Date: Sat, 20 Jun 2009 13:34:29 -0400
From: myob@brucebramson.com
Subject: Nature Boy (young lovers)

				NATURE BOY

                There was a boy
                A very strange enchanted boy...

                And then one day
                A magic day he passed my way...

                 And this he had to say:
                "The greatest thing you'll ever learn
                Is just to love and be loved in return"

                                      Eden Ahbez, 1947

The yard of the house in which I lived as a youth backed up to a forest of
fine old trees. I was forbidden to go there, but, as boys will, I arranged
two boards of the fence such that I could quickly remove and replace them.
This ruse allowed me to roam in the forest at will whenever I was alone,
which was most of the time because both my parents worked.

I loved the forest! There were birds, raucous Canada jays, fat robins, and
now and then spectacular scarlet tanagers, along with many other less
noticeable varieties.  There were animals, squirrels being my favorites: I
would lie in a patch of sun and watch their antics for hours. Bugs! Gosh,
there were all sorts of bugs, worms and wigglies to be found by sweeping
aside a few leaves, and I watched these with fascination as well.

In my fourteenth summer, with little else to do, I spent whole days
traipsing around that forest. I never got lost, and no one missed me.
Although there were many homes as well as ours that gave on to the forest,
I rarely met anyone. The trees and other vegetation were sufficiently dense
that I could easily have passed another person without seeing them, though
I would be likely to hear them as they moved. Having read about the Indians
that once inhabited the area, I learned to move stealthily.

One fine afternoon my perambulations brought me to a favorite little sunny
glen where I had planned to snooze and dream and probably play with myself.
But I stopped suddenly when I saw my destination was already occupied.
Standing in the bright sun shining from directly overhead it must have been
about noon was a boy I quickly judged to be about my own age. His back
faced me, and he simply stood, arms at his side, his head tilted as if
listening to something.  His hair was long, light brown and straight: it
fell around his shoulders which were bare, as he wore a white singlet.
Below, he had on a pair of old jeans, cut off and frayed at the knees. I
did not know this person: I would have recognized the hair, if nothing
else, if I had seen him in the neighborhood or at school.

Naturally, I wondered who this fellow was, and what he planned to do in my
favorite spot in the forest. I decided to wait and see, and did not have
long to wait.  As he began to turn around towards me, I slipped far enough
behind some trees and foliage to a spot from which I could watch this
youngster, about twenty feet away, illuminated in the bright sun, without
giving away my presence. In my full view, he first grasped the bottom of
his singlet and flipped it inside-out and over his head.  As his hair fell
back down, I got a clear look at his face, and found it strangely
beautiful. He was, I decided, younger than myself, perhaps twelve or
thirteen: but before I could be sure of this, he slowly unbuttoned the fly
of his old jeans and pushed them and his shorts down, where they fell away
to the ground, leaving him quite naked.

I was stunned! Though I had often appreciated the glistening bodies of my
classmates in the gym at school, I had never seen a youth so perfectly
proportioned simply standing nude, soaking up the sunshine. He was quite
tan, everywhere, so presumably he sun-bathed often. Though tempted to join
him, I was curious about what he planned to do. He might well resent being
found in his current state, just as I would have if someone had broken into
any of my own little sylvan seances.

For some reason, the term wood nymph jumped into my head. This boy probably
weighed less than 50 pounds, yet was so perfectly proportioned he could not
have been described as thin: the various constituent parts of his body were
perfect, overlain by skin so clear and smooth as to invite touch. His
thighs, I decided, were his chief glory, after his face, followed closely
by his arms, long and graceful.  There was no reason to be afraid, yet my
body shivered as I realized how vulnerable this chap was, standing there in
his birthday-suit without a care in the world, and still unaware that
anyone was watching him. He turned slightly, and the shadow that had fallen
across his belly disappeared, revealing the beginnings of a pubic bush and
a flaccid penis perhaps three inches long. I was awestruck! I wanted more
than I could describe to touch that lovely boy: this was something I had
never done, yet instinctively I knew that if it felt good to touch myself,
then it must be delightful to touch someone else.

As if answering my inner thoughts, the boy took his penis in is right hand
and began to play with himself, just as I had done so many times in this
very spot. He was in no hurry: he ran his left hand under his little sack
of balls, then up across his tummy to fondle his right nipple. His right
hand left his penis, now approaching full erection of perhaps four inches,
to tickle his left nipple, giving the impression he was hugging himself: I
would have liked to hug him, too, but for now the best I could do was slide
my hand into my pants where my own boner strained to be free. However much
I wanted to help this boy love himself, I remained rooted on the spot where
I stood. He continued to enjoy himself, running his hands over almost every
inch of his lithe body. When he bent over and ran both hands sensuously
down his left thigh, his boner responded with a lift and a throb, and my
own hard-on ached for release from the confines of my pants. I slid my
zipper down as noiselessly as I could, but in changing position slightly a
twig on which my foot rested suddenly snapped with a loud crack. But my
wood nymph appeared not to notice and continued with his ministrations to
his lovely self.

I knew, of course, what the ultimate outcome of his activities would be: I
had jacked off in this same place often, and more than once had pissed all
over myself as well.  Yet, I would surely have been embarrassed if I'd
known anyone was watching these antics: at fourteen, I was not altogether
sure other boys were doing these things, and being found out was an
oft-repeated nightmare.

For the moment I was willing to watch and wait, quietly matching many of my
wood nymph's movements.  My left hand was up under my tee-shirt, and my
pants were drooping away and slowly falling to the ground. I had never
before watched another boy masturbate, nor dreamed of getting the
chance. Yet here before me was this ravishing creature showing off as if
for me alone, and I drank in the scene and his exquisite beauty greedily.

By now he was approaching that feverish pitch of excitement that briefly
precedes an orgasm: stringy muscles in this legs knotted up as his fist
caressed his prick.  He was not flailing as I often did: he was jacking
quite slowly and deliberately, almost in slow-motion, and I matched his
rhythm, finding it unusually adequate in getting my own juices flowing.
Like myself, he was circumcised. His technique took his fist far up over
his glans on the outward stroke, so on each return the head of his cock
emerged, purplish and shiny. He stopped long enough to spit copiously into
his hand, then resumed slowly manipulating his prick, by now very hard. I
hoped I would cum at the same time he did, even though we were in no way
communicating.

With a curious little cry, this lovely boy reached nirvana, his juice
shooting out and anointing the ground below. I could hear the gobs land,
and wished I had been there to catch them in my hand as I generally did for
myself, and in fact was doing: we did reach our respective orgasms at the
same time. As usual, I spread my load over my stomach and down into what
little pubic hair I had: my friend did the same with the last drops of jizz
he squeezed from his lovely little cock. Then, as if emulating me he
stepped to a tree and took a long, long whiz. At that moment, I wondered if
he had, perhaps, witnessed me previously doing my little routine in this
spot. I doubted it, but wondered.  He slid back into his jeans, swung his
singlet over one shoulder and stepped into the surrounding forest and
almost instantly disappeared from view.

I waited a few moments, then entered the glen: there were some shiny spots
on a few leaves on the ground and there was a large wet stain on the tree,
to which I added my own water. Otherwise, there was only the memory of this
beautiful creature I had so shortly before beheld.

On the one hand, I wanted to behold this lovely boy again. And again! On
the other hand, I worried that he might stumble upon me if I were to return
to the glen and amuse myself as I often did. What, I wondered, would be his
reaction? Would he watch me surreptitiously as I had watched him? The
upshot of my uncertainty was that I found another spot in the forest to
take care of my needs, and after a few weeks, the memory of this encounter
in the forest had nearly faded away.

After an early lunch a few weeks later I stole a large bath-towel from the
linen closet and headed into the forest. I was horny, and for various
reasons had been unable to find the few moments away from family to do the
needful. By the time I got back to my new favorite spot, the sun was
directly overhead. I tossed out the towel and stretched out on it, warmed
immediately by the drenching sunlight so blindingly bright I could see
nothing of the trees above. Now that I was alone, there was time to have a
leisurely jack off. I shed my tee shirt and pushed my pants down well below
my knees and applied my right fist to my boner, which had been hard ever
since I left the house: the anticipation of a good jerk was always more
than enough to get me up.  But there was no need to hurry: it felt so good
to absorb the sun's rays, feel various parts of my young body as I slowly
worked myself toward an orgasm. As the feeling developed, I would slow my
fist down or even stop jacking altogether and let myself relax. Nowadays,
we call this edging, but at the time I had no word for it.  It was simply a
means of prolonging my enjoyment of myself in preparation for another
wonderful ejaculation, something I had not so long ago discovered all by
myself.

                                      *****

Lying in bed one night, planning to drift off into a deep sleep, I found
myself fidgety and awake. I was fourteen, and things were happening I did
not fully comprehend. Erections, for example, were becoming more
commonplace, but their significance was obscure. In the shower, I could not
pee with my penis enlarged.  (Even at this tender age, it seemed wasteful
to pee in the toilet, then step into the shower, when the functions could
be combined, saving water as a plus.) By focusing on washing up, so long as
I was washing elsewhere than my crotch, I would become soft enough to pee,
but soaping up my private parts got me hard again quickly. It was tricky,
going back to my room, to hide the little protuberance under my towel, and
more than once my little brother (then ten) gave me a funny look.

So, there I was, alone, awake, with a hard-on. It seemed quite natural to
put my hand around it, and it felt very nice to do so. What inspired me to
begin the familiar master-motion I've no idea: it was probably instinct. In
any event, it felt good: there seemed to be no harm in doing it, so I
continued the regular strokes, fairly slowly at first. Presently, a feeling
suffused my whole being for which I was unprepared, never having felt it
before. Clearly, my attention to my penis was causing this, so I continued,
the sensation being utterly pleasant and quite wondrous.  My left hand
found my little balls; a tenderness there I had not previously noticed led
me to fondle them, which brought forth still more sensations of an
unfamiliar sort. I scarcely noticed how the muscles in my legs were
contracting, how my whole body was becoming rigid except for my arms, one
of which worked on my balls and the other of which worked my little
hard-on, more rapidly now, and with deeper strokes.

When the inevitable orgasm came, I was surprised and astonished. Warm white
fluids shot out quite forcibly from the end of my prick. Fortunately, I had
thrown back the bed-clothes, but some gobs of the stuff landed on the sheet
beside me, though most fell on my flat tummy, now heaving in response to my
deep breathing.  I was astounded! So that's what my hard dick is for, I
thought, but I fell asleep almost immediately.

Later in the night, I awoke, slightly chilled: the covers were still around
my knees.  The stuff on my tummy had dried. Remembering what had occurred
earlier, I jacked off again! From that day onward, I did it at least once a
day, often more than once.  I could not seem to get enough of entertaining
my little pecker and extracting its slick juice.

                                      *****

Time and again, I would nearly reach the point of no return, but force
myself to wait, to relax, to think of other things. It did no good for my
little pecker: nothing would make it go down except to sprinkle its goodies
out over my tummy. Thinking about a boy I rather liked in my class at
school didn't help, either.

                                      *****

Now, I know I had a crush on Frankie, but at the time, I just thought he
was the most beautiful boy I'd seen among the many boys at school. He had
the most lovely arms, and his skin was about the color of ale, far darker
than mine. He had big dark-brown eyes, jet-black hair, a large mouth full
of sparkling white teeth and a finely wrought chin. He moved with a feline
grace that captivated me. Day after day I would watch him, a few seats
ahead and one row over: I'd play with myself in my pants, only vaguely
aware of the connection between this charming fellow and my libido. I knew
Frankie, of course: he was in my class, and there were opportunities to
study or do projects together. I was frustrated whenever he found a
different partner, and especially annoyed when he collaborated with a girl.

As for girls, I really could not be bothered! The only one that lived near
me was Vivian, and I found her shallow and unpredictable, except insofar as
she was constantly exploiting the fact she was pretty. We played together
now and then on weekends, but I soon figured out I was a "last resort",
when no one else was around.  I did not care for this position, and was
inclined to leave her alone. Other girls in my class simply did not exist:
I had eyes only for Frankie -- and one or two other boys nearly as cute.

                                            *****

How long this session lasted, I don't remember, but by the time I let my
precious seed spray out over my tummy, there was a slight chill in the air,
the sun having moved on as it always does. It was a particularly satisfying
ejaculation, more powerful than usual for having taken so much time to work
up to it. As usual, coming down from the event, I closed my eyes and rested
for a while. When I thought I heard a movement in the trees above, I opened
my eyes expecting to see a squirrel romping among the branches. But as I
focused, what I saw did not immediately square with my experience: there
was something up there in the tree alright, stretched on a large branch and
thus not entirely clear, but one thing was unmistakable: a head-full of
long straight brown hair, hanging down, the locks swaying slightly in the
breeze.

Jeezus! It was my wood-nymph again, but this time he must have been spying
on me, and I had just given him an hour-long show, jacking off, nude, right
there before God and everyone. The realization that I'd been found out hit
me, and I grabbed up my clothes to cover myself.

"Please, don't..." came a boyish voice from up in the tree.

"Don't what?"

"Don't cover yourself: you are too beautiful as you are. I am coming down
to meet you."

He resembled a young Tarzan as he worked his way down from limb to limb:
like myself, he was unclothed, but far more nimble as a tree-climber than I
had ever been. Watching his leg muscles as he maneuvered was exciting: I
was beginning to get hard again!

He dropped to the ground from the first limb of the tree with an ease that
impressed me: it looked as if he lived in the trees, like a monkey. He
sauntered over to face me, radiant and beautiful.

"Hello!" he said, "I'm Charlie."

"I'm Jimmy."

"Glad to meetcha! I loved watching you jack off."

"I didn't know you were up there," I replied: "if I had known, I would've
gone somewhere else."

"Why?"

"Well, you know, having a quiet jerk alone, you're supposed to be ---
alone!"

"But, a quiet jerk with someone else is so much more fun! That time you
watched me, I hoped you would join me."

"Jeez! You knew I was there?"

"Yes."

"So your little show was for me?"

"Sort of. Of course, I enjoyed doing it, I always do. I don't ever get
tired of it."

"Yeah, neither do I."

We conversed facing each other: I was fascinated by this boy, so clean, so
pretty, and so unabashed about jacking off.  I wondered how he came to be
so relaxed in a situation that most youngsters would have found acutely
embarrassing. He made no effort to cover his private parts, as I was doing
with my clothes held strategically. He had reddish welts here and there
where the tree bark had been impressed into his skin. I had no idea where
his clothes might be, but was in no hurry to find out: without them, he was
spectacular.

Charlie moved closer to me and took my clothes from my hand: he dropped
them on the ground, then quietly threw his arms around behind me.  Before I
figured out what he was up to, he kissed me, right on my mouth and forced
his tongue past my lips: it was electrifying!

Now, my family wasn't particularly "kissy": dad rarely kissed anyone, even
my mom; mom still kissed my little brother occasionally, but only on his
cheek. I had never even seen anyone kiss another person on their mouth,
even in a movie! So, having little Charlie exploring my teeth with his
tongue was an extraordinary sensation. I quickly decided it was delightful:
my arms went around my new friend in a return embrace. How long we spent
exploring each other this way I don't remember, but I do recall hoping it
wouldn't end.  At length, I had to breathe.

"Jeez, Charlie! Where didya learn to do that?"

"Mostly at home. My folks are very touchy-feely folks. We run around nude a
lot.  And stuff..."

"Cool!  I've seen my little brother nude, but not my dad or my mom. But
I've never really wanted to see them without clothes on. I saw daddy once
in a bathing suit: he's got hair all over. Yuck!"

"Mine would too, 'cept he shaves it all off."

"Really?"  I had some difficulty conjuring the sight of my dad without any
hair, or lathered from head to toe. "Isn't that a bit tricky to do?"

"Tom and I help! There's places he can't reach easily with the razor, so we
do those
 places for him."

"Cool! Who is Tom?"

"Ummm." Non-committal. "You go to Wilson?" (our local junior-high school).

"Yeah, but I don't think I ever saw you there."

"You haven't: I get schooling from my parents at home."

"Oh yeah? I've never heard of that."

"My parents are pretty neat and pretty smart and pretty rich. They don't
like the public schools, so they teach me at home."

"Did they teach you to kiss like you just did?" I asked.

"Actually yes, and many more things. We have a lot of fun together. Ya want
another kiss?"

"I'd love..."  but he was too swift and planted his mouth over mine again.
I was catching on quickly, and returned his passion, hugging his litheness
tightly. Our hips gyrated and our little hard-ons greeted each other
between us.

Charlie gently pushed me down, and we were soon lying belly-to-belly on the
towel where such a short time ago I had been enjoying myself alone. Now I
was enjoying myself, but with my new friend on top of me, doing everything
he could think of to get me hot. He succeeded admirably! After breaking a
long kiss, he ran his hands all over my chest, tickled my nipples and
played with my hard-on. Sliding back a bit, squatting on my legs, he bent
forward and without the slightest hesitation enveloped my penis in his
mouth.

Christ! I had never felt anything so exhilarating! Compared to my fist,
even with a bit of mom's hand lotion added, the sensation of his mouth
working on my dick was unbelievably better. I went wild! I thrust my hips
up to meet his face, and, despite having emptied my balls such a short time
earlier, erupted in Charlie's throat with a mind-blowing ejaculation,
shooting repeated white streams of cum into his capacious throat.

"Jeezus, Charlie, that was fantastic!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. As many times as I've seen you jack off out here
in the forest, I've always wanted to do that."

"You mean you've watched me more than once?"

"Yes, lotsa times. You're a horny little guy, just like me."

"Seen any other guys out here?"

"Sure! But you're the only one I wanted to meet. Mosta the guys I see out
here are just looking for a place to whack off 'cause they have no privacy
at home. They find a place they think they're alone and just open their
pants and jerk 'n shoot as fast as they can. Then they're gone.  But you? I
always knew you were there to really enjoy yourself, to take your time and
please your body properly."

"And?"

"I hoped you'd be willing to please my body properly."

"I'd love to, except its getting cold out here." The sun was dropping
behind the trees.

"Can we meet again?" Charlie asked, plaintively.

"How about tomorrow, same place, same time!"

"Right on! I'll be here!

                                            **************

I went home enthralled by my experience, and by my new play-mate who had
figured so directly in it. I could hardly wait to meet Charlie in the woods
the next day, and found myself so sated that night I fell asleep without
even jacking off.

Fate, however, had a different plan, fate in this case being my parents,
who decided to take a day off from their usual routine for a drive up to
see my Uncle Joe. Now, I scarcely knew Uncle Joe, who worked as hard at
whatever it was he did, as my folks. But I recalled he had a son around my
age: I thought my cousin might be intrigued by some of the neat things
Charlie had taught me. The schedule left me just enough time to dash into
the forest and leave a note for Charlie: I pinned it to a tree where I was
sure he'd find it. Had to go with folks on trip: meet me here tomorrow like
we planned, the note read.

My dad's brother was older, even more portly than dad, and in general not a
very attractive guy. His son, however, struck me as being wiry and lean,
with a gleam in his eye I rather liked.  He was older: I guessed around 15,
and taller as well. Whereas I am fairly blond, like both my parents and
Uncle Joe, Tim was some sort of throwback: he had jet-black hair which he
wore quite long and curly, and eyes of the darkest brown. Already he had a
slight shadow on his upper lip foretelling a mustache. I noticed he had
some hair on his wrists, where they emanated from the sleeves of his shirt;
it was a feature which for some reason I found very exciting.  The adults
made clear that Tim and I were to amuse ourselves while they visited: they
didn't want to be bothered, and this was fine with us. We repaired to Tim's
room upstairs. He closed the door.

Christ, what a mess! There was clothing strewn everywhere, the bed was a
pile of old blankets in disarray. There was a work-table piled with boxes,
partly-completed automobile models, bottles of paint and all the
paraphernalia of a model-builder. There was also a desk, on which sat the
largest computer monitor I'd ever seen: it looked to be at least a 20-inch
screen.  There was a large tower computer beside it, and the usual keyboard
and mouse almost buried in scraps of paper. Altogether, the scene suggested
a boy who was untidy at best, and something of a pig at worst.

In all this clutter, what first caught my eye was a pile of dirty laundry
thrown haphazardly into a corner: right on top was a pair of white
Y-fronts. That is, they probably had been white once, but were now somewhat
dingy with a prominent yellowish stain on the fly. These had to have
recently surrounded Tim's jewels, and I longed to touch them for that
reason.

But Tim had other ideas: he pressed a button, and the monitor came to
life. There in stark multicolor was a huge phallus with pendulous balls
below, attached to what I judged to be a youngster not a whole lot older
than myself or Tim.

"Holy Cow!" I exclaimed. "Where did you get that picture?"

"Oh, I took it myself," Tim replied. The dick belongs to Bob who lives down
the street. These little electronic cameras are really neat."

"Never seen one." Our household had no such thing, and no computer. "Bob's
sure got a big prick."

"Yeah, 'n he knows what to do with it, too!" Tim gave me a big wink.

"Like?"

"Well, he likes to fuck guys, and guys who like to get fucked like his big
dick. He stays real busy."

"What do you mean, 'fuck guys'?"

"Don't you know? Oh, I guess your folks haven't told you about such
things. Here, I'll show you."

He grabbed the mouse and changed some things on the screen. Suddenly there
was a photo of a boy with his hard-on aimed squarely at another boy's
behind. This was new! Tim wiggled the mouse again and another picture
popped up: now the boys were coupled together. There was only one possible
place the prick showing in the previous picture could have gone: right into
the other boy's shit-hole. It was too much for me: my little four-incher
was rammed up against the zipper of my pants.

"Jeez! Where do you get this stuff, Tim?"

"What I don't shoot myself I down-load from the internet."

"Never heard of it."

"Man, you got a lot to learn." He manipulated the mouse again, and started
a slide-show: every few seconds a new picture came into view. These were
guys, all of 'em around our age; all were rampant, their erections
center-field, in astonishing variety. I could not believe my eyes!

"Kinda gets to ya, don't it?" Tim observed, clutching at something in his
crotch, and looking meaningfully at mine. "Whyncha show me whatcha got?"

"Nothing like those!"

"'Course not! You're only fourteen. These guys are like eighteen,
twenty. They're grown-ups, almost."

"And you?"

"I'm sixteen goin' on seventeen 'n horny all the time. Like now."

I was quick to grasp the meaning of "horny", which (it was evident) we both
were.  Seeing those large cocks as the slide-show ran on, and the
suggestion that my little prick might one day be so much larger, was enough
to break down what little resistance I might have had when Tim lowered the
zipper on my pants. I un-did the clasp at the top and let my pants fall:
Tim did the same, revealing a pair of Y-fronts matching those I had noticed
earlier. These were stretched out over his hard-on, but had the same
yellowish stains, and a wet spot where his dick appeared to be leaking
something.

Tim put his thumbs behind the waist-band of his shorts and flipped them out
over his erection: it was true he was not so big as the boys on the screen,
but his cock was considerably larger than mine. He had a huge amount of
skin around the head of his dick: I was about to learn about
circumcision. Tim was uncut, while I had clearly lost something along the
way. I was reticent about exposing my puny self, but Tim left me no choice
as he nearly ripped my shorts, eager to get at their contents.

"Ya got a nice little pecker there," he said, grasping my hard-on in his
fist. I could not have prevented myself from returning his gesture had I
wanted to! I put my little paw around his prong: it seemed hot to the
touch.

"You have a whole lot more skin on yours," I remarked.

"Ain't been cut like you."

"You mean I once had a lot more on mine?"

"Yep. They carved you up as a baby."

"Coulda fooled me! Wonder why?"

"Some parents insist on it. Mine didn't, so I still got everything I was
born with."

The sensation of jacking his dick was very different from jacking my own,
largely due to all that skin around the head of it. Recalling my meeting
with Charlie so recently, I was attracted to Tim's dick as if by a magnet,
and though I had never before sucked on one, I was sure I wanted to suck
his. So I knelt before this sexy lad and scooped his hard-on into my mouth.
I put one fist around it and moved myself back and forth, luxuriating in
the sensation so new and thrilling: born to suck, I thought to myself. In a
flash I realized why Charlie had been so quick to suck on my prick: the
sensation was exciting beyond measure. Some sort of instinct informed my
action: I was far from proficient, but had sense to bring my tongue into
play and get the right sort of rhythm going.

"Jeez, Jimmy, you don't waste any time!" Tim exclaimed.

"Mmmngh." I was taught not to talk with my mouth full.

As I became accustomed to Tim's dick, I released my grip on it and resorted
only to mouth action. I braced myself with my hands on his thighs, where
the muscles working beneath his skin felt wonderful.

"Watch out, Jimmy: yer gonna get a load."

"Mmmngh."

Tim grasped my head and stopped my motion, then commenced shooting his load
with startling vigor. I felt every shot, of which I counted ten before he
calmed down, and found my mouth nearly filled with what Tim called his
"load". I called it cream, and gulped it down as it were manna from heaven.
Born to suck, I thought to myself again, mentally thanking Charlie for
having introduced me to this wonderful sport.

"That was terrific, Jimmy," Tim remarked, pulling his drooling dick from my
mouth. I was reluctant to release it, but he seemed anxious to put it
away. He stuffed it, still dribbling, into his cum-stained shorts and
pulled up his pants. He seemed to have lost interest in sex, and me, which
left me hard and unfulfilled. He shut off the computer.

"Gonna go play basketball with some buddies," he said. "You can go visit
with the folks." He opened the door and left the room, leaving me standing
with my pants down and my prick almost ready to burst. The bastard, I
thought: I get his load and he leaves me to take care of myself!

Then I remembered that pile of laundry in the corner. Within just a few
moments I had scattered my seed across the dirty shorts on top of the
pile. Then I took a good long piss into that heap of laundry, zipped up and
went downstairs. The folks were done visiting, and we drove home in
silence.

                                          **************

The next day dawned clear and warm. I was not due to meet Charlie until
noon, but couldn't wait: I was at the spot by ten. The note was gone. I put
down my towel and stretched out, thinking about all the neat things I had
learned over the past few days, and was soon fast asleep. How long I
remained "out" I don't know, but when I heard someone approaching was sure
it would be Charlie, and I jumped up in anticipation. However, it was not
Charlie, nor was it anyone I knew.  It was a tall lad, in his twenties, I
guessed, based on what I had seen on Tim's computer the day before.

"You must be looking for Charlie," the boy said with a deep voice.

"Yes."

"Ha, ha!" he chortled. "I tore up the note you left, so Charlie ain't gonna
be here."

"Do you know Charlie?" I asked.

"Nope. No idea who he is, or who you are, for that matter. What were you
and he gonna do?"

"Oh... just poke around... looking for... bugs I guess." I felt uneasy
about putting into words what I really hoped we would do, and wondered if I
would ever see Charlie again, having now failed to meet him twice.

"Bugs, my ass! You 'n Charlie were gonna do the nasty I'll bet."

"In any case, it's none of your business," I replied a trifle hotly.  "Why
would you think such a thing?"

" 'Cause when I was yer age that's what I did. Me 'n my buddies, we'd come
out here and screw around all summer."

"That's cool, but really, it was Charlie I wanted to see here today, and
now I have no idea how to getin touch with him, thanks to you tearing up
that note." I picked up the towel and turned to depart.

"Not so fast, kid!" the boy said firmly. He grabbed the back of my shirt,
pulled me back off-balance and spun me around to face him. "Yer gonna suck
me off, kiddo, or yer gonna be in big trouble." He quickly ripped open his
denims and pulled out a large half-hard prick.

I was not thrilled at being forced to do something I would have done
willingly if he'd been nice about it. Nevertheless, as he was so much
larger, I felt I'd better satisfy this fellow or I might indeed be in 'big
trouble'. So I folded the towel, knelt down on it and pulled his hard-on
into my mouth. It was, unfortunately, rather too much for me, especially
when it became fully rigid.  I choked, coughed and sputtered, but he held
his hand behind my head and shoved his dick into my face. He fucked my
mouth violently, and seemed likely to explode when I heard an odd "thud"
and the fellow's legs went out from under him: he collapsed at my feet. I
looked up into Charlie's angelic face, now somewhat distorted by rage.

"You OK Jimmy?" he asked.

"I guess so. This guy was trying to get me to suck his prick, but he's too
big and too violent.  What on earth did you do to him?"

>From behind his back, Charlie produced a large black flash-light about a
foot long. "Whacked him with this," he said manfully.

The boy groaned and tried to get up: he made it as far as his knees, but
could go no further.  Charlie held his shoulders from behind and prevented
him from rising.

"There's laws about forcing young boys to do what you were doing," Charlie
exclaimed loudly for his captive's benefit. "When I let you up, you're
gonna get out of here fast as you can. I know who you are, I know where you
live, and I'll tell the police you forced this boy to do an unlawful act!
Now, get up and get out!"

The lad staggered to his feet: a noticeable welt was forming on the back of
his head. Wild-eyed, he stumbled out of the clearing and was gone.

"Wow, Charlie, you made mince-meat outa that guy!" Charlie instantly became
my hero.

"I shoulda taken your note down when I read it," Charlie said, "but I
forgot and left it on the tree where you put it."

"So, this guy was gonna come back and spy on us?"

"Something like that. I guess you got here early. I was hoping we could
stay out here until dark: I love the forest at night! So I brought the
flashlight. Good thing I did."

"Sure was! And now I owe you a 'thank you' for saving me from... well, from
whatever that guy had in mind. Though, truth to tell, I think all he really
wanted was to get sucked and get rid of his load." This was the only
expression I knew at the time, thanks to Tim.

"I really do know that guy: his name is Doug, and he's a bully. Never takes
on anyone his size."

"Well, as far as size is concerned, he does have a big prick."

"I know, and he tries to jam it down the throat of every defenseless little
kid in town."

"This 'defenseless little kid' would like your prick in my mouth," I
said. I could see no reason to beat around the bush with Charlie: it was he
who had introduced me to sucking.

"Not here: that idiot Doug might come back with some of his bully
friends. We'll go over to my place. We live over that way (he pointed) to
the north."


I glanced down at Charlie's pants, an old pair of denims, cut off just
above the knees. His hard-on pointed "north", as did my own.

"Can't I at least see it?" I asked, as I slid down his zipper. "I like to
wander around here with my little pecker sticking out." Charlie's hard-on
popped through his fly as he pushed the waistband of his Y-fronts down
below his balls. He had the nicest looking prick: not huge like that awful
Doug, not even as large as Tim's, but exactly right for my mouth, I
thought.

"OK: you, too then." Charlie carefully unbuttoned my pants: I thought I
might have an orgasm right there, so exciting was it to have my cute friend
fumbling around my fly and reaching in to pull my little boner out into the
sunlight. Overwhelmed, I threw my arms around Charlie and held him he who
had come to my rescue tightly. Our mouths found each other and we kissed a
long, sloppy kiss as out turgid pricks met below. When we broke, I was
amazed to hear Charlie exclaim, "I love you, Jimmy!"

Arms around each other's shoulder, we set off northward, both with our
pricks sticking out of our pants. Scarcely realizing how our bodies were
communicating, we stopped wordlessly in front of a large tree and both
pissed on the rough bark, our commingled streams forming the familiar foam
and darkening the wood as it ran down to the ground. We resumed our hike:
it turned out to be about a fifteen minute walk to the edge of the forest
where another group of homes backed up to it. Charlie stopped before a
convenient gate in a tall wooden fence.

"Kiss me again," he ordered. I complied instantly and once again we
embraced as fully as we could, enjoying the warmth of each other's body and
the excitement that hugging another boy always brings about. When we broke
after several minutes, we stuffed our rigid pricks back into our
pants. Charlie opened the gate and we entered a nice yard of grass and
gardens which gave on to a patio and then a tract house not unlike the one
I lived in. Entering into a family room through sliding glass doors,
Charlie called out, "I'm home!"

>From another part of the house came a man: I thought at the time he was
maybe 30 or so, of medium build, what today we would call "nicely set
up". He wore only a very tight red speedo, so that his all-over tan and
glabrous body were clear to see. He had muscles in all the right places,
but was not over-built. The speedo revealed a sizeable bulge, and his face,
very handsome, was smiling and open.

"Tom, meet Jimmy," Charlie said. "Tom's my Daddy-one," he explained to me.

"My pleasure to meet you," Tom replied, stepping forward and shaking my
hand rather formally.

"And here is Daddy-two," Charlie said as he introduced me to Harley who
appeared from another part of the house. He was almost a spitting-image of
Tom, though one would not have taken them for brothers, and was clad in a
red speedo identical to Tom's. He moved close beside Tom and put his arm
around his shoulder. Harley also shook my hand and smiled. I was rather
bewildered: two daddies? This was like nothing I had expected or
experienced in my short life. My confusion must have shown.

"These are my parents, Jimmy: Tom and Harley are gay. They've been married
for six years, and they adopted me three years ago."

All this was overloading my ability to understand. Gay? Married? What did
it all mean?

"Gay? Married?"

" 'Gay' means they are homosexual."  I must have looked blank.

" 'Homosexual' means they like guys instead of gals. The way you like me
and I like you," Charlie explained: "of course, they aren't really married,
'cause guys can't get married here yet but they live together as if they
were married. They think of themselves as married, and we think of
ourselves as a family."

"Cool!"  The explanation suited me, and did not seem strange. Just by the
way they stood, I could see that Tom and Harley were closer to each other
than my parents, who (apart from sleeping in the same room in separate
beds) never seemed to touch each other.

"I met Jimmy in the woods last week I told you about it and we met again
today. That bully, Doug, had found Jimmy waiting for me and was forcing him
to blow him when I happened along. I decked Doug with this!"  He brandished
the big flashlight.

"Good for you!" Charlie's parents exclaimed. "That Doug is a menace to
young boys, something ought to be done. He needs counseling bad."

"Don't think he'll bother either of us again," I said. "Charlie's my hero,
and I think I love him!"

Tom and Harley glanced at each other and smiled. "Ain't young love grand?"
Harley exclaimed.

"Old love isn't bad, either," Tom rejoined as he pulled Harley into a
sloppy kiss. I had never witnessed two men kiss before, but it seemed very
natural in light of how I felt when Charlie and I did it. They broke apart.

"Don't forget, Charlie: I have a session tonight, and Tom's gonna be away,
so I need a little help getting ready."

Charlie addressed me: "Harley is a model. I hafta help him get shaved for a
photo session. Ya wanna watch?"

"Ummm, I guess."

"What time ya gotta be home?"

"Dinner's at eight."

"Start at five, Harley?"

"Fine," Harley replied.

"OK: til then, we'll be in my bedroom," Charlie said as he gripped my wrist
and headed for a hallway.

"Don't do anything we would," Tom and Harley chimed in, laughing.

Charlie led me down a hall, past a large bathroom with a huge tub, and into
his bedroom. It was so utterly unlike Tim's I was amazed: it was neat and
tidy, the bed was made. There was a book-case with many books on it, a desk
with a small computer and printer, and a leather lounge-chair. A TV set
could be watched from either the lounge or the bed. The walls were adorned
with photos and posters: there was not a girl's face to be seen among
them. We found the lounge large enough that we could sit side-by-side on
it.

"You've got a really neat set-up here, Charlie," I said, already developing
a hard-on again simply on account of the heat from his body.

"Yes, I am a lucky boy. My mother was a crack-whore who put me up for
adoption when I was born, and I spent ten years in a series of foster-homes
before Tom and Harley rescued me."

"So, how old are you, Charlie?" I had never bothered to ask until now. Not
that it mattered.

"Thirteen."

"I'm older than you! Never woulda guessed it: you seem older than me
somehow."

"Til now, I've lived a rough life. Most of the foster parents I had were
abusive, and all the men molested me. I sucked my first dick when I was
eight."

"Jeez!"

"It was horrible! Old man with a stinky cock. I hated it!"

"But, you do such a good job of it now!" I was fully hard in my pants. I
reached over and felt Charlie's crotch: he was hard, too.

"That's because we are the same age, and because we like each other. Might
even love each other.  A blow-job under these circumstances is a beautiful
thing, a mating ritual, not just some old fart getting his rocks off!" My
vocabulary of sexual terms was expanding rapidly. I squeezed Charlie's
hard-on.

"I want to suck your dick, right now!" I said. "I haven't yet sucked yours,
you know."  "I want you to, Jimmy! On the bed."

We stood, embraced and kissed, and slowly undressed each other. Standing
fully denuded, we were a match in height. At thirteen, Charlie was actually
a bit ahead of me as we both approached puberty.  Where I had the
beginnings of a pubic bush, he had nothing, though I soon learned he shaved
himself there, emulating his two daddies. Charlie's long straight hair
might have made him look feminine, except he had exactly the right face for
it and on him, it was beautiful. My "standard boy" haircut suited
me. Elsewhere. Our bodies were still smooth and covered with the fine
peach-fuzz that would one day turn us more hirsute.

Charlie threw back the covers on his bed: the sheets were snow-white and
clean. He stretched out across the bed sideways with his feet on the floor:
I fell to my knees and voraciously enveloped his hard-on with my mouth. My
nose rubbed his pubic bone as my mouth ravaged his other bone: born to
suck, I recall thinking once again. My mouth fit Charlie's boner like loose
condom, and my saliva lubricated it, making it smooth as silk. I put one
hand under his balls, my other hand reached around his left thigh to fondle
his ass-cheek. I was learning fast how to really suck cock; how to deliver
an expert blow-job: it came to me as naturally as breathing itself! I had
no gag reflex to worry about, and took every inch of Charlie's prick and
slathered it with my tongue as I did so.

"Gawd, Jimmy," Charlie said breathlessly, "you suck like a pro!"

"Mmmngh."

I would not be distracted: I wanted Charlie's prick to explode in my mouth,
to be filled with his load, and I knew if I kept up my mouth and hand
action it would happen. As his hard-on got stiffer and he thrust his body
up to meet me, I put both arms around his thighs and bobbed my head faster
and faster until Charlie erupted with a loud groan that built to an
emotional, "Oh, Christ, Jimmy!" from between clenched teeth.

"Mmmngh."

I could not stop! A quick swallow sent Charlie's seed into my gut, but his
hard-on remained unchanged. Still clenching his thighs, I kept up my
motion, determined to get a second load.

"Jeez, Jimmy, stop! I can't stand it!"

"Mmmngh."

"Jimmy, it hurrrrrts"

"Mmmngh."

"Ohhhhhhh....."  Charlie had a second orgasm. His sweet nectar flowed less
copiously, but I had time to savor it as now, finally, his hard-on began to
wilt. Gently, I lowered him back to the bed and released his legs from my
arms' grip. I slipped my mouth up and off his shrinking tool, swished the
contents of my mouth around and swallowed.  It was delicious: it came from
my first real boyfriend.  "Gosh, Jimmy, I haven't come like that for a long
time!" Charlie said as he grabbed my head and pulled me up on top of
himself.

"I'm glad you liked it: it's the first time I've done it, (I lied) but I
really wanted to make you feel good."

"It was fantastic! I think you and I should be lovers."

"Ya wanna be married like Tom 'n Harley?"

"Oh, we're both too young for that, but we can be lovers. We can meet as
often as we can and have this kind of fun.  Its what lovers do."

Lying as lightly as I could on Charlie's body, I marveled at how we had
met, how we had so quickly found how much we liked to do this
stuff. Charlie's exertion had raised his temperature: the heat flowed from
him to me. It got me hard again (I'd been so intent on pleasuring, Charlie
I'd gone soft).

"I have a load for you," I said suggestively.

"I know. But it will have to wait. I hafta shave Harley for his photo shoot
tonight.

"Awwww..."

"Don't worry: I'll take care of you! But I have some obligations, and right
now, I gotta go take care of Harley."

"Do you 'take care of him' in any other way?" I asked, already jealous of
my new lover.

"Oh, no! They've never touched me, and they never will. I've watched them
make love, so I kinda know how its done, and I help shave both of them when
needed, but we've never had sex. They've been waiting for me to find a
lover: now that I think I have, they'll be thrilled! Come on: we got work
to do."

"We?"

"There might be a way you can help, and you're welcome to watch." I stood
and reached for my shorts.

"Nothing on!" Charlie said. "We go nude around here most of the time."

"I'll get a hard-on, I know! I've already got a hard-on!"

"So? It isn't like none of us has never seen a hard prick." Charlie's logic
was irrefutable.

Completely unclothed, we sauntered out of his bedroom just as Harley
approached from the other direction. He was equally unclothed. We all
turned together into the bath-room with the big tub.

Harley was lean and fit. Like Tom, he had fine muscle definition and was
not over-built.  Except, that is, for what was between his legs: here, he
had an enormous soft, fleshy penis, and a large pair of balls swinging
below. Unfamiliar as I was with the whole concept of modeling, I could not
really imagine what all this preparation was about. Charlie, however, knew
just what to do. From a cupboard he took a number of bottles and towels
while Harley stretched out on his back in the big tub. Except for his
genitals, his body was a harmonious assemblage of bones and muscle
befitting a man in his late teens or early twenties. His appearance was
certainly pleasing, but I did not find it erotic, and my hard-on soon
dissipated.  He paid no attention as I watched Charlie setting up for what
was clearly a routine event. Charlie, too had gone soft. How puny we both
looked when compared with the hugeness lying between Harley's thighs!

Charlie began by filling the sink with very hot water and dropping in
several towels. Then he shook up a pressure-can of something and sprayed it
liberally across Harley's stomach, his crotch ,and down his thighs to his
knees. Until this moment, I had not realized Harley had no hairy bush where
most of the boys I'd seen on Tim's computer did. Charlie then wrung out the
towels and spread them on top of the lathered areas and set about preparing
a razor. Peasant fumes rose from beneath the towels, and after a few
moments Charlie peeled these back and began shaving Harley from his navel
downwards.  Harley appeared to be naturally glabrous across his chest, and
the hair on his arms was so fine as to be nearly invisible. What Charlie
was removing had to be little more than stubble, and the process went along
without incident. As Charlie approached Harley's crotch, he lifted that
huge penis and moved it this way and that to access every portion, and
Harley obligingly spread his legs as Charlie nudged them. Clearly, the
process had been done many times before, and Charlie was skillful and
adept, rinsing the razor frequently in the sink behind him.  It did not
take long to remove the lather and whatever it had disguised.

"Over ya go, Harley," Charlie's boyish voice urged.

Harley rearranged himself on all four in the tub: more lather was applied
to his exposed rump, and more hot towels.

"Here's where it gets tricky," Charlie informed me. "Getting the hair out
from the crack of his ass takes practice."

"He's never nicked me yet," Harley's deep voice echoed in the tub: "don't
distract him! This is important. Lotsa guys think I've got the best-looking
starfish in the country!"

With a lot of pulling and stretching, the few hairs to be found in Harley's
butt were soon detached, and his "starfish" gleamed wetly. Charlie patted
it all dry professionally. Neither of us found the process stimulating. It
was all in a day's work for Charlie, and something I simply found unusual.

"OK, Harley, there ya go. Shower up, and you're ready for your date with
Mr. DeMille," Charlie said, laughing.  "Thanks, Charlie! I know I'll wow
'em."

Charlie put all the apparatus away, and dumped the towels into a hamper.

"When he's finished in the shower, Jimmy, you and me gonna get in there 'n
I'm gonna make you feel reeeeel good!" His unchanged boy's voice and
suggestion of things to come had me hard again in a trice.

We repaired to his bedroom and sat once again, still nude, on the
lounge. Picking up a remote, Charlie pushed some buttons and the TV woke
up. There was a movie on: there were several men engaged in sex play of
several kinds. My hard-on began to droop: it was rapidly becoming clear
that older men did not interest me, especially when I was seated right next
to my beautiful Charlie.  Suddenly, I realized one of the men in the
picture was Harley! Another man put his hairy hands on Harley's butt and
pulled his cheeks aside: there in full color was the starfish I had
witnessed just a few moments before.

"That's Harley!" I exclaimed.

"Sure is."

Just then a younger man with a beautiful face dove between Harley's cheeks
and began to lick at the starfish: the camera moved around so that there
was no mistaking what was going on. My mind wandered: the thought of
putting my tongue in that starfish sent the wrong signal to my prick, which
wilted rapidly. Then the thought of putting my tongue on Charlie's starfish
sent the right message!  I was hard again in seconds.

"I wanna do that to you!" I exclaimed.

"Later, Jimmy, later. Now, just watch."

What I saw next filled me first with dread, then with curiosity: a large,
hard prick came from nowhere and quickly inserted itself into that same
starfish. Again, the camera moved so we could see that dick disappear, and
the muscular body to which it was attached came into view.

"Harley just loves to get fucked!" Charlie observed.

"That's what 'fucking' is?"

"Well, that's one way. Personally, I don't like it at all. It brings back
too many memories of my days as a foster-kid." It did not take much
imagination on my part to figure out Charlie had been fucked as a boy,
probably by men, and that it had been painful.

"It must hurt a lot," I said, trying to imagine even my Charlie's prick
going in my shit-hole.

"Not if it is done right, but if its done wrong, yes it hurts a whole
lot. It was done wrong to me, so I don't like it." He turned off the
TV. "But, come on: the shower is free, Harley's getting dressed and will be
gone soon."

Back in the bath-room, still smelling of lather and soap, we stepped into
the tub. Charlie adjusted the water temperature as it ran from the
spout. The sound reminded me instantly I had to pee.

"Gotta pee, Charlie," I said.

"Yeah: me, too." He pulled me to him in the sort of embrace I was beginning
to relish. His warm piss immediately flooded my crotch and ran down my
legs: I began to pee as well, and together we emptied or respective
bladders. It was yet another new sensation, something I would probably
never have thought of on my own. Having my lover piss on me, though, seemed
as natural as could be, and by the time I was finished I was hard as a rock
again.

Charlie turned the water into the wand hanging from the wall, and we
washed. The piss disappeared quickly, and we applied soap liberally to each
other. Charlie shut off the water, and we worked up lather furiously as we
both washed and explored every inch of each other. The slickness was
exciting: when my hard-on slipped between his legs, I thought I might lose
another load, so exquisite was the feeling.

"I love you, Charlie!"

"I love you, too, Jimmy." We embraced amid all the lather and ground our
bodies together: it was sensational! Charlie turned the water back on and
we washed off all the soap. I could not resist squatting behind him and
parting his cheeks. There was Charlie's starfish, far more beautiful to me
than Harley's, and smaller. I did not hesitate to put my tongue up to it: I
knew it was clean, after all. Charlie moaned with pleasure.

"But don't get any ideas about putting anything in there, Jimmy."

I reached around and put Charlie's hard prick into my fist.

"Maybe someday you'll ask me to do that: only then," I replied as I licked
his behind. There were no hairs there, just smooth skin. I could not get
enough of licking it. But Charlie insisted in turning around, putting his
lovely tool directly in line with my mouth. I went down on it eagerly: I
couldn't get enough of sucking dick, either!

"You keep that up, you know what will happen!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Mmmngh."

"It's my turn to suck you. I promised I'd take care of you before you had
to go home."

We exchanged positions. I was so horny! All this foreplay, and the
excitement of getting Charlie off earlier, even the fun of watching his
lovely body as he'd attended to Harley' shave: it all had me worked up to a
frazzle. I desperately wanted to make my load go into Charlie's mouth. But
Charlie's lackadaisical approach was not quite what I had in mind: my prick
was in his mouth, true, and his tongue was working its magic, but he lacked
the sort of vigor I hoped would bring me to another crashing orgasm.

"Harder, Charlie, I wanna give you a load." I still had not learned the
word "cum".

"Mmmngh." He picked up his pace a little. The feeling got a little more
intense.

"Suck me, Charlie!"

"Mmmngh." He applied himself with more vigor. Now, I know he was holding
back, trying to prolonge my pleasure: at the time, I was annoyed. I wanted
to get off! I needed to get off, and Charlie knew it. His tongue teased the
head of my prick, his nimble fingers were kneading my balls. The feeling
was building rapidly.

"Suck me, Charlie! I got a load for you!"

"Mmmngh." I was on the edge.

Charlie held his head still and grabbed my hips, working them fore and aft,
fucking his mouth with my hard-on. His pace increased and when I thought I
could stand it no longer, I erupted.

"Oh, Christ, Charlie, I love you, I love you! Suck me, Charlie!" I chanted
as I shot every drop of my seed into his mouth. "I never felt so good,
Charlie, oh, man!"

"Mmmngh."

Inevitably, we came down from our high. I had to pull Charlie off my
hard-on, it having become so sensitive his tongue now brought forth
pain. Exquisite pain, but pain nonetheless.

Charlie stood, and I fell into his arms, exhausted. Never having ever done
such a thing before, I nuzzled his ear with my tongue. "I love you,
Charlie," I said, out of breath.

"And I love you," Charlie replied. "We'll be lovers; you and me."

We hugged and held each other for a while, then dried each other off with
thick towels. Charlie's body was so fine, so young, so beautiful, I could
not get enough of it. Hand in hand, we went back to his bedroom.

"What time is it?" I asked Charlie.

"Seven-thirty: you gotta be getting home."

"I don't want to go home! Besides, I don't think I could find my way
through the forest in the dark."

"Don't be silly! We're only three blocks away from your house. You can walk
the street and be there in ten minutes."

"But I don't want to go home! Please, can't I stay here with you?"

"Of course. But won't your folks be worried?"

"I'll call them, tell 'em where I am, that I'm safe, just sleeping-over
with a friend."

I'd heard of guys doing this, but had never done it myself. Until this
moment, I had never wanted to sleep with another guy, but now, I wanted to
crawl into Charlie's bed and curl up with my first lover and sleep like I'd
never slept before.

My folks seemed apprehensive, but I got Charlie's address and phone number
and gave it to them: it seemed to placate them.

We returned to Charlie's bedroom and snuggled up under the covers, fully
entwined. I slept like I had never slept before!

Copyright BRUCE BRAMSON 2009


A continuation is planned.


A zip-file of all my fictional stories, formatted with WordPerfect and
converted to .pdf files is available on request.

Drop me a note at MYOB@brucebramson.com