Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2001 10:44:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Wishus Teglin
Subject: Stupid Johnny, chapter 4

Stupid Johnny
A Boylove Romance

Chapter Four

by Teglin
with the inestimable assistance of  Michael and Kallen (and inspired as
always by the writings of Ganymede).

Dedication:

Once upon a time, a friend of mine named Michael was driving along a
country road in his native Poland, and came upon a ragamuffin of a little
boy, dressed in tatters, struggling all alone to push a cart much too big
for him.  Looking miserable, hungry, cold.

It was one of those moments - we all have them - moments we look back on
with such great regret.  Because Michael wanted to stop.  He wanted to talk
with the boy, see if he was ok, if he could use some food, or perhaps a
helping hand, or just a kind word.  But he didn't stop.

Why didn't he stop?  Why don't we all stop, in moments like that?  Why do
we let convention, or fear, or doubt, or hurry, or sometimes just plain
selfishness keep us from meeting the moment?

Well, Michael helped me write this story.  It's all about what might have
been.  It's dedicated to that little boy on the roadside.  And every other
boy anywhere in the world who might someday need one of us to stop ... just
for him.


Copyright 2001 by Teglin.  You may freely copy this boylove romance and
distribute it.  Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way.


WARNING:

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

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



Glossary:


Jasio  =  Yasho
Podhorowski = pod-ho-rouskee
Piotr Ostoja  =  Pyoter Ostoya
Leon Koczurba  = Le-own Kotschurba
Beskidy = Beskeedy
Jodlowka  = Yodlovka
Rzeszow = Dgeshow
Polska = Powlska
Misiu = Meeshoo
babciu = bubshoo



Chapter 4


Grecka Droga
Beskidy Mountains
Rzeszow Administrative District, Poland
September 15, 1959  7:38 A.M.


Sunlight spotted the wall in slowly wavering patterns.  Jasio noticed the
play of the undulating light mosaic upon the dark, curved surface of the
logs the very instant he awoke.  He was laying on his back, on a bed - on
something - so utterly soft that it was beyond anything in his memory.
Beneath his head he felt the warmth of another being's flesh - an arm.  A
large arm.  A man's arm, its muscles firm, but cushioning his head.

With the slightest turn, he felt the heat of the man's body against his
cheek.  They were lying together, so close.  Indeed a man's body, since it
rose so high above him and the muscular chest was covered with wavy hair -
slowly rising and falling - the man was asleep, on his side.  Jasio felt
the man's chin against the top of his own head.  Heard his deep breaths.

For a bare instant, he felt panicky.  His heart started pumping faster and
he wanted to spring up and away from this man, but ... did that really make
any sense?  The man was asleep.  They had obviously been lying together
like this for some time.  Jasio felt so wonderfully warm and comfortable.
He willed his body to be still.  There was time to think.

Yes.  Time to think.  Time to do what he did best - no matter that no one
but himself believed there could be any value in it.

`So.  Think!` he admonished himself.  `Think.`

He and the man were lying so close together.  Their bodies touched down
there too, below, under the covers - on his leg - his right leg, the entire
length of his calf and thigh nestled against the leg of the man.

There was something hard there, and hot, pressing into his side.  Jasio
felt for it, and then his hand recoiled - he stifled a gasp, realizing that
it was the man's cock.  Swollen, stiff and extended, pressing out
forcefully alongside the sunken cavity of the boy's tummy.

Jasio had only touched one other man's cock.  Leon's had seemed huge, but
not compared to this one.  This one seemed longer, pressing out against
him, from his hip all the way up over his stomach..  Both cocks were hot,
though.  Hard, yet with that incredible softness that just didn't make
sense - he had always marveled at how a cock, even his own little prick,
could at the same time be so stiff and yet be so soft and smooth to the
touch, the skin over it practically gliding effortlessly.  It always
excited him for some reason.

Jasio suddenly felt the aching in his own crotch that he always felt when
his own thing got hard - especially when Leon forced him to suck on the
man`s thick cock, he always felt this tightening between his legs - and
deep inside, all the way up into his tummy, and his chest.  It was so
strange - like something he wanted so badly, but also couldn`t bear.  He
had often wondered, how he could feel the same kind of ... hurt, and
longing, when he got hard down there, as when he just felt so alone and
hopeless.  It was a kind of emptiness that demanded to be filled.  It
maddened him, too.  He hated the way Leon got so angry and mean, and yet
... he loved that feel of the strength of the man's cock, and that longing
....

But this wasn't Leon.  Whenever Leon got in the mood for a suck he would
force Jasio into bed, but it always ended the same way.  Leon would kick
him out.  "A man's cock is made to suck and fuck, but a boy's prick is just
useless," he would say.  "Now get out of here before I take a strap to you.
I`ll get me a real pussy."

No.  Leon never kept him in bed.  So this man beside him was not Leon.
Anyway, Jasio remembered now, and the new thought excited him even more.

Again he tried to calm himself.  He slowly, carefully lifted his head, so
that his nose and mouth were above the edge of the covers, and breathed the
chill air in deeply, then cautiously edged his head over, away from the
man's chest.  He wanted to look at the man's face.  It just had to be the
Party man.

Yes!

Jasio's heart thumped wildly, recognizing the Party man's handsome face,
but for some reason he didn't feel the slightest bit afraid.  Just
... almost ... happy!

He was in a strange man's bed, but ... well, he knew why he didn't feel
afraid - the tall man had saved him.  He had refused to let Leon take him.
And then in the man's car, he had held Jasio ever so tightly - had
whispered so softly and gently, had dried him, warmed him, touched him.  He
had tried to make the boy feel good.  Something Leon would never do.
Something nobody, man or woman, had ever done before.  So.  He knew why he
felt happy too.  A scared kind of happy, though - not afraid of the man,
but ... why had the man done all that?!

Why?

Ok, so he knew `who.  But ... why?  And where?  Where was this?  How did
they get here?

Curtained windows.  None of the farmers had curtains.  Not even Leon.
Walls of smoothed and varnished logs, lain one atop the other.  Darkened by
age.  There was a fine coating of dust, laid down evenly upon each log.
Not just upon the upwardly sloping curve, but all over.  Clean, but ... a
room not used very often.  A bed not used very often, either - it smelled
so fresh ... of soap, and the dank scent of their bodies - his, and the
man's.

Certainly not any of the farmers homes.  Only the storage room in Leon's
cottage was unoccupied on a daily basis, and this was no storage room.
Jasio had been locked in there often enough to know its cluttered confines
very well.

So the Party man had brought him here.  Wherever here was.

Where did Party men live, after all?

The air was different.  So clear.  Even filtered through the curtains,
there was a different color to the brightness.  Jasio had often thought
about how the very color of the sky and the clearness of the air changed in
so many ways - with the different types of clouds, with the seasons - and
yet this air, this type of air wasn't filed away in any of his memories.
There was a dry chill to it, even though he felt so snug and warm under the
covers with the man.  The sun was well up already, but there was a
sharpness to this cold, and a ... a tang.  He could smell it.  It was ...
yes, the smell of the long, freshly cut logs that the farmers brought back
from their trip to the mountains every summer.  Like that, anyway.

Where then?  The mountains?  The man had driven them up into the mountains?

Jasio sat up slowly.  The covers slipped from his chest.  The boy stared
down at himself, marveling at the garment that covered him from his neck on
down - a sleeping gown, like some of the girls had, back on the collective.
The man must have dressed him in it.  It was indescribably soft - so soft
that he honestly hadn't even felt it until now - and so warm against the
cold air in the room.  His shoulders still felt caressed in the warmth,
even though he was sitting up.

The covers had slid down the man's chest too, and tented out from his
waist.  Jasio reached over tentatively, and lifted the edge of the
comforter to peek under.  The wet tip of the man's cock peeked out, and the
dark tan shaft below that.  Jasio glanced down at his nightie - there was a
wet spot there, darkening the cream- colored fabric, exactly where he had
felt the man's cock stabbing into his side.

Perhaps that answered the `why.'

`He brought me here, dressed me, took me to his bed.  His need is obvious -
his cock is hard and long.  When Leon gets like that I have to suck him.
So is that what this was all about?  And yet ... it's morning ... and I
have a piss hardon myself.  I always get one.  He did touch me down there,
last night, but ... he did it just for me.  I know he did.  Just for me.'

The memory of it renewed the aching he felt deep inside.  The man had done
that, just to be ... nice.

Jasio carefully pulled the covers back up, all the way to the man's
shoulder and very gently tucked the edge of the comforter into the hollow
of the man's neck.  Then he just stared at the Party man`s face - hard,
tough looking, even in his sleep - serious looking, like he hadn't had a
lot of joy in his life, and yet ....

Jasio wondered at his own calm.  This man beside him had brought him up
into the mountains without even asking his permission, and ....

No.  That wasn't really true.  Now he remembered.  The man told him he
would take care of him.  He asked only that Jasio trust him.  But ... why?

Why?

Jasio scooted back against the wall, but just as he was about to draw his
legs in, to sit cross-legged, he hesitated.  For some reason he didn't want
to pull his foot away from where it rested against the man's flesh..  That
touch was ... the man was the source of ....

Jasio suddenly felt like crying.  He tried to stifle it, sucking in his
trembling lower lip and biting it.  Forcing himself to keep breathing
slowly, steadily.

Who was this man?!  Why was every moment with him filled with so many
questions!?  And with this ... aching.

The boy slipped his outstretched feet, toes down, right up against the hot
flesh of the man's thigh.  He just couldn't bear to be separated ... and he
didn't understand why!  Again he stifled a sob, and brought one hand to his
lips.

It hurt!  This not knowing!  Thinking that this man ... really cared ....

It hurt, knowing one thing.  That if this man did not care, then ... what
was there to hold onto any longer?

`How pitiful my life,' thought Jasio, `that this stranger is all I have.'

He studied the man's face again, still keeping his feet tucked in under the
man's leg.  He propped himself up with both arms, his hands splayed against
the softness of the bed.

It was a good face.  Tough and serious, it was, but also clean.  The dark
stubble all over his cheeks and chin made him look rugged.  Well, Leon and
all the farmers of the collective looked rugged too.  They were all strong.
And they were all so cruel.

Jasio sighed.  Understanding now.  He realized he didn't feel like crying
anymore.  He laid his head back against the hardness of the log wall,
giving in to the feeling.  All he wanted to do was to trust this Party man.
To give him what he had asked.  It didn't matter that he really had no
choice.  He WANTED to trust this man.  He WANTED to be here, with this man.

`This man' he thought, `he gave me food.  He came back to me.  Oh please,
don't let this man ever be mean to m ....'

Jasio heard shuffling outside!  There was someone out there, like someone
dragging their feet.  And a horrible grunting and wheezing sound that
carried so clearly in the total quiet of the morning.  Quickly he slid back
down under the covers, turning his back to the man and curving up against
his body.  His eyes were wide open, but he pulled the covers right up over
his head.  Just the man's presence there, almost enveloping his own small
body underneath their shared covers, made him feel protected, whoever or
whatever was coming.


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





September 15, 1959 7:44 A.M.



Jasio woke me.  I felt him snuggling up against me, his back to my chest,
his little bottom pressing right down against my erection!  What a way to
awake!  I was suddenly overwhelmed in all my senses - the softness of his
gown-clad body against my bare flesh, that distinctive unwashed scent of
his hair, where it pressed right up beneath my nose, a tiny little whimper
or sigh of ... comfort, and security?  The cloth of his nightgown felt cool
against my chest - he must have risen, then returned to our bed.  My god
how that thought thrilled me!  That he would seek my embrace was like a
stamp of approval on all I had done!

"Getting cozy again, Misiu?" I croaked softly, surprised at how hoarse my
voice was from the sleep.  I wrapped my arms about him and drew him in even
closer.  His little arms were crossed over his chest and captured so snugly
under mine, but he didn't offer even the slightest of resistance.  If
anything, he seemed to shrink into my embrace.  "Hope you had a good
night's sle ...."

"I thought I told you to bring the clothes to me, Communist!" the old
woman's voice rasped like a frog's croak, but carried clearly through the
closed cabin door.  I heard her stamping slowly up the porch steps.

Jasio seemed to shrink in to an even tighter little package within my arms.
I patted his hand reassuringly, then called out, craning my neck towards
the door, "I'm so sorry babciu, I guess we overslept."

"Make sure you don't oversleep your breakfast," she answered gruffly.  She
seemed to turn away form the door then, but we could hear her easily
enough.  "All these men ... care about ... is their boys.  Never a thought
... for anyone else."  She seemed to groan and grunt down each step, but in
truth she sounded a lot less perturbed than her words might have suggested.
"That Captain Rudenko is the worst.  Misha this, Misha that."

"Oh!" she suddenly shouted again.  "You empty your own chamber pot," she
commanded, then more quietly, as if talking to herself again, "I`ll do just
about anything else for your boys, but not that.  No.  Let the men do that.
That`s been my policy always."  And then louder again, "Or ... or else
... you just head out behind the cabins to the common outhouse.  Now, be in
the dining room in ten minutes, you two," she called out to us a lot less
petulantly.

"Yes ma'am!" I called back to her, then nuzzling my cheek against Jasio's
head, I said to him, "I guess we had better not disobey her, Jasio."

It was kind of odd they way she talked about `the men` and their boys, as
if men showing up with little boys in tow was so very common around this
place.  "I suspect you're wondering who she is," I said to Jasio, half
considering it myself.  I started to pull our covers down and sat up, one
arm till beneath him and pulling him up with me.  "And ... perhaps
... well, you'd probably like to know more about me, and where we are, and
... everything else too.  Right?"

He sat up with me willingly, and kind of half-turned as I let him loose
from my grasp, to look me in the eyes with those huge brown luminescent
orbs of his.  The clean, crisp mountain air was suddenly filled with his
scent, arising from within our overturned covers and from his flannel
nightie.  Still that glorious, boyish, unwashed mix.  I had a feeling we
would change that very soon, with a bath in the warm springs.  If only I
could bottle each of his scents, and keep them beyond this day.

He didn't say anything, but his expression said it all.  It was wide-eyed
with wonder.  His lips were firmly closed and he breathed slowly through
his nostrils as he looked up at me expectantly.  There might have been a
bit of fear there too, in the way he kept his hands together in his lap, in
the way he held his body so rigid before me - and yet, he didn't move away.

I dared to lift my hand to the ringlets of caked hair that covered his
right ear.  His hair was dry now, but dirty, still clinging loosely to the
sides of his head, and now matted by sleep into stray clumps that stuck out
here and there.  I looked straight into his eyes while gently brushing his
curls.  "You're such a brave boy, Jasio, to trust me like this.  I'll make
sure I deserve your trust."

He raised his head just a bit, his chin jutting out very sternly, his eyes
drilling into mine.  Challenging me.  He didn't waver even an instant.  I
could tell he was waiting.  Letting me prove what I said.  I thought, `he
wants me to prove myself.'

I couldn't keep the excitement from my tone, even while I tried to speak to
him calmly.  I was still sporting a hardon that wouldn't quit, and suddenly
realized that I was sitting upright nude before him, and my penis was like
a sword standing up between us.  Casually, I tried to cover myself with the
hem of the comforter as I slipped backwards off the bed, and turned to step
towards the table where I had laid out our borrowed clothing.  I looked
back, and saw him following my every movement.

"Hmmh, I guess we had better get dressed if we're going to get to
breakfast," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed as I stood completely naked
before him, self- consciously holding my stiff penis up tight against my
belly.  I was half turned away from him as I walked to the table, but I saw
that he noticed my massive tool.  "I uhh ... I have to pee, bad," I said as
I awkwardly hobbled in the chill air to the table.  I started grabbing up
clothes, and tossed over the items that the old woman had given me for him.
He caught them deftly, and laid them out piece by piece on the fluid
surface of the thick comforter, looking rather astonished.

I doubt if I have ever seen such a lovely sight - one so sweet with a boy`s
innocence.  There he sat straight-backed upon the bed, with the comforter
forming a soft-white pool of luxuriance around him.  His nightgown flowed
down from his narrow shoulders, just hinting at the little boy inside it's
soft folds.  His delicate wrists and little hands, with his fingers so
small and straight and smooth, emerged from the elastic, ruffled bands of
the nightgown sleeves, belying all the travails that this boy had lived
through - he looked positively angelic, almost girlish in that too- frilly
nightgown - but in a boyish, very-much-needing-to-be-washed sort of way!
His neck was slender - too slim to carry the burdens of his life.  In the
light of the day - this day that I had looked forward to so much last night
- I saw that his complexion wasn't just pale from hunger or exhaustion -
his skin tone was literally porcelain white, so fine and pure that he
almost looked like a little doll sitting there, with his red lips pursed so
thoughtfully and his big eyes

There was no underwear for me, so I started to step into the long white
pants the woman had given me.  They looked to be just the right size,
although my burgeoning, erect appendage made it a tight fit at the moment.
I buttoned the flap over it carefully, just covering the base of my tender
glans.  It peeked up over the edge of the waistband, so I gingerly nudged
it to the side, inside the fabric.  I also had a buttoned shirt and socks,
both white just like the pants, and blue leather sandals.  For Jasio she
had selected what looked like a quaint little sailor suit.  White with
light-blue pin-striping, and gold piping around the overlarge navy-blue
collar of the tunic, and on the wide sleeve cuffs.  The pants were of the
same fabric, and the same mid-shipman striping, perhaps a bit too short,
probably falling about midway up his thighs.  There were underwear too, and
socks.  Both white.  Long, long socks sporting that same dark blue cuff
with gold piping.  To finish it all, she had given him the same type of
blue leather sandals that I had.  His outfit even had a little sailor cap
with the gold piping and a blue ribbon around it.  I wondered how Jasio
would feel about wearing it all - it was no doubt unlike anything he was
used to.

"Jasio, it's about time I really introduced myself to you," I said as I
donned the shirt.  "My name is Piotr Ostoja, and I'm fro ...." I looked
over at him just then and froze.  He couldn't have been listening to me,
because he sat as if transfixed, staring at the blouse of the sailor suit.
He had lain it out atop the comforter, and held the hem in the fingers of
both hands.  His chest seemed to heave, as if he were about to burst into
tears, and he looked just so unutterably lost.

I rushed to the bedside and sat down beside him.  "What's the matter,
sweetie?"  I hesitantly reached out with one hand and placed my fingers
beneath his chin, and gently lifted his face to me.  He looked bewildered,
questioning.  There was a moistness in his eyes.  They glistened with
whatever was bothering him.

"You don't have to wear these, Jasio, if that's what's bothering you.  I
could ask the old woman for something else, or we could wait till your
other clothes are washed."

"No." he answered immediately and emphatically, quickly gathering the
blouse into his hands possessively, but he looked down at it quizzically.
"I like them ... very much," he said then, shaking his head as if bothered
by something.

His first words to me.  The first words I had heard from him not in anger,
at least.  He had such a beautiful voice!  Thin, light and soft. `I like
them very much' - the words echoed for a moment in my head.  A boy's voice
- whether soft and velveteen like Jasio's, or even bold and brash, has the
capacity to enthrall me, to render me thoughtless and speechless.  It's a
boylover's affliction ... or blessing.  Tomek used to tell all of us boys
to call out in the night, using our voices like wind sprites.  "Don't
worry," he would assure us, "no Nazi will ever recognize your signals.
Only those who love you, will hear."

I heard Jasio.  I listened.  I strained to hear the meaning captured in his
voice.

"It's not ... there's nothing wrong with them," he continued even more
softly, as he reached to pull all the other items into his lap.  The
shorts, the undies, the socks and sandals.  Even the cap.  He held it up
off the comforter and fingered the thin blue ribbon band, following it
around the circumference to the crenellated ends where they dangled off the
narrow brim.  "It's just that I've never had anything as nice as this, but
... it seems like I can remember ...."

He turned his head up to me in consternation and said, "did you ever have a
moment when you felt like you were reliving something?  Like you had done
it before, but you know it never could have happened?"  He looked at me
under lowered brow, as if unsure about speaking with me so directly.  Then
he looked back down at the clothing.

"Yes, many times," I answered, watching as he touched each item in turn,
lifting it, turning, folding, feeling.

He must have decided that it was ok to talk with me, for he once again
looked up at me, this time more directly, and said, "Well, it's like I can
remember this moment - you tossing me the clothes ... or at least a man
... not you, really.  The man was talking to me ... handing me some clean
clothes to wear ... and I called him ...."

He stopped in mid-sentence, unable to continue as his lower lip trembled.
I watched as a single tear trickled down from the corner of one eye,
falling slowly, leaving a wavering wet trail down alongside his nose.

"What did you call him, Jasio?" I asked softly, urging him on.

"Tato."

The man he called his Daddy.  "Perhaps ... it really did ...." I started to
say, feeling like I just couldn't let the void of silence fill only with
his sad memories.

"But I didn't ... I never had a father," he interrupted.  It was almost a
question to me, the way he said it.  The way he looked at me so
beseechingly, it was indeed a question.

I had no answer.

I reached up and gently wiped away the straggling tear with the back of my
finger, and let it linger there for a moment, caressing his cheek.

He looked straight at me.  I met his gaze with tears forming in the corners
of my eyes too, feeling so sad for him.  I just wished I weren't so
helpless.  What do you tell a boy who's never known his own father?

Finally I simply stated the only fact I could come up with. "You did have a
father.  I bet he was a wonderful man, too.  And your mom.  You've
... you've never heard about them?"

He dropped his gaze.  For the longest time, he just fingered the fabrics in
his hands, perhaps looking beyond them, or deeper into them, still probing
his memories.

With the most expressive, deflating sigh I think I have ever heard, he
finally said simply, "No."

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, half-facing him, so I just extended
my arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle hug.  "Well, I am not
your father, Misiu.  I'm just Piotrek.  You and me kind of ... ran into
each other last night."  I bent my head down to his level and gave a side
way's look and a tentative smile.  His eyes darted to mine and he granted
me a little lift at the corners of his lips too.  "Oh, you remember last
night, do you?"

"Yes.  You were ... nice to take care of me."

"Jasio, like I said, I'm not your father, but I want to at least be your
friend.  Hey, it's the least I can do after smashing into your ...."

"It was my fault.  I tried to get in front of your car," he interrupted me,
his voice now nasal with the tears.  He dragged his eyes lower, looking
down at the clothes, the bed - or nothing.

I sighed, still hunching down, wanting so much to comfort him in some way.
"Things got that bad for you, huh?"

"Yes." he said, almost inaudibly.

"How ... how long ... has it been like this, Jasio?"

"Forever.  I'v ...," his voice choked, and he gave a little twist of his
neck, as if he were trying to clear that knot of pain that had suddenly
welled up into his throat.  "I've always tried to work, to make things, but
... it was never any good.  I don't know what's wrong with me, why nobody
wants me, why I have to beg just to ...."

The tears started flowing then, and I placed my arm around him again, just
holding him still like that for a moment while he cried - trying to come up
with the right words.  Something, anything to let him know that there could
be a little hope in his life.  That it didn't have to stay like this.

The silence in the cabin was deafening.  Only his sniffles to disturb the
morning bright.  It just wasn't right.  I knew I had to make things right.

"You know what, Jasio?"  I muttered quietly, "I'm not any kind of miracle
worker, but things are going to be different in your life now."  I kind of
rocked him gently closer into my side, and then we just lolled there for a
moment as I squeezed him tightly.  "I won't ... I won't let you down,
Misiu.  Ok?"

Again I bent to try to get him to meet my gaze again.

He wiped the tears away with the back of both his hands and sniffled and
swiped them under his nose too.  I took the tail of my shirt and dried
those wet stains from his cheek.

"Ok, little guy.  Give me a chance?  Even though you don't know me very
well yet, let me have a chance, ok?"

He breathed in haltingly, but deeply, and then lifted his head again.  He
raised his eyebrows briefly and pursed his lips.  The poor boy's eyes were
clouded and pinched with the tears.

It was answer enough.

"Good, then.  I guess we really had better get going.  You're going to look
like a little Prince in this outfit."

He was sitting there all slump-shouldered and despondent, but I
repositioned in front of him.  "Here," I said," let's get your nightie
off."

He was such a trooper!  Immediately he straightened right up and lifted his
arms as I started raising the hem of the nightgown up.  We got it off, and
I laid it neatly at the foot of the bed.  Then he sat there on his heels,
his hands on his thighs, as I picked the middy blouse up.  He looked at me
again with a kind of wonder.  This boy wasn't used to anybody helping him.
"You'll see," I said jauntily, "we'll have you dressed and stuffing our
faces with good food in just a minute."  He had no idea about the kind of
pampering I intended to give him!

The old woman had judged his size just right too.  How she did that with
one quick glance at him in the back seat of our car, I don't know, but the
outfit was perfect for his frail frame.

Looking at his naked body as he knelt before me, I could see that he had
indeed been forced out into the world.  He still retained a bit of his
summer tan - his torso was darker than this pelvic area, and his arms and
lower legs were darker still, although still quite pale compared to mine.
He was so sleek - all soft but straight lines to his form, with hardly any
swell at his hips.

"Haha," I chuckled, "now I'm not so embarrassed.  You have a little morning
stiffie too!"  I pointed down at the gorgeous and surprisingly long stalk
of his penis that was rising like a little pickle from between his tightly
closed legs.  His balls were hidden along with the bottom of the shaft, but
his partially covered pinkish glans, and half of the hardened prick was
pointing right back at me.

He looked down sheepishly and gave a weak little laugh, almost
begrudgingly.

"Oops!  He winked at me!"  His tiny pee slit did look a lot like a little
cyclopsian eye as his body moved.

"He ... it did not!" he protested and giggled softly, "but I do have to go
pee real bad."

"Ooohhh okay," I gave in.  "Me too.  Let's just get you dressed before we
both pee right here."

He raised his arms again as I gathered up the blouse and positioned it over
his head.  I practically devoured the sight of his up stretched form.  Then
when he wriggled his hands through the sleeve openings his whole lithe body
wiggled!  Including his little stalk!  I was just aghast at his boyish
perfection.  He should have been sculpted like that.  `Boy Rising.'  `Body
Shimmering.'

All too soon for me, I had to slip his head through the neck opening, then
let the fabric drop down to cover his little frame.  The blouse fit just
right, loose enough to allow him to move about freely, but showing off his
little boy's figure.

His body was just so thin.  I couldn't decide if that was a healthy
thinness - a leanness from all his work outdoors - or perhaps just a
natural delicacy of his physique, or sadly - what if it was more from the
neglect that he had endured for so many years?  In the light of day, he did
look pallid, and still very unwashed, but not really sickly or even
suffering from any kind of severe malnutrition.

I needed more time with him to find out the truth.  And more time still to
do right by him.  To provide him with whatever he needed medically or
nutritionally.

Just another of those things I had to ponder over - how to affect the
change in his life, when I was perforce not going to be a part of it?

Jasio's musculature was subtle, hiding beneath his flesh, not even rounding
out the sharp curves of his delicately jutting bones.  He had graceful,
almost effeminate lines.  I sat there before him in more than admiration -
he was like some kind of ...  prototypical model of BOY.  The mold, in
which others might find their own perfect manifestations ... and yet so
much more than a mere model.

He was Jasio.  My God, I was in love with this boy already.  From his
physical beauty to the depth that I sensed in his spirit and intellect, to
his eccentric ways, to his ingenuity - and I had to admit - to his need of
me.

I was in love!

My hands started trembling as I smoothed the shirt over his chest and then
tugged it down over his tummy.  He noticed, because he said so softly then,
"What's the matter with you, Par ... Piotrek?  Are you ... are you
... afraid too?"

The lilt in his voice as he asked it, the way he kind of cocked his head
and looked up at me questioningly, showed his genuine concern.  I breathed
out slowly, calming myself, then tried to smile.

"Afraid?"  I answered him.  "No ... I'm ...."

What could I tell him?  Would that I could just tell him that it was love I
felt.

Instead, I cupped my hands around his shoulders and pulled him to me.
"Happy, Jasio.  It's `happy' that I am, that you and I have finally met."

He let me hold him there briefly, his cheek resting so softly against my
chest.  Then I let him sit back on his heels again.  He lowered his eyes
shyly, but I could see the gladness that transformed his every feature -
from the wan smile that just barely turned up the corners of his lips, to
the teeniest little fold of flesh at the corners of his eyes.

He was happy too.  Pleased with the blouse.  I could see it in the way he
flattened his hand across the fabric and smoothed it across his tummy, then
he felt along the edges of the broad black lapel, straining his head down
to look at it.

He reminded me of a kitten self-contentedly grooming himself, purring away
in satisfaction.  If Jasio could have purred he would have.  Gone were the
sniffles.  Gone permanently, I wished.

"You do indeed look great in that," I said, wanting to validate what I
could see he was thinking.  "It'll even be better when we get the whole
suit on.  Here."  I picked up the undies.

They were of a soft, thin cotton weave - little short pants that looked
even shorter than the pants for the sailor outfit.  My penis surged with
the mere thought of seeing him in them.  "Let's get these on first - then
the sailor shorts, ok?"

As I opened the little panties out and held them ready for him to insert
his feet, Jasio obligingly rocked back onto his bottom.  His legs splayed
open a bit as he extended them out, his knees up.  It was like looking down
infinitely long and sleek columns of boyflesh, from his knees all the way
down to where his legs met - where I longed to dwell.  I stared in
wide-eyed and mute fascination as his finger- long stiffie wobbled free,
and his ballsac hung low and loose, just released from the humid confines
between his legs.  The oval orbs within hung just as low, seeming to drag
down his scrotum.  The right testicle hung down a bit longer.  It seemed
larger too, but I could have easily cupped both within the pads of my three
middle fingers., hefting them effortlessly.  The thin, raised and
crenellated ridge of his perineum trailed out from beneath his scrotum.  I
followed it hypnotically to where it dipped between the orbs of his cheeks,
and magically out of sight into his virgin anus.  No man had ever dipped
his penis in there.  It was just as smooth and pink as it must have been
when he came from the womb.  The very slightest darkening of the coloring
deep within the funneling folds made me squirm, just imagining inserting my
own manhood there.

Guiltily, I looked up and saw that he was waiting patiently.  His brow
peaked in curiosity at my gaze.  "Uh ... sorry.  You've ... you're such a
...," I stuttered in confusion, almost blurting out the truth, that he was
such a pretty boy!  "You're such a slim little boy, Jasio, but you have a
... big one," I blushed, and nodded down between his legs.

"It is?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, especially hard like that."

And it was big.  He was hung.  He was still a little boy, and his penis was
still a little boy's penis, but this boy was going to be like me someday,
carrying a massive weapon between his legs, if his still hairless appendage
was any indication.  It was as long as my middle finger, and thicker.  With
a slight upward curve, that let me see the underside of his glans where it
joined with his foreskin.  The hood was stretched tightly around the corona
of the glans now, but still not slipping down onto the shaft freely.  Tiny
veins zigged underneath the pale surface, engorged just like his boyhood.
If I added just the lightest touch of my finger to the throbbing of his
heartbeat, I knew his taut foreskin would slip back instantly and his
glistening wet glans would be bared totally.  The surface of his dickhead
looked raw, almost angry, swollen.  I wouldn't dare to touch it now.

Not now.  Would I ever?

"I don't know why it gets like that sometimes," he said, startling me out
of my penis-induced trance.  "I've seen ...."

He stopped suddenly and turned his head away, as if in shame.

"It's ok, Misiu," I hastened to tell him.  "I get hard all the time."

"Why does it happen like that?" he returned his gaze back to me.  It was
astonishing!  It was if he had suddenly transformed - at one moment
hesitant, afraid, feeling shamed - and in one instant later, just because
of my reassurance, he was wide-eyed again, mouth open, eager, listening,
wanting to hear what I had to say about this burning question.

I wondered, was every question of such import to him?  And was that a
reflection of his mind?  Or of the cruelty with which all his questions had
been met in the past?

I felt my own face growing red.  I was found out.  Uncovered.  Revealed.

I wouldn't lie to him, though.  Not to Jasio, even if I were capable of
hiding the truth to any other boy.

"I guess there are a couple of reasons we get hard, Jasio," I said, my
voice growing hoarse against my will.

"Oh?" he said lightly, expectantly.

"Yeah.  Well, we get hard in the mornings sometimes because we have to pee.
I don't know, pressure inside of us, or something - all that pee just
needing to get out - makes it hard, I guess" I answered lamely, as I
slipped the undies over his feet and started sliding them along his calves.
"And then, sometimes, well, we get hard because of ... great emotion.  Like
when we see someone who's ... exciting to us, like someone we like, or
...."

I stopped, concentrating all my feeble mental efforts on getting the undies
up along his thighs.  I felt stupid.  Hah.  Stupid Johnny, they called him.
At least he asked the questions.  I couldn't even answer them without
becoming flustered.

"Hmmmh, how about you stand up now, and we'll get these all the way up.
Then we can get your pants on.  Dang, we're going to be late, and the old
wom ...."

"Leon gets hard like that," he mused, seemingly oblivious to my
consternation.  My ears pricked up at that!  He said it so
matter-of-factly.  I felt something totally different - a very immediate
burning jolt of anger, jealousy, dismay.  That he might have been with that
bastard Leon Koczurba.  No.  It wasn't anger aimed at Jasio.  But I knew as
certainly as any truth in the world that that man Leon wasn't worthy of any
kind of intimacy with Jasio.

Jasio didn't notice my sudden flush.  He just stood, and wiggled his hips
back and forth as I slid the panties up and started buttoning them.  I
don't think he noticed my eyes either, fixated on his half-hooded glans,
bobbing just centimeters from my face.  His dick protruded lewdly between
the two flaps.  I fumbled with the top button, growing wide-eyed, wanting
to lean in and kiss him, and claim this boy for me - not for that foul
Koczurba..

He merely continued with his story.  "He gets drunk, gets hard and makes me
...  lick it."

I forced myself to just keep trying to button him.  Damn!  What had that
monster done to my boy?  Forced him into sex?  Had Leon touched this
treasure?  Or any other part of my boy?

"Horses don't do that.  And cows.  I've seen dogs lick their cocks too.
Leon says that's all I'm good for, sucking him.  Then he fucks Ania ...,"
Jasio continued on, but my ears were suddenly ringing.  At that moment I
wanted to either sigh in relief - that that was the extent of what Jasio
had been forced to do - or jump immediately into my car, head straight down
the road to the Collective, and strangle Committee Chairman Koczurba.

"I've seen lots of the animals fuck," was the next thing I heard Jasio say.
The boy was a thinker.  He seemed to analyze things.  Notice things.

"But none of them suck each other, like Leon makes me do.  Leon doesn't
like me, so I don`t see why he would get hard."

"Well, he ... he likes ...," I tried to explain, but choked on the thought
of Leon feeling anything for Jasio.  "Some men like the way you ... the way
boys look, and that can make us hard too, so ...." The dinging of a bell
suddenly rang out from the direction of the inn.  I shook my head, almost
glad to be interrupted like that.  "Uhoh," I said, "She's calling us to
breakfast.  We'd better hurry, Misiu."

I had the undies almost buttoned, but his penis still pointed out so
tantalizingly, tilting up at an angle from his pubis.  With a feather light
touch I placed just the pad of my index finger on the smooth, swollen ridge
of his urethra, and pushed his shaft up, then carefully tucked it inside
one flap, and buttoned him all the way up over the hardness within.  He
wriggled and giggled to the sensations.

Good that the old woman was hurrying us, because I was about to cream in my
pants.  Seeing him standing there, his midriff right in front of my eyes,
clad in only a sailor shirt and see-through undies, was a bit too much!
The image of him kneeling between Leon's legs haunted me too, with a
perverse kind of fascination as I thought of his beautiful red lips
opening, his mouth lowering to the man's dickhead.

I took a deep breath, and shook my head, then grabbed up the pants, and
fumbled my hands about wildly, trying to turn them around the right way.
Jasio giggled again, so I have to admit I clowned it up a bit more, and
made him trip when he tried to step into them.  He came bouncing down in a
boy-bundle, and I pushed him over flat and started man-handling the pants
up his legs.  I got them over his bottom and buttoned in a matter of
seconds, then, both of us laughing uproariously now, I threw one sock at
his face, and attacked one foot with the other.  He just screamed with
laughter, but bent to try to get his sock on faster.  We had a race, and I
finished with a flourish, and a yell of triumph, then grabbed up the
sandals.

"Are we going to make it?" he finished pulling up his sock then held his
hands out for one of the sandals.

"Oh yeah, Piotrek never misses a meal."  I answered too quickly, and
realized my mistake even as I saw him deflate, just like a balloon whose
ribbon had just been untied - a slow drawing in upon himself, shoulders
collapsing, head drooping.

"Hey," I nudged him with one of the sandals.  "I guess you don't need any
reminders that you've missed a few meals back there.  You know, we can't do
anything about that, but ... but look, I think we can fix it so that won't
happen anymore.  I'm not going to let you down, Jasio."

He took the sandal, but just kind of sat there, arms lax, deep in some
thought.  I went ahead and put the sandal on that I was holding.  He let me
slip it on his foot and latch the leather straps over his ankle.  He raised
his head then and looked at me blankly, one corner of his mouth hitched up
in a kind of resignation.  He held out the other sandal to me, and I took
it and started slipping it on.

We were pretty much back where we started.  Me with a bunch of promises to
keep now.  Him with no real reason to trust me, but with little choice to
do anything else.

"We'll make it ok, Jasio," was all I could think of to say.  With both
sandals on, that left only the cap.  I picked it up and held it out above
his head hopefully.  "Alright?"  I asked, once again craning my head down,
trying to get on his level to meet his eyes.

"Alright," he finally acquiesced, not looking all that confident.

"Good, now to crown my prince ... I place this fine cap upon your head," I
said with mock solemnity as I raised the cap directly above his head and
then slowly lowered it until it fit in place.  The tails of the ribbon
dangled perfectly off to his left side.

"Oh, you look grande," I said as I held out one hand to help him up.  I
backed off the bed myself and stood up before him.  "Does the Admiral of
the Fleet care to partake of breakfast?"

He accepted the proffer of my hand with a true grace, as if he were indeed
a prince ... or admiral ... indeed, like the Captain of my heart.  As if
arising in state before a crowd of admirers, Jasio leaned into my hand,
letting me pull him up.  He then stepped right across the mattress and down
comforter to the edge of the bed, and hopped down with a flourish of his
free hand.

I released his hand and stood back to behold him.  A wave of dizziness
suddenly swept over me - it was one of those moments he had asked me about
earlier.  Somehow, someway, I had seen this boy, dressed like this, before!
He was the very essence of elegance, resplendent in his uniform - it was as
if the hands that had sewn and crafted these garments, and the hands that
had selected them, had been guided by a sure knowledge that this boy should
be thus adorned.  That this was his due.

Suddenly I remembered seeing some Nazi propaganda one time, back in the
war, accusing the Russians of being brutal murderers.  I had laughed then,
when I saw it.  Until they flashed up a picture of the Tsarevich Alexander,
the little sickly son of the Tsar.  He was dressed in just such a sailor
suit as my Jasio was now, the very picture of boyish innocence, belying his
sad reality.

I vowed to make this a reality for Jasio.  This suit was more than just a
pretty adornment for a pretty boy.  It was like a statement about the world
that once was.  The world that should be, right now, for this boy.

Jasio broke me from my thoughts.  "I wish I could wear these ...," he
started to say, then stopped.  He was looking down at himself, stretching
the hem of the middy blouse down straight with both his hands.

"What do you wish, Misiu?"

"Oh, nothing," he shook his head, then looked up at me with a very wistful,
far- away gaze.  Then he dropped his gaze back down to his outfit, and
smoothed the blouse out again.

"Something to do with this suit?" I asked.

"Yeah.  I kind of wish I could wear it back to ... when you take me back to
the collective, and they could see me like ...."  He stopped again, then
waved one hand dismissively.  "We better go," he said as he started to turn
away towards the door.

"Uhh ... yeah ... you're right," I said, dumbfounded, but aware that he had
pretty much shared my own thoughts. This was the way he should have been
seen by all those back where they had mistreated him for years.  If the
evidence of his intellect and his spirit hadn't done it, then just the
sight of him like this had to force his people to see Jasio for who he was.
A boy to be reckoned with.  A boy to be honored.  A boy to just be treated
with common decency and care.  And love.  I put one hand on his shoulder
and started to follow him past the bed.

He pointed over near the table, where my sandals and socks were sitting on
the floor.  "Don't you think you had better get your so ...."

He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at the table-top, seeing his things
laid out there for the first time.  He shrugged out from under my hand and
he walked quickly to the very edge of the table.  That cut me to the core,
and I swear the bottom dropped out of my belly.  That I should hurt him in
any way, that he should think less of me for this - I just couldn't bear
it.

"My coat?" he suddenly turned and looked up at me, his brow furrowed and
his eyes so questioning - almost wounded and accusing.

"Oh!  Oh Jasio, I hope you don't mind," I rushed to explain.  "When the old
woman said she would wash our old clothes, I thought why not your coat too.
So I ...."

He turned back abruptly.  Slowly he ran his fingertips across the tops of
the things resting there, as if each one was precious to him.  He picked up
the screw driver handle, seeming to examine it, weighing it, angling it
this way and that.  Then he turned his head almost in slow motion to look
up at me, his eyes still showing that same wonderment, disbelief,
questioning - I didn't know what to call it.  At least there was no more
anger written there.  No longer any resentment.

I breathed again.  And waited, silently.

He looked back at the screw driver, and then placed it back upon the table
top, lining it up with the other items even more precisely than I had done.
Next he picked up and flipped a two-zloty coin over and over in his hands,
lost in some thought.  Again, he put it back down exactly where I had
placed it earlier.

Surveying his entire collection of parts, he reached for the notched stick
and ran one thumb over the notches slowly, almost caressing them.

I just stood there silently, not daring to interrupt him.

Ancient peoples have since time immemorial gathered together totems, made
little bundles of special things that carried meaning for them, that
imparted some sense of power or luck or guidance.  I was sure that all
these odd and ends meant just exactly that to Jasio.  All I could hope for,
as I stood there helplessly, was that I hadn't somehow tainted them
... just by my simple act of touching them, handling them.  Or worse - even
by seeing them.

Finally, he turned to me once again.  The look in his eyes had softened a
bit.  "You understood," he stated, and looked me right in my eyes so
steadily.

I gasped for a breath.  His words hit me like a hammer.  I had judged this
boy right in this matter at least.  And now I knew that I had passed some
kind of unwritten test.  One that he had not even set for me, but one that
he certainly recognized.

"Yes," my voice grated, as I attempted to acknowledge his grant of
acceptance for me.  "I think I do understand that all this things are
important to you, Jasio.  Useful things.  Things you have kept and worked
with for a long time.  Perhaps sometime you'll tell me about them.  Like
the wrench, with the wire in the handle.  Or that notched stick."

He looked back down at the assortment, and replaced the notched stick where
it had been.

"You don't think I'm ... stupid?  For keeping all these things?" he asked,
keeping his head down.

I reached out and placed my left hand upon his still crusty and caked hair,
and kind of ruffled it a bit.  Thank goodness he didn`t brush it away, or
step away.  "Remember Jasio, I've seen your cart.  I rode on it.  When I
see all these things here, I don't see `stupid'.  I see ... maybe
... `genius'.  Or `visionary.` Perhaps that's what you are.  So.  How about
it, Einstein, ready to go eat?"

"Who's Einstein."

"Oh.  Another little boy they used to call stupid.  He ended up changing
the whole world.  I can tell you all about him later on, if you wish."

`Ok." he said as he finally looked up and gave me another of his tentative
smiles.

I bent to pick up my sandals and socks, then opened the door.  Sunlight
flooded into our cabin and I stepped out onto the porch, feeling the bite
of the cold morning air, but there was no wind and it was just so
invigorating - no need for a coat or jacket at all.

I sat down immediately and started pulling on my socks, sitting sideways,
watching as Jasio slowly followed me out.  He stood poised to take flight
back into the cabin, it seemed, the way he held his hands up before his
tummy, clasping them, squeezing them.  He looked around at everything - the
courtyard, the other cabins on both sides and the inn at the apex - then he
looked beyond, and suddenly seemed visibly shaken.  I glanced in the
direction of his gaze, then back to his eyes - he leaned his head back, his
eyes marching up the incline of the mountain-side that loomed so
majestically across the way, it's slopes densely covered with tall brooding
black spruce.

I suppose I had seen this kind of sight so many times, that it didn't dawn
on me until now that Jasio might feel very small indeed here - vulnerable,
dwarfed by the mountains - suddenly feeling himself out of time, out of
place.

I tried to lighten things up a bit.  "Hey, do you need to pee as bad as I
do?"

"Ye ... yeah," he mumbled distractedly, still looking up at the mountain
side.

"Ok.  You go on around the cabin.  The inn-keeper said the latrine was out
back there.  I'll uh ... I'll be back there in just a minute ... let me
... get these socks and shoes on first.  Ok?"

"Sure," he said absently, as he stepped slowly down onto the cobbles of the
courtyard.

I smiled watching him.  He looked so cute as he slowly walked along the
side of the cabin, keeping one hand on the wall as if leaning back upon it,
against the pressure of the over-awing mountains.  The sailor suit
transformed him magically.  He was no longer a little castaway boy,
unwanted, uncared for.  He looked more like a schoolboy, with just the
narrow band of his sweet bare legs showing between the high socks and his
short pants, walking out for the morning lessons.  He looked very much
wanted and cared for.

Then he disappeared around the corner, and suddenly I was bereft!  I didn't
want him out of my sight.  For whatever precious moments were left to me, I
just had to be with him.

I fumbled with the socks and sandals, and finally slapped them on, then
jumped up and practically ran after him.

As I rounded the corner, already searching within the dark forest that
bounded the back of the line of cabins, I had to draw up short, for he was
standing right there, against the side of the cabin - huddled against it,
his forehead down, leaning with his shoulder and arm set forlornly against
the roughened log exterior.  As soon as he saw me, he stepped towards me,
for an instant looking like I had just saved him from some awful threat.
Then he stopped and just stood there, arms dangling, looking dejected.

"Oh!  I thought you ...." I started to say, then saw how he was hunched so
miserably there.  "Why didn't you go on to the ...."

He looked up at me, lips sealed, eye-brows sagging, looking ashamed about
something.

I looked around.  There were no wild boars or wolves to be seen anywhere,
just the trees, the dark undergrowth, the beginning of a half-hidden trail
leading into the dark forest - no doubt that's where the latrine was.  No
ferocious black bears guarding the trai ....

Pawel used to accuse me of being dense sometimes.  He said I was slow to
catch on to the obvious.  Otherwise, I was ok.  I had to admit now that he
was right, because I looked from the little boy standing so miserably
before me back into the dark forest, and up at the mighty mountain side,
and finally understood.  Damn!  Big brave Piotrek had sent a little boy off
into the unknown, all alone!

Talk about stupid.

Well, I felt my ears burning as I blushed from embarrassment at my own
stupidity.  Seems in all these moments of admiring this boy, I had
forgotten what it can be like to BE a boy.

Dang.

At least I hadn`t forgotten how to be a man.  "You know what?" I said to
him then.  I waited till he raised his eyes to look at me.  He looked just
on the verge of tears again.  I pointed behind him, and up at the
mountains, and said, "That forest is kind of scary.  I don't know that I
want to go walking about here alone.  How about you and me stick together
from now on?"

I held out my hand towards him, palm open.  He looked at it - and I swear I
saw the same wide-eyed wonder in his gaze as I saw when he looked up at the
mountains just a moment ago - my outstretched hand was something new for
him, something to be analyzed, a phenomenon - then he took a deep breath,
looked back up at me, and seemed to make his decision right then and there.
With barely a flutter of hesitancy in his fingers, he reached out and
placed his palm across mine.

I caught my breath, in what must have been audible stutter, and then closed
my fingers around his - our hands together.

"Lead the way, Admiral," I managed to say, before my throat choked with the
feeling that we had finally connected.  The circles of our lives had
crossed.  If only we could walk our paths together, just like this, from
now on.

"Piotrek?" he looked up at me as we set off.

"Y ... yeah, Misiu?" I managed to answer.

"I could ... I could tell you about that wrench now.  And the wire.  You
really want me to tell you?"

"Oh yes.  Please tell me.  Everything."