Cosmo

The Porn Boys

Chapters 9-12

During the day we swam, playing lot of energetic, physical games in the water, jumping around and splashing each other. We played video games, during which Yura would always conclusively defeat me, although, I like to think that I let him win most of the time. We spent hours in the basement playing pool in the games room, or working out together in the gym. He also loved to help me in the kitchen, where we cooked up all sorts of fun and experimental recipes together. We ate together and washed up together. We tidied up around the house and washed the car together, turning even that into a game of saturating each other with the hosepipe. He was my constant companion. Sometimes he would just follow me around the house, chatting animatedly about nothing in particular, yammering away in that sweet, absent way of his, and I would sometimes watch him as he was doing it, not even aware of my stare, and I marveled at how much I loved this little boy and how much pleasure he gave me just being in his presence.

In the evenings we watched TV together, and he invariably slept in my bed every night. I couldn't believe the amount of times we fucked, or the sheer volume of spunk I had pumped into his tight little ass. His energetic little body wrestled and writhed with me under the covers and he, as always, couldn't get enough of my cock. He was insatiable, and wouldn't stop until I had fucked my spunk deep into his little ass, or he had sucked my load into the back of his throat, sometimes both. He was impetuous in his sexual pursuit, keen to squirt his little boy spunk and would insist on cumming at least twice during these heavy night time sessions. His capacity to cum twice in rapid succession, sometimes even three times, was incredible. I loved seeing Yura cum. He would always get a surprised look on his face, as though every time he orgasmed he still couldn't believe how good it was. It was as though when his orgasm hit – it was still just as good as the very first time. That was what I loved about Yura – he still retained that childish sense of wonder that all young boys possess, and it was contagious. He would work himself up into a frenzy, stimulating himself until he was so sexed up he could barely contain his anticipation, or I would bring him off with my mouth, and he would suddenly freeze, stock still. His expression would glaze over with a kind of delighted surprise and he would swear tersely, barking out a gratuitous "Oh fuck!" or let out a high pitch squeal of sheer delight. He only ever swore during sex, and most especially when he was cumming. And he never swore in Russian. But it was so erotic when he swore – it signified the ultimate height of pleasure that his little body could attain, and he sought that pleasure with a relish and gusto that was difficult to reconcile in a boy so young. But God, it was so beautiful to see his little body in the throes of orgasm. It was so erotic when he cummed.

At night Yura slept next to me, totally drained by his exertions, and often with my spunk still drying around his lips, or leaking from his little boycunt. His little body would lay on top of me, spent and pulsing with quick little breaths, his sweet head resting on my chest, or he would fall asleep with me spooning him, my cock nestling in his cummy little ass crack. You could not measure the love that passed between us in these intimate little boymoments.

Elena visited the house and she commented about the dramatic change she had seen in Yura. She observed the way he interacted with me and how his demeanor had changed. He was open, cheerful and cooperative. She said that she could see we had a great relationship and that he idolized me. I had been a very positive influence on him, she said, and she admired the way he looked up to me. She felt I had shown him more patience and guidance and encouragement in the short time that I had known him than he had had from any man in his entire life. For myself, I found her comments very flattering. But I loved that little boy. Why would I not treat him with the genuine love and respect I felt towards him, and give him all the unconditional positive regard he deserved? God knows, he had been so deprived of that in the past.

I thought it was significant that when Yura did open up to me, and he finally disclosed the intricate details of what happened to him, it was quite unexpected. I suppose it was a manifestation of the trust and bond we had built up already, and I remember feeling quite privileged when he started to share these things with me. We were in the little gym in the basement of the house, where we often went to lift a few weights and do some bench presses. There was a treadmill and an exercise bike and I loved seeing him in his little gym shorts, shirtless as always, his taut little body glistening with little boy sweat. He was unusually dedicated to his exercise, and when I gave him encouragement he always tried hard to finish his regime, and do just one more pull-up or stomach crunch for me, his pretty little face screwed up with concentration and effort, straining breathlessly, his hair becoming wet around his temples and forehead. He was very dedicated and had incredible stamina. Of course, I was always careful not to push him too far. He was apt to overdo the exercise just as he did with sex, and sometimes I had to reign him in and remind him not to go beyond his limits.

It was on just such an occasion, after an arduous workout, when we were both hot and sweaty, pumped up and somewhat breathless, that we sat down on the exercise mat together and as usual we cuddled. We had lots of sweet boymoments on these occasions. He loved me holding him. He often said he liked the feel of my strong arms around him, and he felt very protected and safe with me. He was sitting on the mat with his legs stretched out before him, and I scooted up behind him so that he was sitting between my raised knees, and I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He was wet with little boy sweat, and I could feel the wetness of his hot little body against my chest hair, our sweat melding together on our skin. I spread my legs out, so they were laid out flat, then he scooted forward so that he could lay back, relaxing totally, resting his head on my lap. His little chest was still heaving up and down from his exertions and he had one arm across his tight little tummy, his fingers splayed across his little six pack. And he just started talking. I thought he was going to make reference to a few sketchy details and then stop. But he didn't. Once he started, it all came pouring out of him like a veritable damburst.

"It was Kirilenko who would do all those things to us. All the boys in the children's home were scared of him, it wasn't just me. He just liked me more than the others. I still remember the first time he put his thing in me. I knew he liked rubbing it on me, but I didn't know he was going to do THAT. It hurt a lot. He made me bleed."

"Hey little buddy," I interjected, "you don't have to tell me all this."

He looked up, viewing me upside down as he lay with his head between my legs.

"It's okay Mark," he said, "I want to. I trust you."

So I let him continue.

"Kirilenko used to frighten me. When he got into my bed in the night he told me I was all alone and no one wanted me. He told me he was looking after me now, and I had to do whatever he said. And while he was whispering these horrible things he was feeling me up and rubbing his thing all over me. Sometimes he rubbed it all over my face and stuck it in my mouth. He stank of vodka. He did that all the time I was at the children's home."

I stroked his smooth chest and stomach as he was talking, letting him know I was still there, still listening.

"One night, we were taken from our beds. Me, and some of the other boys were woken up in the night and we were locked in the back of a truck. We were still in our pajamas, and we were cold. We didn't know where they were taking us. But we knew Kirilenko had something to do with it. We were taken to a big house out in the woods, very far away. We knew it was far away because we were in the truck for a long time. They didn't let us out until the morning. It was dark in there and we were scared. Andrei was crying. Andrei was the youngest, but at least he had his big brother Sasha to look after him. Andrei was so scared he even crapped in his pants. I remember Sasha trying to comfort him. Even Vladik and Kolya were scared, and they were the oldest. I tried to be brave. I tried not to cry."

Yura rubbed his eyes, and shifted slightly.

"They kept us locked in a room. It was a horrible room, with no windows. We didn't even have proper beds, just mattresses on the floor. And we were always hungry. We had to be naked all the time. They took away our clothes. The worst thing was that the men would come into the room all the time. Any time they felt like it, they would come in, even in the middle of the night, and do what they wanted with us. Sometimes they would just open the door and stand in the doorway just looking at us. Sometimes they would come into the room and do things to us. Kirilenko was the worst. He was ugly and he stank, and I think most of the time he was drunk. Sometimes he just wanted me to play with myself, and would watch me jack off until I dry cummed. I didn't squirt anything then. Other times he wanted me to do things to him. He would get his thing out and make me put it in my mouth. Sometimes he couldn't even get hard because he was so drunk. I hated Kirilenko."

I was really starting to get the picture of just what Yura had been through, and as I sat there with his sweet head on my lap, listening to his words, I realized for the first time the sheer magnitude of what this little boy had been through. I wasn't sure I really wanted to hear it, and my affection for him almost made me feel like putting my hand gently over his mouth and telling him to stop. It was too painful. But if it was painful for me to hear, I mused, how much more painful was it to have experienced these things for real, yet alone recall what had happened.

"Kirilenko forced a butt plug into my bum and told me I had to leave it in all the time. I wasn't allowed to take it out, even at night. Only when I had to shit. There was a pan in one corner of the room which we had to use for the toilet because we weren't allowed out of the room. Many times he wanted to watch me go to the toilet and would force me to pee or shit right in front of him, and he would stand there playing with his thing while he watched me. I think he really got off on that."

I recalled how Yura had mentioned in passing how he sometimes had trouble peeing. I began to understand why.

"Kirilenko and the other men would come in and do whatever they liked. They treated us very roughly. Sometimes they tied us up with thick ropes and blindfolds. They would put a rag in our mouths so we wouldn't cry out while they raped us. They would stick their cocks in us and fuck us very hard. They would cum in my mouth and up my bum. Sometimes they hit me with their fists, sometimes with straps. Sometimes they burned me with cigarettes, burned my cock and balls, and pissed on me and in my mouth."

I watched Yura as these words were tripping off his tongue, his pretty lips annunciating the words which were so ugly to hear, and yet he wouldn't stop.

"Soon, they started to bring video cameras to make movies while they were doing these things to us. And they would take photos. It started with just me, posing naked and playing with myself. I would do it myself or one of them would stroke my dick until it dry cummed. Other times I would play with them, or they would fuck me and piss on me, and they would film it and photograph it. Then they brought the other boys to join in and they would do things to all of us, or make us do things with each other. They would make us fuck and suck each others' dicks and cum on each other, or piss on each other, photographing and filming everything. That wasn't too bad, when I was with the other boys. That was how I got to know Vladik. I liked Vladik. We made a lot of videos together and Vladik became my best friend."

I observed how Yura's voice changed whenever he talked of Vladik. His tone took on a wistful, almost dreamlike quality, as though he was remembering something that had real meaning to him.

"Sometimes these movies would go on all day. We got so tired from it, sometimes my dick couldn't get hard. So, they started to feed us drugs so we could carry on fucking all day long. One of them was a little pill that made our dicks go rock hard and they wouldn't go down all day, so we could keep cumming and cumming while they filmed everything. That pill made me very hot. It made my face very red and my heart beat really fast. And after I had cum three or four times, it really hurt. When I started to squirt spunk, it did help to make my dick stay hard, but it started to hurt too. Sometimes at night I couldn't sleep because my dick was so hard and it hurt so much, and I couldn't get it to go down, even after cumming five or six times in one day. Sometimes I cried because I was in so much pain from my dick being so hard. When I cried, Vladik used to cuddle me in the night. Vladik was like my brother."

God, I had never heard of boys that young being given Viagra. That was so dangerous. I knew that Viagra had never been tested for use on children – for obvious reasons. Its dangers and side effects were well documented.

"They also gave us a horrible tasting medicine which they forced us to drink. They told us it was a muscle relaxant, to make it easier for our bums to be fucked. That medicine made me sleepy and dizzy. Sometimes they would fuck me so hard and I couldn't feel anything. It made me go all weak and floppy. When I had that medicine they would be very rough with me. They would fuck me again and again. Sometimes I would be fucked by five or six men until my bum was sore and bleeding. They all had really big cocks and they liked hurting me and I would cry out from the pain. They liked to make me bleed. It stung so badly I would be shitting blood all the next day."

Yura didn't see me turn away and screw up my face in disgust. It was almost painful just listening to him. I could hardly conceive what it must have been like for this little boy, this innocent, unassuming little person that was lying between my legs with these awful experiences now indelibly etched on his memory.

Yura paused. The mood in the room had turned very somber and we were silent for a bit. I got up from sitting behind him, and he raised himself up, sitting cross-legged on the mat. I went over to the cocktail bar in the lounge area on the far side of the room. I took two bottles of water from the chiller and rejoined Yura on the mat, handing him one. He accepted it, flipped open the top and sucked a single mouthful from the sports cap. His lips were noticeably dry. I scooted back behind him, and he resumed laying his head on my lap. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and huddled over him, ready to hear the rest of his testimony.

"They liked to put things in my bum. Once they got a long steel thing – they called it a speculum – and forced it into my bum. It hurt a lot. They filmed that. I was screaming and I told them it hurt, but they didn't care. They held me down and did it anyway. They liked it when I screamed. They did the same to Vladik, and he screamed too, begging them to take it out, but they didn't. Then they filmed us together, sucking each other, with these painful things in our bums. They said we had to shoot our spunk without touching our dicks. They used the speculum to squeeze our spunk out. They could make us cum on each other without touching our cocks. Our spunk squirted out really hard and we screamed from the pain, and I nearly passed out from it. They wanted to stick lots of things in my bum – beads on a string, rubber dildos. Another time, they got a hose with a pointed nozzle, like a shower hose, and stuck it deep into my bum. They pumped a lot of water into me and told me to hold it. I didn't know I could fit so much water in there. It hurt a lot. I could feel my stomach gurgling with the cold water and I got very painful cramps in my guts. I screamed in pain, but no one cared. They made me sit on Vladik and told me to let all the water go. I opened my bum and let it all spray out over his naked body, and it had shit and blood in it, and they filmed that. Then they made Vladik do it to me."

I had seen all these sequences that Yura was referring to. I clearly recalled the incident with the speculum, which now took on a completely different interpretation now that Yura had described the events surrounding it. In the video it had looked quite erotic – not so once he had described what it was like from his point of view. Of course, that was the mystique of all boyporn – it looked great, but the story behind it was often one of suffering and coercion.

"They liked to do things to my dick too. They would make my dick hard with the pills and then hit me with all sorts of things. Once they whipped my hard dick with a leather strap. They hit it so hard it stung and split the skin, making it bleed. Sometimes they would force me to wear a cock ring and they put straps around my balls. It made my balls hurt and my dick so hard that I thought it was going to burst. Then they would make me shoot my spunk like that. Sometimes they tied my cock really tight so my spunk couldn't come out, and when I cummed it made me scream from the pain."

I knew the technique he was talking of – it was called Retrograde Ejaculation, blocking off the urethra during orgasm by putting pressure on the perineum, so that the sperm shot back into the bladder. John had written about it in his book. It prolonged and intensified the orgasm, but it was also somewhat risky.

"Towards the end, it just became one big orgy. It wasn't about making movies anymore. Lots of men would come into the room, most of the time they took those pills to keep them hard all night, so they could fuck us as many times as they liked. We would be given drugs and there was always vodka and joints, and cocaine and poppers being passed around, and loud music. It was the kind of party where everything was allowed. The men would take turns fucking us. I was made to suck all of them until they had all cum in my mouth at least once. My lips were bruised and sore, but still I had to suck them and swallow all of their cum. I swallowed so much cum I was sick, and threw it all up in a big white puddle. I couldn't believe how much cum I swallowed. But then they wanted to fuck me, sometimes two at a time, one in my mouth, one in my bum, and at the end they all gathered round and cum on me, until I was covered in cum all over. That was the highlight of the whole thing. They loved that, and of course it was all on camera."

My suspicions were correct. They had drugged him. I remembered the pictures that Anton had showed me, and they were entirely consistent with what Yura was telling me.

"The very last time, I was really scared. I really thought I was going to die. They chained up my wrists and ankles and they hung me from the ceiling. That was frightening because I was hung there naked, with my cock and balls and bum exposed, and I knew they were going to do horrible things to me. They soaked a rag in poppers and tied it over my mouth, and it stung my lips and eyes and made my head throb. They fed me pills to make my dick hard and gave me the muscle relaxant. They forced me to drink vodka which had other drugs mixed in with it – they said it was to knock me out so I wouldn't remember what they were going to do to me. But I do remember. I remember all of it. I was drunk and dizzy and felt sick, and I was full of drugs and vodka, but I was still conscious. I was still conscious when they forced things into my bum, and stuck bigger and bigger things in there, pushing them in so hard it made me scream. They ripped my hole and I could feel it bleeding. They punched me in the face and on my legs and arms. They burned me with cigarettes and whipped me, especially on my cock and balls. They put barbed clamps on my nipples which were so tight they cut into me, and they twisted the clamps until I screamed. They bound my cock and balls tightly until they hurt. They fucked my hole even when it was bleeding, and they all cum on me. When I was too weak to move, they cut me down and left me on the floor, bleeding and unconscious. Then they pissed on me. That was how the police found me the next day. I knew those men wouldn't stop. Thank god the police came."

Yura's words trailed off and he fell silent. He seemed to run out of steam; as though the sheer effort of this testimony had drained the energy out of him completely. I waited, still sitting there on the floor with his sweet head resting on my lap and the full length of his little body stretched out before me, patiently listening and not interrupting. Of course, none of this testimony was entirely new to me – I had seen those videos after all. I had witnessed the depravity that those cameras had captured. The difference was that I was now sitting with a real boy – not just a figure on the screen, but a living, breathing participant of those events.

Yura turned his head to the side, screwing up his eyelids almost as though he was in pain, then carried on in very low, almost imperceptible tones.

"I found out later, when I was in hospital, that the other boys were dead. Sasha and Andrei were found together the next morning…" and he looked up at me with massive tears in his eyes and screwed up his face with a little howl, "…they died in each other's arms."

He brought his hands up to his face and pressed his fingertips into his eyelids. He shook uncontrollably as he cried, sobbing violently at the memory of what happened, and he let his grief overwhelm him. I really felt for him. It pained me to see him cry and I realized I also had tears in my eyes. I watched his fragile little frame, laying there on the mat wracked with grief, and I wondered just how many more tears this poor little boy was going to shed. He had cried so much already. Just how much more crying was he going to have to do and how long was his suffering going to go on for?

We stayed there on the gym mat for a good long time and I let him cry himself out. Eventually, when his grief abated, he laid there silently, not moving. Yura was very quiet and still. Recounting his experiences had brought many memories to the surface, and I could see that he was deeply affected by that. Still laying with his head on my lap, I could see his hand had moved down from his flat little tummy and was grabbing at his crotch, his little fingers squeezing hard at the bulge in the front of his shorts. I looked down at his crotch and he obviously had a little boner. It was trapped and straining to one side, its outline clearly visible in his tight little shorts. I thought about what Anton had said about Yura being addicted to sex, and I was starting to recognize a pattern. There were times when Yura recalled unpleasant memories, and these instances were usually followed by a need for sex. It was almost as though he used sex to assuage the painful memories, as though rough sex was a form of distraction.

He shifted uncomfortably, pulling at his little boner so roughly it was almost as though he wanted to rip it out from the front of his shorts. I reached out, unable to resist wanting to touch it myself. He took his hand away, inviting me to touch him there. I grabbed his little boner through his shorts and traced the outline of his hard little boydick. He moaned, putting a little hand over mine and pressing my hand hard into his crotch. His little boner was rigid and burning hot and the fabric made it feel bigger and fatter than it really was. With my hand wrapped around it, he flexed it a couple of times and I could feel it pulsing under his shorts.

Eventually, he got up, moving slowly and purposefully, and went over to the large leather sofa that was in the lounge area way over the other side of the room. Without saying a word, he grabbed two of the oversized cushions from the sofa and came back over to the gym mat where I was sitting. Deliberately, and with great care, he arranged the two cushions on the mat, quite close to me, then he took one of the towels that were neatly folded up by the treadmill and laid it over the cushions. Methodically, he proceeded to take off his little sneakers and socks. Still without saying a word, and without looking at me, he yanked down his tight little shorts so that they were halfway down his thighs, and his stiff hairless little boner sprang free. It was dagger hard, pointing right up towards his navel. The skin had rolled back a little exposing the head. The tip was all red and engorged, and it was wet and slimy with precum. Finally, he laid himself face down with the cushions under his pelvis, his exposed butt raised up in the air expectantly. He settled himself in this position, his stiff little boydick pressed against the towel, digging wantonly into the padding of the cushions. With his head on the mat, he turned to one side and looked at me, uncharacteristically expressionless. This time he didn't even bother asking me to fuck him. He just laid there patiently, stripped and obviously ready, presenting his gorgeous ten year old little bubble butt to me in the most conducive and enticing way.

Kneeling down over him, I ran my hands over his smooth back and over his round little butt, once again in awe of his beauty. He was still shiny with little boy sweat, but his grief had dissipated. In fact he seemed quite relaxed. Seeing his smooth, slender little body lying there so submissively was strangely erotic and exciting. And this kid always seemed to know exactly what to do to heighten the passion and the eroticism, from his wordless actions in arranging the cushions under his pelvis, and the foresight with which he carefully laid the towel over them, to the way he had pulled his tight little shorts down without removing them altogether, but just far enough for his ass to be fucked. Once again, he took my breath away, not only by his extreme beauty and sheer horniness, but by his innate eroticism and sexuality.

I needed no further inducement. My cock was indescribably hard, almost aching to root him. I took off my gym shorts and positioned myself above him on all fours. I took in the sight of his slim, slight, prepubescent body lying there looking so vulnerable and compliant beneath me. His beautiful little boy butt was raised upwards invitingly, white and creamy and deliciously ripe for fucking. I just knew I wanted to pierce his little sphincter and ram my big cock deep into his tiny little pelvis, and pump my spunk deep and hard into his horny and willing little body. I leaned forward and kissed him on the temple. His head was hot and sweaty. I could see his eyelashes sweep up and down slowly just over the line of his cheek as he lay there beneath me. I whispered into his ear.

"I love you little buddy. You're so beautiful, you know that?"

He didn't reply. He laid there very still and just waited patiently. I watched his expression change as I lowered my big hard dick into the soft young flesh of his little butt and inserted the head of my cock into his hot little boyhole. He was always easy to penetrate, and so willing to take my cock. I swear it was pure ecstasy to root this beautiful little fuckboy and feel my cock sinking deep into his burning hot chute. He closed his eyes tightly, his mouth opening with a little gasp, which could have been pleasure or pain. He winced slightly as my cock eased through his tight ring and slipped right into him. But there was not a hint of protest. He continued to bear the invasion of my big cock, steeling himself as it bottomed out deep inside him, sheathed all the way into his tight, velvety little boycunt. Then he took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable onslaught which he welcomed and anticipated. God, this kid was so fuckable.

It was the first time that Yura said nothing at all as we fucked. Normally so vociferous and expressive, he seemed not to be in the mood for words this time. I sensed this was pure animal lust for him. He just wanted to be fucked, and laid there gasping and moaning and yelping each time I stabbed my cock deep and hard into his little butt. I fucked him good and hard and for a very long time, bearing down on him with a really good rhythm and pummeling his diminutive little frame hard into the cushions. I made sure he felt the pleasure of it all the way through his little body, until he was consumed by the sensations I was giving him. As usual he was compliant, yielding and receptive, jerking his little butt upwards to meet my thrusts, squeezing his little sphincter to enhance my pleasure, tightening his grip on my cock on the downstroke as though trying to keep it inside him. God, he was good.

He fell into a really good rhythm with me, rubbing his hard little boydick into the towel, pressing it urgently into the cushions, building up to his own climax as we fucked. I could sense the anticipation rising within him as his yelps gradually got louder and louder, gaining in intensity every time I fucked down into him. That seemed to ratchet up my own pleasure even further. It was such a turn-on to hear him yelping plaintively like that, hearing what I was doing to him, spurring me on to fuck him yet harder and faster. I could feel my orgasm approaching, building and building until eventually everything reached such a pitch that we both exploded in pleasure at the same time. He groaned loudly, almost screaming, and his little body shuddered violently, racked by the intensity of his little boy cum. He was totally incapacitated by the sheer pleasure that ripped through him, and this happened at the same time as my cock exploded within his tight little chute with a great surge of ecstasy. My cock spasmed violently, deep inside his little cunt, flooding it with scalding hot cum, pulsing with a magnificent release of pure pleasure. And as it did so, I could feel it being gripped all the more tightly by the intensity of his contractions, literally propelling the spunk out of me with even greater force. It was such a powerful cum, and I knew that even as my spunk was pumping into him, my dick in his little cunt was striking his gland and milking his little boydick, forcing his boyspunk to squirt into the towel beneath him even harder. His orgasm consumed him for a very long time, and his little body shook uncontrollably, tightening up beneath me, in the throes of orgasm for what seemed like ages.

When it was over, he sighed heavily and collapsed on top of the cushions in a heap. I pulled out of him, both of us utterly spent and exhausted. As I did so, I realized just how much spunk I had pumped into him when some of it dribbled back out of his dilated hole onto his hairless little balls and the towel below. Some of it dripped from the end of my dick and fell in thick, stringy gobs onto his naked butt. His back was shiny, his whole body bathed in sweat. There was perspiration forming on his temples and his cheeks were noticeably flushed. He lay prostrate on the cushions for a couple of seconds, then turned over, sliding off the cushions to lay flat on the mat. I knelt down beside him on the mat, still getting my breath back, in total awe at this incredible little boy. We both looked at how wet the towel was, incredulous at the amount of bodily fluids we had expelled. It was saturated with sweat and neat streaks of watery boyspunk, where he had just emptied his little balls, and this was mixing with the spunk that had just leaked out of his little cunt. Yura stretched out flat on the mat, facing up at the ceiling, as usual looking distant and groggy after his explosive little boy cum, openly presenting his beautiful nakedness to me. His crotch and abs were greasy, smeared with his own cum. His tight little gym shorts were still drawn down around his thighs and he looked totally ravaged.

After a few seconds, when he had recovered and reoriented himself, I will never forget the way he looked up at me, with genuine love and affection in his gorgeous blue eyes, and he smiled. It was another perfect boymoment.

"We came together," he said, a little croakily.

There was a sense of achievement in his voice, and I could see he was happy. His little boycock was nestling in his crotch still hard and slimy with little boy spunk. It never went down after just one cum, and I knew that he could easily go again. I couldn't resist grabbing it and squeezing it hard in my big strong fist, smearing his boycum all over his neat pink little cockhead with my thumb, and he squirmed with pleasure. Smiling back at him, I rested my hand on his chest which was still panting up and down. He was hot to the touch. I stroked his body, running my fingers over his pink little nipples and tracing the line down the centre of his chest to his navel. I pressed my palm into the tight yielding hardness of his little six pack and admired the beautiful smooth little body I had just pumped my spunk into. I swear I was so consumed with this kid, this remarkable, amazing little Russian boy that had just about blown my mind. God, how I loved him.

I was rudely wrenched out of a deep sleep by the phone ringing. It was pitch dark. The middle of the night. I stirred, not quite awake and sluggishly shifted over to the side of the bed, momentarily deafened by the phone's shrill tones. Blindly, I reached out for the phone on the nightstand and lifted the heavy handset to my ear. It was Nikolayev.

"We've found him," he said.

I noticed the clock there by the phone. It was 4.30 in the morning.

"What? Who?" I asked, my voice husky with sleep.

"Vladik," Nikolayev said, "We've found Vladik."

It didn't quite sink in. I was still half asleep.

"Can you be at the airport in two hours?" Nikolayev asked.

"Of course," I replied, just starting to come to my senses, "But what…"

"He's in transit now. He'll be alone," Nikolayev went on, "Codeword Alex. I'll text you the flight details, just be there."

"Okay," I said, and replaced the handset.

I put on the bedside lamp and took a minute to focus. Of course it wasn't the first time I had received such a call. For security reasons my unit never released such details until after the aircraft had taken off, so as usual I was the last to be informed. But that was the nature of my job. Anyway, it was good news. They had found Vladik!

Chapter 10
Codeword Alex

"What's going on?"

"Good news," I said, smiling in the semi-darkness.

I didn't get the chance to finish. He knew instantly.

"Vladik!" he exclaimed, instinctively.

I nodded.

Yura sat up, throwing off the bedclothes.

"Vladik? Really?"

"Oh yes," I said, "I'm going to get him."

"Can I come too?"

"I think he would like that," I said.

He raised himself up and threw himself across me excitedly, hugging me tightly.

"Oh, I'll be so happy to see him again!" he exclaimed, overjoyed.

I rubbed his smooth back. His naked little body was hot from being snugly buried under the bedclothes, and was now cooling in the stillness of the darkened room.

"Go and have a shower," I said, kissing his cheek, "and be ready to leave for the airport in half an hour."

And so it was that within a very short time we were both dressed and ready for this welcome but unforeseen journey. It was still dark when we started up the big SUV and set off for the airport. With Yura safely strapped into the seat beside me, I headed for the Interstate and set a course for the airport. There was not much traffic. We soon reached cruising speed, and were able to make good time.

Yura was uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the airport. He slept most of the way. The sudden and early awakening proved too exhausting for him, despite his anticipation of seeing Vladik again. In the silence I concentrated on my driving and wondered how the arrival of Vladik would impact on this strange idyll that Yura and I had fallen into in the short time that he had been here. We had been constant companions in the house for the duration, and Yura had been surprisingly quiescent to his circumstances. I was lucky. This assignment had so far proved to be pleasurable and rewarding for me, and Yura was never a problem. He was content to linger around the house with me, just hanging out and passing the time doing normal, unremarkable things. He was charming and funny and never once complained about being bored. In fact, he never grumbled about anything. He was a pleasant, undemanding little boy to have around. Despite all the terrible experiences he had been through, and even in view of his tender years, I swear he was the most unassuming and innocuous person I had ever met. Naturally, I wondered how Vladik would be in comparison.

Pretty soon we arrived at the airport and I was able to hustle Yura into the terminal without too much formality. I kept him very close to me, ensuring I had an arm around his shoulders at all times. Waiting at the gate, Yura was talking incessantly. It was all idle chatter, not about anything in particular. He was finding it difficult to contain his excitement and he just couldn't stop talking. For my part, I tried to remember what Vladik looked like. I knew he was blond, and I could vaguely recall from having seen those videos that there was a blond boy in them. But I had no specific recollection of his features. As I have already said, all the boys in those videos were exceptionally beautiful. That was the defining merit of those videos – all the boys were handsome beyond belief. And quite apart from their good looks, could obviously perform too. Of course, I had heard from Yura how they did it. What a shame that three of those lovely boys were now dead. What a waste of those young lives. Yet it was arguably the most extreme, and the most polished, boyporn that had ever been recorded, and I was about to meet another one of its protagonists.

In the end I didn't need the codeword. Although I had prepared a sign, Yura spotted Vladik emerging from the gate long before I did. Vladik was accompanied by the airline's Passenger Service Assistant, who had obviously been assigned the task of escorting him from the aircraft. The only thing that made my heart jump was that Yura ran out unexpectedly, calling out to Vladik as he meandered through the crowd, belting headlong towards him at warp speed. Vladik stopped dead in his tracks, dropped the little backpack he was carrying, and held up his arms just as Yura jumped up onto him, nearly knocking him over. The Passenger Service Assistant, in her royal blue uniform, let out a little squeal of surprise. The two boys held each other tightly, Vladik holding Yura up for a few seconds, and then releasing him back onto his feet. There was instantly a bond between them, which was evident from the way Vladik's face lit up at the sight of Yura racing towards him, and the way they hugged each other so affectionately. There was a genuine affinity there, almost as though they were long-lost brothers.

By the time I arrived on the scene, they were babbling away excitedly in Russian, their little high-pitched voices tripping over one another and their eyes as wide as saucers. Yura was affectionately hanging onto Vladik's lapels, his little hands grasping the thin jacket that Vladik was wearing. Vladik was looking a little overwhelmed. He was happy to see Yura, but still slightly disoriented by the flight and the over-exuberant welcome. He was looking about him in a very nervous way, observing the bustle of activity of the cavernous terminal building, and he appeared scared and distracted by the noise and general commotion around him. I stepped up and introduced myself to the Passenger Service Assistant, who seemed only too pleased to have delivered Vladik safely. She bade him goodbye and immediately left. I held out my hand to Vladik in greeting, introducing myself as Mark. He looked at my hand without making any attempt to shake it. He decided to ignore my outstretched hand and simply said "Alex," as though it was clear that we all knew it wasn't his real name, and gave me a challenging and contemptuous stare. He almost curled his lip as he said it, and in that one gesture I was able to gauge his outlook immediately. He was stolid and unreceptive, almost hostile. I had seen that look many times before. And in that single instance, I knew straight away that Vladik was going to be trouble. The specter of hurt and anger was in his eyes, and deep down inside, I detected that there was a lost, lonely, vulnerable little boy, with a lot of hostility and resentment. I could see that the whole experience must have been discomfiting for him, especially as he had made the journey alone. I thought that it must have been quite daunting for this little boy, travelling as an unaccompanied minor, fresh from whatever experiences he had been subjected to, and suddenly catapulted halfway around the world, not knowing what to expect at the other end. He was right to be scared and defensive. That was the good thing about having Yura there. It must have been at least some consolation for him to see a familiar face.

For the first time I got a really good look at Vladik close up, and only then did I recognize him from the videos. I could understand straight away what the pornographers had seen in this little boy. He was a little older, perhaps an inch or two taller than Yura, and he was of course exceptionally pretty. He had a cute round face and big, clear eyes that were a delicious shade of emerald green, accentuated by two little smudges of blonde eyebrow. He had a neat, slightly upturned nose and cherry-red lips with a cute little overbite, which showed off his two front teeth and formed a lovely little rosebud mouth which was infinitely kissable. This was all set off nicely by his closely cropped blond hair which had been clipped quite short and at first glance appeared to be made up of short prickly strands of gold. His closely shorn hair clearly revealed the shape of his noble head, accentuating the cuteness of his occipital bone, that area right at the back of the skull above the neck. How I loved the way the back of the head sometimes curves upwards so gracefully in some boys, complimenting the back of their neck in such a pretty and alluring way. God he was beautiful.

Vladik's initial response to me was cold and unwelcoming, but probably only to be expected. I let Vladik and Yura chatter away as I took Vladik's little backpack – alas all the luggage he seemed to have in his possession – and led the way back to the car. Vladik walked quite slowly and it appeared that he had a slight limp. At any rate, his walk was quite measured and deliberate and I wondered if he was nursing an injury. Yura didn't seem to notice.

Yura opted to sit in the back seat with Vladik on the return journey, so they could carry on talking and to keep Vladik company. I thought that was a nice gesture, and entirely symptomatic of Yura's thoughtfulness and consideration. Yura was doing most of the talking, telling him about the house we were going to, and about the swimming pool and the gym and the video games, and this carried on as we left the airport and headed back towards the Interstate. Gradually, Yura calmed down and his conversation turned to more serious matters. He was asking Vladik what had happened to him, trying to elicit where he had been for all these months and telling him how we feared he might be dead. This made Vladik very uncomfortable and his monosyllabic answers made it very clear that he didn't want to talk about it. I called to Yura from the driving seat.

"Hey little buddy?"

Yura looked at me in the rear view mirror.

"Give him time," I warned.

Yura nodded, and immediately understood. Vladik needed time, just as Yura did. He would talk about it when he was ready. Yura stopped questioning and just chatted to him reassuringly for a while. As the noise in the back seat gradually abated, and the boys settled down, I was able to concentrate on my driving. As the road rushed by beneath us, and the drone of the engine hummed hypnotically, I could see in the rear view mirror that they had eventually fallen asleep. They had their eyes closed and their arms around each other. That was so cute. Vladik was propped up against the edge of the big leather seat, with his head tilted against the window. He had one arm around Yura. Next to him, Yura had fallen across onto Vladik and was asleep with his head on Vladik's shoulder. He had one hand resting on Vladik's lap almost as though he was hugging him. Both boys had their mouths slightly open and their heads were rocking in unison as the car rode over the bumps. They were a picture of boyhood innocence. Two tired little buddies with a very special friendship.

The Constellation swallowed up the miles effortlessly and we made good time against the morning rush hour traffic. When I looked in the mirror again I saw that the boys were stirring and were actually awake, but they were mysteriously quiet. They were still sitting in much the same position as when they were asleep. Yura's head was still resting on Vladik's shoulder, and they were both staring ahead wordlessly. I wondered why they weren't talking. Then I saw that they had their hands on each other's crotch. I could see Yura still had his little fist on Vladik's lap, and Vladik had reached across and his little fist was grabbing Yura's crotch. They were feeling out each other's little boners through their clothes. I had not until now pondered the nature of their relationship, nor anticipated that it might extend to sex, but of course it didn't surprise me. If Vladik was anything like Yura in his sexual profligacy, then it was only to be expected. What I glanced in the rear view mirror was enough to make my cock stiffen. To think that at this moment I had these two beautiful, sexy little fuckboys in the back of the car, feeling each other up, as horny as hell… God it was so erotic.

At the house later, I showed Vladik to the bedroom next to Yura's. He followed me silently, not feeling the need to catch my eye, and simply going through the motions with a demeanor that was so imbued with disinterest it bordered on resentment. He said the first thing he wanted to do was to have a bath. He was sitting on the bed forlornly while the bath was filling. I went through his stuff, helping him to unpack. It was almost an exact replay of the day when Yura first arrived: I put his backpack on the bed and opened it as he watched. Again there was very little in it, and again I cursed the Moscow police. He had even less than Yura. His jeans were frayed, his t-shirts were old and faded. There were no socks or underwear and no toiletries of any description. Was I to assume that Vladik's flight was so rushed and so secret that there hadn't been time for any formalities whatsoever? It had to be. Why else would he have been put on a flight on his own? This poor boy who had only just been found, fresh from whatever harrowing experiences he had been subjected to, was so hurriedly flown out of Moscow that he barely had time to catch his breath. This kid must have been not only traumatized, but severely confused, very scared and more than a little disorientated. I made a mental note to raise the matter with Nikolayev at the next opportunity.

I managed to gather up a change of clothes for Vladik and laid them out on the end of bed. There were still plenty of new things that Yura hadn't used. Fortunately, and coincidentally, he and Yura were pretty much the same size. I got some toiletries and put them in the ensuite bathroom where the bath was filling, and I left him a fresh towel.

As I emerged from the bathroom, I saw him sitting on the bed looking glum and despondent. I flashed him my best 'cheer up' expression. He refused to acknowledge it and merely showed me a look of distinct annoyance. It was probably cold comfort to him, but I wanted to show him that I was on his side. It reminded me so much of that day when Yura had first arrived, and I remembered how scared and disorientated he was. The only difference was that I was starting to realize that getting through to Vladik wasn't going to be quite so easy, and he was already putting up a defensive wall of surly hostility, emphatically rejecting my friendly overtures.

"Don't worry," I reassured him, "We're going to take good care of you."

He flashed me another antagonistic expression, distinctly unamused.

"You can go and take your bath now," I said, ignoring his hurtful look.

Just like Yura, Vladik had no shame when it came to undressing. He quite readily got up and started taking off his clothes right in front of me. He stripped slowly and forlornly, displaying the same lack of shyness that was consistent with boys who had been abused. Nevertheless, there was a very touching air of innocence in the way he flaunted his nakedness. His little body was exceptionally beautiful. He was firmer, with a more substantial stature than Yura, but nevertheless svelte and well proportioned. He had a trim, tight little tummy, with a very slim waist and a perfectly rounded little boy butt. The movement of his muscles seemed to accentuate the little hollows in the sides of his ass cheeks as they flexed. He had incredibly long, sturdy-looking legs which had the beginnings of quite athletic-looking thighs, no doubt made prominent by the energetic exuberance of his boyishness, but had not yet developed the muscled hardness of adolescence. Other than the fine dusting of light downy hair on his forearms, the rest of his body was completely hairless. His skin tone was very warm, with a slight tan, and the tell-tale light areas on his pelvis where his Speedos had perhaps covered him. He had an exceptionally attractive little body.

But even as I secretly admired him, I was alarmed by something. As he slipped off his shirt and jeans, revealing his beautiful boyishness, I spotted what I thought looked like bruises on his golden skin. There was a dark band of faded redness around his neck, and similar marks on his wrists and ankles. They were entirely consistent with having been hogtied – where the arms and legs are bound and secured to a rope around the neck. They were not fresh rope marks, but I could tell they were fairly recent. Inwardly I was startled, but I tried not to look too perturbed.

I moved into the bathroom to turn off the water and Vladik followed me in a couple of seconds later, totally naked. He was again moving very slowly and it was pretty apparent that he was in some pain.

"You're hurt," I observed, concerned.

"It's nothing," he said, not very convincingly and rather too quickly and aggressively.

I tried appealing to him.

"Why don't you let me take a look? I'm quite good with injuries."

"No!" he snapped, "Leave me alone!"

I hesitated, not at all accustomed to having my kindness thrown back at me like that. I had to remind myself that Vladik was not Yura. I couldn't expect him to be as loving and receptive and forgiving as Yura was. God knows what unspeakable things this little boy had endured. He had a right to be angry.

But then, as Vladik continued to cross the room towards the bath, he took a few more tentative steps and appeared to falter. Almost losing his footing, beset by a pain that caused him to double up, he bent over and his knees seemed to give way. I caught his fall, grabbing him by his shoulders before he fell to the floor, and hauled him over to the side of the bath tub, where I sat him down. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain and his hands were pressed hard into his crotch.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I demanded.

He screwed up his eyes and threw his head back in pain, and appeared unable to respond immediately. I waited, letting the moment pass, and then when he was more composed, he looked up at me, perhaps at this moment acknowledging that he needed my help. With a worried look on his face, he put one foot up on the rim of the bath, keeping the other on the floor, and opened his smooth slender legs. With one hand over his boycock, he lifted his tight little ball sac, exposing his hairless perineum, and I could see straight away where the pain was. I knelt down to take a closer look, putting one hand gently on his thigh. His little boyhole was an odd-looking deep red color. His tight little pucker was swollen and bruised in appearance. It was obviously painfully inflamed.

"Oh, that looks painful little buddy," I said solicitously, looking up at him, "We need to do something about that."

Horrified at the thought that he had been sitting on a plane for so many hours with this uncomfortable bruising, I offered to get him some cream to soothe the swelling. I had some magical stuff that I used for sports injuries and gym strains, a clear gel that was pretty miraculous. I brought the tube into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Vladik was still sitting there with one leg up on the edge of the bath, waiting patiently, but still wearing an impervious mask of emotional neutrality.

I knelt down and squeezed a little of the gel onto my finger. He winced violently as I applied it to the rim of his little hole. It was cold to the touch. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and bravely bore the pressure of my finger as I rubbed the gel liberally all over his painful little rosebud. I couldn't help noticing that Vladik was extremely well hung for a boy of his age. He had an unusually pretty little boycock which I was soon to learn always looked semi-erect, even when it wasn't. It took me a long time to work out that it was just bigger and firmer than most boys his age. But it didn't look altogether disproportionate. As I was massaging the gel in with my fingertips, gently rubbing it around his little boyhole, I could feel Vladik's beautiful green eyes watching me intently, his worried look gradually giving way to wonderment and curiosity. He still had one hand over his little jewels, lifting them out of the way for me, and my face was so close to him I'm sure he could feel my warm breath on his crotch. The oddity of this situation struck me. Here was a kid I had only just met, whom I had known for barely a matter of hours, and yet he was sitting there openly exposing himself to me, not at all fazed by me touching him in his most intimate places. Just like Yura, there was something deeply attractive about his lack of shyness and the way he trusted me, albeit fleetingly, and I was oddly drawn to the way he just sat there and watched me while I ministered to him.

Much later, Vladik was persuaded to join Yura and I by the pool. It was a lovely day, and that was good enough for Yura to slip into his tight little Speedos and jump straight into the pool. Rested after his bath, Vladik had changed into his new clothes and came down looking clean and refreshed. His golden blond hair was silky and freshly washed and this was accentuated by the bright red sweatshirt that he was wearing. Yura was overjoyed to have his little buddy there with him and was jumping around in the pool showing off for us. Vladik was standing by the poolside observing, and I went up to join him. Standing next to him, we both watched Yura's antics for a while, and I was passing comments and laughing at Yura's waterborne acrobatics, trying to make some connection with Vladik. But he was still cold. I could feel his neediness and his apprehension. After my intimate moment with him in the bathroom earlier, I could sense his need for reassurance, despite his outward hostility. I looked down at him as he was standing next to me.

"Hey little buddy…"

He turned to me, his pretty emerald eyes squinting against the bright sunlight.

"…Everything's going to be alright you know."

"Like you give a shit," he said sarcastically, flashing me a hateful expression.

"Don't be like that," I said, with a more conciliatory tone, "I just want us to be friends."

"Kiss my ass," he said tersely, and turned away dismissively.

God, this kid was really hurting. But I wasn't fazed by it. His words did jar, but deep down I knew how much he really wanted to believe me. It was already clear that getting through to Vladik wasn't going to be easy.

It was very heartening to see that even Yura made an effort to make Vladik feel welcome and put him at ease. In the early evening we sat down to dinner together and I made sure Vladik was treated to some good old American fare. He was quite reserved at dinner, still a little awkward, maybe even homesick. But Yura's enthusiastic chatter masked his reticence. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have much of an appetite. He teased the food around his plate and didn't eat much. Then, well before we had all finished, he put his fork down and made it clear he couldn't eat any more.

"I'm not hungry," he said, with a tiny, almost inaudible voice.

I felt so sorry for him.

After dinner, Yura insisted that they should try out the games console. He had been looking forward to having someone new to compete with, so Vladik, having nothing better to do, and wanting to indulge Yura, agreed to play with him. It was good to see that Vladik soon relaxed and was totally drawn into the game. He and Yura sat side by side on the big sofa, grasping the game controllers, their little bodies twitching abruptly in harmony with what was happening on the big plasma screen. It turned into a noisy, if energetic game, with both boys becoming totally engrossed in the on-screen antics that they were oblivious to everything else. It was fascinating to see how their eyes looked almost hypnotized, as though they had actually been transported into the screen. You could see the colors of the TV screen reflected in their enlarged pupils. Their nimble little fingers and thumbs were clicking away on the controller buttons and they were fidgeting excitedly, absently talking away, letting out excited little screams and shouts to one another as they bounced around on the sofa. For me, it was good to see Vladik relaxing. It was amazing to see how good Yura was at putting Vladik at ease, and it was heartening to see Vladik allowing himself to be the eleven year old boy that he really was. I realized, watching them, that one way of getting through to Vladik was probably through Yura.

I knew the boys would be at the game for hours if they were not given a time limit, so I told them they had about an hour and would then have to get ready for bed. I left them to it and in the meantime I had time to slope off to the little study upstairs to catch up on some work. I thought I had better check and see if my unit had been in touch, or if Nikolayev had left further instructions. I emailed Nikolayev to let him know Vladik was safe. I was sure he had total confidence in me anyway. I was delighted to see that I had a message from Anton. He said he had been very busy since our meeting the other day, but he thanked me for meeting him and assured me he would be in touch again soon.

I had given the boys an hour to play on the games console. They took two. But at least they were able to bring their play to an end without me having to remind them. When they had finished, I heard them coming up the stairs and approaching along the hallway. They were giggling in hushed tones, trying not to make too much noise, but they were still hyper and excitable. Yura crashed into the room abruptly, almost falling through the door, just as I swiveled around on the chair to see what was going on. Yura dashed straight over to me and deposited himself on my lap, sending the chair rolling backwards against the desk. Instinctively, I threw my arms around him, to welcome him as well as to steady him and prevent him from sliding through my arms onto the laminated wooden floor. I was delighted that Yura had already changed into his pajama bottoms and was as usual shirtless, ready for bed. When he fell into my arms, it was his warm, naked little torso that I found myself hugging. He was pressing himself insistently between my thighs as I was sitting there. Behind him I could see Vladik standing in the doorway, also shirtless, his slightly tan little body a stark contrast against the white Harry Potter pajama bottoms he had chosen to wear. The rope marks were very prominent around his neck. Vladik was standing there unmistakably observing this moment of intimacy between Yura and I. His expression was not altogether one of surprise. In fact, he seemed pretty non-committal about it. But then, Vladik was always difficult to read. He didn't let his true feelings show easily. I knew immediately that Yura had been waiting for an opportunity to demonstrate our closeness to Vladik, and this was his way of showing that he was my boy. He wriggled himself onto my lap, with his feet still on the floor, and I hugged him tightly, even deigning to kiss him on the temple. Yura's eyes were on Vladik. Vladik, observing all this, just came into the room quietly and sat down on one of the armchairs by the bookcases.

I guessed both of them were exhausted and Yura was setting a good example for Vladik in getting ready for bed. It was uncharacteristic of Yura, who usually needed some encouragement. Only the promise of sex persuaded him to go to bed. When we played, the sheer exhaustion of our nightly sessions guaranteed that we both slept well. But tonight was going to be different. That dynamic was altered by Vladik's presence. I did not resent it. I liked having Vladik here with us. I was happy for Vladik. But most of all, I was happy for Yura, who was overjoyed at having been reunited with his special friend. He had talked of Vladik so much. Now he was actually here with us, safe and relatively intact.

As Yura hung his arms around my neck, languishing in my lap, he looked at me closely, directly into my eyes.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"Can Vladik sleep in my room tonight?"

I smiled. I thought that was very touching and kissed him again on the cheek.

"Of course he can," I said.

"Is it okay if we sleep with the lights on?" said Yura, "Vladik doesn't like the dark."

Vladik averted his gaze, focusing on the floor by his feet. He was embarrassed by that and I could see how awkward he felt. But I thought his coyness was cute.

"It's not a problem," I said, dismissing it.

And with that, Vladik got up and headed out of the door. Yura wriggled his hot little body out of my arms and went to follow him. I called out to him.

"Hey little buddy?"

Yura stopped midway across the room and turned to me.

"You will look after him won't you?" I said.

He was about to nod, then hesitated a moment. He came back over to where I was sitting and leaned over, putting his arms around my neck. He put his little face right up close to mine and spoke very softly.

"I'm so happy Vladik's here," he said, his sweet little rosebud mouth kissing me fully on the lips.

I patted his little bubble butt as he turned to go, wrenching himself away from me to go and join his buddy.

I carried on with my work, immersing myself in the computer once again. But I hadn't made much progress when, a few minutes later, I sensed someone standing on the threshold behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that it was Vladik. He was standing there ominously, framed by the open doorway, looking at me with a troublesome and not very friendly expression.

"What's up little buddy?" I asked, swiveling on my chair to face him.

He looked both ways down the hallway, as if to check that Yura was not around, then stepped a couple of paces into the room. He stared at me stone-faced for a long time before answering.

"You think you've got it made here don't you?" he said, accusingly.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied.

"You may have fooled Yura," he said, "But you don't fool me."

"I'm not out to fool anybody," I said, playing down his assertion.

"Oh yeh? What's all this lovey-dovey stuff between you two?"

"I care about Yura very much," I said, "And for what it's worth, I care about you too."

"Save it!" he sneered, "I don't need your pity."

"Look, I'm on your side," I replied, "I'm here if you need me."

"I don't need you. I don't need anybody. Got it?"

"As you wish," I conceded, "There's no obligation."

He continued to stand in the doorway, with a seething hostility burning in his pretty green eyes. I got up and moved towards him.

"Look, no one said we have to like each other," I said, in conciliatory tones, "But why don't we try to get on, for Yura's sake?"

I extended a hand towards him in a gesture of friendship and conciliation, the second time I had invited him to shake hands with me today, but he just looked at my outstretched palm, distinctly unimpressed.

"Fuck you!" he said contemptuously, giving me the finger just to ram the point home, and with that he turned away, snubbing me conclusively.

The depth of anger in his words really punched home. His objective was to strike deep and hard, and his words were genuinely hurtful. But I reminded myself how this poor boy must be feeling so angry and scared right now – it was understandable that he wanted to lash out like that. I reasoned that I should not take his comments to heart. It hurt, but it really wasn't about me. It was about this poor, troubled, tormented little soul that had suffered so deeply and been damaged so profoundly that all he wanted to do was vent his anger and resentment at everything and everybody. Deep down, I knew that he just needed to be loved. He craved affection so much you could almost taste it. And I knew that he was capable of it. Had he not sat patiently and curiously watching me minister to him when I had tended his injuries in the bathroom earlier? For those few precious moments, he had let his guard down just enough to allow another human being close enough to show him some care and attention. I could see that I was really going to have problems with Vladik. It was nothing I hadn't seen before, and not anything I wasn't able to cope with, but Vladik was going to be hard work. It was going to take time and energy and patience… and lots of love.

It was probably about an hour later that I thought to go to bed myself. It had been a long day for me too. On the way, I stopped by Yura's room to check on the boys. The door was ajar and the lights were still on, but dimmed to a very intimate level. I peered around the door, stepping just onto the threshold. The boys were both sleeping soundly, their diminutive little bodies almost dwarfed by the king size bed. They had kicked off the bedclothes so that they were totally uncovered. Vladik was lying face down with his head turned towards Yura. There in the half-light the skin of his smooth back had a matt texture. His little shoulder blades were perfectly symmetrical, forming two angular little bumps at the top of his back. I could clearly see the reticulated network of little ribs under his smooth young skin as they curved around his sides. I traced the groove of his spine, all the way down to where it disappeared under the waistband of his Harry Potter pajama bottoms, which clung tightly to the curve of his perfect little butt. His long legs were stretched out straight and his bare little feet were cutely turned inwards. Yura was laying on his side, facing Vladik, with one hand extended and resting lightly on Vladik's back. Both boys had their mouths slightly open, breathing in and out silently. They looked so cute and innocent.

I stepped into the room to pull the covers up over them both, and as I neared the bed I spotted the distinctive shiny wrapper from a packet of Oreos sticking out from under the bed. I picked it up. It was empty. It had been ripped open, the contents obviously consumed and had then been carelessly disposed of in a halfhearted attempt to conceal the evidence. I knew straight away that it must have been Vladik. Yura wasn't in the habit of stealing food. But then Vladik had eaten virtually nothing at dinner. That was just another form of rejection – he wouldn't eat anything I had prepared, but he was obviously hungry. Hungry enough to eat a whole packet of Oreos. They were chocolate crème as well. I smiled to myself. I looked at Vladik, sleeping there so innocently, with his tummy full of Oreos, and I found it impossible to be angry with him. In fact, at that moment, my heart swelled with an inexplicable and overwhelming effusion of love for that little boy.

I reached over and pulled the covers up over them both, trying not to disturb them. And as I did so, Vladik stirred a little, letting out an almost imperceptible moan, and instinctively reached out for Yura, extending his arm as though subconsciously reassuring himself that his little buddy was still there. Seeing this demonstration of the closeness between them, unconscious though it was, was reminiscent of their behavior in the car earlier. Prior to Vladik's arrival, Yura had talked a lot about Vladik. Now I understood why. There was something going on between these two boys that was genuine and enduring – something deep, something I couldn't quite place. But whatever it was, it was very alluring. And as I stood there, observing their closeness even while they slept, it was exactly then that I knew that my fears concerning Vladik's arrival were completely unfounded. It was by no means the end of the little regime I had built up with Yura. I knew that Vladik's addition to our little regime was not going to be an easy ride, but undoubtedly it was about to become a lot more interesting.

Chapter 11
Reunion

"Sorry to call you so late," he said, apologetically, his voice hoarse and barely audible, as though he had been shouting.

"Don't apologize," I said, "I'm glad you called me."

He looked up, raising his head, his face still greasy from the rain.

"There wasn't really anybody else I could call," he confessed.

"You did the right thing," I said, "And I don't mind at all."

I stepped towards him with a clean towel that I had brought in from the bathroom. He looked at it and hesitated a moment, perhaps reluctant to get blood all over it.

"Here," I said, and proceeded to wipe his face for him as he sat there.

He let me dab his bloody lip gently and he winced slightly. He went to move his arm, but that set off a stab of pain. He really was in a bad way.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

He took the towel and went on wiping his face. Then he took off his cap with his one good arm and dried his hair, ruffling it up into a damp and frizzy halo. It was the first time I'd seen him without his cap. He had quite a cute head, and although slightly unkempt, a lovely thick head of hair.

"I was jumped," he said, "They took my money and my car keys."

Then he looked down at the buckled spectacles in his hand. He seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Shit! They broke my glasses!"

"Don't worry about that," I said, calming him, "They can be replaced."

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "Thanks for picking me up."

"I could hardly leave you out there bleeding in the rain," I said.

Anton was already looking a lot better than when I had picked him up off the street less than half an hour ago, trembling and traumatized and huddled against the park fence, thoroughly saturated by the rain. He was a sorry sight, and the blood dripping off his chin from his split lip added to the chilling sight that greeted me as I pulled up in the SUV. I scooped him up in my arms from the rain-lashed ground. There was almost no substance to him at all when I picked him up. His lean body seemed very slight and lightweight in my strong arms. He clung to me like a child as I carried him over to the car and placed him on the passenger seat. He sat there forlornly, his head hanging down, dripping rainwater all over the leather upholstery. He was too traumatized to say much, and he simply shrank back into the seat, sobbing half from the trauma and half from the pain, and let me drive him out of there.

Now, seeing him on the big sofa in the drawing room, I was filled with pity at the way he sat there looking so dejected and sorry for himself. He may have been eighteen years old, and may have thought of himself as a pretty independent and self-assured young man, but at this moment what I saw before me was just a frightened, injured little boy.

I knelt down in front of him and checked his arm. I knew how to check for fractures. Luckily, the bones seemed intact. Best of all, he could move his fingers. It seemed to be very sore, but thankfully no more than that. Apart from his split lip and the fact that he was soaking wet, and a small rip on the knee of his jeans, he seemed relatively unharmed. At any rate there were no serious injuries and he seemed to be suffering mostly from shock.

"Take off those wet things," I said, "I'll make you some coffee."

He nodded bravely, and went to unbutton his shirt, but realized he couldn't do it with one hand. Still kneeling down in front of him, I reached up and unbuttoned his shirt for him. He looked quite humbled as I did that, averting his gaze and acknowledging that at this moment he really was totally in my care. As I peeled his wet shirt away from his lean body, I saw that he was wet through where the rainwater had penetrated his clothes right down to his skin. I leaned across and tugged his shirt off his arms, one by one. He used his good arm to wipe his chest and neck with the towel. As he did that I untied his sneakers and pulled them off him.

When I came back with his coffee, Anton was sitting there wearing only a pair of pale blue checked boxers. He had dried himself thoroughly and discarded the wet towel on the floor by his feet. His wet things were heaped into a little puddle next to it. He was shivering slightly, still holding his sore arm across his lap, with the palm facing upwards and the fingers clenched in a loose claw. Seeing him almost naked like that, even in such grave circumstances, I couldn't help admiring how beautiful his body was. I have already said that he was a good looking young man. The rest of his body was entirely consistent with his good looks. He had a very attractive physique, with such perfect musculature that he could easily have passed for a catwalk model. He wasn't overly muscly, but his teen body had a lovely taut smoothness to it, and such good definition that he just exuded sex appeal. He was slim and lithe, with broad shoulders and a shallow groove at the center of his chest that ran all the way down to his ridged stomach. The skin on his trim stomach was so elastic that it wrinkled perfectly, curving inwards as he sat there with his lean body draped over that sofa. Below his navel, there was a thin line of lightly-colored hair which disappeared tantalizingly under the Calvin Klein waistband of his boxers. There was a very light coating of thin hair on his well defined thighs and calves. There was no doubt, this young man was an excellent physical specimen.

I tried not to linger too long in admiring him, but he was in any case looking down dejectedly as I set the mug of coffee down on the table next to the sofa. I sat across from him in one of the armchairs, fingering my own mug of coffee. I had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

He looked at the coffee steaming away on the table, but made no attempt to pick it up.

"Christ, I need a cigarette," he murmured.

I got up and fetched my cigarettes and lighter from the kitchen. I took one and offered it to him, holding it up before his eyes as he was looking down. He accepted it and stuck it in his lips impetuously. I offered him a light with a soft click of my lighter, but even as he held the cigarette to his lips, he was shivering so much he could barely connect the tip to the flame. I held his hand in mine to steady him, and he managed a deep drag which finally made the tip of the cigarette glow bright orange. He wolfed down the smoke greedily.

I sat back down opposite him.

"So are you going to tell me what you were doing in the park at this time of night?"

He glanced up guiltily, his eyes betraying that he knew I was onto him. I was under no illusions what the park was famous for. It was a well known gay cruising area and was reputed for the quality of its rent boys. He was certainly not a punter – I HAD learned something during the last twenty years – so there was only one logical conclusion. He didn't immediately volunteer a reply.

"You were hustling weren't you?"

With his head dropped forward and his eyes closed, he covered his face with the palm of his one good hand and nodded slowly. The cigarette smoldered away, slotted between his knuckles.

"I thought you were trying to make a better life for yourself," I said, remembering what he had told me at our first meeting, "Is that how you're going to do it?"

He looked up with a flash of irritation.

"How do you think I'm paying for my education?"

"You're paying for it by hustling?"

"So I jerk a few cocks!" he retorted.

I huffed skeptically. I knew better.

"It's not just jerking cocks though, is it?"

"Better than working in some crummy bar!" he offered.

I didn't agree, but I wasn't going to patronize him with well-intentioned lectures. I had no doubt that he was acutely aware of the dangers of what he was doing.

"Are you at the university here?"

He nodded.

"What are you studying?" I asked, curious.

"Criminology," he said.

I couldn't help emitting a little involuntary laugh. My laughter seemed to prompt a slight giggle from him. I was delighted that he could see the irony of it.

"Don't make me laugh," he said, trying to suppress his amusement, "my ribs hurt."

I took a sip of my coffee and I watched him finish the cigarette as though it was a source of energy and nourishment to him. It certainly seemed to revive him considerably. When he had finally crushed out the stub in the ashtray, he started drinking his coffee, cradling the warm mug in his lap between sips.

"This wasn't what I had in mind for our next meeting," he said.

"Nor me," I replied, as I considered the circumstances.

We were then interrupted by a third voice interjecting into our conversation in Russian.

"What are you doing here?"

We both turned to see where the disembodied refrain had come from. It was Yura. He was standing on the threshold in his pajama bottoms looking in on us from the lobby, obviously listening to our conversation, observing us both sitting there. I wondered how long he had been standing there.

"Hey little buddy," I said, "What are you doing up?"

Yura ignored my question and stepped into the room looking at each of us in turn.

"You two know each other?" Yura asked, a little perplexed.

"Do you recognize me?" Anton asked him, reverting to Russian.

"Of course," Yura said, "You're Anton. You were one of the older brothers."

I guessed 'older brothers' was the term they had used for the slightly older boys that played with the younger ones in the videos.

There was a slightly tense moment where perhaps both Anton and I could not have anticipated how Yura would react to this unscheduled and somewhat unforeseen reunion.

"I wasn't your brother," said Anton, ashamedly, "I betrayed you. I helped them to abduct you. Don't you remember?"

"I remember you from the children's home," said Yura, "You looked after me. You were kind to me."

Anton looked over at me, surprised by Yura's apparently forgiving attitude. Yura's recollection of events was completely different to his. Certainly it was not at all the negative and adverse reaction he had feared and expected. Anton looked back at Yura.

"You're not serious?"

"You didn't betray us," Yura went on, "I know you helped those men when they took us, but you couldn't have stopped them. They were going to do it anyway. We had no choice. All you did was make it a bit easier for us. You looked after us. When they were being really cruel to us, you cheered us up. You were one of us."

The look on Anton's face transformed from disbelief into wonderment and then delight, finally understanding how his role was perceived, but also stunned by Yura's insight and his ability to convey his thoughts so clearly and candidly. Yura could be strikingly articulate sometimes.

Seeing the look of surprise on Anton's face, Yura smiled and stepped towards him. Then he did something which I shall never forget: he went over to Anton on the sofa and sat down next to him, curling himself up as though about to snuggle up to him, and he leaned across and put his arms around the bigger boy in a very mature and affectionate hug.

"You were my friend," said Yura, muffled against Anton's bare chest.

Anton sat there motionless and confused, not returning the hug, but looking over at me, completely immobilized with astonishment. Yura was so loving, so forgiving, and so affectionate, at this moment he made me very proud. He was such a remarkable little boy, and once again in that unique and inimitable way he had, his gestures and actions left me feeling breathless and awestruck.

Reassured that it was all okay, Anton looked down at Yura's sweet little head pressed against his chest. He put his coffee aside and was able to tentatively raise his arm, his one good hand ready to return the hug. He realized he had worried unnecessarily. Yura bore no malice towards him. Once he accepted that, he was able to close his arm around Yura to hug him back. Anton was rubbing Yura's little back affectionately – indeed it was impossible to resist stroking Yura's little body. It was a beautiful sight, Yura's smooth, diminutive little frame pressed flat against the bigger boy's slightly more mature body.

What happened next was endearing and very arousing. As Anton hugged him, still rubbing his back, I could see Yura's little hand moving down towards Anton's crotch, even as they were pressed together like that, and it was fairly obvious that Anton had a hard-on.

"You always were horny," said Yura, and his little hand was grabbing at the lump in Anton's boxers.

Yura had his cheek pressed against Anton's bare chest and was smiling mischievously. He gave Anton's erection a squeeze. Sure enough, Anton's teen boner was clearly visible, straining to one side, creating a big elongated lump in his boxers. From what I could tell, his erect cock was very substantial – long and thick, a weighty handful of potent young teen meat. I wondered what had touched off his erection. Was it simply the memory of what he and Yura had done together, or perhaps the feel of Yura's pretty half naked little body pressed up against him, skin to skin? Anton sheepishly moved his hand across his lap. Yura ended the hug, lifting himself away from Anton's chest, and Anton pressed his palm into his crotch, no doubt willing his wayward and inconvenient boner to go down.

"What happened to you?" Yura asked him.

He had evidently noticed that Anton was damp from the rain, and was sitting there with a split lip and a sore arm, and quite obviously stripped to his boxers for a reason.

I explained to Yura that Anton had been attacked. Then I had to confess that Anton and I had met previously, and added that Anton was going to be helping us. I deliberately avoided any further embellishments, starkly aware that my contact with Anton had not yet been officially sanctioned. But I hoped in time it would be.

"It's good to see you again my little friend," said Anton, his tone couched with genuine affection.

"You too," said Yura, smiling.

Then he looked over at me.

"Mark, can I have some hot chocolate?"

"Okay," I said, "But then you have to go back to bed. It's late."

"Is Anton staying with us?"

Anton and I looked at each other. We hadn't discussed it.

"Yes," I said, making the decision, "at least for tonight."

Anton smiled, I think more from relief than gratitude. Something told me he probably wasn't in the mood to go back to his dour and companionless little apartment this evening.

I got up to go and make Yura's hot chocolate and I saw him turn and smile at Anton with such warmth and sincerity that it gladdened my heart to see them together. It was nice having Anton here with us.

"Do you remember Vladik?" Yura asked him.

"Yes, of course I remember Vladik," said Anton, "he was your best friend."

"Vladik's here," Yura announced, in hushed tones, as though letting him in on some big secret.

"He is?"

Yura nodded excitedly.

"He's upstairs asleep. Wanna see?"

"In the morning," said Anton, "Let's not disturb him tonight."

Yura filled him in on the details about Vladik's arrival, and they chatted amiably for a good long while as Yura drank his hot chocolate. And as they talked, it was clear to me that there was a good rapport between these two boys. Though they had not seen each other in over two years, it was as though they had resumed exactly from where they left off, talking over their experiences and remembering odd little details, reminiscing over the things they had done together. As I watched, and listened in on their conversation, it was clear to me that it was a part of Yura's life that I would never and could never be a part of. It was a time that belonged to them.

I let them talk until it was very late, then gently guided Yura back to bed. We were all tired. A lot had happened already this evening and it was best we just got some sleep. I put Yura to bed, and he slipped in beside Vladik who was still sleeping soundly, and was thankfully completely oblivious to the evening's events. Then I took Anton to one of the vacant bedrooms – there were plenty to choose from – and helped him to get into bed. He sat down tentatively, sinking onto the edge of the bed, still shivering slightly. I couldn't work out if that was from shock or whether he was genuinely cold. Then I pulled back the bedclothes for him and he stiffly got into bed.

"Get some sleep," I said, "You'll feel better in the morning."

I went to turn out the light.

"Mark?"

I stopped and turned, looking at Anton, buried snugly under the bedclothes. His big hazel eyes were gleaming handsomely from the edge of the comforter.

"Thanks," he said.

I smiled. I turned out the light and stepped out into the hallway, gently closing the bedroom door behind me.

It was already late into the morning, but a gloriously warm day. Yura and I were sitting side by side on the wooden bench on the downstairs terrace, overlooking the pool. We shared a valuable little boymoment along with a cigarette over breakfast. I was sipping coffee. Yura had his usual hot chocolate. Vladik was still asleep, no doubt still contending with the jet lag and the exhaustion of his first day here. There was still no sign of Anton either, which I took to be a good thing. Yura had woken up early and came into my room for a hug. We hadn't spent much time alone together the day before, so we went down to sit by the pool to chat for a while. He was still in his pajama bottoms and I was in my bathrobe. His shirtless little body was toasting nicely in the warm sunshine. As we smoked, we were talking about Vladik.

"Vladik can really take it, if you know what I mean," Yura was saying.

"So can you," I remarked, exhaling smoke.

He turned towards me and fixed me with a serious stare, narrowing his blue eyes for emphasis.

"No, I mean Vladik takes it real deep," he went on, "he can take a twelve inch [30 cm] dildo no problem."

He jerked his head strategically down at my crotch, tilting his head this way and that as though sizing me up, with a mischievous grin.

"I'm serious," said Yura, "he could take your big cock easily."

I laughed.

"You're such a little fuckboy," I said, ruffling his hair affectionately

God, this kid was fearless sometimes. He was so forward, so sexually precocious, he never ceased to amaze me. Even after I had known him for this amount of time, I still wasn't able to work out if Yura was just trying to get me aroused to build up my sexual curiosity about Vladik, or whether he just got a kick out of talking dirty. It might have been both.

"Don't you like Vladik?" he asked me.

"Of course I do," I conceded, handing him the nearly depleted cigarette, "he's a beautiful boy, but we should ask Vladik what he wants."

"He's a little fuckboy just like me," said Yura pompously, taking another drag on the cigarette, "he likes to fuck, just like me."

I liked the way he so readily assumed that Vladik was like him, as though he knew for certain what Vladik liked. There was something endearing and attractive about the way he said it. His boyish arrogance was almost cute. Of course, all this talk about Vladik, and our speculation about how good he was and what he liked was mere supposition, perhaps just wishful thinking. But now that Yura had put that thought in my mind, I could already feel my cock stirring.

"I don't think Vladik's going to be doing any fucking for a while," I said, remembering his bruised and swollen little boyhole, "Just give him time to settle in and be kind to him."

Yura finished the cigarette and stubbed it out elegantly in the ashtray that was sitting by the coffee pot on the little metal table.

"Of course I will," he said, "don't worry."

"Good," I went on, "We have to be gentle with him. You have to remember that he's just been through a really tough time. He may even still be traumatized. Remember how you felt when the police found you? Well, that's how Vladik's feeling right now."

Yura looked away thoughtfully, his blue eyes focusing on something in the distance, way over the other side of the pool.

"I'm just happy that he's okay," said Yura, looking back at me.

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and put an arm around him. His little body was beautifully warm from the sunshine.

We were still sitting there entwined when Vladik appeared, emerging from the cool shade of the house, through the opened French windows. He was barefoot and in his Harry Potter pajama bottoms. He had obviously come straight from his bed because his bare little boy chest was sporting the reddish marks where the creases of the bedclothes had left their impressions on his smooth young skin. His pretty green eyes were a little puffy from his sleep and he squinted against the dazzling sun as he came out onto the terrace, stepping out into the burning morning heat.

"Hey," said Yura.

"Hey," Vladik responded, and held out a fist.

They bumped fists by way of greeting, and in that one gesture I could see this unwritten understanding that existed between them. It was a mark of their mutual affection and at the same time a symbol of their solidarity. In that one gesture, I could see an almost subconscious link and it was clear that despite the time they had been apart, their friendship had not diminished. It was almost a reflex action, an automatic throwback to their shared history.

Vladik completely ignored me, not even looking in my direction, as though I didn't exist.

Without saying anything, I got up and went to bring him something to eat. By the time I came back Vladik had already helped himself to one of my cigarettes and had taken my place on the bench. He was sitting there smoking, pinching the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and chatting away congenially to Yura. I put a plate of assorted kolaches on the table, with a glass of juice, hoping he would eat something. But I suspected he wouldn't eat anything if I was watching, so I tactfully withdrew and went back inside.

When I returned to the terrace a short time later, the boys were gone. They had evidently decided to go back inside. I noticed that a few of the kolaches were missing and the glass of juice had been drained. Perhaps that was a good sign.

I went back inside and was curious to see what the boys were up to. I soon located them upstairs where I found the door to Anton's room wide open. Yura and Vladik were on Anton's bed, with him still in it, and they were bouncing around yammering away excitedly in Russian. Yura was kneeling on the bed, his legs folded under him, his butt sitting on his ankles. Vladik had flung himself face down, propped up on his elbows, and was looking quite at home. They were ardently pitching questions at Anton who was sitting up in the bed with a big mound of pillows amassed behind his head.

"What's going on?" I enquired, stepping into the room.

"We're just saying good morning to Anton," Yura explained, looking round.

"Hey, did they wake you up?" I asked Anton.

"It's okay Mark, it was a nice surprise to wake up and find these two little pups on my bed."

He seemed genuinely pleased and not at all put out by the rude awakening. I particularly liked his choice of words and the way he described the boys as 'little pups'. What an affectionate turn of phrase.

"It was good to see this one here," said Anton, stroking Vladik's clipped hair, "Christ, you've grown. You were such a skinny little thing when I last saw you."

Vladik giggled, almost embarrassed by Anton's admiring comments. It was the first time I had seen Vladik let his guard down and allow himself to relax a little. Certainly it was the first time I had seen him smile. It was significant how his demeanor was so much more relaxed and carefree when he was with Yura, and now also with Anton. At that moment the thought did cross my mind that the key to getting through to Vladik could well be through Anton.

"How's the arm?" I asked Anton.

He raised his elbow stiffly.

"Very sore," he said, "but still in one piece."

It was bound to feel a lot stiffer, I reasoned, but at least he was able to move it okay. His cut lip was a little puffy and had turned slightly purple, but would heal nicely. Anton didn't seem too concerned. He went straight back to talking with the boys. And as I watched them, joking and giggling and bouncing about on Anton's bed like that, it was clear that there was a unique rapport between these three boys. Perhaps they were united by their shared experiences, bound through a relationship which was rooted in adverse and extreme circumstances. They were comrades, united in their common suffrage, like old soldiers who had fought together and ultimately survived together. It was a heartwarming sight.

The inevitable call from my unit finally came, and I was charged with the responsibility of getting the boys over to HQ. I didn't anticipate a big case conference, like when Yura had first arrived, but I was very conscious of the fact that Vladik's arrival indicated significant developments in the progress of Operation Ganymede. I was able to persuade Anton to come with us. He was reluctant, but it seemed as good an opportunity as any to bring him into the fold. I wanted to introduce him to Nikolayev. More than that, I thought he might be of assistance to the investigation. He was bright and resourceful and his own experiences could provide valuable insight. Of course, he expressed his reticence, as I knew he would, but he was swayed by the welcome he had received from Yura and Vladik. Their positive response towards him finally persuaded him that he would be treated fairly and sympathetically by the police. I also gave him a personal guarantee that there would be no adverse consequences. I think he knew that logically it was the only way to proceed. It seemed nonsensical that he should remain a non-entity in all this. If he was successful in locating Yura's father, which I knew was his objective, then he would need to make himself known to the police. So, all things considered, he finally agreed. Having secured his agreement, I was overjoyed at the prospect of having him working with us. Secretly, I think he was himself very relieved.

It was strange but delightful how Anton's whole demeanor changed after this discussion. As we were getting ready to leave for HQ, his approach became more positive and optimistic. I had washed and dried and pressed his clothes from last night and took them up to him, so he would look presentable for his visit to HQ. He was able to have a shower and freshen up, and he stunned me by borrowing a razor and scraping that scratchy stubble from his face. For the first time I saw him looking fresh-faced and clean shaven, and he had even discarded that infernal woolly cap. With his clothes clean and neatly pressed, he actually looked quite neat and well groomed. It was a stark contrast to the scruffy, disheveled and unkempt appearance he had confronted me with at our first meeting. More than that, he was more alluring than ever. I had recognized the attractiveness of his physical features at our first meeting, even beneath his clothes and stubble and long hair. But if he was good looking then, he was even more handsome now. His face was clean and smooth and without that cap he was able to brush his long, shaggy mane of mousy-colored hair back off his face, giving him a brave, smoldering, moody look that was infinitely appealing. With a body like that and a face like that, I almost envied the clients he picked up at the park late at night. It was such a shame that he allowed this exquisite specimen of a body to be used and abused like that. He was a young man of such quality, he deserved better.

Microphones and cameras were the last thing I wanted to see as I pulled up outside HQ. On the broad, flat steps leading up to the main entrance, the glare of TV cameras and lights was visible from some distance away, made even more prominent by the little knot of people that were hovering conspicuously on the sidewalk. Damn! It was the media! The sight of those cameras and lights was enough to strike fear into anybody. I had always harbored a deep-seated and longstanding contempt for the media. They had made John's life extremely difficult, with their intrusive digging into his lifestyle, their incessant questioning about his past, and their unkind and sometimes blatantly homophobic insinuations about his work. They damn near cost him his career with some of the salacious claptrap they spouted about him. About both of us. That may have been a long time ago, but I hadn't forgotten. I had no time for them. Goddamn vultures.

As we neared the front steps I could hear a concerned murmur arise from the boys in the back of the car. Anton in the passenger seat stiffened and sat upright, looking jumpy. Something had obviously transpired for the media to be sniffing around. In truth, I was surprised they had left us alone up till now. I was a veteran of media scrums. I knew how to handle them, but I also knew just how intimidating they could be. That little pack of people and equipment all scrambling chaotically, with all the resultant noise and commotion, could be very menacing to the uninitiated. It was just a shame that these poor boys were now going to have to be subjected to it.

I considered our options. I could drive around the back to the parking lot, but the walk to the main entrance would be even further. No doubt they would accost us as we crossed the forecourt and it would just provide more opportunity for them to harry us. The best option was to pull up as close to the edge of the steps as possible and abandon the car there. At least it would be a relatively short walk to the door. I could always get the car recovered later.

"Listen to me carefully," I said, with a firm and unequivocal tone, looking around from the driving seat, "We're going to go inside without stopping. Stay close to me. You're not to look at anybody. You're not to say anything. Just keep walking okay?"

I looked at Anton, Yura and Vladik in turn, all three pairs of eyes looking frightened and concerned.

"You don't stop, you don't look and you don't say anything," I said again, "Just stay with me. Understood?"

They all nodded gravely.

I pulled up to the steps at high speed to stop them surrounding the car before we had a chance to get out. I stopped as far away from the media scrum as I could on the very edge of the steps. That gave us a few seconds advantage while they scrambled over to us, lugging their cameras and microphones with them. I stopped the car with a little squeal from the tires and jumped out, running around to let Yura and Vladik out of the back. I held the door open, then pulled them close to me as they hopped out. I pushed their heads down so they wouldn't have microphones shoved into their faces. I waited for Anton to jump out, and he huddled up next to me with the boys in front of us. We moved off together, closing ranks in a little group. Within seconds we were besieged, with camera lenses and microphones being thrust at us from all directions. In the background, flashguns were flaring repeatedly, their blinding bursts adding to the theatricality of the whole thing; a relentless array of intense flashes of light momentarily burning their ghostly reflections onto my retinas.

"It's them! It's the porn boys! The porn boys!" they were yelling to one another, excitedly.

Typical of the media, in that flippant, almost arrogant manner with which they approached such stories, to have reduced the entire matter to just two words: porn boys. Was that the only designation that these little boys merited?

"Ivan, Alex talk to us!" they clamored.

Assholes, I thought to myself. They're not going to talk to you. They don't even understand you.

Anton and I pushed forward up the steps as best we could, trying to shield the boys on both sides. Our progress was hampered by this desperate little huddle of reporters and cameramen that surrounded us, forming a moving wall, packed together so tightly it was almost as though they were all stuck together with some kind of invisible glue. They obscured our view so that I could barely see where we were going. I detected that we were slowing down. If we stopped, we would be completely beleaguered. Then somebody started clamoring in Russian, "Alex, talk to me, talk to me..." and of course Vladik made the mistake of looking up to see where it was coming from. Sure enough, it was a crew from the satellite news channel Russia Today. The tall female reporter was vying for position at the front of the pack and sticking her foam-covered microphone right into Vladik's face. It was almost as though she was trying to feed him an oversized candy-apple. She was asking him what it was like to be here and where had he been held for the past few months. I swatted the microphone away, but she persisted, asking things like 'What was it like for you?' I remember thinking what a stupid question that was. What was it like? I recalled the sight of the rope marks that were still visible around Vladik's neck and on his wrists and ankles, and thought what an insensitive bitch she was. The impertinence of her questions angered me. I tried to push her away, but she would not be deterred. Her grim perseverance annoyed me. I pushed her back again, this time a little harder. Perhaps too hard, because she stumbled backwards. I was left with the enduring image of that expression of complete incredulity on her face as she lost her balance. She tripped over the cameraman and fell backwards onto the steps. Her long overcoat fell open and that ridiculous, almost phallic looking microphone flew out of her clutches and clattered errantly down the steps. Just at that moment, a flurry of flashguns all fired simultaneously, no doubt capturing the scene for posterity.

Chapter 12
Breakthrough

"That was a close one huh?" I said, smiling, trying to lighten the mood a little.

In the confined space of the elevator, we stood close together. Looking down at Yura, I lifted his chin and asked if he was okay. He nodded bravely, swallowing hard. Vladik was fidgeting nervously, shuffling his feet and clenching his hands into little fists, a sure sign of discomfiture. Then I felt Yura reach up and take hold of my hand, seeking reassurance. I clasped his little hand tightly. Vladik saw that. He appeared almost envious of Yura. So he reached up and slipped his little hand into Anton's. Anton was clearly not expecting that, but he looked down and saw Vladik's worried face and he smiled, grasping Vladik's little hand tightly, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then he glanced over at me, seeing that I had observed what had just happened, and he smiled resignedly, looking surprised, but also vaguely delighted.

Elena met us by the elevator and escorted us to the conference room. On the way, I introduced her to Anton. I told her briefly that he had appeared in some of those videos, but it was two years ago, and before that he had been at the children's home with Yura. Without going into too much detail, I explained that he was now at the university here. I avoided trying to justify how we had come to meet, and fortunately Elena didn't deign to ask. Elena was overjoyed to meet Vladik finally, and apologized for not being able to accompany him on the flight from Moscow. Vladik said nothing. He was not as sociable as Yura. He remained surly and wasn't willing to engage in small talk.

When we reached the conference room there was a huddle of people sitting at one end of the long table, nearest the door. I immediately recognized the guy from the Russian embassy. There were others from children's services and Yura's psychotherapist was there too. Significantly, there was no one there from the Moscow Police this time. I could see Vladik's hesitation as we neared the door, and he almost hid behind Anton as we went in, not at all comfortable with all these officious looking people in the room. Yura had of course seen it all before.

We all sat down, spreading ourselves evenly around the table, and chatted as we waited for Nikolayev. Elena served us drinks from the little cabinet at the far end of the room. Yura took a can of soda. Vladik said he didn't want anything. Elena frowned. Something told me that her experience of being a mother meant she was infinitely capable of reinterpreting these boys" behavior, and knew perfectly well that they didn't always mean what they said, so she thrust a can of soda into his hand anyway.

"It's going to be your birthday soon isn't it?" Elena said, turning to Yura, as she came to join us at the table.

Yura seemed completely unprepared for her question.

"Ah, yeh, I think so," he said, taking a swig of his soda.

Elena nodded encouragingly.

"You'll be eleven," she went on.

I turned to Yura.

"You're growing up," I said to him.

He tried to look pleased, but I sensed a little pained expression behind his forced smile, as though his inevitable growing older made him sad somehow. Perhaps he sensed his childhood slipping away.

"We'll have to do something for your birthday," Elena suggested.

"Yeah, a party," I enthused, "Would you like that?"

Yura shrugged, seemingly quite indifferent.

"Sure, why not?" he said, but his words were without depth.

I watched Vladik, who was slumped forward across the table, looking at his reflection in the polished veneer, and he had his arms stretched out, fiddling with a pad and pencil. It was almost as though he was trying to make himself inconspicuous. His soda was sitting there untouched.

At that point Nikolayev came in and shut the door. He greeted everyone warmly, and I introduced Anton, whom he had obviously never met. For the moment he was content to accept Anton's presence, but perhaps felt it was not appropriate to get to know him any better at this point in time. There seemed to be more pressing matters at hand.

Nikolayev stood at the end of the table in his neatly pressed shirt and pleated slacks, looking immaculate as always, and addressed us all with a pleased expression.

"For those of you who haven't heard, we arrested six men in Moscow last night."

There were smiles and murmurs of approval from around the table. No wonder the media were sniffing around, I thought, although I did question why I hadn't been told this before.

"Operation Ganymede is a success," Nikolayev went on, "And I'm pleased that Alex is here with us safe and sound."

There were nods of encouragement towards Vladik, but the unwarranted interest in him only seemed to cause him to shrink further into his seat.

Nikolayev then switched to Russian and said "Welcome Alex," to Vladik, who looked up briefly, then promptly looked back down again. He didn't enjoy the attention.

Nikolayev went on to give further details about the arrests that the Moscow police had made, and what was going to happen next. He gushed a little about Operation Ganymede coming to a close and about this being the culmination of months of intensive investigation, and the wonderful cooperation between my unit and the Moscow police in bringing about this satisfying conclusion. For my part I thought that Nikolayev's praise of Operation Ganymede was mostly hyperbole. The only reason we were sitting here was because the pornographers got sloppy. I remembered what Zhukov had told me. They were putting out new videos with Vladik as the star, and that was what led us to them. All we had done was follow the careless trail they had left. It had nothing to do with our painstaking efforts.

As Nikolayev was talking, one of the female PAs slipped silently into the room and leaned towards him discreetly as he stood there, talking quietly into his ear. As she did so, he looked over at me.

"Excuse me," he said, "there's a rather urgent call I must take."

He turned and followed the PA out of the door.

Fifteen minutes later, I was called to Nikolayev's office. He was standing over by the seating area. There was something in his demeanor that told me all was not well. He did not look pleased. My discomfort increased as he beckoned me over to the sofas. I sat down on one of the sofas and he stood in front of me. He looked very imposing. I looked up at him as though he was some kind of revered pedagogue, and his dark eyes looked directly at me.

"Congratulations Mark," he began, in a quiet, almost imperceptible tone.

It was always worrying when Nikolayev spoke quietly.

"You know where I've just come from?"

I said nothing, confident that he was about to give me the answer.

"I've just come off the phone to the Editor-in-Chief of Russia Today," he went on.

I continued staring blankly, half suspecting what was about to follow.

"Congratulations Mark, you're going to make primetime news!"

He stood in the middle of the seating area with his hands on his hips. I carried on sitting on the sofa in front of him feeling like an errant schoolboy in the principal's study.

"I've just had to apologize like I've never apologized to anyone in my life," he went on, "You've made this unit look like a laughing stock, like a bunch of amateurs. Did you really have to push her over?"

"She fell!" I put in.

"You pushed her!" Nikolayev exclaimed, "You lost your cool."

"She had the microphone right in his face!" I appealed, in my defense.

He looked disappointed. He hung his head down for a moment and took a deep breath.

"Don't you understand?" he said, raising his head in appeal, "We need the media on our side in this."

"Well, put out a statement then," I countered, "set up a proper press conference."

"Those boys aren't ready for that!" he said, dismissively.

"No, you'd rather they were left to the mercy of that pack of wolves," I said, critically.

Nikolayev stared at me for a long time. For the first time ever I thought I saw a trace of perspiration on his top lip. Was he feeling the pressure?

"It's not like you Mark. What is it? Is this assignment starting to get to you?" he asked.

"What are you implying?"

"I don't need to imply anything," he shot back, "the evidence is right there," and he pointed to the little plasma screen on the office wall.

"I'm sick and tired of always being the last to know!" I complained.

"Just do your job Mark," he said, lowering his tone.

"Funny," I said, "I thought that's what I was doing."

He looked around the room, then back at me, and saw how I was surveying him with a grave expression, and he seemed to mellow a little.

"Look, we all need time to reflect and decide what to do next. I think it would be a good idea for you and the boys to disappear for a couple of days. Get them away from the publicity. I want them out of the spotlight. I want the press to focus on the success of Operation Ganymede. We need time to let things calm down a bit. And you could also do with a break."

"What would you suggest?"

"Take the boys on a long weekend. Go spend some time in the forest. Go to the coast, the mountains, wherever. Just get away for a few days."

The next morning, the newspaper headline said it all: 'PORN BOYS: THE NET CLOSES', with a few paragraphs about the arrests in Moscow. There were several column inches on the front page about Operation Ganymede, but clearly it was all superficial stuff – nothing of substance and certainly nothing new. But underneath that was the smaller headline: 'Reporter Hurt in Melee'. So it was a melee now? Where did they get words like that from? There was a small photo of the scene on the steps outside HQ with Valentina Kuznetsova, the correspondent from Russia Today, unceremoniously flailing about on the ground. Luckily the picture was taken sideways on, with all our faces either obscured or looking away from the camera. Except Anton. He was clearly visible, but no one really knew who he was. I chuckled to myself as I sipped my coffee. Porn Boys indeed. The media were so predictable. Operation Ganymede was too much of a mouthful, too obscure a phrase with too many syllables. So it had been reduced to two simple words: Porn Boys. They had chosen to dumb it down, processing the story into a readily digestible format for the public's consumption. They had managed to neatly pre-package the entire affair, summarizing the whole story with a single catch-all phrase. It was so typical of the way the media worked.

I had already called Nikolayev and asked him if it would be okay for me to send some flowers to Valentina, by way of apology. He agreed that was a nice gesture. He told me she was okay and not badly hurt. Apparently her only injury was a sore wrist.

Looking at the newspaper headlines, I knew Nikolayev was right. We needed to get away. I had thought about it and came up with an idea: I would take the boys to Crystal Lake. That wasn't its real name, but that's how it was known by the locals. It was a place of ultimate beauty and serenity, and a location which I had taken many boys to when I worked with Boyscape. It was the perfect place for solitude and reflection, being twenty five miles [40 km] from the nearest town. It was so remote it was ideal for losing yourself for a few days and immersing yourself in nature. Boys always loved it.

Earlier that morning I asked Anton to join us for the trip to Crystal Lake. I had handed him a sheaf of hundred dollar bills and sent him to the optometrist to get his spectacles repaired. He was pleased to accept my invitation. So it was all settled. As soon as Anton got back, we would load up the SUV and disappear for the weekend.

Whilst Anton was at the optometrist, I waited for Yura and Vladik to come down for breakfast. I heard them approach, chatting animatedly as they came in from the drawing room. I folded up the newspaper and put it aside. They stunned me by coming into the kitchen totally naked. They were nudging each other and giggling, still wet from their shared shower. Both of them were clutching large bath towels, but didn't appear to have used them very effectively. Yura's thick black hair was ruffled into wet spikes which still had droplets of water on the ends. Vladik's golden hair was still completely saturated and was plastered flat onto his head. It was as if neither of them had stopped to dry off at all and had simply come down straight out of the shower. Their smooth little bodies were still shiny where they had failed to dry themselves, Vladik's slightly tanned skin tone contrasting with Yura's lighter creaminess. Yura's bare shoulders sported little splashes from the droplets in his hair. Doubtless they were too busy amusing themselves and chatting to care very much about the trail of little wet footprints they had left behind. They immediately fell silent as they came into the kitchen. They sat down on the high stools on the other side of the central island, still dripping wet, and draped the towels over their laps as though they were napkins. Their smooth little butts were still exposed, clearly visible, and pressed flat into the seats of their wooden stools. Their nakedness was very arousing, and their oblivion only served to heighten the guileless sexuality they exuded. It reminded me so much of Yura after the first night we fucked. These boys were so comfortable in their nakedness it was almost cute.

I had set out some things for breakfast, which Yura immediately delved into with some relish. There was a big serving plate piled high with assorted goodies. He picked up a filled bagel and was instantly chewing away on it, his cheeks bulging as his little jaw worked up and down. Without saying anything, Yura smiled at me as he masticated. I smiled back at him and got up to pour him a glass of milk. I took two glasses and poured one out. I left the other empty. Vladik probably wouldn't drink it if I poured it out for him, so I set the carton of milk down in front of him. It was safer to let him help himself. Vladik took a cursory look at the offerings piled up before him on the big plate, as usual looking unimpressed. But at least he made an attempt to try something. He selected a Danish pastry and took a little semicircular bite out of it, then put it back on the plate. Then he took a doughnut and nibbled on the rim, putting that back on the plate. Next he took a blueberry muffin and bit a chunk out of it, but put that back on the plate as well. Having sampled everything, he then leaned back on his stool, and dissociated himself from the breakfast things by feigning distraction. He leaned onto the counter with one elbow and half turned towards Yura. With his other hand, he reached over and stroked Yura's back. It was ever such an affectionate gesture, the maturity of which stunned me a little. Yura turned and smiled at him, obviously enjoying the attention. You could tell these two boys were really into each other. Then Vladik reached down into Yura's lap, just above where the towel was resting across his crotch, and appeared to be playing with Yura's belly button, rubbing it in circular motions with his finger. Yura flinched slightly and let out a little squeal of surprise as he was eating his bagel, caught off guard, but evidently delighted by Vladik's intimate touching. I caught Yura's gaze and, saying nothing, looked at the pile of things on the plate with Vladik's little teeth marks in them and smiled. Yura giggled. He took the initiative to pick something from the plate and offered it to Vladik. It was a chocolate croissant. Vladik looked at it, then accepted it gratefully, taking a bite out of it without hesitation. He seemed to like it, so he continued munching on it, at the same time smearing his little fingers with the chocolate filling. It was interesting that Vladik was willing to accept something from Yura when it was offered, but not if it was coming from me. No matter. He seemed to enjoy the chocolate croissant, even though he only ate half of it and discarded the rest.

Vladik's grudging surliness was set to continue. He disliked me a great deal, to the degree that he studiously avoided me as much as possible. He neither spoke to me, nor looked me in the eye. He appeared to be harboring a seething resentment which he reserved especially for me. It seemed as though all the things he was bitter and hateful about were being directed towards me, as though I somehow represented everything he loathed about his life and all the things that had happened to him. It was unwarranted, but not altogether unfamiliar. Vladik was not the first boy I had encountered like this. I knew from experience that the only thing to do was to ride it out. He would either mellow in his own time, or deliberately push things to a dramatic conclusion.

As it was, Vladik started to push things a lot sooner than I expected. The first significant outburst happened soon after breakfast. He was frosty and uncommunicative towards me as it was. He hardly needed an excuse to vent his anger. Just about anything I did would have given him cause to flare up at me. So it was all the more ironic that I incurred his wrath just when I least expected it.

All I had said was "Don't play on the games console for too long." I was mindful of the fact that we were supposed to be getting ready to leave fairly soon. It wasn't even a demand, simply a polite request. But it was enough. Enough to make Vladik rise up threateningly and throw the games controller clattering across the floor, and he screamed at me.

"You can't tell me what to do! You're not my dad!"

And with that, he stormed out of the room in a rage. He slammed the door hard as he went, making the whole room shudder.

The times young boys had thrown that odious refrain at me. It was the all-encompassing phrase, the universal get-out clause that was designed to renounce any authority you might lay claim to; a definitive rebuttal of any influence you might have. Worse than that, it was a denial of any good relations that might have previously existed. Not that there were good relations between me and Vladik. It would not have made much difference if I was his dad, I mused. I doubted whether our being father and son would have made him any more amenable.

Nevertheless, when it came, I was quite unprepared for his explosive tantrum. I was left standing in the middle of the room totally immobilized by his overreaction. Yura, who had been sitting on the sofa next to Vladik, sat there looking up at me with a worried expression, shocked by Vladik's sudden fit of rage, but also with some sympathy for me. I felt sorry for him. He was confused and didn't quite know how he should deal with Vladik's behavior. He didn't really understand it. Most probably he had never seen Vladik behave in such a way, and he was still trying to adjust their previous relationship to the new circumstances in which they now found themselves.

I took a deep breath and thought I had better go and see if he was okay. Vladik was still an unknown quantity and I had no clue as to what he might do in his heightened state of turmoil. I left Yura on the sofa and went upstairs. I found the door to Yura's room wide open. I peered inside. There was no sign of Vladik, but I noticed that the door to the ensuite bathroom was locked shut. I stepped into the room and listened at the bathroom door. There was a muted, barely audible sound. It was the sound of sobbing coming from within. It was Vladik. I listened for a moment to the deep, plaintive howls and the heavy sobs of a little soul obviously in distress. His high pitched voice was emitting little squeals of pain. How I grieved for that little boy at this moment. What a shame he felt he had to weep in secret. Despite his angry outburst, I wanted to take him in my arms and soothe his tears. Even in the aftermath of his unkind and accusatory words, I wanted to hold him, wrap him in a warm embrace and show him that there were people who genuinely loved him. But the locked door was a barrier, an immovable, estranging shield, preventing me from administering the comfort I knew he so badly craved. And as I listened to that poor little boy, at that moment consumed by his solitary grief, I couldn't help shedding a couple of silent tears for him and my heart nearly burst with compassion.

We had been driving for hours. It was a good thing I had Anton with me to share the driving. He was quite enamored by the prospect of driving the Constellation, so I was only too pleased to hand over the controls to him, while I relaxed in the passenger seat. He confessed he had never driven a car so big, but he soon adjusted to the dimensions of the heavy SUV. We had a long way to go. Crystal Lake was still some distance away and we would be on the road for hours yet. We drove for such a long time that we had long ago left behind the claustrophobia of the city streets for the open country roads where there was nothing but the winding asphalt of the road, flat, open ground on either side and telephone poles lining the route. The big engine purred softly up front as the road flashed by beneath us. I reclined in the passenger seat. Yura and Vladik were in the back, as usual slumped together affectionately. They had chatted for ages, and spent a good long while whispering in each other's ears and giggling manically. Then finally, they quieted down and fell asleep. There was a blanket thrown loosely over them which they had snuggled under and they were fast asleep in each other's arms. I saw Anton glance in the rearview mirror, and I knew he had noted their closeness.

"They're pretty close those two huh?" I observed.

"Yeah," he concurred, "They've always been good together. From the very first day I saw them, I knew there was something very special going on between those two. You should see them fuck."

His plain talking was mildly shocking. Not so much because of the way he spoke so freely, but because of the concept he conjured up of Yura and Vladik fucking, like it was an inevitability. But then, it was something I knew Anton had experienced first hand.

I nodded slowly, not quite sure what to make of his insouciant remark.

"Oh, don't worry," Anton said, perhaps detecting my reticence, "Yura still loves you."

I laughed.

"You think so?"

"No doubt about it," he said, without hesitation, "I've seen the way Yura looks at you. That kid is infatuated with you."

I stared at Anton, impressed by his observations, perhaps realizing for the first time just how astute he was and pleased that I was able to communicate with him so openly and candidly. I watched him as he was driving and admired his new glasses. They were pretty much the same as the old ones, but it was good that he had stuck to the round wire-rimmed style which had almost become part of his persona. I thought about this enigmatic young man and the unusual way I had come to know him, and I was struck by the way he had so comfortably eased himself into my life. I liked Anton. I liked Anton a lot. I perhaps stared at him for a little too long.

"What?" he said, with a quick sideways glance.

"How did you manage to find Yura?" I asked, suddenly overcome with curiosity as to how he had engineered our little liaison.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know you like to keep up with what people are saying on the internet," I said, "But how did you end up following us around?"

"I knew something was happening when there was talk of Yura being flown out of Moscow, so I asked around," he said.

I sat there looking over at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You want to know the truth?" he said, leaning over confidentially, still keeping his eyes on the road, "I had a little help."

"What sort of help?"

"Some of your colleagues at the police department are clients of mine," he said, with a self-satisfied smirk.

I looked at him, not sure if he was serious.

"You mean…" and I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence.

His eyes were on the road ahead, but he looked over at me momentarily.

"What? You don't believe that police officers would use boys like me?"

"Oh, I know it goes on," I said, "I'm not naïve enough to believe that police officers are all perfect."

"That's right," he said, with a cheeky grin, "And you should know."

I laughed.

"You'd be surprised what they will tell you when they've got their dick in your mouth," he said laconically.

And as he said it, I watched how he enunciated his words, and saw how red and glossy his lips were, how pink and soft his tongue was and how white and pearly his teeth were, and the visual image of that beautiful mouth wrapped around my cock gave me an instant hard-on.

"Actually, I don't think I would," I countered.

As we approached Crystal Lake, I drove the car down the dirt road that wound around one end of the lake and led out towards a flat open area. There was a clearing that was surrounded by trees on one side, and gradually fell away towards the edge of the lake on the other. The lake was about a half a mile [800 m] across at its narrowest point, and on the far side was a thickly wooded area, and beyond that the hilly terrain that was perfect for nature trails and orienteering. Way over on the horizon, the mountains rose up in a dull, almost transparent haze. The view across the lake was stunning. The car lumbered shakily down the uneven dirt road, jiggling us about in our seats as it negotiated the potholes, and I brought it to a halt as close to the edge of the clearing as possible. As soon as Yura caught sight of the lake his eyes widened and he rose up stiffly in the back seat, staring in wonderment at the beauty of it. He said he had never seen anything like it. At this time of the early evening, when the water was calm and undisturbed, the surface of the lake was so smooth, it was like a sheet of glass. The lake was spring fed, so the water was clear. It was so clear that even down to a depth of twelve feet [3½ m], you could easily see the sandy bottom. That was what gave Crystal Lake its name.

We set about unloading our equipment from the back of the car and Yura jumped out. He ran excitedly down towards the lake to get a better view. Conversely, Vladik refused to get out of the car at all. He hadn't been very cooperative when we were preparing to leave, and had chosen not to assist in any way with loading things into the car. Now that we had arrived, his truculence persisted. Anton and I proceeded to establish our little camp on the shores of the lake, and we worked hard, anxious to have everything set up by the time it got dark. Vladik, for the time being, remained steadfastly in the car, staring out of the rear window, thus unequivocally confirming his stance of disengagement and registering his ongoing resentment to the entire expedition.

It was Anton that finally managed to coax Vladik from the car. I watched Anton poke his head into the back of the car, where Vladik was languishing in solitude on the back seat, and he spent a good long time with the door open just a few inches, and he was talking to Vladik through the opening. Eventually, their negotiations came to fruition and Anton succeeded in persuading Vladik to emerge, somewhat grudgingly, but nevertheless compliant. Anton and Vladik seemed to have established an unspoken understanding between them.

As we were pitching the tent, Yura tried to help, but truthfully only got in the way. I asked him to take Vladik down to the lake to see if they could find a good place for us to swim. They scampered off, yammering away excitedly. Meanwhile, Anton and I worked well together. It was amazing to see how, when we were pitching the tent, he fetched and carried things for me and attentively held the tent pegs for me as I hammered them into the ground. He just seemed to know instinctively what needed doing, and he was always there with just the right tool or the exact piece of paraphernalia I needed, without having to be asked. Anton was indispensable. I could fully understand why the pornographers had used him as an 'older brother' in the making of those movies. He was able to render the boys utterly compliant, and had a gift for smoothing things over and keeping everything on an even keel. He was a natural facilitator, one of those rare people that are infinitely helpful and resourceful and seem to have a flair for minimizing conflicts and overcoming snags.

Anton impressed me a great deal. He offered to build a fire to cook dinner. We had enough food for an impromptu barbecue, and he told me just to leave it to him. So whilst I finished setting up the tent, and stowing away our gear, he went off to fetch some firewood. At one point, when I was inside the tent arranging the sleeping bags, I happened to glance out of the opened tent flap, and I watched the way he was building the fire, with the wood that he had collected. He had stripped off his shirt, and was carrying armfuls of wood that left dirty little smears all over his well-defined chest and abs. As he was preparing to split the wood with a little tomahawk, I observed how his lean, compact body folded up so gracefully as he knelt down, how his elongated torso curved so lithely as he crouched there, and how the muscles of his back flexed as he worked. The lats in his sides tapered down to his narrow hips, and the deltoids in his shoulders bulged tangibly every time he raised the ax, and his smooth young skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat that made his taut teen body glisten ever so alluringly. God, he was handsome.

Anton did all the cooking. He grilled burgers and chicken and corn on the cob, and even potatoes which he wrapped in aluminum and baked in the fire. There was not a hint of protest from Vladik, who passively joined us for dinner around the campfire. Vladik happily ate whatever Anton gave him. We gathered around the fire, sat together in a little huddle with the fire as a focal point, and I watched how the boys tucked into their enormous burgers. Their little hands were barely able to keep the unwieldy assemblies of those oversized burgers together. But they ate everything Anton served up, thus confirming what I already knew to be true of eleven year old boys – that they are all little eating machines and will consume vast quantities when allowed unfettered access to food.

Anton continued to prove amazingly resourceful and inventive. It was clear he had done all this before. After dinner, he went and fetched his guitar from the car. It was one of the very few things he had brought with him when he came back from the optometrist that morning. He said he had planned some entertainment for us and offered to sing some songs he'd written. So, after we had cleared up the dinner things, we sat around the campfire and Anton began a performance which completely enchanted and captivated us all. He proved to be extremely talented, with not only a little repertoire of songs he'd written himself, but an ability to play the guitar that was as good as any recorded music I had ever heard. That was complemented by a soft, but powerful voice that was so melodic, it could almost have been created for singing. He held the guitar close, like it was a valuable companion, in that comfortable, over-familiar way that all musicians have, and he strummed that guitar so gently, so lightly, and yet the music came belting out. Then when he got a catchy little rhythm going, he opened his mouth and started crooning lyrics to quite a complex musical arrangement, adjusting his voice to the tempo, throwing his head back and closing his eyes on the more emotional parts. There was so much passion in his songs, you could tell they were not merely contrived little ditties that he had fabricated to some prescribed formula. These songs were so powerful, so emotional, you knew they came from the heart. His lyrics were full of sadness and tribulation, with stories of heartbreak and regret and missed opportunities, but his ultimate message was one of hope and love. And when he closed his eyes and threw his head back as he sang, it was like he was venting his soul to the world. He was exceptionally talented. And as I sat there, watching and listening, I thought about the utter complexity of this boy, and the sheer depth of his character. The mystique and wonder of this beautiful young man left me feeling breathless and awestruck.

As Anton was singing, I watched the way the boys were looking on wondrously, the glow of the fire reflected in the perfect skin of their pretty little faces. They were completely enthralled by Anton. Even though he was singing in English, they were tapping their little feet and even clapping along, having been transported right out of themselves and completely wrapped up in the magic of the music that enveloped them. At the end, in a rousing finale, Anton struck up a song in Russian, which had a cheerful, upbeat, folk-rock type feel to it, to which all three of them started singing away. They all seemed to know the song. I didn't know it, but when the chorus came around again I joined in, and when they heard me accompany them, they looked at me and smiled with delight, even as they were singing, and we finished up all singing together.

I thought about how amazing Anton was. He was good with the boys, especially Vladik. They genuinely liked him. He was popular, talented, infinitely capable, extremely astute, and of course incredibly good looking. And as I sat there watching Yura and Vladik singing together, their little high-pitched treble voices contrasting nicely with Anton's seasoned baritone, I marvelled at how lucky we all were. We were lucky to have been brought together like this, lucky to be sharing these momentous hours. It felt like we were a unit – a loving, tightly-knit little group with genuine affection for each other, like some kind of unique, monosexual family.

Later that night, I woke up in the tent and found Yura's sleeping bag empty. I decided he had probably stepped out for a pee and I resolved to go back to sleep and think no more of it. Presently he would scuttle back into the tent and wrap himself back up in his sleeping bag. But he didn't. And as I laid there, waiting for him to come back, I thought I heard distant sounds of laughter and whispered conversation. Curious, I sat up and looked around the tent. There was a small, battery-powered lantern hanging from the tent pole, and I could see that Yura and Vladik were gone. Their sleeping bags were lying there limp and unzipped. Anton was on the far side of the tent in his sleeping bag, fast asleep. I extricated myself from my sleeping bag and looked around outside the flaps of the tent. I could hear voices, the distinctive high-pitched fluting voice of Yura, interspersed with the lower alto that was obviously the slightly more mature voice of Vladik. They were giggling, half speaking in lowered tones, half whispering, and their pauses indicated that they were engaged in some kind of energetic activity which caused the conversation to become momentarily muffled and strained.

I crawled out of the tent and looked around. A short distance away was the little pile of whitish-grey ashes from last night's fire, now cold and reduced to a fine powder. I could just make out the silhouette of the car up by the dirt road. The full moon cast an eerie silvery light over our little encampment, but it was enough to light the expanse between our tent and the edge of the lake. I wrapped the comforter around me and went down towards where the voices were emanating. I peered over the grassy ridge marking the periphery of the steep bank, where the ground fell away sharply towards the water's edge. I saw Yura and Vladik down there, rolling around in the soft sandy soil at the edge of the lake. They were completely naked. Their smooth, hairless little preteen bodies were stretched out on the ground and they were wrapped around each other, rolling around and kissing. They were wrestling in such a frenzied way that at first glance it might have looked like it was an angry struggle. But it wasn't. It was more like a playfight. Each of them fought to gain supremacy over the other, emitting little squeals of excitement, and at the same time conducting a disjointed and halfhearted conversation. They would break off, utter a few words at close proximity, then carry on French kissing. Their kissing was shockingly intimate, with their mouths locked together and their tongues battling for position. They hugged so tightly and kissed so deeply that the resounding noises of their moist lips gorging on each other's face and neck were clearly audible. They were holding each other so lovingly, it was clear they were really hungry for each other as they writhed around on the ground just feet away from the water's edge. It reminded me so much of the times John and I had had sex on the beach.

I sat down on the grassy ridge, snuggling into the comforter, and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders. I settled down and was treated to a performance the likes of which I could never have imagined. These two sexually precocious little boys, starved of each other for so long, and so obviously in love with each other, were feeding on each other's bodies in the most explicit manner. They were hugging and grabbing at each other in the most sexually precocious way, with lots of huffing and puffing. They started grabbing at each other's crotch, really digging their fingers in roughly, pulling hard and making each other squeal with laughter. Their little hairless boners were constantly popping up as they writhed around, sticking out irrepressibly, as they each sought the pleasure of rubbing their stiff little boydicks all over every part of their perfect young bodies. Their little dicks seemed so eager, so stiffly sprung, in that inimitable way that only young boys have. Little boy dicks like theirs did not carry the weight of a fully grown dick. They were small, compact and light and not weighed down by the sheer size of an adult erection, so their little erections, no matter how they were squeezed, pressed or rotated, always snapped back into place like they were mounted on springs.

I watched the boys in their little love tangle. It was highly erotic. First Yura struggled free of the stranglehold that Vladik had forced him into, and he quickly scrambled up and got astride Vladik, beating him into the ground and forcing him into submission. Then Vladik wriggled out from under him, overpowered Yura and sat on top of him, giggling victoriously. Vladik sat astride Yura, hunching over him, his firm little dick in his fist, pressing it into Yura's stomach, rubbing it all over Yura's tight little tummy, into his navel, and then up to his chest, stroking and circling each nipple with the engorged end of his little boycock. It was the first time I had seen Vladik's erection, and it merely confirmed what I had suspected. It was big for a boy his age. It was ever so long and thick, with a gentle, graceful curve to it and a neat, trim, slightly pointed little cockhead that made it look sleek and streamlined, perfect for fucking. It protruded clear and proud, swollen with desire, bursting with the need to be fucked into some tight, wet hole. It was clear he knew how to use it too: the way he bucked his hips and thrust that lovely boydick all over Yura's pretty body, was well practiced and smacked of familiarity and experience.

Yura was wriggling and squealing with delight beneath Vladik as Vladik's beautiful boner wavered tantalizingly above him. Yura's neglected little boner was hard and tumescent in his crotch, forlornly straining upwards in a little curve towards his navel. Then Vladik scooted up further astride Yura's chest and rubbed the head of his little dick against Yura's closed lips. Instead of sticking it right in, seeking the warmth and moistness of that little ruby mouth, he merely rubbed it around Yura's lips and over his cheeks, and even presented his tight little ball sac for Yura to kiss. Moving up further, he straddled Yura's face, and lowered his little butt down ever so gently for Yura to lick. I could see Yura's little tongue poking up into his boyhole. I guessed Vladik's boyhole was feeling a lot better, and that the swelling was now for the most part healed. If not, Yura's expert little tongue and his hot spit would soon have it soothed and feeling better. These boys were so obviously practiced, so blatantly familiar with what they were doing, and their little sex games were so instinctive, it far surpassed any boyporn I had ever seen. I realized that if either of them had looked over towards the steep bank, they would see me sitting up on the ridge. But I didn't really care. Inwardly, I had the impression that somehow these boys wouldn't really mind if I was watching. Maybe they even liked the idea of me seeing them. They were performers after all, little porn-boys who loved the camera, and quite possibly their natural exhibitionism even turned them on. Their performance was quite incredible. My dick was so hard, it ached for relief. God, I swear it was one of the most erotic things I'd ever seen. I really thought I was going to jizz up just watching them.

Vladik, still sitting astride Yura's chest, fed the tip of his cock slowly and lovingly into Yura's little mouth. Yura opened up a little, and Vladik started thrusting hard, literally fucking Yura's sweet little head. Yura was sucking on Vladik's dick like it was a straw. What I loved about little preteen boners was that it was possible to get them all in your mouth. How wonderful it was to be able to envelop that little organ completely and encase its whole length in a warm, wet mouth. Something which, alas, was not possible with an adult boner. Vladik stuck his pretty little dick into Yura's mouth right to the base, and he rode him much as if he was on horseback, thrusting with his hips whilst his upper body remained still. There was a practiced familiarity in his movements, a kind of seasoned maturity that came from his vast experience as a little porn star. He bucked his hips so expertly, and he was completely in control. He was throwing his head back in the kind of exaggerated ecstasy so often associated with porn movies. But as he happened to glance upwards, he seemed to hesitate a moment, and he looked directly at me. He had spotted me sitting up on the ridge, peering down at them from the long grass. He was momentarily surprised, but it didn't throw him off his stride. Yura couldn't see me, and Vladik knew that, and I think that was what caused him to smile a cruel little smile of satisfaction as he continued thrusting his little boner in and out of Yura's puckered mouth. In fact, on seeing me, he seemed to increase his pace and thrust with all the more vigor. He tipped forward, one hand in the soil, propping himself up on one arm as he knelt astride Yura's head, and with the other hand he held the base of his boner as he fed it into Yura's mouth. He was preparing to cum. His thrusting became quicker and more insistent, and he was offering words of encouragement to Yura, at the same time looking up at me, knowing that I could clearly see what he was doing. His rising excitement was tangible. He gave a few more expert thrusts and suddenly stopped, looking directly into my eyes, and a look of utter relief and pleasure spread across his pretty face. At that moment, I knew he was cumming in Yura's mouth.

I was back in my sleeping bag by the time Yura returned to the tent. He crawled back in with an air of bracing exertion about him. His little body was cool and breathless, having been exposed to the chill of the evening air, and tired from his fornication with Vladik down by the lake. Instead of getting into his sleeping bag, he came to share mine. I was lying on my side, and he unzipped the full length of my sleeping bag and crawled in, snuggling up next to me. In doing so, he turned his head and kissed me on the lips, I suppose as a way of reaffirming his affection for me after what he had just done. As he kissed me, I detected a very familiar and distinctive smell on his breath. I could taste it on his lips. It was the heady, unmistakable presence of little boy spunk. He twisted around, so that his back was against me, and he drew my arms around him. His skin was dusty and gritty from where he had been rolling around on the ground, and he had a coating of sandy soil on his smooth little butt. As he cuddled up to me, I knew that he was doing so having received Vladik's young spunk into his little belly. I squeezed him, happy to have him in my embrace once again, and overjoyed that he was back. He lapsed into a long, tired yawn, as though resigning from the wonder and exhaustion of the day, in that unique and inimitable way that only little boys have, and he whispered quietly into the stillness of the tent:

"I love you Mark."

I smiled to myself and pulled him to me, kissing the back of his head. I squeezed him tightly and we both fell asleep with me spooning him.

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