Date: Wed, 03 May 2000 09:46:20 -0700
From: Robert J. Cutter <cutter57@hotbot.com>
Subject: 'MY MELANCHOLY DANE"  Chapter 4  (Man/Boy)

Disclaimer: The following is a love story between a man and a boy.  It is
also interracial and incestuous in nature.  It is a work of fiction; all
characters are fictitious, as are all situations and locations.

			   MY  MELANCHOLY  DANE
		   ------------------------------------

	 Copyright 2000 by Robert J. Cutter - All Rights Reserved

The author retains all rights to this story. It is not permissible to
distribute it to any newsgroups and/or other web sites without the express
written consent and permission of the author.


	       Chapter 4 - A Long, Hot Summer Day and Night

One incredibly hot and steamy Tuesday afternoon in early August, a dealer
came to visit my studio.  His arrival was unannounced - just appeared
without prior arrangement.  His name was Jerrold Hanold and he said he
owned a small gallery in the SoHo section of New York City.  He was, I
would guess, in his early fifties and dressed in casual but obviously
expensive clothes.  Accompanying him was a much younger man, very handsome
and also impeccably dressed.  His name was Nathan and, simply put, he was
quite beautiful.  Simon and I welcomed them and they made themselves
comfortable - as comfortable as pampered New Yorkers can be in a hot loft
in New Orleans in the summer.

By this time, Simon and I had been living together for two and a half
years.  We were extremely happy and things had been going well.  We were
serious lovers and I could not be more contented.  Unfortunately, I had not
sold very many of my paintings - people came, they looked, they left.
Sometimes a buyer would purchase one of my smaller works always commenting
how I should produce "more accessible efforts."  However, because of my
sister's largess, we were not in need of any money.  We lived a
comfortable, though slightly Spartan, existence.  The best part was that we
were together.  I could not believe how blissful we were and how much we
depended on the other.

We shared all household chores and made things comfortable for the other.
Simon studied hard and was doing extremely well in school.  I painted as
much as I could and always found time every single day to sketch Simon.
This was an absolute must; I had to draw Simon for at least one hour every
day.  This made for a wonderful "connection" between the two of us.

"So what brings you to my studio on a day like this Mr. Hanold?"

"Isn't it always like this in New Orleans?"  We all laughed.  "I've heard
that you are a good artist, sir."  I was unused to anyone calling me "sir"
and it made me slightly uncomfortable.

"And where did you hear that, if I may ask?"

"You may.  I've been speaking to a number of people who are...uh...well,
let me put it this way...they are paid to know these things."  I smiled at
that remark.

Simon came back into the room carrying a tray of glasses and a pitcher of
iced tea.  Both men looked at him - studied him closely actually - and
nodded to each other.  Simon was dressed only in a pair of cut off jeans
and flip-flops; the perspiration on his skin glistened like a million stars
being reflected off a tranquil lake.  He was absolutely gorgeous; he was
perfection.  This was not unusual, however.  But for some reason he looked
particularly appealing and radiant today.

 "How do you know my work, sir?  Obviously, you've seen at least one.  But
where?"

"Your friend Maxie Crawford has one in the back room...er...private room of
his restaurant.  We saw a painting there; I believe it was called 'Simon -
Free 5'.  And, if I'm not mistaking, this is the Simon, correct?"

Simon looked up at the men and smiled.  They returned the smile.  "Yes,
sir, this is my nephew Simon."

"Your nephew?  Glad to meet you, Simon," Mr. Hanold said looking the boy
over very carefully I thought.  He extended his right hand and Simon shook
it enthusiastically.

"I thank you sir."  Simon seemed to realize, maybe instinctively, that
Mr. Hanold did not believe that we were related.  "My uncle here and my
mother are half-brother and half-sister.  They have different fathers."
The men were taken aback at Simon's forthrightness and laughed somewhat
nervously.  "So technically I am his half-nephew - if that is possible."

"You are a most attractive model and a delightful half-nephew.  I'd even go
so far as to say that you are quite dazzling."  Simon gave him a big but
slightly reticent smile, and poured ice tea for everyone.  "My associate
and I would very much appreciate seeing what you are currently working on.
We would also like to see the paintings and various other works that you
can possibly show us."

I showed them the half finished portrait of Simon that I was currently
working on which was nearby.  Nathan whispered something to the older man.
Mr. Hanold nodded and indicated to Nathan to begin taking notes.  Both men
followed me to the area where I kept my completed works.  It was
practically a jungle of paintings since I did not keep them in any
particular order.  Very few people ever came to the studio to see them that
I never found it necessary to categorize them.

I quickly moved thing around and began displaying those that I thought the
best of the older works.  The two men did not speak to each other but
Nathan kept making marks on the pad and the older guy seemed to be
signaling him whenever they looked at a painting.  The older works were
somewhat smaller than the newer ones and the old guy kept on signaling.

Then I began to bring out the pictures of Simon and they seemed to become
much more interested.  These were very large paintings and I had difficulty
retrieving them and moving them about.  I lined them up along one
relatively unoccupied wall of the loft.  I was sweating profusely and so
was Simon who was assisting me.  I thought they were looking at Simon as
much as at the paintings.

This dog and pony show continued for about an hour and I was exhausted.  I
also knew that I would have to put them all back later in the day.  Nathan
was taking copious notes.  When the last one was displayed, Mr. Hanold
walked up and down the line of paintings while Nathan whispered things in
his ear.  Both men were also sweating profusely.  This incessant pacing
continued for about thirty minutes.  The only noise in the entire loft was
from my rickety fan.

Suddenly Mr. Hanold spoke.  "A very nice collection, sir.  You have my
deepest appreciation and congratulations.  You are a very fine artist.
Very fine."  He turned to Nathan and looked at the sheet of paper the
younger man was carrying.  They both nodded at each other.  I looked at
Simon with a perplexed expression on my face and he looked quizzically back
at me.  We were both drying ourselves with towels after the physically
exhausting work.

Mr. Hanold approached me with his hand extended.  "Thank you both very,
very much for your time and energy."  He leaned over slightly and shook
hands with Simon.  He placed his left hand over their clasped hands and
patted Simon's hand lightly.  "You are a superb model, young man."  Simon
gave him another one of his winning smiles.  I began moving towards the
entrance to let the gentlemen out.  Mr. Hanold then spoke again.  "Do you
have a lawyer, sir?"

I was stunned.  What the hell did I need a lawyer for?  "Uh, excuse me,
Mr. Hanold.  I don't understand you."

He looked at me with a frustrated expression on his face.  "Because I want
to purchase a few of your paintings!"

I just stood riveted to the spot I was standing on.  I could not utter a
word.  My surroundings became unfamiliar and things began to get out of
focus.  Suddenly I felt Simon jumping up and down next to me.  I looked at
his broadly smiling face and heard his shrieks.  I gradually returned to
the reality of the moment.  "You w-w-ant to buy some of my paintings?" I
managed to stammer out.

"Yes.  Four to be precise."

I practically ran up to him and grabbed his hand and shook it furiously.
"Thank you.  Thank you, sir!" was all I could manage to blurt out.  Then I
remembered what he had said about a lawyer.  "Excuse me, sir, but why a
lawyer?"

"Because this is not just the selling and buying of some paintings; of
necessity it is also a legal transaction.  The provenance of the works must
be clearly established legally and for that there will be lawyers required
to draw up the proper papers.  Do you have a lawyer?"  I shook my head.
"Then I suggest you get one fast.  I'm leaving New Orleans on Friday and I
want to wrap up this transaction by that time."  He paused and looked at
the paintings again.  He slowly walked up to the latest one of Simon.  "You
are a very fine artist indeed, sir."  With that both men left.

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

Simon and I celebrated in absolutely grand, New Orleans style.  We had a
wonderful and big dinner at Galatoir's (in the Quarter).  A lawyer who
represented the owners of this restaurant (and whom I had met casually on
social occasions) agreed to meet me after dinner so that I could give him
the details of what was happening and what I needed.  He agreed to handle
the transaction and congratulated both Simon and me.  We wandered around
the French Quarter and then went back to the loft feeling exhilarated and
just plain happy to be alive and to be with each other.

When we returned to the loft, it was hot and very close.  "Maybe we should
spend some of the money to put in an air conditioner."

"How much money do you think that they'll pay you, uncle?"

"I'm hoping for five to eight thousand dollars."  Simon gave me a big smile
when I said this.  "If we're lucky, maybe as much as ten thousand."

The heat of the day was radiating back into the loft from the bricks and
plaster of the building.  It was stifling in the studio.  I turned on the
large exhaust fan and also the one in the sleeping area to try to get some
of the air circulating.

Simon undressed quickly and got into bed, laying on top of the sheets in
all his boyhood glory.  He was exquisitely beautiful.  At eleven and a half
years, his magnificent and still immature body glistened with perspiration
and his eyes danced with glorious sensuality.  He had grown taller and his
body was stronger from playing soccer and basketball.  But it was still a
beautiful boy's body - smooth, relatively unmuscled, fabulously sleek and
lean, with his glorious and exquisite boy genitals.

I could not resist his most spectacular body; even the oppressive heat and
humidity of the loft could not deter me.  I quickly undressed and joined
him on the bed.  I, too, was sweating heavily and lay on my back trying to
cool down.

We both lay that way for a while and then Simon turned his body toward me.
He placed his hand on my moist chest and kissed me.  I brought one of my
hands to the back of his neck and held his head in place while we kissed
deeply and longingly.  It was delightful, as usual, but it was even more.
It was an incredible affirmation of our love and devotion.

Simon began to move one of his hands over my sweaty chest.  He rubbed me
lightly, his hand practically gliding over the perspiration bathing me.  He
began to pinch my nipples delicately while kissing me again.  I was in
heaven...a hot, sticky heaven, but heaven nonetheless.  Having Simon with
me was my fondest wish fulfilled.  He nibbled at my nipples, loving washed
my steamy armpits and made incredible love to my entire body.

He continued to work on my body with a delicacy that I had difficulty
reconciling.  He was so attentive, so thoughtful and so generous with his
love and with his body.  I was swept away.  I was no longer in New Orleans
on a hot summer night.  I was floating above everything and everyone, in a
place of ultimate freedom and peace.

When he got to my crotch, I knew that my wonderful boy was totally
accepting of me.  He gently peeled back the thick foreskin and made magic
love to my cock head.  I was so hard that I actually feared my cock would
break with too much attention.  I knew this was ridiculous, but the
incredible feel of the hardness of it had me wondering.  He took the entire
head into his mouth and his talented tongue did the rest.  The feelings
were ones of transporting fulfillment.  Over the last few months Simon had
learned to deep throat my large cock, and the tremendous feeling as the
head touched the back of his throat and then slipped in was overwhelming.

He carefully and patiently manipulated my balls and he continued to work on
the cock.  He even brought one finger up to my anus and touched it lightly.
I was filled with devastating passion for this marvelous boy and I screamed
my appreciation to him as I came in a tremendous onslaught.  My body
undulated and bucked and I was moaning and shrieking - the most ungodly
sounds I could ever remember.

If it was at all possible, I was sweating even more than I had been before.
The breeze from the fan felt cooling on my skin, even though it was blowing
such hot, humid air.  Simon slowly let my cock slip from his mouth and
throat.  The feel of it as it passed his mouth was exciting all over again.
He gave me a few last sucks and it was so delightful and so incredibly
loving.

He lay back and was breathing very heavily.  He too was sweating profusely.
I sat up on my elbows and looked over at this fabulous, tender boy.  He
positively glowed - his skin luminous, his beauty awe-inspiring.  He looked
at me and smiled.  I moved my hand to the center of his chest and rubbed
him very slightly.

"I love you, my incredible Simon."

"I am so much in love with you, uncle."

"You are my life...and my divine inspiration, Simon."  I leaned over and
kissed him passionately and lingeringly.  His love and beauty completely
overpowered me.  I knew that there was never such a pure love in my life.
I doubted that such a pure love as ours existed elsewhere.

"I am so happy that I am living here with you - even if it is very, very
hot.  I cannot think of another place on this entire world that I would
rather be than right here with you."

I kissed him lightly on his moist lips.  The kiss became stronger and we
held each other tightly and affectionately.  I looked at him with a
serious, direct stare.  He gave me a smile and nodded.  I knew he felt
ready to totally accept me - and what I had to offer to him.

For the last five or six weeks, Simon and I had added something new to our
wonderful sex play - our incredible lovemaking.  I first began a few months
ago by playing very tentatively with his gorgeous ass.  I would lick it and
soothing rub his magnificent mounds.  I would also squeeze and manipulate
those gorgeous muscles with my fingers.  Over the course of time I began to
slide my fingers around and along his lovely little crack and lightly touch
and fondle his little anus.  I needed him to become comfortable with my
loving attention to his very private domain.

Gradually I began to work one finger into his glorious little hole.  At
first it just the very tip of my finger without any kind of lubricant -
only a bit of my spittle.  During the next few days I continued to put a
little more and more of that single finger into his very hot anus.

This was in addition to the regular occurrences of our mutual lovemaking.
I would lick almost his entire body - I loved every square inch of my
Simon.  I would also lick his small crack and run my tongue over the
rubbery and constricted opening of his anus.  Simon would go crazy when I
did this; he would twist and turn his body, pushing his backside up into my
face.  He would moan and pant to give out all kinds of ungodly sounds.  I
was happy to make him this happy.

I held Simon's exquisite body.  It was a marvel of boyhood beauty.  I began
to lick him in big, wide strokes of my tongue - like a lioness licking her
young.  The heat could possibly prove to be a problem, but we jointly
decided to try to ignore it.  His shoulder, his arms, his gloriously smooth
armpits, chest and stomach all came under the attack of my tongue.  Simon's
superb body began to twitch under my unrelenting assault.  He moaned
slightly and began moving his head from side to side.  His arms were spread
wide on the bed.

I continued licking down his very moist skin until I came to the
magnificent center of him.  His wonderful boy penis was fully erect and
straining.  It had grown so fabulously in the last 2-1/2 years and was now
about four inches in length and getting thicker.  It was a stunning beauty
and I always paused to admire it whenever Simon and I made love.  It had an
almost hypnotic effect on me.

But tonight I was not going to spend an inordinate amount of time on
Simon's gorgeous cock - and he soon realized it.  Tonight a new and deeper
phase of our relationship was about to unfold.  Simon wanted it and I
desperately wanted to; I knew I needed to completely surrender myself to
this magnificent, loving boy.

Tonight, finally, we were to be joined.  Simon and me...me and
Simon...together...as one loving entity.  We were to be inexorably locked
in a physical union that would be the culmination of our love and devotion.
The searing climax of the incandescent passion we had for the other.


				Epilogue - Ever After

The summer thunderstorm was still in full fury.  I was standing near a
window and would occasionally look over at the bed where my wonderful Simon
was sleeping...where I thought he was sleeping.  As I looked over into the
studio area I could also see the pitiful number of new works that I had
completed recently reflecting the flashing light.  God!  Had I been in a
fallow period!  I was barely turning out one new work every two weeks.  Had
I said all that I had wanted to say about Simon?  About me?  About us?

There was suddenly a terrific volley of lightning and I saw he was sitting
up, his back against the headboard.  He stared at me.  It was the eeriest
feeling - it was almost like a scene from one of those black and while
1930's horror movies.  Simon gave me a tremendous start.

"How are you, uncle?" he said rather loudly, to be heard over the raging
storm.

"I'm fine Simon...really fine.  How are you?"

"Good.  I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."  He paused to give me a very nice smile.  "I am really
sure, uncle!"

"That's great Simon...just wonderful!"  I slowly walked back to the bed,
turned on a light and lay down next to him.  I stretched out my body and he
cuddled against me.  I put my arms around him and drew him as close to me
as possible.  It felt so wonderful having my fabulous boy, my wonderful
nephew, close to me, once again sharing our love - sharing our passion and
excitement for each other.

He began to sob slightly, and buried his head into my chest.  "I'm
sorry...very sorry...'bout what I said before, uncle.  I know it hurt
you...that I hurt you very much...and made you feel...feel very unhappy."

"I understand, Simon.  I really do."

"Are you sure?  I love you more than anything in the world, uncle, and I
wouldn't hurt you...I really wouldn't hurt you for all the money in the
universe.  Are you sure?"

"I am positive...absolutely positive!  It was just the shock of it
all...the shock of knowing that you are growing up...that you are no longer
a boy..but that you are entering your manhood.  That's all it was.  I was
so surprised when you came in my mouth...when you had such a fantastic
orgasm...when you shot for the very first time.  It was wonderful...and
shocking...and fabulous...all in one.  I just couldn't believe it was
happening, that's all."

"Remember, uncle, I am past thirteen now.  You should have realized that it
was going to happen soon."

"I know...and I did.  I saw how your penis was growing...and how hair was
beginning to appear in you crotch...and how you balls were starting to hang
lower.  But I truly didn't want to think of my wonderful, beautiful boy
growing into an adult."  I hugged him hard and we kissed.  "But I'm so
happy it's here.  Really!  I am!  You are a man, my gorgeous Simon...a man!
And you are my man...from now on, you are my loving man."

"That is all I ever wanted to be, uncle.  All I ever wanted to be."

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

The next morning I promptly started painting once again.  For some reason I
could not sleep and at first light I was in front of a canvas.  All morning
I repeatedly sketched Simon and he was very patient with the demands I made
of him.

In late August, when he returned to school, I would sketch him every
evening.  He always complained but not too hard; he really loved posing for
me.  Every morning I would be in front of a canvas or canvases furiously
working.  It was as if I was a man possessed.  Something new had been added
to my repertoire, to my burning desire, to my incredible passion.

Simon reaching manhood absolutely set me off.  The paintings, the
photographs, the sculptures were complete.  Simon was complete...completely
mine...and I was now complete.  The works had new life and depth to them;
they conveyed everything - every one of my intentions.

I finished a record number of works in that two-month period...those two
months following the first time Simon had successfully come.  Simon was
thrilled that I was so prolific again.  And so was my New York dealer.
During Mr. Hanold's next visit, he took everything I had and we began plans
for a one man showing of my works in the spring in New York City.  Simon
and I would both be there for the opening and Mr. Hanold predicted an
overwhelming success.

Life is good now; it is very good.  Simon and I still live together in that
same wonderful loft in the Warehouse District of New Orleans.  The area has
become a very desirable one and even upscale.  Even though he's only
fifteen, Simon has begun his freshman year at Tulane University where he is
majoring in the biological sciences, hoping to become a doctor.  He also
does some writing of fiction, and I believe the writing will eventually win
out over medicine.  He is an excellent writer, and I'm not only speaking as
a proud lover.  Simon is an artist, and the artist will push away all other
desires and wants.

Simon's mom, brothers and sisters visit quite often and we have tremendous
fun together.  I'm still busy painting him is all the sublime and glorious
unfolding of his manhood, although I have recently begun to tackle a new
subject for many of my works.  The three of us are very happy living
together


				  The End


	Thanks for reading my story.  Please take a minute to e-mail me any
comments you may have.  I appreciate anything that you, the reader, have to
say.  I am at: cutter57@hotbot.com.  Please include /RJC57/ on the subject
line as well as the title of the story.  I hope to answer all e-mails.