Ganymede

Summer Dreams

Chapters 6-8

Once the horses were unsaddled I led Dylan back into the house. It was just past five o'clock and we'd eaten nothing since breakfast. Dylan was starving and I quickly made sandwiches. He stood beside me as I sliced cheese and tomatoes and spread mayonnaise on the bread, looking up at me, his eyes questioning, curious, radiating an intensity that I hadn't noticed before.

"You like cheese and tomato sandwiches?" I asked.

Dylan shrugged, "Okay I guess, I'm so hungry I could eat anything right now." He looked away then winced as his belly cramped and a little fart gurgled wetly out from behind him.

I grinned back at the boy, "That sounded pretty wet back there."

He looked back at me and smirked cheekily, "Yeah, If feels yucky. I think some of your stuff came outta me, it's wet on my jeans. I've been doing that, cuttin' 'em all the way back from the creek."

I laughed, "There's probably a whole lot of gas inside you. Maybe you're reacting to the lip-gel? That really isn't the stuff to use next time I think," I teased.

"It worked but, didn't it? So what should you use?"

"I know there's stuff called KY that's s'posed to be better for you," I answered. "Other than that I really don't know. Vaseline, I guess, but it's probably going to do the same thing as the lip-gel."

"KY? Like in Kentucky?" he giggled, "Is that where it's made?" I laughed as I cut the sandwiches into halves, then poured two Cokes. "I think Vaseline would be better… the next time we do it. I'll clean up after lunch, I'm ready to die of hunger."

There had been an unmistakable tension in his voice since we had left the barn. I wondered whether the boy was suffering from the after effects, the guilt and shame that I knew he'd feel eventually as he came to understand that he really was gay. It would be a difficult time for him, already tormented by his friend's claim that he was a 'faggot'. I wanted to help Dylan, to make his realization as gentle as possible, to support him so that unlike me, he accepted rather than rejected his sexuality. "So what's the problem?" I asked as I passed him his sandwich.

The boy shrugged and started to turn away, then his head swung away and he looked back, "What you said before, at the creek?"

"Huh, what in particular?"

"You know… About it being the first time that you realized how much you loved me?" he continued. I looked up at the boy and nodded. "Did you mean it… about loving me? Like when people get married. I mean… well I'm just a kid and all… and well I guess two guys can be in love… but… well do you know what I mean?"

I nodded, "Yeah I think so. What do you think?"

Dylan hesitated, as he went around the island workbench and climbed up onto the kitchen stool. "I… well I think you love me. It's more than what we did down there at the creek, and… well it's different to being friends and all that."

"Like with your friend, Gary," I suggested, then added, "So tell me how you feel."

Dylan lifted his sandwich up, then stopped halfway. "I like you a whole lot. I kind of feel strange inside. I keep getting this feeling, I want to keep looking at you, it's like I'm afraid you'll go away and I won't see you any more. I think… I love you… but I don't know how it's supposed to feel. Like with my mom, I know I love her, but it's not like this."

I smiled at the boy and lovingly brushed his bare brown forearm. "Well, we'll figure it out. Go ahead and eat your sandwich, you must be starving." The boy grinned and took a large bite. I watched him chew, wondering about our newly formed relationship. He was an easy boy to love, sitting there swinging his slender legs as he bit into his sandwich ravenously, his golden-blond hair tousled and falling over his forehead, his light blue eyes sparkling. I sat down next to him and ate my long-delayed lunch, very aware of his body just inches away, remembering the soft smooth warmth of his slender body, his gentle hands touching my penis, his playful giggles, the sweetness of his breath as we kissed, the intense heat and pressure that I had discovered inside him. I wanted to lift him up in my arms and carry him up to the bedroom and savor those wonders again and again. I felt my cock began to harden again, my urge intensifying, overcoming any resistance. But there was still the insistent memory that I carried of the boy's buttocks and his little wrinkled ball-sac stained with blood, I knew now that I loved him too much to hurt him again like that.

"I better call Kelly and tell we'll pick him up in bit," I said, leaving my sandwich half-finished on the plate. I stood up and went over to the telephone. "I think I'll tell him 'bout a half hour or so. I guess you better have a shower before I take you home."

Dylan grinned and nodded and went back to his sandwich, finishing the first and starting on the second. I dialed the number and spoke to Joey's father, telling him that I'd drop by to pick up Kelly, then as an after thought, increased my estimate of the time to 'maybe forty five minutes or more'. I put the phone down and turned back to Dylan, only to see him taking large bites out of my sandwich. "Heh, come on Dylan, that's mine', I laughed.

"So, I was hungry," he said, laughing with me as he put the remains of the sandwich back on the plate.

I came over to where the boy was sitting and glanced down at the remains of my sandwich, "You didn't leave me very much," I complained playfully. "And there are teeth marks in it too, you little bugger," I added grabbing Dylan around the shoulders. I jerked his arms up over his head and began to tickle him under the ribs.

He giggled uncontrollably, writhing and trying to escape as he cried, "I was hungry, but!" I had my arms full with the wriggling, laughing boy and I had to wonder how he found the energy and strength that he exerted as he twisted and turned. Dylan's mood had changed, he was obviously a very different boy to just a few minutes ago. He could barely control himself as he continued to tease me, "Besides a few teeth marks is nothing compared to what you did to me today. You bit me all over my shoulders… and… and I've got a butt full of your come… so what's a few teeth marks, anyway." The boy convulsed with laughter

"Not really, I think you got most of it in your mouth. So you shouldn't be that hungry," I laughed as I reached down with one hand, restraining him with the other and playfully grabbed at his groin. The boy laughed even louder as he tried to protect his genitals and return the attack. "So maybe I should have this for lunch?" I teased as my fingers clutched on the soft bulge of his penis and testicles.

Dylan stopped struggling and looked up at me, his face flushed, breathless, "Heh, that's not fair." He smirked at me as he added, "But you can if you want."

"I think we'd better take you up and give you a cold shower," I said, pulling Dylan up from the stool by putting my arms around his chest and hugging him tightly to me.

"But I'm still hungry," The boy whined playfully, "I haven't finished my… your lunch yet. You can if you want…" he repeated meaningfully and very seriously, locking his legs around my hips so that I had to carry him.

"I can if I want… what?" I teased, having an excellent idea of where Dylan was headed, but surprised by the extent of the boy's desire. Then a picture flashed through my head as I remembered him playing basketball, the seemingly boundless energy as he leaped, jumped, and ran in the heat of the afternoon. I was beginning to realize that this was one very sexy twelve-year-old boy.

"Whatever you want!" he smirked, "Anything! You're giving me a hard-on," he added as he tightened his legs around my hips.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me, Dylan. Anything I want, huh?" I asked jokingly, trying not to stumble as we lurched through the doorway and into the hall towards the stairs. He wasn't the only one getting an erection.

"Yeah, anything!" he replied, his voice suddenly turning husky the way it does when he became excited and things began to get out of control. "Anything you want… even in my backside," he added with emphasis.

I shook my head "You're insatiable," I laughed, "I think I've created a sex-monster." I carried the boy to the bottom of the stairs before I put him down on his feet. I was tempted to carry him all the way up and into the bedroom but still I dared not. The chance of an accident, of hurting him, was far too much to bear.

Dylan looked at me with a stare, focusing his attention in the growing bulge in my jeans, "Yeah, I see I'm not the only one with one of those… only your's is a lot bigger than mine," he observed teasingly.

I pretended to be serious, "Okay young man, upstairs at once, and let's get you cleaned up before you go home to your mom, or she'll wonder what on earth you've been doing all day."

Dylan smirked again cheekily, "Oh!… We'll just have to tell her that you spent the day… fucking me." The F-word from the young boy's lips sounded particularly obscene, but not nearly as much as his gesture. His hand dropped down, his fingers enclosing the tight little bulge in the front of his jeans, then squeezing firmly, deliberately, as he looked back up at me. "'course we could just tell my mom that I got like this from riding all day."

Playfully I spun him around to face the stairs, then gave him a firm, resounding slap on the buttocks. Clothed in the tight denim of his old jeans, it felt rather like firm rubber. "Upstairs now and into the shower, Dylan," I ordered, pretending to be angry.

"Yyyoouch!" he squealed, "I gonna tell my mom… I am… I gonna tell her that you fucked me!" he taunted as he jerked away and began to leap up the stairs two at a time with me hard on his heels. By the time we reached the top of the stairs we were both laughing hysterically. Dylan ran down the corridor and into the second bedroom, seeking to 'escape my wrath'. I followed him into the room as he glanced back over his shoulder, still laughing. The boy darted to one side as I came past, then in a single bound, jumped onto the bed with a flying leap from about six feet [2 m] away. he lay there giggling uncontrollably, massaging his cock and balls as he repeated, "I'm gonna tell my mom! I'm gonna tell my mom you fucked me."

The room was dark and cool because the curtains were drawn. I flopped down beside the boy spread-eagled on the bed, still laughing, trying to catch my breath. "Where the hell did you learn words like that? A nice boy like you!" I taunted.

Dylan turned towards me, resting his head on my shoulder and placing his hand on my thigh, his small fingers extending downwards to my groin, then slowly inching towards my throbbing cock. The boy had just one thing on his mind. "All the guys at school talk like that!" he said, pretending to pout. "Fuck this and fuck that, that's all they talk about."

"Well," I said in mock seriousness, "I don't love them. And I don't like you talking that way. You make is sound… well so dirty."

Dylan thought for a moment, then giggled, "It's not but is it? Okay, so what do you call it when you stick your big hairy cock up my butt, huh?"

I laughed, "Now that does sound dirty. It isn't that big and it certainly isn't all that hairy."

Dylan's fingers brushed against my genitals, his thumb stroking the rounded lump that was the head of my cock. "Well he is compared to mine!" he replied. He was quiet again for a moment, "Well do you want to do IT or not?" he asked as he kicked off his Nike Airs and let them fall to the floor with a thud.

There was no mistaking the plaintive sound in the boy's voice, as husky as ever, trembling with barely controlled excitement. I lovingly covered his small hand with mine, pressing it harder onto my cock, "You're gonna turn in a 'faggot' if you keep this up," I answered, trying to control my own excitement.

"Who me?" the boy said in a high-pitched falsetto voice. "You said I was too young to be queer," he added.

Suddenly he pulled his hand from under mine, taking it away from my groin, brushing his dishevelled golden-blond hair back. He looked down towards his feet, trying to extricate some meaning from the confusion in his mind. He lay back, now taciturn, considering his options silently for almost a full minute. The boy sucked on his bottom lip pensively, then twisted over onto his back, his decision now made. His hands came to his waist, fumbled momentarily with his belt buckle, then the clasp on his jeans, then, looking up at me, his eyes challenging me with a silent stare, his right hand pulled the zipper down. It was the only sound in the room and it seemed very loud. Dylan lifted his buttocks up, tugging his jeans downward, his eyes still locked on mine as his hands came to his knees, then all the way to his feet, before he lay back. The boy was naked from the waist down, his body suddenly looking pale in the darkness of the room.

The boy lay back, except for his ragged breathing he was inert, almost drained by the effort but very aware of my eyes as they travelled downward to his cock. It was very hard and it pointed up towards his navel, parallel to, but not touching his flat belly. He flexed his sphincter muscle, making his cock jerk teasingly, "Okay, so I'm a 'faggot', I'm queer okay?" he whispered as if afraid that someone else would hear.

"I'm glad…" I said gently, placing my hand on his bare thigh midway between his knee and hip, "I'm glad you are. It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one else has to know, not until you're much older and you want them to know. I love you, Dylan"

The boy nodded, wanting more than ever to return the words. Slowly he swallowed, "I love you too, Alex," he whispered at last.

In those few seconds I was never more aware of the boy's fragility. Despite his energy, the firm muscles in his young body, the passion he'd shared with me earlier in the day, his obscene teasing; he was still a boy, a twelve-year-old boy, a very sensitive boy on the verge of discovery. I swallowed, then to break through the barrier that had formed in my mind, I reached down and began to unfasten the small white buttons of his shirt. Dylan looked up at me, his tongue wetting his lips as he breathed heavily, swallowing nervously, his heart pounding, knowing deep inside him that everything had just changed, that it wasn't a game any longer. I took his hands in mine and gently pulled him up into a sitting position. I eased the shirt back, exposing his chest, tiny thin ripples of flesh forming at his waist, then pulling the sleeves outward and past his hands. The boy was naked, totally naked except for his socks, his precious body exposed, shamelessly and visibly aroused. I leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the sweetness of his mouth, his inquisitive tongue probing for mine, then engaging in a wet, passionate wrestle as I hugged his soft warmth to me.

After nearly a minute I gently pushed him away. "I love you Alex," he whispered again.

I nodded, taking the boy by the hand I pulled him up from the bed and led him into the bathroom. "First we have to clean up. I want you to shower, then if we have time, we'll go back in there and finish what we started," I said, reaching through the opening into the shower to turn on the water.

Dylan looked at me angrily, "But!…" he retorted.

"No buts Dylan, least not until you've cleaned up," I teased. Then standing before the naked boy I started to remove my own clothes.

Dylan's eyes lit up immediately, "What are you doing?… Why are you undressing too?" he asked curiously.

I grinned back up him as I pulled my jeans and briefs past my feet, then as I stood up I said, "'cause I'm taking a shower with you."

"Huh?!." For an instant Dylan looked confused, then his smile widened. I started to come closer, my arms spread wide to catch the boy. "Ohhhh!" he yelped as I grabbed him around the waist. He struggled playfully as I lifted him over to the shower and into the water. He giggled boisterously, wriggling and twisting as the water cascaded down over us.

Seeing the boy's excitability was all the provocation that I needed. I pushed him back against the shower wall where the flow of water was the strongest. It wasn't a hard push but it was firm enough so that he knew who was in control, then pining him with one hand I stood back to relish the boy's beautiful body. I was enraptured. The water streamed down his slender brown body, forming a riverlet over his navel, then reaching his rigid little penis, broke into two and ran down his legs. Dylan's hair was washed back, his tiny nipples forming two hard dark points on his flat chest, his lips pursed, quivering with desire. His arms reached out to me and I stepped forward, hugging the boy tightly to me as his arms locked around my waist. He was wet and slippery and delicious. His mouth lifted up to meet mine as we came together. As we stood there locked together under the cleansing water, I ravished the boy, kissing, licking, sucking anywhere and everywhere. Dylan responded, kissing me urgently and grinding his cock against my leg as he began to rock his hips from side to side rhythmically. My hand dropped down and slid between our bodies, grasping Dylan's small hard cock tightly in my fist and rubbing it feverishly as he thrusted back and forth wildly, pumping his soft belly against my cock.

A minute went by, maybe more, our bodies abandoned to carnal lust, until finally I had to force Dylan away. He looked up angrily, his desire unabated, "Come on, don't stop… not now okay!" he pleaded breathlessly.

"You keep that up Dylan and I'm gonna come any second," I said, trying to quieting the boy as he lunged back at me.

"So?… So I want you to come! I want you to come on me," he retorted, "if you're not gonna come in me."

"No you don't," I grinned at the boy's obscenity. "Not now. I'm going to soap you up and when you're all nice and clean I'm taking you back in the bedroom and we're going to do it again. Only this time, we're using Vaseline."

Dylan's eyes flashed with joy, "Yeah? I s'pose so," he said feigning disinterest, but giving himself away with the excited tremble in his voice.

I guided Dylan into the corner furthest away from the water and I picked up the soap. I knelt down paying homage to my young lover as I feasted my eyes on his rigid penis only inches away from my face. Then I began to soap his body, working up a good white lather on his legs. I made my way upwards slowly, tantalized by the smooth slipperiness of the boy's soap-slicked skin. When I came to his buttocks I parted his cheeks and examined his anus. It was still slightly dilated, the rim now redder than it had been than when I first saw it earlier in the morning. It looked sore and slightly puffed out as though it was swollen and I was certain that he'd been bruised by the forced entry of my cock. I tested the boy's orifice with a careful push of my finger before soaping into his crack liberally. It didn't seem to bother him. Once his back was well soaped I twisted him around to face me and washed to his belly, chest and shoulders, saving the best for last. I soaped his penis and scrotum thoroughly covering them with a thick white foam, soaping until the boy's penis was so hard it felt as though it could be snapped off but it could barely be seen. I don't know who had the greatest fun, me or Dylan.

The boy giggled and twisted and sighed with obvious delight, grinning cheekily and thrusting his hips rapidly so as to move his slippery, soap-covered cock in my hand, oblivious to the water as it showered down over him, he was intent only on extracting the maximum delight from his rigid little cock as it pumped back and forth. I could have spent the rest of the day in the shower with Dylan. The boy's effort was, of course to no avail. It would be a long time before he was able to get the kind of satisfaction he wanted and we both knew it.

I washed myself quickly as Dylan rinsed away the soap lather, letting the water splash over him, carrying the foam down to the tiled floor. We stepped out of the shower together and towelled off quickly. Dylan's penis had subsided slightly but his excitement certainly hadn't. He was bubbling with boyish enthusiasm as he roughed up his hair with his towel. "Come here, Dylan" I said as I opened the vanity cabinet and removed the small jar of vaseline, "It probably isn't as good for you as KY or something like that, but it'll do for now. That is if you really want to? I'm afraid it'll hurt quite a bit, I bet you're sore inside."

The boy nodded, his eagerness clearly visible on his face as he came forward, the pain he'd experienced on the first attempt now just a memory. He grinned at me cheekily, "Well at least we can try, okay? If it hurts too much I'll tell you and you can stop."

"Okay kudo, but we're going to have to be quick about it. Kelly's expecting us in a bit over half an hour." Dylan followed me out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. I turned to face him as I reached the bed. The boy stepped into my outstretched arms, his body still moist and hot from the shower, his hair damp and bedraggled, brushed back from his forehead and gathering in dark thick strands. He radiated a freshness as his mouth lifted up to mine, and I smelled the perfumed scent of soap as my nose brushed against his head. As we kissed I gently eased Dylan down onto the bed, following him and pressing him back into the pillows. His hair was wet and tangled and as he lay there watching me open the jar of Vaseline I was struck by his sensuous smile. I knew that the boy wanted this every bit as much as I did. "Roll over onto your tummy and lift your butt up in the air," I instructed. Dylan complied willingly. "Now, spread those cheeks wide open and let's get some of this inside you."

Dylan looked over his shoulder watching as I scooped up some of the Vaseline on my finger, a broad cheeky grin on his face, "You better use lots okay. I am a little bit sore still," he teased.

I slapped his bare cheeks playfully with my other hand, "I bet you are. If this hurts I want you to tell me, promise?"

"Yeah… but I don't want you to stop. I'll be okay," Dylan answered meekly.

"You let me be the judge of that. I don't plan to hurt you like that again, ever again. We're going to have to be very careful from now on," I said as I placed a big yellowish gob on the boy's anus."

"Oh… Ohhhh… that's nice. It feels so cool," the boy sighed as he felt the coolness melting into the heat of his body. "Mmmm that's good. Mmmmm. Oh! Hey that's your finger. Yeah, that's good. That feels soooo good," he moaned, wriggling his buttocks as he tried to draw my finger further inside. "Yeah… do it deeper."

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"It's sort of sore, kind of, but nice. It's not as tight back there as it was before is it?" Dylan asked.

"I… I don't think so. Does it feel okay?" I asked nervously.

"Stop worrying, okay. I promise I'll tell you if it hurts," the boy whimpered, "Do it deeper. Like before, when you push into my belly kinda," he instructed. I complied, twisting my finger around, curling it slightly and probing for the boy's tiny prostate. I was immediately rewarded with a long moan, "Ohhh Yeahhh. That's… that's it, right there, ohhhh yeahhh." He paused a moment, moving his buttocks uncomfortably, then pressed back towards me, "Yeah, that's it," the boy hissed. "Now do it faster!" he commanded.

Already I could feel the tension inside Dylan's body fading, his slender hips rotating as he began the ascent to orgasm. His sphincter valiantly contracted a few times but put up no real resistance. After a few minutes I added a second finger, squeezing it into the now-dilated opening and down into the narrow passage. Almost as soon as his body was accustomed to the greater demands I placed upon it, Dylan started to move his hips back and forth, using the muscles in his thigh, arms, and belly to achieve a wave-like motion in his lower body that forced my two fingers deeper into him, setting his own pace, grunting with each backward motion, then gasping as he pulled away again.

I let the boy do this for as long as I dared, until I noticed that his breathing was erratic, taking great gulps of air, the thrusting motion of his narrow hips was no longer rhythmic and carefully orchestrated, but had become irregular, faster, and much more strained, clear signs that his orgasm was beginning to close in quickly. "Okay Dylan, that's enough, okay," I said, placing my other hand on his buttocks to restrain him. Those few minutes as the boy had brought himself ever closer to orgasm had been overwhelming. I had watched and listened, absorbing the boy, captivated by his animal-like sounds of pleasure, overcome by the need within the boy which drove him relentlessly in the search for relief. In those few, all-too-brief minutes Dylan had been abandoned to his natural impulses, seeking the release that his body hungered for. Until then I had not understood, had not grasped the fundamental thesis that the boy, barely twelve years old, could become as sexually aroused as he would later, when he was physically mature and legally responsible.

The boy was gasping for breath as he slowed, trying to prolong his ecstasy, then gradually stopped, "Put him in! Okay!" the boy pleaded huskily.

As I had watched Dylan, crouching on the bed, head down in the pillows, his buttocks raised upward to meet my hand, I had wondered how best to take him. I wanted to see the boy's enjoyment, to watch his rapture, and there was only one way. As I pulled my fingers out of the boy's body it sucked noisily. Dylan whimpered slightly, instantly aware of the void inside, the pressure suddenly, irretrievably gone. In one movement I pushed the boy down onto the bed, twisting him away and rolling him onto his back, then lifting his legs up over my hips, my thighs coming to his buttocks. Dylan was nearly at right angles to me, but with one arm around his shoulders and the other under his legs I had control. With one hand I guided my cock forwards, easily finding the boy's deep crack, then probing for his opening. The angle was all wrong, his anus lower down than I wanted, and I lifted his legs up higher, bringing his lower-back up off the bed. I probed again, felt the wet, mushy heat, the softness of his anus fitting snugly over the engorged head of my cock.

I watched the boy as I pressed forward. His eyes opened wide, taking a sudden breath as he felt it, squeezing into his tight anal band, the momentary resistance, then penetrating. "Oh Yeah!" the boy moaned, "Ohhhhhh!"

"You okay?" I asked urgently, "Does it hurt?" Dylan shook his head rapidly, clenching his teeth as he pushed downward, straining to get more of my cock burrowed into him. "Take it slowly, Dylan," I said, "Tell me if it hurts." The boy nodded again, rapidly, then strained down again, forcing my cock further into him, deeper into the tight constricted bowel. It was, as Dylan would say, 'awesome'. I kept the pressure on, my thighs pushing forward relentlessly, letting the boy take my cock into him as he wanted. Inch by inch I felt my cock sliding deeper and deeper, the heat and wetness of his body engulfing my throbbing cock, the boy's occasional tightening spasms become weaker and less frequent. Finally he stopped, our bodies joined together as one. He winced as he shifted his hips slightly, moving my cock inside him, then lay still, his strength drained momentarily.

Dylan was breathing quickly, with short fast gasps, a look of triumph on his face, his eyes half-closed, tiny beads of perspiration on his forehead. I smiled at the boy proudly, lovingly caressing the soft golden-blond curls on his neck. "You okay?" I asked gently. Watching the boy's effort as he struggled onto my cock had been unforgettable. I had watched pain slowly change to pleasure, seeing the satisfaction of his desires as he impaled himself. It was, I decided, the only position we would use from now on. Well, at least for a while.

The boy nodded slowly, uncertainly. He tried to control his breathing, the same way he'd been trained when he was swimming, taking long slow breaths, counting as he held it in. "He's… he's in… all the way… I think. He feels sooooo big inside."

"Huh huh," I acknowledged, lifting the boy's small hand nearest to me and drawing it down between his legs, beside his little limp penis, over the tiny rounded knot of his balls. At the back of his balls, the boy's fingers brushed against my wiry pubic hair, then a little further touched what still remained of my cock. There was barely an inch left. "Not quite all the way, Dylan. But far enough. You feel okay."

"Yeah… yeah I think so… It sort of hurts in there… Start doing it slowly… I'll tell you if it gets worse… You do the work now, okay?" he said, his voice trembling as he shuddered.

"I love you, Dylan," I whispered.

Dylan smiled weakly, "I love you too," he said huskily, then added, "A lot!"

I began slowly, moving my hips forward barely an inch [2 cm] before carefully pulling back, letting Dylan's legs go, so that he could position himself. He responded by moving his knees even further apart so that his legs were wide apart, his small cock exposed on the little mound of his hairless pubis, his scrotum tightened up so far much that his balls were flattened into the cavities through which they had once descended. I stroked his penis, the delicate skin impossibly soft, the tiny helmet-head spongy, the short shaft loosened and impotent.

As the boy became used to my gentle motion I pulled him closer to me, so that while he still lay on his back with his slender brown legs up over my hips, his side was tucked against chest, his head cradled into my shoulder. I had one hand on Dylan's shoulder, restraining him slightly so that as my cock surged into him, he wasn't pushed away. With my other hand I caressed his legs, feeling the smooth brown skin with the texture of satin. I watched the fire in the boy's eyes as we shared our love, the 'innocent' pale-blue eyes looking into mine shamelessly, the whimper of delight as my thighs moved steadily, building up the rhythm, then slowing as he shuddered and twisted uncomfortably, stirring up the juices deep inside him, bringing him slowly, irrevocably to the edge of his sanity. As Dylan's penis hardened under my fingers I watched his body begin to writhe, his own narrow pale hips moving in response to mine, working the muscles that lined his clenching hot rectum as he sought to satisfy his own desires as well as mine. Every few seconds the boy would gasp for air, his arms grasping, hugging me tightly, his legs crooked behind me, his small feet digging into the bed cover, locking his buttocks hard against my thighs as I began to lunge again and again. I endeavoured not to go too deep into him but it was very difficult. On some thrusts the boy would give out a little yelp as though he'd been hurt, but when I looked at him for some indication he just shook his head wildly, insisting, demanding that I continue.

Then the boy convulsed wildly, his sphincter grabbing my cock and with all of the strength remaining in the boy's body Dylan lifted his hips up and slammed down against my cock as hard as he could. For an instant I was frightened by the intensity, the violence of the boy's movement, then pale yellow urine dribbled from the tiny slit in his penis, ran down his belly and pooled in his navel. It formed a glistening rounded citrine for a moment, then as he heaved again, lifting his buttocks and most of his back off the bed, it trickled over the brown skin of his belly and onto the bed. My cock pulled back so that only the head was still imbedded inside the boy, for seconds he shuddered, his back arching, his ribs standing out, more urine dribbling out as his bladder lost control. For the first time, as we lay locked together, our bodies heaving, both breathing quickly, I had watched Dylan experience his orgasm. It had come quickly, without any real warning because the boy had been on the edge of that precipice for almost the entire time. The sight of Dylan's slender young body in an ecstatic paroxysm, sharpened my own urge to the point where I began to thrust as fast and hard as I dared. It took three, perhaps four more lunges into the small, trembling boy before I felt my balls tighten. I thrusted forward, seeking the boy's heat, embedding my cock totally inside Dylan, my balls squeezing into his crack. Then I felt my semen rising up in what seemed an endless discharge, spurting deep into the hot, slippery flesh inside the boy.

Together we sank back onto the bed, both of us quaking, gasping, groaning, exhausted. I held Dylan tightly to me, knowing, understanding that this was the time that he most needed my protection, my comfort, my love. I whispered my love in the boy's ear as he whimpered little puppy-dog cries, somewhere between pain and pleasure. The boy looked back at me, his eyes part open, unfocused. He was conscious, but only barely. I hugged his moist body to mine, no longer exciting his penis, letting it subside, caressed his silky hair, touched his lips with my fingers, smelled the sweet musky aroma that drifted up from between our bodies. Dylan held my hand tightly in his small hand, afraid to let go, feeling the pressure inside his bowel slowly fade as my cock softened.

He stirred, aware of the presence of my cock still deep inside him, but missing the fullness. I kissed his lips, seeking his soft wet tongue as his mouth opened, stroking his cheek with my finger-tips, then carefully, lifting his legs up, pulled back away from underneath the boy's buttocks. My cock popped out with a loud slurp as Dylan complained with a deep sigh, but he sank back into the bed peacefully resigned. Almost at that moment the bedroom seemed different. It was dark and silent, except for our breathing no sound disturbed the air, but with absolute certainty I knew that someone else was in the room. The realization came in an instant, a terrible dread even as I twisted away from Dylan, looking back over my shoulder towards the door. Kelly stood in the doorway watching. There was a sudden and very distinct taste of bile in my throat, the inescapable knowledge that my son, nearly seven years old had observed. In that instant I wondered how much he had seen, how long he had been standing there, but I knew the answer even as I saw him. The boy's right hand was at his groin, he was clutching, unclutching, rubbing himself nervously, his breathing as heavy and fast as Dylan or mine. "Oh my god," I whispered, my thoughts spoken aloud to the two boys.

Dylan, his back to me, suddenly tensed, his voice scared, "Is there blood?… Did I bleed… a lot?"

"Huh? Ohhh… I… I don't know… Kelly's here… he's… he's watching… he saw us," I said, my voice rising in panic.

"Oh!… Oh shit…Ohhhhh No!" Dylan whispered, then twisted away from me, curling into the foetal position and burrowing his head into the pillow as guilt and shame welled up inside him.

"What are you doing to Dylan, Daddy?" Kelly asked, his voice loud, anxious, frightened. I turned back to look at my son, trying to find words, and words that could save us. I looked at the boy dumbly, feeling my face reddening, swallowing, trying frantically to think. "Why did you have your penis in Dylan's bottom?"

"Uh…Uh… Kelly, you shouldn't… you shouldn't be here… Why… why aren't you at Joey's?" I mumbled.

Kelly took a step forward, no longer at the door, now inside the room. His hand was still squeezing between his legs, his knees close together, protectively. Then another step into the darkness of the room, the young boy now silhouetted in the doorway. "'Cause you said. You said you were gonna pick me up at six o'clock 'n Joey's dad wanted to go out for dinner." Kelly took another step into the room, now only feet away. "Why don't you and Dylan have any clothes on? I thought you were wrestling at first… then I saw you penis was in his bottom… I thought you were hurting him!"

I shook my head, "Uh…No… No… Kelly I'm not… I'm not hurting him, okay?"

"But what are you doing?" Kelly persisted. Then he smiled slightly, "Are you making a baby?" The boy's smile widened and he giggled, "But he's a boy… and it takes a boy and a girl to make a baby you said." I nodded. If ever there was a time I needed words this was it, but words, thoughts, ideas escaped me. "Are you teaching him how? Is he practising with you?"

I nodded stupidly, this was about as close as a seven-year-old boy might get to understanding what he'd witnessed. "How long… how long have you been… watching?" I asked awkwardly, suddenly aware that Dylan was crying softly into the pillow, little muffled sobs, his body shivering in shame and the shock of discovery.

Kelly came another step closer to the bed so that he was now standing next to us. "Since you made him lie down on his back. When I first came up he was crouched down and you were doing something to him with your fingers, but I couldn't see that." I swallowed, my hands cupping my face in growing despair, shaking my head in disbelief, wondering why I hadn't closed the door, better still, locked it. "Does it hurt him to make babies?" Kelly asked softly, curiously, then added, "Why's Dylan crying for, Daddy?"

I looked up at the almost seven-year-old boy, startled to see that he was still clutching and unclutching his genitals, realizing that it was not a nervous response, but something far more primal. As I looked at my young son I sensed his arousal, the nervousness born of excitement and it frightened me, it was suddenly obscene. The boy that I had always cherished had witnessed my depravity with Dylan, barely five years older than he was, and it had excited him, it still excited him. I shook my head. "No Kelly, Dylan's okay, really he is. You… you surprised him."

Kelly nodded wisely, "Dylan I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Are you sure he's okay, Daddy? Doesn't it hurt him when your penis is in his bottom? It looked like it did. He was crying out a lot like it hurt," the boy said with finality.

Dylan lifted his head up from the pillow, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, turning slowly onto his side, then pressing his now limp cock firmly against my thigh as he shook his head, "I… I'm okay Kelly… It hurt's… a little bit at first… but when I was crying… it was because it felt so good."

"But… well… okay I s'pose. It smells funny in here but?" Kelly observed.

Dylan smiled shyly, "That's me, the smell comes from inside me."

"Oh… But why did you put your penis in Dylan's bottom, Daddy? You said only boys and girls make babies, is that how boys do it?" Kelly continued, unsatisfied. "Do you do pee inside him?" he asked, pointing to the dark circular stain that had formed on the bed cover, "Is that pee-pee?"

I nodded, breathing out, surprised at my son's easy acceptance, now strangely fascinated by the fact that the boy was standing there beside us still persistently rubbing his genitals through his jeans. "Kelly sit down on the bed, please." I said gently. My son sat down. "Does your penis hurt?" I asked. Kelly shook his head. "It feels good doesn't it?"

"Huh huh. It's nice," Kelly replied, smiling slightly at Dylan. "Is that why you were rubbing Dylan's penis? To make him feel nice?"

"Yes," I said. I was rubbing Dylan's penis and his bottom was rubbing on mine. Some pee came out of Dylan's penis because mine was pushing into his bladder, where his pee is stored until he has to go to the bathroom. It made your penis feel nice too when you were watching us, didn't it, Kelly? I asked.

My son glanced down at his jeans, entranced by the warm pleasant feelings that emanated there, that had spread through his entire body like fire, that made his spine tingle and his heart pound. He blushed slightly, "It that bad? Grandma said I shouldn't play it, but it feels so good when I touch it like that. Sometimes I can't help it and it gets so hard that it sticks out in my underpants."

"She's wrong Kelly, she doesn't understand boys. It's your body to enjoy. I hope you do it whenever you want. Dylan does, don't you," I added, "and so do I." Dylan nodded, his fingers reaching downward, sliding over his flat brown belly, enclosing his penis, squeezing gently, his slender fingers cupping the little rounded hemisphere of his balls. "You like Dylan a lot, don't you Kelly?"

Kelly nodded. Dylan smiled, slowly sitting up, still stroking his penis, his shame fading as he accepted the presence of another person, a witness to his emerging sexuality. He winced as a little spasm tightened in his bowel and he was aware of the rawness deep inside, his bruised flesh beginning to ache and make him feel slightly uncomfortable. "I like you a lot too Kelly," Dylan said quietly, "I like your Dad a lot as well. I wish he was my father. I never knew my father. Your dad is 'cool'. I really like him a lot, you know."

I sat up and lovingly I placed one arm around Dylan's bare shoulders and the other around Kelly, "Now I have two boys," I laughed. "Do you think we should adopt Dylan? You'd have an older brother, Kelly," I teased.

Kelly nodded, looking up at Dylan with admiration. "But what about his mom?"

"Well…" I began slowly, "when two people like each other a lot, like I like Dylan… and they're very close friends… well sometimes they do what we just did. They join their bodies together and share themselves. It makes them feel very nice, and they become even closer… friends"

My son nodded, still looking at Dylan, "You and Dylan were joined together," he said, "and you're friends. I saw you put your penis inside Dylan's bottom… does that mean you love him?"

My mouth opened in surprise and I glanced at Dylan. He was gently caressing his cock, teasing it slowly, deliberately erect again. That is one of the wonders of pre-teen boys, unable to ejaculate, the 'turn-a-round' time is about zero. Once he'd started the process, Dylan got hard in seconds. The boy smiled and nodded at my son. I nodded too. "Kelly, what you saw us doing, you've got to promise never to tell anyone, please," Dylan said conspiratorially. "I… I love your Dad… it's hard to explain…" he looked at me hesitantly, unsure of what to say.

Kelly giggled knowingly, "But you can't get married, 'cause you're both boys… Don't worry Dylan, I won't tell." The younger boy smirked, "His penis is getting bigger again," he observed.

I laughed, "He's always doing that. It's supposed to, Kelly. It's because he's happy and excited and he wants to have fun."

"His penis isn't that much bigger than mine," Kelly said, then giggled as he glanced downward, then across at me, adding, "But his is tiny compared to yours."

Dylan grinned cheekily and flexed his now-hard penis, making it slap loudly against his belly. I laughed, hugging Dylan to me closely. "You're insatiable Dylan. But I think we'd better get on our way home. We have a long way to go and we have to stop for dinner. Now do me a favor will you and go in the bathroom and clean up. 'specially back there okay. I don't want a mess on the car seat." The two boys laughed loudly and Dylan slipped off the bed and went over to the bathroom, walking gingerly. I smiled as I watched his pale firm buttocks, I expected that it'd be some time before Dylan was playing basketball again.

While Dylan was 'cleaning' up, Kelly helped me to remake the bed. I changed the bed cover and took the soiled one down to the laundry, rinsed out the stain and put it in the clothes dryer. By the time I was back in the bedroom Dylan was already half dressed and I dressed as the two boys talked. The trip back was uneventful, we listened to the Charley Daniels Band, had dinner at the 'Stoned Crow' and arrived home with Dylan almost at the exact time I'd promised his mother. Right before Dylan got out of the car he turned to me and gave me the biggest, wettest kiss of the day, then as he got out of the car, promised to call me the next day. He waved from the porch as I reversed into the drive. My son and I were going home to have a long talk, a very long talk.

Almost as soon as I pulled onto the road my son leaned forward from the back seat, placing his hands on the console between the two front seats. He looked out the windscreen silently, sucking on his bottom lip thoughtfully, the white tips of his baby teeth visible as he turned his small head and looked up at me. I glanced sideways at the boy as I drove down the road. Kelly was a very handsome boy but not like Dylan for whom the word 'beautiful' is entirely appropriate. "You have a good day, Kelly?" I asked as I turned the corner.

"Huh huh. I had fun with Joey…" he replied, then looked forward again. "Dad…," he began, then hesitated, "… Dad I like Dylan…"

I breathed out slowly, remembering, dreaming, my thoughts only on the beautiful twelve-year-old boy that had suddenly come into my life. "Yeah… I know… I like Dylan too."

"Dad… I wish… well I wish Dylan was my brother," Kelly said quietly.

I nodded, taking my right hand away from the steering wheel and playfully ruffling my son's hair for a moment. The boy's hair was silky soft, even softer than Dylan's, light brown with golden strands that had been bleached by the sun. "That would be nice… I guess. You'd certainly have someone to play with," I answered.

"He's so nice… like when he gave me his ice-cream at dinner." I nodded, placing my hand back on the wheel as I turned the corner. "Daddy… you love Dylan don't you?…" I nodded again as I glanced down and saw that Kelly was looking at me shyly, curiously, "But you love him different to how you love me, or mommy," the boy stated with an insight that was well advanced beyond his nearly-seven years. Like Dylan, my son was a bright boy, both boys were highly intelligent, both destined for college, for a good profession.

"Yes, I guess so, more like how I love mommy than anything else I s'pose," I said gently.

"But… well Dylan's a boy… and well… isn't that different?" he persisted hesitantly as he tried to sort out the differences for himself.

I knew then that I had to be honest with Kelly, I needed him to understand what I felt for Dylan, why I loved him the way I did. "Sometimes…," I began then stopped, breathed out, then began again. "You remember a while ago we talked about friends and how sometimes you just like one person more than another at school."

"Yeah! It's because everyone's is different, and you like things differently," Kelly answered.

"That's right. And some things you like a lot, some things just a little bit or not at all." Kelly nodded in agreement. "I want you to know that most men don't like boys the same way that I like Dylan, they like boys but not in the same way. And most boys that are Dylan's age like men, but not in the same way that Dylan likes me," I said then breathed out, wondering where to go next.

"That makes you and Dylan kinda special, but…" Kelly added.

"Most men and boys like girls… or women… in the way that Dylan and I like each other," I continued.

Kelly shrugged, "I don't like girls," he said with conviction, then added, "They're no fun to play with!"

Laughing, I ruffled his hair again, "You're not even seven yet. You probably will when you're older, Kelly. There is probably not a single boy your age in the whole world who likes girls. But by the time most boys are about Dylan's age they begin to think girls are 'cool'. Later on, when they're older, they get married."

Kelly shrugged again, "I'm not getting married when I'm older!" he retorted. "Doesn't Dylan like girls? Maybe he isn't old enough yet?"

My heart turned as the thought clamored in my mind. The possibility that Dylan's affection was merely temporary, a brief interlude before his interest was transformed to the opposite sex, had never occurred to me. I felt an instant panic growing inside me, a voice shouting in my head as I considered, then tried to deny the possibility. "Maybe…" I said quietly, breaking the silence that had filled the car for long terrible seconds. "But I… I don't think so… He might change as he gets older… some boys go through a stage at Dylan's age…but they grow out of it in a few years… but I don't think so… he might… but I don't think he will…" I said hopefully, praying that I was right.

"But… well why doesn't he like girls then?" Kelly continued.

"I… I'm not sure… I don't think anyone really knows why… but some boys… some men are like that." I breathed out, turning the corner onto our street, then added as I slowed the car down, "I think some boys are born like that. Some just grow up like that… liking boys more than girls."

"Do you think Dylan was born like that?" Kelly asked curiously.

"I don't know, maybe… I think so. A lot of boys don't even realize that they're different until they're a bit older that Dylan. Some even pretend to like girls because other boys will make fun of them."

"Oh! That isn't very nice," Kelly said. "They're just different… Dylan can't help being the way he is." I opened the garage door with the remote control, stopping the car briefly in the driveway, before driving in and parking next to the Corvette. Kelly scrambled forward and climbed out my door. "I hope I don't like girls when I grow up… I want to be just like Dylan when I grow up."

I stifled a grin, wondering if Kelly knew what that would mean. Until today I had never thought of Kelly as being sexy, but as he stood there in the garage, waiting while I removed the remains of the box of goodies, I saw him in a different light. When he was older, more self-assured and confident, he'd be a lot like Dylan. I placed my hand on his small shoulder, carrying the box under my arm, as we walked out of the garage to the house.

I had Kelly go upstairs and get ready for bed and I spent the new few minutes packing things away, then stood by the sink, my mind going back and forth over what had happened at the farm, wondering whether Dylan would, in fact, grow out of it. I hoped not but then I had a vested interest. "Heh Dad," Kelly called from upstairs, breaking into my thoughts.

"Yeah I'm coming tiger," I shouted back, my reverie interrupted. I went into the hall and up the stairs. Kelly was standing at the top of the stairs, naked except for his underpants, there was a small rounded bump in the V between his slender legs, tanned from long summer's days in the sun. He smiled slowly. "You done your teeth?" I asked.

Kelly nodded. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight, Dad?" he asked.

I glanced at the boy as I came up to him, then reached out and lovingly stroked his back, "Yeah… I guess so. But no wriggling around, okay? It's way past your bedtime, you have to go straight to sleep," I said, postponing the long talk that I needed to have with him. Kelly nodded. "Where's you pj's?" I asked.

"Do I have to?" he answered, following me into the bedroom. I turned back to the boy, seeing a small shy smile forming on his face. I shrugged. The smile broadened, flashing perfect white baby-teeth, a gap on one side that had yet to be replaced. The boy took a few running steps and leaped onto the bed, then slid his legs under the sheet. In that one simple motion I thought he was remarkably like Dylan. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, turning off the bedroom lights as I went. The image of Dylan, just a few hours earlier running into the bedroom, leaping onto the bed, of the things that followed, was paramount in my mind. I lingered in the bathroom for as long as I could, then came back into the bathroom. Kelly stirred, barely awake, "Dad… I'm glad you love… Dylan," he murmured sleepily. I pulled back the sheet and lowered myself carefully onto the bed next to him. The boy's nearly naked body was curled up and very dark against the bottom sheet. He looked small and fragile and he turned slightly pressing his warm body against mine. I caressed the boy's forehead, brushing back his silky hair, trying to imagine what Dylan was doing, then gently, ever so lightly I began to run my fingers up and down his back and shoulders as he dropped of to sleep.

I lay awake for a long time that night, for several hours my thoughts were only of Dylan, wondering, dreaming, thinking. I returned the memory of Dylan's beautiful, slender body, the ease with which he swam, his lithe young body moving urgently, hungry for excitement, his passionate kiss as he got of the car, the overpowering feelings of love that I had when we were joined as one, of the wonderful sensation I'd experienced inside him. Finally I drifted off to sleep.

Kelly woke me up by wriggling. He always does that and it's a good reason not to sleep in the same bed as a nearly-seven-year-old boy. It was just after eight o'clock. For a moment I lay there, trying to revisit the last fragments of my dream, putting the pieces back together. It had involved Dylan, of course. We'd been doing something but I wasn't certain what it had been. He held my hand, we were walking, his hand was so small, and warm. He was teasing me… Kelly wriggled again, insistently, squirming. "Go 'sleep…" I mumbled. He wriggled again, sticking his sharp little elbow into my ribs, "Go 'sleep… or go play in your room," I said, the last vestiges of my dream disappearing, the fragments interrupted.

"It's morning… time to get up," the boy chirped in a sing-song voice.

"It's Sunday, you dodo…" I sighed, stretching out into the cooler part of the bed, and rolling away from the wriggling boy. "And stop wriggling around!"

"I'm trying to get comfortable!" he retorted. "… Dad… do you think we'll see Dylan today," he asked.

"Huh… Oh I don't know, maybe," I replied, knowing that any chance of continued sleep was gone for good. "Why?"

"I hope so," Kelly said, "'cause he's fun, and I like him."

"We'll see… I guess," I said with a sigh, wondering, hoping, then adding, "I hope so too. Now stop wriggling… and if you stick that elbow in my back one more time, you die."

There was a burst of giggles, then a moment's hesitation, then a hard sharp force in my back, right below the shoulder blade. That did it and I twisted over, pulling the sheet down, as I grabbed the boy and began to tickle him furiously. He giggled hysterically, kicked and struggled, squealed in delight as we wrestled. I pinned him down, made him promise to behave, then rolled off, only to be confronted by another attack from my nearly naked son. We tumbled and rolled together, scrambling over each other as we grappled in playful combat, until breathless, and pretending defeat I flopped onto my back. Kelly straddled me triumphantly, "Kelly Weston, the winner," he shrieked, raising his arms high above his head, stretching the skin of his chest until his ribs stood out. I grinned at the laughing boy sitting astride my hips, our battle temporarily suspended.

"My penis is hard like Dylan's was. See!" he announced, looking downward. My eyes followed his. The boy's erection was unmistakable, the cotton of his underpants stretched tightly over the small, but very hard projection between his outstretched legs. He giggled, his right arm coming down from above his head, his hand reaching, fingers stretched out, touching the taut clothe, the slight quiver as his fingertips felt the pleasant warmth underneath. I closed my eyes trying to blot out the thrill that I felt, the surge of excitement almost as intense as what I'd felt for Dylan. Then suddenly unable to bear the contact with his body, I lifted forty-eight pounds [22 kg] of boy tossed him onto his back, reached down and pulled the sheet upward over my waist. Kelly looked at me curiously, lying back on the bed, his fingers gently stroking, shamelessly touching his hard penis. "Why does it do that?" he asked.

"Huh," I said absently, glad that my own groin was covered, knowing that my body had already begun to respond of it's own accord.

"Why does my penis get hard… like Dylan's?" he asked again.

I breathed out, swallowing, willing my arousal to fade, trying to clear my mind of the frightening possibility. "Huh… oh… it's because it feels good. Every boy's penis does that… gets hard. When you get excited, sometimes… excited because you feel good… then blood rushes into your penis, and makes it stand up."

"It's so hard, but," Kelly observed, his fingers squeezing, testing the firmness, "It feels a lot bigger too," he said in awe.

"That's the way it's supposed to be. Like if you filled a balloon with water, it'd get bigger wouldn't it, and when it was really full it'd be kind of hard when you pushed against it," I replied.

Kelly nodded, "Yeah… I s'pose. What if it breaks, or bursts or something but?" he asked.

I laughed, "It's not going to burst. If you leave it alone it'll gradually go down."

"Oh… it feels good but," Kelly admitted, stroking his small erection carefully. "Does Dylan's penis feel good when it's big like this? Is that why you were rubbing it as well… when your penis was in his bottom?"

I smirked at the boy's uninhibited curiosity "I expect so. It's supposed to feel good. And yes, I was rubbing his penis to make him feel good."

"It feels better the more I touch it," Kelly volunteered. He giggled, his fingers discovering the increased pleasure as they enclosed the small hot shaft under the soft cotton of his underpants.

"It feels even better if you take your underpants off," I grinned, "But that's something that a boy does by himself, or with someone that he likes very much."

"Like you and Dylan?" Kelly prompted.

I nodded, "It's called masturbating by the way…" Kelly nodded, his fingers sliding up and down over the short raised elongation in his underpants that pointed upward to his navel, growing slightly smaller as it went. It was perhaps a half-inch [1½ cm] high, the length of his penis impossible to determine since his testicles formed part of the shape. I smiled, fascinated by the boy's discovery of his own capacity for pleasure. His little fingers moved faster. "It feels good doesn't it?" I added gently.

Kelly barely noticed me, "Huh huh…" he whispered. His fingers tightened, extracting even more delight, stroking on the sensitive tip. "Oh!… It's making me feel funny," Kelly muttered. I raised my eyebrows and grinned, my son's arms and legs were covered with gooseflesh, the small muscles in his legs beginning to strain, lifting his groin up to meet his fluttering hand. "Can… can I take my undies off?" he asked uncertainly after a few more moments.

I wanted to say that it was 'okay', to sit back on the bed and watch, but I shook my head as my heart leaped. "It's okay to do that, if you want… but you have to go into your room to do that, okay, Kelly," I said firmly. The boy looked at me, disappointment flashing across his face, then pouting, took his hand away reluctantly.

Then he shrugged, as if the interruption to his enjoyment was of no importance, already forgotten. "You wanna wrestle some more?" he asked.

"In a bit," I teased, "You wore me out last time," I added, watching the boy carefully. Kelly paused a minute, then lunged, springing up from his reclining position and yelping as he went on the attach. I caught him in my arms, toppling the writhing, giggling boy onto his belly, pressing him down into the pillows and then delivering a firm smack to his small bottom. He squealed and struggled as I let him. He knelt on the bed, grinning cheekily, watching me unchallenged, considering his next point of attack. The phone rang.

***

I shook my head, then reached over past the boy, poised for combat, and picked up the phone. The time was a little past nine o'clock and I wondered who would call at that time on a Sunday morning. I hoped it was Dylan. The voice on the other end was familiar and I recognized it quickly. "Hello, it's Diane, Diane Brady, Dylan's mom."

"Hi! Good morning!" I answered brightly.

"Who is it Daddy?" Kelly asked.

I shook my head, "Dylan's mom," I replied, then added, "I've got a pesky seven-year-old boy here who want's to know who I'm talking to."

Diane answered, "No worse than a twelve-year-old boy I'm sure. I just wanted to call and thank you for taking Dylan with you yesterday. He had a great time."

Kelly climbed up next to me, trying to listen to the conversation but I pushed him away playfully and held him down with one hand, easily overcoming his ineffectual struggles. "No problem… we had a great time too. He's a lot of fun… We enjoyed having him, really we did."

There was silence on the other end of the line, then Diane's voice again, less confident this time, "I… I'm afraid my son has a bad case of puppy love…" she said quietly.

"Huh?" I said uncertainly, nervously, waiting for the woman on the other end of the line to respond.

"He likes you a great deal, I guess you could call the way he feels about you 'puppy love'. He's talked about you non-stop. We had a long talk last night when he got home…" She paused, waiting for my acknowledgment. I wondered what Dylan had told her. I hesitated to answer. "He's fond of you… very fond of you," she admitted slowly. "You're… good for him," she added, then after another pause, "I'm glad he's… friends…with you."

"Well… I like Dylan too," I said at last. "He's an easy boy to be friends with," I added noncommittally.

The silence seemed endless before Diane came back, "I… I've always known that Dylan was… different… I think you know… what I mean," she said hesitantly, her voice strained. Silence again.

"I… think so," I answered.

"I don't want him to grow up… like… some men… like that. You're good for him… I trust you Alex… I'm not sure I could trust Dylan with another man… or trust anyone else with Dylan."

"Huh huh," I said weakly, barely breathing, my face flushing as a sudden hot wave of guilt spilled over me.

"Dylan… told me what happened at the farm," Diane said awkwardly, her voice trembling nervously.

"Oh!" I gasped in sudden fear.

"I… he told me everything you understand… I'm not angry… sooner or later that would have happened, anyway. It was just a matter of time, I wish he was older, but… I'm glad it was you… he was safe… and from what he said… I think it was the right thing… for him… and you too." Her voice trailed off.

"I love Dylan," I said honestly, "I love him a great deal."

"Yes, yes I know that. My son is the same way. I… I guess that's why I'm glad. I know you'll be… gentle with him too. It's just that… well I don't want him acting like Paul, I told you about him, he's in my department… It isn't that he's gay, but he's with a different one every week, and he flaunts it."

I breathed out, trying to clear my head, fogged with disbelief, "Dylan is very special to me, Diane. This isn't something that goes away quickly… I want Dylan to know what it's like… to… have someone he can trust." I wanted to say 'love' but I hesitated.

"Yes… I know that. From the way Dylan was talking, he's met the right person to be… friends with… I just wanted you to know that it's okay… that I, well I understand it, and… well what happens between the two of you is your business."

"I don't know what to say, Diane," I said quietly.

"Anyway, Dylan's on his way over to your house. He should be there soon I guess. He was worried about what you'd think… about me finding out… Alex… he needs you, more than ever now," she finished. I could hear the sobbing start in the second or two as she put the phone down.

***

"What was that all about? What did Dylan's mom want?" Kelly asked curiously.

"Huh?" I said, engrossed in my own thoughts, still struggling in utter disbelief at what had transpired. "Huh? Oh… Dylan's on his way over here. She was calling to say that's she's glad Dylan is our friend."

"Does she know about you and Dylan making babies?" he asked cheekily, his voice teasing gently.

I looked up, "You little bugger, you promised that was a secret."

Kelly smirked, "I haven't told anyone… yet!"

"You better not either, young man," I smiled. "Besides his mom knows anyway. That's what she called about, to say it was okay," I answered happily.

"For you and Dylan to make babies?" Kelly persisted.

I laughed, tossing the pillows at my son so that he to scramble away to avoid getting hit, "It's not making babies. That takes a boy and a girl, not two boys, you know that!"

"Yeah, I know that, but… well what do you call it? What you and Dylan do?" my son asked.

The doorbell rang downstairs, interrupting my answer to his question and I jumped up, grabbing my dressing gown. I turned and grinned at Kelly, "Having fun!" I called back as I ran down the stairs and into the front hall. I saw Dylan standing outside the back door. He was wearing denim shorts a long-sleeved shirt, does the boy ever wear anything else? He was grinning and he waved as he saw me in my underpants, the dressing down wide open at the front. I opened the door, resisting the impulse to sweep Dylan into my arms, to kiss him, to carry him upstairs into my bedroom and do incredibly wonderful things to his delicious young body. I opened the door and as he passed between me and the door frame I caught the scent of his freshly shampooed hair. Standing there in the morning light, slender, tanned, radiating life, grinning cheekily, he was, I decided, the most wonderful, perfect person in the world. "Hi! I wasn't sure if I should use the back door," he said as if to explain his presence in my house.

"Hi yourself!" I replied.

"I see you're up and dressed," he teased, grinning wickedly.

"Your mom just called," I said then waited, enjoying my game with the marvellous boy standing only a foot away.

"Oh?… What did she want?" The boy asked uncertainly.

"We had a long talk about you," I replied honestly

The boy hesitated, his uncertainty building, "What did she say?"

I stepped closer to Dylan and he looked up, his pale-blue eyes locked on mine, "Oh, this and that…"

"Come on, tell me," he insisted, his eyes sparkling. I feasted my eyes on the boy, captivated by the little cleft above his upper lip, the soft cheek, so absolutely smooth, a tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth, the long thin eyebrows, so blond and pale that they were barely distinguishable against the brown skin of his temple. But it was the pure white of his eyes surrounding the pale sky-blue, the intense pupils, as he looked expectantly into my eyes, that held my interest the most. His golden-blond hair was brushed but it had fallen forward over his forehead, his ears were small and delicately sculptured. His lips were full, dark, slightly pursed as he breathed through his mouth. "Tell me," he repeated.

It was almost impossible not to laugh, to pull him towards me, to kiss him, to tell him again and again that I loved him, but Kelly interrupted. He leaned forward over the stair rail, his voice high-pitched, giggling in a sing-song. "Dylan and Daddy are in love, Dylan and Daddy are in love… Hi Dylan!"

Dylan grinned, "Hi Kelly," he called out good naturedly to the almost naked boy on the stairs. He turned back to me, smiling, "You know I told her what happened don't you. You're not angry are you?" I smiled, shaking my head at the beautiful boy. "When I got home, I think we must have talked for hours. I told her we had sex and she didn't mind… well kind of, she said she wished I was older… but she wasn't angry that you and I did it." I nodded, watching the boy's eyes, in their own way still innocent, despite what had happened the day before. "You're not angry, are you?" he asked again.

"I'm not angry but I'm starving," I finally laughed unable to hold back. I pulled Dylan to me, felt the boy's lithe body press urgently forward, his arms tighten around my waist as my hands slid up and down his slender back, massaging the firm muscles, the ripples of his ribs as they joined to his spine. "I missed you last night," I whispered in his ear.

"I know, me too… I tried to jerk off thinking about you… it didn't help much," the boy whispered back.

"What are you guys doing?" Kelly interrupted. "You're not gonna make babies again, are you?" he added teasingly, "'cause if you are I'm goin' upstairs and watch cartoons."

Dylan stifled a laugh and I pulled away from the kiss we both knew was about happened, "Nothing. You can watch cartoons if you want, Kelly. I'm making waffles for breakfast," I announced. "You hungry, kiddo?" I asked Dylan.

The boy shrugged, "I ate Cheerios already. Yeah, okay."

"You can help if you want, or go up and watch TV with Kelly, take your pick," I said moving a little further back and trying to resist the temptation to take Dylan back into my arms and ravish him on the spot, knowing that his soft brown boy-flesh would taste a whole lot better that waffles with real maple syrup.

"I'll help you, okay," he said at once, then his voice dropped conspiratorially, "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, Dylan Brady," I said quietly.

Dylan followed me into the kitchen and Kelly went back up the stairs. He didn't help much, in fact he did his utmost to distract me, leaning back against the sink, looking happy and content, almost smug, aware that I followed his every movement, his every word. He talked aimlessly about his bike that he'd ridden on to come to my house, about how the chain was loose, but he wasn't sure how to tighten it properly, because every time it came loose. I told him I'd look at it later on, after breakfast, maybe the threads had been stripped.

I piled the three waffles, syrup, and three glasses of milk onto a tray and headed out of the kitchen, Dylan following right behind, still chattering incessantly. I went up to the bedroom, depositing the tray on the side table. Kelly was stretched out, lying on his belly on the floor in front of the television, still dressed only in his underpants, his legs splayed wide apart, the small bulge of his tiny testicles visible between them. I dropped my dressing gown on the floor and sat back on the bed. Dylan stood near the bedroom door, looking shyly first at me, then at Kelly, both naked except for our underpants.

"You wanna eat on the bed here with me… or with Kelly, on the floor?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be. Dylan took a step closer, his eyes riveted on my briefs, knowing what the prominent bulge was. He could feel his own penis, swelling instantly, protruding outwards into the confinement of his shorts. "If you want, you can take off your clothes, Dylan," I said. I pretended to ignore the boy, lifting the waffles onto the plates and pouring a generous amount of syrup over each one, but I followed Dylan's every move. He hesitated for a moment, then overcoming any inhibition he had, kicked off his Nike Airs and tugged his socks off. He unfastened his shirt buttons and pulled his arms free, dropping the shirt on the floor, then unfastened his belt, opened his zipper and slid out of his shorts. He still wore 'little-boy' underpants, the white-cotton kind made by Jockey, with the high sides and the flap in front. Kelly swivelled around and grinned as he saw the older boy dressed only in his underpants, coming easily to his feet and walking over to pick up his plate and glass of milk. Dylan stood by the other side of the bed, lifted back the sheet, and smiled at Kelly. "Dylan's penis is hard again, Daddy?" my son observed, "You can see it sticking out in his undies."

I laughed, "Like I said, that happens a lot to Dylan… and you too as you get older. It's supposed to do that." Dylan blushed slightly and sat down on the bed, sliding his legs under the sheet and pulling it up so that his erection was covered. Except for a small rise between the boy's legs, there was no sign of it under the sheets.

"You said it gets hard like that because he's happy, and excited, and he feels good… but, well… why does he feel like that now?" Kelly asked, then sipped his milk as he looked at the two of us in the bed.

"Because he's in bed with me without any clothes on… well almost with no clothes… and he likes it. So do I," I added patiently.

Kelly giggled, "Is your penis sticking out too Daddy?" he asked teasingly.

I turned and grinned at Dylan, then looked back at my son, "Huh huh, I like being naked with Dylan," I answered honestly.

Kelly giggled again as he turned back to the TV, "But he's still got his undies on!" he contradicted, then added as an after thought in his sing-song teasing voice, "Daddy and Dylan are in love."

I was aware of a movement in the bed next to me, the boy lifting his legs up under the sheet, then pushing them back down. Dylan smirked at me knowingly, brought his left hand out from under the sheets, holding a finger to his lips for an instant, then taking it away. As Kelly settled back down on the floor in front of the television, carefully so as not to spill his milk, Dylan reached for my right hand, the one nearest to him, and drew it towards him, downwards under the sheet. My finger tips brushed against the soft satiny skin of his belly, then an inch or two [5 cm] further, I touched the bare flesh of boy's small but very hot cock. It was very hard and seemed to be throbbing with a life of it's own. Dylan sighed as he breathed out slowly, his blue eyes sparkling with boyish mischief as he pulled his other hand out from under the sheet, clutching his underpants. He dropped them on the floor casually. "Now you," he whispered.

I grinned back at him and nodded, lifting my buttocks up quickly pulling my briefs off. I sat up, straightening my legs, noticing the tent in the sheet that covered my groin. Dylan stifled a giggle as soon as he noticed. A moment later I felt his small warm hand slip over my thigh and enclose my cock, squeezing firmly, playfully, his fingers barely meeting his thumb when he tightened his grip. "He's really huge," Dylan whispered. "I don't believe you got him inside me yesterday… twice… do you?"

"What are you guys whispering'bout?" Kelly demanded.

"Nothing?" Dylan said, pulling his hand back from my cock slowly. "Is the waffle any good?" he added.

"Hummm… yeah," Kelly replied between bites. "It tastes great."

"Of course," I said, "I made it!" I passed a plate and a glass of milk to Dylan and took one for myself. It was very difficult to believe that the impossible had happened, that I was sitting naked in bed with a very beautiful twelve-year-old boy, with the consent of his mother.

"Heh, this is good!" Dylan announced after his first bite, "It's better than Frisch's, or anything." I laughed, watching Dylan chew, engaged by the boy's infectious grin, his perfect white teeth, the shine of his golden-blond hair. He slurped his milk noisily, leaving a white film on his lips. "You gonna eat your's or what?" he teased.

I laughed, "No, I think I'll let you eat it… then I'll eat you! I bet you taste even better."

Dylan chortled, brushing the hair back from his forehead and out of his eyes as he ate. He looked up at me between bites, "I taste pretty good." I took a bite of my waffle, relishing the sweet syrup, still watching the boy eat and drink, unable to take my eyes away. He finished first and reached over me to place his empty plate and glass back on the table. I felt the firm warmth of his lean body press against mine, the 'electric' shock as his bare skin touched mine, then he turned back settling down next to me to watch cartoons.

Almost as soon as Kelly finished his breakfast he came to his feet, leaving his plate and glass on the floor, he looked at the two of us lying side by side in the bed and shrugged in disinterest. "I'm gonna play with my train set… in my room," he announced. "You wanna come Dylan?"

"Later on, maybe. When your Dad's in the shower, okay," the boy volunteered.

Kelly ambled out of my bedroom room and into his own. Dylan smiled shyly, "Well…?" he said, his voice suddenly turning husky again. "What do you want to do… now?" he asked, his eyes flickering with growing excitement.

I smiled back at him, "I want to eat you all up," I said quietly.

"All of me? Everything?"

"Huh, huh…all of you," I said. "Everything!"

"Everything?…Even my dick?" Dylan asked huskily.

"'specially your dick," I whispered, gently placing my hand on the boy's soft cheek. I caressed the smooth skin lovingly with my fingertips, wondering how long before he would have before he began to shave, moving my hand back towards his small ear, stroking the delicate lobe, then under, sinking my fingers in the silky hair, like soft down. Dylan quivered under my touch, his body trembling noticeably as his arousal intensified.

"How do you feel? Does it still feel sore inside?" I asked gently, remembering what I'd done to the boy the previous day.

"Okay… There was blood on my underpants this morning, but," Dylan said. "Just a little bit but, like a smear, I think it was from yesterday. It feels sort of sore in my belly, and my hole itches a bit. I don't mind if you wanna do it now, except for Kelly might come in."

I nodded, slowly drawing the boy's head forward. Instinctively his tongue came forward and licked his lips, his eyes closed, lips pursed, he took a quick breath. As we kissed his arms settled around me and I held him tightly. The kiss he had given in the car outside his house the previous night was only a promissory note. It was long and hot and very very wet. Still kissing, I pulled Dylan over on top of me, our bodies coming together, his light weight barely noticeable. We were breathless, and speechless when that kiss ended. The kiss had concentrated all of our pent-up feelings, the loneliness we'd both experienced while we were apart, it was the most passionate kiss I have ever known. As soon as we parted Dylan flicked his head and smirked cheekily, "I want to eat you first… okay?"

He didn't give me the opportunity to answer because he wriggled downward in the bed, sliding under the sheets, until his head rested on my belly. I felt his small fingers touch against my balls, fondling the soft skin, playfully rolling them around, then the hot moistness of his lips as his lips kissed the swollen head if my cock. The moistness quickly became wet and very very soft, like a band sliding down my cock as he took it into his mouth. His head rocked gently, moving my cock back and forth, his fingers massaging my balls with increasing pressure. For a moment he pulled his mouth away, breathing deeply, "Okay?" he asked shyly, his voice betraying his doubt, of his ability to satisfy me.

"You feel wonderful, Dylan," I sighed, reaching down with both hands to hold his silky head.

"Yeah? It tastes a bit salty… but I like it," he said, shifting slightly, this time his tongue touching, then licking, then sucking on my balls, his hand partially enclosing the shaft of my cock, moving rhythmically up and down the entire length. He alternated between my cock and balls, long wonderful minutes, gradually getting faster and he overcame his own reluctance and accepted my cock deeper and deeper into his mouth. Then, after I could barely stand it any longer he pulled back, taking the head of my cock, settling his teeth into the ridge behind the helmet-head, and swirling his tongue over and around it, pressing into the slit as far as he could go. He began to use his hand on my cock as well, vibrating his hand, then his forearm, faster and faster until I felt my orgasm build up inside me.

I gasped, groaned, then gasped again, knowing that the boy needed to make his own decision. "It's coming, it's coming… Ohhh Yeahhhh," I gasped. Dylan's response was to sink his mouth down, bobbing his head up and down as fast as he could, jerking the sheet downward to expose his golden-blond head moving as rapidly as he could. I shuddered, arching my back, clutching Dylan's head as tightly as I could as I felt my juice explode out into the boy. He was ready and waiting for it. As he tasted the first salty spurt he swallowed, pushing down even harder onto my cock, forcing it all the way to the back of his mouth and part of the way into his throat. My ejaculation seemed to last for ever, almost filling the boy, but in reality little more than a teaspoon or two.

Dylan waited until I was finished, until the last dying spasm, until my throbbing cock began to soften, before he finally pulled away and wriggled back up to lie beside me, his small blond head lying safely on my chest, cuddled closely to me with my arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. Like me, the boy was breathless, but his eyes were happy and his cheeky smile was victorious. "You like that?" he teased as his breathing quickened and his heart slowed.

"Yeahhh! You're incredible Dylan," I said effusively. "That was truly 'awesome'!" He smiled. his pink small tongue licking at his lips. "So… what do you think of the taste huh?" I asked.

"'s okay, it's salty… it sure is thick but… It seemed like a lot came out… it tastes a bit like clam chowder… without the clams but," he giggled playfully, moving his tongue around as he savored the residual after taste.

"What about the potatoes?" I teased.

Dylan giggled, "Hmmmm… no I don't think so," he said. "Do you think I'll have a lot when I'm older?"

"Probably," I said, hoping that day would never come.

"The worst part is I got hairs in my mouth. Yuk," Dylan complained. "I don't mind your come, it's okay… but hairs are yucky."

I laughed, "Sorry about that. I'm afraid there's not much we can do about it though."

Dylan giggled, his fingers descending down my belly, back to my cock, gently tracing the wet, sticky shaft, then he twisted his head back and looked up at me, "Yes there is! You could shave him," he said playfully.

I laughed, "That's not a bad idea, except I'd have to do it every day."

"Okay," Dylan teased, "If you do, then I'll suck him every day, okay?"

I looked at Dylan and he grinned, "What about when you start school in a few weeks?"

"I'll come after school," he said cheekily, "'course if all you wanna do is fuck me, well, I guess it's not a big problem then." He squeezed my limp penis gently but firmly, then increased the stakes, "I dare you!" he grinned, then raised the ante yet again, "I double dare you!"

I began to laugh, pulled Dylan to me, hugged him tightly and kissed him as hard as I could. I tasted my semen inside the boy's mouth, no longer as salty, but the lingering strange taste still on his tongue. "Okay I guess, but when you're here, you have to do it… beginning right now."

"Huh? Me?… I don't have any hair there yet!" he smirked.

"That's not what I mean. You do the shaving," I said.

"Oh!… Now?" he asked uncertainly.

"Huh huh! Well unless you want me to do you now?" I laughed. "Come on you're going to have to learn how to shave sooner or later anyway. You can have a shower with me, and do it then," I added swinging my legs out of the bed. I pulled Dylan after me, leading the giggling boy towards the bathroom door.

The memory of his first shower with me at the farm was very strong, but he hesitated at the door, "But… well I promised Kelly I'd play with him while you were showering. He wants to show me his train set," Dylan said.

I grinned and turned around. It was a nice thing for him to have said. "I don't think Kelly will mind that much, but let's go see," I said, leading the way back out through the bedroom and into my son's bedroom. Kelly was still in his underpants, sitting cross-legged in front of the train set, the control unit in his lap, switching the trains back and forth as they zipped around the track.

He was engrossed in his game, making engine sounds as the steam locomotive backed up into the siding. I knocked lightly on the door and looked up almost immediately, realizing our presence, and he grinned, "Hi!" he said. "Have you guys finished making babies already?" he teased. "You were a lot faster than last time."

Dylan blushed slightly, swivelling to me, then seeing me smile, relaxed. "We weren't making babies, Kelly. We were…," he glanced back at me, "Well boys can't do that… make babies… it's not what it's called anyway."

Kelly looked up pouting, "So what is it called? What you two do together," he asked.

"I… well… I know one word for it… but it's dirty," he answered awkwardly. I stifled a laugh as Dylan looked at me seriously. I shrugged, sooner or later Kelly would hear the word anyway. "It's called… 'fucking'," Dylan said expertly.

"There are other words for it Kelly, but that's one of them. Dylan's right, it is a dirty word. It's not a word that you should use with anyone else, okay? If I hear you saying it, except to me or Dylan, you die tiger," I said, pretending seriousness.

My son nodded, his curiosity unquenchable, "So what did you do then?" he asked looking up at the two of us, both naked, Dylan standing slightly in front and to one side of me, his penis no longer fully erect, but in the half-aroused stage, when instead of pointing upward, it was still firm enough to point outwards and downwards. My own penis was completely satisfied, hanging loose and limp between my legs, still glistening slightly, but noticeably wet with Dylan's saliva and my own semen.

I laughed, playfully hugging Dylan to me, "We had fun… and Dylan had breakfast," I replied.

Dylan walked over towards Kelly, oblivious to his nakedness, then squatted down next to my son. "This is a 'cool' train set. Have you had it long?"

Kelly smiled at the older boy, "I got it for Christmas, didn't I Daddy," then he added, "You wanna play with it Dylan?"

"Dylan and I are going to take a shower together, okay. I know he promised… but do you mind?" I asked. Kelly shook his head, then not ignoring us, but totally engrossed in his game, continued to play as if we weren't there. "Come on Dylan," I said, "Kelly, I want you to get dressed." The boy nodded absently as Dylan came to his feet and followed me back out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

I turned the shower on and sat down on the toilet. Dylan stood before me, only a foot away at most, his belly about at the same level as my eyes, his tiny intruded navel almost, but not quite half-covered by a little fold of brown skin. His penis had relaxed even further, a small soft appendage hanging downward, lifted outward slightly by the rounded hemisphere of his testicles. I leaned forward, placing my arms around the boy's back and with the tip of my tongue touched his navel, probing into the small cavity and flicking playfully. Dylan giggled and pulled away, "That tickles," he admonished.

"It's supposed to," I laughed, then added, "I haven't had my breakfast… yet."

Dylan took a step forward, "Okay… but no tickling. I have to go pee too and I'll do it all over you if you tickle me."

"Okay, I'll behave." I placed my hands back on Dylan's hips, tempted by the small, but extremely tasty morsel that he presented to me. Instead I twisted the boy around so that he faced away from me, keeping my hands at the same level so that I now cupped the full roundness of his small cheeks. The skin was paler there than anywhere else on his body, delicate and smooth. Gently I prised the two halves apart, noticing the boy's involuntary shiver, wondering immediately whether he felt more pain there than he let on. I looked into his crack, the fine dividing line running from his spine, all the way to the swelling of his scrotum, broken only by his small anus. I was not sure what I should have expected, perhaps I thought he would have returned to his virgin state, his hole small and puckered, the lips flaring slightly before the wrinkly tissue vanished inside him. I expected his anus to be a little darker but it wasn't. Around the puffed out rim there was a purplish ring, between a half and three-quarters of an inch [2 cm] thick. I touched the bud of the boy's anus very gently barely touching the sensitive tissue. He winced unmistakably. "Sorry, it hurts doesn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah! A bit sore," he breathed out, "It hurts more when I try to poop," he added.

"Dylan, it's a bit bruised and it's kind of swollen, I'm sorry," I said.

"It's okay."

"No it's not. Dylan I want to look inside to see if there's more damage?" I said, "I'll try to be careful. It might hurt a bit." The boy nodded. I wasn't even sure I knew what to look for, but carefully I placed my fingers against the rim of the boy's opening and pressed back. The hole was small and very tight but there was a thin reddish line that led back down. It was at the place closest to his scrotum, the place where the pressure had been the greatest, where his young body, unable to accommodate the cock that had demanded entry, taken possession of his slender body, had finally broken. The fissure wasn't deep but it obviously painful for Dylan. I swallowed guiltily, the shame returning with a vengeance. "There's a little split inside. I think that's what hurts," I said.

"It's hurts a fair bit when I squeeze on it," Dylan volunteered.

"I guess it would," I said, "I think there's something in the vanity cupboard that'd help," I added, pressing on Dylan's buttocks gently so that he stepped away. I stood up and went to the vanity, opened the cupboard and found some analgesic ointment for internal use. Dylan came over as I unscrewed the cap, and leaned forward over the vanity, placing his hips against the curved edge of the marble, his hands on the top to take his weight. I dropped to my knees, then reached forward, carefully parting the boy's small cheeks again. I squeezed a big fat gob out and smeared it into the boy's hole. He sighed as the cool ointment oozed into his aching body. "It'll feel better in a few minutes, Dylan," I said, gently rotating my finger, the tip intruding slightly into the boy's moist dank heat. "We'll put some more in there later on."

"It feels better already," Dylan smiled as I stood up and he straightened.

I picked up the razor on the vanity, ejected the old blade and fitted a new cartridge. I placed my hands on his shoulders, guiding the boy forward and into the shower. My desire had cooled somewhat after I'd seen the damage I'd done to the boy's tender body. At first I'd entertained thoughts of 'fucking' the boy there in the shower, but not now. Dylan picked up the soap in his small hand, pushed me playfully back under the water, and began to soap. He began with my chest and belly, then turned me around and washed my back and legs. His supple fingers, slippery with soap, squirmed and tickled, exploring everywhere, even pushing a wriggling little finger up into my anus as far as he dared, giggling as I sighed. Then he turned me around and went to work on my groin, kneeling between my feet, looking up at me with a greedy knowing smirk as he playfully tugged on my pubic hair making a rich foamy lather over my cock and balls. His gentle, but insistent kneading, made my penis spring to life, hardening quickly until it was sticking outward pointed towards him, only a few short inches from his mouth. Silently I willed the boy to take it back into his mouth, flexing my internal muscles and making it jerk.

Dylan giggled, slapping it playfully with his hand, "You've gotta behave now. You're too soapy to suck right now, okay." He smirked as he looked up at me, "Okay he's nice and soapy now. So, what do I do?" he asked.

I grinned down at the boy, flexing my cock rapidly, hungrily, trying to tempt the boy. Dylan shook his head emphatically, "When I done, okay. But you promised… no more hairs!"

I laughed, "Okay kiddo, you win. You do this very carefully." The boy grinned teasingly, raising his eyebrows. "Here," I said, passing the razor to him. He took it inexpertly, holding it like a pencil. "Now, pull it very carefully across, don't push at it." Dylan nodded, making his first awkward stroke, beginning just below my navel and carefully moving down to the side of my penis. There was two-inch [5 cm] swathe of skin revealed under the soap foam. I didn't see any hair and neither did Dylan. He looked up at me and grinned as stray water trickled over his forehead, beaded, and dribbled onto his shoulders.

"Cool," he observed. Then he lifted the razor and began on the other side. "This is awesome," he added as more skin was revealed. Dylan became more confident, making shorter strokes, working in towards my now throbbing cock, each increasingly deft stroke taking away soap. After a few more I reached down and took the razor away from him. He pouted, pretending to be a spoiled brat with a playful whine, as I washed the collection of dark, curly hair away from the blade before passing it back to him. He grinned in absolute delight, pulling my testicles down and getting the razor into the furrow between my legs, then carefully around the scrotum, then back up over my penis. I grinned down at the boy, intent on his work, absorbed totally by his position of control, in his own way making us equals. He continued, going back over places that he'd already visited, once, twice, even three times, getting every last strand, leaving only perfectly smooth hairless skin in his path, until only a few smears of soap were left. He was finished and he came back to his feet, pushing his wet darkened hair back and he came to his tip-toes, leaning forward and kissing me passionately, hot, wet and very eagerly. He pushed his flat brown belly into my still rigid cock, grinding his hips vigorously and working his own now-erect cock against my thigh. "Well?…" he teased, the husky note suddenly appearing in his strained voice, then added after a long pause, "… You wanna do it?"

I shook my head, knowing how sore the boy must feel, but fascinated by his desire. Just then Kelly walked into the bathroom, looked at us, then smirked knowingly. "Heh Dad, Mom's on the phone," he said. "What are you guys doing now?" he asked. "Heh, Dylan's penis is standing up again, Daddy," he observed shamelessly, oblivious to the fact that he too was standing there before us, his naked body concealed by only his underpants.

"Shit!" I laughed, "Of all the dumb times to call," I said, stepping back from Dylan and out of the shower. "I'll be right back," I added as I quickly towelled myself dry. Dylan followed me out of the shower, his little stiff penis bobbing, slapping against the gentle curve of his lower belly, his immature testicles hanging loosely below in the delicate folds of his tiny scrotum. He picked up a towel and began to dry himself with quick energetic movements as he worked the towel over his narrow back and down his slender brown legs.

Almost as soon as Dylan straightened up, Kelly smirked, pointing between my legs, "You look just like Dylan… and me… you look like a little boy, Daddy."

Dylan started to laugh as he looked at my freshly shaved cock, "He's cute like that, isn't he. You're right Kelly, he looks just like us. Only his dick is a whole lot bigger and he can 'come' and neither of us can yet."

Kelly and I both laughed and the two boys followed me out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. I picked up the telephone and the two boys leaped onto the bed, wrestling playfully. I tried to concentrate on my wife's long-distance phone call but the boys were an impossible distraction, giggling, squealing, tumbling over each other like two little puppies.

"…Look, I can't get back this week. I still have a lot of work to do here… Max is thinking of stepping down as President…" she said. I caught most of her words but I turned to the boys hushing then with my finger as I tried to listen to what she was saying. Dylan had Kelly pinned on his back and was tickling him under the ribs furiously. Kelly let out a loud yelp and finally pushed the older boy back, then scrambled to his feet, panting with pretended anger. "… I'm not even sure about next week… Max is talking about a month…"

Kelly yelped again, struggling valiantly but still easily overpowered by Dylan. The two boys writhed around on the bed, bare buttocks, arms and legs entwined, fingers digging furiously at each other's slender chests. I looked again, surprised. Somehow Kelly's underpants had come off. Like Dylan, the younger boy was erect. Kelly's penis was perhaps just a half-inch [1½ cm] shorter than Dylan's, who was five years older, but it was not a lot smaller, since it was about as thick as Dylan's penis. I dragged my attention back to the telephone but continued to watch the boys, entranced by their beautiful naked bodies, twisting and turning noisily on the bed, each boy now grabbing for the other's exposed genitals. "… I'm not sure about… call me next week… I have to fly… how's Kelly?"

"He's fine, he's wrestling on the bed with Dylan right now. Do you want to speak to him?" I said loudly, finally giving Dylan a playful slap on his bare buttocks. For a few moments both he and Kelly were quiet. I wondered what my wife would have said if she knew that the three of us were stark-naked together on the bed and her nearly-seven-year-old son was engaging in his first 'cock-fight'.

"I'm flying out to Boston again in an hour, I still have to pack. Look I have to go, tell Kelly I love him. Bye!" she finished.

"What did Mom want?" Kelly asked, looking at Dylan suspiciously as he grinned first at me, then at Kelly, his body tensing, his right hand hovering protectively near his groin, ready to lunge back to the tickling, grabbing, squeezing attack.

I put the phone down. "I'm not sure. I think she'll be gone for a month still, at least that's what it sounded like." I grinned at the two boys, their bare brown bodies exposed, small hard penises sticking straight up in the air, both boy's testicles forming taut wrinkled little knots.

"Let's get Daddy, Dylan," Kelly squealed, turning quickly back to me. I leaped to my feet and Dylan hurtled against me, lifting the boy up and twisting him away before tossing him back onto the bed. I followed through, slapping his buttocks with loud, playful slaps, giving his little penis a quick tug downward. It snapped back against his belly as he jerked away, his hand flying down to cover the exposed part. Kelly came into the attack bravely, but I grabbed him around the waist and flopped him onto his back. He struggled, shrieking at the top of his lings, begging Dylan to help him. Dylan was laughing so hard that he could barely save himself. I forced my son's hands back over his head, holding them both with one hand, covering his flailing legs with one of mine, then teasingly walking my fingers down his heaving chest, across his soft belly and onto his hard penis, "Oh! Look, and what do we have here… It's a PENIS," I laughed.

"Daddy… No!… You're going to make me pee," the boy giggled as my fingers squeezed the tiny, but very sensitive tip, teasing it by rubbing it around and around against the smooth skin of his lower belly. He wriggled, squirmed and jerked, enjoying every precious moment of my hand on his cock, until finally, unable to resist the delicious sensations, sighed and relaxed back onto the bed. The smile on his small face was a study in absolute bliss and it frightened the hell out of me. My own cock was rigid, so hard that it was throbbing, pulsing in time to the pounding in my ears. I glanced at Dylan, he was sitting back on the pillows, watching. I swallowed, and pulled away, aware than Kelly's eyes followed me hungrily, demandingly, insistently. My hand was shaking, my body seemed to be trembling as I came to my feet guiltily looking down at the small naked boy lying stretched out on the bed, his eyes wanting me, penetrating into the depravity of my mind. I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion, to deny the urgent desire to return to the boy's side, to finish what I had started, but my own inhibitions were too strong.

"You guys better get dressed," I mumbled self-consciously, aware that both boys saw my hard penis, knowing that I was every bit as excited as they were. I went over to the dresser, opened the top drawer and extracted a pair of briefs, awkwardly pulling them on, feeling relief as my cock disappeared from their sight. I turned back, Dylan and Kelly glanced at each other, sharing a look of despair, of excitement and desire suddenly, irrevocably crushed. Dylan came easily to his feet and bent down to pick up his clothes as Kelly crawled to the end of bed and slowly came to his feet.

The silence was overwhelming as the boys and I shared our culpability. Kelly lingered as he retrieved his underpants, pulling them on slowly, Dylan sliding into his clothes as fast as he had slid out of them. "What are we going to do today?" Dylan asked changing the subject suddenly.

I looked up from fastening my belt, "Huh? Oh! I… I haven't thought about it. What do you guys what to do?" I asked.

"Daddy, you promised we could go see the new exhibit at the zoo today!" Kelly piped in as he finally stood up, his boy-genitals now safely concealed in his underpants.

"I guess. What do you want to Dylan?" I asked.

Dylan grinned, "The zoo would be great."

Kelly grinned and ran out of the room to get his clothes, his rampart sexual urge temporarily suspended. Dylan watched him go, then turned back, "He's sexy!" he observed quietly.

I carried the tray downstairs, preceded by Dylan who ran ahead with Kelly. The two boys were laughing and shouting, as they took the stairs two at a time. Then from about halfway up the first flight, Dylan leaped the rest of the way, whooping at the top of his lungs as he pivoted around the newel-post at the bottom of the stairs. Kelly followed from two steps lower. I don't remember having ever seen Kelly so boisterous. While he wasn't what you'd have called a quiet kid, he usually wasn't this noisy. It was as if the two boys fed on each other, challenging, supporting, evoking a restlessness that was ignited by their sexual urges, even though the episode in the bedroom was now just a distant memory for both of them. There was, however, a pleasant coolness in my groin, a heightened awareness of the sensitivity of my freshly shaved skin that I relished. As I came into the kitchen I found that the boys had finally quietened down a bit, Kelly sitting on the floor putting on his sneakers, his small fingers hurrying with the laces. I watched them run out into the yard, hearing them yelling loudly as I placed the dishes in the washer, quickly tidied up the kitchen and went outside myself. The boys were shooting hoops, or at least Dylan was, Kelly was hitting the hoop instead.

"Heh guys," I called as I came up, "You want to go in the Corvette or the Jeep?"

"The Corvette," they both answered at once.

I laughed, opening the garage door and standing back to avoid being trampled by two excited boys. "So who's riding in the middle?"

The boys exchanged glances, then pointed at each other, "He is!" they said in unison.

I laughed, "Well, I think Dylan did last time. Your turn Kelly."

"Ohhhh!" he said, pretending to be upset but unable to help himself, finally broke into a grin, "Okay… but he has to next time."

Dylan grinned, "If I squeeze over, maybe we can both fit in the seat," he suggested.

I nodded and Dylan followed my son into the passenger's side. It was a squeeze but I discovered that it is possible to fit two boys in a Corvette seat. I got in, started the engine and carefully reversed out, hitting the remote control button as I went so that the door closed after us. I turned into a responsible adult, making Dylan buckle his seat-belt around both of them. They were a 'pair', giggling and chattering excitedly the entire way to the zoo. Once we'd parked the car, the two boys took off again, their energy seemed boundless, almost frenetic as they raced around. I couldn't help but laugh when I theorized that they were burning off their libidos. The line that had formed for the next exhibit was already long and we decided that we'd come again when it wasn't as busy. The boys took off again, Dylan leading the way, with Kelly in close pursuit. I followed the boys up toward the elephant house. I was still some distance away when they came charging back, both boys wearing the biggest grins I'd ever seen.

"Heh Dad… it was 'awesome'," Kelly yelled as he came up to me, "You should have seen it," he added between fits of laughter.

"Seen what?" I asked patiently, fascinated by the boy's exuberance, his imitation of the older boy who was laughing as well, wondering what on earth they could have seen to make them this excited.

"The elephant! You wouldn't have believed it!" he shrieked, still laughing.

"Believed what?" I asked.

"The elephant… he did pee-pee… you should have seen how big his penis was? It was enormous," Kelly grinned, his eyes watering from his prolonged laughing, "It was this big," he added holding his arms wide, his hands as far apart as he could get them. "Wasn't it Dylan?"

Dylan nodded amid peals of laughter, "It kind of slid out of him until it was huge. It was a monster-dick. When he peed… it was like a hose got turned on full pelt… he just kept on doing it. It was… his dick was huge."

I laughed, pulling Dylan and then Kelly to me for a brief, playful hug, feeling the momentary pressure and warmth of their slender young bodies, enjoying the close contact with each of them. Then the two boys took off again, like a team, usually with Dylan in the lead, but sometimes the younger boy. I followed them around the zoo as they 'terrorized' the animals, sometimes catching up to them, sometimes watching from a distance. They were irresistible, two beautiful young boys full of life and energy. Despite the five-year difference in ages the two boys were fast becoming best-friends, a fact that was patently obvious in their enjoyment of life and of each other. But what I liked the most was the fact that they always can hurtling back to me with stories of the animals they had discovered. They hugged me ferociously like the bears they had visited, and I knew that they depended on me, that for each boy I was the center of his life.

That morning at the zoo is one of my most precious memories, I began to imagine Dylan as my son, and I saw the two boys almost as brothers.

We had to back-track because we missed the island with the monkeys. I sat down at a seat on the other side of the 'lagoon', watching the antics of two 'monkeys', my two boys, as they imitated with remarkable accuracy, the antics of the real monkeys. I was glad of the rest, enjoying the last cool freshness of the morning as it gradually became hotter. Below the planked walkway fat golden carp swam lazily and I watched them move easily, gracefully through the weeds. I looked up suddenly as the warmth of the sunlight was blocked. Dylan had approached silently, standing barely a foot away from me.

"Hi monkey!" I teased.

The boy returned a grin and sat down next to me, his bare leg touching mine, There was a shock at the contact of his skin against mine, the flow of warmth between us. Dylan glanced around, then assured of his privacy, looked downward pausing, then said quietly, "I love you."

"Yeah, I know," I said, "It's mutual… but I've always been attracted to monkeys you see."

The boy giggled, then did a crude, but very effective imitation of a monkey. "Hmmm… Can I ask you a… kind of personal question?" he said hesitantly.

"Huh? I think I've heard that before somewhere?" I teased. Dylan smiled, flashing perfect white teeth, his blue eyes sparkling. "Of course you can… you know you can."

"Well… I know we love each other… and well we do stuff… together… that people do when they love each other…" he began awkwardly. I nodded reassuringly. Dylan thought for a moment, "… Well they do that stuff… like mostly after they get married… don't they?" I nodded again, wondering where the boy was headed. "Only we're not… But you are married to Kelly's mom…"

He stopped, brushing his unruly golden-blond hair back from his forehead, uncertain of what the question was any longer. He thought for a moment or two, "Do you… well do you do stuff… with her too?" he blurted out.

I smiled at the boy, "No… well not for a long time… since, well from… I don't know when. I still love her, Dylan… but it's not the same as I love you."

"But you did stuff… with her before that? You had to… I mean to make Kelly and all…? he continued nervously.

I nodded, "Huh huh. It's been a few years," I said honestly.

"Did you… I know I'm just a kid…but… Did you like it better… with her?" Dylan blurted out, his voice strained, demanding an answer.

I was silent, trying to find the words, wanting to tell Dylan that the happiness of only a single day with him was the only real happiness I'd ever known. "Dylan, I love you… I love what we do. It isn't just that it feels better, what we do together, it's special, you're special to me in a way that Kelly's mom, any woman, could never be."

The boy was quiet for a long while, holding his head between his hands, his knees supporting his elbows as he leaned forward, looking aimlessly, but very thoughtfully out to the 'monkey island'. "What happens now?" he asked. The nervous tremble in his voice was marked, suddenly he seemed very fragile, so young, too young for the kinds of emotional demands that our relationship had placed upon him.

"I don't know Dylan… I don't… I wish I did… I really want to have the answer. But I don't," I answered gently. I glanced around, looking for my son. "Where's Kelly gone off to?" I asked.

Dylan looked up, glanced around, then pointed over to the red pandas. The boy's eyes were so much stronger than mine, but I looked in the same direction and finally spotted the younger boy. "You have good eyes, kiddo," I said. The boy shrugged, his unanswered question gnawing at him, insistent in his mind.

"I love you, Alex… I don't want to leave you, ever… I don't want her to come back… I… I don't know… I… I get scared when I think about it." Dylan choked back a rising sob, but a tear rolled down the boy's smooth brown cheek, "I… don't know… what to do… I… I… love you… and… and…" He started to sob, tears welling in his pale-blue eyes, then the dam burst and the boy shuddered involuntarily, the single tear becoming many as he lost control.

I pulled the boy towards me, holding him tightly, my fingers caressing his silky-soft hair, "I know. I know. I love you too. I love you too," I whispered in his ear soothingly. I could feel his slender body trembling uncontrollably, his face pressed hard into my chest shamefully, the moistness of his tears on my shirt. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, then reached down, his small fingers grasping and closing on my fingers. "I love you Dylan," I said with absolute finality, "I love you very much. I don't know what will happen… but it'll be okay… I promise you it'll be okay."

The boy looked up, his cheeks now wet, his eyes reddened, he swallowed, sniffing, holding back tears. "I… I… love you too… but…"

I smiled, lovingly stroking the back of the boy's hand, tiny veins rippling under the soft skin, "Trust me Dylan… I promise…"

Dylan nodded and slowly a small smile formed. He rubbed at his eyes, wiping tears away bravely. "I… I made your shirt all wet," he observed, "Pretty dumb, huh?"

"No Dylan, I understand…" I answered. We both looked over to where Kelly had been. My son had moved over the other side of the enclosure. "He loves the pandas, he always has, ever since he was a baby," I said. "Sometimes I think he should have been one."

Dylan smiled, "He's a lucky kid. I wish you were my dad," he said wistfully.

I looked back at the boy. His eyes were serious, attentive, still reddened. "I wish you were my son, Dylan." In that instant I knew that I would do something, anything, whatever it required to keep Dylan. That knowledge scared me. I changed the topic quickly. "What happened last night? How did your mom find out?" I asked.

Dylan looked down guiltily, realizing that it might have turned out quite differently as he said, "When I came in she asked me if I had a good time. I said that I had the best time I'd ever had. I told her about riding the horses and swimming, and the fun in the car. I guess I was acting weird but I was really happy and I kept on talking about you. Then when I was having a snack in the kitchen she asked me if I liked you a lot. She kind of asked in this strange way, like she thought it was wrong of me to like you so much. I told her that I liked you more than anyone else in the whole world. I thought that was all because she was really quiet for a long while, then just as I got up to go to bed… she…" The boy was suddenly quiet, remembering the fear, the shock, the turmoil that had overwhelmed him. "She asked me if I… if we… had sex."

I placed my hand on the boy's thigh, my fingers stroking the soft brown skin, downward to his small knee, then back up to the edge of his shorts, gently caressing him, comforting him, hoping that no one was watching.

"I didn't know what to say, Alex. It was like she already knew. She wasn't angry, not really, but I knew she wasn't happy. I guess my silence sort of answered the question, she just kept on looking at me, then I started to blush and I felt so hot all over. I started to panic because I could tell from how she was looking at me that she knew. Then she said it again, but it wasn't a question anymore… like… like we had sex didn't we, or something like that. Alex, I tried to say no but all I could do was shake my head and I tried to look away. She knew I was lying and I've never lied to her before. She sort of shrugged and shook her head like she was really disappointed in me, then she told me to go up to bed and we'd discuss it in the morning."

Dylan looked up at me for support. He breathed out, a long drawn-out sigh from deep inside him. "So I went to my room. I was really scared and I felt so bad, like I'd done something dirty and terrible with you. I got into bed and tried to go to sleep but I was so worried, all I could think of was you, that I'd gotten you into trouble. It was a lot later, maybe about an hour, when I suddenly got the idea that I should call and tell you what happened. I went out into the living room as quietly as I could. I thought Mom was in bed, but she wasn't. The lights were out and she was sitting in the dark. I knew she'd been crying and I felt really ashamed. I went over to her and said I was sorry. I started crying, I haven't cried for a long while, but I couldn't help it. Everything seemed so screwed up, I told Mom I wished I was dead, I really wanted to kill myself. She asked me to sit down and then we started to talk. We talked until after midnight, about how I felt about you, about what I… we had done… about everything… Well almost everything… I didn't tell her about Kelly. Mom wasn't angry, she was sort of understanding, kind of like… like she already knew I was gay before… well."

Dylan looked up. The boy smiled, shifting his hand so that it brushed against mine, stopped so that his small fingers locked between my fingers. He tilted his head up looking at the sky, as blue as his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he turned back to me. "She said it was okay, Alex… if you loved me… if I loved you… I was old enough to decide… for myself… If I… we wanted to… have sex and all that… then she wouldn't stop us."

I nodded, "Your mom is a wonderful person. Most grown-ups could never understand the feelings that you and I have for each other. They'd be very angry at us, even at your mom."

"But… well it's none of their business. My mom's right, I know she is. I know I love you, even though it's only been a little while. And you love me too. So they're wrong!" the boy said emphatically.

We looked up as Kelly ambled up and stood before us, his playful grin suddenly appearing as he announced, "I know what you two guys have been talking about. Making babies!" Then, in a quieter, teasing voice, barely more than a whisper, he added, "Fucking!"

Dylan and I both laughed as we tried to grab him. I missed but Dylan connected with Kelly's wrist, pulling him down onto us, onto the seat. I grabbed my son around the waist, restraining him while Dylan proceeded to tickle him furiously. Dylan and I were laughing and Kelly was giggling hysterically, writhing as he tried to escape, as an old man and his wife walked down the path and turned onto the planked walkway that followed the edge of the 'lagoon'. I heard the woman say, "Those two certainly are very handsome boys aren't they John," as she passed. I nodded and smiled at her, and playfully cuffed Dylan. He responded by turning his tickles to me and ganging up with Kelly. Twelve-year-old boys can be so fickle!

In the middle of the struggle, amidst cries and squeals of joy, Kelly reached down, grabbing for Dylan's penis and testicles. The older boy yelped, not in pain but in surprise and turned his attack back to Kelly. I couldn't stop laughing, finally I managed to break in, "That's enough, you guys. Not in public, okay? Heh, who's hungry."

It was a little after twelve o'clock and even though the boys had eaten breakfast only a few hours earlier, it was no shock to me that they answered as one. "Yeah!" Growing boys, especially boys as active as mine, get hungry fast. I followed the boys again as they took off towards the concession stands and the zoo restaurant. By the time I'd arrived they had already decided what they wanted so I gave Dylan ten dollars and went over to a table in the shade. Someone had left a Sunday paper lying there, actually about half the Sunday paper. The news and sports sections had disappeared, as had the advertising magazines of the department stores, the ones that feature the models wearing the season's fashions, the one's that occasionally have pictures of boys as beautiful as my two. I browsed through what was left of the paper. A few minutes later the boys came back, each carrying a coke and two hot dogs. I watched them eat as I sipped the coffee Dylan had brought back for me. I didn't know where they put all the food. They were both slender boys, there probably wasn't a spare pound of fat between them, even Kelly was fast shedding his baby fat and growing into a lean, lithe boy like Dylan.

The boys talked incessantly, slurping their cokes noisily as I tried to concentrate on reading the paper. When I got to the Travel Section I stopped. The story on the second page featured an area in western Kentucky/Tennessee called the Land Between the Lakes. A picture of a boy about Dylan's age diving into the water from a houseboat caught my attention. With Dylan sitting not much more than a foot away the picture no longer drew the same interest from me that it would have only a few days earlier. I don't know how the idea came to me, it just occurred as I scanned the article. It formed inside me until I knew. "Heh, You guys," I grinned as I stood up, "Behave for a few minutes, okay? I've got to make a phone call." I tool the paper and went over to the public phone on the other side of the restaurant.

It took a minute or less to dial the number on my credit card, then I was through. "Kentucky Lake Houseboats," a southern-sounding male voice drawled.

"Hi!" I said, "I calling about a rental. I wonder if you've got anything available?"

"Nah, nothin', everythings out, bin booked solid for a month…" the voice replied. There was short interruption, voices in the background, words indistinguishable through the phone half-covered by a hand. The voice came back, "Sorry… well we got one, a cancellation it seems. It's the honeymooner!"

"Huh? The what?" I asked uncertainly.

"The honeymooner! It's a houseboat with a single bedroom. Got a king-size bed. We get a lot of honeymooners in Spring. Was booked, but they called yesterday, must have killed the wedding I s'pose. Great boat for a couple?" the man said.

"It's for me and my two boys," I answered. "Anything else?" I asked, as my mind raced ahead.

"Nah, nothing available anywhere on the lakes. Busy time this, last few weeks of school holidays 'n all. There's a couch that makes up a bed?" the voice suggested.

"Hmmm, I don't know. They had their hearts set on bunks," I lied acutely aware of my heart leaping.

"Yeah." I heard voices in the background then a click as another voice came on. "Hi, I'm Leo, manager here. We can do you a great rate on the honeymooner, if you was interested. Normally she's out at six hundred dollars plus gas for the week. We can do four hundred if you want because we have the deposit. You interested?"

"That sounds okay, but… well my boys are a bit of problem… they did want bunks…" I said with deliberate hesitation.

"Yeah. Well how long would it be for?" the manager asked, "Maybe we could get you on another boat next week."

"Well I was thinking about three weeks. 'till school starts." I said, enjoying my game.

"Three fifty a week, for three weeks on the honeymooner?" the manager said, then added, "Plus gas, okay? You want linen it's an extra thirty a week."

"Sounds good. Let me check with the boys, okay. I'll call you back in a bit."

"Okay. Don't let it go too long. Busy time this. Bye!" the voice said before the phone clicked.

I put the phone down and looked over at the two boys. The honeymooner sounded exactly like what I needed. Their lunches finished they were looking at the comics section of the paper. I smiled and went back over to them. Dylan looked up, noticed my smile and raised his eyebrows. "What's up?" Kelly asked.

"Up? Hmmm! I don't know. I might have a surprise for you two boys. It depends on Dylan's mom. Come on guys. Let's get going," I said, wrapping up the boys' cups and napkins with my coffee cup.

"My mom? Why?" Dylan asked, "We're we going?"

"To your place," I replied, leading the way out of the restaurant seating area. We went back to the car and the boys crowded into the front seat. It took about forty minutes to get out of the zoo and drive to Dylan's house. Her Volkswagen convertible was parked in the drive and we got out.

Before we got to the door Diane Brady was there. I followed Dylan into his house for the first time. The living room was nicely furnished, two couches and a coffee table in front of a fireplace. A piano was against the wall. Somehow I hadn't thought of Dylan playing the piano but I knew instinctively that it was his. Within seconds, even before I sat down with his mother, Dylan and Kelly disappeared down the hall and into the boy's bedroom. We looked at each other silently. I wondered whether she resented me, it was impossible to tell, her face gave nothing away.

"Diane…" I began, "I… well I…"

Diane smiled and sighed, shaking her head slightly, "I should have known shouldn't I… at lunch, when you told me how fond you were of Dylan… when I realized how much Dylan liked you. He's… well… he's a lucky boy in some ways."

"We're both lucky. I do love him you know… I love him very much," I added.

"Yes, I think I knew that when we had lunch. I think I've always known… that he was… gay. He is gay isn't it?… He's like other boys in lots of ways but… he's different too. He's very affectionate… for a boy."

I nodded, "Dylan's a remarkable kid," I said honestly. "He's caring and sensitive. He's everything he should be and more, much, much more."

Diane looked down at the magazines on the coffee table, "His father was gay… I've never told Dylan this… but he left us after he met someone he worked with. Dylan's a lot like his father…" I nodded understandingly. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that Dylan is… well sexually active with you. It's… well it's only natural for him isn't it. It's just that he's still so young. He's only just turned twelve, and he's quite a bit smaller than normal for his age."

"Diane… I'm very careful with him," I said gently, then added, "You have to believe that I would never do anything to hurt him."

"Well, yes… but for a boy, doing those things… having sex… it's not easy for him, is it?" Diane asked, the stress in her voice clearly revealing her worries.

"You're right… it's not easy. It can be quite painful… at first… until he gets… used to it. Diane… I don't know how to say this… except if Dylan was my son… I'd be scared stiff…"

She wiped at her eyes and breathed out, "I… I get so worried thinking about him… with Aids and all… if he… well… He said… he said you didn't use a condom… he could die…" she choked back a cry.

"You have to trust me to do the right thing. I love Dylan, I love him a great deal… I'd never do anything to hurt him… never. Dylan and I have to trust each other… if he knows love… and we're not promiscuous… he'll be okay."

"Love?" Diane said weakly, "God I hope so! He's so fond of you… I've never known him to be this happy, just the last week even. He… he needs you, Alex…"

"Dylan needs time, Diane. He needs time to adjust and get used to what it means to be gay. I need to spend time with him, I need to love him and help him and be with him. I want to get to know him better."

"Yes, I s'pose. I know you do. It's what I expected… I think when I called you this morning. I know that the two of you need time together," Diane said quietly.

"I want to take Dylan away with me… for a holiday, Diane. For three weeks, until school starts," I said simply. "I know it's a long while… but once he starts back at school we won't have much time."

"Three weeks… it is a long while… I know you'll… have sex with him… but it's… such a long time. I guess, but take him where?" she asked.

I felt my heart leap. Unless I was mistaken Dylan's mother had just agreed. "To the Land Between the Lakes, in Kentucky… I want to rent a houseboat. I'd like to take him down there this afternoon."

"Oh! I… Does Dylan know?" she asked uncertainly.

I shook my head, "I'm asking you first. I don't want to get his hopes up. If you say yes, I want to surprise him."

"A honeymoon?" she said, "It is isn't it… in a way? I guess so," she said, shaking her head resignedly, "What about your son, Kelly?"

I nodded, "Kelly will come too. The boys are getting to be best friends. I want Kelly to understand what Dylan and I feel for each other before he's too old."

"I guess… there really isn't much difference between a bedroom in your house or on a houseboat is there?" She smiled and shrugged, "I'd hoped that Dylan would just spend time with you around here, well for a year at least, until he understands more. I guess so, go and tell him so he can pack. His room's a bit of a mess, he's supposed to clean it up before tonight, but tell it's okay to leave."

I stood up wanting to thank her but I knew that any words would be cheap, unable to cover my gratitude to her, to compensate for the loss she felt. I smiled and she smiled back, resigned but somehow knowing that she'd made the right decision for her son. I left the room and walked down the hall. The boys were lying on the floor in Dylan's bedroom playing with model cars. The room was a typical twelve-year-old boy's bedroom, complete with the paraphernalia of youth, model cars, trains, boats and planes, trophies mostly for swimming, an assemblage of books and games and everything a boy accumulates. It was mostly a mess! The single bed was unmade, and it was funny to think that Dylan had slept there only hours before, that he'd dreamed there, that he'd masturbated there while he pretended he was with me. The door to the closet was half-open, a few clothes were scattered on the floor. There was a slight, but distinct odor of boy, the sweet smell of Dylan, his twelve years spent mostly in this room.

The two boys looked so innocent lying there together, pushing their small plastic vehicles around, making growling sounds, squealing sounds, simulating a car chase at high speed. Dylan twisted over onto his back and looked up at me, "Well, what did you and my mom talk about?" he asked.

"It's a surprise. Come on let's get you packed," I teased

"Packed? Where am I going? Am I going to stay at your place? Can I, please, go on say yes, please say yes, please?" The words tumbled out as Dylan leaped to his feet, excitement flashing across his face.

I shook my head watching as the boy's face registered first shock, then as his excitement deflated I started to laugh, "You're not staying at my house, Dylan. You're going on a holiday though. But where?… Now that's a surprise!"

The excitement came back in a flash, doubling as the boy let out a long "Yeahhh!" and then tripling until I thought Dylan was about to lose it. He grinned, turned to Kelly and yelled "Yeahhhh!" again at the top of his voice.

I shook my head, "Well Dylan, I'm glad you're excited, but we have to you get packed. We have a long way to drive."

"We're leaving today?" he asked.

"In about… an hour…"I said, looking at my watch. "Now we need a bag, you got something like that somewhere in this mess?"

The boy grinned sheepishly, "It is kinda, isn't it? I didn't expect you or Kelly, I gotta clean it up before we leave… I promised Mom," he said going over to the closet and extracting a large gym bag from the chaos inside.

"That's okay, your mom said to leave it." I went over to the boy's chest of drawers. "I guess you're going to need a few pairs of underpants and socks," I prompted. Dylan joined me and we filled the bag in under five minutes, but then a twelve-year-old boy doesn't need that much on a houseboat besides a swimming costume, a couple of pairs of shorts and a few shirts. I went out to the car with Kelly and waited. I knew that Dylan and his mom would need to talk for a while. After about ten minutes they came out onto the porch together. The boy hugged his mother and I watched as she brushed a tear away. He waved as he trotted down the driveway and slid into the passenger seat next to Kelly.

Then it was home to my house and I called and confirmed a booking for the honeymooner for three wonderful weeks, wrote directions, gave them my credit card number and hung up. Then there was a frantic forty minutes of packing clothes, food, games, fishing equipment, and anything else that conceivably could be useful on a three-week holiday with two boys on a houseboat. It was just after 1.30 pm. when we finished loading the Jeep and I pulled out onto the street. I had a very long drive ahead of me.

I put an Everly Brothers tape in and settled back. The two boys were in the back seat, carrying on like two brothers, teasing, squabbling, playing games, chattering away. It wasn't until we were on the road for about forty minutes that Dylan suddenly looked up, twisted around and began to search in the back of the Jeep. A few seconds passed, then "Oh Shit!" he said loudly, his voice unusually angry.

"Huh?" I said.

"Damn! I left my bag in the Corvette, behind the seat… It isn't here at all."

I laughed. "Well what's so funny? I don't have any clothes," Dylan retorted.

"No worries kiddo. I bet that isn't the only thing we forgot. We did leave in kind of a hurry. We can buy you some more stuff… In fact I think I know just the place," I answered.

I did, about another thirty miles [50 km] or so down the road there is one of those manufacturer outlet malls that are purported to be cheaper. I pulled off the freeway and parked the car in front of Bugle Boy. The three of us went in and we were served by a guy who was obviously a little weird. He looked Dylan up and down and smiled, "Well, he's a twelve… a nice slim twelve. He might fit into a ten but he'll grow out of it too fast… won't he? We have some nice clothes over there… very much in fashion too." The assistant lead the way down through the aisles of clothing. Dylan looked up at me uncertainly. This was the first 'gay' I think he'd ever seen. I shrugged, the boy smirked.

It was a good time to shop, with summer ending, fall clothes were already on the racks, the previous season's clothes were heavily discounted. I picked out one black and one white tee shirt and matching cotton shorts, the kind with elastic waists and loose legs, for Dylan to 'bum' around in. He went over to the change room to try them on and I browsed around looking for something a little dressier. Kelly meandered off browsing through the aisles. After a few minutes Dylan came back. He was dressed entirely in white. The boy looked even more beautiful, the white emphasizing his tanned skin, picking up his golden-blond hair and giving him a purity, an innocence that was becoming. He was an angel! He grinned cheekily. The clothes made him look younger, thiner than he already was. He turned around, the shorts cutting into the boy's crack slightly and showing the rounded halves of his cheeks. "Pretty sexy!" I observed.

"Can I have them? Please?" he asked. I nodded and Dylan stepped forward and gave me a quick hug.

"Go put the black ones on," I laughed.

Dylan hurried off and came back after a few minutes. The change in the boy was remarkable. No longer an angel, his blond hair seemed to glisten like gold in a jewelry store, he radiated an aura that was at once sensual and intense. He looked like a boy prostitute working the streets around 42nd Street in New York City. The boy sensed the change in himself and he smiled shyly, "Pretty sexy too, huh?" He looked at me uncertainly, "Can I have these too?"

I nodded, glancing around to see if anyone could hear us, "You wear those around me and you know what's going to happen?"

Dylan blushed slightly, stepped forward and said quietly, "I'm gonna get fucked?" I grinned at the boy and nodded. Dylan shrugged, "Okay!" he teased playfully, "When?"

I stifled a laugh and handed the boy the pair of denim shorts and shirt I'd picked up, "You like these too?" The boy looked uncertainly at the shirt. I smiled, "Okay, it's your turn to pick something out that you like… only there's one rule… no long sleeves, okay." The boy grinned and looked over at a rack of clothes that had first caught his attention. "Sure, what ever you want," I added. I followed him over and he selected a stripped knit shirt to go with the shorts I'd picked. "Yeah! You're right, I like it better too. Go try them on too Dylan," I said.

Dylan headed back over to the change area and I ambled over towards Kelly. He was looking at the fall fashions. This would be the first year I could buy his clothes in the boys' department and the range of clothes was a lot bigger than in the young boys' section.

"Hi Daddy," he smiled as I approached, "Dylan looks great, I love the black ones… These are nice, aren't they?" he said pointing to a pair of sweat pants and top. The display model was bright yellow and edged with purple trim, one-inch [2½ cm] wide stripes down the legs and arms, like something a race car driver would wear. They were expensive at thirty five dollars apiece but the inside of the material was soft and fuzzy and very warm, the kind of thing that felt wonderful on bare young bodies. He smiled a smile that was impossible to resist. I picked up one for Kelly, size seven, and other for Dylan, size twelve, both yellow, both very sexy. I saw Dylan coming out of the change room and I went back over to him. He looked great in the clothes we'd selected. I picked up two more pairs of black and white shorts and two tee shirts as Dylan went back into the change room to get dressed and collect the clothes he'd left there. Almost as soon as Dylan came back out Kelly came over to us wearing a mischevious grin. "You guys have to come with me. He needs undies too doesn't he Dad? I found some that are the same as the ones you wear."

I nodded and followed my son towards the back of the store. There was a couple of stands of deeply discounted clothes, stuff that never sold, one was underwear. Actually bikini-briefs would be more accurate. Not the kind of thing that parents bought for their sons except maybe in California. They were in packages of three, brightly colored, sometimes neon, sometimes stripes or patterns. They were a stark contrast to the conservative, hide-it-all design of Jockeys. The store assistant wandered up, "They're on special… you get three pair in the box for five dollars, but if you buy six or more it's only three dollars." I nodded. The store assistant smiled sweetly, too sweetly and he looked at Dylan appraisingly. "He's quite slender isn't he?… about a 22 or 23 inch [56-17 cm] waist…" He turned to Kelly, "and the little one is about a 20 [50 cm]. They're pretty stretchy so the size really isn't all that important anyway. These boys could probably even wear the same size."

"Thanks," I said then looked at the two boys, "You guys pick out some you want, say six pairs each, okay?" Dylan and Kelly grinned at each other and went to work, scrambling through the assorted collection of little plastic boxes to find what they wanted. The store assistant looked on with obvious interest, I could feel his eyes feasting on Dylan, almost smelling the man's arousal. For a few seconds I tolerated his invasion and then I couldn't stand it any longer, "Let's go ring this other stuff up. The boys will be finished here in a bit."

"Oh!" the assistant said, suddenly startled out of his dream, "Yes of course," he added and lead the way back to the check-out. The total bill with tax and three pairs of socks came to a penny over $170. With the clothes in two large plastic bags, we headed back the car, the store assistant giving Dylan a long hungry look as we went past the window.

Back on the freeway the boys resumed their games and chatter and I sat back watching the miles tick past on the odometer. After a while they played one of Kelly's computer games, then they engaged in a squabble about who'd taken a turn out of sequence, then more computer games, then it was quiet. Too quiet, far too quiet, and I glanced up in the rear-vision mirror. I couldn't see much unless I strained my neck upwards, changing the angle of view, I guess I expected to find that the boys had finally dozed off. They hadn't. I stifled a laugh and watched closely. Kelly was in the act of taking his shorts off, lifting his hips up off the seat and tugging them downward. Dylan was already naked from the waist down, his shorts and underpants discarded somewhere on the floor of the Jeep, even his socks and shoes had disappeared. He was stroking his erect penis with his right hand, slowly, deliberately, up and down, his fingers pressing gently into the underside, his thumb looped around it. Then Kelly's shorts and underpants were at his knees, pushed hastily down his little legs and past his feet. His hand went to his genitals. Like Dylan, his penis was erect too, but his hand moved uncertainly, imitating the older boy sitting next to him. He trembled slightly as the hard little penis reacted, tingled, throbbed, sending a thrill down his spine that made him gasp. Dylan whispered something in my son's ear and the two boys smiled. Then Dylan reached over, his hand gently closing around the almost-seven-year-old boy's penis, moving rhythmically along the short hard shaft. After a few moments Kelly's small hand slipped downward, then onto Dylan's thigh, then hesitantly caressed the older boy's penis. They smiled at each other, ready to giggle, each boy quivering with excitement as they pleasured each other, as Kelly's confidence grew his hand movements became more controlled, rubbing carefully with short strokes. It was beautiful, sweet and gentle, not demanding. It was innocent exploration, the two boys giving freely, shamelessly engaging in a mutual game that made their young bodies glow with life and happiness.

I don't know how long I watched them, occassional glimpses of bare brown legs and thighs, legs slightly apart, small brown arms moving, little cocks standing up hard and pround, held tightly in small hands. By now the freeway was relatively deserted, we were miles from anywhere, just woods and fields of corn that stretched away into the distance, small farmhouses and barns dotted the horizon. It would have been difficult for anyone to see into the back seat of the Jeep, except for a truck driver, and it was Sunday afternoon so there very few trucks. I think that the boys may have known that I realized what they were doing. I didn't care, it seemed very natural. It was part of becoming closer and as the time passed I wondered how many older brothers had initiated their younger brother, or, how many best friends.

It went on and on, sometimes sharing, sometimes by themselves, exploring, examining, comparing. I was fascinated by the fact that Dylan's penis wasn't more than half-an-inch [1½ cm] longer than Kelly's, even a bit thiner because Kelly's penis was wedge-shaped, his little balls just a little bit larger. Dylan's penis was more like mine than my own son's penis was. Unable to climax, to achieve the relief from orgasm, the boys' game was endless. On one occassion I glanced up to the mirror and I saw Dylan's face tighten, his teeth clench momentarily, a small but intense convulsion that marked the swift passage of an immature orgasm. But Kelly was still too young to have a build-up phase, for him it was just fun and nice feelings that went on and on. They did it for more than forty miles, their healthy young cocks staying rigid the whole way.

As we approached the next large town (city) I finally had to laugh, "Okay you guys back there, I think it's time to pull the pants up for a while. We're coming into Louisville now."

The boys started to giggle. "See I told you he knew, Kelly. He's been watching us in the mirror since we started," Dylan said unashamedly. I watched as Kelly blushed and Dylan smirked cheekily, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "Can we wear our new undies?" he asked.

I tilted the mirror down slightly, aiming back towards the boys, getting a complete view of their bare brown legs, of the pale flesh of their upper thighs and groins, of their short penises still erect. "So who's got the biggest one?" I teased.

The boys giggled. Dylan answered, "You have!" he said, "Then me!" He yelped as Kelly's hand jerked sharply, a playful tug on the older boy's penis, squeezing as he pulled back, "Yyyouch, heh make him stop… that hurts," he squealed, amid a flurry of giggles as he struck back at Kelly. "Okay… okay… so Kelly's dick is fatter than mine… okay!" he cried as Kelly's grip tightened.

"Okay guys," I laughed, "Quieten down and get some clothes on back there. Yeah Dylan of course you can put your new underpants on." I watched as he scrambled around in the seat, getting a fabulous view of his small buttocks as he leaned over the back of the seat and rifled through the plastic bags. He turned back and handed one little plastic box to Kelly, keeping another for himself. I looked away, back to the road as we neared an interchange, shaking my head in loving exasperation. I loved him, I loved them both. When I looked into the mirror again the boys had their new briefs on, brightly colored, small rounded bulges in the soft cloth, more pale, untanned skin showing than would be considered decent by any responsible parent. Then a minute later the boys were fully dressed again and sitting side by side engrossed in the computer game, both so innocuous and virtuous that it was almost impossible to imagine them any other way. Their awareness of their sexuality seemed only a momentary lapse from the innocence of youth as the sensual aspect of their bodies took control, then quickly relinquished or suppressed until the next, almost spontaneous ignition occurred. They were, I realized, that afternoon, both incredibly sexy boys though their sexual desires were still developing, coming and going almost without warning.

We stopped in a town called Henderson for dinner. It was a bit early but the boys were hungry again and after Henderson there wasn't much until we arrived. The gas tank on the Jeep was just about empty so I filled up first then went searching. First choice from the back seat was for pizza and I had every intention of meeting it. It took a while to find a restaurant that did a bit more than cardboard with sauce but we finally did. Feeding the two boys was an experience in and of itself. They chattered, gulped, chewed noisily, chattered and gulped some more. They were happy and excited, but then, so was I, happier than I had ever been.

Back in the car the boys slowly quietened down, the long day, the excitement, finally taking its toll. They didn't sleep, though I wouldn't have been surprised, they just sat next to each other and listened to the tapes as they looked out the windows.

We arrived about an hour before sunset. The houseboat was everything I expected. The manager was on hand and he showed me over the boat, giving limited instructions in a southern drawl about starting the engine and other vital mechanical and electrical equipment. I did my best to listen but it was difficult. The boys went wild! When Leo was indicating on a chart where some nice spots were located I finally gave up.

"You guys, stop chasing each other and quieten down. If you want to help start bringing on the stuff from the Jeep." That was all it took and the two boys settled down right away, carrying, lugging, dumping boxes, bags and fishing tackle onto stern deck.

"Sorry about not having a boat with bunks for those two kids," Leo said as he stepped off the boat onto the dock.

I smiled, "Doesn't seem to bother them now. I think I'll use the couch otherwise they'll keep me awake most of the night."

"Kids get excited 'round boats. Those two sure are cute kids though. Now you guys have fun, 'n I'll see you in three weeks. If you got a problem you have the number here, okay?"

I looked at Dylan and Kelly, they were more than cute, they were downright beautiful boys but I wasn't going to say that to Leo. "Heh Dylan, make yourself useful, go on the bow and when Leo unties the line, you pull it aboard."

"Yeah, sure… Dad," Dylan called back. My heart leaped.

"Kelly you watch out behind me and tell me if I'm going to hit anything," I said, smiling as I saw my son's small face beam with a flash of recognition. I motored out into the channel and the boys joined me up on the 'bridge'. Once out of the marina I opened the throttles and the houseboat picked up speed, skimming across the almost dead calm water. The sun was just beginning to set, a rosy red hue that promised a splendid day to come. Once on the other side of the lake and about five miles from the marina we travelled more slowly, searching for a quiet cove, a break in the shoreline that was unoccupied. After about ten minutes, just as the light was fading we motored into a small bay, peaceful, secure, private, except for a few dozen ducks. Kelly was yawning and stretching, his eyes almost closing, as I switched off the outboard engines.

I went forward, anchored the boat and then went into the main cabin, Kelly had already curled up, still in his clothes, asleep on the king-size bed and Dylan was undressing, his shirt thrown over the chair, his tanned chest and stomach revealed. He looked up as I came up next to him. "Kelly went out like a light," he whispered. Then the twelve-year-old boy smiled sleepily, his own eyes struggling to stay open, tugging his shorts slowly downward to his knees. "We can do it… if you want…" the boy mumbled, his voice trailed off, the thought unfinished.

For most of the long drive I had thought of little else than this moment, of taking the boy to me and loving him. Gently I pressed him back onto the bed next to Kelly and untied his shoe laces, pulled them off, removed his socks and then finished taking his shorts off. Except for the little neon-blue briefs, Dylan was naked. I was going to take his underpants off too, to reveal his magnificent boy-body but he was already sound asleep. Like Kelly, he too 'went out like a light'. It had been a long day for Dylan and I leaned forward and gently kissed him on the forehead. His skin was soft and warm and dry and I felt the hot moistness of his breath on my cheek, heard the boy's voice whisper, so quietly that I could barely hear, "… love you…," as he faded into sleep. I sat there for a long while watching the two boys sleep, watching the gentle movements of their chests, rising and falling with each small breath, the little bodies stirring as dreams came.

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