Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2002 04:18:00 +0000
From: Java Biscuit <javabiscuit@hotmail.com>
Subject: willow, chapter 10, finale

This is a story involving teen/boy, adult/youth, male/male
graphic sex and not intended for reading by minors. If
you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where
you live, please stop now, and go read something else!
This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the
purpose of pleasurable reading. It's not meant to
encourage unsafe, unprotected sex, or to condone sex
with minors. These people aint real.

Feedback: javabiscuit@hotmail.com

Willow ~ chapter ten

by Biscuit


Seventeen years old. I think I set a record for awards
and scholarship money at Standishport High School.
Considering its small size and lack luster history,
not as impressive as it might sound. For me the end
of my last year of high school is a blur. I was more
concerned about whether or not Willow was going to
show up than I was about my own graduation.

My girlfriend broke up with me in the middle of May,
before what passed for a prom. Who could blame her?
I felt bad but hardly tried to talk her out of it. She was
pissed at how distracted I was. She thought my mind
was already on leaving town for college the following
fall, like she wasn't good enough for me anymore. God
was she wrong. Didn't matter. Even though she was
wrong, she was right to want out, a nice girl who
deserved a guy to pay her some attention.

Getting into Columbia University and going to New
York were a vague annoyance at the edge of my mind.
If it weren't for my grandfather Sterns, who oversaw
the whole process of applications, I'd never have done
a fucking thing about college. It was one thing to stick
my head in my books, to work hard in the quiet of my
room. It was something else to take any kind of action
concerning my future. Columbia was his alma mater,
it was his money paying for it, and though I'd live to
be grateful, at the time it was nothing more than an
obligation on the horizon. I'd be living with him, like
my mom and I used to.

We'd lived there for awhile when I was very young,
my grandfather's apartment, overlooking the Hudson
River. Less than a mile from Columbia, on Riverside
Drive. Not exactly like going home, I wasn't that all
that familiar with it, but unlike other kids, who'd be
getting away from home, I was going back there, in
a way.

Town was filling up for the summer and there was
no sign of Willow and Leon. A whole year had gone
by since I'd gotten the letter, no more than a few
sentences, saved in the drawer by my bed. Agony.

Graduation was surreal. An outdoor thing where we
were under attack by the first giant honeybees of the
season. Out in a band shell type thing in the seashore
visitors' center. All the pictures from it show me
squinting and morose, with a different peoples' arms
around me.

New York and the fall were the furthest things from
my mind.

I had a kitchen job lined up for the summer and was
already pitching in on the weekends. Every part of
the place had to be cleaned, painted, patched, gotten
ready. Any place you went in town through May,
you'd see businesses coming back to life, shop fronts
getting fresh coats of paint, things like that.

Most of the guys that I worked with were gay. Most
of them paying for their summer of fun by working
in that Italian restaurant on the bay. I liked their
teasing and joking and was attracted to more than one
of them. Working was a better distraction for me than
anything else. Nobody was asking me about college. I
didn't see my anxiety about Willow reflected in any of
my co-worker's eyes. Not like at home, with my mom.

Middle of June. No Willow. No word from Willow.
I got apprenticed to the restaurant's baker, an import
from Montreal named George, who claimed I looked
like his little brother. What that says about how much
time he spent grabbing my ass, I'm not sure.

The worst hours you can imagine, starting at 4 AM.
The summer turned into a tunnel. I dragged my ass
into the restaurant at four in the morning, worked
until two in the afternoon. I'd hit the beach with a
couple of guys from the kitchen. A few hours of
collapse and getting high. Then it was home, show
my face to my family and go to bed.

I fooled around with a couple of those guys, nothing
serious. How could anything serious happen when
my eyes were closed, envisioning a little Chinese boy
with high burnished cheekbones, long dark eyes and
the world's most kissable, fuckable mouth.

I wouldn't talk about Willow, but my mom knew.
She tried to keep her mouth shut. I only had to hear
a few talks on how young he and I both were, and
how things would be better once I got out of town
and involved in school. Not that she was looking
forward to my going. She was toying with the idea
of spending some time down in the city with me.
After all, I was about to move back into what had
been her childhood home.

Two good things about my job in the bakery of that
kitchen. Without air conditioning I was lucky to be
there early before the place steamed up to unbearable.
The second was that I had a window overlooking the
bay since we were at the back of the kitchen. It was
right over the broad work counter. As the sun came
up, it was beautiful back there.

George, the baker, was a wicked flirt, but it didn't
bother me. We wore white in the kitchen so at least
his flour hand prints on my ass didn't show. I liked
him okay. He had a lover, one of the waiters, a kid
named Julian that we called Julie. Occasionally he'd
blow up at George but mostly didn't bother. George
would wait until I was doing something I couldn't
easily stop, like shaping croissants, before he started
with me. Everything had to be done fast with that
buttery dough. I'd gotten really quick at it, cutting
the triangles, rolling them up with hardly a breath
of pressure and turning the little feet in to make the
crescent shape. Like adding degree of difficulty
to an Olympic event, doing it with George behind
me, his hands smoothing the sides of my ass, teasing
like he might slide his hands forward and grab my
dick, or he might reach back to get his hands full of
my butt. If I'd really wanted to stop him, I could
have, but it made me laugh and gave me a hardon
and he never pushed for more than that.

That's what he was doing to me, one particular July
morning. It was late to be doing another batch of
croissants, near ten o'clock, but the restaurant was
busy like crazy. I gave George an impatient twist
of my hip; more annoyed than usual by his playing
because I was tired and the kitchen was hot. We
all used the bleached out kitchen dishrags, tied up
around our heads to catch the sweat and keep it out
of our eyes. Mine was slipping and I was losing my
rhythm of shaping the pastry and I just groaned and
stopped, to fix the band on my head, knowing I'd
have to go wash my hands. But when I looked up,
I ended up staring. Out the window, a gorgeous boy
was threading my small view of the beach. I didn't
even recognize Willow at first. Too tall to trigger
my memory. The compact, shirtless boy had gotten
my attention instantly. Short dark hair, shiny in the
sun. Faded jeans hugging slim hips and a beautiful
round ass. Dark tanned skin. The boy had his shirt
in his hand as if he'd gotten hot walking.

So bizarre to be feeling George's hand on my own
ass, thinking how I'd like to get my hands on the kid
out there on the beach. I was annoyed at George and
impatient with myself for staring out the window
when the dough was getting warm in front of me.

Then the boy glanced back over his shoulder, I saw
his profile and I knew who I was staring at in spite
of how he'd changed.

July! They'd never come so late in the season. But it
had to be him. I leaned across the counter, crushing
the dough and waving my ass at George at the same
time, to get my face up to the window. I started
screaming out his name.

"What the fuck are you doing?" George was grabbing
me, pulling me up and off the mashed pastry dough.
But Willow had heard me, finally, and turned, he was
scanning for where I'd called from.

"I got to go," I told George, scrambling for the back
door, through the maze of the kitchen.

I can only imagine what I looked like in my dough
crusted apron and whites with a kitchen rag wrapped
around my sweaty head. Willow was smiling, biting
his luscious bottom lip a little, as I raced toward him.

He held his hands up as if he was warding me off
from knocking him over. Not a chance he would keep
me from grabbing him. Not the way I was aching to
feel that body under my hands and crush his mouth
with mine. After two years I shouldn't have assumed
that Willow wanted to be manhandled by me, but I did.

God, I wanted to throw him down on the sand and
fuck him right then and there. He was almost as tall
as I was! An incredible armful of taut muscles and
smooth skin, his face nearly level with mine as I
attacked the mouth I'd been dreaming of for so long.
So good, I can't believe I ever stopped to let him
breathe! But I had to, to look at him.

When I stepped back, I left him dusted with flour.
It was on his cheek, across his bare chest and his
bronze stomach, on the thighs of his jeans, and
sprinkles of it dusted his ass.

"God, what a mess," I tried to wipe at him but it only
made me want to grab him again. "You're really here!
You're so tall!" I couldn't get enough of staring at him.
If adolescence could only be so kind to everyone there
would be no such thing as teen angst. Willow had lost
none of his beauty, only gained a masculine energy
that was evident everywhere, from his broadened
shoulders to his smoothly defined stomach, the hint
of bulk behind his fly.

My throat started to close up on tears; trying to eat
him with my blurring eyes.

"Yes, I'm here," he said, smiling, "it's okay." He used
his shirt to brush himself off. "And you're working,
as a baker, I see."

"Oh Jesus," I looked back up at the bakery window.
All I could see was the dark rectangle, but knew
George must be up there, wondering what the hell I
thought I was doing. "Walk me back, okay?"

I had a thousand questions, but all I could do was
look at him and marvel, so tall! So beautiful! I say
tall, but he was probably 5'6" or so. I was hardly
5'8" myself. Still, we'd never been so close in height
before and it excited me more than I can say.

"Leon's sister died two months ago," he said. "We've
been in New York trying to get things sorted out."
We'd reached the bottom of the stairs. "There's a lot
to take care of, we can only stay a few days."

He was looking at me so strangely. A good strange,
but strange nonetheless. His expression was partly the
warm look I remembered from our last, passionate
summer together, like he wanted me, and partly like
my mom's face watching me during graduation, as if
he was proud of me, like a parent.

Willow, or as he was calling himself by then, William
Braymon, had been keeping careful track of my life.

He knew when my basketball team won or lost. He
saw my picture with the team, in the paper. He read
the coverage of my graduation, all of it online,
through the Standishport Sentinel, a small town
newspaper which got big mileage out of covering
things like high school sports and graduation. He
knew I'd been accepted at Columbia and would be
residing, as the Sentinel reported, with Jonathan
Sterns of New York City.

>From his point of view, I seemed to be doing very
well. He imagined that my life had moved on and
evolved into something he should not intrude on.

Fortunately for me, Leon, the man I wanted to steal
him from, was still my greatest ally. Much as he'd
once pushed a little boy out a cottage door to go
play, he was the one pushing Willow back to me. It
was Leon who decided, because Willow was stubborn
and would not call me, that they needed to take a few
days from the business of tending to his sister's estate
to come to Standishport. He wanted the boy to take
the chance, to see for himself, face to face, if he still
had a place in my life.

There was no question left in his mind, he told me
later. His soldierly reconnaissance mission had
revealed that I was his boy, as he'd always hoped
I would be.

"Days?" I said, miserably. He nodded, not upset in
the least, which hurt. I was so torn, so happy to see
him. A through and through happiness. The kind that
wells up in your heart and makes you want to cry at
the same time as it sends blood coursing to your dick.
Everything I wanted, right in front of me, but about
to disappear!

But Willow was smiling, he tugged at the apron
strings that were wound all around me and then tied
in the front. He was as content as could be, having
his answer in the way that I'd greeted him, so patient,
knowing that he'd have me at the end of the summer.

"So what," he said, "if it's only days for now. Leon
and I will be in New York when you come for school
in the fall. Leon's sister left him her business and her
apartment on 14th St.," he said.

My eyes bugged, I'm sure. I didn't know then how
he knew where I was going to school, I only knew
that the world was suddenly in the palm of my hand.
I wanted to fall on my knees and praise God. At the
very least, race home and cover my grandfather
with kisses for getting me into a school in New York!
In the meantime I had to crush Willow in my arms
before facing the wrath of George.

"I'm done at two," I told him, brushing my lips in
front of his ear, nosing at the tiny gold hoop that still
dangled from his earlobe. My hands were tight on the
globes of his ass, the perfect handfuls that I'd admired
so hotly from the window. I couldn't help myself, I
ground my hard cock into his crotch, feeling like I
could come if I just had a few more minutes to hold
him.

I don't know how I finished my shift of work that
day, except that I was so fucking happy, nothing
could phase me. Even George could not hold out
against my joy. His anger at me didn't last beyond
the kisses I showered him with. I got my share of
teasing, of course, for the show we'd put on, on the
stairs. But I took it with pleasure, scattering kisses
among my tormentors. I was like a man passing out
favors to celebrate the birth of his long awaited son.

I called my mom at the gallery to tell her, and cried.
I drove those guys nuts for the next few hours.

"Did you see him?" I'd ask, "Did you ever see such a
handsome kid?" Lots of eye rolling for answers, and
smiles. I think a few of my fellow kitchen slaves
volunteered to do my share of clean up just to get rid
of me.

Bad as I wanted Willow to myself, I was expecting to
see the big guy, like the toast sitting next to the eggs
you're dying to eat for breakfast. A package deal. It
didn't seem unlikely that I'd find him in bed with
the boy I was dying to fuck. It didn't matter, I felt
ready for whatever. I thought.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when
Willow opened the door to the cottage.

As much as I was focused on Willow, and wanting to
get my hands on him, I stared straight past him at the
sight of Leon. Bound to the bed like a naked Gulliver,
staked out by the Lilliputians. Leon was roped and
trussed with his big limbs spread. His huge cock,
bigger than I even remembered it, like skyscraper
rising from his silvery pubic hair. Oh, my God!

"Just in time," Willow said.

"For what, Jesus, what are you doing to him?"

"I'm thanking him for bringing me to you," Willow
said, smiling at me with that same mix of lust and
pride.

He was still in his jeans but they were unbuttoned,
showing an awesome triangle of strained looking white
briefs. Now my eyes were popping for real. I'd felt
that there was a lot more between his legs than there
had ever been before, when I'd ground myself into
him on the beach. But through all the layers of cloth
between us, it had only been an impression. Now I
saw the curve of a shaft trying to escape those pants
that had to be a thick six inches or more of Willow
cock. Between the two of them, Leon hog-tied on
that bed and Willow in front of me with his pants
undone, I was about to faint from having all the blood
in my body rush to my dick.

"You look so good Tommy," he said to me, "I
think you should take off your clothes and show
yourself to Leon."

For once, Leon didn't greet me with a smart ass
comment. He couldn't. He was gagged with a cloth
stuffed in his mouth. Even his long hair was bound
up tight in a braid.

Dear God, what a sight he was. I must admit that it
gave me a wicked feeling of power to see that big
body at our mercy. This was one time Leon couldn't
grab me and haul me around, but I swear I saw him
grinning around that gag as he watched me undress.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," I teased him, and
I turned around to show him my ass, smacking it
for him.

But when I looked over my shoulder, it was Willow's
eyes I found burning on the rear end I was showing
off. Oh God. That look sent a shudder through me,
my first hint of what was to come, those coal black
eyes smoldering at the sight of my butt.

So incredible to see him like that, staring at me,
with that cock of his straining his fly, like he was
dying to put it in me.

As it always happened, every time I saw him after
he'd been away, the view of him before me supplanted
the images I'd dreamed of. I was looking at the kid
I'd once picked up like a child in my hands, now a
sultry hunk of boy man, wanting to bury his cock in
my ass.

That bronze rod of his would become like the center
of my universe. Except that Willow didn't just fuck
with his cock. Like any fine soldier, his weapon was
just an extension of his whole body -- that's how he
fucked. It took him six years to get there, but he was
poised and ready to lay claim to me.

But first, together, we tortured Leon.

Poor Leon. Willow had him tied with his legs spread
and his ass exposed, his armpits stretched with his
arms bent behind his head. Who would have guessed
I'd get off so much on sucking his helpless nipples,
running my tongue up and down that outrageously
swollen dick of his. Always with Willow in control.

What a master that boy was, and is, at driving a body
to its limits. I shuddered when I saw him do things I
thought had to hurt, using his white, white teeth on
Leon's tender cock. But the big guy was squirming
with pleasure, the sweat rolling off him, his massive
cock quivering before my eyes as he groaned through
his gag. I'd have given in long before Willow did and
made him come. As ever, anything I could do, he
could do better.

Leon came, at last, with the boy's lubed fingers deep
in his much abused ass, his other skilled brown hand
massaging Leon's tormented cock long and hard enough
to wring the spunk out of him in long shivering bursts.
It almost brought me off just to watch it erupting, to
hear his muffled screams through the gag. So fucking
intense.

Just as intense, and tender, to see Willow slowly untie
him, gently working the circulation back into his freed
limbs, soothing the wracked body. I sat back, keeping
quiet. Amazed by what we'd done, what I'd seen.
Utterly amazed by how this strange pair had become
so central to my life, how at home I felt, how close to
them, even after two year's separation. Leon, recovered
but subdued, gave me the sweetest of welcoming kisses
he'd ever given me, letting me come to him, for once,
with a gentle motion of his hand.

When the giant had left us, to go soak himself in the
shower, Willow walked to me on his knees, across the
bed. I was curled in a ball on my side, where I'd been
for a while. So ready. I watched him slide those jeans
and briefs down his hips at last, and everything melted
but my dick. Where I recalled a bare triangle of boy
flesh, from which rose a bewitching few hard inches,
there now was a dusting of fine black hair at the base
of a heavy shaft of thick, dusky, mouth-watering cock
lifting straight up Willow's smoothly muscled belly.

I think that first time, he stroked his hand down my
side to my ass and I just rolled over and spread my
legs. My eyes had been glued to that package between
his legs every time I'd torn my eyes from Leon. By
the time he let me see it bare and aching for me, it was
all I wanted. I guess we'd begun before we ever even
touched each other, through Leon.

I can't think of anything to compare to offering my
body up to Willow. Prince William, as Leon calls him.
I've never really taken to William as a name for him.
I call him Will, or Daddy Willow, which he likes.

It's not the ordeal that being fucked by Leon was for
me. Leon's dick was made for Sugar, his lover, who
takes it with pleasure. Sugar, whose show I've now
seen many times at the club in the Village where he
headlines all winter.

And Willow's cock fits me like it was made for the
pleasure of my ass, filling and stroking everywhere
inside that I crave the feel of him. There are times
that I want on him, his ass is too beautiful to leave
alone. Truth be known, it's his choice. What I love
best is him taking me over, whether he wants to fuck
me or take me inside him. That's the key to being his
boy. I wonder if that's what my grandfather sensed,
all those years ago, that the small Chinese boy who
frowned at him like a disdainful soldier, would end
being the man at the head of my family.

I never stole Willow from Leon, but he's mine just
as much as if I had. For awhile, I technically lived
with my grandfather on Riverside Drive. Now I
commute uptown from 14th St. where I'm very much
at home in a bed with the boy I adore, and sometimes
a giant with long silver hair who has settled down,
with the greatest take ever garnered in a game of
five card stud.