Dorvis Slaughter

I'll Do Anything for You

Three short stories

#1

Okay, it started out rather simple. It was in the central concourse of a shopping mall in Chicago, full of suburbanites trying like hell to get their Christmas shopping done before it was too late. And this guy, this teenager, was sitting on a cracked-leather bench next to a fountain. The fountain had this sort of statue like thing, but no one in the twenty years of the mall's existance could tell what it was supposed to be; instead they just saw a big blob of metal, with a plaque underneath that read 'The Promise of Summer'. Oh, well.

Anyway, this teenager was sitting on the bench looking toward the health food store that marked the entrance to Concourse D. He had seen a few boys that had taken his fancy, but nothing worth even remotely persuing. He was a bit, oh, tense? Hell, we're all boy-lovers here, man, so I can say without a moment's hesitiation that this kid was horny has hell. Oh, by the way, this kid's name was Jon and he was 16. I know. Usually characters in stories like this have these really cool, exotic names like 'Thane' or 'Joaquin' or some shit like that, but trust me, I know this story, and the guy's name is Jon. Anyway… shit… lost my train of thought…

… fuck…

Oh! Yeah… okay, anyway he's sitting on this bench scoping out mall boys. Now, Jon had decided a few days ago that he would find a boy before Christmas. By this time, Christmas was a few days away, and Jon was beginning to lose hope, thinking that he'd be wacking off all his life and that he'd never find the boy for him, etc., etc., thoughts we've all had at one time or another. I mean, Jon was sixteen. His hormones were raging at this point in his life. He only admitted to himself that he liked boys one year before, I mean, it wasn't very easy for this poor guy. But he took it slowly, one day at a time, to be cliched, and things seemed to be at a state of homeostasis, if not perfection. He wasn't getting laid, but his balls weren't exploding either .

Anyway, as I was saying, he hadn't seen any boys worth persuing (okay, I know, all boys are worth persuing, but you have to be careful and selective when it comes to shit like this, you know that as well as I do), but as it turned out, the perfect boy, a boy that Jon had only dreamed about, quite literally, fell in his lap. You should have seen it. I was really charming.

Okay, this boy, right? He was not quite pubescent, so he could have been oh, 12-13. I would have put it there. He had the essentials of mid-90's boydress, you know, the backwards cap and sneakers, baggy jeans, and so on and so on. But, and this is a very big but, he was emulating someone or some group, I don't know, but he was being fashionable (to his little mind, anyway) by – get this – leaving his shoelaces undone. I mean, hello! Shoelaces undone. In a mall. Come on.

So, and I know you've guess this little plot point by now, the boy tripped. I don't know if someone stepped on his undone shoelaces, or if he tripped over himself, I don't know. And it really doesn't matter. What does matter is that he fell, like I said, right into Jon's lap. However, on his way down, his shoulder clipped the support beam and it must have hurt him, 'cause he made this sort of strangled pain sound on his way down.

Now, Jon didn't see the kid before he had him in his lap. And when this blurred body just landed there, he screamed and sort of jumped. At first, Jon was pissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he said, not yelling, but well past the point of stern.

It was then that the boy looked up.

Oh, god. Just telling you about this boy gets me all worked up. Okay. The kid's hair was dark, dark brown. In low light, it would look black, but in the sunlight streaming through the requisite 70's mall-design skylights, the brown sheen was quite visible, with a few highlights of red here and there. And, how this happened I'll never know, the kid had bright blue eyes (but all boys in these stories have blue eyes, I know, but Jesus, bear with me). Clear blue eyes, just like Paul Newman. The boy's face was satin-smooth with a small, pug nose and thin but very red lips.

The boy looked at Jon, and still grimacing with the pain that was bursting from his shoulder and said, in that sort of forced whisper one gets when talking over pain, "… sorry…" He must have saw the expression on Jon's face change, cause he sort of panicked and said, "Hey, are you okay?"

It hadn't occured to Jon what kind of situation he had on his hands until the kid looked up at him, and the boy's face, oh god, such a perfect face, the face sent an alarm through him, something that stirred him like never before. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled crack. It was really funny, you should have heard it. Jon just stared into the boy's eyes, his mind racing with a million questions, scenarios, things to say. But all that came to a stop when he saw the blood on the boy's shirt.

"Jesus!" Jon said, with a tone the boy couldn't read. It scared him. He grimaced and backed away. Tears began to well up.

"I… I'm sorry… really…" the boy stammered, like Jon, not sure of what to do.

"No, jesus, it's okay, but… you're bleeding!"

"Huh?"

Jon's last statement caught the boy by surprise. He hadn't expected it. The boy still couldn't quit assess the situation. "Bleeding?"

Now, Jon was freaking out right now. This boy was hurt. Jesus, a hurt boy! He hated to see anyone hurt, but, dammit, a boy! "Yeah, uh…" Jon pointed on the patch on the boy's shirt where the blood was seeping through the white cloth. "You know, bleeding…"

The boy looked at his shirt, and as with most injuries, it wasn't felt until it was seen. The boy placed a small hand on the patch. "Owwwwwww…" Tears began to well up again.

"Come on, " Jon said, taking the boy by the shoulder. Let's find a bathroom. We can clean it up."

"O-okay," the boy stuttered.

Jon stopped by the mall's first aid and picked up a band-aid. He' left the boy out side the first aid room and told the little Asian woman behind the counter that it was for him, so he could be sure that it was he and only he who would attend to the little work of art that fell, injured, into his lap. This is too fucking weird, he thought. Then he smiled. Weird, but nice.

Jon took the boy and together they found the little restroom corridor at the end of the concourse. A few mall-walkers had looked with fleeting interest at the boy's bleeding shoulder, but as soon as concern came, it passed, and they went on to shop and do whatever the hell it is that mall-walkers do. Jon pushed the men's room door open end entered the betiled and fluorescent cube of toilets and sinks. "Get up on that." With that Jon was telling the boy to sit on the flat-topped trash can, and the boy obeyed, without question. "Take your shirt off."

Jon's thoughts were racing again. oh god I hope this works I'll feel it I'll actually get to feel his chest oh god I hope I don't get hard jesus I hope he's not really all that hurt fuck he's beautiful his eyes are so damn blue my god I can touch his chest jesus

The boy untheatrically stripped off his T-shirt. To Jon, of course, everything was in loving slo-mo, and he saw the boy's tiny belly button appear, the outline of his ribs, his small pink nipples, his deep and hairless armpits, the small and thank god oh fuck yeah thank you god minor cut on the right shoulder. The shirt came up over the boy's head, the elastic neck band ruffling his hair.

"How is it?" Jon asked the kid, trying to keep his voice straight and unbreaking.

"How's what?" The boy didn't seem to be in much pain now. He seemed… oh what is it, Jon thought… he seemed… curious? Was that it? Jesus no that's your imagination Jon fuck think about it god get your dick out of your brain

"The cut…"

"Oh… uh, okay, I guess." The boy examined it nonchalantly. "Yeah, I guess it's okay."

Jon took some paper towel from the dispenser, got it wet under the faucet, and began to lightly wipe away the blood with his right hand. He placed his left hand on the boy's side, slowly, slowly bringing it up, sensing the smoothness of it, the silkiness of the preadolescent skin. The entire time, the boy looked at Jon's face, which was a mixture of determination and something else…

"So what's your name?" the boy asked.

"Huh?"

"What's your name?"

"Oh, it's Jon."

"Jon what?" The boy blinked, one, two, three times. Jon almost swooned.

"Um… Jon. Jon…"

"Goodman?" The boy giggled.

"Oh god, no!" Jon laughed, too. Captured by this boyish humor. "Jon Kwiatkowski."

"Kwiat… ?"

"… kowski."

"Polish, huh?"

"Yep. What's your name?" With this, Jon placed the bandage over the tiny cut. There'd be a bruise there in the morning.

"Tommy."

"Tom what?"

"Waits."

Jon did a double take on this one. "Waits? Your name is Tom Waits."

"Yeah… what?" The boy obviously did not get the coincidence.

Jon began to laugh. "Do you know who Tom Waits is?"

"Uh-uh."

"Well, he's a, um…" Jesus, Jon thought. Just what the hell is Tom Waits? "I guess he's like a singer."

The boy showed genuine interest in this, knowing that there was a singer out there that shared his name. "Is he cool?"

"Yeah," Jon said, still giggling at the thought of him with Tom Waits shirtless on a garbage can in the mall. "He's really cool."

What came out of the boy's mouth next amost sent Jon Kwiatkowski crashing through the bathroom wall out into the mall concourse. The boy sighed and said, "Hey, can I have a lift home?"

"WHAT?… ahem, what?"

"I need a ride home. Do you have a car?"

Jon's mouth became just the slightest bit dryer. "Yeah I do. Sure, yeah. How… how did you get here, though?"

"Bus."

"Oh."

Jon, for one of the first times in his life, didn't know what the fuck to say. He looked at the kid, who was putting his shirt back on, and stood agape. Tommy finally noticed this, sort of giggled and said, "What?"

"Um… you wanna go?"

"Yeap, sure."

Tommy jumped down off the garbage can and was on his way out the door before Jon even thought to move. The boy turned around. "You coming?"

Jon looked at him. "What?"

"Are… you… com… ing… ?" He pronouned every syllable and giggled.

"Yeah! Oh, yeah… fuck… I'm sorry. Oh, I didn't mean to say that."

"Say what?"

"The f-word. Sorry. I'm not used to being around kids."

The boy smiled, a full smile that lit up his whole face. Jon sighed. Tommy walked up to the almost panting teenager and said, "Why the fuck not?" And burst into laughter. Jon laughed with him, and they left, piling into Jon's admittedly shitty Vega. The music startled both of them when Jon turned on the car. Jon's hand shot out and flicked the volume knob, deadening the guitar wail of the new Soundgarden, a tape that Jon just couldn't get enough of. "Sorry," Jon giggled, a little embarassed. "It's hard to hear when the muffler really gets going."

The boy shrugged. "Oh, it's okay, I like Soundgarden."

"Oh… you know them?"

"Oh yeah, they're great."

I don't fucking believe this. This boy is perfect. His is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. He loves Soundgarden. I'm going to die tonight, I know it. This can only be the bliss before I go straight to hell…

"So where you live?" Jon asked the boy, who was perusing the tape case that was on the floor.

"You know where the Trumbo Theatre is?"

"Yeah, sure."

"By that. On Farcia Street."

"Oh, okay, I know where that is."

They didn't say much on the way to the boy's house (and besides, you want to get to the inevitable good stuff as much as I do).

Tommy pointed. "There. That one."

"Okay." Jon pulled in the driveway and parked the Vega. He did not want to see this boy, this fucking masterpiece go in. That's when the boy opened his sweet lips and uttered the magic words…

"You wanna come in for a Coke?"

"Yes," Jon said, without hesitation and with extreme finality. Jon had jumped on that one.

The house was a typical mid-60's one-floor ranch, nothing spectacular. It smelled of simmering potpourri and dried flowers. "Smells nice in here," Jon observed, genuinely fond of nice smells.

"Yeah, I guess. My mom burns that shit."

Jon was a bit surprised at this kid's language. He figured he shouldn't be all that shocked, but perhaps it was his Catholic upbringing…

"No, really, it's nice."

"Yeah."

Tommy went into the kitchen, grabbed two Cokes, popped them open and gave one to Jon. Jon was aware of a strange quiet throughout the house. "Where is everyone?"

"Work."

"Is it just you?" Jon said this nonchalantly. It was just a part of the every-day.

"Yeah, me and my parents."

"Yeah, well then, who's this?" Jon asked, pointing to a picture on top of the TV that showed a smiling Tommy and a pretty girl, about the same age.

Tommy sneered. "That's Ann, my girlfriend."

Jon's heart sank. … girlfriend…

"The bitch. I hate her. My mom makes me keep the picture up there."

"Why? Don't you like her anymore?"

"She just sucks, that's all."

Jon giggled a bit. You won't mind that in two years, he thought.

Tommy looked at the picture, the expression on his face turning a bit melancholy for a bit. "You got a girlfriend?" he asked.

"Used to."

"Yeah, I know, girls suck, eh?"

Jon laughed. "I guess."

Tommy's voice became an almost inaudible whisper. "Did you shuip?"

"Huh?"

"Shudoip?"

"Speak up, man, I can't hear you."

"Did you do it?"

"Oh!" And with that, Jon blushed, partly because he hadn't understood the kid in the first place, and mostly because he found something about that question so erotic, so..hot… that his penis began to stiffen in his jeans. Aw shit no not now He searched for an appropriate answer. Finally, he decided on the truth.

"No, I guess not."

Tommy giggled, sensing Jon's uncomfort. "Are you a virgin?"

"Yep. Are you?" He loved it when boy's lied about their sex lives. He once talked to a nine year old who had done it "a million thousand hundred million" times. But this kid, once again, surprised him.

"Yeah, never done it, either."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Neither Jon nor Tommy knew what to say next. (I know all of you do, but shut up, and go back to jacking off!) It was Tommy who finally broke it. "Are you… um… you know…"

"What?"

"You got… you know…"

"No, I don't know… what?"

"You got puberty and all?"

Jon smiled. "You mean did I go through it?"

"Yeah." Tommy was blushing a bit, but he wanted this information. He was a twelve-year-old, man, this was cool shit to him.

Jon was as straightfoward and honest as he could be. "Yeah, pretty much I guess."

"You got hair and everything?" The kid wasn't struggling anymore. He was interrogating.

"Yeah."

"Do you, um, like make, uh, do you like get sperms and all that like?"

"Yeah."

"Wow… that's kinda cool."

"I guess." It was now, Jon decided, his turn. "How about you?"

"About me what?"

"Puberty?"

"Naw, I don't got any hair or anything. It really sucks."

Jon toyed with the idea of spelling it out for this kid. "No, it doesn't. Being hairless is nice, kid. It really is."

"No it ain't! Most of my friends are already starting and stuff."

Jon found a trap in that. "How do you know?"

Dead silence. Tommy's eyes darted around, anywhere but directly looking at Jon's eyes. Jon knew what the boy would say before Tommy opened his mouth. And when he did, the exact words taht Jon predicted came out, verbatim: "How do I know what?"

"About whether or not they've started puberty."

"Um… well…" Cought. "I guess we've kinda showed it too each other and all."

"You mean you compared your dicks?"

Tommy was beet red. "Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, man. Don't worry about it, it's cool." This last appeased the kid a bit, but not much. Jon was now so far into this conversation, he couldn't even tell you when he started playing everything out, when his mind switched into gear, sensing, feeling out the situation, playing every word like a chesspiece. It was true, friends and neighbors, he had the gift he was born with, and he now for the first time began to flex muscles that had only been used for the purposes of fantasy. He wanted this boy, he was sure this boy wanted him, and it was all in the right moves.

"I guess," the boy said, and squirmed. Jon noticed the squirm.

"Do you do it alot?" Jon asked.

"With my friends?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes. When I sleepover and stuff."

"Do you get hard-ons and everything?"

"Yeah."

Jon had prepared for this move, and now with confidence, he executed it: "You got one now?"

"A what…"

"A boner."

Tommy smiled again. oh jesus look at that he does he fucking has a hard-on no fucking shit

"I guess," the boy said. There was a pause, and then the boy asked, "Do you?"

Jon had fallen into a trap, but it was a trap he was happy to fall into. "Yep."

"Really?" The boy's face switched from slight shy embarassment to genuine interest. "How big does yours get all the way hard and stuff?"

Jon blinked and kept his eyes closed long enough for this one thought. This is it. He slowly opened his eyes and said, softly, "You wanna see?"

The boy, without a moment of hesitiation said, "Yeah!"

"Okay, but you have to show me yours, too."

"Oh, okay." The boy smiled again.

you bet your fucking ass he fucking loves this he's as hard as I am and goddammit this is fucking it jesus christ I don't goddam believe it I'm showing my dick to a boy and he's showing me his is this fucking cool or what

There was a rather long pause. Then, Jon stood up, and undid his pants, took down the zipper, and with one stroke, pulled down his jeans and underwear. He stepped out of his legwear and stood back up straight, giving the boy full view of this penis, a good sized dick for a guy his age, about six inches [15 cm], with big balls that hung low and a mass of curly brown pubic hair. Jon thought his cock had never been this hard before.

"Wow…" Tommy whispered. "Dude, it's huge…" And he swallowed.

Jon looked down at his own dick, which was throbbing slightly with his pulse. "It's okay, I guess. I've seen bigger in the shower at school. It's average, I guess. How about you?"

"Aw man, mine's all small."

"Come on, you gotta show me, now."

Tommy gulped again, never taking his eyes of the biggest dick he had ever seen. He had never even seen his own father naked. With grim determination, he took his sweatpants and underwear and pushed them too the floor. He revealed two smooth, hairless legs and a fine, up-pointing, circumcised cock about four inches [10 cm] long. His scrotum hugged close to his body. "See," he said, "it's puny and shit."

Jon was so euphoric he almost couldn't speak. "Dude… you're… perfect, man… you… you're so perfect…"

"Huh?" Tommy wasn't paying attention. His only focus was that monstrous prick three feet away. Finally, he look Jon in the face and asked, "Can I, um… you know…" An indicative motion of his hand.

"Touch it?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead, kid. It's all yours." Jon sat on the couch, his prick standing up proudly between his legs. The bottomless boy sat next to him and carefully, slowly, he touched the head, then wrapped his hand around the shaft. Jon laid his head back. His mouth was as dry as the Sahara. He asked Tommy, "You know how to jack off?"

Tommy nodded.

"You wanna do it to me? You can see my sperm and stuff."

"Really?"

"Go ahead."

The boy moved the skin up, then down. He looked at the skin cover the head, then uncover it, once, twice. With his free hand he tugged at his own penis, making sensations ripple all though his body. Tommy could hear the teenager's sharp intakes of breath with each stroke.

"Is it okay?" Tommy said, a bit apprehensively.

"Oh, yeah, it's fine, great," Jon sighed. "Do it a bit faster, like pretend you're doing it to yourself."

"Are you gonna shoot your sperm?"

"Pretty soon, kid, just keep going."

Tommy kept at the task at hand, watching the older boy's penis with a mixture of reverence and anticipation. His other hand movied away from his own penis and cupped Jon's large balls, kneading them. Jon ran his hand over the boy's thigh, brushing his little boner, making Tommy shudder. Jon took Tommy's penis is between his forefinger and thumb and began to stroke it lovingly. The boy swallowed.

Jon moaned. "Oh jesus…"

"Are you gettin' close?"

"Oh yeah."

Then Tommy did something neither had expected. Still working Jon's cock, he got up onto his knees and planted a thick wet kiss on the teenager's mouth. The boy's smooth torso rubbed against Jon's own, sending jolts of pleasure through him, directly to his cock, where the little hand was working ever faster, faster. Jon's arm wrapped itself around Tommy and hugged him close.

"Oh, Tommy… gettin' close… gonna come."

"Come on, Jon, shoot it!"

With Tommy's command, delivered in the boy's sweet unbroken treble, the semen came, in four thick healthy spurts. "Oh god, yeah! Oh fuck! Tommy! Oh god!" The sparkling juice landed everywhere: on Jon's torso, on the boy, one jet overshot them both and landed – splat – on the wall behind them. Jon's whole body convulsed with unbearable pleasure for what seemed like hours, but soon the feeling died down, and it subsided. All that was left was a panting teenager, a smiling boy, and lots and lots of sperm.

The boy removed his young hand from Jon's dick, and broght it close to his eyes so that he could examine the slick cum that was all over it. "Check… it… out…" he whispered. "I never seen anything like that, man. That was fucking cool!"

"Like that?"

"Dude, I didn't realize there was so much sperm, man!"

"Well," Jon said, petting the boy's silky hair, "there's always more when you're especially turned on. And kid, you turn me on, man."

Tommy once again broke into that killer grin. Then he surveyed the damage and grew thoughtful. "How are we gonna clean all this up?"

Jon laughed. "A towel will do nicely." Jon noticed that Tommy was still captivated by the sperm on his own hand. Jon had an idea. "Go ahead," he said. "Taste it if you want."

The boy's jaw tightened. "Is it all gross and shit?"

"No, it's kinda cool, actually."

That was enough for Tommy. He brought his hand to his mouth, and with a flick of his lips took a fair amount of Jon's healthy adolescent cum into his mouth. He paused thoughtfully, then finally concluded, "Tastes weird."

Jon stared at the boy, filled with this undenyable emotion. Was it love? Perhaps. He drew Tommy closer to him. Jon's eyes stared pleadingly. "Kiss me again, like you did."

And Tommy bent down and kissed him. Long. The boy wrapped his arms around Jon's neck and squeezed. The kiss downshifted to a hug, and eventually Jon was aware of something hard poking his leg. The little waist began to move.

"That feel good?" Jon asked, still running his hands up and down the boy's smooth, moving back.

Tommy whimpered. "Aw… yeah, it feels awsome."

"You almost there?"

"Kind of, yeah."

Jon sort of pushed the boy away. "Here," he said. "Sit down, spread your legs."

The boy did as he was told. Jon moved onto the floor, positioned himself between those perfect thighs, bent down, and took the boy's unbelievably rigid cock between his lips. The sensation sent a quake through the lusty boy, and he responded with a gasp. "Oh, god…"

Jon paused a moment. "Anyone ever done this?"

"Uh-uh, no. Oh, please do that again."

Jon smiled and went back to the little boner. Oh, the sweet taste and smell of a prepubescent boy. Reaching around, he cupped the boy's buttocks and lightly kneaded them. Tommy moaned. From this range, Jon could see everything. Not a hair, not one damn hair, and what a nice little cock! Oh, but the smell of the boy… so sweet, so… so like a boy. And Jon became aware of two hands wrapping themselves around his head.

"Oh, Jon, do that."

Jon could sense the passion and pleasure of the other boy and he sped up. His own cock had again become rigid, and with his right hand he began to work it in time with his mouth. The boy began to tense and tighten.

"Jon… I'm gettin there, man… it's gonna happen…"

Jon said nothing and kept working his mouth and his hand. In just a few seconds, the boy's pelvis thrust up, and he emitted such a wail, a high, cracking cry of triumph, that Jon knew it was a very powerful orgasm indeed.

"I'm coming! Oh god… Jon… Jon!…"

Hearing his name filtered through orgasmic bliss, Jon felt his own come rising again. He gasped against the boys cock and the sperm came, as much as before, powerful, fierce jets of adolescent sperm. When the wave broke, he looked up at the boy, who was smiling broadly. He looked the boy's smooth tummy, rising up and down, spotted with the evidence of Jon's last orgasm.

Tommy whispered, "Dude… that was awsome."

"Did you like it?"

"It was the best come I ever had!"

"You jack off a lot?"

"Yeah. Like twice a day."

"You know," Jon declared, smiling, "you can always come over my place if you want, you know, like, when my mom's not home. This don't have to be the last time."

Tommy smiled. "Yeah, I know. I will, believe me… that was the most awsome thing, man, ever. You are so fucking cool, man!"

Jon laughed. "Yeah, kid, and so are you."

The boys wiped themselves up and dressed, and eventually, after much cuddling, kissing and talking, Jon went home. He lay down on his bed, hands behind his head, and pondered everything. Jesus, what the fuck was that? I just had sex with a boy. I don't believe it. That's it. That's the last time.

But deep down he knew it wouldn't be. He wouldn't do that to Tommy… oh, hell, he wouldn't do that to himself. He knew the boy would be there tomorrow, and the next day. Tommy was his boy, and he was the boy's lover.

And with that, he drifted off to sleep.

The End

Nicky's Story

"I'll Do Anything for You"

I knew that his name was 'Nicky'. His cousin had called him that while they were playing. They didn't speak English all the time so I assumed he was from Europe like his cousin. I couldn't make out the language, but it could have been Czechoslovakian. It didn't really matter. He was just about perfect. Small, thin, energetic, cute. Very nice. He had shown up last summer and had been hanging around since then. He didn't live in my building, but he must have been close enough to walk. It had been a long time since I had been with a boy, and I decided to go out on a limb and pursue this one.

Eye contact. Always make eye contact. Smile at him and look as mischievous as possible. Get that I've got a secret look on your face. Eventually, they get curious. It didn't seem to matter with Nicky. He was ready. The first time I purposely ran into his cousin (when he was with her), he was more than happy to chat me up and playfully punch my arm. This was going to be too easy.

Carefully worded questions to the manager brought forth the nugget that he was here to escape the fighting in Europe that had killed some of his immediate family. Hopefully a father or older brother, I thought, and then mentally slapped myself for being so cruel. Sure, I was willing to take advantage of his innocence for my pleasure, but I didn't particularly want him so starved for affection that he would just fly into my arms and never let go. A nice interlude of several weeks and then a slow tapering off of activities, while still maintaining a friendship, had proven to be the best way to keep my ass out of jail. It was also quite nice to be surprised by having some boy I'd written off long ago show up unexpectedly to get his ass plowed and his dick sucked. Some of them kept coming back for years.

Next time, by the pool, he and his cousin were plunging sticks into the water and catching them as they popped back up. I walked by his side of the pool and he blocked my path waving his stick in exaggerated sword-fighting gestures. I feigned fear and backed away from him as he moved in for the kill. He giggled at his ability to push me back and I retreated into the shadowy hall before grabbing the stick and pulling him towards me. I disarmed him and held his squirming body close to mine as I tickled his torso. He squealed and twisted, laughing hysterically. Finally, I pinned his arms behind his head, in a full-nelson, and held his panting body against my chest.

"Now what, Nicky? How about a swim?"

I started to slowly drag him towards the pool as he fought to cling to anything stationary. As we approached the pool his cousin cheered me on. Nicky laughed and begged not to be thrown in. I swung him out over the water and brought him back to dry land a half-dozen times before he was reduced to a panting, limp mass. I pulled him close and hugged him, with one hand cupping his ass and the other patting him on the back. He threw his arms around my neck and looked into my eyes.

"Had enough?"

"Yeah," he said breathlessly.

I started to put him down, but he wouldn't let go.

"That was fun. You're nice!"

"Thanks, Nicky. I think you're nice too!"

He let go of me and we looked at each other. His cousin had drifted off after my first few minutes of throwing the boy around and we were alone in the twilight. I patted his head and ran my hand down his check. I held his head under the chin, and stroked him with my thumb. He beamed up at me and playfully punched at my stomach.

"Do you always have to spend time with your cousin?" I asked, jerking my head in the direction she had gone.

"I don't know too many people and I think my aunt wants me to stay around the family."

"You don't live here with your aunt, though."

"No, I live with my mother and grandmother down the street. But my mother works a lot and so my aunt looks after me. She knows the city better than my mother."

"You know, you can come over to my apartment anytime you want. I'd like to have you around. I've got lots of things you can play with there."

"I don't think my aunt would let me," he answered dejectedly, looking down at his feet.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your aunt, but how are you ever going to meet new friends unless you go to other places?"

"I don't know. She never lets me go anywhere!"

This was just too much. It was like reading from a script. Hell, it was a script. A script that had worked for me countless times before. I almost didn't even have to listen to his answers. I knew what he was going to say and I knew my part.

"Do you want to come over to my apartment? You might like my video games. I'd sure like someone to play them with."

"Yes, yes, yes! I want to, but she's such a bitch!" Nicky stamped the ground in frustration.

"Tell you what, Nicky – do your mother and aunt ever talk to each other on the phone, you know, to tell you to go home or come over and things like that?"

"Well, we don't have a phone," he admitted shamefully. "My mother is saving her money to bring my sister over here. We only use the phone at my aunt's when we need to call someone."

Excellent, excellent! This was going to be such a tasty boy. I was already planning how I was going to get him to think that sex was all his idea.

"So, then, you have to be home at a certain time?"

"Seven on weeknights and sometimes I stay here on the weekends."

"Good, good. If you want to, you can tell your aunt you're going home early, but then come over here for the last couple of hours. Only if you want. That way she wouldn't have to worry about you, and you get to have me as a friend."

Nicky smiled and hugged me. He planted his chin on my chest and looked up.

"I want to have you as my friend. I love you!"

He smooshed his face into my shirt to hide his obvious joy. I backed away slightly to keep him from grinding into my erection. I didn't want him to notice that – yet.

"Tomorrow tell your aunt you're going home at five to do some homework and leave. Then walk around the block and come in the back gate up to my apartment – it's number 48. Do you have a key to the gate?"

"No," he answered, crushed that his lack of a key might destroy our plan to be friends.

I wrestled out of his grasp and fished out my keyring. I peeled off the gate key and gave it to him.

"Don't let anyone know you have this, or I could get in trouble. I can give it to you because we're going to be friends, and friends never tell on each other, no matter what, right?"

"Right!" That patented boy-smile was back in all its glory.

He tucked the key away deeply in his pocket and grabbed my hand. He brought it up to his face and kissed it, and then resumed smiling at me. I caressed his face again and then patted his rump.

"O.K. You take off now and I'll see you at five tomorrow. Remember, don't let anyone see you or we'll get in big trouble and your aunt will never let you see me again."

"Yes, I wont tell anyone. I promise!" he answered excitedly.

I pushed him along and he turned to wave about a dozen times. I waved back until he made it up the front steps and turned the corner.

I had just been reassuring myself by making sure he knew not to tell. I was already sure that you'd have to kill that kid to make him tell anyone 'our secret'. He was so hungry for a man, or rather a father, that even at this point, I knew he was mine for as long as I wanted. I might even keep him for a while – he was so damn cute!

That night, I dreamt of young Nicky's seventy-five pound [35 kg] body receiving the benefits of my prodding. I awoke before the dream turned too erotic, thankfully saving my built-up load for the possibilities of the next day.

The day at work was truly slow. I ran through my scenarios, trying to decide which one would get me inside of Nicky the soonest. I settled on one late in the day and packed up early to go home and prepare.

There wasn't that much preparation, really. I stopped by the store and purchased some groceries. Nothing that need refrigeration. Once home, I dropped the bag on the counter and checked the clock. It was 4:30. I went upstairs and dug out a couple of porno magazines. One was incredibly graphic, and heterosexual. The other was just as graphic, but gay. Both had the youngest models legally available in them. I placed them under the TV guide on the couch. They were just in case I needed an ice breaker. I dumped a bunch of videogame cartridges on the floor and dusted off the system. Now, it was time to wait.

Five minutes of thumb twiddling and an excited knock came at my front door. I checked my lust, and walked slowly towards the door. It was always a rush to get a new boy into my apartment. Once there he was mine and the chase was over – the outcome was inevitable.

I opened the door to a sparkling, smiling boy. He slipped in quietly and hung at my side.

"Hey, you're early! I just walked in," I lied.

His face fell and a fearful looked started to form. "I'm sorry, I could go out and come back later."

"No, no. I'm glad you're early. It's better to be early than late. I'm very happy that you wanted to come over and see me. I wanted to see you too."

That brought back the smile in a flash.

"You wanted to see me?" he gushed.

"I thought about you while I was at work. You're a very nice, good-looking boy and I think we can have a lot of fun as friends. I'm always happy to make a new friend."

"Me too," he chimed.

"Did you have any trouble getting away from your cousin and aunt?"

"They're so stupid!" he laughed. "I told them I had to do homework and just left. They believed everything!"

"Now, don't start thinking that they're stupid. When you do that, you stop being careful. If you stop being careful that's when you get caught, and you know what happens then, right?

"Yes. We don't get to be friends anymore."

"Right. So what are you going to do?"

"Be careful!"

"That's right. Pretend that it's a spy game and everyone is trying to catch you," I offered.

He started to act like he was hiding from people in the shadows. Hiding behind the couch, kneeling under the table, and finally ending up beside my leg – peeking out at his imaginary pursuers. He grabbed my leg and squeezed me. I reached down and picked him up by his legs and shook him upside down. He gripped me tighter and laughed up a storm. His shirt slipped down and I moved both of his legs to one hand and began to tickle his bare chest and sides. He strained and turned to get away from my hand as he slipped down in my grip. My hands held his pants tight, but allowed his ankles to slip down a bit. A band of his underwear was exposed at his waist and I snapped it against his flat belly. He was almost hysterical and out of breath when I finally stopped.

I lowered him to the floor and dropped down beside him. He eventually caught his breath and climbed up on top of me. I bent my knees up and he used me as a human-recliner. He leaned forward and planted his pointy elbows on my chest and placed his face close to mine.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

He nodded affirmatively. "I'm glad we're friends."

He leaned down and kissed my cheek before hugging me. I don't know if the men kiss in his country, but I was all in favor of what he was doing!

"O.K. Get up. I gotta put the groceries away and take a shower. I was going to do all that before you got here, but now you'll have to entertain yourself for twenty minutes or so. Think you can handle that."

He shrugged.

"You can play the games if you want," I said, pointing towards the pile of cartridges as I walked into the kitchen.

"I'd rather stay with you," he answered. He said it like a question, though – looking for my approval.

"Sure, buddy, you can help me out." I meant that in a variety of ways!

He hopped into the kitchen and started to hand me stuff out of the bag. This kid was wonderful! All he wanted to do was be with me and do what I asked. I didn't even have to pay for him, and I didn't have to push any thoughts out of my mind about how many men he might have been with before me. I was going to mold this one into a perfect little lover. I was already leaking precum into my shorts, thinking about how sweet he would be as he did everything he could to please me.

I started up the stairs and decided to give him a little test.

"I'm going to take a shower now. You can stay and talk to me, but I don't think you can help me much."

I smiled at him and tousled his hair.

"O.k."

Well, at least he wanted to be close to me, but I had hoped he would make some kind of overt move when I mentioned the shower. Oh, well!

It was time to show the boy some skin. I got the water going and sat him down on the seat-of-honor. He was all smiles and wide-eyes. I tugged off my shirt and draped it over his head. He giggled and held onto it, wadding it into a ball in his lap. Next came my trousers and socks. He happily held those too.

"Go throw those on the bed for me, please," I asked. I decided to get fully naked while he was out of the room. If he was curious enough to look – he would peek around the shower curtain.

I got in and turned on the shower. I couldn't tell if he was back, until I saw him press his face comically against the wet material. I pushed his face away, through the curtain, and heard him squeal with glee. He popped his head around the far side of the curtain and beamed at me. I sprayed him with water before he ducked back.

"Hey! You got me wet!"

"Those are the breaks," I shouted over the rushing water. I cupped my hands together under the shower head and guessed about where he should be standing. I tossed the water over the rail and heard him shriek.

"Oh, sorry, Nicky! I forgot to tell you that I take a real messy shower!"

There wasn't any reply from the other side and I wondered what he was up to. I glanced out and he had left the bathroom. I thought that I might have gone too far, but I hoped that getting him wet would be a good first step to seeing him naked.

"Hi!"

Nicky poked his head in the shower again. It was apparent that I had dumped my bomb right on his head. He pulled the curtain back and stepped into the shower.

Now that was a shock! Smiling, wet, and naked. He pulled the curtain closed and stood in front of me, his eyes sparkling.

"I was dirty too and since I was already wet, I thought I better take a shower."

"That was very smart of you, Nicky, but you know you can't tell anyone about this, or we won't be able to do it again."

"I know," he piped up. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then added, "We can do this again?"

"Sure, Nicky. I just want you to have fun! You are having fun, aren't you?"

"Yeah!" he said, "I'm having a lot of fun!"

I started a tremendous water fight that ended up with both of us on the bottom of the tub tickling each other. I maneuvered it so that my dick was pressing into his face and he had to push directly back on it to see what he was doing.

"Your penis is funny," he said, sitting up.

I got up on my knees to show off my equipment. "What's so funny about it?"

"There's no skin on the end."

"That's 'cause I'm circumcised and you're not," I answered.

He reached out and deftly squeezed my glans between two of his fingers. I flexed and my penis jumped out of his fingers. He giggled and tried to grab it again. I kept jerking my dick up and down and he finally grabbed it with both hands and hung on.

"That feels real good, Nicky. Thanks for doing that."

"I rub my penis sometimes too."

"Really? Show me how you do it."

Nicky stood up and started slowly pulling at the bunched up skin covering his flaccid dick. His penis grew to its full three inches [7½ cm] and the glans started to peak out from the confines of his foreskin. He moved his index finger over the head to stimulate himself further and started to move his pelvis back and forth. He completely unsheathed himself and exposed his gleaming red glans to me as he stroked himself.

"Wow, that's really neat Nicky. Can I try it?"

"Sure. Can I touch yours again?

"Anytime, Nicky. Anytime."

I sat down and pulled him into my lap and we started pulling at each others puds. Even in the shower I was leaking juices from his attentions. I reached over and took his little hand and moved it up to his face. He licked his fingers as I roughly pushed them into his mouth. He looked back at me for approval and I leaned down and kissed him on the lips. He reached up and pulled me into a long slow kiss. I resisted the instinct to stuff my tongue down his throat. After the kiss I started a sensuous soaping of his whole body that ended with him rubbing his erection up and down my chest until he had orgasmed several times. I examined his hard red erection and looked into his eyes. He was completely overjoyed by the attention and feelings his body was receiving. I turned him towards the water and gently washed the soap from his body. I ran the bar of soap up and down the crack of his ass. He wiggled his approval every time I passed his anus.

"I put my fingers in sometimes," he admitted, looking at me over his shoulder.

What a kid. I stuck a finger in, to the first knuckle and wiggled it around. He backed up and impaled himself all the way, squirming to find the best feelings. I curled my finger into his prostate and he giggled and started to hump my finger back and forth into his ass. I pulled out and turned him around.

"You've done this before with someone," I said. My voice was convincing and declarative. He tried to turn away from me, but I held him.

"Nicky, it's O.K. with me. I just want to know what you've done – that's all."

"My friends and I used to play soccer with some of the older boys and when we were done we would go into one boy's barn and play sex. Some of the other boys didn't like it in the butt," he trailed off.

"You did," I finished.

"I always stayed later than my friends and sometimes I went to find the older boys even when we didn't play soccer."

I dragged him out of the shower and started to kiss him all over. He rubbed his hands up and down my back as I sucked him like he had never been sucked before.

"Stop! Please stop! It's too soft!"

"Too soft?"

"Yes, it feels good but it hurts too! I like it, but I can't take it."

"Oh, too tender is what you mean. I probably rubbed you too much."

I dried us both off and paid particular attention to his ass. He moved it around to let me know he wanted to be fucked. He had a little twinkle in his eyes, like he knew what was going to happen next. Well, he was right!

I picked him up, tickled him until he gasped for air, and then threw him face down on the bed. He spread himself out and wagged his butt at me as he looked back to see what I had in mind. I picked him up by his chest with one hand and tucked his knees up under him. I put him back down on the bed and pushed his face down into the sheets, his arms spread in front of him. I positioned myself over him and surveyed my prize. His spine stuck out through the tightened skin of his back and he breathed deeply in anticipation of what I was about to do. I pushed his face further into the bed, forcing him to lean forward and raising his ass to a comfortable height for me.

I mashed my glans into his anus, spreading my seminal fluid onto him. He puckered himself, expecting a full-force thrust that didn't come. I teased around his hole and used the length of my shaft to rub against his most sensitive area.

He looked back at me again and asked, "Aren't you gonna do it? It's o.k. I want you to."

"Don't worry, Nicky. I'm going to do it, but getting there can be half the fun!"

He didn't seem to understand – but I wasn't really concerned with his education. After rubbing his little hole raw, I dropped my face down and ate out his asshole for all I was worth. I could hear the kid gasping and groaning as I forced my tongue into his rectum. Five minutes of that had him begging me to finish him off. I flipped him on his side and laid down behind him. I scooted myself into place and pressed my penis against his hole. He instantly started to back up onto my shaft. My glans popped in and he didn't stop. I helped, of course!

Long, slow strokes got me the best reaction from him. He was convulsing from the feelings. I couldn't tell if he was just having one long orgasm, or a string of smaller ones all tied together. Frankly I didn't care. As long as he kept clenching his anus on me and moaning like he was, I would be more than willing to fuck him.

I had a stunning orgasm inside of him. I could feel the jets of my semen spray out of me and flow into him. I pounded him pretty good as I came, and he made some gurgling noises as I pushed his body around the bed. He was still tightly gripping my shaft as I pulled out of him. I rolled over and examined myself. I was perfectly clean of any inconvenient particles from the boy; apparently the shower had cleaned him up quite nicely. I grabbed a towel from beside the night stand, plugged it into the crack of his butt, and rolled him onto his back.

His face was red and sweaty. He looked like he wasn't really sure where he was. He might have blacked out – again I didn't really care. I kissed him on the cheek and then licked the sweet sweat off of him.

"You didn't hurt me," he said reassuringly. "Some of the older boys were bigger than you."

I smirked to myself. He was so worried about making me happy that I could do anything to him. I pushed myself up and straddled the boy's chest, inching forward until my limp dick was over his face. I waved my cock over his mouth and he instantly sucked it in.

"Clean me up, buddy," I ordered. He was happy to comply, sucking me in completely. He had obviously done this before and I was thrilled that I didn't have to teach him to keep his teeth off of me. I started to get hard again, but I didn't pull back to allow him more room for my erection. I expanded into him and he tried to swallow my cock, but in vain. He started to gasp and was trying to breath through his nose, but I was starting to choke him. I decided to see how long he would try before he gave up and begged me to stop. I settled more of my weight onto his chest, making it that much more difficult for him to breath. I could feel his ragged, choking, gasps moving up through me. He kept sucking while trying to breath around my dick, but that didn't work. Amazingly, he was staying relaxed. Even though the color had drained from his face and his eyes were starting to flicker sleepily, he reacted almost instinctively to the penis in his throat. I pushed further into him, eliciting a cry of fear from deep inside of him. Still, he didn't try to push me off, or claw at me – nothing that would alert me to his plight. This was getting me hotter all the time! I couldn't believe that I was ready to shoot again. This little guy had me hotter than any other boy I could remember. Unfortunately, he passed out right about then.

I first noticed that the sucking had stopped. His eyes were still open, so I didn't think too much of it. I went ahead and pushed further into him, waiting for a reaction. He was completely relaxed and I could feel my penis sliding up and down his throat without any resistance. I pulled out instantly and shook the boy. He was completely limp. I slapped him hard, once, and he gasped sharply – sucking in air. He started gasping and choking. I picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. He had started to gag and once into the bathroom he began to puke heavily into the toilet. This kid was so good that he didn't even puke – until he was supposed to.

Now, I was a little nervous. If I had messed up the kid, there could be problems. I stayed there and patted his back while he shivered and shook as his stomach convulsed. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I grabbed some boxer shorts and went downstairs.

I had to turn up the volume on the Andy Griffith Show to drown out his painful noises. I tried to put him out of my mind as Opie strutted his stuff for me. In about fifteen minutes, Nicky showed himself at the bottom of the stairs. I glanced at him, and then looked away quickly. He crept up, mouse-like, still naked, to my side. He touched my arm and I looked up.

"You o.k.?"

"Yes. I'm sorry! That's never happened before!"

"Well, you really scared me!" Which was, basically, true. He was holding my arm tightly now.

"Please don't be mad at me! It won't happen again! I'll do it good this time! I think it's because I was on my back."

His voice was rough from my attentions to his throat, but the look in his eyes was that of a scared little boy who was afraid of loosing his only friend – not of fear for his own safety. This was going to be fun!

"I don't know, Nicky. I'm afraid I might hurt you again. I think that maybe I better find another boy who isn't as weak as you are."

"No, no, NO! Please, no, please, I, I …."

He trailed off into a babbling rant in some language I couldn't understand. His voice was high-pitched and squeaky again. He was almost hysterical. English words just wouldn't come to him fast enough and he had clicked into his native tongue to flood me with the reasons why I should 'keep' him. I just shook my head and kept saying "I'm sorry it didn't work out, Nicky."

His eyes were streaming tears by now and a little trail of spit trickled out of his mouth. He was losing it and if I didn't bring him back soon, he might go over the edge. He began to claw at my crotch and fished out my soft penis. He dropped down and began to suck with abandon. He pushed everything I had into his mouth and looked up at me pointing to his face as if to say "See? See? I can do it!" I ran my hand through his matted hair and looked down at him sympathetically. He redoubled his efforts and pulled my shorts all the way off. I felt him worming his hand between my butt cheeks as he searched for my anus. Now, I like that! This kid was pulling out all his tricks to prove himself. He shoved two of his tiny fingers into my ass. I grunted from the dry pressure, but he sure knew how to find a man's prostate. I was slowly getting hard again and this brought a great look to Nicky's face. He was succeeding in his efforts to 'win' me back. He completely throated me and vibrated his fingers expertly in my rectum. I sat back and closed my eyes, drinking in the feelings. I had a winner on my hands. This kid was mine forever. Well, at least until I got tired of him, or he reached puberty – whichever came first!

I started to get the itch, the tickle. The one that builds from my nuts and ends in a shattering climax. I opened my eyes and looked down at the boy feverishly bobbing up and down on my cock. I put my hands back on his head and followed his motions as he blew me. I stood up – taking him with me. I lifted him up until only his feet were dragging, limply, on the ground and fucked his face.

I ground my coarse pubic hair into his face while I forced my penis into him. He continued his work in my ass, never missing a beat. After two more deep, eye-watering thrusts I ejaculated. I drove his face back and forth onto me, his body bouncing and slamming against my legs. His fingers popped free from my ass and his hands flailed in the air – fearful of grabbing onto me and possibly diminishing my pleasure. I pulled free from his mouth and he gurgled something through a mouthful of semen. I squeezed my penis and slapped the residual droplets against his milky cheeks. I dropped him and he fell into a limp, tangled ball, like a puppet thrown aside. I kneeled down and wiped my cock off in his hair while he caught his breath.

I left him there to regain his senses and went back upstairs to grab another shower. I had put him through the roughest time of any boy I had ever had, except maybe Timmy, but Nicky was different. The worse I was to him, the more he wanted to please me. I wouldn't have to do it very often, but every once in a while he was going to expect me to rough him up. That was fine. I rinsed my hair and soaped off all the trickles of fluid from both our bodies.

"Can I shower too?" came a mousy little voice from behind me. I spun around and saw that smiling face again. I motioned him to join me and he jumped in happily. I soaped him up and rinsed him off, being very gentle. We kissed for a while and he jumped up into my arms and squirmed around until he found a comfortable position. He nibbled at my nipple, rolling it around delicately in his teeth. My penis began to stir again and the boy looked up at me with "that look." I sighed and gave his eye a sloppy lick. He giggled and squirmed some more.

"Aren't you tired yet?" I asked.

"No, we can do it again. If you want to. We don't have to," he answered. Always the politician, I thought.

His mastications on my nipple were doing the trick and I put him down. He looked hurt, but a wink from me was all he needed. I rinsed us off and we got out. I threw him the towel and he dried me off carefully. I went into the bedroom and he followed a minute later. He immediately started to lick my penis, with long, slow strokes. Once I was shiny and hard he positioned himself over me and sat down, taking me all in one stroke. He gasped slightly and then giggled, rubbing his ass into my crotch.

"That feels great!" he announced.

"Not too bad on this end either!" I added.

He began to move up and down, providing the stimulation he knew I wanted. I was having those feelings again. Shit, I hadn't come four times in one day (much less four times in two hours) since I was fourteen, but this boy really knew how to wring out a dick.

"Nicky, how do you feel about me?"

"Huh?"

"What kind of feelings do you have for me?"

"I, I, I guess I love you…" He knew he had to tell me the truth, but he was afraid I wouldn't like the fact that he loved me.

"That's great, Nicky. I love you too!"

He smiled even broader as he kept up his movements over my cock.

"Nicky, if I wanted you to do something for me, would you?" Not that I needed to ask that question, but by saying it out loud he would think I still wasn't completely sure about him.

I watched the panic return to his face. "Yes, of course, yes, just ask me and I'll do anything you want!" He humped my dick faster now and squeezed me tighter with his anus. He looked at me anxiously, waiting for my verdict.

"I think it's time you got to meet more boys your own age. Boys like yourself, with no father, a little shy, maybe. I know there's got to be some at your school."

"I know some in my class who live with their mothers," he said helpfully, "but I don't get to see them much – only at school."

"I think that's all going to change. You're going to tell your mother that you want to join the scouts. Right now, you're going to try to find some pick-up baseball games, and later you're going to join Little League."

"Why?"

"Well, I think it'll be nice for you to have friends, don't you?"

"Yes, but that seems like so many things to do!"

"Don't worry! I'll be around to help you, and I especially want you to look for boys who you think would like to have fun like we're having now."

He paused for a moment and then continued his movements.

"You want to do this with other boys?"

"Sure! I want them to have as much fun as you're having, Nicky. Don't worry, I love you! You'll always be my favorite boy."

He leaned down and hugged me. I could feel his tears hitting my chest. His tears of joy at being loved by me.

I came abruptly and rammed Nicky down onto my lap. I squeezed a trickle of semen into him and collapsed back onto the bed. He started to rise, but I kept him in place.

"Bring me some other boys, Nicky, and I'll love you forever."

"I'll bring you many boys," he whispered.

I leaned forward and kissed his forehead, "Bring me boys just like you. Boys that won't tell. You must be very careful or we'll never be able to be together again."

"I will be very careful. I'll only bring you boys that you'll like."

I pulled him off, and he immediately started to lick his butt-funk off my cock. I closed my eyes again.

"Be very careful, Nicky, and we'll have lots of fun together."

He looked up, with my dick in his hand, "I'll be very careful. I promise. I'll do anything for you."

"I know you will, Nicky. I know you will."

And I knew he would.

The End

#3

Athens, Ga.

I'm really glad you came back. There's still a lot I want to tell you, and I was afraid that we wouldn't get the chance, but here we are. Ain't it great how life works? Anyway, yeesh. I have a story to tell ya about the days of my youth. Well, not so much youth. I mean, I was in college then, back at the old University of Georgia in Athens, Georgia, but well, compared to now, I was young.

It was a great time then, back in 1982. Reagan had just begun to fuck things up but good in Washington, and things in Athens were seething. It seemed that the entirety of Clarke County was up tearing Ronnie apart in words or in speech, and I was one of them. Oh, man, you should have been there then. REM was still working for peanuts playing gigs at the 40 Watt Club and living in the old church on Oconee Street, the street where I lived. Peter Buck, their guitarist, had just quit working at Wuxtry, the hippest record store in all of the great state of Georgia. They were going up to Charlotte, NC to record their first album, "Murmur." It would be released the next year. The town was buzzing, things were happening and the University kids, myself among them, well, we were so alive in ourselves, pissed at our parents, of course, but living a life that was at the same time both humble and grand.

The summer of 1982 was the beginning of it all for me, really. Summers in northern Georgia are wonderful things. The sun beats down, but it is relatively dry. The bugs chip and whizzle in the kudzu vines, which grows over anything that lays still for a day or so. And things in the Summer, well, they're slow. Lazy. They take their time. Summers in northern Georgia seem to enjoy their own company and they aren't in any hurry to be rid of themselves, so the days stretch to weeks, long meditations in the heat. And it was around that first week of the Summer of 1982, in Athens, GA, that I met Nicky, and that's when everything changed.

I had a relatively normal life. I mean, I knew that I was a boylover, although it never would have occured to me to call myself that. I didn't know any other boy-lovers, so naturally I couldn't easily identify or put a fine point on what it was that I felt. I had no one to sort it out with. I knew I was different from any of my friends, those long-haired kids that grooved to Love Tractor at Tyrone's on Saturday nights. But just what made up the matrix of my difference I couldn't really say. It was just there, and like a good Georgian, I accepted it, and didn't say a word.

And it was hard. Athens has always been a liberal town, very politically and culturally up-to-snuff, and I was very attracted to the boys there, sons of the native Athenians and the professors. They had a strange blend: a mixture of earthy Southern charm and a general, all-encompassing savvy that belied their young eyes. When you're born and raised in a sociocultural arena, you aren't like other kids, and the Athenian boys were the exceptions to every rule. Starting at around nine years old, they grew their hair out, became restless, and their minds, soaking in the stimuli around them, expanded forming thoughts and opinions that most older teens outside of town couldn't even touch.

Nicky was one of the kids that I used to see all the time around at Wuxtry. I worked there for a brief time, APB (After Peter Buck), but – in that short time I came to know just about everyone in town. Wuxtry then was something of the Athenian apothecary. People came there to get their fix. The Clash, The Pretenders, John Cougar. We had it. And the new bands, too. REM, Pylon, the Flat Duo Jets, and of course, Athens' home kids, the B-52's. Everyone had to admire the B's, even if they were just a little embarassing, but hey, they were a success up in New York, which was more than anybody could say for any of the other punks around the old burg.

Nicky would always come in asking for the new stuff. And he always came to me. Now, Athens is no different from any other college town. All your Ann Arbors and Chapel Hills have this sort of bubble of arrogance around them, and Athens did too. So more often than not, you'd ask a sales clerk a genuine question, and you'd get a glorified sneer in your direction. And Christ, that was never more practiced than at Wuxtry. Ignorance when it came to music was a cardinal sin. And well, when Nicky first came in, he was a sinner.

He didn't know much about the tunes. He wanted to know, he really did. He wanted to be a part of all this excitement he saw the college kids indulging in, but being just a kid, he found it hard to squeeze his way into the clubs, so he took his pains to Wuxtry. Celia, one of the girls I worked with, laughed at him when he first asked her what was new and good. I had noticed him as soon as he came in. I was arranging the 'd' section of the 45's when he stepped through the door frame. What struck me was just how perfectly pretty he was. He was still a junior high kid, from the looks of it. Twelve, maybe thirteen. It was a scorcher that day, and like most of his friends, he had his grey t-shirt off and tied around his waist by the sleeves. His hair was long all over, coming down in a luxurious swoop over his left eye, a condition which allowed him to punctuate his sentences with a head flip, giving anyone privy to his conversation, for an instant, a glimpse of both of his green eyes. His hair, I judged, would normally be that mousy brownish blond color that so lovingly graced my head, but the sun had done some work, and streaks of blond coursed through it.

Anyway, Celia had laughed at him and went back to doing whatever it was she was doing. Nicky kind of frowned, obviously dismayed, but not too suprised. He surveyed the store, looking for someone else who looked properly kooky enough to work there. His eyes met mine across the floor, and I raised my eyebrows to let him know that he did, in fact, have the attention of an employee. He kind of smiled, flipped his hair, and bounced over to me.

"What's up?" I asked when he finally stood in front of me.

"Uh… hi."

My God he was pretty. His lips were full but taut, and sort of stuck out in a perennial pout. His chest was soft looking and smooth, and it glistened with the sweat that he had worked up outside under that sun. But he didn't smell of sweat, he smelled, well, rather sweet, like the sweetgrass in the fields outside of the town. Maybe he hung out there, I certainly didn't know. He bit his lower lip slightly, as if mustering up some courage.

"Uh… I'm just trying to find somthing new, ya know."

He speech was soft and slightly husky, and his words leaned and sagged in a graceful southern drawl. Like the heat of summer, his words had little desire to be rid of themselves. I surveyed the boy, trying to get a general idea of what he might like, but you know, this was Athens, it could've been anything from John Cage to the Beach Boys.

"New? Just anything? Something specific?"

His eyes skitted around the posters and flyers taped around Wuxtry's slightly claustrophobic interior. He brushed his hair away with a hand this time, and his eyes looked into mine. "You know, something cool."

"I can do cool."

And I smiled at him. I wanted to reach out and pat him on the shoulder to let him know that I had no intention of tarring him and throwing him out, but my words seemed to do it for me, for he relaxed with a sigh and smiled. "Okay. All right, cool."

All the best things in Athens then were still on vinyl 45, and I set the kid out the door with a handful of them. I tutored him for a good half hour on the new bands and the new, different sounds they were making, and he followed me around, listening to me as a pupil would, his one visible eye rapt with attention, his head nodding with every other sentence. His friends had all gone and left him there, apparently giving up on him about fifteen minutes after they came in.

About midway through his tour of the local 45's, I introduced myself. "Oh, hey man, I'm sorry. I forgot." I outstretched my hand. "I'm Emmet." He took my hand and squeezed.

"I'm Nicky." He smiled again, and it wrenched a huge grin out of me. He had a great smile, one that lit up his whole aura. And he was so fascinated with all that I was telling him, and just as fascinated with the fact that I was willing to tell him, he was silent until I cashed him out.

"Thanks alot, man," he said. "That's really neat, ya know."

I tried to see both of his eyes, but that was rather impossible. "What's neat?"

He held the 45's up and smiled. "You know, these. And all that other stuff. You know. It's just kinda cool, you know?"

My heart did this sort of dive and recover. He was just so damn adorable there, shirtless, with that soft shock of blonde-brown hair over his eye, and that… that smile. I reached my hand out again. "I know, buddy. Hey, you know, anytime. Right?"

"Sure." He flipped his hair back and walked out the door.

Celia looked at me from her position at the next register. "Looks like you made yourself a little friend."

I smiled. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

I walked slowly down Jackson street. Anyone who knew me then could have told you that this practice would get me killed, this walking down the street with my face buried in a book. Back then, I never went anywhere without some sort of novel or something, I really didn't care what. If my attention went unoccupied for a second, the book came out.

"Hey, bookworm!"

Two hands grabbed me around my chest from behind. I dropped my novel and stumbled over it, spilling onto the sidewalk in front of the camera shop. "Emmet! My god! I'm sorry!"

I looked up and saw, standing above me, my beautiful friend Eliza, her hands covering her mouth, her face contorted in what I was sure was a mixture of panic and an uncontrollable desire to laugh her ass off. I stared at her for a second, shaking my head. "Great," I said, finally breaking into a smile. "Just great."

"Emmet, my god, I am so sorry. I feel like a total moron."

"Yeah, well, you are."

I got up and immediately Eliza grabbed me in a hug. "I hope, after all that we've been through, that you could find it your heart to forgive me."

"Maybe."

That was enough for her. She pulled away, laughing. "Well, you gotta admit that was funny as hell."

Eliza had been the first person I had met in Athens when I got there from Macon in 1980. I dated her for a time, and when we both realized we just weren't attracted to each other, it fizzled out. Her next relationship was with a girl, as were all her subsequent ones, so I figured that either I was her last stand before she totally admitted to her homosexuality to herself, or it was just so bad that she figured she might as well give up on men altogether. We had remained friends since then, mostly because I could relate to her: her acceptance of the card she was dealt was definitely an inspiration, but what attracted me the most was her vibrancy, her total resignation to the way things were. Nothing fazed her, not even when I had eventually told her that I liked boys.

"Really?" She had gasped. "I would never have picked you as being the gay type. I mean, Christ, you did wonders for me in bed." She nudged my side.

"No," I said, calmly but with a definate tremor in my voice. "Not men. I'm not gay, Eliza. I like, you know, young ones."

"How do you mean?"

I looked up at the trees in the quad, and around me, and we were alone, just Eliza and I. "I think I like boys, Eliza. I mean, they turn me on. In a big way."

Eliza was very calm and composed. "How old are we talking about here, Emmet?"

I scratched a seemingly ruthless itch on my nose. "Uh…, you know." I couldn't say it.

"No, I don't think I know."

I gazed into her brown eyes, eyes so brown they were almost black. She wasn't making this easy for me.

"Well, I guess I like it when they're before puberty kind of. You know, like eleven or twelve."

She sank back down against the tree. "Christ, Emmet."

"I know…"

She caught herself. "No. It's okay with me, kiddo. I mean, sexuality is one of the few things in this fucking universe that we can't understand, but just be careful."

"Oh, I don't know if…"

"What attracts you to them? The boys, I mean."

I stopped, biting my nail. I just couldn't look at her, and I kept my eyes on a squirrel that was digging in the dirt "I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know. I mean, I've thought about it, thought about it a lot, and I can't put my finger on it."

"You find them sexy, though, right?"

"Oh yeah, sure. But that's just a part of it. And in the grand scheme, I think a rather smallish part. There's something there, I don't know."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

And I had to laugh at that one. "I don't think that I could get any more personal," I chuckled.

Eliza smiled placidly, like a psychiatrist or a talk show host.

"Were you…"

I cut her off. "No, never. Never. No one ever touched me, molested me, hurt me, abused me. Nothing."

"You've gone through this before, haven't you?"

"This conversation?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, about a gajillion times in my head."

"Have you ever done anything?"

"With a boy?"

"Yeah."

"No… no, never. I don't know if I would. I mean, lord knows I'd like to, but… you know."

Eliza leaned foward and kissed me. "No, I don't know. But just be careful, Emmet. I love you. Just don't do anything stupid. If anything ever happens, make sure it's mutual, okay?"

"Oh, god, I could never force anything on anybody. I'm not a molestor, Liz."

"Shhh… shhh. I know you're not, Em. I would never think that you were. But just… you know, make sure that you and… your partner… both have clear heads." And she smiled at me.

"As clear as yours?"

"That, lover, would be impossible." And we hugged and held it for a long time.

And so anyway, Eliza and I were standing in front of the camera shop and I was doing my best to brush the dust off my clothes, but it didn't seem to be working. Eliza was still giggling a bit under her breath. I kept shooting dirty looks at her, but she knew I wasn't serious.

"So what did you drag your sorry self out here for anyway?" I asked her, my tone more jolly than anything.

"Well, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come to Tyrone's with me tonight. Pylon's playing."

"No shit, really? Damn… I'd like to, Liz, but I'm busted. Really, babe, I'm flat 'til Thursday."

"What's the matter? Wuxtry not floating the boat?"

"Yeah, right. Not on what they pay me."

"Well, that's never stopped you before. I'll float you this time if you want. Meet me there, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. You got it. Pylon's great."

"You think I don't know that? The show they played the other week with REM was not to be believed. Down at the 40 Watt. Me and Michael are starting to really get to know each other, too. He's really nice. Flaky, but nice."

"Michael?"

"Yeah, I don't think you know him. He's the guy who sings for REM."

"Oh, yeah, I've seen him around town, he comes into Wuxtry all the time, but never talked to him. Kinda quiet, ain't he?"

"Yeah, he is. Got a great singing voice, though."

"Hmm."

"Well," Eliza said, snapping the conversation line, "I'll see you tonight then, right?"

"Sure. Yeah, sounds great."

"Great. See ya."

"What time's the show?"

"Nine."

And with that, she walked away down Jackson Street, her flowered dress blowing behind her in the dry wind of the Georgia summer. We had talked about my love for boys many times after that first day in the University of Georgia quad, and she had come to a very good understanding of me and how I felt, and above all, I think she respected it.

By the time 5 PM rolled around, the afternoon had waned to that tenative time when it was nowhere near getting dark, but the daylight was becoming stagnant and strained, like it was tiring out and waiting for the darkness to get its ass in gear and relieve it of its duty. I had been in a funny mood ever since I had run into Eliza, mostly from thinking about that day on the quad, but also making those plans put me in that state of listless waiting. You know, the way you feel between the time you get up and the time the Christmas party begins and you can open your presents. Just useless existence, or so it seemed.

I had taken a walk out of town, down one of the numerous veins of country road that surrounded Athens, passing some old abandoned homes with yards overrun with kudzu, past large houses built for college professionals. And dammit, I had forgotten my book. I hated that. That meant that I actually had to occupy my mind with bonafide thought, and well, you know as well as I do what that thought was. Nicky. Yeesh. Ever since I had seen him earlier that afternoon at Wuxtry, I couldn't get my mind off that beauty. He was so attentive, so rapt with fascination over the facts that I was giving him. Music history. The Sex Pistols, The Velvets. All the stuff he needed to know, and wanted to know. I could see his green eye dance with the possibility of it all, the other eye of course being masked by that charming shock of soft blonde-brown hair.

And Eliza's year-old question kept coming back. "What attracts you to them?"

I said it to myself aloud. "Emmet, what attracts you to them?" I thought of Nicky, about what attracted me to him specifically. I figured, hell, I'd narrow it down to an example and start from there. Nicky… Well, yes, physically he was beautiful. Soft skin, hairless. I was careful to spy on him reaching up for a record on a high shelf, and there had been no hair under his thin arms. I had felt a surge with that. Okay, so he was aesthetically beautiful. Was that all?

"No," I answered myself aloud. I mean, I saw at least twenty pretty boys a day in Wuxtry and not one of them had joggled my psyche like Nicky had. There was something more to it. Perhaps it was the way he followed me, listening. Perhaps. But, I didn't even think that was all of it. There was something behind his eye, that bright green eye, that I couldn't put a finger on. Something that hinted at something else. A desire to know more? A curiosity? No, that wasn't it. An…

"Oh, DAMMIT!" I cried out. And then I looked around to see if anybody had heard me. No, of course not. Sound doesn't carry well in the Georgia countryside. What isn't absorbed by all the greenery is drowned out my the chatter of the insects. I was genuinely frustrated. I looked down at my fists and noted that they were clenched.

"Christ, Emmet," I said to myself. "Get a grip." But my mind thought back to Nicky. Nicky, Nicky. What was his last name? I didn't know. I wondered just how old he was. I wondered what he looked like out of his black jeans, if he was a virgin. And then I actually sneered at myself. I felt utterly pathetic. He's just a boy, man. Just some kid. Get a grip, Emmet, man, you're gonna lose it. But I can't help it. I can't get him off my mind. Well, you're gonna have to help it. What can I do? He's so beautiful, so… Just shut up. You see? You should've brought your book.

And I walked back into town, back to Wuxtry where I would sometimes hang out when I had nothing else better to do. Hell, everyone else in town did it, why not the employees? Celia was the first to notice me there. "You know," she sneered. "It's really sad when you're here and you're not getting paid for it."

I blinked slowly and chuckled through my nose. "Tell me about it." She laughed and began to walk back into the office when she turned and said, "Oh, by the way, your little friend was in here looking for you."

"Oh, I know. I ran into her on Jackson Street. We're gonna go see Pylon tonight. Wanna come?"

"Huh? No, no. Oh, no, I've already talked to her. Yeah, she was looking for you, too. No, I mean that kid you talked to today. The blonde kid. He was looking for you. He wanted to talk about some record or something he got today. Don't know what was up with it. He said he'd be back later."

I licked my rapidly drying mouth. "Didn't you tell him that I wasn't working 'til tomorrow?"

"Oh, no." She stretched and yawned. "Didn't even think about it." And she disappeared into her office.

I stood there for a second, trying to comprehend just the general kookiness of the whole situation. Ain't that a bitch? I thought. And then I couldn't help but smile. He was looking for me. I weighed each word. He… was… looking… for… who? Who dear lord? Me!

"You gettin' lucky or somethin' tonight?"

I turned around. The blurb had come from Hamilton, the definitive Georgia college yokel. He had come from a piss-poor white trash family on sheer brain power, and everything, from his long, stringy hair to his embarassingly thick accent gave no clue to the hypergenius underneath the hickish image he projected.

"Huh?"

"Sorry, buddy, but you look plum stupid."

"Huh?"

"Huh?" he echoed. "Huh what? You're standing there with the stupidest grin I ever done seen on your face. What's up with that? You just get some pussy?"

I laughed at that one. "You're always so fucking eloquent, Hamilton." And I walked away, smiling.

"Yep, that's why I make the big bucks," he drawled at my back.

"Too bad you're jobless!" I yelled back and stepped out of the door.

Dammit! I thought to myself as I trotted down the street Dammit! I missed him! I missed him. But you didn't know he was gonna come looking for you. Oh fuck you, I missed him. But he said he was coming back, you know. Huh? Remember, Celia said he was coming back. Wait for him. I could do that. Yes, you could do that.

And like a Nazi, I did a two-step 180 degree turn back in the direction of Wuxtry. I planted myself on the sidewalk outside with my back against the building and my legs folded against my chest. And I waited.

After ten minutes or so Hamilton came trotting out, noticed me on the ground and stood there, his legs apart and his hands on his hips. "What the livin hell is the matter with you?"

I looked up at his hulking shape. It was a lot cooler in the shade he provided, but it didn't smell any better. "Not a goddam thing."

"I'll tell you one thing, Emmet, you're about fucking weird, if you ask me." And he dashed off down the street, his greasy long hair flopping against his back with each step. I watched him walk away. He got as far as the corner when he turned and faced me, his right arm in the air, waving. "Puuuuuuusssssyyyyyyy!"

I just shook my head, folded my arms, and laid my head down.

"Who was that?" a voice said.

"Just an asshole."

"Ain't you workin'?"

And I looked up, and there he was. Nicky. Still shirtless, in those black jeans, looking down at me in the early evening sun. "Hi!" I said. "Nicky, right?"

"Yep." And he sat down next to me. Well, that was unexpected, I thought. "Why'd he say 'Pussy'?"

I chucked at hearing the boy's voice form that word, pussy. Just wasn't used to it, I guess. "I dunno. I think he's under the impression that I got lucky or somethin'."

The boy flipped his hair and smiled. Dammit! That smile, Gawd! "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Get lucky?"

"Oh!" I must have been blushing. "No, no I didn't."

Nicky chuckled, a high succession of little laugh bursts. God, he's so damn charming. "Oh, okay." He was still smiling. "I just, you know, wanted to come back and say thanks and all."

"Thanks?"

"Yeah, you know, for today and all."

"Well, it's my job, ya know."

"Yeah, well, it's everybody's job, but nobody does it."

"Well, not everybody's as cool as I am."

Nicky flipped his hair back and with his hand held it back. I fell into his eyes, two pools of pure truth and emotion. And, my god, this was just on a sidewalk! "I know," he said. "I mean, you're nice and all, and you know a lot about music and I really don't. I mean, I'd kinda like to learn about music and stuff, 'cause when I hear it I really dig it, I think it's cool, but I don't like to just go pick up anything."

"Well," I said, "that's kind of the point to it all. You know, just going and picking up stuff. Testing the waters, like."

"I really can't afford to do that, though. I mean, I don't like everything."

"Do you have a job?"

"I mow people's lawns sometimes."

"Oh, okay."

We sat there in silence for a few seconds. He was looking at street activity, the very different people walking up and down, but I, I was looking at him. What a beautiful, beautiful boy. He had come back. Come back to thank me, and to ask me more. He had come back to see me. Me. This boy. This beautiful, charming boy.

"Tell you what," I said, trying to sound spontaneous. "If you want, everytime we get a new shipment of new stuff, I always pick it up, regardless. I got so many records at home it ain't even funny. If you want, you can borrow some, you know, see what you like. And if you like it, you know, come buy it."

"No kidding?"

I was overflowing with just pure, indescribable joy. This boy, in that instant, had become my friend. "Sure, kid. No problem." And I reached out and ruffled his hair. The second contact we ever made, after the handshake earlier.

"That would be so incredible. Honestly. Oh, wow, that's great." He was as happy as I was.

"You can come over anytime. I live on Oconee."

"Now?"

"Now what?"

"Can I come over now? And, you know, pick some out? If it's okay…"

Oh yeah. Oh fucking yeah. "Sure, yeah. Feel like walking?"

"Yeah. That's all I do."

"Okay, sure, come on." And me and my new friend walked up Jackson street toward Oconee talking about the Velvet Underground, and how, well, how they were the start of it all. And in the music of Wire and Television you could hear their influence. Even Bowie had dedicated a chuck of his style to them. And man, when Nico sang All Tomorrow's Parties, you couldn't help but just get a chill up your spine. She get's into your head on that one.

And the boy listened and learned and absorbed, and by the time we got to my apartment on Oconee, he trusted me enough to tell me that the first time he heard Pale Blue Eyes this afternoon, he cried so hard, cried his beautiful eyes out. And he could do nothing but smile then, when I said, "You know, that song could have been written about you."

"But my eyes aren't blue."

"Yeah, but everything else is the same."

And he smiled again, oh god that smile, and in that instant I understood what it was that was behind his eyes that had eluded me so well this afternoon. It was something that I have always wanted but so far had not been able to receive. It was understanding.

"Well, this is it. This is my place." I gestured grandly about the room, revealing to Nicky his first sight of the most boring place of residence anybody had ever seen. You see, I was living this sort of pretentious art-school lifestyle (despite the fact that my major was business), and I was cultivating this sort of minimalist thing in my apartment. I slept on the thinly-carpeted floor (which for some reason never caused me any discomfort), and had nothing on my white stucco walls save for a mimeographed photo of J. Robert Oppenheimer. Don't even ask me why that mimeograph was there. I don't think I could even have told you who Oppenheimer was. Some drunk pal of mine had stuck it thre one night and there it had stayed.

Nicky looked around. "Wow," he said. "It's really cool. Kinda white, ya know?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't have much use for pictures, ya know."

"Who's the guy?"

"Who?"

"The guy, there. The paper." He pointed at Oppenheimer.

"Oh, I dunno. Some physicist or something."

"Oh." By now the boy was so used to Athenian quirks that he simply accepted the strangeness as status quo. "Okay, cool."

By that time I was already digging into my refrigerator. "You want something to drink? I got like three kinds of Coke here." In Georgia, no matter the brand or flavor, all sodas are Coke.

"You got a Dew?"

"Yeah, sure." I fished it out of the Frigidare and handed it to Nicky, who by then had aready discovered my closet of records, boxes and boxes of stuff, stacked high. There hadn't even been room for clothes. His eyes went from the boxes to mine, his head turning in slow motion. "This is incredible… are these all yours?"

"Yep," I said, barely able to mask the pride. "They're mine."

Nicky approached the boxes like a relgious pilgrim to an icon. He pointed up at the top box. "Can I?"

I couldn't stop smiling. "You want the top box?"

"Uh-huh."

I stretched up and god the box down with a grunt, and slam, dropped it at Nicky's feet. Like a child at Christmas (well, he was as child, I told myself) he tore the box open and began to go through my collection. I went to the other side of the room and planted myself in the huge green chair that I had bought from Sandy Phipps for $10. I watched the boy go through each and every record in the box, taking each out with surgical care, with each disc a soft "Wow…" escaping his lips. I watched him for an hour, his form, his perfection. The way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he looked at me. He hadn't even noticed me sitting there, sitting there and loving him with each passing breath.

As I watched him, something began to form and grow in the pit of my somach. It was something totally new to me, although I recognized its form. It wasn't desire. No, desire was asserting itself, but that was a dull thrumming in the back of my mind compared to this new sensation. This sensation, this longing, grew and began to spread, to reach up and to grip my mind like a cancer, drowning out everything else around it. I wanted to touch him, to stroke his hair, to kiss him softly, so softly. I wanted to tell him that I was falling undeniably in love, but god, I couldn't. These same steel cords that gripped my mind in this relentless emotion were also holding me back, laughing at my inability to do anything about it. I wanted to cry out, to rip apart the mask I was holding up to this boy, but I simply could not. And that's when he looked at me and spoke.

"Can I play this?"

In his hand he held up a record, a white record with a huge banana on its cover. The Velvet Underground and Nico. "You were talking about this," he said. "I'd kinda like to hear it."

"Yeah, sure. It's right over there."

I watched him search for the power switch, find it, and put the record in place. He looked back at me. "What song was it you were talking about?" God, what song? There had been so many that we had talked about. "You know," he said. "The one that gets to you."

"Oh, uh, that's track… six, I think."

And he put the needle down, it scratched for a minute and then All Tomorrow's Parties began. A bass rising, then falling and crash… drums, then John Cale's piano took the song and whipped it into the air, flying up up and around the room, and Nicky was caught up in it, I actually saw him wince when Maureen Tucker's drums crashed down. When Nico's voice came out, came out like an alarm, he opened his mouth in a wordless expression of disbelief. His whole perception of expression was changing then, the way the thought that music could be. No longer were they songs, but living breathing entities that grabbed you, chewed you up, and spit you out. This boy was in touch the sensual aspect of the music that was around us. he winced as the song climaxed, and Nico, in a tone of utter finality cries out, "fit for one who sits and cries for all tomorrow's parties." The boy was not with me then, but somewhere else, somewhere else entirely, and I had taken him there.

When the song ended, he opened his eyes. For the majority of the song they had been closed. "My god," he whispered. "My god…"

I nodded slowly. "I know."

"I've never heard anything like that before."

"I know."

"How did you find that?"

"The music?"

"Yeah."

"I dunno. Someone played it for me once. And I had the same reaction as you did. I was changed, man."

"But, god…"

"I know, man, I know."

For the first time he realized that he had felt something that he couldn't express, and he was content with offering me a warm, liquid smile. He had been through something amazing, and he was out the other side. He couldn't look at things the same anymore. "Thank you," he said to me. "Thank you so much, man."

"Take it with you, Nicky. The album, I mean. You can take it if you want. To keep."

His eyes were still far away, but that brought them a bit closer. He picked up the record jacket and looked at it, tracing the banana with his fingers. "Oh, man," he whispered. "Oh, man."

I leaned back in that big green chair and closed my eyes and felt him there, his entire presence so elated, so changed. In my mind I could feel myself wrapping around him as the music wapped around us, loving each other, this new and mysterious child. And he kept whispering "Oh, man… oh, man…" It was though he was saying it right to me as I caressed him and made him feel that transcendent feeling again, only this time sharing it with him.

As the evening progressed, I made food and we sat on the floor listening to record after record, eating and talking. I learned more about him: he was all of twelve. That was it. I wish I could remember being so in-tune with things at his age. I learned that he lived alone with his father, who was a kindly but older fellow that commuted to Winder every day for work, leaving him pretty much alone to spend his summer as he pleased.

"How old is he," I asked.

"Who? My dad?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, he's like fifty-something I think. He's old."

"Where's your mom?"

Nicky shrugged. "Dunno. I kind of remember her when I was little. But then she left. My dad said she kinda couldn't handle the pressure anymore."

"Pressure of what?"

"Dad said the pressure of the married life. I dunno."

I thought on that. "Hmmm. Does it bother you at all."

The boy gulped another mouthful of Ramen noodles. One hung down off his chin and he snickered and slurped it back in. "Naw, not really. I mean, I never really knew her at all, so I guess if I had known her or something I might've missed her, but you know, I didn't, so I don't I guess. It kinda sucks, though, when I'm alone and I don't have anybody to talk to."

"What about your friends?"

"What about 'em?"

"Do you have any?"

"Oh, sure, yeah. I mean, I got some friends at school that I hang out with and all, but you know, they're just kids." He said the last word with quite a degree of distaste.

I chuckled, mostly to myself. "And you're not a kid?"

He looked up. "Well, not like they are I don't think. I don't know, I mean, they just like don't understand it when I go off on something."

"Like what?"

"Well, like this, kinda. I mean, I can't talk to anybody, 'cause nobody's serious enough to talk to. I dunno, like my friend Aby said that I float away sometimes and I don't talk, but it's like when I hang out with 'em I get so bored that I just start thinking about stuff and there I go. I think about one thing and then another, and like one leads to the other, ya know? And I just don't talk for like hours and I guess they don't like it."

I leaned foward. "Hey, man. Listen. You can always talk to me, I 'll be here for ya. Anytime you wanna talk, gimme a call or come up to Wuxtry or whatever. I mean, can I be your friend, too?"

Nicky smiled. "Well, I kinda thought you were."

"Cool," I said. "Cool."

After another hour or so of talking and laughing, I suggested to Nicky that it might be time for him to get home, because there was a good chance his dad was worried about him. I would've rather had him call home, but, well, I didn't have a phone then, so that was out. He looked at the clock: 9:36 PM. "Yeah," he sighed, rather crestfallen. "Guess it is."

He jumped up and I jumped up with him. I opened the door and stepping through it, Nicky turned to me and said, "Hey, would you walk me?"

I smiled. I was hoping he'd say that. "Sure, kiddo."

And I stepped out with him, shutting the door behind me. I didn't lock it. Back in Athens, then, nobody really needed to lock their doors, because, well, nobody really had anything to steal. I mean, if anybody really wanted to through all the trouble of getting out of bed, brushing their teeth, getting dressed, walking over to my place, casing it, waiting until I left to go in and steal my rare imported 7" single of Anarchy in the UK, I figure they were probably pretty well deserving of it.

I walked with Nicky down Oconee Street with my arm slung casually around his bare shoulders. He was the perfect height for it, and they felt so good, so soft, rippling when he'd point at something or when he'd turn his head to look at me and smile. As we got into town, I noticed that the usual summertime night life wasn't walking and talking down Jackson or any of the streets. And then I saw the light pole and a bright pink flyer. PYLON AT THE 40 WATT. BE THERE AND WE'LL THINK YOU'RE COOL. JULY 13, 1982, 9PM.

I threw my head back. "Shit," I said into the air. "Shit, shit."

Nicky looked at me a bit apprensively. "What's wrong, Em?"

"Dammit," I said, and sighed. "The 40 Watt tonight. I was supposed to meet up with Eliza there for the Pylon show."

Nicky's eyes dropped. "Oh… okay. I'll walk home if you wanna go."

"No!" I yelled out, rather startling the kid. "I mean, no, it's cool. I'd rather walk you home, actually. I don't really like Pylon very much." And I smiled at him, and he smiled back. "But," I continued. "I'd like to stop by there and tell my friend that I won't be putting in an appearance."

"Cool, okay."

And we walked through downtown Athens to the 40 Watt, where I left Nicky outside and went in to seek out Eliza. I found her there at one of the few tables that were still in active use, sitting with two guys and chatting as well as one could over Pylon who were thrashing about on the stage like all get out. I recognized one of the guys as Michael, the guy she told be about before. The other kid was a meek looking character, with round glasses and just about the ugliest teeth I had ever seen. He kind of reminded me of a rodent. I gestured to Eliza and walked over to her, sitting in the fourth chair.

"Where the hell were you," she said, smiling. "And how did you get in here?"

"I'm taking a friend home. I left him outside and promised Carl at the door I'd be out in a second. I just came by to tell you that I'm not gonna show up."

"Well, you're here, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm leaving. Like I said, I'm taking a friend home."

I glanced at the other two guys. Eliza cought my glance, and realizing her breach of etiquette, she introduced me. Michael I had already known from Wuxtry. He was studying something on the ceiling, but what it was, I couldn't figure out. The rodent guy was Mike, she said, and he played bass for REM, the band the Michael sang for. After saying my hellos I brought Eliza's ear to my mouth. "Can we go outside and chat for a sec? I don't want Carl bounding over here and throwing my ass out."

She followed me to the door, but as we were about to step out, much to the obvious delight of Carl the doorman, Eliza was snagged my Annie, her girlfriend and lover of over a year. "Where ya goin'?" Annie yelled over the band.

Eliza leaned to her. "Outside for a sec."

We stepped out into the night air. Nicky was waiting there for me, his hands in his jeans pockets, the breeze tossing his hair around. He looked so adorable. When Eliza and I turned around, we realized that Annie had followed us. Eliza turned to her, said something into her ear. Annie nodded and met Eliza's lips in a long kiss, then she went back into the club.

Eliza bounced back over to me. "So what's up?"

"I just wanted you to meet my new pal, Nicky." And I gestured to the kid standing six or seven feet [~1½ m] away. She looked at him, looked at me, and then back at him. I could see the hundreds of things going through her mind, possibilities weighed, discarded. "Hi, Nicky," she said, waving.

He waved and sort of blushed. "Hi."

Eliza's eyes came back to me. "What are you doing?" she asked softly but firmly.

"It's not what you think, Liz. Dont' give me that."

"He's just a boy, Em. Think of what you're doing."

I looked back at Nicky, lest he hear, but he was too busy trying to get a look at the band through the door and the crowd to even notice. "Liz, it's not like that. I just met him today, we were listening to music."

"Oh, Em, please be careful. I can see it, Em. You're in love with him, aren't you? Oh, god, Em, please don't be stupid."

"I'm not stupid, thank you," I said, my tolerance beginning to crumble. "Look, I know you're concerned, but it's nothing like what you're thinking. Yeah, I dig him, sure, but I'm taking him home to his dad, okay? He didn't want to walk alone."

"Emmet, just don't cross the line, man. I love you too much to lose you to that."

"Lose me to what?"

"Em, I'm not you. I don't understand what you go through from day to day. I don't know what it's like to be… what you are. But he's just a child, man. Just a kid."

"Christ," I said, very disgusted with her. "You don't even know him. He's not a child! In body, yes, but you didn't spend one of the most amazing afternoons of your life with him, did you?"

"You didn't…"

"No, I didn't! Jesus, Liz. This boy is one of the most charming, sensitive, caring people I've met. And I'm taking him home to his father."

And with that, I left her standing there, outside the 40 Watt Club. I grabbed Nicky as I went by and we crossed the street. "What's up?" he asked. "You look mad."

"No, not mad, just a little frustrated with her, that's all."

"Why?"

I toyed with the idea of letting him know everything, spilling my guts to him, but I didn't. "Oh, just stuff she thinks, that's all."

"Why'd she do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know, kiss that girl like that?" Nicky was looking at me now. This wasn't an idle question.

"Um… well," I stammered, trying to find the right way to put it. "They're lovers."

"You mean lesbian like?"

"Exactly. She's gay, Nicky. She likes girls."

"Oh…" Nicky seemed to be weighing the concept in his mind. "She doesn't like guys at all?"

"Oh, well, sure she likes guys and all, but not like a boyrfriend. Only as friends. Guys just don't, you know, do it for her."

"Oh."

There was a long silence after that, a silence that took us to the edge of town were the streetlights stopped shining the way. The Georgia moon spilled down on us, a bright oracle up there in the sky. The stars were strewn across the bowl of the night like spilled sequins. You could even see satellites up there, spacejunk. Little dots floating in neat lines across the panorama. It was a perfect night. And Nicky and I walked in the darkness, filling the void there with our voices and our thoughts.

Nicky was the first to speak.

"I guess I just never seen that."

"What? The two girls?"

"Yeah."

"You best get used to it. Especially here. It's all over, gay people. Bisexual people, too. I mean, people that like both sexes, that's bisexual."

His next question was frank and direct, the way only a child can be. "You ever done it? With another guy I mean?"

I closed my eyes and let his words ring and echo through my skull. The boy was getting inside me now, and I didn't know if I could let him in. Just answer the question, Emmet. Give him some truth. "Only when I was a kid, about your age. I fooled around with my cousin in Macon."

"Oh, yeah. I did that I guess."

I looked at him in the moonlight, the frosty glow on his bare back, reflecting off his hair. He looked up at me then, too, and I looked away. "When?" I asked him.

"Dunno. A while ago. What did you guys do?" It was plain to see that this was his show, not mine.

"You know, just stuff."

"Like what?"

"Well, we kinda fooled around with each other's… you know, privates."

"You played with your dicks?"

I sort of caughed and laughed at the same time. I kept coming up with the image of a movie comedian spraying wine out of his mouth when someone asked him if he had B.O. "Yeah, I guess that's what we did."

"Was it cool?"

"I thought it was cool, yeah." That seemed to please Nicky, that answer. It was already admitted that he had fooled around, too, and he had been validated.

"You ever done it with a girl?"

"Yeah, a few times."

"Is it cool?"

"You never done it?" I asked him, although it was obvious he hadn't. I dunno, I just figured kids liked it when you were unsure of just how experienced or inexperienced they were.

"Naw, which I guess kinda's slow for me."

"No, not at all. I didn't lose my virginity until last year, when I was 19."

"Wow," he said, more as a statement than a declaration. "My friend Aby's done it and he's only thirteen. I mean, he's told me about it, and I heard him with his girl at a party once. They were really goin' at it, too. In his bedroom. It was kinda funny."

I chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, it would be."

"I dunno," Nicky went on, as if I hadn't said a thing. "Sometimes I wish I could just do it and get it over with to see what it's like, you know, but I like try to get girlfriends and they all think I'm wierd."

"Well, you're not, man," I told him, by now I was petting his hair on the back of his head. "You're a very good looking kid, and you're gonna make a girl really happy one day. You may not know it, but when girls get older, they like guys who can cry at cool songs."

"That ain't what Aby says."

"Fuck Aby," I said, and my voice was laced with distaste for this Aby kid.

Nicky looked at me with a grin. "Naw, he's not my type." We both burst into laughter and I brought him close to me, ruffling his hair. He walked closer to me then, close enough to where my foreharm hung down his chest, my thumb brushing his soft nipple every so often, and whenever it did, I could feel it react to my touch, tightening.

"You're a great kid," I said to him. "Really. I don't think I've quite met a kid like you."

We walked down County Road 8 past fields and forests of kudzu, talking all the way. He asked met things, brutal honest things, about growing up, about life, about sex. I felt a lot of my young self in him, growing up out here in the nowhere, wanting a friend, someone to talk to. We got to the WATG tower and stopped. It was a tall pyramidal radio tower out in the middle of a kudzu field, with a little gravel path leading up to the humming transformer at the tower's base. The station itself was all the way over in Conyers, but this was it's local relay, this tall sentinel with it's slowly flashing red airplane lights.

"Come on, " he said, tugging at my shirt and running up the path. "Come on!"

"What?" I yelled after him, and when he didn't answer, I followed him up to the tower. When I caught up to him, he was under the tower lying on the soft sandy dirt beneath him. "Here, do this. Right here." And he scootched over to give me his vantage point. I laid down on the dirt next to him and looked up. The point of the tower on top glowed red with it's airplane light and it shone down in a groggy rhythm onto us. "Here, put your head next to mine," he said. "We can both see it."

I placed my head to his, feeling his soft hair against by cheek, listening to his breathing softly in and out, in and out. "I used to always come out here," he said, softly, half-whispering, "especially when I was a kid. And I'd lay out here underneath the tower and pretend that the light was a ufo. And it would come down and pick me up and take me out and show me the universe like they did in Close Encounters. I used to have one of those tiny like transistor radios and since I was under the tower no other station could come in, right? And I'd have it on, and they'd play neat stuff, like Patsy Cline and Don Gibson, I remember, and I'd just lay out here and just forget that I was me for a bit, you know?"

By that time I was propped up on my elbow, staring at his perfect form. This beautiful boy, this pure spirit in front of me. I closed my eyes. Do you know what you're doing to me? In you I see everything I was and I've lost, everything that makes me glad to be alive and to be a person on this earth. In you I can see the capacity to love and to be loved. I'm falling in love with you, Nicky. No, that' s wrong. I've fallen in love with you. I feel good next to you, I feel special. Like I'm… oh… selected. Selected to share in you. This perfect you. I mean, how could I have ever been reduced to this? Why was I given this hand to play? Why couldn't I be just like every other guy out there, like Hamilton even. But no, no. If I had to choose, my perfect beautiful boy, I wouldn't have it any other way.

And when I opened my eyes again, I was kissing him. I was pressed to his soft, pliant lips, kissing softly, and he was kissing me back. His hands were holding the sides of my face, and his tongue darted out of his mouth and brushed mine. I breathed out and slid my tongue into his mouth all the way. He moaned slightly and locked his arms around my neck. My left hand slid over his chest, over his tiny, silky nipples, making them hard. Over his smooth belly. I kissed his neck, round down to his collarbone and back up to his face. And as I kissed his face, I tasted the familiar salty taste of a tear.

I pulled back, trembling. "Oh, god… Oh, god, Nicky. I… I'm sorry, I…" My voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"Em," he cooed. "Emmet."

"I'm so sorry, Nicky, I didn't mean to…" And it was I who began to cry. "I didn't even realize. I'm so sorry, Nicky."

"Emmet…" And I felt his lips on me again, on my face, taking my tears. Over my forehead, down my nose to my lips again. "Emmet, I love you. I love you, Emmet. I really do. Please don't be mad at me, please. I don't mean to be a fag, man, I don't."

And the tears couldn't stop then for the both of us. We cried to each other, for each other. I cried for me. I was a boylover. I was going to go through my life for the most part lonely and frustrated. I cried for Nicky, unsure, unable to be sure. I cried for us, two lost souls together, realizing that they were both completely and undeniably in love with each other.

"N-Nicky," I stammered out. I could barely talk. "I-I l-love you, too. I l-l-love you more than you could ever imagine. From the moment you walked into the s-store today (and god had it only been today) I l-loved you. And my god, my god I do, Nicky. I have to admit it, I do. I love you. I want you. I want to be with you. I do."

Nicky looked at me, right into my eyes, his eyes never looking away or faltering. He whispered, "Do you want to make love with me?"

And I couldn't lie to him. "Oh Christ, Nicky, yes. Yes I do."

I closed my eyes and felt him take my hand and place it on his belly. "Make love with me, Emmet," he whispered. He whispered it so softly that it almost blended with the night breeze. "Make love with me."

The blood rushed around my head, making me dizzy and sounding like a train in my ears. I exhaled against his soft hair and ran my hand from his belly to the buckle on his belt, unclasping it. It opened with a cling, and that sound was the sound of a lock breaking, a seal that bound me to everything therein. With the opening of that seal, I was now this boy's lover, and he was mine. I kissed his shoulders and pushed him down onto the warm, red, Georgia ground.

Everything moved slowly, like I was in water, no, like honey. It was as if Nicky and I were togethere in a world of honey, and things were warm and slow and good. From the boy's belt I unclasped his pants and unzipped them. "Lift up," I croaked, and he raised his backside from the ground. Slowly I pulled his pants and white underwear down, down to his knees. I took the pantlegs at his feet and took them off completely.

Nicky lay naked before me. Smooth and built up with farm muscle, his body was hairless and tanned with sun. His penis was around four-and-a-half inches [11 cm] long, very thin, and it stood up against his belly. It was engorged with his blood, his sweet young blood, and was unbelievably rigid. His scrotum was beginning to flesh out with adolescence, and it was hanging under his penis looking a bit out of place with the lithe proportions of the rest of his body.

I knelt next to him, running my right hand softly over his firm thigh. "Oh, Nicky," I whispred. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful." I looked at him, into his eyes, which were a mixture of a hundred emotions, all raging inside him. He looked back into my eyes, trough them into me, into my mind.

"Take yours off," he said. And I slipped my shirt over my head. He looked at my chest, at the small patch of hair on it that formed a line on my belly down to my pubic hair. With as much grace as I could manage, I slipped my sandals off and pulled off my pants and underwear and threw them on the ground with his trousers. I was as aroused as he was, and my own penis stood out at amost a right angle to my body. My penis is about six and a half inches [16 cm] long, and nominally thick. Next to Nicky, it was rather large, and he stared at it with a mixture of fascination, reverence, and an ever growing, ever mutual lust.

At that moment we both wanted each other more than anything else we had ever wanted before in our short lives. I rolled back onto my knees and positioned myself over him, kissing his face, his soft lips again. I kissed his chest, his nipples, down to his belly. I laid my hear on his chest and felt his breath, deep and irregular swirl into his lungs and out again. I laid my head there for a moment, looking down at the object of my lust, his perfect, hard penis. I reched out and petted it with my finger. I heard and felt a sharp intake of breath when I touched the silky circumsized head, and a small moan escaped him when I wrapped my hand around the shaft, moving it slowly up and down, up and down. It was like I was watching a movie that I could control. And I didn't want it to end.

I resumed my kisses by running my tongue slowly around his bellybutton and then down to his pubic area. I could smell… could smell him, a smell that in the years to come would become more masculine, but was now still fresh, still boyish. Unable to resist anymore, I raised his cock with my finger and took it into my mouth. Oh, god… The feeling of him in my mouth was like nothing I had felt before. I loved the way my lips conformed to every little ridge and bump, how my lips could do one job and my tongue could do another. Nicky squirmed and gasped, he moaned and signed with each little motion I made. I let him side out of my mouth and went to his balls, that soft hairless package that held so much of his burgeoning manhood. I took one testicle into my mouth, caressed it, took the other, then both. His moans were far more audible now. And down I went, down to where the smell became slightly muskier. I could smell a sweaty boy down there, mixed with the essence of sweetgrass that followed him everywhere. "Spread your legs a bit," I whispered. He did, revealing for me a soft pucker that was devoid of any waste. Overcome, I dove for it, driving my tongue in and around it, savoring the feel of the flesh of his buns around my face, the way his moans had become an almost continuous low whine. I reached up and began to masturbate him as I worked my tongue on his bud. It was incredible, the most powerful and amazing sensation of my life. I came back up over his balls to his proud penis and took it back into my mouth. I felt his hands close over my head and he began moving his hips instinctually now, fucking my mouth with savage strokes. I fingered the slick, moist hole where I had just been. His whine had become broken gasps. And then, it happened. He cried out, cried out in pain and pleasure and lust and triumph. And he came hard into my mouth, three fierce jets of fluid, hitting the back of my mouth, sliding down my open throat. I moaned with him, sharing his passion as the orgasm wracked him through, ripping through not only his muscles but also his psyche, vibrating with the feeling of love as well as lust, rising, rising, bursting forth, and then coming down, slowly… slowly… slowly… and finally, resting in a pool of warmth.

Nicky's body lay quiescent on the soft ground, a light smile across his lips. I flopped down next to him, panting in gasps and smiling at him. He looked at me, his warm, naked boy at a point of maximum relaxation. He leaned over and kissed me. "I love you," he whispered.

I swallowed and whispered back, "I love you, too, kiddo."

Nicky explored by body with his hands, feeling for the first time the body of an adult, actually seeing what puberty was going to eventally do to him. He ran his fingers through the soft patch of hair on my chest, then touched his own chest, and then back to mine. And then he turned his attention to my penis, still raging from the wild lust of a moment before. He wrapped his hand around it, sensing its warmth and shape, sliding the skin up and down like he did to himself so very often. With his other hand he cupped by balls and kneaded them. His were going to be like that some day.

"Emmet?" he spoke, softly.

"Uh-huh?"

"Tell me before you sperm, okay?"

"Okay."

And I felt his lips enclose around my cock, taking it in bit by bit, a perfect imitation of what I had done to him. His mouth was soft, so soft, and I could feel the breath from his nose against my skin. He used his hand as well, something I hadn't done. As he sucked, he masturbated me along. I was swimming in passion then, reveling in the incredible thing this boy was doing to me, doing for me. He had me in him, of his own free will, making me shudder and moan, making me feel better than I ever had. I felt the orgasm approaching and croaked something out to him. He took his mouth off and masturbated be to the most powerful orgasm I had ever had, or would ever have. The sperm came out in powerful pulses and wouldn't end, an almost endless supply of thin, milky fluid all over Nicky, over his chest, over his face, over his cock, all over me. Some had gotten into Nicky's gaping mouth, and he closed his mouth, tasting it. I cried out his name once, twice, arching my back, and then, then… falling back to earth, back down to the ground where this beautiful boy was holding me in his soft, soft hands.

Just as I had done after I had made love to him, he laid down next to me. I reached over, grabbed my shirt and began to clean the semen off of him. He smelled of it. As I cleaned his face he leaned foward and kissed me again, deeply. I could taste my sperm on his tongue and could feel droplets dripping off his belly onto me. He pulled back and grinned this time, an impish, childish grin.

"That felt good," he said, and giggled.

I giggled with him and soon we were in stiches, rolling on the ground in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, the only cause being the love and total joy of finding someone else with whom you could laugh about just nothing at all.

We laid there for a long time in the Georgia night air, looking up at the tower lights, and we imagined that it was a ufo from some distant world, some far away planet, that has come for us, come to take us away. He had even fallen asleep for a bit in my arms, but I, I didn't sleep at all.

I kissed him when I put him into his bed later that night. His father wasn't home, and probably wouldn't be until the morning. Nicky said he was prone to doing that, disappearing for weekend with a factory woman. I nodded my understanding.

We made love again that night in his bed, touching, exploring each others bodies with our hands and our mouths. After we had come again, this time together, we went into the shower, soaping each other clean of semen under the warm water. As I was soaping him up, he became hard again and I sank to my knees under the stream of water. Sliding my fingers into his soapy crack behind him, I sucked him there. He could barely stand. As I slid my tongue around the shaft and head, I felt something cold on my scalp and his hands running over my head.

I let his penis slide out of my mouth and laughed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm washing your hair!"

Oh god, I loved him. His skin went from smooth to slick under the water and soap and I felt every inch of him. He came again in my mouth, such a sweet taste. His young semen was still immature enough to be devoid of sperm, retaining that lovely texture of boyhood before it thickened up to become manly. He was perfect. The perfect, loving boy. And dear lord, he was mine. And I was his.

I held him for a long time before I left that night, and we both got a little misty when I eventually did have to go, the morning light rapidly approaching. We realized then that we were not innocent lovers, that we knew that our love could never be public. It would always have to be planned, to be schemed out. It could never be spontaneous. We felt a loss there, but it was a small enough price to pay for each other.

We loved each other for a long time, we still do even, although the sex didn't last past his fifteenth birthday. Nothing was said, it just stopped. And we both were content with that. He moved away from Athens when he was seventeen to live with his aunt Beatrice after his father died. It was a rough parting for us, but we weathered it. I moved away from Athens soon after that, having finally finished school. I moved to Orlando and now work as an attractions supervisor at Walt Disney World. You won't believe the boys I see from day-to-day.

It's funny, though, how everything changes. Life, and all that. REM is now one of the biggest bands in the world. Can you imagine that? I mean, they were just four guys my age when I knew them, and now they're legends. And Mike doesn't look so much like a rodent anymore.

Athens is different. It's still vital, but something is gone. It's joined the club of the established scene, it's no longer groping for an acceptance. And I suppose that happens to the best of them. But the kudzu is still there, and so is the WATG tower. I drove by it the other day when I went to visit Eliza, who, by the way, still lives and works in Athens. I left my car on the side of the road and walked up the path in the twilight to the tower where I had loved Nicky for the first time.

There had been a lot of questions and guilt after that first time, all on my part. Nicky was happy, beautiful and content to be my lover and friend. But I, well, I questioned the validity of it all. If I was really a lover or just a luster. All of that faded, though. I did love Nicky, and when I see him now and hug him, I can still feel that boy inside the man's body, and dammit, I can still smell the sweetgrass.

I laid down on the ground under the WATG tower, where twelve years before I had lost my spiritual virginity. And it all came back to me, what had happened, what we did. I've had little boyfriends since then, all between ten and fifteen, and even a short-term marriage to a wonderful woman, but nothing reached to my very soul more than that one day in 1982, where in the span of twelve hours, two strangers became lovers and life-long friends.

I looked up in the twilight then, at the slow, groggy flashing airplane light on the top of the tower, and I dreamed that it was a ufo, from some far and distant planet, that had come, come to take me away with it again.

The End