Ganymede

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

[Part Three]

December 26, 1999

We had done it only one time during the night, but it was enough to bring both of us to complete exhaustion. That morning, as I cradled him, snoozing contentedly with his leg draped over mine and lovingly caressing his warm smooth chest, I was happier than I had ever been. It was impossible not to think about what had transpired during the night. At least thirty minutes, thirty wonderful minutes that were indelibly imprinted on my memory. I would never forget. Grant would never forget. What had started with a bath together had reached full blown passion. We were rushing headlong into something for which there was no single, simple answer. If we were not already, we were quickly becoming lovers. I smiled, dismissing the immediate guilt that came from knowing I had twice had sex with my son.

Was it possible for him to be both a son and a lover? I had often considered myself as his best friend, well second-best, because the honor of best friend undoubtedly went to Brandon. And me, I was not too old for a best friend? I would want it to be Grant.

Grant woke up with a start. I tightened my arm around his chest and held him for the few seconds it took for him to remember. His head turned, smiling slightly.

"Hi there, lover-boy," I said. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up."

Grant's lips parted to enable a slight smile. "He's still in me, isn't he? I can feel him," he said sleepily.

"Uh huh. You want to close your eyes and go back to sleep for a while?"

Grant attempted to grip my penis with his inner muscle. It was a feeble effort at best, but he was a long way from being fully awake.

"He's so big and hard."

"Of course."

"He was hard during the night too," Grant said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I kept waking up and each time he was big. Only you were asleep," he added critically.

He smiled shyly and I wondered what else had happened during the long dark hours of the winter night. A minute tickled past and I gently stroked his lean flank. I felt a deep sense of wellbeing, contented merely to be inside him, at least until he was awake enough to be an active participant.

He sighed longingly. "I wish I could wake up like this every morning."

I laughed. "Me too. I never realized you would want to do this. We could have been doing it all summer."

"I wouldn't have minded."

"Neither would I."

Grant giggled and tried to squeeze the life out of my penis again. That small muscle hidden just inside his anus was remarkably strong, yet it only took a few seconds before the pressure began to ebb. Each time he did it, my penis became stiffer.

"Mom would kill us if she knew, wouldn't she?" he acknowledged with a shy smile over his shoulder.

I nodded slightly, thoughtfully. Grant did not know that his mother and I were talking seriously about divorce. I wondered how he would take the news. Not well, I expected. He was not particularly close to his mother, for the simple reason that she was not close to him. Yet, no matter how much I despised her for what she had done to me, I resolved not to exploit Grant in order to get back at her. I reluctantly retracted my penis slowly from the embracing moist heat of Grant's body. He made one last effort to keep my penis inside him, and then he turned over to face me, accepting that sex was momentarily postponed.

"Grant," I began uncertainly. I took a deep breath. "There's something we have to talk about," I said gently.

His eyes cautiously lifted up and met mine. He could hear the serious tone in my voice.

"What about?" he asked warily. "About last night?"

"No! It's not that. Well it is, I guess. It is about us… and your Mom," I answered.

"I'm not that dumb. I'll never tell her," he retorted heatedly.

I smiled. "That isn't it. Grant…" I began cautiously.

He regarded me guardedly. I think he knew what I was going to say. Several long seconds passed.

"Grant, I'm not absolutely sure about what I'm going to say, and maybe I'm wrong, but… well it's likely your Mom and I are going to get a divorce."

His lips compressed. Then his eyes closed, as if blocking out the sight of me could also block out my words. His panic was obvious. He asked the first question that came into his mind.

"Because of me?"

"No! Of course not! Don't ever think that! You're a wonderful kid."

"I mean because of what happened last night… and before when we were in the bath?" he added awkwardly.

I shook my head quickly. "Grant, I think you've realized by now that things haven't been going okay for your Mom and me for sometime."

"Like with the arguments and all?"

I nodded. "I know how much you hate it when we fight," I explained. "I hate it too, but sometimes that's how grown-ups are when things aren't working out."

"You don't love her, do you Dad?"

I stiffened. Even Grant could see what should have been obvious to me. I did not love her, not in the way I was supposed to her. The romance had gone a long time ago, and new, even the friendship was evaporating.

"I think she found someone else."

"Mr. Foster?"

Trevor Foster was Sue's employer and the president of Indetech. It seemed that Sue spent every other hour with him, ostensibly working. I breathed out and smiled ruefully.

"Why do you say that?"

"She's always on the phone with him," Grant answered.

"Oh! Well with work and all that, it's only to be expected," I tried to explain. My words sounded hollow.

Grant shrugged. "It doesn't matter though does it, if you found someone else too," he smirked.

"You?" I teased.

His eyes sparkled with merriment. He nodded eagerly. It was all very simple in the mind of a ten-year-old boy.

"You're a boylover, and I'm your lover boy."

"That's true," I agreed with a grin. "A man couldn't ask for anything more than a boy like you."

"Will I have to live with Mom?" Grant asked, his face suddenly darkening.

"Not if you don't want to."

"Okay." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't think she'll want me anyway."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'll be in the way, especially if she gets married again. I know she will. I bet she'll marry that Foster guy she's in Hawaii with."

"Even if she does get married again, and I agree with you by the way about him, it still doesn't mean that she doesn't love you, Grant."

"I know. But I'd rather live with someone who wants me around."

"Like me?" I suggested. "Because I do want you around, and not just because of what we do together."

"Yeah, I know that. So, who's going to take care of us? You aren't going to get married again too, are you?"

I laughed. "Hardly. One marriage is more than enough for me. I guess I'll just have to figure out how to run the washer and dryer. And of course, if you live with me, you'll have to learn how to cook. I don't fancy eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every night."

"Hey, that's not fair. I'm a good cook," Grant rebuffed. "I helped cook breakfast yesterday morning, remember?"

Had it only been that long? It seemed like a long time ago. I smiled and stroked his soft hair.

"If I live with you, I could be just like your wife," Grant giggled. "I bet I can take care of you better than Mom does."

"You're certainly a whole lot better in bed than she is," I replied rashly. I regretted saying it as soon as the words were out of my mouth, yet it was true.

"That's because you like to fuck ass more than pussy," Grant smirked.

I swallowed. "Where on earth did you hear that?" I demanded.

Grant regarded me with disdain, pursing his lips to indicate that it was another secret that I was not going to hear.

"Well?" I persisted.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Grant announced shamelessly. "That's why you like boys. Because they have nice tight asses."

"That has nothing to do with it," I rebuked. "Anyway, I don't like a ten-year-old talking dirty."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck my ass!" he chortled.

"Don't push it young man," I said, pretending to be angry. "Or you might feel something back there you don't expect."

"What? Your big hairy dick?" He was laughing so hard that his eyes were watering. "Are you going to stick it in me again?"

"Don't tempt me," I said. "Next time I might not be quite so gentle."

"You were gentle? Hardly! It felt like you were punching a hole though my belly."

"You better get used to it, lover-boy."

"Why?"

"For the simple reason that if you do live with me, I'm going to fuck that beautiful little ass of yours every chance I get," I laughed.

"Yeah, you and who else?" he grinned.

"Just me, but you're going to be sore."

I held him down on the bed and spanked his bare bottom playfully. One slap followed the last. I made sure it was not hard enough to hurt, yet hard enough to redden his butt. Grant wriggled and writhed and shrieked and screeched. We wrestled, tumbling over the bed until the covers were in disarray and we were breathless. However, when the chance came to effect an escape, he jumped back on top of me. There we lay, both sweating, both painfully erect. Our sex organs were pressed tightly together. I stroked his buttocks lovingly, guiltily aware that I had inflicted some pain during our brief battle. Spanking his butt was something that I had often done to him during our many wrestling sessions over ten years, yet strangely, I had never felt the same intense arousal.

Grant felt it too, even as the heat began to fade away. After nearly a minute, his pelvis lifted up and he repositioned our genitals so that they were pressed side by side. My penis reached beyond his navel while his much smaller one was burrowed into the folds of my scrotum. He moved slowly, oscillating, humping, driving his hard boy-sex into my groin.

With both hands grasping his small firm cheeks, I parted his buttocks and revealed the hidden depths between the glabrous mounds. I stroked a finger along the length of his greasy crevice until I found the opening. With only a slight push, my forefinger eased through the dilated outer ring, pushed into the moist heat, pierced the inner sanctum of a muscle that was much looser than it was supposed to be. Then, finding far greater room beyond, I did the same with the finger of my left hand. Both fingers! Both together! Both pushed in beyond the second joint, nudging the tiny lump that formed behind the bony ridge, pushed deeper until he gasped, until my knuckles could go no further. After a moment I slowly pulled back to massage the source of his pleasure. He quivered. He trembled and shuddered. He panted, grunted, and groaned. Then suddenly, he stiffened. It had taken less than a minute.

I felt his body become unbelievably tense, limbs locked in position, buttocks squeezing. He jerked, once, twice, a third time. Still trembling from the explosion from his immature gland, he clambered off me and collapsed onto the bed. His right leg lay over my crotch, possessively staking his claim to me, still shaking as if trying to get the sensations out of body.

"What happened?" he gasped.

"Maybe I'm wrong but I bet you just had another climax. I still don't believe it. I didn't know you were such a horny little kid."

"No shit!" he giggled. "That was your fault."

"My fault?"

"Your fingers… How did you know to put them right where I wanted them. It felt… so incredible. Like I was going to explode."

I cuddled him and tenderly kissed his forehead. "That's the way it's supposed to be for a boy. Later on, I'll explain how it happens."

He smiled warmly and eased his hands onto my face. For a moment he held me there, tentatively regarding me in silence as if making a momentous decision. His lips puckered to form the kiss he wanted so badly to give me. Cautiously, his hands drew my head down, bringing my lips from his forehead to his mouth. We kissed. That first kiss was chaste, yet I would never forget it. Grant was awkward and inexperienced, and like most boys his age, uncertain about kissing another male on the lips. Until then I had kissed his forehead, the top of his head, and sometimes his cheek.

I nodded reassuringly as soon as our lips parted. His tongue extended and tipped his upper lip. I winked.

"Not so bad, huh lover-boy? Did you ever think you'd be lying in bed stark naked and kissing your dad on the lips. What would your mom say?"

"Um… I don't know and I don't care. It was nice, Dad."

"Sure was." I grinned and slowly lowered my head.

The second kiss was very different. For one thing, Grant knew what to expect. For another, he was willing to experiment. It took nearly a minute before I could coax him into opening his mouth. I used my tongue to massage his lips, prying between them until he realized from the increasing wetness between us what he was expected to do. His soft lips nibbled at mine, then his tongue came forward with all the awkwardness of a first date. It was amusing to think that he was no longer a virgin, yet this was his first real kiss. Breathing through his nose was instinctive. He did not pull away when he discovered by tongue against his teeth. He was content to lie before me, testing the mutual union of exchanging tongues and the strange taste of another person's mouth. It took another minute before he caught on. Awkwardly our tongues began to duel, exploring teeth, licking sensuously, slowly building to greater intimacy. He broke the kiss first.

"Are you going to fuck me now?"

I winced at his words, expressing his need shamelessly and without hesitation.

"Yes. If that's what you want."

He reached to the side, fumbled among the things on the floor next to the bed, finally lifted up the tube of Preparation H.

"How did that get over there?" I asked. "The last time I saw it I seem to remember it was on my side of the bed."

Grant smirked as he passed it back to me. "I took it last night," he explained.

I laughed. "You? What did you do with it?"

He shrugged as if what he was going to say was perfectly normal.

"I woke up and you were stiff, and I wanted to, you know, play around some more."

"Hm… And I was asleep?"

"Yep! So when I had to go to the bathroom I picked it up, but by the time I got back you weren't stiff any more. It was all I could do to get him back in my butt he was so soft."

"Hm. You mean you were really going to, while I was asleep?…"

Grant giggled. "I just wanted to try it to see if I could, you know do it all by myself. Only you had to go and get all soft before I could do anything."

I laughed with him as I handed him the tube. "Well lover-boy it's not soft any more. Anyway, it's about time you took a more active role. Go ahead and put some of that on my dick."

He crouched over me, applying more of the glistening grease than he probably needed to. He was obviously enjoying the act of lubricating me so much that I did not have the heart to stop him. Finally, when he had my penis greased up, and more than hard enough to take him with a single thrust, he lay down again. Now it was my turn. Gently I placed him on his back, knees in the air next to his shoulders, his feet firmly held against his buttocks. He grinned up at me while my penis bobbed up and down, expecting, wanting, needing to join with him.

Then, when it was pointed directly at his anus and there was no longer any question of what was about to transpire, he nodded once in encouragement. He swallowed, more than a little nervous at the impending penetration. I closed the gap between us and nudged gently at his opening. It was not unlike a warning touch, just enough to know what was on its way. He nodded again and wriggled slightly so that my glans poked resolutely at his anus.

He closed his eyes in order to concentrate. It was the first time he did that, and from that time onward it became part of our routine. I pushed firmly while I held his feet with my hands. My thumbs extended downward and pressed into his buttocks, parting them to improve my access. He tensed. What boy would not tense up when the blood-engorged head of a man's penis first strikes the unprotected target head on. There was a momentary illusion, a silent thought we both shared. 'There's no way on Earth it's going through that tiny hole'.

"Push," I instructed.

I was resolved to do this. Grant nodded slightly. His eyes were still closed as he focused on the job at hand. His downward push was weak, barely sufficient. My glans, a supple fleshy cushion over a rigid shaft within, obtained the necessary purchase to claim entry to his anus, but no further than the flared rim. He tightened instinctively, his muscles contracting in an irrational yet highly coordinated effort to expel me. He gasped and tried to push me away. I held my breath, waiting, hoping he would not reject me.

"It's hurts, Dad."

"I'm sorry."

Just the sound of his voice was enough to diminish my otherwise determined urge. I began to back away. Grant's hand grabbed and held mine earnestly.

"I don't want you to stop."

"Then don't fight it," I said gently. "Take your time, Grant. We know it can fit. We've done it before. You don't have to force it. Try to make it part of you. You want it inside you. I know you do. Try to draw it in through your ass. Yes, do it just like that, work with it, not against it."

"He feels so big," Grant whimpered. "It isn't even that far in and it hurts."

"It'll take a minute or so and it'll stop hurting."

"It didn't hurt like this the last time," he answered morosely.

"I know. You're probably a bit sore inside I think. You have to try to relax," I said encouragingly.

I pushed harder and Grant clenched his teeth. He had always been courageous, and that morning I realized just how brave he could be. He bore the pain silently, taking three inches [7½ cm] before he shook his head again. Finally I stopped and rested on my haunches. I had hurt him, yet he still smiled valiantly as he placed his hand between us. I felt his fingers exploring, ascertaining how much more was left, how much had already gone inside him. With less than half of the length of my penis inside him, I began to move gently, rocking my pelvis just enough that my glans pushed and pulled within him, but never far enough that it went deeper or pulled back against his inner sphincter.

Within his luscious body, the wet heat surged around my penis, stimulating my erection until it was like a metal rod. It was all that I could do not to thrust with all my strength and drive it like a steel spike all the way inside him. Grant groaned loudly as the sensations ebbed and flowed. The sound of my pumping penis became louder as I churned the juices inside him into a sloppy mess. Each push forward displaced the accumulated fluid until if felt like it was seeping out. Within seconds I was totally absorbed, thrusting with an animal-like need to fill him with my seed. The tension faded quickly, his pelvis jerking as he writhed beneath me. Every few seconds he would shudder. I stopped moving the instant he clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle his cry.

"Man!" he breathed out. "I thought it'd be easier lying down this way. With it being the third time and all, I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"It's bad?"

"It hurt a bit last night, but it's a hell of a lot worse now."

I nodded. "I think you're bruised inside. We did it for a long while last night. Maybe it was too long for your second time."

Grant winced. "Maybe it's just the position, Dad," he said hopefully. "It really feels different when he's going in and out."

I was doubtful. If anything, the position we were in was no different to the night before. Then, lying on his side, he had been ecstatic, writhing and out-of-control as he took my penis deeply. I wondered whether I had been too eager.

"We can try a different way if you want," I said glumly. "I don't think it will get any better until you get used to having my cock in your ass. I expect it'll take a while."

"Do you think it will get stretched far enough?" he asked as he closed his eyes and tried to blot out the discomfort he was feeling.

"I don't know. We'll have to wait and see."

I touched his penis lovingly. Seeing it shrivelled and retracted and so small that it was barely male made me feel even worse. Part of me wanted him to be aroused, his penis erected and showing his masculinity, yet it was dormant. The realization came slowly. As the truth dawned on me, I felt relief. He was willing and able, he just wasn't ready to do it again. Grant needed time to get used to it. His mind might be in the mood for sex, but his young body needed practice and exercise in order for it to serve in a capacity other for than occasional intercourse. Carefully, I eased my penis back. He clamped down, of course, trying to keep me there, but to no avail.

"Okay, I think I know what you need," I smiled.

Grant looked at me from between his knees. "What?"

"Lesson number two," I teased. "If at first you don't succeed, you go to plan B."

"What's plan B?"

I winked secretively. Then with Grant watching me with wary eyes, I repositioned myself so that I was on my back. He giggled when I grabbed his hips and lifted him so that he ended up kneeling above me, his head above my thighs and his groin hovering above my face, my penis protruding upward. I placed my hands on his buttocks as he wriggled and squirmed. I pulled him down to me until he lay on my chest, my head nestled between his thighs. Lovingly I caressed his buttocks, circling my fingers on the smooth soft skin. I admired his contour, revelling in the firmness, the curvature, the absolute perfection of his lithe form.

He was quiet. His only movement was to place his legs further apart. I brought my face closer, leaning in to kiss his soft warmth. My lips grazed his smooth skin, following the lean yet slightly dimpled roundness of a young boy's bottom. The depth of his crack was hidden, yet his cheeks parted enough for me to appreciate that hidden part of him, for the realization to grow within me that this place was where I had twice made love to him. It was where I would always make love to him. I caressed his back, then brought my hands around behind him in a single fluid motion. My thumbs pressed inward, parting him. That was when I smelled him for the first time.

There is a innate aversion to the anus that is entirely human and deeply embedded in our consciousness. Its excretory function aside, the smell alone is usually enough to create repugnance. Perhaps that is why our society views homosexuals with such contempt and believes their most intimate love to be an abomination. Until that moment I had never considered the anus as a thing of worship. Indeed, like most people, the mere thought of touching another person's anus filled me with revulsion. That morning, as I gazed upon Grant's puffy reddened opening, I was transformed. It was shiny, oily, small. It had not contracted, remaining open, perhaps a half inch or more in diameter. There was a smear of yellowish slime from his anus to the underside of his scrotum. It seemed clean yet there was only one explanation of the color.

As I looked ,that small orifice seemed to wink invitingly at me even as it began to resume more normal size. Twice that part of him had borne the brunt of my love. With it, he taken my penis into him, kept my semen inside him, yet I had never really thought about how special it was. Under any other circumstances it should have been the last thing I would ever want to see, to touch, to make love to. Yet all that had changed. I loved him. I had made love to him there. That part of him was what enabled our bodies to join together.

My head moved of its own volition, drawn by both sight and smell. What should have been distasteful, was not. What should have turned my stomach, did not. I pushed my tongue forward. For a few seconds I could not bring myself to do what part of my desire was boldly me to do. I took a breath, tried to control the raging conflict that slowed my brain. One voice said 'just do it'. Another voice said 'it's disgusting'.

I was surprised by the amount of heat that emanated from his crack. It was hotter than my tongue. I licked. It tasted strange. Sour. Salty. Sweet. It wasn't bad. It was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was unlike anything I had ever done. It was exhilarating. As my tongue came ever nearer his opening, a rush of excitement went through me. The taste filled my mouth. The smell filled my nose. Again sweet. Musky. Yeasty. It was intoxicating. My nose plunged between his buttocks, absorbing the odor. My tongue plugged his anus, stabbing into hot sloppiness as far as it could go. I felt Grant's uncertainly. The sudden movement of his body as he turned back and tried to see what I was doing. I felt his shock, the apprehension, the unsettling effort to lift away when he realized what I was doing. I lifted away, aware that my heart was pounding frantically.

"What?…"

I breathed deeply and let it out slowly. "It's okay."

"You were…"

"Yes, I was."

"Gross!"

"Not really."

"Man, you're kidding!"

"No! It's okay."

Lovingly I licked him again, my tongue travelling most of the way along his crack before I could go no further. I squeezed his buttocks and playfully slapped them.

"It's not gross. It's you," I explained. "It's just another part of your body, a very special part, but it's also a part that I love."

"You're weird."

"Am I? Is it so gross, Grant? My cock was in there just a little while ago. You didn't think that was gross."

"That was different," Grant retorted adamantly.

"Why? Because it was my cock?" I answered. "Why is that any different?"

He thought for a moment. "It just is. You know why, Dad!"

"Because it's my tongue in your ass?" I laughed. "I love your ass, Grant. It's a beautiful little ass. Of course it's not as tight as it used to be, but it's all mine now."

"Gross me out!"

"I'll do worse than that."

I leaned into him, using my hands to split his buttocks wide apart. He was exposed, still slightly dilated, wet with my saliva. Again my nose nuzzled into his crack and my tongue extended, pushing into him until it physically hurt. I licked and swirled, stabbing erratically. I felt Grant give in to a stronger need. Then, despite his condemnation of what I was doing, he squirmed and pushed back. Around and around, in and out, slurping as deeply as I could reach into his twitching body. By then the taste was gone and the smell was very slight. By then I was captivated by the simple act of pleasuring my son. By then I was past caring about social taboo and hygiene.

He shuddered, began to gasp, quivering as my thumbs moved closer, went into his perfect hairless anus, pulling against the slicked and wrinkled band, barely able to resist ramming one or both thumbs into him as hard and as far as I could. Instead, I kissed him. With my lips tightly pressed against him, I sucked and sucked, suctioning the fluids I had deposited during the night into my mouth.

It was very satisfying, perhaps even more satisfying that taking his virginity. That may seem like a strange thing to say, but it was. It was an intimate union, a total collapse of a primal barrier, an undeniable acceptance of who and what I was. A few times I had oral sex with his mother. I think every married couple tries that at least once. Often it's a quid-pro-quo, the only way the man is going to get his penis sucked. I suppose there are a few men who actually like the taste and smell of 'pussy'. For me, my wife's hair-covered 'cunt' was a complete turn-off. I only did it the one time. The smell was strong and the taste was bitter. Her son was entirely different matter. I knew I could spend the rest of my life doing it.

His hips jerked once, then again, then found a timeless rhythm. He fucked. The motion came easily to him, his thrusting exaggerated by both his tender age and slender body into a depraved frenzy. His penis jabbed against my neck hard enough to leave bruises. His scrotum, now tightly wrinkled, rubbed my unshaven chin. Within the space of a minute he had become a sex machine with a single goal. Although breathless, it was impossible not to laugh as I lifted away. He stopped immediately.

"Why did you stop?" Grant demanded.

"You said it was dirty," I teased. I wiped wetness from my cheek and wondered whether it was his or mine.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"I said it was gross."

"Is it?"

"Uh… Um…"

"Well, yes or no, lover-boy?"

"No!"

"That's better. You like being tongue fucked, huh?"

"Uh huh." he grinned. "It's hot. It's a lot different to your dick."

"And it's not gross any more?" I challenged again.

"Okay, it's not gross!" Grant admitted with a crude giggle.

"Good."

"Do you want me to?…"

"Suck my cock?" I finished. I thought about it for a moment. "Is it dirty?"

"Uh, I'd don't know. I can't see anything. I mean it's got slimy stuff leaking out the end, but nothing else…"

"No shit?" I laughed.

"Something like that," Grant chortled. "Okay. What do I do?"

"You mean you haven't sucked Brandon's dick yet?"

"Brando?"

"Yes, Brandon."

"Um, well…" He giggled. "Okay. How do you know about that?"

I laughed, hiding my surprise in mirth. There really was no reason why the two boys should not engage in oral sex. In fact, there was no reason why they should not engage in anal sex, if that was what they both wanted.

"Because that's what boys do. There's hardly a boy alive who hasn't at least thought about it, either getting someone to suck his dick, or sucking someone else's. Even if you haven't done it, I'd be willing to bet you've thought about it, haven't you?"

Grant giggled again. "Sort of."

"I'm not surprised. Getting your dick sucked has to be the best feeling in the whole world. You've done it with Brandon, haven't you?"

He smiled shyly. "Would you get mad at me if I did?"

"Never. In fact, like I just said, I'd be surprised if you two didn't do it."

Grant looked away, his silence providing the affirmative answer that I expected. Even though I could not see his face, I knew what he was looking at my penis and comparing it to Brandon's small appendage. I knew he was having qualms about taking my penis into his mouth, not unexpected considering its size and where it had been. Taking a man's huge penis in his mouth was very different to sucking on a boy's tender morsel. I helped his decision by licking and nibbling at the small wrinkled mound of his testicles. He giggled uncontrollably until I stopped.

"That tickles."

"Uhmsosupoosedtoo," I mumbled.

Then promptly I sucked both of his tiny eggs between my lips. I pulled his penis back to my mouth which cause him to wince because it was so inflexible. I generously licked the little acorn-sized tip before sliding my lips slowly along it. I was taken back to my youth. I had sucked Adam Render often enough that I could recognize every vein in his short hard sex. His penis was about the same size as Grant's, but I could not remember it being as hard. I learned what to do over time, developing skill by experience the way that most boys do. By the time Adam was able to ejaculate, it was relatively easy for me to prolong his pleasure or make him succumb at my whim. It wasn't long after that when he lost interest in his own sex.

"Ohhhhhhahhhhhh," Grant whimpered.

I smiled, a somewhat difficult thing to do with your mouth around a boy's penis. If ever there was a time to smile, this was certainly it. I did not stop there, needless to say. Sucking hard, and guiding his testicles with the fingers of both hands, I took all of Grant's proud boyhood into my mouth. He responded exactly the same way the Adam used to.

"Uuhhhhaaoooeeewwwww."

My next 'trick' was 'ball-popping'. Adam loved it when I did that to him and I expected that Grant would be no different. I slipped his saliva-slicked penis out of my mouth. Then I sucked as hard as I could, pulling the scrotum as tight as a drum. A moment later, when he probably felt as if his testicles were about to pulled out of his body, I used my tongue and the air in my lungs to blow them out. Then, sucking back in and blowing out again, going as fast as I could while Grant pushed hard against my face with a surprising amount of strength. I stopped after a minute, with saliva drooling over my face. He was shuddering uncontrollably. I suspected that it would have taken only a few more seconds to bring him to a mind-shattering orgasm.

Only then, as his impending climax diminished, did I feel his hand stroking my penis. Yet, what I felt was more than mere touching of his fingers. There was both wetness and heat and the delicate nibbling of small soft lips as he kissed along my penis. It felt very different to anything that Adam had ever done to me. Adam reciprocated as he was duty bound by the unwritten code of conduct for boys, but he never did it with generosity, using his mouth to give me equal pleasure.

I felt Grant's tongue glide along the stretched skin of my penis, from tip to pubic hair. Then back again. Knowing what came next, I could not help but groan as the slippery, alive probe came closer and closer to my glans. I flexed my penis, lifting it high, hoping he would get the hint. His tongue swiped across the tip, seemed to pause momentarily, tasting. He stopped.

"He tastes kinda salty," he said softly.

"You don't have to," I said reassuringly.

"I know. I want to, okay?"

"It's up to you."

He licked again, this time swirling around my glans several times. The tip of his tongue worked against my meatus as if trying to get inside. He stopped again, giggling.

"Why aren't you sucking my balls?" he demanded.

"Cause you feel so good," I answered. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not. It just smells strange… but it really doesn't smell bad."

"The smell is your's, lover-boy," I said lovingly. "It comes from inside you."

"It's kinda like… I don't know…" Grant giggled. "It certainly doesn't smell the way I thought it would."

"You mean like shit?"

"Uh huh. It smells okay, kinda like your arm pit when you're all sweaty, only stronger."

"Very funny."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I want to know something." He leaned on an elbow and swivelled his head so that he looked back at me. "I figure my butt is sort of important, but why is it?"

"Huh? That's rather a weird question after what we did last night. Why do you think?"

"I guess because you put your dick in there. But why does it have to go in my butt?"

"Well, for one reason that's how two guys make love, by doing it there."

"I guessed that. But like why there?"

I laughed. "How many other alternatives are there?"

"I don't get you."

"Are there any other places?"

"I still don't follow."

"Okay. Think of it this way. Remember that time during the summer when I came into your bedroom and I found you and Brandon playing around?"

"Yeah." He smiled shyly.

"Okay. Remember what I said about how it wasn't wrong if you wanted to do things together because you were so close?" I said.

Grant nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, when you're very close to someone it's only natural to want to join your bodies together. That's part of being in love with someone. You want to be part of them. There are only two ways for guys to join together. One way is sucking each other's cocks. The other was is…"

"Fucking?" Grant finished.

"You got it."

"You want to fuck me?"

"Loving you also means I don't want to hurt you, Grant."

"I don't mind."

"There's two ways, remember?" I prompted gently. "Why don't you try putting it in your mouth?"

Grant smiled and turned back. He was visibly nervous. He licked again, less awkwardly as he overcame his fear. It was not going to bite him. If anything, he had to be careful. His lips smooched wetly. I felt his hand enclose my penis, lifting it higher. I licked his anus, probing with my tongue, finding the entry back into his body. He wriggled, pushing against my face. His lips brushed my glans, formed a kiss, pushing down, forcing my penis into his teeth. He lifted away. My tongue was fully extended, my nose burrowing into his crack. My fingers squeezed his testicles, firmly, relentlessly. It did not seem to hurt him yet I was careful not to squeeze too hard. His mouth opened wide and my penis entered. Not far, but far enough that I could feel the hot wetness, the softness inside his cheek, the firmness of his tongue. My hand moved slowly along his spine, cupping his head just above his neck, guiding him.

I did not force him. No boy should be forced to go down on a man's penis. Instead, my hand rested there, letting him know that I wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. He progressed cautiously, always keeping his right hand wrapped around my penis so that it could not go too far. He lifted up and glanced back at me.

"You're doing great, lover-boy," I admired.

"It's not so hard," Grant said softly. "I just keep bobbing my head up and down while I suck on him right?"

"That's the general idea."

He licked his lips. "He looks like he's having fun," he said as my penis jerked up and down hopefully.

"You'd better believe it."

"Will he shoot in my mouth if I keeping doing it?"

"Of course, but only if you want him to," I answered. "I'll warn you just before I come."

"What do I do then?"

"That depends on whether you want it in your mouth. Some boys don't like it. If you don't mind, you can either swallow or not."

"What do you want me to do?"

I smiled. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you to keep it in your mouth. I promise I'll tell you when it's about to happen. You can decide what you want to do."

He did not answer. His head moved back. He didn't take my penis back right away. Instead he nuzzled my testicles and massaged them between his hands. He was learning how to play with a man's genitals, avoiding the hair-covered parts while giving pleasure. Then suddenly, his lips settled over my penis and he took it all the way into his wide-open mouth. He didn't gag. It wasn't there long enough. He backed away instantly. However, he had proven to himself that he could do it. There was a momentary hesitation before his head lowered again. This time there was no stopping. When he lifted up it was only a moment before he quickly descended again.

It was a mystery how he learned to suck. Certainly he was a little awkward during those first few minutes but it was not as though he needed formal instruction. He began slowly, going up and down only one or two inches [3-5 cm] until he realized that he could go further if he wanted. He never went beyond the halfway point, but four inches [10 cm] was more than enough. After that, it did not take very long. We were both becoming charged with excitement, barely moving, yet gasping for each breath. At some point, I had replaced my tongue with a finger and worked at his anus until it was gaping open. Then I began stabbing back and forth, making sure to hit his immature prostate every time. It made him jump and grunt, and suck even harder as we began to hump against each other. I gripped his head as I lifted up, pumping hard and fast between his lips, into the hollow hot cavern of his mouth.

Perhaps I should have warned him. By the time I remembered my promise, it was too late. I held his head tightly as my penis became impossibly rigid. Each thrust seemed to further tighten my testicles. I rammed my finger all the way into his rectum, levering up and down into his tender intestines, working against that tiny gland deep within him.

"Coming! God! I'm coming," I shrieked.

I flooded his mouth with semen. It spurted out in hot blasts, the first one or two shots going deep into his mouth, the rest splashing over his tongue. I had a vague notion that this was the 'manhood ceremony', the proof of my dominance. He took all of my offering without gagging.

Then silence, stillness settling over us as my penis continued to throb. I pulled at his arm, dragging him upward, bringing his small body onto mine, hungrily seeking his tainted lips. The taste was strong and his mouth was full of it. He had no hesitation, happily sharing what I had just shared with him. This was special, and we both knew it. We had joined, exchanged, given willingly, taken wantonly. This was not something that fathers did with their sons. Even more than anything that I had done before, this made us lovers. My sperm was in his mouth, and in my mouth as well. We sucked each other's tongues, sharing the slimy fluid until what I tasted was more saliva than anything else. We parted breathlessly and rolled onto our sides. I stroked the hair back from his forehead.

"Well, what do you think?"

"It was okay," Grant admitted softly.

"It was okay? That's all you have to say?" I teased.

"It was nice," he whispered. "It isn't like I didn't want to do it. I've been thinking about what it would be like for a long while. I guess I was just scared."

"Ever since you sucked Brandon?" I asked teasingly.

Grant nodded slightly. He still was not prepared to talk about it. He shrugged bashfully and avoided my eyes.

"You were fantastic by the way, especially at the end. I didn't think you'd go through with it."

He smiled. "You made me feel really strange with your finger."

"I guess so. You were jumping around and twitching like there was no tomorrow. Did it hurt?"

Grant thought for a moment. "Not really. It hurt a little bit at first, but mostly it felt like your dick was in me, only not as big."

I kissed his forehead lovingly. "I expect your butt has to get used to it. The more you do it, the sooner it'll stop hurting."

It was at that moment that I spied the small plastic 'car' that I used to massage Grant's back. At first the possibility of another use did not strike me, but in a creative flash, I realized how it could be used to solve a pressing problem.

Quickly I sat up. "And I think I know exactly what you need," I added.

Grant regarded me suspiciously. "You want to fuck me again while I'm still loose back there?"

I laughed. "No. Not that, although the idea is very tempting. I have a better idea," I answered as I swung my legs out from under the covers and stood up.

"Such as?"

"You'll see," I replied as I picked up the 'car' and studied the bright-red plastic wheels.

The spherical wheels were connected to the 'car' by metal axles that looked as though they could be removed with a pair of pliers. Leaving Grant in the bed, I walked down stairs into the kitchen. There was a pair a pliers in the pantry along with the two other items I would need – a tube of fast-drying, two-part epoxy glue and a leather boot lace. Removing the axles took only a matter of a few seconds. I placed the six balls on the counter and picked up the boot lace and one of the balls. The hole through the ball was ideally sized. I pushed the end of the leather cord through until it reached the other side and pushed out about an inch [2½ cm]. Grinning, I placed it back on the table and picked up the glue.

I was almost finished mixing the two chemicals together when I heard Grant behind me.

"What are doing?"

I glanced over my shoulder. "Making you a late Christmas present."

"Huh?"

He walked forward, oblivious to the fact that he was naked. I felt my penis lurch. I would have to get used to the sight of a naked boy or I would never get any work done.

"Wait and see. It'll only take a few minutes."

I applied the glue to the end of the of the cord and carefully eased the ball back down until the end of the cord was no longer visible. I wiped off the small globule of glue that had gathered at the hole and then began to feed the five other balls onto the cord. Grant stood beside me, casually fondling his penis. He still had no idea what I was making. I wondered what he would say when he found out.

With all six of the balls bunched tightly together, I applied some more of the glue to the cord close to the last one. The only thing that remained to be done was to pull the last ball back so that it was over the glue. Carefully I placed the assembly back on the counter. More than three feet [90 cm] of leather cord remained after the last ball. For a moment I considered shortening it. Certainly there needed to be a few inches at the end, perhaps even as much as a foot [30 cm] in case it somehow managed to disappear inside him. However, there were going to be times when the extra length might come in handy to make a 'harness', especially if he was going to wear it in public.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" I asked after a moment's final inspection of my handiwork.

"Sure. Okay, now are you going to tell me what that thing is for?" Grant asked curiously.

"I'll do better than that. By the time you've finished drinking I promise I'll show you."

He followed me over to the refrigerator and leaned back. He fondled his penis absently, stretching the organ down and upward to see how far it could go.

"Do you think mine will ever get as big as yours?"

"Huh? Oh, I expect by the time you're in high school you'll be pretty big down there," I answered.

"As big as you are?"

"Maybe."

"Mine's already a lot bigger than Brando's," Grant said gleefully. "He has a really short one compared to mine. His is really thick. Mine's what the guys at school call a pencil dick."

"Damned hard enough to write with though," I laughed. "I guess you take after me. Long and thin."

"Your's isn't thin," Grant said dryly. He smirked. "And after what you did to my butt last night, I ought to know."

"How many grown-up ones have you seen?" I laughed.

Grant raised both eyebrows. Unable to keep a straight face, he chortled, "A few."

"Well you probably know that there are thicker ones than mine. I've always thought of a thin dick as being the perfect shape for a boy," I teased.

"Why?"

"Because thin dicks are able to fit through small openings easier than thick dicks."

We continued to exchange banter, while Grant went over to the fireplace and added some kindling and two or three logs. He had a good blaze going by the time the hot chocolate was ready. I passed Grant a mug and leaned back against the counter. God, was there any other boy as beautiful, I thought to myself. He smiled shyly.

"What are you looking at?"

"You."

"Why?"

"I was just thinking how much I'd like you take you back upstairs and do disgusting things to your body," I laughed.

He grinned shamelessly, giving me a look that suggested he would have been more than happy to take me at my word.

"Actually, if you must know, I was remembering how cute you were as a baby. You had a hot little butt even then, except of course when it came to cleaning your diaper."

"Ha ha. You're so funny, Dad."

"So funny I forgot to laugh," I finished. "I wonder if the glue is dry?" I added as I walked around the counter.

I picked up the balls. The glue appeared to have set. I tested it by pulling on the first and last balls. There was no give. The balls in the middle moved easily. There was about an inch of play as they slid back and forth. It was ready.

"You know what this is?" I asked.

Grant shook his head. "It was my back-rub car till you destroyed it."

"I think you'll like this even more. It's a dildo, of a type."

"A what?"

"A dildo. It's a kind of sex toy that people use."

"It sure looks like weird. What's it for?"

"It depends if you're male or female." I looked downward, as if checking Grant's gender.

"Dad, you can stop being stupid. You ought to know I'm a guy by now without looking."

"Okay. Now are you gay or straight?"

"Like you don't know the answer to that by now as well."

"After what you did this morning I think I'd have to say that you probably liked guys more than girls."

Grant was visibly uncomfortable with that comment, but sooner or later he would have to deal with similar comments from boys at school, if he had not already. He shrugged and glanced down at his feet.

"I guess so. Why does it matter?"

"Because if you're gay, this goes in your butt."

"I know it's a dumb question, but why does it go in my butt?" he asked curiously.

"If we're going to keep on having sex, you need to be bigger inside so you don't get sore. That means getting you used to having something rubbing against and stretching your rectum. You're also going to have to strengthen the muscles inside you. I think this will do the trick."

"You mean all those balls will go inside my butt?"

I nodded. "You might feel a bit full at first. Once you're used to them, you shouldn't really notice them all that much. Lean forward over my knees," I said as I sat down on the stool.

"Where would it go if I wasn't?" Grant joked feebly.

"I don't know. You wouldn't need it if you were into girls, or boys your own age."

I probably should have washed the balls first, but excitement had total control of me. Grant leaned over me, resting his chest on the counter and his hips on my thighs. With one hand I parted his firm little cheeks. His anus looked red and inflamed, not surprising considering the abuse it had received. Short of retrieving the Preparation H from the bedroom, or using margarine, there was no other readily available lubricant except saliva. It would have to do. I wet my fingers thoroughly and rubbed them into Grant's anus. He wriggled slightly, obviously enjoying the slippery sensation of my fingers massaging his tender opening. I applied more saliva to the balls. It wasn't much better than warm water, but it would have to do.

The first ball went in remarkably easily if I overlooked Grant's momentary squeal of surprise. With the ball centered over his anus, I placed my thumbs either side of the cord and pushed. One moment it was like a big shiny-red cherry between two pink cheeks, the next moment it was gone from sight. Not even the leather cord was visible as the next ball was pulled into place. I smiled, realizing that the one inch [2½ cm] interval between the two balls meant that they were separated by Grant's sphincter. He showed no sign of discomfort. Indeed he squirmed slightly, his buttocks clenching around the outside ball as if trying to squeeze it through as well.

The second ball went in even easier. This time there was no sound except a slight intake of breath. Then the third ball. He groaned, doubtlessly feeling pressure against his prostate. Three balls, three inches [7½ cm]. I made a mental note for the next time I made love to him. His legs jerked slightly, quivering as nervous energy dissipated. He relaxed slowly. My thumbs moved to the top of the fourth ball. This one took a little more effort. I presumed because the other three balls had to push deeper into him in order to make space. I breathed out as it disappeared past the puffy lips of his anus. It also looked as if it had been swallowed by a little mouth.

The fifth ball needed coaxing. I was patient, a virtue in itself for a boy lover, but eventually it was obvious that more force had to be applied. I pushed firmly, both thumbs levering inwards, my hands grasping each small cheeks and levering outwards. Slowly it moved forward. It happened in slow motion, unlike the first four balls. When the maximum circumference was reached his anus stretched to become a taut thin band of red. It was almost as red as the fire-engine-colored ball. It closed slowly, not popping in like the others before it. Grant groaned and pushed against me as the balls displaced his insides and pressed against his bladder.

"Okay?" I asked with concern.

Grant's head moved slightly in affirmation. "It hurts a bit."

"Try to relax," I said as I lovingly stroked his bare back. "It'll take a few minutes at least. Try not to push them back out."

His buttocks clenched, pulling against the one remaining ball. Although I could not be certain, I assumed that his inner muscles were already beginning to work against the balls inside him. There was a muffled 'clunk' sound when the balls collided within him. I grinned, convinced my assumption was right.

"Don't overdo it," I said gently. "Take your time in getting used to it."

"I can feel them moving them around," Grant said. "Weird!"

"You ready for one more?"

"I guess. It doesn't hurt that bad any more."

Again, my two thumbs pushed. Was I correct in thinking that Grant was using his inner muscles to help pull it through? Unlike the previous ball, the last one went in without difficulty. All said, it was quite easy. With a little practice it would take less than a minute to push them inside. Six balls, six inches [15 cm] long, an inch [2½ cm] thick. His buttocks continued to tense and contract as he became accustomed to the new sensations.

"It feels a lot different to you," Grant said over his shoulder.

"I imagine so. Are you ready to try standing up?"

"Won't they come out?"

"Hm, maybe. But that's what this is for," I replied, holding up the end of the leather cord.

It was long enough to trail on the floor. I carefully tied a loop about eight inches [20 cm] long and close to where the cord exited from his anus. When Grant was standing unsteadily, I began by bringing the loop up from between his legs so that the two sides were on either side of his genitals. I placed his hands there to hold it in place. The end of the cord I placed between his buttocks. Then I brought the cord across his hip and through the loop. Back around, circling the cord as it left his crack, past the other hip to the other side of the loop. I tightened it and tied it off. Grant was stark naked except for the thin yellowbrown leather cord. The result was very erotic. He wriggled his pelvis, clenching his buttocks. His enjoyment was very evident in his grin.

"How's that feel?" I asked.

"Cool! hey, there is no way they can come out now."

Grant walked a few steps cautiously. He stopped, turned around and walked back to the counter.

"Very cool," he smirked. "It feels a bit like…you…"

"Huh?"

"You know. Like I'm being fucked, only it doesn't hurt a bit."

"I expect so. Where on earth did you learn words like that anyway?" I chuckled.

"From Brando," Grant smirked. I gave him an exasperated look. He laughed. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Hm… I don't know. Maybe we ought to get dressed and drive into town for breakfast," I suggested lightheartedly.

"Like this?"

"Sure."

"You mean with this inside me?"

"Sure. At least you won't be farting in the restaurant."

I sent Grant off to start getting cleaned up and dressed while I rinsed the two mugs. It was only when I was in the living room that I heard the shower running, and over the sound of splashing water, his high-pitched voice. "Hey, Dad? Hurry up." I smiled, thinking of Grant. It did not take a lot of imagination to realize what he wanted. He wanted me in the shower with him. It would not be the first time that we had showered together, and it certainly would not be the last time. Instead of answering I followed my intuition, followed the sound, followed his invitation to join him. Despite my occasional admonition to close the shower curtain, he had not done so. I saw him even before I entered the bathroom. He grinned the instant he saw me, promptly turned around, and mooned me. With each of his hands grasping a cheek, he split his buttocks wide apart. Other than the leather cord around his waist, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Then, suddenly, there was a bright red ball peeping out of the darkened ring of his anus. Needless to say, it was quite a sight.

"Hey," I laughed. "It looks like you're about to lay an egg."

A moment later the hole closed again and the red ball disappeared from sight. He straightened up, smiling.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Very cool. Doesn't it hurt? Doing that?"

"Nope. It feels funny, kind of like I'm about to have a really big poop."

"I can imagine. Do you want to share the shower with me?" I asked.

Grant nodded and made room for me by moving to one side as I stepped over the edge of the bath. He passed me the soap.

"Wash me," he instructed confidently.

"Wash yourself," I said as I returned the bar of soap to me.

The look on his face changed. His bottom lip pushed forward glumly.

"Why not?"

"Because I am starving hungry, and if I wash you, it will lead to something else,"

"So?" he whined playfully.

"So, before we know it, it'll be lunchtime. So you wash yourself while I do my hair."

Grant smirked. "Okay, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I get to wash him first," he demanded pointedly. He looked downward, emboldened.

"It's a deal," I answered. "But you have to behave yourself. No silly stuff."

It took all my self restraint that morning not to take advantage of the situation. It would have been very easy. He held my penis like it was the most precious thing in the world. Then, with the soap in his other hand, he proceeded to run it up and down the length of my sex organ, again and again until it was slippery and foamy white. Within the space of a few seconds, my penis was hard enough to chip the tiles off the wall behind me. He cradled it between his fingers, rubbing his thumbs ever so gently along the shaft. I shifted uneasily. This was not mere masturbation. This was the height of physical stimulation. It was deliberate, intense, shameless exploration. Hot, soapy, slithering fingers, squeezing my most sensitive place. my buttocks tightened, anticipating orgasm in the immediate future. It was all I could do to watch and breath, gaze in fascination as he rinsed away the foam, still working his hands rhythmically as he took advantage of the water that cascaded over us.

"Can I suck him?" Grant whispered.

"Can you what?" I managed to squeak out.

"Suck him? I want to suck your dick. Can I?"

My mind went into shock, conflicting thoughts, a paroxysm of unrealized needs. Adam Render had sucked my penis. Only Adam. My wife had never done that. And now my son was offering that special joy to me. His face was innocent, yet the words he spoke were not innocent.

"Ah, um, I don't think that's a good idea," I managed to reply after I had taken a deep breath.

"It's… ah not that I wouldn't like you to," I added as he became crest-fallen. "Why not?"

"Um… because… well…"

"But you want me to. I know you do," Grant interjected. "And I want to, as well," he added boldly.

"Yeah, well…"

Grant giggled. "What are you worried about?"

"I'm not worried about anything," I retorted. "I'm not sure it's something you ought to be doing, that's all."

"Why not?"

"Because… well… um…"

"Because I'm a boy and you're a man?" he asked.

"It gets messy sometimes," I answered.

"I don't mind."

"I don't think you understand, Grant."

"There's lots of your semen already in my butt, Dad. Why does it matter if it goes in my mouth as well?"

"Because… ah…"

Again I groped for the words. Grant had a point. I could hardly tell him that it was different. Butt, mouth, was there really any difference? A quick downward glance was enough to see that he was aroused. Hard, eager, pointing towards me.

"It's different," I added meekly.

"So? I'm not afraid. I can always swallow it."

I swallowed my surprise. "I'm sure you can. Only I'm hungry and I'm sure you are too. There's a chance we'll get some more snow as well, so the sooner we get dressed and in the car the better."

Grant acquiesced, which a good thing because if he had not, I would have given in. As he soaped himself up, I shampooed my hair and rinsed. We exchanged soap for shampoo. Watching a lithe young boy in the shower, arms stretched back over his head, every rib line clearly revealed, a flat brown belly with muscles defined, eyes closed as his fingers kneaded his scalp. Unknown to him I watched him with silent appreciation, luxuriating in the warm water, abandoned to self-indulgent sensuous pleasure. His body curved live a bow, his penis sticking straight out like a arrow ready to be launched. This beautiful creature before me was the epitome of boyhood.

We dried off quickly, using the big fluffy towels that Sue always preferred to buy even though they took forever to dry afterwards. He darted off to his bedroom to find some clothes, reappearing a minute later with an armful of blue jeans and sweatshirt. I watched him dress, fascinated by his deft movement and the inherent agility of youth. I watched as he pulled his feet through the tattered ends of his jeans, pulled the zipper up to cover up was now a substantially bigger bulge than I had previously been aware off. I watched him put on his sweatshirt, covering his slim smooth torso until there was nothing more to see. He grinned.

"Well, I'm waiting. You better hurry up old man or I'll leave without you."

"You're going to drive the Jeep into town?"

Grant beamed. "Can I?"

"Hardly. Maybe in a another six years," I answered.

"How about in five years."

"Huh?"

"I can get my driver's permits and stuff in five years if we lived up here."

I smiled back at him. "What the law allows and what I allow are two different things. Maybe five years, maybe six years. I'll decide that when the time comes, Gee-Tee. Either way, you had better start saving your money so you can buy yourself a car," I teased.

I ruffled my hand through his mussed up hair and gave him a friendly shove towards the bathroom. He took the hint and ambled off to brush his hair while I finished dressing.

It was warmer outside than I expected. Indeed, there had already been some melting going on since the sun rose that morning. Still at the rate it was going, it was likely that the snow would remain until the next week. But it was beautiful. The trees were dark silhouettes against the blinding white snow. The rail fence still had thin lines of snow on the upper surfaces. Long ice crystals hung from the eaves and sparkled like oversized diamonds.

On the hill, there were long curved lines pressed into the snow, twisting and turning, a complex weaving from our two sleds. The air was fresh and clean. And it was quiet. There was no sound, except perhaps the hint of air moving through the branches. It was very different to our house in the city. There, the snow would have turned into grey slush. It was noisy, nonstop. And the smell of people was always there. It was thus that I thought of Grant's comment right before he went into the bathroom.

"Would you like to live here?" I asked.

"Here? You mean all year?"

I could hear the excited inflection in his voice. It was a possibility that I had never really entertained beyond the realities of making a living.

"Yes," I answered.

Grant smiled and started walking towards the Jeep. After a few paces he stopped and turned around.

"It would be really cool."

"It would be difficult," I said thoughtfully as I caught up to him and dropped my arm neatly around his shoulders.

"Why? Because of your job? But you always work up here when we stay during the summer. Why would it be any different for the rest of the year?"

"Well, I do have to travel sometimes," I answered.

Still it was an attractive proposition and one that I could have even begun to think about only a day earlier.

"It isn't all that far to the airport. And you always say that it's easier to fly in and out of than JFK."

"No worse that's for sure. Wouldn't you miss living in New York?"

"A bit," Grant admitted. "We could go skiing all the time if we lived up here. We don't even have to drive over to Lake Placid most of the time, and summer here is really fun, and…"

"True. You really don't have to convince me."

"Besides you're always saying how hard it is to work at home because of the interruptions."

"That's also true." I smiled.

He was getting excited at the prospect, and for some reason that struck a chord within me. Like me, Grant had always preferred the outdoors. He would live a very different life if we lived here instead of New York. However, there was an added advantage. It would be very unlikely for his mother to spend the time and come all the way to visit him more than once or twice a year. despite my promise to myself not to depreciate her in front him, I did not relish the idea of sharing him with her.

"There are some problems," I mused as I brushed the snow off the windscreen with my gloved hand.

"Like?"

"For one thing there's a problem with finding a school for you."

"I could go to the same school as Brandon goes to," Grant suggested hopefully.

"You wouldn't mind not going to Lyndhurst then?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'd miss my friends a bit." He paused, reflecting. "But none of them means as much to me as Brando."

I opened the car door and closed it again once he was in. I walked to the other side, still thinking. It was an interesting possibility, living here with Grant, surrounded by nature. He could grow up the way all boys should grow up, with woods to play in, with horses to ride, with a boy who would be his friend for life, with a father who loved him.

Luckily, the road into town was in much better condition that it had been a day earlier when I took Grant to see his Christmas present. We turned left over the bridge, leaving Blueberry Pond on our right as we headed into town. It was a beautiful view that confronted us as we passed lower Saranac Lake. A veil of mist hung over Eagle Island, giving it both picturesque mystery and a romantic aura.

The traffic into Saranac Lake was relatively light so it was only about thirty minutes later when I pulled up in front of Benton's. There were a few other vehicles parked outside, all of them pick-up trucks. I wondered where the tourists were for there were always a few who ventured into out of the boutiques and into real life.

We took a booth, midway along the front window so that we could watch the passing parade. Our waitress was young, probably not more than six years older than her youngest customer. She was nervous, yet attentive. Her eyes flickered at me, then back to Grant. There was a resemblance, but not one that was immediately discernible. In my opinion, he simply was far too good looking to be my offspring. She flirted with him in the teasing way that teenagers have when they are confronted by someone who is interesting. She had a hard job concealing her smile, and Grant blushed a little bit with the uninvited attention. Then, taking the 'bull by the horns', Grant ordered his meal with surprising poise, making sure that the waitress understood exactly how he wanted his eggs cooked. I smiled proudly at the boy opposite me.

Sometimes, moments like this, he seemed to be an adult already. As the waitress departed he absently began to rearrange the metal tray containing sachets of sugar and artificial sweeteners. After a minute of undue concentration, he slowly looked up and gave me a bashful smile.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Do you think she's pretty?"

"Who? The waitress?"

Grant nodded slightly, his eyes meeting mine. His face was expressive of his emotions and I often teased him by saying that I 'could read him like a book'.

I shrugged ambiguously. "Do you?"

"She's okay," he admitted.

"Okay?" I challenged. "You don't think she's pretty?"

He shrugged back at me, looking a little sheepish. "I guess," he ventured. He hesitated, pursing his lips before he continued. "Dad… if I'm gay, I wouldn't like girls, would I?"

"Ah… well you may not be gay. It could just be a stage you're going through," I suggested without any real hope that might indeed be the case.

He thought about that for a moment before during back to his assigned task of ordering the contents of the metal basket. I wondered what was going through his mind. He had suddenly taken on a whole set of problems that the vast majority of boys don't even begin to deal with until they are well into their teens. I could only imagine how he felt. Before either of us spoke again, the waitress returned with my coffee and a large glass of milk.

This time I watched Grant more closely. The waitress was unquestionably beautiful. Her breasts bulged into a tight white tee-shirt, emphasizing her femininity as well as her slim body. For almost any boy, her sheer proximity should have provoked an erection. Grant glanced at her, smiled at me. Seen only by me, he raised his eyebrows with a child's clumsy attempt to show interest. it was all I could do not to laugh aloud. The little rascal was taunting me. That was the only explanation other than he was beginning to be appreciative of the opposite sex. He lifted the glass carefully and sipped, leaving a milk moustache for a few seconds before his tongue slurped across his upper lip.

"Good?" I asked.

"Cold."

Again we sat in silence. A minute passed before I felt Grant's leg brush mine under the table. His leg pressed harder, moved slightly until our feet were together. His leg began to rub up and down my leg.

"Do you think she's sexy?" he whispered.

"Compared to who?"

"Me."

"Nope."

"But you think she's pretty?"

"Yes."

"I don't get it."

"You will in time." I sipped my coffee, waiting.

Grant looked up at me, his bright eyes sparkling with life. He smiled, then lowered his head. His foot moved so that it on top of mine. He looked up again to meet my eyes. There was love. Not lust, but love. I saw deep love, love that needed me as much as I needed him. It was a little like looking into adult eyes and seeing a life-long commitment, yet the sincerity was enough to sweep my mind clear of any other thought except one. We smiled at each other. I was content. I had everything that I needed at that moment sitting a few feet in front of me.

"So what are we going to do today?"

"I don't know. Do you have ideas?"

"We could see a movie?" Grant suggested hopefully.

I nodded. "I was thinking of going skiing for a while. The on the way back, stop by the Bowman's so you could ride for a bit."

"Yeah!"

It was relieving to move on to another subject. Yet my mind stayed where it was, focused on him, taking in a myriad details of his face as if I had never seen him before. I decided he was perfect, infinitely more beautiful that our waitress. With him around, I could never be interested in the opposite sex.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What's up?"

"Up?"

I was startled at first, and then I smiled. He was too young to know about innuendo. It was an innocent question.

"I was thinking about you," I answered. "I'm really glad you want to live with me."

"So am I. Don't forget we have to buy some more, Dad."

"Some more?"

"You know that stuff you used inside me. The Preparation H stuff."

I was surprised that I had forgotten already, especially since we had discussed it in the car. There was only a small amount left in the tube, hardly enough for one more time.

"You want to get it?" I asked. "It's on the drug-store side. Just bring it back here. I'll pay for it when we leave."

Grant slid out of his seat and headed off. Benton's had two sections, divided by a wall that had at one time separated two different stores. I figured it would take him a few minutes to find it, plenty of time before his breakfast arrived at the table. I drank some more coffee and accepted a refill. As the waitress leaned forward and gave me a view of her two pert breasts, I wondered what she would think if she knew that Grant and I were lovers. Merely thinking about it was enough to get my penis growing. If she knew that we had made love until we were exhausted? If she knew that even at that moment, he was walking around the store with a home made dildo inside his rectum as he looked for a lubricant for sex?

"Hi!"

I was surprised to hear Gary's voice and I turned around in my seat. He walked up, grinning.

"Morning, Gary. You look happy," I commented.

"Brandon's coming back a few days early. I'm meeting him at the airport in an hour."

"He wasn't supposed to be back till New Year's day?" I queried. Gary nodded. "Grant will be doing cartwheels. We were thinking of going skiing afterwards, but he won't want to go now, that's for sure."

"Don't bet on it. So, where is he any way?"

"Back there," I said as I gestured over my shoulder. "How come you stopped here?"

"I was wanting some coffee and I saw your Jeep. So…"

"So sit down and join us," I offered.

He sat down were Grant had been sitting, moving the partially finished glass of milk to one side.

"How come Brandon's coming home sooner?" I asked. "It must have cost a fortune for his ticket to be changed this time of year."

"A couple of hundred, I expect. I didn't pay it." Gary hesitated. "He got into a fight with his step brother, I expect. It happens a lot, whenever he's there for a few days. They don't get on."

"Oh? It's hard to imagine anyone who can't get along with Brandon."

Gary nodded. "Curtis gives him a hard time."

"Hi Mr. Bowman," Grant said as he approached. He grinned. "Sorry, Gary."

"That's better G-T. How are you doing?"

"Good." Then Grant smiled knowingly at me. "No, great. Really great."

"That good, huh?"

"Uh huh."

He slid back into his seat, sitting closer to the aisle than he had been previously.

"Hey, Grant, I bet you can't guess who's getting back today?" I asked.

There was only a moment's silence.

"BRANDON!!!!!!"

It was impossible not to laugh at his boyish exuberance. He was excited and he had a right to shout at the top of his lungs.

"Today?" He looked at Gary expectantly. His question was confirmed with a friendly nod. "You mean it? YEAH!"

"He's landing at the airport in about an hour," I said. "We can go meet him after breakfast, if you want."

"Yeah. This is so fantastic. I was worried I would only see him for a day and a half before we went back home."

"So, what did you buy?" Gary asked.

The question was completely redundant because in his excitement, he had placed three boxes on the table. One was the familiar yellow and blue box of ointment. Another box was yellow and red, and it was labelled 'Hydrocortisone' and promised to treat 'external anal itch'. The third box was pale blue and yellow and was labelled 'Cooling Gel' for 'fast cooling relief'. He certainly had all the bases covered. The look that Grant and I shared was guilty in the extreme. It was far worse than being caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"Somebody got hemorrhoids… or what?" he added slyly.

"Uh, well… I've been suffering a bit," I answered awkwardly.

"You might want to try suppositories too," Gary smirked. "Especially if the opening is a bit tight."

"It must be itching pretty bad, Dad," Grant teased gleefully.

"Not like your butt-hole will be itching after I give you the wedgie of the century," I rebuked good humoredly.

"This century or the next one?"

We all laughed, although the truth was a little too close for comfort. Then, as the waitress approached again to take Gary's order, we all fell quiet. The waitress also observed the three boxes on the table. She looked more than a little surprised.

"We're trying to decide which one to buy," Gary joked. "Of course, it's not from the food here."

The look on Grant's face was priceless.

"Just ignore him, Miss. He'll take some coffee, black," I said to the dumbfounded girl. She backed away and then smiled uncertainly, before disappearing behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area. We started laughing again. It lasted longer that the situation merited. Still grinning, with eyes watering, Grant began picking up one of the boxes at a time and reading the label aloud. It was enough to promote another round of laughter each time he did one.

After that, the time rocketed by. We never did come back to talk about why three different types of hemorrhoid treatment were necessary. It was Grant's body and he had a right to do what he thought was necessary to take care of it. We ate heartily, if not some what guiltily in front of Gary, who was content to talk while he drank three cups of coffee and to steal food from Grant's plate whenever he was not watching. It was a game that Grant was more than happy to play, as he guarded his strips of bacon with his fork at the ready. All too quickly, it was time to pay the bill and go to the airport. When Gary went to the bathroom, Grant tugged abruptly on my shoulder.

"Yes, Grant, what is it?" I asked with amusement at his apparent urgency.

"Dad… Um, if we go to the airport to meet Brandon, then will we still go skiing?" Grant asked.

"I guess. We won't have all that much time, especially if you want to ride Moonraker afterwards. It really isn't worth the trip."

"It'd be nice to see Brandon at the airport, but I really want to go skiing with you," Grant said simply.

He smiled at me shyly, ever the awkward boy when it came to expressing his feelings, although as I was beginning to realize, he could also be very emotional at times.

"I was thinking of going to Whiteface," I said with admiration that he could even consider me over his best friend.

"Whiteface? I love Whiteface. We can do the gondola too," Grant said ebulliently.

The last time we had ridden the Cloudsplitter Gondola had been nearly a year ago. Then, Grant and I had taken the seven-and-a-half minute ride to the top of Little Whiteface together. We left his mother at a bar drinking a hot rum toddy while we went off for the ride of our lives and several hours of skiing.

"Maybe, if we have time."

"Brandon can spend time with his dad and I can spend time with you."

"That's very nice of you, Grant. Only I really don't mind. We can go skiing tomorrow if you want. We could take Brandon with us too," I offered.

Grant nodded. "Only I want you to myself for a while."

And so it was decided. For some reason, perhaps because he chose to go skiing with me, but I suddenly realized how much I enjoyed giving Grant the power to choose what he wanted. It was another big step for him in growing up, in breaking away from always being subjected to another person's wishes, even someone who he love dearly. Not that it was very important in the overall scheme of things, because it wasn't, yet it made both of us happy.

"That's fine with me," I replied.

"I want to try The Slides this time," Grant said as he grinned.

"In your dreams. Do you want to kill me? That's back country. If I run into a tree you'll have to carry me out."

He grinned again and shook his head. "You can do it, Dad," he replied. "You're not that old. You just have to be more careful at your age and try not to take too many risks."

"Any more 'old' wisecracks out of you, young man, and I'll drop you off at the Bunny Hutch Nursery and spend the day at Nicola's."

As Grant burst into laughter, I started towards the check-out counter, carrying the three boxes of Preparation H. 'Ointment', 'Cooling', and 'external anal itch' were almost antithetical to a pre-teen boy who wanted to ski some very difficult terrain. He caught up to me as I handed over my credit card.

"Can we have lunch there?"

"At Nicola's?" I asked. "After the huge breakfast you just ate, you're already thinking about lunch."

"So? I've been getting a lot of exercise lately," Grant said with a meaningful smile at me. He made eye contact with the sixteen-year-old waitress for a second or two before he looked at his feet.

"Well, if not lunch," he added, "how about dinner then."

"What about Moonraker?" I answered as I signed the form and returned it to her to tear into separate sheets.

"Geez Dad," Grant said wistfully.

"And Brandon will want to see you, even if you don't want to see him."

"We could have an early dinner?" he suggested hopefully. "Right after we finish skiing. Then we could drive to Brandon's place and we could ride for a while. You wouldn't have to worry about cooking dinner when we got home."

"That sounds like a good plan to me," I replied.

I enjoyed listening to the sound of his voice. There was a soft mellow tone to it, a hint of soprano that was entirely in keeping with his age. It was an innocent voice, a voice that had never known pain, or difficulty, or any of the myriad horrors in the world. I also enjoyed his suggestion. He preceded me outside, taking great pains in holding the door open for both Gary and me. Then, in a display of boyish bravado, and somewhat foolhardy, he leaped off the verandah, nearly lost it as he spun around. Nearly dropping to the ground, he slid ten feet [3 m] across the ice that had formed on the parking lot. He regained his balance with a twirl and stood up.

"Taaa-daaa," he proclaimed with a right-handed flourish.

"Very funny," I said dryly. "There's going to come a time when you end up with a broken leg. Just don't come crying to me when you do."

Gary chuckled. "Good finish, though G-T."

I gave him a sour look, yet he was right. The agility of my young son often held me in awe. I just did not like him taking unnecessary risks, but agility and risk-taking went hand in hand – it was the essence of a 'boy', of who and what he was.

"We're going to go skiing," Grant announced as he came up beside us.

He grinned, possessively placing his hand on my shoulder.

"I thought you would," Gary said. He winked at me. "I'm sure Brandon will understand. Besides, he and I have a lot of catching up to do. It's surprising how badly you can miss someone after only a couple of days."

There was a forlorn note in his voice. If I had any doubt that he really missed his son, it was quickly dispelled by his expression. Suddenly, I was very glad that Grant had elected to go skiing with me rather than interrupt the forthcoming father-son reunion at the airport.

"If it's okay with you, we'll drop around to your place around five or six this evening," I said.

Gary nodded and fumbled in his jacket pocket to find his keys.

"Don't tell Brandon," Grant said simply.

Gary turned quickly, meeting Grant's imploring eyes. "Sure. You want to break the good news yourself?"

"Uh huh. I'll tell him when we get there."

"Tell him what?" I asked.

The look on Grant's face was disturbing. It was very disturbing. He blanched, his mouth slightly open. I could not help feeling that Grant had told Gary about what had happened on Christmas Eve, and later on Christmas morning. If he had told Gary is was completely contrary to my instructions, and to his promise to me never to tell.

"About my pony," Grant said meekly.

It was a lie. A week earlier, even as recently as a few days, I would not have noticed, or cared. It had taken two days for our relationship to become so close that I could understand him almost as if I could read his thoughts. I had to trust him to use his common sense, but there was so much at stake. Even if Gary had a sexual relationship with a man when he was Grant's age, seemed to openly advocate that men and boys should have a strong relationship, we were still at risk. There was nothing to stop him from going to the police. No one could know about us.

"Grant…"

"What?"

"Nothing," I answered glumly.

He glared at me challengingly.

We were quiet for the next ten minutes as I drove through the town, found Route 86 and proceeded on towards Lake Placid. The road was well salted and lightly travelled, although the traffic would increase considerably as it got closer to noon. I tried to enjoy the scenery. Finally, aware that I had to say something to break the silence, I glanced sideways at Grant. At the same instant, his eyes flickered away. Instinctively, I realized that he had been looking at me, although I had no idea for how long. Was he feeling the same desperation, the unpleasant sensation that there was a chasm about to open between us?

"I'm sorry," we both said in unison.

We looked at each other in surprise. I smiled. He smiled. I wanted to ask Grant if he had told Gary about us. Instead, I held my words back. Sooner or later I would have to talk about it with him. Now was not the time. I placed my hand on Grant's slim thigh and gently rubbed up and down. I eased off on the accelerator as we approached the car in front. It was a tourist, at least if the Vermont plates were any indication. The driver was a young man. His girlfriend was sitting close beside him, the way people sit before they get married. From the position, and the fact that he held the steering wheel with his left hand, it was very likely that they were engaging in a little foreplay on the way to the slopes.

"Are you mad at me?" Grant asked softly.

I shook my head, and caressed his lithe leg lovingly.

"You think he's feeling her up?" he asked dispassionately.

"Huh? Where on earth do you learn things like that?" I asked.

"School."

"So much for sending you to that expensive private school," I replied.

He shrugged. He had never been particularly happy at that school. For the last year, there were increasing signs that it was affecting his work. He had even asked his mother if he could go somewhere else. Given that she was on the Board of Directors, his request was dismissed with prejudice.

"Do you?" Grant persisted.

"Probably."

"So… Are you still hungry?"

"Hungry?"

"You were too hungry to do anything before, remember?" Grant said pointedly.

"Oh that," I said with pretended vagueness.

"Yes, that." He regarded me patiently. "So…?" he asked suggestively.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Promise you won't get mad at me?"

"I promise."

"I want to suck him."

Like the time before, my heart jumped into overdrive. When, where, how, did a ten-year-old boy learn about oral sex? Still, it was an interesting possibility. I nodded slowly.

"Now?"

"Uh huh."

Grant grinned a moment before he made an 'O' with his lips.

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"You don't want me to?"

"Ah… I didn't say that. It's just that… well it's dangerous doing that kind of stuff in the car."

"They're probably doing it," Grant giggled as he gestured to the car in front.

Some time during the last minute the blond-headed woman had disappeared from sight. It was a pity in a way because the view was spectacular as we passed the last turnoff to the Olympic Village and were confronted by Wolf Pond and Little John Mountain behind it. I smiled.

"I bet she's sucking him right now, Dad."

"Maybe."

"Do you think it's dangerous to do it while they're driving?"

"What do you think, Grant?" I queried self-consciously.

"Yes. So you had better keep your eyes on the road," he chided.

I did not expect him to follow through. What he was talking about doing was such an adult thing that it seemed highly unlikely, even impossible that he had any idea what oral sex actually entailed. Perhaps, deep in my mind, where my reason was still untainted by lust, I did not want him too, but another part of me wanted him to do it very much. It was all I could do to wait as he leaned forward and down. I felt his hands at my crotch, squeezing playfully in the preliminary event to what would surely follow.

"He's already getting big."

I tried to control my racing mind. I was experiencing sensory overload, and all he was doing was cupping his hand over my increasingly large bulge. I could feel it growing longer and harder with every second. It was all I could do to keep breathing. Being around Grant was definitely a learning experience.

"Open my zipper."

The rasping voice did not even sound like mine. I could feel my chest rising and falling. I tried to concentrate. He was. His fingers were surprisingly deft as he unfastened my belt, opened the zipper, tickled the uncomfortably curved shaft of my sex.

"Can I get him out?"

"Sure."

I shuddered as Grant's small fingers pressed in against my belly, slipped under the elastic waist band, stretching the cloth. His other hand reached into the gap. His hand was cool, determined. He tugged my penis out, then pushed the top of my underpants beneath my testicles.

I risked a quick look down. He gazed at my maleness as his fingers slowly caressed the length of my shaft. If I was not fully erect, that simple act was enough to complete the process. He tilted his head and smiled coyly. His tongue extended a half inch [1 cm]. He licked his lips mischievously. Earlier he had been bold, but now, he was almost modest. He was not reluctant. I could see he was excited, building my anticipation of that first hot, wet touch until it was overpowering. I tried to remember what it felt like when Adam took my penis into his mouth. Would it feel the same?

His head came closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my bare skin. His fingers pinched around my glans, squeezing the rounded fullness, a fingernail scraping the opening, the fingers of his other hand gently teasing my scrotum. Then, the heat settled over me and my penis was bathed in his precious saliva. For a moment I was uncertain whether he had merely licked me or whether he had given me a wet kiss. That question was promptly dispelled as his lips formed a circle, a flesh band that held my glans captive. My penis was in his mouth for the very first time. I gasped. His nimble fingers fondled my testicles. I tried to lift up, to push more inside him. My mind urged him on, hoping that he could read my mind. He lifted away and looked up at me awkwardly.

"Good?"

"Good?" I replied. "You're doing great."

"Should I put more in my mouth?"

"Uh, um, ah… well… It's up to you."

He giggled. "It's like a big ice-cream. Only it's hot instead of cold. And he tastes a bit funny right on the tip where your stuff comes out."

"Sorry about that. I can't help it."

"It's okay. It's just strange. Like it's soapy and salty at the same time."

Then words were unnecessary. Not that I would have been able to say anything even if I had wanted to. Not with my penis inside Grant's mouth, drawing the strength out of me until it was all I could do to keep the car on a more or less straight line on the road. The cacophony of sensations that coursed through my body for the next few minutes were nothing short of incredible.

Think of something so soft that it is almost impossible to feel, except that you know it is there and it is touching you, enveloping you, absorbing you. Then think of something hot, not hot enough to burn, but hot like a living thing. Hot like 98.6 degrees [37°C], human warmth. Then, moist and slippery, and a suction that is mercurial, yet resolute. Put it all together. That was what my ten-year-old son's mouth felt like. It was that and more, much more. And then there was his tongue. It was an eel, as wriggling and flexible, and every bit as strong. The sensations were overpowering, the ultimate pleasure that a man had to experience at least once during his life. He consumed me, allowing me to penetrate deeper. My penis entered of its own volition, feeding on the impossible hardness within his mouth.

All the while, Grant employed his tongue in a way that no woman could ever understand. For me, it was the final consummation of our love. I was aware only of the sounds; the wet slurping noise he made as he bobbed his tousled head up and down. I heard the slick sound of his saliva churning, the smack of his lips against my straining flesh, the distant groaning that seemed to be coming from me. I wanted it to go on and on forever, yet every feeling told me that the end was coming quickly and there was no way that either of us could stop.

The suction and heat increased until my penis felt like it was the only part of my body that really accounted for anything. It was the essence of my being. I felt it jumping, hungrily demanding more. He pushed down slowly, taking me deeper, almost into his throat. It was tighter there. Then, he would lift up quickly, backing off when I quaked and trembled. My hand settled over his head. I wanted to guide him, to help him do what he needed to do. Leaning over me, so small, so willing to perform this sacred rite with me. Neither of us would forget. I caressed his hair, rubbing gently behind his ear. I willed him to go further, silently urged him to move faster and further.

Adam had sucked my penis a total of half a dozen times, and then only before we were sexually mature. It did not matter how often I sucked his penis. I had never been able to coax him to fulfill that desire after we had acquired the ability to have wet orgasms. Indeed, whenever I asked, he made it seem depraved. His denial was no different to my wife, who considered oral sex to be beneath her. It was yet another way that men subjugated women. Every time, I suggested the possibility, I received another lecture on male oppression, on the disenfranchising of the female sex, on the failure of my gender. It was another way in which I was incomplete and we were incompatible. My life with her suddenly seemed very distant, as distant as my childhood memories of Adam render. I lived only for the moment, for Grant's enduring happiness. I was secure in the knowledge that this wonderful intimacy had not been instigated at my invitation. I knew that he was happy, his entire body liberated and given over to accept my maleness. It was his destiny, his role in life. It happened because we wanted it to happen.

It ended all too quickly. I tried to say the words, to warn him what was about to transpire. Perhaps I did manage to utter something, but he never heard me. Like me, he was engrossed. I came, panting, gasping, heaving upward. I came in gushes, spurting into his open mouth, enough to drown him, or at least that was how it seemed to me. He stayed there, erratically moving his head up and down, pumping his fist. I jerked uncontrollably, groaned as my testicles became tight, felt the ejaculation. I shared my seed with him. It was the seed that had caused him to exist in the first place and it seemed entirely appropriate that it be inside him.

He lifted up cautiously as soon as the last of my fluid had oozed out. For a moment, we both looked down. My sex organs wet shiny and wet with his saliva. My penis was still engorged but quickly shedding its prior stiffness. If there was any question of where my penis had been it was swiftly dispelled as he sat up. he was smiling, in a way. I say in a way, because his lips stayed closed. Then, slowly his mouth opened and his little pink tongue pushed out. That it was streaked with white really should not have surprised me as much as it did. It coated his tongue, hanging in strands, pooling between his bottom lip and his teeth. I glanced away guiltily, wondering what he would do with it. I expected him to spit it out. It would have been a normal reaction.

Instead he swallowed. However, it was just not any 'swallow' of something that needed to be digested. It was a deliberate gulp, a gulp that made his Adam's apple bob. It was promptly followed by swiping his tongue around inside his mouth as he savored a taste that was entirely foreign but not at all distasteful to him. Then, with his mouth emptied, he smirked.

"It doesn't taste all that bad, does it? It's a bit like eating an oyster."

"Huh?"

"Your cum, Dad. It kinda tastes okay… like…"

He searched for the word and gave up. He grinned at me and smacked his lips as his tongue made another trip to find any that he had missed.

"Just okay?" I teased.

"Uh huh," he replied with barely concealed excitement. It was obvious that he was trying hard to appear disinterested. Finally, he beamed at me proudly.

"So how was I? Did you like it a lot?"

"It was okay… You have to watch your teeth." His face crumbled. "It was really nice especially for your first time," I added sweetly.

"It's pretty messy isn't it?"

"Yes. I tried to warn you."

"I guess I could get to like it eventually," he said suggestively. His hand brushed over my penis thoughtfully. "But then again, I might not," he added.

"Hm… Well, what might help you like it?" I asked hopefully.

Grant shrugged nonchalantly and straightened up in his seat. He turned on the radio, glared back at me with a pouting expression, and turned the dial as he tried to find a radio station that was playing what he wanted to hear. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. After what he had just done, he wanted to re-exert a measure of control over me. It was ludicrous, but I played along anyway.

"Well?" I prompted casually.

"Don't know."

He scratched his cheek, pretended to look out the window, licked his lips again.

"No idea, huh?" I pressed.

"Nope."

"That's too bad."

That got his attention. He turned to face me. "Why?"

"Because you're pretty darn good at it for your first time."

"Yeah?"

"No, make that incredibly good. I came loads and loads."

"You didn't say anything. I thought I wasn't doing it properly."

I grinned at him. "You thought… Oh… God, I am so sorry. I didn't say anything because it felt so fantastic, and you were doing such a great job. I didn't want you to stop."

Grant grinned back at me. "Promise you won't get mad at me?"

"I promise."

"It wasn't my first time."

"Brandon?" I asked. Grant nodded uncertainly. "Lucky Brandon. I hoped you guys were doing stuff. You're more than old enough to start enjoying your bodies."

I wanted to ask a follow up question. Had he been a virgin on Christmas Eve? Would he tell me if he wasn't? Was it any of my business? Did I really want to know? Was I afraid of the answer? Perhaps I would never know the answer. I glanced at him. Already his mind was on other things. he had sucked me to orgasm and his mind, so fertile and adaptable, had seemingly forgotten that it had ever occurred. As the next song came on the radio, he started to sing along.

I listened to his rendition of Frosty the Snowman. It was far more enjoyable than the Ronettes by themselves, if only because I loved him and he was sitting right next to me, singing his head off and happier than I had seen him in a long time. We both yelled out "STOP" at precisely the right moment. We laughed together, so hard that he could not pick up the tune again without bursting into giggles. For the rest of the trip to Lake Placcid and on to the ski lifts at Whiteface Mountain, we sang Christmas carols. With the taste out of his mouth, Grant seemed to suffer no after effects, yet for me the memory was nothing short of awesome.

There were far more expensive resorts, yet I was always appalled at how much it cost to go skiing there. I parked in the lot across the street from the lifts. It was cheaper to park further away but I was feeling in a lazy mood. I pulled in next to a highly polished black 911 Porsche. At least I was in good company and unlikely to get my paint chipped when someone opened the door. I sent Grant off to the change room while I stood in line to purchase lift tickets. I was only a few people away from the window, when Grant came up beside me. He was wearing his new clothes for the first time and he looked like a young movie-star. He was dressed in an electric-blue and apricot-colored nylon jacket and matching bib pants. The clothes were a size too large for him, but he was at the age where he could grow into them before the season started. He swivelled around, proudly showing off.

"Nice," I acknowledged. "In fact, very nice. They look great on you."

Grant grinned. I was glad that I had spent the extra money and over-rode his mother's point of view about the colors being much too bright. After all, she was not 'into' skiing, and the argument I used was that I wanted to be able to locate him easily if I needed to.

"Are you warm enough?" I asked.

"Uh huh. Right now I'm too hot 'cause I left my sweat-top on underneath, Dad. It's really warm and fleecy."

"Okay. Here's my credit card," I said as I handed it over. "I expect you to use it wisely." That prompted a gleeful giggle. "Once you get the tickets, wait over there for me," I said gesturing to side where there were fewer people waiting. "I'll get changed, take our stuff back to the car, and be right back with the skis."

"What lift should I get? Do you want to do Mountain Run?" Grant asked nervously.

"Your decision. I thought maybe you'd want to try something else this time."

"You mean like Little White?"

"Or Big White, if you think you're up to it," I answered.

Grant smiled at the thought. "Really? You'll let me do The Slides?"

"No way. You're good, young man, but you're not that good, and I certainly am no where near good enough. Maybe next year. However, if you want to go down the Switchback, I'm up for it."

"Cool!"

By my definition, a ten-year-old boy is about fifty percent bravado and fifty percent courage. What is left is mostly foolhardiness and stubbornness, so he is always trying to go just a little bit further than last time, albeit at some danger to himself. That's why a man loves a boy. He takes risks and lives life to the fullest. At least, that was one of the reasons why I loved Grant. It often seemed to me that he existed solely to have fun, and if he could do that at the same time as achieving something worthwhile with his life, it was perfectly okay with me.

"Grant?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Um, about…the er… thing we… I… ah… put inside you this morning. You might want to take it out when you go to the bathroom," I confided.

"Why? It doesn't hurt."

"You get pretty energetic when you ski," I said. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I won't," Grant said confidently. "I don't even know it's there unless I try to move it around inside me by squeezing on it."

"Well, I guess it can't go in any further and it can't get out. If it bothers you later on we can always find a tree to squat behind."

"Very funny," Grant giggled. "Honestly, I really can't feel it more than a bit. It feels nice and big… a bit like you."

So, after an admonition to keep his eyes on the skis leaning against the railing, and smiling with the growing recognition that my son was everything I had ever wanted, I headed off to the change room. I carried Grant's nylon bag containing his jeans and shoes in one hand and my bag in the other. By the time I returned Grant had purchased the tickets and was standing next to the skis waiting for me. He waved to get my attention.

I passed him his helmet, a purple and green Boeri Ranger that looked like it belonged on a professional. With his new Rossignol 9x pro Racing skis, a shaped slalom that were built like mine, only shorter, he was definitely as well equipped as any boy on the mountain. However, with his vermilion-polarized lens goggles with silver frames, he was downright sexy. He grinned as he completed the rest of his attire, looking rather like an extra-terrestrial with over-sized eyes.

"Pretty cool huh, Dad?"

"Very cool. Did I ever tell you how incredibly good looking you are?" I said under my breath. "I had better keep a close watch on you or one of those little snow-bunnies over there will try to get their hands on you," I added as I inclined my head towards three girls who were about the same age as Grant.

"No way. You know I'm not interested in girls."

His voice was matter-of-fact. If he was apprehensive before about being different to other boys, he had certainly overcome it. He lifted his goggles up until they were out of the way.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can always ask me a question," I replied jovially. "I might not be able to answer it in public though," I teased.

Grant smiled. He glanced away for a moment before turning back to face me.

"I'm not sure, Dad, but I think those two guys over there… They were right behind me in the line to buy lift tickets. They're next to the stairs now… they were looking at me for the entire time you were gone…"

I turned only a few degrees until I could see them from the corner of my eye. Two men. The oldest was probably my age, while the other man was much younger, even close to being a teenager. He was dressed in black. Black helmet, black jacket, black ski pants, black boots. He was vaguely threatening at the same time as he exuded a powerful sexuality. If I was a betting person, I would take odds on who owned the black Porsche in the parking lot. His 'boyfriend' obviously liked 'black'.

Even as I watched surreptitiously, I was aware of their constant glances in our direction. I could think of no reason why they interested in Grant, except the obvious one. Was it that obvious? I glanced at Grant, studying him from head to toe. What made him worth looking at, was certainly obvious to me, but I was biased by personal experience. He was lithe, lean, slender. He was so good looking that it took my breath away. He reclined against the railing, his arms folded over his chest, surveying the scene before him with a child's innocent eyes while his body language sent a very different message. In my eyes, he was incredibly sexy, but did he affect other people the same way?

Already Grant was sending signals, unspoken messages of who and what he was. It was only to be expected. He was emerging like a butterfly from a cocoon, unfolding his 'wings' even as I watched. He was interested, and he could no more control that side of him, than I could ski The Slopes without breaking a leg. His eyes flickered to the other side of the balcony. I understood that he could not help being interested in other males. It was nature's way, and while there was no ultimate objective of the survival of the species, he was still responding to the same instinctive urge. He was beginning to flirt, testing me as much as testing himself. Did the other men see that side of him?

"Do you think they're gay?" Grant whispered.

"Huh? Oh? Maybe."

"They keep on looking at me, Dad," he said under his breath. "It's weird."

"Is it?" I replied absently. Grant regarded me uncertainly. "You're pretty sexy, you know."

"But I'm only a kid," Grant retorted.

"So?"

"Dad, the young guy is looking right at me now." It was impossible to ignore the urgency in his voice.

"I've noticed. It's really bothering you, huh?"

"Kind of. It's embarrassing."

I nodded. "Well, let's go over and talk to them then."

"No! You're joking?"

"I'm not." I took Grant's hand and winked. "They're playing a game with you, Grant. It's time we changed the rules."

So saying, I led the way across the balcony. Not in a straight line, of course, because that would have been too direct. Instead we approached from the side, a course that took us along the side closest to the street where there were fewer people waiting. It was also the path that led towards the change rooms and toilets. I could feel two pairs of eyes following our movements.

At the last moment, just before we reached the stairs, I changed direction again. two paces brought us face to face, or rather I was face to face, and Grant was standing behind me. I realized that I liked the idea that I was protecting him.

Hi," I said warmly. "Look I'm sure I know you from somewhere. I never forget a face. I just can't put a name on your face," I said as I smiled. "You're not a friend of Bob Landers… from Metrocorp… are you?"

"Uh, ah, no! Don't know him."

"Hm… then I've worked with you on a project some time. A few years ago wasn't it?"

"I don't think so."

"Really? Are you sure? I was certain that you recognized me as well. You kept on glancing over. I was positive you recognized me."

"Ah, well… I don't. I never saw you before today."

I smiled again. The older man was being very cautious, and probably had good reason to be careful. He rubbed the fingers of one hand against his gloves. He was nervous. He had to know what I was doing, yet now he was doing his best to avoid the confrontation. He wanted us gone. I knew it was because of Grant's age. He was 'jail bait'. However, that did not keep both men from giving him the 'once over'. I felt like I was being examined closely as well, although clearly Grant was the center of attention. It was time to up the stakes.

"Well, I'm sure… No matter. I'm sorry to disturb you. By the way, my name is Chris, and this young man is my nephew, Grant." It was a harmless lie, but an important one should my intuition prove to be wrong.

I dropped my arm around Grant's shoulders and dragged him out from behind me. My fingers held his shoulder firmly, letting him know he should play along. He looked up at me, his clear blue eyes giving credence where his awkwardness did not.

The older man nodded, still hesitant to acknowledge what should have been less than a passing interest. Yet, there was no ignoring the way both men were looking at Grant, and the way he was responding to their admiring, all-too-frequent glances. I decided it was time to leave.

"Well, have a nice day," I said flatly as I guided Grant back towards where we had left the skis.

"Hey?"

I turned back. "Yes?"

It was difficult not to smile as I watched the older man struggle to overcome his reluctance to talk to a complete stranger.

"I'm John. And this is… er… my friend, Ken."

I extended my hand and we shook, awkwardly at first but nonetheless, breaking the ice. Ken smiled slightly when he took Grant's hand. Had I not been confident of Grant's love, I would have been immediately anxious. Ken was very good looking.

"What lift are you guys taking?" Ken asked.

"We're going all the way to the summit," Grant replied proudly.

"You're doing The Slides?"

Grant glanced at me shyly. "I want to, but…" He smiled. "He won't let me."

"It's a pretty difficult run, even for a pro like Ken," John said.

"Pro? Are you really a pro?" Grant asked enthusiastically.

Ken shrugged, pretending nonchalance, but visibly appreciative that a young boy was ogling him with fan-like adoration.

"He's very modest. Ken won the men's Downhill Slalom here last year, and he's odds-on favorite to win it again this year," John explained proudly.

If Ken was humble, John was anything but unassuming. He had reason to be proud of his boyfriend. Unless I was mistaken, Grant and I had actually watched him race a year earlier.

"Cool," Grant said. "We're probably going to do Cloudspin and Switchback."

"That's still a hard trail. It can be a real challenge at times. You must be a very good skier?" Ken replied with growing interest in my son.

Grant gave him a disdainful look, which provoked an immediate smile. I was fascinated. Suddenly, it seemed as if he wanted the world to know that he was more than capable of the route he had just proposed.

"I'm okay," he said deprecatingly. "It's not that hard. We've done it lots of times."

I held back my comment. Twice was not lots of times. Instead I rubbed his shoulder slowly, deliberately showing affection.

"He's a lot better than okay," I added. "There are times when he makes me look like a complete novice."

John smiled generously at Grant. It was not difficult to see that he could easily become almost as enamored of the slender boy as I was. His eyes had a lust-filled appearance, and the direction of his gaze was a clear indication that he was impressed by the lithe young body that stood casually before him. His eyes flickered back and forth over Grant's middle section. With his ski pants on, there was not much to see. However, there was still a small bulge centered between his legs that signalled there was probably something worth seeing underneath.

"He's a very good looking boy," John said when he finally managed to break away from staring at Grant. I was glad that it was not me who broke the silence.

"Thanks." I smiled back at him, waiting.

"He looks like he can be quite a handful at times."

"More often than not," I replied. "Boys his age usually have lots of energy that they need to burn off if they aren't going to get fat. He keeps me busy."

The fleeting surprise on John's face was worth seeing. He recovered in a few seconds.

"It must be very tiring to keep up with him," he chuckled. "I remember when I first met Ken. He was nearly twelve. I got him into skiing because we needed another outlet before he gave me a heart attack."

'Another outlet', other than?… I glanced at Ken curiously. At twelve years old he would have been absolutely adorable.

"Well, just watching Grant ski is more than enough to give me one," I laughed.

"I'd watch it up on Cloudspin today," Ken said more to Grant than to me. He seemed to know that Grant would be the one leading the way. "There was a lot of snow up there the day before Christmas. With the wind last night there's sure to be some big drifts."

Grant nodded. He pressed against me a little harder, leaning inward, making our physical contact even more apparent. If he wanted them to know who he 'belonged' to, he was doing a very good job of it.

"Do you come often?" John asked.

I thought for a moment, wondering where he was headed. Was his comment really intended to sound the way it sounded? It was a long way short of innuendo, so blatant that it had to be my misunderstanding.

"We come as often as we can," I answered.

'Come' could mean lots of things, and it should have been obvious that Grant was still too young to 'come' by himself.

He smiled slightly, his eyes dropping down again to linger hungrily on Grant's slim body. It was as if he was making a mental image for later on. He nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"You're very lucky."

I nearly blushed. Yes, I was lucky. I had Grant. Any man who loved boys would give his soul to be in my position. I had the perfect boy as my constant companion.

"I am," I finally managed to say.

"I think that nowadays, a person must be open-minded, don't you?" John continued. He paused, his eyes lifting deliberately upward until he was looking at Grant's face. "…To appreciate what true beauty is about."

I managed a curt nod. He had just told me that he thought Grant was beautiful, which he was. This was beginning to backfire. He was beginning to flirt with Grant and it made me uncomfortable.

"You're a very lucky man, Chris," he repeated.

He winked. The comical nature of that gesture was enough to make me smile. I needed to say something, but even as I thought, he started to turn away.

"Take extra good care of him," he said softly. "He's special, so special that you need to very careful. He's not a boy who should be out by himself."

And then they were gone and Grant and I were left standing by ourselves. 'Special'? So special that he shouldn't be out by himself. Did it mean what I thought? Had Grant been a willing party to their game? I frowned. It would be very easy to lose him if I wasn't careful.

By then I had recognized the older man. In fact, it was strange I had not recognized him sooner despite his ski clothes. He was famous, at least in my mind. I had even heard rumors to the effect that he was a homosexual.

I smiled at Grant. "Do you know who that is?" I asked quietly.

Grant shook his head, still watching their disappearing backs. I leaned down and whispered in his ear. For an instant he was startled, and then he grinned up at me. Being told that he was 'a very good looking boy' had suddenly taken on real meaning.

"I'll be a lot like him when I'm older, won't I Dad?" he asked simply.

"Ken? I guess… I really don't know. It's too soon to tell."

Grant nodded acceptingly. We began to walk back to where we had left our skis. I was very aware of having him close beside me. Father and son. Man and boy. Two lovers. Yes, he was very special.

Three hours of skiing and a late lunch, or an early dinner at Nicola's was followed by a long drive back to the Bowman's place. I parked close to the house. No sooner than I had stopped the car than Brandon came bounding out of the house, pulling on a mud-stained down jacket as he went. Talk about infectious enthusiasm. The boys hugged. Not just any hug, but a warm embrace that they would never do in public, but which was perfectly acceptable in front of Gary and me. I smiled at Gary who remained standing on the verandah. He waved and shouted an instruction to Brandon as they galloped towards the barn.

Side by side, they were an exercise in contrast. One boy was the star of the ski-slopes, immaculately dressed in the latest St. Moritz fashion. With his hood off, Grant's hair glistened in the late afternoon sun like a model under studio lights. On the other hand, Brandon was the perfect farm-boy. He wore dirty blue jeans and mud-streaked work boots, and a woollen cap that completely covered his hair. Side by side, it was almost impossible to choose between them. Together, they made a dynamic pair,

When the barn door was closed behind them, I made my way up the stairs to join Gary on the verandah.

"Well, did you two have fun on the slopes?" he asked jovially as he opened the door for me.

I stomped off the snow that had collected on my shoes. "Yep," I answered.

He closed the door after us and we ambled across to our accustomed seats before the fireplace.

"You look a whole lot happier now that Brandon's back home again," I said.

Gary smiled and nodded. "God, I missed that boy so much it hurt," he admitted.

"Thanks for keeping Grant's pony a secret, by the way," I said absently. "I know he wanted to be the first to tell Brandon."

Gary looked at me questioningly. "Huh?"

"Wasn't that what you and he were talking about, right after breakfast? He asked you not to tell Brandon about something."

"Uh?" He stared at the fire for several seconds. Finally, when it was obvious that I was not going to elaborate, he added, "Yeah, I guess it was."

"Is there something you need to tell me?" I asked awkwardly.

Again, silence. The fire crackled and Gary leaned forward to adjust the logs with a poker. A shower of orange-red sparks danced into the air. It was like watching a private showing of fireworks. He settled back in his seat, crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap.

"Isn't there something you need to tell me as well?" he responded boldly.

Now, it was my turn not to answer. I needed to deflect his question without arousing his curiosity. My thoughts turned to wondering what Grant had actually told him.

"Sue and I are getting a divorce," I said flatly.

"I'm sorry. Is that the right thing to say?"

"I guess."

"Then I should say I'm happy?" Gary quipped.

I laughed. "You'd be a hell of a lot closer to the truth."

"Then I'm glad."

"I'll have custody," I said hopefully.

"I hope so, Chris. He'll be a lot better off with you."

"I hope so. I'll be able to spend a lot more time with him that she will."

He pressed his thumbs together, reflecting. "If you want to know what I think, I'm sure it will be the best thing that ever happened to you. It's unpleasant at first, Chris. If what happened with Brandon is any indication, Grant will be very moody for a while. He'll always miss his mom, no matter how close he is to you, now."

"Yeah, I guess," I said glumly.

"What are your plans? Are you going to keep the place in New York or move up here full time?"

I sighed. "I haven't worked it all out yet, Gary. Our place is a bit on the small side if we were going to live there full time. Of course, he'd have his own space in the loft, and all, but it would be so cramped." I sighed again.

"So what's the problem? You can always add on a few rooms."

"I may have to. He made it very clear that he wants to live here."

"Because of Brandon?"

I nodded. "Yes."

I pursed my lips, thinking of the main reason why I wanted to live away from New York. His mother would be far less likely to visit. I did not want to see her again.

"Why don't you tell me the truth?"

"Huh?"

"I've known you and Grant now, for how long… seven years? It's been at least that long. Don't you think it's time you started trusting me?"

"I do trust you," I replied. How much had Grant told him? I was suddenly nervous.

"Do you?"

I did not answer. I stretched my legs out, then sat up again. The warmth from the fire was enough to melt the soles of my ski-boots. I silently prayed that Grant had not been so naive as to tell either Brandon of his father about what we had done during the last few days.

"Do you ever worry about Brandon and Grant being so close?" Gary asked after a few minutes.

"Not really."

I knew what he was trying to say. If I harbored any doubts about their emerging sexual interests, the long embrace that the two boys shared outside in the snow was more than sufficient to confirm a father's fears. They were far more than best friends, just as Grant and I had become more than father and son. I could sense love reflected in Grant's eyes, I could see it in his shy smile, I could hear it in his voice. Yet, the more I thought about it I realized that it did not bother me. I loved both of the boys so much that they would have to commit murder before I rejected them.

"They've been having sex, Chris," Gary said cautiously.

He leaned forward and prodded the logs again, this time more carefully. There was still a flurry of sparks,

"Since when?"

"Since summer. You know they've started sleeping together."

Not a question but a statement of fact. I nodded awkwardly, accepting the inevitability of our sons becoming lovers. Had I known that would happen when I talked to them in Grant's bedroom that night? Had I even encouraged them to satisfy their budding urges and natural curiosity?

"I told them it was okay," I said cautiously. "They're so close…"

"It's not wrong," Gary finished. He smiled. On the surface he appeared to be as accepting of their relationship as I was.

"You knew about it? You knew about my talk with them?" I asked.

"Yes. Brandon told me after you talked with them. I think you did the right thing, by the way."

I smiled and shrugged. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. A lot of boys go through a stage where they like boys more than girls."

"Only it is a big deal when you're ten years old and you have a crush on someone. I know from first hand experience just how big a deal it is."

"You were doing it with a man and his son. It's different when it's between two boys," I interjected.

"Is it?" Gary smiled. "Have you talked about it with Grant since then?"

"Not really. I don't want to embarrass him. Besides…"

"He'll probably grow out of it," Gary finished. "He might, and so might Brandon. Only I don't believe he will, Chris."

"No. I was going to say that they're old enough to make some decisions for themselves."

"Does that include having anal sex?"

My mouth dropped open. "Huh?"

Gary regarded me in surprise. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?" I demanded.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew, Chris."

"About what?" I took a deep breath.

"How much do you know?"

"I know about them having oral sex."

"Yes?" Gary prompted.

"Grant told me today. I didn't realize that they were that far along."

"Never underestimate a ten-year-old boy's libido," Gary joked. "They may be shootin' blanks, but they can still point the gun and pull the trigger."

"Maybe you ought to tell me what's been going on," I suggested.

"Hm… well, if you promise not to be angry. Grant is worried about it enough as it is."

"I promise."

"Okay, here goes. Not that it makes any difference, but so far it's been what you might call 'one-sided'."

"How long is so far?" I asked cautiously.

"A while now. They've been doing it since the night they stayed at your place."

"Oh?" I said awkwardly. "That long."

What had happened during the night after I left them alone? I half-closed my eyes, thinking back. They were both naked, as bare and beautiful as the day they had entered a hostile world. They had been rubbing their penises together, simulating intercourse, or having what passed for intercourse for ten-year-old boys. The possibility of them doing more than that seemed both very distant and very close.

"I didn't…"

"I'm sure Brandon was willing," Gary interrupted. "Unlike Grant, he's a natural bottom. He's a bit like me in that respect," he added with a smile.

"Uh…"

Gary laughed. "Don't be embarassed, Chris. Your boy is a real stud, at least according to my son."

"How… how did they… I mean… If Grant's been doing that with Brandon, how did they figure out what to do?"

"It's not all that hard to figure out."

"Maybe not, but they're still kids."

Gary shrugged. "I've stopped worrying about it. They may be kids but they've only been doing what they need to do, Chris. If you must know, I caught them in the barn trying to do it the next afternoon. They had pretty much figured the friction thing out for themselves by using spit."

"Oh?"

"Spit is nature's lube for a horny boy," he chuckled. "Anyway, I told them about using something to lubricate themselves. They're better off with Vaseline at their age. You wouldn't want them to get sore."

"I guess," I said uncertainly. "You mean… Grant actually puts it…"

"In Brandon's butt?" Gary finished smugly. "To answer your question, yes, he does."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Of course not. Your boy's dick isn't that big yet, although there's always a chance he could do some damage if he wasn't careful at the start. But he is, Chris. He's very careful. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt Brandon. He couldn't have a better partner. Your son's got more than enough between his legs to make him feel good."

"Well, I guess I was the one who told them that what they do together is their business," I said flatly.

"I'm glad you did. I don't want Brandon growing up with the same hang-ups as I did."

I was envious, yet the reason why I was envious, eluded me. Jealous of Grant? Of Brandon? Of Gary? Suddenly, I was finished with this conversation, yet as I gazed into the red coals, I remembered what had happened on the mountain. It seemed like a long time ago, although only a few hours had passed.

I nodded again, thinking back. All day I had barely been able to suppress the need to tell some one. With sudden insight, I realized that Gary was the only person I could tell. I needed to hear his point of view, even if it only served to confirm my own.

"You know, the place they call 'Easy Street'?" I said hesitantly.

"Huh? Oh, you mean on Big White?" Gary answered. I nodded. "We've skied there a few times. It's pretty advanced for Brandon."

"We met a couple of guys before we got on the lift," I added hesitantly. "We talked for quite a while. I didn't recognize them at first. One was Ken Gruen."

"The downhill guy? That's cool! Grant must have peed his pants."

"Just about. The other guy was John Hammond," I added. Gary looked at me quizzically. "The author," I explained.

"Sure. You mean Hammond and Gruen were… together?"

I nodded. "It was pretty obvious they're gay," I committed. I breathed out slowly. Was I convinced? Did I find intent where there was none? Was I mistaken? "They were giving Grant the eye," I added.

Gary grinned. "You're joking. They were looking at Grant? You mean as in LOOKING?"

"Yes. It worried me a bit at first."

"I can imagine, although I'm certainly not surprised. He's a very good-looking boy. So, how did he take it?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. "A hell of a lot better than I did," I admitted with a timid smile.

Gary burst into laughter. "I can imagine. So, how it did feel, seeing other men going goggle-eyed at your son?"

"Not too good." I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands. "There's a reason why I'm telling you all this. I think he was interested in them as well, Gary."

"Oh? Ah, I see. Um… Are you sure, Chris?"

"I have no doubt about it. When we went over to talk with them it made him feel uncomfortable, but he was excited, too. I've never seen him like that. I could feel him shaking all the time he stood next to me."

"Scared?"

"Who? Him or me?"

Gary chuckled. "It's obvious that you're still scared. Are you worried that he's gay?" he asked concernedly.

I breathed out. "Honestly?" I shook my head. "I just want him to be happy."

I rubbed my thumb against the palm of my hand. I tended to do that when I was worried about something. I was worried about Grant, about telling Gary, about how I felt.

"And?" Gary prompted.

"Do you know what Grant asked me today? He asked if he would be like Ken in a few years."

"What did you say?"

"I wasn't sure what to say at first. Then I told him he was already halfway there." I glanced guiltily at Gary. "I meant because he's only about half of Ken's age. Only it didn't sound like that. It was like… like I knew already… and so did he… and… that was how it was supposed to be for him. Hell, Gary, I don't know what to think any more."

And then I thought about the other things that had happened on the mountain. They were waiting for us a short distance from the ski lift. John waved, beckoning us over. For a few seconds, Grant hung back, dragging his feet through the fresh snow. However, his face brightened the instant that Ken called to him. Unlike earlier, when he hid behind me, Grant reached them well before I came up. His previous reluctance to speak to strangers had vanished. Within a minute, Ken had convinced us to do the The Slides with him. I was not particularly happy about it, but there was not a lot I could do about it, short of saying 'no'. Grant was so excited. He had the opportunity of a lifetime. He had the chance to ski with a professional. I caved in, ever the captive of my son's infectious enthusiasm. I hoped I was not going to be carried off the mountain on a stretcher.

In no time at all, we were ready to go. I checked Grant's bindings, gave him a hug that was not nearly as much as I wanted, and sent him on his way after having extracted a promise to be very careful. John assured me that he could not be in better hands, but I was not relieved. I don't think I had ever been as nervous as I was that afternoon. All I could think of was the handsome young man who was leading the way down the mountain.

Within a few seconds I realized that Ken was among the best skiers that I had ever seen. He was exactly the kind of man a ten-year-old boy idolized. He radiated youth and vitality, world-class expertise, and what could only be called 'presence'. If Grant had to pick someone besides me to idolize, Ken would be my odds-on favorite.

Grant also had style. Certainly, he was dressed with flair, and he moved with an easy grace that made a person want to look at him. He skied much better than I did, and what he lacked in experience, he made up for with daring. It was because of that, that Ken took it easy. He seemed to know Grant's abilities, and while he pushed him to the limit he was careful never to go beyond it. However despite that, both he and Grant certainly made the Slides look effortless.

With the new snow that had fallen during the night, we had to work a bit harder. Without any direction from me or his newly adopted hero, Grant widened his stance a little, and bounced up whenever he needed to initiate a turn. I wonder where he had leaned that trick. It gave the skis a little extra lift out of the snow, while the wider stance provided for powerful turns. As I took off after him, I heard John calling from behind me. I heard something about Grant having potential as a future junior-champion. He performed a couple of tight-radius turns on cue, that were both fluid and balanced. He was even taking advantage of counter-rotation, although it did slow him down slightly. It was another trick he had learned along the way. And then, without the slightest hesitation, he followed Ken into one jump after another. I stayed back, following a less challenging course, always keeping Grant in view as he rocketed back and forth in a sparkling shower of white crystals.

On and on they rushed, all the way through the Slides, all the way down to Easy Street. There they stopped, and waited for half-a-minute until John and I caught up. I was breathless. Grant was grinning, his goggles pushed back, his face tinged pink from the cold air. I waited for the inevitable wisecrack about being an 'old man'. Instead, he pulled off a glove, opened the zipper to his pants, extracted a very small, pale-hued penis that looked like it was mostly foreskin, and urinated. He seemed oblivious to the others watching him. His chardonnay-colored stream arced, steam rose, splattered onto the snow. He shook the last droplets off the tip, pushed his penis back into his pants, and closed his zipper.

Still grinning at me, he said loud enough for all to hear, "Boy, I sure needed that!"

"Happiness means different things to different people," Gary said. "If you can accept that people are different, it's not going to be a problem."

I looked up sharply, still hearing my laughter, the other men's ribald comments.

"Sorry. I was thinking of something else," I admitted. "I really don't know how I feel about it, Gary. I know I'll always love him. It doesn't matter to me if he's gay."

"That's important. He needs you now more than ever, Chris. And not only because of the divorce. Brandon is the same way. He's struggling as well, reaching out, trying to find out who he is. Grant needs you like he's never needed you before. Just being there for him, no matter what, is the most important thing in the world to him."

"It doesn't bother you that the boys…"

"No, of course not. I've already said it doesn't bother me. In fact, I've already told them that it's okay, just so long as they're careful. I wouldn't want them doing it with anyone who came along, you understand. I know they won't. I trust Brandon to use his common sense. He knows that being in love comes before having sex."

"I'd like to think Grant would never… But I'm not so sure any more. You should have seen him earlier today. If I wasn't there…"

Gary coughed, then cleared his throat. "Did you ever think maybe he was playing a game with you, Chris?"

He stood up and stretched his limbs. I waited for him to explain, yet I realized there would be no explanation. Gary had told me nothing that I did not already know. The fire crackled and hissed. I needed time to think.

Before I could say anything, Gary spoke again. "It's getting dark outside. We had better get them back inside the house before they freeze to death."

I started to stand, but he gestured for me to sit again.

"There's no point in both of us getting cold again. I'll be back in a few minutes. Chris, there is one thing," he added slowly.

He stood with his back to the fire, warming himself before taking on the outside cold one more time.

"Yes?" I prompted.

"Don't tell Grant about what I said about him and Brandon. I'm sure he'll tell you in his own time."

"Okay," I agreed. "Gary… thanks. I'm glad you're so understanding."

That provoked a smile. "No problem. I've had enough time to figure out what to do. You know Chris, if he is gay, he'll want you even more."

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked guiltily.

"He needs you as a friend now, maybe even more than as a parent," Gary answered quickly. He looked at me with eyes that seemed to say something else. "Don't be afraid to talk with him about it, Chris. He's about to go through a very difficult stage. You've always been very close to him, but now you've become the most important part of his life."

"I guess so," I said warily.

I scratched behind my ear. Grant had become more than the most important part of my life. My entire existence revolved around him.

"What's bothering you?"

"Huh?" I looked up. "Oh, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Has Brandon… er… you know…?" I muttered.

Gary guffawed. "You want to know if Brandon has done the back-door deed with Grant? As far as I know, your son is still a butt-virgin, at least as far as my son is concerned… I wouldn't want to take bets otherwise…" he smirked.

He let the sentence hang, the statement unfinished. I regarded him thoughtfully. A 'butt-virgin'? Not any longer, I wanted to say. Instead, I was even more worried than I had been earlier in the day. Did Gary know about us? He had to know, didn't he? That was what he was telling me. There were only two ways to find out. One way was to confront Grant directly. The other way was to probe the matter further with Gary.

"I wouldn't mind if he did," I offered honestly. If there was anyone I could willing share my son with, it was his best friend.

"And if they keep on doing it?" Gary posed.

"It's okay."

"They have a thing going, you know, Chris. You haven't seen Brandon since Thanksgiving, but he's been growing his hair longer as well."

"So has Grant."

"I've noticed. It's kind of a pact between them. They're expressing themselves, Chris."

"Frankly, I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather he was with. Brandon is a great kid and they are so close they might as well be brothers. If Brandon does it to him, I have no problem with it."

"Well, there's no worry on that score," Gary laughed. "At least not with Brandon."

"Meaning?"

"I think it would have happened by now, if it was going to happen."

"Oh?"

Gray shrugged dispassionately. "He's like that, Chris. Brandon's the same as I was at that age. I was always on the bottom and I liked it hard and fast."

The noise level went up by ninety decibels when Grant and Brandon returned with Gary. They whooped and shouted, and demanded hot chocolate. The request was promptly fulfilled despite the fact that it was close to dinner time for Brandon, and Grant and I needed to be on our way before the snow started again. The boys exchanged presents, or rather Brandon gave Grant his presents since there were still three unwrapped gifts under our Christmas tree.

The first present was a book about horses. I concealed my smile. I was surprised that Brandon had been able to keep the secret that his father had entrusted him with. The second gift was also in that vein. Actually, it was two gifts in one. Without my knowledge, Gary had ordered saddlebags to match the saddle that I had given Grant. Inside the hand-tooled leather was a Navajo horse blanket. And the third present? It was beautifully wrapped and addressed to both boys from 'Santa'. Inside was a two-man tent. It was enough for my ever-exuberant son to give both Bowmans a prolonged hug.

It had been dark for nearly two hours, almost seven o'clock before we managed to effect a departure.

"Did Brandon like your pony?" I asked after we had been on the road for a while.

Grant grinned. "Yeah. A whole lot. He's the best present I've ever had. I wanted one so badly, and I hinted an awful lot."

"Yes, you did," I said happily.

"Only I didn't think there was even a hundred to one chance. Brando and I can have so much more fun now."

"Especially if we live here instead of New York," I said.

"Yes." Grant stared out the window. "Dad… if we do move up here… I won't see Mom very often, will I?"

I breathed out, trying to find the words to tell him the truth. And then, I realized that he knew the truth, that his very question was his way of telling me that he knew, that it was alright.

"I'm sorry. You'll always be able to visit her whenever you want," I said glumly.

"But she won't want to come up here, will she?"

"Probably not."

Silence again. A very long silence.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Grant."

"You don't want her here, do you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't know. You don't like it when I talk about her."

"I… I can't help it. The idea of being in the same room with her… Not now. Not after this. I'm sorry, Grant."

"You don't love her anymore, do you?"

"Probably not. It's different now."

"Are you going to get married again?"

"Probably not." I wanted to say 'definitely not'.

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because of me?"

I smiled, slowing the car down as I approached the turn off to our house. I was in love with him. My own son. I loved my son in the same way that a man loved a woman. A few days earlier I would have been shocked at the thoughts that were now running through my head. No longer unsettling. Demanding. Arousing.

"Can I sleep in your room from now on?"

"Huh?"

"Can I sleep…"

"I heard you the first time. I don't know. I guess so, if that's what you want. I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do."

Grant grinned sheepishly. "So… like… are you mad at me, Dad?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because of what happened when we went skiing."

"Oh that!"

Grant glanced at me surreptitiously. "Are you mad?"

"Not really. But I won't say it didn't bother me a bit."

"Sorry," he said in a sing-song voice. "I'll make it up to you, Dad."

"How?"

"I'll find a way."

Again, sing-song, teasing, sensual. It was impossible for him to disguise his excitement even if he wanted to.

I pulled up as close to the house as possible and we hurried inside. With the door closed behind us, we stood face to face. Waiting. Feeling the urge become stronger. He was so beautiful that I could not look away. His eyes were flashing a silent message. I could feel myself being seduced. Just by looking at him. By being close to him. Knowing what he was thinking. The growing sensation. Hardening. Becoming hotter. Every time he breathed his little nostrils flared. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. His eyelids fluttered. I loved the ridge between his nose and lips, the way his hair curled over from behind his ears.

"Well…" Grant said softly.

There was an urgent note to his voice despite the calmness. I smiled. Did he understand what was happening? At that moment, it seemed as if he had a better grasp of the situation than I did..

"What do you have in mind?"

Had I really said that? Had my voice actually trembled? I breathed deeply. His eyes had not strayed. He was gazing at me intently. Eyes so blue and innocent that it took my breath away. I sighed. I was completely under his spell.

"Hm… we had better take our boots off first…"

I slowly eased down onto my knee. Were my hands really shaking so much that I could barely undo the thick red laces to his ski boots?

"…we don't want to track snow everywhere…"

One boot undone. Then the other. I was still fumbling. There were butterflies inside my chest. I was finished. One small sock-covered foot out. Then another. His brightly colored socks were thick and fuzzy, and warm.

"…it felt funny riding Moonraker…"

Next, my boots. Each breath deliberate. God! His hand brushed my head. I was bowed before him. Paying homage. A supplicant.

"…especially when he trotted. It kept moving around inside me…"

I had forgotten about the home made dildo. It was still inside him. Then one foot was free. Pushing my snow-encrusted boot to the side. Changing position onto the other knee. Fingers struggling to undo the laces of my other boot.

"…they kept making this clunking sound every time I sat down…"

I stood up. My penis was standing up. He was suddenly quiet. He wanted me. I wanted him. My hand settled on his small shoulder. It was still inside him, stretching, strengthening, getting him ready.

Guiding him back. Where? The bedroom? Here on the living room floor? My heart is pounding mercilessly. We have waited all day for this. Lifting him up. His legs locking around my hips. Clinging. Through the doorway. Down onto the bed. Is he trembling? Am I trembling? It's dark. Just enough light spilling through the doorway. What is he doing? God! Pulling down my zipper. Pushing my underpants out of the way. His hand is cold. God! He's getting my cock out. Help him. Unfasten the buttons of his pants. He's gasping. He's holding my cock! Warmth meeting coldness. How to do this? He's on his back. Lift his legs up. He knows what to do. Now, pull his pants down from behind. His underpants as well. So beautiful. God, he really is still wearing it after all this time. Ten hours. Pulling at the leather thong. Untying it. Pulling gently. Harder. Tugging. Difficult to get them out. He's holding back, keeping them inside.

'Pop…Pop…'

"Oh my god!"

'Pop…' No longer pulling.

"Oh!"

'Pop… Pop…'

"OH GOD!"

One more. Just one ball is still inside him. The others are shiny and red. They look wet, oily. Big. The smell is nice, like the forest floor, or a moss-covered tree. His smell. Pull it out gently. A bit like pulling out a cork. It doesn't seem to hurt him. It feels like he's pulling back against it.

'Pop…'

"Put him in now, Dad."

Settling closer. Leaning over him. His buttocks are wide apart. His hands are holding his legs behind his knees. He's nodding at me. He must think I need encouragement. Nudging his anus. So big. Much bigger than the last time. Wide open. Pushing gently. His eyes are wide open. He's smiling. He feels it going in. He likes it. It doesn't hurt at all. God, he's groaning. He's pulling against me. He wants it inside him. I don't want to hurt him. Go slowly. Don't be an idiot and rush it.

"More."

"Are you…"

"More."

Demanding me. Filling him slowly. So hot. So incredibly hot. It's like driving a steel stake into him. He's so loose. He's pushing down onto me. Must be at least half-way by now. I should have used some lubricant or something. He's so slippery inside. We're joining together. God! This can't be happening. Tell him I love him. Kiss him. He's squeezing on my cock. Whispering he loves me. We're kissing. His tongue is so soft. Pushing gently. Deeper. His arms around my neck. Further. This is impossible. It isn't tight at all. Groaning. Far enough. Stopping.

I gazed down at him. He smiled slightly, wincing as a sudden spasm passed between us.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Not really. He feels so big, Dad."

"You feel so loose."

"I am."

He grimaced, his body still finding the strength to resist with a sudden contraction. It didn't last more than a few seconds.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He breathed deeply, slowly. "Give me a moment, though. I just need to get used to him again."

"He's in a long way."

"I know, Dad. I can feel him back there. He feels kinda funny and good at the same time."

"I love you."

"You just want to put him all the way inside me."

"No. I don't… well I do… but I really do love you."

"I know. Can I sleep here with you afterwards?"

"If you want."

"I want. You can go a bit further now if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh. Just go slow. He feels so good."

"It's going in much easier this time."

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't feel nearly as tight."

"It's not hurting?"

"A tiny bit. Not bad."

I eased slowly down, nearly lying over him. His ski pants bunched up, separating his thighs from my belly, keeping us apart while we were physically joined in another way. His body grasped my maleness, held it, embraced it. I was inside him. My rigid throbbing flesh was part of him. Just a little bit further. I pushed carefully, firmly, testing his resistance. There was less than two inches [5 cm] to go and I had reached the limit. A resilient barrier stopped my advance. Each time my penis levered against it, Grant winced. I backed away slightly and he groaned softly. He nodded slightly, giving permission, wanting what I wanted.

I began to move my hips in a timeless rhythm. Slowly, ever so slowly probing, withdrawing, penetrating an inch [2½ cm], two inches [5 cm], three inches [7½ cm], into that hot lush cavern within him. It was a tube, a wonderful, tube of living, clutching flesh. It was hot, slippery, incredible soft, deliciously hard. The first inch of the tube was tight, but not as tight as it had been previously. It clasped my penis like a small fist, making me even harder. Beyond that muscular band, tightness gave way to the open void of his rectum. Yet, it was not emptiness that flowed around me. It was succulent and spongy, and far, far better than any vagina.

I crooned to him, whispering in his ear. Words of endearment and encouragement. In return, I heard the garbled sounds of passion, of a boy tortured, subjected to exquisite pleasure, giving willing, accepting everything. Deeper. Deeper, until my penis could go no further. His cheeks, firm rubbery mounds, pressed around my scrotum, cradled me as I thrust cautiously.

"He's all the way," I said softly.

"I… know… In me… all the way… so good… slowly…"

I lifted away, rising to my knees, splayed wide to bring my groin close to his buttocks. I looked down, saw the miracle of our love. My sex was hidden. All of it. All eight thick inches [20 cm] gone from sight. His anus was stretched tightly around it, a thin, almost crimson line, a dimpled ridge around my darker, veiny penis. I pulled back and watched in amazement as it slithered out, sliding on the slick film that had come from within him. More and more came into view. So long. So thick. My glans was still burrowed inside him, concealed behind his anus. Impossible that so much had gone inside him. I heard him groaning, pleading, begging incoherently. I pushed again, gripping his bony pelvis with my hands to hold him in place as I re-entered. Another long gasp as the air was forced from his lungs, and then I was inside him again. His hands and knees were shaking, his eyes closed to mere slits. It was unbelievable that anything could feel so good. Every few seconds there was an incredible pressure against my penis, pulling, squeezing, gripping. The sensations became stronger every time, until I knew the agony of ecstasy.

"Oh God!" I gasped.

Grant grunted, releasing my member from his muscle. I jerked back, trembling, trying my best to stave off an imminent orgasm. It was like trying to hold back a flood. My testicles were pulled up beneath my penis, taut, wrinkled. Throbbing. Throbbing so hard that it hurt. Trying to hold off a few more seconds. Rising. Rising up over him. Pushing hard. Deep. Inside again. Faster than before. His eyes opened wide. Squeezing. Giving up. Surprised. Awed. Possessed. Jerking back, suctioning loudly, feeling him clamping down, fighting. Yielding immediately when my penis stabbed back again. Both groaning. Both straining. My thighs pulverized his buttocks as I slammed against him. Wildly. Wild animals rutting. Rising. White-hot lava erupting. He shrieked.

We came together. Simultaneous orgasms. I pumped frenetically, with the mindless objective of depositing my semen inside him, of making him mine, of giving him pleasure. I was aware of him struggling beneath me. He bucked frantically, his arms pushing, then pulling at me, wanting more. Wanting that last bit of me, beyond human endurance, that one last powerful thrust, that final part of passion. Then still, unmoving. Still deep inside him. Feeling the heat surround me, engulfing, claiming me. Knowing we could never turn back. He was weak. I was drained. Between us, it was hot and wet. Oozing fluids. Slippery. Hard to breath. Hard to look at him. Not guilty or ashamed. Just knowing it was right for us.

I gradually eased back, continuing to withdraw despite the expression on Grant's face that begged me not to. Then, resting on my haunches, I dared to look down. His hole was gaping open and I looked into him, into his body, into a reddened passage that finally closed into a dark recess. It was bigger than seemed humanly possible, bigger than the rest of his body could naturally account for. Foamy slime covered his scrotum, his perineum, the insides of his buttocks. There was an unmistakable wet streak on the ripstop nylon of his ski pants. My penis and half of my scrotum glistened with a slick wet sheen. My pubic hair was plastered to my groin. I wondered where it had all come from. Perhaps some was my semen from the last time, but the rest?

Exhausted, I dropped down beside him. It was still difficult to breath. I was panting. I was smiling. I was triumphant, again. I turned onto my side and placed an arm around him, curling against his still trembling body. There was no need to speak. Words would never be enough to describe the bliss I felt.

"What happened?" Grant whispered.

"Well, I'm not sure, but I think I just fucked your ass, Grant," I joked.

"Very funny, Dad."

"You okay?"

"I guess. It feels all funny inside me. It's like I'm shaking."

"I can't imagine why."

"It felt different… better. When you were doing it I kept getting looser too."

"Well, you were much looser to begin with compared to the last time," I explained.

"You didn't use any of the stuff either, and it was still nice. It feels gooey, like stuff is seeping out."

I smiled and lovingly caressed his slim brown thigh.

"You know why, don't you?" I asked.

"Because of the dildo thing?"

"I think I just invented the ultimate boy dildo. It's especially designed for the active boy who is always on the go," I laughed.

"Well, it sure feels empty back there now," Grant admitted with a smirk.

"How does it feel?"

"Okay. It feels strange. Kind of numb, but it's a nice feeling. Its like it's a whole lot bigger."

"You were incredible by the way," I said.

"So were you, Dad. I never realized it would be like that. It kept on getting better and better. At the end it was just sliding in and out and not hurting even a little bit," Grant sighed wistfully.

"Well, if we keep doing it on a regular basis, that's the way it should be from now on."

Ruefully, he stroked my now limp penis. "You should've left him in me for a bit longer, Dad."

I kissed his forehead affectionately. "Well, like they say. It's not over till the fat lady sings."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it. You'll find out soon enough. Let's take our clothes off and get you cleaned up for now."

He lay still as I pulled his thick socks off. I loved his feet. Still boy-sized, still smooth, still perfect. I remembered reading that one of the first signs of approaching puberty was the growth in a boy's feet. I was glad Grant's feet were still size six. His toes wriggled as I brushed my lips against them and inhaled the sweaty scent. It was not an unpleasant smell by any stretch of the imagination. Kneeling back, I gently tugged his ski pants and underpants down, all the way off, threw them into the corner near the door. Silently, I straddled him. I was dominant, the powerful male poised above the submissive boy. Both of us were more than ready to resume. Grant smiled wantonly, reached one hand out to touch my penis as it dangled impotently downward. However, already I could feel the surge, the rush of blood, the growing need to exert my manhood again.

I took a deep long breath. I needed to see him naked, to revel in his beauty, to press my bare skin against his. I pushed his ski jacket higher, exposing the smooth skin of his flat, still-tanned belly. My hands travelled along his sides, thumbs following that marvellous contour that only preteen boys seem to possess. There was no puppy fat, just the lines of ribs, the firmness of lithe young muscle, the precious whorl of his navel. And there in his absolute center, that perfect part of him, the essential part of a boy. Small, yet not small. Had mine ever been like that? It was difficult to think of myself as a boy. Potent, yet impotent.

For the first time, I understood the meaning of the word 'potential'. Grant's manhood was latent, his immature penis and testicles appearing dormant while still conveying the future lurking within. It was his 'potential', that part that would eventually make him 'potent'. At the same time, he was far from sexless. That part of him functioned. It grew hard, provided pleasurable sensations, even achieved orgasmic heights. Yet, manliness was abeyant. That was what I loved about him. I finished taking off his clothes. Then, as he scrambled under the comforter into the warm zone, I hurriedly undressed and slid in next to him. His arms, smooth, slender, surprisingly strong, locked around my neck, hands gripping my shoulders. His mouth moved towards mine, lips seeking, finding, engaging tongues. We kissed for a long while. His tongue came all the way into my mouth, swiping over my teeth, slipping back and forth, thrusting in its own 'fucking' motion. His mother had never kissed me like that. I wondered where he had leaned to do it. Brandon?

Then apart, our passion temporarily spent, I stroked his bare hip. Lying on his side, his body seemed very slender. He appeared so narrow that if I placed both of my hands on his pelvis with thumbs together on his belly, my fingers would be able to press into his buttocks. He wore jeans with a 26 inch [66 cm] waist, and if he had not eaten in a while they were so loose that they dropped to his hips. If the ideal measurements for a woman were 38-24-36, then the ideal measurements for a boy had to include a 25 inch [63 cm] waist.

I glanced down, seeing my now limp drooping penis, already drying and losing its previous sheen. And yet, although it was soft, it was still very large compared to Grant's small appendage. How that slim young body could so easily accommodate my thick penis was beyond my comprehension. Truly, it was one of nature's miracles.

"I hope so," Grant said softly. "Dad?…"

"Yeah."

"About what happened today?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not mad, are you?"

"Don't worry about it. It's okay."

"Would you be, you know, really angry if I did something with someone else?"

"Probably. That's a difficult question to answer, Grant. It really depends. That's not much of an answer. I know I certainly wouldn't like to share you with anyone."

"I kind of liked Ken a lot. You did too, didn't you Dad?" Grant said candidly.

I could tell he was teasing me. I resolved not to smile.

"Yes. But liking someone doesn't mean you should have sex with them."

"Yeah, I know that, Dad. I wasn't thinking of having sex with him." He smiled slightly. A moment later, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "But what if I loved someone… you know, the same way I love you now?"

"Hm… Like you and Brandon for instance?" I queried.

"Yeah."

He smiled again, still shy, still trying hard to hold back his true feelings.

"Remember what I said that night when I found you two guys together?"

"Not really." He looked at me smugly. "Well, I do remember that you said it was okay in Brandon and I… you know… did stuff together. You said you'd be surprised if we didn't play around together."

"You have a good memory," I remarked. "I also said that it was a wonderful thing that the two of you are as close as you are. It's true. You are closer to Brandon than if he was your brother. Most boys don't get to be that close. It's very special," I added.

"Meaning I love him?" Grant asked, his head inclined to the side.

"Don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess!"

"He loves you too, Grant."

"How can you tell?"

"The way he looks at you, for one thing. He's practically drooling every time he sees you," I teased. "He gets an erection whenever you come within a few feet of him.

"Brandon?"

"Duh! Of course, Brandon." I laughed at the shocked expression on Grant's face. "You mean you haven't noticed?" Grant shook his head, turned a shade redder. "And he's not the only one who always seems to have a bulge down here," I added as I cupped my hand over Grant's genitals and squeezed firmly.

"I… I… don't!"

I grinned at him. "Yes you do. I think it's sweet."

"Dad?"

"Yes," I answered patiently.

"If Brandon and I… you know… did stuff… like if we went, you know… all the way… If I… well… did it to him…"

"If you mean putting your penis in his bottom, why don't you just come right out and say it?" I teased.

"Okay, if we did that. If I fucked him in the butt, would you be angry?" Grant asked nervously.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Well," I began. "It would be the most wonderful thing you could do to him, in my opinion. Mind you, your mom would probably cut your dick off if she found out you were doing that."

"She'd have to cut your's off too then, Dad," Grant guffawed.

"And she'd do it with great pleasure, believe me," I added. "Listen Grant. I don't want you to be worried about being Brandon's…" I searched for the right word. "Boy-friend. I'm actually very happy you've started having sex with him. I'm very fond of him."

"He loves you too, Dad. Nearly as much as I do," Grant said proudly.

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