Teglin

Three Weeks to Heaven

A Boylove Romance

Book Two

Chapters 3-4

Chapter 3

As if not believing what had happened to the cock that he was just starting to insert deeper inside himself, Rolando started squirming, his anus blindly seeking out the hardness that was no longer there.

He was whimpering. I could hear the disappointment and disbelief in his animal-like mewlings as he lifted himself, to look down between us, to where our bodies were together, but no longer joined. Now he raised his head and looked straight at me. In the light cast by the moon, on this perfectly clear night, I could see the wrinkling of his brow, see his consternation. His black orbs were glittering, stabbing in their intensity, staring at me, questioning me. I felt his hands tighten around my arms as he held himself stiffly above me, straddling me. He gave me one last firm, punishing jolt in my crotch, his soft buttocks pressing down on me hard. It didn't hurt of course, but it expressed his outrage.

"Why!" he said accusingly, but quietly. "I think you… like me!" He emphasized his words with the movement of his head, jerking his forehead towards me. His hair splayed about me. With each motion, he squeezed on my arms, his hands hot on my flesh, his fingers trying vainly to pinch and dig into me. He was too slight, too delicate, too much a little boy to be able to hurt me physically, but I felt the hurt just the same, felt his hurt.

I knew I had hurt him. Not physcally, any more than he was hurting me now. I had wounded him in his heart, in his belief in himself, in his erstwhile knowledge of what he as a boy meant to a man like me. I knew this instantly. In withdrawing from this boy, because of my shame about betraying my beloved Wishus, I had spurned him, had refused his offer of his body. In my own confusion of desire and doubt, passion and commitment, I had hurt a boy!

"Rolando, I…"

He released his hold on my right arm long enough to hit me on the chest a couple of times with his clenched fist, hitting me with his palm more than his knuckles. Feeling the soft blow, knowing that he was outraged, and was hitting me as hard as he could, suddenly I realized how befuddled I had become through this whole day, this long day of watching his every movement, seeing him look at me fiercely under lowered brow, seeing him flaunt his beauty before me. Yes, indeed he did have great power over me. But it was because he was a boy! He was just a little boy! And I had hurt him.

I quickly grasped both his arms just above his wrists, wanting to still his anger, wanting to tell him that I was sorry.

"Rolando, let me…"

He pulled back as hard as he could and started swinging his head from side to side, and I could hear him sobbing now.

"You watch me… all day, meester!" he sobbed out. He quit trying to pull away, and instead looked at me questioningly. "I give myself to you, because you take care of Demetrio, you are good, you want me… why you not let me fuck you, I want to repay you, this is all I have, I can't…"

"Shhhh," I tried to calm him. I released my hold on his wrists and grasped him around his back and shoulders, and pulled him towards me. He resisisted for just a split second, but then let me pull him down onto my chest. Where I had passionately kissed his left ear and cheek just moments ago, just before I had tried to enter him with my manhood, now I brought the side of his head against mine, pulling him down against my left shoulder. His soft hair was like a cushion, as he let me turn his head to lay flat against me. I gently kissed his forehead through the strands of his hair, and started caressing his back and holding his head.

"I did watch you all day, Rolando. You're so… beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off of you. And remembering how I found you, and taking you away from Big John, I couldn't stop thinking about you all…"

"Why you take me? Why you take care of Metrio, if you not want me," he pleaded, trying to raise his head. I gently held him still. "Why you not let me show you… me and Metrio don't take nothin, we pay, like I…"

"I had to take you, Rolando. After what that man did to Demetrio, and the way I found you, I had to get you away from there. Look, I don't know what… what he meant to you… but…"

He stopped my musing abruptly. "Mama want me and Metrio to have a better life, so she… teach me how to please Big John, how to make a man happy, so we can have a good life, so…"

So he had been raised by his mom as a boy prostitute. That's how he had come to be with Big John. He and his little brother. "Did Big John give you what you… wanted?" I interrupted in a husky voice, wanting to answer finally, once and for all – had I taken this boy from where he wanted to be?

"He give us food and a place to stay. Better than living in a cave, with mama!" I could hear the hurt and defiance in his tone. Then, more strongly, as if making a declaration, "and he fuck me, every night, every day! He love me. I do not love him, but he teach me to want him inside me every day, every night! It's all I have, meester. It's all me and Metrio have, to keep us alive…"

"You don't have to do that anymore, Rolando. You don't have to sell yourself like that anymore, son," I hastened to tell him. "I'm going to take care of you and your brother. I won't make you do that anym…"

"You don't understand, meester. This is all I have. You don't let me fuck you, and…"

"And I'll still take care of you," I tried to reassure him again.

"Big John was mean, but he want me! He fuck me because he want me. I think you want me. I think you take care of Metrio and me…"

I could see that I wasn't going to get him to understand just yet that he didn't have to prostitute himself to me in order to survive. I guessed only time would take care of that. But I sensed more here. To this boy, making love was all mixed up with security and comfort… and just to ensure something to eat for his little brother and himself! But more than that, I felt like he was telling me that he needed the loving. He needed what Big John had given him. The fucking had become a necessary part of his being. He had not said it, but the way he had acted certainly seemed to say that he not only needed what Big John had given him, but he enjoyed it physically, and emotionally.

How was I going to replace that, for him? I couldn't. Not and remain true to Wishus. But how to tell him that? And still have him understand that I would care for him and his brother?

It suddenly dawned on me that Demetrio was kneeling beside us. I turned my head away from Rolando, to see his little brother kneeling there, on his haunches, his tiny little hands clenched and wringing, and he too was sniffling and whimpering, not understanding what had just happened. No doubt only half-understanding what Rolando and I were saying.

I gently lifted myself at the waist, bringing Rolando's still clinging form up with me, and reached with my free right hand to gather Demetrio to me. He unwound himself from his kneeling crouch, and scrunched himself to me. Holding them both against me with my upper arms, I clumsily pulled my blankets up around all three of us, and laid back down.

I felt the wetness of both boys' tears on my chest. But soon Demetrio drifted off to sleep, the day and these last events, finally catching up with him. A moment ago he been silently watching me and Rolando fuck, even helping to guide my penis into his brother's body, while fingering his own little stiffie. Now he was a babe in my arms.

I turned back to Rolando. He was exhausted too, from the long day, from the tension of our hectic love-making, and from the catharsis of our words together, after I so abruptly interrupted his attempt to give himself to me.

"See if you can sleep, Rolan." I whispered to him, still nuzzling his hair and his forehead. I let him slide his body off me, so that he could lay with is belly against my side. I held him tight, firmly, letting him know that I cared for him, even if I couldn't complete what he had started.

He was too tired to talk. I held him like that, silently, for what seemed like half an hour. He quit crying and sniffling soon enough, and shortly after that, I felt the tenseness in his being give way to the security I was offering him at this moment. At least for the moment. I fell asleep myself after a while, sandwiched between these two lovely boys, lulled by the heat of their bodies and the magical feel of Rolando's sweet breath on my neck, of his silken hair falling across my lips, of his now limp boyhood pressed into my thigh. My last thoughts were like a prayer, that somehow I'd find a way to let him know all about me and Wishus, about what kind of man I was, and that I would indeed take care of him and his little brother.

I awoke at the very break of dawn, with the two boys still huddled on either side of me in our blanket cocoon. They both had their heads beneath the blankets, and I felt the moist warmth of their breaths against my sides. It felt so wonderfully fulfilling to awake thus, knowing I had comforted and warmed them through the night. But I immediately felt something else, too.

Guilt, was it? Shame again, at what Rolando and I had done last night? A sense that I was in the wrong place, with the wrong boy beside me, that I had betrayed Wishus. I had become so aroused by both these boys, and shared such intimacy with them, while Wishus was patiently awaiting me up in his mountain valley. He needed me.

Yet these boys needed me too.

They had both slid down off my shoulders during the night, so I had little difficulty slipping from between them without disturbing the blankets too much. I hastened to the fire pit to search for a live ember. The early morning chill was like these thoughts of guilt and betrayal. It wrapped about me unpleasantly. I had to do something to…

What could I do? Now I had these boys. Joey needed me too. But I was leaving Wishus behind!

No! I knew that wasn't what was bothering me. I had dealt with that, already. I had to leave Wishus. No choice. He would be ok with the Knights, until I returned in just a couple of weeks.

I found my ember, and gently blew it into a flame, letting it lick up to ignite the small twigs I placed over it lightly, then started crossing larger and larger sticks over that, absent-mindedly.

The fire was growing, but I couldn't shake the chill.

It wasn't leaving Wishus that bothered me. It was what I had done with Rolando. Making love with hi…

Suddenly it hit me – I had NOT made love with Rolando! We had shared fevered, passionate sex last night, but…

Wishus and I had made love. From our first tentative kisses, to the moment of our parting, we had made love. Each kiss was a little moment of union of our souls. The sex we had was a sharing of our love for each other.

Had I felt the same way with Rolando? Somehow, it began to make me feel better, that I hadn't. Yet that disturbed me too! I certainly had not betrayed my love for Wishus, but what did I feel for Rolando? Astonishingly, I wondered at the fact that not once yesterday, had I wanted to kiss Rolando, like Wishus and I had kissed. Yes, I had wanted to taste him, to kiss him all over his face, to nibble his ear, but… not once had I wanted to meld with him, to really kiss him, and show him how much I loved him with that one act.

Perhaps that was part of this guilt, or uneasiness, I was feeling. Not that I had used the boy. He had initiated the sex. But what had I given him in return for his offer of his body?

Damnit, I hadn't treated him like a boy!!! All day long I had watched and wondered, entranced by his loveliness. By the knowledge that he had been fucked. He had been nothing more than flesh to me, tantalizing, tempting…

I stood up, and turned from the fire towards the blankets, and shook my head in amazement. There sleeping so peacefully under my blankets was not some mysterious siren, but a boy needing my help! Yes, he was an incredibly beautiful, perhaps unsurpassably beautiful boy, but boy nevertheless.

The mare lifted her head to the hay bin and snagged a few strands of the fodder, tugging and jerking it loose. The boy's familiar scent wafted to her nose. She stepped forward and nudged the spot where he slept, right where he had climbed and burrowed into her feed bin, totally blanketed by the hay. She was feeling playful this early in the morning, after the strange events of the night before.

It wasn't every night that the boy, or anyone else for that matter, came to the barn and slipped into her stall to comfort and brush her softly, to rub her long nose, whispering soothingly. All the strange noises outside of the night before, the red glare, the awful suffocating stench in the air, all were forgotten now. Right now she had her friend here, and it was time for him to get up.

The boy had come quietly into her lonely stall, so late at night. He had patted her and caressed her for the longest time, then crawled slowly up into the hay bin, and snuggled in deep. They had both slept then.

She loved the boy. He had started bringing her sweet green grass, lately. Once in a while there was even a carrot, or some dried fruit, in his hands! He was light as a feather on her back. Not like that harness the man made her wear.

She nudged the hay again, wanting his companionship so early on this strange morning…

… Wishus awoke to the sounds of the mare's snorting, and knew immediately where he was. The horror of the night before came flooding back in on him just as quickly.

For the longest time, last night, he had sat watching, crying, horrified, as the cabin burned to cinders. After a while he could cry no more, but that just left him feeling more lonely and lost than ever. He had felt so empty.

Teg gone.

Uncle Ben and Auntie dead, or gone. Could be either. They wouldn't even have tried to…

He had felt the cold, when the fire finally began to die to simmering coals, but didn't want to edge closer to the ghostly patch of glowing ground, where once he had lived and slept. Everything was gone now, everyone was gone.

What he had wanted right then was to get to his Tower! To feel Teg there, to…

But then he peered into the darkness, into the trees, and chills of another kind crept over him.

His small body had shuddered, wracked with dry sobs of despair. He struggled against the helplessness. Teg would not want him to be like this. So… if he was afraid to hike up to his safe haven in the dark, what would Teg tell him to do?

The barn! He saw it then, noticed it for the first time, now that the glare of the fire was dimmed. Across the clearing, on the other side of the cabin site, still standing! Too far away to have caught fire on this calm, cold, windless night.

A feeling of guilt had swept over him. Here all along he was feeling abandoned and lost, forgotten by everyone, and he had forgotten about Molly! Teg had shown him how to take care of her, to feed her, curry her hair. How to calm her when she was frightened. They had become good friends, and he knew he should have let her out of the barn just in case it too caught fire.

Wishus started to rise, but felt a stabbing pain in his right shoulder. He had sat motionless for so long, and with the chill now creeping in on him, that his wrenched arm complained at the sudden movement. Holding it steady, he stood more gingerly, dropping the edge of the blankets that he had held onto so tightly through his fiery vigil.

Carefully he moved his arm. So long as he moved slowly, it seemed ok. So nothing was broken. He'd just have to avoid extra strain.

He closed his eyes against the darkness around him, and sighed deeply, then breathed in haltingly, trying to keep from crying again. Maybe… maybe Molly… needed him, too.

So he had edged around the remnants of the cabin, fearfully avoiding looking too closely at that part where his aunt and uncle might have perished, and slipped in through the barn door and into Molly's stall, feeling his way in the near pitch black of the night. Just standing with her, feeling her body warmth, had made him feel better. It wasn't too long before his soothing words for Molly had the exact same effect on him. He lost that edge, the wide-eyed expectancy and fear, that had kept him awake and staring into the flames earlier, and began to feel the need for nothing more than rest. The hay bin, where he could stay with Molly, yet not be trampled on in the night, seemed like the perfect place.

It was cozy and warm in the hay, and even now, in the morning, with Molly nudging him, he was reluctant to climb out into reality. Too soon to see what was left of the cabin, in the daylight. Too soon to have to start thinking of what he was going to do now. He just wanted to lie here for a minute and forget everything that had happened, and just think of Teg.

"Oh Teg, why can't you come back right now? Today…" he sighed wistfully.

"It's been a long day, Teg," Wishus muttered, as he trudged towards the pond slowly, with head down, his hair falling in unkempt clumps on either side of his char-smeared face. He walked woodenly, his legs just worn out from climbing up and down, to and from his canyon city repeatedly.

The sun hung towards the western ridge line now. It had glared down on him all day, not making his endless treks any easier. The air in the valley, and even up in the side-canyon, was still, dry, and hot, the sky completely cloudless.

Time for relief. He wanted to just soak in the pond for a while.

He espied Molly lazily cropping grass out in the meadow, and knew he had made the right decision earlier, to just release her. He couldn't take her up the canyon trail, and definitely did not want to leave his city every day to tend to her in the barn.

Wishus had also definitely decided against riding into town. No way he was going to contact his folks back East! Nope. He was staying right here, where Teg would be expecting him.

"Remember when we came here, Teg?" he said, as he stepped onto the area of short grass around the bank. He had been talking out loud that way all day long. Made him feel less alone.

He understood his need for it. And his need, all day long, to remember being with Teg up in his city, sharing sweet kisses that just made him feel like they were a part of each other, or hiking the canyon trail, stopping occasionally to grab Teg's hand and pull him tight, or here at the pond, frolicking and…

Suddenly he felt something, a tenseness, a tighntess within his whole body… and it hurt so!!

It hurt, gripping deep in his chest, and… he felt it too… down… there…

Wishus looked down, and then reached for the hem of his worn and dirty nightgown, and started slowly to scrunch it up, pulling it higher, slowly, tentatively, feeling each movement of the soft woolen cloth pressing against the tip of his hardened little peepee.

"Teeeegggg…" he breathed out, as he felt the open air suddenly on the under side of his standing shaft, and on his naked balls.

He lifted the fabric all the way up to the rope that he had tied around his waist. His penis stuck straight out from the pearl-white flesh of his crotch. He stared as it pulsed with his heartbeat, and felt each pulse, coursing deep into him. He stared wide-eyed at his tool, wondering at its hardness, and just soaking in that excruciating… pain… that seemed to center around his peepee, and his balls, and even deeper, into his very belly.

No, it wasn't a pain, he thought. It was too delicious to be called pain. But it did hurt! Stabbing all the way up into his chest!

"Oh Teg, I want you here! Now!" He moaned, suddenly grasping his little two-inch [5 cm] shaft in one fist, and squeezing hard.

He remembered how wonderful Teg had made him feel here, at the pond. Holding him so tight. Reassuring him about…

Wishus released his grip from his dick and jerked his hand up, as if it were burned.

Absently he looked at his hand, and back down at the stiff little rod still standing so defianly from between his legs. A mix of emotions and memories shot through his mind. The shame everyone had piled upon him back home, when he had told his folks about getting hard just like this when his Uncle Tom kissed him. The shame, the rejection… but then that glorious moment when Teg had held him so close, right here at the pond, and had told him that he had done nothing wrong. That to get hard like this, when you loved someone, was right and good! And that when two boys… a boy and a man…could feel like this for each other, it was something truly special.

The boy stood still, staring down at his throbbing member, but in his mind's eye seeing Teg.. Teg, the way he had been that time when he turned so quickly, and Wishus saw that Teg too was hard, and his huge, man-sized peepee swung around like the baseball bat they had been playing with before running to the pond.

"You love me too, Teg!" Wishus said out loud, still looking down at his own tumescent flesh. "You showed me…"

Wishus smiled. For the first time that day he felt good. All the fear about the fire, about his aunt and uncle… about just surviving out here all alone… all the fear gone! He stole his small hand back to his penis, and stroked it lightly, softly, reverently – barely touching it.

In an instant he knew what he was going to do, and his smile broadened. He know now how to feel Teg's presence here with him! He felt the electricity coursing through him, the anticipation…

First, though, he had to clean up! "Us gods have to be clean, you know!" He remembered yelling that to Teg the first time they came here, that time when Teg just made him feel like the grandest little boy who ever existed! And now, he wanted to be clean for Teg again! Then get back to his Shaman's Tower.

With shivering fingers, he started struggling with the knot that held the rope around his waist. He giggled at his excitement and clumsiness, then guffawed loudly when he saw his outthrust penis flapping up and down, and all around, in time with his antics.

Flinging the rope to the ground, he quickly lifted his nightgown up over his shoulders, and over his head, and gloried in the feel of the slightest little breeze against his now naked body.

He stooped, to pull off the crude moccasins he had crafted from leather scraps he had found in the barn, and giggled again, feeling the coolness on his behind, in the moist cleft between his buttocks.

Never before had he felt so attuned to his body! He felt the tightness in his balls. The taut stretch of his foreskin over his straining dick head. Even his nipples felt taut! He could not recall ever even thinking about his nipples. They were just… there… but now he looked down and saw that they were all hardened and crinkly, each with a tiny little pinkish knob sticking out… hard, like his peepee!

Bringing both hands up, crossing them, he lightly touched his nipples, and felt a delicious tingling. They almost demanded that he press harder, but when he did he had to gasp with the shock that ran all the way down to his dick!

His breath was suddenly coming in short gasps also, as if he were desperate for air, but could not breathe deeply enough.

"Not now!" he admonished himself, remembering these same feelings from when Teg had… "Later! When I can think about Teg…" He pictured Teg's own larger nipples, surrounded by all that smooth, silky hair on the man's broad chest, and wondered how Teg would feel if he touched him there too.

Teg… turned , facing away, pulling his pants down, revealing his hairy butt, with just a glimplse of his even hairier, heavy balls hanging down between his legs… Teg turning around so fast, when Wishus cried out, because he had sprouted a hardon just watching the man disrobe… Teg standing there with the biggest, longest peepee Wishus had ever seen, or even imagined… feeling scared, and yet so strangely excited all at once… feeling Teg pull his little body so tight against his manly frame, feeling the shock of his little hardon pressed so tight against Teg's stomach… feeling Teg's own hardon pushed down beneath Wishus' buttocks, and resting inside his crack…

Wishus jumped into the cold water of the pond, and started to feverishly scrub and wash the grime and soot from his body. The late afternoon was slipping away, he realized, and he had no more time to stand here dreaming of Teg. He had to cleanse himself. He wanted to feel just perfect. Clean, and pure, for what he was going to do tonight.

What he had to do tonight!

He didn't know if he could make it through all this, if he couldn't feel Teg's presence with him tonight!

"We sleep with you again, tonight, Meester," Rolando said matter-of-factly, as I watched him and his little brother carrying their things over next to mine.

They had both gone to the edge of the clearing to relieve themselves, while I had started spreading my blankets. We had eaten supper, washed up, and I had washed Demetrio's wounds from a bucket of warm water. Now it was dark, and time to sleep after another day of pushing our mounts to the limit.

A good day too, in which I had done just as I told myself I should. I had treated Rolando like a boy. Talking to him, getting him involved in the cooking, the cleaning, caring for Metrio. Both boys had responded in kind, obviously feeling safe with me. Metrio even cracked a pinched little smile, on occasion, though each time he winced through the pain of his scab-hardened lips.

Don't get me wrong. After all, they were both boys! I was hard half the day, just being around them. Hearing their voices, stealing glances at Rolando's incredible loveliness… stealing glances at everything, like the time Metrio bared his little penis so openly, to take a leak against a tree! And I was hard every time I remembered what had happened just last night.

It was different today, however. I admired them both, and still wanted them both – I can't be around a boy and not want him – but we seemed like a little troop now, after another long day together, more familiar with each other now, and having long since shed the tension of our strange meeting yesterday.

I had dropped their saddle and bags across the fire from mine, expecting that tonight Rolando would join in the close circle around the fire. He and Demetrio could curl up for a good night's sleep, with no more thought for any sense of debt, or any need to pay me back. I hoped that he had accepted the fact that I was going to care for them, no strings attached. I was not Big John.

Now to hear him declare that they were going to share my blankets again, took me aback. My penis was only now beginning to soften, after Demetrio's bathtime. Handling him, once again almost burying my face between his butt cheeks, as I lovingly bathed every inch of his body, fondling his little boyhood, and his ballsac, just taking care of him, had provided me with long moments of nearly orgasmic joy. I figured that after last night, bathing Demetrio was the closest we three would ever come to sex again. Now, on the contrary, they both stood before me, with looks of suppressed glee, as if they knew something about the situation that I hadn't figured out yet.

"Rolando, I – I – I," I found myself stammering, feeling foolish. I gulped, trying to push down the sudden lump in my throat, wondering if it were going to happen again tonight. The desire – no way I could ever extinguish my desire for these boys! But did I have to endure the awful temptation?! Wanting to remain true to Wishus, but having Rolando offer himself to me again! Desperately wanting to hold him. Feel him. And Demetrio! Why couldn't he just be the little boy in my care?! Why did I have to keep thinking of his little penis, or the little cleft between his buttocks, where I had washed him so clean – his perfect, smooth little butt that I could grasp in one hand!

"Rolando, y-you don't have to…"

"It's too dark and cold here, Meester," he interrupted me, looking back into my questioning eyes with all the calmness and control that I had seen in him yesterday. And something more. He held whatever was humoring him in check, but I could see a glint in his eye, like he had crafted a plan, perhaps a new approach. Demetrio was not so controlled. He burst out giggling, then winced and held his hand against his cracked lip.

"Wh… what's going on, boys," I stammered, looking quizzically from one to the other.

"We are afraid. We sleep next to you, like last night."

It wasn't a request. Just a statement. I knew he was making all this up… there was no fear in this boy's eyes, and it was still early evening – not at all dark. With all his control, he made no effort to act a part. Just stood there before me, one arm about Demetrio's shoulder, with that barely concealed little smile. A knowing smile.

I looked at Demetrio. Certainly no fear there. He hadn't a bit of his big brother's guile. He was grinning from ear to ear. Whatever it was, it was an awfully big joke.

I suspected what I was in for, with these two, but having Demetrio stand before me so gleefully, suddenly set me at ease. Dangit, time to remind myself once more: they were boys! This Rolando might be the most perfect beauty ever to live, he might be the very personification of all the gods of love, in a boy's form, with all the skills and wiles of a god, but he was NOT Wishus! I could do this! I could hold this deity tight to me, and still not betray my love!

Give me your best shot, I thought to myself, looking back at Rolando now, a half-smile forming on my own lips.

I reached out suddenly, surprising both boys, and wrapped my arms around their waists, and pulled both of them down upon me, laughing. They collaped onto their knees, against my chest, and I squeezed tight, then kissed both of them on the tops of their heads, making a loud smacking noise with each of them. As I pressed my lips to their heads, I loudly sniffed their hair, sounding like a rooting hog, I guess, and making them squirm even more. There's something so intimate about nuzzling in a boy's hair like that, even playfully, and I felt the juices flowing in my loins again.

"Afraid, are you!" I laughed, totally free from my own fears now, just enjoying the feeling of my again hardening cock, feeling them squirm against it. I started tickling them both. I was going to enjoy this, and I was just going to treat Rolando like a boy, and make him know it, no matter what he had up his sleeve.

Demetrio laughed and wiggled about in futility, but Rolando struggled back out of my grasp, and knelt back on his haunches. Still in control, this little one, but now wondering, his brows raised, smiling just a bit more broadly and openly now. But wondering. His chest rose and fell quickly, as he panted from our little struggle, causing the long hair hanging down across his shoulders to ruffle like a living cascade. I almost reached out to touch his slightly parted, full red lips, wanting to feel their infinite softness, but his gleaming, dark, lowered eyes, looking up at me slyly, told me I had better not give in to my worship of his being.

"Oh, Demetrio is very fraid of the dark, Meester," he continued his little charade. "And he wants me here too, so we all be safe together," he said, but the glint in his eyes told me that he knew I knew. "You spread your blankets for us, Meester."

"Oh, alright," I played along, no longer at all averse to feeling two boys beside me all night long. Even if Rolando had no more than a warm blanket in mind, which I doubted very much, this was alright by me.

Gracefully, rising smoothly onto his feet without even touching his hands to the ground, Rolando suddenly loomed over me. How does a young boy, only 12 years old, thin and slight of build, 'loom' over anyone? Depends on whom he's standing before. He stepped closer to me. In my eyes he was BOY! The flesh underneath his girl's dress emmanated the heat from his boyhood, and from all that made him boy – not just his penis and his life-giving testicles, but all the essesnce of BOY that I lived for. Even in this moment of playfullness, I worshipped the ground this BOY stood upon.

His little brother, the little miniature version of BOY, took advantage of my momentary lapse of awareness of anything but Rolando edging closer to me, and laughed as he pulled free of my absently grasping hands. He didn't go far either, but taking his cue from Rolando, he turned to stand on my right, closer than necessary.

Ah, but necessary for what? I felt my pulse quicken. Idly, without even looking down, I reached for my blankets to spread them out as instructed. My eyes roamed from one boy to the other, neither more than a foot [30 cm] away from my kneeling form.

"Uh, boys?" I started, gulping again. "Perhaps…"

"We take our clothes off," Rolando deadpanned, looking down at me smugly. His hair cascaded forward, almost masking the movements of his arms and hands as he started to lift his dress up. "Momma always say to keep warm have to hold us close. You take your clothes off too, Meester, and hold us close. Denuda, Metrio," he barked softly to his brother.

I didn't know which way to look, now. What with Rolando slowly, teasingly pulling up the hem of his dress, and Demetro suddenly fumbling at the drawstring of his pants.

"Really is kind of cool to be taking off my longjohns," I said half-heartedly.

"Need to touch our skin together, that's what momma say. You keep us warm and protect us, we keep you warm too."

My eyes were about level with Rolando's crotch, so he knew he could lure me into his little trap, because he could see that I wasn't looking up as he spoke, but rather I tracked every slow upward movement of his hem.

Could there be more perfect boyflesh anywhere, I wondered? His slim, smooth calves rose in heavenly sculpted curves to his little knee caps, not all bony and angular like one might expect of someone so young and thin, but just melding smoothly under his brown skin, then giving rise to the hidden power of those thighs that had squeezed me so tightly the night before, rising and flaring out ever so slightly below his hips, and in towards his pubis.

At which point I lost focus on Rolando's perfect, boyish figure, when the tip of his half-hard penis came into view, drooping down just in front of his dangling balls. There was a little droplet of golden nectar captured in the pucker of the tip of his foreskin! A little droplet of his pee that had lingered for me, refusing to fall as he had walked over to me, hiding from the fabric of his dress! His little, hairless cocklet was short enough that, when soft, it's tip didn't even brush against his dress as he walked.

Almost unbidden by conscious thought, I lifted my left hand and in one quick, natural, fluid motion, I brought the tip of my index finger to the tip of his little dick – so close, yet hardly even touching that dearest piece of flesh that I had had in my mouth less than 24 hours ago. I pressed in slightly, barely feeling the silky smoothness of his frenulum, and the droplet slipped onto the pad of my finger.

Entranced, I brought it just as smoothly to my lips, and tasted it. I wondered if he was thinking the same as I at that moment, that I had every right to take in this fluid from his body. I, who had lain before him last night, and let him ram his hardened dick into my mouth over and over. Yes! This was the kind of payment I would take. Part of him so freely offered, and freely taken – not by design, as in his mistaken efforts of last night to oblige me, for rescuing his little brother.

I savored the salty pungency of his pee. BOY! I would partake of this boy, THESE BOYS, tonight. I didn't know the details of their plan, but I knew what Rolando and Demetrio had in mind. What they offered tonight, I would take. Absolutely KNOWING what was in my heart and my mind, that I would remain true to my Wishus. Preparation for Wishus perhaps! Initiation! Rites of passage, that I must take towards being all the man that Wishus needed and wanted.

My thoughts were fevered now, my passion building. I shivered, not from the cold,but from anticipation. Rolando snickered softly, whether at astonishment that I had tasted his urine, or in awareness of what he was doing to me again. I didn't mind. He could laugh. He could revel in his control over me. I certainly did!

The twin columns of his thighs were a bit larger, more powerful than Wishus', but with the same taut, smoothly contoured delicacy, rising to that most alluring part of a boy, where his legs meet with his body, forming that little satiny, cushiony triangle of flesh around his boyhood. So too were Rolando's dick and balls bigger, and heavier, than were my Wishus'. Rolando's testicles hung lower. I could tell he was just on the verge of entering puberty. Wishus'scrotum seemed to hide up protectively behind his penis, while Rolando's ballsac was stretched low, with his little balls within starting to hang down boldly, growing heavy with his seed, one a little lower than the other.

With both boys standing so near me, I felt the radiance of heat from both their bodies, in the still, pleasantly cool air of the evening. That heady smell of a boy's crotch, a mixture of the boy's own sweat and faintest trace of their urine, all fermented in the close confines of their clothing, was now released and wafted like an intoxicant over me.

As Rolando continued to lift his dress over his head, I dropped the blankets that I had been fumbling with unconcsiously, and reached my arms about the legs of both boys, pulling them even closer, in my desire to drown in their magical scents.

I pulled gently, and Rolando barely bent at the knees, with his dangling cocklet and balls just above my upturned face. Demetrio was so much lighter and slight of build. My grasp threw him off balance, and he had to lean forward into me. I felt his hands grasp my head and right shoulder, even as I felt the hot, pliant flesh of his little penis push into my cheek.

In my obsession with Rolando, I had not noticed that Demetrio had completely stripped, and quite obviously he had been pulling on his little tool! It was hard. He speared me with it. My rough, shaven, but bristly stubble must have stabbed him right back, because he let out a little cry of shock, and instinctively tried to jerk away his midsection. He said something in Spanish, in his sweet little boy's voice, a lilt of surprise and giggling delight. Rolando translated. "Metrio say you always taste my prick, but you only tickle him."

That was enough invitation for me! I had turned to the little six year old, to find his inch and a half [3½ cm] long tumescent penis staring with its one eye directly at my mouth level. I had washed him twice now, and dreamed of the forbidden pleasure of making love to such a little boy. A dream no longer to be denied.

I felt a surge in my own rampant dick, a tightness in my loins. God! I might cum just by touching this little boy – knowing that I wasn't just going to wash him, but I was going to ravish him, and he would enjoy every minute of it.

I turned back to Rolando, and quickly kissed both his little knees and gave him a parting hug, pulling his legs tight to my cheek, as if to say to him, "stay right there, I'll be right back!" Then I withdrew my arm from around his legs and turned completely to Metrio.

Savoring the anticipation for just a moment, feeling a surge of desire coursing through my whole body, I almost threw myself at the little tyke, grasping him not just with my hands, but with my entire arms and body – practically encasing him within my own flesh.

My hands roamed all over his back, molding to his form, tracing his shoulder blades, cupping his buttocks, caressing the backs of his thights – all the while squashing him to me. I roamed just as freely with my face, rutting in his flesh like a hog searching for acorns in the ground, breathing in gutterally, covering his chest, his tummy, his hips, his thighs, with kisses and slurrups.

This was the boy I had lovingly, painstakingly washed, bathing every inch of his body, touching him everywhere, but oh so very fatherly! Now I gave in to a different instinct. Not a baser instinct, because I was filled with just as much desire to please and care for him as before.

I was indeed like an animal, but thankfully, my abandon did not shock or frighten the little boy. I heard both he and Rolando giggling at my antics. Probably they were so pleased that I was so eagerly playing along with their schemes.

When Wishus got hard, his glans just peeked from behind the tautly stretched opening of his foreskin. His tiny pee-slit showed, at the tip of his glistening, reddish, tender glans. Demetrio's dick head was totally hidden even now, when his darling little dick stood up hard, proud of its inch and a half length [3½ cm]. Fully a quarter of an inch [6 mm] of his foreskin puckered narrowly closed beyond the glans, carefully safeguarding its virgin treasure within. It was all the more beautiful sight, because the swell of his glans, underneath its sheath, was outlined clearly. I could see that his helmet shaped glans was long and pronounced. It had a dark, almost bluish hue, through the covering of his foreskin.

Gently cupping his butt cheeks in my hands, I drew him to me. More calmly now, focussed totally on this special prize, I snaked my tongue out and started tracing hot, wet lines around his stalk, slipping from side to side, top to bottom. I heard myself mewling, savoring his taste, practically cumming with desire to taste his little cock.

So tiny was Metrio, that my face was almost as wide as the breadth of his hips! I was about to suck a little boy doll, and hopefully discover that even at age six, I could make him have an orgasm.

It was obvious that he felt something so mightily pleasurable that he wanted more, because he started twisting his hips about, trying to anticipate the next direction of my wandering tongue and lips. He kept stabbing at me, and started mewling himself, every time he pressed his dick head against my cheek or lips.

I steadied him with a firmer hold on his butt, and opened my mouth and sucked all of him in, then held him there while I started my tongue's exploration of his shaft. At fist I licked and laved hap-hazzardly, feeling for the contours of his glans, feeling the ridge of his urethral canal, letting his drooping foreskin rest lightly on my tongue. I shivered, marvelling that he was a miniature version of Wishus, and even of my own much more massive penis. So hard, yet with that infinite softness of a little boy!

I drew back and ever so gently clamped my teeth over that dangling foreskin, and pulled on it, stretching it, even till his dick was all the way out of my mouth. He squealed, and half-screamed something. I was afraid I had hurt him, and felt a sudden drop in the pit of my stomach, and almost released him.

"He says he likes that!" Rolando saved me. I turned a bit, and looked up, still with Demetrio's foreskin pinched between my teeth, and nodded gratefully.

Rolando stood majestically beside us, so tall in comparison to his little brother, towering over my kneeling form. He had one hand on hisp, the other stroking his own erection. He was so beautiful, from his feet all the way up to that long, lustrous cascade of his silken hair. Again I felt my cock surge, knowing full well that in bare moments I was going to explore Rolando's boyish perfection too.

But for now, I returned to servicing my little Demetrio. I had calmed down now, and was no longer in a frenzy to slake my own taste for boy flesh. Now I wanted to delight the little bunchkin. I remembered how he had stood last night, pumping his little tool while Rolando humped me. Now it was Metrio's turn!

Wishus had loved it when I got down to business on his little dick, and started to rhythmically suck and pump up and down on his shaft, tightening my lips and tongue around him. So that's what I started doing for Metrio. In and out, in and out, in and out.

I was glowing inside, astonished at the tininess of the boy in my arms. Every instroke, my head fell into his tummy. I felt the soft warmth of his tummy against my forehead. My little lover and I were both getting into the rhythm, when I felt a hand trying to grasp my right hand, where I was busily kneading Demetrio's butt. I figured I had gotten too rough for him perhaps, and he wanted me to ease up. Another little shift in my stomach – of all things I didn't want to hurt this little tyke, the same boy I had rescued from Big John's brutal treatment.

Again, it was Rolando to the rescue. It was his hand on mine. Not skipping a beat, pumping on Demetrio's cocklet, I refocussed my eyes from the little boy's pubis to try to peer around him questioningly.

"I will show you what Metrio likes," Rolando said, as he knelt behind his little brother. There was a edge to his voice, a sultry edge now, as if Rolando too was getting into the fever of our action, and anticipated something special. My heart started to skip faster. I suddenly felt Rolando pull my middle finger up, and then felt the delicious warmth of his lips closing around it, and the wet warmth of the inside of his mouth! He sucked in my finger just as I had sucked in Demetrio. He was wetting my finger, plainly laving all around with his tongue, depositing as much of his spittle on it as possible!

He released me, and I felt him guide my finger directly back to Demetrio's butt! Into his little crack, which Rolando parted with is other hand, directly to his tiny anus!. Oh God! I almost fainted there and then, as Rolando expertly placed the pad of my finger against his little brother's anus, and pushed in. I must have spluttered, and lost my rhythm.

"Keep sucking, meester!" Rolando commanded. "He like that, and he like this too. Now you let him get used to your finger inside him, then you push in deeper. He likes it all the way in."

I couldn't believe my ears! But I believed what I felt. Demetrio was apparently no virgin, but I certainly was, and now for the first time in my life I felt a little boy's anal ring tightening around my finger. It was every bit as enthralling to me as the night before, when Rolando had easied his own butt down on my cock.

Instinctively, once inside him, I held my finger still, knowing that to push to quickly, or too hard, would surely hurt him. Just as last night, when I almost cried out to beg Rolando to let me go deeper into him, but he held me there for what seemed infinity – so I steeled myself to patience, feeling the heat of Demetrio's tight flesh around my finger tip. So soft, yet so hard and powerful. Kind of the opposite of a penis, physically, I realized – but also the same, soft and hard at the same time.

I resumed my in and out ministrations on Demetrio's penis, and now with my finger lodged in his anus, I had enough of a good lover's sense to bring my other hand around and start gently kneeding his little balls. They were so tiny that they retreated from my touch almost magically – I certainly didn't want to use any kind of force at all to grasp them, so contented myself with rolling his silken-soft scrotum between my fingers, pulling and kneading. Then I let the middle finger of that hand slip along his perineum till it met with my other finger lodged between his buttocks! I had this little boy front and back, and in between, letting him fell forward into my mouth, cupping his little crotch with my left hand, supporting him, and plunging into him from the rear!

"Go deeper now," Rolando urged me. So I started with imperceptible little motions with my finger, letting Demetrio's natural lubrication inside his rear start to smooth my way. Ever so gently I started to push in. Perhaps I'm uncoordinated, but I lost my sucking rhythm again, and kind of paused on his shaft, concentrating on my finger in his rectum. It was deliciously hot, and wet in there! The silken walls of his rectum molded to my finger.

I felt him tense, his whole body going taut against me, still leaning into me. I had the good sense to keep licking him, keeping up the wonderful sensations on his dickhead, while I explored deeper into his body. He breathed in short gasps now. I wondered if it hurt, or if he was feeling pleasure.

"Entry mas!" I thought I heard Demetrio utter softly, yet tensely.

"Go deeper!" Rolando translated.

So I felt reassured. Demetrio wanted me inside him! It was like magic, those words! Like they gave me the ability, and the right, to pleasure him to the utmost. And like they magically turned me into a pleasuring machine. Suddenly I did regain my rhythm, and started sucking and loving his little dick, and at the same time, I started pushing in rhythmically into his rectum, letting the slickness take over, and draw me in deeper and deeper.

The air was filling with the scents of Demetrio's flesh now. That musky, nerve-tingling scent coming from his hole – not a fecal odor at all, just so personal to him, and brought out by me!

He was also now filling the air with his grunts of pleasure. Each breath he took was audible – short cries of what must be excruciating pleasure – yes! The same that I had felt last night, when Rolando teased my dick with his expert anal pressures. I didn't know what was the source of Demetrio's pleasure, whether it focussed on his penis, or from deep within, where my finger was now plunging to my second knuckle into his hole. I was fucking this little six year old with my finger now, and his grunts acknowledged the pleasure I was giving him.

I knew he was indeed going to cum, this little six year old was going to cum! I knew it when I felt his hands one me again, now tightening their grip. He had his right hand around my neck, grasping my hair there and pulling it tight. His left hand had entwined itself into the fabric of my longjohns on my shoulder, and I imagined he might rip it apart.

In and out, I continued, both in front and in his rear, feeling his heat inside me, and on me, and feeling his every muscle start to stiffen and jerk, in that uncontrolled, electric moment of delerium when he came. He screamed into the still evening air, and if anyone were around to hear us, I suppose they would have thought a little boy was being murdered. I knew better, and felt so gloriously happy for him, and for myself. He plunged forward into my mouth as hard as his little six year old body could, and then ricotched back onto my plunging finger, time and again, letting his cum peak. I let him do that till I felt him slump onto me. I rocked back on my heels, and pulled his limp form with me, letting his dick slide from my wet lips, letting his body slip down, forcing my finger from his anus, as he came to rest with his head on my chest.

I brought my finger up to my nose and sniffed in deeply of our fuck. I wondered if there were any other smell so wonderful, so intimate – perhaps it could only be better if I had deposited my seed within him, and our bodily juices had intermingled. I slipped the finger into my mouth, and sucked Demetrio's being into me.

I shuddered. My whole body wracked by the exquisite pleasure of holding this little boy to me so close, knowing that I had fucked him with my finger, and he had loved it.

"Dear Wishus, this should be…"

Rolando interrupted my thoughts. "Now you do me, Meester. I want it, too."

I quickly opened my eyes, and literally lost my breath. Just the thought of loving Rolando, like I had just loved his little brother, was mind-numbing. What would I give to be able to delve into Rolando's rear with my exploring fingers!

"What… what do you mean, Rolando," I stuttered, feeling the pressure return, the desire I had for this boy, against the determination I had.to remain true to Wishus. I could not, I would not, fuck Rolando with my dick, but I would not hesitate to bring him off like Demetrio, if he would allow me.

"You just fuck Metrio with your finger, Meester, now you fuck me! We get you ready for me. This time you stay hard, Meester. And this time I make it easy for you."

"Now, Rolando, we've been through tha…" I started, thinking that he had more in mind than my finger up his rear, then I stopped in mid-sentence, seeing what he had in his hands. While Demetrio and I had been in the throes of the little boy's orgasm, Rolando had obviously been busy. He had the phallus out! The wooden phallus, bigger than life, longer than life, yet carved to such perfection that it seemed to indeed be alive, glistening with the lubricating cream that Rolando was smearing onto it as he held it up before his hungry eyes.

Something gripped tight about my heart. I remembered seeing this huge phallus sticking up out of Rolando's upturned butt, back at Big John's ranch. I had wondered then if it were some form of cruel torture, or if Rolando had relished it inside him. I remembered Rolando's look, when he boldly retrieved the phallus, and placed it into his saddle bags. I remembered penetrating him with my own cock, just up to my dickhead, wanting so much to plunge deeper, but wondering and fearing what it would do to the boy. Now he wanted me to… what?! Instead of my finger, he wanted me to plunge this phallus into him?

The way he was looking at it, told me so. He smoothed the cream over the hard wooden surface lovingly. This phallus was anything but an instrument of torture for Rolando. He had the intense gaze of passion, and that pinched, tense look of anticipation – an anticipation of something so immensely wonderful and pleasureable, that it is almost to be dreaded. Something that one cannot live without, yet something that is consuming, that takes control…

I had read of the opium dens of China, and of men and women giving themselves over to that drug, letting it possess them. Looking at Rolando, I felt I understood that kind of obsession. Yet, was this something to be feared, or something altogether good, as compared to the evil of being possessed by a drug?

I began to sense what Rolando had meant when he said he needed to be fucked!

Looking into Rolando's eyes, as he lavished his care on this wooden phallus – nothing more than a pale substitute for a man's real phallus – I sensed what it would mean for Wishus when we finally made love, as a boy and his man must!

"Spread the blankets, please." Rolando said it so softly, so plaintively, that I felt his need. This boy was hurting inside, his need was so great. He didn't even take his eyes off the phallus, as he closed the container of the cream.

I kissed the now sleeping Demetrio on his forehead, and gently lifted up, and placed him beside me on my blanket, then hastened to spread the blanket out further.

The fire had died a bit, but in the growing darkness now, Rolando's form was backlit by the flickering, yellow glare. His eyes were still on the phallus, which he held almost reverently in both hands before him. He was on his knees, sitting back on his heels, his body ramrod straight above his hips. He had taken his hair and swept the whole mass over his shoulder farthest away from me. His loveliness was beyond belief, in every detail, every curve, every line of his body, from his rounded buttocks, resting on his heels, up along the natural curve of his back; his tautly defined chest, half-veiled by his hair. His straight, erect penis, sticking out at a 45 degree angle from his crotch.

I felt I was witness to some kind of reverent ceremony, that I was to be initiated into secrets of awesome power tonight. This twelve year old boy was going to teach me. He didn't know it, but he was going to teach me how to make love to Wishus.

Suddenly Rolando turned his head towards me and smiled so gently, so sweetly, holding out the phallus towards me. "Take it, Meester, I need your help."

"I… I will do… whatever I can, Rolando. But… "

"I will lay down, you put him in me. OK?"

So meekly did he say it, so plaintively, so pleadingly, that once again I sensed his need. It hit me, deep inside. I had denied him last night, and he had cried when I refused him my own cock.. Now he was afraid I would deny him again. Yet he needed this so much.

"Yes, honey, I'll put… him in you."

"Good." I heard his relief. So their little scheme, to get me into sex with them, had led up to this. I still suspected that he would ask me to fuck him again, and I just couldn't bare to hurt him anymore. I prayed that this fake phallus would do what I could not.

He layed down on his side, facing me and the sleeping Demetrio. Then he pulled his legs up, in a fetal position, holding them behind his knees, pulling his torso towards me, opening his bottom to me, reveailing the puckered hole between his butt cheeks. Against the coppery colored skin of his thighs, and peeking from between his cheeks, his hole looked mysterious and dark. Used. Anything but virgin, like Demetrio's. So small, so hidden there in his most secret of places, yet not the perfectly smooth and tight little hole of an unloved boy, but puckered out a bit, as if prepared for the entry of his man. Not wounded, not abused, not bleeding and hurt – just used. Ready. Waiting. Wanting.

I held the instrument gingerly. It was lubricated and slippery all along the shaft, so he did intend it to be pushed into him far more than just the tip.

"Put him there, now," he directed me. No longer did he speak in the commanding tones he had used with Demetrio, nor with the insistence of last night. Now he was almost supplicating me. I had something he wanted very much. He could have taken it from me, and fucked himself, but he very plainly wanted me to do it.

I kneeled over him, and he watched with wide eyes as I started to put the realistically carved dick head up to his opening.

"No, not that way," he said. "The curve should go the other way. That way it touch my special spot."

"Your… special spot…," I uttered dumbly, having no idea what he was referring to, but wanting to know. I rotated the shaft, so that it would enter him as if the man it was attached to were facing him.

"When it touches that spot, it feels… oh, I don't know how to say it…" He rushed, sounding impatient. "Put it in, please!"

With him holding his legs up like that, I could quite happily have dropped the phallus, and just buried my face right in the center of all that glorious boy flesh. Rolando's three inch [7½ cm] cock was stiff and straining free of his foreskin. All but the ridge of his plum-colored glans was visible. I could see how tightley stretched was the skin at his frenulum, where his foreskin attached to the skin of his shaft. His dick lay flat against his pubis, pointing directly up to his face. His loose hanging balls, dangled towards the blanket; his scrotum was darker than the skin of his thighs.

I imagined just laying down there and licking and sucking from his anus to his stiffie.

"Please put him in!" he pleaded again, bringing me back to reality.

I swear that his anus winked at me! I saw that he was tightening and loosening his sphincter, whether consciously, or in instinctive preparation for penetration, I didn't know.

The dark brown, bulbous head of the phallus, was so much bigger than his much-experienced hole, so I hesitantly pressed it against him, and too gently started to position it.

"There! Push!" he demanded, saying it in his sweet, little boy's voice. All the more commanding to me, that a boy wanted it. He grabbed hold of his erection roughly, seemingly without conscious thought, and seemed to be holding on for dear life, not pumping it, but just pulling upwards, and squeezing hard.

I pushed harder, and suddenly the whole head of the wooden cock seemed to just slip within, as if being suctioned. Rolando's anus stretched around it miraculously, as the boy let out a gasp. I heard his breath coming in staccato puffs, then suddenly he sighed, releasing all his tension.

"Yes!" he wailed. I looked up and saw that his face was now relaxed and almost beatific, the softest, sweetest little smile gracing his lips. This boy's little anus had just stretched from it's tightpucker to take in what was easily a 4 or 5" [10-12 cm] circumference of the dick head, and he lay there in apparent ecstasy!

"Finally! Now… push him in slow… very slow, Meester. Don't… take him out… like… you did… last night!"

I complied, my eyes transfixed on the slowly disappearing shaft, and the dilated ring of muscle, which was being tugged inwards too, all around the shaft. Shifting my hands, I inadvertently let the phallus slip back just a fraction of an inch, and Rolando gasped again, but quite obviously in pleasure. So I started doing that on purpose, to vary the inward motion.

"That is good, Meester. You learn fast… now come up here… please hold me up… I show you how… I want to be fucked!"

"Let go of the… cock?" I asked.

"Si, you come… hold me. Raise me up."

I quickly repositioned myself up the blanket, hesitantly releasing the phallus, to let it stick out of his body by itself. I knelt behind him now, while he turned onto his back. He lifted himself on his elbows slightly, and I scooted up under him, careful to gather his streaming hair. Gently I lowerd him onto the incline of my thighs.

He pulled his legs up again, and said, "Now you must hold my legs back here, and I show you. This is the way a boy has to be fucked.!

The phallus waved about wildly in the air, protruding obscenely from his rectum, as I replaced his hands with my own behind his knees, forcing his butt off the blanket so that he could easily grasp the shaft of his imaginary fucker.

I looked down his lovely, little boy's form, from his head down to his drawn up knees, in between which the now free-standing phallus stood out proudly from his butt. He now had at least four inches [10 cm] of the shaft inside him. It shook, and twitched in the air, melded with the body that encased it.

Just… hold me…," he whispered now, as he stretched his arms out and grasped the phallus with both his little fists.

I did hold him, knowing that I had to spread his legs wide apart, as he began to pull the shaft deeper into his bowels fully another inch. He groaned loudly, and long, and I saw the muscles of his stomach tense convulsively.

The he pulled the other way, and the cock eased back slowly, till only the head was still within him. The shaft was slick with his body's juices, and the scent started to fill the still air. I breathed in deeply, loving the smell now. Not even stopping for an instant, seeming to need the phallus back deep inside him immediately, Rolando stabbed it in again. This time moving in faster, more forecfully than I had.

"Oh, you don't know… how it feels… so good… to have a man… inside you…" he continued to instruct me, struggling to concentrate between breaths.

In and out, he started up a rhythm, punctuated by the wet suctioning noises coming from his hole, at each change of direction.

"When it touch me… there!" he groaned and tensed again, "I never… want him to… leave me!"

The magical spot seemed to be when the head of the penis was a couple or three inches [7½ cm] inside him. I remembered going about that deep, or a little less, when I was finger-fucking Demetrio, but I had felt nothing other than the soft, cushiony sides of the void within the little boy.

Whatever that special spot was, it dawned on me that Rolando was going to cum without even touching his dick! That neglected member swayed from side to side across his pubis.

"I like it when… my man… start to fuck… me harder and… deeper." He indeed was increasing the tempo. I tried to picture the giant Big John, laying on top of this little boy, plunging his huge cock into the small body. All the while with Rolando begging for more. In and out, deeper, harder, twice a day filling him, morning and night! Till it was something Rolando lived for. Till the pleasure, and the sense of being loved, and needed, and owned, became all important to him.

Watching Rolando fuck himself with a lifeless wooden phallus, I knew once and for all that this was what I must give to Wishus. What I must share with my beloved.

I cried out silently, through all the distance between us, wanting Wishus to know this most perfect union between man and boy. " I hope you feel all my love now, dearest Allouicious, and when we are together again, I will give you all my love through all time! I want to be with you now, Wishus!!"

Rolando's body shuddering against my legs, brought me back to where I was, rather than where I wanted to be.

He kept pistoning in and out, his head bent down one moment, concentrating on his anus, then slamming back against my belly the next, when the stabs of pleasure hit him with overwhelming force.

The way his whole body was bent over it, it seemed like his very being was concentrated there at his fuck hole. He started a rhythm with his legs, in time with his pumping hands, using my hands as a fulcrum, letting him lift his bottom higher with each in stroke, and then letting it fall slightly as he pulled out.

At first it sounded like he was wheezing, but soon his high, almost continuous moan of pleasure, told me he was going to cum soon. He simply could not endure this much longer!

I stared wide-eyed, almost afraid for him, seeing that he was plunging fully six or seven inches [15-18 cm] of the huge phallus into his body now, and he was roughly jerking it from one side to another with each stroke, almost as if he were plowing himself, trying to widen his own hole. I knew it was silly of me to fear for him, because he was plainly in throes of ecstasy that I myself could hardly imagine.

Then he screamed loudly, and I knew he had orgasmed, fucking himself. His legs involuntarily spasmed out, breaking my hold, straightening themselves out, convulsing and pounding the blankets, as the boy's body was wracked with waves of pleasure. The phallus was clenched tight between his cheeks, and buried beneath him. I feared it would rip him apart down there, but he just squirmed about on it, either oblivious to its position, or revelling in it.

He yelled out streams of Spanish, whether lewd blessings upon the phallus that still penetrated him, or prayers of thanksgiving for his ecstasy, I had no idea.

I just held him, and gently smoothed the sweat streaked hair from his brow, glad that he had recaptured at least part of what he had lost, when I took him from Big John.

He didn't like to admit it, but as the sun fell lower and lower, and the dark shadows started to lengthen into odd shapes on the far canyon wall, Wishus felt afraid. Even here, standing above his city, next to his Shaman's Tower.

Just weeks ago he would have been safely esconced in his 5th Avenue, third floor bedroom, back in New York. Now he shivered against the growing chill, and the sudden thought of ancient ghosts.

He was just a little boy, all alone, where being alone didn't mean he could traipse downstairs to his mommy's bedroom. Being alone here meant that his guardians were dead, or gone. His parents had sent him 2000 miles [3000 km] away… and the one person on Earth whom he could rely on totally, was miles and miles away over the high mountain ridges.

Teg would return, however. That much Wishus absolutely knew.

He had to return!

Tears again.

Wishus was so tired of crying. He had cried when Teg rode away. He had cried himself to sleep every night since. He had cried watching the fire take away his aunt and uncle. Now there was this awful, empty, loneliness he felt, and all these horrid shadows.

Wishus felt so meek. Suddenly a wave of helplessness and hopelessness just overwhelmed him. Teg would never return, and even if he did, he would find his little boy…

"No!" Wishus cried out, and heard the echoing cries go slamming back and forth across the canyon. Even his own voice was frightening, when it shattered the quiet of this lonely wilderness.

He clumsily and quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks, and angrily grabbed his sleeve, to wipe the sniffles from his upper lip.

He knew what he would do, what he had to do, if he were to survive all this.

"I'll do it, Teg!" he weakly called out in a breaking voice, but this time with his head down. No echo came back to mock him.

He had it all planned out. So, very quickly, feeling the fears, the ghosts, and the dark shadows starting to creep back in on him, he stooped low, and stepped into the Tower. Feeling a sudden rush of panic, as if some monster were just outside the door now, he screamed, and fumbled furiously with the heavy rock slab. Grunting with the effort, struggling against the pain in his wrenched shoulder, realizing that it was indeed a lot heaver now that Teg wasn't here to help him, the despair almost overcame him. Couldn't anything go right for him!?

The slab suddenly lurched and shifted into position, just as Teg had shown him it would, and it fell firmly over the door.

The little boy flopped back, off balance, stumbling back across the floor till he fell onto the thick cushion of the bed that he and Teg had made. Just that afternoon, Wishus had freshened it with a new layer of juniper bows. With his blankets spread over it, it was almost as comfortable as his feather bed, in the old days.

He giggled, feeling suddenly so relieved. The big rock slab had shut out all his looming fears. This was his very own little fort, just as Teg intended it. Now there was just him, the four walls reaching up to the solid cavern roof, and the flickering yellow glare from the small fire in the corner… that, and his memories of Teg.

He quickly got back up and loosened the rope around his waist, then lifted his nightgown off. He folded it carefully and laid it at the foor of the bed, then reached for the blackened brush that he had fished from the cabin ruins.

He had planned every little step, and calmly continued through his ritual.

He had bathed in the pond, eaten, and prepared the Shaman's Tower for tonight. Now safely within, it was time. Now he could just quietly and clearly think about Teg, and those days when they were together, and the days when they would be together again.

Just a rough stubble remained on the brush, so Wishus began to carefully and slowly draw it through his hair. After the fire, and all the work today, he wanted to feel his hair straight and freee of tangles again. He had alsways loved the feel of his long tresses as he brushed them, and had always taken great care of his hair. He loved to feel it soft and cool upon his bare shoulders. Teg had loved his hair too. Wishus had sensed that from the very beginning – Teg was always touching the boy's tresses, sifting the strands through his fingers, leaning in to smell… "you smell good," Teg used to say. That always made Wishus just glow inside.

The boy looked down at his pale, slim body, and giggled again, remembering the look in Teg's eyes whenever the boy was naked. Wishus had never before been really conscious of his body, but now he knew that he was beautiful. His Uncle Tom must have thought he was beautiful, too. Wishus had seen that same kind of look in Uncle Tom's eyes. Kind of a… desperate look, or a pleading look, especially with Teg! Like Wishus had something that Teg just couldn't live without.

It all seemed to center on his peepee!

Such a small, tiny, little thing, but it seemed to have the power to make Teg's own huge… dick… so hard and long!

Wishus suddenly forgot all about brushing his hair, and dropped the brush beside his bed. He laid back on the soft mattress and let both his hands wander naturally to his stiff little penis.

He closed his eyes and tried to breath slowly and evenly, to calm himself, but he felt something building within himself, like his blood was suddenly rushing faster through his veins.

Just like he had felt that night when he woke up next to Teg, and his peepee was so hard. And Teg had shown him how to… jack off.

Never before had Wishus felt so wonderful, and so loved, as that night. Now, that same feeling in his peepee was there again. Perhaps if he just kept his eyes closed, and started stroking himself, he could feel like Teg was right here with him…

With one hand he started to lightly slide up and down on his little cock, loving that special tingling everytine he brushed the head, so tight and bulging under his foreskin. His balls too, demanded his touch – it was like they were attached to some place deep inside him, and he needed to pull and tug at them gently, to relieve the building tension within. Yet the tension never stopped, it just grew, and grew.

His other hand stole slowly up his tummy, to his chest, to once again explore those new centers of pleasure that he had discovered that afternoon at the pond. He let his fingertips sweep over one nipple, then across to the other, and wondered at the fact that they too seemed to be connected to that gnawing center of… hurt? Pleasure? A nagging feeling deep inside, that he wanted to get stronger, yet felt compelled to try to relieve by massaging himself all over! It was a tingling… a burning… some kind of raw nerve that begged to become his sole focus, yet spread its tentacles to his balls, and all along his peepee. It was like a hurt, because it ached so terribly, yet… so wonderfully! The harder he pumped on his peepee, the harder he pressed and caressed his nipples, all the more the hurt demanded!

His balls, his dick, his nipples – they were all part of this special feeling that Teg had revealed to him… Teg had touched him other places too!

Wishus remembered when Teg had sucked him. His big hands roamed Wishus' body, but then one hand slipped down, down, below his peepee, to his butt hole! That had felt so good too!

Wishus rolled over slightly and let his left hand drop from his nipples, over the upthrust curve of his hips, across his butt, to seek that other place.

He kept pounding up and down on his little prick, feeling like it was now the very center of that wonderful feeling – it seemed to command that he stroke and clench it full-fisted now, harder and harder, faster and faster. His breathing was now raspy and loud, and his skin was sweaty from the heat of his body.

He inserted his middle finger into the hot, moist crack between his buttocks, and slid it down, feeling his nerves suddenly on edge there too.

Teg had rubbed over and over his hole, the spit dripping down from his mouth on Wishus' cock, making it so slippery.

Quickly, feeling like a dam was about to burst in his groin, Wishus brought his left hand back up to his mouth, and wet his middle finger, tasting the sweat from his own bottom. It was something he never would have done before, but now it just seemed the right thing to do, and he loved the musty taste!

He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he was about to lose control of his body, so he just as quickly swept his hand back to his butt hole and started rubbing, like Teg had.

Oh God, it felt so good! It tickled, it itched, it tingled, it… ached! Crying out for him to rub harder, demanding that he relieve the building ache just within his hole!

He pushed harder, and felt the tip of his finger plop past the firm ring of his sphincter. The sensation was like the final trigger, starting the explosion of electrical shock with him. The excruciating pleasure seemed to build to overflowing, within him, then to surge from his butt, from his nipples, from his balls, all the way up his shaft to the very head of his peepee! He suddenly felt so raw there, so infinitely sensitive, that he could not bear to continue pumping.

Wishus fell back, gasping for breath, one hand still on his dick, holding it tight, the middle finger of his other still knuckle-deep inside his anus.

"Teg! I… did it! Just like… you showed me! Teg! Teg! Come back to me! I did it… Teg!"

Coming down off his orgasmic high, lying limp against me, Rolando suddenly spoke, in a dreamlike voice, "Now… Meester. I can feel… you hard too. You put your… cock in me… now."

He reached slowly back down between his legs, pulling them up again, at the same time, and took hold of the shaft of the phallus. It too lay almost limp now, hanging from his rectum, with only its head still lodged inside him. Its heavy, wooden balls rested on the blanket. I couldn't believe it when he started once again to push it in, slowly now, but he groaned weakly with the same sound of need that he had used earlier. Thinking him lost to the world, and totally oblivious of my presence now, I was shocked at his request. Had this all been planned, as I had feared, just to renew his attempt to get me to fuck him?

I fumbled for a reaction. I cared for him too much to ever want to hurt him. And I didn't want him to cry again, as he had last night. Stupidly, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"I'm not going to put it anywhere," I tried to sound as if I were joking, "especially if you can't stop calling me 'Mister!'" I gently nudged his shoulder with the palm of my hand. "Now I told you several times today that you could call me Teg, or Teglin, or just 'hey you!', but not Mister. Don't you think we're… well, don't you think we've been through enough by now?"

He slumped back again, and let his right leg fall back to the blanket. I heard him sigh, and I could just barely feel him shake his head. In disbelief? Disappointment? I was lost now, helpless to know how to mend this boy's spirit.

He looked up at me, the hurt showing in his eyes and his furrowed brow. With one hand he lifelessly withdrew the phallus, and tossed it onto the blanket. He tried to push his body up off me, twisting his head back to stare at me. His look hit me like a splash of cold water. The ecstasy that had smoothed his features so angelically just seconds before, was all gone.

"You fuck me, Meester, then I call you Teg, or Teglin, or even 'hey you'," he mocked me, listlessly, as if he had given up. "You fuck me. Now."

"Rolando, I… I thought you understood I can't… I mean, I won't. You don't have to…"

"You fuck me tonight. You tell me that way, that you take care of us forever."

"No, you don't have to do that anymore." I almost pleaded with him to understand. "You're mom was… well, she just didn't know, Rolando, that… things aren't like that everywhere. You don't have to sell yourself anymore. Not just because you're with me, but…"

"You tell me that," he said quietly, and continued in a monotone, controlling his emotions, holding back the tears. "But you don't know. You are not Mexican. I don't think you ever eat other peoples' trash just to keep from starving… Momma did know. She knew the only way. What she teach me, what Big John give me, it's all I got, Meester. You don't give me that, I got nothing."

His words were like ice water thrown in my face. Did I so little understand this boy?

"You tell me I can't have that… and… I…" he struggled to continue, fighting back the tears. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, and pulled him up to my chest. I kissed the top of his head gently now, trying to reassure him, trying to understand what he wanted, what he needed.

"I'm telling you, Sweet One, that I will make sure you have a good life. You don't have to f… make love with me for it. Or with anyone else. Can't you understand that?"

"But you are the one who don't understand, Meester!" I felt him shake his head 'no', his silken hair gliding under my chin. "I want it! I need… to… I have to have you… have a man… inside me, or I… You don't fuck me, I feel… like… I am lost…"

"Rolando!" I rasped out forcefully, through my own emotions, hating my inability to comfort him. To make him understand, or to understand him.

"I can't make love with you, Rolando… believe me, I would… just die, if you were my boy, my love, I would fuck you night and day, if that's what you wanted, just to show you my love, but I…"

"Why you can't feel that way, Meester? You say I am beautiful, you want me. I know you want me, but you DON'T want me!"

"Rolando," I tried to stay calm, not wanting to hurt him further, and thinking that the truth might be the only thing that he would understand. "I can only do that with the one I love, and… I… there is another… boy, waiting for me…"

"A boy?"

I swear, I could physically sense the relief in him. He tensed with new energy, and the intensity returned to his gaze as if I had just given him reason to believe that all the doubts, and fears, and every other emotion of inadequacy or loss, that he was feeling, might be needless.

"What boy," he asked, softly. Not defiantly, or accusingly. I heard wonder in his tone.

"His name is… Wishus…", I couldn't help but whisper the name of my dearest, reverently, and with a sense of utter joy, and even relief, that I had said his name out loud in the presence of another, revealing my love to someone who might understand it.

"And this boy, Wishus, he waits for you? You go to him?"

"Yes."

"You do like me, but you have someone else?"

"Yes."

"He is the only reason you will not fuck me?"

How to answer that? I was heart and soul in love with Wishus, and in the face of 37 years of loneliness, and against every condemnation of society, I could not imagine it ever being different. Wishus was a part of me, and I knew I was a part of him, and one day we would be One. Yet, if not for Wishus, what would I have felt for Rolando? Not knowing, I said what I thought was good for Rolando to hear, and perhaps indeed the truth of it.

"Rolando, I think if I had never known Wishus, then I would fall to my knees before you, and worship you with all my heart, and love you till the oceans go dry, and… and I would fuck you continuously, till you would beg to have me withdraw."

He remained silent, and still, for the longest time. Finally, I lay back, pulling him with me, so that once again he and Demetrio could sleep at my sides. I held him to me, and wrapped the blankets about us.

"You have a boy. And that is why you won't fuck me." I heard him whisper. He seemed lost in thought, so I didn't answer. I knew what he meant. I knew that he had needed to know about Wishus, otherwise he just would never have understood why I couldn't commit to him totally.

Perhaps I couldn't have answered, anyway. I felt the cold on my cheeks before I really realized that I had started to cry. The long moments of silence had given me plenty of time to think. Holding these two sweet boys, I wanted so much to give them everything they needed, and deserved, but how could I fill the void in Rolando's heart? What he wanted, I could never give to anyone but Wishus, now.

Oh, my dear sweet Wishus. I cried for him too. Cried for myself too, I guess. I pictured him in his bed, up in the loft of the Knight's cabin. Lonely, probably a little scared, wondering if I would return. The one person on Earth who had total claim to my heart, yet I still had more miles to put between us.

Chapter 4

About time, too! He had to pee!

Funny. The pressure inside him, the feeling of having all that pee just about ready to explode out of him, kind of felt like when he was about to cum, last night! Well, not nearly so good! But he felt a little tingling in his peepee again, and deep down inside his belly, pushing out, wanting out. He even felt it down there, between his balls and his bottom!

For a moment, he stretched his hands behind his head, arching his back, lifting his taut tummy and chest off the soft bed, tightening all the muscles in his slim legs. He felt so alive! Even his toes had to be stretched and wriggled.

He flopped down on the mattress and looked down his reclining form. His little pink-white penis was standing tall and straight! Ready to blast! Too bad it wouldn't blast that white stuff. That cum.

Yet! Teg said he would someday.

"That was so good, last night, Teg," he said aloud in a hushed tone, then started giggling, remembering how he had poked his finger inside his butt-hole while jacking off. Almost without thinking about it, he brought the finger in question to his nose, and breathed in, testing his own body's most private smell.

He could still smell it… there was a lingering odor… somehow it smelled good and… dirty… but…

He shivered, feeling suddenly very naughty, but liking it. He had done exactly what Teg had told him to do, last night, and it felt so good!

Wishus practically sprang up out of his bed, feeling totally refreshed. Things weren't all that bad! He had food, right here. And he could probably find more. What about that smoked ham, hanging in the barn? There was a root cellar somewhere too. He had heard Auntie…

Well, think about that later.

"Ouch! My shoulder still hurts, though," he muttered, swinging his arm cautiously a bit.

He shivered again, and forgot about his shoulder. He could hardly keep from dancing around on the balls of his feet – he had to pee bad, and right now!

Wishus scampered across the packed dirt floor to the doorway, and bent to put his whole body into rolling the stone slab from the opening. It seemed so much lighter than the night before.

It was like stepping out into a world showered in gold dust! The sun's rays lit every particle of dust suspended in the air, every leaf in the aspens just below the lip of the cave, every facet of the canyon wall, with golden sparkles. The clouds drifting overhead were puffy little tufts of white, painted golden yellow on their bottoms!

The golden boy stepped out into his very own, magically golden domain. He stood tall and slender, naked to the world, and as he walked wonderingly to the verge of the Tower's porch, the sun's rays caught in his hair, and lit his face in an aura of brilliant light.

It was a bit chilly out, and he had neglected to don his nightgown. Goosebumps popped out all over his flest, and he shivered as he stepped over to the edge of the ledge.

He took his little piss-hard penis between two fingers, then shivered even more furiously, and giggled, as he felt the hots stream of his pee spout up his shaft and out the little slit in his dickhead. His whole body spasmed uncontrollably for an instant. The golden arc of pee steamed as it hit the cool morning air, and Wishus played with the little foggy trail he could create, rising above the stream of pee. He twiddled his two fingers just slightly, making the stream whip up and down, shooting its own condensation trail. The relief in his bladder, and the tingle along his penis, made him spasm yet again.

"Feels soooooo gooooood," he crooned, then looked down between his legs, as the piss stream trickled to an end. Still playing, he pumped his fingers along his urethra, milking his sfaft of the remaining drops, and wildly splattering them all around.

"Wha…!" He squealed suddenly, in alarm. As if by magic, the soft skin covering his dick head no longer resisted the backward pull of his fingers, and his virgin, lightly plum-colored glans was suddenly bare to his view for the first time in his life! For a moment he thought there was something wrong, that he had injured himself. Had he pumped too hard on his penis last night?

The panic started to subside, but he felt his heartbeat pounding in his chest. With trembling fingers he slowly, gently pulled his foreskin back even more. It swelled easily over the flared ridge of his glans, and plopped back. Tentatively, with one index finger, he felt the spongy flesh. It was so soft! And a little wet. It glistened in the sunlight. He shivered again, this time more from delight than the physical sensation, and smiled. Now with finger and thumb, he felt the head again, pressing it a bit, testing how deliciously soft and sensitive this reddish bulb on the end of his peepee was!

No reason to worry, he thought. Teg's skin pulled back too, and he had seemed to like it when Wishus had probed beneath the foreskin to feel the cushiony, pliable flesh inside.

"Teg!" Wishus said aloud, softly, yet excitedly. "Tonight! Now I have a new way to remember you, Teg!"

His bladder relieved, yet still fingering his penis, Wishus turned away from the edge of the ledge. He felt hungry. Really hungry! And cold. Time to for some breakfast. Then he'd have to go down and find that root cellar.

He walked over to the pile of cans he had saved from the burning cabin. He had even fished some out of the charred ruins. They were blackened, and on a couple of the cans, the seams around the edge seemed to be broken, but he figured he'd need all he could find before Teg returned. They didn't look very appetizing however, so he picked one of the unburnt cans. First, a fire!

As Wishus went about setting a new morning routine, all alone, he felt good. Refreshed. Excited! Last night he had proved it. And now this morning he had discovered something new and wonderful about himself! He looked down wonderingly at his penis again, and fingered it idly, letting his reddish glans peek out. He was going to make it. Everything was going to be fine. He'd be just fine, waiting here for Teg.

"Another day to be wasted, dammit."

"Why the hell is it so hot, so early in the morning?"

Big John Smalley cursed to himself, mumbling disgustedly.

Sweat made his hat cling uncomfortably to his forehead, and he felt the unpleasant wetness all around the band.

It didn't help that he had a headache, and his neck and shoulder were still sore from that bastard who had waylaid him.

Worse still, he sat atop 2000 pounds [900 kg] of hot forse flest, surrounded by the heat already lifting up from the desert sands.

"Trackless waste," he muttered.

For the hundredth time he asked himself what he was doing here.

Not WHY he was here. That much he was sure of. He was going to kill a man. But had to find him first.

He had to admit, again for the hundredth time, that he had lost the trail way back at the last river crossing. Should he have turned south to Albuquerque, or keep heading east towards Santa Fé?

Trouble was, no one knew who the man was, or where he was headed, before he took off with Rolan and Metrio.

"Bastard!"

The thought of Rolando brought all the hurt back again.

"Damn!"

This is hopeless, he thought. He wasn't going to find Rolan again this way. He'd never find him again, period. Unless…

Unless he could find out who that man was. No one back in Miranda knew. Or weren't saying. Everyone had been unusually uncooperative all of a sudden, back there.

Well, he had lots of time to work over the worthy citizens of Miranda.

Now how about the man who had bushwacked him?

Wasn't going to find out where he was headed, so… Wonder where he came from… Probably the Black Mountain trail into Miranda…

Viciously, jerking the bit back in his horse's mouth, Big John pulled around.

There was more than one way to make that man pay.

We awoke entwined, little boy legs resting warm atop mine, the gentle grip of their small fingers pressing so softly into the flesh of my arms, where each had grasped me and held on through the night. Their warm breaths were feather light against my arms.

I was sorry to disturb their angelic repose, but there was no way to slip out from the blankets without awakening them, as I had so easily done the morning before.

Time to rise and get back on the trail, time to leave behind another wild glade where I had shared such intimate moments with these boys.

I stretched carefully, not quite ready to disturb them, and felt my penis start to grow and throb, attempting to rise off my belly, against the resistance of the blankets. It suddenly struck me that I had not cum last night, being lost the entire time in the far greater pleasure, and need, to touch, to caress, to kiss, lick, suck… to penetrate… to SERVE these boys' pleasure. I had not cum, but I felt a more lasting and meaningful satiation, spiritually, than I would have, had I simply spilled my seed uselessly on the ground, or even on one of their brown bodies.

I closed my eyes and imagined being with my Wishus. I would not spill my seed uselessly with him! He had drank my cum, declaring that he wanted me inside him. I would have no need to pleasure him with that wooden phallus. I would fill him with my own, and pump my sperm deep inside him…

Demetrio stirred on my right, and I felt him sit up abruptly. I opened my eyes to find him grinning from ear to ear, just staring at me, one hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His busted lip was fast healing, and he didn't even wince.

The blanket slipped from his naked form, and he sat there outlined by the glow of the rising sun. The delicacy and smallness of his form was even more clearly outlined for me. Narrow shoulders that were dwarfed by my hands, as I reached out and pulled him onto my chest. He giggled as I walked my finger tips quickly up and down his ribcage, on both sides, trilling musical notes as I did so, as if his ribs were piano keys.

Rolando moved on my other side, and he too sat up, just more slowly and gracefully, his burnished features washed by the direct rays of the sun. Lazily, his eyes still mostly closed, he raised one hand to gather the long strands of his hair that fell over his face. His lips were pursed together loosely, and I heard him breathing deeply though his nose.

His brows rose high, as if trying to draw his eyelids up, against the dead weight of sleep. With languid grace, he leaned his body over and propped himself up on one stiff arm, his hand resting on the blanket. His hair just flowed down in a stream to the blankets, as perfect and smooth as if just combed.

I followed the lines of his perfectly sculpted chest, down, down, past his little flat belly, to his pubis. His little penis was soft and propped up between his closed thights. Just a rounded half bubble of one testicle was pushed up from between his legs too.

Again I felt the stirring in my own penis, and that pent-up feeling in my own balls. It crossed my mind that I might get my release this morning, instead of waiting till tonight, at our next campsite.

Demetrio said something in Spanish to his brother. Rolando responded or rather croaked, as if his vocal chords weren't yet awake either. Matter-of-factly he translated. "He say… last night makes him very, very hungry, meester. What do we have to eat this morning?"

My cock was reaching full stand quickly, with me feeling one boy so close against my chest, and staring at the inviting little penis peeking up between the other boy's legs. What was the best way to let them know that I…

Demetrio's question must have hit a chord with Rolando, because he suddenly stretched, and started to rise, saying, "Me too… meester. Can we eat now?"

I saw his eyes wander to the saddlebags, wondering what goodies were there inside them.

I sucked my breath in raggedly, trying to steady the sexual tension I felt building within me. It seemed like I would have to wait for tonight. Oh, I could see right now, this was going to be a long day! I shook my head, and silently laughed at myself. A few days ago I would have given years of my life for but one chance to be with a boy, and now here I was anticipating my third night of sexual play with two boys!

For the umpteenth time today, Rolando swung the boys' horse off to the side a bit and briefly peered back at me through the sheer veil of his ebony tresses. It was almost a surreptitious glance, the way he did it. Or would have been, if it weren't so obvious.

He had been quiet, lost in thought throughout the whole day, and I wasn't sure he was even conscious that he looked back so often. Checking up on me. It seemed like an almost involuntary act, unthinking, a subconscious accompiment to his brooding thoughts.

His eye weren't vacant, yet they somehow did not directly focus on me. I got the impression that just seeing my form there behind them, was reassurance enough.

None of that anger or resentment that I had sensed, mistakenly, on our first day on the trail. Also none of the liveliness and easy-going companionship of yesterday.

For the umpteenth time I chuckled inwardly, wondering what he was thinking, quite certain by now that this boy was mix of emotions, attitudes, hopes… and demands… that I could not quickly fathom, or predict.

Yet, he was a boy. Was it so difficult to understand what a boy in his situation wanted and needed? This boy, in particular? Security for himself and the little brother he held in front of him on the saddle. Beyond security, some caring devotion. Love. Perhaps a father's strong arms… and a lover's.

Some semblance of security they had had, with the brute Big John. Some form of caring, of love… or need, and desire. I could not countencance the thought that a man who would beat a boy, could offer love.

Wasn't that what Rolando had sought in my blankets, the last two nights? More than the sex that he had learned to crave and yearn for. He wanted my assurance of a father's love, and more – that of HIS man.!

For the umpteenth time this day, as I dwelt on these thoughts, my pulse rose, along with my penis. I rode with a boy – two boys – who wanted to share with me all the joys that a father and his sons might know… and all the joys that only a man and his boy could know!

I felt that Rolando and I had reached an understanding last night, and I no longer feared his advances. This evening could not come soon enough for me.

I stood tall over my blankets, dropped my longjohns in a heap atop my saddle, and stretched up to the sky. Naked as a jay-bird. The cool evening air was like a tonic, revitalizing my weary muscles.

Watching the boys strip right alongside me did wonders for the muscle between my legs, too! My arms were stretched up, my fingers were reaching for the wispy cluds, but my penis jutted straight out, so hard and long that my foreskin had pulled all the way back from my glans, without me even touching it.

My eyes were the only other part of my anatomy not straining upwards. No way I would exchange heavenly vistas for boy bodies!

It was a dry camp tonight, with no chance to explore Demetrio's little body while washing him, so I rushed through supper, scoured the dishes clean, and suggested we all hit the blankets early.

Thank goodness Rolando carried their blankets over next to mine, on either side of me, just like the night before.

"Your mama said we have to touch bare skin, to keep warm – so bare skin it is, boys!" I joked as I quickly stripped.

Oh, I was already hard, but seeing both boys start to toss their clothes aside, revealing more and more of their sweet, smooth flesh, must have added another inch to my seven inch [18 cm] shaft!

The tip of my glans was already wet with precum. God, I wanted these boys bad! Which first?! Should I just go ahead and lead, or should I let Rolando set the pace as he had the two previous nights?

I gulped and gasped audibly, feeling feverish and tense, as I brought my arms down and stood watching as two little brown dicks flopped into view. I just had to have little Demetrio's cocklet in my mouth again, and then Rolando's too! I wanted to make both boys sing out their pleasure, and if Rolando wanted help again with the wooden phallus, I knew exactly how he liked it now. Then… oh, I didn't care how it happened, just so it did… dare I ask Rolando to suck me? Or could I get little Metrio to wrap both of his diminutive hands around my shaft and pump me? It didn't matter, so long as I could cum!

"You look ready for a boy, meester," Rolando said, as if reading my mind.

"Yes! And I have two…" I started to respond, too hastily, in a voice already rasping and hoarse with my lust.

"Your dick wants your boy, no?" Rolando continued.

"Oh yes!" I smiled. The thought of Wishus did nothing to curb my anticipation. Would that I could make love with him tonight, but offering up my love for these boys, wasn't I paying homage to MY boy!?

I felt no guilt in that thought. I was beyond all that now. My seed was for Wishus. Only he would ever receive my seed. Until then, I would gladly, freely, openly worship at the altar of BOY!

You've read one too many classical authors, Teglin, I chided myself – but none too harshly. This was truly the way I felt about Wishus and these two boys with me now.

"Yes, Rolando," I looked into his upraised eyes, and smiled seeing that same far away look there, just as he had seemed to peer beyond me time and again all day. So, this was what he had been ruminating about! My dear Wishus! Me. Wishus. A man, his boy. "My dick definitely wants my boy, Rolando. It definitely wants Wishus."

I wondered if he wanted to hear more about my love. "You want me to… aaaaaahhhhhhhh!"

Even as I spoke, I saw his eyes narrow suddenly, and focus. His lips were pursed, still reflecting his deep thought. Purposefully, almost reverently, he slowly lowered his gaze and reached out with both his hands to gently cup my long, heavy shaft! The shock of his tender touch, on the sensitive underside of my penis, made me weak at my knees. I involuntarily reached out and placed one hand on each boy's shoulder, to steady myself.

I gaped down at my jutting cock in awe. It was one of the most erotic images I could ever have imagined! Demetrio, seeing his brother gently hefting my shaft, reached out with both his hands, likewise! All four of their little hands, side by side beneath my tool, did not span it's length! My blood swollen glans, bared, almost flaming red, with a nearly transparent drop of pre-cum forming at the slit of my urethra, dwarfed little Metrio's hands.

Their bronzed brown flesh formed a bed on which my white shaft rested, pulsating, alive. They held me lightly, fingers at one moment outstretched, then so softly, with a feather touch, I could feel all twenty of their little finger tips underneath me. I swear I could feel the lines in their palms, with each tiny motion of their hands. They held me tenderly, lovingly, as if offering up a treasure to the gods.

"Whhhhhhhhhhhhh…" I drew in my breath tensely, as Rolando suddenly removed his left hand and brought the tip of his index finger to the slit in the end of my dickhead. He let the clear fluid there slide onto his finger, then pressed his thumb to it and started slowly sliding it around.

"This is… only for Wishus, meester?" he said softly. His voice was not flutelike, as was that of Wishus, but sweet, with the quality of a far away bell, high, melodious. "That's what you said. You will only fuck your boy, Wishus."

"Yes," I managed a whisper, hardly yet allowing myself to breathe.

"You love him so much." It was a statement, not a question, but I answered anyway. I must breathe now, to answer that statement!

"Yes!" Oh, the power of a boy, that he had me standing at attention before him, to bear witness to the power of another boy over me!

Rolando paused for what seemed like minutes, staring at his fingers where he still swirled my cum between his fingers. Demetrio stood silently, as always following his big brother's lead.

When Rolando looked up, I saw small tears trickling so slowly down from his eyes.

"Hold me, meester?" He broke the silence, but just barely.

"Of course.." I uttered, as he gently, so softly wrapped both his hands around my penis and started to pull me down to the blankets with him.

I would have been shocked and dismayed by his tears, but I sensed in his look that he wasn't sad! Was it… relief… that I saw there in his eyes?

He released his hold on my penis, and grasped my left arm just as softly, resting his head against it even before we could crouch all the way to the ground. I saw that Demetrio was standing still, looking at us with some bewilderment. I quickly fumbled with the blankets to make sure I could draw them over us all, then reached out to pull Demetrio to my other side.

In mere seconds, I had both boys lying beside me again. They both snuggled close in to me, under the warm blankets, and squirmed into comfortable positions.

I felt the warmth of Rolando's tears on my arm, but he seemed so calm. He sniffled a bit.

'What you do with us, meester?" he finally whispered. There was no hint of fear, or worry in his tone. He was just… asking.

Trust, I thought. I had gained this boy's trust.

I knew he wasn't talking about tonight. This wasn't about sex, this evening. He wanted the bigger picture. "I'm going to find a home for you, Rolando, where you both will have all you need. Everything from an education, to food, clothing… and… someone who loves you."

"But not like you love… Wishus, huh meester?"

"I… I don't know… about that, Rolando…"

"You will not keep us with you?"

"I will keep you with me, if we do not find a better home for you," I said, and I meant it. I already had some ideas on this. My friend in Elizabethtown had a good home and would be a wonderful father to these boys. He would have none of the prejudice against Mexicans, that some would. If that did not work, I could call on my parents, back East.

There was another long silence.

"You like me, meester?"

"Of course, I like you, Rolando."

"You know where I came from… what I did with Big John, just to…"

"None of that matters, Rolando. No, no! Yes, it really does matter, actually. I admire you all the more, son, for doing what you… had to do, to take care of Demetrio…"

"But I… what about the other, meester… you know… I wanted… I needed what Big John gave me…"

How could I tell him what that meant to me, as a boylover?

"It makes…" I started to deny once again that it mattered to me. Once again I had to catch myself, because it did matter very much to me.

"Rolando… how do I say this… did you ever… When you made love with Big John… did you ever hurt anyone by it?"

"No."

"How did it make you feel, to have him… inside you?"

He didn't answer immediately, but I felt an added pressure on my arm, as his emotion made him tighten his grip on me. "From the very first time, meester," he began solemnly, speaking every word very clearly, "I wanted it. I never felt so… complete… so good, and right… as when he fuck me. I didn't love Big John, but when he fuck me I wanted to love him. I did want to love him! What he gave me then, I wanted to…"

He fell silent, as I felt his whole body shiver. He held me now tightly, and pressed his cheek into my arm.

Finally, he continued. "But… I am a boy. Wasn't it wrong for me to be his… woman? To dress like his girl? To be his cunt?"

For the second time in less than a week, I struggled to find the words to tell a boy that what he felt was different than what some others would feel, yes, but what he felt was a positive good.

"Rolando… for all time, as far back as we have records of it, there have been boys… perhaps most boys, certainly SPECIAL boys, who need a… special man. Just for them. A man they can share everything with… didn't you feel like that , when Big John was inside you…"

"Yes! I wanted so much to give him… but…"

"Big John was not the right man for you, Rolando. No, I… I can't say if you will find your man… but I do know you were only doing, only feeling, the best within you, son. I believe you are a very lucky boy to have these feelings. You were not Big John's woman. You wanted to give him more, but he was unworthy of what you could have given. You wanted to be his lover, HIS BOY."

I stopped, wondering if I had said it right for him, hoping, wishing that I could express in words just how wonderful it could be for a boy to find his man, for a man to find his boy. Did he understand? I closed my eyes in prayer, that he would.

Then I felt his answer. He had understood! He lifted his cheek from my arm momentarily, and I felt his lips press softly there, just briefly, before he turned his head back again to rest against my arm.

Tears again. Mine this time. He had kissed me in the same spot that Wishus had kissed me out in the meadow, where we played base ball. Another moment in time, when I could tell myself confidently, 'you done good, Teglin.'

His breathing became so regular, and the silence went on so long, that I thought Rolando had joined his little brother in sleep. At some point, I realized that through it all, through the questions and the tears, I had remained hard! I had not orgasmed, and now I knew I would not this night, yet I felt so good, satisfied. I was a man, and had done good for a boy. Two boys. Three boys! Your job for tonight is finished, Teglin, I thought, and just as quickly I felt my erection begin to subside.

"Meester…?" Rolando broke the silence again, now sounding a bit drowsy.

"Ye… yes, Rolan?"

"Meester, tomorrow you cut my hair."

"Uh… alright… son, I will do that," and as I wondered about it, it suddenly seemed so right. Of course, he wanted it cut. No longer Big John's girl. Just Rolando, the boy.

"You get me boy clothes too?"

I chuckled softly, "Yes sweetie. Tomorrow you get clothes for the wonderful, beautiful, special boy that you are."

"You make me very happy, Meester," Rolando said out of the blue, as he slowly scrubbed lather into his now much shorter hair. What a sight he was, both his arms up high, and he still had that habit of lifting up on his tippy-toes occasionally, as he washed! Standing just a couple of feet away, helping him bathe, was like a dream. I looked down, from his soapy head to his water-slicked chest and tummy, following the water trail as it funnelled naturally into his pubis, and trickled like a tiny little waterfall off the tip of his little brown cocklet!

I almost answered, 'you make me very happy too! Just letting me stand here ladling warm water over your perfect body!'

Instead, I scooped more water from the bucket sitting by the fire, and slowly trickled it over his head, helping him rinse the lather from his hair and eyes. "Why is that, Rolan?" I asked simply. I glanced over at Demetrio, who had already taken his shower bath, and was sun-drying, swinging his legs idly from his perch on the bole of a fallen tree, just a few feet away.

We were less than a day out of Elizabethtown, and I wanted the boys to look their best when Bill Sanders first saw them. Not that Rolando could ever look other than gorgeous, no matter how long since his last bath, what he wore, how short he cut his hair, or any other possible variation on boy-god.

"You're still hard, meester! You are still hard, and… I cut my hair, I wear boy clothes, and you… you still want me, don't you!"

So he did notice! I thought to myself wryly. Three days without sex, after he taught me to expect it the first two nights, and I was beginning to wonder if I had not been obvious enough! Strutting around, with Little Teglin rising to every occasion. Every occasion including when Rolando so much as breathed!

"I want you more than ever, sweetie! You didn't doubt your beauty just because you cut your hair, did you?"

"Mama make me grow my hair long. She knew how to make a man want…"

"Uh… Rolando?" I interrupted him. "Let me tell you something. You're mama was no doubt a wonderful woman, but she was a woman! I'll wager it takes a man, or perhaps another boy, to appreciate the true beauty of a boy! You have never looked better, and your pants… well, your pants let every man see all of your charms! That dress just covered you up. No one will mistake you for a girl now, for sure!"

"Thank you, meester…," he said softly, and looked up at me, canting his head up almost sheepishly. He smiled tentatively, almost speculatively, and once again, just like the evening, three nights ago, when he brought out the wooden phallus, and showed his need for it, his brow pursed a bit. His eyes narrowed a bit, and I saw his chest start to rise more quickly with something building inside him.

"Meester, I see you been hard for three days, and you did not even jack off at night, did you?" He knew the answer, since he and Demetrio had been with me twenty-four hours a day, and we had slept each night in each others arms. Having had my own shower bath, I too was naked, and of course my tool was standing out erect from my body.

"No, I was just…"

"You were just waiting for me. You want me, but you did not take me. You give me time."

I poured the rest of the warm water over his head, slowly. He blinked, but did not lower his eyes. There was desire there, but none of the calculation. We both knew where we stood with each other, now.

He grinned more broadly, but with a seductive tilt of his head. Suddenly he reached out, as I lowered the ladle, and with both hands took the ladle from me, and dropped it to the ground. He pulled my hand down, down, making me stoop. My brow furrowed, as I sought his eyes, to figure out his intentions, then I looked down where he was pulling my hand. To his little penis! Now erect!

He said something to Demetrio in Spanish, something, something 'aqui', at the very instant he placed my fingers on his dick. I did sense Demetrio jumping off the log, but didn't take my eyes of my prize!

It was hot! Even wet, I felt his blood pumping into his little three-inch [7½ cm] long tool. I gently pulled the foreskin back, revealing his engorged glans, almost purplish against the rich brown of his skin. I started to bend my knees, I wanted his dick in my mouth, finally! Once again!

"Oh no!" he admonished me, as he reached out and forcefully took hold of my own jutting penis! Using it like a handle, he made me stand again, and giggled. "You just stand there, Meester." He ordered.

He was like a whirlwind, all of a sudden, when he let go of my prick. Quickly he dried himself with the old dress, that we had all been using as a towel. I watched in delight as he twirled and twisted and bent, giving me glimpses of his dark brown anus when his buttocks parted a bit, of his sleek, long legs, when he ran the cloth down each of them. I felt I might cum just watching him. Even in his haste, every motion of his hands and fingers, every pose he took, was naturally fluid and graceful. Once again I wanted a painter, to capture his lines for all time!

His long hair had always lent him an aura of mystery, as it fell this way or that, ever veiling one part of his body or another, always hinting, allowing glimpses only, of hidden treasures that one could only know by becoming his lover. Now that those luxuriant tresses were shorn, I regretted their loss, the loss of that seductive allure which had been a constant source of excitement and arousal. Nevertheless, my arousal was hardly less constant now that he wore his hair like Demetrio's, just falling long enough to cover his ears and midway down his neck.. How could I be any less aroused, when now I could see every nuance of his graceful motion? Now that I was granted the right to see what before only his lover could.

He hastily dried his hair, then threw the dress aside and looked up at me again, smiling coyly, and took a step closer.

"You have been very, very patient, Meester. I think you need a reward for that."

With that, he reached for my cock again. This time he used it to pull me along with him. I followed willingly, as he drew me bodily to where our blankets were already spread.

He stopped, facing me, and briefly played with my dick, cooing all the while, like he had a new toy . He tilted his head to the side, and pursed his lips, as if throwing my dickhead a kiss.

I had held back so long that his touch had me close already. My breath was already starting to come raggedly, but I stood as still as I could, letting Rolando control my every move.

Again he wrapped his fingers firmly around the shaft, below the glans, but this time he pulled me down. I followed like his willing slave, mirroring his motions as he first knelt to one knee, then both.

His tongue protruded from his lips, and he slowly wet them, then with his eyes glued to my penis, he scootched close to me, and sat back on his ankles. He leaned forward. Without further ceremony, he opened his mouth wide and took in the tip of my penis between his lips. The warm, moist touch of his lips, and his pointed tongue already probing my slit, made me feel feint. He moaned, "mmmmm", savoring my taste. I watched through hooded eyes, as he slowly leaned in more and let my whole dickhead glide all the way into his mouth.

His tongue roamed all over my glans, one moment pointed, pressing in, the next flat, and slippery with his saliva. With his lips forming a tight ring, just behind the rim of my glans, he started teasing me with his tongue, slipping it here and there between his tight lips and my tumescent flesh. It felt so delicious! Each separate lick along my shaft was evidence of Rolando's courtesan-like skills. His mother must have schooled him well! Instead of one overwhelming buildup of sensation in my dick, I was treated to stabs of ecstacy, first along one side of my shaft, then another, then below, directly on my frenum!

Rolando did not pump me at all, he made no jacking motion with his hands, still wrapped around my shaft. There was no need! By the third, firm, probing lick of my frenum I could hold back no longer, and cried out, throwing my head back, bucking my mid-section towards him, driving my shaft deep into his mouth. As I felt my glans flatten against his throat, my testicles seemed to spasm up into me, and my cum started spurting into him!

I fell forward a bid, as if whiplashed, and steadied myself with my hands on his back, holding him to me. I felt him gag, as my cum spurted again, and again, so I loosenedd my hold and let him start to back away. He drew back, and let my penis slide free of his mouth, but then used his hands to direct my still spurting cum onto his face.

It was the most lascivious sight in all my experince, a wanton display of his desire to please me, as he let my semen splatter his nose, his cheeks, and chin. Dribbles of cum overflowed from his mouth. He wasn't swallowing it. He looked up at me and grinned, then put his right hand to his mouth, and pushed all my cum out into his palm.

"Demetrio, mismo!" he ordered.

My other little boy had evidently been a silent, and patient witness to the sucking. I now realized he was standing close, as he held out the wooden phallus.

"Can I, meester?" Rolando asked me, as he took the phallus and motioned his hand filled with my sperm towards the shaft of the wooden dick. It already looked slick with the cream that Demetrio must have applied to it, so it was not the lubricating effect of my cum that Rolando wanted.

"I… Rolan…!" I stammered, wanting so much to give in to this boy's every desire, but even in my fevered state, I knew that he wanted now to fuck himself again, with my sperm lubricating his fake phallus. Even if he could not have me inside him, did he so desperately want my seed? But… that was for Wishus, and Wishus alone!

He saw the reluctance, the shock, in my expression, "Ahh, I see, meester. This is truly only for your boy, huh?" he smiled, not in the least upset with my reaction. "You mean what you say, don't you, meester. You tell the truth."

"Rolan… I…," still dumbstruck, I just could not work my way through this maze. Was there such depth to this boy's every action? In truth, he was right. In truth, I did mean it when I said my seed was only for Wishus. In truth, I did mean it when I said I would take care of Rolando and Demetrio.

This twelve year old boy had the power to carry me to heights where I could soar, he uplifted me bodily and spiritually. He was so much more than a trained prostitute. More than a skilled courtesan. So much more even than a boy in need.

"What… are you…?" I asked him aloud, letting my thoughts surface.

He seemed to understand, not even hesitating in his answer. "Just a boy, meester. You take care of me and Metrio. We trust you, now. Completely."

He smiled at me again, then lowered his hand to the edge of the blanket and wiped my cum there. Then he reached up to his face, and started wiping the dripping cum away there too. I reached out to his cheek, and helped him.

"I need love too, meester," he said next, lifting the long wooden phallus up. His smiled softened, as he focussed on the instrument. "You give me one kind of love, and I will find the other. But for now, you help me again, meester. It's been three long days for me too. I need to feel… this… inside me, again!"

"Do you… miss… Big John… Rolando?" I asked stupidly.

"No. I want this in me because I need it. I have to have it, meester. There's someone out there for me, meester. You will help me find him, I know you will. This will be him, someday! Now, hurry, please!" He leaned forward on the blanket, resting his free hand on it, propping himself up, lifting his butt up, and held the phallus back along his side. He waved it urgently, impatiently.

I regained my senses, and hastened to reposition myself, crawling quickly to kneel behind his uprasied buttocks now. I took the phallus from him, without even looking at it. My eyes were glued to his bared and open buttocks, with the smooth, lighter colored brown of his crack running down to the darkened ring of his anus.

I felt my on penis harden again, bare moments after coming. The sight of Rolando, in this position, with both his hands on the blanket now, his back parallel to the ground, his head hanging down and waving from side to side in his urgencly, made me flush with the desire to please him now, to service him. I felt the adrenalin flowing within me.

"Quickly now!" he called back to me. I could hear the desperation in his pleading tone, the need.

"Which… which way, Rolan," I asked, still so naive about how to use the instrument to his greatest pleasure.

"Like you are fucking me, mister! Put it in quick. I'm ready for it! I want to feel him all the way in me! Deep in me. Now!"

I positioned the head of the wooden penis to Rolando's anus quickly, and noticed how his own little penis hung down between his legs limply, dangling in time with his balls, with his every motion. He must have been so centered in his desire to be penetrated that he had lost his erection. I pushed in immediately, obeying his command.

I felt him pushing back, and the wooden glans glided inside the boy easily. His back stiffened and his head raised. I heard him gasp for breath, then hold it in. I paused, thinking to let him get used to the sensation, but in quick, breathy gasps, he commanded me to "Push. Push! Push!"

With both my hands on the huge balls of the phallus, I pushed in deeper, feeling only light resistance as Rolando's passageway accepted the intruder. He moaned, as the dick penetrated to his special spot. Would Wishus have that special spot? I wondered.

Deeper and deeper, I pushed, till fully six or seven inches [15-18 cm] of the ten-inch [30 cm] phallus were inside the boy. The resistance seemed to grow suddenly, so I stopped. The silence, and stillness, was utter and complete. Demetrio stood stock still in front of Rolando. I kneeled behind him, entranced by the thought of the carved glans of the mighty phallus buried deep within the willing boy's bowels. He was motionless for an instant. I couldn't even hear him breathe.

"Fuck me," he whispered, a rasping plea. I saw that his arms were rigid, and that he had grasped the blanket with his fists. His knuckles were white with the tension. "Fuck me!" he pleaded, louder.

I swallowed, realizing that I had frozen in position too, awaiting his reaction. Starting slowly, I pulled the phallus out a couple of inches, watching as the rim of his anus, which had slipped inward, along with the penetration of the phallus, now pulled out. Even through the dark, bronzed complexion of his skin, I could see that his anus was reddening, straining to grasp the full circumference the tool, straining to pull it back inside him, even as I pulled it out. Then, I pushed.

"Oh, yeessssss!" he moaned. He again tried to push back as I pushed the phallus in, but now the phallus within him was in control, and his body lurched forward with it as I buried it again, almost seven inches [18 cm] deep within him.

"Faster, meester!" he pleaded.

So I quickened my pace, first withdrawing, then pushing the shaft in again, out, in, out, in. Feeling his whole body surrender to the pistoning action, I unconsciously started pumping my body too. I was kneeling still, but erect from the knees up. My dick was ramrod stiff. It had to be! It mimmicked the virility of the perpetually hard wooden tool.

I thrilled to every moan and gasp that Rolando uttered, as I helped him regain the feeling that he obviously did not want to live without. I was filling him, driving the phallus into him. His man, vicariously, symbolically. I started to imagine doing this for real, with my Wishus. Replacing the wooden tool with my own flesh, driving into him, hearing his moans and gasps of pleasure, of want, of need!

I released one hand from the phallus, and hooked it around Rolando's hip, helping to pull his weakening body back with each stroke of the fucking. It was Wishus' hot flesh, that I felt! The tips of my fingers came into contact with Rolando's dangling penis. It was Wishus' penis that I started to stroke, pulling it, carressing it, making it harden too! I began to jack him off, timing each stroke with the plunging of my phallus deep into him! He uttered a strangled, almost piteous, cry of overwhelming ecstasy.

His cry released my love in full measure. I knew he wanted me to fill him with my seed. I felt my phallus pumping, pumping, within him. Even as I came deep inside him, I felt his body suddenly tense rigidly, forcing me to stop fucking into him as the sensations exploded within him, and he cried out now full-throated, screaming his joy for all to hear.

Almost by itself, I felt the wooden phallus start to withdraw from its sheath, so I eased it out, lovingly, carefully, now holding Rolando up with my other hand. He might have feinted in his orgasm, from all I could tell. His arms had collapsed, and his head lolled limply on the blankets, his glistening black hair hiding his face from me.

His anus remained open, spasming slightly, as if feeling a sudden void within, and wanting the phallus back within him. I noticed droplets of cum on his buttocks, and looked down in amaze at my own now softening penis. Semen dangled from my glans. Had I cum too? Had the mere thought of making love with my own Wishus made me cum too?

As I lowered Rolando lovingly and gently to the blankets, I closed my eyes, and imagined my dear Wishus. Oh, if only he could feel my love, right now.

Wishus sat back against the sun-warmed rock wall of his Tower, and released his raw and tingling penis. He laughed. It was the third time today he had jacked off. He found himself playing with his peepee all the time now, ever since he had discovered that he could pull his foreskin back from his bulbous glans.

Nothing felt so good to him as those moments when he felt the electrifying tension building up within him, centered around his peepee and his little balls, but seemingly everywhere, all at once! It was his one source of pleasure now, releasing him momentarily from the constant longing he felt for Teg to return. He endured each day stoically. There was plenty of food so far, so he wasn't hungry. The weather was good, so he had not been cold. But he wondered if a boy could die of loneliness.

Only when he jacked off, like Teg had taught him, did he feel ok. For a while. At those moments of intense sensations, he could imagine Teg with him so close, touching him, kissing him. Oh, just being WITH him!

So his hand wandered often to his penis. Today, he was feeling especially… naughty… experimental. Most times he jacked off, he probed his anus with his other hand, but today he had suddenly thought… what if he could put something else, besides his finger in there?! Would it feel better, if it were bigger… longer?

He looked down beside him, and idly fingered his collection of possible finger substitutes. He hadn't had the courage to actually use one yet, but he wanted to! If it felt so good to have his finger in there, rubbing, and pumping in and out, why wouldn't it feel even better with this smooth, hardened corn cob he had fetched from the cellar? Or the brush handle?

He picked up the brush and began polishing its smooth ivory handle idly, with the fabric of his nightgown. It was certainly longer than his finger. And certainly bigger around! Twice as big around. Would it even fit inside him? It was smooth, and the end was rounded. About six inches [15 cm] long? Hey, just a little shorter than Teg's peepee, when it got all hard and long!

Wishus stopped polishing, and just stared at the brush handle, feeling suddenly all tingly inside again, but this time in his chest. His breath suddenly came faster, and he felt a flush rise to redden his cheeks. It was smaller than Teg's peepee, but not that much. If he could get the brush handle inside him when he jacked off, what about…?

But… but… would Teg put his thing there? What if… what if he could lay back now, and… what if Teg crawled over him and… he raised his legs and…

Wishus closed his eyes, imagining such a moment. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Why couldn't it happen, now! All he wanted was for Teg to be here now! If he were here, would he… do it?

Wishus lay down on the on the warm porch of his Shaman's Tower, and pulled his night gown up to his waist. He rolled his hips, giving himself access to his butt, and cautiously slid the smooth end of the brush handle along his butt crack. It was slightly cold, at least cooler than his flesh, but felt good. As he positioned the tip right on his anus, and lifted the handle, to hold it straight out from his hole, his other hand sought his once again erect penis.

He closed his eyes, starting his now familiar ritual, pulling his foreskin back off his glans, then letting it slide back, just the beginning of that feeling that he knew would build in his peepee. It was Teg's hand he always imagined there. He would show Teg his newfound glans, and let Teg slide the soft skin back and forth over it. Teg would know when to start making the motion more rhythmic, longer, rubbing his entire peepee. Would Teg put his big peepee back there? Would he push in?

Wishus slowly rotated the handle of the brush, just pushing in slightly, imagining Teg hovering over him. Wondering, dreaming… would this be something Teg would do for him? He had been planning to tell Teg about using his finger there, and how good it felt, but now… was it possible, what he was thinking about now? Would Teg do this for him…?

Wishus allowed himself to dream it. As the tip of the brush handle pushed just inside his tightly stretched anal ring, he sighed, loving the feeling. It was Teg over him now, it was Teg gently fingering his glans, and it WAS Teg… filling him…

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