'm at school
is good when I'm playing soccer
is bad if I'm alone
is better on the weekend
is best when your around
is cool when we're naked
is awesum when we have sex

I smile. Awesome! That sounds like Kelly! Awesome indeed. My little
co-conspirator. My son! He's ten years old and he thinks it's awesome to
have sex with David. No doubt it is awesome when they fuck. It's awesome
to think of a man lying on top of a boy, doing that to him, of David
putting his thing inside Kelly, leaving his male juices there. Awesome,
like the stains on the sheet and pillowcase from where those same fluids
have dribbled out afterwards. It makes my stomach feel strange, not upset
or queasy, but I have that butterfly feeling. It's becoming increasingly
apparent that Kelly's entire life revolves around David. I turn the page,
realizing that he's been writing letters to David every day that he's
been gone.


Dear David,
It's been two days now. I want you back! Now!
Not on Thursday. I can't wait that long. I wish
I had a Harry Potter spell or something to bring
You back from New York. I couldn't go to sleep last
Night. I love you btw. Did I tell you that yet? Lol.

I love you! I love you!! I love you!!! I love you!!!!

Today was really boring. We had a fill-in. Yuk!
btw I sent you email from school. Did you get it?
I couldn't write anything dirty but I wanted to.
She was too dumb to know what I was doing :)
I drew a pictur of you in culture and society
and I got a stiffy. I played with it for a while. Hehe.
I pretended it was you. No one saw. I'm playing with it
now while I write this. I wish it was you doing it.

I want you back so bad. Why do you have
to go away? I keep waiting for the phone to ring.

I love you! I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Your little lover,
Kelly

Lots of kisses xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx lots more kisses

Ps Mom took me to soccer practice. She always
drives so slow. She thinks its a hurse. I pretended
I was a zombie when I got out but she didn't
think it was funny. I miss you.

I read it several times, resisting the inclination to correct his
spelling. David calls Kelly his little lover all the time. I've heard him
say it when he doesn't think I can hear. I don't drive that slowly. I'm a
safe driver. David drives too fast. And then on top of that, I suddenly
realize that Kelly is using his notebook to convey his innermost
thoughts. He's written things in it that he'd never share with me.
Perhaps with David. I imagine him writing, lying on the bed. This letter
was written after he went upstairs after dinner. He stayed there until
David called from New York. He was sulky until then. Kelly's in love,
hopelessly in love. Not puppy love, or infatuation, but real love that
makes a person's heart hurt from even a few minutes of separation. The
letter screams love. He's still so young, yet his pain is very real. I
feel for Kelly, feel his anguish at being apart from the man he loves. I
turn the page, knowing that he's lost to me forever now that he has
David.

Dear David,

Its Wednesday night. Its nearly eleven pm. I'm
suposed to be asleep. I tore out the letter I wrote
earlier. It sounded too dumb. I wish you'd call me.
I know you'll be home again tommorrow but I
can't wait that long. I want you back so bad. I
love you! Its exactly 13 hours till you get home if
mom's right about your flight.

I wish I didn't have to go to school tommorrow.
I want to be here when you arrive. I wanted to
go to the airport but mom says even if I didn't
have to go to school theres no point in it
because of the security stuff going on.

Guess what I did tonight after you called? Hehe
I put that dilldoe thing inside me. Its still
there. Really. I just touched it. Just a sec. I
pushed it in more. Its almost all the way in.
I wish you could see it. Its in all the way to the end.
It feels ok but not like you do. Too small!!!!!
Rofl! Well not that because it might come out.
I'm pretending its you. I lay on top of the pillow
to put it in. It went in ok. It was just like
how we did on Monday morning before I left
for school. It itchs a bit but its really nice.
It makes me feel like when you do it. Big
and hard. I wish it was you instead.
I love you. I luv u. eye luv u. eye love ew.

Your boy
Kelly.

Ps. I want my hole big for you. Guess why?
Pss You'll be home tommorrow and now I'm ready.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx luv u xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


The next page is blank, nothing but blue lines and white paper. I put the
notebook down. I take a deep breath and then I read the last letter
again. I look around the room. Last night, while Kelly was in here by
himself, he wrote that latter. I keep thinking of what he did in order to
get himself ready for David. He put that thing inside him. Quickly, I
look inside the still-open drawer. It's there. Of course, it's there.
Where else would it be when David's gone away? I reach for it, noticing
that my heart is beating quickly. It's the surge of adrenalin that David
writes about. My hand is trembling. It's shiny, wet looking, and
threatening to a woman even if it is made of silicone rubber.

There's a tube of KY jelly lying next to it. No explanation is needed for
that. I know what David uses KY for. And Kelly may be ten years old, but
he certainly isn't innocent when it comes to sex. Logically, he'll use it
too. Would it even go in without something to make it slippery? I touch
it with my finger, not the tube, but the other thing. It's firm yet
slightly spongy on the surface, easily bent yet stiff enough to push
inside a small boy's bottom. For a moment, I think it feels warm. It
can't be, of course. Not if Kelly used it late last night. And yet, it
is. It's distinctly warm against my finger. Absently, I slide my finger
slowly down the slippery pink surface. It's smooth except for tiny
ripples that bump against my fingertip. It's warm the entire way to the
tip. It's rounded there, but it's pointed too, not at all the way a man's
thing is. I've seen enough pictures to know the difference. It's much
thicker in the middle and I imagine Kelly's effort. He would have to
strain to get the middle part through, pushing it in by himself so that
he could be ready for David. It's almost funny.

Still deep in thought, I touch the other end, not expecting it to be
cooler but knowing that it will be. That end is shaped like a pair of
balls. Not little balls like Kelly's or big ones like David's, but
somewhere in between. It's close enough to the real thing that it's more
than just a knob. The difference in temperature compared to the other end
is noticeable. There is a lot of clear jelly that has gathered at the
tapered base. It's pushed back all the way to the end. It's gone in deep,
all of five inches, all the way to the narrow part that's right before
the 'balls'. I lick my lips. I swallow, gulping air. It's been inside
Kelly throughout the night. It's warm where it's been inside him. All
night! No wonder he was slow getting dressed.

I smile. I'm happy for him, even though it also makes me sad inside that
Kelly would need to do that, to keep it inside his body all night so that
he's ready for David.

"Poor boy. I bet you were sore this morning," I say aloud.

For Kelly's sake, I'm glad that David's coming home today.