WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING 

This is a work of FICTION. Any resemblance of the
characters, scenes or scenarios in this work of FICTION to
actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
This work of FICTION contains material of an ADULT nature
and is intended specifically, and exclusively for readers
of a LEGALLY MATURE age, an open mind, occasionally a sense
of humor, and for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. Readers who
find works of ADULT FICTION offensive are strongly
encouraged to STOP NOW, and return from whence they came
(no pun intended).

David
by Alcimedes
( mm )

Chapter One: Buried Treasure

You gotta promise not to tell anyone. Hed said.

Mark and I looked nervously at each other, then nodded our
apprehensive approval to him.

Swear it. He said sternly.

I swear. We replied in unison.

Okay, but if I find out you told anyone about this, I'll
deny it. He repeated, giving us a nervous stare in return.

Mark and I sat cross legged next to each other on the
wooden floor of the treehouse, anxiously awaiting this
mysteriously exciting promise of pubescent angst; our first
look at a real, honest to god, nudie magazine.

The new kid unzipped his backpack and fished inside,
pulling out a crumpled paper bag, then unsleaved the object
of our fascination. I recognized the the name on the cover,
along with the signature ears and tail the model wore, but
as he flipped open the magazine and laid it down on the
floor in front of Mark and I, I was unprepared for the site
in front of us.

I had seen my little sister naked before, I had even seen
my mother without her bra on once, but Id never seen
anything like that before. Whoa... Was the comment of
choice from both Mark and I, as we both attempted to pop
our eyes back into our heads. The woman in the picture was
elegantly stretched out on a bed, exposed fully for our
enjoyment, and believe me, we were enjoying ourselves.

Mark began to gently turn the pages, all of us staring
intently at each and every new photograph with eager
delight, back and forth until we had seen every page nearly
twenty times. After about an hour or so, the new kid, Paul,
stood up and announced that he had to go, and had to take
the magazine with him. After several attempts to get him to
leave the magazine, or at least let us look a little longer
failed, he carefully slipped the magazine back into its
cover and headed down the rope ladder for home. Mark and I
sat alone in the treehouse silently for a while,
daydreaming to ourselves about the wonders wed seen. I
worried for a while about the boner I had, wondering if
Mark would notice, and tried my best to disguise its
persistent aching. Mark finally broke the silence,
suggesting that it might be time for us to leave. Thoughts
of heading home were enough to subside the swelling (for
the both of us) and we headed our separate ways back home.

The night passed uneventfully, my mind distracted by the
family and being allowed to stay up late to watch
television, and that night I fell into a deep and
satisfying sleep.

In the morning, Mark was at the door bright and early,
asking my mother if I could go out and play. We climbed on
our bikes and pedaled away, Mark shooting ahead of me while
calling back, Come on!

I followed Mark as we pedaled past his street and down the
next, listening to the suburban call of Saturday morning
mowers humming, and enjoying the familiar smell of freshly
cut grass, before coming to a stop in front of a house I
didnt recognize.

This is where that new kid Paul lives. Mark revealed.

With a ring of the doorbell, we stood fidgeting nervously
until the door opened. A silver haired woman stood behind
the screen door, looking rather suprised, but with a
pleasant smile on her face. Well, good morning boys.

Good morning, Ma'am We replied.

What can I do for you two? She asked.

Mark chimed in, Well we were wondering if Paul could come
out and play?

The woman smiled and opened the screen door, Oh how sweet.
Tell me, what are youre names?

Im Mark Mark replied.

Im David. I answered.

Well Mark and David, its a pleasure to meet you. Im afraid
thought that Paul isn't here. You see, he goes to visit his
father on the weekends.

Visit his father? I wondered silently. Perhaps it was the
innocence of the times, or more likely my youthful naivete,
but I didnt understand what she meant. Why would you have to
go somewhere to see your father?

I just baked some cookies, would you two like one? She
asked politely.

Mark and I looked at each other for a moment, before Mark
answered, Sure... I mean, yes please.

She ushered us into the kitchen and handed us each a warm
chocolate chip cookie, fresh from the oven; still soft and
deliciously gooey.

So where did you boys meet Paul? She asked as we munched on
the cookies.

At the park. I answered. We had been playing a game of
football when one of the kids had to go, leaving the sides
uneven. Paul had been standing off to the side watching
silently, so we invited him to fill in.

Well, Paul will be back on Monday, and I'll make sure to
tell him that you two boys stopped by to see him. She said.

Okay. We replied, Thanks for the cookies.

Youre very welcome. She answered, as we headed out the door.

Mark and I headed for the treehouse, parking our beloved
banana seated bicycles behind the the stone fence in the
customary manner of disguising our secret place, and spent
the afternoon hanging out and just talking; mostly about
the magazine wed seen the day before. We talked a little
about Paul, of how hed managed not to get himself creamed
playing football because of his small and skinny size, but
mostly wondering where hed gotten the magazine, and
wondering if he could get more.

The next morning, as I sat in the back seat of the station
wagon as we pulled into our driveway coming home from an
excruciatingly boring morning of church, Mark was already
waiting for me outside the front door. After a quick dash
to my room to change out of my Sunday church clothes, we
headed out on our bikes for the day. We made our way over
to Mark's house where he stopped for a minute and ran into
his garage.

Wait here. He yelled as he dashed in, rummaging through a
storage bin by the kitchen door. He came back out wearing a
backpack and carrying another, tossing it at me as he hopped
back onto his bike.

What's this for? I asked.

I'll tell ya in a minute, come on! He yelled and we were
off again. I pedaled behind him with curious excitement for
a block or two before hollering out to him, Okay, now tell
me what these are for!

Mark stopped his bike along the curb and I pulled along
side.

Soooo... I asked impatiently.

This morning, my Dad made me help load up the car to take
some stuff to the dump. He began.

Yeah?

Well, he asked me if I wanted to go along.

So?

So, I go along with him. We get to the dump and nobody's
there, but the gate's open, so we went on in.

...and...? I asked, getting impatient.

And so, we're dropping of this old chair my mother didnt
want, along with a bunch of old paint cans and stuff...

Yeah, so...?

Alright, alright! So anyway, I see this huge trailer, you
know like the eighteen wheeler kind, just sitting out in
the middle of this big open field that's full of stuff. So
I asked him what it was for, and he told me its where you
drop off for paper recycling. Mark finished, beaming a huge
smile on his face.

Yeah, so what? I asked, completely oblivious as to what the
big deal was.

Dont you get it, dummy? Its where people drop off old
papers, old newspapers, old M-A-G-A-Z-I-N-E-S...?

I couldnt stop the smile from growing on my face as the
light bulb finally went off over my head. Yeahhh! I hooted.

We sped the long haul to the dump, oblivious to how far it
was, our excitement masking any symptoms of fatigue. I'll
never forget the moment we arrived at the empty junkyard
and stared at the trailer across the open field, feeling
like explorers in a new land.

We made our way out toward the trailer, nervously afraid
that wed been seen and stashing our bikes at the fields
edge, then stealthily making our way across the open field
on foot and climbing up into the opened trailer doors.

Wow! Look at all of this! Mark screamed. The trailer was
filled with piles and piles of old newspapers, magazines,
boxes, and paper bags, stacked high all the way to the back
of the trailer. It was almost overload to our young and
horny brains. We each started combing, pulling apart the
string tied bundles looking for our booty. We must have
been in that trailer for nearly three hours, finding
everything you could imagine; copies of old Look, Life and
Ladies Home Journals, old comic books (which we just had to
stop and look at), everything except what we were looking
for, when I finally opened a box full of magazines and
immediately realized Id found what wed come to find.

MARK! Mark! I got it! I got it! I called out excitedly.

Shhhh! Mark replied, as if our hours of rummaging were
suddenly going to be discovered.

I pulled out a magazine from the box and opened it slowly,
stopping at the first image of heaven.

Whoa... Mark whispered over my shoulder, staring intently
as I was at the images of the woman, naked as a jay bird.
Mark reached down into the box to grab another, then
another magazine as I stood looking mesmerizingly at mine.

After a minute or two, I heard Mark mumble out, Holy shit...

I dropped the magazine Id been holding and leaned over to
see what Mark had found, when his words were repeated from
my own mouth, Holy shit...

Pay dirt. Mark had found the golden vein of our adolescent
dreams, an honest to god, true blue, explicit porno
magazine. Scarcely noticing that none of the writing was in
english, he began to flip the pages, revealing ever more
delightful and exhilarating photos with each turn. It was
filled with women exposing every millimeter of the
tantalizing feminine secrets to our young and excited eyes,
women together kissing and touching each other, and
finally... a man and a woman... DOING IT! My knees were
literally trembling, my hands sweating profusely as I
reached into the box to reveal another and then another
magazine, each more suggestive than the next.

It was at the pinnacle of our triumph that disaster would
nearly strike, as we heard the alarming sound of a car
approaching the trailer. Mark and I were jolted by the
crunching sounds of the tires on the gravel strewn field
coming to a halt and the car door slamming closed, our
hearts pounding out of our chests with near panic, as we
stared at each other in indecision.

Hide! Mark yelped excitedly, as we dove toward the rear of
the trailer, covering ourselves with scattered newspapers.
I held tightly to the magazine in my hand, already having
decided they'd have to pry it from my fingers before I
would let go, and held my breath. We listened with bat like
intensity to the agonizingly slow ritual of the person
emptying the contents of their trunk, tossing their bundled
waste into the trailer.

We remained cautiously concealed under the musty smell of
old newspapers long after the car pulled away, not daring
to push our luck, before deciding the coast was clear.

I think we better go. I whispered to Mark, hidden from my
eyes just a few feet away.

Yeah, let's get outta here. He replied anxiously.

We climbed out from beneath our lairs, unzipping our
backpacks, and began to scoop magazines blindly from the
box, stuffing our packs until they could barely close.
Their weight seemed to make no difference, as we dashed
across the field to our trusty rides, feeling heavy and yet
light as air at the same time.

I remember the look and feel of unbridled excitement and
joy on our faces, as we pedaled as fast as we could back to
the treehouse, with expectations of discovery on our minds.
I would receive a scolding from my parents that night,
having spent the rest of that summer afternoon till the
purplish colors of dusk set in, mesmerized by our newfound
treasure. It would also be, as I lay awake in my bed that
night, thinking of all Id seen, that I would discover the
equally exciting magic of masturbation.

Chapter Two:

Mark and I spent the following morning scrambling around
our garages for scraps, grabbing hammers and nails, and an
all important used combination lock, before heading out to
the treehouse. We had decided, before anything, that we had
better find a way of hiding what wed found, its value even
greater than gold, or so it seemed at the time. We managed
to fashion a rather crude, but functional trunk from old
pieces of plywood and lumber we were able to find, even
finding hinges and an old and rusted gate lock that we
could secure it with. Wed finished by noon, and made our
way back to my house for lunch, sitting silently at the
dinner table as my mother scuttled about the kitchen. In
anticipation of returning to our new prize, I think I
managed only a few bites of my sandwich before asking if we
could go back outside to play. My mother gave the two of us
a suspicious look, knowing we were up to something, but
laughingly let us go after we swore our innocence. Im sure
she never believed a word of it, but then again Im also
sure she had no idea what we were up to.

Mark and I sat on the floor at opposite sides of the small
treehouse, each of us glued to our own magazine, silently
staring and gawking at the amazing pictures to be found. I
was a comfortable enough distance from Mark, that I felt
that I could fidgitingly adjust the swelling in my jeans,
which had become increasingly uncomfortable from its
confinement. And as I sat there, staring at photo after
photo of naked women pleasing and being pleased, imagining
myself to be the object of the woman in the picture's
talents and desires, I began to think of nothing else but
pulling out my dick and stroking it as I had the night
before. After a while, Im not sure exactly how long but for
what seemed like hours, the tension in my groin had grown to
the point where I had to close the magazine, or explode. And
as I gently closed the pages, again shuffling my legs to
ease the tension in my pants, I looked over the the top
edge of my magazine at Mark. He had his magazine held in
one hand, holding it close enough to his face to see every
minute detail, but with the other was slowly stroking his
cock through his jeans. I could see the shape of his his
hard on as it pressed tightly against the fabric of his
pants, his fingers gently massaging along its length. I
felt a strange sense of relief, knowing that my best friend
was experiencing the same feelings I had, that I wasn't the
only one that had ever felt the urge. I sat silently a
minute, just watching him rub himself, and wanting to do
the same but still lacking the courage to do it, when Mark
whispered out from behind his magazine, This is great, huh?

Yeah. I replied, nervously.

God, I think if I dont jerk off soon, Im gonna die. Mark
said a little louder. Now I had heard the words jerk off
before, but until the night before had never really known
exactly what they'd meant. And now, to hear them from Mark,
and knowing he knew as well exactly what it meant, caught me
by suprise. And before I realized what Id said, Yeah, me
too. had spilled from my mouth.

I suppose I had said it partially out of a nervous effort
to fit in or not feel out of place, but it was also the
truth. I wanted to cum so bad it hurt. I nervously opened
back up my magazine, pressing it to my face like Mark when
I saw his fingers stop their massaging. A heavy silence
descended over the treehouse before Mark spoke again.

Do you wanna? I heard him say.

Wanna what? I asked, pretending to appear naive.

You know...? He said after a long pause.

My heart was pounding hard in my chest at the idea, fraught
with both apprehension and sexual excitement. I kept my
magazine up to my face, my eyes open but not seeing a thing
on its glossy pages.

I dont know, do you? I finally said, my voice feeling as
though it would crack at any moment. My heart continued to
race with nervous anticipation of my dare.

Mark finally replied, I will if you will. I closed the
pages of the magazine that I held, looking over to see Mark
doing the same. We sat for a minute, looking apprehensively
in each others eyes, neither of us wanting to be the weaker
to chicken out, but yet both of us unsure if we had the
balls to be the first to make a move. And like close
friends often do, at that moment we both began to tip off
our thoughts with a wry smile, and then a laugh. Mark went
for his belt buckle as I did the same, each of us
unfastening, unzipping and opening our jeans with giddy
excitement, until we each reached into our underwear and
pulled out our eager young hard on's.

Not a word was said as we silently examined each others
equipment from afar. I remember, the first thing I noticed
was that although Mark's dick was not much bigger than my
own, as I would later come to realize, the very light color
of his blond pubic hair made it appear to be nearly bald,
and so much bigger than it really was. Neither of us
thought too much of it, Mark innocently eyeing me as well,
and when he reached down and retrieved the magazine hed
been reading, I did the same. We both leaned back against
the wall, gently stroking our cocks in one hand while
staring at the pictures held in the other, giggling at the
excitement of it all. It didnt take long for the laughing
to go away, replaced as the sensation of the pumping of our
cocks and looking at the pornography was bringing us both
quickly to orgasm. No sooner had I begun to feel the tight,
tingling sensation in my little balls, than my dick erupted
with a geyser of blissful cum, shooting high up onto my
shirt, again and again as I continued to pump it excitedly.
Without looking, I could hear as Mark reached his orgasm as
well, grunting softly as he emptied his load as I had. We
both sat for a while, slowly stroking our still hard cocks
and breathing hard and deep, when again we both began to
laugh.

That was cool! Mark said breathlessly.

Yeah! I agreed, still stroking my dick softly. And it was,
it was about as an exciting thing Id ever done or felt in
my young life, and I knew for sure that I wanted to do it
again. I looked over at Mark and saw that hed laid his
magazine down at his side, but was still holding his dick
in his hand, gently tugging on it.

Jesus, look at all the stuff on your shirt! I said to him,
suprised by the amount of semen that stood out against his
dark blue T-shirt.

Oh man, you too! He replied looking at me and laughing.

We both relinquished our grips on ourselves and quickly
stripped off our shirts, using them to wipe off the now
sticky remnants from our fingers and softening members. We
nervously concocted a plan to explain our soiled shirts,
deciding we would rub them in the dirt before heading home
and claim that we were playing football at the park.

There would be time for that later, we silently agreed, and
were soon back to looking at the magazines, but not before
wed decided to swap, seeing for ourselves what the other
had seen. And, as it is with young and hormonally charged
boys, it was only a matter of minutes before we both once
again had raging hard ons. This time, however, there was no
hesitation in grabbing them and beginning the adolescent
five finger dance. Flipping through Mark's magazine, I came
upon a picture that I hadnt seen in mine; a woman with long
blond hair and massive mammaries, kneeling between the legs
of a naked man who looked down at her face with excited
eyes. Turning the page, the next image was of the same
woman, still kneeling before the man, but this time she
held his erect penis in her hand and had her tongue laid
along its length. Just below it was another picture, this
time the woman had the man's penis all the way in her
mouth, appearing to suck on it like a giant candy lollipop.

My mouth went dry as I stared wide eyed at the picture, my
hand increasing the pace of my stroking as my dick lurched
at the picture as well. My mind reeled at the thought that
a woman would do such a thing, and as I continued to
examine the photo it became quite apparent to me that she
was enjoying herself as much as the man in the photo was.
He had his head tilted back and his eyes shut, straining
his face not out of pain but of pleasure, and I could
distinctly see the slightly upturned smile on the lips of
the woman that knelt before him, engulfing his cock with
her ruby red lipsticked mouth. My hand nearly trembled at
the thought; my mind instinctively imagining the warm and
moist sensations the man was receiving. It was then, as I
lay reclined against the wall, my hand still stroking away
on my cock, that I heard Mark begin to grunt again. Out of
curiosity, I dropped my magazine just enough to see over
the top of the page, to see Mark feverishly jerking himself
to another orgasm, his dick squirting out his cum up onto
his now shirtless stomach, again and then again. It was too
much for me, and closing my eyes, I blew my load for the
second time. It would be different from the first; not
quite as intense but because of the increased effort the
second time around, more physical, more draining and yet
equally satisfying. At that moment, I felt like I could
just lay there doing this over and over again for the rest
of my life.

But like all good things, it had to end. And as we both lay
exhausted and drained, gently mopping the mess from our
bellies and finally zipping back up our pants, realizing
that it was getting late and not wanting to get into
trouble for staying out too late again, we collected up the
magazines and cautiously locked them away in our newly made
safe. And as we rubbed our shirts in the dirt below the
treehouse, stamping on them with nervous delight, I thought
silently to myself of figuring out a way to sneak one of
magazines home, to occupy myself at night. Im sure that
Mark was thinking the same, but for now, it would have to
wait.

Chapter Three:

Mark and I spent the remainder of that week, as well as the
next, doing pretty much the same thing; sneaking away every
available minute we could to our hideaway and enjoying the
thrills of looking at the collection of magazines. And
along with our fascination at looking at every new picture,
we also became less and less reserved about the subject of
sex, as well as masturbation, eventually finding no
hesitation in whipping down our shorts when the time seemed
right. It was almost becoming ritual, to the point where we
openly watched each other in a sort of game, who could come
faster, who could last the longest, even standing side by
side as we stroked to see who could shoot the farthest. It
was such an innocent time of sexual exploration, and
although both of us unspokenly knew not to mention it to
anyone, neither of us felt any guilt in what we were doing.
Each of us would borrow one of the magazines to take home at
night, finding plenty of time to perfect our technique so to
speak, and even finding fun in pointing out anytime we found
something new in one of the magazines.

I lamented the idea of having to go to camp, which was
quickly approaching, not wanting to leave the behind the
incredible fun I was having. Every year, from the time I
was in the third grade, my mother and father shipped my kid
sister and I to a christian summer camp for two weeks. The
camp was in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania, only half
a days drive, and sat on the edge of a big lake. It had the
usual camp ensemble of activities; swimming at the lake,
boating classes, nature hikes, and the ever popular bug
juice at meals. And apart from the terminally boring
sermons the camp director would force us through each
morning, I had a good time. But this year, for obvious
reasons, I found it very difficult to get excited about
going. And to compound the problem, I couldnt exactly
explain to my parents that the reason I didnt want to go to
camp was that Id rather be up in the treehouse spanking the
monkey with my best friend. So instead, I decided just to
deal with it, and to carefully stash away a few magazines
for entertainment purposes should the opportunity arise.

The treehouse felt strangely silent, as I sat alone for the
first time in nearly two weeks. I would be heading off to
camp the next morning and wanted to have one more
opportunity to look through the magazines and decide which
one I was going to take with me. There were so many to
choose from, it was difficult to decide which one I liked
the best. Some of the magazines had already made themselves
into a stack that Mark and I rarely even looked at any more;
the pin up magazines with pretty women but on the whole
fairly boring, a couple of magazines with women dressed up
in costumes that looked like they were from a Vincent Price
horror movie doing things that didnt look like they were
having any fun at all, even a black and white magazine that
had only pictures of men in it. I sat going through the good
stack, having fun as I rubbed my boner through my shorts as
I tried to decide, when I heard the sound of Marks bicycle
approaching down the pine needle covered trail. Just to be
sure though, I loaded back up the trunk and closed the lid,
before peeking out the small window. It was indeed Mark, but
much to my suprise, there was someone with him, the new kid
Paul. The two of them stashed their bicycles and headed for
the ladder, climbing up cautiously as they had see my
bicycle.

Hey... David? I heard Mark call up.

Yeah, Mark. Come on up. I replied.

I... um, told Paul he could come. He said, half asking.

I kinda spilled the beans about the magazines. He whispered
in my ear, as Paul sat meekly across the treehouse. Sorry
about that, it was kind of an accident. He asked me to come
over this morning to his house, and when he showed me
another one of his magazines, I kinda let it slip out about
you and I finding all of ours. I made him swear not to tell
anyone, or wed beat him up. It wasn't like Mark to say
those kinds of things, Id never so much as seen him ever
raise a fist to anyone for anything before, but this was
different. And although I knew wed probably never actually
beat him up, he looked like he was about half our size, I
put on a serious face to support the illusion.

You swear? Mark said to Paul, wanting him to swear it in
front of me.

He simply nodded his head, and sat looking nervous. Mark
looked at me, and after giving him the nod, opened the
trunk and pulled out a magazine, handing it to the anxious
youth as he sat across from us. With a mixture of
fascination and amusement, Mark and I fought from laughing
as we watched Paul's eyes open wide and his jaw begin to
slack open.

Whoa.. His voice crackled out.

I told you. Mark stated triumphantly.

Paul had no reply, in fact Im not sure he heard Mark at
all, or anything else for that matter. He had checked out
completely, lost to his own fascination held in his hands.
And after a few minutes, Mark and I both realized it would
be a while before he would be coming up for air.

So, youre leaving tomorrow? Mark asked, as he sat down
beside me, resting his back on the wall and sitting on the
other side of the magazine chest..

Yeah, early tomorrow morning. I replied, my voice revealing
the disappointment of the idea.

How long will you be gone? Mark asked, picking up a
magazine and flipping open the pages.

Two whole weeks. I said, doing the same.

Man... that sucks... Mark said softly, his voice trailing
off as his attention was beginning to turn toward the flesh
colored images of the magazine he held.

And as if drawn into the same spiraling eddy, I softly
replied, Yeah...

Angelina. Long and straight black hair, skinnier that the
usual women in the magazines but equally as exciting; I
felt an unusual attraction to her look. She was standing
next to two men, who leered at her body with hungry eyes. I
suppose my look was the same, and like the two lucky ones in
the pictures, I was starting to feel the familiar tingle of
lust between my legs. Turning the page, my minds eye soaked
in the entanglement of flesh and limbs as the three naked
bodies intertwined on the sheets of what I imagined to be
Angelina's bed. Alternating the projection of myself as,
first one of the men, then the other, each being satisfied
by this vision of smoothness and pleasure... and then I
turned the page. Like a child seeing something for the
first time, I was frozen with both puzzlement and excited
curiosity with what I saw. One of the men was lying on is
back with the beautiful Angelina straddling his hips, his
pecker buried deep inside of her; an envious position. But
my mind struggled in bewilderment at the sight of the other
man, and what he was doing. With his feet planted on the
bed, he was straddling the other man like Angelina was, but
he stood squatting behind her with his hands resting on each
side of her waist. But the object of my fascination was the
fact that he had his dick sticking inside of her as well,
...but not in the same place as the other man. A fraction
of a second? A minute, an hour? How long that moment lasted
I couldn't tell you, as it would be so powerfully
overshadowed by the realization of exactly where the
squatting man's penis was. I gawked in motionless
amazement, but not all of me was still. My own pecker leapt
at the realization, rocketing to blue steel stiffness in
seconds. Whatever inkling of rational or moral hesitation
might have existed in my brain never would have stood a
chance against the pounding of my heart and the deafening
roar of blood rushing in my ears. It was the moment I fully
understood the meaning of the word erotic; the jury was
instantly out and long gone on which magazine I'd be taking
with me to camp.

I sat silently for a while, answering my own questions as
they popped in and out of my head, answering them by
reading the look of pleasure on each of the paper
participants' faces. I only had a little while before I'd
have to head home, but long enough to find some relief to
the ache centered in my crotch. Mark was deep into his own
magazine, his telltale fidgeting tipping off the fact that
he would be thinking the same thing soon, but I hesitated
at the realization that Paul was sitting across the
treehouse. I cautiously looked over at Paul, trying
carefully to gather a sense of what he was thinking: Did he
know about it ? What would he think if he knew about Mark
and I doing it ?...here? ...in front of somebody else? It
had been different with Mark, we'd known each other for so
long, he felt like a brother, I trusted him. Could I trust
Paul?

Mark saw my staring, and gently gave my arm a nudge. I knew
by his look what he was thinking, but was unsure of what to
do. As it turned out, I didn't need to as Mark slowly
unzipped his fly and pulled his pecker out, motioning for
me to do the same with a sly nod. I half smiled at the
daring of his actions, as well as the nervousness of
wondering what his plan was. After just a moment or two,
perhaps catching our movement, Paul looked up from his
magazine to see both Mark and I slowly stroking our little
hardons while half looking at our magazines. Paul's eyes
popped wide open and his jaw dropped in shock, but not a
word came from him.

Mark looked up from his magazine at Paul, and I fought off
a nervous smile at the look on his face. "Well, come on
Paul. You gotta do it too!" He barked out, the sharpness of
his order even suprising me. He looked my way for support,
and I caught the meaning of his glance.

"Yeah, Paul. You gotta do it now, if you want to stay in
the 'club' " I said, using the age old need for adolescent
male conformity.

"Yeah, Paul." Mark continued, "It's all part of being in
the 'secret club'."

Paul sat motionless, his face white as a sheet with fear
and apprehension, and the more I looked at him the more I
began to doubt the boldness of Mark's plan. My dick also
began to display my doubts, growing increasingly soft as
the tension mounted. And just as I was readying myself to
figure a way out of this precariously wrong move, Paul
slowly put down the magazine he'd held and began to unsnap
the top button of his Toughskin Jeans. Mark and I watched
with a mixture of tension and relief as Paul unzipped his
pants, sliding them down a bit and cautiously hooking his
thumbs under the elastic of his briefs. He gave Mark one
more nervous look before pulling them down mid thigh and
quickly covering his genitals.

"It's cool. " Mark said. "Haven't you ever done this
before?"

Paul nervously shook his head no, still looking a bit pale
and nervous.

"That's alright. It doesn't hurt or anything, it's really
cool. Have you ever gotten a boner before?" Mark asked,
gesturing to his own hardon.

"Yeah, um... sorta, I guess..." Paul squeaked out
tentatively, attempting to hide his fear.

"Didn't you notice that it feels pretty cool when you rub
it?" Mark went on, sounding confident once again.

"Kinda..." Paul replied, with a slightly relaxed response
of recognition.

"Well, it's like that but better. A lot better." Mark said
with a smile. There had always been that reassuring charm
of Mark's, the gift of salesmanship that worked on almost
anyone; sometimes too good, and it was about to be thrown
my way. "See, when you get a boner, you just grab a hold of
it like this and start rubbing it. It feels great... go
ahead and show 'em, David."

Shit! I couldn't very well back out now, if this thing
wasn't going to blow up into a huge and embarrassing
disaster, even though at that moment I felt a surge of
anger at Mark for putting me on the spot. He, or admittedly
"we", had started this and it was too late to turn back. So,
gathering my courage in an effort to keep up the affront, I
added, "Yeah, it's really cool."

My hardon had gone completely limp from the tension, and
was going to need some serious distraction to regain it's
happy state, so I picked back up the magazine that had been
sitting at my side and opened it up to where I'd been
fantasizing before; Angelica. My self conscious anxiety
quickly began to give way to the increased beating of my
heart and uncontrollable rush of blood to my head and
penis, arousing both organs as they fell under the
primitive spell of lust. And as my fingers found their
second home, wrapped once again around my hardon, I heard
Mark say to Paul, "See... it's easy." Any apprehension I'd
felt at the idea of having the two of them watch me jerk
off quickly dissolved as I began to feel the heightened
tingling in my balls as I stroked away. I don't know if it
was the highly erotic imagery of the all new Angelica and
her two buried friends or the tension that we'd all been
caught up in, but I began to sense that I was quickly
building to one monster of an orgasm. And just as quickly
as I'd realized it, there it was; my legs stiffened as I
began to feel my balls clench tight and explode. My hand
primed my hardon as it began lob stream after stream of cum
into the air, floating effortlessly at their apex before
splashing against the cover pages of the magazine I held
closely to my face. The feeling was intense, and I was lost
in the moment; pumping from deep inside, feeling the waves
of pleasure from each liquidy release.

"Wow..." I dimly heard Mark utter. "See! I told ya!"

And as the sensation that had gripped my body began to
subside, the flow of sexual adrenaline still pumping
through my veins, I became more and more alert to the sound
of Mark quietly whispering to Paul.

"Go ahead, now you try it." Mark coaxed, already reaching
for his own magazine and pecker simultaneously. I looked
over to see Paul still flustered, but mimicking Mark's
actions; picking up his magazine and uncovering himself for
the first time. It was the first time in my life ever seeing
an uncircumcised penis, and for a moment I was a little
shocked, thinking there was something wrong with him. He
was smaller than both Mark and I, smaller by a bunch, but
as he began to turn his concentration away from Mark and I
and back to the images in the magazine, he began to slowly
but surely get a hardon. And with a hesitant motion, his
hand slowly crept it's way down toward his dick;
tentatively brushing it's delicate fingers around his
stiffening member and gently stroking along it's sensitive
skin.

I hunted around inside of my backpack for towel to clean
myself, pausing occasionally to look at the other two, and
began to wipe off the sticky goo that covered my hand and
waist. Paul seemed to be getting the hang of it, slowly
beginning to stretch the skin of his hardon up and down
with his grip, his legs flinching with pleasure. Mark was
into a rhythm, beginning to breath deeper and deeper and
slowly intensifying the pace of his stroking. That was when
I noticed that Paul seemed not to be looking at his magazine
at all, but was intently watching Mark, almost as if
studying him and his motions. Mark was oblivious Paul's
gaze, and by the muffled moans he began to emit, I knew he
was close to coming. I tried not to stare, but couldn't
help but notice that Paul had begun to slowly lean forward
and was staring intently at Mark as he neared his orgasm.

Mark finally let out a deep grunt as he began to peak, But
unlike I had always done, letting the warm fluid squirt out
onto my belly, Mark slipped his hand over the tip of his
penis, shooting off into the palm of his hand. And in a
quick motion, never seeming to lose the rhythm of his
stroking, slid his slippery palm and fingers back down over
the shaft of his straining cock, and began to slide it up
and down it's glossy skin with abandon. It was the first
time I'd ever seen him do this, and I was fascinated,
wondering to myself why I'd never thought of it before. He
was really into it, his hips raising off the floor in an
effort to meet his thumping hand, when I realized that Paul
was coming too. His hand was nearly a blur as he pounded on
his meat, eyes still fixed intently on Mark's erupting
cock, when he began to come wildly; his jizm shooting out
higher than I thought was humanly possible. His eyes
clamped themselves shut and he practically fell backward to
the wall, his head making an audible thud as it hit the
rough plank boards, but he never stopped pulling on his
dick, continuing to shoot load after load all over himself.

"Whoa... !" I heard myself say, as I watched in amazement;
startled by the near convulsive power of his orgasm and
amazed at the sheer volume of come he continued to squirt
out. I guess Mark heard my voice, and looked to see what I
was staring at. His eyes popped open as mine had, and he
continued to jack on his cock, I think coming for a second
time.

The feeling in the air was electric, and all three of us
sat silently in it's power long after the two of them had
finished.

I eventually found my way home that afternoon, feeling
almost drunk from the sensations I'd felt and seen, and
would sleep soundly that night. And in the morning, I was
off to camp.

Chapter Four:

The truth of it was, I did have a good time. Being a year
older and a bit wiser, I enjoyed myself a little more,
tuning out the fire and brimstone sermons from the camp
director, and feeling a little more self confident. The
days and nights passed quickly, always filled with some
type of activity, and before I knew it , I was headed for
home.


I found sleep difficult my first night home from camp,
exhausted from the long day and the long car ride, but too
excited by the anticipation of heading back to the
treehouse. It was mid-morning, after finishing breakfast
and complying with my mothers demand to unpack my camp
laundry and sort it out in the laundry room, before I got
the okay to head out to play. I jumped on my bicycle with
enthusiasm and pedaled furiously down the street toward the
wooded patch of land behind Mark's house, and our secret
hideaway. Leaping off the bike even before it stopped,
tossing it into the knarled bushes, I headed for the rope
ladder and began to climb. I hadn't seen any other bicycles
and assumed that Mark wasn't at the treehouse yet, but as my
head peaked up into the small room, I saw Paul sitting next
to the trunk of magazines that we'd made. I must have
startled him, as he jumped a bit, suprised to see me.

"Hey!" I said, suprised myself to see him. He closed the
magazine he held quickly and covered his lap conspicuously
with my entrance.

"Oh, it's you..." He squeaked out with a sigh of relief. He
looked at me with nervous eyes and began to speak again, but
didn't finish, "I... um... Mark said it was okay if I..."

I finished climbing up and into the room, tossing my small
backpack down, and took a seat on the floor to catch my
breath. "It's all right." I answered, feeling a little out
of place by my absence. Paul gave a smile of relief, and
let out a deep sigh.

"Where's Mark?" I asked.

"I don't think he can come out today." Paul answered
softly. I returned his odd look with a questioning look of
my own.

"I stopped at his house, but when I rang the doorbell his
mother answered the door looking really mad." He said
quietly.

"Oh." I replied. Mark's mother would sometimes get like
that, screaming at Mark for no reason, but I guess no more
than my own mother did.

The two of us sat in a nervous silence for a few minutes,
unsure of what to say, feeling a little reserved in our
unfamiliarity of each other. But the ice was broken shortly
after Paul asked where I'd been and I preceded to fill him
in on my time at camp. I learned a few things about the him
as we sat and talked for a while; he had moved here from
California, and before that from that Vietnam place that
was always in the news. His father was in the army, and his
mother used to live in Vietnam before she met his father. It
answered a question I'd been wondering, mystified by his
physical looks; it was obvious that he was oriental but yet
he looked so different from anyone else I'd ever met.
Meanwhile, all the time we talked, he was idly glancing
down at the magazine that covered his lap as we spoke, and
I could sense that he was hiding something. It kept drawing
my attention to the fact that I wanted to check out more of
the magazines, until finally I decided just to bring up the
subject.

Unzipping my backpack, I pulled out the magazine I'd
spirited away to camp with me, and scooted over to the
trunk and lifted up the lid. I could tell that Paul was
anxiously watching my every move, and I tried to break the
tension.

"So, I guess you and Mark have seen all of them by now?" I
asked, referring to the stacks of magazines in the trunk.

"Not all of them..." Paul replied.

"Which one is that?" I asked, pointing to the magazine
resting on his lap.

"Oh, I just picked it up..." He began to say, but then
quickly picked it up off his lap and buried it under some
other magazines in the trunk. I then saw what he'd been
trying to hide, his fly was wide open, and I realized that
he had probably started to whack off when I first climbed
up into the treehouse but was too embarrassed to admit it.
I didn't really care, that's exactly what I'd planned on
doing, so I decided to keep on the subject.

"So, do you have a favorite one?" I asked smiling.

"N... no, not really." He replied cautiously, "do you...?"

"Yeah, kinda. Look at this one." I said, opening up the the
magazine I held. Paul scooted over next to me as I turned
the pages, looking for the the pictures I liked. He stared
intently as I turned the pages, waiting for me to slow
down, when I finally found her pictures. I stopped and
moved the magazine so that it sat almost between us,
resting on each of our outstretched legs as we sat side by
side on the cool wooden floor. Paul nestled in a little
closer as we looked at the magazine together, each of us
pointing out the things we liked best, and I began to feel
really turned on. But unlike ever before, there was
something very different this time. It was the first time
that I'd ever really shared the intimacy of talking about
what I found so erotic. Mark and I had exchanged magazines
before, talking about what we'd seen, but it was different
this time; having someone so physically close to me while I
was feeling so horny, feeling the innocent touch of someone
else's flesh next to mine as we leered excitedly at the
pictures, and our talking about them only increased my
excitement.

After a little while, I realized that Paul had his hand
down in his pants, inside of his already opened zipper, and
was slowly massaging himself. I wanted to be doing the same
thing, and decided that if I made it clear that I knew what
he was doing that he wouldn't mind if I did the same thing.
So I gently pulled the magazine over onto his lap, letting
it come to rest on his hand that was half buried in his
pants, and then started to unzip my own. Paul just looked
at me and smiled, knowing that it was okay, and started to
unbutton his own pants, pulling them down to his knees
along with his underwear, so that he was now sitting next
to me completely exposed. I hadn't planned on pulling my
pants down, but I felt suddenly strange about not wanting
to seem out of place, so I pulled mine down all the way to
my knees as well. I must admit, there were other subtle
reasons. I didn't want our exciting discussion to stop,
enjoying the new feelings of closeness, and I also found
myself fascinated at Paul's looking so 'different' than I
did. It was only the second time I'd seen an uncircumcised
penis and I was still curious, observing it's differences
to my own, this time closer than ever before. I made it
obvious to Paul that I was curious, as I was staring as he
slowly pulled on his semi hard penis, and he watched just
as fascinated as I did the same.

We sat silently, both of us slowly and gently masturbating
ourselves, watching each other, Paul's excitement becoming
apparent as his cock continued to stiffen. I watched
closely at his every move, how he pulled the skin of his
now fully erect penis gently up and down, giving it a
gentle twist as the skin gathered at the base of it's head,
before pulling it up to completely cover his swollen glans.
The room seemed filled with sexual tension, the two of us
captivated by our own pleasure, along with the unspoken
knowledge of the taboo we were engaged in, when I felt
Paul's free hand gently brush along the skin of my thigh
between us. It sent a tingling shock through me, but not of
one of fear or disgust as I'd imagined, but more of
excitement at having my first sensation of the touch of
another so close to my 'private area'. But more to my
amazement, Paul didn't pull his hand away from my leg.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Paul asked, almost in a whisper.

It caught me a little off guard, and took me a moment to
answer.

"No." I said, with an almost embarrassed tone.

"Me neither." He whispered. The tension between us grew as
we sat silently for a moment, before I admitted, " ... but
there is a girl in my class I really like."

"Yeah... " He replied softly, acknowledging the feelings of
desire and frustration most boys our age felt.

"Her name's Suzanne." I admitted, sharing for the first
time with anyone my secret crush for the little blond
haired girl I'd watched all year long in school. It was
almost a relief to admit it and also felt a strong bond
growing with Paul as I exposed to him my inner most
thoughts.

"Do you ever think about her like... this?" Paul asked
softly after another long pause, and I immediately
understood what he meant. After discovering the magic of
masturbating, I had often thought of her as I closed my
eyes and pleased myself at night, free to play out my
secret desires and imagine myself in the most intimate
moments with her.

"Yeah... " I whispered back, my mind filled with images of
Suzanne, her soft beautiful skin next to mine, and desire
in her eyes. "Do you...?" I asked in kind.

"Yeah... me too." He replied.

We looked at each other, suddenly feeling the seriousness
of admitting our secret desires to someone else, coupled
with the closeness and eroticism of our touching. And
without really knowing why, I asked him, "What do you think
about?"

There was a long moment of silence between us, as I felt
the tension of our unspoken excitement, and my mind filled
with my own thoughts of what it would be like to be naked
with a girl.

Paul turned slightly to me, his body nearly pressing
against mine, and I felt his hand on my thigh once again.
It was electric, the sensation of his fingers as they
slowly brushed against the soft skin of my hip, and then I
felt his other hand as it reached across his body an
touched my belly. He was so very close to me, staring into
my eyes just inches away as he nestled in closer, but all I
could feel was his hand on my waist, as it slowly snaked
under my shirt and gently slid up my chest.

"First she would rub my chest with her hand..." He
whispered, never taking his eyes off mine. My hand stopped
it's motion on myself, my mind to distracted by the new
sensation of Paul's fingers as the slowly crept up under my
shirt and gently brushed across my nipple, causing it to
stiffen with excitement and send a jolt of excitement
directly down to my now throbbing cock, a new sensation for
me.

"... and then she would slowly start to move her hand
down..." He continued, still gazing deeply at me with eyes
that seemed to sparkle as he whispered. I began to feel
lightheaded, almost intoxicated, as I stared back at him
but it was not his face I saw. I was so horny, so
distracted by our innocent talk of girls, of Suzanne, and
filled with emotions of longing longing for her, that it
seemed as though I didn't see Paul at all, only Suzanne.
His hand began to slowly slide back down my chest, swirling
gently as it made its way over my stomach and down to the
soft tuft of pubic hair of my crotch. I was terrified, and
yet I didn't want him to stop, his touch sending shivers
thorough me as if it were hers. My hands fell unconsciously
to my sides, and I felt one come to rest on the soft skin of
Paul's thigh. My senses were overcome by the touch of Paul's
hand as it caressed my skin, and I felt almost powerless to
stop what I secretly wanted to happen. I felt his leg
gently rub against mine, his skin feeling so soft and warm,
and a wave of panic ran through me at it's touch. It was
only the movement of his hand that kept me from ending the
whole terrifying but exciting adventure, as it slowly slid
through my pubic hair and I felt his fingers touch the base
of my harder than steel erection.

"... and then she would touch me here..." He whispered in a
breathy voice. I was almost hypnotized as I sat motionless
listening to his words, and closed my eyes as I felt his
fingers gently wrap themselves around my penis. I would
have done anything for him to stop and end the terror that
swelled inside me, and yet all I could think of was the
desire for him to continue, for my fantasy to continue,
consumed by the delightful pleasure of having someone,
anyone, holding my penis. So with my eyes held shut, my
mind filling with thoughts of Suzanne, and the sensations
of Paul's hand as it began to slowly glide up and down on
my aching cock, I moaned softly. Paul strengthened his grip
on my cock, pulling it's soft skin gently up and down along
it's steely shaft underneath, and I could feel his breath
on my face as he pumped his hand in a mesmerizing rhythm. I
was breathing hard, my excitement building as it replaced my
fear, and it was then that I lost all thoughts of wishing
him to stop, wanting only for him to keep stroking my cock
with his hand.

I moaned again as I felt his fingers collect the drops of
pre cum that had gathered at the tip of my penis and swirl
it around along it's swollen head, and I felt an
overpowering desire to thrust my hips forward. Paul
continued to slide his hand up and down my cock, gaining
speed as he smeared the lubrication down along my shaft.
But as it began do dry from the friction, exposed to the
open air, his fingers began to stick to the tacky skin of
my shaft, almost painfully. And as the discomfort
increased, wanting him to stop but not wanting him to end
his pleasuring of my penis, I shifted my hips down in an
effort to stretch out further. And then, to my total shock
and suprise, Paul stopped his motions and shifted down with
me until we were both laying flat against the wooden floor.
But as I lay my head down, feeling the relaxation of my
body as it came to rest, I could feel Paul still moving,
downward along my body, his cheek coming to rest on my
exposed belly. I felt his breath on my skin, warming my
stomach with his labored breathing as he began to pump my
cock once again. I was again filled with both terror and
desire, his face so tantalizingly close to my crotch, when
I lifted my hand and gently touched the softness of the
hair on the back of his head.

He must have recognized my discomfort, as I felt him stop
his hand, but then suddenly felt a warm and moist sensation
on the tip of my penis. I moaned at the sensation as it
grew, slowly consuming the entire head of my cock, and then
I felt the warm strength of his tongue as it slowly began to
probe the contours of it's head. My fingers began to slide
through his hair as I felt an overwhelming desire to
penetrate deeper into his mouth. He moaned at my touch,
sending a deep vibration through his lips as they wrapped
gently around the base of my cock head, and a shock wave of
pleasure rolling down the length of my shaft and into my
balls.

His fingers tightened their grip at the base of my cock and
he began to resume pumping the skin up towards his mouth.
With his tongue still swirling around the head of my cock,
exploring every inch as it stirred in the warm moist
confines of his mouth, his lips gingerly bobbing just at
the ridge of the head, and his hand slowly priming the skin
up and down against the core of my shaft, my balls began to
swell in anticipation of release. And at that moment, I
began to feel very afraid of what was going to happen; if
he didn't stop soon, I was going to come right in his
mouth. The thought of it was so terrifying, and yet so
incredibly erotic that my orgasm began to build with
alarming intensity. And as I sensed that it was reaching
the point where I wouldn't be able to stop it, I began to
panic.

"Wait...!" I yelled out, frightening myself with the
loudness of my own voice.

Paul's mouth popped off the end of my cock, and I felt his
labored breath on it's tip as he panted. My legs began to
instinctively struggle underneath the weight of his arm and
chest, and his hand ceased it's pumping but retained it's
grip on my hard on. It was enough to forestall my orgasm,
if only for a moment, as my cock hovered right on the brink
of exploding, still poised precariously just inches from his
lips.

But it was too late.

The muscles in my legs began to clench tightly in a vain
attempt to stem the sensation of my balls as they began to
reluctantly release their load, slowly seeming to fill and
then gently send their efforts rising up the length of my
penis like a warming thermometer. My lungs held tightly my
breath , leaving me unable to say a word as I realized I
was now unable to stop the inevitable. My entire body
joined in the effort, becoming motionless and rigid as I
felt the warm liquid reach the tip of my cock, and slowly
begin to ooze out against my efforts to stop it.

My thoughts became a storm of embarrassment, excitement and
humiliation all at the same time; embarrassed by my
inability to control my own body, excited by the incredible
sexual tension I was adrift in, and humiliated by the sudden
realization of the precarious and unspoken taboo I was
involved in and the terror of what it meant, or at least
what I thought it meant. It all seemed so wrong, although I
didn't know why. Guys weren't supposed to do this kind of
thing together, and yet at the same time it felt so
incredibly good. How could that be?

But as my mind raced out of control with all of these
confusing thoughts, I was suddenly snapped back to reality
at the sensation of warmth and softness, as Paul's tongue
gently slid along the head of my penis, slowly cleansing it
of the pearly trickle of cum that had begun to slowly but
steadily leak out it's tip and drip down on my belly. It
was too much for me to hold back any longer and I felt all
sense of control slip away as a wave of orgasm rocked my
genitals, sending a steam of cum gushing out onto Paul's
outstretched tongue. But no sooner than I felt the
exhausted strain of my cock begin to release in preparation
of for another load to expunge, I was shocked again by the
sensations of warmth and wetness, but this time it was as
Paul engulfed the head of my cock into his mouth, sucking
on it as another torrent of cum erupted from my tightening
balls.

My body began to blindly follow it's instinct's, straining
to penetrate further as my hips thrust upward, pushing my
cock deeper into Paul's mouth. His jaw seemed to open
effortlessly, inviting me to penetrate deeper as another
blast of cum poured forth, followed by another and yet
another as I strained to relieve the primeval need to fuck
the warm and moist orifice I found myself in. And as my
cock continued to pump, long after it had exhausted it's
supply of fluids, I felt Paul's hand slide down over my
balls, gently cupping them and squeezing softly as if to
express their last ounce of my orgasm out.

I laid my head back down onto the hard wooden floor of the
treehouse, my body finally beginning to unclench and
release my tension as my mind swam in post orgasmic bliss.
Paul never made any attempt to remove my cock from his
mouth, continuing to suck gently and stroke my balls softly
until eventually my hardon began to slowly fade, shrinking
to it's limp but still very sensitive flacid size. His
tongue continued to roll along it's length as he continued
to play with my soft and spent member in his mouth, almost
as if to will it to hardness again.

But as I lay there, coming down from the most intense
orgasm I'd ever experienced, the thoughts of tension and
anxiety began to slowly creep into my mind again, wiping
away the pleasure that Paul continued to perform on me. And
as I lifted my head back up, moving my legs in an effort to
sit up, Paul quickly stopped and nervously scooted himself
away from me and sat up. I didn't know what to do, but
found myself nervously fishing down to my ankles for my
underwear and shorts, desperately trying not to look toward
Paul. And although I attempted to avert my eyes from his, I
could see that he was just as nervously getting himself
dressed, fumbling as he tried to pull up his shorts and zip
up his fly.

It all seemed to happen so fast... too fast. And yet, it
had seemed to last a lifetime.

"...How long had it been? How long did I let him do that to
me? What time was it? God, I've gotta get outta here! Don't
look at him. Or should I? What will I say? What will HE
say? Oh God, I've gotta go..." My head spun from the sheer
speed the thoughts and questions seemed to come, one after
another.

"I... um... I... uh... think I have to... um... go home..."
I mumbled and stammered quietly while retrieving my backpack
from the floor, still unsure if I was doing the right thing.

Paul never spoke, standing silently looking at the floor,
as I headed for the exit. As I stepped down the wobbly rope
ladder, my head just about ready to disappear under the
floor of the small treehouse, I glanced up nervously at
Paul for just an instant. He was looking down at me, his
eyes meeting mine, and both of us exchanged a look of
stunned bewilderment. I thought for a moment that he was
trying to say something to me, but I never gave him the
chance as I quickly broke off our silent exchange and raced
down the ladder.

The world could have been burning around me and I would
have never noticed as I pedaled my bicycle furiously home,
my feelings still a jumbled mess of conflicting thoughts
and pictures. Finally reaching the comforting security of
home and my room, I lay in my bed behind a locked door and
remained there the rest of the night, faining an upset
stomach when my mother called me down for dinner. The night
would be long and restless, as I struggled with my thoughts
and feelings, uncertain of what was to come.