Cosmo

The Porn Boys

Chapters 17-20

I eventually unpicked the knot and retied his long lace into a new double bow.

"All done," I said, brightly.

I released his little foot back onto the floor and he fell backwards onto the bed, using his legs to roll forward and flip himself up into a standing position with one quick somersault.

"Thanks," he said, with a grateful nod.

"Now go and help Anton," I said, "Our guests will be arriving soon."

I gave him a friendly pat on his rump as he walked past me, and he flinched playfully with a knowing but adorable smile.

I stayed behind to tidy up and set about smoothing out the bedclothes, realizing that I had a hard-on. I wasn't sure what had triggered it, whether it was the subliminal looks that Vladik was transmitting, or the fact that I knew he had a little boner in his pants, or whether it was simply Vladik's little sneaker-clad foot. Somehow his little foot pressed into my crotch like that was strangely erotic. I wanted Vladik so badly that his very proximity gave me a hard-on. Perhaps my frustration had intensified because he had initially made himself unavailable to me for so long. I didn't really know. But one thing I did know was that I had never lusted after a little boy quite so much as I lusted after Vladik. I craved his intimacy. I had an overwhelming urge to hug him, to squeeze him, to roughly strip that pretty body of his completely bare and smother it with kisses. My cock needed to be engulfed in his little body, and the anticipation was becoming almost too much to bear.

I didn't have time to develop those horny thoughts any further because the doorbell chimed. We had spent all day preparing for Yura's birthday, and now our guests had started to arrive. I went down to the lobby to let them in. It was Nikolayev, standing behind the diminutive little figure of Misha who was holding a rather large, brightly colored and elaborately wrapped box – obviously a gift for Yura.

"Hi Mark!" said Misha, beating his father in greeting me.

I was actually taken aback that he even remembered my name, and I was delighted to hear that sweet little high-pitched voice of his. It was so squeaky and cartoon-like that you couldn't help but melt when you heard it. Misha was such a cute little thing.

I welcomed Nikolayev and Misha and showed them into the drawing room. The French windows were open and the boys were outside playing on the lawn. Misha ran across to the other side of the pool where Yura and Vladik were amusing themselves throwing a Frisbee around. Yura greeted Misha by bumping fists with him. Misha had never met Vladik of course, and it was heartening to see that they too bumped fists by way of introduction. They all started yammering away in Russian and Misha joined in their game. They fell in together, happily playing without any formalities whatsoever. Little boy etiquette was always so uncomplicated.

I escorted Nikolayev down into the basement where Anton had set up the little cocktail bar and was busily preparing drinks like a genuine bartender. He appeared so at ease in that role, a role which I had assumed on many occasions in the past. When I was with John, it would have been me mixing the cocktails and entertaining John's friends at his parties. Anton reminded me so much of myself when I was his age.

As soon as Nikolayev stepped into the room and sat at the bar on one of the high stools, Anton thrust a beer into his hand, having already levered off the cap. He obviously knew what Nikolayev liked to drink. They had already met at HQ of course, so immediately struck up conversation. As they talked, Anton was busy mixing brightly colored non-alcoholic cocktails for the boys. From what I could tell they comprised mostly of sweet sodas. I steeled myself for an evening which would no doubt be characterized by a roomful of hyperactive, sugar-crazed little boys.

I sat down on the high stool next to Nikolayev at the bar and listened to him chatting with Anton.

"Mark tells me you're studying criminology."

"Yes," said Anton, as he was lining up the boys' drinks on the bar.

"What are you hoping to do long term?"

"Hopefully something to do with criminal justice," said Anton, "I could work in probation, the courts or the prison service, maybe even become a police officer."

Nikolayev smiled at that.

"I think you would make an excellent police officer," he said, "How would you like a job at the Police Department?"

Anton gave him an incredulous, disbelieving look.

"Doing what?"

"Digital forensics," said Nikolayev, "Would you be interested in that?"

Anton did a double take, blinking in disbelief.

"Would I?" he said, enthusiastically, "Of course I would!"

Analyzing and recovering data on computers was precisely what had made my unit famous. It was only through our expertise that Operation Ganymede had succeeded, and it was our technology that prompted the Moscow Police to seek our assistance. For Anton, given his resourcefulness and ingenuity, it was right up his alley.

"Good, that's settled then," Nikolayev affirmed, "It'll only be a few hours a week while you're studying, but I'm sure they could use a guy like you."

Anton grinned, unable to believe his luck. Then he saw how I had sat quietly at the bar, having overheard the entire conversation, and observed the smug look on my face. He detected that I had something to do with it.

"Thanks Mark," he said quietly.

I smiled and leaned over confidentially.

"Now you don't have to sell your ass at the park anymore," I whispered.

He smiled back.

"I might just have to get my kicks elsewhere," he whispered back playfully.

Anton was a bright, resourceful young man and this opportunity would be useful for his future career. I was thankful to Nikolayev. It was good to know that Anton wasn't going to have to put himself at risk anymore by hustling at the park every night.

The next time the doorbell chimed it was Elena, and she had brought along her fifteen year old daughter Oksana. She looked very much the typical teenage girl. Her pretty oval face reflected her mother's good looks. She was immaculate, with minimal makeup that made her look quite natural with great artistry in the way she had accentuated her eyes. She knew how to emphasize her best feature. She had a healthy, radiant complexion, with very clear skin. She was heavily perfumed and very well-dressed in expensive designer casuals. Her long fingernails were elegantly manicured and her shoulder-length blond hair expertly coiffed. She was a girl of exceptional quality, and would no doubt be very popular with boys.

Elena and Oksana came into the bar area and joined in on the conversation with Nikolayev. Oksana's eyes seemed to widen when she saw Anton busily gliding around behind the bar. She took one of the high stools at the corner of the bar, next to her mother. They exchanged greetings and no more than a few polite pleasantries, but the conversation didn't seem to go any further. Anton mixed her what looked like a frozen margarita, though of course without the tequila, and she sat there absently stirring the thick, velvety mixture in her glass with the bendy straw that Anton had stuck into it. As she took the occasional sip of her drink, her eyes were following Anton's slim, long-haired figure as he maneuvered around so expertly behind the bar.

The doorbell chimed one more time. I wasn't expecting anybody else. Curiously, I went to the front door and opened it. It was Zhukov! He was standing there in his suit and tie, and even had a gift tucked under his arm.

"Surprise!" he announced.

It was indeed a surprise.

I was delighted to invite him in, flattered that he had made the effort to come to Yura's birthday. I knew Yura would appreciate the gesture.

I escorted Zhukov down to the bar where he and Nikolayev greeted each other in a very buddy-buddy kind of way. Their friendship went way back of course, to the time when Nikolayev was just a fresh-faced and idealistic cadet. Anton poured him some wine, which Zhukov took the time to savor, holding the stem of the glass between his fingers and swirling it around like a true connoisseur.

I decided to go back upstairs to see how the boys were doing in the garden and took the tray with the drinks Anton had prepared for them. When I stepped out of the French windows, the boys had already changed into their swimming togs. I could see their discarded clothes and sneakers strewn absent-mindedly all over the lawn, and Yura and Vladik in their Speedos. Misha was lying on the grass giggling uncontrollably with Yura and Vladik on their knees laughing, pitching into him and trying to pull his Speedos off him. Misha was apparently finding the whole game great fun, writhing with laughter, his little hands were grasping the waist of his little lemon-yellow Speedos, trying to keep them on. Yura and Vladik had already pulled the back of the skimpy little garment down far enough to expose Misha's tanned little butt. As Misha giggled and struggled, wriggling around on the ground in a fit of hilarity, the perfectly rounded buns of his sweet little ass were tantalizingly exposed, looking smooth and brown and ripe for fucking. But Misha was no fuckboy. He was innocent. Uncorrupted. No stiff cock had ever pierced his little sphincter. He knew nothing of man-boy sex. Or of any kind of sex, for that matter. Doubtful he had yet discovered what his little pecker was really for. Not for him the oppressive acts of cock and ass play, and the spunk and piss games that Yura and Vladik had been indoctrinated into from such a young age.

As soon as I saw what was happening I shouted out 'No!"

Yura and Vladik stopped and looked up guiltily. They let Misha go immediately. He got up, scrambling to his feet, still laughing manically. He pulled his Speedos back up, apparently amused by the whole thing, and ran off.

"Come here!" I called out to them.

Yura and Vladik looked at each other, then fell in together and walked around the pool towards me. They were clutching at the front of their thin Speedos as they approached. I knew it. They both had little boners. They came and stood before me looking sheepish, their hands still fiddling with their crotches. I put the tray of drinks down on the metal table by the wooden bench.

"You can't do that to Misha," I explained, "He's not a little fuckboy like you. He doesn't know about things like that."

"We were just messing," said Vladik, playing it down.

"You don't mess with him like that," I said.

Yura bit his lip.

"Sorry," he said.

"That's okay," I said, "No harm done. But please remember, his father is also my boss. So let's treat him with a bit more respect."

Inwardly, I was relieved that the adults, and Nikolayev in particular, were still downstairs and hadn't witnessed that.

Eventually, everyone came upstairs and joined us outside by the pool, and we started our little party properly. They brought their drinks and Anton switched from bartender to chef by firing up the gas barbecue. He started grilling hot dogs and burgers. Zhukov pulled out a couple of slim, cellophane-wrapped cigars from his inside pocket and offered one to Nikolayev. He and Nikolayev stood by the edge of the pool savoring the expensive cigars as they talked about Operation Ganymede. Elena stretched out on one of the sun loungers, cradling her drink, and strategically lowered the wraparound sunglasses that she had perched habitually on top of her head.

As Anton was tending the barbecue, Oksana saw an opportunity to strike up conversation with him. She was standing quite close to him, smiling and fawning and giggling, trying to impress him with her repartee as he was cooking. She was quite obviously flirting with him. Anton was not particularly attentive, however. He paid polite lip-service, from what I could see, but he was distinctly cool and aloof throughout their exchange. That didn't seem to dissuade her. I couldn't blame her. Anton was extremely handsome.

In no time at all, Anton had served up food for everyone, and we were all standing around by the poolside chatting amiably. I watched Anton and saw how much he relished his role in looking after everyone, ensuring that all had enough food and fetching drinks and getting them whatever they wanted. Anton was one of those people that always had to be doing something. He always had to feel as though he was being useful, sacrificing his own enjoyment in the interests of looking after everybody else. But I wondered to myself, whilst Anton was busy looking after everybody else, who was looking after Anton?

I turned my attention to the boys who had sat down in a little circle on the lawn on the far side of the pool to finish their burgers and hot dogs. They crammed their mouths full and eagerly gulped down their drinks. They left the paper plates on the lawn and hurriedly jumped back into the pool, impatient to resume their fun and games. Yura and Vladik seemed to have bonded well with Misha. Despite their ill-conceived assault on him earlier, they were getting along fine. In the pool they were lifting Misha up so that he could sit on their shoulders, and he was finding it quite exhilarating to be so high up out of the water. They splashed around quite happily, playing with the Frisbee and goofing around with some inflatable pool toys.

As they played, I noticed how Elena and Nikolayev and Zhukov were casting curious looks at the boys. I detected that they were looking mostly at Vladik. Then I realized just what it was they were looking at. The marks were still visible on Vladik's neck. The redness of those rope marks had faded into a dull brown, but they were still very prominent against his slightly tanned skin tone. As the boys were swimming I knew that Vladik was very conscious of those marks. But he made no effort to cover them up and was not ashamed of them. He displayed those marks like they were battle scars, a trophy of the adversity he had overcome, the unmistakable testimony of his ordeal.

It was perhaps appropriate therefore, that Misha wasn't afraid to ask questions. He sidled up to me purposefully as I was sitting there alone, just watching the boys splashing about in the pool. I noticed how his dainty little feet left tiny wet footprints on the tiles as he approached. He perched himself quite deliberately on the wooden bench next to me, still dripping wet, tucking his little hands neatly into his lap. I gave him a reassuring smile as he did so. He looked so cute in his new Speedos. The lemon-yellow color contrasted nicely with his tanned little body. His thick, honey-colored hair was usually spiked with gel, but was now smooth and flat, slicked back with wetness. His skin was always a delicious shade of light brown, like caramel. I admired his wet little body as he was perched next to me on the bench, those tiny boyfeet, perfect knees, slender thighs and taut little torso with that pretty little innie belly-button. He looked up, apparently oblivious to my gawping, and I knew there was something he wanted to say.

"Mark, what happened to Alex?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning to him.

He shuffled his little feet, then sat back so that his feet were off the ground, and he swung his bare legs back and forth under the bench nervously.

"Something happened to him didn't it?" he said, looking up at me with a serious stare.

I looked straight back at him, and I could see there was real concern in his expression. He seemed to have an innate understanding, despite his tender age, that Vladik had indeed suffered in some way. Even in his slightly immature, underdeveloped little mind, his instincts told him that Vladik had been through something extreme and traumatic.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"He's got something around his neck," Misha replied, "What was it Mark? What happened to him?"

"Some bad men took him away," I explained, "That's from where they tied him up."

"Why did they do that?"

"Because they wanted to do bad things to him."

He stared at me quite intensely for a long time, perhaps weighing up the wisdom of seeking further details.

"Did they do bad things to him… y" know, down there?" and he gestured, pointing a little finger towards my crotch.

He seemed to detect that Vladik's ordeal was in some way sexual, even though he probably didn't fully understand what sex was all about. He was only seven, and still very innocent and naïve.

"Yes," I said openly, "They hurt him a lot."

"And Ivan?"

"Yes. Ivan too."

"And the other boys my dad told me about? The ones that died?"

"Yes, them too," I said, "They were Alex's friends."

"Is my dad going to put those bad men in jail?"

"Yes," I said, "Your dad is going to make sure they will go to jail for a very long time."

I could see him processing this information in his mind. He looked like there was more he wanted to ask, but apparently thought the better of it. His pretty little eyes shone out like two dark gems of lignite, sparkling with warmth and vitality, lighting up his little waiflike face. There was genuine empathy in those eyes. He furrowed his sparse little eyebrows momentarily and frowned.

"Poor Alex."

"It's all over now," I said, reassuring him, "He's with people that love him now. Let's make sure we look after him, okay?"

"K," he said, nodding affirmatively, looking reassured.

He stuck up both his little thumbs enthusiastically, his expression brightening.

"I'll look after him," he said, then he jumped up off the bench and skipped away.

As I watched him go, his pert little butt so alluring in those tight, wet little Speedos, I was left breathless. Even a relatively unworldly kid like Misha seemed to have an almost supernatural grasp of things. Sometimes I felt that adults seriously underestimated kids" understanding of the world around them. That was the wonder of little boys. They knew a lot more than we realized and were sometimes much more astute than we gave them credit for.

It was Anton that disappeared into the depths of the kitchen and remembered to bring out the cake. He had stuck candles in the top and brought it out already aflame and everybody closed in and sang 'Happy Birthday" to Yura. He looked at the elaborately decorated cake as Anton set it down on the little metal table and he glanced up and caught my eye. 'Is that for me?" he seemed to be saying. He was obviously overwhelmed, and more than a little humbled by the gesture. But of course, it wouldn't have been a birthday without a cake. He stood by the table with Vladik and Misha either side of him.

"Make a wish, make a wish!" they were clamoring.

Everybody gathered around and there was a brief pause. Yura looked at me, and for the first time in my life I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I honestly could not perceive what he might wish for. He closed his eyes tightly. Then, he opened them again, puffed his cheeks with a big mouthful of breath, and blew the candles out with one big puff. We all cheered and applauded.

After the cake had been thoroughly demolished, it was time for the presents. Yura was showered with gifts by everybody. He sat on the lawn in his Speedos and worked his way through the little mound of gifts that we had all amassed, roughly ripping the paper off, in that impetuous, almost reckless way that all children have with gifts. It didn't take him long to tear excitedly through them all, unboxing and unwrapping one gift after another. I myself had bought him an iPod Touch, plus various video games, an expensive pair of limited edition sneakers and some novelty t-shirts. I still had one gift I had kept back to give him later, when we were alone. In the meantime, he opened the presents everyone else had brought. Anton gave him a real magician's set, so he could teach him how to perform sleight-of-hand conjuring tricks, of the type Anton had so ably demonstrated at Crystal Lake. There was a set of Nerf guns from Nikolayev, and Zhukov had given him a rather sophisticated digital camera. Elena gave him a skateboard with all the protective gear. What impressed me was that everyone was unusually generous in the quality and expense of their gifts, and to me that demonstrated how much genuine affection there was for this little boy.

As Yura opened his presents, and the overwhelming wonder of the day continued, the look on his face was priceless. I had never seen him so happy. He was the center of attention, and evidently relishing it. I looked around the pool and saw everyone assembled there together. Nikolayev was sitting on the wooden bench, at that moment with Misha on his lap, like an adorable little boy doll, looking cute and alert, his eyes bright and glinting with enthusiasm, watching the proceedings with his little mouth gaping open in wonder. He had donned a tight little t-shirt but was still in his Speedos, his tanned, slender little legs still bare, his tiny butt nestled incestuously in his father's crotch. Elena was still on the sun lounger, now sitting up, looking pleased for Yura, smiling and passing the odd quiet remark to Oksana who was standing next to her. Even Zhukov, who had met Yura only once before, had acknowledged the importance of the occasion by flying in all the way from Moscow just to be here, and was standing there chewing on the end of his now dormant cigar. Over by the barbecue, Anton was standing just behind Vladik, with his arms around Vladik's shoulders. Vladik had reached up and was leaning well back against Anton's chest, hanging onto Anton's arms as though welcoming the way he was hugging him. Their budding little liaison was a pleasing sight. All the people who were of any significance in Yura's life were here. It was a heartwarming scene.

When all his presents had been opened, Yura sat there amongst the pile of torn giftwrap, empty boxes and discarded packaging looking rather overwhelmed and humbled by everyone's generosity. Then Anton said he had one more thing for Yura. He said he had written a song for him, and offered to perform it for everybody. There was a little smattering of applause to indicate everyone's approval and Anton went to get his guitar. He brought out one of the high stools from the kitchen and set it down on the lawn. Everyone else gathered around and the boys settled down expectantly on the grass by his feet, still in their Speedos and t-shirts. What followed was an award-worthy performance.

Anton rested the guitar on his thigh and struck up a really evocative little tune, slowly at first, plucking the strings of his guitar with nimble precision. After a brief, sweet, haunting little intro, he opened his mouth and launched into the most beautiful ballad, crooning to his own lyrics in a voice that was rich and vibrant and reflected the deep emotion of his song. I watched the way his fingers moved so ably across the frets of his guitar, the way his wrist curled as his hand maneuvered up and down the shaft. As he played, I noticed how beautiful his hands were, and I wondered whether the way he clutched the shaft of the instrument was how he clutched the shafts of his endless clients when he jacked them off at the park every night. I could almost imagine those beautiful hands with those long, dexterous fingers, expertly manipulating their turgid organs, elevating them to that elusive place in their heads, that fleeting boysex paradise that was only attainable with a handsome, virile teen boy like Anton.

The melody was soulful, with some rather nifty little riffs. There was a very catchy chorus and a clever middle-eight where he temporarily changed key and finished up with a rambunctious reprise of the chorus. It was not only music of exceptional quality, but it was also intelligently arranged and flawlessly performed. Anton was damn good. Even as he was singing, I could see Oksana looking on sycophantically from the sidelines, open-mouthed and misty-eyed, dreamily captivated by the beautiful music that was emanating from this young man. It looked rather like Anton had acquired his first groupie.

When he had finished, the notes petered out and with one last strum of the guitar, Anton hung his head as if to denote the end of the song. We all broke out in enthusiastic applause, genuinely enthralled by his performance. I could see Nikolayev and Zhukov exchange glances, nodding approvingly, looking impressed and somewhat disbelieving at how good this boy was. They had definitely enjoyed it. What I liked most was that Yura jumped up and flew into Anton's arms, thanking him for the song, clearly moved by Anton's very unique and personal gesture. They hugged for a good few minutes, nuzzling closely and having an impromptu little boymoment of their own.

In the aftermath of Anton's performance, the gathering dissolved and everyone gradually descended into their own conversations. As everyone else was talking, I took Yura aside and beckoned him back into the drawing room. He came over curiously, still in his bright red Speedos. He had put on a long t-shirt that came down well past his hips, below which only his bare legs were visible.

"Come here little buddy, I've got something else for you," I said.

I took the opportunity to lead Yura to the little study upstairs and closed the door on the noise and commotion filtering up from the hallway. Bringing Yura into the study, finally it was just me and him. I wanted to have these few special moments alone with him.

He sat down obediently on the swivel chair, half excited, half bemused by why I had invited him up here. He tucked his hands dutifully into his lap, between his naked thighs.

I leaned over and opened the desk drawer beside him. There was the little box I had stored away for him. It was not much bigger than a cigarette packet, but was elaborately decorated with pretty ribbons and a little bow. I took it out and presented it to him.

"This is for you," I said, "A very special gift for a very special boy."

Yura looked at it, then looked up at me with a slight smile of uncertainty.

"Take it," I said, "open it."

With an expression of gratitude and wonder, he slipped off the pretty ribbons to reveal a rather expensive looking presentation box. He held it up in his palm and lifted off the lid. The inside was padded with cotton fiber. He dug his fingers in and lifted out the precious item that was nestling there. It was a little silver pocket-watch, complete with a hinged cover and a matching chain.

Yura's eyes widened in wonder at the shiny object. He felt the weight of the timepiece in his hand, curling his little fingers around the flat silver case.

"Oh Mark, it's beautiful!"

He depressed the little clip on the side. The hinged cover flipped open to reveal the ornate watch face. Yura smiled with delight. I pointed to the inside of the hinged cover.

"Look," I said, "I've inscribed it for you."

It was inscribed in Russian, the Cyrillic characters engraved into the silver in a flowing archaic font. He read it.

"To Yura. Love always. Mark."

He looked up, genuinely touched. And with that, he got up out of the chair and stood up on tiptoes. He reached up and kissed me lightly on the lips, then threw his arms around my neck, hopping up at the same time. I caught him in a tight embrace, lifting him off his feet, and he buried his face into the side of my neck. I could feel his warmth through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He stayed like that for a few moments, his slight, bare-legged frame suspended against me, hanging from my neck.

"Thank you Mark!" he said.

Some boys might have considered that an odd gift. Not Yura. But then, as I had already conclusively established, Yura was quite unlike any other boy.

I released him back onto his feet.

"Thank you Mark," he said again, "I love it."

"Come with me," I said, beckoning him out of the door.

We left the pocket-watch in its box sitting on the desk by the computer and I took Yura along the hallway and into my bedroom. I sat him down on the bed and closed the door.

"Look," I said, "I want to show you something.'

Gently sitting down on the bed next to him, I opened the little drawer on the nightstand and pulled out a slightly older looking little pocket-watch. It too was silver, but was slightly more shopworn, not as shiny, with a duller patina that showed its age. Holding it gingerly in my palm, I showed it to Yura. He took it, appreciating the feel of it between his little fingers.

"I've had this for over twenty years," I explained, "John gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday."

Yura looked at it with a studious fascination, holding it with all the care and respect of an object that was valuable in financial as well as sentimental terms. He pressed the catch on the side and, sure enough, just as on the one I had given him, the hinged cover flipped up and inside was the inscription, this time in English. I read it to him.

"To Mark. Love always. John."

Yura smiled.

"He really loved you didn't he?"

I nodded affirmatively. Then I gently closed the cover on the pocket-watch and placed it back into the drawer of the nightstand.

"It isn't much is it?" I said, "All I have to remember John is a single photo and that watch."

"But you have your memories," said Yura.

What a profound and intelligent remark.

"Oh sure," I said, "John is always in my heart. I'll never forget him."

Then Yura looked at me quite intensely for a moment, with a little twinge of sadness in his expression.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you do something for me?"

"Sure little buddy," I said, looking up, "Anything."

"One day, will you tell people about me?"

"Tell people? What do you mean?"

"Tell them what happened to me and to Vladik and the other boys?"

"People already know what happened to you," I said, "It was all in the papers and on TV."

"But they don't really know what it was like do they?" said Yura, with a serious, very mature expression, "All they see is our faces on the news. They don't know what we really went through."

"Then you will have to tell them," I said, "just like you told me."

"You could do it better than me," he said.

I thought carefully, realizing the full magnitude of what he was suggesting.

"I'm not sure," I said, shaking my head, "I'm not the best person to do that."

"You are," said Yura, quite emphatically, "No one else can do it. No one else knows me like you do."

Once again Yura stunned me by the sheer candor of his remark. He was quite right of course. No one knew him like I did.

"Okay," I said, shrugging resignedly.

"So you will?"

"If you really want me to."

"No. You have to promise me," Yura demanded.

I looked at him, wondering why it had suddenly become so important.

"Okay, I promise."

He smiled and leaned in towards me, happy. He lifted my arm and placed it around his shoulders, then snuggled into me, apparently satisfied with my undertaking. I held him against me, taking the time to savor this little boymoment with him, which was the only opportunity we had had to be alone together all day.

As I sat there on the bed, with this wonderful little boy in my embrace, I realized just how important it must have been to him. He was concerned that his experiences would be forgotten – that no one would ever know what he had been through. But I wasn't going to allow that to happen. I knew there and then that I had given him a solemn undertaking. He had made me promise, and I was going to keep that promise.

"C'mon little buddy," I said, breaking the reverie, "We should get back. People will be wondering where we are."

We got up, still entwined, and headed for the door, arm in arm. As we walked, Yura looked up thoughtfully.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever wish John was still alive?"

He never ceased to amaze me with the sheer depth and gravity of his questions. It deserved an honest and considered reply.

"Yes," I said, "Sometimes I still miss him, even now."

He smiled tenderly, and I knew he sympathized with that sentiment.

Back with our guests, I informed everybody that we had one final piece of entertainment lined up for the evening. I gathered them all together and assembled them on the upstairs terrace, the one that led off from my bedroom. It was a good vantage point to look out over the grounds of the house, and I had a particularly spectacular surprise planned. I ushered everyone out of the sliding door and brought the boys to the front. Misha was clutching expectantly at the balustrade, hooking his chin just over the top. It was now early evening and the sky was beginning to darken. It was the ideal time for the pièce de résistance.

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Elena asked.

Everyone else echoed that sentiment with a few curious murmurs. Nikolayev didn't say anything because he knew what was coming.

Almost without warning, a bright flash erupted at the end of the garden, right over by the far wall of the well kept grounds, increasing in intensity, then fired up into the air and exploded in a majestic starburst of colors. Then a whole bank of fireworks erupted in a sequenced wave, one after the other, fizzing upwards in a dazzling array of different shades. A series of loud bangs echoed like gunshots into the night, each one exploding in an individual starburst. Everyone gasped.

That was followed by flare upon flare, shooting upwards, bursting and shattering high up in the sky in all the colors of the rainbow, each one with a pronounced thud. Then there was a series of rapid-fire explosions, thundering into the air like puffs of flak, the visual effects becoming ever more convoluted and inventive, starbursts within starbursts, expanding ever outwards. There were rockets that hissed upwards at tremendous speed which disintegrated into a myriad of cartwheels, burning their short-lived energy, fizzling out and tumbling down out of the night sky in all directions, whistling and bubbling as they fell.

I looked down at Yura's face, lit up by the multicolored lightshow and his eyes were wide with wonder. Nikolayev saw that and smiled smugly. It had been his contact that arranged this extravaganza for us, and when he had handed me his card and told me 'He'll make your party go with a bang," he was certainly true to his word.

Misha was excitedly climbing all over the balustrade, cooing and gasping as the pyrotechnics continued. Even Zhukov had a look of wondrous appreciation on his face. Anton hung back, and I saw how Vladik had shifted over to Yura, and they had their heads tilted together and their arms around each other. That was particularly heartwarming. Even Vladik was making this a special day for his little buddy. The love that passed between those boys at such moments was so beautiful.

We watched as another sequence of graceful arcs shot upwards, shattering into a million little stars and then streaming down in sweeping, fiery curves, like napalm trails. In another, the little stars erupted into instantaneous sparkles, popping mutedly and giving up their intensity in a momentary fizz of pure energy. It was like a big tube of glitter had been thrown up into the sky, its contents tumbling back down to earth in a little shower of glowing raindrops, shimmering brightly in a rainbow of crackling sparks.

Yura looked skywards and the dazzling smatters of the fireworks were reflected in his pupils. He had the most wistful expression, with his little mouth hanging open as though breathless with wonder.

"It's beautiful Mark!"

His happiness was palpable.

He went on staring at the whizzing, popping, flashing, soaring fireworks that were launching up into the night sky with the most graceful synergy and coordination, their timing calculated to perfection, their luminous colors arranged for maximum impact and their symmetry choreographed with great skill and ingenuity. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Then Yura turned to me as we were standing at the back of our little group, watching this colorful spectacle, and looked into each of my eyes. I looked down at him and smiled, expecting to see his happiness reflected back. But he didn't smile. He just closed his eyes ever so gently. Then he buried his face into my chest and burst into tears.

"Hey, what's the matter little buddy?" I said, holding his head against me.

He sobbed violently into my shirt, and emitted a strangulated little howl.

"Oh Mark!" he cried, "I never had a birthday like this!"

And he carried on crying. I could feel real grief in the spasms of his shoulders. There were tangible shudders of sorrow as his little body shook against my chest, and I knew he was crying from his sense of loss. It was his lamentation for all the birthdays he had missed. Even on this, a happy occasion, possibly one of the happiest days of his life, the specter of the past had reared up, like a storm cloud on the horizon, forever ready to rain down the legacy of those ugly memories. And as I held his sweet head against me like that, even as his childish tears spilled onto me, his grief was so tangible, my heart was welling up in sympathy.

I let him cry. I held him to me and stood with him at the back of our little gathering, just inside the sliding door, and stroked his back. I smoothed his hair and squeezed his shoulders and waited for his tears to abate. Meanwhile, our guests were enthralled by the fireworks display, and they went on cooing and gasping and uttering superlatives to each other. The fireworks eventually built up into a crescendo of dancing explosions, culminating in a spectacular finale where everything was going on all at once: every firework of every description being released in perfect sequence, turning the sky into a multicolored extravaganza of explosions. The noise was deafening, but the effect was mindblowing. We could actually feel the bangs, and the flashes were so bright they momentarily turned night into day. The display assaulted our senses so completely, it was like being caught in the midst of an air raid. The next time I looked down at Yura, he had turned to face the fireworks again. His head was still tilted against me, and as the flashes continued to illuminate his pretty face in the semi-darkness, I could see the tears still in his eyes. But he was smiling again.

Chapter 18
Loving Vladik

Vladik turned to me and gave me a sad look. His little buddy was aboard that plane, and I think he too had the same heaviness in his heart.

"C'mon little buddy," I said, "Let's go."

He seemed reluctant to move off, and grasped the railing of the viewing platform even tighter. It was as if he was loath to sever this last connection by leaving the very place where we had seen Yura off.

"I hope he's going to be okay," said Vladik, still looking into the distance with a hand over his eyes to shield them from the glare of the evening sun.

The drive back from the airport was sullen and mostly silent. Vladik was very thoughtful and introspective. We were both sad.

It was getting late by the time we got home from the airport, so we picked up something from the drive-thru on the way back. Anton had gone back to his apartment, with a heavy schedule of studying to get through. He had an early start the next morning. So for the first time ever I found myself alone in the house with Vladik. Silent and demoralized, we ate our spoils sat around the island in the kitchen.

I looked at Vladik, sat there across the corner of the island, just next to me, and he was nibbling on a chicken nugget. He didn't appear to be enjoying it very much. He had barely touched his fries. I had my elbow up on the counter, my fork dangling uncertainly from my fingertips. I looked down at my Caesar salad and decided I didn't really have the appetite for it.

Vladik stopped eating for a moment, looking up with the breaded nugget still between his fingers.

"You miss Yura don't you?" he said.

For some reason his question caught me unawares. Then I looked into his eyes and concluded that he could probably tell as much from my demeanor as I could his.

I nodded, looking a bit sheepish, almost afraid to admit it.

"So do I," he confessed, "It's not the same without him is it?"

"No," I said, shaking my head regretfully.

He put the chicken nugget down and wiped his hands on one of the paper napkins from the pile. He pushed the remnants of his meal away, indicating that he was done, and gave the napkin a cursory pass over his mouth, just once. Then he got up solemnly.

"I'm not hungry," he said, in a very quiet voice.

Then he walked away, with his head hung down.

I watched him go, knowing that he was at this moment a very sad and mixed up little boy. I felt so sorry for him.

When I passed by his room a few minutes later, the door was ajar and I caught a glimpse of him sitting dejectedly on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed. He appeared lost in thought. All he had done was taken off his sneakers, one of which he was still holding absent-mindedly in his hands.

"What's the matter little buddy?" I asked solicitously, pushing the door open further.

He looked up. I went in and sat down, sinking onto the edge of the bed next to him. He looked up at me with a frightened look.

"I don't want Yura to go and live in Saint Petersburg," he said.

He looked genuinely pained at the prospect of it, almost tearful. I put an arm around his shoulders and he tilted his head against me.

"Neither do I," I confessed.

"He's been my best friend since we were six years old."

"You'll still be friends," I said, trying to reassure him, "I have a feeling you two will be friends for a very long time."

He smiled at that, but I wasn't sure he was altogether convinced.

"All the time that I was away, it was like I was just waiting to see him again," he said.

That was a very profound and revealing remark. It was significant because thus far, Vladik had not said anything about what happened to him. I had begun to expect he would never speak of his experiences, apart from perhaps with his therapist. It was also significant because it confirmed that the relationship between him and Yura was not merely little boy lust. Their relationship went well beyond mutual masturbation and pissing games in the shower – it was a lot more than that. These boys had a deep and genuine affection for each other that easily transcended a simple schoolboy assignation. I believe they had found a very real and enduring love – a love they both felt very keenly. I had seen it from the very first time I saw them together.

"All those months," he went on, "thinking about Yura was what kept me going."

I looked at him pityingly.

"Was it really awful for you?" I asked him, aware that it was a woefully inadequate question.

He looked up with a doleful, almost apologetic expression and nodded slowly.

"I don't want to be away from him ever again," he said.

"He'll be back soon enough," I reassured him.

There was a flicker of a smile. I smiled back encouragingly. That was better.

"C'mon little buddy," I said, patting his thigh, "Time to go to bed. It's been a long day."

I left him to get ready for bed. He was still sitting thoughtfully on the edge of the bed, the bed which he had up till then shared with Yura, and I headed to the door to go back to my room, but he called out.

"Mark?"

I stopped and turned, just hovering on the threshold, and looked back at him, but he didn't reply. He dropped the sneaker he was holding, then got up and came straight over to me. Standing before me in his socked feet, he reached up and put his arms around my neck. He stood like that, very close to me, and looked up.

"I don't want to be alone," he said.

I put a hand gently against his cheek, and stared longingly into both his pretty green eyes. I smiled and drew his body against me into a welcome hug. He pulled my head down and kissed me. He put his bright red, glossy little rosebud mouth right up to my lips and kissed me, hard and long, maneuvering his lips in the most erotic and sensuous way. His experience showed. He pushed right into me, then pulled back, leaving his sweet wetness on my mouth. Lasciviously, I traced the tip of my tongue around my lips.

Vladik's tender, wordless advances were overwhelming and unequivocal. The look in his eyes was haunting and hungry. He seemed to implore me, like he wanted me to do things to him. I recalled how much I had wanted this little boy. I had wanted him for so long, and he had wanted me too. At last, I knew our time had come.

He eased himself away, and took my hand. What impressed me was that he didn't pull me away. He stood there, patiently, obediently, and waited for me to lead him into my bedroom. I thought that was extremely erotic. This boy knew how to make you feel special and he let me know that I was in charge.

We went into my room and I sat down on the bed. He hung back, standing by the door. It seemed he was waiting until I was settled and ready to watch him before he started taking his clothes off. He stripped quite readily, and I watched as he sensuously removed each item of clothing, one by one, slowly and tantalizingly revealing that utterly perfect preteen body of his, all the time his expression fixed on me. Vladik knew how to perform. He had this innate understanding of how to move his body when he was being watched, and he knew just how to conduct himself to induce the utmost anticipation and elicit the maximum awe in his audience. There was something very special about this boy. He had an air of guileless innocence but there was still a knowingness that implied he was well aware of the effect he was having. He had a maturity and a wisdom that exuded a level of experience that was well beyond a boy of his age.

Vladik stripped down to his underwear and stood before me in all his nearly-naked glory. I could see his long, thick boydick was already hard and pushing against the front of his underwear, the elongated lump trapped up against his abdomen, held in place by the thin fabric of his tight little boxer-briefs. He came and stood before me as I sat on the bed and quite deliberately put his hands on my shoulders. He waited. He wanted me to remove his underwear, and I realized just how knowing and experienced he was by allowing me the exquisite privilege of doing that. I looked into his beautiful emerald eyes as he stood before me, and I took in the incomparable beauty of this little boy. With his hands still resting on my shoulders, it was as if he was submitting to me and he had a look in his eyes that almost pleaded with me. The look on his face said 'I'm yours, do whatever you want with me."

I reached out and felt the warm fabric of his boxer-briefs, so tight against his skin. I slid them down his slim hips. His hard little boydick slid down with them, then broke free and sprang back up, sticking out like some wayward accessory, long and stiff and already primed for sex. The boxer-briefs dropped down around his ankles and he stepped out of them, finally completely unclothed, revealing the full extent of his naked boyishness. Vladik was breathtakingly beautiful. I had to stop for a moment to take in the sight of this perfect little boy and appreciate the marvel of his composition. Still sitting on the bed, I pulled him towards me and stooped down. He had a very beautiful set of little jewels which were infinitely suckable and lickable. His thick boycock, which I already knew was slightly bigger than average for a boy of his age, was indescribably hard. It had more girth and more weight than Yura's, with an almost impetuous zeal in the way it stood up so proudly, tumescent with little boy lust. It was magnificent. I enveloped his hard little dick in my mouth, pressing my face right into his crotch, roughly gnawing on his dick and sucking that hot, turgid little organ as hard as I could. At the same time, I caressed his bare hip with one hand, and kneaded his tight little hairless balls with the other. I looked up briefly, and Vladik had his head thrown back and was moaning softly. His little body was flush with desire. He needed this.

I stopped, letting his pulsing little dick drop free from my mouth. It waggled expectantly before my eyes, still sticking out hard and straight. Vladik stood back, obediently waiting by the side of the bed. I quickly took off my shirt and threw it aside, then reached out and pulled Vladik's diminutive little frame onto me so I could feel his naked body against me. I closed my arms around him and we fell back onto the bed together. We bounced back up and I felt his warmth against my skin, his weight pinning me down into the yielding mattress. He was pulsing with heat. His hard dick was digging into my abs. I reached down under him and wrapped my fist around his little dick as we kissed. For a few long moments there was nothing but the sound of our moist lips melding together, our tongues battling for position in each other's mouth. Then Vladik stopped and pulled away. His body still resting on top of me, and he whispered into my ear.

"Mark… be gentle with me. I'm still a little sore."

I smiled at him, gave him a light kiss and nodded.

He rolled off me and stretched out on the bed next to me with his hands behind his head, as though preparing to sunbathe. I got up and removed the rest of my clothes, throwing my jeans and underwear aside, and looked over him. I admired the youthful perfection of this beautiful boy laid bare, and then climbed on top of him naked, smothering him with quick, light little kisses and clutching his slim frame tightly against me. He was burning hot. His face was flushed, his cheeks reddened, a condition no doubt stimulated by his quickening pulse and the anticipation that he was going to have his little body sexed up in the most uncompromising way. First I kissed his smooth body all over, just to get the feel of him, and he lay there running his hands through my hair as I did so. He giggled a little as I licked his smooth, tight tummy, grabbing fistfuls of my hair. He was ticklish, but very docile and compliant, allowing me to sex him up in a way that I could tell no one had done to him in a very long while. I kissed every part of his young body, making him moan and squirm and familiarizing myself with his physiology. Vladik was very different to Yura. His body was somewhat firmer, perhaps more solid. He was only marginally taller than Yura, but everything was in a slightly different place. As I coupled with Vladik, I had to alter my technique a little. It was rather like getting used to driving a new car. I had been so accustomed to Yura's dimensions, this was going to require some adjustment on my part.

I took my time, kissing, licking and burying my face into Vladik's smooth, tight, yielding flesh. I nibbled on his little nipples and he held the back of my head and pressed my face into him, encouraging me to kiss him there. When I bit softly into his nipple, he pulled me to him even harder. The harder he pressed my face into him, the harder I bit. His little squeal was mingled with perverse pleasure. He seemed to know all about nipple play, another measure of just how experienced this boy was. I stopped just short of breaking the skin, and released his little nipple from between my teeth, leaving a gentle bite mark on the tortured little nub. Then I moved down to his crotch. I grasped his thick little dick and pulled the skin back roughly, jacking it just a little to elicit a reaction, and he stiffened at the sensation of having someone else's hand around it. I gave it a few token sucks and licked the shiny purple head roughly, letting my teeth graze it ever so gently, then abandoned it, just to heighten his anticipation, and I could see his dick stiffen even more, straining with the need for more stimulation. He was beautiful and sexed up beyond belief, and I knew he was ready for me. What I saw before me was so exquisite, my libido would not wait. Vladik had the kind of body that was so infinitely alluring, so perfect, so boyishly inviting, that it exuded sexual delight. It was a body that was so perfectly sculpted, it could have been made just to be expressly enjoyed by the boylovers.

To ease things along, I scooted over and reached for the lube from the nightstand and put plenty on Vladik and myself. Vladik was lying on the bed with his head tilted to one side, just watching. He had his knees up, his feet flat on the bed, and his legs open. His pretty little dick was still protruding straight up between his raised thighs, solid with expectation. I reached in and gently pressed my lubed finger against his pucker. He stiffened and exhaled sharply, screwing his eyelids tightly shut. His reaction was strangely erotic. I pressed my finger in further. He held his breath, and slowly his little pucker yielded. I was able to get two fingers into his tightening little hole and greased him up well. When he opened his eyes again, he passively watched me as I tenderly prepared my little lover for what was to follow.

When I was ready, he willingly drew his knees up to his chest. I knelt before him, settled myself between his opened legs and felt for his little cunt. He rotated his pelvis upwards for me, to meet my cockhead and facilitate my entry into his little hole. In doing so, I could feel the urgency with which he wanted to be fucked, like his body had a dire need to be filled with cock. At first he was lying back, completely open, relaxed and watching me with a look of wonder and curiosity. He had an expression of solemn concentration on his face and his demeanor was one of utter compliance. His head was propped up on a pillow which he had pulled towards the centre of the big bed, tilting his head slightly forward. His arms were up, resting loosely on either side of his head, as though in surrender, and his legs were folded upwards and fully open, leaving his freshly greased boyhole freely accessible. It was a position of total submission, as though he was opening up his body to me, lending him an air of helplessness and vulnerability, like he had put himself totally in my hands. His hands were clenching into little fists which alternately tightened and loosened as I pressed my cock against his little boyhole. His big, thick stiff dick was sticking up between his legs, pulsing with tumescence, his erection hardened by his anticipation of what was about to happen. I put my hands under his butt and lifted his pelvis up off the bed, making his back arch, and I scooted forward so that my thighs were under his butt. I pressed my hardness into his willing flesh and his tight little pucker split open. My thick iron pole of hardness sank readily into the softness of his boyhole and I felt the tangible pleasure of his little sphincter yielding, his tight ring massaging my cock as it entered him. A little way in, he opened his mouth in a little silent gasp, and he was slowly mouthing 'Ow… Ow…" as I pressed even more insistently into his little hole. I pressed forward some more, and he half closed his eyes sleepily in concentration and admiration for what I was about to do. He made no noise, just little facial expressions that told me what he was feeling. It was hurting him, but he didn't flinch. Instead he laid there, looking up into my eyes with a look of lovestruck awe and admiration that made me feel suddenly very dominant and very powerful. I knew I could do whatever I wanted with him, but that power came with a responsibility for looking after this precious boy. He was being brave for me, and was obviously willing to bear this pain in order to please me, so I knew I had to take care of him.

I pressed forward even harder and he carried on staring into my eyes in total concentration, never once faltering, but sometimes widening his eyes when the pain was too much to bear, and he was still mouthing 'Ow… Ow…" and making little grimaces of discomfort as my big dick slowly entered him. The further in it went, the graver his expressions became, but he never once told me to stop. I forced it in even further. He stiffened slightly, feeling the pain even more, and his eyes widened momentarily. He knew exactly what to do. With the knowingness of a boy who was well-versed in using his boyhole, he gave a small push, momentarily opening his little cunt for me, flexing his hole as though taking a dump, and that eased my cock almost all the way in. I was nearly there, and the temptation to push all the way in was almost overpowering. I resolved to get it over with quickly and with one final concerted push, my dick rammed home and was suddenly fully inside him. He closed his eyes tightly and made one last silent 'Ow!" with his mouth, but stayed there, utterly impaled and his boyhole hurting exquisitely with the sensation of being filled with cock. He moaned as it gradually bottomed out into him, and I paused, almost overcome by the ecstasy of my cock being engulfed in his tightness. I could feel the burning heat of his little chute through my cock. I held it there, with my crotch tight against his hairless balls, and his iron hard little dick irrepressibly jutting up into my abs. I savored the snugness of his delicious little boycunt. For a few moments he gasped for breath, panting quickly as he bore the pain of his boyhole being stretched to the limit. But then, when the initial searing sting had subsided, he relaxed a little, assimilating the invasion. He opened his eyes, stared right up at me, and smiled. His clenched fists loosened. That was better. Once again, his experience showed. He was obviously well practiced because he settled himself into a position which he had learned was comfortable for him. Almost spontaneously, he hooked his legs around my waist so that his pelvis was hanging off me. It was almost as though he was suspended under me. I could feel his slender thighs hugging my hips and his pretty little boy feet were pressing into the small of my back, as though trapping me inside him. Finally, he was in position. He reached down, grasped his thick little dick in his hand, and gave it a few good hard tugs. That was the signal that indicated he was ready. Then he looked up into my eyes with a piercing, unequivocal stare that said 'Now fuck me."

I threw myself over him, propping myself up with an arm either side, and tried a few slow thrusts to begin with. I stabbed forward into him hard, my stiff dick seeking the haven of his hot tight little cunt once more, pinning him down onto the bed. As I stabbed hard into his little abdomen, he was looking up at me, his pretty green eyes staring into my face with a look of wonder and gratitude, ecstatic at the sensation of having his little ass filled with cock, and he was moaning 'Oh yeh, oh yeh'. The thought that I was responsible for inducing such acute pleasure into his little body made my cock even harder, and at that moment I remembered what Yura had said. Yura was right: Vladik was a little fuckboy, just like him. He reached back and put his hands behind his head, as though reclining, relaxing back into a comfortable position, waiting expectantly for me to perform on him. He gasped with each thrust, but never once took his eyes off me. I swear it was the sweetest of all pleasures to have this boy so utterly impaled on my cock, so completely in my power, and yet looking up at me with an expression of genuine appreciation for what I was doing. He held this look of wonder and adoration and kept staring directly into my eyes. That was worth an orgasm in itself – to have those pretty green eyes connected to me, piercingly fixed on my expression as I labored above him in pursuit of the pleasure he was readily about to afford me. Then he spoke, and it was the only thing Vladik said while we were fucking, forcing his words out between gasps.

"Mark?"

"Yes, little buddy?" I replied, still stabbing savagely into his little cunt.

"Tell me you love me."

God how I loved him. Too much, probably. But I realized he needed to hear me say it.

I maneuvered my head down and kissed him hard on the lips, bucking my cock into him again forcefully as I did so. His little grimace told me I had made him feel how much I loved him, at that moment rooting painfully into his little cunt. I whispered into his face.

"I love you little buddy. I love you very much."

He smiled and squirmed beneath me. My words seemed to make him more compliant, and I could feel his body settling into a resigned quiescence, softening and yielding, becoming ever more malleable and receptive as I fucked him.

I fucked Vladik hard and watched as his little body rocked beneath me, pummeled into the bed with the force of each thrust, receptive to my travails and looking as beautiful as I had ever seen him, with that look of lovestruck awe on his face. I wanted to cum in him looking just like that. God, how I wanted to cum in him. As my orgasm approached, he felt the neediness in my pace. He jacked his own dick even faster in anticipation of my cum, like he knew it was going to be a big one. When I finally cummed, the sensation was exquisite. As my body pulsed and rocked with the intensity of my cum, and tightened up in a syncopated wave of sheer delight, I was staring lovingly at him. As my orgasm reached its zenith, I stabbed into him so hard his head bounced off the pillow. But he never took his eyes off mine, and he never once blinked as I filled him with my essence. Even as my cock pulsed and squirted inside his tight cunt, rooting deep into his most intimate place, he opened his mouth a little. He was momentarily enraptured by the feeling of my hot spunk being forcibly injected into the confined walls of his little chute. He was looking surprised and delighted, feeling the warm moisture filling his hole, my words of love now consolidated with a more tangible token of my love, the liquid love that my body had given up in pleasurable release and which was now infusing into his. Watching his expression, it was as though it was the most wonderful sensation he could ever know. Looking lovingly into his gorgeous green eyes as I shot my spunk into him, my whole body in the grip of unbridled ecstasy, only intensified my orgasm. Focusing on his perfect features as I was cumming was like spunking all over his pretty face at the same time. And what a face. God, Vladik was so beautiful.

Some minutes later, when I had recovered sufficiently and gradually wafted back down to earth from the heights of boylove ecstasy – that ephemeral boyfuck nirvana that this boy had elevated me to – I was laying back on the bed with my arms and legs out as though I was just coming back to consciousness. Vladik was curled up next to me, his lithe, naked little body half thrown across me as I laid there propped up against the headboard. He was resting his head on my stomach, looking up at me.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you really love me?"

I smiled, humbled that this little boy should be so needy of my love, and that its confirmation was so important to him.

"I love you very much, little buddy. More than you can imagine."

He smiled. He had just wanted to hear me say it.

He went on lying across me, studiously running his little fingers through the sparse hairs on my chest. He seemed fascinated by the little hairs on my body and was looking at them closely. His nimble fingers were tickling the tight little curls, stroking and caressing ever so lightly, twiddling and tugging them gently as though trying to get the measure of how soft and downy they were.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'll ever have hair like you?"

"I'm sure you will," I said, "You're going to be a very handsome young man."

He twisted around so that his chin was resting on my chest and he looked up at me, his pretty green eyes fixed on my face. It tickled and was slightly uncomfortable, but I bore it because he looked so adorable staring up at me at such close proximity.

"As handsome as you?"

"Listen to me little buddy," I replied, "You're going to be real hot when you're older. You won't have any problem finding a lover."

"I don't want anyone else," he said, laying his head on my chest, so that his ear was against my heart, and he wrapped his little arms around me, "I only want you."

I stroked his clipped head, ruffling a swathe of his golden hair with my palm, and I thought to myself: if only things could be that simple.

I didn't know it then, but that was the only night I was destined to spend alone with Vladik. The next day the news came that a good foster family had been found for him. Elena visited the house to deliver the news personally, and to talk with Vladik about what was going to happen. Accompanying her was the social worker from Children's Services, the frigid schoolmarm with the horn-rimmed spectacles, who was the prime mover in this whole affair. Perhaps unfairly, but not surprisingly, I had developed an instant aversion to her. I neither liked her nor trusted her.

Elena and the schoolmarm spent about an hour with us, sitting on the sofa with Vladik, talking about the foster family he was going to be staying with. Apparently they were an experienced couple with two boys of their own of around Vladik's age. They were highly recommended, and had an impeccable record of successfully fostering troubled young boys. What's more, they had Russian origins and spoke fluent Russian. The match couldn't have been more perfect. The people from Children's Services had vetted and approved them, and they wanted to get Vladik there as soon as possible.

So if the match was so perfect, why did it feel so wrong? What right did they have to take Vladik away? That boy was happy with me. Oh, I wasn't a trained foster carer, but I knew how to take care of him. I didn't need any social worker to tell me what I was capable of and whether I was fit to look after him. I remembered Anton's words that last day at Crystal Lake when he had said 'You've done more for those boys than anybody." Anton was right. His sentiments were frighteningly true, like so many of the things Anton said. I was the one who had wet-nursed those boys, assuaged their fears, and had patiently and diligently persevered against their hostility and truculence. I was the one who talked to them and listened to them; who took time to mentor them and understand them. I was the one who washed them down when they wet the bed and who dried their tears when they were in distress. I had fed them and comforted them, and bore their anger and their insults. And now that I had invested so much of my own energy and emotion into their welfare, they just wanted to take those boys away from me. They wanted to remove them with all the lofty ingratitude with which one might snatch eggs from a hen. What right had they?

By the time they left, I was seething with a profound sense of injustice. It felt not only wrong, but extremely undeserved. After all I had done for these boys, I was being cast aside as though my contribution had gone not only unrecognized, but deliberately overlooked. And yet, to minimize the distress for Vladik, I knew that there was no point in fighting it. I was powerless to do anything to stop it, and I knew that the best thing I could do was to put on a brave face, wrap it up with a positive spin, and try to get Vladik to subscribe to the whole thing willingly, if for nothing else to minimize the wrench of the proposed transition and try to smooth it over as much as possible. That was going to be more difficult than it looked. Vladik was an intelligent boy. He would be wise to my soft-soaping, and he knew his own mind. I knew that no stiff, hard-nosed schoolmarm of a social worker was going to win him over quite so easily.

When Elena and the schoolmarm had gone, I walked back into the drawing room after seeing them out. Vladik was still sitting on the sofa, looking slightly shell-shocked. I could see he was trying to assimilate the idea of going to the foster home. Disappointingly, he didn't seem to be buying into it. In fact, he looked outraged and defiant.

"I don't want to go," he said, resolutely.

"You must."

"I won't."

"You can't stay here."

Vladik looked alarmed and he stared at me with an almost frightened expression.

"But I don't want to go!"

"I know little buddy," I said, "But it's right that you should be with a proper foster family."

"Oh Mark!" he appealed plaintively, "Please don't make me go!"

He was close to tears. God, this was so hard.

"You must go little buddy, you have no choice."

"I don't want to stay with those people!" he screamed, "I want to stay with you!"

"You can't stay with me," I said firmly, "Those people will take care of you and love you."

He turned on me with a hurt look, the pitch in his voice rising with desperation.

"But YOU love me! You said so!"

How I wished I was not having this conversation with him. How I longed for things to be that simple. But life just wasn't like that. It could never be as black and white as he saw it. In his childish logic I had been there for him all along. I loved him. I had said so. In the heat of our lovemaking I had professed my love for him. And now it was almost as though I was turning my back on him. How could his eleven year old mind make sense of that?

He watched my expression searchingly, looking for signs of amelioration on my part. But it was out of my hands. When I did not respond, his face collapsed. He threw himself down on the sofa and I could see his little shoulders shuddering. He sniffed and his whole body shook, and I knew he was crying.

"Oh Mark!" he sobbed, with a little howl of disappointment in his voice, "You don't love me anymore!"

He buried his face into his hands and was crying real tears of hurt. He was laying on the sofa facing the backrest, so that he was huddled away from me and he was almost trembling with grief. My heart was welling up in sympathy, and I wanted so much to show him that that simply wasn't true. I wanted to hug him, to hold him and reassure him, and show him how much I actually did love him.

I touched him on the shoulder. He violently shrugged me off.

"You said you loved me! You lied to me!"

I tried again to comfort him, stroking his arm, but he threw my hand off.

"Leave me alone!" he hissed, "You're a liar! I hate you!"

His harsh words cut into my heart like the swish of a thin cane. His childish utterance truly hurt, but his phraseology was strangely familiar. It was almost as if he was lapsing back into that same hostile language with which he had started out. Vladik had not spoken like that for a long time. His eleven year old anger momentarily stunned me and it was all the more painful to feel the full depth of fury he felt at this moment, especially as his accusation simply wasn't true. I loved him more than he would ever know. I had to remind myself that he was just a kid. I was an adult. I was supposed to know better. But it did nothing to assuage the tears that his cruel words had elicited from deep within me, and I could hardly fight back my own emotions as I turned silently and left the room. I knew that the best thing I could do was leave him alone, so I left him crying on the sofa and, whilst I struggled with my own emotions, my love for him made me painfully aware of the fact that he was still a very sensitive, fragile little boy who at this moment was feeling bitter and resentful. He thought I had abandoned him. And although he was hateful and rejected me, my heart was still filled with compassion and love for him. My love for him was so deep, so pure, so complete, that even when he hated me I loved him.

Chapter 19
Hello Ivan

The foster carers lived in a very suburban neighborhood in one of the more salubrious parts of town. It had plenty of green fields and open space. Ideal for some kids. But Vladik didn't seem impressed. He was essentially an inner city boy. When we arrived, the foster carers were at their porch waiting. They seemed like nice people. We didn't have time for anything more than a cursory discussion, and it was probably best that I didn't hang around. I gave Vladik a big hug and reassured him that I would still be seeing him regularly, and that he would be reunited with Yura as soon as he returned from Saint Petersburg. Vladik was very quiet and held himself well, and I could detect that he was trying to retain his composure in front of these people whom he had never met. Having said our farewells, they took him inside and closed the door, and as I walked back up the drive towards the car, I heard the loud plaintive wail of Vladik bursting into tears. I could hear the foster carers reassuring him and trying to comfort him, probably hugging him and holding him close in much the same way as I would have done. I knew they would look after him, but hearing Vladik's plaintive cry, even as I was walking away from him, made me feel that I had betrayed him. He probably felt I had abandoned him. It damn near broke my heart.

On the drive home I thought of how lonely I was going to be. Yura was in Saint Petersburg. Vladik was no longer with me. Even Anton was busy with his studies. I had called him to let him know that Vladik was going to the foster home, but Anton was concentrating on finishing an imminent assignment. So when I returned from the foster home, I found myself alone in the house for the first time in a very long while. That was something of a revelation to me. I didn't know what to do with myself. My evenings would usually be taken up in cooking for the boys, feeding them, making sure they got ready for bed, maybe playing with them on the games console for a bit, or just sitting and watching TV with them. Now I had nothing to do. It almost felt like my assignment had ended and that my unit had no further use for me. I was redundant and useless. I wondered how it would be for Vladik, lying in a strange bed in a strange house with new people and unfamiliar surroundings. I questioned why circumstances dictated that there should be this cruel and unnecessary distance between us. I only hoped that Vladik wasn't lying awake at this precise moment, tearful and with his heart hurting because he missed me so much.

I found myself falling asleep in front of the TV. I was so low that I could only think of going to bed. Perhaps all I needed was to tuck myself up in bed early. It was the only way to staunch the misery of the day.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind, the doorbell chimed. It was a little way past nine o'clock and a worrying hour for anybody to be calling around unannounced. I only hoped it wasn't something unwelcome. Curious, and more than a little apprehensive, I went to the front door bracing myself for something unexpected.

I needn't have worried. It was unexpected, but a welcome surprise. It was Anton! He was standing there with a grin of mock sadness, his head tilted to one side and in his hand he was clutching a bottle of wine by its neck. It was probably the nicest surprise I could have hoped for, and one of the most welcome sights I had ever set eyes on.

Anton broke into a smile.

"Hi!"

"Hi!" I said, genuinely pleased to see him.

I stood there holding the door open, still a little taken aback. Anton held up the bottle of wine.

"I was going to have a drink to celebrate finishing my assignment," he said, "but then I realized I didn't have a corkscrew."

I held out my arms and he stepped into them. He hugged me tightly, still holding the bottle of wine behind my back. His long hair was brushing against my face. The frames of his wire-rimmed spectacles were pressing coldly into the side of my head. I held him for a few moments longer than usual, clinging to him in a welcome embrace and almost saying a silent prayer of thanks. I think he realized that I was thankful for this, and he didn't question it or even try to prize himself loose. He just waited until I was ready to let him go.

Eventually we stepped apart and he flashed me that affectionate smile again.

"So do you have one?" he asked.

"One what?"

"A corkscrew?"

I laughed.

"You know I have," I said, with a mocking tone, "We've got a complete cocktail bar downstairs, don't you remember?"

So we went in. I got two wine glasses, and we shared the wine, talking intimately in the drawing room for a good long time. We sipped the wine and we chatted about Vladik and Yura and shared our thoughts on how much we both loved those boys. We laughed about the things they said and their funny little ways.

Then Anton started asking me about Boyscape and why I had given it up to become a police officer. Of course he knew all about Boyscape and John's role in setting it up. Anton knew pretty much everything about me.

"I guess it wasn't very well paid," I said, with a laugh, "But after John died, I lost the enthusiasm for it."

"Would you ever think about doing something like that again?"

"Why?" I asked, with suspicion.

He shrugged.

"I think you'd be good at it, that's all."

"So would you," I said, returning the compliment.

"I know," he replied, with a touch of arrogance, "That's why I think we should do it together."

"What, start up another Boyscape?" I said, almost laughing it off.

He looked at me slightly hurt.

"Why not?"

"You want to?"

He nodded emphatically.

"I've been thinking about it for a while now," he said, "Getting to know Yura and Vladik just confirmed it."

"I don't know," I said, with deep misgivings, "It's a lot of work and emotionally very demanding."

"But worth it," he said, with utter conviction in his voice.

I looked at him sitting across from me on the sofa and I was suddenly full of admiration for this young man. It struck me that he was at about the same age I was when John decided to set up Boyscape all those years ago. In fact, the age difference between us was almost exactly the same as that between John and I. Coupled with the fact that I saw a lot of myself in Anton, as well as many things that reminded me of John, the similarities and parallels were uncanny.

"Maybe," I said, not willing to commit myself at this stage, "Let's see how things work out with Yura and Vladik and then we'll talk about it some more."

He didn't reply. He watched me for a moment, then probably decided that was as much as I was prepared to concede at this stage. But he knew he had definitely done enough to sow the seeds of the idea in my mind. He seemed satisfied with that.

We carried on chatting idly for the rest of the evening. It was good talking to Anton. He sat there on the big sofa, giggling flatteringly at my little witticisms, and sipping his wine very slowly, smiling and nodding and cocking his head with interest. I talked a lot more than he did. I chatted away and probably drank more wine than he did. I didn't usually drink wine. It went straight to my head. It got late. By then I was tipsy and drowsy. Anton agreed to stay the night and before I knew it, he was putting me to bed. What a wonderful friend he was. The last thing I remember was Anton turning out the light and walking out. And as he closed the bedroom door behind him, I wondered just how it had come to be that on this, one of the lowest nights of my life, this wonderful young man had appeared unbidden, bearing a token of companionship to share with me, to cheer me up and save me from my loneliness. I closed my eyes and snuggled under the comforter totally in awe of this boy and I felt the stirrings of something deep and profound towards him. And I knew just what it was too. I was falling in love with this beautiful young man.

The very next day Yura arrived back from Saint Petersburg. It was late when his flight landed. I couldn't understand why the flights from Moscow always landed early in the morning, but from Saint Petersburg they were always late at night. My unit had sent a car to collect Yura and Elena from the airport. It seemed that even my role as a chauffeur had been usurped. The car brought Yura back to the house, then took Elena home. By the time he arrived from the airport it was getting so late that there was no time to do anything with Yura other than feed him and get him to bed.

We sat by the central island in the kitchen and I watched Yura eagerly shoveling big spoonfuls of steaming tomato soup into his mouth, holding his spoon in a little fist in that inimitable way that children have. As he did so, he was yammering away eagerly. Yura was hyper and excitable after returning from his trip, and I knew it was going to be a challenge to calm him down.

"It's wonderful Mark!" he enthused, "The best news ever!"

"What news?"

"We're going to be brothers!" he announced.

I frowned. I didn't know what he was talking about.

"My dad is going to adopt Vladik!" he proclaimed, happily.

"What?"

He nodded, bobbing his head rapidly and widening his eyes in sheer euphoria at the news, his announcement interrupted by another big spoonful of soup. He swallowed it, then he blurted out an almost incomprehensible effusion of words in one breath that came out so fast they nearly merged into each other.

"I told my dad all about Vladik because Vladik's got nowhere to go and we've been friends since we were six years old and I don't want Vladik to be all alone and he said it wasn't fair so he's going to adopt Vladik and we're going to be brothers and be together forever!"

I blinked, almost taken aback by the barrage of words, but also assimilating the meaning of what he had just postulated.

"You mean…?"

Yura nodded enthusiastically once again.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Of course," I said, a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all.

"Can I phone Vladik and tell him? Please Mark huh?"

I looked at my watch. It was gone eleven.

"No," I said, "It's late. He'll be asleep."

Yura was disappointed.

"Oh Mark, I want to talk to him!"

"Not now," I reiterated, "Phone him in the morning."

Yura was crestfallen, but to my relief he didn't insist. Reluctantly, he seemed to accept it. Then, almost immediately he brightened up again, apparently with something else he had just remembered to tell me.

"Oh, guess what?"

"What?"

"I've got a new name!" said Yura.

"How come?" I asked him.

"My dad asked me what I would like to be called by my new family," Yura explained, "And I decided to have a new name."

He seemed very resolute. Not a hint of doubt or hesitation.

"So from now on I want to be called Ivan," he said.

"You're sure?"

He nodded.

"Yes. I want to forget about my old life. I want to start again, with a new name and a new family."

What a brave and mature statement.

"Goodbye Yura," he said, prophetically.

"Hello Ivan," I said, with a dip of my chin, acknowledging his new identity, and admiring the way he was so positive and optimistic about it.

For my part, I was sorry he had decided to adopt his alias. Of course, his reasoning was sound, but I couldn't help thinking that in discarding his old name, he was also discarding the persona of the boy I had fallen in love with. It was as though the boy I loved had now somehow transmogrified into this new boy. No longer the damaged, dejected and needy boy who had cried in my arms the first night he arrived, and who suffered from nightmares and wet the bed. That boy was no more. Now he was Ivan, the boy who had overcome his adversities and was reborn as a confident, well-adjusted and happy boy, the boy who was no longer a victim but was in control of his own destiny; a boy who was no longer forgotten and abandoned, but who was now valued and loved and was someone else's brother and son.

"So I take it the trip was a success?" I said.

He nodded vigorously with a satisfied smile.

"We're all going to live together and it's going to be wonderful," he concluded.

It seemed that wonderful was his favorite superlative this evening.

"Is it what you really want?" I asked him, with a serious tone, "Tell me the truth little buddy. Do you want to go and live with your new family?"

He looked at me with a regretful, almost apologetic expression. Suddenly, his little boy exuberance dissolved. His childish yammering relented and he appeared to take on a more thoughtful, more mature demeanor.

"Mark? Don't be angry with me…"

"I won't be angry little buddy. I only want you to be happy. Tell me honestly. Do you want to go and live with them?"

He sighed regretfully and nodded his head slowly, biting his lip.

"Yes," he said, "It's what I've always wanted."

"I think that's what your dad wants too," I replied.

He smiled, almost relieved that I was not bitter and was able to accept his wishes without rancor. He was grateful for that. But then another, deeper thought seemed to strike him, and he looked puzzled for a moment.

"But what will happen to you?" he asked, looking up.

"I'll be okay," I said with a reassuring laugh, "I'll find some other boy who needs looking after."

He smiled and let out a little giggle. But no sooner had the words left my mouth, I could hardly stop myself from tearing up a little. For the first time I actually elicited a little tear and let myself cry in front of him. He saw that and put down his spoon, smearing tomato soup all over the counter, and he got up. He came over to where I was sat on my stool and leaned in between my knees. He put his arms around me comfortingly, laying his head against my chest. It was a tender and well-meaning gesture. He seemed to understand that these momentous and decisive events meant that our time together was soon coming to an end.

Despite his revelation, it was good to feel Yura in my arms again. He was warm and substantial in my embrace, and I was glad to have him back safely. But even as I held him there, his beautiful head pressed against my chest, I knew that something had changed. There was something different about Yura – something in his spirit, his demeanor that was not the same. It was something very subtle, almost subliminal, but it was definitely there.

For his part, after visiting his father, Yura was so full of anticipation of his new life that he was yammering away almost continuously. I sat and watched him whilst he finished the remainder of his soup. He was still overawed from his trip to Saint Petersburg. He was chattering away all the time he was getting ready for bed. I didn't usually help him get ready, but tonight I wanted to. I felt I should. I was not only pleased to have him back, but he was also distracted and I had to prompt him on what to do. So, while I was busy taking care of what needed to be done, he was absently talking away in wonderment at the exhaustively exciting trip he had just returned from. He talked about his dad's big house which had a big yard and how he rode his new bike all over the lawn, the bike his dad had bought him as a belated birthday gift. He talked about his 'new" brother Nikita, and told me how funny he was, and how much fun they had playing video games together, how they had swum in the pool and shot basketball hoops on the back porch. Then he told me about his 'new" mom Natalya, who had made boortsog for them, apparently a type of deep fried Mongolian sweet. And as he was talking, I listened and humored him, gave him a few encouraging and positive murmurs of approval, and let him yammer away. At the same time I toweled off his hair after his shower, and held his pajama bottoms out for him to step into, and I nodded positively as he carried on talking, intermittently taking the odd sip of his hot chocolate. When he was dry and warmed by the milky drink, I rolled back the bedclothes for him to get into bed. Finally he was under the comforter, snuggled up with only his head above the covers, and he was quiet. I tousled his thick black hair and gave him a reassuring grin. He closed his eyes ready for sleep, with a contented smile on his face, and I knew he was going to go to sleep dreaming about his new life. Meanwhile, I bade him goodnight, turned out the light and gently closed the door. I slipped forlornly down to the drawing room and huddled up on the sofa alone, thinking about the changes I detected in Yura. The primary focus in his life had shifted. He had new distractions now. His new life was what he had always wanted. And the most difficult thing to have to come to terms with was that I knew it was right. It was right for him. His new life had no role for me in it. There was nothing more I could contribute. Other people would take care of him now. I had listened to him talking about them all evening. They represented his future. I knew that I had already started to lose him, and there was nothing I could do about it. I thought about how Yura's new life was now such a reality for him, that it felt almost like he no longer cared for me. That was when I finally worked out what it was that was different about him. The childish affection he once had for me, was starting to wane. The love light which used to shine so brightly in those beautiful eyes of his, had now dimmed. He had changed beyond redress. Secretly and painfully, I knew that our relationship had entered its endgame and that these were now the last precious days we would ever spend together. That was when I huddled up on the sofa, drew my legs up as tightly as I could, lowered my head to my knees and cried my heart out.

Elena looked awful. I could tell that she had been awakened from that curious kind of dead sleep that always follows a long flight. Her well-earned rest prematurely curtailed. Now here she was, sitting resentfully in Nikolayev's office. Her eyes were red, her skin was greasy and her hair was disheveled and hastily tied back off her face. Her ruffled appearance was accentuated by the fact that she had no makeup on. Usually she was immaculately made up. I had never seen her looking so bare and raw.

Nikolayev was pacing up and down the room anxiously, grappling with his cellphone, as though he was willing it to ring. Even he was not his usual well-groomed self. His shirt was crumpled. He had no tie and no belt. We had all been assembled rather hastily. I sat on the sofa in the seating area watching him pass back and forth before me. Next to me, Yura was propped against my shoulder. I had an arm around the sleepy boy, his head tilted into my armpit. Anton stood nearby, looking lost and confused, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

"I can't believe he's gone," said Yura, piping up with a tiny, almost inaudible voice, his head still propped against my shoulder.

There was a tone of incredulity and disappointment in Yura's voice.

Vladik had been missing for nearly an hour now. At any rate, it had been over an hour since the foster carers had called their link worker at children's services to report him missing. They had found his room empty and the back door ajar. His bed hadn't even been slept in. But it didn't surprise me that Vladik had fled. As I recalled, he had done that once before.

"Let's think carefully," said Nikolayev, trying to get a handle on the situation, "Where would he go?"

"He doesn't know anywhere," said Anton, "He doesn't even speak the language."

Nikolayev flashed him a look of annoyance, as though that particular piece of information, though true, was unwelcome.

"We should really be out there looking," I said, with a tone of frustration.

"Where are you going to look?" said Nikolayev, with an expansive gesture, and he jerked his head towards the windows, "It's a big city. Where are you going to start?"

"We can't just sit here," I replied.

"We're doing everything we can," said Nikolayev, as though that was the only possible solution.

It was odd being in Nikolayev's office at this late hour. Through the windows the sky was a forbidding midnight blue. I had only ever been here during daytime. I thought of Vladik, just a tiny boy who was at this moment out there somewhere, lost and alone. Frightened and confused probably. Vulnerable and in danger certainly. I hugged Yura who, despite his sleepiness, had insisted on coming with me to HQ even though it was well past two in the morning. Not that he would have slept. He was concerned for his little buddy. I regretted having barred Yura from calling Vladik earlier. Perhaps if I had, Vladik would have been more positive about what was in store for him and wouldn't have taken flight like this.

Eventually the shrill chirruping tones of Nikolayev's cellphone sounded off, startling us all. At that moment it sounded awfully loud, instantaneously heightening the tension in the room.

"Yes?" Nikolayev answered, discarding his usual well-mannered formalities, "When...? Are you sure…? Okay, we're on our way."

Nikolayev ended the call and surveyed the room.

"He's been spotted."

"Where?" I asked.

"Downtown," said Nikolayev.

"Where downtown?"

"The Midway Plaza Hotel," said Nikolayev.

Anton and I looked at each other. Of course. Vladik knew the hotel from our meeting with Roman. It was probably the only downtown venue he might recognize. Though I did wonder how he got there. At that precise moment, I was sure the same thing was going through Anton's mind.

As we left the building it had started raining. Not a good night for anybody to be outside, and even more forbidding for a little boy lost in a big city on his own. We all climbed into the car. Nikolayev drove. Elena sat in the passenger seat and I sat in the back with Anton holding Yura between us. Yura was cold, so I put my jacket around him as Nikolayev threw the Constellation erratically around the darkened, rain-lashed streets. The roads were pretty quiet, so it didn't require the skills of a racing driver to speed through the empty streets to the Midway Plaza, which was only a few blocks away. On the short drive I did wonder how we all came to be on this miserable, unforeseen errand that we suddenly found ourselves engaged on at this ungodly hour of the night. I only hoped we were going to get there in time and that Vladik was alright.

When we arrived at the Midway Plaza, the scene that greeted us outside the hotel was far more alarming than I feared. There were police interceptors all over the road, LEDs flashing like strobe lights and uniformed officers standing around in clusters not really doing anything. There were lines of curious bystanders behind the police cordon standing there spectating, morbidly waiting for some unfortunate event to transpire.

Nikolayev braked sharply, not being used to the characteristics of the big SUV, and brought it to a halt with a short screech, jolting us all in our seats. He left the car skewed awkwardly across the centre of the road and jumped out, leaving the engine running and the door open. Yura rose up in the back seat, visibly disturbed by the gravity of the scene.

"What's going on Mark?"

"I don't know little buddy, let me find out."

The rest of us all followed Nikolayev out into the driving rain.

I turned to Anton and pushed Yura back towards him, squinting through the heavy raindrops.

"Stay with Anton," I said, and Anton took Yura into his arms, drawing my jacket up over Yura's head like a hood so that he was protected from the rain.

Anton stood behind Yura and wrapped his arms around the boy. Elena stood nearby, braving the rain.

Nikolayev and I ducked under the police cordon and went over to the little knot of officers that were standing on the forecourt of the hotel. Some had umbrellas, others had polythene shrouds on their caps. All of them had their coat collars turned up against the rain. We showed them our badges and they escorted us over to the main entrance of the hotel. At this point, one of the hotel staff approached us, just inside the lobby. He was the hotel's doorman.

"I tried to stop him," he was saying, "But the boy was too fast for me."

The doorman sounded Eastern European, but I couldn't quite trace his accent. He looked a little agitated, standing there in his long braided commissionaires coat, with double rows of buttons down the front. He was a big man, very tall and bull-chested. Nikolayev managed to elicit the whole story from him. It turned out that the doorman was Polish. Coincidentally, and conveniently, he understood a little Russian, and was the first one to spot Vladik when he came into the hotel. Of course, a little boy on his own at this time of night was very conspicuous. Vladik had come into the hotel lobby looking cold and tired and frightened and said he was lost. So the doorman had taken Vladik into a little side room just off the main lobby, where he had sat him down and given him a glass of milk.

At this point the doorman took us inside and showed us into the side room and pointed out where Vladik had sat. It was a type of mess room which was reserved for the bellhops and doormen. It was a small and windowless little space, more of a closet, and there was a fragile looking wooden table in the corner with two rickety chairs. Vladik's half finished glass of milk was still sitting on the table. The doorman said he had managed to elicit from the boy that he was looking for a police officer called Mark and didn't know where to find him. So, whilst Vladik sat there drinking his glass of milk, he had called the police, thinking that this was what the boy wanted. At the sight of uniformed police officers, Vladik had panicked and shouted 'I'm not going back!" and fled the room, running out into the hotel lobby and disappearing up the main stairs. No one had seen where he went. But the window on the mezzanine floor was found open, and it was assumed that Vladik had climbed out and was hiding somewhere on the second floor roof.

My heart sank. I feared for Vladik. As if that little boy hadn't suffered enough. I couldn't imagine the turmoil he must have gone through just getting here, negotiating the city streets alone in the darkness. Now he was probably cowering somewhere, frightened and alone. I knew we had to find him. I wanted to get to him. Quickly.

I ran back outside into the driving rain. It wasn't until then that I realized that the assembled bystanders behind the police cordon were looking up at the building, but there was nothing apparent. Just the giant illuminated letters of the hotel's name, secured to the façade, at this moment looking redundant and garish. Along the front of the hotel, there was a decorative ledge which ran the entire length of the building. It was very narrow, probably only three feet wide, and was intermittently bisected by decorative cornices. Above the ledge was the window that had been swung wide open, so that the curtains were billowing out into the wind and rain, but there was no sign of Vladik.

The shower had intensified and it was coming down in bucketfuls now. The cold, hard pellets of rain drummed relentlessly against my face, disintegrating into large splashes as they hit. To my dismay, the fire department had now arrived with an enormous rescue tender. Quite what they were hoping to achieve at this stage was unclear, though of course I understood that their presence was routine at such incidents. There was also the unmistakable glare of media cameras, with their interrogatory arc lights and reporters yammering into microphones. I could see their OB trucks with those enormous dishes on their roofs, pointing skywards at some unseen orbiting satellite, already beaming back live pictures. I could even detect the mechanical whir of helicopter rotors somewhere up above. Trust the media to turn up when they were least welcome. Goddamn vultures.

The firefighters then switched on a powerful spotlight on the rescue tender, and they turned the beam up at the façade of the hotel. Just then, a little murmur went up amongst the assembled onlookers and they were all pointing up at the building. Turning back towards the hotel, I looked up, and saw what the commotion was all about. The powerful beam of the spotlight cast an illuminated disc onto the ledge just below the open window. Through it's beam, the concentration of falling raindrops was clearly visible. And there, on the narrow ledge, the searchlight had lit up the spot where we could clearly see the tiny, forlorn figure of Vladik, precariously clinging to one of the ornate cornices on the narrow ledge. My heart jumped at the sight of that little boy crouching there, so high up. Vladik had somehow climbed out onto the ledge and had worked a little way along. He was clinging on in fear, huddled into his jacket. He was soaked through and looked very scared. He was turned towards the wall, afraid to loosen his grip, and unable to turn around to survey the commotion going on in the street below him.

"Jesus Christ!"

I realized that the refrain came from Nikolayev who was standing beside me, looking up. He was not usually given to even the mildest of expletives. But this was evidently a departure in the type of events he was accustomed to dealing with.

"I'm going up there," I said.

Nikolayev turned to me.

"No Mark! Let the fire department deal with it."

"I must," I said, "I can't leave that boy up there on his own."

I ran back inside the hotel. The doorman was still standing there and he instantly knew my purpose. He said something in Polish and pointed up the stairs to the mezzanine floor, so I ran up and quickly located the opened window. Leaning out, I could see there was a drop of a few feet down onto the narrow ledge. Beyond the ledge, I could see down into the street where all the vehicles and flashing lights were littering the road. And there, a few feet along, I could see Vladik. He was crouched down, clinging on, and crying softly.

I was aware that by this time Nikolayev was behind me.

"I've got to go to him," I said.

Nikolayev knew he wasn't able to stop me.

"Be careful Mark, I can't afford to lose you."

I looked at him slightly taken aback. Was that a compliment? Nikolayev had never before hinted at how valuable I might be to him.

I climbed out onto the broad window sill and laid down flat. I swung my legs out over the edge, still clinging on with my fingers, then dropped down onto the ledge. It was extremely narrow, just wide enough to crawl along, but not much else. I worked my way along the precipice, assimilating just how high up it was. The sheer distance down onto the ground below was dizzying and scary and I remembered exactly why I had decided to become a police officer instead of a firefighter.

Looking along the narrow ledge, the tiny figure of Vladik was pressed against the wall just a few feet away, clinging on, afraid to move. I worked my way towards him slowly, inching along, little by little. As I neared, I could hear his quiet sobs more distinctly. His little body shuddered intermittently. He was sniffling and emitting tiny little keening sounds – a sure sign of distress.

The rain was coming down even harder now, making the ledge shiny and slippery. As I gradually crawled towards him, Vladik heard me. He seemed startled for a moment, and twisted his head half around. He was visibly tearful as he huddled there.

"It's okay little buddy," I reassured him.

On realizing it was me, he burst into a renewed fit of crying.

"Oh Mark! I thought you would never come!"

And he cried even louder, still clinging onto the ledge, afraid to let go.

"I'm coming little buddy. Hold on."

I edged closer and closer on my knees until I was within touching distance. Vladik was twisting his head, watching me and the fear was apparent in his tear-filled eyes. He waited for me to get close enough, then quickly, in one swift movement, let go of the ledge and turned to grab onto me. I threw myself across him and quickly swooped him into my embrace. He screamed into my shoulder in fear and relief. There was an audible gasp from the assembled onlookers down below, and I was aware that we were very much in the glare of the fire department's spotlight.

"I've got you little buddy. I'm here now. You're safe."

He cried for a few moments and I cried with him, barely able to distinguish my tears of relief from the incessant rain. Vladik felt sodden and bedraggled in my arms. His clothes were wet through. Beneath the saturated layers of fabric, his little body was cold and shivering with fear and hypothermia.

"What are you doing up here little buddy?"

"I didn't want them to take me back!" he sobbed, "I ran and ran and didn't know where to go! Oh Mark, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you!"

"It's okay little buddy," I said, stroking his blond head, "I'm here now."

I squeezed his little frame. The feel of his anxious, vulnerable, trembling little body against me was exquisite. It was good to have him in my arms again.

"Why did you do it, little buddy? Why did you run?"

"I missed you. I missed Yura. I couldn't stay in that place. Please don't make me go back!"

"You don't have to, little buddy," I murmured softly, rubbing his back, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He looked up.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Vladik threw himself back onto me and started sobbing again.

"Why do these things happen to me Mark? What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything little buddy," I said, still rubbing his back, "Life is like that sometimes."

"Yura is going to go and live in Saint Petersburg and I'm going to be left all alone."

"You won't be all alone. Yura has some good news for you."

He was quieted for a moment. But was still clinging to me tightly.

"What news?"

"I'm going to let him tell you," I said, "But first we have to get down from here."

I went to pull away. He grabbed me even tighter.

"Don't leave me Mark!"

"I'm not going to leave you little buddy."

He cried some more, and I could feel him shuddering into me. He went on sobbing gently into my shoulder and I noticed, as his little hands were clutching at my sodden shirtsleeves that his knuckles were bleeding.

I took his little hand and looked closely at his injury. He had grazed his knuckles quite badly, and the skin on the back of his fingers was torn and bloody. Some of the blood had started to congeal in dark globs, and there were little curled flaps of skin where it was torn open on the loose folds of his knuckles. The rain had smeared little trickles of pink blood across the back of his tiny hand.

"You're bleeding little buddy."

He seemed to stop crying for a moment, and pulled away to look down at his hand, as though he wasn't even aware of it. He seemed confused for a moment, as though not sure how to react to his injury. He sniffled a bit and looked back at me, not knowing what to do.

I took his little hand and he watched me, strangely silent for a moment, as I stuck his four fingers into my mouth. I warmly massaged them with my tongue, sucking his little digits clean. When his hand was clean of the dried blood, I dug my hand into my pocket and whipped out my handkerchief. I wrapped it around his knuckles, securing it with an expert knot. His hand was so small and frail in my grip. Once it was safely bandaged, he admired the knot that stuck up like two little rabbits ears. He stared at me, even through the driving rain, with a look of relief and wonderment in his pretty green eyes, as though asking 'Why do you care about me so much?"

For a moment my ministrations seemed to soothe and calm him, and he was quiet. But then he remembered where we were, and was suddenly shocked back into reality when he looked about him and realized we were sitting precariously on that ledge in the pouring rain, isolated and vulnerable and very wet.

He was very quiet and still for a few moments.

"Mark…? I'm scared."

"Don't be scared little buddy. Everything's going to be alright."

At this point we could hear the rescue tender power up and the fire department were deploying their hydraulic platform. They had one firefighter in the platform and it was slowly elevating towards us. It was noisy, but a welcome sight. I knew I could not carry Vladik back along the ledge. There wasn't enough room to turn around and I wasn't sure I could coax him back into the window backwards. It was safer for us to stay put and let the fire department bring us down.

I held onto Vladik as the hydraulic platform rose towards us like some giant mechanical arm, and we could clearly see the firefighter in his reflective overalls and his oversized helmet. The platform then began closing in towards us and when the firefighter reached in and grabbed Vladik, he seemed to lift the little boy with consummate ease, plucking him from the ledge and dropping him safely into the platform. I grabbed the rails of the platform and swung in after him. When we were both aboard, I held onto Vladik tightly for the brief minutes it took to lower us down to the ground.

As soon as we were back down on the ground, I slapped the firefighter on the back by way of thanks and we clambered out. Yura and Anton ran towards us. I could see Elena binging up the rear. Beyond the police cordon the media cameras were rolling and there was a whole bank of flashguns firing from both sides. Overhead the helicopter was whining and fluttering its rotors. Although tired and wet, Vladik was still able to run to Yura and they crashed into each other in an emotional embrace, simultaneously bursting into tears. Two little friends, reunited in the most dramatic of circumstances, saturated with the rain and emotionally exhausted.

"It's going to be alright!" Yura was saying as they held each other, through tears of happiness and relief, "You're going to come and live with us!"

Vladik pulled back and looked at Yura, then looked up at me, blinking through the relentless rain.

"It's true little buddy," I said.

"Mark's right," said Yura, "You can come and live with me and my dad in Saint Petersburg. Everything's going to be alright."

Vladik smiled, then his face transfigured into a look of confusion, as though he detected an unfamiliar sensation. He seemed to go blank for a moment. He was weakening. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and I knew he was about to faint. The fear. The emotion. The physical exhaustion. The lights. The rain. The helicopter overhead. It was just too much for this little boy. I quickly grabbed him, taking hold of him in a bear-hug as his knees buckled. I picked him up and lifted him, cradling him with one arm under his back and one under his knees. I carried him over to the car, with his arms dangling limply. I gently laid him down on the rear seat of the Constellation, out of the rain, and put him on his side in the recovery position. I brushed the raindrops from his pretty face. I huddled over him in the back of the car, shielding him from the rain that was lashing the leather upholstery through the open door.

Vladik came to a few seconds later. He opened his eyes and tried to smile. His exhaustion showed in the way he could barely keep his eyes open. The trauma of the night's events had finally overwhelmed him, and he looked up at me with a weak little smile. It was a smile that took all the energy he had left, but a smile of recognition. At that moment Vladik let go. He finally succumbed completely, allowing himself to give in to his childish exhaustion and to slip into a welcome sleep. But at least he fell asleep knowing that his fears were all assuaged. He was able to slip into his childish slumber knowing that it was all going to end well for him. All his problems were over. Everything WAS going to be alright.

Chapter 20
The End

As for me. Here I was, a police officer with nearly twenty years service, trained in close protection and unarmed combat, and yet the biggest challenge I had ever faced was looking after these two little boys. Who would have thought that the most difficult task I would ever have to contend with in my entire career was the profound love and emotion those boys had induced in me, and that the hardest assignment I had ever undertaken was to endure the wrenching deprivation of saying goodbye to them?

So I was to be left all alone. Except that I wasn't really alone. I still had Anton. I was thankful for Anton. I knew I was going to lean on him more than ever after these boys had gone from my life. Dear, sweet, handsome Anton. He had always been there for me. And he was here for me now. I needed him. Over the weeks and months since this beautiful boy had first insinuated himself into my life I had grown to love him. I think he loved me too. He was a very special person, and I knew that we were going to be friends for a very long time.

Inevitably, the day finally came. On the night before their departure, I will never forget the way Yura and Vladik came into my bedroom and stood before me purposefully, looking very much like they had some agreed agenda in mind. I had been out on the terrace smoking and just came back inside, sliding the door closed behind me.

"What can I do for you little buddy?"

"Take your clothes off, lie on the bed and close your eyes," Yura demanded.

"Why?" I asked, intrigued.

"We've got a surprise for you."

"But it's not my birthday," I said.

"We want to thank you for everything you've done for us," he said.

"Yeh, it's our goodbye present, something for you to remember us by," said Vladik, echoing the sentiment.

I wasn't sure about this. But then I looked at both their hopeful faces and they had these mischievous smirks that indicated they were up to something. Then I saw that they were both grabbing at their crotches, impetuously and awkwardly squeezing their little dicks through their clothes. I knew that if they both had boners, and their hairless little cocks were already stiffening up, it was something really sexy and dirty. They were giggling uncontrollably as they watched me strip. And they whispered things behind their palms into each others ear. My cock was instantly twitching. As I took my clothes off, my cock was indescribably hard, aching for their attention, knowing it was in for a treat, already primed for the ministrations of these two gorgeous little fuckboys.

I laid down on my bed with my eyes closed, as though about to doze off peacefully. My cock was so stiff it was heavy in my crotch. I could hear them taking their clothes off and giggling. I felt the bed jiggle and the mattress shook a little as they were climbing on. There was a lot of shuffling, harsh whispers, and then silence. I waited.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

I opened my eyes and there, down by my crotch, both of them had their heads together and their little tongues hanging out, within touching distance of my throbbing cock, which was sticking up, stiff with anticipation. They were smiling, trying not to laugh, their pink little tongues at the ready. They were naked, lying one either side of me, and I could see the curve of their perfect little bubble butts sticking up behind them. My pleasure was intensified by the sight of their naked little bodies laid there in such close proximity, stripped bare and bent over my cock with their tongues hanging out. I was in heaven!

In perfect synchronization, they both closed in and licked the shaft of my cock, from root to tip, one either side. It was divine! The sight of those cute faces down there, their soft wet little tongues stroking my shaft like that, even the sensation of their hot, moist breath on my crotch, was just too much. They licked my shaft up and down a few times and then they went for the head of my cock, executing a maneuver I had never seen before: a joint kiss where they joined lips and both took the head of my cock into their mouths at the same time. God, I had never seen that done before. I don't think I had even seen it in the boyporn videos. It was visually so erotic, and physically so stimulating, that I knew I was going to cum very quickly if they continued. But they didn't let me.

They let my cock go, then Yura moved aside and let Vladik perform on me solo. He roughly took my cock into his little mouth, squeezing the shaft in his little hands as hard as he could and he made me moan. Then Yura closed in from one side and kissed me hard on the lips. My body was being assaulted by their hungry little mouths, being expertly stimulated by their hot, wet lips in two places at once. God they were good.

I watched Vladik working on my cock. He licked it and sucked it so that it was wet and slick and proudly stiff from his ministrations. His little hands were working the shaft up and down, deftly jacking it to what I knew was going to be a pretty explosive cum. Yura was looking on eagerly, jacking his own little dick. He seemed to be eagerly anticipating my cum. I knew what a spunkboy he was and how much of my cum he had swallowed, usually licking it up from wherever it had been ejected. Vladik was good. The underside of my cock was being gently stimulated by his little tongue, his ruby lips were tight around the head, forming a seal that made his mouth feel like the perfect orifice for my cock, warmly encasing it in a tight, wet vacuum. He pulled away, then I watched closely as his little hands expertly jacked my cock. He was very well coordinated, with each of his little hands sliding up and down my cockshaft tremendously fast. He kept that going for a good long time. It was extremely arousing, creating a burning, aching sensation in my groin that made my cock feel like it was about to burst open with pleasure. His little hands were amazingly dexterous and agile. God, where did this little boy learn such techniques?

"Now?" Vladik asked.

I realized he was talking to Yura.

"Yeh, now," said Yura.

It was obviously a signal of some kind. Yura got up, clearing off the bed, and Vladik stopped. His magical little hands ceased their ministrations and I gasped when that heavenly sensation stopped. I was almost heading for the most powerful of cums, and they knew it. I would have been quite happy to let Vladik finish me off like that, with me spunking all over his deft little hands, but they had other ideas.

They all shifted around, their little hairless dicks still straining upwards stiffly, still primed for whatever perved-out little sex games they were plotting in their dirty little fuckboy minds. I moved over, towards the edge of the big bed, and watched. Vladik turned over and laid on his back with his feet up towards the headboard and his head towards the end of the bed. Yura took the pillows from the top of the bed and positioned them under Vladik's neck, raising his neck and shoulders so that his head was tilted right back. His face was upside down on the bed, looking towards the door. He opened his mouth wide, so that his lips were gaping open in a big 'O" shape and his pink little tongue protruding. His pretty boydick was still sticking up in his crotch, neglectedly pulsing with desire.

Yura looked at me and jerked his head at Vladik.

"Go on," he urged.

I looked at Yura and then at Vladik, that cute little ruby mouth gaping open expectantly. Then I realized what they were waiting for: that little mouth was waiting for my cock! They wanted me to fuck Vladik's mouth like that!

I understood immediately that the reason Vladik's head was tilted right back was so that he could deep-throat me – take the entire length of my cock by using his throat, rather like a sword-swallower. I had never actually deep-throated anyone, and had certainly never seen that technique executed by someone so young.

I looked at Yura with an incredulous stare, about to open my mouth to express my doubts. He just nodded assuredly, as if to say 'Go ahead, it's okay."

So I did. I got up on my knees and scooted over to where Vladik's sweet blond head was tilted there, upside down on the bed. I connected the tip of my cock to his lips and I fed the full length of my aching shaft right into his warm wet mouth. It went in right to the root. Witnessing the entire length of my cock disappearing into Vladik's little mouth was utterly spectacular, and the sensation of being completely enveloped in that hot, wet, tight little cavity was almost heart-stopping. I paused, almost overcome by the sheer pleasure of it.

Yura pulled me back urgently.

"Don't stop!" Yura exclaimed, "He can't breathe if you stop."

They seemed to have the fundamentals of this deep-throat technique calculated down to the minutest detail. Their expertise, their sheer proficiency in the rudiments of this procedure, made me feel relatively ignorant, totally at the mercy of the superior knowledge of these two well-practiced little fuckboys. Their precocity was mindblowing.

I took a few cursory stabs into Vladik's mouth, and it felt damn good. I looked down at the beautiful little preteen body that was laid out upside down before me, and I could hardly conceive that this little boy had managed to accommodate the entire length of my big cock in his little mouth. I felt the head of my cock jabbing into the tightness of his throat, and couldn't understand how he could endure that without gagging. His jaw was extended and his cheeks were hollowed, but somehow he had managed to fit my entire shaft inside his head. There was also a rough tightness I could feel as I bucked in and out, like there was something hard stimulating my cockhead. I don't know what Vladik was doing, maybe using his back teeth, I couldn't tell, but it was quite the most erotic sensation I had ever felt on my cockhead. I could feel his soft palate moving over the head as he swallowed it, expertly massaging it and making my cock so rock hard that I thought it was going to burst. I could feel the head of my cock being gripped by his throat, as though I was actually fucking his pharynx. And as he swallowed my shaft, he did not gag or choke, or even stop for breath. He knew how to alternate his breaths with my thrusts so that he was able to breathe at the same time. His coordination was faultless; his technique sensational. The feel of that pretty head, that sweet, noble little blond head, with my cock firmly engulfed into its orifice, was visually spectacular. I was fucking his beautiful face!

Yura leaned over and sucked on Vladik's stiff little dick, bobbing his head expertly a few times, providing some stimulation for his little buddy. Then he withdrew and came up to kiss me on the lips. Vladik's dick waggled with pleasure as Yura alternately sucked him and kissed me. Between the two of them, these boys knew how to pleasure their lovers. Just watching them, totally at the mercy of this virtuoso performance by these two accomplished little fuckboys, witnessing their expertise and the way they embraced these sexual exploits with such gusto was a real revelation.

I fucked into Vladik real hard. He bore it. I dug my fingers into the back of his head, pulling his little head tight onto my cock, and he didn't complain. He was expert and professional. I could tell that as a fuckboy he had amazing stamina with a willingness to take my cock in whatever way I wanted. He even seemed to have an innate understanding of how a bit of rough treatment was inevitable. He knew the exquisite pleasure he afforded me. He was compliant and cooperative and at this moment I knew this boy would relish sex in whatever guise or position took my fancy. As a lover, he would be tender and affectionate. As a fuckboy, he was specialized and accomplished. He was not only beautiful, horny and precocious, but his technique was unparalleled. There was no doubt. As a boyfuck, Vladik was sensational.

In no time at all my orgasm rose with incessant impetuosity, reaching a crescendo of pure pleasure and finally bursting into sweet release in Vladik's mouth. I cummed right into the back of his mouth, my cock urgently spitting out a hot load of spunk into his throat. His throat massaged my cock with his swallowing, drawing out the thick liquid I was injecting into him, rubbing my cockhead even in the throes of orgasm, heightening the pleasure and prolonging my ecstasy even more. It was even better than spunking all over his face – instead I was injecting my spunk right into the warm, wet centre of his beautiful head and the sight of it triggered such a high in my brain that I forgot myself and bucked into his mouth real hard, literally jamming the head of my cock into his throat. I held it there, momentarily incapacitated by the sheer pleasure, pulsing with ecstasy in the hot depths of his little mouth, my whole body floating in the sweet seizure he had just induced in me. I instantly regretted it because Vladik suddenly pulled away, choking. He turned over in a fit of coughing. He spluttered violently and I saw my spunk being sneezed from his nose, and there was bubbling white liquid running from his nostrils. I leaned back in shock, realizing what I had just done. My excitement and impetuosity had got the better of me and I had nearly choked the poor boy. Vladik rolled over onto his side with his mouth and upper lip coated in frothy cum. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He looked at the spunk that had just oozed from his nose and, to my great relief, he laughed. Apparently he thought it was funny! More importantly, he was okay. Seeing that, Yura pushed him down onto the bed and quickly closed in, sucking the remaining cum from around Vladik's nose and mouth. The way he attached his mouth to Vladik's lips, it looked for a moment like he was administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Yura licked Vladik's face clean, sucking up every trace of the cum that had leaked over his face. It was so erotic to think that he was anxious not to waste a single drop of my essence. When he was done, he rose up, licking around his own mouth rather like a cat savoring a saucer of milk. What a little spunkboy he was!

I was relieved, but delighted that Vladik wanted to finish up in style. He scooted towards me, with my stiff cock still suspended there, and he affectionately took it between his delicate little fingers. I gasped, feeling the sensitivity. My cock was so battered it was literally hurting from the intense pleasure of his ministrations. He squeezed the shaft and licked off the remaining liquid that oozed out. Then he kissed it. Giving my cockhead one last token suck, he drew with him a little string of clear spunk. It broke across his tongue. He swallowed it, and lasciviously licked around his lips. I laid across the end of the bed totally spent, but utterly satisfied, and incredulous at what a powerful cum Vladik's expert little mouth had induced.

Yura was sitting on the side of the bed, jacking his little dick with an almost pneumatic violence in his stroke, having witnessed the entire performance.

"See," said Yura, surveying the surprised expression on my face, "Didn't I tell you there was something special about Vladik?"

I laughed. He was such a little fuckboy.

Already spent, I closed my eyes, sated and content. I moved up and laid back, propped up on the pillow, and could quite happily have gone to sleep. But the boys had other ideas.

"No you don't," said Vladik, and moved up so that he was sitting astride me.

I perked up at the sight of his gorgeous little body mounting me. Vladik towered over me, with one knee either side of my hips, and his hairless boycock protruding from his crotch. That little dick was so pretty, so hard, so primed for fucking, it was potent and beautiful. He reached back and started jacking my softening cock quite roughly. It hurt, but the sensation of his little hand around my shaft reactivated my erection.

"That's going in me," he said, looking directly into my eyes, concentrating on what he was doing, deftly stimulating my cock with his little hand behind his back.

He started jacking my dick real fast, at the same time rubbing it between his little ass cheeks, with a rhythm that was so well coordinated it had the feel of someone who was well-versed in this particular discipline.

I reciprocated by jacking his pretty little dick. It was so hard, straining upwards for stimulation, it looked like it needed a hand around it. He moaned quite loudly. His little dick instantly jumped with joy in my fist, hardening even as I clasped my fingers around it. I could tell Vladik was desperate to cum himself. His dick was so tumescent with hardness, it was pulsing with need. He leaned in and kissed me. I could taste my spunk on his lips.

Meanwhile, Yura scooted around, and deposited himself at my side, his pretty little dick still stiff in his crotch. He leaned in and kissed me, his lips taking Vladik's place. It was a long, slow kiss. It was not the youthful, impetuous kiss of a sexed-up eleven year old. No, this kiss was sensuous and loving, with every single twitch and pout a deliberate and coordinated movement that communicated his love and demonstrated how much he cared for me, and which induced in me a wonderful feeling of being valued and appreciated. His gratitude showed. Then he poked his tongue inside my mouth, sealing our lips together, and he flicked that hot, soft little instrument around inside my mouth. It was like he was fucking my mouth with his tongue.

As Yura fucked my mouth, Vladik fucked himself onto my cock. He lowered his youthful body onto my cock, and I felt my hardness sinking into him, slowly being engulfed by his warmth, squeezed by the tightness of his velvety little chute, hurting real good from the resistance of his unyielding little sphincter. Vladik was tight, and yet I knew he could accommodate my big cock as though it was sheathed in a close-fitting glove. Slowly, he sank down onto me, and that big cock was gradually swallowed up, disappearing into the hot depths of his beguiling boyishness.

As he fucked himself onto me, violently forcing himself onto my dick with an almost painful impetuosity which pressed my pelvis hard into the mattress, I was jacking his little cock for him. I could tell he wanted to cum with my dick buried in his boyhole. He wanted his little ass to be filled and his gland to be stimulated when he cummed. He was already maneuvering his narrow hips as he bucked down onto me, trying to get my dick to hit the walls of his chute just in the right place, and when he found it, he had this look of euphoric concentration, his face fixed in a mask of ecstatic wonder, and I knew he was going to blow any minute. He stared directly into my eyes with a loving, almost disbelieving expression that said 'Look what you're doing to me!" When Vladik finally cummed, it was quite the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. He forced himself down hard onto my cock, painfully slamming his butt down onto my balls, and that was the stroke that finally triggered his orgasm. He fell forward, his little hands desperately kneading my chest, and he froze, opening his mouth in a silent gasp, with this look of delighted surprise on his face. Then he seemed to go into a kind of ecstatic seizure where his eyelids flickered eerily and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His little dick started to spasm violently. It stiffened and seemed to grow momentarily larger, then shot out a single long burst of little boy spunk all over my stomach. His little boy cum was steaming hot, and I felt it burn my skin as it splashed me. But it was not ejected in the usual series of short little squirts that would normally be expected. No, Vladik ejaculated one shot that came out as a continuous stream, a veritable damburst of little boy cum that was released in one quick spurt. It was short but spectacular. God, I had never seen a boy cum like that. It was the best hands-free cum I had ever seen.

Once he had used my cock to make himself cum, Vladik collapsed forward onto me. His hot boycum was smeared wetly between our two bodies as we were pressed together. I held his little body against me in an affectionate afterglow hug. He was breathless but happy. My cock slipped out of his battered little hole and he seemed completely spent. Yura was sitting by our side affectionately stroking Vadik's back and smiling. He was proud of his little buddy. Recovering slowly, Vladik lifted himself off me and rolled over onto the bed next to me. His tummy was smeared with the wetness of his own little boy spunk, which had transferred from my body onto his, the glistening residue of his own ecstatic emission. Vladik and Yura exchanged a mischievous little smirk and they giggled playfully. God, they were wonderful.

When Vladik had recovered, I was amazed at how quickly his irrepressible little dick was ready to return to its full hardness. His young body was impetuously sexed-up and ready to go again in no time. Unbidden, and in perfect unison, Yura and Vladik both set to work on me again with their tongues. They seemed to be in almost flawless synchronicity, as though they were telepathically linked and able to read each other's thoughts. Those boys had quite the most amazing rapport between them. Seeing them so finely attuned to each other, working in such perfect harmony, was a sight to behold. There was something very special about these two boys.

Even though I had just had a spectacular and almost volcanic orgasm, it didn't take them long to work up another cum out of me. Their hot, rough little tongues worked over every part of my cock and balls. They took turns sucking on the tip of my cock, maneuvering their tongues around the rim and licking especially hard on the super-sensitive frenulum. They sure knew what they were doing. Their technique was flawless, knowing and deliberate. I don't think I had ever spunked twice in such quick succession before. And as they detected my cock begin to pulse, it waggled violently on its own, signaling that my orgasm was already in progress. They held the tip between their joint lips and I saw my spunk fly out and squirt up into both their mouths at the same time, with the first tentative squirt going up between their cheeks, and the following more powerful jets into their open mouths and all over their ruby lips and their chins. God, it was fantastic. These two precocious, dirty little fuckboys had successfully induced another violent orgasm with what appeared to be the minimum of effort on their part. They licked up every trace of my spunk, greedily lapping it up between them. Then they even licked the spunk off each others faces, kissing and smearing my spunk over their lips and cheeks. God they were good. Or was it just that they were so sexy, so beautiful and so lovable, that the sight of their two pretty faces and the application of their expert little tongues on my big, stiff cock, could really only have one logical conclusion. Two gorgeous, precocious little fuckboys with two delectable little tongues plus one big, stiff cock, result: an explosive orgasm.

When they had finished, it wasn't long before they were ready to go again. It was turning into something of a sexual marathon. Inevitably, it was the last time I ever fucked Yura. He had rolled over onto me and he was lying face down on top of me. Finding ourselves thrown into this position, he decided to ease himself down onto my cock. He held onto me, his head against my chest, bracing himself against my thrusts. I wrapped my arms around him, held his little body in place, spread-eagled across my hips, and thrust my pelvis up into his little ass. And as my cock slowly pierced his little body, gradually forcing its thickness into his little hole, I wanted to take my time to appreciate it. I fucked into him knowing it was the last time, so I sank my cock in as deep as I could and stopped, my hardness encased in his hot, tight little muscle. Vladik laid back on the bed, propped up on one elbow, watching us admiringly. His little cock was still straining upwards in his crotch, stiffening up at the sight of his little buddy being roughly impaled on my big cock. His hand automatically gravitated down to his little cock and he was scrunching it roughly in his fist, alternately squeezing and then jacking it with long, firm strokes. God, he was so horny, but was happy just to watch us, acknowledging that I wanted this special moment with Yura.

Yura let me set the pace, and lovingly laid on me letting me do what I wanted. I relaxed into an affectionate and easy kind of lovemaking. I took it slow. There was no urgency, only the desire to enjoy this moment. I wanted to savor it and make it special for both of us. For a long time, I just fucked his little body in a slow and easy rhythm, drawing out this special moment, wanting it to last as long as possible. It took a while. I had already cum twice. And yet, when I finally did work up another cum, it was mighty and overpowering. When I felt the first stirrings of its pleasure approaching, I knew it was going to be a big one. I felt it rising and rising, menacingly heralding the onset of a seizure that I knew was going to be not only pleasurable, but all-consuming. It was insistent and relentless and I knew it was going to rip through me with all the energy sapping force of a hurricane. Yura was moaning too, and his little high-pitched moans were getting louder and more urgent, almost building the anticipation in sympathy with my own orgasm. At last, Yura's body worked my excitement to the pinnacle of ecstasy and suddenly, my whole body was overwhelmed by the sweetest sensation. I felt my entire being pulse violently, and then my cock bursting open in pleasurable release. I fucked into Yura's little body, eager to inject my spunk into him as deep as I could, wanting to make him feel my cum with me. He clung to me, moaning with me, and he let out a little scream, vocalizing a release of pure pleasure as his little boy cum consumed him. As I writhed beneath him in the grip of this delicious moment, his little body also entered its own fit of rapture, so that his little cock was spurting against my abs even as I was stabbing into his little hole. I could feel the little squirts of his blood-warm little boy spunk on my stomach. And as I urgently pumped my essence into him, deep into his receptive little cunt, which was drawing my body's offering into his, accepting the gift of my love in his most intimate of places, as he had always done, I felt like I was floating. It was one of those orgasms that was not just violent contractions, but a syncopated wave of pure ecstasy that pervaded my entire body and washed through me so profoundly, for a long few seconds. It was like I was enveloped in a sea of pure pleasure, consumed by a sensation of warmth and rapture that made my whole body quake, rippling right through to my very core. It was the most complete and most pleasurable orgasm I had ever experienced, and Yura was the reason. And as my cock finished urgently emitting the liquid love I had so wantonly injected into him, and the sensation gradually passed, the purest of pleasures was pervaded by a sense of utter bereavement. It was a flash of acute deprivation, no doubt stirred by the certain knowledge that it was the very last time I would ever do that. Never again would his little hole afford me this forbidden pleasure. Never again would I know the sweet ecstasy of burying my cock into the warm sanctuary of his tactile little cunt; that magical little orifice which was always so infinitely receptive, so quiescent, so ready to impart its heavenly delights. Never again would I feel the familiar form of his naked presence pressed so passionately against me, his tight preteen body flexing and tensing in his childish sexual pursuit, stripped bare and laid out before me in total submission, his balls and boycock proudly exposed, ever ready for me to toy with at my whim. Never again would I experience the rawness of his boyish sexuality, the taste of his warm boycum, the sweet nectar that was always so arduously extracted from his potent little balls, the precious cream with which his young body so gladly rewarded me – the life-giving asphyx of his being, the net result of the pleasure that his little body so keenly and impetuously sought when it was launched into the throes of the welcome but fleeting rapture of his little boy cum.

Those boys let me do everything I wanted that night. And they relished it. I was able to stick my cock into every part of them, to sex up their little bodies in any way I wished, to thoroughly wrest every last grain of pleasure out of them. They let me use their little bodies like they were my very own instruments of pleasure, submitting everything, withholding nothing. They willingly let me play with them, throwing themselves into the task with an almost psychotic fervor, letting me fuck their holes and suck their little dicks, and they in turn sucked me off and each other. They were determined to binge on every kind of sexual delight their filthy little fuckboy minds could concoct. They openly and knowingly drew me into their orgiastic little games and we gorged on each other's bodies all night long, one man with two beautiful, precocious little fuckboys who knew no limits, descending into a fuckfest of the gravest and most extreme kind of boysex I could ever imagine. And that was how we spent our last night all together. Spent and exhausted, I slept with those two wonderful boys, one either side of me, in my big bed, the sweat cooling on our naked bodies, lapsing into a sated slumber, nestled amongst the spunk-stained sheets.

In the morning, I greeted the dawn with a defeated and resigned demeanor and with all the jaded enthusiasm of a condemned man. It was our last day. I woke up with the boys sleeping soundly in the bed next to me. For a long time I sat up in bed just watching them, appreciating the beauty and innocence of little boys sleeping, listening to the hushed sighs of their unconscious breaths, taking in the sight of their pretty young faces and their perfect, hairless little bodies. I sat up just watching them, thinking about how much I was going to miss these little boys, and still almost as breathless with awe at their beauty as the very first day I set eyes on them.

It seemed like only yesterday that I first set eyes on Yura at the airport, when he had first arrived, emerging from the gate looking scared and disoriented. I could still remember the tears he shed that first night and how I had sat with him on the edge of the bed, comforting him and trying to stem his tears. It didn't seem so long ago that I found him crouched in the corner of his room in distress because he had wet the bed; or found him sleeping on the floor because he had had a nightmare and came into my room during the night because he didn't want to be alone. The magic of those first few heady days we had spent together was still fresh in my mind. I could clearly recall the little bonding activities I had engaged him in, making tiramisu and playing pool, and even that near-fateful trip to the mall where I had nearly lost him. How would I ever forget that first night this boy had come out onto the terrace and put his arm around me as we gazed up at the stars, and asked me 'Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" So many of Yura's antics stuck in my mind, and so many of the things he had said still echoed in my ears – like the way he had first brought a tear to my eye by candidly telling me that he thought I was a really nice person. Or when I first told him the story of my life with John and he said he was sorry that John died. Or how he had wrapped himself around me as we were sitting by the pool and told me that he loved me and wanted to stay with me forever. God, it seemed like it was only yesterday.

How could I ever forget his sexual precocity either. It was going to be with me forever the way he led me into the bedroom that first night and begged me to fuck him, screaming for me to fuck my cock into him real hard, wanting me to splatter him with my cum and then to suck his little dick until he squirted his little boy cum in my mouth. Or the night he so casually led me into the restroom of that restaurant and neatly sucked me off with his expert little mouth; or the time I fucked him on the gym mat in the basement; or the subtle way he seduced me into fucking him in the water at Crystal Lake. How could I ever forsake this little boy? How could I ever live without his sexual precocity, his prodigiousness, his little boy allure? How could I ever forget his good looks, his perfect body and his sheer fuckability? It was all now engraved forever on my heart.

Or how I could I ever forget Vladik's initial refusal to bond with me, the curt and hurtful 'Fuck you" he had tossed back at me that first night, when he had gone to bed having surreptitiously scoffed a whole packet of Oreos. How could I forget the drama of his attempt to run away at Crystal Lake, and our subsequent reconciliation. He had been so profoundly affected by his experiences that he was compelled to ask me 'Mark, is there something wrong with me?" as though his misfortune was somehow his own fault. I regretted not having had more time to bond with Vladik. It seemed we had only just begun getting close to each other, and our rapport had hardly been given the chance to flourish to its full potential. I really would have liked more time with Vladik. But it was not to be.

It was Yura who woke up first. He opened his eyes and looked up to see me sitting up in bed watching him. He smiled affectionately, then sluggishly wrapped himself across me without saying anything, and appeared to go back to sleep. I hugged his warm, naked little body closely. When Vladik woke up and saw us, he too said nothing and just joined in on the embrace. So we stayed like that, me sat up in the middle of the bed with these two sleepy boys slumped affectionately across me, paternally clutching them to my breast in a protective hug. Sadly, and with a heavy heart, I eventually loosened my embrace, kissed each of them in turn and got up. We finished our little three-way boymoment in silence, the type of pregnant silence that is characterized by the sadness of knowing that you are doing something for the very last time.

The rest of the day was strangely subdued. Emotions were high but our actions were distinctly low-key. I helped the boys to pack. We were neatly folding their clothes and placing them into one suitcase which was open on the bed. It was a new suitcase. Not the battered little suitcase Yura had brought with him when he first arrived from Moscow, with the miserable little accumulation of worn and faded clothes. He had lots of new things now, including all the stuff he had been given for his birthday. We packed up in silence and I knew that we were all thinking the same thing: this was the end of our time together.

At one point, when most of their gear had been packed into the case, I realized I could no longer hear them behind me. I turned, and they were both standing there. I smiled, and they both stepped towards me and hugged me tightly – almost desperately – laying their little heads against my chest. We stood like that for many minutes, enjoying what was probably the very last little boymoment we would ever share. My eyes filled with tears, and I felt hot tears spill from their eyes, and trail down onto my shirt. None of us spoke; our embrace was sufficient. I eased my head back to look at them and gazed in wonder at these perfect little boys. Yura's pretty azure eyes were overflowing with tears. Vladik's emerald eyes were glazed with moisture. My own tears trailed down my cheek. I was still as much in awe of these incredible boys as I was the first day I set eyes on them. I knew I would miss them. God, how I was going to miss these boys! And I knew they were going to miss me too. These had probably been the most momentous days of their lives. For Yura especially, I knew that, like me, he would think back on these days in the years to come with a sense of wonder and deep affection. The experience had no doubt changed him. Just as it had changed me. I was so grateful to have been a part of this special time and to have shared these momentous days with him.

At that moment, the doorbell chimed. I knew it was Roman, arriving to take them away. He was going to drive them to the airport. They were leaving for Saint Petersburg that evening.

When Vladik heard it, a momentary flash of panic spread across his face. He looked scared. He wrapped his little body around me, urgently clutching at my shirt, grabbing handfuls of my clothing as though trying to hide himself in the folds.

"Let's run away!" he suddenly enthused, "Just the three of us. Let's go where we can all be together and get away from all this!"

It was a crazy, childish, panic-induced outburst. The desperation and fear was evident in his eyes. Poor little boy. Now that the reality was taking hold, his courage almost failed him. God, how I felt for him. I was almost tempted to give in to his crazy little whim. But I knew I had to be strong.

"No," I said firmly, "No more running away. This is for the best. It's what you both wanted."

Vladik's hopeful expression collapsed. The tears gathered even more copiously in his eyes. He hung his head down, perhaps realizing that reality was going to have to prevail, finally defeated by the logic and common sense which so steadfastly refused to be thwarted.

He let go of my shirt and threw himself down on the bed sobbing into the pillow. Yura saw that and threw his arms around me. I cradled Yura's head, combing my splayed fingers through his beautiful thick black hair.

"Just remember, I will always love you little buddy," I said.

"I'll always love you too," he said, muffled against me.

"And we'll still see each other," I reminded him, with a happier tone, "We'll call and email and I'll try and visit you as often as I can."

He nodded into my chest, then pulled away and looked up at me through his tears.

"But it won't be like this, will it?" he said, downbeat.

"No," I replied truthfully, and I paused, adding: 'It can never be like this."

The idyll was shattered by the voice of Roman calling us from downstairs.

"Boys?" Roman called finally, "I'm afraid it's time to go."

We all dried our eyes before we went down to greet him. I gently coaxed Vladik up off the pillow, which was still wet with his tears, and tenderly dabbed his pretty eyes with a tissue. Yura wiped his eyes with his little fists, and I gave them both an encouraging smile. When we were all composed, I took them downstairs.

Roman was in the drawing room waiting with Anton. Yura ran up to him and they hugged. I watched the way Yura closed his eyes in his father's embrace and the way that Roman held his son's head, cupping his face in his hands and looking at him admiringly in a way that only a father can look upon a son. And I knew there was genuine love there. Roman was a good man.

Roman also hugged Vladik – his adopted son. Then Roman graciously came over and hugged me too, and I could feel the genuine affection and gratitude in his embrace. He let me go, and then held me out in front of him, his hands resting on my shoulders. And he looked me in the eye with an earnest stare, and spoke to me in perfect English.

"You're a very special man Mark. You will never know what you have done for all of us. Thank you."

Roman took the boy's suitcase and went out to the car which was sitting in the driveway. So our last moments together came to an end. The time had come. I bent down, and kissed Yura lightly on the lips for the last time. It was a sweet, short kiss, and then he smiled sadly. I eased away from him. In no time, it seemed, we were outside standing by the car. Yura hugged Anton first, then Vladik hugged Anton. Even Anton was looking sad. I knew that he had had his moments with Vladik and they had grown quite fond of each other. They held each other tightly for a long few seconds, shutting their eyes and acknowledging the moment. Then it was my turn. Yura hugged me and squeezed tightly. I responded. I squeezed his little frame as hard as I could, and he whispered into my ear:

"Thank you for looking after me."

I pressed him into me as hard as I could, as though I wanted to squeeze the very life out of him. I squeezed him so hard it was as though I would never let him go. But I did.

We stepped apart, and then they glumly got into the car. They strapped themselves into the back seat and, with a heavy heart, I shut the car door. I stood back and gave them one last brave smile, flashing them my best 'cheer up" expression. Anton stood beside me. Roman started the engine and sat there for a few moments adjusting his seat. As he did so, Yura retracted the glass so that they could stare out, and he looked at me with a resigned, plaintive expression. And as the car sat there idling, Yura made one last remarkable gesture which I shall always remember for the rest of my life – a gesture that was entirely symptomatic of why this boy was so special: he held up his little hand next to his cheek and rotated it so that I could see what was in his palm. It was the little silver pocket-watch I had given him on his birthday, complete with the inscription which affirmed my eternal love for him. He held it up to his cheek, showing it to me as the car began to roll, and kept it there for as long as I held his gaze, proudly displaying it as a memento of our time together, a token of my enduring love for him, and the single treasured possession that he would forever remember me by. Anton waved. I held Yura's gaze for as long as I could and watched the car escaping down the drive. A quick flash of the brake lights, the car turned out of the gate out of sight, and the boys were gone.

As the car disappeared from view, carrying my boys away from me forever, I turned and saw Anton standing there. We looked at each other. I hesitated a moment and found I could not move. I was suddenly struck by a cold sensation of desolation and despair. I didn't know what it was at first. But then I felt an incredible sadness rise up within me. It was powerful and vast. It was such an overwhelming feeling that I suddenly felt very frightened. The sadness I had been holding back for the boy's sake, the inevitable grief that had been waiting in the wings to claim me, which I had steeled my heart against, suddenly pervaded and so overpowered me, I realized I had tears in my eyes; great, fat tears that were welling up so large that they stung my eyes and blurred my vision so that I could barely see where I was going. Anton saw that, and for the first time ever I knew I needed him at this moment more than I had needed anybody in my entire life. I finally broke down and wept. I cried openly, turning to him. He hugged me tightly, his loving embrace cushioning the deep, profound grief that I was suddenly stricken by. We stood there forlornly on the steps. I wept loudly and abundantly into his shoulder, shuddering violently from the profundity of my sorrow, almost collapsing onto him. He held me. I pulled him tightly into my chest, clutching at him as though trying to shield myself against this unwelcome agony, this excruciating anguish, this black, blinding grief… the unmistakable testimony of my heart finally breaking.

I knew that the loss of these boys would be with me for a long, long time. Yura's absence especially would be hard to bear. I would never forget this beautiful, remarkable little Russian boy, whom at first, I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with. This complex, paradoxical little person that had wormed his way into the deepest recesses of my heart. This wonderful, gentle human being who had evoked such profound emotions in me. This precocious, vivacious little spirit who had taken me to the heights of ecstasy. I knew that whatever his life had in store for him, no matter what twists and turns he would contend with in the future, as his beautiful character unfolded and matured in the years to come, he would go about his business with the memory of this special time etched indelibly on his soul. I knew there would be times, maybe many years into the future, when he would stop and recall the golden days we had spent together; moments where he would think of me and the special love we shared. I knew that wherever he was in the world, I would be forever in his heart. And no matter what the remainder of my life had in store, no matter what fate had determined for me, he would forever be in mine.

I had promised Yura on his eleventh birthday that one day I would tell their story. I also promised myself that one day I would write about just how unique and remarkable this boy was. I would write a story about his beauty and vitality and tell the whole world about these very special little boys. I am happy that I was able to fulfill that promise. And this is the story I wrote.

The End