Date: Fri, 1 Sep 2006 04:38:31 +0100 (BST)
From: Y.H. Tang <yinghuantang@yahoo.com>
Subject: Gay Male; 'Shattered Dreams' {yhtang} ( MM ) [1!1]

WARNING: The following story depicts consensual sexual activity between
adult males of different generations. If material of this nature offends
you, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. Please note that you must be of legal
age, where you live, to read this story.


DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction although certain parts are based on
my personal experience.  Any similarity between other written works, real
people or events is purely coincidental.

COPYRIGHT: The right of yhtang to be identified as the author of this work
has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright
Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any from or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the
prior permission of the writer.

Please e-mail me for comments or questions.




                    Shattered Dreams
                    ----------------


     "Resistance is futile," the voice of Lust hissed into my ear.  "Face
the temptation, yield to it," it continued.  "Yeah," I said to myself,
"Yield to the Dark Side."

     Giving in to my desires, I sighed and guided my internet browser to
the site I said I would not go anymore.  I searched and indeed, he was
there.  Rapture was his Internet name, and rapture was what he had
unwittingly stirred in my loins.  And it was wrong.  Very wrong.

     It all started a couple of months ago.  Rapture stated on an internet
site that he is Chinese-American, and revealed in public the size of his
manhood.  "Aha, one of the few Orientals that are not too embarrassed to
talk about their bits and pieces," I thought to myself.

     As a fellow Chinese, I am only too aware that most Orientals do not
talk about sex.  Three thousand years of Confucian doctrine had done that
to the Chinese.  Being so tight lipped about the subject, it is a wonder
that the Chinese managed to breed and represent about 20% of the world's
population.

     I introduced myself to him on the internet and after a couple of
friendly messages, I found that he was still in high school.  I heard alarm
bells ring -- for all I know, his is only 16 years old pretending to be
over 18.  These days, one never knows.  Worse still, he could be an
undercover cop trying to catch pedophiles.  Should I be accused of being
one, I would be kissing goodbye to my career as a pedagogue.

     Having hit 40 years of age, what career change would be available to
me?  I could try to convince myself that I have a cornered a niche in the
social escort market because I am an educated, well spoken, trilingual
Chinese.  However, as a 40 year old with graying hair and a slight pouch, I
am sure I would fail miserably as a gigolo.

     But Rapture and I only talked about his holidays, the weather, and a
bit about his high school life, so all was innocent enough.  From his
words, I conclude that he is an intelligent, witty and a responsible kid.
And curious about himself too.  Rapture even admitted to stimulating his
own prostate, and asked me about lubes.  "Right now I am using Vaseline.
That petroleum jelly is rather sticky," he complained.

     "I use KY Jelly," I told him.

     "Is there only one use for KY Jelly?  I live in a small town, if I
buy it, everyone would know," Rapture reasoned.  I could feel the
frustration in him.

     "Well, you are developing dry skin," I said to him.  "You need baby
oil to keep your skin smooth and supple.  Do you hear me?  Baby oil! Get
some baby oil!" It was thus that we carried on and all was going well
until one day, a strange paragraph concluded his message.

     "There was a discussion," Rapture said, "on bisexuality in one of
the internet forums.  What's your take on it?" Rapture had told me
previously that his parents are the traditional Chinese type who never
talked about sex.

     How can I call myself a teacher if I refuse to answer, or skirt around
such a sensitive issue?  His parents are just like mine; if I were to raise
this subject to my parents, I could see my father choke on his Chinese tea
while my mother would pretend not to have heard such a question at all.
And here is a young man seeking a matured view on this topic.  I decide to
give Rapture a balanced answer.  My answer covered the different views of
sex, love, and some people's opinion that the two are separable, while
others claim that they are intertwined.

     Rapture's next message indicated that he is now curious about his
sexuality.  Rapture was also thankful for the ease of access to information
via the internet.  From then on, our discussion started to swing more
towards sex.  I made him swear that he is really over 18 years old.  He
assured me he is.  Stupidly, I stifled the alarm bells in my head.

     "I might be leaning more towards homosexual than heterosexual,"
Rapture typed in his message.  "Frankly, it doesn't matter to me, but it's
my family finding out that I'm kind of worried/ scared about." With these
words, I saw in Rapture a man capable of self analysis, unfettered by
conventional thought, and willing to take other people's feelings into
consideration.  Any parent would be proud to have a son like him.

     To compound his problems, Rapture is the only son in the family.  Both
Chinese tradition and his parents expect him to marry and breed, in that
order.  And they would want grandsons to bear the family name.

     My heart was in turmoil.  I remembered my youth -- at 13 years of age,
I knew about the plumbing part of sex and the matching of the sex organs
jigsaw puzzle.  It was only when I reached my 16th year when I read a copy
of the Masters and Johnson book on sexuality that I learnt about the phases
of the male and female orgasm, masturbation, prostate stimulation and such
matters.  All these topics Rapture and I had discussed previously.  These
were the easy topics to cover.

     Now we have come to a subject that involves him, his emotions and his
family.  Surely I could not let such a fine, level headed young man make a
fool of himself, surely it is my duty to part all the information I have so
that he may be able to make an informed choice.  Surely..... I should
convince him that he is heterosexual and remind him of his duty to his
family to breed sons...

     What should I do?  What is in his mind?  Is he for real?  Is it a
trap?  Am I a fool?

     I decided to give him as much information as he required.  I would not
want him to face the pitfalls I faced.  I still remember my first male sex
experience.  I was 20 years old that Winter when I came by a public sauna
in Los Angeles.  It was a Men Only sauna, and the warmth felt really
good. I was a little embarrassed when I changed because no one had seen me
naked before -- not after puberty.  Still, this is Men Only affair -- I
must face my fears.  I shed my clothes, wrapped the soft white towel around
my waist and headed for the warm sauna after a short shower.

     Indeed, the enveloping warmth in the dimly lit sauna cabin was
relaxing.  Seeing nobody inside, I laid on my back on the long bench,
ensuring my modestly was properly covered by the towel.  It was so
comfortable inside the sauna that I fell asleep in no time.

     Suddenly I awoke to a warm, wet feeling around my cock.  There was a
tickling feeling around my pubic area as well.  And I knew I was hard, very
hard.  Oddly, I could still feel the tightness of the towel around my
waist.  I opened my eyes to see that a middle aged white man with a
moustache had lifted my towel and was giving me my first blow job; I was
surprised, I was confused, I was excited, I was ejaculating.  I shot
volleys into his mouth without giving him as much as a grunt as a warning.

     I sat up immediately and rearranged the folds of the towel to give me
back a modicum of modesty.  I left the sauna cabin to the pounding beat of
my heart in my ears and headed for the showers immediately.  With
hindsight, I did not even have the courtesy to thank him.  But at that
moment, I felt the delicious after glow of sex and at the same time I felt
violated.  I did say I was confused, didn't I?  I was in absolute denial
that I enjoyed sex with men.  It was years later that I began to understand
and accept that I am who I am, and I am comfortable with the way I am.  But
it was a rocky path that I had to that trod through those years.

     More messages, and I continued to answer Rapture's questions -- all
the time stressing that these were only my opinions and he should form his
own.  "You should try to go out with girls to see if you like them," I
advised.  I told him part of my sinful past and the mistakes I made in
relationship, as did he to me.  Throughout our encounters, we maintained a
silent agreement not to reveal our real names to each other to protect our
own privacy.  In time, we had unwittingly become each other's anonymous
sex confidante.

     It was when we went on Yahoo Messenger that things got messier.  We
talked about how he spent his day, his computer and the computer's RAM
strips.  "How big is your RAM?  I'll show my strip if you show me
yours...," I teased him.

     "My RAM is bigger than your RAM," countered Rapture.

     "For you, and you only, I will let you stick it into my port," I
offered Rapture. "Ahhh... I can feel it going in, push it in gently,
please... Harder, harder... Argghhh!" We had our first cyber sex session
that night.





     But tonight, I face my demons.  I surfed the net and found Rapture.  I
sent him a message.  Yes, I promised him, we will meet at my beach house
the coming Saturday at 3 pm.  I had previously agreed to show him the ways
of man sex, but we had not decided on a specific day.  And now the die is
cast.  With that phone call, I broke my promise to myself that we would not
meet and we would not get involved.  I had given into temptation; I had
yielded to the Dark Side.

     We had met on the net, I did not know his real name, we have never
seen each other's face, and I am not certain of his age.  And now I have
arranged to meet up for a sex tryst -- in my home, no less.  I have broken
every Internet Safety Rule.  And all because my heart yearned to be with
him.

     Nervously I waited for Saturday.  In the days leading to the fateful
Saturday, I worked like a zombie, and the hours crept by too slowly.  I
could not really concentrate on my work.  My nights were filled with
fantasies of what he looked like and what we would do when we meet.

     Would it all work out?  I am taking advantage of a young man?  Shame
on me.  What is this infatuation I have for him?  Is he infatuated with me?
Will this relationship last?  Is there a relationship at all?  What would I
be to him once he has found his feet in the world, gay or straight?  Where
would I be?  What would I do?  At 40 years of age, I am old enough to be
his father.  Had I been careless when I was 20 years old, I would have a 19
year old child by now.

     All these questions filled my mind.  But I right this moment, I did
not care.  Like Roxanne in the story of Cyrano de Bergerac, I have fallen
in love with his soul.  I was not bothered with what he looks like.  I was
blinded by lust, not by logic.

     Saturday came.  I showered and chose my clothes properly, trying not
to look like an overage hippy, yet I did not want to look too conservative.
The last thing he would want to see is an image of his father.  I decided
on a navy blue Polo shirt, black briefs to contrast with my fair skin, and
beige cargo pants that reached down to my knees.  I wore sandals because
they are easy to remove.

     I heard a car stop outside my house, and the distinctive sound of the
hand brake being pulled.  It was ten to three -- a bit early for our
appointment.  I rushed to the front door and peered through the spyhole.  I
decided to play it cool so as not to frighten him away.  I saw a young
handsome man walk up the path to my front door.  To my horror, just a
couple of feet way from my door, he stopped and started to turn back.  I
was having none of this.

     With a swift move, I opened the door and lied, "You are punctual."
That stopped him on his tracks.  Now he had no where to go but to turn and
face my front door.

     "I... I thought I was early," he said.  Stretching out his hand to
shake mine, he said, "I'm Chiang." His winning smile showing a set of
brilliant white teeth that made my heart beat faster.  If I die now, I
would have no regrets.  On the face of it, introducing himself is a
straightforward process.  But the name he gave me spoke volumes.  He gave
me his Chinese name -- only close family would use that name.  Friends and
acquaintances would address him by his Western name.  With "Chiang",
which means "Strong", he had indicated he trust me enough to consider me
family.

     "Your grip is like your name, Chiang," I said, trying my best to
quell the tremor in my voice, and to calm the excitement in my heart. "Do
come in, and call me Tai," I said.

     "Ah, where, where are you? I don't see you!" Chiang quipped,
looking at me in the eye.  I gave him a silly grin.  His comment alluded to
Chinese proverb, "To have eyes but yet could not see (recognise) the Tai
Mountain (the primary mountain in China)." This proverb refers to a person
who knows not greatness even when he comes face to face with it.

     Chiang's answer was calculated to reveal that he is not totally
ignorant of Chinese sayings.  He had told me he speaks Chinese at home --
his ability to allude to that proverb is proof enough to me.  Having been
born and brought up in America, apparently his parents had taken pains to
ensure he is able to enjoy the richness of both the American and Chinese
cultures.

     So few were the words, and yet so much had been said already.  And my
grin told him I knew what he was referring to.  Thus is the complexity of
Chinese life, and he understood it as I did.

     I gave him a quick once over without looking too obvious.  Being
Chinese, we share the same dark brown hair and eyes, but at 5' 8", his is
taller than I am by four inches.  He is of slim built, about 150 lbs to my
140 lbs.  I must do something about my weight, I thought to myself.  It is
already 3 pm, but I do not see much of a 5 o'clock shadow -- he must have
shaved before he came.  I am clean shaven too, but he seems to have less
facial hair than I do.  I was pleased to note that he sported short cropped
hair like I do.  I had never been too keen on long hair because Orientals
have rather stiff hair.  If it is long, it tends to stick out most
uncooperatively, making the person look unruly.

     I led him into my living room and invited him to take a seat.  He
declined shyly.  Chiang scanned the room and noticed a Chinese bamboo flute
hanging on the wall.  "Ah, I recognise that," he said.

     "I practice that in the evenings.  Do you want to test it?" I
offered.  Being made of hollowed out bamboo, each flute is slightly
different; each has its own richness in tone.

     "No, I don't know how to play it," Chiang said.  "What songs do
you play on it?"

     "My favourite song is "Can Meng" which loosely translates as
`Shattered Dreams'.  I play it every evening," I told Chiang.  I am a
hopeless romantic.  `Shattered Dreams' is a song about a woman's love
for a man she could not have.  I especially loved the line,

  When I see sorrow revealed on your face,
  I feel a corresponding pain in my heart.
  If only we could talk about our sorrows,
  We could lighten our troubles.

  Hidden in my hearts is so much love
  and such strong loyalty
  I only wish that one day,
  you could fathom my sentiments.

Like I said, I am a hopeless romantic.

     Changing the subject, I said, "Here, let me get you a drink." I
handed him a glass of mineral water.  He received it with both hands -- a
mark of respect towards me.  This young man had been well brought up.  I
could definitely fall in love with him.

     "Thanks," Chiang said, with a slight tremour to his voice.  I think
the brave front he put up is beginning to crumble.  Holding the glass of
water in his left hand, he took a sip.

     "What time do you have to leave?" I asked.  Perhaps he had promised
to be back home by a certain time.

     Instinctively, Chiang rotated his left hand to look at his watch.  The
glass of water in his hand spilled onto his T-shirt and shorts, wetting
them.  "Damn," Chiang exclaimed, then blushed as he realised he swore.

     "Oh dear, your clothes are wet," I said with a smile.  "This will
never do; we will have to get it off.  Lift up your hands," I commanded,
as I removed the now empty glass from his left hand.  Obediently, he lifted
both his hands and I stripped him off his shirt, blowing at his nipples at
the same time.  They were erect.

     Chiang tried to brush the water off his nylon basket ball shorts, but
I seized this opportunity to pull them down, ostensibly to remove the
shorts to let it dry.  Chiang seems to be stupefied, either by surprise or
shock.  He was left there standing only in his blue and white striped
boxers, with his nylon shorts around his ankles.

     Before he could react, I fell on my knees to breath hot air into his
boxers covered crotch and tried to nibble at the small tent caused by his
impending erection.  There was no turning back.

     "Tai, oh, Tai, ahhh," gurgled Chiang as I moved on to nip at his
scrotum through his boxers.  I felt him shiver with excitement and felt him
move, putting his weight on one foot and then the other.  A quick glance
told me he had shed his trainers, and he wore no socks.  He had also kicked
off his nylon shorts.

     I rose to my feet and without undue ceremony, lead him into my
bedroom.  I was still dressed, but I slipped off my sandals along the way.
Pushing him down on his back onto my king size bed, I flopped on him.  I
had him pinned down with my body and I held his hands above his head.  I
had him pretty much incapacitated, and he was stretched out on my bed for
me to use and abuse.

     I planted butterfly kisses on his face, kissed his lips and lowered my
head to suck on his nipples.  I then moved on to nip on his armpits.  It
smelled fresh of boy sweat.  Chiang moaned and he thrashed around a bit as
I pulled gently on his armpit hair.  The growth there was rather sparse and
the hair was finer than those in his head.  Being taller and slightly
bigger than I am, he could have pushed me away at any time.  But he did not
and allowed me to work over his body instead.  That was definitely a sign
of approval.

     Slowly I went from his chest to his navel and then to his crotch,
still modestly clad in his boxer shorts.  His hard-on stuck out from the
slit in a most obscene manner.  It was uncut, and as he described, 6 inches
long and 5 inches around.  This baby is certainly bigger than mine.  Its
head was already ruby red, shiny with pre-cum and I could see the raised
veins along his shaft.

     I did the only decent thing there is to do -- I engulfed it in its
entirety all the way down into my throat.  I willed myself not to gag --
this is Chiang's first experience and it should be sweet and memorable,
not a nightmare.  I deep throated him and heard him moan with pleasure.
Slowly I lifted my head, leaving only his glans in my mouth and swirled my
tongue all around his head.  I felt him jerk and his hands grasped my ears.

     I moved my right hand from his ass to his scrotum -- they were tight.
He was about to blow.  "No, no, not yet I... arghhh..." went Chiang as
volleys of his cum shot into my mouth.  I knew how sensitive a man's head
could be at this moment so I did nothing and just let nature take its
course.  After six or seven volleys, Chiang calmed down somewhat and
gasped, "I didn't want to cum yet!"

     Slowly, I allowed his deflating cock to slip out of my lips and spat
out his baby batter.  "You'll last longer the next round," I consoled
him.

     "Damn, that was good," said Chiang, getting his breath back.  He
then stood up and declared, "I'm going to strip you now!" For someone
without much experience, he sounded very sure of himself and what he
wanted.  I let him strip me naked but he stopped at my black briefs.
"I'm going to return the courtesy," said Chiang, as he blew his hot
breath over my hardness trapped in my underwear.

     After allowing Chiang to play with me for a short while, I decide it
was time for the main course.  I told Chiang to shed his boxers and remove
my briefs.  I then instructed him to lie down on his belly, with his pert
smooth buns facing me.

     "Relax," I said. "It will hurt a little, but much less if you
relax." I climbed up and laid on top of him face down, and fitted my
pulsing rod in his nether crevice.  "It's not going in, don't worry.
I'll let you know when the time comes," I assured him.  He nodded a
silent agreement.

     As I ground my stiffness against his virgin rosebud, I nipped on his
nape and shoulders while my hands caressed his body.  I felt him shiver
with excitement again.  After a while, I was about to cum, so I clenched my
muscles and held back my orgasm.  I disengaged my cock from his bum and
kissed him all the way down his spine, making him squirm.  When my tongue
reached his ass crack, I began biting softly on the sides of his valley.
With each bite, he squirmed and squealed quietly.  His rising butt told me
he was enjoying the feeling.

     Slowly I went down further and further into his valley and gave him a
rimming to die for.  I could tell Chiang enjoyed it by the constant
clinching of his butt muscles.  It was now to ready him for his
de-flowering.

     Out came my tube of KY Jelly and I applied it onto his rosebud.  I
slipped in my index finger to start loosening his hole but to my amazement,
there was little resistance.  "What have you been doing to your arse?" I
asked Chiang.

     "I practiced with my thumb and fingers in preparation for today,"
Chiang replied smugly.  His uncertainty seems to have gone away.  With
that, I commenced to insert two fingers, then three.  That's enough
preparation for my modest size.

     After slipping on a condom, I laid myself on top of Chiang and
positioned my cock at the entrance to his hole.  I clasped his hands in
mine, interweaving our fingers.  Slowly I allowed myself to sink in, and I
heard him grunt when my head pooped his chute.  His fingers clenched mine.

     "I'm sorry," I whispered into his ear.  "Does it hurt a lot?  Do
you want me to stop?" Chiang did not say anything but he shook his head
slightly, indicating I should continue.

     Gently I went on until I had fully penetrated his virgin ass.  I
waited of him to get used to the feeling and then I started with very short
strokes.  After a while, I graduated to longer strokes and varied my
rhythm.  I could hear him moan with satisfaction.  His fingers clenched and
unclenched as he enjoyed the sensations deep within him.

     "I'm close," I gasped.  "Where do you want me to cum?"

     "On me...," said Chiang quietly.  I pulled myself out of him and
threw off the condom.  Chiang turned his body and I could see his right
hand pounding on his stiffy.  He attempted to grab me with his left hand,
but my crisis was upon me and I needed to explode.  I grabbed my cock and
aimed it at Chiang's pumping hand.  I shot my cum at his cock and he used
it as additional lubricant.  He started to cum at my third shot.  I
collapsed onto his body, completely spent.  The squishing sound between our
body caused by our cum was quite erotic.

     We cuddled for a while and then Chiang suddenly asked, "What time is
it?"

     Unfortunately, it was time for our shower and for him to leave.
Having cleaned up and dressed, we headed for the front door.  Chiang turned
to me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.  "Thanks," he said
appreciatively.  I could see the glimmer in his eye and the glow on his
face.  He looked like a very satisfied man indeed.  "We have to do this
again," Chiang said.

     "Yes," I answered.  I was still in giddy euphoria.  I had not come
down to earth yet.

     "Next week, 5 p.m., same place," Chiang not so much as said, but
instructed.  I nod my head like a hypnotized person.

     That week passed very quickly and everyone around said that I looked
different.  More cheerful, they commented.  Damn right, I thought.  If only
you knew what I know, if only you had what I had.  And I feared for myself
because I realised I was falling into forbidden love.

     Saturday.  The door bell rang once and I opened it.  There was Chiang
again, hair neatly combed, clean shaven and immaculately dressed.  He held
a large pizza in his hand.  "I have arranged dinner," Chiang said with a
smile.  "And I am staying over tonight."

     He stepped in and placed the pizza on my dining table.  "Strip,"
Chiang ordered.

     "And you?" I asked.

     "Now," Chiang said lustily as he started to remove his clothes.  We
ate a few pieces of the pizza in the nude before retiring into my bedroom.
"Your turn to lose your virginity once again," Chiang quipped.  It was as
though Chiang had the whole evening planned out already.

     That night, Chiang took me up my arse.  It hurt because he did was not
as gentle as he could be, and I was not used to his girth.  But I took it
because I owed it to him.  And yes, it was also because I liked him doing
it, and more than that, I loved him.  We had an extended love making
session that bordered on wild and primitive.  We stopped only to finish off
the cold pizza and continued on our journey of ecstasy.

     Chiang came inside me, and collapsed onto the bed, lying next to me.
Soon, the clock chimed midnight.  Both Chiang and I were exhausted.  I was
feeling sleepy from the exertion and the afterglow.  Chiang was in the same
situation.  As Chiang fell into deep slumber, he murmured, "Thank you for
the birthday present.  I am 19 now.  And I love you."

     Those words were an adrenaline shot.  No wonder everything seems to
have been pre-arranged.  No wonder he had everything plotted out.  He must
have told his parents he was celebrating his birthday with a sleepover at
his friends.

     His confession of love rang in my ears and my heart beat faster.  This
was not supposed to happen.  He is not supposed to fall in love with me.  I
can and will control my feelings for him, but he is young; he should
explore, and when his curiosity is sated, and when he is certain what he
wants, and when he is sure this May and September romance can survive, he
could come back to me.

     I never believe that love should be suffocating.  Men are like a bar
of wet soap.  The harder you grasp, the greater the likelihood of is
slipping from your fingers.

     I turned my head to look at him.  Here lies my angel, peacefully
asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil he had caused within me.  I tried
to think of a solution -- I need one quickly, desperately.  On one hand, I
thought of the Chinese proverb, "If the flower is ripe for plucking, pluck
it, lest when you do, you pluck only an empty branch." On the other, I
could not be so selfish as to ruin his future -- he had hardly seen the
outside world, he had not even started university!

     I decide to tell him in the morning that this is not to be.  His
cannot be love, it is a mere infatuation.  How could he know of love when
he had only one emotional relationship - me.  It has to be done.

     I tossed and turned in my bed, hoping for sleep to release me from my
pain.  At the same time, I willed for dawn not to break.  I want the
feeling of his warmth next to my body to last forever.  I want to preserve
this moment, the sound of the pounding surf, the call of the seagulls,
smell of salty air, the head of my lover resting on my arm...  At last I
fell asleep.

     I woke to a raging hard on being serviced by Chiang.  "Hey, good
morning," I mumbled.  I am not a morning person.  With his mouth full of
my hardness, Chiang mumbled something incomprehensible.

     After swallowing my release, we showered.  Chiang had me in the
"strip search" position and took me there amid the rain of warm water.  I
was thankful for the shower because it disguised the tears in my eyes.  I
had to tell him... but how?

     We finally dressed and were about to leave for breakfast.  Approaching
the door, Chiang turned his head to me and with a cheeky smile, said, "We
could do this every weekend."

     "We cannot do it anymore," I said, trying not to break into tears.
"You are young, you should seek others your own age...."

     "What are you saying?  Are you joking?  This is not funny," Chiang
said, with a puzzled look.  Then he realised I was serious.  I could see
the frustration in his face.  It turned into anger as his face turned red
with rage.  The veins on his neck started to show.

     "You took advantage of me!" he accused.  I could see Chiang's eyes
and nose had turned red as well.  He was trying very hard not to cry.
"You... user!  I gave you my virginity, I gave you my love, I...  Don't
tell me last night didn't mean anything to you?  And this morning ... just
now in the shower... What do you call that?" Chiang almost shouted.

     His words felt like a thousand needles piercing my heart in a random
order.  Who could know the pain except myself?  Who do I have to blame but
myself?  "It's not like that," I tried to explain.

     "What's it like then?  I am just your living and breathing dildo,
isn't it?  To be packed away when your lust had been satisfied!" Chiang
accused furiously.

     How do you tell someone you love them enough to tell them to go away?
How can you convey that you have the confidence they will come back to you
after they had wandered around a bit?  How do you reason with one who would
refuses to hear?  And when he hears, would he understand?  Even if he
understands, could he accept?  If he could accept, would he act upon the
reason?

     My front door opened and Chiang slammed it shut behind him, trapping
me in my house.  Peeping though the spy hole with tear filled eyes, I saw
Chiang head towards his car.  He entered his car, shut the door and
collapsed over his steering wheel.  I wanted to open the door to chase
after him -- but what would -- could -- I say?  Chiang's car then started
and he was gone.

     The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky.  My heart died.




     Six years had passed since Chiang and I parted.  The seasons passed
quickly but the days were long.  I tried to forget, but the more I tried,
the more I remembered.  I remembered his natural smell most of all, and the
cologne he used.  After a while, I ceased to visit bath houses -- there
were lots of beautiful young men there with beautiful young cocks.  But
they were not Chiang.  I turned to the bottle for solace, but when I woke,
my problems did not diminish.  All it gave me was splitting headache and I
looked terrible.  I stopped that immediately.

     I practiced my flute with a vengeance, but even my "Shattered
Dreams" failed to give me solace.  If anything, it increased my
melancholy.  After a while, I stopped my practice and the flute gathered
dust.

     Eventually, I began to let go.  I knew I made the right decision;
Chiang had to find his own path and seek his own balance in life.  But I
hated myself for having to be so logical.  So I ran my life like clockwork,
and immersed myself into my career.

     One fine summer afternoon, my doorbell rang twice.  I was not
expecting any visitors.  I was at the door by the third ring of the bell. I
peeped through the spyhole on my door. It was Chiang.  He was at the verge
of turning away.  There was a sense of d¦j¤ vu to that sight.  I wrenched
open the door and said as calmly as I could, "Hey, what brings you here?"

     There was his smile again, almost stopping my heart like it did so
many years before.  I was not sure I was happy to see him -- I was just
beginning to forget him.  I wasn't going to let him go just like this
either, without knowing how he spent these intervening years.

     "I am sorry to drop by without an appointment," Chiang said. "Is
this convenient for you?" What he meant was whether I was in the middle of
a bout of copulation.  Or involved with someone right now.

     "No, come right in," I said and lead him into the house.  "I am
here alone.  Care for a drink?" I asked.

     Chiang stood in the middle of the living room surveyed the furniture.
"Nothing's changed... except more books," he observed.  "And the flute
is still there." I gave him a glass of water and he sipped it, not putting
it down.  I invited him to sit, but he declined, preferring to stand in the
middle of the room.  It brought back memories of the first time he was
here.

     "So what have you been doing since... " I asked.  I could not quite
bring myself to finish my worlds though.

     "I finished University," Chiang answered.  "Got a decent job.
Fulfilled my duty to my parents and gave them a grandchild." I listened
hard, and I looked harder at Chiang's face.  I did not detect any trace of
bitterness in his voice, but his smile was stiff.  Many words had been
used, nothing much had been said.

     "How about you?  I had half feared you upped and moved, after, you
know..." Chiang's voice dropped off.  Undoubtedly, the events of
yesteryear were still in his mind.

     "I have the same old job, still single, unattached, growing more grey
hair," I answered, trying to lighten the mood.  "What brings you here?"

     Chiang took a deep breath and then replied, "I was passing by the
neighbourhood, and I just thought I'd check if you still live here."

     There was a pregnant pause.  I surveyed him.  The past six years had
seen him grow in confidence, and he had put on more muscles.  He is now
mature beyond his 25 years of age.  Much must have happened in his life in
these intervening years.

     Before I could answer, Chiang continued, "I married in the final year
of my Uni, to a course mate -- a brunette." Again the smile was fixed.
"She got on reasonably well with my family -- but we all had to try very
hard."

     "I am glad to hear all is well, Chiang," I replied with an even
voice.  I would not allow my voice to betray my feelings I had for him,
that I still have for him, especially now that he is married.

     Chiang looked me in steadily the eye and said quietly, "There was no
real love in that marriage -- not the type of love that I had known." I
refused to answer Chiang; I did not know what to say.  I felt I had driven
him to this corner.

     I tried steer the conversation away from the past. "So where's your
wife now?  Left her at home?  No, wait, don't tell me, she's on holiday
-- you are a bachelor once more!" I teased.  I had always used humour to
hide my feelings.

     "My late wife," Chiang continued in the same manner, "died in a car
accident about a year ago." Interestingly, he did not seem too distressed
by his loss.

     "Oh, Chiang, I am so sorry to hear that," I exclaimed.  On one hand,
I was sorry for his loss, but on the other, I was pleased he was freed from
a showcase marriage.

     I moved towards him to give him a caring hug, to show my concern for
him, but in doing so, the glass of water he held in his hand spilled on me,
wetting my thin cotton T-shirt and my trousers.

     Chiang's eyes lit up.  They sparkled with life once more.  And Chiang
had an evil grin on his face.

     "Oh dear, your clothes are wet," Chiang said with a disarming smile.
"I'm so sorry.  This will never do; we will have to get it off.  Lift up
your hands," he commanded.  I complied as though I was hypnotized.  I was
no longer in control of myself; his voice was in control of me.  The mentor
is no longer the master.

     Chiang removed my T-shirt, exposing my body.  I was now a mere puppet
to be manoeuvred by Chiang.  He kissed my shoulders, then my chest and his
lips finally settled on my left nipple.  And as he unbuckled my belt, I was
no longer his puppet, I was putty in his hands.

     I looked at my flute.  The lyrics of "Shattered Dreams" come back to
my mind.  Chiang had guessed the feelings hidden in my heart.





                              THE END
                              ~`~`~`~