young-lovers-15

Subject: “Young Lovers,” Chapter 15 OK, for all of you out there who have told me you want to hear more about Jack — here you go! Chapter 15 I must say the old tailor knew his stuff. Two days after our first visit to him Joon and I had gone back to try on what Mr. Brown called “the roughs,” and there wasn’t one item that didn’t fit snugly. And now, two mornings after that, several bags of clothes were outside my apartment door when I opened it. The fashion show ensued shortly thereafter, despite a bit of foot dragging from the principal model. There were jeans that encased Joon’s legs like a coat of paint, scrunched his cock and balls up into a nice basket, and hugged his little butt beautifully. There were sheer, clinging T-shirts that were somehow tailored to accentuate the boy’s sexy, concave belly, while de-emphasizing his flat chest. Mr. Brown had also figured out that Joon looked best in white, and so most of the shirts and T-shirts were white. There were gym shorts that were just short and trim enough to be sexy and a pair of Speedo-type racing trunks for the pool with thin vertical stripes of blue and white that somehow made Joon’s ass look even smaller and his goodies in front look bigger. Perhaps knowing that underwear choices are very individual, the tailor had suppled white briefs and colorful boxer and bikini briefs in various styles. There was even a black dress shirt in which Joon looked particularly hot. Joon tried them on one after the other while looking uncomfortable, as Byron and Johnny looked on. Johnny gave an enthusiastic running commentary, while Byron interjected an occasional encouraging remark too. I was sure part of Joon’s discomfort was at the obvious effort the two of them were making to be positive. “Man, try those ones on too — they look hella too small!” exclaimed Byron, gesturing to some red patterned boxer briefs. “Shit, I just got all dressed with these pants and this shirt!” Joon complained. “You just wanna see my ass again.” “That little booty? It’s too fuckin’ small to bother with!” Byron was grinning from ear to ear. “Hey!” Johnny protested with a smile, defending his friend, and punched Byron in the shoulder. “What, midget, you’re on his side?” Byron cried, grabbing Johnny in a headlock. The boys wrestled a bit, but I noticed Byron was gentle with Johnny who, despite remarkable strength for his age, was far smaller than Byron. I sat back and enjoyed their banter and horseplay. It felt good to see how these three got along. I was particularly happy for Byron. I wondered if his thug-from-the-ghetto act had ever permitted him any real friends. I had decided that, despite the strange start to our relationship, I really liked the guy. He somehow had a dignity about him in spite of, or maybe in part because of, the circumstances of his background. After he and Johnny had calmed down and Joon had tried on the boxer briefs — which did in fact fit him, and fabulously — I turned to Byron. “Hey, man, we never talked about the other night. I’m really sorry I pissed you off, you know, that first time. I don’t know what got into me. I was taunting you. I don’t know, you were just so hot hanging there . . . ” He didn’t look at me, but just shrugged indifferently. “Whatever,” he said. I put my hand gently on his arm. He turned to me. “You shouldnt’a punched me though,” I said, smiling so he’d know I wasn’t angry. “Shit, that wasn’t a punch!” he exclaimed in mock contempt. “That was, like, a tap!” I laughed and squeezed his rock hard bicep. “I guess I got off lucky then!” “Shit yeah!” he now smirked. I let my face go serious. “Will you do me a favor, though?” His smile faded. “What?” “Will you let me make love to you sometimes?” I caressed his arm. “Just to see if I can make you cum with affection?” There was silence in the room. Both Joon and Johnny were still, waiting. “It don’t work that way,” he said in a flat, dismissive tone, and turned away. There was something unconvinced in his voice. I decided to let it drop for now. “OK. But keep an open mind. People can change.” He nodded slightly, but didn’t look at me. I took the attention off the black boy. “Hey Joon, you didn’t try on that green polo yet.” A few minutes afterward Joon and I were putting his new clothes away in the closet and dresser. Johnny and Byron had gone outside somewhere. Joon had kept on a skin-tight electric blue long-sleeved T-shirt and equally tight white jeans. He looked delicious, and I told him so. He made no comment. “Remember,” I said. “Your looks matter to me. But somehow you can’t make that enough, can you?” He looked at me silently. “That’s because, even though you say they don’t matter to you, they really do. Otherwise that whole thing wouldn’t have felt so awkward to you, which it obviously did. You’d be totally neutral. Why do you want to believe your looks don’t matter when they do?” I could see he had no clue. “OK, who are the kids in your classes who pretend to themselves they don’t care about their grades? You’ve seen them, right? Who are they?” “Underachievers, I guess.” “Right. And why do they underachieve?” “They’re just lazy.” “Nonsense! That shows no insight. There’s no such thing as laziness. There are just obstacles to motivation. Usually it’s fear. What do they fear?” “Well, failure. That if they tried they still couldn’t do it as well as they think they should.” “Bingo!” I said nothing more, but looked at him meaningfully. In a moment he dropped his eyes, and I could tell he got it. But I pressed on. “You’re afraid that no matter how much effort you might put into your clothes, your hair, your time in the weight room, you’ll still be the ugly duckling. You’ll still look scrawny and plain and unsexy. So you just shave your head, hide your body with huge clothes, and don’t even try to build your muscles. Instead you’ve spent all your time building your intellect, so you can feel superior. And then if you feel threatened by somebody you beat them up.” He remained staring at the floor. “But I won’t buy it, Joon. I know the truth — that you’re sexy as hell, that you’re probably the hottest fuck on this island, and that you have a kind of magnetism about you that would have all the boys and men on this island spreading their legs for you if you’d just stop hiding behind that superior facade.” He looked at me silently, vulnerable, unsure. I approached him and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Look, you’ve been through a hell of a lot in a very short time,” I said gently. “Your whole idea of who you are emotionally, sexually, every other way has been turned inside out. And I’m the one putting you through all this. But you’re strong, man. It’s a sign of your strength that you aren’t shutting down and turning away from me. There’s been lots of confusion, lots of humiliation, I know. But it will all be worth it in the end, I promise you. And one more thing . . . ” I locked onto his eyes with mine, and I caressed his cheek with my thumb. “. . . I’m so fucking proud to have you as my boy.” Emotions chased each other over his face. I drew him to me and embraced him tenderly. He almost, but not quite, hugged me back. ********************************************** Ever since I had set foot on the island I had noticed — I mean, how could I not notice — the bodies of the boys of Young Lovers. In the gym, at the pool, on the basketball court, just walking around shirtless — not to mention the boys I had had sex with already — all seemed to have beautiful, sexy physiques. Not that they all looked like Michelangelo’s David, although Byron came pretty close. There was great variety. Some were very buff, some had only light musculature, some had beautiful honey-skinned legs, others perfectly cut chests, still others spectacular abs. But in their own way they were all flawless. That did not happen by chance, I knew, or even as a result of some very discriminating hiring by the Young Lovers talent scouts. No, somebody was crafting those beautiful bodies. Butch had mentioned the name of Gino, and that afternoon I went to the gym to see if I could find the magician who created all that beauty. Since it was a Saturday there would be no gym classes using the weight room, so I didn’t know if there would be much going on when I showed up. To my surprise the place was packed. It took no time at all to find Gino, the master of the weights. A forceful, rather high-pitched voice with an unmistakable Italian-American accent rang out. “No, no, no, that will get you nothing! Nothing! Nothing but an injured back and three weeks in bed! I showed you how! I told you how! Whassa matter? What more can I do, eh?!” I weaved my way to the source of the noise. A skinny little black kid lay on the weight bench giggling self-consciously as a short wiry fellow bent over him and continued to berate him. A handful of boys stood watching. “You gonna try it again or what? Huh? You gonna finally listen to me, Brillo pad? Now get that back FLAT on the bench, just lift with your chest, nothing else, this ain’t a back exercise. You guys, did you see what he’s doin’ wrong? That’s it, now, you ready?” The boy set his mouth with determination and gripped the press. “Nice and slow now . . . all right, all right . . . all the way up now, back still flat . . . ah, good till right at the end, then you arched, but better . . . can you do one more? Of course you can. Let’s get this one perfect now.” The trim, balding, 40ish guy, muscles flexing in his tight polo shirt, bent close and stuck his hand under the sweaty black back. “If I can get my hand in here you’re not flat enough! Flatter!” For several minutes I stood with the boys gathered around the bench press as this dynamo with his non-stop patter berated, encouraged, instructed, and cajoled the boy into a series of perfect bench presses. At the end, he led the group in an impromptu round of applause, and, turning to the group to find his next victim, pounded “Brillo pad” on the back, without seeming to notice he hit the kid so hard he almost knocked him over. As another boy took his place on the bench I looked over the group of a half dozen mostly shirtless and sweaty boys who stood around the bench press. I knew none of them, but there was one slender, tallish blond boy who I recognized as a kid Jack sometimes sat with at breakfast. He seemed to be eying me and I smiled. He was beautiful. I made a slight jerk of my head, inviting him to join me. In another minute he had sidled over to me. “Hi there,” I greeted him. “What’s your name?’ He fixed me with the kind of limpid, sky-blue eyes that you normally only encounter in porn stories. “Rondol,” he replied in a slightly breaking alto, halfway into puberty. He looked to be 15, or maybe a tall 14. “I’m Mike. I’m here checking things out on the island.” I thought that was adequately vague an explanation for my presence. “Yeah, I know. Jack told me.” “He’s your friend?” “Yeah. He’s next to me in the dorm.” My mind briefly conjured an image of what the two hotties might get up to on nights they weren’t occupied with paying customers. “There’s a lot of kids here today,” I observed. “I figured on Saturday you’d all be kicking back after a hard week.” “I wish. We’ve gotta meet our weekly goals. If we don’t pass Sunday check we don’t get any work for the week.” This sounded interesting. “What’s Sunday check?’ “Sunday morning after breakfast we all get checked to see if we look good enough.” “What, you mean like if your muscles are big enough or something?” “Yeah, or if we put on any weight, or if we sprout some hair in the wrong place and don’t get it taken care of. Lot of things can mess us up.” “Did you ever fail the check?” He dropped his eyes. “Yeah, once.” I waited to see if he’d elaborate. He didn’t. “Well. I can’t imagine you’ll fail tomorrow — you look pretty hot to me!” He smiled a dimpled smile. “Maybe. But I’ve gotta work on my chest all the time. I’m naturally skinny and they want me to have some pecs.” I had already examined his small, curving chest muscles and found them delectable. “Your pecs look just fine to me!” He smiled in embarrassment. “Thanks, but I can’t take a chance. I’m also worried about my skin.” His torso, like his face, was a peaches and cream color, featuring only the slightest suggestion of a tan. “It does look like you could use a bit of sun.” He looked at me, startled. “No! I’m supposed to be lighter! Tan isn’t my look! I accidentally got some sun the other day at the pool — I hope it finishes fading away by tomorrow.” Obviously Young Lovers was very particular about the boys conforming to whatever ideal they had selected for each of them. I assumed the decision was Butch’s, but this guy Gino seemed like a pretty forceful personality as well. “So who decides? I mean, who tells you what your look is supposed to be? And how do they know what will be best? Maybe you’d be even hotter with a dark tan — some blondes are, you know.” “Marco goes over all the details with us so we know exactly what we have to do. But I don’t think he actually decided on my skin. I think it was Butch.” “Not this guy Gino?” “Gino makes up our workout plans. He decides on how our muscles are supposed to look. He has, like, some kind of printout on each of us and every time we come in he goes down the list, checking off what we’re supposed to do, how many sets, how many reps, what weight. And he watches our form. He’s, like, a perfectionist.” I nodded and eyed Gino, looking for an opening. Which didn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon, I saw, as Gino was now shouting into the ear of another hapless adolescent struggling vainly with the bench press. Since Rondol seemed a bright and helpful sort I decided to continue my questioning. “I notice you guys all have some kind of a card you have to present to get your food in the cafeteria. I guess that’s to make sure you get the right nutrients –” “Oh man, that’s the worst! We can’t eat one bite that hasn’t been approved by the diet guy! It’s like a prison or something!” His incredulous expression seemed to say that of course I would agree with the outrageousness of the situation he was describing. “Well, I can see that could be annoying, but they’ve got to protect their investment. Your bodies bring in the cash, right? I mean, I’m sure you guys are all great lovers and all that, but still . . .” Rondol ducked his head, chastised. “Yeah, I guess. Still, you’d think we could have a candy bar once in awhile,” he grumbled. “No candy?” “Naw. All healthy stuff.” “I don’t know, Rondol. I’ve been here a few weeks now, and I gotta say, the food overall has been pretty damn good.” He gave me a long look, trying to decide if he was annoyed that I wouldn’t agree with him. Finally he looked away. “I guess.” Gino’s voice broke into our conversation. “Beanpole! You’re up!” He noticed me for the first time, gave me a nod, then turned his attention to Rondol, who indeed was “Beanpole.” In a moment Rondol had lain himself on the bench and was smoothly lifting a smallish amount of weight with excellent form. “Yeah, yeah, now let’s add a little bit. Not too much, just a little. Keep that perfect form, Beanpole. That’s it, you been listenin’ to me, huh? You been watching’ these other guys do it wrong?” Rondol’s peachy torso began to glow with sweat, his flat belly heaving, the long muscles of his thighs flexing as he lifted in a slow, steady rhythm. “You guys see this?” Gino gestured to the boy while scanning his charges’ faces. “You see how he does it? Slow and steady, especially on the down. You guys all want the up, you think it’s all about the lift, but it’s all about the down, that slow down, that’s where the gain comes. Beanpole knows! All right, that’s enough, let’s raise it up a bit more, you ain’t to your target weight yet.” After a couple more minutes Rondol’s thick blond bangs were disheveled and partly matted against his forehead and sweat trickled down over his ribs. He slowly hissed through his teeth as he gave one last push to end his set. “That’s very nice, you was Italian in another life, I can tell! You was, am I right, Beanpole? A big hand now!” The group gave a Rondol a dutiful round of applause as he got up from the bench. Before Gino had a chance to start in on another victim I blurted out, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Gino?” He eyed me not unsuspiciously. “Questions? You got questions? You want workout advice, or what?” He stared at me in a way that exactly reminded me of how the old Sicilian guys who used to sit for hours in my aunt’s donut shop in Brooklyn used to eye me and my friends when we were a bit too loud over in the corner. “I’m a reporter. I just wanted to ask you about the workouts, how you design them, how the kids respond, what the challenges are –” “Challenges! Oh, I got challenges!” He gestured to the sweaty group surrounding us. “Look around at this collection of lazy bums! There’s challenges all right!” He suddenly turned to a hapless Mexican kid, a bit on the beefy side. “Here’s one of my challenges right here. Burrito here thinks he can come to the gym twice a week and that’ll make up for all the rice and beans he sneaks on the side! Look at those arms! Totally shapeless! Who’s gonna want a Young Lover like you if you got no muscle tone? Huh?” “Burrito” actually had very nice arms and a sturdy, well-muscled chest, but he ducked his head with a guilty smile nonetheless as Gino smacked him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “So Burrito, you’re up next. You get started while I see what this gennaman wants. Beanpole and Scrappy, you guys spot him and tell him what he’s doin’ wrong. Maybe he’ll surprise us and use correct form! Eh, Burrito? Get goin’ now, while we step aside here.” I spent the next few minutes trying to get the hyper Italian to focus on my questions about the way Young Lovers sculpted the boys’ bodies, but it wasn’t an easy interview. Every few seconds Gino would look over at the bench and yell something to whoever was laboring there at the moment. Though he was gruff and more than a little intimidating, I could see the guy was a natural coach, and their body language and chuckles told me the boys liked him in spite of his rough needling. Like all good teachers what he really wanted to do when kids were around was teach, not talk to adults, but I was able to glean a few nuggets that I thought might be useful in the article I’d wind up writing. Before long Gino excused himself. “Hey I gotta go now. Nice to meet ya. Yo, Gumball, what’s that weight you got on there? You followin’ the plan or you makin’ up your own plan? Huh?” As I was getting up to leave I felt a presence behind me. It was Rondol, still sweaty and a bit pink from his exertions. “Um, can I talk to you a minute?” He looked hesitant and unsure. “Sure. What is it?” “It’s about Jack.” A chill ran through me — I didn’t know why. “He seemed to really like you, and, you know, I really don’t know who else to talk to. I don’t want to get him in trouble. It’s like weird that you came in here today. I was thinking I should talk to you but didn’t know how to find you or anything.” “Are you guys not getting along?” I asked, somehow knowing that wasn’t it at all. “No, we’re fine. We always get along. But he’s having trouble with this guest he’s seeing.” “Really. What kind of trouble? Is the guy mistreating him?” “I’m not sure. He’s just upset all the time. It’s been like a week, ever since his guest has been here. He won’t say too much about it. But like a couple of nights ago he came in at like four in the morning and he was crying. And last night he told me — well, he said he didn’t think he could do this anymore. And I haven’t seen him all day. His bed was empty this morning.” “What — is he thinking of breaking his contract?” “I don’t think that’s what he meant. I think it’s something worse.” The boy fixed me with his beautiful azure eyes. “Maybe he’s, like, thinking of killing himself.” ************************************* I had spent most of the late afternoon searching the island for Jack. Since it was Saturday there were no classes, and Rondol had told me the boy usually hung around his dorm or one of the game lounges on his free time, but no luck. The boys I ran into were of no help — no one seemed to have seen him. As minutes went by my searching became slightly more frantic, and I began wondering if it weren’t time to bring Marco in. Selfishly, the reason I hesitated was to avoid the young man’s judgements. He had teased me one too many times about “doing therapy,” konya escort and I was afraid that if anything happened to Jack I would get the blame for stirring up the boy’s fragile emotions. That first day on the plane and our later crazily intense night together might have done something to him — or at least Marco might think so. My hope was that I could find the boy myself, calm him down and figure out what was going on inside that sensitive mind of his so I could help him. No reason to get Marco or Martin involved unless absolutely necessary. The late tropical afternoon brought unrelenting heat as the sun slanted over the ocean and onto the island. There was no breeze, and I was sweating heavily as I searched the low bluffs past the north end of the resort. From time to time I called his name — as I had done for over two hours — but no answer came. Visions of Jack dead, his heartbreakingly little body dashed on the rocks or bleeding from a self-inflicted knife wound flashed through my mind, try as I would to keep them out and stay calm. I came to a point when the rock cliffs near the shore became impassible. I turned inland toward the jungle. As night was approaching I knew I’d have only a few more minutes to search. Once I was into the trees the air became even more oppressive in the tropical dusk. The light was lower here, and I squinted about me as I made my way through a tangle of vines, calling the boy’s name. Indeed, the light was so low I almost missed the sneaker clad foot and leg extending out along the ground from the hollow bole of an immense tree. I froze. Was he dead? “Jack!” I exclaimed, my voice choking with emotion. I rushed toward the tree and around to the opening. And there he was. The boy sat with his head on one raised knee, his arms drooping to the ground inertly next to him. He did not respond to me as I cried again, “Jack! My God!” I dropped to my knees next to the base of the tree and reached out and pulled him to me. His body was totally limp, but then, as I got a better grip on him and rose to my feet, I could feel his suddenly tight embrace. As I stood there in the darkening jungle he began to sob, and then his grip became like a vise. I tucked my face against his and murmured into his ear. “Whatever it is, sweetheart, I’m here and I’ll help you. Well get through it together.” I didn’t even think about what I was saying, the words just bubbled forth like water from a spring. “Yeah, that’s it, go ahead and cry. Cry it all out.” I caressed his hair and rubbed my thumb against the soft little hollow behind his ear. “That’s it. I’m here now. You’re safe. It’s all gonna be better now.” I had no idea at that moment what I was wrong or how I was going to do make things better, but I absolutely knew I would somehow. I was overwhelmed with relief at finding him, and that he was allright. Finally he choked out a few words. “What’s that?” I asked. “Thank you,” he sobbed. “Thank you.” “Let’s get you back to my place. I think we both need that shower, don’t you?” It was too dark now for him to see my face, but I felt him raise his head and try to look at me anyway. Then I felt his lips on my cheek, then a spasm of crying shook him again. It must have been nearly half a mile back to my apartment. I didn’t put him down once. ******************************************* When I entered the apartment Joon, Johnny and Byron were huddled over school notebooks, another tutoring session apparently underway even though it was a Saturday. They all looked up and stared wordlessly as I entered with my armful of boy. At this point Jack squirmed out of my arms and stood, looking at the three boys. “Um, hey Byron. Hi Joon.” His voice was a bit quavery, but under control. We all stood there awkwardly for a moment. I cleared my throat. “Guys, Jack’s been having a rough time. He and I are going to shower and then we’re gonna need some quiet time. Is there somewhere you can go to give us some space?” Joon turned to Byron. “Can we use your dorm?” His face and voice were impassive. I wondered how he felt, no doubt assuming I was going to be intimate with Jack in our bed. “Library’s open,” Byron replied unenthusiastically. He was apparently not over his embarrassment at being seen getting tutored, and preferred a place likely to be empty of boys. They bundled books and papers together. “I’n learning math too, ” Johnny murmured as they filed out. There was something so touching about the way he said it, as if he knew he were merely an afterthought, that I bent and kissed him as he walked by me. He flashed me a shy smile. Joon paused at the door. “You want us to come back later?” There was the barest suggestion of accusation in his voice. “This is where you live,” I answered, gazing at him steadily. He looked at me a moment, then turned and left. I hoped I had said the right thing. “Sorry,” Jack said softly, scratching his arm nervously. “I don’t want to be any trouble.” I knelt in front of him and gave him a cheer-up smile. “You’re worth it! Come on now, let’s get in that shower. We both have definitely smelled better than we do right now!” In a couple of minutes we stood naked under a weak stream of warm water. I placed my hands on the boy’s shoulders gently and closed my eyes with a big sigh. Only now was I letting myself start to relax. The boy drew himself to me and he nuzzled his face into my chest. I gently gripped his head with both hands and began caressing his scalp, enjoying having his warm little body against me. There were a dozen questions floating in and out of my mind, but I told them to go away. There would be plenty of time for that — neither of us needed to talk right now. Eventually I reached for the soap, worked up a lather, and began caressing the boy’s body with the slippery foam. His eyes were closed as I slid my hands over his cute little chest, his shoulders and his arms. I swabbed his scantily haired armpits, then slipped my hands down his smooth back and cupped his impossibly tiny butt. I pulled him to me and kissed to top of his head, then, after grabbing more soap, knelt and worked on his slim legs and feet. I deliberately avoided his cock wagging inches from my face. I wanted him to be absolutely sure my affection and care for him were not about getting at that piece of meat. I began soaping his belly, and as I admired and caressed those incredibly hot little abs I did begin to feel a bit of a stirring in my cock, but I ignored it. Then, turning him gently around, I soaped up his butt, massaging those firm, cantalope-sized cheeks carefully. I then peeled them apart to get to his asshole. I was shocked to see the lips of his opening were red and swollen, and as I pulled a little more firmly he dilated unnaturally, an inch or more. “My God, Jack, somebody has been really rough with you.” I turned him around and looked at his sweet face, his searching eyes. “Somebody been out of line with you!” A thought struck me. “Or do you, uh, like it rough? Is this what turns you on? I mean, it’s OK–” “No!” he cried. “I don’t like it!” he exclaimed in a choking voice. “But he said he’d paid for me and that what he was going to do! I begged him not to do it the first night, but he just laughed at me and then he — he raped me!” He began sobbing, and I rose to my feet and held him tight. “How long has this been going on?” Suddenly it all began tumbling out. “All week. I mean, he’s right I guess. Some guys here get almost raped sometimes. And I guess some of them like it. He’s the guest, and I’ve — I’ve been trying to please him. But all he wants is my cock first, then my ass. Every night he just opens the door — I mean, he doesn’t even say hi — he just says, “Bring that monster cock over here!” Jack mimicked a gruff southern accent. I would have laughed if I weren’t so outraged at what he was saying. “He pulls me inside, rips off my clothes, sucks me til I come, then throws me onto the bed and rapes me. Then he kicks me out. Usually” — now he began to sob again — “he doesn’t even talk to me. It’s like I’m not there, it’s just my, my body . . . ” I embraced him and he clutched me hard. “And there’s nothing you can do, poor baby. You just take it.” His sobs became louder as he realized I could feel how he was feeling. In another minute his sobs quieted and then he suddenly looked up at me, eyes red, wet hair plastered to his neck and shoulders. “I’m s’posed to be there tonight! I guess I should go . . .: “Fuck no, you’re not going!” I exclaimed, outraged at the thought this boy would have no choice but to continue to submit to abuse. “What time do you go to his room?” “I’m s’posed to be there at eight.” I stood there motionless as the warm water sluiced over me. My mind, not usually the best in a crisis, was somehow suddenly crystal clear as I considered alternatives and came up with a sort of plan. I slid aside the shower curtain, stepped out into the bedroom dripping wet and checked the bedside clock. It was nearly 7:45. I grabbed my phone and called Marco. I was thinking he might not answer during evening hours, but he picked up after a couple rings. I quickly decided how I wanted to play this. “Hey Marco, it’s Mike. Quick question: what’s the policy on guests who get too rough with the boys?” He chuckled. “We’re not going to bust you for what you do with Joon, don’t worry.” I wondered how he knew about that. “No, no, that’s not why I’m asking. I just want to make sure I get the policy straight for the article. Do the boys have any protections?” “Absolutely. The guests sign an agreement with Young Lovers before they touch a boy that spells out their rights and responsibilities. I’ll show you a copy tomorrow if you like. Any time a boy says no to something, that’s it. It’s no.” “But I’m sure there’s rough sex going on here, right?” “Sure. But the boys have consented in writing ahead of time. And even if they say yes and then change their minds — which has happened, although not often — the rule is still “no” means no. In cases like that we find the guests somebody else to their liking, end of story.” “i guess some boys here don’t always know what is OK with them to do until they’re in the situation.” “Is that what you’re finding in your therapy?” Marco teased. “Yeah, yeah,” I indulged him. “You might be surprised how many boys kind of like it rough.” Marco mused. “That was something I didn’t expect. And they don’t always know it. Like anything else with sex, I guess it can take awhile to discover your needs, don’t you think?” I wondered if Marco was subtly referring to me. If so, the guy was even brighter and more observant than I’d realized. “Thanks for the info. I’ll let you get back to whoever you’re fucking at the moment.” “Actually I was meditating. The fucking comes later.” “Who’s the lucky winner?” “Somebody special. No one you know. And considering your appetites I plan to keep it that way.” “Ho ho. Later.” “Later.” Then I placed a call to Byron’s dorm. After being handed off to several boys my call found it’s way to Byron. “Hey Byron, it’s Mike. I need a favor.” “Yeah?” “I need some muscle.” A pause. “You mean — you want me to train you, or . . . ” I laughed. “No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean I need some backup to intimidate somebody.” He paused. “Is there gonna be a fight?” “I don’t think so, if you’re there. There might also be some cocksucking, if you’re interested. I’ll explain it all, just come over. It might be helpful to have Joon too, in case things do get rough.” A few minutes later the five of us — me, Jack, Byron, Joon and Johnny — were standing in front of an unfamiliar cabin on the edge of the compound. I had filled the boys in on my idea and they had reacted as I might have expected. Johnny was excited, Byron was focused, Joon was skeptical and Jack was scared but brave. When I knocked on the door a heavy, 50ish looking man with an angry face swung the door open. “Where–” he stopped. “Who are you?” “Friends of Jack. We need to talk. We have a deal for you.” “What are you talking about? I don’t need any damn deal.” “You’re Mr. McAllen, right? You’ve been fucking Jack?” “It’s no business of yours! Now just leave him here and get the hell out.” The man grabbed for Jack, but I grabbed the man first, and Byron clutched his other arm. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” With that Byron and I muscled him backward and we all entered. Joon closed the door. “You can’t do this!” he spluttered. “Yeah, well you can’t rape boys either, but you’ve been doin’ it!” “I paid good money–” “You also signed an agreement that prevents you from forcing a boy against his will. That didn’t stop you. But you’ve fucked him for the last time.” The man was suddenly silent, his face red. “You like big cocks?” I asked. “And you like to get real rough?” McAllen stared at me. I turned to Byron. “Take all your clothes off,” I ordered calmly. Byron hesitated for a second, but then complied. In a moment he stood there naked, his spectacular body glowing in the lamplight. “That cock big enough for you?” I asked roughly. The man stared at Byron. When he quickly licked his lips I knew we had him. “It gets bigger. Johnny, suck him.” Without a moment’s hesitation Johnny dived to his knees in front of Byron and began stuffing as many of the seven flaccid inches into his mouth as he could. He began working up and down, drawing his head almost off, then surging most of the way back down, then back up. Byron’s slack organ glistened. The man watched as if mesmerized. In a moment Byron’s cock began lengthening and thickening, and Johnny had to adjust his position to accommodate it, but he didn’t even slow down. Whatever else had happened to the poor boy during his time in Korea he had learned to suck cock like a master. “Man!” Jack murmured next to me. I didn’t know whether he was marveling at Johnny’s eagerness and skill or the size of Byron’s massive organ. “Beautiful, huh?” I replied. “He’s even bigger than me!” In another half minute Byron’s cock stood straight out from his sculpted body, extended nearly its full ten inches. He leaned back against a table with eyes closed as Johnny worked his magic. “OK Johnny, that’s enough.” I instructed. The boy drew off Byron and turned to me with a questioning look, a filament of something — either his saliva or Byron’s precum — trailing from his red lips. “Come on, McAllen, let’s get some of this.” I gripped the man’s shoulder in a not unfriendly way, and drew him toward Byron. He came willingly, still seeming to be in a bit of a daze. I motioned Johnny out of the way and pressed McAllen into a kneeling position. I grabbed Byron’s hot, thick organ with one hand and placed the other on the back of the man’s graying head. “Let’s just find out how this black beauty tastes, hmm?” I murmured. The man needed no further suggestion, as he leaned forward and engulfed the head of Byron’s cock in his mouth. He began working his head back and forth and Johnny had done. After a moment he closed his eyes, clutching the base of Byron’s tool with one hand as he rubbed the front of his own pants with the other. I leaned down to the man’s ear. “And you can get rough with him — the rougher the better. He loves it.” After another silent minute, punctuated only by the man’s grunting and slurping, I made eye contact with Byron and raised my eyebrows questioningly. He knew what I was asking and nodded. I winked at him, gave him the thumbs up, and mouthed, “I owe you one!” The boy flashed me a big white grin and closed his eyes as he relaxed into the man’s blowjob. I looked at the others and motioned to them to come with me. We departed quietly. As we headed in the general direction from which we’d come I put my arm around Jack’s shoulders, drew him to me, and whispered, “How you feeling?” He grinned up at me. “A lot better!” “Still want to finish that shower?” “Yeah, but . . . ” “But what?” “I might be, you know, getting kind of horny.” “An exciting confrontation, the smell of battle — it will do that to a guy!” He gave me the full Jack smile, and even in the dim porch light of the cabins we were passing I could see it was dazzling. I looked up to see Joon and Johnny heading off in a different direction. Joon was looking at me, and he raised his hand slightly in farewell. They seemed to be heading in the direction of Byron’s dorm. I wondered again how Joon was feeling about my obvious bond with Jack. It had become obvious to me that despite his exceptional intelligence and worldliness he was a passionate boy. I didn’t know if he was the jealous type. I guessed I would find out soon enough, but I decided there was no point in casting a pall over my time with Jack tonight. When we got to my apartment I began stripping again for the shower, but Jack hesitated. “What is it? Change your mind?” I knew the boy was as changeable as a weather vane. “No, no!” he exclaimed with a smile. “It’s just — I’m really hungry!” “When did you eat last?” “Um . . . yesterday lunch, I think.” “Wow.” “I – just wasn’t hungry. You know how it us when you’re upset. Well, maybe you don’t . . . ” “Yeah, I know how it is” I exclaimed. “Jack, this whole evening my feelings have been going up and down right with yours. When I saw you all alone in that tree trunk, and then when I saw what he’d done to your little body . . .” I couldn’t finish, as without warning tears came to my eyes. The boy came to me and hugged me tightly. We stayed that way a long moment. Then I managed to pull myself together. “You know what I’ve got in the freezer of my little fridge?” “What?” “Ice cream! You interested?” “Yeah!” he cried, with the glee of a much younger child. I headed for the kitchen, then stopped, feigning concern. “Oh, but wait!” “What?” “Tomorrow is Sunday check! What if that ice cream goes right to your belly and you put on some fat over those beautiful abs?” He laughed his tinkling little chortle. “Man, I haven’t eaten anything in a day and a half, I’m not gonna get fat! Plus I never have a problem with Sunday check! I don’t ever get fat, somehow.” “OK,” I smiled, reaching for the refrigerator handle. Then I frowned again. “But guests aren’t supposed to give the boys any food! See that little sign right there on the fridge? Plus, they really emphasized it to me. `Under no circumstances . . .'” The consternation on the boy’s face gave way when I couldn’t keep from cracking a smile Jack jumped on me with a big grin. “Give . . . me . . . . my . . . ice . . . cream!” he shouted, pounding my shoulder with each word. I swept him up in my arms, placed my face close to his, and then said, “OK, but I’ve got to give you something else first!” His grin widened. “What?” “This.” I reached forward and touched his lips with mine. The boy gripped my shoulder and pressed his mouth firmly against mine. The softness of his lips, the slipperiness of his tongue, the passion of his breath against may face made my cock start growing. We held out tender kiss a long time. When we broke it he gazed at me, his smile crooked and languorous, his eyes hooded with lust, He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Eat first, then shower, then kiss some more, OK?” he smiled. “Sounds like a pretty fucking nice evening!” I laughed. “We’ll see about the fucking later,” he giggled, then chortled proudly at his own wit. He was the most adorable boy I had ever met in my life. *********************************** An hour later we lay in bed together. Jack had wolfed down so much ice cream I was afraid he’d be sick, but he seemed none the worse for it. Indeed, he was happy, chatty and seemed almost eager — for what? Long gone was the apathetic despair that seemed to engulf him when I found him in the jungle. He was no longer sultry and sexy either as he had been when I first kissed him earlier in the evening. He had briskly washed himself in the shower, submitting to me washing his hair, but was hardly the helpless waif in need of nurturing that he’d been the last time we’d showered together. Now he was jabbering about how weird he thought the geckos were that occasionally skittered across the walls of the apartment. “I don’t really like them,” he confided in a low voice, eying the far corner of the room. I decided to get serious. “So, Jack,” I began softly, gazing into his eyes. “This evening you’ve been, let’s see, super-depressed, scared and excited, horny and sexy, goofy and hungry, and now relaxed and talkative. You know what I wonder? Who’s the real Jack?” He giggled a bit, then suddenly a cloud passed over his face. konyaaltı escort I’d seen that cloud before, that first afternoon on the plane. He gazed off into space. “I know, I’m too emotional, huh?” I waited until he returned his eyes to me. I caressed his face. “You’re perfect just as you are.” He swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Maybe all those emotions are you,” I offered. “You know, some people are simple. The know exactly how they feel, their moods take a long time to change, they aren’t that affected by what goes on around them. But some people are more complex — and contradictory. You know that word?” “Is it, like, inconsistent?” “Exactly. You’re complex and inconsistent. It seems like you can feel ten different ways in two minutes. You’re also very sensitive, I notice.” “Yeah. Too sensitive. That’s what my dad says.” “Did he not appreciate you?” “We didn’t always get along that good. Sometimes it was good though. He — he tried his best.” What a wise and generous thing for a barely-15-year-old to say, I thought to myself. “What about your mom?” He grinned a big grin. “She’s my buddy! She’s — she’s like you.” “I’m sure she looks much better in lipstick and heels than I do!” Jack struck his forehead with his hand and laughed his delightful chortle. “What do you mean, she’s like me?” “You know how you said I was — I was perfect just like I am? That’s like something she would say.” “Unconditional love.” “Yeah.” His eyes went far away. After a few seconds he suddenly snapped back to the here and now. He realized that I might have just said I loved him. He dropped his eyes and licked his lips. I decided to press it. “Did that sound to you like I was saying I love you?” He gazed at me, his face heartbreakingly open and vulnerable. He paused, licking his lips again. “Do you?” he asked softly. “I think you can love a person if you just knew them for a few days, don’t you?” He nodded, not taking his eyes from mine. “So do I. And I know how love feels, so I know it when I feel it. So let me see . . .” I leaned in and gave him a long, tender kiss on the lips. He kissed back tentatively. I waited, pretending to decide. “Well . . ?” he asked, grinning a nervous half-smile, eyebrows raised. “Well, you taste like chocolate ice cream!” He grinned. I continued. “But that’s just your lips. I wonder how you taste — farther down.” “I wonder how YOU taste!” Jack laughed. He was instantly into the flirtation. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” “Maybe!” “Later,” I admonished. “Later, ” he agreed. “So is it OK if I ask you about what’s been going on? About why you disappeared for, what, a day and a half? Why you were there in that old tree trunk all depressed? Was it just how this asshole was treating you? Or was it something else?” He sighed and lay his head down on the pillow. “I dunno. The first night he raped me — I was — it was . . .” He closed his eyes and a shiver convulsed his little body. I stroked his long locks and caressed down over his shoulder with each stroke. “I don’t want to bring up awful memories again, Jack. That’s over with — he’s not going to bother you again now that he realizes we know he broke the rules. And if he did try something again, I, Byron and Joon would all thoroughly enjoy kicking the shit out of him. I’m just wondering if there are other things, see. Cause if there is something else I’m sometimes a good person to talk to. You know . . .” I stroked his cheek “. . . it’s that whole unconditional love thing.” He gave an awkward little chuckle, and as he did so tears sprang to his eyes. He wiped them, then muttered, “Oh, Jeez,” and suddenly clutched me to him and pressed his head into my naked chest. I embraced him, caressing his smooth back as another little tremor passed through him and he cried a few quiet tears. In a moment he mumbled something. “What?” He pulled back and looked at me, his cheeks wet. “I don’t wanna be a Young Lover anymore!” he exclaimed. “It was — it was all wrong.” “Are you sure? I mean, it seems like you enjoy being sexy, flirting, all that stuff. And I also think . . . ” I squinted and pointed a mock accusatory finger at him, “that you kind of like being admired! You know you’re hot as hell, and I think a part of you loves it when guys look at you and want you! Yes?” He looked off over my shoulder a moment with a glazed expression. I was learning that this was how his face looked when he became reflective. I waited. “I guess I sort of do. But then it feels like– like I’m not there. That they just see my face, my body, my . . . ” “Your cock.” “Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s what we talked about before.” He nodded. “Yeah. But I can’t quit!” “I’m sure that if you really wanted to, if you explained it to Marco, that he–” “No, I mean I hafta keep doing it! My parents — they really need the money!” I was shocked. “What? You mean you’re here because they sent you to Young Lovers to make money? That’s gotta be child abuse, Jack!” “No, no, you don’t understand!” “OK, explain it!” “I really wanted to come — it was my idea. I thought it would be cool. I sorta want sex all the time — I think I have a high sex drive or whatever they call it. And, like I told you, I never really got anywhere with kids my age. And, yeah, I guess I liked the idea that men would want me. I figured my, uh — my size would be popular. But the main reason was to help my parents out. My Dad has cancer and he can’t work anymore and my mom doesn’t make that much, and they are always so mad about bills and stuff. It was so hard to be in my house, they would fight . . . ” He was tearing up again, and my heart went out to this sensitive child. “But I’d still think your parents wouldn’t like the idea–” “At first they didn’t. My dad said, `No son of mine is going to be a prostitute!’ That made me feel really . . . crappy.” He snorted, wiped his cheeks, and gamely continued. “But my mom knows how I am. I can talk to her about sex stuff, and she’s always known that I like guys. Well, girls too, but I guess guys more. I finally convinced her, and she convinced him. It was so . . so much of a relief to know that I could help out.” “You’re a sacrificer, aren’t you,” I murmured, still stroking him. “That’s what my Mom says,” he smiled. “She says it’s `cause I’m a Pisces.” “The little fish,” I chuckled. At that he practically jumped out of the bed, clutching my arm in excitement. “Oh my god, that’s what she calls me! Her little fishy!” “Well, see, you were right, your mother and I are a lot alike,” I grinned, and gave him a big hug. He clutched me to him enthusiastically. He pulled back then, with a mischievous grin. “One difference though,” he cried. “Yeah?” “You’ve got — this!” He plunged his hand under the covers and grabbed for my cock. “AHHHH!” I shrieked in pretended alarm, pulling away from him and pushing his hand aside. “No, not that!” My face and voice suddenly got mock serious, and I gripped his arm. “Jack! Jack, I — I don’t how to tell you this but . . . I’m actually a virgin!” “Shiiiiit!” he crowed in derision, renewing his attack on my crotch. This time I let him win, and he crowed as he clutched my organ. “OK Jack, you got it! Now what are you gonna do with it?” “I dunno, it’s not even that hard! Maybe that means you don’t really like me.” He pretended to pout. “Or maybe . . . ” I drew him close to me and fell into his eyes. “Maybe it means I love you more than I want sex with you.” He held my gaze, swallowing hard. I realized this moment could veer back into humor and play, or over into something much more serious. I decided to let Jack make the next move. “You didn’t, um, tell me,” he finally murmured. “Tell you what?” I knew what he meant, but I was going to make him say it. “You know. If you, um . . . if you love me.” I smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “I don’t need to tell you how I feel. Not you. Maybe some people need it spelled out for them how others feel. But not you. That’s one good thing about being sensitive. You can tell how other people feel. Can’t you?” He reflected. “Yeah, lots of times.” “So what about me? How do I feel about you? Tune in to your heart now.” He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them and fell into mine. “You love me,” he said confidently. He was so sweet, so vulnerable, so trusting, my heart just broke at that moment. Then a wave of something passed over his face. “Don’t you?” he asked softly. “Oh, so much, sweetheart,” I cried, and smothered him with a kiss. We kissed deeply and passionately for what seemed like a long time, but was probably only one or two minutes. Finally we came up for air. We gazed at each other. His little eyebrows shot up and he got a little grin on his face. “So if you love me more than sex, does that mean, you know, we can’t do anything?” “Why? Would no sex be a problem? Don’t tell me Mr. No-More-Young-Lovers wants sex with a man!” I teased. He giggled, his little dimples making him even more adorable. I pressed up against him and let him feel my now hard cock. “Feel this?” I asked unnecessarily. His face became serious and still. Another mood change. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked quietly. “I want to fuck you, I want to suck you, also lick you all over, eat your cute little ass, and kiss you all night. But you know what I want most?” “What?” His voice trembled. “I want you to want it.” He clutched me to him hard. “I want it all!” he cried in my ear, his voice cracking. I hugged him hard back, ignoring the huge hot lump of his erection that pressed against my upper thigh. Then I pulled back and gazed into his beautiful, teary eyes. “We’re gonna do it now. And I’m gonna promise you one thing,” I said. “Every second I’m gonna try to make sure you feel like I’m having sex with a boy I love, not just fucking a body. Yeah, I love your body, it’s amazingly hot. Your cock is fantastic. But I want you to always know that it’s YOU that I really care about. OK?” He nodded, and tears began to spill out of his eyes. I kissed his eyes gently, tasting salt. I can’t really remember much of what happened then in any kind of sequence, to make a story out of it. I think I had been more wrought up than I realized over the fear of what might have happened to Jack. Now that I knew he was OK, something inside me was relaxing, and my brain was sort of shutting down. All that I really have from that next hour are fragments, like you have when you wake up from an exciting, beautiful dream. Moments that still stir the heart long after you’ve awakened and resumed your ordinary day. I remember warmth and softness and slipperiness. Tongue on tongue, lips on skin, hands stroking hair, fingers probing dark, sensitive places, gasps and grunts and moans. I remember that I talked to him a lot, which is different for me. Usually once the sex starts the conversation stops, but I didn’t want that, because I knew that with my words I could remind him over and over of love, not just lust. I knew with words I could remind him that it was Jack I was kissing and licking and sucking, not a body, not a cock. I wanted my words of affection, my murmured compliments, my soft requests that he touch me here or kiss me there, my encouragements as he tried new things, my compliments at his bravery, to keep him feeling loved and loving. He talked back some, but mostly he groaned and hissed and gasped instead. For me there were some moments beyond words, though. Moments when I lost an awareness of myself and Jack as separate beings, but was just aware of pleasure, of sweetness, of sliding and caressing. Whose hands? Whose lips? There were moments when I forgot to notice or care. There was nothing alien here, certainly nothing repugnant — all was attractive, sensual, and just as it should be. The sudden sharp pungency of his armpit, the corrugations of his scrotum, the deep earthiness inside his asshole, the little rough patch of skin at the back of his neck — they were all part of the perfection. I remember the pressure of his soft, lanky thighs embracing my ears. I remember dribbling saliva into his mouth — or was it his own cum? I remember nibbling his toes as he wriggled them, moaning with pleasure, perhaps with some vague memory from far in the past of a mother or father laughingly nibbling and tickling there. I remember rubbing my semen into the small patch of fluff above his cock, matting it in dark swirls. I know I did eventually emerge from my mental fog, because I do clearly remember worshipping, finally, at the temple of Jack’s cock. I had ignored it for an hour or more, savoring every inch of his body but that, determined to not let him see me consumed with addiction for it, determined to not lose for one moment my connection to his heart by being swept away in the torrent of my lust for it. I waited until finally, lifting his sweaty head up from the pillow, his little face twisted in frustration and confusion, he blurted, “Why don’t you suck me?” My heart leaped. It was going to happen. I kissed his lips gently and whispered in his ear, “Feel my admiration for you, Jack.” And then I dove for his crotch. It was an overwhelming experience, licking and sucking this great hot pink and cream club attached to such a fragile little body, arising out of its little nest of wiry fluff. It was a grown man’s organ, a massive weapon, unbelievably sexy on such a young boy, a boy sweet but not innocent, eager but not inexperienced, knowing what he wanted yet utterly open to the freshness of sex, as if for the first time. As I first began to taste it his cock lurched into my mouth, lunging across my soft palate, dragging across my tongue, instantly closing off my breath. Me holding his tiny hipbones easily, him lunging passionately into my mouth with a cry. I drew off him slowly, letting him feel the tantalizing slide across my tongue and lips. I then nibbled gently, slowly, at the coronal rim. He writhed and twisted. “Is that good? I mumbled, lips still pressed against his meaty glans. “Yeah,” he gasped breathily. “Feel my love,” I urged, as I began licking down from his glans along the long, pink, satiny side of his shaft. “Ohhh,” he grunted softly. With my fingertips I massaged his hairless groin as I licked him up and down, front and back. Then, for the first time I carefully enveloped the entire glans — it must have been two inches across — first pursing my lips against the tiny lips of his organ, then slowly sliding, opening, widening, until I was forcing my stretched lips over the rim, then slowly tonguing the tip now embedded in my mouth. After drawing off him and then diving down again I began slipping the great head to the back of my throat and then an inch down, then two, then three. At each dive I would make Jack cry out, and by the third he sort of shrieked. I had to shift my position then, coming up onto my knees. I began fondling his little balls in their wrinkled sack and as I did so I sucked and dived on his cock, trying to coat his hot organ with as much saliva as I could. They boy splayed his legs wide, and began hunching his hips up to meet my mouth, and he began softly chanting, “yeah. . . yeah . . . yeah,” with every lift of his hips. After a couple of minutes I tightened my lips onto him and then began slowly forcing myself down while gripping his rigid organ as hard as I could. “MmmmmMMMMPPHH!” he cried, as his glans entered my throat. Time to reconnect. I drew off him with a juicy slurp, leaned up to him on hands and knees, and kissed his sweaty face as he tossed his head slowly from side to side. “Looks like you like this stuff!” I chuckled. He grinned, eyes closed, head still slowly rolling from side to side. “Man,” was all he said. “Does it feel like love?” His smile got wider. “Mmm-hmm.” I resumed my attack on his cock, gradually taking seven, then eight thick inches as the boy continued to moan. With every dive I would swallow a few times before coming up for air — he really liked that! I finally got that last inch into me, then slid slowly up, still gripping as tightly as I could, my jaws beginning to ache. I gripped his little butt, which was clenching spasmodically over and over as he thrust upward more and more enthusiastically. “OK Jack, you’re close, right?” I gasped. “Yeah,” he huffed, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, glazed. “I want your juice in me. I want to digest you and have you in me always.” He gazed at me and nodded shakily. “Give it to me, sweetheart.” I sucked the first three inches in again and began rapidly bobbing and tonguing. Faster and faster, despite the pain in my jaws. His hips squirmed and lurched harder than ever. It didn’t take long. “AAAHHHHH!!” he shrieked, and suddenly his organ lurched and then began spewing. “AAAHHHH!!!” SHIIIIIIIIT!! AHHHHHHH!!!” I caught the first stream of juice and rapidly laved his cockhead with it, my tongue swirling and squirming over the fiery crown, swabbing it with semen as he spurted again and again and again. “OHHH! AH!! AH!! AH!!” “MMMPPHH” It was amazing how much cum that little body made. He finally dribbled to a stop. I luxuriated in the warm thickness as I let his cum slide down my throat. I drew off him before he became too sensitive, then slid up next to him, slipped my arm under his little shoulders, and cuddled him to me, as he slowly, pantingly recovered from his orgasm. I waited until he came down from his high. He finally turned his beautiful, sweaty face to me. I gazed into his eyes. “That’s how it’s s’posed to be, isn’t it?” he asked. I kissed him. “I don’t know about ‘s’posed to,’ but to me that’s the best. That was sex with love.” He smiled. “I could feel it.” He put one hand behind his head and relaxed even more into the pillows. Closing his eyes, he seemed to be luxuriating in his afterglow. I was content just to be there with him, studying his sweet face, his beautiful torso. The dampness in his armpit that darkened the few wisps of hair there. The curve of his bicep. The little bump of his Adam’s apple in the center of his fragile throat. Suddenly he opened his eyed with a surprised look. “What about you?” he exclaimed. I chuckled. “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well what had just dawned on him. He lifted up onto an elbow and stared at me. “Well, you didn’t cum! You were only — only thinking about me! Man, I’m so selfish!” I laughed. “No, you’re just young. You’re just learning. It’s OK.” “Well, now it’s your turn! What shall we do first?” “Whatever turns you on.” He grinned. “Are you a Pisces too?” I laughed. “Nope. It really turns me on to turn you on. So it’s not sacrifice!” “Well now I’m gonna sacrifice.” With that he bounced up, tossed back the sheet that had half covered us, and dived straight for my half hard cock. He plunged it half way into his mouth and began sucking with gusto. “Ooh Jack, that’s good.” After another enthusiastic minute I chuckled and caressed his bobbing head. “Doesn’t look to me like you’re sacrificing much! Looks like you’e enjoying every second!” He came off me, looked up like a bright-eyed puppy, grinned happily, and said, “Yup!” Jack wasn’t the amazing cocksucker that Johnny was but he was obviously experienced. Enjoying both his skill and his enthusiasm, I leaned back and relaxed, enjoying the view down the curve of his spine to his tiny waist and the little hillocks of his perky butt, letting the pleasure in my cock build slowly. After a couple of minutes I noticed Jack was making a soft humming or sighing sound as he worked me over. As content as a little purring cat, I thought to myself. Before long I was getting close, and Jack knew it. He pulled off me and sat up, his own cock swelling again, though not nearly at its full hardness. “Mm, OK, I want you to — to make love to me,” he announced. “Aw, sweetie, that’s all I’ve been doing since we got here tonight!” “I don’t mean that. Well, I do, but — but more. I want you to — fuck me.” “Man, Jack, you need to rest and recover down there. You’re all swollen and red . . . ” “That’s just the outside. My asshole.” “Boys as beautiful as you don’t have assholes. That’s too vulgar a word.” “Well, what’s that other word?” “The anus?” “Yeah. My anus is bad, but inside I feel OK. He wasn’t really very big. He didn’t, like, injure me in there.” “You sure? I don’t want to hurt you any more than you’ve already been hurt.” “It might hurt a little at first, but I can take a little pain. It’ll be worth it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. I want to do it for you. You’ve been so nice to me, and . . konyaaltı eve gelen escort . ” “And I’m really hot?” He grinned bashfully. “Sorta,” he said softly. “Sorta! Well, I don’t know!” I pretended to be hurt. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that!” he protested. “You’re, well, you’re hot . . . ” “. . . for an old guy!” I finished with a grin. “You can’t get out of it, you mean boy!” I grabbed him and wrestled him down, then began tickling him, which I knew he would go crazy for. “Aiiiiyyy, no, no,” he screamed with laughter, rolling from side to side as he tried to escape. After a few more seconds of torture I stopped, then climbed on top of him and gently sat on his hips, holding his wrists down on the bed, feeling his thick, semi-hard cock against my ass. I got a serious look on my face. “Jack, I’m not gonna lie, I’d love to feel my cock deep inside you, fucking you slowly, hopefully giving you some pleasure. Hopefully making you feel filled up with my love.” He gazed into my eyes. “That’s what I want too.” Lying there completely submissive to me, his body totally open and vulnerable, his face sweet and trusting, he was everything I could want in a boy. I reached into the bedside table drawer for the lube, then held it out to him. Obediently he took it and began rubbing a big gob of it all over my cock. I eased off of him, took the tube from him, and said, “Let me check out this poor little assho–uh, anus! Lift up.” He rolled back onto his shoulders, grabbed his legs behind the knee, pulled his legs wide to either side and exposed his hole. “Well, it doesn’t seem quite as bad as it looked a little while ago,” I said. “Let’s put some of this on it.” In truth, the outer lips were puffy and pink, but as I gently swabbed him with lube my fingertip slipped into him pretty easily. “Hurt?” I asked “Just a little. It’s fine.” I was sure Jack would bravely say it was OK even if it wasn’t, so I put more and more lube, until his whole crack was greasy and the first few inches of his rectum were thick with goo. “Here comes a finger now,” I warned, gently slipping in, in, in until I had impaled him to my knuckle. I watched his face. He squirmed a bit but didn’t grimace. Then he nodded at me. “OK, here we go. Now if it hurts you, just tell me and we’ll stop, This is about love, not my pleasure, and hurting somebody isn’t love. You understand?” He nodded. Joon flashed through my mind at that moment. Hurting somebody isn’t love? Well, maybe not usually . . . I focused on the sweet boy in front of me as I came up onto my knees, leaned forward and braced myself with one hand next to his shoulder. With the other I gripped my slippery cock and brought it up to his little anus. “Pull yourself open — maybe it will hurt less that way,” I suggested. The boy reached around with both hands and pried his little buns wide. The pink lips gaped lasciviously. My cockhead made contact, and I snuggled it tight against his hole. “Ok, I’m gonna count three. On three I’m gonna push a little, so that’s when you push too, OK?” “Mmmkay.” “One . . . two . . . three . . . ” I began pressing into him, watching his face for signs of pain. His face scrunched with concentration, his chest rising as he took a deep breath. I entered him an inch, and he exhaled deeply. “OK?” “OK.” He paused. “I can take more.” “We can wait if you want.” “No, I’m ready. I been doin’ this a lot, you know.” I grinned at him. “Cheeky boy!” “What’s cheeky?” “Sassy, kind of. I like cheeky boys.” I smiled at him and we had a loving moment without speaking. “Here we go then,” I said, gripping behind his knees firmly. He nodded his okay. “One . . .two . . . three.” Slowly but steadily I pushed, and my whole cockhead entered him with little difficulty. He let go of his breath with a whoosh, and then, before I could ask, said, “Yep, I’m fine!” “More?” “More!” “All right. One . . . two . . . three.” I slid a good half way into him. His back arched, his eyes closed. “Ahhhhhh,” he breathed. I massaged his muscular little shoulders and caressed his neck and ears. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Gimme a minute, and then put it in all the way.” “OK. Tell me when. No rush.” We waited a half minute more in silence. “Kay,” Jack finally said. “Nice and slow,” I said. “One . . . two . . . three!” And it was nice and slow; I took a good ten seconds to drive into him that last three inches. “Mmph,” he muttered. I was in all the way. Even though he must have been fucked who knows how many times in his young life he was still wonderfully tight. My hips rested against the bones of his butt, my cock enveloped in his hot guts, my balls against his crack. The boy panted a bit, eyes closed. His face was relaxed and peaceful. I waited, caressing his curving little biceps, stroking that sexy vein at the front of his shoulder muscle. I noticed his cock was now completely soft, six thick inches lolling across his hip. “Tell me how it feels,” I finally asked. “Mmm — the rim, my anus, hurts a little, but inside it — it feels good,” he responded, eyes still closed. Then he opened them. “How about you?” I grinned, seeing that he remembered to think of me this time. “It feels fantastic — thank you for letting me in you, sweetie.” I leaned down and kissed him gently. I was about to pull away from the kiss when he reached for my neck and pulled me down into a deeper, more passionate kiss. The kiss was delicious, but my cock was begging for some action after hours of not cumming while in close connection with this lovable boy. I pulled slowly away from his lips and, holding his loving gaze with my own, slowly began to withdraw. I only pulled out a couple of inches and then pushed back in, then withdrew a bit more, and pushed slowly back in again. Jack smiled encouragingly at me. That smile was all I needed to see. Gripping him more firmly behind the knees I pulled most of the way out and then slowly eased back in. “Good?” I asked with a smile. “Mmm-hmm. But you can go harder if you want.” “Yeah? OK, let’s try this.” I slowly withdrew until just the head of my cock was in him. I waited, and then drove into him all at once. “YaaAAAAHHHh!” he cried, twisting to the side. “Too much?” I asked anxiously. He looked at me and grinned a crooked little smile. “It’s good. Sometimes, when a guy really gets into fucking me, I kinda go into outer space. Like, I don’t even know where I am.” “You like that.” He nodded. “Sometimes it hurts, but the pain doesn’t matter. Sometimes I don’t even get hard. But that doesn’t matter either. My brain — it’s like the top of it comes off and I float away.” “Shall we see if we can float away together?” He nodded and gave me the full, electric Jack grin. I didn’t know if, in my intensely excited state, I had the control to hold off long enough to send Jack into orbit, but i was going to try. Still in him to the hilt I grabbed his hands and replaced mine with his holding his legs back. I ran my hands through his hair, then began massaging his scalp. His eyes closed, and after a minute his mouth went slack. Still massaging I slowly withdrew about three inches and then entered him fully again. He gave a little gasp. I gently caressed his neck, then kneaded the muscles of his shoulders and upper arms, and as I did so I slowly withdrew and then firmly drove back in over and over. I trailed my fingertips over the little curves of his pectorals, then gently squeezed his small pink nipples while pulling out more. As I drove into him a bit harder I squeezed more roughly. “Haaaahhhhh” he hissed, tossing his head from side to side. I trailed my fingertips over his sexy abs, moist now with the beginnings of perspiration, then tickled his small pubic nest. Gripping one little hip bone for leverage I withdrew nearly all the way, then, as I began driving into him, I grazed his thick soft cock with my fingernail all down the shaft. He drew in a sharp hiss of breath. I continued stroking his shaft while fucking him slowly. He murmured something. I stopped. “Hmmm?” “Turn me over and go hard,” he whispered. I caressed his face. “Doggie style?” “No, on my stomach.” I pulled out of him and he slowly let his legs down and turned over, and then lying flat he splayed his legs wide. As he did so I took the opportunity to slap some more lube on my cock and I wormed some into his hole also. I pried one soft little buttock aside and placed my cockhead at his back door. “Ready?” “Mmmmmm.” I entered him with no difficulty and slid most of the way in. “Mmmph,” he murmured into his pillow. I lay down on top of him. “Is this OK, or too heavy?” “‘S’good.” I began fucking him in earnest now. In this position it was hard to use long strokes so I began fucking him with short quick strokes instead. His sweaty back was sticky against my chest and belly. We got into a rhythm, him responding to each quick thrust of mine my hunching his butt into me. His mop of hair bumped into the side of my neck as he responded to me. I began picking up speed as the pleasure built in me. After a couple of minutes sweat was pouring off me and his body became slippery under me. I began hearing a little low humm, as he began making that purring sound he had been making earlier as he sucked me. I rose higher and higher, and began losing track of time. I was pounding him nearly as hard as I could in this position, smashing the little pillows of his ass with each thrust. I was dimly aware of gasping and groaning under me. I rose up onto my hands for greater leverage and really pounded him as my climax neared. Jack began a low steady cry. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” He was still forcefully tucking his hips into my groin in time wth my own powerful thrusts. I was finally there. I curled my hands under his shoulders, tucked my chin on the top of his head, clutching him to me so hard it was as if I were pressing his whole being into me. The pleasure was unbelievable, and, as I felt this sweet boy slamming his butt into me, trying with every fiber of his being to take every millimeter of my cock, it finally hit me. “YAAAAHHHH! AHHHH!” I began spraying my cum into him, jet after jet, spasm after spasm. “AHHH!!! AAHHHH!! AAHHHH!!” I cried out over and over and all the while he was gasping and moaning. We writhed together, each in our own ecstatic worlds, yet linked by the pleasure we gave each other. I drew my hands down the length of his arms and laced my fingers into his as I continued to come, his hot guts clutching my cock, amazed at how I was continuing to shoot. Finally it was over. I lay on his hot, sweaty little body, my only movement now my rapid panting. The boy gasped for breath beneath me. Carefully I rolled out of and off him. Immediately he rolled to me and we embraced, our bodies molded together from head to foot, fitting together as if made to do so. His whole body was slippery with sweat, and there was a different kind of stickiness where his softening cock tucked into my hip. I knew he had cum again. “Did you go to outer space?” I murmured. He smiled a tired smile. “Way out there. I’m still sorta there.” He dropped his head down into my neck and snuggled into me more tightly. We lay still molded together as if one. I could have stayed like that forever. We lay like that for awhile — time was still vague, my mind still stunned by the intensity of it all. Finally our breathing had slowed and I felt Jack stir. We both pulled away at the same time and looked at each other. Wet hair plastered everywhere, his smile beatific, his face looked like a shipwreck — a beautiful mess. I kissed his nose and wiped tendrils of hair from his eyes and forehead. He put his hand onto the bed to push himself to kiss me, then with a wrinkled nose cried “EEEWW!” and wiped his hand against the sheet A spot at least six inches long darkened the sheet. A good tablespoon of slime, maybe more, must have been soaking into the bedding. “Hey, you know you make an awful lot of cum!” I said. “And this is your second time tonight!” I dragged a finger through the mess on the sheet, then stuck it in my mouth. “Mmmmmm, good!” I cried, smacking my lips. He wrinkled his little nose and cried “Eeeeww” again, with a giggle. He wrinkled up his nose in the same cute way Johnny sometimes did. After another couple of blissful minutes he suddenly sat up and the bolted for the bathroom. I soon heard the toilet flush and he returned looking sheepish. “That was a lot of cum in me! ” he grinned as he clambered back into bed. “I hope it didn’t all come out.” “No?” “No. I want some of you to stay in me.” “I’m sure some did. Just like some of you is in me, digested.” He hugged me and snuggled next to me, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s the weirdest sex thing you ever did?” he suddenly asked. What a funny boy Jack was. “Well, I dunno. I pissed on a guy once.” “Yeah, I did that too. Why do they like that?” “Beats me. Why do any of us like what we like?” “Well, `cause it feels good. But getting pissed on doesn’t feel like anything.” “But maybe the idea is a turn-on. Like, haven’t you ever gotten hard just thinking about something? Like, a situation that was sexy to you?” He thought a minute. “I guess. Cute guys get me hard sometimes.” “Wait a minute. You get turned on over how people look?” He looked at me incredulously. “”Duhh! Of course!” “Isn’t that the same thing as guys getting turned on over your big cock?” Jack looked stunned, and was silent. I waited. “But it’s different,” he finally protested. “How?” “I dunno.” He thought some more. “When you look at a guy, that’s all you can do at first. But when you’re with someone you can, like, talk to them and stuff. It’s not just how their cock looks, or whatever.” “So once you talk to a cute boy then everything changes, and how he looks doesn’t matter.” “No!” He smiled with exasperation and shook his head. “I dunno. It’s confusing.” I kissed his cheek. “I know, sweetie. And I think you’re right to want guys to make love to you, not just to your body. I completely understand that.” “Yeah. That’s why I don’t want to be in Young Lovers anymore.” A thought occurred to me. Maybe they could just change Jack’s designation, or whatever they called it. “There are so many reasons to stay, though. You’re making money for your parents, you love sex, you’re getting a good education — and some of the guys are nice and caring, aren’t they?” “Well, some. But not most.” His face implored me to understand. “Maybe it’s just the type of guys you’re getting. Maybe they should fix you up with guys who want something different.” “What do you mean, something different?” All of a sudden it hit me. He didn’t know! “Jack, I thought you knew! When customers come here they aren’t just randomly assigned to a boy!” “No?” “No! They’re matched with a boy who fits a fantasy they have! One of the most popular fantasies is the kid with a big dick! And a LITTLE kid with a big dick, like you, is even more in demand!” Wonder came over the boy’s face. “So every guest I get has already decided he wants a — a kid with a big cock!” “Right! So it’s not too surprising a lot of them don’t really seem to be focused on you, just your cock!” “Man! I thought all this time boylovers were pretty much all, you know . . . ” ” . . . jerks!” I finished for him. He nodded, his face still a mask of astonishment. “Believe me, Jack, there are plenty out there like me who want to love a boy, not just suck him and fuck him.” Jack lay there stunned another second, then suddenly burst into tears and buried his face in my chest. I held him tightly. After a minute or so his sobs stopped. He sniffled a bit, then raised his head and looked at me. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” he murmured. ‘S’okay.” He stared off in the distance, his eyes red. Then he looked at me. “I wish I could, um, be with you, like, all the time.” “As a boyfriend?” He nodded. “But you’ve already got a boyfriend, I guess.” “You mean Joon?” He nodded. “Aw sweetie,” I hugged him tight and caressed his hair. Then I held him by the shoulders and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Jack, let me explain something. Yes, Joon and I have a special emotional bond, but he’s not my boyfriend. I love you too — you’ve become very special to me in a vey short time — and you’re not my boyfriend either. I guess I’m different from most people — I don’t really want just one person. I guess having that one person is good for some people but it would be totally wrong for me. I’ve tried that before — it just isn’t me.” “You kind of like to — spread it around?” “Exactly. When I’m with you I love you completely. When I’m with Joon I love him completely. But I don’t want to limit either one of you to just me. And I don’t want to be limited either. I have lots of love and pleasure to give — and receive.” “Hmmm. I guess that’s what I’m doing now, kinda. I try to make lots of men feel good. Only someday I want a boyfriend — someone just for me.” “That’s gonna be one lucky bastard, I’ll tell you that!” I grinned. He gave a very pleased grin back. “So, let’s talk about your future at Young Lovers, OK?” “Kay.” “So what if you told Marco you don’t want to be on the `boys with big cocks’ list anymore?” “I wanna get off that list. But what are the other lists?” “OK, let’s see. There’s four other ones. There’s the boys just into puberty. That’s not you. There’s virgins.” “That’s for sure not me,” he giggled. “There’s bad boys who need discipline.” “Nope.” “There’s what they call the `boy next door?'” “What’s that?” “I think it’s kind of the all-American boy. I’d describe him as friendly, enthusiastic, athletic.” “Well, I could be that. I’m not that athletic though.” “No? You have a very fit body.” “Well, they make us work out. But I like to swim.” “Oooh. I’m just imagining you in a speedo.” He giggled. “I already spent a night with a boy from that list,” I said. “Do you know Ronny?’ “Course. Everybody knows Ronny.” “You’re a lot like him, actually.” “Me? He’s a jock! I can’t play sports like him!” “Maybe not, but you both love sex, you both have great muscles, you both have that eager, high energy thing going.” “He’s super confident, though.” “Jack, don’t doubt yourself, man! You come across as pretty confident too — I remember how impressed I was by your poise when I met you at the airport. You just get upset sometimes. But you bounce back fast.” He brightened. “Yeah?” “Plus, you’ve got the secret weapon Ronny doesn’t!” I grinned. It only took him a second. “You mean . . .?” he reached down and grabbed his crotch. I grinned and nodded. “Ronny’s got a nice cock, don’t get me wrong. But you — you’re spectacular! Now come on, I need another shower, I don’t know about you!” I leaned my nose into his armpit and sniffed. “Oh yeah, you definitely do too!” He chortled, leaped out of bed and headed into the bathroom. I was right behind him and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, soaping each other, playing just a bit with each other’s cocks and mixing in plenty of kissing. As I finally turned off the water and we reached for dry towels Jack said, “I think I better get back to the dorm.” “Yeah, probably. People have been worried about you. They’ll be relieved to see you’re OK.” He cocked his head as he dried one arm. “Like who?” “Rondol. He’s the one who first told me something wasn’t right.” “Yeah. He’s a good friend. I don’t think he has a guest tonight. He might still be up — he’s a night owl.” “He’s just a good friend? Or something more?” “You mean, do we do it? Man, I never do anything with any of the guys! I’ve usually got a guest six nights a week, and on my night off I just wanna chill, watch a movie, play some cards. You know, even sex can get to be too much.” He touseled his hair energetically. “I dunno. I don’t think I could ever get enough of this cute ass . . ” I swatted his little bottom ” . . . or this hot cock . . . ” I squeezed his thick snake “. . . or these sweet lips.” I stooped and gave him a long, deep kiss, which he reciprocated enthusiastically. I finally broke the kiss. His little face had a blissful smile and his eyes shone. I hoped I would always remember that moment, his beautiful, trusting face open to me, his damp body pressed against me, his little hand clutching my arm. “So tomorrow, after breakfast, let’s see if we can find Marco.” “I know where he’ll be. He’ll be at Sunday check. We line up at 9 outside Butch’s office. If you meet me there you can, you know, help me talk to him.” “I’ll be there. It’s only a few hours from now actually. But you’re gonna do the talking. You’re a lot cuter than I am. Blink those pretty blue eyes and he won’t be able to say no. I’ll just be there for backup.” Jack gave me a big hug and mumbled something. “Hmmm?” He looked up at me. “I love you, old hot guy!”