PZA: Dimitri's Return

A tale of discoveries. Told by Dimitri's seventeen-year-old brother Nikos. Nico is sexually frustrated, having witnessed Dimitri and his tutor having sex and knowing what his brother, Justin and Jeremy are doing while his sex life with his girlfriend Elaina runs hot and cold and he is still a virgin. Dimitri makes a pass at one of his brother's friends and Nico discovers another friend in a gay freeway with his brother, and that Elaina is pregnant. He seeks out Elaina's younger brother Woodrow hopping to discover who the father is but Woodrow has a couple surprises of his own.m/t

Remembrance Day fell on a Saturday. True, patriotic Canadians to the core, the entire family attended the morning ceremonies, everyone decked out in their finest clothes, poppies prominently displayed. To my surprise, Dimitri's young boy toy, Justin, did not accompany us. He was around so often he had become one of the family and it was strange not to see him hanging onto Dimitri and looking up at him with those big, puppy-dog eyes. Following the usual speeches and laying of wreaths at the cenotaph, the family went to my brother Alex's home, a break from tradition. Normally we would all have gathered at Momma and Poppa's, but Alex's wife Mikala was six months pregnant and having a rough time with her pregnancy, spending more time kneeling in front of the throne than most people spend sitting on it. My youngest sister and most recently married, Anna, was also pregnant, three months, and both my other sisters, Sophia and Maria, had given birth this fall so everyone had sympathy for Mikala. Every female in the Savalos clan had been knocked up within the past year and every male was getting his nuts off, even Dimitri though his was of a different nature. Every male except me that is.

Anyway, while the rest of the clan gathered at Alex's, I was dropped off back home along with my buddies Ryan, David and Daniel. We opened up some sodas and bags of nachos and talked about the ceremony and vets and the big wars and about the fighting going on between Israel and Palestine and in Syria and the problem of refugees and illegal immigrants flooding Canada and crazy Trump's take on immigration in America, all totally depressing stuff. Then Daniel asked how it was going between Elaina and me and if I was getting any yet, also totally depressing because I wasn't, and we changed topics and talked about the high school dance last Saturday and some of the totally revealing dresses some of the girls wore, and which of them was suspected of putting out, and which ones we'd like to make out with. David mentioned the rumour that was going around, about some freshman who was supposedly a tranny and was going around giving guys in junior high and high school blowjobs. The rumour had been going around a while and was persistent enough that it sure sounded to be true as unbelievable as it was.

Dimitri returned home, missing his boy toy I imagined and being too closely watched to mess around with his little nephews. I knew my brothers and sisters and their spouses and I knew they had good cause to be worried. He brought up a bottle of wine from the cold room in the basement and poured everyone drinks and left the bottle with us, and offered us cigarettes, which Ryan took though I warned him that our parents didn't like anyone smoking in the house. Dimitri just laughed and said to open the kitchen window and sit beside it, or light an incense candle like he did and which he offered to give us. He noticed Ryan's snake and dagger tattoo which he admired and which greatly pleased Ryan, and Ryan commented on Dimitri's Gothic belt buckle and his ring and necklace, which greatly pleased Dimitri. They were like some bloody mutual admiration society.

"I've a collection of rings, and some pagan prints that I bet you'd love. They'd make great tattoos. Why don't you come to my room and I'll show you what I have."

"Maybe later," I interrupted, darting Ryan a warning. 'Show him what he has' all right! I know exactly what he'd show him. Ryan looked at me in surprise. Dimitri opened his mouth. "Maybe later," I repeated, staring at Ryan and trying to signal him to decline.

"Sure, whatever," Dimitri said with a smile, but it was that smile that he had that wasn't a smile and gave you a creepy feeling that he was thinking something totally different, and it didn't bear you well.

"Your brother's cool," observed David, taking a sip of wine as Dimitri headed to his room.

"Yeah. There's no way my older brother would open up a bottle of wine for me and my friends or be cool about me smoking," Ryan said in agreement.

"It's my dad's wine. He makes it himself. Besides we have wine with every meal, like other families drink water. I've had wine ever since I was weaned off my mother's milk. My father says everyone in the old country drinks wine, from toddlers to the grave. And my folks really don't like smoke in the house," I repeated, looking at Ryan with disapproval.

"That's okay. I'll save it for later," he said, butting it out as he got up. "I gotta go take a leak."

"That's the problem with wine," observed Daniel as he poured another glass. "Goes down easy but goes right through."

We laughed and agreed with that wisdom and we picked up the conversation about the school dance and couples we figured were making out that we had been having when Dimitri had appeared, and then switched to the basketball game coming up against James Fowler, our biggest challenge. They were topics I never tired of talking about, nor the guys. None of us really noticed how long Ryan had been gone until we heard a thump upstairs, in the room above us, Dimitri's bedroom, which shook the light fixture, like something or someone had fallen over. Then there was a shout, definitely Ryan. There was a thumping down the hallway and a door slammed. I glanced out my window in time to see Ryan flying around the corner of the house, skidding and slipping in the snow. He had no jacket and his shirt was wide open.

I told the guys they'd better leave and they didn't understand why and Daniel said something about there being a quarter bottle of wine left and I got mad and grabbed it and shoved it at him and told him to take it with him and to just get the fucking hell out, now. He and David glanced at each other in surprise, exchanged nods, and got up and left. Daniel took the wine. I just sat there, my heart pumping like mad. I was all flushed and I wanted to go up to Dimitri's room and ask what had happened. I knew of course. He'd been hinting for months about me inviting my friends over for a sleep over, and I'd seen the way he looked at them when they came over. It was because of those looks and hints that I didn't invite them to come over often. This Saturday was an exception because I'd expected Dimitri to be with his boy toy and that things would be safe. They weren't. Damn him! Fuck him!

That night I went out with Elaina, as I usually do on Saturday nights, but I was in a foul mood and couldn't stop thinking about Ryan and the way he'd gone running out of our house. How the hell had he ended up in Dimitri's room anyway? Did Dimitri intercept him when he went to take a leak? Catch him in the bathroom while he had his pecker out? Or had Ryan lied about having to take a leak and had really gone up to his room? He probably had. He was proud of his tattoo. And he liked pagan stuff like Dimitri had. And then what? Had Dimitri suggested something? Maybe had even groped him or something? Had to have been serious for Ryan to go flying out the house like that without his coat. And his shirt was open. Elaina must have seen I had something on my mind and I wasn't really enjoying our date and she suggested we call it an early night.

Dimitri's light was still on when I came home, which was unusual, and I was tempted to drop in but chicken me, I didn't. He didn't have a boy sleep over, which was at least a relief. I didn't have to lay awake listening to his bed creaking and their muffled sounds of lovemaking. How Momma and Poppa ignored it I'll never understand. They had to know. Thinking about the sick, perverted things he was doing in his room gave me gooseflesh.

Ryan avoided me at school on Monday. Normally we have lunch together, or see each other at the lockers. He was nowhere to be seen all day, nor the next nor the day after that. It was not typical. I saw David and Daniel and they seemed to have forgotten how I'd run them out of the house. I hinted about Ryan not being around but they just shrugged it off. If they knew anything, they weren't talking.

Wednesday Dimitri normally played chess with two school kids from Saint Joseph's after school. They were there and Momma had made a huge cake and served it with ice-cream, and made a big fuss about the youngest, Jeremy, turning thirteen. Thirteen, and he was playing chess with my twenty-three-year-old brother, and doing more than just playing chess. She could not be that blind or deaf that she didn't know. Dimitri just sat there and grinned like he was thirteen himself. They didn't play chess. Didn't even go to Dimitri's room. That was a surprise.

Thursdays Justin normally came over to supposedly tutor Dimitri in math and I had basketball practice. Justin was usually gone by the time I got home but this time I dawdled at school just to be sure I missed him when I got home. Dumb, and I was angry with myself doing it, but I did it all the same. Fuck, it was my house too. I had every right to come and go as I wanted.

The following Saturday Elaina and I took in a movie. I sat there and put my arm about her and we held hands when I took her home we kissed but it was all very formal and rote. There was no feeling in it at all. I didn't get any thrill in kissing her, and she responded like a dead fish. There had been a point, not that long ago, when we'd been hot for each other, necking up a storm, and I'd gotten some encouraging feels of her boobs and she'd laid her hand on my crotch which was a sure invite to go further and I'd headed home with my boner pointing the way. Now my dick didn't even raise its fucking head. What had happened? Dimitri was out when I got home and never returned that night.

Sunday Dimitri showed up at church, Justin in tow as usual, and they both returned home for Sunday dinner with the family, and a session of sex in Dimitri's room afterward, the rest of the family finding reasons to leave right after the meal so they didn't have to acknowledge what was going on. There was a time, before Dimitri's return, when we'd spent the entire afternoon as a family. Not anymore. I don't know what pissed me off more, the fact Dimitri had totally ruined a happy family tradition, or that he was up in his room getting his rocks off and I was sitting there fuming with a pair of blue nuts and wondering what was going wrong between Elaina and me. The next Wednesday the two boys came to play chess again, but that was all they did. I hung around upstairs pretending to help set the table for supper and listened, and I went down to my room and listened at the heating vent, but nothing happened. Again on Thursday I had no idea if Justin had even shown up as he was gone when I got home after basketball practice.

Friday, after school, at David's seventeenth birthday party while we were talking about plans for the weekend, Ryan finally revealed what had happened that Saturday at my place. He'd gone up to take a piss, like he'd said he was going to, but when he was done he knocked on Dimitri's door, curious about his collection, and even more curious why I'd made a fuss about him going to see it. He confirmed that Dimitri really did have an awesome collection of prints, and of rings, and Dimitri had him open his shirt so he could have a good look at his tattoo, which he did seem to admire. But while he was sitting at Dimitri's desk looking at his prints, Dimitri had put his hand on his shoulder under his shirt and had leaned over uncomfortably close, "cheek to cheek" he described it, and then he had sat down and put his hand on Ryan's thigh. Of course Ryan pulled his leg away and Dimitri had laughed and said he didn't have to be shy, and when Ryan said he wasn't being shy, Dimitri had said that was cool and that he figured Ryan was interested in more than his collection. He put his hand on Ryan's thigh again and moved it up toward his crotch and said that perhaps Ryan would like one of his rings.

That was when Ryan had stood up and the chair had tipped over backward, and when Dimitri put his arm around him and tried to kiss him he'd run. He looked at me embarrassed as hell, expecting me to challenge his accusations against my brother. David and Daniel were clearly surprised by his comments, and even more surprised when I said, "I tried to warn you."

"I don't get it," said Daniel, "I thought your brother was kidnapped by a couple pedos and was forced to do stuff with them, guy stuff, and when he was finally found, some guys were forcing him to make a porno video with young boys."

"My dad said he heard that he has to report his whereabouts to the police every week and has to stay away from any place where young boys hang out," added David.

"That I don't get. How's what happened to him his fault?" asked Daniel. "Why is he being punished?"

"Because he's not the victim here. He's the perpetrator, get it?" I snapped. "Why do you think I told you guys to bugger off the other day?"

Daniel and David glanced at each other and then exchanged glances with Ryan. "Jeez, Nico, we didn't know," said Daniel. "We had no idea."

"Well, you do now," I replied sharply as I turned and stomped off. Damn Dimitri. Fucking damn him all to hell!

The next night Elaina and I went to a volleyball game between Saint Joseph's and Saint Michael's and then went for burgers and cokes. We held hands and stuff but it was all very innocent, like when we were just starting dating. I made a move to kiss her and she dodged her head. I was wearing cologne and I'd brushed my teeth so that wasn't the reason. Normally things would have progressed until one of the guys would jokingly tell us to get a room. I didn't get it. Literally and figuratively.

Sunday Justin showed up at church and came to our house afterward, and he'd gone to Dimitri's room to tutor him, but again I hung around listening, and nothing happened. Dimitri was getting the same cold treatment as I was. Had they had a falling out or something? Something was very definitely wrong. Not that long ago Dimitri had made no effort to hide he wanted in the kid's pants, and the kid wanted him there. I hung around listening on Wednesday too, and though both boys showed up for chess, that's all that happened. Something was not right. That Wednesday was Elaina's birthday. As far as I could figure out, she hadn't had a party the weekend before, nor was she planning on having one this coming weekend. At least I wasn't invited to one, and nobody I knew had been invited either. I'd bought her a gift, but she avoided me at school all day, ducking into a classroom or turning and heading the other direction whenever she saw me, and she was nowhere around after school. I didn't ask for a date for Saturday, and she didn't inquire.

Wednesday both boys showed up for chess and on Thursday when I returned home from basketball practice Justin was there enjoying birthday cake, complete with balloons and ribbons and Momma fussing about him like he was her grandchild. He was sporting a large Celtic cross about his neck and Dimitri was fawning all over him like a love-struck calf. Dimitri left on Friday and didn't show up until Church Sunday morning, Justin in tow, and the way they were looking at each other and touching each other I half expected them to make out there in the pews!

Although Justin didn't come over for dinner and after dinner sex, whatever their difference had been they definitely had made up. Maybe they were making out so much they had just needed a break to refill their balls. Damn them. Fucking damn both of them. Wednesday both boys showed for chess and again that was all they did. The buggers were totally confusing me and making me feel guilty hanging around spying on my brother and suspecting him and having wild fantasies about his sex life but nothing happening.

Every once in a while my friends and I have a debate on whether or not there is a God, usually after something significant happens, like a school shooting or something and people begin wondering if God really does exist and if He does why He allows stuff like that to happen. Of course most say it is proof He does not exist, and of course the other side says it is proof that He does because He is watching and judging us by how we react. My family is not fanatic, but my family is devout. I believe. I also tell my friends I think God has a sense of humour. Like there are days you plan in detail and think you know what to expect and nothing turns out as you planned or thought it would. Other days you get out of bed thinking it is just another normal, boring day, and it is the most fantastic day you've ever had or else all shit breaks out.

Thursday was just such a day, a day that you think is going to be normal and all shit breaks out. I got up that morning feeling good and as the day progressed things just got better. I got back my last Chemistry test and found I'd aced it and I got an "A" on my English Lit paper, Elaina seemed her normal self in the cafeteria and I gave her the earrings I'd bought her, which had cost me a month's allowance but which, as I'd hoped, raised my hopes for our next Saturday date, and I was expecting to have a good basketball practice after school. That was when God pulled His fast one. Coach Baldwin got sick suddenly and our assistant coach was unexpectedly called away so practice was cancelled. I considered hooking up with Elaina but figured I'd best leave well-enough alone. We'd agreed to take in a movie, one of those chick flicks that gets a girl all warm and fuzzy inside, and ready. I wasn't about to blow it… in that hopes that maybe Saturday she would.

I was hesitant to go home. Thursdays was the day Dimitri had arranged to meet his supposed tutor, knowing I was away at practice and when she was living at home Anna was at her music lesson so Poppa worked later so we would have supper together, leaving him plenty of time to get in his tutor's pants. I considered just hanging around the school, knowing if I went home I knew I'd be tempted to climb the rain barrel and peek into his room, or head to my room and listen at the heating vent like some perv Peeking Tom. Realizing I was letting him run my life, I angrily headed home, purposefully hurrying.

Justin's bike was leaning up outside and so was a second bike. Oh great! A three-way. I stormed into the house.

"Why, Nikos, another surprise," said Momma, preparing supper as usual and wiping her hands on her apron.

"He arrived half an hour ago. I told him you were at basketball practice and would be gone for at least another hour and a half but he said he knew. He said he came to see your brother instead."

"He's in Dimitri's room. I told him that nice boy who is tutoring Dimitri was there."

I turned and headed down the hallway. No! David had only turned seventeen two weeks ago! Dimitri's door was open of course. It always is. I stepped inside and stopped. David was standing in the middle of the room, his shirt unbuttoned, his jeans and underwear, grey boxers with a white and blue stripe pattern, about his ankles. Dimitri was pressed up behind him, hands on David's hips, his cock buried up David's ass. David and Justin, who had just celebrated his fifteenth birthday a week ago, were embracing and kissing, eyes closed, Justin's shirt open to the last button, his jeans and underwear, black bikini briefs, also about his ankles. They both had hardons. David was grasping Justin's, and Justin had his fist wrapped about David's. At the moment I stepped into the room David's eyes opened. His expression changed from one of lust and ecstasy to one of surprise and embarrassment and then to shame and guilt.

I abruptly stepped back out of the room, turned, and raced down the hallway and out the front door. I leaped down the steps several at a time and headed down the walk, stumbling and almost falling in my haste. Reaching the sidewalk, I turned and ran. I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I just ran. It didn't matter where. No matter where I ended up I'd still see the three of them there in Dimitri's room. For fucksake, David, one of my best friends, had Dimitri's cock up his ass! He was getting fucked, the cunt! And he and that little faggot Justin were kissing and grasping each other's dick. What the hell! He knew what to expect. He fucking knew! We'd talked about how Dimitri messed with guys and he knew Dimitri had hit on Ryan, but he'd gone to his room anyway. On Thursday. When he knew fucking damn well I would not be home. When he figured he and Dimitri would be alone. But he didn't figure on boy toy Justin. A little fifteen-year-old fag boy two years his junior waiting there as a bonus. David! My good friend who talked about girls and making out and acting so straight and normal a fucking, flaming faggot! With my fucking faggot, paedo brother. Well he got his wish. Dimitri that is. He got one of my buddies. Just like he'd been wanting. He got him good. David got his wish too. In spades. The fag! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I ran until I was out of breath. Twenty, thirty blocks? I don't know. I ran until my lungs and legs gave out. I saw a tree and headed to it and leaned against it, gasping for breath. Why? David! He knew. He went there on purpose! Damn him. Damn Dimitri. Damn God. No, I didn't mean that. Not about God. I stood there, gasping for breath until my heart slowed. I turned and began walking back, slowly. I was in no hurry to return. I didn't want to return. There was nowhere else to go though. I didn't know what I'd say when I got back. I didn't want to think about it. Why the fuck didn't I stay at school? Why the fuck did Coach have to get sick? Another one of God's fast ones. How did God possibly think this was funny? The closer I got to my house the slower I walked. My feet were lead, my legs limp spaghetti. The bikes were gone when I got back. At least that was on the bright side. Poppa and the family were sitting at the table, almost finished. It was a lot later than I realized.

"Practice was late," Poppa observed. It was an observation, but an accusation too. The Savalos family ate together.

Did he mean basketball practice, or did he mean Dimitri? He wouldn't know I'd been home earlier. Momma would never say anything. I sat down at the table and stared at my plate. Momma passed the soupa avgolemono and freshly baked bread. She had made braised lamb with rice for the main course. I said my prayers and mumbled my thanks to Momma and my apology again. I dare not look up at Momma or Poppa. They'd see my anger and the burden of my secret in my eyes. I dare not look up at Dimitri. I would not be able to hold back my disgust and my loathing. How could he do such things? He had not opened his eyes back in his room. His head had been thrown back and his face contorted in that painful ecstasy of pending climax. But he had to have known I was there. He had to have known. Before I was done he excused himself.

I wanted to approach him afterward, to accuse him, to demand an explanation, an apology. What for I'm not sure. I didn't though. I went to my room and threw myself on my bed and cried. Cried for our family, for me, for David. The image of the three of them in the throes of ecstasy, in the throes of forbidden sex – I could not honour it by calling it love – was etched in my mind. Fag sex! I tossed and turned and thought about Chemistry and English Lit and basketball practice, but each time I thought about Dimitri thrusting his cock in and out of the ass of my supposed friend David. I pictured David standing there, his shirt open, his jeans and his boxers about his ankles, his left arm about Dimitri's boy toy, the two of them kissing, the two of them grasping each other's boner. Both were well hung. I finally fell asleep and when I awoke it was dark. I undressed and crawled under the covers. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't. I wished morning would never come. How could I face Dimitri? Or David? Or even Dimitri's little faggot boy toy? Better I died.

I was a zombie that Friday. The entire day was a blur and I had only one thing on my mind, the conversation I had to have with Dimitri. I rehearsed what I would say and anticipated what he would say, or not say. Dimitri had that way of not opening his mouth and looking through you as if you were in two different worlds, but somehow saying more than any person could. I rehearsed every possible scenario in my mind, committing every word I wanted to say, that I needed to say, to memory. David was nowhere to be found, which was a good thing. That wasn't a conversation that had to be had. I wasn't sure if I ever wanted it. Ryan and Daniel saw I was in a foul mood and avoided me. I avoided Elaina not wanting to jinx Saturday.

When we sat down for supper Dimitri acted as if nothing had happened on Thursday. It was possible he didn't know I'd walked in on them, but that was unlikely. He didn't say much. He never does. Always polite to Momma and Poppa, always respectful, the obedient child. He knew I was uncomfortable in his presence at the best of times, and triply so on this night, but how others felt about him and the effect he had on them he didn't really care, me and our brothers and sisters included. After supper I rehearsed what I had to say one more time and went up to his room. His room was in darkness except for a candle on his night stand as usual. He was laying on his back staring at the ceiling. He turned his head and looked over at me when I entered. At least he wasn't naked, or playing with himself.

"I'm talking to you." I just meant it as a statement, an observation. I didn't mean it to be disrespectful or demanding, but it sounded wrong the moment the words were out of my mouth, and it was too late then.

"He came to my room, looking for some action. You could see it in his eyes. The hunger. The fear. The cry for help."

"Yes. I've seen it dozens of times. Tens of dozens. It's easy to spot if you know what to look for. If you know how to recognize it. The eyes especially. Don't matter if a guy wants a girl, another guy, a young boy, a sheep. You can see they want it, sex. It's the same hungry look you see in a wolf's eyes when he's looking at a rabbit, except his hunger comes from his stomach. David's hunger came from his loins."

"Yes. Sex is frightening. Don't matter if its sex between a man and a woman, or a man and a boy. Frightening for both, but especially the very first time. That's what makes the first time so special, sharing that fear, sharing overcoming that fear and discovering the joy. The relief and the dissolving of apprehension is as exhilarating as ejaculation. That's what makes sex with boys so bloody great, sharing that first time with them, sharing their fear, and their awe, and their delight when they finally get up the courage to ask for help."

"Rationalize? Nikos, I'm just stating what is. David was a great piece of ass. Truly great. It was a great fuck session. Just ask him. He'll tell you it was great for him too. Getting his ass filled. Getting his nuts off with young Justin. Of course you know that. You saw how he was enjoying it. How the three of us were enjoying it."

"Oh yeah, little brother. I saw you. And the look on your face. The hunger. The fear. The –"

"No! No way! No fucking way! You're crazy. That was revulsion you saw, man. Disgust. Abhorrence. Not… not what you said."

"You know. Com'on, Nikos. Everyone wonders about their buddies getting off, about doing it with them. Everyone fantasizes what it would be like."

"Envious that I got in David's pants before you? Or that he was grasping someone else's dick and not yours?"

"Maybe envious that David was getting his nuts off and you're still not getting to first base with Elaina?"

"So how is that going?" he asked flatly, his face a mask. He knew, damn him. I don't know how, but he fucking knew. Fuck the bastard! What the fuck did he know about girls, the faggot!

Our conversation was nothing like I had rehearsed. Not even close. I turned and stormed back to my room.

Saturday I took Elaina to the theatre. It wasn't the type of movie I or any of the guys I know would enjoy, but I knew she would. You do stuff you know will please the other person even if you don't like it yourself if you really love them, which I did, love her that is. You also do it if you know it will soften them up, weaken their resistance, which was what I was hoping too. Taking a girl to a chick-flick is like showing a guy a porno movie, knowing it will get him all hot and horny. Lately she'd been pushing me away, but this time she let me put my arm about her, and put my hand on her thigh. She even put her hand on my thigh and let me cop a feel. I don't

think she was wearing a bra. It was like how it used to be between us six weeks ago.

We went for a burger and sodas afterward and we sat side by side in a booth and kissed. The movie had really softened her up and her resistance was down. I missed what we'd had and wanted so much more, especially after what had happened with Ryan and David. I pushed too hard. I put my hand on her thigh, high up like in the movies, but that was in the dark, this was in the open. She pushed my hand away but I tried again. When we kissed I put an arm about her and tried to cop another feel of her tit. She got angry and pushed me away and said I'd better take her home. Her reaction was understandable but I was horny as hell and hurting and like an idiot I asked her why. Fuck, everyone was getting it except me. She just grabbed her coat and stomped out. I took her home but not because I wanted to. Neither of us said anything. Now I know I had acted like an asshole, but I didn't think I was at the time. I cursed her and all uptight cunts and cockteasers when I got home and beat up my pillow.

Sunday after church her father, Theo Liukiaitis, approached us along with his wife. Elaina, who usually accompanied them, was not there though her two younger brothers and her younger sister were. "Aristotle Savalos, it is time we had a talk," he said gruffly. Though Elaina and I have been dating for almost a year and our parents go to the same church, our parents didn't socialize with each other. Her parents were at least a dozen years younger than mine. I was their youngest child, she was their oldest.

The family all glanced at Dimitri. Theo Liukiaitis was glaring at me. This couldn't be about last night! Fuck, she'd led me on! Any red-blooded guy would have done what I'd done. Besides, we really hadn't done anything!

"Meaning in respectable families, when a boy can't keep it in his pants he at least uses protection, and when that fails he does the honourable thing and proposes marriage so he brings no shame to either family."

So, it wasn't about last night. It couldn't be about Dimitri either. He wasn't one to use protection, but to suggest proposing marriage? Even if gay marriages were becoming more acceptable, it certainly wasn't by my parents' standards, nor Elaina's parents.

"My Elaina is pregnant. And your son is responsible. Is that specific enough?" he asked, speaking low so as not to be heard but his voice flaring with anger. The family as one glanced at Dimitri first, and then at me.

"Has Elaina named my son as the father?" Poppa asked coldly, keeping his temper in control, which for him is not easy.

"No. She is refusing to name the father. But it is not difficult to add one and one. She has been dating no other boy for a year, and she is now six months with child."

Six months! This was the tenth of December. I quickly counted back. That would make it about the second Sunday in June, a week before Father's Day. We'd gone out the Saturday before, shopping for our fathers. I remember that because we'd been unable to find anything, but there had been nothing unusual about the day. We certainly hadn't made out! I think we'd spent the evening watching television on the sofa at her place

"Your Elaina is a very attractive girl," Momma said. Mr. and Mrs. Liukiaitis looked at her suspiciously. "I am sure she has attracted the attention of many bulls in the pasture."

"Perhaps your Elaina is not giving you a name because she does not know which bull it is," suggested Poppa, missing Momma's point altogether.

"Boys are easily aroused," Poppa replied, "but are easily stopped. All a girl needs to do is cross her legs."

"How dare you even suggest!" Liukiaitis yelled, stepping up face to face with Poppa. He was a young man, and much bigger than my father. "Elaina is a good girl, and comes from a good family."

Theo Liukiaitis looked up at Dimitri, and then at me. "Birds of a feather," he said simply.

Poppa was about to take a swing at him but Momma intervened and Mrs. Liukiaitis pulled her husband aside. A crowd was gathering, attracted by the raising voices, and neither family wanted to attract attention. The two men backed off.

Poppa fussed and fumed all the way home and throughout Sunday dinner and nothing anyone said could calm him down. He was mostly angry with Liukiaitis and his accusation and the way he'd attacked right after church. As far as Poppa was concerned, Liukiaitis should have approached him by himself, when the two of them were alone, not in front of family, not in the church parking lot. Appearances were very important to Poppa. And family reputation. Liukiaitis's comment about birds of a feather regarding Dimitri had added salt to the wound. I saw my sister Anna's husband Romano and my sister Sophia's husband Anthony slip away and I followed and overheard them whispering and Romano suggesting that Dimitri could be the father of Elaina's child, and I suspect the thought even crossed Poppa's mind. That of course was absurd. Especially considering what I knew. Still, it caused Poppa to wonder and just added to the frustrations and stress he was feeling. After the family had all left and Dimitri headed to his room, I heard Poppa observe to Momma that the world was changing and that "his boys" were not being a comfort to him in his old age like it should be, but were just the opposite. I'd suspected he'd felt that way about Dimitri, but to be included in that statement was a surprise, and it hurt.

Myself, I was in shock. Pregnant. Six months. That explained everything, her moods, her sudden aversion to being touched, to being close physically, everything. But who? She was not dating anyone else. She hadn't even seen another guy for a single evening, not for the past six months and more. Well, not that I knew of, but she had evidently seen someone, at least once as Momma had pointed out. Nobody else had caught that. Try as I could, I could not think of a single person that could be. Everyone knew the two of us were an item and no guy I knew would even think of horning in, and Elaina was not the type of girl who'd put out with someone else. She'd resisted my attempts for almost a year after all. But evidently not somebody's.

That hurt. I was also angry. Angry at Elaina for putting out for someone else and not me. Angry at Poppa for saying I was not a comfort to him in his old age. Angry at Dimitri for being Dimitri. Angry at my brothers and sisters for not defending me, not even coming to see how I was feeling. Fuck, Liukiaitis had accused me of knocking up his daughter in front of them and they hadn't said a word! I hadn't said anything either. I'd just stood there like a dork. I directed my anger at myself, for being a disappointment to my father, and being a wimp of a man, for being a virgin. I was angry at life for being so unfair too. And angry at God. I was a good, faithful Christian boy and obedient son for fucksake.

There was one possibility. There were rumours about there being a teacher in our school who liked young girls, teenage girls. Nobody knew who, but everyone was certain the rumour was true. Elaina was a good girl, as her parents had said, despite her condition. A teacher could have seduced her. She respected teachers and their authority. She once talked about becoming one. A son of a bitch like a paedo teacher could have easily seduced her and knocked her up. She trusted people. That could be an explanation for her behaviour these past months, and why she wasn't naming the father. It didn't make me feel any better though. And it didn't bring me any closer to determining who the father of her child was, the fucking son-of-a-bitch.

The week following the confrontation in the church parking lot was the most miserable week I have ever spent. Even Dimitri seemed to be shaken by Liukiaitis's news and I don't know if out of respect for Momma and Poppa – which was unusual as he had no respect for anyone, even them – or if he was just numbed as I was, but he didn't even have the boys over for chess or tutoring. So there we were. David the closet fairy, Elaina the pregnant slut, Dimitri the secret boylover, and Nikos the blessed virgin. We made quite a foursome! Four tragic characters befitting the DC comics.

Saturday I tried to talk to Elaina but again she wouldn't respond to any of my phone calls or my Email messages or my texts or my Facebook posts. Her brother Woodrow took one of those phone calls and in desperation for the slightest clue I asked if we might meet and talk. He agreed and came over that night. I watched for him and we went straight to my room.

"Hey, man, no sweat," he said, executing a handshake whose pattern was totally unknown to me. "After that revelation in the church parking lot I was surprised you ever wanted to talk to Elaina again."

"After the confrontation between our parents, I was surprised you dared come over."

"Well, to be honest I slipped out before my ol'man had a chance to ask where I was going."

"And to be honest I've been keeping an eye out for you so you wouldn't run into mine."

"Sneaking me into the enemy camp," he said, the right corner of his upper lip curling.

"Yeah, you could say that. I just can't believe what your father claimed of Elaina."

"I can imagine from the look you had on your face. You had no idea she was preggers?"

"Well, nor did any of us, even when she began puking in the mornings and began gaining weight. Just thought it was a combination of the flu and eating well and storing up reserves for the winter."

"Father was suspicious of course. He's thought the worst of every guy who has come sniffing around Elaina since she reached puberty, and especially of you. He's convinced you're the father."

"I know." From the way he said that, so definitely, I figured it meant he knew who was. I was tempted to ask, but I couldn't put him on the spot like that. Not when he'd agreed to meet with me. Not considering that it was his own sister we were talking about. "Life really sucks."

"Well, look on the bright side. When the two of you finally get back together you can have all the tail you want and not have to worry about getting her pregnant because she can't get pregnant when she already is." He smiled that lopsided smile of his. He had a sick sense of humour, but the comment was something I would have expected of Woodrow. I'd always thought of him as a strange one.

"When we get back together. That's not likely to happen soon," I observed dejectedly.

"Don't be so sure. Elaina really feels bad about this. Really bad. There's nothing she'd want better than to be in your arms again. Trust me. We're close, her and I."

I believed him. Elaina had always spoken fondly of him, one of the reasons I'd invited him over. "Then why isn't she?" I asked. "In my arms." I'd meant it to be rhetorical, not really expecting him to know or to answer.

"She's ashamed. Afraid she's let you down. She figures you've been phoning to break up with her, to accuse her of being unfaithful."

"I know. That's what I keep telling her. You're not that sort of dude. But she's afraid to meet you face to face. You can imagine how it is for her."

"I believe it." He put his hand on my thigh. "You're that type of guy. Understanding. Decent."

"Don't you believe it. You're no loser." He was massaging my thigh, running his fingers along the inside. I was too preoccupied by other thoughts to pay it heed. He opened up his winter jacket and took out a bottle from an inside pocket. "You know what they say when things get tough like this."

"Get pissed," he said with that lopsided smile. Opening the bottle and taking a long swig, he passed it to me. You could smell it was whisky. I took a long swig myself and choked on it. It was straight whisky. It burned all the way down my esophagus to my stomach. I handed it back to him and he took another swig and handed it back. We sat there side by side and I matched him drink for drink.

"Some host I am. I didn't even take your jacket or anything," I said, suddenly realizing.

"That's all right." He slipped it off and left it laying on the bed. It was real leather with fleece lining and a fur trim, real fur. He was wearing a knitted, monogrammed scarf, white, a tapered, silk shirt, lilac, skin-tight faux leather jeans, and mid-thigh boots. Sharp. I've never seen him when he didn't look like he was going to parade down the aisle of a fashion show, or going out on the town. Always fashionable. Not a hair out of place in his faux Mohawk.

"Like I know guys who have been getting it for years, some from several girls at the same time. Some guys you'd expect, some you'd think would never get a chance to spread a girl's legs but they keep looking for one who will, and succeed. Then there's me, a virgin. I'd love to have a piece of tail as much as the next guy but oh no, I had to fall for one girl instead of playing the field and increasing my chances of getting lucky. Take yourself. How many girls have you laid?"

"Well, I'm not keeping count," he lied, to make me feel better. "But I've had my share," he admitted, unable not to brag.

That was true. I'd heard it from Elaina for one. She was aware of her younger brother's reputation as a stud. She'd told me what other girls had told her about him, and what some had asked her about him so they could get in his pants. A girl, getting in a guy's pants! I would be so lucky! Her brother was good looking for one, or so the girls claimed. A guy can't really judge another guy about that. A girl yeah, but not another guy. He did have a good body. That a guy notices about another guy and I had to give him that. Woodrow was especially noticeable in that regard in that he wasn't into sports like other guys but he had a body packed solid with muscle, all in the right places. He was in grade eleven and a year and three months younger than myself but I'd seen him in the lockers changing into his gym gear as I returned from the showers after my gym class. He also was a smooth talker when it came to talking to girls, a real charmer, probably from being in drama class, or maybe that was why he was in drama, one of the few boys. Gave him plenty of opportunity to chat girls up anyway.

"What exactly have you heard?" he asked with a chuckle, joking but eager to know, eager to hear the praise. What sixteen-year-old guy isn't?

"Yeah, well, I'm lucky that way all right," he said, his hand back on my thigh, higher, close to the crotch. "But if a guy really and truly wants to get laid, there are girls who are willing."

"Yeah, I know. I've just always figured that to be unfaithful, to Elaina, you know. And there are some girls who have to be walking bags of disease. It would be just my luck to do it once and get an STD."

"Yeah. While others would be screwing their nuts off and wouldn't. Like you said, life's not fair." He was massaging the inner side of my thigh with the tips of his fingers of his right hand, lightly, right below my crotch,

"Of course if a guy really wants to get his nuts off, he doesn't need a girl at all. Doesn't even need anyone else for that matter. You know what I mean," he said with that lopsided smile. His hand squeezed my thigh.

He laughed. "Don't knock it. It's not that baaaaad." He smiled again, lopsidedly.

"Seriously. I know plenty of guys who aren't getting any tail, but are getting their rocks off and enjoying it." He hadn't removed his hand.

"Just doesn't do anything for me," I replied with a shrug. I was being honest. Woodrow wasn't a buddy or anyone I hung with, or would be seeing much of. Besides, that was ancient history. I'd tried it way back when I'd entered puberty, four years ago, and hadn't liked it. Felt guilty. And like he said, solitary. I wanted to share the experience with a person, not just get one off.

"Oh yeah. Not bad. Better if you have a whip." I had no idea what he was talking about. "There are other guys quite happily doing each other on the QT, or looking."

David immediately came to mind. That had been another surprise. I wondered how many others.

"A guy's as good as a girl if you ask me. If two people want to get one off together, why not?"

Indeed. Why not? Elaina had gotten laid. She had wanted to get one off. And the guy she was with at the time. Why not find someone and get one off myself? I turned my head and looked at Woodrow and he looked direct into my eyes. Christ, he was offering. He closed his eyes and slowly began to lean forward. My impulse was to pull away but I closed mine too and our lips met in a long, lingering kiss. If I had not known, I would not have found any difference between kissing him and kissing Elaina. Actually, to be honest, I have to admit I found kissing him hotter. It was like my very first kiss, and in that it was the first boy I'd ever kissed, in a sense it was. It was also forbidden, which made doing it all the hotter. His breath smelled of whisky, and I suspect mine did too. I could always blame the liquor, and that I was feeling high was certainly a factor, but I wasn't drunk. Not that drunk.

Woodrow was unbuttoning my shirt and I found myself unbuttoning his and removing it, and then I was unbuckling his belt and pulling down his fly and pushing down his jeans. His chest was broad and muscular, the chest of a swimmer, and smooth. Mine was hairy. Not a dense, thick mat like Dimitri, but hairy nonethesame. All the Savalos men are hairy. As he caressed my chest and ran his fingers through the long, silky hair and tweaked my nipples, I caressed his chest and played with his teats also, causing them to become firm. His chest was delightfully smooth, and firm. He kissed my chest and licked it, slicking back the hair, and then he fastened his lips to my teat and sucked and tongued it, causing it to become firm and to burn delightfully.

I wondered how many girls' tits he'd sucked. A lot I imagined. I wondered how many guys' tits he'd done this to. He was too smooth, too much at ease, for this to be his first time. I knew there were supposedly guys who were bi, who swung both ways, but I'd always figured they were really gay and just didn't have the balls to admit it. I knew Woodrow did girls for a fact. I'd never thought of him doing guys but it was not hard to imagine, nor believe. He was the first bi I'd ever met. I wondered if Elaina knew that about her brother too.

Which made me what? I'd always imagined myself straight. When I had fantasies, in the middle of the day and in my dreams at night, they were about girls, always. I thought about girls, always. I dated girls, I tried to make out with them. I was straight, pure and simple, pure and pure. But there I was, sitting on my bed with a guy sucking on my breast, our shirts open, his jeans pushed down to his ankles, his hands caressing my back, and I was liking it. His hands slipped down my body and he unbuckled my jeans and pushed them down and pulled them off and he pushed off his thigh-high boots and wiggled out of his own jeans.

Sitting there on my bed with me in just my boxers and socks and he in his tight blue Fruit of the Loom briefs, we embraced and kissed. His lips were hot, and so was his whisky breath. His hands slipped down again and inside my boxers and over my hips and my heart speeded up. How many times I'd thought about Elaina slipping her hands in my boxers. Of me slipping mine in her panties. We kissed. The fine hairs at the corner of his upper lip reminded me this was not Elaina. His eyes were the same sexy colour as hers, bronze. So was the top of his faux Mohawk, the sides of his head shaved and dyed dark black. If he let his hair grow out it would be as fine and as full and as dark as Elaina's. He had her face, except he had an emerald stud in his left nostril and a large turquoise one in each ear lobe and a ring in the fleshy section below his lip and above his chin. Elaina didn't go in for any of that sort of thing.

He had pushed my boxers down and was cupping my balls now, rolling them in their sack. I pushed down his briefs and caressed his ass, his cheeks firm and as smooth as his chest. He wrapped his long, muscular, incredibly slender legs about mine as he slowly stroked my swelling cock. His cock was swelling too, on its own without being touched, and it was a nice size. Like all the Savalos males I'm better hung than most. A year younger than myself, Woodrow Liukiaitis was a touch smaller but not by much. I was cut, he was not. Pushing our underwear down further, we wrapped our fingers about each other's swelling but still flaccid cock and kissed again. His throbbed and continued to swell in my hand, and I felt mine throbbing and swelling in his hand also.

He squirmed around so we were facing each other but in opposite directions and I felt his hot breath against my balls and dick and then his hot, moist mouth enveloping my cock. My God, I was being sucked! I had dreamed about being sucked, wondered about being sucked, and now I was. But by a guy. I leaned forward and took his still limp but rapidly swelling pecker in my mouth and sucked on it and I felt it swelling between my lips. My God, I was sucking cock too, and he was liking it, and my God, so was I. I sucked harder on his dick, revelling in the taste and the smell of raw cock as my mouth filled with saliva and I felt Woodrow sucking harder on mine, his breath tugging on it, sucking the air out of it. I was hard.

And then he was between my legs and they were spread and raised and he was slipping his dick into me. He had made the move smooth and natural. He was stiff too and his dick was slick with my spittle and the two of us grunted and panted as we strained to unite. I wanted it and I gasped and inhaled deeply and groaned as I strained to open up and accept him, and he grunted and snorted as he pressed forward, wedging his cock in my anus and pushing forward. We both wanted it, badly, but he was so big, and I was so tight.

He found his jacket and fumbled in the pocket and pulled out a tube. He twisted off the cap and squeezed out a dollop on the tip of his middle finger and handed the tube to me as he greased my anus. I squeezed out a bit on my finger tips and smeared it on his rock hard cock. The tip of his middle finger slipped into my rectum and I inhaled sharply.

He rolled me on my back and I spread my legs and raised them again and he got into position between them once more. I felt the tip of his prick pressing against my hole and I pushed out and opened up to him. He pressed forward. My anus strained and I pushed and ever so slowly I felt his knob stretching me open and then he was inside with a pop and his big, hard cock was easing up my rectum as easy as a hot knife piercing a block of butter. He pushed until he was in to the hilt.

We kissed savagely and hungrily, pecking at each other, celebrating our union, and then he began to fuck me, pulling his cock back and then easing it back up my rectum until his hairs were pressed against my buttocks, and then withdrawing back again until I felt his knob stretching open my anus from the inside. In and out he thrust his stiff cock and I grasped it with my anal muscle and then released it. My anus burned in a ring about his stiff, throbbing bone and my rectum throbbed in time with his long, fat cock buried deep up my ass. He was leaning over me and we kissed as he screwed me and my stiff cock throbbed and ached and jerked excitedly as his pumped in and out of my asshole. He pressed me against the mattress and then lifted his weight. The bed creaked in time with his thrusts in a regular rhythm. I looked up into his eyes and saw his lust and his pleasure and I knew what I saw was reflected in mine. My first piece of tail. It was exotic. I was the bottom, but it was wonderful.

His breath was hot and he was panting and snorting from the effort and with the pleasure and I was gasping for breath too, and then I felt something hot and thick spurting deep up my rectum. Oh fuck! He was filling me, filling me with his fucking seed. My stiff, numb cock jerked and I felt a twang deep in my groin and before I could say or do anything I felt my own seed racing up the core of my swollen cock and spurting out the burning tip. Spurt after spurt squirted out of my red-hot cannon, hot, wet gobs of goo striking my chest, thick, creamy cum clinging to my sweat-wet chest hair and oozing down over my ribs.

I sprayed his smooth chest with my sticky seed too, and it puddled on my stomach and in my hairs as he continued to squirt and fill me with his own hot seed. Fuck, it was wet and sticky. It was totally frickin' indescribable. The room was filled with the dank, musky aroma of our cum and I sucked it deep in my lungs as if it were the sweetest perfume and I felt his thick juice ooze deep up my rectum.

And then he collapsed on me and we kissed and embraced, my cum smeared over our chests and gluing them together, our naked bodies hot and streaked with sweat and my cum. We lay like that and then kissed one last time and smiled at each other as he slowly raised his body and drew his lovely, thick cock out of my body, and he rolled over and collapsed on his back beside me, our chests rising and falling as we gasped for breath and sucked in that cum and sweat scented air.

"Oh yeah," Woodrow agreed with a gasp. "The best ever. The first time always is. Fuck, you were even tighter than Elaina."

Oh fuck! I'd had sex with Elaina's kid brother. And he had filled my rectum with his slime just as he'd filled her cunt. I'd just gotten screwed by the father of Elaina's child!

Chapter 28
My Angel

They say that if a person commits suicide the priests won't let you have a church funeral, and that if you don't have a priest saying mass then you can't get into heaven. You don't go to hell. You go to this place in between called limbo or something where you just sort of hang around and nobody pays any attention to you until Jesus comes to decide if you should go to heaven or hell. Sort of sounds like my life on earth, hanging around and nobody paying any attention to me until someone figures they should tell me where to go. I do know if you try to suicide and fail you meet an angel. That's what happened to me. I swallowed a couple handfuls of my mother's pills. She has so many she never noticed. Somebody found me though and took me to the hospital and they pumped out my stomach. Now that wasn't pleasant. I almost died. And that's how I met my angel. Not at the hospital. Later. When I got released I'd already decided I wasn't going back home. So I just hung with someone I knew until their parents had enough and told them to tell me to fuck off. So I went and hung with someone else. After a while I ran out of people I knew.

I stayed under the Langevin Bridge for a month. Me and some bums and a couple dopers and some other homeless people. They don't call the bridge that anymore. I don't know what the guy they named it for was famous for, but they discovered he was also a big push for taking Indian kids from their parents and putting them in these residential schools to civilize them which now people think was a bad thing. So they changed the name of the bridge. Don't know how that helps the kids who got taken or why it was wrong to want to civilize them. Anyway it wasn't bad, living under the bridge that is. The snow didn't blow in much and we had an old garbage can someone always had a fire in where you could warm up. But then the bridge got lots of attention and they kicked us out. We didn't get to go to no residential school. I stayed at a couple places, shelters, but social services was always hassling me so I moved about a lot.

In the winter everybody gets all concerned about the homeless and the newspaper runs stories about us and people from all over start feeling guilty and donate money which is used to open up old abandoned buildings where we can sleep. That's for a couple months and then it starts to warm up and people stop giving money and things get back to normal until next winter and the stories in the papers start again, usually right around Christmas when everyone becomes so caring and loving and shit.

Anyway, it was one day when I was at the Well, a place run by a bunch of do-gooders where the homeless can crash for the night or get a hot meal and not just in the middle of winter, that I met my angel. He was doing community service he said, which I must have misunderstood cuz that's when you've done something wrong and the judge figures you should do stuff for free that others get paid to do, and being an angel he couldn't have done no wrong. Maybe he said he was doing the community a service or something cuz that's what an angel would do without a judge telling him. Anyway, he said that the Well was no place for me and especially at Christmas time so he took me to his home. That was about a week before Christmas, the Santa Christmas his mother calls it.

That was the first I ever heard of there being more than one Christmas. I mean of Christmas being on two different days. Of course I knew for some people, most people, Christmas is all about Santa and exchanging gifts and all that commercial crap and everyone sings sappy Christmas songs and is super nice and caring and fake and that is on December 25^th. That's what she meant by the Santa Christmas and come December twenty-fifth she and her family were like all the others I knew with a big Christmas tree with ornaments and an angel on top and tons of gifts under it. The whole family was over and she has a huge family, like five kids, all married except my angel, and each of her kids has kids. To my big surprise, there was no big feast. In fact ever since I'd arrived we ate next to nothing and I learned that in their family they practised fasting, going without meat and eggs and dairy products and stuff, like alcohol and sex, for nineteen days, from the evening of December 18, the day I arrived, to the evening of January 6! And an even bigger surprise, nobody touched the gifts. They didn't even look at them, not even the kids! Weird.

Well, I figured something was up. I mean, nobody brings a total stranger home the very day they meet, not even at Christmas time, and even the most Christian family. I figured he was expecting something, and from the sleezeballs I associated with, I had a very good idea what that might be. I mean, you don't have to be particularly sensitive or in touch with your emotions to know that. I'm not stupid. I was wrong though. Day after day went by and not once did he suggest I bend over. Not once did he try anything funny. No squeezing my butt, no hand on my thigh, no groping my crotch, no asking me to help find his lost kitten, nothing. He was kind and considerate and thoughtful and attentive and funny and sympathetic and he treated me with nothing but gentleness and understanding and empathy and patience. He's an angel. He did it all without asking for nothing. His family is like that too, though not as much. I remember a conversation I overheard between his parents and his oldest sister, Maria, who is older than my mother. I was heading to the can and they were in the kitchen where they seem to spend a lot of time.

"He seems like such a nice boy. So shy and timid and so polite, but so sad. He always looks like he is about to cry." That was her mother.

"An Emo? I thought that was a bird, like an ostrich, sticking its head in the sand all the time."

"That's an emu," Maria laughed, "and they don't stick their head in the sand, though I suspect Gabriel does just that."

Gabriel is not my name. It is the name my angel gave me. The name he has chosen is Dimitri, Dimitri Savalos. My real name is Leander. It sucks. And she was right. I would like to stick my head in the sand, lots of times. Just stick it in the sand and pretend I'm not there and nor is anyone else. Pretend everything is just fine and wonderful and everyone is kind and loving. I don't have to pretend though. Not around my angel's family. They are kind and loving. Even Maria's father.

"Looks more like a peacock," he grumbled. "That purple stripe in his hair, and the rest has to be dyed too. It can't really be that black. And how can he stand having it covering half his face? I keep wanting to brush it out of his eyes. For all I know he might only have one, like a cyclops! And that eyeliner and all that eyeshadow! Maybe that is why. He can't afford to do two. He wears more makeup than all you girls together."

"When I first saw his eyes and how dark they were I thought he wasn't getting enough sleep," said his wife.

"There's something else a boy does that makes dark circles around his eyes," he said, and the two women looked at him but he didn't elaborate. I knew what he meant. I'd heard that before. Something about draining the blood to one spot when you do it. "When I first saw him I wondered what sort of strange girl your brother had brought home. He is a boy, isn't he?" asked her husband. "He's wearing a girl's pants, with the zipper up the side."

"Of course he is, Poppa. He's a gentle, loving, sensitive boy, one who's in touch with his emotions."

He wasn't being mean. A lot of people make that assumption. Most boys I know are not of course. Some are. I'm not. Or wasn't. Whatever I am, there's probably a name for it. Some say boys like me have a mental disability and others say it is a borderline personality disorder. Some say other things too, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

January 1 I found out is the feast day of Saint Basil the Great, or Vasilios as I'm told the Greeks call him. We all went to church that evening even though it was a Tuesday. For my new family the day was extra special since that was the day my angel's youngest sister met her husband to be. Everyone wished them and the baby they were expecting well. She was almost five months pregnant. Well, everyone sang carols to the saint and I sort of mouthed the words along with them as it wasn't something I'd ever done before. Then we returned home and everyone got a walnut which they opened, the idea being if it was hollow you would have a bad year, which thankfully nobody did, and my angel's father cut open a pomegranate and predicted the family was going to have a year of abundance because the seeds were closely packed.

Then finally everyone opened their gifts, which for me was very uncomfortable and embarrassing. There was a gift for me under the tree, from my angel, who had given me a wide, brightly coloured belt in the colours of the rainbow which really showed up with my black trousers and shirt. I felt really bad not having a gift for him and I could hardly hold back the tears when I told him. He just laughed and said agreeing to come with him to his house was the best gift I could give him, and if it made me feel any better he'd get some ribbon and tie a bow on the top of my head and I could sit under the tree. That made me smile. Angels do that. No matter how depressed or miserable you feel or how bad things are, they look at the bright side and make you smile. Inside I still felt like crying.

Then at midnight his wife brought out the New Year's Cake, the vasilopita, and everyone got a slice and Nikos, my angel's kid brother, had a toonie in his slice, which everyone said meant he was going to have a good year. When we finally went to bed, I really expected the time had come, and I was prepared for it. Yeah, he was twenty-three, twenty-three and seven months, and I would be turning thirteen in nine more days, but there are guys his age who like guys my age, I mean really like, and we were sleeping in his bed. I was so wrong. They still had five days of fasting. I still don't understand why he chose someone so suspicious and dirty-minded as me.

Maybe it was to teach me about the other Christmas, "God's Christmas", or "the real Christmas" as my angel's mother calls it. It has something to do with being Greek too. Greek Orthodox specifically, though I don't know what the Orthodox means or refers to. Anyway, they follow a different calendar. That was a surprise too. I had no idea there was more than one calendar that people follow. That has to be really confusing. Anyway, this other Christmas was on January 7, which was two days ago. The day before, the house was filled with the odours of baking, baklava, kourabiethese, melomakarona, diples and other weird sounding pastries, which was a real torture with all those smells and all that sweet pastry after weeks of fasting and eating nothing but barley soups and vegetables and cereals and stuff. My angel said that was good actually because not eating meat and cheese and stuff made a guy's semen taste better, which made his father wag his finger at him and tell him not to say such wicked things, especially in front of young boys, but my angel just glanced at me and winked and smiled. His little nephews giggled and it was difficult for me not to also.

On Christmas Day, God's Christmas Day, which was on a Sunday, we all went to church again, the entire family. I've never been to church so much those three weeks than I have my entire life. I don't know nothing about church. My mother never went. I don't know about my father. He buggered off on my eighth birthday, five years ago. He was just there one day and gone the next morning. No goodbyes. No see ya around son. Nothing. That was how much I meant to him. Of course I couldn't blame him. My mother was screwing with every guy around. "Anybody who had pants," my father said. That was true. Even two women who wore pants like men. I know. I caught her in bed with both of them, kissing, and doing other stuff. It was easy to tell they were women. They were naked. My mother too.

That Sunday, my angel's mother and sisters baked Christopsoma, Christ's bread, with a cross carved on the top with a walnut at the end of each bar of the cross. This was the day that the December twenty-fifth Christmas is supposed to be about, the day that Jesus Christ was born, which according to this Greek calendar that is January the seventh. They're both the same, celebrating the birth of the son of God, except his one was more religious and all about the Divine Mystery of God, how God became a man so men could unite with God and with each other. It was also all about the birth of the infant Jesus. Infants are a big deal in my angel's family. His mother like I said had five kids. His older sister has four, the youngest, a boy, just five months old; his next sister has three, the youngest, a girl, four months old, and his youngest sister is five months pregnant.

Besides, his sister-in-law has one child and is eight months pregnant, and his youngest brother's girlfriend I learned is also pregnant, though not by him and which is a real sensitive topic. He also mentioned several other pregnancies, the black wife of a lawyer who he said is four months pregnant and carrying the child of a white man, the daughter of a judge who is six months pregnant and carrying a child of an Indian, and the daughter of a minister who he said "is about to pop" and is carrying a child by the same Indian as the judge's daughter and whom everyone wants to screw. What he has to do with all of them I have no idea but maybe he is an angel of pregnancies or something. Catholics got a saint or an angel for everything. That made sense to me in that I noticed he was especially fond of children and they really liked him, especially his three nephews. Besides, he told me if I wanted to screw this minister's daughter he could arrange it and that a lot of guys got off screwing a pregnant teenager, or if I preferred, he could arrange for me to screw a virgin or an older woman, even my mother. He laughed when I wrinkled up my nose and went "ewww" but I think he was actually serious. Being an angel he probably knew she screwed everyone in pants. Maybe he was like a Greek Cupid or something.

So, a branch was brought and placed on the table and their father blessed each person around the table and said "Christ is born" and each person responded "Glorify Him" and he took the bread and broke it into chunks and gave each person a chunk. Thankfully many others did this before my turn so I didn't screw up. Then we ate, and did we ever eat! A huge platter of baked ham, another of roast lamb, several platters of different types of sausage, dumplings, a giant bowl of scalloped potatoes, and in the end, those weird sounding pastries. And they brought out the wine. Everyone drank, from the youngest who sat in a highchair and was two to the oldest, their father, and every time I took a sip they were filling my glass up again. And there were speeches, and toasts, by almost everybody. Christmas Day, the real Christmas Day, I was told is a time to heal the soul. It is a time of peace and unity. The entire family was so happy and loving and shit it was impossible not to feel the love and to feel your soul healing. The men gathered in the family room and sang and danced and listened to stories about "the old country" and the women gathered in the kitchen and did the dishes and gossiped and fussed with the babies.

My angel, his three little nephews, me, and a teenage boy they called Justin who wasn't a member of the family but was always around and who I finally figured had to be an angel in training, or an angel's helper, sort of like a squire is to a knight, went to my angel's room.

"Fucking awesome," replied his youngest nephew, Domi, who was going to be eight on Thursday.

"Fucking totally," agreed his cousin Marcus whose eighth birthday was a month later, February 15.

The two boys, I noticed, swore a lot when they were in his presence, and I also noticed that he enjoyed it and encouraged it, just the opposite of most adults, but then he is an angel, and not like any adult I've ever known. It was sort of hot hearing two boys that young cursing actually.

"Nonna is the best fucking cook anywhere," observed Domi. "I'm so damn stuffed I couldn't eat another bite."

"You couldn't even manage a pair of spicy keftedakia?" my angel asked, referring to a special meatball we'd had that evening as he glanced at Domi.

"And I was thinking maybe later you'd like to get stuffed," my angel said, glancing at Marcus

"That would be even fuckin' better than Nonno's sausage," Marcus observed as he looked up at his uncle's package.

"Every day at Nonna and Nonno's is awesome," he said quietly. "Everyone's always so cheerful and nice."

"Well, things are going to get even more cheerful and even nicer," his uncle promised as he unzipped his pants and pushed them and his underwear down.

He glanced at Justin and Justin unzipped his pants and pushed them and his underwear down also and sat on the bed beside him. Angel and angel-in-training. Domi immediately dropped to his knees in front of his uncle and Marcus dropped to his knees in front of Justin. My angel patted the bed on his other side, motioning for me to join them, and as I stepped forward he raised his right eyebrow and glanced down. I immediately pushed my pants and underwear down too before I sat down and he smiled. He has a wonderful smile and when he smiles at you, you know you have been blessed. He then glanced over at Lucas and the boy knelt on the floor in front of me, joining his two younger cousins.

Domi immediately began to nibble and lick his uncle's hairy balls and took them in his mouth and sucked on them, and from the glazed look in his eyes he was finding them as tasty as the meatballs we'd eaten earlier. He went on to his uncle's cock and soon had his lips wrapped about the swelling sausage and was sucking on the bulb. He pushed down his own pants and underwear and I was not surprised to find the little bugger already had a bone on, jutting up between his legs stiff and ready and about the size of my thumb. There was no question he was experienced and enjoying himself or that his uncle was enjoying himself also, his huge, thick cock quickly swelling in his young nephew's mouth.

Marcus had similarly mouthed the balls of the teenage boy sitting beside his uncle and was now also sucking on his cock, and the boy was swelling also. He was no novice to oral sex. Nor was Marcus, who was clearly an accomplished cock sucker, and like the boy he was sucking, he was also swelling. The two cousins were real cock hounds and I had noticed on previous occasions that they both enjoyed their uncle's collection of gay magazines and photos, and his Internet porn sites, photo, video, and story sites. I also noticed that while Domi preferred boys his age or younger, Marcus preferred pictures of men his uncle's age or older. Their older cousin, Lucas, was almost ten and a half and much more hesitant and much more reserved than his two cousins. Oh, he had sucked on my nuts and was now sucking on my dink, copying his two younger cousins, but I could tell he was doing so more because they were and because he wanted to please his uncle than for the pure enjoyment of it like they were. I had the feeling that he, like Justin, was in training, and that over time he'd be just like his uncle.

As for myself, it was my first time being sucked, and I have to admit that I was enjoying it. Of course oral sex was nothing unknown to me. One of the things I'd seen my mother doing is lapping up the pussies of two of her friends while they did the same to her, and like I said, people are always making assumptions about me because of the way I look and act and acting on those assumptions. I couldn't tell you how many men have hit on me in the hopes I'd suck them off, nor how many teenage boys cozied up to me in the hopes I'd do them. I never did. As I've said, I don't swing that way. Never did. Though, at that moment, sitting there beside my angel and his angel-in-training and getting my dick sucked along beside them, I could get into this.

So for the next five minutes all you could hear were the three boys slurping and sucking on our dicks, and the six of us panting, especially the three of us getting sucked. Now I knew about cumming and stuff and what was going to happen also. The places I've been and the types of guys I've hung out with, I've seen my share of that sort of stuff. Besides, I'm not stupid. I've just never come that way before myself. Justin was the first, and Marcus just kept on sucking when he came, drinking down his slime like it was cream or something, and I wondered just what his cum tasted like. And then my angel was coming and Domi knew exactly what to do and he began drinking it without missing a step either. I wondered if my angel had been joking or if his cum did taste better because he had been fasting. And then I was cumming. My cum burned up the core of my cock and spurted out the tip and Lucas just sat there and collected it in his mouth and then after a few moments and I'd stopped squirting, he swallowed my stuff. That sent a shiver up my spine. And up my dink. Not an unpleasant shiver.

Well, after a bit, my angel looked at Marcus and asked him if he was ready to get stuffed, and Marcus grinned and said "you fucking better believe I am." He was still a month away from his eighth birthday! He got up and leaned against the dresser and his uncle got to his feet and got a tube of KY out of the night stand beside his bed and lubed up his dick, and Marcus's asshole. Domi meanwhile stood beside him and his uncle passed the lube to Justin who lubed himself and Marcus also. I glanced at Lucas and he joined his two cousins. Justin handed me the lube. I greased up Lucas's hole and then my dick. I watched as my angel sank his big cock up his nephew's ass until his hairs were pressing against the boy's smooth, compact buttocks, and as Justin sank his cock up Domi's ass. Now I knew all about anal sex too, and I've seen guys buggering in the alley and under the bridges, but they always moved away from everyone else and stayed in the shadows and they always had their clothes bunched up so I never really had a chance to observe how they did it up close, and besides, that would have been rude, and again, I wasn't into that stuff so I was not really that interested.

I didn't want to mess up though, so I watched what they did closely. I really didn't have to worry. Lucas, I discovered, was no stranger to anal sex either and when it came time for us to unite, he wiggled into position and did more to help me get my dick inside him than his two cousins had to. And so I had my very first piece of ass. I'd wondered about it of course, especially what it would be like as a top. Every guy does. I have to admit it was good. Very good. Of course I was horny, and doing it with two pairs of other guys also doing it made it all the hotter.

All six of us were flushed with the wine we'd drank, especially me in that I was not used to drinking wine, and we were all sort of giddy from the booze and from the sugar high from all the sweets we'd been stuffing ourselves with all day. It was hot the six of us getting it on, and even hotter with all the adults just down the hall. My angel had kept his door open, as he always does, so you could hear everything the adults were saying and doing. They were busy singing carols and everything which was good because if they'd been quiet they'd have heard the six of us snorting and grunting as the three of us got our dicks up the asses of the other three guys, and they'd have heard the six of us panting and gasping as we fucked like we'd never had sex before. Of course I hadn't, and the other had been fasting for the past nineteen days.

It was super-hot. It was my very first piece of tail. I had my hot, throbbing cock up the ass of a little boy, and his ass was hot and throbbing too. And I was doing it with two other guys who had their cocks up the little cousins of the little kid I was fucking. Even hotter, the six of us were getting it on with the kids' parents just down the hall. I couldn't imagine the shock of their fathers if they found out their little sons were getting their butts fucked, nor the shock their mothers would have if they'd walked in and seen their little angels with throbbing little hardons and a throbbing prick up their little arses.

They were little angels. Sweet, innocent, beautiful little cherubs who loved having dick fun. I had often wondered about that when I saw the paintings, these naked boys flying around some saint or prophet or something. Like why always boys, and naked or with ribbons or something covering their privates? Were all saints fags or what? And I was fucking along with a true angel and his angel-in-training. It was hot and dirty and perverted and all that, but it was beautiful. It was heavenly. Like in the paintings. Well, not quite like in the paintings. The three boys were bent over and getting fucked. They were bent over because they wanted to bend over, because they wanted to have their arses stuffed, and they were enjoying it. They wanted to get fucked. The three of us with our pricks up the boys' asses were getting our nuts off because we wanted to, because it felt great, for us and for them, and because we were enjoying it too. Nobody was being forced to do nothing.

Four of them were all family, and as I said, the fifth, Justin, seemed to fit right in as family too. As for me, as I stood there in just my socks and open shirt pumping my stiff cock in and out of a ten-year-old boy's ass, I felt I was part of the family too. That was the beauty of it. We were all family. We were all one, the six of us fucking on this holiest of holy nights, God's Christmas night, on this night His only Son was born. It was a time of peace and unity and healing of the soul. I could feel it. The peace. The unity. My soul healing. When I blasted off a load up this ten-year-old kid's ass I felt just as much a member of this family as the rest of them, and as Lucas quivered and gasped and jerked with his own little dry orgasm as I came up his ass we were one, he and I. It was the most fucking awesome, beautiful experience I have ever had. And it was on God's Christmas.

Hot and sweaty and smelling of sex, we dressed and re-joined the adults and everyone gathered again in the dining room for more honey-soaked pastries and I felt all warm and happy inside and I put my arm about Lucas and the two of us sang a duet which everyone praised, none of them knowing Lucas had a load of my cum in his belly and another up his ass, and I smiled up at my angel and he smiled back at me and everything was right in the world. I thought I could never be happier, but I was wrong.

Two days later was my birthday, my thirteenth. My angel's family, now my adopted family, had a big birthday cake with a vanilla cream filling and maple-walnut icing, my favourite. I don't ever remember telling anyone that, but when you are living with angels, they know that sort of thing. They all wished me the best, and unlike when most people say it, they really meant it, and I could not help it but I cried, and Nonna cried to, and even Nonno had tears in his eyes. My angel and I then went out for a birthday supper, to this South Asian restaurant called a Fusion restaurant which served a combination of Chinese and Thai and Vietnamese food, which was totally new to me and delicious. My angel said the food was heavy on the vegetables, fish and white meat, which was important to maintain the sweetness of our cum. Two of his friends joined us, an eighteen-year-old black dude called Kwame, a slick-looking nigger who had a buzz cut except for a thick Mohawk and the darkest skin of any nigger I've ever seen, smooth and creamy and the colour of tar, and who was from the Côte d'Ivoire wherever the fuck that is and spoke French; and a slant-eyed guy with yellowish-brown skin by the name of Phnom So Sann from Cambodia which is a country and I think by China and who was thirty-eight though he looked half that age.

After we ate we went to this room upstairs which I think the owners of the restaurant rented out. It had a small kitchenette, a dining nook, and a bedroom, all with bamboo curtains and oriental paintings and stuff. This Phnom took out a pack of reefers and passed them around and with the three of us, my angel refusing, lit up the room was soon full of smoke and sweet as fuck. I mean, this was the good kush, no ditch weed. I never tasted nothing so smooth, nor so strong. One cigarette and I was flying. The nigger took out some crack and we all had a snort, except again my angel. You could tell it was pure stuff. Everything was so sharp and crisp, the smell of my angel's cologne, the nigger's sweat, the sound of everyone breathing, the colours of the walls, Phnom's skin, my angel's eyes, his luscious, sensuous lips…. The room took on this glow and I figured this was what heaven had to be like. My angel said life could be like that without the drugs. I wish I could be like him. Maybe some day.

My angel said that his nephew's eighth birthday was coming up in February and that he loved his nephew greatly and was training him how to love men. He figured on inviting Kwame and Phnom to the kid's birthday so the kid could show his talents to them, but first he wanted my approval of them. That came as a surprise. Nobody ever asked for my approval for nothing before.

To begin with, he told them to strip and suck themselves off. They laughed and said that would be quite a trick, and if they could do that, they wouldn't have to bother with little boys to do them. He insisted they try which was very humorous since neither of them were limber enough to be even close. He then told me to demonstrate for them. Actually, what he said was, "Gabriel, come blow your horn." That he knew I could do it came as no big surprise to me. Sometimes for extra cash or sometimes just for the fun of it, I'd wager with other guys, rich guys who had a lot of cash to put up, that I could do it. Of course I didn't wager often and I made sure those I bet with didn't normally hang with those I did or word would get around and nobody would take me up on my bet. So, even though I didn't brag about it or nothing, being an angel and all, it was no big surprise that he knew.

So, I stripped, slow and self-conscious like, like I was embarrassed and innocent and everything which I knew really turned old guys on and made them looser with their wallets, and then I lay on my back on the bed and swung my legs over my head and raised my head as I lowered my body. I'm what they call double-jointed or whatever and I can twist my body around in all kinds of shapes and tie myself up in knots and stuff. That's not that unusual. I've seen guys do that on television shows. But what I did next you don't see guys do though I'm sure those contortionists who perform for a living probably can, and probably do. Who wouldn't?

I continued lowering my body and raising my head until my tips touched the tip of my dink. I continued down and then slipping my lips over my bulb, I began to suck, and of course my dick began to swell. As it did, I was able to slip my lips further down the shaft. I cannot go that far of course, but I can go far enough. My angel stood there watching me and beaming with delight and the two men stood there slack-jawed with surprise, and with envy. Once I was fully stiff I began to slip my lips up and down my shaft and I continued to suck. I don't do it often, mostly as a wager. It's not because I find it shameful or dirty or anything. It's just not that big a deal for me. It felt good of course, and after a bit I forgot about the three men watching me as I concentrated on the throbbing of my flesh and the burning ring around the rim of my bulb. I felt the pressure building and I closed my eyes and concentrated on it and the pleasure I knew was about to come, no different from when a guy jerks off I guess. I waited until the last moment and then I withdrew my lips so they could see me spurting. I knew from past experience that really turned men on, seeing me squirting my stuff in my mouth, and I knew that some men would not believe I actually came without seeing it.

I had enough experience by now that I was able to aim for my mouth and catch my load. When I'd first begun, I'd have gunk dribbling from my upper lip and my chin, and I even had it dribbling off my eyebrows and into my eyes. Now I can catch every drop, but I still squirt my upper lip because I know that turns guys on too, and guys who are turned on pay more. I finally unfolded myself and sat up and when my angel approached I stood. I could see he was pleased the way his eyes sparkled and the way he smiled. He took me in his arms and we kissed, a long, tender kiss, the first kiss I've ever had with another person that really was a kiss of love, and it was a kiss with a man! It was sweet, sweeter than anything. And of course my upper lip was smeared with my cum which made our kiss even hotter.

As we parted, he whispered that he wanted me to rim him. I wouldn't do something like that with another man, but with him I didn't hesitate. I dropped to my knees, pulled his hairy ass cheeks apart, and ran my tongue up his hairy crack. It smelled dank and was slightly salty, from sweating I suppose, but I didn't mind. He was my angel. I would do anything for him, anything he wanted, anything at all, anything to please him. I licked his asshole with the tip of my tongue, and then wormed my tongue into his hole. That is something else I can do. I can curl my tongue into a point and stick it way out, farther than most people. I wedged my tongue into his asshole and pressed my lips against his pucker and kissed it. The devil's kiss I heard it once called. I met a kid who was a Satanist who did it to me and taught me how to do it proper, for kicks, and I think because he was hoping I'd become a Satanist. He certainly did it to me with the expectation I would do it back to him, which of course I did, and it really turned him on.

Of course getting his asshole licked and sucked turned my angel on and as he started to swell, I quickly slipped around and took his nuts in my mouth and sucked on them, and then I began to lick his swelling cock, causing it to swell all the more and all the faster. He was built like no other man I know. His dick was cut and twenty centimetres long and thick as the breadth of a guy's three fingers. I ran my tongue around the rim of his bulb and his dick twitched and the first of his clear nectar oozed out. I eagerly flicked it up with the tip of my tongue and savoured it. It was sweet.

It was the first time I'd ever sucked another guy's cock. The Satanist kid I met had wanted me to, but I'd refused, not because I had anything against fag sex or nothing, but just because to do something that intimate has to be special, and while I liked him, I didn't like him that much. My angel was different. I'd do anything for him. I wasn't worried about doing a good job. I'd read plenty of porn stories about guys doing it, and seen plenty of videos of guys doing it to each other. And of course there had been Christmas night with his nephews. I really don't know why everyone gets up tight about guys sucking cock, cause from the amount of porn on the Internet, it has to be a common practice.

Anyway, I did just as I'd seen and read, and before long my angel was huffing and puffing and his big, thick dick was throbbing and then he warned me he was going to come and he did, and I knelt there with his big dick in my mouth and I swallowed his slime, and I don't know if it was from fasting or not in that I'd never tasted cum before except for my own, but it was sweet. And he came a lot. Spurt after spurt, so fast he filled my mouth and some oozed out the corners of my mouth and around my chin. I sort of let it happen because I know when I seen that in the videos it turned me on seeing it, and like I said, I know guys liked to see my cum on my lips. When we were done and I'd drained his balls, I stood and we kissed again, my lips coated now with his slime but he didn't mind, and in fact he liked it.

It turned the other two men on too, which I'm sure was his intent. They were both stiff and aching to get off a load, and my angel told me to show them my talent and of course I did, the nigger first and then the oriental. I know you're thinking I'm really nothing but a faggot and I lied about this night being my first time sucking a cock that wasn't my own, but I'm telling the truth. I've never had the urge to do it to another guy, and I figured if I was ever to do something like that, it would be with somebody special. Well, it had been–my angel. And because I'd done him and I knew he wanted me to do the other two, I did it to please him. The black was well hung too, as long as my angel but not as thick, and his dick was uncircumcised. He kept himself clean, which I know a lot of guys don't. His dick and balls had a different smell, more musky, because he is black and they sweat different I think, and his cum wasn't as tasty as my angel's either and had more of a bitter taste. It was still a pleasant enough experience.

Phnom was a lot smaller, closer to twelve centimetres hard, three centimetres longer than my own when hard, and he had still a different odour, being a different race or whatever and having a different diet I guessed. Having watched me do myself and then do my angel and the nigger, he was stiff and horny and I had barely begun to suck him than he was squirming and ready to shoot. I'd read plenty of porn and I knew in the stories the guy sucking clamped his lips about the other guy's cock, just below his knob, to stop him from cumming. I had no idea if that really worked but I decided to give it a try, not because I wanted it to last longer nor because I wanted it to last longer for him, but because I knew my angel wanted me to please this guy, and I wanted to please my angel. Well, it did work, and he calmed down a bit and so I was able to suck him longer. I could have delayed him again but I didn't like him that well, and I figured I'd done my bit, and so I continued to suck and he soon warned me he was going to cum. His cum was less but it was a lot sweeter than the nigger's and I wondered if that was true for all Cambodians.

We rested a bit and the three men talked about boy love and stuff and they told me how beautiful I was, which wasn't anything new. A lot of guys have said that, guys who wanted to get in my pants, and a lot of girls, girls who are into guys who are Emo and some who want to get in my pants too, not because they love me or nothing, but because they think it's something to brag about that they made out with an Emo.

Anyway after a bit Kwame and Phnom began making out with me at the same time. Phnom began kissing me and we French kissed a bit and while we did the nigger slipped around behind me and began to rim me and then stuck his tongue up my asshole while he caressed my thighs and fiddled with my balls and dick. Then he and I kissed, lip to lip, and Phnom slipped down and sucked on my dick and balls. Mostly I performed for the two of them, eager to please them, and they performed for my angel, eager to please him, which meant pleasing me. They succeeded in doing that, and it was weird having two grown men kissing and caressing me and fiddling with my stuff and the two of them getting turned on by turning me on. They soon had my dick stiff and aching but they knew their stuff and they knew how to touch me at the right time and right place so that the pleasure intensified but I didn't lose it and shoot. Their dicks were stiff and jerking with pleasure too, and they were both oozing precum. I was feeling super horny, hornier than I could ever imagine.

And then my angel joined in and we kissed and fondled each other while the nigger and oriental rimmed me and sucked on my hole some more, and then they sat back and watched as I turned and bent over and my angel stood behind me and wedged the tip of his thick pecker in my anus. He pushed in slowly and told me to push out and to relax. I was so fucking horny I would have slid right down on his fuck pole I wanted it so bad by then. He continued to push forward and the spit from Kwame and Phnom made my hole slick and his knob slowly stretched it open until his knob popped inside. Feeling his cock entering me was pure heaven. It was thick and hot and hard and I could feel it slowly penetrating me further and further, easing up my shit hole, until at last his hairs were pressing against my smooth butt and his hairy chest was pressed against my back and he was up to his balls. And then he withdrew and I almost fainted with the pleasure. It was totally awesome. My anus burned and grasped his cock as if wanting to keep it inside me, and I did want it. Then he sank it back up my ass and I gasped with the pleasure and my nuts ached with the need to shoot. And so he fucked me, slowly, while the two men watched. His breathing became heavier and heavier and more and more irregular, and so was mine as the room began to spin and my forehead felt hot like when you lean close to the garbage can fire in the middle of winter.

And then he began to spurt, filling my rectum with his hot, thick seed, and I was so excited my stiff dick jerked and I began spurting too. It was fucking awesome, the two of us spurting together, his big cock throbbing up my rectum and his cum spurting deep up my bowels, and my dick wagging and spurting and spraying the bed like a loose fire hose. When we were done we stayed joined like that for the longest time. Finally he eased his cock out, and squeezing out a dollop of his cum on the tip of his finger, he marked my forehead with a cross with his juice. "Your mind and your heart," he said, making the vertical line of the cross. "Your body and your soul," he continued, marking the arm. "You are mine." And he kissed me and I was his, totally, completely, and forever.

On the way home, my angel told me the gift I had given him this night, my virgin ass, was the best gift he'd received this Christmas season. He said it was priceless and something he would never forget and would always treasure. I told him that was a pretty small gift compared to what he'd done for me and he said it was much bigger, though it was pretty, and small … and tight, and it was still the best gift he'd received even if I hadn't tied it up in a ribbon and left it under the tree for him. He said I had given him my virgin ass, and that was something you can only give one person, and you can only give that person once. That was true, and hearing him say it made me feel all warm inside. Lots of guys have wanted my ass, way back as far as I can remember and more so lately, and when he'd brought me to his home and been so kind and everything I had figured that's what he was after. That I refused everyone else and gave it to him was special, and he was right, nobody else could ever get the same.

Two days later was the eighth birthday of my angel's nephew Domi and on the next day, two days ago, his uncle threw a special party for him. Domi told his parents he was having a sleep over with a friend, a fellow boy scout, Eddie, and the boy's father even phoned and lied that the two boys were having as sleep over at his son's home. I don't understand the relationship, but somehow this father had met up with my angel and his nephew Lucas in a park where he'd gotten a blow job from Lucas, and later he, my angel, Justin and Domi had all had sex together at his house, along with this three sons for whom he had the hots.

Anyway, my angel took his nephew Domi, Justin and me to this place called Chuck E. Cheese where they have pizzas and video games and stuff for kids and we were joined by Domi's best friend Piet, this Eddie, and two other boys, both having just turned eight also, a cute black boy by the name of Jackson with an Afro-style hairdo and who looked a lot like the singer Michael Jackson when he was that age, and a Japanese boy by the name of Takeo Mitsusadaki. Paying for all that food and tokens for the games must have cost a fortune but my angel has no shortage of money. When we were done we were met by two others, this black guy Kwame I'd met earlier on my birthday, and this real hot, tall, lanky sixteen-year-old with nose and ear studs and a Gucci faux Mohawk dyed bronze to match his eyes.

We went to this hotel where Kwame and this sixteen-year-old, Woody, set up some wicked movie cameras and lights and my angel explained that we were going to have an orgy, an all-guy orgy, which he explained meant we were going to get bare-ass naked and mess around with each other's dinks, and Kwame and Woody were going to film it all and record it in photographs to sell, which would get other people, men, turned on and horny too, and maybe other kids so they'd get inspired to do what we did and feel good too. Nobody objected, and, in fact, being something naughty and forbidden, all the eight-year-olds giggled and thought that was really savage. Besides, getting horny and feeling good is good, and getting others horny and feeling good has to be good too. Most of all, my angel said it would be good, so it has to be.

"All right," my angel said, "let's strip off those clothes and get each other horny. And then form a daisy chain." Everyone looked at him blankly and he explained, "we'll form a circle and each guy will suck the guy in front of him and get sucked by the guy behind him." Well, that resulted in more giggles and everyone looked at everyone else, not knowing how to begin, and nobody wanting to be the first. My angel said he and his angel-in-training would start since they'd gotten each other horny plenty of times and we could watch and do what they did, and he suggested Domi join up with Jackson and Takeo since he was the birthday boy and knew all about foreplay and in that neither Jackson nor Takeo had ever done anything like this before he could teach them. That left Piet, Eddie, and myself.

So my angel and his angel-in-training started caressing and kissing each other and began to unbutton each other's shirts and caress each other's chest and nipples and the rest of us watched and then followed suit. My angel has a hairy chest and his angel-in-training a smooth, hairless one, and the two were enjoying caressing each other. Having done this many times and enjoying it, doing it in front of us came natural to the two of them. Domi was experienced also, which was hot in itself in that this was only his eighth birthday, and he took the lead, embracing Jackson and pulling Jackson's shirt out of his pants and unbuttoning it, revealing his smooth chest, black as dark chocolate. It was hot watching the two of them, especially when Domi and Jackson began to caress each other, Jackson's chocolate brown skin contrasting with Domi's olive. When Takeo joined them and the two boys unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his smooth body, and the three boys began caressing each other, the contrast of their hands with his complexion made it all the hotter and I couldn't wait to see the three of them stark naked. I did not have to wait long. The boys had much in common, like their smooth, compact little butts, their smooth, hairless pubes, and their little dinks no bigger than my smallest finger and their little nuts. If it wasn't for their different colours, it would be difficult to tell their dinks apart.

Of the three of us left, Eddie turned out to be the most experienced. I'd seen pictures and videos and stuff, but no real experience, and this was totally new to Piet. He was uncertain and self-conscious, but he was eager, and he confided that back in the Netherlands, where he was born, his family were naturalists and that going about naked was quite common and acceptable and he had done it often. It did not take long for the three of us to strip off each other's clothes, and once we began to caress each other it did not take long for us to begin feeling horny. It was sort of hot having Eddie playing with my balls and knowing that he did the same thing to his father, and it was hot stroking Piet's little pecker and feeling it swelling knowing that I was the first person to play around with his privates. That both he and Eddie were only eight made it all the hotter.

Jackson, Takeo and Domi ended up on one of the two twin beds, Jackson's eyes closed dreamily and his thick, black lips wrapped about Domi's growing pecker and his cheeks sunken in. Lying on his side, Domi had Takeo's little nuts in his mouth and was sucking on them. Pulling back the Jap's foreskin to reveal a slightly darker knob, he began to lick it like it was an ice cream cone and a silly thought came to my head as I wondered if it tasted like lemon. Meanwhile the eight-year-old Jap was sucking the huge, stiff dick of the fifteen-year-old angel-in-waiting, who was eagerly sucking the even larger dick of my angel. That was really hot seeing the slant-eyed eight-year-old sucking the huge dick of a twenty-three-year-old man and watching my dark-haired angel sucking on the little dink of Piet while the horny little blond sucked Eddie's cock, the first cock he'd ever messed with. Meanwhile Eddie was sucking mine and I wondered if he was enjoying sucking it as much as he enjoyed sucking his father's dick. That left me with Jackson. Although still new at oral sex, I eagerly took the eight-year-old boy's dink, the size of my thumb and liquorice-black, in my mouth and sucked on it and as he quickly began to swell feeling his cock getting hard in my mouth got me all the hornier.

Meanwhile Kwame and Woody filmed and snapped pictures of the eight of us curled up in a circle on the one bed, a tangle of slim arms and legs and warm naked bodies snuggled up against each other as we eagerly sucked on each other's dink and were in turn sucked just as eagerly. It did not take long for all of us to get stiff and for our dinks to begin itching and throbbing, an experience familiar to most of us but excitingly new to others, like Jackson, Takeo and Piet. The three boys squirmed with the new sensation and sucked even harder on the cock in their mouth. From the gasping and panting we were all close to reaching our peak, and for some it would be their first! With eight of us and five dry it was difficult to tell who came first and who came last, and we were all so close we might just as well have come all together.

Domi of course was well experienced in this, having, I learned later, had the mystery of jacking off revealed to him by his uncle nine months ago, and two weeks after that having engaged in his first daisy chain with his uncle and his young cousin Marcus. The idea of my angel, twenty-two at the time, introducing his two cousins, having just turned seven themselves, to faggot sex and the two boys engaging in faggot sex with their uncle and then each other was hot. Now young Domi had just turned eight and was getting his dick sucked by another eight-year-old, a black boy, not because the boy had been ordered to but because the horny little nigger wanted to, while he was sucking the dick of a slant-eyed Jap boy.

It was the first time the Jap had his dink sucked, and it was the first time he'd sucked another boy's cock, fifteen-year-old Justin. He was in for a surprise, a double surprise. He squirmed and wiggled his little backside as his stiff, little dink, swollen to the size of my thumb, throbbed hotly between another boy's lips, the rim and tip itching and burning with a frightening but addictive pleasure. As he began to jerk his hips with his first ever orgasm, I heard the fifteen-year-old he was sucking off tell him he was about to cum and his options, to slip his lips off his cock and let him squirt wild, to catch his cum in his mouth and spit it out when he was done squirting, or to swallow it.

Seconds later the teenager began squirting and the kid began swallowing his slime, the very first he'd ever tasted. At the same time my angel announced he was ready to squirt and seconds later his angel-in-training began to eagerly drink his cum. I envied him that pleasure and imagined how wonderful it must be to be an angel in training. Taking my lead from the two of them, I gave a similar warning to Eddie. The boy was experienced at this also and like Justin he didn't hesitate to continue sucking and to begin swallowing my slime and I wondered how often he drank his father's, and if he did so willingly. He began thrusting his hips with his dry orgasm as Piet sucked him and the little blond began jerking with his first orgasm as my angel sucked him. As Eddie drained my nuts I sucked on Jackson's little black liquorice stick, taking it all in my mouth and bringing the little nigger to his first orgasm.

Everyone collapsed on the bed, chests heaving as they gasped for breath, their naked bodies trickling with sweat, their nuts drawn up tight beneath their stiff, throbbing cocks. Everyone was young and randy as mink so it wasn't that long before we began feeling randy again. This time there were no instructions and everything just fell into place, some boys uniting because they happened to be lying side my side, others purposefully seeking out a partner. Domi sought out Piet intentionally and the two eight-year-old boys formed a sixty-nine, the two eagerly sucking on each other's dink like they were sucking popsicles on a hot summer day. Domi's handsome, dark Greek looks contrasted with Piet's straw-blond hair, pale Dutch complexion, and innocent blue eyes. Jackson lay down behind Domi, his little black poker already up and ready like a true nigger, and grasping Domi's butt, he slid his stiff dick up Domi's butt. It was the little nigger's first time but not Domi's and the Greek boy provided instructions and squirmed into position to help him. I'd once heard that anal sex was also called the Greek Art on account that it was practised frequently by the ancient Greeks, especially between men and boys. If that was true, Domi was just following through with tradition. I'm not sure his father would be pleased.

Meanwhile, Takeo lay down behind Piet, his slender little pecker ready also. It was a new experience for both boys and it was something to sit there and watch the two eight-year-old boys unite and begin fucking, the first time the blond Dutch boy had ever had a dick up his ass, and the first time the little Jap boy had ever fucked ass. I had to wonder what their parents would think if they could see their two boys humping away, their eyes bright and their lips curled as they focussed on this marvellous new experience that adults would reserve for themselves. They'd have been shocked, and would have stopped them and punished them. Eight-year-old boys are not supposed to have sex, or to even be horny. That most eight-year-old boys are kept in the dark about the pleasure and don't know any better is the real crime. Anyone who has seen two eight-year-old boys in the middle of a hot sixty-nine or a hot fuck for the first time would know that, but of course adults have been brainwashed to believe different. As I watched the two boys sucking each other's dink while being fucked, I felt my lust rising and I was glad that I had met my angel.

I wasn't the only one getting aroused and the four of us watching glanced at each other and without saying a word we moved over to the other bed. Eddie was already lying in the opposite direction as I was and he reached over and began to fiddle with my balls with one hand and to mouth my dick with his lips. That was fine with me and I snuggled in closer and took the kid's little dink in my mouth and began to suck on it. Justin lay down behind me as my angel lay down behind Eddie and he and his angel in training began to lick our cracks and rim us and then they snuggled into place and wedged the tips of their stiff pricks against our butts. As I felt my angel's hot, swollen knob pressing against my asshole I pushed out, eager to accept him. The four of us were horny and I was the only one inexperienced so while Eddie and I madly sucked each other's swollen, aching dick we were each penetrated by the stiff pricks pressing against our holes.

I'd been told Eddie had sucked Domi and his uncle and been sucked by them besides, and he had been fucked by Justin and had fucked his own father besides, so by the age of eight he already knew what it was like to suck and be sucked and to fuck and be fucked. I've never known anyone who had the hots for their own son, especially a boy only eight years old, and Eddie was the first boy I'd ever met who'd had sex with his father and who'd had sex with other guys with his father's knowledge. I had a difficult time imaging a father being in favour of his boy engaging in fag sex, and as Eddie sucked on my cock and I sucked on his and as he lay there getting his ass fucked I wondered what he was thinking.

As for myself, it was totally fantastic being sucked and sucking dick at the same time, and having my ass fucked besides. My dick was throbbing and the rim itching and I knew I was providing the same pleasure for the boy sucking my cock. My angel was gasping and panting like mad behind me and fucking me good, ramming his cock in and out of my ass rapidly and causing my anus to burn and itch just like my cockhead was. I knew I was bringing him pleasure and made it all the more pleasant for me. I tightened my sphincter about his cock and I heard him sigh with the pleasure.

We were all horny and it was not long before the four boys on the bed beside us were moaning and twisting with their orgasms, the two in the middle squirming and snorting as they sucked each other's cock and the two others panting and grunting as they climaxed up the butts of the other two. The four of us quickly followed. I began squirting my stuff in Eddie's mouth and he drank down my thick slime eagerly as my angel filled his ass with his own slime, and Eddie quivered and arched his back with his own orgasm as I sucked hard on his throbbing cock and felt Justin's hot, teenage cum spurt deep up my asshole. My body was streaked with sweat and I sucked in the sex-laden air, dank with sweat and the fragrance of fresh cum. The tip of my dick burned as my slime spurted out and Eddie gulped it down, and I quivered as Justin's cum flooded my rectum.

We talked some more and everything we said and did was caught on film. After what we'd all shared, our conversation was perfectly natural and open, just as it should be, and we totally ignored the two guys recording us. I hoped that anyone viewing the videos and the photographs of us fucking and sucking and of us talking could see how natural it was and how much we had enjoyed it. As I talked I started to feel randy again although I had already shot off two loads, and it was evident that everyone else was feeling the same.

Domi happened to be sitting beside me on the bed and I leaned over and kissed him and he reached over and began fiddling with my dink and balls. The others around us and on the other bed began messing around too. Domi and I ended up lying down facing each other and licking each other's dick and balls. Although he was only eight I was eager to suck him off, and though he was only eight, he was just as eager to suck me off too. So the birthday boy and I ended up in a sixty-nine. Domi's uncle, my angel, was behind him and rimming his ass and Eddie slipped up behind me and began to rim mine. As Eddie's tongue circled my dank anus my tongue circled the rim of Domi's little pecker and the three of us began to swell.

So did my angel and he wiggled up and wedged the tip of his massive cock in his nephew's hole. Domi was eager and he happily slid down his uncle's long, thick pole, impaling himself on it. I was just as eager to have Eddie's stiff cock up my butt and as he snuggled up behind me and placed the tip against my hole I opened up and he slowly eased his prick up my asshole until his smooth pubes were pressed against my ass cheeks. Young Takeo joined us and with his stiff bone throbbing up my rectum, my angel propped himself up and leaned over and took young Takeo's already stiff dink in his mouth and began to suck on it, and the Dutch boy Piet knelt behind Takeo and slipped his little dink up the young Jap's ass. Meanwhile Justin knelt beside Eddie and Eddie took the fifteen-year-old's dick in his mouth and began to suck on it, his own dick still up my ass, and the black boy Jackson knelt behind Justin and shoved his stiff little black dick up Justin's butt.

It was unreal, the eight of us stark naked and united as one, sucking and fucking and being sucked or being fucked. The room was hot and the eight of us began sweating as our lust rose and we began sucking and fucking harder and faster. The eight of us sucked in the humid air rank with the odours of boy sweat and spilt cum, the rich fragrance driving our lust even higher. My angel grasped his young nephew's hips as he rammed his long, thick cock in and out of his tight, eight-year-old asshole and the horny Dutch boy Piet grasped Takeo's hips as he rammed his slender little dicklet in and out of the Jap's hole, delighting both boys.

Domi sucked hard on my dink as he felt his uncle's cock pumping in and out of his hole and as his asshole burned and I sucked hard on Domi's little rock-hard prick no bigger than my thumb but tingling and burning just as strongly as his uncle's. I could feel Eddie's dicklet throbbing up my asshole and I thought about that same dick up my ass having been up the ass of the kid's father and I felt a shiver up my own stiff pecker. Seven years older, Justin was being sucked off by Eddie as the eight-year-old thrust his stiff dick in and out of my ass. I recalled in our conversation hearing how the teenager had sucked and fucked the eight-year-old in front of the kid's father sometime in the past, and just the thought turned me on.

At the same time the horny fifteen-year-old was getting sucked off, he was getting his ass fucked by another eight-year-old, Jackson the nigger boy, who was grasping the older boy's hips tightly as he rammed his stiff black liquorice stick in and out of the older boy's ass. The room was filled with the sound of the eight of us gasping and groaning and grunting as our hearts and our hards throbbed with hot, red blood and as we sucked in the air thick with the fragrance of boy sweat and spilt cum, of sweaty balls and sweaty armpits, our naked bodies streaked and glistening with sweat and our young nuts swelling and growing numb.

Young Takeo quivered once again with his third dry orgasm of the night as my angel sucked on his throbbing little Jap dick and the blond Dutch boy Piet reached his third dry orgasm up the Jap's tight ass. My angel grasped his nephew's hips as he shot his spunk up the birthday boy's ass and young Domi sucked hard on my cock as he quivered with his orgasm and as I quivered and began to shoot my wad for the third time that night. Domi swallowed my slime thirstily as his uncle's hot, thick cum flooded his asshole, and I tensed as Eddie quivered with his dry orgasm, his hard little cocklet throbbing up my ass. At the same time the little father-fucker was swallowing Justin's hot, thick slime as the fifteen-year-old angel-in-training boy lover quivered with his release and his ass clamped tight about the throbbing little dicklet of the eight-year-old black boy as he reached still another climax, this time up the white teenager's butt.

The eight of us finally collapsed, hot, wet, sticky, and exhausted, gasping for air, our minds, and our dinks, wonderfully numb. As I lay there in a heap with seven other heaving, sweating, naked bodies, never in all my life have I felt so accepted and so united and so at peace. Never before had I felt such a sense of worth as I did that night.

Sunday morning Justin arrived with a bunch of bananas for me and we accompanied my angel and his family to church, and as I knelt there in the pew of the Greek Orthodox Church with my angel kneeling beside me, his little nephew kneeling beside him and his angel-in-training kneeling on my other side, and the rest of the family kneeling all around us, I thanked God for having sent me my angel, and for having been accepted into such a warm, kind, loving, Christian family, a family so different from my own, a family torn with hate for each other and filled with a hatred for life itself, and one that was so uptight and so wrong when it came to what was right and proper regarding sex. Had it not been for my angel I would be feeling the same and contemplating the peacefulness of death, not the peacefulness of life filled with love and sex.

CHAPTER 29
A Father's Love

"It is best if you both hear what I have to say. That you both hear it together."

"You will have to settle for telling me. She will come no more," I repeated, my voice beginning to rise along with my blood pressure.

Doctor Johansson takes a deep breath and considers me for a moment, before speaking. He knows I am angry and he knows to persist is a waste of time. He is not a stupid man. "Very well, but it has been my experience that such matters are best heard at the same time by–."

It is my turn to take a deep breath and consider him. It is not because I am weighing how hard to argue against his conclusion, it is to control my anger, something which has never come easy to me. It is, regretfully, something I've had to do more and more frequently this past year. He cannot help my son. With all his high and mighty degrees and training, he cannot help him. Four hundred dollars a session, four sessions a month, for the past ten and a half months, longer than it takes a woman to have a baby, and his conclusion is that he cannot help my son. Sixteen thousand eight hundred dollars and the son-of-a-bitch's conclusion is that he cannot help my son. "Then I guess we are finished," I reply tersely, getting to my feet.

"Please." His voice is sad, but it also has a tone of desperation. "I fear for you and your wife, and for others." I hesitate and sit back down. "By law and by my profession's code of ethics, I am not supposed to be telling you this. What is discussed between a patient and his therapist is of the strictest confidence, and I could lose my licence if anyone found out. If you do tell anyone what I'm about to say, I'll deny ever having said anything." Covering his own ass. That is nothing new, and certainly not limited to psychiatrists. I say nothing. He sighs again, even deeper, looks away, and then looks back up at me. I can see the sorrow in his eyes, and his pity.

I don't want his fucking pity! I am about to stand again. He knows and speaks before I do so. "If your son were to find out, I could be a dead man." I suspect he was expecting a reaction but I said nothing and gave no indication what I was thinking. "In all my years of practice, I have never had a patient like your son." He pauses again and looks away, as if to read a script he does not want to say aloud. He again turns to me and looks at me directly. "Mr. Savalos, your son shows no emotion, none whatsoever, no anger, no shame, no regret, no hatred, no resentment, no joy, no happiness, nothing. It is as if he is dead, as if he has no soul."

I do not argue. So tell me something I do not know. I knew my son was dead the day he returned to us. He died nine years, three months, and twenty-nine days ago, the day he was brutally and publically raped and taken away from me and my wife Hellena and his older brother, his three older sisters, and his youngest brother.

"You and your wife need counselling to deal with your son's behaviour, to deal with the pain and anger you must be feeling, and with the fear and the guilt."

I look at him blankly. I would discuss such things with another man? A man other than my priest? Perhaps he is not as wise as I figured.

"He has told me nothing. That is the problem. For most of our sessions he has not said a word. He just sits there. Not even a change in his expression. I sometimes think he does not even hear me."

"You know of the sexual assaults on children that have been reported these past twelve months, and the disappearances."

Each incident is front page news in the local paper and the leading story on the evening news and makes the first section of regional and provincial papers. And after each incident, we are visited by the local police. At first, friends and neighbours began casting suspicious looks at me and my family and especially my son. Then they avoided us. Now after each incident we receive anonymous letters demanding we leave town and threats if we do not. Most recently, our home was vandalized.

"I suspect your son has been involved." So have dozens of others suspected such a thing.

"I also suspect you know more about your son's behaviour and patterns since returning home than I do."

So do I. It is a fear I have lived with for the past eleven months. I leave his office and head for my car. I do not recall anything of the drive home. I am lost in my thoughts, my memories, my despair. It was a dangerous, foolish thing to do. I could have been in an accident and been killed in my distraction. I could have killed someone else.

Things had begun well with Dimitri's return, better than I had hoped considering the condition he was in and what he had gone through. It was awkward, and embarrassing, and many times frustrating and heart-breaking, but there were glimpses of hope and breakthroughs, and he was family. He began taking adult learning classes, picking up in Grade 9 where he had left off; and though he was reluctant, he was seeing a probation officer once a week as part of his release program. And also, though reluctant, once a week he was seeing a psychiatrist, one who specialized in child victims, because I had asked and because it was part of the agreement to have him released under my custody.

I had seen what Doctor Johansson had described in my son's eyes, those eyes that mothers and teenage girls used to swoon over for the depth of their blueness, blue as arctic ice, and for their long feathery eyelashes that accented his handsome looks. Or rather we had both seen the lack of the same thing in those eyes. No emotion, no remorse, no guilt. I'd hoped seeing a shrink would help him resolve whatever issues he had and return to the boy I'd known. Despite all he'd gone through, he did not smoke, drink, or do drugs. And he religiously kept away from schools and playgrounds and anywhere that children might be found as the courts had ordered. He was making a sincere effort to conform and obey.

It had lasted one month. Despite all our precautions and vigilance and all our love, one day Dimitri was left alone with his young nephew, Domi, two months after the boy's seventh birthday. I caught them. Both boys were naked and in Dimitri's bed, masturbating each other. I should have done something then, the moment I had caught them, but I didn't. It was only masturbation, and attitudes about that act have changed drastically over the years. It is no longer the big issue it had once been when I had been a boy, not even a sin according to many. Innocent. Normal. Common. That's what people say today. So, I accepted the opinions of the day and said nothing. I chose not to make it an issue, so it would not become one, and I resolved instead to be more vigilant and more careful in the future regarding my little grandsons. Already my daughters and son were reluctant to bring their little ones over to visit, and I and Nonna missed them terribly. If I revealed what I'd seen, we'd never see our grandchildren. A father has to compromise.

Then, a month later, the school sent a fourteen-year-old boy over to help Dimitri with his studies and homework and with mathematics. He had not gone to the school. One of the teachers had sent the boy over. That had to be all right. There was nothing in his probation that said youngsters could not approach him. Besides, the boy was fourteen, not really a child. And he was a good boy, a Christian boy, though not of our church. Actually, because of him, Dimitri began to come to church, though Momma says it is because of her prayers and our faith. Now, attending church like he used to with the family is a good thing, as is bringing another into our faith. His brothers and sisters saw it was a good thing too and began to visit with the grandchildren more frequently again, and that was good too. They were cautious and kept a close eye on the grandchildren, and found the arrangement with the young tutor strange, but that was all to be expected. There were slip-ups in being sure Dimitri was never alone with the youngsters, but that was to be expected too, and the boys assured us he had done nothing wrong when they were alone, and they were honest boys and we believed them

Three months after his return home, the police showed up on our doorstep, on a Sunday after church, on his twenty-third birthday, stirring up old memories, bad ones, and questioning my son and me, as if we were criminals. They showed no empathy, no remorse. They did not even send over the policeman responsible for the sorrows of this family, the father of my son's best friend, the man who was targeted for retribution and who had done nothing to protect my son or prevent his abduction nine years ago. I became angry and they did not understand why!

Then, there was the sleep-over, with his tutor, because he'd missed that childhood experience all other children had experienced. He had missed so very much to be honest. I was uncomfortable with the idea, but his reasoning was logical and I understood. Also, it kept him home where I knew where he was and where he was safe, and not getting into mischief. Then there was another boy, younger still, sent to play chess with him and his tutor, recommended by a former teacher, the same teacher who had recommended his tutor, a teacher he himself had as a boy and whom he had liked, and who was well known in the community and respected. This new boy was there in our home and Momma was always home. What went on in his room had to be innocent. The door was always kept open and it was a kind thing that the teacher had done, a considerate thing that someone who cares would think of. Dimitri had always enjoyed playing chess. Doing so again would bring back good memories, happy memories. It had to be a good thing, and in the days and weeks that followed he was happy again, which was a good sign. There followed a string of other teenage boys for sleep overs, and they began to be younger and younger, but Dimitri was content, and the boys did not complain. A loving father compromises.

His brother and sisters began coming by less and less frequently once again, as the sleep overs increased, and for a while they stopped bringing the grandchildren at all. They never said why, but they didn't have to, and they soon relented and began coming around again. His little nephews adored him, except perhaps Lucas, the oldest, but Lucas was always a timid boy and less adventurous than his two younger cousins. His brothers and sisters and Anna's betrothed did say we should kick him out, but how can a parent do that? They were young, too young yet to understand what they were suggesting. No father could do such a thing.

The child molestations and abductions continued, and in fact became more frequent. They began in the adjacent provinces, then in the county and small towns around us, and then in our own city, mostly the sons of policemen, lawyers, judges and priests. There followed visits to our home by older teens and adults, the element I'd spent months with in my search for my son, some of them I am sure former friends and partners in crime with my son's captors. The media, vultures circling the weak and injured, bloodsuckers feeding on a family's troubles, resumed their calls. Articles on sexual assaults on children and disappearances sell newspapers. That was what they cared about, not my son or my family. Greed was their motivation. And there followed more visits from the police. Even the policeman who had started it all and whom I had trusted came asking questions. And Momma, and then I, began to lie, to say at the time of the crimes Dimitri was home with us. Why? Anyone who would ask that cannot be a father. Because he is our son. Because we love him. Because he is the victim. He does not need incarceration, he needs help. That is the Christian way.

One day while he was out shopping with his mother, I got up the courage to search his room. With its gothic and satanic pictures and seductive posters of young male Calvin Klein models in tight jeans and skimpy briefs and sultry, seductive eyes, I'd avoided entering it. What I found, laying openly on his desk and on his shelves, almost defiantly, were still photographs and videos that left no doubt what sort of homework he was doing and the help he was getting. It was evident that he was getting the boys aroused and then getting them to masturbate on live cam and before the camera, and to perform worse, more intimate, acts, perverting them by tempting them with money, girls, drugs, and whatever else in order to make money for himself. He, after all, had difficulty securing decent, honest work. Nobody would accuse him, but they all suspected him. I understood and in fear of losing him, I left everything undisturbed and said nothing. He was successful. He was never in want for money. And the drugs were for the others, never for himself.

Now there is a third boy, a boy they call an Emo. He arrived a week before Christmas, the December 25^th Christmas. A strange boy. A poof. First, it was the tutor who attended church with us and hung onto Dimitri with loving, puppy dog eyes. Now it is the Emo boy who looks up at him with worshipping eyes, as if he, my son, is a god. I know it is wrong, but they love him so, and he is a changed boy when they are there, a boy that his mother and I remember. This Emo, and this tutor, they seem happy, so why interfere? This Emo boy has had a hard life and comes from a family that has no love. My Dimitri is helping him.

About three weeks later, a week and a day after the birthday of my grandson Domi, ten days after the thirteenth birthday of the Emo boy, I arrive home to find a line-up of cars on both sides of the street and a line-up of men on the front walk despite the cold, blustery January wind and blowing snow. I can hear the television blaring, which means Hellena has turned up the volume to drown out the noise and my son is entertaining. It has been a long, hard week and it is Friday. I can take no more. I march to my door amid protests and admonitions by men loitering in my yard to wait my turn. I march into my home and to my son's room to confront him. His door is open. It always is.

I burst in to find the Emo boy embracing and kissing a thin, blond teenage boy of sixteen, perhaps seventeen, a boy with thick, pouting lips, long, thick, gorgeous, naturally curly hair, and his beautiful blue eyes sad looking and accented with black eyeliner and encircled with dark circles, from I suspect sexual overindulgence. His left eyebrow is dark black, the right is shaved off and he has a ring where the end should be. His black T-shirt is pushed up, revealing a pale, skinny body and nipple rings, and the Emo boy's right hand is in his open fly. The Emo boy's trousers and underwear are about his ankles, and he is pumping his hips to and fro, driving his erect penis in and out the vulva of a very pregnant teenage girl of fifteen or a very young sixteen who has her back to him and her legs spread, her belly too huge for them to connect face to face.

Sitting on the desk chair is an older man wearing only an open shirt and socks, a man in his forties or fifties, balding at the temples and with fat cheeks, flabby breasts and a protruding stomach. He is masturbating as he watches the three young people. His stiff penis is small, perhaps twelve centimetres [4.5 inch], perhaps two centimetres[0.80 inches] longer than that of the Emo boy. As I stand there, the Emo unbuttons the older boy's black jeans and pushes them down along with the boy's underwear, as they continued to kiss and caress and the Emo boy continues to thrust his hips to and fro, driving his erect penis in and out of the pregnant girl's moist vulva, her hairs plastered to the glistening lips. As the older boy steps out of his jeans and underwear, the Emo withdraws his stiff penis, slick with the pregnant girl's vagina fluids and the other boy bends over and is penetrated, using the slime from the girl's vagina for lubricant. The older man rises, steps forward, and slips his stiff penis up the girl's hot now vacated vagina and begins to have intercourse with her. I stand there watching in disbelief what I am seeing, ignored by everyone.

I sit down in the desk chair in shock. The older man and Emo stare from heavy-lidded, sightless eyes and are soon grunting and snorting. Shortly thereafter, they appear to climax from the sounds from their lips and the contortions of their faces. They withdraw their erect penises. I am correct. From the tip of each hangs a pendant of semen. The Emo boy observes it was good, better than the boy's pregnant girlfriend. The older man says nothing. He puts on his pants and leaves and the next man enters. He complains I had pushed in ahead of him and Dimitri – I notice him for the first time standing in the corner – says I have done no such thing and came only to watch and he has not missed his turn, and unless he wants to be charged double, to shut his trap and pull down his fly and get on with it. He does not speak angrily but his voice is cold and sharp, the tone a man uses when he means business and will brook no nonsense. The man, twice the age of my son, is admonished and flushes and stammers. He turns and caresses the girl's protruding stomach.

"Fantastic." He turns and hands Dimitri several bills. Twenties. I count seven, maybe eight. He does not look Dimitri in the eye. He turns and pulls down his fly and extracts his penis. He is already erect and the girl turns and bends over so that like the previous man he takes her from the back, too pregnant to take men from the front. The older teenager, her boyfriend, stands there dazed, perhaps high from the glaze in his eyes and his slack mouth. The Emo boy has a look of disgust and disdain as he watches the man and the pregnant girl having intercourse, as a person looks at a piece of dog crap he has just stepped in. Dimitri glances at me and catches my eye and he whispers for the Emo boy to take over and he and I leave and head down the hall to the guest room.

"That is the couple the police detective, that Mike Kryvchuk, came asking about, back at the end of November, the boy and girl you said you knew nothing about." I try to remain calm to keep my voice non-accusatory.

"That's the two. He got me curious about them, so I asked around. A pregnant sixteen-year-old with the hots for older men, a suicidal dork of a boyfriend, no problem locating, not if you know the right people to ask." That I knew was true. I found that out nine years ago when he was kidnapped and the police couldn't find him. "So I asked around and found them. They were working the street, you know, the strip, over on seventeenth. Their parents had thrown them out."

"Yeah. Their parents are a real piece of work. You might remember them, the preacher Milne and the industrialist Stark "

I recognize the names. The Pastor Joseph Milne of the Seventh Day Adventist Church had been in the news every week until maybe six months ago, a real right-wing, conceited braggart. One of those street preachers who are all mouth and give legit religion a bad name, always tangling with the law, holding protests and interrupting the affairs of decent, law-abiding citizens, ranting about perverts and homosexuals and the transgendered, whatever they are, and child molesters and abortion and child porn and the gay agenda, which is something about promoting gays in schools or something. Jonathan Stark was a strong supporter of that church, a rich man, a powerful man, a man too busy and too important to care about folks like us. I remember there had been a huge award offered when their kids had disappeared but I never heard anything more. Kids disappear every day. I soon forgot. So did everyone else.

"She was gonna lose the baby for sure and her boyfriend was walking around like a frozen turd. What was I to do? I brought them home to spend the night until I could figure it out, but we were followed by their fan club and they began getting violent when I wouldn't let them in and I could think of only one way to get rid of them."

It was certainly an unorthodox solution, but then the men outside my home were not normal men, not men who would do the things they were doing to the young girl and boy down the hall, and Dimitri was only twenty-three, not yet old enough to know the way of the world. And the parents of the teenage couple were not normal people either. What sort of father would toss his pregnant daughter out in the cold in December? What sort of father would reject his son seeing his torment and leave him to the scum outside? What sort of mother would not grasp her child to her bosom and protect him or her? And these were supposedly Christians. I never did give credence to any other religion than our orthodox faith. A true Christian, a Greek Catholic, would not do that. Even my son Dimitri knew that was wrong, unchristian.

"You could talk to them about their parents yourself, but we'll have to wait for the line-up of cars to leave first."

I slowly get to my feet. I cannot wait that long. "I will get rid of them. You go back to your room."

"Poppa. What are you going to do?" I hear the fear in his voice. His fear for my safety.

I get my old Pentax camera and put on my winter coat and go outside. I begin with the cars that are empty. Of course the men standing outside in line approach me and ask what I am doing. I reply I am photographing licence plates. There is no law against that. One of the men tries to take the camera and we struggle. Another intervenes. I do not know whose side he is on but I suspect not mine. Someone says fighting will disturb the neighbours and attract the police. Someone goes to his car further down the street and leaves in a hurry. Another follows, and then another, one rat fleeing after another as word spread. Soon the street is empty. I smile. I had read in the newspaper about licence plates being photographed of cars outside a whore house or a crack house or a street that prostitutes strolled or something and being listed in the newspaper. It is good to read the newspaper.

I go back inside, take off my jacket, put the camera away and go to Dimitri's room. "Now," I say, sitting on the desk chair, "tell me about your mommas and poppas." The boy and girl look at each other, and then at Dimitri. The boy looks like a frightened little rabbit. The girl is about to cry. "I am told they tossed you out in the cold. Is this true?"

The boy looks down and shuffles his right foot on the carpet. He is naked as the day he was born. "My father is the Pastor Joseph Milne," he tells the carpet. "I was abducted Saturday, May 20, 2017, after church, by three men, one black, one Indian, one white." He glances at Dimitri nervously. "The white and the black raped me and forced me to suck, to engage in oral sex with them, and the Indian raped Sarah in front of me, and we were forced to eat meat, and were baptised in a pail of urine, our urine. All this was taped and sent live to our parents who watched and who were told to stop their preaching and protesting, or they would never see us again. They, our parents, refused to stop. We were taken to a hotel room, and a week later we were raped by two seven-year-old boys and forced to have oral sex with them, and this Indian kept raping Sarah every day but our parents still would not stop."

He speaks as if he is reading from a script, as if this is a speech he has memorized and said many times. He possibly has, to the police, to social workers, to himself in his mind. He looks at Dimitri, embarrassed, frightened, ashamed. I am afraid he is going to stop talking. Dimitri nods, encouraging him to continue.

"So after a month we were taken to Vancouver where we worked for a pimp. By this time Sarah was pregnant by this Indian and so the Johns were guys who liked pregnant girls and we worked as a team. I would rim the men and they would rape Sarah, or she would rim them and they would rape me. Then in November this policeman came and pretended to be a pervert but said he was looking for information, but then he came again and watched us with some pervs as we made a porn video with a ten-year-old boy, so I think he was probably really a voyeur with a thing for kiddie porn."

"Oh no, a policeman too. He said he could help us get back home. I told him it would be useless. That our parents would never take us back and we wouldn't be able to live normal lives with our parents anyway. We're seriously damaged goods. We've been contaminated by the devil. We're unclean."

"And that's what our parents said when we were rescued and brought back home. Exactly what they said," said the girl, tears rolling down her cheeks. "My father said he would have no Indian papoose for a grandchild. He said I should have fought harder, should have kept my legs closed. He said … I should have stayed where I was." I hand her my handkerchief and wait until she stops sobbing. "I should have never returned home."

"I told the son of a bitch our parents would not accept us," the boy continued, "that we would not be able to live with them again. He said he could take us to a shelter but I told him the people we worked for would track us down no matter where we were and bring us back." He glanced quickly at Dimitri again and then away. "I told the son of a bitch he could not guarantee our safety. I told him life would be a lot worse back home than it was where we were, and it has been. Sarah's eight months pregnant and I'm a mess. Like we're gonna go back to school?" he snorted. "Or get jobs? Oh sure, my hair's blond again like it used to be and no longer dyed black, but you can't bleach away the black inside me. You can't make me forget the filth I've engaged in. There was a time seeing a couple necking gave me the creeps and I wondered how people could do such a thing in public. I've found out they can do a fuck lot more in private. And it pays good besides. You seen that tonight."

He is right. He is a mess. Both of them are. They use vulgar words in front of me with no shame. They do vulgar things with no guilt. And I saw how perversion pays. "You have a long shower. Get some sleep. You're safe here. We'll talk some more tomorrow. But no more men at the door," I say, looking at Dimitri. "You tell me and I will get rid of them." He says nothing, but I know he is grateful, and that he will tell me.

I do not sleep well. How can a father sleep knowing what I know, having seen what I have seen? How can the fathers of this boy and girl sleep? When I get up the next morning they are gone. Dimitri says they left while he was sleeping. Sunday I pray for them, and their parents, and I pray for a sign of what I should do, about them, about my son. I beg for help, for myself, for my Hellena, for my family, for my son Dimitri. It has been exactly one year since he was brought back, eleven months since he was allowed back home, nine years and four months since he was kidnapped. Monday, I see Doctor Johannson, alone.

After that I think all week what I am to do and wait for my sign. My initial thought is to turn on my son and tell him I have had enough, that he has broken his mother's heart, and he has to face reality and either shape up regarding his association with young boys or leave. My second thought is that perhaps it is I who needs to face reality. If I am the alpha male in this family, turning on my own pup is not the answer. After all, had he not attempted to help these two young people and is that not a good thing? Yes, poorly thought out and the wrong way to do it, but the right thing to do, the Christian thing. His solution to getting rid of the perverts at our door was similarly well intentioned, if foolish and the wrong way to do it. The same with the Emo boy. Dimitri's desire to help the boy is good, but he has gone about it wrong. As I have said, he is young yet, he is not world-wise.

The more I think about this, I realize I am not angry with my son. I am angry with the perverts in this world, the black from England and the Paki who raped and abused my son nine years ago, the Mexicans and Gringos and Columbian drug lords and Arabs who abused him afterward, the pervs who lined up at my door and did such vile things to the young teenage couple last Friday, and the child molesters and pornographers you read about every day in the papers. I am angry at the police for not doing something about them and hassling my son and I instead, and at Mike Kryvchuk specifically, for not doing something. He was the policeman seeking information and who had ignored the warnings of these young people and then left them to be rejected and preyed upon I am sure. That would be like him. I am filled with anger, and with disgust and revulsion, with the sin that exists everywhere in this world. Yes, I am angry at my son for breaking his mother's heart. That I must address with him. Yes, I am disgusted with the parade of young boys whom I know are sharing my son's bed. That I must address with him also. A father must do something.

So, Friday, today, after dinner, I make up my mind. I rehearse the speech I have composed and the arguments I will make and I go to talk to Dimitri, to reason with him, to reach a solution with him. He was home for dinner, but he is not in his room now, nor the Emo boy. The Emo boy has not been around since Tuesday. His computer is still turned on. There is a thick book on his desk, leather bound, the cover engraved with a scene that reminds me of the biblical scenes by Renaissance painters, an elderly, bearded man, a historical or religious character, with tattered robes revealing his chest and limbs, a youth bent over before him, a border of winged cherubs and vines and fruit, cherries and what appear to be prunes. But this is no biblical scene. The old man is aroused and his erection is up the backside of the flimsily-clad young boy bent over before him, and the boy is performing oral sex on another flimsily-clad boy who is kissing the bearded man. I open the book up. The first pages are three-hole punched and tattered and yellowed with age and taped into the front of the book. The first page is dated Monday, March 20, 2006, and written in Dimitri's neat, flowing script. He has the neatest handwriting of anyone I've ever seen, neater than any woman or girl. I read.

In the Beginning was The Secret. The Secret is All Powerful, Exceedingly Delightful and Uncompromisingly Divisive. The Secret is Omnipotent and All-inclusive, resistance is futile. The Secret is Rapturous and Captivating, none can deny it. The Secret separates the Man, who knows The Secret, and the Boy, from whom The Secret is withheld. For The Secret is Greater than all other Knowledge, its acquisition a Rite of Passage. All Hail The Secret. Bow before It in gratitude and servility. Praise from the Highest for The Secret. Glorious and Sacrosanct is The Secret, the Holiest of Holies, the Bringer of Ecstasy.

I first heard of The Secret in Sunday School when I was five and overheard a discussion between two choir boys, but it sounded dumb and boring, and I was not interested and so I paid it no attention. I next heard of The Secret three years later during recess at Saint Joseph's from dirty boys who had discovered it and wanted to share it, but they were dirty boys and I was not a dirty boy, and they were brash and bold and crude and I was good and obedient and cool, and they were smug with their knowledge and I did not like smug boys and was not interested.

And then the last Saturday of September in the year I entered Grade Five, Connor Brodish had a demonstration of The Secret in the bushes in the park near his house. Connor had failed a grade and was a year older than the rest of us and wasn't too bright but was into sports in a big way, especially hockey, and so was popular. Ryan Beddows, who was into girls like Connor was into hockey and was the most popular guy I knew, Aidon Hornmeiyer, who was a bit of a nerd and a wiz in science and astronomy, things that interested me and were beyond Connor, and Dylan Parkinson, who looked and acted more like a girl than a guy and was at the other end of the popularity scale that Aidon was, and I sat in a semicircle in front of Connor and he proceeded to demonstrate The Secret, and when he was done, he invited us to touch what he had created as proof and see for ourselves, but none of us did, and all of us confided in each other later that his demonstration had been gross.

I am about to turn the page when the screen on Dimitri's computer turns on. There are, I think, the words "Chan 4" or something in 3-D, but before I have time to take notice it is replaced by a logo that looks like the frieze you see on ancient Greek buildings with a row of stylized boys engaged in some sport, some in tunics and some naked, with the words FYB Studios. That is replaced by a studio shot typical of any talk show studio, a silhouette of a night-time city skyline with lit-up skyscrapers and streams of city traffic below seen through a large window in the background, a plain-looking desk behind which is a young man in his mid-twenties that looks like a late-night talk show host in a pinstriped shirt and a neatly pressed grey sports jacket and slacks, and a sofa and a couple sofa chairs before a coffee table. Pitchers of some red liquid, glasses, and bowls of salted peanuts and a snack mix are on the table and desk. FYB Studios appears to be doing well.

"Good evening," says the young man, addressing the camera. "Welcome to all our regular subscribers, and a very special welcome to those of you joining us for the first time. I am Ross Moiyer, your host for this evening's talk show, and I guarantee it will be a show you will be talking about for months to come, and which will leave you horny as a teenage boy. Our featured guest tonight is local entrepreneur and philanthropist, Thomas Jacob Banks, well-known local rancher, oilman and businessman with investments around the world." The camera pans to the sofa chair beside him where there sits a distinguished-looking salt-and-pepper-haired gentleman around my age with slight jowls and a slight paunch, very well-to-do from his dress. You can see his power and confidence in his eyes and the way he sits back comfortably in his chair though he is giving Ross Moiyer a puzzled look.

"And joining us are two other prominent and highly-successful international investors," Ross Moiyer continues as the camera pans back to him and then to two others sitting on a sofa beside their featured guest and almost in front of the desk so their host can look directly at them and so their featured guest could talk to them without turning his back to their MC. "Our first guest is a co-owner or major shareholder of assorted interests around the world including a cotton plantation in Alabama, a cacao plantation in Ecuador, a fruit farm I understand in California, and various companies in the entertainment industry with international following." The camera zooms in to a surprisingly young man in his mid-twenties I assume from his style of dress, also obviously very rich, and also confident and powerful. A digitized swirl blocks his facial features from the viewer.

"In that our guest is a silent partner in many of his investments, we have accommodated his request for anonymity by blocking his image from our television viewers and we will refer to him as Squire S as he is known in some of his business dealings. Our second guest has also requested anonymity," our host continues as the camera focusses on the second individual on the sofa, an individual wearing a plain, spotless, white robe, a headdress with a braided coil about the crown to hold a veil that hangs down over the sides and back of the head and which can be thrown across the face like a scarf that you sometimes see Arab men from the Middle East wearing, and which at the moment he does have covering his face, leaving only his eyes visible. "Mr. X has high connections with the NAMBLA, to which many of our subscribers belong, besides several similar international organizations he would prefer not be named. The NAMBLA and its members as we all know are persecuted in many countries around the world so Mr. X's request to protect his identity is certainly understandable."

I have no idea what NAMBLA means but its mention does result in a flicker of surprise, and of what appears to me to be worry in the eyes of the featured guest. Mister X has no visible effect on Squire S that I can tell.

"And lastly," continues our moderator, "we have two very special guests, character references you might say." The camera pans to the side of the stage and two young boys enter, the two possibly related from their similar appearance, and one twice the age of the other. Mister Thomas Jacob Banks is definitely surprised, and his furrowed brow reflects suspicious and concern as he looks at the boys and then the host of the broadcast. Though it is impossible to tell the reaction of the other two guests for sure, Mister X's eyes brighten and from the shift in posture he and Squire S definitely appear interested. The boys awkwardly and self-consciously walk across the stage, the younger following close behind the elder and bumping into him. They sit in a love-seat beside the couch, positioned in a rough semicircle so they can see and talk to the others in the room without turning their back on anyone. They stare at the floor.

"Now then, as I said at the commencement of our show, we have with us the esteemed Thomas Jacob Banks, well known in this country, and in most other countries, for his entrepreneurship, his philanthropy, and his very firm stand on today's social issues. Let's briefly examine each of these in turn. Mr. Banks, could you tell us a bit about your background and the industries you are associated with and how you came to be one of the leading, and richest, citizens not just of this country, but of the world?" our host asks obsequiously.

"Well, I'm sure there are many others far better qualified to meet those descriptors," Mister Banks replies with false modesty. "To tell you about my background and industries could take more time that you've allocated for this interview," he adds jokingly, and with the same hint of conceit. He proceeds to tell about his grandfather's arrival in the country and the family ranch in Texas which he eventually inherited, along with the vast oil deposits in the ground, and then the many boards he sits on and the many projects he has donated money to, all of which he enjoys talking about immensely and proudly and that the three men tolerate and that the two boys listen to attentively, amazement, respect and admiration written all over their faces.

"Now then, the projects that you do not support and have spoken against are as well-known as those causes you have supported, verbally and financially. Establishing street clinics to provide drug addicts clean needles is one that comes to mind."

"Yes. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous and so blatantly wrong?" Mister Banks replies, in a tone and volume that would daunt the staunchest supporter. "The scum of our society and the source of most of society's ills, particularly all nature of crime and all types of pornography, being provided clean needles so they can continue their socially destructive behaviour, paid for by hard-working, tax paying citizens nonetheless. Leave them to their dirty needles, I say. It is nature's way to weed out the weak and undesirable from our population."

The two boys glance at each other. "Ah, yeah," the older says with a shrug for the two of them. After all, Mister Banks had said so, most emphatically.

"Do either of you do drugs, maybe smoke a little weed, pop a few pills to get high?"

"Don't shoot anything into those young veins? No chemicals to help you get by? Not even the occasional steroid?"

"Lately you've also expressed your objections to the government mandating gay-straight alliances in our schools and your support for the United Conservative Party opposing legislation that prevents teachers from informing parents if their child joins such a club. In fact you've been a vocal opponent of the LGBTQ community for a long time," the moderator observes, turning again to their featured guest.

"If you could pick something even more asinine and even more wrong than distributing clean needles to addicts, you've chosen it! If my sons were to join such a club I would expect to be informed about it," he says, glancing at the two boys grimly. "It is my right as their father to be informed about it. The only thing lower than being an addict is being a member of the so-called BLTGQ community. It is a parent's God-given right to know if their children join any club in any way affiliated with that group of perverts. Now there is the source of the most heinous of crimes, crime against children, and the foulest form of pornography, child porn! These gay-straight clubs, they're nothing more than hunting preserves where fagots can more easily find and prey on impressionable young boys, where they can seek them out and make them one of their own. Addicts deserve to die in the gutter where they belong by their own hand, not provided clean needles. Homos and their ilk on the other hand should be lined up and their throats slit, or shot between the eyes by the decent citizens of the world. Hell, even hang them from the nearest tree like decent citizens once … well … you know what I mean. This is not a topic impressionable young ears should be hearing."

A vein in his temple is throbbing and his voice is several octaves higher. There is no question about his passion or his conviction.

The boys glance at each other again, and again the eldest speaks for them. "Well, yeah," he says, but not with the same conviction as regarding addicts.

"There you have it," says Mister Banks. "Even they know. Now let us move on. This is not a topic for children. These innocent boys can't possibly begin to imagine the vile behaviour of the gay population that has invaded our society, or the perverted, filthy practices gays promote. I doubt they even have any idea what the word gay even means."

"What about it boys?" asks the moderator. "Do you know what the word gay means?"

Again the silent exchange. "Well, yeah," the older boy admits timidly, so soft he is barely audible.

"Do either of you know anybody who is gay?" the moderator asks, ignoring his featured guest.

"Well, if a guy likes other guys, he's gay, and if he likes girls, he's straight," says the older boy.

"So, which is more fun?" our moderator asks, turning to the youngest of the boys. "Is it more fun to be a guy surrounded by a bunch of girls, or a guy with a bunch of other guys?"

"Other guys," he replies without needing to think about it or confer with the older boy.

"Of course he does. All boys his age do. But he doesn't mean it in the way you're suggesting," objects Mister Banks. "No decent boy does! What are you trying to pull here?"

"Why do you like boys better?" the moderator asks, ignoring his featured guest again and addressing the younger boy.

"I just realized, I forgot to introduce you two boys. Why don't you introduce yourselves now?"

"Brothers?" The boys nod. "And what is your relationship to our featured guest, Mister Thomas Jacob Banks?"

"Fourteen," the boy replies, surprised by the version of his name used by the moderator. So is the boy's father, but while the boy appears pleased, the father does not.

"What are you trying to pull here?" asks Mister Banks while the boy thinks, his voice sharp with anger and annoyance, and with suspicion. "You said this interview was about leading citizens in the community and their impact on society."

"It is. Very much so. So, Jake, what do you mean you like boys and girls but not in the same way?"

"Well … like I like being with guys because we have the same interests and stuff you know, like sports and cars and science and stuff, which girls don't, most girls anyway, but … well, like I don't wanna, you know, like, do it with them," he replies, beginning to redden. It is something a lot easier to think out in one's mind than to say out loud, especially in front of adults, and especially in front of your father.

"Do it?" the moderator asks. He knows damn well what the boy means but wants to hear him say it. Thomas Jacob Banks glares at Ross Moiyer and so do I. I have to agree with Banks. No father wants to see his son purposefully embarrassed.

"Well, yeah, sure. That's what I mean about liking girls in a different way," the boy says with some relief that he's gotten the message across and hoping they can go on to another topic.

"I believe you have an opinion on extramarital sex also, and on abortion too, don't you, Tommy–you don't mind if I call you Tommy do you?"

Mister Thomas Jacob Banks certainly does mind and he didn't have to say so for you to know from the look on his face and his body language. He is as much against that as he is against his son being called Jake instead of Jacob. However there is a much more important matter that he has to speak to than how he should be addressed. "Thank you for letting me explain my position," he says stiffly, but I don't think he is really thankful, and nor does anyone else, his two sons included. "The Bible is perfectly clear on this, and let me be perfectly clear also. Sex is between a man and a woman, not between a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, and for it to occur at all, that man and that woman must be husband and wife, lawfully married. And by sex, I mean intercourse. Anything else is illegal and immoral and just plain disgusting, no matter which sexes are involved. And the sole purpose of intercourse is to create a baby. The fetus is a living thing, sacred, and if by a girl's actions she has created it, she must not be allowed to end its life, nor must the father."

The boy shakes his head in the negative, wide-eyed with innocence and surprise at the change in topic, and with abhorrence at the idea.

"Are you saying you want to have sex with a girl, but not necessarily intercourse?"

"No! I do want … that, what you said. But, well, yeah, the other too, but, well … ." The poor boy is totally flustered and struggling to say what he wants but too embarrassed to elaborate in front of adults, and especially his father.

"You're confusing the boy. I said this is no topic for a child! Neither of them has the knowledge nor background. Now get on with why we're here, or this interview is over." The father was upset, and I could understand why. The moderator was manipulating the boys and turning what they said against them. He knew perfectly well what the older boy was trying to say. Their father wasn't exactly helping referring to the fourteen-year-old as a child and lumping him with his seven-year-old brother regarding knowledge and background. You could see the hurt and resentment in the boy's eyes.

"Very well, Tommy. You commented earlier on the LGBTQ being responsible for child porn and preying on young boys through gay-straight alliance clubs. Do you have anything further to substantiate those claims?"

"Everyone knows it is the gay agenda to tempt impressionable young people with their filthy beliefs and salacious behaviour and to increase their membership through clubs like these alliance clubs. Have you seen child porn? I mean real, hard core porn? I have, and it is vile, too vile to mention it here. It is sick. The product of sick, twisted minds, produced by the gay population to entice young, innocent minds. As for the agenda of men preying on young boys perhaps you should ask Mister X here. It is his group which is behind it, and he can't even show his face tonight he is so ashamed for God's sake."

"Well, I think it is time for some clarification here. Let's take a break so Tommy can catch his breath and collect his thoughts, and watch this documentary." The moderator turns to a large screen monitor and reaches for the remote and moments later there is an image of an oriental, probably in his late twenties, Chinese perhaps, in drab, grey, stained shirt and shorts, and in the background and out of focus a half dozen boys, all of whom appear naked or nearly so.

"This is Phukrit Parmaroc," says an announcer and the man turns and looks up into the camera, "one of many local residents of Bangkok who makes a living pimping young boys here in Thailand and in Laos, and providing young boys for houses of prostitution in the West, primarily in Britain and the United States of America. He is seen here in a hovel in Bangkok with several of his most popular boys between the ages of eight and ten, though he can provide boys much younger and older if you so desire. Where does he get such boys? From their parents. From mothers and fathers who are so destitute they cannot support the children they have, but who cannot help continuing to rut and produce more children, such is the prurient nature of these people. Sometimes the boys arrive on their own and seek out Phukrit Parmaroc, for working for him is a physically easier and financially far more beneficial way to earn a living than cutting canes, and the boys find bending over or dropping to their knees preferable to starving in the gutter.

That is why you see them smiling despite their poverty and the squalor in which they are living and the filthy things they must do. They are happy they are alive. Besides, what they do is physically pleasant and they are no different than us, they like to do things that bring them pleasure. Mostly though, they are smiling because most of them are high on drugs to help them forget the filthy conditions in which they are living and the filthy, vile acts they are forced to engage in daily for food in their belly and a roof over their heads. For though physically pleasurable, the acts they are forced to engage in are condemned by all decent, law-abiding citizens and men of moral standing as obscene and the most despicable of acts.

And who are these individuals who pay for these acts, who provide the money to support the pimps who live off the corruption of these young, innocents? Who is it who comes here to Thailand with their fat wallets to purchase a half an hour of illicit and supposed pleasure with these young, unfortunate boys? Western tourists here for the most profitable of all business conducted here in Thailand, sexual tourism. Tourists like this."

There enters a man, his body and features at first blurred, but as everyone shuffles and makes room for him, the camera focuses and his features become clear. It is our featured guest, the powerful and prominent Thomas Jacob Banks. His face has turned white and his eyes are wide with surprise. So are the eyes of his two sons.

"And what does he pay for with his Western money, and what do these boys do to earn it? The following contains scenes of nudity and sexuality. What you are about to witness many find offensive and repugnant. View at your own discretion. "

Mister Banks in the documentary has selected two boys, one perhaps eight, the other a bit older, a short tuft of hair on his otherwise smooth pubes indicating he has reached puberty. They slip behind a curtain and the cameraman follows. We all stare at the screen, mesmerized as the boys unzip the man's trousers and pull them and his underwear down, revealing a broad, hairy belly and his hairy privates. The two boys reach out and fondle his privates and he lies back with a broad, satisfied grin. The camera focuses on his genitals as he becomes aroused and then on the two boys licking his erect penis. Nobody talks. There is just the sound of slurping and licking and heavy breathing. Those in the FYB Studios are silent also as the airwaves are filled with the slap and slurp of sex.

The Mister Banks in the documentary says something, the words distorted and incomprehensible and the boys laugh and giggle. The younger boy stands and turns and drops to his elbows and knees and Mister Banks kneels behind him. The older boy grasps his penis and guides it and the camera zooms in and we watch the young boy being penetrated. The airwaves are filled with grunting and snorting, and then heavy breathing as we watch the man's erect member easing in and out of the boy's anus, and then as the camera zooms out and we see the three of them. The moderator turns off the set.

"Well, now," he says with a grin, "I think that brings some clarity to our discussion."

"What do you want?" Thomas Jacob Banks asks coldly, surprisingly calmly, as he addresses the moderator.

"You're not the first to blackmail me, and certainly won't be the last. So what is it that you want from me? Money? A job? A tearful confession for all the do-gooders out there? Something that will fulfil your particular secret sin? What do you want for not distributing the tape you are making?"

"You have me wrong," the moderator says with an innocent smile. "I want nothing. Nor does FYB Studios. We are just providing an evening of entertainment for our subscribers. And what is being taped is already being distributed. We are streaming live."

Thomas Jacob Banks looks at the cameraman and then at Ross Moiyer in horror. "No," he says doubtingly as he slowly shakes his head. "And you two?" he asks, turning to the two other adults.

"Nothing," replies Mister X. His is the voice of a mature man. He could be my age. There is the slightest hint of an accent. Arabic? Or am I being influenced by the dress he has chosen to hide himself? There is nothing to indicate race nor nationality. "I am here for the same reason as our host and FYB Studios, to provide an evening entertainment to all the folks out there in the world wide web. We really are broadcasting live."

"You've already provided what I want," replies Squire S as Banks turns to him and he turns to face the two boys. His voice is cold and flat, devoid of any emotion and that sends a chill down your spine, a voice I know very well. "You provided it seven and fourteen years ago," he continues, turning to look at Banks again. The digital swirl hides his face but I know it is blank, expressionless as his voice. "But this inquisition has just begun."

"Inquisition?" Banks asks, his voice quavering. This is a man accustomed to having his way. A man accustomed to being in control and in command, a man who knows his power and who knows when he has met someone his equal, or perhaps even more powerful and controlling.

"This is an inquisition to discover and suppress hypocrisy, and to punish hypocrites. It is an inquisition to reveal the truth, about men, and boys, and life itself, and to promote that truth in a world that would deny it," he says to Banks, and to the camera. I have heard that tone of sermon and prophesy before also.

"Very lofty," sneers Mister Banks. I have heard that tone and met men of his nature before also. Who is the more evil, and who will win this battle?

"And I am Chief Inquisitor," Squire S responds with a nod. He turns to the two boys who are watching, totally perplexed. "Let the Inquisition begin."

"I don't think so," responds Mister Banks as he gets to his feet. "Come, boys, we are leaving. And my lawyers will be in touch with you and FYB Studios," he adds, looking at the moderator, who is obviously cowed as Mister Banks expects.

"And leave your boys wondering just what Daddy really believes, and why he was doing those nasty things they saw in the documentary, and if they will be safe from Daddy in their beds tonight?" asks Squire S.

"Of course they will," snaps Mister Banks. "That's inane. Now I've had enough. You will all pay for this."

He turns and the boys stand. Squire S is fast. And strong. And I suspect half the other man's age or younger. One hand lashes out and he grabs the man by the shoulder, turning him around and forcing him to sit. What he says we cannot hear and the look he gives the other man we cannot see, but the older man blanches. This is not a man easily intimidated but Squire S will brook no nonsense. The boys sit back down, frightened now on top of being bewildered. They certainly had never seen their father in the circumstances in the documentary, and they certainly had never seen him in the circumstances he was currently in. Their father was a man of authority and power and confidence, a man of high morals and values and highly respected the world over. The man in the documentary was not. Nor is the man in the sofa chair.

"Now," says Squire S, turning to the boys, "as Mister Moiyer said, it is time for some clarification here, all around. Why your father is here, why you are here, and why the rest of us are here. We're here to expose phonies and to put an end to their phony ways. We're here to reveal the truth, and to enact justice. And we're here to get this world, you at least, on track. Now those are good things, don't you think?" The boys nod. "Trust me. I will not hurt you. Nobody in this room is here to bring you harm." He gestures to the others.

"Now, Owen, you said you like being with boys and would rather be with boys than girls because it's more fun, and Jake, you said you like being with boys because boys think the same way and have the same interests. Right?" The two boys nod, slowly. "And Jake, you said you don't want to do it with guys, but you do with girls, and not necessarily just have intercourse with them, right?" The older boy nods again, more slowly and more embarrassed as he glances at his father. "And neither of you have had sex with a girl, or with another guy. Right?" They nod. "Were you surprised to see your Dad messing with young boys?" They nod again, more certain.

The answer was slower in coming. The boys were embarrassed. "Guys aren't supposed to do stuff like that," Jacob offered. "Not decent guys. Not fathers. Not our father." I had to wonder what sort of father Thomas Jacob Banks was to do those sorts of things with little boys. What sort of father anyone is who does that sort of filth with children.

"You're not supposed to touch another's privates. Not even your own," adds Owen.

"How else did seeing your father and those boys make you feel?" The boys glance at each other and shrug. "Go ahead, you can tell us."

"Well, embarrassed," Jacob confesses and Owen nods. "And ashamed. Sex is private. And what they were doing was dirty."

"It … well … made my thing squirm," Owen says with embarrassment. Squire S looks over at Jacob.

"Well, that's natural. Seeing others having sex makes us want to have sex too. That's called getting horny."

"But it's wrong. Guys doing stuff with guys. And adults doing stuff with kids. Isn't it?" asks Jacob. "Everyone says so."

"That's where hypocrisy and phonies and the truth come in," replies Squire S. "A lot of people say it is wrong for guys to have sex with each other and call people who do names, like queers and fairies. But the truth is, a lot of guys mess with other guys. It's a perfectly normal thing to do. But it scares and disgusts some people, so they make things up, like saying it is a sin, or making it against the law, so people who enjoy doing it can't enjoy themselves. That's what's wrong. Understand?" The boys nod, hesitantly. "Same for adults doing stuff with kids. Guys say it is bad, but then do it in secret, guys like your dad. They're fakes and phonies, saying one thing but doing the opposite." Thomas Jacob Banks glares but says nothing. "That's known as hypocrisy and people who do that are hypocrites. That's why we're doing this show, to reveal the hypocrites and to reveal the truth. And the truth is there is nothing wrong with men and boys having sex, and that's easy to prove."

"No! So that's your agenda! Don't do it," Banks orders the boys. "Whatever you want you got it. Money, a confession, whatever, just don't do this," he continues addressing the men.

"Now, there is exactly what I'm talking about. Your Dad says sex between adults and boys is wrong and don't do it and all, but we all saw on the film him doing it. That's hypocrisy. That's being a phoney."

Banks glares at Squire S and his two boys look at their father, confused, angry, and probably for the first time disillusioned about him.

"What did you mean, about proving it by doing it ourselves?" asks Jacob Tyler Banks.

"Just that," Squire S replies, dropping his hands to his crotch palms outward as if offering it. He glances at Mister X who stands and they stare at the boys.

The boys glance at each other and as Jacob stands so does his brother. Their father is of course immediately on his feet. We hear a scuffle and the boys look in his direction in fear as the camera zooms in on them and then at the ceiling and walls. A few minutes later the cameraman regains his focus and zooms back out and we find Mister Banks now tied to the sofa. There are evidently others in the room besides those we can see, and they had been prepared. Squire S and Mister X turn again to the boys and the boys advance.

Jacob reaches out and pulls down Squire S's fly and then unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his slacks and draws them down, revealing very hairy legs, especially the shins, and that Squire S is wearing a dark blue thong. This the boy slowly draws down, revealing that Squire S is very well hung. His brother meanwhile unties the belt to Mister X's robe and opens it, revealing that the man is wearing nothing underneath and also has a nice size package. Unlike Squire S he is uncircumcised and his body not quite so hairy. It is impossible to tell if he is nicely tanned and spends his time outdoors naked, or if it is the natural colouration of his skin. The two boys are instructed to fondle the two men and they proceed to do so, cupping the men's testicles and rolling them and stroking the men's penises. They are told to push down their jeans and underwear and they do so. The older boy is wearing Fruit of the Loom boxers and has soft, downy hair at the base of his pubes. The younger boy is wearing white Calvin Klein briefs. They continue to fondle the men and the men caress their naked, compact buttocks. The cameraman zooms in on what they are doing and on the boys' faces. They are intent, curious. Squire S is aroused quickly and his penis is massive. The two boys are impressed, especially the fourteen-year-old as he is instructed to wrap his fingers about the man's shaft and to stroke it.

Mister X tells Owen to drop to his knees and instructs the seven-year-old in the technique of oral sex. The boy is hesitant but obeys. I watch as the boy holds up the man's penis and licks the knob and then slips his lips about it and sucks. I watch as the man slowly becomes erect in the boy's mouth. His father watches too, the cameraman occasionally panning over to him and zooming in on his face, and on his crotch. The older boy is instructed to go over and pull down his father's fly and to take out his father's penis. The boy does so with some difficulty and with embarrassment and then returns to Squire S and continues to stroke the man. Mister X by this time has become erect and young Owen is being instructed on how to go down his shaft.

Squire S is handed a tube of KY which he opens and hands the boy and instructs the boy in how to lubricate him, and is then told to wipe his fingers off up the crack of his butt and is instructed to insert first his pointer finger and then his middle finger up his own ass. The cameraman zooms in on his anus and then on his face as he does these things. His eyes widen and his rosy lips part as he inserts each finger up his anus. He then bends over and we are given a closeup as Squire S penetrates the fourteen-year-old boy, and then of the young boy's face as Squire S pushes forward and the boy is penetrated to the hilt, and then as Squire S begins to pump his long, thick penis in and out of the boy. The cameraman pans over to the boy's father. He is erect. What sort of man gets an erection watching his two sons being abused, watching his fourteen-year-old son being buggered and his seven-year-old son on his knees sucking a man's penis, both for the first time?

There is no speaking, just the sound of heavy breathing, the sound of sucking, and the slap of flesh against flesh as Squire S's greased prong works in and out of the teenage boy's greased hole. The breathing becomes more irregular as the two men approach their orgasms. They finally pause and instruct the two boys to stroke themselves. The two boys by then have become erect and they slip their fingers about their protruding erections and proceed to abuse themselves, stroking their erect little penises. The younger boy's is the length and thickness of my small finger. The fourteen-year-old's is just slightly larger than my thumb. Both are uncut and we are provided a closeup as they draw the skins back to reveal their little plums and then push the skins back over them. We are provided a closeup of their faces as they experience the stimulation of their glans for the first time, their expressions turning from curiosity to pleasure to apprehension and, as their orgasms hit and they begin to tremble and to jerk their hips uncontrollably, to surprise and, yes, ecstasy. We watch as the fourteen-year-old spurts his first seed, spraying the carpet, and he gasps for air and as his seven-year-old brother still grasping his erect little penis doubles over and jerks his hips, pumping his burning penis between his tightly clenched fingers.

The seven-year-old has been sucking the erect penis of Mister X throughout and now the man reaches his orgasm and instructs the boy how to breathe and swallow his semen and we watch as the boy drinks his first load of a man's seed. He cannot take it all and some oozes out of the corners of his mouth and down and around his chin to hang in a thin pendant. And then Squire S is gasping and grasping the young teenage boy's hips as he plunges his thick, hard penis up the boy's rectum and begins to flood it with his seed, the fourteen-year-old boy's fingers sticky with his own seed. All the while the boy's father sits and watches, erect and helpless.

The moderator, Ross Moiyer, turns our attention back to his featured guest, Thomas Jacob Banks, and observes that he must have enjoyed the show in that he has become erect, and he proceeds to ask him about his life as a sex tourist. Defeated and helpless, he admits that he first sampled young boys in Thailand during an investment trip to the country twenty years ago, and has been including visits to their boy brothels ever since, besides procuring boys in other countries and cities, including this one, unbeknownst of course by his wife, friends, and business colleagues. He admits he prefers young boys to his own wife, and even that he has had fantasies about his own sons and their young friends though he has never acted on those fantasies. I do not know why, but I sit there and watch the man's humiliation and shame. Moiyer then turns to the two boys and we see and hear their confessions, that they had enjoyed engaging in sex with the two men, and that they had enjoyed their orgasms. He reminds them that they could satisfy each other any time, orally, anally, or by hand, and that they could always engage their father besides. By the time our host is finished, the two inquisitors are ready to resume.

This time Mister X has anal sex with young Jacob Tyler Banks and Squire S engages in oral sex with his brother Owen Carter. The cameraman again provides us a closeup as Mister X penetrates the tight, compact backside of the fourteen-year-old boy, and a closeup of the boy's face as he is penetrated for the second time that evening, this time by a different man. This time, instead of masturbating themselves, the two brothers masturbate each other, the fourteen-year-old tugging on the stiff little penis of his kid brother and the younger boy stroking the larger penis of his teenage brother. And we are provided a closeup of the seven-year-old boy as he takes Squire S's erect penis, which had previously been up his brother's ass, in his mouth and begins to suck on it.

He is not hesitant and I wonder if it is because he is overwhelmed by the events of the evening, or can he be finding it pleasant? That I cannot believe. His brother appears to have a smile but that he is enjoying being buggered is just as difficult to accept. It takes the men longer the second time, but eventually young Owen begins to swallow Squire S's seed as his brother's rectum is filled with the seed of the man young Owen had sucked earlier. And we are provided closeups of the faces of the two boys as they experience their orgasms for the second time in their lives, but for the first time by the hand of another. We see the younger boy squirming and bucking as his brother yanks on his little, throbbing penis, and we see the looks on the faces of both boys as the younger boy brings off his older brother, and as his older brother squirts his thin semen for the second time and the seven-year-old boy's fingers are streaked with his brother's slime. That is the image we are left with as our moderator wishes everyone a good night and hopes that the show has been enjoyed and the screen reverts back to the FYB Studios logo. The message on the computer screen indicates the download is completed and has been saved and the screen goes blank.

I slowly get to my feet and numbly head to my bedroom. This is not a show that I will be talking about for months to come, nor which has left me horny as a teenage boy. It has left me sick to my stomach, and has left me with much to wonder about. What sort of world do we live in that what I just saw is considered entertainment? What sort of world do we live in that has technology that can bring such filth into a person's home? How many subscribers does FYB Studios have? What sort of men are they? I assume they are men. No woman could watch such filth. I wonder how FYB Studios can afford to do this, and why they do this. I wonder how many men out there are secret sex tourists like Thomas Jacob Banks. How many are secret boy lovers? How many fathers out there have sons who are secretly exploring this dark side of humanity?

And what of the future? Will Jacob and Owen continue to explore their homosexuality with each other? Will they live the remainder of their lives in shame and guilt? Now that he has been exposed, will their father abuse them? Will they seek out their father?

I have many questions, but I also have answers. I will be talking about the show. Not for months to come, but on Monday. To the police. I had asked God for a sign, and this night He has given it to me. I did not read the rest of the journal, but I know without looking that it will describe in detail all of Dimitri's activities, from the entry I read, to his sinning with young Gabriel. All of the evidence the police will need will be there, neatly recorded in Dimitri's flowing script. I must report to the police what I know about the pregnant young girl and her boyfriend that they had been asking about. I must report what I know about the worthy and respectable Thomas Jacob Banks. I will take them the memory stick upon which the show I'd just watched had been saved. My son has a large collection of memory sticks. I will turn them all over to the police. I have no choice. It is my duty, as a father, for all fathers, and as a Christian. It is time to suppress the phonies and put an end to their ways, to reveal the truth, to bring justice, and to get the world back on track, just as my son said.

CHAPTER 30
CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 1 of 2

We sent our wedding invitations out at Easter. We'd decided to have an outdoor, triple-ring wedding ceremony and to have it the first Monday in August to coincide with the long weekend, not just to give our families more time to spend with each other, but also to accommodate some of our family from Greece whom we had learned back at Christmas were planning on travelling to Canada the last week of July. Momma, Poppa and Maria immigrated forty years ago this coming August the first and they had not seen any of the family from Greece since then, so everyone was looking forward to their visit and the wedding would be the icing on the cake, so to speak. Of course, we decided to hold the wedding at the Park in Chestermere, our family's favourite summertime destination. With the size of our families, we had to limit the reception to family members only, what with the number and the cost. We did not know how to contact Dimitri, but somehow he knew about the wedding and though he did not attend, he did write.

Dimitri did send several crates of fresh fruit, from Florida, from California, and from the Philippines, including two large crates of bananas. I had been told by Justin that Dimitri owned several of what he called "traditional" plantations and several fruit farms among other things, and that Dimitri's last boy toy Gabriel had gone to work on one of them, which one he wasn't sure. At the time I had thought it was a different type of fruit that Justin was referring to and from what I knew of my brother and from what I read in his note, I'm still of that impression.

On July 28 of this year, it had been seven years and six months since any of us had seen Dimitri after his second disappearance. I had heard voices in his room two nights earlier, the last Friday of January, and I had gone up to talk to him, about Elaina and me and what I'd discovered about her pregnancy from her brother Woodrow, about him and David and what I'd seen them doing. And well, about him, about things that had been bothering me since his return, and the weird thoughts I'd been having. When I had entered his room I had found it in darkness and nobody around. I figured what I must have heard was his television. I'd noticed Poppa heading down the hallway so he must have heard it also and had just gone in and shut it off. Dimitri never closed his door and was never concerned how loud he was. I turned and was about to leave when I noticed from the light coming in through the window a large, thick book sitting on his desk, and I could not resist checking it out. Dimitri had all kinds of exotic books, books on Celtic history, Gothic symbolism, Taoism, and Satanism, and of course a large collection of pornography.

The tooled leather cover had an erotic image in the style of the Renaissance masters, an image of an old, bearded man screwing a naked cherub who was sucking a second cherub who was kissing the old man. The first three dozen pages or more were yellowed and tattered with age and three-holed punched and taped to the front of the book. The first entry was dated Monday, March 20, 2006 and was written in Dimitri's flowing handwriting and about "The Secret" in vague and cryptic, almost Biblical language, pompous and prophetic as Dimitri sometimes was. I almost closed the book and left, but curious, I turned the page over and continued to read.

So again in my childishness and ignorance, I ignored what could be and continued in darkness and stupidity. However there is no avoiding The Secret. It is Omnipresent. It is whispered by dirty boys who gather and snigger about it. It is written and illustrated on the walls of the boy's can and on the cement of underpasses. There are books written just about it. There is a web site dedicated to it. It is everywhere.

Finally on Wednesday, October 25, 2005, I discovered even the best of athletes and the wisest of scholars and the most popular of schoolboys were seduced by The Secret. I discovered even Heroes and the most devout of Christians are not immune. Yea, I discovered that even the followers of The Secret lived in my very own house. It was worshipped and practised by my own flesh and blood. By my own brother! I had stepped into his room that night before going to bed to talk about the upcoming high school football game and I found him at worship.

There was Alexandros lying flat on his back on his bed, his underwear pushed down to his ankles, his legs widespread, his penis swollen with hot blood grasped in his right fist. His eyes were clenched shut and his face contorted with what I had thought pain but which I discovered was the ecstasy of his worship. Before I could back out, he whimpered in that painful ecstasy and thrust his hips upward off the bed and he baptised himself with his thick, hot seed. It was at that moment, in the throes of his ecstasy, that he opened his eyes and our eyes met, mine wide and innocent and shocked, his filled with lust and delight.

It took him a moment to recover and then he motioned for me to approach his bed, which I did in a daze of shock and horror and confusion, and he told me not to be frightened and that everything was all right and that what I saw everyone did, though it was a Secret, and he had me swear I would never tell anyone I'd seen him at worship, and he made me swear in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit whom he marked in a cross on my forehead with his hot, thick semen.

I quickly calculated. Dimitri would have been eleven years and five months old and our brother Alex, sixteen and two months at the time. I could picture Alex on his back jerking off and Dimitri watching. I could imagine how Dimitri felt. I could imagine his confusion and his shock. He loved Alex, worshipped him, wanted to be like him, and there he was, caught abusing himself. I could imagine my brother, the star football player wanking himself. He was sixteen and popular and had to be horny. He's thirty-six now. I wonder if he still wanks. Probably not now that he's married and doesn't have to. I'd seen Dimitri mark a cross on the forehead of boys he'd diddled and heard him tell them that they were his. They never swore an oath though, so I figured there had to be more to it than what he'd done with Alex. If I looked, I might find it in his Journal. I continued reading.

Yea, even then I resisted, for I was a good Christian boy. My hero, who had the strength and goodness and yes, even the body, of Superman, or at least Sampson, had succumbed to The Sin and I was shocked and disillusioned, but I was young and naive and I fought on. But what chance did I, a mere mortal, have? Today, one hundred and forty-six days later, on March 20, in the year of our Lord Two thousand and six, I succumbed to The Secret and became a Worshipper also. It is the first day of spring and is a beautiful, warm, sunny day. I am eleven years and ten months old. Two months ago fine, silky hair began to sprout in my arm pits and are now long, silky tufts. A month ago fine, curly hairs began to grow on my pubes. Every guy in gym class has noticed–I've spent the last two months with my hands in the air to show off my pits and this last month with my hips thrust out to be sure everyone saw–and was envious. And curious.

I was curious too, so after school, an hour ago, I came straight home, went to my room and closed the door, stripped butt naked, lay on my bed with my legs outspread like I'd seen Alexandros, and I began to stroke my dink. It got hot and turgid and the rim around my bulb started to itch and the more I rubbed it the stronger the itch got. I measured. My dick is 10.2 cm long. I cupped my balls with my left hand and rolled them and rubbed them as I kept stroking, the sun shining in through the window. I opened it and there was a cool breeze blowing over me, and I could smell the lilacs growing outside my window. I could feel the hot blood in my dick throbbing like mad and then my dick went numb and something twanged deep in my groin. I felt it race up the core of my dick like when you are taking a leak and it spurted out the tip and spattered all over my body, hot and runny and sticky and fan-fucking-tastic. I spurted and spurted and it formed gooey gobs on my chest and ran down my ribs. Praise to The Secret! Holy is The Secret. I sing the Glory of The Secret and fall down before It. I smear my seed over my chest and over my upper lip. They say it promotes the growth of hair. The Savalos men must rub their seed all over their body. They are hairy as apes. I inhale the delightful fragrance of my seed. I fill my lungs with the ambrosia of my Balls and am dizzy with delight.

My heart racing now, I flip through to the middle of the taped pages, curious, guilty.

Saturday, August 11, 2007. Took Becky to the theatre. Movie was okay but that's not why I went of course. I put my arm around her and she let me have a long feel of her right boob and she left her left hand on my crotch and I let her have a nice long feel of my boner. It's long too. LOL She had to have known that was what she was grabbing. We kissed on her front porch and she let me grope her boob under her sweater. Fuck, she wasn't wearing a bra or nothing. Didn't make out, but any day now! Just finished wanking off a hot one.

Monday, August 13, 2007. Maria gave birth to a son this afternoon, Lucas. I wonder what it would be like to have a baby in your belly for nine months. I wonder what it would feel like to have a baby squeezing out your cunt! I wonder what it would be like to have a cunt squeezing around your dick. I gotta stop thinking like this. Gonna have to stop writing. I have to wank one off.

I knew I shouldn't be reading this stuff. I flipped through to the last page of the taped three-hole punched pages. I decided one more entry and I'd go back to my room.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Heading over for a sleep over with Dany. Decided on my boxers with the motorcycles print. Still can't believe Poppa bought me a motorbike for my fourteenth birthday. Sweet! Dany's fourteenth birthday was two weeks ago. He's sweet too, with his sky blue eyes and honey-blond hair and sweet smile. He's let his hair grow out with a bang over his forehead and it curls over his ears and down to his shoulders. He says his dad hates it, but he looks way hot. He's not all that muscular but his body is solid. He likes soccer, swimming and skateboarding so he's no wimp and keeps his body in shape. That's important, keeping your body in shape. I do. Dany has no sign of puberty anywhere. No pit hair, no hair on his forearms and shins, not like us Savalos men. Alexandros says we're more closely related to the apes than other folk. Poppa even has hair on his back and Alexandros jokes that he even looks like an ape, short and stocky with long arms. He's being funny of course. Nobody loves Poppa more than Alexandros. All of us love him, and Momma. I have the best pop there is in this world, probably in Heaven too. Anyway, Dany doesn't even have any fuzz on his pubes or his nuts and his dink is like those little weenies they serve at fancy parties like Becky's parents give. He's uncut, so his dink even looks like a little weenie. I know. We've had plenty of sleep overs and showers at the pool for me to check him out.

Wearing my sleeveless, black mesh T to show off my pits, and my green nylon shorts and black socks, looking sexy as fuck. The same thing I wear when I go out with Becky. Maybe it'll get Dany turned on, or maybe at least thinking about sex. Maybe tonight I'll get up the courage to talk to him about The Secret. He gets me feeling so horny looking so sweet and innocent that I'd love to share The Secret with him. Show him how to do it, do it along with him, maybe do each other's. That would be wild. Giving me a boner just thinking about it. I'd even try sucking him, his little weenie looking so tasty as it does. The problem is he's too sweet and innocent. I've hinted we mess around dozens of times but he doesn't catch on or looks like a frightened little rabbit. From his dad being a cop I guess. When I become a father, I'm not going to scare my kids to prevent them from learning about The Secret. The younger a guy is when he learns about It the more time he has to enjoy doing It. I haven't jerked off all day nor all day yesterday just in case Dany wants to tonight! Here's hoping!

That was the day Dimitri had headed over for a sleep over with his best buddy, Danylovych Kryvchuk, and the two of them had gotten kidnapped and Dimitri had disappeared. That was a black day. Bad memories. Very bad. The next entry, the first page of the bound book, was dated Tuesday, March 21, 2017. He began by saying his shrink suggested he keep a Journal and that he'd kept one before so figured that wouldn't be a bad idea, and he'd bought this book some time before planning on using it to write pthc porn fiction in, whatever that is, but figured it would be ideal for a journal instead. Embarrassed, I closed up the book and left.

That Saturday night Dimitri never returned home but the next day he showed up at church along with Justin Bromley as usual, and the two of them spent the afternoon in Dimitri's bedroom, also as usual. His latest boy toy Gabriel I hadn't seen since Tuesday night, but I hadn't thought much about it. Dimitri sometimes changed boy toys faster than I changed my underwear and socks. We woke up Monday morning, to find Dimitri gone and his room empty, totally empty. Everything personal gone. I had heard nothing. Wednesday, Justin and Jeremy didn't show up for their usual chess session, and Thursday, Justin didn't show up for his regular tutoring session. Nor did he show up at church on Sunday. It was as if the two of them had known Dimitri had left.

Actually, as the months progressed I'd expected Justin to disappear too, but I saw him around the school the rest of that winter and spring and he seemed to be surprisingly okay with Dimitri's sudden departure. The first day of February my brother Alex and his wife Mikala had their second child, a boy whom they called Mikael. It was eight years and a day since their oldest, Domi, was born and I know Momma and Poppa were beginning to wonder if one of them was having a problem, and which one it was. March eleventh, Elaina gave birth to a healthy ten-pound baby boy whom she and her brother called Dion after Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and fertility, and May fifth my youngest sister Anna and her husband Romano had their first child, whom they called Romon. June of that year, Elaina and I graduated and that fall she, I and David moved away and roomed together at college. January fifth of the next year, Elaina gave birth to her second child, this one mine, whom we named Areis after the Greek God of War, Ares. Counting back, I must have knocked her up April 1, a great April Fool's joke.

That summer I got a job working for Alex's construction company and returned to live at home until college began again. It was one Saturday in mid-July of that year while I was left to clean up at a residence we were renovating at Chestermere Lake that I spotted Justin at the skateboard park. He was never much of an athlete and not a skater to my knowledge, so his presence there had surprised me, and made me suspicious. As I watched he talked to three young skateboarders, the youngest perhaps twelve and the oldest barely fourteen, and he gave them cigarettes and they passed around something in a brown bag that they drank out of and had to be booze. Keeping my distance I followed them to the far end of the park nearby that bordered on the residences and had never been developed, the park my family often went to that included a dock for the boat my oldest sister Maria and her husband John owned. As they slipped into a thicket of shrubs and dense trees I had a good idea what he was up to. Crouching down, I slipped up to the thicket and peeked through the brush and long grass. What I saw I had not expected.

There with Justin and the three young skaters was a girl and a boy, both looking to be mid-seventeen, tied to two of the larger trees. I vaguely recognized them from when they'd been freshmen at Saint Joseph's when I'd been in grade twelve. They were probably now finished their junior year and would be going into their graduating year, just like Justin. The girl as I remembered had been very popular, in the glee club or something, and the guy a real jock that everyone said was destined for a college scholarship. Both I remember as being very rich, and very snobbish.

"They're tied up," observed the youngest boy in surprise. I wondered what Justin had told him.

"Oh, they do," said Justin, looking at the couple tied up. "They can't get enough dick, either one of them. If I didn't tie them up they'd be out on the street corner offering their bodies to anyone passing by, or going at it with each other." He untied the ropes binding the two. "Strip. The boys here tell me they've never seen a naked woman before except in pictures and I promised them they'd see the real thing. And don't waste any time, either of you. We don't got all day. I'm supposed to be working." The two, to my surprise, immediately began disrobing. The three young boys watched bug-eyed, especially when the couple got down to their underwear and began to remove it. "Okay, which of the three of you wants to get laid first?" The three boys glanced at each other and then at the girl hesitantly. They had been a lot of talk and bluster when it had just been talk. Finally the oldest boy shrugged and stepped forward. "While your buddy's getting his rocks off with Ashley, one of you can get yours off with Zachary. He loves getting it up the ass, or sucking guys off if you'd rather he do that." The two remaining boys glanced at each other. "Go ahead. You can still have your turn at screwing Ashley. Unless you figure you're only good for one shot." Both boys took affront to that, but it was the second oldest that stepped forward.

Ashley, naked as the day she had been born, had lain on her back there among the litter of fast food cups and cartons and disposed condoms and the first boy had pushed his shorts and underwear down and was kneeling between her legs, his teenage cock stiff and jutting up in the air, maybe ten centimetres long. Justin told him to play with her tits and suck on them to get her hot and juicy first, which the boy proceeded to do, awkwardly and self-consciously. The second boy meanwhile pushed down his jeans and underwear and Zachary, stark naked also, dropped to his knees and took the boy's limp dick in his mouth and began to slip his lips up and down the shaft as he sucked on it. The youngest just stood there his eyes bugging out and his mouth hanging open, his head twisting from one couple to the other. Justin took out his smart phone and began snapping photos. The boys only had one objective in mind, and they were soon achieving it, the oldest squirting his stuff up Ashley's vagina and the other boy filling Zachary's mouth.

As the older boy got to his feet, his stiff dick glistening with cunt juice and his slime, Justin nodded to the youngest boy who quickly pushed down his shorts and underwear and stepped out of them and took the older boy's place. He was already stiff, maybe seven centimetres, about the length of my thumb. Ashley's vulva were glistening with her juice in the sunlight shining through the trees and he easily penetrated her and the other two boys and Zachary watched the twelve-year-old kid hump for the first time in his life. The oldest was still stiff and he glanced over at Zachary and Justin told him to go ahead. Zachary was still on his knees and he slipped his lips over the fourteen-year-old's dick, which was still glistening with his and Ashley's slime. The guy had to be sick. How did Justin have such power over him?

The youngest was done in quick time, being more interested in getting one off than prolonging and enjoying his first piece of tail. As he got up he was replaced by the middle-aged boy. Between the girl's love juice and aching cunt and the guy's spittle, the boy had no difficulty penetrating her and he began to fuck her like a jack rabbit, pumping his hips to and fro and driving his aching cock in and out of her as fast as he could, his only goal being to get his nuts off. By this time, Zachary had finished sucking off the older boy and bending over and grasping his knees, he spread his legs and the youngest boy, who had to be five years younger at least, stepped up behind him. His dick was still stiff and glistening with cunt slime and he easily penetrated the boy's ass. So, he rapidly began screwing him as his buddy humped Ashley beside them. Justin nodded to the oldest and he squatted down above Ashley's head and she took his cock, coated with her juice and Zachary's ass slime and spittle, in her mouth and began to suck. The older boy was shooting his third load in no time as his two younger buddies emptied their balls for their second time.

"So, you guys like that?" asked Justin as the boys got back into their underwear and shorts.

"Horny little buggers," Justin observed and he and the three boys laughed. Ashley and Zachary looked whipped. As the boys headed out, the couple glared at Justin.

"You two did real good," he said. He sounded like a teacher talking to a student, or a guy to his pet dogs, or a master to his slaves.

"How long you going to keep doing this?" asked Ashley, almost in tears as she looked up at him, her voice choking.

"Well, let's see, you've been putting me down since, what, grade eight? You too," he said, addressing Zachary. "Calling me names. What were they again? Oh yeah, teacher's pet, nerd, wimp, oh yeah, my favourites, brain boy, and suckhole. Pushing me around and embarrassing me in the cafeteria, treating me like shit. That's what, four years now? And we've been doing this for, let's see, a year. Guess you got three more years." He took one last photo of them, dishevelled and grimy. "Took some great shots this time that I'm sure your friends would love to see posted on the Internet if you decide to stop doing as I tell you." They stared at the ground, saying nothing. "Com'on, don't be so glum. This is a lot better than me flying off my nut and grabbing a gun and shooting up the school, you included. Lot's better. If I did you'd be scared an hour or two, probably less, and then dead with a bullet between your eyes and it would be all over. And I'd be dead or in jail. This way you're getting all the dick you'll ever want. Yeah, this is a fuck of a lot better." He laughed. It was Dimitri's laugh. If I shut my eyes it could have been him standing there. It turned my arms to gooseflesh.

We chose a United Church minister to perform the wedding because they would do same-sex marriages. Poppa of course grumbled that the United Church was not a true faith, having been formed from an amalgamation of churches only a hundred years ago, and on top of it the minister was a woman, unheard of in the Greek Orthodox. He and Momma were disappointed it wasn't at Saint Joseph's of course, but they were happy Elaina and I had decided to marry, especially after the birth of our second child, a girl, Aphronia, on February 20^th in 2021, and with Elaina presently seven months pregnant.

Momma's and Poppa's relatives arrived eight days before the wedding, five days after my twenty-fifth birthday, resulting in a houseful once again, which made both of them, and especially Momma, happy. I of course, had moved back in to my room in the basement for the summer. Poppa's younger brother, Vassilis Savalos, who was sixty-three, stayed in what had been the baby's room, the smallest of the guest rooms, and his son Themos, who was thirty-five, and Themos's son Antonius, who was seven, shared Dimitri's old room, directly above mine. That left the guest room beside the baby room, which had been my sister Maria's room for five years before she moved away, for Momma's older sister Maria, who was seventy and named after Momma's mother, and Momma's younger sister Cassandra, who was sixty-two. The guest room on the other side of Dimitri's was occupied by Cassandra's daughter Leta, who was thirty-nine, and Leta's daughter Callina, who was sixteen. That left Leta's son, Gregorios, who Momma said was my first cousin once removed, and who was thirteen, to bunk with me prior to the wedding. After my marriage, he'd have my room to himself or the plan was for Antonius to move in with him, the family planning on staying for another week after the wedding.

Everyone was excited and eager to meet, and the day they arrived everyone who could, greeted them at the airport. We went directly to Momma and Poppa's where we had a huge supper which had been proudly prepared by Momma and my sisters and my sister-in-law Mikala and my bride-to-be Elaina, and which our Greek relatives all praised. Although they were tired, they all stayed up until early the next morning singing and talking and dancing, and of course eating and drinking. The old folks reminiscing and meeting their Canadian relatives, the young folk getting to know each other. Saturday was spent lounging and recovering, from the overseas flight, the late hours, the dancing, the overeating, and of course, the drinking. Sunday we all attended church. We were squeezed into the pews like sardines and happy as clams.

My nephews Domi and Marcus were particularly eager to visit with their overseas relatives and were filled with questions about Greece. Finally, on Tuesday they managed to convince Momma and Poppa to let them have a sleep over, something not that difficult to do and which they'd been doing regularly as far back as I can remember, the boys having a close bond with their grandparents, and Momma and Poppa doting on them, though there had been some tense moments when Dimitri had returned and their parents had curtailed their visits, which was totally understandable.

When they tried to figure out where the boys were going to sleep and if the two boys should sleep on the floor in the family room, share Dimitri's old room above mine with Poppa's nephew Themos and Themos's son Antonius who were already sleeping there, or share Dimitri's room with Antonius and Gregorios while cousin Themos moved in with me, it almost looked like the sleep over was going to be cancelled. To my surprise Domi and Marcus preferred the second choice, as had I compared to the third alternative with Themos switching places with Gregorios who was sleeping in my room. It was finally decided that was the least disruptive choice and they moved their sleeping bags into Dimitri's old room.

I never really had thought much about it and as they made the arrangements, I felt sorry for Themos having to share a bedroom with two rambunctious sugar-charged teenage boys, and his own son, an overexcited seven-year-old, especially when their conversation and the boys' questions about Greece and his son's questions about Canada extended way beyond everyone's bedtime, including Themos's. Sleeping below them, Gregorios and I could hear every word through the heating vent. They seemed to be slowing down finally and about to turn in when they began exchanging Greek and Canadian words, at first common, everyday phrases like how do you say hello and goodbye, bed and chair, nose and ear, and the conversation picked up again. And then Marcus said all wide-eyed and innocent "do you jack off".

Themos's English was limited and at first, he thought Marcus had asked if he did it. He sputtered and sounded flustered until he, and I, realized Marcus had asked how you asked the question in Greek, though from what happened I have to wonder if the boy hadn't really intended the misinterpretation. Anyway, at that point the language lesson ended and turned to a sex ed lesson with a discussion on the pros and cons of masturbation. Every word of their excited conversation could be heard through the air vent between my room and Dimitri's old room of course and Gregorios was paying close attention, not unexpected for a thirteen-year-old considering the newest topic. He pretended to ignore the conversation of course, but he kept glancing over at me, embarrassed and wondering what I was thinking and, I'm sure, wishing I'd leave so he could get closer to the vent and hear better.

I was unaware of Dimitri doing anything that he should not have with our two nephews, but I'd seen the way he looked at them and he hinted enough times that they should spend more time with Momma and Poppa. I knew he had to have an ulterior motive to suggest that, and my brother and sisters had the same suspicion. Unlike them, I also knew things Dimitri had done with other boys, things he should not have done. Still I was unaware of him crossing the line and doing anything with his two nephews, and when I had hinted that he might have in private conversations with them, they had looked at me with total innocence and I stopped before I got into territory an uncle should not be discussing with his nephews.

Regardless of that, from the discussion I was now listening to about dating differences between Greece and Canada and attitudes about sex, straight and gay, largely lead by Domi and Marcus, I had a good idea what they were building up to and I had to suspect Dimitri was somehow responsible for their attitude and behaviour, maybe even their plot. Suspecting what was likely to happen, I motioned for Gregorios not to talk and to follow me, which he did reluctantly, I suspect figuring I'd decided he had heard enough and was putting a stop to his eavesdropping. Slipping out the back door, we circled around to the rain barrel and I helped Gregorios up and then joined him, the two of us hidden behind the lilac bush and the shadow of the house. They had left the curtains parted and the window open with the heat of the night, and they had the lamp on the end table by the bed lit.

The four were sitting on the bed, Marcus beside Themos and Domi beside his son Antonius. Themos kept trying to change the topic, but my two nephews were persistent and could be very charming, and conniving, and usually got their way. They had been since toddlers and had perfected their techniques now that they were teenagers. Poor cousin Themos didn't have a chance distracting them and when he finally suggested it was time to change into their pyjamas and go to bed in the hopes that would bring the conversation to a close and they agreed you could see the relief on his face. He didn't realize it, but things were going to get very interesting.

Domi and Marcus quickly stripped down to their underwear and Antonius followed, leaving Themos no choice. At fifteen and a half, both Domi and Marcus had already begun to shave, leaving a dark shadow along their chin and jaw line, and they had long, fine hairs coating their shins and forearms. Their chests were still devoid of hair, unlike cousin Themos, who like a true Savalos, had a thick mat of chest hair and a thick coating of hair covering his forearms and shins. Reaching for his pyjamas, he turned his back to the boys, and to our disappointment also to us as he slipped his hands under the band of his boxers and began to push them down.

"The two of you are circumcised," Marcus observed as he and Domi pushed their underwear down and tossed them aside.

"Uh, yes," Themos replied. "It is quite common, in Greece, though not as widely practised today."

"Have you seen a guy who still has his foreskin before?" Domi asked Antonius. The boy nodded shyly. "Have you seen his dick when he pulls his foreskin back?" The boy shook his head in the negative. Domi smiled and pulled his back. "Looks like yours now," he observed as Antonius studied it. His father stared straight ahead, unsure what to say or do. It was natural curiosity, and there was no harm in it, but still … . It was not a conversation boys had with an adult in the room, in Greece or Canada.

"My dad has a skin like me. I've never seen a guy who's circumcised up close," Marcus said suggestively to Themos, craning his neck to observe him.

"Well, as you can see, it's not that different," Themos said, trying to sound calm but clearly uncomfortable as he slowly turned around. Gregorios leaned closer for a better look, almost unbalancing us on the rain barrel. You could see my cousin Themos wanted to cover himself up but didn't want to make a big deal of their nakedness, hoping, like adults do, that the boys would lose interest and drop the topic.

I knew better and my nephew Marcus was not so slow. He suddenly reached out and wrapped his fingers about Themos's dick and began to stroke it, totally surprising Themos, and me. They were cousins, first cousins once removed, but Themos was more than double Marcus's age. "It's different rubbing it without a hood," he observed innocently though from the way he was moving his hand I was not so certain he'd never seen up close nor handled a circumcised dick before. Themos was paralyzed with indecision. He did not want to reprimand his uncle's grandchildren in his own home, but this was not something that was done.

Domi immediately reached out and took Antonius' little dink and stroked it. "Yeah it is. You can go ahead and try mine," he offered. Antonius darted a glance at his father and quickly looked away, embarrassed by what he had seen, but intrigued too, and encouraged. He hesitantly reached out as if reaching for a snake and wrapped his fingers about the older boy's cock, staring at it and avoiding eye contact with his father. They were cousins after all, though Domi was twice his age, and besides his other cousin had his fingers wrapped about his father's dick and was stroking it and his father hadn't stopped him. Gregorios shifted uncomfortably as he watched, his eyes popping out of his head and a bulge developing in his trousers.

"That's all right," he declined. You could see he wanted to end what was happening but didn't know how to extract himself without revealing his feelings. He was thirty-five and his cock was being stroked by a teenage boy, in front of his son, and his seven-year-old son and his other teenage cousin were stroking each other's dinks. This was all wrong in so many ways but how could he end it without making everyone else feel as guilty and ashamed as he was? He was progressive, but not that progressive. And there was the difficulty of speaking different languages.

"How do you say cock in Greek?" Marcus asked. Themos responded eagerly, hoping to get back to language lessons, and added that it was a vulgar word and not used in polite conversation or by children. "Guess you don't jack off much being married and all," Marcus observed, stroking all the while much to Themos's discomfort. "You don't have to if you're getting all the cunt you want."

Themos looked like he was about to have a heart attack as he struggled with how to respond. Teenagers back in Greece were not so bold. At least not the teenagers he knew. "You're right," he finally replied as he glanced at his son, his face flushed with embarrassment and his voice quavering. "Ah, I think that's enough," he finally said, reaching down and stopping Marcus's hand, but Marcus didn't release his grasp.

"Ah, yeah," the boy said uncertainly, noticing his father's hesitation and figuring out that he was but shouldn't be. His dink was getting hard like his dad's, and it was feeling good.

The boy glanced up at his father uncertainly and fearfully. "You're not supposed to," he dared to whisper in confusion. That he knew. You weren't supposed to let anyone see your dink either, but they all had, including his father, and you weren't supposed to let anyone touch you, but they were, including his father. It was all very confusing when you are only seven.

"But you do," Domi observed with a grin. Things were not so confusing when you were fifteen.

"Really? I do. I've done it hundreds of time. Thousands I bet. The first time I did it, I was your age. How old are you?"

"I was seven and two months my first time. I did it with my uncle. Then three weeks later Marcus did me and I did my uncle. It feels great doing it, and even greater having someone else do yours. And it's great doing someone else's," he said with a grin. "When your dink swells and gets hard like ours we call it getting a boner." Antonius glanced up at his father who was standing there by the bed, his dink still in Marcus's hand. He was looking very uncomfortable. He was also getting a boner, just like himself. His dink was swelling fast. So was his. Poor Themos was at a loss what to say or do.

"Domi's right. It's great doing it to yourself, but even greater doing it with someone else," Marcus said looking up at Themos with that look that melted all adult resistance, something he had frequent practice and success with on his grandparents. "Bet you're missing your wife and not getting any cunt. It's okay to jerk off if you're not getting any tail."

Themos was almost stiff and was feeling randy. The boy had just given him the reason that would justify what they were doing in his mind and that he could use to explain to his son, and there was that disarming, innocent look in those puppy eyes, and his dirty talk wasn't making resistance any easier. He knew it was still wrong no matter what Lucas had said and what he was thinking. Even so, he reached over for the fifteen-year-old boy's stiff prick against his better judgement. It was wrong, but he did miss his wife, and they had gone this far. He could not turn the clock back now.

I glanced over at Gregorios who was staring bug-eyed and open mouthed. I glanced down at his crotch. I was stiff and I figured he had to be too. After all, he had just turned thirteen three months ago. He'd be going into grade eight. I remember being thirteen and three months and being in grade eight, dating any girl I figured might put out and dreaming of the day I'd have my first cunt. I'd been jacking off for two years by then. As I turned my attention back to my two nephews, Marcus sat down on the bed, took Themos's stiff dick in his mouth, and began to suck it. Themos stood there in a daze. Domi followed his cousin's lead and slipped off the bed and knelt before it with Antonius sitting on the edge of the bed before him. Domi leaned forward and took the boy's stiff little dicklet in his mouth. Marcus slipped his lips off often and squeezed Themos's stiff dick to stop him from cumming. This was clearly nothing new for either teenager. By then Themos was totally under Marcus's control and horny as a toad. There could be no turning back. Suddenly his young son was squirming and squealing and bucking his hips with his first orgasm, totally forgetting his dad was standing there in the bedroom watching him get his first blowjob.

Getting to his feet again and bending over, Marcus offered his backside to Themos and Themos eagerly took it, his long, stiff cock throbbing and aching to get one off so badly by then, it had to feel as if it were on fire. There is a point where a man's balls takes over the thinking for his mind. I think I'd heard Dimitri say that once. It was the sort of thing he would say. Themos's cock was slick with Marcus's spittle and hard as an iron rod. He penetrated the teenage boy's ass with as little difficulty as he penetrated his wife's cunt and he immediately began to bang away on him, as eager to get one off with him as he would with his wife.

Kneeling before Marcus under Domi's guidance, Antonius, flushed with his first orgasm, took his cousin's stiff dick in his mouth and began sucking it and Domi knelt behind Antonius and slicking his stiff dick and the seven-year-old boy's anus with spittle, he stuck his prick up the dazed young boy's asshole, all four of them burning with lust. Gregorios and I crouched there on the rain barrel and watched, our trousers tented out with aching boners. By this time, the four people we were watching were so randy, they wouldn't have noticed us if we'd crawled in through the window to watch them.

Themos was gasping and panting like he'd run the marathon and as he came up Marcus's ass, Marcus spurted his slime down Themos's son's throat, and while his dad was emptying his balls up Marcus's asshole, Domi was emptying his teenage balls up Antonius's rectum. They remained clenched like that as they delighted in their orgasms, and then they finally disengaged and collapsed stark naked on the bed. Gregorios glanced over at me and I raised my fingers to my lips. From the way they'd gone at it, I knew that they had just begun and I motioned to Gregorios not to move.

I was right of course. Soon Marcus and Themos were fondling each other's dicks and balls, Marcus taking the lead and thoroughly enjoying turning the older man on. Domi and Antonius were meanwhile fiddling with each other's nuts and dinks and kissing up a storm. It was hot seeing my fifteen-year-old nephew kissing a boy half his age. It gave a whole different meaning to kissing cousins. Marcus sucked on Themos's cock, despite it having just been up his asshole and the man eagerly turned around and took the horny younger boy's stiff cock in his mouth and began to suck on it, all resistance forgotten.

Domi meanwhile had Antonius lay on his back, his hips raised on pillows, and he proceeded to rim the seven-year-old until he was jerking and twisting and aching for a second orgasm, as he lay there beside his father who was hungrily sucking on Marcus's stiff cock and working his lips up and down the shaft, right down to his tight, swollen teenage balls like a horny faggot, not a middle-aged married man. Domi was an expert in turning on young boys like his seven-year old second cousin, and Marcus was an expert in pleasing an older man like Themos. I had to wonder where they had learned their skills and how they had developed their preferences. I had a good idea, and it was fitting they were fulfilling them in their tutor's former bedroom.

Suddenly Marcus and Themos stopped sixty-nining and Themos got up and stood beside the bed. I thought for a moment his conscience had finally gained control, he was at last going to call a stop to what was going on. To my disbelief, he bent over, and Marcus, fifteen years old, stepped up behind him and eased his stiff cock up the thirty-five year old man's ass! Having fucked the fifteen-year-old and filled his rectum with his cum, he was now going to be fucked by the fifteen-year-old and have his ass flooded with the teenager's cum, there in front of his young son! Domi meanwhile stopped rimming Themos's son and piling up the pillows he rolled over on his back and presented his ass to Antonius and pulled apart his ass cheeks. Having seen his father, Antonius eagerly knelt between Domi's outspread legs and eased his little cocklet up the older boy's eager asshole. With his father's stiff cock jutting out in front of him, Antonius turned his head and slipped his lips about his father's knob. Meanwhile, presented with Domi's upright cock, Themos bent over further and took his teenage cousin's cock in his mouth as his seven-year-old son was about to fuck his first ass. I could not believe what I was seeing!

Once again, Gregorios and I watched and listened through the open window, as the four of them got off a second time. Marcus had once again gotten the older man hot and horny, this time by sticking the older man up the ass despite only being fifteen and the older man thirty-five and the two of them going at it in front of the man's little son. Now that was hot. Similarly, Domi once again got his young cousin turned on by presenting his ass to him, and the seven-year-old eagerly slipped his aching little cocklet up the fifteen-year-old boy's hot, moist rectum, now having his first piece of ass, from the same boy who had just flooded his rectum with his seed for the first time. He was so horny, he was sucking his father's stiff cock, and his father, just as horny was bent over sucking the throbbing dick of the fifteen-year-old Canadian relative his son was fucking, while having his ass fucked by the boy's fifteen-year-old cousin.

Watching and listening to them, I was close to creaming my jeans, and I'm sure Gregorios had to be feeling the same way. Again, I could not help but notice the skill and the eagerness with which my fifteen-year-old nephew was turning the older man on. He was gasping and snorting like a stuck pig as he stood there getting his ass fucked, and Marcus was panting and gasping as he rammed his hips to and fro, working his stiff, aching cock in and out of the older man's rectum. I had to wonder what Themos was thinking, he, a married man, accustomed to doing the fucking, getting fucked by a boy half his age, by a teenager. He had to be enjoying it, just as he had to be enjoying sucking the stiff, aching cock of the fifteen-year-old squirming on the pillows in front of him, while being fucked by Themos's seven-year-old son.

I had to marvel at the skill and eagerness with which Domi had aroused Antonius also. The seven-year-old was humping away happily and eagerly, his little dicklet pumping in and out of the asshole of a boy twice his age, so horny he was sucking on his own father's cock, and working his lips up and down its length, while his father was sucking on the throbbing cock of the teenage boy he was fucking. Soon, father and son were quivering and gasping with their orgasms, the son trembling with his second dry orgasm he'd ever experienced, his stiff cocklet buried up a hot, moist, tight asshole as he swallowed his father's hot, thick slime. Themos meanwhile was quivering with his second orgasm of the night, shooting his seed down the throat of his own son, while he felt the teenager behind him flooding his ass with his hot, thick seed. At the same time, he gulped down the hot, creamy seed of the fifteen-year-old boy in front of him, while his son pumped his little cock in and out of the boy's hot asshole and trembled with his own orgasm. If his wife and the boy's mother could see her husband and son now!

Slipping off the rain barrel, Gregorios and I returned to my room, our stiff dicks pointing the way.

"I never thought I'd ever see anything like that! Never!" Gregorios replied, shaking his head, his voice just as husky.

"Have you made out with a girl yet?" He shook his head in the negative. "Messed around with a guy?" Again he shook his head in the negative. "Jerked off?"

"Oh Christ!" he replied with a grimace as he bent over and clenched his legs together.

"Yeah." You could hear the pain in his voice. That I was almost twice his age did not matter.

"I dunno. Any way. I've never done nothin' before." He was desperate. He had to be, admitting these things to a twenty-five-year-old man he barely knew!

I smiled and motioned toward the bed. We stripped. He was self-conscious and embarrassed, especially considering our difference in ages, but seeing I had a hardon too he relaxed a bit. Actually he was impressed, mine being twice his length! He had short, curly hairs and silky pit hairs. Lying down facing each other on my bed but in opposite directions, I took his stiff dick and began to lick it. Gregorios had turned thirteen two months ago and his dick was slender and about nine centimetres [3.75 inch]. He began to leak precum in no time. I was horny too and when I felt his hot breath on my crotch and then his hot, moist mouth envelop my dickhead, I had to fight not to cum. I clamped my lips about his shaft just below his knob and showed him how to do likewise and explained why. It did delay our arousal, but the two of us could not hold back long and far too soon Gregorios was shooting the first load of his life and I was gulping down the first sweet, watery cum to squirt from his nuts as he was gulping down my thick, copious slime.

We rested a bit but were hard again soon, not surprising after what we had witnessed in Dimitri's old room. I had Gregorios assume the dog position on his knees and elbows on my bed and I took out a tube of KY and greased up his anus and rectum, smearing a generous gob on my pointer finger and inserting it up his bum and twisting it, and then wiping the excess off on my stiff, throbbing cock. I was generously endowed and he was going to be tight being a virgin, but I was not without experience, and he was eager. Kneeling behind him, I placed the tip of my greased probe against his anus and grabbing his slender hips, I slowly pushed forward, telling him to push out at the same time to open his sphincter. Ever so slowly, my cockhead stretched open his anus and finally it popped inside.

The two of us snorting and grunting, we paused to collect ourselves and then I slowly sank my cock up his ass, filling his rectum with my 18 cm of throbbing cockmeat. It was his first time getting stuffed and he sighed with pleasure. I felt his sphincter tighten about my aching bone and his flesh pulsating around my sensitive probe. I slowly drew my hips back, easing my stiff cock back out of his ass, and then sank it back up his rectum. It was delightful, taking his prune, and as I slowly fucked, he sighed and gasped with pleasure. I paused once for us to cool down, but the second time I approached my peak I could not resist continuing, and he was just as eager to keep going also. My cock and his asshole throbbing in unison, we truly became one, and when I began to spurt up his rectum he began spurting also, spraying my bed sheets, his little stiff cock jerking and wagging like a puppy dog tail. Four days before my wedding, I was flooding a thirteen-year-old boy's rectum with my hot thick semen! I gasped for breath as I steeped my throbbing cock in my thick slime within his throbbing rectum, he with the taste of my cum in his mouth and me with the taste of his in mine.

Thursday, the last day of the month, we had a wedding rehearsal at the United Church hall. Even with just the wedding party, the hall was packed. David and I took our positions at the altar. Elaina's brother Woodrow stood beside me as my best man, only fitting, as he was the father of Elaina's oldest child. For Groomsmen I had my brother Alexandros and my brothers-in-law John, Anthony and Romano. Romano's brother Cameron stood with us as one of David's groomsmen. David had Justin Bromley as his best man, only fitting as Justin had become just like a family member and besides, he and David had a history, going back to the day I'd discovered David in Dimitri's room messing around with him and Justin. What more existed between them I had no idea, but I suspected there was more. David's other groomsmen were his sixteen-year-old brother Caden and his brothers-in-law William and Robert. Poor Momma had difficulty figuring out who had what role with all us men at the front of the church. She kept shaking her head and saying, "So many men, so many men."

Elaina and her entourage came down the aisle. My oldest sister Maria was her maid of honour, and for bridesmaids she had my sisters Sophia and Anna, and David's sisters Jessica and Kayla (the wives of William and Robert). My nephews Marcus, Domi and Lucas served as ushers for the three families. We had three ring bearers, our sons Dion and Areis and David's seven-year-old nephew Liam (Jessica's son), and four flower girls, our daughter Aphronia and Mikala's daughter Athenis born on the same day, February 20, 2021, Sophia's girl Eva, and David's niece Kaylee, daughter of his sister Kayla. Maria's youngest son Theo, age eight, and David's youngest brother Mason, age eight and nine months, sang two duets, their voices blending in beautifully. While we supposedly signed the register, our Greek relatives provided an interlude, Callina and Antonius both singing two solos in Greek and Gregorios performing two pieces on the panpipe.

Following the rehearsal, we had a large family barbeque for the wedding party in the backyard at Momma and Poppa's. The makeshift tables sagged with the platters of food, including large platters of Dimitri's fresh fruit, and endless bottles and jugs of wine. As the hosts, Elaina, David and I joined hands and tried to visit with all the guests, a Herculean task in itself. Momma, Poppa, and their relatives from Greece had gathered in the family room where they could relax in comfortable chairs and the three of us visited with them first. From there we visited with Elaina's parents and relatives and then David's. We visited my youngest sister Anna and her husband Romano and his brother Cameron next. They were gathered in one corner of the yard with Anna's oldest son Romon and her three-year-old twins Leona and Leonardo.

Cam, I noticed, was being particularly attentive to Romon and kept looking at him strangely. I was of course immediately suspicious of his intentions, but that possibility was highly unlikely considering what I knew, that Cameron, now twenty-three, with his charm and good looks, had no difficulty attracting the opposite sex and never had since entering his teens, and that he took full advantage of the opposite sex's attraction to him. He was definitely not into guys, and especially not into young boys. Anna was four months pregnant and everyone was fussing over her, and Elaina, being seven months pregnant herself, lingered behind to talk to her, saying she would catch up with us.

My brother and other sisters and their spouses and children occupied the rest of the yard. While I mingled with them, David wandered over to the booze table to join Justin and a thin, effeminate, blond-haired boy whom Justin had introduced as Brayden and who had accompanied Justin to the rehearsal. With a cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth and from the flush of his cheeks and his unsteadiness on his feet, young Brayden clearly was suffering from having had too much wine. As I watched, the three of them headed for the house, and immediately suspicious, I followed them. As I suspected, they headed straight to Dimitri's old room. They left the door open and I crept up to the door and crouched down to listen.

CHAPTER 31
CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 2 of 2

Justin and David were talking about a former classmate of Justin's, Cory Carson, who had mysteriously gone from school bully to school whore eight years ago when I was still in high school. At Justin's grade nine graduation, the boy had dressed up as a girl and had spent the evening in the boys' can, giving blowjobs. Shortly thereafter, a rumour began circulating through the high school that he was a transvestite and masochist who was servicing any guy who wanted it. From their conversation, I discovered that apparently David had checked out the rumour on Halloween night, five weeks before he'd checked out Dimitri, and found it to be true. Cory had given him his first ever blowjob and he'd given Cory twenty bucks.

"He turned out to be a real sick bugger," observed Justin. "He even collected everyone's cum and bottled it and gave it to his kid brother as an athletic power drink. Called it Wankit if you can believe!"

"It was on Danny's twelfth birthday, six years ago. I decided it was time he knew the truth. He could catch HIV or any number of diseases after all." That was a week after I'd seen Justin at the skateboard park in Chestermere. "It was a Saturday and he had a family birthday party, his parents and grandparents and his brother Cory and his sister, who was fifteen at the time. I had Cory get me and my brother Jimmy invited and after we had cake and ice cream we went to Danny's bedroom. I told Cory he should give his brother a fresh squirt of Wankit instead of the bottled stuff and then had him explain what Wankit really was. Told him we'd invite his sister in and we could all have some fun with her if he didn't. You should have seen the look on Cory's face! That was wicked. Served the bugger right though, picking on me all those years. Of course his brother didn't believe it, so I showed him a tape Cory didn't know I had of him sucking a guy and spitting his cum into a bottle of Wankit. Danny was livid. He'd been drinking strangers' cum for two fucking years! I thought for sure he was going to castrate his brother."

Justin laughed and my arms turned to gooseflesh again. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn I was listening to Dimitri. "Anyway, I'd figured that was also a good time his brother Danny and my kid brother Jimmy learned about the joys of gay sex. So, I told Danny if he really wanted to get back at Cory for what he'd done, he should fuck him, then and now and whenever he wanted. I had Cory strip and show the guys the cock and ball cage Dimitri Savalos had made him wear and I had them spank his sorry ass until it was red and tender, which of course turned him on with Dimitri having taught him to love pain so much, and he kept trying to get a boner which of course he couldn't do with his cock in the cage. It was really savage!

Then I had Danny and Jimmy fuck him, right there with Cory and Danny's parents and grandparents and their sister in the family room all decorated with balloons and streamers and everything. Cory was almost seventeen and a half and going into grade twelve, his brother was going into grade seven, and my brother Jimmy was eleven and a month and going into grade six. I had Danny go first. It was his birthday after all, and his brother. He was mad as hell and he fucked the shit out of his brother, really. I mean he pounded him so hard he was grunting and snorting like a bull topping a cow. I'm surprised the old folks in the family room didn't hear him! Then when he was done, I had Jimmy mount him. He was only eleven but he'd gotten a boner watching and listening to Cory and Danny going at it. Adults who think kids don't got sex needs, don't know shit.

It was the first orgasm either of them had, both dry yet of course. It was fucking hot watching the wankers. When they were done, I told Cory to teach them how to sixty-nine, and then I had Cory rim the two of them to get them all hot and eager to suck their first dick. They didn't want to of course, but once they started there was no stopping them. You know how it is, once you discover how good it feels getting sucked and the charge you get of making someone else feel as good as you, especially after you've just discovered what it was like to have a dry orgasm. Of course it got me horny too so I fucked the two of them, doing Cory's brother first. Having just had his first piece of ass and knowing how good it had felt, he was willing to let me, especially after I had Cory rim him and get him primed up. Took his prune right there in the birthday boy's bedroom with his parents and grandparents and sister just down the hall. Filled his tight little ass with my cum. It was wicked!

Then I had Cory lick this brother's shit and ass slime off my cock and rim my kid brother until he was squirming and aching to have his ass plugged too, and I mounted him. There's nothing that feels so good as sticking your aching cock up a virgin asshole. Don't matter that it was my kid brother. In fact, that made it greater, being the one to take his prune, being the first one to flood his hot, tight little ass with cum. That was six years ago. I've been fucking and getting sucked by the two of them ever since. They've both turned out to be real eager little faggots. Danny's going to college this fall and I got some great plans for his initiation. My brother's going into grade twelve and is a big supporter of Saint Joseph's gay-straight alliance. I've had him cruising the grade six classes seeking out future gay members, and for himself to screw and for me too. Both him and Danny got the hots for boys under eight."

"But enough history. Time for the three of us to make some new history, before we're missed. I couldn't help notice you've had your eye on Brayden throughout the rehearsal," Justin said, addressing David.

"With your looks and body you must be used to that," David observed huskily as he turned to the half-drunk mystery guest Brayden.

"Up until now it's been look but don't touch," said Justin. "Brayden's fourteenth birthday was a week ago and I figured today would be a good a time for him to discover how men have fun. Remember your first threesome, you, me and Dimitri?"

"How could I forget it? You'd turned fifteen a week earlier and I'd turned seventeen a week before that. Dimitri must have been … about twenty-three and a half. So how did you and Brayden hook up?"

"I asked a teacher at Saint Joseph's, Phil Whiting, to find me a special boy, one who needed tutoring in mathematics, besides other things. He suggested Brayden. So, you want to join us in Brayden's introduction to gay sex? I figured you being my birthday gift to him, and him as my wedding gift to you."

I peeked in through the open door. The three were sitting on the bed with Brayden between them and as I watched, Justin and David began to strip the young boy. You could see in his eyes and from the expression on his face he was apprehensive, but also curious, hesitant but willing. He had, after all, just turned fourteen and had just heard the details of some very hard core action, and he was being undressed by two men half his age again, Justin being twenty-two and eight months and David twenty-four and nine, who had just confessed having been intimate with each other. He slowly began to unbutton the shirts of the two men, uncertain if he should be doing this but copying the two men and tipsy with booze, and mainly, unable to ignore the demand for attention between his legs. Both men were smooth chested. I knew David shaved his and I suspected Justin came by it naturally.

The boy's fingers were trembling as he pulled down David's fly and then Justin's. The men stood and allowed him to pull down their trousers and then their underwear, revealing their privates, himself sitting between them now just in his tight, white jockey shorts, the front tented out with his teenage boner. They began to caress and kiss each other and the dinks of the two men quickly began to swell and rise. With his stiff dick getting entangled in his briefs, it took both men to draw them down and expose his prick, which I figured to be close to ten centimetres [4 inch] long. Justin rolled the boy's balls and David caressed his backside and ran his middle finger up his ass crack. As I watched, the three of them formed a daisy chain and Brayden discovered the joy of sucking and being sucked at the same time, his lips fastened about the still swelling dick of his new tutor and having his dick sucked by my soon-to-be wedded partner. He was in the hands of two experts and they brought him to the brink of ecstasy several times before they finally let the boy explode, popping his nuts for the first time in his young life. David eagerly swallowed the first sweet load to ever leave the young boy's nuts while he spurted his own load down Justin's throat and the freshly turned fourteen-year-old tasted the thick, tart slime of his new teacher.

They rested after that, but all three were randy and young and it was not long before they were embracing and kissing and fondling again. This time Brayden laid on his back and spread and raised his legs and Justin knelt between them and took the fourteen-year-old's prune while the boy nuzzled and inhaled the fragrance of David's balls and David played with the boy's sensitive dick. He then took Justin's place and I watched as my lover and soon-to-be wedded partner sank his thick, throbbing cock up the sweet, tight, virgin ass of the fourteen-year-old blond and began fucking him and as the slim, naked boy arched his back and groaned with the ecstasy of being fucked for the first time, his stiff teenage wiener jutting up in the air and aching for attention.

Hearing voices coming from the guest room between Dimitri's old room and the baby room, I slipped up the hall and carefully peeked through the door. My nephew Domi, now fifteen and seven months old, was naked and kneeling in the middle of the bed. In front of him was his brother Mikael, now seven and a half, and their cousin Theo, my nephew and my oldest sister's youngest boy, who would be eight in two weeks. Both were fully clothed.

I guess that is one come on that will never change, between boys and girls, and between boys. It works, young boys–and older ones too–always curious how they compare to other boys. As I watched, the two boys slowly and self-consciously stripped off their clothes until they were sitting in front of Domi naked. All three boys still had their foreskins.

"You both got nice-looking dicks," Domi said encouragingly. He reached out and took one in each hand and fondled them, rolling them between his thumb and other fingers and then slowly and gently pulling back on their hoods and exposing their slightly darker plums. The boys watched with apprehension and guilt, but with curiosity. Encouraged to feel his, the two boys gingerly reached out and picked Domi's dick up. He was still soft but swelling. As Domi explained masturbation and listed its varied euphemisms, I thought back to Dimitri's first entry in his diary about "The Secret." Some things will never change, and there will always be an older boy, willing to teach younger ones that special secret, that worst kept secret in the world, and there will always be boys eager to learn.

Domi was twice the age of the two boys and, as I said earlier, had begun to shave and already had the fine, black hair covering the forearms and shins of the Savalos men. That he was engaging in this sex play with two seven-year-old boys again revealed his fondness for young boys, but I guess adult boy lovers have to begin somewhere. And I guess if you are going to learn about gay sex and the things dirty old men do to young boys, its best to learn from your older brother and cousin. Domi was soon erect, and to my surprise, so were the two young boys. I tried to remember if I'd ever had an erection at that age. I know I'd fiddled with myself and had enjoyed it because I remember being reprimanded for doing it by Poppa, and Dimitri later telling me I was stupid and if I was going to jerk off, I should do it where adults couldn't catch me.

By this time Domi had finished his verbal instructions and the three boys were putting into practice what he had told them. While his cousin Theo slowly pumped his fist up and down his older cousin's stiff, throbbing cock, Domi stroked his younger brother's little dink and Mikael stroked Theo's, the two young boys' dinks being stiff now and about the size of my little finger. They might be small, but they were functional, and it was not long before the boys were squirming and wiggling with the pleasure pulsating through their swollen flesh as the two of them pumped their fists, one above the other, up and down Domi's dick, which at fifteen was now a good thirteen centimetres [5 inch] long.

As I watched, the two young boys began to jerk their hips to and fro with their first dry orgasms, and seconds later Domi began to spurt, his cum shooting up in the air and dropping back down in thick, white streamers, lacing the hot little fingers of the two younger boys. Flipping up a glob with the tip of his pointer finger, Domi popped it in his mouth, made a show of how tasty it was, and encouraged his two protégés to lick their fingers. They were more than a little uncertain, but they were curious and Domi hadn't hesitated and they were flushed with arousal from their first orgasms. Watching each other, they slowly raised their cum-laced fingers to their mouths and licked, and then smiled at each other with pride at their daring. My dick was stiff and aching!

The small guest room beside Momma and Poppa's was also occupied and I moved on and peeked through its door to find Elaina's brother Woodrow, now two months short of twenty-four, humping my nephew Marcus, fifteen and a half, the teenager lying on his back with his legs spread and raised, his body glistening with sweat. As a teenager, Woodrow had the looks, body, and charm that caused girls to swoon and young boys to look up at him in hero worship and admiration. At sixteen, he wore studs in his nostril and earlobes and a ring under his lower lip and he wore his dark black hair with a buzz cut on the sides and a faux Mohawk dyed bronze to match his eyes.

Eight years later not much had changed, except he now dyed the tips of his Mohawk royal blue to match his turquoise studs. He still had downy cheeks and fine wisps of moustache at the corners of his mouth, and his chest, arms, legs, and ass were as smooth as the day he was born. He'd been highly sexed as a teenager and it came as no surprise to me to see he liked humping young teenage boys as much as he did the opposite sex. Marcus was thoroughly enjoying being fucked by the older man, again I had to wonder how he had developed a preference for older men and, I again suspected my brother Dimitri had a lot to do with it. As I watched, Woodrow grunted and thrust his hips forward and began to flood the teenage boy's rectum with his cum and Lucas's stiff cock wagged uncontrollably as he came also, spraying his glistening body with streamers and gobs of his thick slime.

I was about to cut my way across the upstairs living room and head back outside when a group burst through the door and headed to the last of the guest rooms on the other side of Dimitri's old bedroom. Waiting until they had all crowded into the room and got down to doing whatever they had come to do, I slipped up to the door and peeked inside. There was Cameron, my sister Anna's brother-in-law, twenty-three and drunk as usual, into some heavy necking with Momma's niece's daughter, sixteen-year-old Callina, who had her hand in her thirteen-year-old brother Gregorios' fly and appeared just as drunk as Cameron was. I remembered eight years ago at Anna's wedding and how drunk Cameron had gotten then. He had been hot to spread the legs of anyone in a skirt back then, and he hadn't changed. On the bed beside them was my nephew Lucas, my oldest sister's oldest, now eighteen, necking with his sister Hellena, who was only thirteen and four months old, and was pulling down the underwear of David's younger brother Caden, revealing the horny sixteen-year-old boy already had a hardon. They were all obviously as drunk as Cam and Callina.

As I knelt there and watched, Callina lay down on her back and spread her legs and Cam knelt between them and thrust his stiff dick up her cunt, telling her the pain would only be temporary and how hot and how honoured he was to be the one to take her cherry. She couldn't answer as she was busy sucking on the stiff dink of Gregorios who was lying on his side beside her, his wide eyes focussed on Cam's dick pumping in and out of her cunt centimetres away from his nose. Lying on the bed beside them, Lucas was stroking his sister's cunt and telling her he'd be gentle and that she wouldn't be sorry she was letting him be the first to screw her. He actually used the word screw! Cameron observed that there was nothing wrong keeping something that intimate and momentous in the family, and told them that he'd fucked his brother's bride, my sister Anna, on their wedding night, though by mistake as he was skunk drunk, and that there was a good chance that her and his brother's oldest child, Romon, was actually his!

So that was the reason for his attentiveness toward Romon I'd seen earlier. I would never have guessed that in a million years, and it put him, and Anna and Romon all in a different perspective. They did not take long to get down to serious business and for the next five minutes all you heard was heavy breathing and the slick and slap of sticky flesh striking sticky flesh. It was not long before Cameron was spurting his semen up sixteen-year-old Callina's hot pussy and Gregorios was gasping with his first blow job by a girl, his sister, though not his first blow job, having been introduced to that by myself. I wondered which he enjoyed more. Beside them, Lucas was filling his young sister Helena's cunt with his slime and she was gulping down David's brother's hot, tart juice.

The six of them lay there catching their breath and I was about to slip away when Caden rolled over and began to fondle Callina's pert, young breasts and young Gregorios tentatively reached down and began to caress young Hellena's wet pussy while kissing and then sucking on her budding boobs, leaving Cam and Lucas to sit up and fiddle with each other's dicks as they watched. Callina once again lay back and spread her legs and this time Caden crawled on top of her while Hellena lay on her back and young Gregorios mounted her. As the two sixteen-year-olds began to screw like there was no tomorrow, the two naked thirteen-year-olds were copying them, fucking away like two little jackrabbits. Lucas meanwhile had taken the doggy position and as I watched, Cam sank his stiff pole, slick with Callina's cunt juice, up the eighteen-year-old boy's ass, and I had the impression that Lucas's young ass was not virginal. As Cam began to pump his hips to and fro, Lucas said something about Sparticus, the Lab Dimitri had given him eight years ago and that ever since you seldom seen one without the other, and introducing him to Cam, and to Hellena. With the heavy breathing and slapping of flesh I didn't make out exactly what he said, but his laugh, Dimitri's laugh, was very clear.

Dazed and shocked by what was going on, I slowly made my way to the back door and back outside. Walking was not easy with the raging hardon I had. The entire house had become a whorehouse with every guest room crammed with horny relatives getting their rocks off. Nobody outside appeared to have noticed half the family had left. The adults were all deep in conversation, eating and drinking, and the youngsters were taking advantage of their parents' distraction and gorging themselves on sweets and sodas and snack food.

My first thought of a solution to my aching boner was of course my wife-to-be, Elaina. She and my sister Anna were still in animated conversation, sharing their pregnancies and fussing over Anna's three-year-old twins Leona and Leonardo. Her husband Romano had wandered off to talk with my brothers and brothers-in-law who had polished off a keg and were starting another. Elaina looked like she was enjoying herself and I didn't really want to interrupt for the reason I needed her, and besides, there was our wedding night only two days away which would be anticlimactic if we got it on tonight, which would be a long, hot session with me feeling as randy as I was. My second choice of course was David, but the bugger was in one of the guest rooms enjoying himself with his former crush Justin and Justin's new boy toy Brayden. Not that I would ever hold it against him, but so much for saving himself for our wedding night the horny bugger!

I then spotted my seven-year-old nephew Romon standing over by the deserts by himself, looking bored and I suspect feeling neglected with his mother and everyone else fussing over his younger twin siblings, and with his uncle Cameron, who unbeknownst to him was possibly his father, no longer being attentive to him and not even around. Standing over by his mother and his aunts was David's nephew, Liam, looking just as bored. He surely had no interest in whatever his mother and aunts were talking about, his father was drinking it up with the other men, and his uncle was nowhere in sight. My sons, my daughter and my nieces were all familiar with each other and comfortable, while Liam had only his cousin Kaylee that he would know well enough, but even though they were the same age, she was a girl and he was a boy and like all seven-year-olds throughout time they did not mingle well with the opposite sex.

Picking up a bottle of wine, I motioned for Romon and Liam to follow me and took them to my room. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I had to do something to satisfy the volcano on the verge of erupting between my legs. I barely knew the two boys. Romon was born a month before I graduated from high school and moved on to college. Though Ann was the youngest of my siblings and we celebrated our birthdays on the same day, she was eight years older than I was. She had her own life and family and other than church and dinners with Momma and Poppa on Sundays, we seldom saw each other, and her kids and my kids, though close in age, had their own circles of friends and seldom saw each other either. Liam was even more a stranger. None of his family had accepted David's sexual orientation, and least of all David's oldest sister Jessica, Liam's mother. Though, just slightly more than five years David's senior, the two had nothing in common and being at the opposite ends of the traditional/liberal continuum of sexual attitude, they seldom saw each other than at official family gatherings.

Sitting down on the bed with the boys sitting on either side of me, I was uncertain how to begin. Both seven years and three months old, they were identical in height and weight, around a hundred and twenty-two centimetres [4ft] and twenty-three kilograms [50pound]. Liam was pale skinned and green-eyed with flaming red hair from his father's side, and Romon was olive-brown with thick black hair and blue eyes. As it turned out, Liam was the one to initiate things.

"My dad is wondering which one of you is going to be the woman." I imagine he was, and that he had a lot more to say than that. He was openly hostile to David and all homosexuals.

"Neither, silly," interjected Romon. "Elaina is the woman. They're both guys, aren't you?" he asked uncertainly.

"I mean when they screw each other," Liam replied defensively. "You do screw each other, don't you?" he asked, evidently repeating what he'd overheard at home.

"My mom and dad say that's unnatural," Liam continued. I understood their stand, and of those like them, all too well. I found myself bristling with anger at the prejudices and hatred they were instilling in their son at such a young age. Bringing Liam to my room in the condition I was in was a mistake.

"I once felt that way too. When I was your age. Even later, until I was seventeen." I really had, back when I was seventeen and thought I had everything figured out, back before I really got to know David.

"My mom says you and David were lovers back when you were in school, in grade twelve," Romon observed.

"That's right." My mind flashed back to the first time David and I had done it. Spring break, 2018. Dimitri had left, I'd discovered who the father of Elaina's child was, and Elaina and I were dating again and even more in love with each other, but I was struggling with my feelings for her and the child she had given birth to nine days earlier. Besides that, I'd never finished my discussion with Dimitri after my initial confrontation with him over David, and I was struggling with my feelings for David too. He was my best friend, but he was a faggot, and I'd caught him in a faggot act with my older brother and my brother's boy toy and I could not get the image out of my mind.

David was struggling too, with his sexual orientation and his awkward attempts to find out who and what he was, first with Cory and then with David, and with his feelings regarding me, our long-term and close friendship and now his new sexual feelings for me. We were sitting outside, in the shade of the lilac tree at the corner of the house, just talking. David commented how complicated life could be and I agreed. I told him about Elaina, everything, about Woody and my feelings for her and my turmoil. He told me about his turmoil being gay and coming to Dimitri for help, but wishing it was with me, and how he was torn between our friendship and his sexual feelings. We ended up in my room making love. I can't call it sex. It was love. But how do you explain that to two seven-year-olds?

"It's possible to love two people at the same time, a guy and a girl," Romon observed wisely.

"I guess," admitted Liam. "So which one of you is the girl and which one the guy when you do it?"

"It's more complicated than that," I replied with a smile. "How much do you know about sex, about the birds and the bees?"

"I know girls are yucky and I'd rather marry a guy," Liam said with all the confidence and finality of a seven-year-old.

"Then maybe I'll do what your uncle's doing and I'll marry a woman too and the guy I married can make kids with her for both of us."

"Well, that's a long way off," I said, opening up the bottle of wine and pouring three glasses. "For tonight, let me tell you about The Secret."

By the end of the second glass of wine, the three of us were naked and sitting in a circle. I reached over and took my nephew Romon's little, limp dink between my fingers and carefully and gently pulled back his foreskin while David's nephew eagerly reached over and began to stroke my cock and Romon reached over and slowly pulled back Liam's foreskin. It was not long before we were stiff and I gave the boys' time to enjoy their erections, pushing them down between their legs and letting them stand back up and gently caressing the rim of their knobs, watching the expression on their faces. We once again sat in a circle, grasped each other's dink, and slowly and gently began to wank. Introducing the two boys to this simple pleasure and seeing the amazement and joy on their faces as they experienced their first erections and their first arousal was hotter than anything you could imagine. When they finally reached their first orgasms, the wonder in their eyes and the curl of their lips had me spurting big time, and the look on their faces as they watched my prick spurt out my slime was priceless.

They were of course full of questions, about coming and about fucking and what David and I did. We finished off the wine, I had Liam lie on his back with his hips raised on a couple pillows, and I had Romon kneel between his legs and poke him with his little poker and fuck him until both boys were again squirming with dry orgasms. I then showed them the more common doggy style and standing and bending over positions before I had Romon lie on his back and had Liam mount him. Watching the two boys getting it off a third time was too hot and as they came so did I. We concluded with the two of them sampling my cum straight from the pipe, and both declaring it tasted even better than the wine.

The next morning everyone got up late and then laid around recuperating and before I knew it, it was today, Saturday, the second of August, the big day. The weather was perfect and so was the ceremony though by evening it had cooled off, as it often does in early August, and it was threatening to rain, chasing everyone inside except a few of the younger ones who gathered under the tent we'd set up in the back yard. We'd invited everyone to the outdoor church service of course, and mingled with everyone, friends and family, afterward in the park for several hours before returning to Momma and Poppa's for the reception, reserved for family.

Elaina's grandparents, two aunts, and an uncle with their spouses had come to the service and the reception afterward. I'll never forget the way Elaina's father had attacked my father and me after church, the day he accused me of having knocked up his daughter. We never did reveal who the real father was of course, and he still blames me, and Elaina having two more children and being seven months pregnant now before getting married just added to his anger. That we were finally getting married appeased him and his wife somewhat, but just marginally, and that we were including David in the ceremony just added another bone of contention between us. I'm sure they only attended the wedding because Elaina was their only daughter and for her sake alone, and that her grandparents only came to support her parents. I know her two aunts and one uncle came more out of curiosity than anything else, and they were just as snobbish and snooty as her parents were, flaunting their wealth and positions.

David's parents and grandparents came to the wedding ceremony and reception afterward also but they had never come to terms with his sexual orientation and they blamed me, and Dimitri, for corrupting and seducing their son. Two of his aunts and two of his uncles and their spouses came also, more out of curiosity and in support of his parents than to show any support for him. They frowned throughout the ceremony and reception as if they were constipated and made clear and loudly their opinion that the children in attendance were being corrupted and poisoned by being exposed to the celebration of such sin and repulsive behaviour.

Despite the objections of Elaina's and David's families and the discomfort of my own, everything went off without a hitch, and those with the strongest objections did not stay long. It was probably more complicated having everything at home, but it was much more intimate than having it at a hall or a hotel. Again, the tables were sagging with good, wholesome food and decadent treats and with fresh fruit, and two cases of bananas under the table for backup, and an abundance of wine and of sodas for the younger crowd. By mid-evening everyone was buzzed or on a sugar high.

After the official wedding dance and toasts, Elaina and I slipped away to my bedroom and had a quickie, doggy position because of her protruding belly. Soon we are going to have to stop screwing and resort to oral or anal sex or mutual masturbation until she pops. Knowing that, we consummated our marriage with all the zest of two horny virgins despite the fact that we had been screwing for seven years and the idea of consummating our marriage by having intercourse was a farce. We had slipped away for a fuck for the simple reason that we were randy after having avoided each other this past week out of tradition and respect for our parents and their beliefs besides being occupied with other matters, and because we loved each other deeply and both enjoyed fucking each other.

Afterward, her belly filled with my cum and my dick sticking to my underwear with her cunt juice, we went to talk to my parents and then to her and David's parents and grandparents, and steeled ourselves for the torture of greeting our other relatives and trying to be pleasant knowing what they were thinking and saying behind our backs, even our siblings. Still, it was a traditional Greek wedding with song and laughter, good food and good wine, and everyone took advantage of having a reason to overeat and drink too much.

Seeing Elaina slip off to Dimitri's old room, I slipped outside and in the cover of the night crawled up on the old rain barrel. To my surprise, I found her, Cam and David's sixteen-year-old brother Caden in the room. She and Cam were talking as the three of them stripped each other. Cam confessed that he had screwed my sister Anna on her wedding night, purely by mistake thinking she was someone else though he admitted he'd been turned on by her, and he revealed that there was a fifty-fifty chance that Romon was his child and not his brother's. Being the second time I'd heard that, I wasn't sure if Cameron was confessing for the sake of his soul, or if the bastard was bragging about having knocked up his brother's bride. Elaina revealed that her first child, Dion, was actually her brother's and the circumstances behind his conception, and that the child she was presently carrying was David's.

And with those confessions, they kissed and caressed each other, gradually disrobing each other and becoming more intimate. For young Caden, infatuated and somewhat tipsy, this was all new and you could see his self-consciousness and awkwardness, which for the other two was a turn on and I suspect that may have been one reason they had included him in this romp. There being no concerns about getting pregnant this night, Cam mounted Elaina, doggy style and from the back of course, while she sucked Caden and the boy and Cam kissed until Cam and Elaina came, and then Caden took Cam's position and the boy fucked Elaina while she licked her slime off Cam's dick and Cam and the sixteen-year-old boy kissed until he added his slime to Cam's up my wife's cunt.

I thought back to the night Elaina, David and I decided on having a fourth child. After our first time engaging in sex, back in the spring of our graduating year, David and I had begun having sex together more and more often and we became even closer friends than before, realizing his angst and lust for me strengthening our friendship instead of ripping us apart, and by the end of grade twelve, we had become lovers as close as Elaina and I were. Elaina was fine with that and didn't feel threatened by the love between David and I, knowing our own love was solid. Just as I accepted her pregnancy, she accepted my gay side. Because of the love the three of us felt for each other, it was an easy decision to room together as a threesome in college, and it was only inevitable that there would be many nights we made love together, me and Elaina with David observing and me and David with Elaina watching, and then and more often the three of us together, me doing Elaina and David together.

It was on one such night she became pregnant, and her pregnancy being intentional. After our foreplay together, David and I each sharing a tit and Elaina exchanging kisses with each of us, David and I kissing as we squeezed and sucked on Elaina's breasts while she fondled our nuts, I'd mounted her and she began performing oral sex on David, but at the last moment I withdrew and slammed my stiff prick, slick with Elaina's cunt juice, up David's ass and shot off up his rectum. After having had his dick sucked, and now getting his rectum flooded with my semen, he was on the verge of cumming and Elaina slipped under him and slipped her hot, slick vulva about his stiff, aching dick and raised her hips, and as her cunt slipped up his shaft, he began to shoot off his hot, thick load up her vagina. It all happened very naturally, and that he just might impregnate her did not worry any of us.

Getting down off the barrel, I sought out David and discretely rounding up Dion, Areis, and Mason we went to my room. Elaina, Cameron and Caden were going at it again and could be clearly heard through the heating vent connecting my room and the room above, the three of them becoming quite vocal and loud as their passions rose and their orgasms approached. Dion, five weeks shy of seven and a half, had been told six months ago that Woodrow was actually his father and not his uncle, Elaina, Woody and I feeling that was only fair for the boy and for Elaina and Woody, and the three of us feeling no shame over it and agreeing Dion was old enough to handle it. We had waited simply because we wanted his half-brother, Areis, now six years and seven months old, to be old enough to understand also, and we figured now he was. Both boys took the news well and Dion's affection for me had not changed and was no different from Areis's. David's youngest brother, Mason, was eight and nine months and going into grade four. He listened to what was going on in the room above us with wide-eyed surprise and curiosity, typical of an eight-year-old going on nine, glancing frequently at David as the two of them listened to their brother getting it off in the room above them.

"So Mom's with uncle Ramone's brother Cam and uncle David's brother Caden and they're doing it with each other?" my son Areis asked finally.

"That's right." We had all gotten to calling David uncle and Dion had gotten to calling my brothers and sisters uncle and aunt though as Woody's son technically they were not. It just made things a lot easier all around, and especially when speaking to anyone outside of family.

"And Caden's doing stuff with both of them?" Mason asked his brother and David nodded.

"So he's like you?" asked Dion, looking at me. "He likes girls and guys? What's that called again?"

"Well, Caden only turned sixteen," said David. "It's a little early to say that for sure."

"How old were you when you knew you were gay?" asked Mason as innocently as if he were asking how old his brother was when he first rode a bicycle.

"Well, okay," David admitted with a smile. "Before that, but I didn't act on it until I was almost seventeen."

"Yeah," David admitted, nodding sadly. "Much earlier. I struggled with it a long time." Years he had told me. There was no mistaking the sadness and regret in his voice.

"I'm gonna be a biannual, like my dad," Areis declared, looking up at me with obvious admiration and trust.

"Bisexual," I corrected, adding with a smile, "and you are definitely too young to decide that now."

"I heard them talking, at the reception, and tonight. They think it's dirty and … and immoral?" he said, uncertain of the word.

"So do Aunt Jessica and Aunt Kayla. They don't think it's normal to be bi either. They said the two of you make their skin crawl and that your bride has to be crazy and that they won't be having anything to do with any of you anymore after today."

"Well, sadly you're going to find out there are a lot of people who think the way your aunts and uncles feel," David said, embracing his brother.

"I already know," he replied. "Liam thought that way too, but I don't think he does no more."

"Well," Mason said, scuffing his toe in the carpet and looking down, "at the rehearsal he said what you and uncle Nikos do is dirty and disgusting, but tonight he said maybe it was okay, and, well, he sort of acted like he wanted to do something with me. Then his mom and dad came and said he wasn't to talk to me and that they were leaving soon."

"Did he say what changed his mind?" asked David and my heart rose. I knew Liam's attitude and that of his parents and I knew I had done a very foolish thing that could get me in a lot of trouble if he told, and could ruin everything for those I love. To my relief, Mason shook his head.

"Shouldn't you and Uncle Nikos be doing something, like screwing or something? Isn't that what people do on their wedding night?" asked Dion.

David and I grinned at each other. We knew each other well enough to know what the other was thinking. Why not? The boys knew we did it. We didn't hide the fact, and we weren't ashamed of doing it. We reached over and kissed and the boys glanced at each other and grinned. Of course the two of us were self-conscious with my stepson and son and David's brother all watching us, but as we continued to kiss and began to loosen each other's clothing and caress each other, we soon became accustomed to our audience, and we would be hypocrites if we tried to hide things now, something I knew Dimitri hated with a passion, and I had to sort of agree, though I'd never go to the extremes he did to prove a point. Never.

Soon David and I had unbuttoned each other's shirts and removed each other's trousers and were sitting there on the bed in just our socks and underwear and kissing and caressing each other, our boxers slowly beginning to tent. We never noticed, but the three youngsters exchanged glances and then reached out, my son Areis pulling down my boxers and David's brother Mason pulling down David's and Dion helping both of them. As David and I fondled each other and grew hard, the boys glanced at each other and giggled. David and I looked each other in the eye and agreed without saying a word.

Reaching into the drawer in my night table beside the bed, I took out a tube of KY and as I proceeded to grease up David's anus and rectum he greased up my swollen cock. Deciding to do each other doggy style, we knelt there in the middle of the bed and while our young audience watched with wide-eyed curiosity and wonder, I penetrated David and began to pump my hips to and fro, driving my cock in and out of his rectum. We were of course conscious of our young audience, but as pleasure took over we focussed on pleasuring each other, as it should be, and before long I was spurting my load up David's rectum.

"So, is that what guys do with each other when they're queer?" asked Mason as I pulled my cock out of David's hole and the two of us wiped ourselves off.

I glanced at Mason and he grinned and immediately began to strip. The two boys eagerly chucked their clothes in any direction and then kissed and caressed each other as they'd seen David and I doing, and then fondled each other's privates until they were hard. Their stiff little dinks were about the length and thickness of our little fingers, Mason's a bit bigger being two years older but not by much. He greased my son's hole and Areis greased his stiff dick, and then the two of them took the centre of the bed and David's brother mounted my son and began to rabbit fuck him. David and I both advised him to slow down and to concentrate on how it felt, to enjoy the pleasure.

Dion was watching intently and exchanging glances with David. David and I stripped the boy, caressed his smooth body, and fiddled with his dink and balls until he was stiff. Mason began to squirm and twist as if holding onto a live wire, and I'm sure that was how his stiff little dink felt as he experienced his first dry orgasm. When he dismounted, Areis glanced at his stepbrother and Dion grinned and nodded. He quickly greased up Areis's little poker while his stepbrother greased up his hole and Areis was soon fucking like a little jackrabbit, pumping his hips to and fro and working his stiff little dink in and out of his step-brother's hole until he too experienced his first dry orgasm. With David's guidance, Mason had been fiddling with Dion's stiff little dink and as Areis experienced his first orgasm, so did Dion.

It did not take the boys long to regain their breath and the five of us formed a daisy chain, My stepson sucking on my cock, me sucking on my son's, Areis sucking on David's, David sucking on his little brother's, and Mason sucking on Dion's. And so it was that my son and stepson and David's little brother were introduced to the joys of gay sex and the pleasures that the adults in their life had been sharing. David and I warned the boys what would happen and shared the alternatives with them. David finally reached his peak and began to fill my six-year-old son's mouth with his thick slime just as he'd filled mine hundreds of times. Mason trembled with his second dry orgasm of the evening as his brother sucked on his throbbing little cocklet, and he eagerly sucked on my stepson's dink until Dion began trembling with his dry orgasm also.

No longer being able to hold back, I warned him and began to fill his mouth with my hot, thick slime, and despite the number of times I'd shot my load this week, I came copiously, filling my stepson's mouth until his cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk's and my slime oozing out the corners of his mouth as my six-year-old son's little cocklet throbbed between my lips and he quivered with his little orgasm.

As the five of us lay there gasping with our orgasms, I slowly realized the room above us was totally silent and I thought at first that everyone had probably left and re-joined the wedding reception. More slowly, I gradually realized that they most likely had heard what was happening in my room just as we'd heard what had been happening in theirs. And even more slowly, I realized that whoever had been in the room above me earlier had to have heard me and Gregorios, and me when my nephews had their recent sleep over, and then what I had done with Romon and Liam the night of the rehearsal, and I tried desperately to recall who would have been in the room above me, and their relationship with the boys I had diddled. Remembering where everyone was on each of those dates was difficult.

As I lay there sticky with sweat and cum, I wondered where Gregorios, Romon and Liam were at the moment and what they were doing, and as I glanced at the three naked, contented boys curled up between David and I, I was reminded of a comment Dimitri had made once about how things fell into place and how everything that happens has a purpose. I thought back to the range of feelings I'd had since Dimitri had returned, from hatred and fear to love and awe, from discomfort and embarrassment to contentment and peace.

The Saturday before Dimitri left, the day after I'd read his first Journal entry about his first jacking off experience, Dimitri never returned home and I hadn't been able to resist temptation to sneak back into his room and read more from his Journal. The book was thick and I was sure had all kinds of detail about what he'd been doing, about the things I was curious about and wanted to talk to him about, and that the cops who keep visiting our home were curious about too.

Beneath the bound journal were a dozen spiral bound three-hole punched scribblers, which I discovered were journals he had written during his captivity. I could not resist picking up the bottom one and opening it to the last entry, dated January 19, 2017, the day Dimitri had been discovered making a kiddie porn video in Vancouver, two days before his return to Calgary, which was a month before he was released and returned home.

I've decided. I just finished the phone call, alerting the Vancouver police Child Exploitation Unit about the kiddie porn video about to be produced, staring Wang Zheng Ming and yours truly and a bunch of nameless grade one and preschool boys. I warned Ming and told him to get an excuse and get out of the shoot, eat a dozen green apples or something to give him the cramps and yellow shits. I read about that happening to a boy whore by accident. I don't recall if it was a piece of fiction or a real event now. After a while in this business you can't tell what is fiction and what is real anymore. I can't. Anyway I told him I'd decided and had phoned the cops, telling them where and when the shoot was going to take place.

Typical Ming, he said if that was how the Way was going to unfold, then it was meant to be and he'd be there with me to see it through. I should have known he wouldn't run. I remember years ago when we first met, a week after my fifteenth birthday, and he told me there was a reason he and I had been captured and were being forced to do what we were doing, and that I should accept that and get on with my life. I thought he was a weak little faggot, and then I thought he was crazy, and then I realized he was, and is, the wisest person I have ever met. There was a reason. It hardened me. It showed me that when parents protect their children it weakens them and softens them. It showed me that when parents and adults lie to children and withhold The Truth from them it harms them. Parents need to change their ties with their children so The Truth will be less painful.

For another thing, because I'd been captured, I was forced to see the hypocrisy of the church, and of the legal system, and of society which until then I had blindly accepted. Blind acceptance works for Momma and Poppa, but this is a different generation, a different world. Because I had been captured, I learned to see through the lies that were suffocating me, and to see the truth, which would free me. I learned to accept who I am and I became strong. Because I was captured. And because I had been captured I had met Ming and had come to know him. I survived everything they threw at me and became a better person because of my capture, and because of Ming. I vowed today that when I would finally break loose from my captors I'd share that awareness with others so they could achieve the potential within them, just as I had, and so they wouldn't go through the guilt and angst that I'd gone through.

I'd admonish and punish parents and priests and cops and those who work for the justice system for their lies and for keeping The Truth from children. I'd punish them using their very own children and so strengthen their children. There is no right, no wrong, just power and control, survival of the strongest, survival of those unfettered by false morality. I'd make their children strong by revealing The Truth to them: boys are meant to play with boys, and with men. I'll be arrested of course, and the evidence will be so repugnant to those who would perpetuate the lie that my present captors will never be able to free me so I can re-join them this time. Then and only then will I be able to begin my real purpose in life. To reveal and punish the fakes in this world and to promote the Truth. It is only fitting Ming be released too, from our present captivity and from our future confinement as I know he will be. I will miss him, but it will be good to go home, though it will be difficult.

That it would be difficult was an understatement. I doubt if even Dimitri really realized just how difficult it was going to be. When Dimitri returned home he had frightened me. He did until the day he left, and he still does even though he's been gone these seven and a half years.

Along with the crates of fruit, he'd sent money for plane tickets for the three of us and the kids to fly to Alabama where he said there was a plantation that would be "an experience of a lifetime for all of you." A vacation would be nice but I don't know if we'll take him up on the offer. He was in many ways cold and heartless, devoid of emotion or soul, and probably still is. To be a martyr and a prophet, to fight the status quo, you have to be. Many see him as a monster, feared and hated. When I think of the response of our neighbours and friends upon his arrival I'm reminded of the peasants who stormed the cathedral in the movie, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Others see him as an avenging angel and saviour whose power and goodness is fearsome and overpowering. I am not sure if there is a difference. Do not each and every one of us have a bit of both in us, for each of us with a bit more of one or the other? Is there not a bit of a sinner in all saints? Are all sinners totally evil? Who am I to say? I am not my brother's keeper, but he is still my brother.

There was an envelope with tickets for Momma and Poppa and a letter too. He was their son, and they loved him, and he loved them too. I don't know where the tickets were to, nor what he said in the letter, but I know it will be a great reunion.

I reach over and brush the hair out of Areis's closed eyes. His brow is sweaty. So are his tiny, silky nuts. My son. He is beautiful. I cannot resist caressing his soft, compact little butt and as I think about sticking my dick up it, my dick twitches and begins to swell. I cannot resist reaching down and fiddling with his little pecker, so soft and smooth and silky, and it immediately responds to my touch. I slowly and quietly twist around so as not to disturb him and the others and I take his sweet little dink in my mouth and it begins to swell between my lips. Six years and seven months old and horny. My son. I feel his hot breath on my crotch and then his hot, moist mouth enveloping the knob of my dick, taking to it as a babe takes to his mother's teat. My son. My next child I will name Demetrios. Momma and Poppa would like that. So will Dimitri. There is a noise outside my open window and the rattle of the rain barrel. The wind in the lilacs I suppose.

Daemon Way Dimitri's Return Part 4

Chapter 27
Friends, lovers and brothers

Chapter 28
My Angel

CHAPTER 29
A Father's Love

CHAPTER 30
CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 1 of 2

CHAPTER 31
CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 2 of 2

The End

Daemon Way Dimitri's Return Part 4

Chapter 27Friends, lovers and brothers

Chapter 28My Angel

CHAPTER 29A Father's Love

CHAPTER 30CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 1 of 2

CHAPTER 31CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 2 of 2

The End

Chapter 27
Friends, lovers and brothers

Chapter 28
My Angel

CHAPTER 29
A Father's Love

CHAPTER 30
CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 1 of 2

CHAPTER 31
CONCLUSION: MY BROTHER'S KEEPER Part 2 of 2