Archive-name: Samesex/summdrm1.mb

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Summer Dreams - 1





Chapter 1. First Sightings



 It was summer and in the low 90's outside. The evening just 

beginning to cool down after a long hot day and it was the first 

time I saw Dylan. It was at the ice cream shop. I'd walked down one 

evening with my son and the boy was sitting at the table next to 

mine. He was with another boy, maybe a year older, and two girls. 

From their appearance, apparently neither of the girls were his 

sisters, and from his lack of interest, I assumed that they were 

not girl friends either. I guessed that one of the girls might have 

been his friend's sister. But it was Dylan that interested me, not 

that I knew his name then. He was what could only be called 

beautiful, the kind of beauty that one turns or stops to watch, the 

kind of beauty that is unnatural in a boy. He was blond headed, his 

hair long and slightly curly, bright golden strands bleached by the 

sun. He was slender, and from what smooth flesh was exposed, seemed 

to have a nice even tan. He was short but with a beautifully 

proportioned body, probably a few inches under five feet, and if I 

had to guess, probably not much more than eighty pounds. As I sat 

there eating my ice-cream I thought that he couldn't have been much 

older than twelve. There was a natural and youthful grace about 

him, but it was his face that struck me the deepest; his finely 

sculpted features, almost too delicate to be a boy, yet 

irresistibly so. I glanced over at him again and again, absorbing 

the aura that he seemed to exude, there was a liveliness, a youthful 

vitality, a quick grin, a playfulness that made me want to know him 

better. He was dressed in long shorts, almost to his knees, a long- 

sleeved checked shirt, with the arms untidily pushed upward, almost 

defying the heat.



 That was the first time and every day for the rest of that 

week I scrutinized the ice-cream store on my way home from the 

university, hoping to see him again, but each time I was 

unsuccessful. The next time was about a week later. We'd just 

joined the local swim club and I'd taken my son for his swimming 

lesson. I sat back in a chaise-longue watching the pool, absorbed 

by the lean bodies of the young swim-team boys, dressed only in 

their brightly colored Speedos, as they practiced diving, swimming 

and generally enjoying themselves.



 That is when I saw him again, but he wasn't swimming. Again, 

in the heat of the afternoon, he was playing basketball with his 

friend, dressed in his long-sleeved shirt and shorts, his golden 

blond hair mussed up and sweaty. He moved agilely, shooting hoops 

with ease, even though he was still quite short and the hoop was a 

long way up. Compared to his friend he was outstanding, his 

movements far swifter and reflecting his much greater agility. Half 

hidden by the hedge, I sat back in the chaise-longue, waiting for 

brief glimpses of my blond-headed boy as he jumped and ran around, 

darting back and forth. Finally, the basketball game ceased and the 

boys settled down to a game of ping-pong. Again, my blond-headed 

boy ruled the day, returning hit after hit with seemingly little 

effort. Then as my son's swimming lesson finished, I took over, 

making him practice by swimming the short length of the pool. It 

was traumatic and after a few minutes he had to break for a pit-

stop. I got out with him and went myself. On the way to the 

bathrooms we passed the ping-pong table and for a brief moment I 

watched him yet again, almost unable to take my eyes away from that 

beautiful young creature. After I'd been to the bathroom I came 

back to the fence that divided the play area from the pool area and 

I stood there, leaning against the fence, watching the boy play 

ping-pong, hoping that my son would take his time.



Finally, his swimming lesson over for the day, we left by 

going the long way around the pool. I hoped to see the boy up close 

one more time that day. He was still playing, still moving quickly, 

almost with the same high energy level he'd demonstrated earlier 

on the basketball court.



 Another day or two passed, every minute at the pool I watched, 

hoped, and prayed that he would arrive, but without success. Then 

the third day, as I sat back on the chaise-longue, he sauntered up 

to a chair on the other side of the pool, dropped his bag and 

removed his long-sleeved shirt, revealing a beautiful slender torso 

with an even almost-bronze-colored tan. This kid was something 

else, the pool was crowded, the temperature was in the low-to-mid 

90's and he was wearing a long sleeve shirt, possibly even flannel, 

but from where I sat it was impossible to tell. He kicked off his 

shoes, picked up his swimming costume and headed off to the 

changing room. For a moment I thought about following him, perhaps 

faking a trip to the bathroom, wondering whether I'd get a glimpse 

of his naked body, perhaps even see .... I waited too long, he came 

back, sauntered over to the chair and dropped his shorts and white 

jockeys into his back and then walked casually to the diving board. 

His swimming costume was blue and cut like shorts. It was very 

different to the narrow Speedos of the swim-club boys, which 

exposed almost as much as they covered.



In that brief walk to the diving board I absorbed him, his 

legs were lean and slender, browner at the ankles and legs. Then 

past his knees, the tan faded slightly, I supposed as a result of 

his long-length shorts.



At the diving board he stopped for a moment, as if focusing 

his attention, concentrating his energy, then, a few quick steps, 

and an animal-like spring high into the air, a somersault, and he 

sliced into the water with barely a splash. This boy could dive. 

He emerged, his blond head now dark from the water, shook it 

briefly, then with one or two powerful strokes reached the side of 

the pool. With both hands on the edge, he lifted himself up, coming 

easily to his feet in one graceful, seemingly effortless motion.



 Then again and again he dived, some dives smooth and graceful 

and obviously very familiar to him, others not as well-practised, 

and just a little bit awkward. It was as if my eyes were riveted 

to this startling boy, absorbing his every move, until my son's 

lesson finished and he startled me by silently coming to up to the 

chair and dripping on me. I got into the pool with him and again 

we practiced his  short-laps, back and forward across the pool. 

When he needed a break to get his  breath, I held  him  and as we 

watched the boy diving, I told him  that maybe one day he'd be able 

to dive like that. Finally, our practice session was over and we 

got out of the pool and towelled off. As we left, we went the long 

way, close to the diving boards. Just feet away, I watched the boy 

climb out of the pool, saw his slender lithe body, the bronzed-

brown tanned chest, nipples that were so small that they were 

nearly invisible, the clear indentations of his ribs, a flat brown 

belly grooved by firm strong muscles, a small indented belly 

button. Then he took a few steps and leaped upwards, doing a double 

somersault and then rocketing down into the water. For a moment we 

stopped to watch him as he emerged, swam to the side and climbed 

out, then another dive. My son said something but I didn't hear 

what. It was as if the world was closed, my attention focused on 

the beautiful young boy. Unable to find the courage to stay longer, 

I ambled out of the pool area, taking just one longing look back 

at the diving board. I didn't see him and I guessed that he was 

still in the water.



 Another day or two passed before I saw him again. Each time 

I walked to and from work I looked for him, eager and hopeful of 

seeing him in the ice cream shop though I knew that the chance of 

seeing him there again at the precise time I walked by was very 

unlikely. When I saw him the next time it was totally unexpected. 

It was 5.30 pm and I was walking home from the university. I would 

pick up my son and with luck I would see the boy again at the pool. 

As I neared my house I saw a person walking down the street, coming 

towards me. At first I thought it was a young woman, then a girl, 

then as he came closer I realized who it was. Still dressed in 

shorts and a long sleeved shirt, I tried to focus all my thoughts, 

to capture a lasting image as he passed beside me. Too brief, not 

much more than a glimpse, not enough to be lasting, but in the few 

seconds that he was only a foot or two away, I saw that he was a 

very beautiful boy. I guessed that he was on his way home from the 

pool, carrying a bag casually, not smiling, but not unhappy. I 

should have turned to watch him as he continued on his way, perhaps 

he'd turn as well to look back at me, surely he'd sensed the same 

magnetism that I felt. But then, why would a beautiful boy, 

probably not much more than twelve years old, be interested in 

grown man in his early forties. But at least I knew that sometimes 

he came my way, perhaps he lived close to my house, perhaps within 

a few blocks, perhaps I'd see him more often, perhaps.... But why 

hadn't I seen him before. 



 The next day I saw him again at the pool, sitting on the rear 

deck of the pool-house by himself. He looked lonely, as if waiting 

for someone and I supposed that he was waiting for a lift home. 

Perhaps that was why he'd walked the previous day, his lift hadn't 

arrived for some reason and he'd been forced to walk home. He was 

still dressed in a long-sleeved shirt. In the barest instant that 

I saw him, I thought his eyes met mine, then quickly look away. Was 

it my imagination, that a look of recognition flashed across that 

beautiful young face, the merest glimmer of a smile.



The days passed slowly after that, for nearly a full week I 

didn't see him, every day I looked for him where ever I went. Often 

at the pool I'd see a blond-headed boy who seemed to be about his 

size. I'd watch him continually from my chaise lounge unsure that 

it was "my boy". As I left, or went to the bathroom, I'd come closer 

only to find out that it was someone else. I was disappointed then, 

but also glad because these other boys always seemed to have lots 

of friends around them. Each day brought new hopes and further 

agony. Each night I dreamed (fantasized) about the boy, pretending 

that we'd become intimate friends, pretending conversations, 

imagining playful tickles and rough-housing with him.



 Then on a Tuesday afternoon I went home early to do some 

painting on the garage. By about 2.00 pm I was working on the front, 

closest to the street, when I looked over at the other side of the 

street for no reason at all. There he was. He looked in my 

direction, but he was too far away for me to tell if his eyes had 

met mine, too far to tell if he'd smiled, just far enough to see 

the glistening golden blond head turn away as he continued on his 

way up the street. I watched him, breathing out slowly with a 

longing sigh. What would I have given then for his affection, even 

just to speak to him. I was dirty and covered with a film of white 

paint-dust, dressed only in an old pair of grey-green shorts. Then 

he turned, and for another fraction of second, he looked back at 

me again as he continued walking. And then he was out of sight. The 

time was just after 2.00 pm and it was obvious that he was on his 

way to the swim club, carrying his bag over his shoulder, still 

dressed in his long-sleeved shirt and shorts. 



 Chapter 2. Introductions.



 Wednesday, 2.00 pm, and every few seconds I glanced around, 

searching the street for a sign of the boy. Minutes pass, long slow 

minutes that seem endless. This time I was painting, rather than 

sanding. I was hopeful, no desperate would be a better word for 

what I'm feeling. He's late, he's not coming, he went by earlier, 

he's gotten a ride to the pool, he's.... I went back to work, still 

glancing back at the street, no sign of the boy. Then I saw him, 

this time he was on my side of the street, which was unusual since 

there is no footpath. I turned to watch him go past, praying for a 

sign of recognition. Then he was opposite me, only twenty five feet 

away. Still walking, he turned his head, his golden hair glistening 

in the sun. There seemed to be a tiny smile form, he shook his head 

abruptly as his eyes met mine (already I know they are blue, like 

the afternoon sky). The boy is incredibly beautiful, I wanted to 

say something, anything, but no words came out and I stared at him 

dumbly. He began to turn away again as if to cross the street and 

I raised my eyebrows in a pleading, desperation and breathed 

outward heavily, a long noticeable sigh of longing. Almost to late 

the boy stops, the smile widened and flashed across his face. In 

that instant, unable to stop myself, I waved. He didn't return my 

salute to his beauty but he smiled still more, then began to turn 

away again. I watched him as he crossed over the street, my eyes 

drawn irresistibly to the boy's small firm buttocks, imagining them 

so smooth and soft under his shorts, sighing with regret, so close, 

so untouchable. In the middle of the road he looked back over his 

shoulder and saw me still watching him. This time he returned my 

wave of recognition, went few more paces then stopped, turned 

around and smiled as he looked directly at me. He came closer, until 

he was only a few feet away. He was still smiling, his perfect teeth 

unbelievably white.



"Hi", I mumbled incoherently, trying to swallow, trying to 

breath as I looked down at him from the ladder.



"Hi," he grinned playfully, his eyes flashing as they looked 

into mine. "Awfully hot for painting, isn't it?" he observed. His 

voice was higher pitched than I would have expected, the nervous 

tremor as present in him as it was in me.



"You're not wrong about that," I said stupidly, "I'd much 

rather be at the pool."



"Yeah I'm headed that way now," the boy grinned.



"So I see. So I see." I observed, frantically trying to think 

of something else to say to him. I wiped my forehead with the back 

of my hand, smearing white paint across my head.



"Heh, look out, you're painting yourself," he giggled, his 

blue eyes flashing with the life and vitality of uninhibited youth, 

his golden-blond hair glistening in the hot afternoon sun.



I laughed with him, the few seconds bringing instant relief 

into my aching heart, wondering, hoping that the boy felt the same, 

but knowing that he could not. After all he was a kid, just a kid, 

maybe twelve, maybe younger, why would he be interested in me I 

thought. "I guess I'll see you at the pool huh. I haven't seen you 

there for quite a while now," I blurted out.



The boy reddened slightly as if embarrassed, "Huh?" he said 

awkwardly, "You've seen me there? At the pool?"



"Huh huh. 'bout a week ago, I watched you diving. By the way 

you dive beautifully. Some of the dives where you somersaulted were 

incredible."



"Yeah! Thanks, I... I guess I do okay on some... a few...like 

my back somersault.... kind of need a lot of practice," he said 

hesitantly.



"I thought you were great," I added with conviction.



The boy smiled, "Your little girl is swimming better."



"He's doing even better now than when you last saw him Last 

week we started doing laps. He's up to three now and getting out 

of the dog-paddle mode as well."



"I know, like I said, he's swimming a lot better," the boy 

said. Then suddenly, he realized what he'd said and he looked down 

at his feet.



"Huh. But I didn't see you 'round the pool this last week," I 

said matter-of-factly, then I too realized what I'd said.



The boy smiled shyly as he looked up, "Yeah, well .... I 

watched from up on the deck..... I didn't feel much like swimming. 

You probably didn't see me up there."



I grinned back at him and shrugged, "I guess we'll see you at 

the pool latter today?"



"Yeah I guess so. See you later," he smiled, as he turned away 

and started back across the street. Just before he reached the 

other side he turned and waved. I grinned happily and waved back.



 That afternoon I couldn't get to the pool soon enough. As 

soon as my father-in-law dropped him  off I bundled him  inside and 

we went upstairs to get changed. I took the Corvette. Even though 

I still needed to fix the cooling problem, it was only a few blocks 

and I figured that I needed the ego boost. I didn't see the boy 

until we were in the pool area, he was playing basketball with 

another boy, shooting the occasional hoop, as he moved with an 

elegant grace around the court. He noticed me and tried to wave, 

missing the ball as he lunged upward and nearly loosing his balance 

at the same time. He came down hard enough to break or sprain an 

ankle but it didn't seem to slow him down as he twisted to one side, 

then, with what seemed an effortless motion, jumped backward, spun 

around and went after the other boy who now had possession of the 

ball.



 I took my son into the water for his warm-up practice swim, 

we still had about ten minutes until the instructor arrived. 

Unfortunately, once we were in the pool, it was impossible to see 

the basketball court. The ten minutes passed slowly, then we 

climbed out as the instructor came over to the side of the pool. I 

walked over to the chaise longue we had staked out with our towels 

and dried off before I sat down. The boys had left the basketball 

court and I scanned the area trying to see him. There was no sign 

of a boy that looked even remotely like him. Perhaps he was in the 

changing room, or upstairs getting a snack, or... any one of a 

thousand places. I wondered if I should go for a walk around the 

building, perhaps he was on the front deck, where I'd seen him once 

before. Perhaps he'd gone home. No, not that, I decided, knowing 

that he was around somewhere and that sooner or later he'd be back 

where I could see him.



 I settled out on the chair, trying to be patient but feeling 

a desperate longing build up inside me. While there were a few other 

boys around the pool none of them were worth watching, not after 

him, not after I'd spoken with him. I watched my son swimming, he 

was by far the best of the bunch now, a very different kid from 

when he'd cried and shrieked when I first let him go in the water. 

About ten minutes passed before I sensed the boy's presence just a 

few feet away. He was dressed in, yes you guessed it, the long- 

sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up his slender brown arms and 

shorts, but his feet were bare. He had approached very quietly and 

I was startled. He smiled even as I smiled at him. All I could get 

out was, "Oh! Hi."



The boy grinned cheekily, "Did I startle you?" he asked.



"Yeah... you did. Well I made it to the pool" I said.



"So I see. You got the paint off too," he teased playfully, 

"The last time I saw you there was more paint on you than on the 

garage."



We laughed, "I was a bit of a mess, wasn't I. It's pretty messy 

when you paint up in the air, when the paint drops off the brush 

it goes all over you." 



We looked at each other silently, thinking of what to say 

next.



"You going to do some diving?" I asked.



The boy shrugged, "Maybe later on."



"You want to sit down here?" I asked nervously. I thought I 

heard my own voice tremble, just like a teenager asking for his 

first date. The boy shrugged again, momentarily sucked his bottom 

lip pensively, and then shrugged his shoulders again nonchalantly.



"Yeah, I guess," he said as he dropped down onto the chair 

beside mine.



There was a moment of silence, then I said, "Heh, my name is 

Alex, what's yours?"



The boy grinned, "Oh," he answered in surprise, then as if he 

had to remember, hesitated before he said, "Dylan".



"Happy to meet you Dylan", I smiled, reaching out with my 

right hand toward the boy. What a perfect name for such a perfect 

specimen of a boy. Dylan hesitated, unsure of my outstretched hand, 

he swallowed nervously then he said awkwardly, "Oh, hi!", as his 

right hand reached outward me. That first touch was unforgettable, 

the boy's hand was warm and small with a slight moistness, his 

fingers seemed strong as they gripped mine, the skin was incredibly 

soft compared to my own. I glanced down at the boy's hand held in 

mine, then when I looked up, I met his eyes with mine. The boy 

smiled shyly, almost embarrassed by shaking my hand, then he looked 

away. I wanted to linger, to keep on holding his hand, but I knew 

better, and I released him.



"She's doing hisarms much better now," the boy observed.



I looked over towards my son, "Yes he is, isn't he. It'll be 

a long while before he can swim as well as you though."



The boy grinned back at me, his perfect teeth were a pure 

white, his lips were dark and passionately shaped. His eyes 

sparkled, they were a pale blue, like the sky at the horizon, his 

eyebrows were fine lines a little darker than his hair. "So why 

don't you do laps while he's having a lesson?" he asked.



"Huh? Oh, I don't know. I guess it's more fun sitting here and 

watching people," I mumbled, after all I could hardly tell Dylan 

that I sat there waiting to see him.



Dylan smiled, "I think I'll go for a swim. So do you want to 

do laps with me," he asked.



"Huh? Oh! yeah, if you want to", I said, then added, "You'll 

have to go slow though."



Dylan laughed as he leaped to his feet, "Okay, I'll be right 

back, I gotta change first," he called back as he half-walked, 

half-ran towards the changing room. 



 A few minutes latter he was back, dressed in the same blue 

swimming costume that he'd worn the last time, the time when I'd 

watched him diving. "Come on," he grinned. For a few all-too-brief 

seconds I feasted my eyes on his body. He was the epitome of 

boyhood, his body was lean and lithe, but not skinny, with firm 

muscles that rippled under his delicious brown skin. There was a 

golden lustre, a glow of youth and vitality that emanated from him, 

an absolute perfection of proportion and contour. My eyes began at 

his head and rapidly traversed down in a well-remembered glance. 

The boy still had the body of a young boy, without the changes of 

late pubescence, his shoulders, though well muscled, still sloped 

downward, there was a beautiful slenderness to his torso, a narrow 

waist and ribs that were clearly defined with tiny nipples, nearly 

the same color as his well-tanned chest and almost 

indistinguishable. A gentle depression began at this through, led 

downward to mark the center- line of his chest, then became the 

taut muscles of his belly. His perfect symmetry was accented by a 

small navel that was indented, and partially covered by a little 

fold of soft skin. His stomach muscles finally tapered into his 

swimming costume as it covered his groin. There was a small fold 

in his costume, accentuated by the slenderness of his hips and 

waist that hinted at the presence of his genitals beneath. For a 

moment I considered if the fold in the nylon reflected how big he 

was or whether it was merely incidental. Even as I lifted my eyes 

upward I wondered whether the boy still lingered at the beginning 

of puberty, the absence of a larger bulge in his swimming costume 

and the fact that he seemed so slender and smooth-skinned suggested 

that he had not begun to mature. He smiled slightly, almost shyly, 

as if aware of my concentrated gaze, and I smiled back.



We walked over to the lap pool. Luckily the far lane was unused 

and we took up positions, Dylan on the diving stand and me standing 

beside him at the edge of the pool. "On your mark,... set... go", 

he said, as his lithe brown body sprang forward like an arrow. I 

had a momentary glimpse as he rocketed into the water, before I 

followed him. Of course I knew that there was no way I could keep 

up with him, he moved gracefully, brown slender arms sweeping 

through the water with unexpected power, demonstrating (showing 

off) that he as much fish as he was boy. I swam as fast as I could, 

but he still pulled away, further and further until he was more 

than two lengths in front and that was before we reached the other 

end. Dylan turned with a somersault, then breached the surface as 

I came up to him. I caught a glimpse of a big grin as his face came 

out and before it went back into the water. He swam a few more 

lengths then stopped, now almost four lengths in front because of 

my clumsy turn-around. He swam lazily, breast-stroking, as I came 

up.



"Like I said, you'll have to go slow, real slow," I laughed, 

playfully splashing water at him. "You're a lot younger than me." 

The boy grinned as he splashed me back, "You're a great swimmer, 

maybe I should hire you to teach my son how to swim." He smiled as 

I added, "So champ, how old are you anyway?" I added.



"Twelve,... just, 'coupla weeks ago," he said as he began to 

breast-stroke faster, pulling away again. He slowed again almost 

as soon he had demonstrated his fish-like skill again. His body was 

so slender that the water seemed to offer almost no resistance, he 

didn't swim, this boy slid through the water with practically no 

effort. After that Dylan swam next to me, or just a few feet in 

front as we did lap after lap. A few times out bodies touched and 

I felt what might be described as "electricity", though it wasn't 

a shock, just a wonderful tingling sensation that made my heart 

rate go up a few notches. Every so often we'd break from free-style 

to breast-stroke and then we'd talk. Dylan seemed to open up to me 

in the water, it was as if the water washed away his inhibitions 

and by the time we'd finally climbed out I knew that he was an only 

child, he lived with his mother, he didn't remember his father, and 

he was changing schools in the Fall.



 I would have gone on swimming next to the boy until I was too 

weak to move but my reverie was interrupted by seeing my son 

standing next to the pool, obviously hislesson had finished. We 

climbed out and I introduced Dylan, almost proudly. With the nylon 

of his wet swimming costume clinging to his thighs and buttocks I 

had a tantalizing view of his boy-genitals. Even though that part 

of his young body was contracted from the cool water there was a 

small, but prominent bulge, not an erection but from the shape of 

his penis outlined beneath the wet nylon. I fancied that I could 

see the tiny ridge that formed at the little helmet-head. Of course 

that would mean that the boy was circumcised..., his penis seemed 

to protrude, sticking outward slightly as if lifted by his balls. 

It was only with the greatest effort that I finally dragged my eyes 

away.



 In the next few minutes I saw a new and wonderful side of the 

boy as he led my son off to the other pool and I watched them 

splashing and laughing together. He did cannonballs into the water 

with ridiculous motions, he dove and swam between hisoutstretched 

legs, floated on his back then gradually submerged, and a dozen 

other antics that left both of them giggling. I joined them and for 

the next thirty minutes we played and romped without a care in the 

world. But best of all was when Dylan climbed up on me so that his 

feet were in my hands and then leaped up and outward as I lifted 

up as hard and fast as I could, doing back-flips with seemingly no 

effort at all. It left me feeling very close to the startlingly 

beautiful young boy who had just come into my life and it left my 

son in a fit of giggles.



 All too soon it was over, Dylan had to get dressed and meet 

his mom at the gate at 7.00 pm. As we climbed out and towelled off 

he looked at me shyly as he asked, "You guys coming here tomorrow?"



"Huh, yeah I guess so, but you'll have to promise to swim 

slower," I teased playfully, knowing that our friendship had grown 

to the point where he'd appreciated my company.



"Great, I see you round six, okay, in the lap pool," he 

grinned, as he started towards the exit gate.



I sadly watched him leave, then turned to my son as he said, 

"I like Dylan. He's nice"



"Huh, oh yes, he's a nice kid isn't he," I replied with a smile 

as I added, "I met him while you were having a swimming lesson." 

We left shortly afterwards, there didn't seem to be much point in 

staying any longer.



The next day we were back at the pool right at 5.30 pm. There 

was no sign of Dylan and I felt quite sad. I'd thought of nothing 

else except him since the previous evening. That morning I'd laid 

in bed dreaming of the boy as I masturbated feverishly, fondly 

remembering his perfect beauty, the smoothness of his lean brown 

body, the small bulge in the wet nylon of his swimming costume, his 

infectious grin.... My son and I practised hisswimming, 

concentrating on getting hishead into the water, then out again 

after three strokes. It was only after half an hour, when hislesson 

was scheduled to begin, that I became aware of someone else, and 

as I swivelled around, saw Dylan standing at the edge of the pool 

watching us. Unlike the previous day, he'd discarded his blue 

swimming costume in favor of the brightly colored Speedos that the 

swimming-team boys wore. It was low-cut or maybe a size too small 

for him, the nylon barely covering his pubis, his genitals forming 

a small rounded bulge. 



"Hi Dylan," I grinned, "looks like you're going to beat me 

again today, huh?" I said.



He grinned back at me as he shrugged, then stepped forward to 

the very edge of the pool as if he was going to dive in. Instead 

he dipped the toes of one foot into the water, as if to test the 

temperature, then kicked quickly sending a spray of water over me. 

I laughed as I splashed him back, the water droplets glistening on 

his smooth brown legs as they trickled downward. I sent my son off 

to the other kids already gathered at the shallow end of the pool, 

then climbed out. Dylan grinned cheekily, "So, let's go for a swim, 

what are we waiting for?"



We went over to the lap pool and repeated the events of the 

previous day, only this time Dylan seemed less communicative. I 

found out only a little more about him. Like me, his mother was an 

associate professor at the university, but in 'romance languages.' 

I teased Dylan about what the language of romance was, but my feeble 

joke seemed lost on him. 



Finally I asked the boy what the problem was. He was silent 

for nearly a minute, then answered, "I told my mom about meeting 

you. She said it probably wasn't a good idea. Like I shouldn't be 

talking to strange men at the pool. I told her you were married, 

'n had a kid, and you were nice, but she still wasn't happy with 

the idea. She didn't want me to come today."



"Oh! Well I guess she's right you know," I answered, "if you 

were my son, I'm not sure I'd want you to go around talking to 

strange men either."



Dylan grinned then playfully splashed water at me. I stopped 

swimming and stood up, brushing the water from my face, "If you 

like, Dylan, I'll come out with you when she picks you up this 

evening. That way she'll at least know who I am," I offered. 



"Would you? I,... I think that'd help, if she knew you," the 

boy said gratefully.



I wondered then whether he'd fought with his mother, perhaps 

even disobeyed a direct order when he'd come to the pool. Perhaps 

his mother sensed her son's unusual interest, my affection for her 

very attractive son being inappropriate.



After we'd completed a few more laps it was nearly 6.30 and 

when my son came to the side of the pool we climbed out. I glanced 

down at Dylan's body, but was disappointed to see that while the 

taut nylon was clinging to his thighs, it revealed little more than 

his other swimming costume. When I looked up I realized that the 

boy had noticed that my attention has been focused on his groin. I 

smiled and raised my eyebrows inquisitively, then asked, "So Dylan, 

does the reduction in friction offset the increase in turbulence?"



"Huh?" the boy replied.



"Are they any faster than your blue costume?" I repeated.



"Yeah, I s'pose they don't drag as much," he answered.



"Well they look good on you," I observed as I wondered whether 

the boy heard the excited tremble in my voice or realized that I 

could barely drag my eyes away from his narrow thighs and the small 

rounded lump that bulged from between his slender legs. He didn't 

say anything as he towelled himself dry with brisk hard rubbing, 

then he looked down at me as I sat on the chair to put my shoes on.



"Thanks for coming to meet my mom," he said. "She's probably 

waiting outside for me now. I better go see her before she get's 

mad at me."



"Well come on then," I said, getting to my feet and, taking 

my son by the hand, followed Dylan out to the car park. By the time 

we had reached the gate Dylan was forty feet in front, and he went 

over to the side of a car that was stopped in the drop-off area. 

His mother was attractive and blond-headed, just like her beautiful 

young son. She was driving a cream-colored convertible with the top 

down, a Volkswagen Passat, a car which looks remarkably like a box 

on wheels. Dylan went to the passenger side and spoke to his mother 

for a moment. I could see her talking to him, then Dylan said 

something back to her. She nodded and the boy twisted around, and 

beckoned to us to come over.



My son and I walked up and Dylan smiled slightly, shyly, 

apparently embarrassed by having to introduce me to his mother. I 

took over, nervously reaching over the door to shake the woman's 

hand. "Hi, my name is Alex, Alex Weston," I said as I smiled as 

reassuringly as I could, "And this is my son, Kelly."



"Hello," she said, still uncertain, then paused for and 

instant, "I'm Diane Brady."



"Dylan tells me you're at the university. Associate professor, 

Romance Languages right? I guess we've got a lot in common, I'm an 

associate professor in automotive design and engineering."



"Oh! I didn't realize, he didn't say anything about you being 

at the university too. Dylan wants to be an car designer when he 

grow up, don't you honey?" she said.



The boy looked surprised as he turned to me, then he nodded 

awkwardly, looking away from me as he answered 'Yeah, I guess so."



I realized that he'd suddenly become very self-conscious, then 

I realized it was probably because his mother had called him 

'honey' in front of me. I grinned at Dylan playfully, "Well I hope 

so, he certainly is bright enough. Your son can swim like a fish, 

I can barely keep up with him even when he swims slowly. He's even 

been helping me teach Kelly how to swim."



"I hope he hasn't been a nuisance," Diane said uncertainly.



"Dylan? Hardly, he's a great teacher, my son listens more to 

what he says than he does when I say it. I hope we'll see him here 

tomorrow evening?"



"I, well I suppose so. That's up to Dylan. If he's not 

bothering you?" she replied.



"Great", I smiled, "See you tomorrow Dylan, say round 5.30 

again?"



"Huh? Oh yes, I'll be here 'bout then. I'll see you tomorrow," 

he said as he opened the car door and slid down into the bucket 

seat. We watched them drive off and I hoped that Dylan would turn 

around or wave but he didn't.







Chapter 3.



The next day I was sitting in my office working on the computer 

when the phone rang. I was about halfway through the design of a 

rear spoiler using a simulation program I'd developed a year ago 

and I didn't like the interruption to my work. The phone rang again, 

persistently so I scooted my chair over and away from the computer 

and picked it up. The voice was on the other end was a woman's and 

for an instant it was unfamiliar. "Hello, is this Professor 

Weston?" 



I was surprised because I thought that I recognized the voice 

and for an instant I didn't say anything other than "Yes?"



She continued, "This is Diane Brady. I'm Dylan's mom, we met 

yesterday?"



In a flash all my fears came at once, she was calling to tell 

me to keep away from her beautiful young son. I swallowed, 

nervously, hesitated a moment and then said, "Oh, hi. It was a 

pleasure to meet you."



"I just wanted to call and say that I'm glad we met yesterday. 

I hope I'm haven't interrupted anything. Dylan's talked a lot about 

you. I must tell you that I wasn't at all happy with him hanging 

around with strange men at the pool." 



"I'm glad we met too, Mrs... Ms... Brady. He's a great kid," 

I said honestly.



"Call me Diane, please. Well I just wanted to call and say... 

well that I feel that Dylan's in good hands. Well good-bye..." she 

tailed off.



"Diane, it's nearly lunch time, perhaps I can meet you for 

lunch," I said quickly.



There was a brief hesitation on the other end then she said, 

"Yes, yes I think that would be a good idea. I'd like to. I don't 

know anyone that I can talk to about Dylan. He seems to really like 

you."



I breathed out in relief, my fears dispelled. "I have a 

meeting this afternoon at 1.30, we'd have to go now. The faculty 

club is open, can we meet in the foyer in say ten minutes?"



Ten minutes later I was standing in the foyer as Diane 

entered. "Hi," I said, "I've already got a table, non-smoking 

okay?"



The woman smiled, "That's good. I'm afraid I'm a few minutes 

late, it's been hectic this morning. I'm working on a book and the 

publisher wanted me to fax back some galleys."



"I know the feeling," I said, leading the way into the dining 

area and over to the table. We didn't talk as we scanned the menus, 

then ordered salads and ice teas. Finally Diane looked up at me and 

breathed out, "Whew, it's nice to slow down for a while. So much 

for the easy life of the academic."



I grinned, "Books are always a pain in the neck. They're more 

work than they're worth. With publish or perish, I think I'd take 

the latter."



Diane smiled, "Maybe. But seeing your name of the front cover 

is always nice."



I laughed, turning around as our ice teas were placed on the 

table. "Thanks", I said, then turned back to Diane, "I'm sorry that 

we have to rush lunch."



"That's okay. I have to get back myself, but I did want to 

talk about Dylan. Perhaps you... well maybe you can help."



"Sure. I doubt if I can, but fire away."



She looked down, "Right now Dylan's going through a difficult 

period. He's always been a sweet kid, now he's just difficult."



"As his age he's probably starting to go through puberty. It 

does that to boys sometimes," I replied. "All those extra hormones 

are something of a shock."



"Maybe but I don't think so. Not yet anyway. He's always been 

a loner, maybe one friend or two at the most. About a week ago he 

had a fight with his best friend. Now he just mopes around. I've 

never seen him this depressed. I don't know what on earth has gotten 

into him. He's a very sensitive boy. Usually we can talk, but now 

he's started to clam right up."



I shrugged, "Kids go through a non-communicative stage too. I 

remember I did. I was probably a few years older than Dylan."



"No. It isn't that. I really thing it's a much deeper 

problem."



"Maybe," I agreed. "Why don't you tell me more."



"I don't know how to start, maybe at the beginning. Dylan's 

father left just after he was born, so... well Dylan's never known 

his father. I haven't married again. I guess... well I guess I don't 

want to go through it all again. Anyway, Dylan's... I don't know 

how to put this... I suppose he needs a father... He needs a... a 

role model." The woman looked up at me expectantly.



I nodded reassuringly, "Probably does. He's at that age isn't 

he."



She smiled and shrugged, "It's kind of hard for me to do the 

kind of things with him that he needs."



I smiled, "I s'pose so. Don't you know someone that could take 

him on. Aren't there any men in your department into camping, 

fishing, and football?"



Diane looked up, "If you knew...," she began to laugh. "The 

only one that isn't married is gay. I mean really gay, not just 

open about it, he flaunts it. You might even say effeminate. I don't 

think he'd know a football from a baseball, and as for camping, I 

shudder to think."



"Not exactly the kind of role model for a twelve year old boy, 

huh?" I acknowledged.



Diane nodded, "Not exactly. It isn't that I would hate Dylan 

to be gay. I don't think any mother wants that for her son, but if 

he is, well... I certainly don't want him to be like Adrian."



"So what you want is a rugged masculine guy?" I teased.



Diane started to laugh, finally relaxing, "Yes, something like 

that."



"You know there are Big Brothers for that kind of thing," I 

suggested.



"I know. I even suggested that to Dylan a week or two ago. He 

got very angry at me for suggesting that one."



I smiled, "Well, I don't know what to suggest. 



"Dylan really likes you a lot. He told me all about swimming 

with you. He's as happy as he's ever been. You're good for him, he 

needs someone like you. I mean. well if you could spend some time 

with him, I think that's what he needs."



"I guess so," I said, trying to hide the joy that welled up 

inside me. "He's a great kid. My son likes having him around too. 

It's someone to play with, even if he is a 'boy'."



Our lunch arrived and for the next twenty minutes we ate and 

talked, sharing the problems that confront the faculty of any one 

of a thousand universities in the country. Finally, just we stood 

up Diane looked at me seriously, "You know, I'm glad Dylan met you. 

I think you're going to be good for him."



I smiled and shrugged, "I'll see him at the pool this 

afternoon I s'pose?"



Diane nodded, "That was his plan at breakfast. One thing?"



"Huh?" 



"I don't think that Dylan should know that we had this talk. 

After the way he carried on when I suggested that he get a Big 

Brother, well... he might not like me interfering with his 

friendship with you."



"I think you're right. I'm sure we'll get Dylan back to his 

old self", I added as we walked into the foyer. I glanced at my 

watch, just five minutes to get back and print off my notes for the 

meeting, "I'd better run. It was nice seeing you again. I'll see 

you 'round campus," I added as I headed out the door, my heart going 

about twice its normal rate.



That afternoon and the next I met Dylan at the pool and we 

swam our customary laps. Each day the boy seemed to get friendlier 

and more at ease. After our swim we would rough-house in the water, 

tossing the eighty pound boy high into the air, diving down in the 

ten-foot-deep section of the pool chasing the plastic rings that 

my son tossed in, splashing each other in a fit of giggles. The 

following week it rained two days and it wasn't until Thursday that 

we got to the pool. The sky was broken by fits of angry grey clouds 

that threatened rain but we still went to the pool.



Almost as soon as we parked the car and entered the pool area, 

Dylan sauntered up and grinned. He was wearing his Speedos again 

and nothing else. I ran my eyes down and then up his body in silent 

admiration. God he was beautiful, and sexy too. Every day since 

that first time together in the pool I'd masturbated with ever 

increasing frequency, always thinking about Dylan. By now I was 

past the point of no return, ready to take any risk, if the reward 

was Dylan. Instantly I started to get an erection and I casually 

lifted my leg up onto the chaise longue to hide it. Gradually it 

faded as I forced my mind to concentrate on anything else except 

the beautiful, nearly naked boy next to me.



After commiserating about the lousy weather my son went off 

to hisswimming lessons and Dylan and I headed off to the lap pool. 

We swam for half an hour then went over to join my son. Our water 

games were interrupted after fifteen minutes when the first big 

droplets of rain splattered into the pool. A minute later we were 

sheltering under the deck as the rain came down in earnest.



"So much for swimming today," I laughed.



Dylan looked out at the now steadily falling rain, "It's 

probably drier in the pool," he observed as he towelled himself 

dry. "What a pain. My mom's not going to pick me up till seven 

tonight."



"We'll give you a lift home, won't we Kelly. It'll be a squeeze 

but you'll fit. You guys wait here and I'll pull the car around to 

the front," I said seeing a break in the rain.



I dashed out, running quickly, and got to the car just as the 

rain began to fall harder. I fumbled with my keys, finally got the 

door opened and dropped down into the seat. I started the car, 

backed out of my parking spot and drove as close as I could to the 

front gate. I opened the passenger-side door and waved to the kids. 

A moment later Dylan and Kelly came running like two wet rabbits, 

towels flying behind them. Dylan came through the open door first, 

pulling his bag after him and I dragged over towards me to make 

room for my son in the other seat. Eighty plus pounds of wet, 

wriggling, giggling boy landed on my lap. Unable to resist, I 

tickled him furiously, my fingers probing under his arms and ribs 

as he laughed and twisted hysterically. My erection returned with 

a surge as adrenaline screamed through my heart. Almost instantly 

my cock was engorged and my hard-on was pushing into Dylan's 

buttocks, straining against my own swimming costume and the taut 

nylon of the boy's Speedos. His skin was incredibly soft, 

glistening and slippery with the rain, emanating a pleasurable 

warmth. Was it my imagination that Dylan pressed down even harder 

onto my cock, almost rubbing himself against it, surely he could 

feel the hot hardness underneath him. My brain shrieked out in 

almost futile resistance, then my impulse died as I remembered my 

son sitting only inches away. Still laughing I pushed Dylan away, 

"It's gonna be real hard driving the car with you here."



The boy giggled, perching himself uncomfortably on the 

transmission hump, with his slender brown legs next to my son's. 

"This better? This sure is a great car Alex, I've never been in a 

Corvette before."



I started the engine, 350 horsepower sending a gurgling 

vibration through the chassis, and engaged first gear, easing out 

the clutch. The car leaped forward and I powered it on down the 

driveway, just short of spinning the wheels. There are very few 

twelve-year-old boys who can resist the thrill of a fast car and 

Dylan was not exception. He gripped the seats beside him and let 

out one loud 'Wow' as we hurtled through first and second gears, 

then braked hard at the corner. I accelerated up to sixty, twice 

the legal limit before backing off. I glanced sideways at Dylan. 

He had the biggest grin I'd even seen.



I followed the boy's directions to his house. He lived in a 

duplex, he and his mom on the ground floor and a tenant on the 

second floor. It was a nice place, brick and stone, maybe sixty 

years old, with a large sycamore tree in the front yard. By then 

the rain had eased off and Dylan slide over my son and out the door 

after we'd said good-bye, and he had gushed effusively about the 

car's acceleration. 



Chapter 4. Twenty Questions.



The next day the rain seemed to have departed and we headed 

up to the pool as usual, but a few minutes late. The swim lessons 

had already started so my son went off to join hisgroup. The wind 

was blowing so I selected a seat behind the pump-room wall in the 

sun. There was no sign of Dylan and for some reason I didn't feel 

much like swimming by myself. I looked around again and again, 

hoping to see the boy. Somehow I was certain that he would be here 

today.



I didn't have long to wait, after a few minutes Dylan walked 

up and sat down on the seat next to mine. "Hi," he said.



"Hi yourself. Well is the lap pool as usual so you can beat 

me again," I teased.



The boy shrugged, "Yeah, if you want. I'd rather talk but."



"Sure."



"You're my friend right?" he asked uncertainly.



"Huh huh, I'd say so."



Dylan looked away and took a deep breath, letting it out 

slowly with a sigh, "So,..." he asked, then paused, "Can I ask you 

a kind of personal question."



I glanced at the boy, "Huh huh," I said absently.



"Well...", he began then paused, summoning his courage, "When 

you were a boy... say about my age, did you... well.... play with 

it? You know...?"



I swallowed, feeling a sudden thrill, "Huh?" I responded."



"You know... play with your dick... your penis? You know... 

jerk off"



I grinned, "Come on Dylan, every boy masturbates, plays with 

his penis, at one time or another."



"So... did you jerk off... masturbate when you were a boy? 

Masturbate... is that the right word?" he asked insistently.



"It is. Yeah, of course I did." I laughed, trying to pretend 

uninterested, feeling my heart surge with adrenaline, then 

realizing the need for caution, added, "This probably isn't 

something you should discuss with me, is it?"



"Sure, I should ask my mom huh," he retorted angrily. "If I 

can't ask you then who can I talk about it with."



"Heh Dylan, don't get uptight, it's okay to talk about sex 

with me... if you want to." That was a close one. Dylan looked away 

pretending to pout. It didn't last long, his interest was aroused 

now, he needed answers.



"So... did you do it a lot?" asked again, his confidence 

returning suddenly.



"What is this? Twenty questions? Yeah, I guess I did it a lot. 

I still do."



He paused a moment trying to frame the follow-up question. 

There was no way to avoid it, "Yeah? You still do it. But you're 

so old. I mean a grown up,... So did you... do it with any of your 

friends... when you were my age?" he blurted out.



I grinned, "Huh huh. I think a lot of boys experiment with 

each other around your age. It's a perfectly normal part of growing 

up. I don't think that playing around with your friends is bad, 

though a lot of grown-ups probably wouldn't agree with that."



"But doesn't it make you gay? If you play around too much?" 

he asked awkwardly.



"Hardly. Boys need to learn about their bodies," I answered, 

then added, "A boy might be gay, if he is, then he'll probably enjoy 

it more than other boys and as he gets older he doesn't grow out 

of it."



"Oh!" Dylan was silent for a moment. "So can I ask you another 

personal question?"



"Huh huh, if you want." I answered.



"Well..., when you... masturbated... well what did you think 

about?" he mumbled nervously.



"That's pretty personal, don't you think?" I teased, wondering 

whether Dylan would be shocked when I told him.



"Yeah I guess so... You don't have to answer, if you don't 

want," he replied as he reddened slightly.



I laughed, "Okay, don't get embarrassed," I teased. "If you 

really want to know, I thought about doing it with boys."



"Yeah!" he said incredulously. "So can I ask you another 

question, but this one is really personal? You don't have to answer 

if you don't want to."



"I guess. Fire away Dylan." I smiled at the boy reassuringly, 

wondering what his quick mind and very fertile imagination were up 

to. It didn't take long to find out.



"Well... you said you still do it... masturbate right? So... 

well... what do you think about now?" he asked hesitantly.



I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Little blond 

boys... if you must know."



He reddened visibly, "Huh?" he mumbled.



"Little blond boys," I repeated.



He blushed even more, his face now turning a reddish hue in 

embarrassment. He was silent, lost for words as he tried to 

understand. Finally, unable to hold back, he blurted out, "Like me? 

About boys like me?"



"Huh huh, you're blond aren't you?" I teased.



"But you're... you're married, aren't you?"



"Being married doesn't mean that I can't be turned on by boys 

like you," I answered gently.



Dylan fell silent again, trying to deal with this new piece 

of information. "Yeah, I guess," he said quietly, then slowly he 

looked up at me, his eyes alight with curiosity, "Do you really 

think about me?" he asked, his voice trembling with building 

excitement and enthusiasm.



"What do you think?" I replied, putting the boy on the spot 

as I added, "And what do you think about when you masturbate Dylan?" 

I asked. 



I doubted whether Dylan could have gotten any redder but he 

did, his face quickly turning an almost scarlet shade as he tried 

to look away. When he spoke it was barely a whisper, "You... if you 

must know. Ever since the first time I saw you, I started thinking 

about you, okay."



"It's nothing to feel bad about Dylan," I said reassuringly, 

"In fact I kind of feel honored. Is it my turn for twenty questions 

now?" I teased.



He nodded, his long golden-blond hair shaking. Unable to look 

back at me he focused his attention on the wall beside us.



"Well, I already know what you think about when you 

masturbate..." I teased, "So I guess the next question if how often 

you do it? Of course that's pretty personal too, so you don't have 

to answer unless you want to."



"Huh, how often,... most every night I s'pose. Sometimes in 

the mornings too, 'fore I get up," he answered quietly, his voice 

trembling.



"Good, that's nothing to be ashamed of you know, Most boys 

your age get the urge a lot," I laughed, then added, "And you think 

about me as you do it right?" Dylan nodded. "Okay, next question. 

So when you think about me, what do you think?"



Dylan's voice was little more than a whisper, "That's too 

personal... okay?"



"Okay. Well next question. Do you play around with any of your 

friends?"



Dylan looked at me angrily, "Huh. Yeah a bit, at least I did 

a while ago. With my best friend, Gary, at least he was my best 

friend back then. We jerked off some. Then one time when I wanted 

to do more stuff, he backed out and didn't want to. He got kind of 

angry and then he called me a faggot and said I was gay. The shit-

head even told some of the guys at school that I was."



"That's too bad, I'm sorry he did that to you Dylan. It wasn't 

right," I said gently. "What did you want to do that made him 

angry?"



Dylan's face had lost some of its red hue but he blushed again, 

"You got to promise never to tell anyone, okay?" I nodded 

seriously, I knew this was going to be good. "Well... first I wanted 

us to suck each other's dicks. He said it was gross but he did that 

okay. I could tell he wasn't that interested. I should have 

realized then, but I didn't." He stopped, looking away as the 

memory came back to haunt him, "Promise you won't tell anyone?" he 

asked again. I nodded once more. "Well... then I wanted him to... 

put his dick... in my backside," the boy blurted out shamefully. 

"He got really angry, and that's when he started to call be queer 

and.... Well I,... well I just wanted to see what it felt like. 

Okay! It doesn't mean I'm gay does it?" he added fearfully.



"Of course it's okay Dylan," I reassured the boy. "It doesn't 

mean you're gay. You're still much too young to know. Most boys go 

through a stage; they experiment with each other, most of them grow 

out of it. You might,... then again you might not, it's just too 

soon to tell."



"Oh", Dylan swallowed. "But what if...? Well what if...? It 

doesn't matter...."



"Ready for the next question?" I asked. Dylan nodded. "When 

you masturbate, does anything come out?"



"Huh? Oh! Out of my dick, you mean can I come yet? Kind of, a 

little drop of clear stuff sometimes comes out at the end. But I 

have to do it for a long while, but nothing else, it's not white 

or anything. White stuff would come spurting out of Gary's dick, 

when he jerked off, but then he was nearly a whole year older than 

me. I guess I'm still too young to come properly. I haven't even 

got any hair down there yet."



We sat side by side both sensing what lay before us, both 

afraid to break the silence, and open the door to what confronted 

us now. Dylan's youthful self-confidence won the day, "So, I have 

another question for you okay, it's really personal but? So you 

don't..."



"Have to answer unless I want," I finished. "Fire away, Dylan, 

and I'll decide."



"Okay, well when you think about me, well what do you think 

about,... exactly?"



he asked shyly.



"Exactly?" I asked teasingly. The boy nodded slightly. "You 

want all the dirty details?"



"Yeah!" he smirked playfully.



"You might find it a bit embarrassing, you know," I teased.



"So? I don't mind. So what do you think about? Tell me all the 

details!" he insisted.



I laughed, unable to resist the boy. It was more than 

flirting, the boy's deliberate challenge clearly intended to go 

much further than merely satisfying his curiosity. Like me, he was 

excited, his young body so aroused that he was barely able to 

control himself. He trembled with anticipation, born of a primal 

urge that had dwelled within him for as long as he could remember. 

I knew without looking that my cock was erect. The insistent 

throbbing and tightness in my swimming shorts was matched by the 

same hardness between Dylan's slender brown legs, the small bulge 

now slightly larger than it had been just minutes earlier. I 

wondered how far Dylan would go.



"Heh, I asked you first remember?" I laughed.



The boy shrugged nonchalantly, trying to appear relaxed, but 

inside his heart was pounding and his breathing quickened. "You 

first, okay?" he giggled.



"Why?" I teased, wondering what Dylan would think of me when 

I told I dreamed of fucking his beautiful slender body, of holding 

his golden-blond head and thrusting my cock back into his throat, 

of sucking his little-boy cock until it was red-raw.



"'cause you're older than me?" he giggled. Dylan moved his 

legs trying to hide his erection, so hard now that it had become 

uncomfortable.



"Okay, I'll go first, I guess." I paused for a moment, letting 

the silence sink in. It heightened the drama as I said, "I dream 

about making love to you Dylan."



Needless to say Dylan blushed still more, "Y...yeah", he 

stammered in obvious embarrassment. He swallowed nervously, took a 

deep breath, "You got to promise never to tell, okay?" I nodded. 

"I,... I pretend that, don't laugh okay,... I pretend that you 

teach me about sex." I smiled at the boy encouragingly and he 

realized that I wasn't angry. "I pretend that you teach me 

EVERYTHING. Even... about what I tried to get Gary to do.... Not 

just suck each other's dicks, but the other thing as well. Do you 

mind?" he asked awkwardly.



"Do I mind? Of course not Dylan, I'm honored. You're a very 

beautiful young boy. If I had the chance, I'd love to teach you 

EVERYTHING!" I said honestly.



Dylan grinned, looking up at me with his innocent blue eyes, 

"Everything? But I didn't think that you were... well gay or 

anything..." he said. 



I shrugged. "So tell me, do you dream about putting your dick 

inside my butt?" he teased.



"All the time," I answered honestly. "You know Dylan, this 

conversation is getting a bit out of control," I added. 



"How do you mean, 'out of control'?" he asked, his teasing 

voice revealing his intense excitement.



I laughed at the boy's pretense of innocence. "You know 

exactly what I mean Dylan. We're sitting here, both of us with very 

hard penises, talking about having sex. It's making you excited in 

a way that probably shouldn't occur until you're much older. You're 

barely twelve and I'm old enough to be your father."



Dylan's grin faded instantly and his crestfallen eyes pulled 

away to look down at his feet. The silence seemed endless, we were 

close to a precipice, which both us knew, opened into a bottomless 

chasm. We needed to back away, everything was happening too fast. 

"Are you angry?" the boy muttered at last. "I'm sorry."



"Dylan, there's nothing to be sorry about, really there 

isn't."



"I wish you were my father," the boy said bluntly, slowly 

lifting his eyes to look at me.



I smiled, gazing into the boy's eyes, awed by the intensity 

within him. The boy's sparkling sky-blue eyes and glistening 

golden-blond seemed to defy my demanding urge



to defile his beautiful body, the depravity of his own desire, 

that now finally awakened, would torment him until he understood 

it.



Unable to deal with his intense feelings, he changed the 

direction of the discussion. "So when you were my age, did you do 

anything else besides jerk off,... masturbate... with your 

friends?" He grinned slowing as he added, "Did you do what I tried 

to do with Gary?"



I smiled as I answered him, "Huh huh. Like I said, a lot of 

boys mess around together when they're about your age. I guess I'm 

no exception."



"Did you... you know do IT?" he continued, his insatiable 

curiosity driving him onward.



I pretended ignorance, "Huh, do what?"



"You know!", he smirked cheekily, "...Back there," he finally 

added after a long pause.



"Oh that! Yeah, I guess so." I teased playfully aware of 

Dylan's building excitement, the nervous bubbling energy of youth 

almost overwhelming the boy. He was practically shivering, his 

voice, though quiet, was trembling as he put the next question.



"Did you... did you... like it? Did it... hurt?" he asked at 

last, as he looked downward and away from me to the ground as if 

ashamed, or afraid of the answer.



"Huh? Oh yeah I s'pose so. It was a long time ago, but I really 

don't remember it hurting," I said casually. How long had it been 

since those first inexperienced and tentative explorations with my 

friends. Thirty years. I smiled at Dylan as I admitted to him, "We 

were pretty inexperienced. We tried, but we really didn't know what 

to do. Without any lubricant,... well it doesn't go in that far. 

But we didn't know that at the time."



"Oh!" the boy smirked in surprise at this new information, 

then looked up at me cheekily, "So.... have you done it again since, 

after you found out how to do it properly?"



I laughed as I shook my head, "Now you ARE getting personal, 

Dylan. You didn't like your friend Gary telling other boys about 

you, well this isn't any different."



"I s'pose but..." he trailed off, now intensely curious and 

very aware that his throbbing cock was painfully hard and sticking 

straight up into the blue nylon of his swimming shorts. "Yeah, I 

guess,.... but I wouldn't tell anyway." He grinned at me cheekily, 

"So what do you think out when you jerk off... masturbate, anyway."



"I already told you. I dream about making love to you."



"Sure, but what. What do we do?" he asked persistently.



"You really want to know huh? Exactly?" I teased. Dylan 

nodded. "Okay, I usually begin by kissing you."



"On the lips?" the boy interrupted.



"Huh huh. Then I start down, kissing your neck and shoulders 

as I start taking off your shirt. I kiss all the way to your belly 

button and after I've worked over your tummy for a bit, I take off 

your shorts and underpants, and start kissing junior." 



I glanced at Dylan, he had reddened slightly but he was both 

fascinated and eager for me to continue. I could see the pulse in 

his throat, his mouth slightly open as he breathed deeply, trying 

to control the excitement that now raged throughout him. "Yeah? You 

kiss me on my dick?" he said, his voice breaking slightly and 

unusually husky, a clear sign of the boy's arousal. "Then what?" 

he added in a whisper.



"Well then I start licking and sucking on junior," I answered.



"What,... what do I do to you?" 



I grinned, "Mostly you just lie back and enjoy it. When he's 

really hard I start to suck on your balls while I get your rear-

end ready." Dylan had turned a bright shade of pink again and he 

was looking down in vivid embarrassment. "You want me to stop?" He 

shook his head so I went on. "So after a while, when my finger can 

go inside your rear-end pretty easily, I turn you over onto your 

front and put it inside you so we can make love."



Dylan swallowed, "Do I like it?" I nodded and he swallowed 

again. "You know,... well it hasn't got to be like that,... be a 

dream, like that," he added quietly, his voice trembling with 

barely concealed excitement.



"Hi Dylan," my son called as he came over to us, still dripping 

water, his swimming lesson now finished.



Dylan jerked in surprise, swinging his head around in a sudden 

reflex, "Oh hi. You were swimming great. We were watching you," he 

smiled shyly, feeling his excitement , and probably his erection, 

deflate in an instant.



I smiled, adding, "Hi tiger, how did it go? Dylan was 

absolutely right when said he thinks you're doing great."



"Okay, my back floating's getting better, Steve said so too," 

he said.



"I guess I better go practice some myself," Dylan said. "Heh, 

what we talked about, you gotta promise not to tell anyone, okay," 

he asked nervously.



I grinned at the boy, "Who am I going to tell? Of course I 

promise." I added seriously, "So Dylan, do you want to come to the 

farm with us tomorrow." I asked.



"Huh?" Dylan looked at me questioningly.



"Do you want to come out with us tomorrow and go horse-back 

riding. That is, assuming that it isn't raining." I said



"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. I've never been but I guess I'd 

like it. I wouldn't know what to do, I'll probably just get in the 

way," he answered uncertainly.



"Well, there's probably a lot of things you don't know how to 

do, but I'm sure you're a fast learner." I grinned at the boy 

playfully, wondering whether he caught my message. "We'll pick you 

up at your place, probably around 9.00 or 10.00. I'll call your mom 

tonight to make sure it's okay if you want me to. All you've got 

to bring is an old pair of jeans."



The boy was clearly excited, his sexual arousal now replaced 

by a different kind of excitement, "Yeah, that'd be great. Heh I'll 

see you tomorrow morning then, okay," he said happily.



"And by the way, don't worry about it." I called after him as 

he came quickly to his feet and started toward the diving board. 

He turned, grinned and waved, then with an elegant leap, sliced 

into the water with a perfectly executed dive that left little more 

than a ripple on the surface.

 





Chapter 5. A Day at the Farm



The next morning we were up, showered, and breakfasted by 

8.15. I had been certain that my wife would not be able to come out 

to the farm when I extended the invitation to Dylan. Increasingly, 

her work was taking her out of the city and this weekend was not 

going to be an exception. She still had not returned from her trip 

to New York and when she'd called in the evening I had told 

her about inviting the boy out to the farm. She didn't mind, after 

all he would probably be company for me when Kelly went off to play 

with his friend who lived on the farm next to ours.



Unsure of what twelve-year-old boys liked to eat for lunch, I 

threw a a six-pack of coke, a couple of light beers, bread, cheese, 

a tomato, and half a dozen other goodies into a box. It was late 

summer and after the rain, the weather had turned cooler. Still, the 

morning was not cold enough for a jacket, and it would certainly 

warm up during the day, so I had dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved 

checked shirt, just like Dylan. I thought about driving the 

Corvette, knowing the excitement that it would give Dylan if I 

blasted it on the freeway, but I decided that he'd probably have 

more fun with the four-wheel-drive on some of the rough trails 

through the woods. Exactly at 8.30, I pulled up in the driveway of 

the boy's house. Dylan had been waiting at the front door and he 

came flying out, his lithe body jumping down the four or five steps 

at the porch, then running up to the car. He was obviously very 

excited. The boy was dressed exactly as I had expected, with faded 

blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway 

up his brown slender arms. When I'd called on Friday evening, Diane 

had been glad that I'd invited her son out to the farm and she 

followed him down to the car arriving just as Dylan climbed into 

the front seat next to me. 



"You behave yourself, honey," she said as she smiled at me.



The boy shrugged and lifted his eyes up in playful desperate 

plea. Even as he smiled at me, his grin revealed what I thought was 

barely controlled lust. After our long conversation the previous 

day I was pretty sure what was on the boy's mind,... the same thing 

that was on mine. "Yeah, mom, sure thing," he replied.



"Thanks for taking him with you," his mother said to me. "You 

will be careful if you go riding won't you. Dylan hasn't been on a 

horse before."



I laughed, "Don't worry, if we go riding he'll use probably 

use Kelly's pony or my wife's horse. There's never been a slower 

horse."



"Okay. I can expect to see him after dinner, huh?" she asked. 



I nodded, almost impatient to be off, "Around nine probably. 

We won't leave until sunset and we'll probably get dinner on the 

way back."



Dylan was similarly eager to leave, "Bye mom, see you 

tonight," he called out.



"Bye honey,.... and be careful. Okay?"



Dylan nodded as I engaged reverse and backed up the drive onto 

the street. As we pulled away he sighed in feigned desperation and 

I laughed, "Mothers! They're all like that, aren't they Kelly?."



My son nodded and the older boy grinned as he fastened his 

seat belt and settled back in the seat, his legs stretched out 

before him. His jeans were old and well worn, maybe a year old, and 

the denim had softened. They were a close fit to his slender body 

but not too tight. His genitals formed a small but very obvious 

bulge between his legs and the way he sat there with his legs apart 

made it quite clear what he wanted to display. This car was no 

Corvette but it was still going to be a fun trip.



We laughed, talked, and listened to Beach Boys' classics the 

whole way to the farm, the one-hour trip seeming to take much less 

time than it ever had before. When we pulled into the road that led 

to the farm Kelly decided that he wanted to stop of at his friend's 

house. I was more than agreeable to that suggestion. Luckily, they 

were home and he went off to play with his friend, promising to 

call later on in the afternoon. I smiled at the boy next to me as 

I reversed out of the drive and back down to the road. We were alone 

now, just the two of us and the knowledge that we had shared the 

previous day.



I had Dylan get out, open, and then close the gate to our 

property. He jumped back in the car, grinning, "Are we really gonna 

ride?" he asked, his enthusiasm barely contained. 



I grinned back at him, "What ever you want. I thought we'd 

take a ride around the farm, maybe go for a swim in the creek."



"Yeah! Oh! Damn, I didn't bring my costume," he said angrily.



"So? You can go skinny-dipping," I laughed, then added as I 

took the biggest risk of my life, and deliberately looked down at 

the small but obvious bulge in the soft denim between his slender 

legs, "I'm sure you've got nothing to be ashamed of down there."



Dylan blushed, he was easily embarrassed by my overt 

assessment of his emerging sexuality despite our long conversation 

the day before. He was silent, not angry or sulky but pensive, as 

we drove the rest of the way to the farm. He needed time to come 

to grips with the strange feelings and the confusion of his 

emerging desires. His thoughts were complicated by the knowledge 

that what interested him, what excited him more than he could 

stand, was something that people made crude jokes about. He looked 

up as I stopped the car in front of the house and smiled shyly. 

"What's the problem?" I asked gently.



Dylan shrugged, "Nothing, well I was just thinking,... you 

know about what we talked about yesterday afternoon. About,... what 

we said,... and well,... well I,... I just want you to know that I 

like you,... a lot,... really I do."



I reached out letting my fingers brush the boy's soft cheek, 

wondering what it would be like to kiss that perfect mouth, to taste 

his sweet breath as it mingled with mine. I felt as though I was 

rushing headlong into something I could no longer control, and I 

swallowed, trying to get my racing thoughts back under control. 

"I,... I like you too Dylan, I like you a great deal." I wanted to 

tell him that I loved him, that he was all that I thought about, 

that I dreamed of him every night, but the words escaped me and I 

sat there looking into his pale blue eyes as they searched mine. 

he was just twelve-years-old, an innocent child and my thoughts 

were disgusting in their depravity. I opened the door and got out 

of the car, breathing in the fresh morning air, grateful for the 

escape from the confinement of the car, of my own struggle.



Dylan got out of the passenger-side and looked around him, 

"It's beautiful here", he said quietly.



I looked over at the beautiful young boy, the sun glistening 

in his golden-blond hair, his tanned skin radiating the vitality 

of youth. It was a wonderful picture, a memory to keep for all time. 

The farm had always been a beautiful place but it was nothing in 

comparison to now, graced by Dylan's presence. I opened the rear 

door and lifted out the box of food and drink and walked over to 

the house. Dylan hesitated for a minute looking around and taking 

in the view down the valley, then he turned and ran after me. "This 

is awesome. I had no idea,... wait till I tell mom. So where are 

the horses?" he asked excitedly as we went inside.



I laughed, as we went into the kitchen "Wait about a minute. 

You'll see." I put a few things in the refrigerator and then went 

to the back door. Dylan followed me and we went outside. From the 

back porch he saw the barn and the three horses grazing in the 

field.



His eyes opened wide and he turned to me with happiness 

bursting from his face. "Wow, this is awesome, truly awesome."



"Don't you know any other words besides awesome? Come on 

Dylan, let's go catch us some horses," I laughed, stepping off the 

porch and leading the way over to the fence. The horses needed no 

catching, as soon as they saw us they cantered over to greet us. I 

watched as Dylan stretched out his hand tentatively to stroke my 

horse's nose, "What's her name?"



I grinned, "Well first she is a he, if you care to look 

underneath you can see the difference. Well almost, he's missing 

some vital equipment, he's a gelding you see. His name is 

Pandemonium. Over there is Dancer, and the little one is Zombie, 

that's Kelly's."



"What's a gelding?" Dylan asked, "I mean I've heard the word 

and all but what is it? Is it a breed or something?"



I smiled at the boy, "He's a Palomino. A gelding is a male 

horse that can't make babies,... because his balls are cut off."



"His balls? Yuk! that's gross man. But why?" the boy 

continued, his curiosity unabated.



I smiled at the boy's discomfort, wondering whether my answer 

had made his own testicles tighten up instinctively, protectively. 

"A stallion can be pretty difficult to control. When he'd gelded, 

usually it's done when he's quite young, it quietens him down a 

lot."



"Oh! Which one do I get to ride?" he asked now bubbling with 

excitement.



"You pick, either Dancer or Zombie. Personally I'd pick Dancer 

if I was you. It's harder to get on her and it's a longer distance 

to fall off, but she can move a bit quicker than Zombie."



"Okay! Hi Dancer, guess I'm gonna ride you huh?" he said, 

transferring his affection to the mare.



I laughed, then climbed onto the fence, hitched one leg over 

the top rail and dropped to the ground on the other side. Dylan 

followed in one easy movement, almost vaulting over the fence. The 

horses followed up into the barn. They had already been fed that 

morning and I opened the gate and brought out two saddles, blankets 

and bridles. Dylan had no idea of what to do, but he watched 

intently as I saddled Pandemonium first, then Dancer. I had to 

shorten the stirrups by a few inches and then I helped him up into 

the saddle. It was a stretch but once I'd got the boy started on 

his way up he swung into the saddle. He grinned down at me proudly, 

his eyes flashing, as he clasped the reins uncertainly.



"Hi down there," he giggled.



"Hi up there. How does if feel?" I asked.



"Awesome. When she moves it's wild. Sure is a long way to fall 

off but."



I laughed, "Don't worry, you won't fall off. Press your knees 

inward, you can hold on to the hair, or the saddle."



"How do I make her go forward?" he asked as I climbed onto the 

other horse.



"That's easy, all you do is nudge her with your heels, very 

gently, kind of a squeeze really, you don't have to kick at a horse. 

Then pull on either side of the reins, to go either way, or all at 

once to stop. But do it gently, remember there's a steel bit in her 

mouth."



Dylan was a fast learner, within five minutes he was walking 

the horse around, guiding it carefully and stopping when I told him 

to. Cantering was a bit more fun and he yelled with joy as Dancer 

broke out from a trot into a faster pace. Within a few seconds he'd 

reached the far fence and he turned the horse into a graceful curve 

and came cantering back. All he could say was "Wow! That was just 

awesome. Truly awesome."



"Come on, Dylan, I think you're ready for the big time", I 

said, leading the way to the gate. I leaned over, opened the gate 

and shepherded the boy and his horse outside, before I closed it.



Together we started down towards the road, cutting off before 

we reached the main road and following the track up into the woods. 

Already the sun was high in the sky and it was beginning to get 

hot. We rode back up into the woods, following the fence line until 

it disappeared into the undergrowth, then continuing on the trail. 

After about half an hour we reached the top of the hill and we 

paused to let the horses rest. Dylan was already becoming more 

comfortable in the saddle, no longer afraid that he would fall off, 

he rested his left hand just on the saddle, holding the reins with 

his right. Sitting astride the horse in the late-morning sun, the 

sun glistening on his ruffled golden-blond hair, the boy was dream, 

a perfect summer's dream. He breathed deeply as he looked around. 

"This is fun but it sure is getting hot, isn't it? Am I doing okay?" 

he asked after a long silence.



I nodded, guiding my horse over to his so that we were side 

by side. "Huh huh. You're doing great. You can take your shirt off 

if you want cowboy."



Dylan twisted in the saddle as he unfastened the buttons of 

his shirt, then in one deft movement lifted it up and pulled his 

arms through. He tied the shirt arms around the saddle horn then 

looked over to me. I was sitting still and silent, engrossed in my 

inspection of the boy's fabulous torso, oblivious to the world 

around me. The boy was lean, there was practically no fat on him, 

not even the puppy fat that boy's his age are supposed to accumulate 

ready for the growth demands of puberty, the silky brown skin at 

his belly making fine ripples at his belt. Suddenly I realized the 

boy's awareness of my intense scrutiny, "You're beautiful Dylan," 

I said awkwardly, removing my own shirt and tying it to the saddle 

the same way.



Dylan looked at me, folding his bottom lip inward 

thoughtfully. "Boys are handsome or good looking, they aren't 

beautiful," he corrected playfully, but visibly enjoying the 

compliment.



I smiled at the boy, "Well you are," I said unable to control 

the incredible feeling of desire for him, my wanton hunger for the 

boy next to me overpowering any restraint that I had.



He smirked at me, almost knowingly, "Yeah?" He looked down at 

the ground for a moment watching his horse eating grass. When he 

looked up again his voice was barely more than a whisper. "What we 

talked about yesterday,... you know,... is it terribly wrong to 

want to do those things?"



I breathed out and paused, trying to find the right words, "I 

don't thing it's wrong. Dylan, when people are very fond of each 

other,... well it's normal to have strong feelings for each other. 

Those feelings are natural, they make us want to do things, 

together. The things we talked about are, well they aren't bad or 

wrong for us...."



Dylan sighed and looked away out over the valley. I knew the 

boy was confused, but so was I.  "Does it mean I'm,... we're gay?" 

he asked.



"Being gay is nothing to be ashamed off. If that's what we 

both want? If we're both very fond of each other." I answered 

gently, again aware that we were rushing at full speed into what 

could only be both disastrous and painful for the boy. But I was 

unable to resist.



"I,... I'm not sure. I,... I don't want to be gay, but," the 

boy said hesitantly. "I want you to be my friend the way I pretend 

when I jerk off but, being gay,... all the guys at school make jokes 

about them."



I nodded at the boy, smiling reassuringly, "They don't have 

to find out. If no one knows but us.... Come on let's ride down to 

the creek." I said, changing the subject abruptly and I pulled on 

the reins and lifted the horse's head upward.



I knew the boy appreciated the interruption. He had to sort 

his confusion of feelings and desires out for himself, and it would 

take time. 



We rode down the hill, cantering the horses on the open 

sections, then following the track back around past the farmhouse 

towards the creek. We followed the creek up past the fields, 

ducking low over our horses as we went though the woods. There was 

no trail here, just the noise of our horses and the sounds of birds 

and animals in the trees and the gurgle and splash of the creek. 

Finally we reached a small clearing and we dismounted. I showed 

Dylan how to remove a saddle and then stood back watching as he 

tried to do the same with Dancer. We left the horses in the clearing 

and scrambled down the hill towards the creek. A deep pool had been 

formed by some large rocks, the water was dark and inviting. There 

in the shade of the trees we stopped, looking out at the pool. "It's 

really beautiful here," Dylan said at last.



"Yes it is," I agreed, looking at the half naked boy before 

me, silently admiring his firmly muscled back, his lean strong 

shoulders and narrow waist, the knobby spine that disappeared under 

the denim of his jeans, revealing the boy's rounded small buttocks 

and the deep cleft between his cheeks. He turned and grinned, "We 

really gonna swim naked?" he asked.



"Nobody can see us, Dylan", I replied.



"Yeah. I know. I haven't done this before."



"So there's a first time for everything. You can wear your 

underpants if you want," I teased, then added, "but I'm not." 



I began to unfasten my belt, aware that Dylan watched 

intently. I kicked of my shoes, pushed my jeans and briefs down my 

legs, then tugged them over my feet. I knew that Dylan's attention 

had been focused on my genitals the whole time, unable to drag his 

eyes away, he'd started in fascination and quickly building 

arousal. Naked, I straightened up again, meeting Dylan's eyes 

shamelessly. He reddened slightly, licking his bottom lip as he 

swallowed nervously, unable to speak.



"Well?" I said looking at the boy curiously.



"He's huge," the boy said in awe as he glanced down at my 

stiffening cock.



I laughed, "It's not THAT big. Well I'm going for a swim," I 

announced.



Dylan hesitated, almost trembling with excitement as his eyes 

dropped downward again, an unfamiliar and frightening surge making 

his heart pound and his own small penis began to respond 

immediately and instinctively. "You gotta promise..." the boy 

whispered at last. I raised my eyebrows as I smiled at the boy. 

"You gotta promise never to tell anyone, okay."



I grinned, "Like I said before, I'm sure you've got nothing 

to ashamed of down there, Dylan."



He blushed, "It's not that, I know mine's tiny compared to 

yours. But it's not that...." he said, too embarrassed to finish.



I nodded, "Yours ought to be smaller, you've only just turned 

twelve after all. It'll get bigger as you get older." My cock had 

reached the point of full erection now, swollen and dark as it 

pulsed with unabashed and unrestrained hunger for the young boy 

standing before me. 



Dylan nodded then brushed his hair back from his forehead 

barely aware of the effect he was having on me, trying to control 

his own body's response to its emerging desires, still fighting the 

admission of his own sexuality. He sighed, slowly, finally coming 

to the truth that now confronted him. "You gotta promise not to get 

angry? I don't want you to get angry, okay... I wanly do that stuff 

we talked about okay yesterday. I think you do too, but I don't 

want anyone else to know, okay. You do, don't you?"



I smiled reassuringly, "More than anything else in the world," 

I answered honestly. "It's all I've thought about from the first 

time I saw in the ice-cream store." The boy looked at me 

uncertainly, as I added, "You're a very beautiful young boy. Most 

people would think that I was a terrible person to want to love 

you. It's even against the law, until you're older, much older."



"But you're not terrible!" the boy exclaimed. "I want you too, 

I want to love you."



I smiled, "Nobody can ever know Dylan, not your mom, not your 

best friend, no one. They might not understand."



The boy nodded, then slowly, shyly, his hands moved to his 

waist, his small slender fingers deftly unfastening his belt 

buckle, then his metal button, then his zipper. The V of his fly 

opened, revealing the white of his jockeys underneath. Then he 

kicked off his shoes, turned away from me in modesty and bent 

forward. With one foot off the ground and then the other, he 

balanced, removing his socks, jeans and underpants and leaving them 

in an untidy heap near mine. With the boy bent over I could see 

only his bare slender brown legs, the paleness of his thighs, 

untouched by the sun, the perfect round globes of his small cheeks, 

the ribs defined on his well-tanned chest. He straightened up and 

turned around, shedding his inhibitions in that one simple motion. 

His now-naked body was dappled in the sunshine as it trickled 

through the trees but a single unbroken ray fell across his 

genitals. Like me, the boy was fully erect though his penis 

couldn't have been much more than three and half inches long. It 

was thick at the base and it swelled slightly before it tapered to 

a tiny reddish-pink cherry-shaped tip. Like me, Dylan was 

circumcised, his tiny blue veins seemed to bulge under the very 

delicate flesh. Beneath his throbbing hard cock, his testicles 

seemed insignificant, small rounded swellings in the pink folded 

pouch of his scrotum. Obviously the onset of puberty was still some 

time away. The boy's pubis was perfectly smooth, without even the 

slightest trace of hair. It was rounded and prominent, accentuated 

by the narrowness of his hips and the slenderness of his body, it 

seemed to make his genitals more exposed.



The boy smirked as he looked up into my staring eyes, "Well?" 

he demanded.



"You're,... you're beautiful Dylan," I acknowledged. "You 

have a wonderful body."



"Yeah?", he grinned, "You don't think I'm too skinny. My 

dick's pretty small but isn't it? I told you it was tiny didn't I."



I laughed, "You're built just right. And no, your dick is just 

perfect. Come on let's go for a swim, first. But no diving, okay."



Dylan nodded, suddenly relieved, it was as if the pressure 

that had been building up inside him was released, the tension, the 

frightening surge, the pounding of his heart, the incredible, 

almost painful hardness in his penis began to fade. Together, side 

by side we walked down into the cool refreshing water. We began to 

swim, slowly relaxing, our pale naked bodies barely visible in the 

dark water, around and around, splashing and giggling like two 

uninhibited kids, slowly becoming playful grabs and hugs devoid of 

the overpowering desires we'd experienced earlier but accustoming 

our bodies to the touch of the other.



Finally we swam up to the large rocks that had blocked the 

flow of water in the creek. There was a narrow crevice between the 

rocks, it was little more than a foot wide, and we scrambled out 

of the water, almost oblivious to our nakedness. Like me, Dylan's 

erection had long since vanished, withdrawing to a small appendage 

that hung downward, his balls tightening to form a tiny wrinkled 

knot of flesh that was barely visible between his legs. Dylan 

grinned cheekily, "Now my dick is really small," he observed. 



I smiled back at him, "Huh huh, but it won't be for long, I 

bet." I lead the way up into the crevice between the rocks, picking 

my way cautiously because it was barely wide enough. Dylan slide 

though easily, laughing as he called out, "Don't get stuck, okay. 

I don't know how I'd get you out."



The crevice ran for about fifteen feet, sloping upward at 

about 45 degrees before it ended. We emerged into an open area that 

was bathed in sun. It was very quiet and private, ideal for what I 

had in mind, above and behind us were a rock wall and pine trees, 

in front and to the sides the huge boulders, the only access through 

the slot and across the pool. The ground was covered with a thick 

layer of pine needles. I turned to Dylan as he emerged from the 

crevice behind me. For an instant he looked around, then his eyes 

met mine and he breathed out slowly, "Heh, this is a nice place," 

he observed as he nodded. It was almost as if I could read his mind, 

the thoughts that were initiated deep in his sub-conscious, halted 

momentarily by his innocence and inhibition, then unchallenged grew 

into the same hunger that I felt. "Yeah, this is really nice," he 

added in a voice that was suddenly husky with excitement.



We stood not much more than a foot apart and I reached out and 

for the second time that day stroked the unbelievable softness of 

his cheek. This time my fingers lingered, the tips barely caressing 

the lobe of his ears, then tracing downward back over his cheek. 

The boy breathed deeply as my fingers touched his lips, swallowing 

with nervous anticipation, his pale blue eyes shining. His body 

quivered at my touch, full of life and excitement, eager and at 

last unable to resist that desire that finally conquered the 

frantic pleadings of his mind. His pulse rate rocketed as his heart 

began to pound. His lips parted slightly as his breathing grew 

stronger. "Yeah," the boy huskily whispered again as he nodded his 

willingness to me. I watched his slender brown chest begin to rise 

and fall with the rapid increase in his breathing, he licked his 

bottom lip, the wet tip of his tongue brushing my fingers, he 

trembled like a frightened faun, then suddenly aware of the growing 

heat and hardness between his legs, risked a glimpse downward. 

Already his cock had shrugged off its cold-induced stupor, 

thickening, hardening, lengthening even as he looked at it. Then 

he noticed my cock, dominating his own small sex organ by its very 

size and power, its stiffening provoked by him, by his beautiful 

body. "Our dicks are getting stiff", he observed huskily without 

looking up.



"Huh huh," I said quietly, glancing downward. I watched as the 

boy's penis became engorged, swelling and lifting upwards until it 

was nearly parallel to his belly, pointing up into the air towards 

his navel. Instinctively testing his readiness, the boy flexed the 

muscles deep inside his body, tightening his sphincter and making 

his cock jerk. My own cock, now fully hard protruded at right angles 

to my body. It was more than seven inches long, twice the length 

of Dylan's but many times larger. The boy looked at it in silent 

fascination, awed by its size compared to his. My fingers were 

still caressing the boy's face and I lifted his chin, bringing his 

eyes up to meet mine. "Now what?" the boy asked uncertainly.



My hand slipped around his neck, my fingers pushing into the 

silky soft curls at the nape, pulling him gently but irresistibly 

towards me. I remembered reading somewhere that young boys didn't 

like kissing but I wanted only to taste his perfect mouth, to savor 

the boy's delicate lips. I wanted him to like it, to kiss me back... 

I went slowly, his uplifted face only inches away, following his 

questioning, unblinking innocent eyes with mine, then cautiously, 

almost not to frighten him I leaned forward, brushing my lips 

against the soft cool skin of his forehead. "Whatever you want," I 

whispered. Dylan nodded as I kissed his forehead again. The twelve-

year-old boy shivered with cold and uncontrollable excitement, 

uncertain of what he wanted. He trembled as he tilted his head back 

slightly, pursing his lips as he breathed in. My lips brushed 

gently against his for an instant before I pulled back. He 

swallowed, still uncertain but willing to trust me, willing to go 

further, sensing the memory of that first hesitant kiss. The boy 

nodded again and my fingers tightened on the back of his neck, 

lifting, guiding his mouth back to mine. Again the boy hesitated, 

his lips dry and unyielding but he didn't pull away. After a brief 

touch I pulled back. He opened his mouth to say something but I 

gently hushed him, then leaned forward again. This time was 

different and the boy yielded, his lips softening against mine, his 

mouth opening slightly as he returned the kiss. This time I didn't 

pull back, letting the boy discover the intimacy of a kiss. When 

we finally parted the boy was breathless, "Yeah," he sighed in 

relief, then breathed deeply, his small hand coming to his mouth, 

the tips of his fingers touching the wetness on his lips, grinning 

slightly



"You like that?" I teased playfully.



"Huh huh."



I pulled Dylan back to me again, bringing our mouths into 

contact one more time, this time my tongue pressing forward, 

touching the boy's lips, then gently squeezing inside. I felt the 

boy quiver in surprise but he didn't pull back. His tongue pulled 

back, making room for mine, his teeth biting lightly on my tongue, 

keeping it inside his mouth. Still not used to prolonged kissing 

and the need to breath through his nose, in maybe twenty seconds 

Dylan pulled back gasping suddenly. "You,... you put your tongue 

in my mouth," he said in an accusatory tone.



"Huh huh. You mind?" The boy shook his head as he considered 

it and smiled. "You use your tongue too but you gotta breath through 

your nose," I added drawing the boy's mouth back to mine. This kiss 

was wet and hot and it went on and on for a full minute. After a 

few moments with my tongue inside Dylan's mouth, I felt the boy's 

tongue tentative probing, the firm wriggling tongue pressing into 

my lips, rubbing against my teeth as he explored, then reassured 

that I wouldn't bite it off, pushed forward. I sucked the boy's 

tongue inside, dropping my hands downward, clasping his naked cool 

body, sliding over the bumps of his spine, then filling with the 

round soft flesh of his cheeks, the tips of fingers pressing into 

the warm depth of his crack, lifting the boy upward slightly. 

Dylan's instincts were strong and the boy needed no encouragement 

as he responded, his slender arms locking around my waist in a bear-

hug, his mouth and tongue working quickly, exploring, testing, 

playing with mine. As we hugged and kissed, the thick, hard shaft 

of my cock pressed into the boy's belly, his own hot throbbing cock 

squeezing against my thigh. As our kiss finished, I began to kiss 

his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes, then back to his mouth, 

sometimes taking the lead, at other times relinquishing control to 

Dylan. The boy began to move his hips, humping against my leg, 

rubbing his cock to get some relief, pushing my cock hard into his 

flat brown belly, against his now dry warm skin. Both of us breathed 

hard and fast, the boy making little high-pitched whimpering sounds 

like a puppy while I groaned in ecstasy.



After near five minutes, during which I thought I might climax 

nearly any second, I eased the boy down onto the ground. I followed 

him down as he reached out for me shamelessly and I lay over him, 

taking my most of weight on my knees and elbows, but keeping enough 

weight on Dylan so that he was barely able to move. For what I 

wanted, for what would follow, the boy had to accept my authority, 

to accept his passive role. It wasn't that I wanted the boy to be 

inert or powerless, but I had to prevail in order to protect him. 

We continued to kiss, each time longer and more passionate than the 

last, then finally I pulled away, my hands stroking the smooth soft 

skin of his flanks as I began to kiss his slender neck and 

shoulders, licking and sucking on the delicate flesh again and 

again until I left small reddish blotches. Then I moved downward, 

my lips seeking his tiny dark nipples, sucking until they were 

hard, my hands caressing his arms, legs, thighs, belly, anywhere 

but his genitals. I reached his belly, my tongue leaving wet 

glistening trails on his satin brown skin, tickling his navel until 

my saliva was pooled in, smearing the wetness over him, nibbling 

and suckling as I worshipped his slender brown body. All the while 

Dylan writhed and twisted in shameless and unbridled pleasure, 

giggling when I tickled, sighing as I moved ever closer to his 

genitals, always making a quiet whining murmur that conveyed his 

delight.



In my long passage downward, Dylan's cock seemed to have 

become even harder, the tiny bluish veins bulging, the little tip 

flushed and swollen. Unlike my cock which was oozing pre-cum, 

Dylan's cock was dry but very hungry for my attention. I gave it a 

friendly, playful lick, starting at the rounded wrinkled ball-sac 

and going all the way to the tip. Dylan gasped, "Oh yeah," flexing 

his cock in my face to show his eagerness. My hands moved to the 

boy's knees, gently parting his legs, then sliding up the inside 

until my fingers brushed into the furrow between his legs that led 

back into his crack, or up to his scrotum and penis. For a moment 

I considered which way to go, either direction was temptation. 

Dylan made the choice for me, "Suck my dick!" he pleaded huskily.



"Aren't you 'sposed to say please?" I teased, now convinced 

that I should turn him onto his belly and continued on the other 

side of the boy.



The boy giggled, placing both of his hands on my head and 

pushing me downward, guiding my head to his groin, positioning my 

mouth at his aching hard cock. I opened my mouth and welcomed the 

boy inside, easily taking the short hard shaft as I heard him sigh 

with instant gratification. I didn't stop there and I went on down, 

opening my mouth wide and sucking in both of his immature balls as 

well. Dylan's back arched, trying to fuck my face as he began to 

thrust, forcing his thighs into my face as his buttocks lifted 

right off the ground. I slide my hand underneath his cheeks then 

pushed him downward to restrict his wild thrusting. I wasn't 

worried about the boy climaxing, even if he did it would be dry and 

he'd be still as horny as he was now I curled my forefinger so that 

I could rub into his crack, feeling for the little puckered 

opening. I don't think he'd ever done that with anyone else. I knew 

that he'd masturbated with Gary and I suspected that he'd sucked 

Gary's cock but I also knew that his sex life had come to an abrupt 

halt when he'd wanted Gary's penis inside his butt.



"Oh yeah!" he sighed in lust, squeezing down hard onto my 

finger so that the tip pushed into him up to the first joint.



Gently I probed into the boy's body, feeling the heat and 

tightness of his virgin anus resist me. I rubbed him gently, moving 

my finger around and around. The boy trembled, moving his hips on 

my finger, trying to get the finger deeper into him. "You like that, 

Dylan?" I teased, finally pulling my mouth away from his cock and 

balls, leaving them coated and glistening with my saliva. He 

nodded. "What do you want me to do first. Front or back?"



The boy smirked. "Put it in further, okay", he begged, "as far 

as you can."



"Say please."



The boy giggled, "Please".



"Okay," I laughed, retracting my finger outward and pulling 

my hand out from under him. The look of disappointment on the boy's 

face from the interruption to his pleasure was instant and 

gratifying. "Turn over onto your tummy and spread those cheeks, 

Dylan," I commanded. The boy needed no further instruction and as 

I moved away he twisted over lying face down on the pine needles, 

legs wide apart, each hand clasping one of cheeks and parting his 

buttocks, exposing the full depth of his crack. For the first time 

I saw the boy's anus, the darkened opening, puckered almost like 

tiny lips. As I looked I wondered, thinking that my cock would never 

fit inside him It would stretch of course, but from the look of it, 

never that big, never in a million years, or least another four 

years. Then I did something that I'd only ever dreamed about. I 

leaned forward, pushed my tongue out and licked the full length of 

boy's crack. He shuddered as he felt the warm wetness of my tongue. 

"That feels awesome. But,... but isn't it dirty back there?" he 

asked awkwardly.



I lifted my head up. "You've just been swimming Dylan. It's 

perfectly clean. Besides, nothing we can do together is dirty. Not 

if we both want to do it," I answered. I went back and tongued him 

again, this time adding saliva and wetting the boy's crack 

thoroughly before I began to probe his opening. He sighed, his legs 

moving in trembling shakes as the tip of my tongue penetrated just 

inside him. He seemed to loosen almost immediately, there was 

little resistance to my tongue so I went still further, deeper and 

deeper until my nose was squeezing into his crack. There was a 

faintly musky odor, a smell that I liked very much indeed. I moved 

my other hand between his outstretched legs, reaching upward until 

my fingers brushed against his ball-sac, then I began to rub and 

squeeze them, working the two tiny nuts together or individually, 

not hard enough to give the boy any real pain but enough to let him 

experience for the first time, the intense delight that borders on 

pain. He responded shamelessly, trying to force his buttocks upward 

to get more of my tongue inside him, grinding his genitals into my 

hand, unable to achieve the release of climax but perfectly capable 

of enjoying the feelings that preceded it. I deliberately avoided 

contact with his penis. I knew it was rock hard and throbbing and 

the boy was frantically trying to rub in against my hand but I 

wanted to save that pleasure for last.



After nearly ten minutes the musky aroma had become stronger 

and I lifted my head away to look down. The boy's anus was dilated 

now, the puckered opening replaced by a wider opening that revealed 

the dark crimson of his bowel. I licked my fingers, then gently 

placed my forefinger at the entry into his body. He whimpered in 

anticipated, then moaned as he felt my finger press down, sliding 

easily inside. There was a momentary spasm, a brief tightening 

pressure on my finger as his sphincter tightened, then I was 

through. Exactly where a boy's prostate was located I had no idea, 

but I knew that it would be small and not that far inside. As soon 

as I reached just past the second joint I curled my finger and 

pressed down towards the boy's cock. I was right on target. The boy 

quivered and let out a little yelp, not of pain but of that 

incredible boundless joy that starts deep inside. "Ohhhh, yeahhhh", 

he gasped. I began to rub, gently at first, with careful strokes 

around and around, teasing, testing, and probing the small lump. 

Slowly the boy's own rectal mucus seeped down to provide much 

needed lubrication, making my forefinger slide easier and greatly 

increasing Dylan's pleasure. I quickly found that alternately 

squeezing, then thrusting my finger back and forth seemed to 

achieve the greatest response. I did really fast for almost a 

minute and the boy started to gasp, his body shaking and writhing 

uncontrollably on the ground. A minute more and he was shuddering, 

grunting with each hard stroke of my finger as I rammed it into his 

aching prostate. The tension in his anal band had all but 

disappeared and I pushed in a second finger. With two fingers about 

halfway inside the boy I began to wonder if maybe my cock might 

fit. Then the boy's body began to jerk of its own volition, his 

anus squeezing with brief locking spasms on my finger again and 

again, his contractions coming infrequently but with frightening 

intensity.



"You want me to stop?" I asked nervously.



"No. No, do it,...but faster", he hissed almost inaudibly, his 

voice quavering.



My hand was getting tired but I tried to comply, tempted to 

replace my fingers with my cock,but knowing that I'd cause nothing 

but pain if I did it without lubrication. Then almost as soon as I 

had decided to go for it the boy let out a yelp, a triumphant shriek 

and he lunged back lifting his hips off the ground and driving my 

fingers hard into his body. He squealed again then collapsed 

shaking uncontrollably, his anus suddenly very loose on my fingers. 

Dylan had orgasmed, his very first one, and I gently pulled my 

fingers out, and settled down next to him and turning the boy onto 

his side so that we were lying face to face. He was gasping for 

air, sobbing between breaths, his face wet with tears, his lean 

body coated with a sheen of perspiration.I looked down at the boy's 

cock, the hardness had faded, replaced by more overwhelming 

feelings, but the tip seemed to be wet. I squeezed the small half-

erect shaft between my mucus-coated fingers, extracting a tiny 

crystal-clear bead. With the tip of finger I lifted if off, 

bringing my hand up to my mouth and licking it off. There was no 

taste to it, but the pungent musky smell from the inside of the 

boy's body was 'awesome'. I sniffed at my fingers, it was a smell 

not unlike sardines, without the oiliness. Dylan slowly regained 

his breathing but he was exhausted. He looked at me curiously, his 

expression clearly indicating the nature of his question. I 

grinned, "You had an orgasm, young man. This stuff is from inside 

you. I guess you could call it butt juice."



"Was,...Was I,...okay?", he asked breathlessly.



"You were wonderful?" I said gently as I caressed his 

forehead, brushing his dishevelled hair back. "You were 

incredible."



The boy was still shaking, frightened by the very intensity, 

the unexpectedness of what had happened. "It felt as if,... as if 

something kind of burst inside me."



I nodded and stroked his cheek with my thumb, "It's okay. 

You'll feel better in a few minutes."



The boy swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts, "It was 

wild. It feels really strange inside, sort of funny in there.... 

Sure is kind of messy but, isn't it. I thought I was gonna poop on 

your fingers," he said as he looked at my hand.



I grinned and poked out my tongue and tentatively licked my 

fingers. I didn't mind the taste at all, especially when it had 

come from the beautiful naked boy lying beside me. I lifted his 

golden-blond head up, slid my arm around his shoulders protectively 

and repositioned his body so that he was cuddled into my side, his 

head resting on my shoulder.



It took Dylan about ten minutes to fully recover. He lay still 

at first, his breathing slowly becoming more relaxed. He was very 

quiet, his body drained of its young energy, basking in the 

afterglow of the orgasm that has overwhelmed him. For a long while 

there was a shy, almost innocent smile on his face, still flushed 

from his exertions.Then he lifted his right leg up over my thighs, 

pressing his knee against my groin gently. He looked up, his eyes 

reflecting his eagerness, his desire to go further. He licked his 

lips, flicking his tongue at me teasingly, then in a swift 

movement, rolled over me so that his knees were on either side and 

he straddled my hips. He sat above me triumphantly, grinning 

cheekily as his fingers tickled my stomach and chest, my rapidly 

hardening cock pressed in the boy's hot, moist crevice. He could 

feel it getting stiff, every few seconds he squeezed down on it, 

moving his hips backward and forward so that my cock was rubbed, 

making it even harder until finally the head of it was against the 

boy's balls or sticking out under his cock as he moved forward. 

Dylan's cock responded of its own accord, growing erect almost 

instantly to match the boy's excitement. Then we were both hard 

again and Dylan looked down proudly, realizing what he'd done to 

me, his eyes locked onto mine as he giggled teasingly, "You got 

another hard-on," he observed, "So what do I do now?" he asked.



I grinned back at the boy. "What do you want to do?" I replied.



He shrugged nonchalantly, feigning disinterest, "I don't 

know. Whatever? You can put it in my back side it you want? I 

thought you were gonna do that earlier. I wanted you to."



"I thought about it. But not here. You're gonna need a lot of 

lubrication back there before we try that. I don't think it would 

fit anyway, and I don't want to hurt you by trying," I said 

honestly.



Dylan pouted, "How do you know if you don't try? It might. I 

don't care if it hurts a bit. Anyway, your fingers felt awesome, I 

thought I was gonna die, or explode, or something. I want you to 

do with your dick inside me next time."



I laughed at the boy's expression of his lust. "Well you're 

going to need some lubricant or it's going to hurt like hell."



"Okay! So what do I do now? is it my turn to do you?" he asked, 

playfully reaching between his legs and squeezing the bulbous tip 

of my cock with his fingers. "He's wet on top. There's slippery 

stuff leaking out of the slit. It's clear but, and it's not milky 

or spurting out like cum does."



"It's called pre-cum, it kind of leaks out when a guy get's 

really excited," I answered, thinking of Dylan's first explorations 

with his friend, his natural inclinations provoking his curiosity. 

I could feel the threatening approach of orgasm, so close before, 

now encouraged by the boy's rhythmic motion. I reached out, 

stroking the boy's slender thighs with my finger tips, pushing 

upward to his hips, then moving him further down my legs so that 

he was no longer over my cock. "You keep doing that and it will be 

spurting real fast."



Dylan giggled, "I don't mind if it gets on me. It's just sperm, 

it's what you make babies with," he said expertly. "This stuff sure 

is slippery but," he added, squeezing the head of my cock through 

his fist and watching another bead of clear juice ooze out of the 

slit.



"You said you and your friend Gary sucked each other once." I 

said suggestively, wondering how far the boy's inhibitions 

extended.



"Huh huh. Gary did it in my mouth one time. It doesn't taste 

that bad, kinda thick and yucky, a bit salty I guess, but it was 

okay. You want me to do that to you?" he asked, his voice suddenly 

turning husky again, his body quivering with anticipation, the 

memory of what he'd done to Gary re-playing insistently in his 

mind.



"I want you to do what you want," I replied, gently rubbing 

the boy's nipples with my finger tips as he leaned forward over me. 

They stiffened to two tiny dark points as he sighed in enjoyment, 

eyes half closed in bliss.



"Okay," he whispered, sliding further down my legs, his 

buttocks resting on my knees. "But you gotta tell me when, okay, 

so I'll be ready," he added looking up at me as he smirked. I nodded 

and the boy took hold of my cock in his right hand, leaned forward, 

licking his lips and opening his mouth as he came closer. I felt 

his soft luscious tongue swirl over the head, felt the hot spongy 

wetness, then his lips pushing past the tip, his tongue still 

slurping on my cock as he took the head of it into his wide-open 

mouth. He looked up expectantly, his eyes meeting mine shamelessly, 

almost trying to smile around my cock-head. I nodded reassuringly, 

flexing my cock hungrily, wanting him to take more of it. he looked 

down and began to concentrate and I felt the boy's teeth nibbling 

in the groove around the head of my cock, his tongue inspecting, 

then trying to squeeze into the slit, his small soft hand squeezing 

my balls gently. It was almost impossible to believe that he'd 

learned to do this just after one time with a boy only one year 

older than himself. He pulled back after about a minute to get his 

breath. Dylan looked at me as my cock popped from his mouth, 

grinning cheekily, "That feel okay?" he teased.



"Awesome!" I said. "You're not gonna to stop now?"



Dylan smirked as he wiped his wet lips with the back of his 

hand, "No way man. I'm gonna suck you off. I want you to do it in 

my mouth, okay."



He went back down, this time past going where he'd stopped 

before, pushing down relentlessly as my cock surged into his mouth. 

At twelve-years-old he was far to young to deep-throat me, but he 

didn't stop until my cock reached the back of his mouth. He gagged, 

pulling away as he coughed, smiling as he saw me. "He's too big to 

go in all the way," he said as his coughing fit passed.



I laughed, "And you wanted me to put it in your butt huh? What 

you've gotta do is not go down as far, breath through your nose and 

use your hand to rub it."



"Oh!" he smirked, swallowing and taking another deep breath. 

He went down again, this time not as far. I could feel the boy's 

hot tongue, the soft squishiness of his mouth, the sharpness of his 

teeth as they grazed the sensitive skin of my cock. He breathed 

easier this time, sucking noisily on my cock, his saliva dribbling 

from between his stretched lips and running down my cock. His right 

hand grasped my cock near the base, his fingers wrapping around the 

shaft and pressing into the underside. He began to masturbate me, 

jerking his hand rapidly, expertly, lubricated by his saliva. After 

a minute or so he glanced up and I nodded, sighing as waves of boy-

generated delight washed over me. Like any young and inexperienced 

boy, Dylan didn't know that he either could or should prolong the 

pleasure. He worked intently, his entire body focused on his 

activity, mouth and hand totally synchronized, his blond head 

bobbing up and own as his small hand stroked my cock relentlessly. 



I felt the pleasure intensify, the warning sign of an imminent 

orgasm, wanting the boy to stop and let it pass, my back arching, 

leg muscles tightening, my cock flexing, straining, my balls 

tightening. "Ohhh", I moaned, "Ohhhh God, do it Dylan, do it 

faster." The boy responded with his boundless energy, his blond 

head jerking, his rhythm interrupted, "Yeahhhh, Ohhhhh Dylan," I 

gasped. I grabbed his head, my fingers locking into the golden-

blond hair behind his ears, forcing him down, thrusting my cock as 

deep as I dared, to the back of his mouth and into this throat. I 

felt my come rising up my shaft, the boy's hot juicy mouth sucking 

frantically, then I exploded hot and thick spurts into him, down 

into his throat. I felt Dylan beginning to choke, struggling to 

pull away, then I pulled back, still spurting into his mouth, over 

his tongue, my body quaking, my cock jerking and throbbing with 

each additional spurt. I emptied my balls into the boy, it was the 

longest orgasm I'd ever had, then finally with the dying spasms I 

lifted the boy's head up, the last of it oozing out. Dylan's mouth 

was half open, a look of shock and surprise on his face, then my 

sperm began to trickle out from the side of his mouth. He breathed 

heavily, gasping for air, his tongue covered with my come. He 

smeared his hand over his mouth, wiping away the wetness, then I 

pulled him forward, down so that he lay on top of me, and I kissed 

him, long and hard on the lips, my tongue surging into his mouth, 

tasting my come, embracing the boy's tongue, sharing the sweet 

saltiness inside him until we subsided.



As soon as he got his breath back Dylan began to play kissing 

games, sticking out his tongue and licking mine, or trying to put 

it inside my mouth as far as he could. I held the boy tightly, one 

hand caressing his slender back, the other fondly the baby-soft 

flesh of his butt-cheeks, gently prising them apart and letting my 

finger tips walk down into his crack, then lovingly stroke the 

boy's small anus. Already he had tightened up, though not puckered 

like before, the boy's opening was a lot smaller. After a few 

minutes Dylan lifted up and smirked cheekily, "Well, did you like 

that?" he asked cheekily. I nodded. "Boy you sure had a bunch but. 

I thought it was never gonna stop coming out. I had to keep 

swallowing."



I nodded. "You were incredible Dylan. I still don't believe 

what we just did. Did you like it as much as I did?"



The twelve-year-old boy grinned, "Yeah! Of course I liked it. 

Your stuff tastes a lot saltier than Gary's did but."



The boy settled down again and we hugged and kissed and 

fondled each other for what seemed an hour or more. We teased and 

tickled each other, our sex urges barely restrained. We were all 

but satisfied by just being so close together, occasionally we'd 

play with each other's cocks, sometimes even simulating frontal 

intercourse by rubbing our cocks together, but never to the point 

of orgasm. Even though Dylan was nearly fifteen inches shorter than 

me, it was remarkable how well our bodies fitted together. It was 

well past lunch time before we stopped. We weren't hungry, we could 

have gone on forever but the sun had moved around so that we were 

no longer shaded by the trees. The sun made us hot and sleepy, our 

bodies covered with a glistening sheen of perspiration. Dylan sat 

up and smiled, "I think I like the hugging and kissing stuff best."



"Why?" I asked, reaching out and caressing his bare brown 

shoulder, letting my fingers slip down his arm.



"I don't know. I s'pose 'cause I feel really close to you. I 

like everything else too, but when you hold me really tight and we 

kiss, I just kind of feel really warm all over. I like that feeling 

more than anything else." He shrugged, "You think I'm weird?"



"No, you're not weird. I like it too. It makes me feel very 

close to you."



"I feel like that to, like I never want us to be apart, like 

I want to be here with you forever.... What does it feel like? You 

know in your backside? When a guy does it,..." he asked. "Does it 

hurt a lot?" he asked quietly.



I shrugged. "I guess so, I don't really know Dylan. You're the 

first boy I've done this with. I don't remember much when I was 

younger. When I was a kid, I messed around a few times, I don't 

remember it hurting that much."



"You know what you said about needing something to lubricate 

me so's your cock could go in?" Dylan said. I looked up at the boy 

and nodded. "Would lip-gel do? I got some in my jeans 'cause my 

lips have getting a bit sore. Do you think we could use that?"



I laughed, tickling the boy until he giggled uncontrollably 

and we wrestled playfully in the soft bed of pine needles, "Yes, I 

guess we could use that. Are you really sure you want to do this? 

It'll probably still hurt a lot, it might not even fit in there."



Dylan shrugged, "There's no way we're gonna know that without 

trying is there. I'm game." I grinned, "You want me to swim across 

and get it? It'll only take a few minutes."



I shook my head as I stood up, "We'll both go, it's getting 

kind of hot here anyway. It's cooler back near our clothes." I 

reached down and took Dylan's hand pulling him to his feet. He stood 

before me, his lean naked brown body now shamelessly revealed, 

little bits of pine needles sticking to him where he had been lying. 

Gently I brushed him off, running my hands along the slender legs, 

over the rounded buttocks, up his narrow back. "You sure you really 

want to do this?" I asked.



Dylan nodded and stepped away, "Yeah I wanna do it, don't 

you?" I nodded and followed the boy down into the crevice between 

the rocks. We waded into the water together, the coolness 

refreshing and restoring us. Slowly we swam to the other side of 

the pool, then when the water was too shallow, we waded ashore and 

walked over to where we'd left our clothes in two untidy piles.



Dylan nodded and stepped away, "Yeah I wanna do it, don't 

you?" I nodded and followed the boy down into the crevice between 

the rocks. We waded into the water together, the coolness 

refreshing and  restoring us. Slowly we swam to the other side of 

the pool, then when the water was too shallow, we waded ashore and 

walked over to where we'd left our clothes in two untidy piles.



Dylan nodded and stepped away, "Yeah I wanna do it, don't 

you?" I nodded and followed the boy down into the crevice between 

the rocks. We waded into the water together, the coolness 

refreshing and  restoring us. Slowly we swam to the other side of 

the pool, then when the water was too shallow, we waded ashore and 

walked over to where we'd left our clothes in two untidy piles.



Dylan reached down and picked up his jeans, sliding his hand 

first into one pocket and then into the other before he pulled out 

a small tube. It was one of the little lip-stick-type cylinders 

with the pull-off-top and he handed it to me with a big smirk. 

"Well, what do you think?" he asked huskily.



"Huh?" I teased, knowing that Dylan was every bit as excited 

as I was.



"Will it work?" he asked impatiently.



"I don't know, it probably isn't very slippery. I think you're 

probably going to need something like vaseline. There's not very 

much inside these things and you'd want a lot back there for your 

first time."



"Oh!" the boy said unable to conceal his disappointment. He 

paused, then still pouting added, "But can't we try it anyway."



I grinned at the boy, "You're really sure you want to do this 

Dylan?" I asked. He swallowed as though afraid, thought for a 

second or two, then nodded eagerly. "Okay, young man let's do it!" 

I laughed pulling Dylan to me. His naked body was cool from the 

brief swim and, like me, his erection had subsided but as he hugged 

me, grinding his cock against my leg and pressing his belly into 

my cock, his excitement returned. He lifted up his face, his eyes 

looking into mine, his expression reflecting both lust and desire. 

Even as our mouths came tohether, his lips parted and his tongue 

pushed forward, seeking my mouth and tongue with an almost obscene 

hunger. We kissed long and hard, increasingly wet and passionate, 

tongues working together, sucking and sharing our saliva. The boy's 

slender brown arms locked around my waist, my own hands grasping 

the silky-soft skin of his butt-cheeks, pressing my  finger tips 

into his crack, caressing the hot moist crevice from the underside 

of his little shrivelled ball-sac up to the start of his backbone. 

After a few moments we were both fully erect, Dylan sliding his 

belly up and down, pumping himself against my cock, making the same 

little whimpering sounds that he'd made earlier as my forefinger 

pressed into his anus for the first time.



Both the boy and I were breathing rapidly, our cocks throbbing 

with excitement as I carefully eased Dylan down onto the grass, 

turning him over onto his belly. Instinctively his small hands came 

back, replacing my hands on his cheeks as I removed the top from 

the lip-gel. He looked back over his shoulder, fascinated as he 

watched my finger scooping up the cream-colored paste and he 

grinned cheekily, the sudden surge of adrenaline sending his heart 

racing, his anticipation swelling though his young naked body and 

easily overwhelming the fear and guilt that gnawed at him. He felt 

strange inside his belly, not sick but as if there was a pain that 

wouldn't go away until, until,... He watched as my hand moved 

downward, my forefinger coated with the lip-gel. He felt the 

coolness of the greasy paste as my finger touched the sensitive rim 

of his anus, then probed inside, smearing the lubricant over his 

opening. Then he knew from deep inside his belly what he needed for 

that strange feeling and as my finger pushed back into him, up into 

the boy's tight bowel Dylan moaned, pushing his buttocks up to meet 

me and driving my well lubricated finger inwards. My finger curled 

pressing back into his belly right before his bladder, into the now 

familiar special place inside him. I rubbed him gently, absorbed 

by his body's natural reaction, his legs stretching out, his toes 

curling into the grass, his fists clenching and unclenching. I 

pulled my finger free and added more of the lubricant, pushing a 

big yellow blob down into his anus.



He gasped, his rigid cock straining as it flexed, his scrotum 

tightened even further, protectively pulling his little balls up 

close. He moaned again, the feelings that surged outward from my 

gently stabbing finger even more intense that they had been 

earlier. I pumped my finger hard for a few moments, then gently 

rubbed that sensitive spot inside him, then pumped again, feeling 

the boy's sphincter tighten and then loosen on my finger. More than 

the first time, I was aware of the heat that began just inside his 

body, the pressure of his squeezing anus slowly fading as he began 

to relax. After a few more minutes I pulled my forefinger back and 

then, with my first finger tightly beside it, squeezed both back 

into the now loosened anus. His anal band was still tight, as tight 

as it had been earlier, but this time the lubricant helped and my 

fingers pushed in, past the first joint and up to the second. Dylan 

was panting, shuddering with each thrust of my fingers into his 

bowel. Every few moments the boy tried feebly to push his buttocks 

back towards me, desperate for me to continue the massage of his 

immature prostate, but unable to find the strength. Over and over 

he began to cry, "Ohhh, oh that's soooo good."



I took Dylan right up to the edge of another orgasm before I 

slowed down and let the boy recover his senses. That helped to 

dilate him even further so I did it again, and then again after 

that, each time draining the boy's strength until he was barely 

able to move. Then, after a few more minutes I knew that his anal 

band was about as loose as it was going to get. I'd used more than 

half of the lip-gel so far but it seemed to do the job. The heat 

of his body softened it, turning it greasy, and as it joined with 

the mucous within him, it made his flesh sensitive to touch and 

very slippery. I stopped, withdrew my fingers with a 'loud sucking 

sound' and began to lubricate my cock. Dylan looked up weakly, even 

turning his head was an effort now. Despite his heavy breathing, 

he smiled between gasps as he saw me smearing the lip-gel over my 

cock. "You,... you,... gonna put it inside me now?" he asked.



I nodded, wondering how best to do it, I really didn't want 

to hurt him, I wanted his first time to be something he'd never 

forget, and not because of the pain he'd undergone. Lying on top 

of him would put all my weight onto him. I thought about placing 

him on his side, foetal position, and lying behind him, or lifting 

him into a crouching position and kneeling behind him. Finally I 

settled on my second choice and I knelt over him, placing my hands 

on the boy's narrow hips. I twisted him over, lifting his legs up 

so that his knees were nearly at his shoulders, then I lay down 

behind him. From where I lay it was impossible to see the boy's 

anus but I positioned the head of my cock between his fingers, 

pressing between the soft warmth of his butt cheeks. Dylan sighed 

and murmured something, using my right hand I reached around his 

hip and gently stroked his penis, massaging his little balls. He 

sighed again, pushing back slightly so that my cock probed into his 

small loosened opening. Lovingly my lips brushed his neck, my 

tongue tickling the soft skin of his shoulder, biting the tender 

flesh gently, making sure that any marks that I left were beneath 

where the neck of his shirt would normally cover.



My cock seemed to get harder and larger than it had ever been, 

the head was swollen up and the veins bulged and I was certain that 

it would never fit inside the slender young boy lying before me. 

The head of my cock was like a wedge between his butt cheeks, the 

dimple of his anus felt like a little soft spot into which the very 

tip of my cock had burrowed. That precious opening into Dylan's 

young body seemed to glow with the heat from inside him, growing 

and drawing me inside like a spell. I pressed forward, testing the 

boy's resistance. He gasped, then grunted as he felt the head of 

my cock ram into his sensitive most-private place. I pushed forward 

again, and then again, trying to get past the boy's tightness. 

Dylan squealed then he lifted one hand up to his mouth, biting on 

his knuckle as he began to sob. Each time I increased the pressure, 

wondering how I had ever managed to get two fingers inside him only 

a few minutes earlier. After about a minute or so I stopped, feeling 

the head of my cock implanted barely inside the boy. I wasn't in 

very far but it was far enough. He was shaking, and I knew that he 

was in pain. He needed to stop, to let his body adjust, to accept 

the strange new presence.



"You okay, Dylan?" I asked gently, "You want me to stop?"



The boy choked back a sob, shaking his head wildly. "God it 

hurts.... Don't stop! But try to go slow,...okay? It's in a little 

bit isn't it?"



"Yeah," I acknowledged, reaching up an lifting the boy's hand 

away from his mouth, "It's okay to cry Dylan. I know it hurts." 

Gently I drew his hand downward, then over his hip and between our 

bodies, placing his fingers against the shaft of my cock. "You can 

feel how far it's in." I whispered in his ear. The boy's hand was 

moist and hot and his fingers slowly moved along the shaft of my 

cock. He felt the ridge around the head of my cock mushrooming out 

from inside him, forming a ring that seemed to prevent any passage 

into him. "Just relax Dylan. When I push, you push down too, like 

you're trying to poop."



The boy nodded and after a while, when he'd stopped gasping, 

I tried again. The boy strained, increasing the pressure on his 

bowel as if he was constipated as my cock was forced forward until 

the boy winced, then yelped as a sharp pain racked his young body. 

I stopped pushing forward, holding Dylan's trembling body until the 

pain faded. Again we tried. This time my cock pierced his body, the 

flared head penetrating into him so that it disappeared inside. The 

heat and pressure within the boy was overwhelming, his anal band 

clamping down hard on my cock as he convulsed, then began to 

struggle, his weakened body following its natural impulse and 

trying to escape. I held him tightly to me, grasping his hips so 

that he couldn't pull away. "It's okay Dylan," I whispered 

soothingly in the boy's ear, "It's okay honey. It's inside now. 

It's okay" 



After less than a minute Dylan's struggles ceased and he lay 

quietly, his breathing rapid, enduring sobs and shivering as the 

pain faded. He reached between our bodies again, his fingers 

feeling for my cock, then tracing along the rigid shaft to where 

it disappeared inside him. This time he didn't feel the head of my 

cock, just the thick hot shaft as it penetrated him, his anus 

stretched wide open, the sensitive flesh almost tearing. 

"You're,...you're inside me. It's,... it's in a long way," he 

whispered in awe.



I leaned over him and kissed the boy's tear stained cheek, 

tasting the sweet saltiness of his tears. "Yes it is. I'm sorry I 

hurt you, Dylan."



For a long time the boy was quiet, then he whispered, "That's 

okay, it,... kind of feels better now. Jesus you feel big but, it 

feels like it's gonna burst back there."



I nodded and kissed the boy again, "I think the worst of it 

is over now, in a little bit, when you're ready, I'm going to go 

deeper. Just push down on it like before, okay?"



Dylan nodded, "Do it now. It feels okay," he instructed.



With the head of my cock inside the boy, the worst was over. 

As I pushed forward again with a long careful thrust I felt the 

boy's anal band squeezing on my cock, gradually pushing further 

upward, the heat increasing until I had about three inches inside 

him. Dylan groaned as he felt my cock driving hard into him then 

expanding to fill his bowel, then he convulsed as his sphincter 

clamped down on my cock, "Ohhhh! SHIT that hurts", he yelped. I 

stopped again to let the boy recover. "No don't stop, just do IT!" 

he gasped. Having my fingers inside him had been nothing like this. 

The pain was indescribable, but so was the pleasure. My cock was 

forced hard against his little prostate, he trembled uncontrollably 

as shivers went up his spine, his legs writhing against mine as he 

was impaled. The pressure so intense inside the boy that his 

bladder weakened, his yellowish urine dribbling involuntarily from 

his now limp penis, down the furrow between his thigh and hip and 

onto the grass.



I pushed again, slowly and very carefully, with a long 

deliberate thrust, feeling the boy's body bearing down to meet me. 

Another two inches slowly, inexorably pushed into him. I stopped 

when it seemed as if no more could ever fit inside that slender 

young body. His rectum was squeezing ever few seconds, his 

tightening spasms and cramps progressively becoming weaker and less 

frequent. I could every motion of the boy's body transmitted 

directly into mine. It was as if we were joined together as one, 

our bodies united, every shudder, every cramp, even the frantic 

pounding of his heart, a part of my body. As soon as the boy's 

sobbing ceased I began to thrust into him, pulling back gently then 

squeezing forward as slow as I could, moving my cock about an inch 

or two inside that incredibly tight, hot passage. I was never more 

aware of the feelings in my cock. His sphincter tried valiantly to 

tighten up but finally it surrendered, as Dylan surrendered his 

virginity. I began to fuck the boy, listening to my cock sucking 

loudly in the mucous and lubricant that had somehow seeped out of 

him. The boy's rectum was coated with slippery juice, though taut, 

the walls of his bowel were soft and smooth not unlike the inside 

of his mouth when he'd sucked my cock earlier in the day. I reached 

around his hip, taking his very limp penis between my thumb and 

first two fingers. I began to masturbate him, squeezing gently on 

his little balls and rubbing him slowly at first, then faster as 

his cock became hard again.



It didn't take very long before Dylan reached the point of no 

return. It happened so quickly that I couldn't slow down. One 

second he was trembling and gasping for air taking quick shallow 

breaths each time my cock pulled back, the next, his back arched, 

his legs jerking outwards, his head thrown back as he squealed from 

the sudden orgasm. I wondered if I should stop, he seemed to be in 

pain but the boy was two steps in front of me, "Don't stop! Keep 

on doing it," he hissed. I began to use my cock a little harder, a 

little faster, going just a little bit deeper. Dylan lay very quiet 

now, his energy drained, his young body exhausted. He whimpered, 

moaning quietly with each gentle thrust. Like before, the orgasm 

seemed to loosen the boy even further so that my cock moved easier 

inside him, slicked by the juices that had formed there. I knew it 

wouldn't be long before my own climax. I concentrated all my 

thoughts on trying to postpone the inevitable, but I was overcome 

by the wonderful body that engulfed me, by the delight that 

surrounded my dick.



I realized that Dylan had reached the peak again, his legs 

flailing wildly as he strained down on my cock, his muscles finding 

hidden strength as he began to gasp, then he convulsed in a sudden 

intense spasm. I had only seconds to go, I began to pump into the 

boy faster, finally pushing into him the whole way so that my balls 

slapped hard against his cheeks, reaching the boy's final 

resistance. I gave Dylan one final hard thrust, then groaned as I 

felt my balls tighten, come rising up my cock shaft, erupting from 

the head of my cock, spurting hot and thick into the boy as he 

shuddered with the passing of yet another orgasm. My cock jerked 

again and again, trying to empty itself, trying to fill the cavity 

inside his body with sperm. As my orgasm died away I collapsed over 

the inert boy.



I don't remember how long I lay there behind Dylan but it 

seemed like long while. I hugged Dylan to me, caressing his golden-

blond hair, stroking his lean, body. Both of us were covered with 

a sheen of perspiration, beads of sweat had trickled between us so 

that our bodies had stuck together. Unable to break the bonds 

between us I stayed joined to Dylan, my now-softened cock embedded 

deep inside his belly. Finally I sensed that the boy had fallen 

asleep and I carefully extricated my cock. His anus was fully 

dilated and loose on my limp cock, as I pulled back gently it 

slipped out easily, sucking like a shoe pulled out of mud as it 

came free. Dylan stirred slightly, then settled back down, still 

asleep, unaware of the void within him.



I moved back slightly and glanced down, feeling the bile rise 

in my throat as I saw the dark red blood that streaked my cock. At 

first I couldn't understand it and I stared dumbly at the redness, 

wondering stupidly whether it had come from me or Dylan. The boy 

had orgasmed twice, once the pain of my entry had passed and his 

body had become accustomed to my penis he had appeared to enjoy. I 

hadn't wanted to hurt him but I knew that at the very end, unable 

to hold back, I had gone too deeply and far too hard for his 

delicate body. But there wasn't much blood, just a few streaks that 

signified the loss of his innocence. He'd been so tight inside, 

that I realized then that we'd been lucky that I hadn't injured 

him. I slid down lower careful not to disturb the boy and gently 

parted his cheeks. His anus had completely opened up, the hole a 

little less that one inch in diameter, the crimson of his bowel 

clearly visible. My semen and the boy's blood and mucous had 

mingled to a reddish foam that oozed out of him, a little trickle 

running over his pale cheek, the rest making a thick and gooey mess 

over the underside of his ball-sac.



The bleeding had apparently stopped, there was no sign of 

where it had come from and I guessed that it had come from deep 

inside the boy. I twisted over, reaching for my jeans to get a 

handkerchief. I touched  something and pulled it toward me. It was 

Dylan's jeans, mine were still some feet away. I checked the 

pockets, but like most twelve-year-old boys he didn't carry a 

handkerchief. Guiltily, I pulled the white jockeys from within the 

boy's pants, they were clean and fresh looking, perhaps even brand-

new, and awfully small, size 22-24. I hadn't intended to hurt the 

boy, I wanted desperately to remove all traces of what I had done. 

Carefully I wiped the mess off his little scrotum, swallowing back 

the bile that kept rising in my throat, threatening to vomit each 

time I saw the results of my love for the boy. I nearly gagged when 

I saw the red stains soiling the perfect white cotton of the boy's 

underpants. Then I dabbed the cloth into his crack, gently so as 

not to wake him, looking to see whether more blood came out. By the 

time I had finished I was trembling. Carefully I moved up next to 

Dylan again, craddling his injured body with mine, fitting my knees 

up behind his legs, bending to meet the curve of his back, brushing 

his neck with my lips.



I don't know how long I lay there before I fell asleep too. 

It seemed as if hours passed, long lonely hours as I felt my guilt 

and shame growing ever stronger. Finally I too fell asleep in the 

hot afternoon sun and dreamed fitfully, waking again and again, 

then dozing off again, before my mind stopped replaying the 

terrible memory of the blood oozing out of Dylan's beautiful young 

body. It was Dylan that finally woke me up. I opened my eyes, 

suddenly startled, then looked up into Dylan's eyes as he leaned 

over me. He smiled shyly, "Hi sleepy head. I didn't think you'd 

ever wake up."



"Hi yourself," I murmurred. Then the memory came rushing back. 

"Dylan,...Dylan, I'm sorry, I,... I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm 

sorry that I hurt you." The words tumbled out as the boy grinned.



"You didn't hurt so much. At first it did when you were putting 

it in me, but then it stopped. It was wild, much better than when 

you did it with just your fingers."



"Does it hurt now?" I asked nervously.



Dylan shrugged, "Kind off. Now exactly hurt, it feels sort of 

sore inside, kind of in my belly, only deeper. Like it's bruised 

inside. My hole feels a lot bigger too. I guess it is huh?" he 

grinned.



"It really doesn't hurt?" I asked again, still uncertain, 

still seeing the blood oozing out.



"Nah, I'm okay, really I am," the boy replied.



"But you bled inside, there was blood coming out of you", I 

persisted.



"Yeah I know. I saw it on my underpants. There isn't very much. 

I got kind of worried too, but it's stopped now. I think next time 

you gotta do it slower or something."



I breathed out in relief. "We'd better get back, it must be 

after four," I said, glancing at the sun and then at my watch."It 

is, it's twenty past. Do you think you can ride okay?"



Dylan nodded, "Yeah but I think you'll have to help me up." 

His head tilted down and his lips pursed. We kissed, mouth to 

mouth, sharing our tongues. When we parted Dylan gave me a cheeky 

grin. "That was nice, almost as nice as what you did back there." 

He paused a moment or two then started to giggle, breaking into a  

laugh, "You were awesome," he added.



"So were you, Dylan. You were 'awesome' too." I laughed with 

the boy  then we kissed again. "I guess we better get back before 

Kelly starts getting worried and comes out to look for us."



Dylan nodded and leaned over me to pick up his jeans. I watched 

as the boy slid his feet in, then pulled them halfway up his slender 

legs before he came to his knees, playfully pushed his small limp 

cock down into his pants, closed the zipper and fastened his belt. 

I picked up his underpants, "What about these?" I teased. Dylan 

smirked, "You keep 'em. I can hardly wear them home. If mom finds 

them in the wash she'll die."



I picked up my trophy, the unmistakable evidence of our union. 

"I'll keep them forever to remind me of today, Dylan," I said as I 

rolled over to reach my own clothes.



Dylan smiled, "The first time we did it huh?"



I came to my feet and started to get dressed. "More than that. 

It's the first time I realized how much I loved you."



Dylan looked down at his bare feet in sudden embarrasment. 

"Yeah,... I know."



We finished dressing, then with Dylan's underpants rolled up 

and secure in my pocket, we walked up the embankment to where we 

had left the horses. Dylan walked uneasily, and I had to help him

scramble up the last few feet, he was obviously on very tired boy.

The horses were grazing peacefully, still where we left them, oblivious

to what the boy and I had done down at the creek. I saddled both of the 

horses then I locked my hands together, bent down so that he could put

his foot and gave Dylan a boost onto his horse, lifting his eighty

plus pounds easily. He winced as he lifted his leg up over the saddle, 

sitting down awkwardly, obviously still sore inside. I mounted my 

horse and we guided our horses in a slow walked back up the barn. 

We didn't say much, both of us engrossed in our own thoughts, 

remembering what had transpired in the woods that afternoon, trying 

to sort out our confused feelings about what we had shared 

together.



--