Date: Wed, 27 Oct 2004 19:34:58 +0200
From: alchulamlg <alchulamlg@hotmail.com>
Subject: Pictures 1988 (Revised)

This history is a new version of another with the same title. A friend,
till now stranger, has re-edited it. The text has improved considerably.
From here I thank him, in my name and in of all those who could enjoy it.
Thank you Sanuk.

My fingers caress the keyboard, dancing on the letters as if I caress
your body. I am searching the Internet for what moves my soul. Among my
messages is an album of pictures, Pictures 1988. I open it and the beauty
it holds dazzles me.



First plane: the white and perfect body of an adolescent; the feet, the
hands supported in the frame of a window. In a second plane, behind the
boy, in the shadows of the interior, the body of a man, strong and
powerful his legs and torso, his penis almost erect penis. The man's hand
slowly approaches the white body. "Don't touch me", the fearful souls
of the dead ones scream. "Touch me", the live souls whisper in pain,
those that never enjoyed forbidden beauty.



Now in the picture, the cock of the man seems to rise in the shades. The
adolescent's head is turned. Hypnotized eyes follow the evident growth of
the man's sex. The image is frozen; boy and man, both still, both await
their destiny. Finally, the hand touches the white body; the man cock is
now completely erect. The boy's sex among the shades, surely it too is
erect. Communion between them, what is and what will be. The truth of
pure and hard masculinity, and a boy's awakening to sex, the man will
define for him. The hand is between the beautiful legs' they open up to
welcome the intimate caress. The boy does not know his body; he waits to
know its value, but offers it still. The man now can honor nothing; he
only feels the force of his sex and the yearning of his soul. They both
need one another. The fire and the water. The light and the darkness.

I cover my eyes as I close the album of pictures. Let us leave them
alone; let the gods light the pathways of their bodies and of their
souls. But in my mind the hard cock, perfect and beautiful, touches the
white buttocks. Will it be? I cannot resist. I open the album again and
decide for the life. The hand caresses the youth's flank; the boy turns
his face, searching for the man's lips. All motion ceases; incredible,
beautiful. The boy offers his body to the man, the wild animal arches,
and is ready to make the fatal strike.



I jump some pages. Here are two erect sexes, the one of the boy and the
one of the man. A few centimeters separate them; they are waiting for a
hand that joins them, the hand of a mother, of a wife, or a sister. Now
the moist penis tips kiss each other. The boy's thigh ascends in the
dimness between the man's legs. What it is that the boy lips seek? Now
the small boy-ass is high, those perfect white savannas, half-open legs,
and his face smiles to the camera. In the next pane the man's face
collapses into the white semi-spheres. I turn the page. Here the boy sits
on the bed and contemplates the man's naked beautiful body. Then the boy
body leans forward, his hand extending, hesitantly, toward the man's
body. What dose he caress first? The masculine chest? The soft body hair
of the strong legs? The sex, almost erect? Yes, the adolescent's white
hand touches the curly body hair of the man-chest, one of his fingers on
the dark and erect man nipple.



In another image it is the boy's cheek that caresses the beautiful and
already completely erect cock. And following, the boy's rosy tongue
brushes the man's bulbous gland, with a crystalline bead thread
overflowing from the small opening, making a fragile bridge of semen, or
it only saliva? Does it join both tips? I jump a few pages. On an
armchair, the two nude bodies, the boy threaded by the man's member,
both pairs of legs open wide. The white and almost feminine boy, the dark
and virile man. I see the testicles of both clearly, and the penises
erect. Only a few centimeters of the man's, the rest is buried in the
interior of the boy body. Both with closed eyes concentrated in their
deep pleasure.



These images excite. My eyes descent to my pants, I contemplate my erect
sex, the vision of it and of the discovered part of my legs excites me
more, it took could make a beautiful picture, and in an album too. I
caress my member lightly, as my eyes return to the page Here the man's
hand wraps the adolescent sex, the other one caresses his white chest. In
the next, the boy's torso is rotated; his hands connect to the man's
neck. Both gaze in each other's eyes, while they bring near their lips
in search of kisses. These beautiful scenes fill me of lust. I see myself
as the man, and other times as the boy, remembering my adolescence and
youth. I touch with a finger the wet of the tip of my penis and I take it
to my lips. A flood of melancholy washes over me, thinking in that in my
youth, I did not live those moments of the boy's first happiness.



I turn to the first leaf of the album and search for identities. Both are
seated at a table, they seem to be writing. For a moment, they look to
the camera. Can it be? I review with zoom wide details. A mole under my
right nipple this there, and there it is too on the boy. Now it is clear,
that boy is I, and the man, that too is me as was some years ago. Who did
this, who wrought this magic. I look for the address of Internet. Who
sent these pictures? There it is! It is my old address! How can this be!



Then I wake. In this world something so beautiful could not happen. With
those images in my head I masturbate until the dawn.

Alfredo and Sanuk