Ganymede

Paradise

Chapters 4-8

Chapter 4

He strutted in front of me, no longer hard. However, his cock was still large enough that it made a noticeable bulge. His swimming costume verged on the obscene, but at least I was clothed in a pair of shorts. It did not matter. No one would see us, not unless we went all the way along the beach to where Fernando's Bar was or walked to the village. We were accustomed to living with few inhibitions simply because very few people ever ventured to the northern end of the island where we moored Conundrum, and those who did have the energy to get past the touristed areas always stopped when the rocks began. At night, Joey and I were left to ourselves, which was the way we like it.

We left the privacy of our cove and our hidden beach, crossed the narrow rocky isthmus that connected us to the main island, then continued down the shore following the tide line in case there was some interesting debris. The water lapped at the edge, inches from our feet as we strolled along, kicking at the still warm sand.

Joey and I walked hand-in-hand for a long while, swinging our clasped hands back and forth and suddenly lunging ahead or tugging to the side to try to pull the other over. We laughed frequently. Freedom to be ourselves, the privacy of being alone and in the darkness of night had a liberating effect. Joey jerked away and ran along the beach with me in close pursuit, our bare feet pounding across the wet sand, splashing in the dark cool water. On the sand again, I tackled him and we fell together, giggling, hugging, shamelessly grabbing at each other's groins, then kissing as if the world was about to end. I crushed Joey into the sand, pushed his shark's tooth charm out of the way, held his face between my hands and literally raped his mouth with my tongue. He kissed back, lifting up to rub his hard short boyhood against me with surprising force. It stuck out into the thin nylon, pulling the cloth taut over the rounded tip of his penis. He was trembling with excitement. Then, knowing what would follow if we did not stop, we stopped. Gasping. Hearts pounding. Needing more. I stroked his silky cheek and brushed his hair back before sitting up with my back against a fallen palm trunk to cradle him in my arms. We gazed out to sea, smelled the freshness of the salt in each breath of air. In the distance, we could see the lights from town, twinkling like Christmas lights across the channel. Suddenly he was hot again, taking deep breaths as his body trembled. I held him tightly and stroked his hair back from his forehead and waited for the spasms to pass. It was the second time that day. On a good day it was only one time. On a bad day, there could be as many as a half-a-dozen incidents. The piece of bone embedded in his hypothalamus was to blame. Once he had calmed down again and the sweat was cool, we got up, dusted off the sand, started walking again, still holding hands.

Closer to the village, perhaps a hundred feet from shore was the Hatteras 60 that had been docked at Farley Street earlier in the day. Its owner and his young companion were in all likelihood at Fernando's Bar. The motor yacht's sleek white bow pointed gracefully out to sea. It would be nice to have a boat like that. And the money to operate it, yet in the scheme of things it was just another possession. That started me thinking. Did Steve Adams think of Vincente as something to be owned, or more precisely, rented for the night? I had Joey, and while it would have been nice if I could lavish presents on him, in truth I wanted nothing more than to be with him until I died. I counted myself very fortunate. He was a special boy. I didn't need a man like Adams to tell me that. I wasn't blind. A lot of men looked at him with more than a passing interest. I could see it in their eyes, the same look that was in mine. Sometimes I believed that he would not last a day if I left him alone. Even Fernando looked at him the way that men do when they lust after boys, when they would do whatever was needed to have him in the biblical sense.

That late at night, even the beach beside the village was deserted. There were a few faint sounds of voices and reggae music coming from Fernando's and for a while, I even thought about going there to get a couple of beers, or better, a frozen margarita. Could life be any better, I mused?

"No way."

I had spoken my thought aloud. I smiled at Joey and he smiled back. We had reached the area where the fishing boats were beached, strung with torn nets and fraying ropes.

I stopped and grazed Joey's forehead with my lips as he turned to face me. The fever had passed, but it had taken its toll on his energy . His head tilted back, his eyes closing, his lips pursing, puckering to offer me a kiss. It was a magic moment. For that second before my lips descended onto Joey's, we shared an intense closeness, the overwhelming happiness that only two people in love can know. In that place that so often I had heard tourists call 'paradise', we kissed. We kissed again and again until our lips were sore.

When we parted, breathless, anxious, temporarily satisfied, we stayed close. Our fingers were entwined, our thumbs touching, rubbing, engaging, a constant reminder of what it meant to be together, to be joined. He turned. His warmth melted into me. Was he still aroused? Casually, I reached down and felt between his legs, cupping my hand over the warm bulge in his costume. He was. Very hard, and hot like molten steel. Had his erection even diminished a fraction since we had wrestled in the sand? Probably not. Sometimes he could stay erect for an hour or more. There was certainly nothing wrong with his blood pressure.

"You wanna, old man?" Joey whispered hoarsely.

That croaky voice was back. That wonderful sexy voice, husky as a teenage whore, a prepubescent boy who was anxious, hungry for sex before his time. I sighed. It was a pity that I had not thought to bring some lube. We had done it without often enough, fucked that it is, using spit and pre-cum to lubricate us. However, if I wasn't careful it left him sore. At that moment, I was in the same mood as Joey, feeling the desire building as my cock stiffened and grew longer under my shorts. I felt it reaching down my leg, hot and hard and restrained. It wanted to be free, free to plunder Joey's soft behind, to penetrate his tight boy-hole, to fill him with jizz until it dribbled down his legs while we walked home.

We had rutted there before when the need arose, the last time a week ago, or was it longer, lying in the bottom of a dilapidated boat, me drunk or very nearly so, Joey splayed out across the old wooden plank seat, his face buried in the tangled remains of a grey-green nylon fish net. Fernando and Rodrigo had watched us go at it for ten minutes, whispering encouragement until I unloaded copiously into Joey's quaking ass, and then they had taken their turn and we watched them. Fernando's cock was longer than mine, an inch [2½ cm] or so, but it didn't seem to bother his nephew. Like Joey, he was used to being fucked. Rodrigo took it all without a murmur of complaint. I could see it, or rather, I could not see it, nothing more that the last inch of that more-than-eight-inches [20 cm] of dark brown cock, ending where the curly wire-like hair began. With my cock still lazily embedded in Joey's behind, where it belonged according to him, we watched that huge man-cock slide in and out, becoming increasingly fast. Watching them engage in that primitive island ritual, a dark-skinned man plundering the boy's small dark buttocks, was a turn on for the both of us.

Despite having already filled him once, I stayed hard and thick inside Joey, barely moving. It was enough to let him know that my cock was still buried all the way inside him. It was like being bathed by a hand covered in mud. He was oozing succulent heat. Like Joey, Rodrigo lived for sex. He squealed like a pig at the end, giving way to juvenile triumph when he climaxed. He had only just started ejaculating, yet the sensations seemed to be much more intense than what Joey experienced when he climaxed. The smell from the two of them after only a few minutes was much stronger than it was from us. The entire time was unforgettable, utter familiarity with what the other person needed, the culmination of seven years spent together. They didn't say a single word the entire time.

I fucked Joey again that night. It was an hour later, after we had staggered back along the beach and went for a late night swim in the lagoon to wash away the mess. Like clockwork, it occurred in our favorite spot, just a dozen yards before we reached the dock. During the daylight hours we often fucked in the sand there, beneath a towering palm, barely a few feet from the water's edge, where we could hear the sound of water lapping and the raucous screech of birds we disturbed in the trees, close enough to the boat that we could go onboard if we needed to. That night we were all but oblivious to the peaceful world around us. I bruised his squirmy body with my frantic lunges, jizz oozing out from a hole that had been fucked once too often. It spread outward, splattering on his thighs, streaking his boy-balls until they were coated with slime. His bowels, loosened by an hour of fucking, from taking my milky enema two times that night , finally gave way when I withdrew. He squatted in the sand, squirting out his smelly waste and any cum that was still left in him. It was the stuff of memories yet it would soon be all but forgotten in the seamless flow of day and night.

"Anything I want, right?" I asked softly. I looked over his shoulder at the nearby boat at anchor, the indigo of the dark sea and sky behind him.

Joey nodded slightly. He smiled, showing teeth as white as the snow we'd left behind in Chicago. I turned him around so he faced away from me, dragged his scant costume down without untying the cord. I left it lying on the sand between his feet and placed him across the side of a fishing boat. He was close to the bow where the height was right. His chest was supported by the short expanse of peeling plywood deck, his bottom lifted up onto the gunwale. It left him exposed and receptive, unable to protected his boy-hole. It was the way I liked him to be. My hand brushed against his buttocks, my palm cupping one cheek entirely and most of the other with my outspread fingers. My thumb caressed his humid crevice, feeling between the firm mounds for the opening into him. Joey sighed. He pressed back, squeezing my thumb into his indentation. It felt hot and moist, and loose enough that the slightest pressure would breach the weakened muscle. I stroked back and forth, teasing the tender area before pushing into him. This time his sigh was louder, his backward push more insistent, quickly taking all of my thumb. His muscle contracted insistently around my thumb. This was the 'butt squeeze' that let me know that it was not an intrusion.

"You want me to fuck you, lover boy?" I teased in a very soft voice.

Joey nodded urgently, playing his squeezing game, his anus pulling against my thumb. The smell of jerk-barbequed chicken wafted down from Fernando's Bar. I heard laughter, loud and very near. It was strangely unsettling against the reggae music, the twang of guitars and the beat of steel drums, and a singer who crooned and carried on in a bizarre form of entertainment that was mostly for the tourists from the hotel across the channel.

I stepped back and knelt behind Joey. I placed one hand on either firm small cheek and opened him up, wide open, wide enough that not only his anus could be seen but also the inside of it, that dark tube that always seemed far too small to take what I wanted to put inside it, yet always managed to stretch enough to accommodate my cock without the slightest sign of pain. I lowered my head and caught a whiff of his odor, that pleasant sweet smell that came from deep inside him. Few people would appreciate the taste and smell of a boy's anus. For me, it was ambrosia. Even freshly washed, the taste was still there for a minute or two. I licked gently, concentrating on the flavor of my boy. Acrid. It was pungent, not bitter, a bit like burned coffee, but not disturbing, certainly not unpleasant. It was his taste, his special taste. A few more licks, then probing into his slick passage with my tongue. The opening had softened quickly, becoming slippery, looser, hotter. I lifted away, licked my lips, enjoying the slight hint that remained. I went back, pressing my lips to kiss him there, to suckle in the gap between his cheeks. Joey liked to be kissed there, always eager to be 'butt-smooched'. Sometimes I did it long enough to make a red-splotched hickey, leaving my mark where no one else but me would ever see it. I swirled my tongue around and around, stabbing, wriggling, twirling. Joey growled, then shuddered. His anus quivered around my tongue. He was relaxed and ready and so was I. Still kneeling, still massaging my tongue into the entry to his rectum, I unfastened the front of my shorts. I made sure that the zipper was all the way down before I extracted my rigid throbbing cock out of the slot.

I came to my feet, pulling Joey up from where he lay over the side the boat until his feet swung free of the ground and he was suspended over the bow with his back to me. He giggled when he felt it, my engorged cock burrowing between his buttocks. It was hot, and thick, and very hard, and he was sufficiently wet with saliva that had it been pointed at the right place it would only have needed the slightest push to drive it home. I took it away, rubbing my fingers up and down his slippery crack, working back and forth over his hole until he was shaking.

"Go on, old man!" Joey gasped. "Put him in me all the way."

"Anything I want right?" I smirked, enjoying Joey's eagerness to rut.

"Yes… yes… anything. Oh man! I need you. Just put him in me, okay."

I loved that anxious eagerness, so different to the uncertain boy who had given me his virginity in my bedroom in Chicago. He had never regretted his decision. Neither had I, even though it had definitely hurt him. Innocence was no substitute for experience and the sooner it was gone the better for a boy like Joey. Now, he lived to fuck.

I teased him, probing my fingers into the weakened flesh. Not far, but far enough that his ass muscles had to begin the process of stretching if it was to have any chance of fitting around the head of my cock. I wriggled my fingers back and forth, spiraling them around and sinking further and further into Joey's ass.

"Getting a hell of a lot looser back here now," I whispered in his ear.

Joey nodded agitatedly. His bottom trembled. His body tensed. Suddenly, he squirted out wetness. It spattered over my fingers, some reaching to my wrist.

"Jesus, you're dripping cum everywhere," I taunted. "Someone's fucked your ass recently. It's damned near full of it."

"Yeah, I'm thinking it was you," Joey sneered.

I took my hand away, rubbing my fingers under the rope that ran along the boat's gunwale to wipe away the mess of semen and oil and whatever else had come out from Joey's rectum.

"How do you want it?" I breathed in his ear.

"Fast… Do it fast… old man… real fast… as fast as you can, okay?"

When Joey pleaded, it was all I could do not to give in immediately. Instead I lifted his hips higher, then lowered him to bring his toes onto the sand. His buttocks pressed back , embracing my cock within his soft fleshy crack. For once, I controlled myself, yet I followed him down until we crouched upon the sand no further than a few feet away from the fishing boat. I stroked his back, coming closer until I was nearly over him like a dog mounting a bitch. 'Doggie style', we called it, the position that allowed me greater movement and speed if not the feeling of added depth that Joey preferred. I kissed his shoulders, fondling his smooth round cheeks, getting him even hotter. He writhed against me, pushing himself away from my hands, then back against me, trying to position his bottom so that my cock would be forced inside him. At the same time, I kept my cock where it was, just out of reach, dancing back and forth across his exposed anus, tantalizing his sensitive flesh, sliding up and down his crack. It was part of our foreplay, a mutual poetry of parry and thrust that teased our lust until penetration was inevitable. I was a firm believer in getting a boy ready, especially when there was plenty of time to do it. The sex was always better when he was trembling with out-of-control desire.

Yet that night, for some reason I was of two minds about doing it there. My instinct was humming, sending that silent message of warning that I sometimes had for no reason at all save intuition. We had done it often enough before on the beach, although not usually so close to Fernando's Bar. It thrilled both of us to be lying in the darkness, having sex in the sand only inches from where the water lapped or hidden among the brightly painted fishing boats that were but shades of gray at night. Being in a public place only added to the erotic act. That close to the village, both of us were afraid to make much sound in case someone from the nearby houses heard us and came down to investigate, but we still did it. There was also the possibility of a stray tourist or two wandering along the romantic beach. We exchanged in a few minutes of enjoyment, more passion than was usual. It seemed to come from the sheer illicit nature of what we did. We were natural exhibitionists, and holding back the tide of the forbidden love that we shared was impossible.

My cock throbbed mercilessly as it rubbed back and forth, spreading its juice and relaxing him while heightening his sensitivity. Just that motion should have been enough. It left us breathless, trembling, increasing the urge until neither of us could halt the inevitable need to join. Only then would I mount him. It entered easily, some might even say too easily, sliding on my saliva, providing its own slippery lubricant at the tip. Joey helped by relaxing his inner muscles, pressing back when he felt my cock bend back and aim into his hole. He groaned with the surge of my cock, the fullness easily digging into his opened anus. No matter how loose he was, we were always careful at the start, but once the head was through his ring, getting the rest inside him went swiftly. Not from any experience with other boys, for I was faithful to Joey, but from what I'd been told by Fernando, most Hispanic boys were like that. Even the macho ones opened up once they had a cock inside them. Perhaps Joey's need to be loved by a man was genetic after all.

That night there was not a lot of tension in his anus, but what there was gave way quickly, so accustomed was Joey's body to the thickness of my cock. We paused, breathing together, waiting only because that was what we always did when we first joined together. My cock massaged his tender flesh, oozing copiously and slicking it up the inside of his body, weakening the outer muscle until it gaped open, and then when the time was right, we started squeezing together. I smiled, feeling triumphant at beginning the process of inserting my man-cock all of the way into his boy-cunt. Joey was so eager that his little anus seemed to open up and swallow the next inch of my cock. A ring of flesh settled behind the flared out rim, like the barbed point of an arrow. My cock was imbedded just inside him, at the entrance to his narrow rectum. It was sheathed in hot tight flesh that felt so good that I could think of nothing else except putting it further inside.

There was moisture there, hot slippery fluid that bathed the blunt tip of my cock, not spit but oil and jizz from a few hours before. We had used other things, but coconut oil was our lubricant of choice. Unlike commercial sex lotions, it was readily available and it lasted forever, but had the effect of an enema if used too liberally. Sometimes I squirted a cup or more inside him, warming it first in the sun. When I did, it was guaranteed to flush his bowels out within a few minutes of me finishing inside him. What followed wasn't very pleasant and I didn't do it very often, but when I did I made certain that he had a place to squat in peace and quiet. Regular bowel movements were essential for a boy who was sexually active with a man. The number of times he had been constipated since we had started having sex I could count on the fingers of one hand. The number of times he had to make a frantic rush to empty his bowels were many more.

For a few moments I paused, gently probing with the tip of my cock. He liked that and I could feel him breathing, relaxing, showing the signs of increasing enjoyment. I rocked slowly back and forth, widening the breach, getting ready to finish what I had started. Then, he nodded to show that the need for waiting was over. It was immediately followed by a long powerful push while gripping his slender hips so he couldn't get away. Not that he wanted to escape. He wriggled and grunted and lifted his buttocks higher even as his chest went down the sand. His thighs splayed, leaving his little-boy-sex dangling down. With a couple of inches shoved inside his ass, I slowed down, but still pushing inexorably into him. His anus tightened in an involuntary move to protect his inner sanctum. It always came too late. By then, the worst was over and complete penetration was inescapable, especially when he forced himself back against me. Still relentlessly pushing through the tight grip of his sphincter, I felt beneath him. I felt his tiny sex, felt both what was and wasn't there. Poor Joey. Except in the mornings, he seldom had the benefit of being stiff when I fucked him. Of course, I liked to see him hard. His excitement was undeniable then, but I think I liked him more when he was soft and shriveled up. Then, he was as impotent as a boy could be. His erections never lasted very long when I fucked him in the butt. When he orgasmed, nine times out of ten, his cock was limp, even in the morning.

Then, straining forward, I levered Joey hard against me, pulling him back onto it just like I was skewering a piece of chicken, which in a way I was. And that soft, drawn out guttural groan came from deep inside Joey's chest. It was the sound he always made when I went all the way inside him on a single hard thrust, before he had a chance to stretch properly and get used to it. I liked it too, being deep inside the boy I loved, in that hot hungry place where my cock belonged. I liked the sound he made as well. It was the sound of longing requited, of utter satisfaction because we were joined together. My cock throbbed relentlessly. This time would not take very long. With the foreplay, I was already too close to last longer than a dozen thrusts. Vaguely detached through familiarity, I found myself wondering if we would do it again when we got back to the boat. Would I keep my cock buried inside him through the night again? What day of the week was it anyway? If it was Friday, there was no school the next day. Damn, but it was Thursday. I had a charter in the morning.

"Yeahhhhhhh, oohhhhhhh, God!" Joey gasped and grasped beneath him.

He felt it completely inside him, possessing him. His hand gripped my balls and he shuddered when I eased back. He tried to stay with me for a moment, and then his rectum released its grip. I stopped pulling away only when the rim of his anus captured the bulging head of my cock to . A careful thrust and he lurched away as the bulbous head of my cock assaulted his prostate. His backward motion didn't last very long. A second or two only, before he squeezed back to increase the pressure. He uttered a precious whimper of surprise when I pushed harder, driving deeper in his lush heat, flesh that seethed and flowed and clamped around my cock.

"Yeah, that's enough for now I think. I've just about got this little boy-pussy full of cock," I groaned.

I stopped then, my balls squashed into his cheeks, his anus like a ring around the base of my cock less than an inch from where it ended. I could not go any further for the moment. He heaved with each breath, barely cognizant of what was happening. Eight hard inches [20 cm] had that effect on a boy. Joey reached into the safety of a deeper consciousness, trembling spontaneously even though I stopped moving. So good, was all that I could think. So very good, but it had to hurt him! Guilt challenged my desire. It always did when my cock was contained inside his rectum. He felt tight, and good and incredibly alive. His heat flowed into me, enlivened me, took away my tiredness. No longer were there any second thoughts. His body quivered under me, his buttocks flexing, mercilessly grinding against my groin. He whimpered again, trying to become used to the massive stake of flesh that I had wedged inside him, its width depressing his cheeks around my shaft as if they had been pinched. Like this, balls-deep inside Joey, I existed for a single purpose. I waited there, waited for Joey to say 'okay', to let me know when he was ready to be loved in greater measure. I had to listen carefully. It was never more than a throaty whisper.

Instead of a breathy, urgent 'yes' I heard, "This will do."

The sound of the man's voice was so near that it stopped both of us. We froze. I did the only thing I could. From behind, I levered Joey's knees through the sand and carefully eased him down onto his front until I lay over him. Fortunately, at least according to my befuddled brain that could never get enough, I was still deeply embedded in his hot tight ass. Like that, even if I did not fuck him, we would be happy while we waited for them to go.

We were hidden from the moonlight by the shadowed darkness by the side of the boat. The man was a dozen yards away and he had not seen us. However, where he stopped, had he turned even slightly to the side, I think he would have seen us lying there. Even in the darkness he could not miss the outstretched slender legs of a naked boy and those of a man between them, and a man's broad back enough to shield most of the slightly built naked boy under him . We were like silent ghosts in the dark. In the muted silence, I felt Joey's sphincter working, pulling deliberately inward. It was impossible not to smile. Joey would always want fuck no matter what the consequences were. I flexed my cock in response and felt his body tremble under me. I did it again and again, realizing an intense enjoyment from the wanton act of torturing him like that. When Joey was in the mood, all he wanted was to be fucked. I wasn't any different despite the fact that I was supposed to be the responsible adult. Indeed, just knowing that we could be discovered, it was as thrilling as any time that we made love in private.

A boy wandered up from the water's edge. He wore a white tee shirt but carried his shorts. His dark thin legs were glistening wet. At a guess, I put his age close to Joey, even if he appeared somewhat bigger than my son.

"Your ass is cleaned out okay?"

I did not like the man's voice, although it would have been difficult for me to say why. Perhaps it was what he said, rather than how he said it?

"Yeah, 's clean. I wash dat good." The shorts dropped onto the sand. The boy scuffed his feet, playing his toes through the sand.

"Okay. Where did I put that goddamn rubber? Fuck! Did you bring one?"

"No. Yo don' say dat."

"Forget it. I found it? Jesus, I'm hard. Bend over kid so I can get it in? I hope you're ready?. You lubed your ass, didn't you?"

He stroked his cock. Was it larger then mine? It looked much thicker to me, longer too, but it was dark and most of what I saw were shadows. It looked huge, far too big for a boy like Vincente unless he really wanted it. But there were boys like that. Joey was one of them. He would not have complained if my cock was larger.

"Yeah. Done dat hole real good, Mister."

"God, I'm so fucking horny. I wish it weren't so damned hot. Get your ass cheeks apart, kid. I mean wide apart, not like some pussy virgin. I want to see what I'm aiming at. I'll do it? That's better. You really want my cock up your ass, don't you boy?"

"Ouch! Yeah… yeah, do dat… slow okay. Jesus! Go slow. Sheet, dat cock ese beeg! Do dat slow, Mister. Ese so beeg."

The boy's voice made Joey tense up beneath me. It was only then that I recognized who they were. Vincente and Steve Adams. The boy was facing towards the village, probably keeping a watchful eye. The man was standing very close behind him. He held Vincente by the hips, lifting up so the boy's feet were nearly off the ground. It was obvious what he was doing. Even in the darkness I could see his thumbs parting the boy's buttocks to expose the crack. He was pulling the boy backwards at the same time as his pelvis drove forwards. There was nowhere else for his cock to go but in. The distance between them narrowed until all we could see was the man's back and the boy's thin legs, his toes barely touching the ground. I felt sorry for Vincente. It had to hurt, at least until he got used to it.

"Arghhhhh!"

The boy squealed loudly, the sound of pain barely started before it was muffled by a hand cupped over his mouth. It had been a long time since Joey had made a noise like that, if he ever had. Perhaps in Chicago, but he was barely ten. When a man's cock was that large, the penetration of a boy had to be done very carefully, even when the boy was experienced and willing. Surprisingly, even that first time in my bed, Joey wasn't as tight as I expected, but I'd used my fingers in him a lot by then. That he wanted it probably made it easier for both him and me. I suspected that Vincente's ass was as used to taking cock as Joey's was. They had the same look, the look of boys who were sexualized before their time. Fortunately for men like me, there were boys who loved a man-sized cock to be forced into their young bodies, boys who understood what sexual pleasure was all about, boys who wanted men to fuck them.

"Hush up! Stop whining you little faggot! You know you want it as much as I do."

"Go slow… please… Jesus, dat cock ese beeg."

"Yeah, but you like it don't you?"

"Uhhhhh? Shhheeettttt!"

"You got it all, fag-boy. That's better isn't it? I can feel you starting to stretch out a bit. Won't be too long now. I can't believe your foreskin is so tight I can hardly get it back. Fuck, that's better. There's nothing like having an exposed cock-head to get a boy off."

"Ohhhhh…God… A-a-a-r-r-g-g-h-h."

I knew what caused that drawn-out cry. Adams had given a slow, long thrust, a thrust that went deep inside the boy. Beneath me, Joey squirmed as well.

"I bet that hurt. Damn, but I wish my wife's cunt was as tight as your cute little ass."

They sounded breathless, gasping , groaning, grunting together. Both of them were charged with lust, that intense and overwhelming passion that comes with man-boy sex. From my knowledge, there was nothing like it. Certainly, no pussy could compare to what a boy's tight ass had in store for a man's cock. For one thing, the muscles were stronger, and tight too, at first if not for very long. At orgasm, even though his ass-hole had turned to sloppy mush, the muscles deep inside Joey's body still managed to give powerful grasping squeezes that threatened to tear my manhood off. However, fucking a boy was more than feeling good, much more than mere nerves and sensations could account for. It was about forbidden sex, about power and control, and whatever it was that made life worth living. For me, it was also about making love to nature's most wonderful creation.

Joey and I listened to their rutting, our own fucking temporarily suspended in favor of the perverted pleasure of spying on them. Adams did not give Vincente much respite, not that the boy wanted much judging by the whimpering and pleading sounds he made once the initial shock had passed. Once the boy had loosened up the dominant sound was rhythmic, wet and sloppy, never ending. It was a sound that Joey and I knew well. Without a wrist watch, it was impossible to be certain how long it lasted. Perhaps a few minutes, as long as five. I kept flexing my cock inside Joey's rectum, and he squeezed back with licentious delight. And we listened like voyeurs to the familiar sounds they made, the slap of flesh against flesh, of a cock stabbing through slippery buttocks, squelching when it came back out.

Adams grunted loudly when he was done. It did not sound as if Vincente was even close to the peak, but some boys were like that. Fernando said Roddy orgasmed about every other time. Joey was luckier than most boys that way. In one way or another, he climaxed every time if I had anything to do with it. Vincente's small body slumped down when the man released him and stepped away. Absently, still dazed, the boy felt behind him, felt where the man's cock had been, felt the slimy wetness that covered his behind. Not all of it had gone inside. Sometimes I did that to Joey too, pulled out while I was still spurting and let my jizz spurt over his back and butt. That way I had the added pleasure of cleaning him up with my tongue. Most people would think it was disgusting, but it wasn't, not when you loved someone as much as I loved Joey.

"Yo cum da lot."

The boy sounded disdainful. Joey never did. He was tired but always happy. He enjoyed having my seed inside him, as much as I enjoyed putting it there. It brought us closer somehow, just knowing that my sperm were swimming in his rectum, the same sperm that had created him.

"Of course I did kid. The thing is, I always cum a lot with boy-pussy." He was breathless. "You're an okay fuck, Vincente. Not the best I've ever had that's for sure, but for the money you're costing me, you're okay."

There was just enough light to see the boy's face. He glowered, clearly unhappy at being cheated of his own release. His hand moved behind him, using his tee-shirt to wipe away the wetness that had sprayed over his cheeks.

Adams smirked, taking the tee-shirt to clean his cock off. "You know something, Vinnie?" He didn't wait for an answer. "The boy I really want to fuck is that Joey, the kid from the dock today. Man, but he's one hell of a sexy boy."

Vincente slowly came to his feet, picking up his shorts on the way.

"You think his cute little ass would be able to take my cock?" Adams continued , his voice cruelly taunting. "I reckon I'm way bigger than his old man, but that kid sure looks as if he's been fucked every day for a year."

He smirked, closing his zipper and rearranging his Thai-dyed shirt. Vincente shrugged with the same shameless calm that Joey had after sex. He put his shorts on, moving sluggishly. His tee-shirt, he kept off. If it was done hard and fast, ass-sex tired a boy out, at least for a while. He drooped and breathed heavily. It was like the air had been let out of him.

"Hurry up. I've got to meet some friends at ten and I don't want to be late. I'll see you in a while."

"What I do till den?" Vincente asked as he closed the button at the top. He had a narrow waist, like Joey, so the shorts hung from his bony hips.

"Hell, I don't care. Just keep out of trouble. My meeting shouldn't last more than an hour. Seeing as I'm leaving tomorrow, I expect I'll want more of your ass when I'm done."

"I go back to de boat. I wait for yo dere. When yo dones, we fucks 'gain, if yo want?" the boy suggested.

He sounded optimistic. Boys were like that once they were used to sex. With practice, fucking their tight little butts became easier, almost too easy. Joey couldn't get enough of my cock, neither could Rodrigo. Although Fernando and I complained about being worn out all the time, it was always said in good fun.

"Okay." The man laughed. He slapped the boy's bottom. "You're a horny little fucker aren't you? I won't be long. With luck I'll be screwing you again in an hour."

In the darkness I saw the white of his teeth. He reached down, grabbing at the boy's groin. He cupped his hand over that small dark worm and the little pouch beneath, squeezing, making the boy squirm.

"Just remember, I'm paying for this so no playing with it till I get back," he guffawed. He started up the beach. "However, if you want to stick another one of those bananas up your ass again to keep yourself loosened up, it's okay by me kid."

It seemed as if we were not the only people who had discovered another use for the ubiquitous banana. Sometimes Joey did it to taunt me, stick a banana all the way inside himself until only the stub remained, then bending over in front of me he would push down until it plopped out. Most times I peeled the skin off and ate it. Joey said it was because I was so cheap, that I didn't want to waste good fruit.

"Yo fuck dis ass tonight?" The eagerness was unmistakable.

When I had seen Vincente at the dock I had suspected that he was physically mature. He hadn't climaxed and his lust still needed satisfying. Joey was the same way, even though he never shot a drop. Once his bowels were loosened up he could go at it for hours at a time. One dry orgasm after another, always hoping that the next one would be even better. It was a pity that I couldn't last the distance. That was when a banana came in handy.

"Sure. I promise I'll fuck you again when I get back," he laughed over his shoulder. "Don't worry. Hell, my friends will probably want a piece of your butt. I know they brought a boy with them, that cute little Adams-kid I think. Keep your fingers crossed. Maybe they'll be interested in sharing." He strode off, laughing, disappearing into the darkness, his feet moving silently on the sand.

Joey and I stayed joined and waited until the boy tottered off in the opposite direction. From where we were it looked as if he was walking on wobbling legs.

We heard the boy wading through the water as he ambled further up the beach. I started thrusting, not wild stabs but deep slow pushes. Joey groaned, hoping clamping his anal muscles, pulling hungrily against my dick. I lasted for a few seconds. It happened too quickly to build up speed, to get the rhythm going. It spurted out, leaking out from around my cock as I shuddered uncontrollably. I cheated Joey of his pleasure, but I couldn't help it. My penis was tender when I pulled it free, still half hard, glistening with slimy streaks of whatever it was that was inside Joey's body.

"You okay, lover boy?" I asked softly. I brushed the sand from his back.

"Yeah." Joey breathed out.

He was grumpy. Usually we timed the moment of climax to within a few seconds of each other. My preference was for him to orgasm just a few seconds before me. It was always better that way, a labor of love pumping through his anal spasms to deposit my jizz deep inside him, knowing that I had satisfied his need.

"I tried but I couldn't hold it back," I said guiltily.

"Yeah, I know. I was close too, Dad."

"Sorry about that, Joey."

"You owe me one for later."

I helped him to his feet. By the time we were both standing, there was no sign of Vincente, not further up the beach, not even in the water. Perhaps he had already climbed aboard the motor yacht. For an island boy it was an easy swim to where the boat was anchored. Maybe he left the beach and walked to the village. There was no way of telling. He might have even laid down on the sand. We headed back the way we had come, my arm around his slender shoulders. Both of us forgot Joey's miniscule yellow swimming costume. It was left lying on the sand beside the fishing boat. By the time Joey remembered what he wasn't wearing, it was too far to go back.

Chapter 5

The next morning, I awoke to find that my cock was still lodged inside him. I smiled and pressed against him, gradually sliding more and more of my morning piss-hardon back into him. It was easy since his anus had not closed up, but I was careful not to wake him, not until he was full of cock, and then some. I had a good rhythm going, deep, not too fast, just the right pace to last until the sun was high enough to reach the cabin windows. Then, Joey woke up. He yawned, and then he gasped in the sudden realization that he was on the brink of orgasm and there was absolutely nothing that he could do, or wanted to do to stop it. Instantly, his body's response to the sensations changed. Instead of twitching the way his body had been doing involuntarily since I started, he trembled. He groaned. A shudder rose up from deep inside him. He gasped, became tense, straining for a second or two before he jerked with half-a-dozen spasms. I slowed, still thrusting but very gently, very deliberately concentrating my efforts in the region of his prostate. Like the crabs we caught in the lagoon, where there was one crab, there was often a second to be found.

"Ohhhhh, yeahhhhh," he murmured.

His body heaved, pushing back, straining to take all of my cock. He wanted it deeper. I obliged. And faster too. He heaved again, grunting incoherently, befuddled by sleep and shock and the urgency of what was coming.

"You want something for breakfast?" I joked.

"No! What I want is for you to fuck me," he groaned.

"Like this?"

I pushed in deeply and pulled back slowly, dragging Joey backwards on the bed as he tried to keep my cock inside him.

"Oh fuck. Do it faster!"

I obliged again, pounding against him while realizing that in the position we were in there was little that I could do to build up to the speed he wanted. There was only so much that I could do lying on my side. I flipped Joey over, rolling with him, gasping together as we sought a different position. One that would allow me unfettered access. My favorite position was to have my boy lying on his back with legs up and wrapped around me! The alternative was to put a pillow under his belly and fuck him from behind. However, I liked to see Joey's 'fuck face'. His face scrunched up when he was in ecstasy. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and made animal sounds that ranged from mewing to growling. The faster I fucked, the louder and more desperate he became. I grabbed his legs near his knees and forced them back, higher, beyond his shoulders. His buttocks rose up and his back lifted off the bed. Joey responded by reaching down and grasping my thighs, yanking with all his strength so that I slammed against his buttocks. The sound, the smell, the euphoria of sex filled the cabin. I watched his expression change from rapture to a very different kind of enjoyment. His legs lifted up and wrapped around my waist, pummeling my buttocks with his heels in a vain effort to keep the rate going.

Between us, the slimy fluids inside him were churned to foam, squelching out every time I pumped into him. It dribbled out from his loose anus, spewing out along my cock, wetting him and me, spreading over the sheet in streaks. I should have rearranged the towel underneath him first, but it was too late. His fingernails clawed my shoulders, dragging my head down so that I could no longer see his face. The little vampire placed his lips against my neck, sucking hard. I didn't stop him. I needed to preserve my reputation among the tourists as being something of a stud. Little did they know it was a boy instead of some island whore who had left the red marks on my neck.

My cock was incredibly hard, plunging in and out, sometimes all the way out, slamming back through his opened boy-hole, all the way in a single brutal thrust that forced the air from his lungs. I felt his second orgasm approaching, tightening spasms around my cock, his legs flailing, driving me on to my own climax. As always, the peak seemed just out of reach until it happened with a glorious, ball-tightening urge to make him mine, my cock straining to get deeper before I ejaculated. I squirted into him, sending pulses of thick hot baby-making jizz inside his slim abdomen. Sometimes I wished he was a girl because then we could make a child together. It was not my imagination that I could feel each spurt forcing its way past his anus to fertilize his already juicy rectum. His fingers still raked my shoulders, but no longer frantic.

"You didn't cum?" I gasped.

Joey's head barely moved. "No… s' okay… I was so close, Dad?. I was sure I was going to… right up to the end…"

"I'm afraid the old guy is getting too weak for you," I said. "Five times since yesterday afternoon is too much for one man."

Joey scowled good-humoredly. There was no point in complaining. He had felt my jizz spurting out and knew better than to expect me to continue to fuck him. I eased back, delighting in the way that my softening cock dragged back through Joey's bowels. It felt like I was pulling a worm from the sand, stretching it until it popped free. I settled back onto my haunches, looked down between his widespread cheeks. There was oily slime and foam coating his dark-skinned wrinkled balls, all around his crack. A dribble of jizz and yellowish mucus oozed from his anus and slowly crept down his crevice onto the sheet beneath him. I realized that he had been cheated of the ultimate ecstasy for a boy, even if what he shot were blanks. Unfortunately my cock was already limp.

Instead, I did the next best thing. I lifted him up, up into the air by his hips and turned him over. He weighed less than most of the fish I had to manhandle aboard the boat when I had a charter. His thighs found a position on my shoulders, his legs bent at the knees behind my head to hold himself in place. His head hung down, reaching to my groin. I held him there with my fingers crooked into his small bony pelvis, my thumbs pressing into his buttocks, splitting him open again. The smell, the sight of his recently fucked anus still drooling my cum, was an instant aphrodisiac. I buried my face into his succulent heat, his slippery smooth cheeks rubbing against my bristly cheeks. My tongue slurped up and down his crack, tasting that nutty flavor, inhaling the fecal odor, absorbing the sweet muskiness that came from having anal sex with a boy.

Joey groaned and my tongue plunged forward. His anus was loose, sloppy loose, sucking up against my lips. I was barely aware of his frenzied exhortations, loud nearly incoherent demand to pleasure him there at his nether opening. Kissing his ass, especially after sex, was one of my favorite pastimes. Sometimes at night, I did it for an hour or more, paying homage to his body, thanking him for what he had given to me. There was no pucker to hold my tongue back. I stabbed it into him, working it around and around, then darting back and forth. He writhed against me, experiencing different sensations to being fucked, but no less profound, no less overwhelming. His legs pulled against my head as he tried to get my tongue deeper. I responded by moving away from his weakened hole, sucking on the taut knot of his balls, taking the entire hemisphere of wrinkled skin into my mouth.

His face was against my groin and Joey did what was expected of him. I felt his tongue first. A year ago he would never have done it. Of course, he sucked my cock all the time, but not after it had been inside him. Now, he was shameless. There were no inhibitions to hold us back. He licked, smooched, salivated over the slimy shaft. I felt his tongue, then his lips around the head, sucking like a baby on its mother's breast. Slowly, the ring of his lips slid down it until half of my cock was inside his mouth. It was different to his anus, not as tight for one thing, but just as wonderful. I felt my cock beginning to respond. Sometimes it worked.

At the same time, I used the fingers of my right hand to probe into his rectum. Joey's legs tightened, his arms grasping at me to hold himself in place, deep-throating my cock while his body dropped lower and lower. I slid two fingers through his anus, eliciting a loud gasp at the sudden fullness again. He bucked against me, thrusting his pelvis, fucking himself.

However, my hand was poorly positioned and my fingers did not reach far enough. I peeled his naked body away from me and let him drop onto the bed. By then, he was shaking and so aroused that it was all he could do to look at me, silently pleading. My dick was barely lifting up and while it would have been a simple matter to stuff a few inches inside his dilated anus, it would not have done any good.

"I doan 'lieve yo still fuckin' dat boy?"

I groaned, recognizing Fernando's voice. He was close, probably standing on the dock, had been there for a while and close enough to hear everything we had said and done since Joey had woken up.

"Yo man," I shouted back. "I've been in his ass since last night."

Fernando laughed, a rollicking laugh that could probably be heard back in the village.

"All dis time you fuck 'im? Yo wear out dat boy-ass. Keep dat up and he woan' be no better fuck dan some ole whore."

"Yeah," Joey chortled. "Tell me about it. He just gone done and he's thinking about doing it again."

"What ya want, Fernie?" I asked without turning around. Joey grinned, pulling against my fingers to keep my mind on what I was supposed to be doing.

"Roddy 'n me, we comes 'board an' talk, okay?"

I grinned at Joey, then turned my hands palm up. It was up to him. He nodded, reaching to pull the top sheet up to cover his naked body. Apparently, he had some inhibitions left. There was a loud thud as Fernando jumped onto the deck. The softer thud was Rodrigo. I had my shorts on by the time they came into the cabin.

Fernando winked at Joey. "He fuck you good 'tis mornin', boy?"

Joey grinned shamelessly back at him and then smirked at me. They had seen him naked often enough. He had nothing to hide.

"Yeah, but he cummed about a minute too early."

Fernando chuckled, draping his right arm around Roddy's shoulders to give his nephew an affectionate hug. Rodrigo rolled his eyes, pretending he didn't relish being hugged in front of us. Like Joey, he liked being cuddled, but for island boys it was seldom done in public.

"He be fuckin' yo boy pussy de ways ya need, baby, or ya brin' dat little puss to me, hear. I fucks boys' ass proper, don' I Roddy? I knows boys 'n all de ways dey likes to take de man-cock."

Rodrigo nodded vigorously. He kept watching Joey, as fascinated as I was by Joey's lean brown body.

"I'm afraid he's right. I came a bit too fast," I admitted. "I was just finishing him off with a finger fuck when you showed up."

Fernando gave me dour look. "Yo use de nana for boys like dat one, boss. Dem boys like yo Joey needs dat. Ese beeg. 'e needs it deep in dere. Ain't no fingers gonna fix dat place like da nana."

"Banana?" I asked. It was impossible not to smile. Fernando was a banana aficionado.

Fernando nodded. "He lotta like Roddy so he need da biggest dere is, dat horny boy a yers."

Soon after we had arrived at St. Angelique Cay, Fernando and Rodrigo had introduced us to the dildo of choice in the islands. I bought them in bulk from the farmers, for nutrition, because Joey had a perpetual iron deficiency, and for times like this. There were always a half-a-dozen bananas in the galley. Without being asked, Rodrigo hurried from the cabin and grabbed a banana that was the largest of the bunch. It was close to being ripe. I met him on the way back to the bed. I bit off the stalk-end because that could scratch sometimes. I stopped to squirt a bead of coconut oil down the side, then as I climbed onto the bed and took my position alongside Joey. He had already turned onto his belly. The sheet had been pushed away. So much for his inhibitions. He looked over his shoulder, smirking, visibly anticipating something larger than a couple of my fingers. With a finger, I smeared the oil over the yellow-green skin. It was bigger than my cock, but without the huge, flared, crimson head, it was not nearly as threatening. Bananas, because they were pointed and smooth, could be inserted into a boy's anus relatively easily. The added benefit was that once the tip was in, the rest slid in with very little effort. In fact, once the banana was halfway in, I had to be careful to keep a firm grip on the end.

A lot of the island boys, even the straight boys tried bananas in their asses sooner or later. Tropical 'corn-holing' in a way, yet it always amused me when the local boys called their friends 'yella fella' and talked about doing 'sit downs'. I knew what they meant. Joey sighed when the cool stalk started to slide through his anus. One inch. Two inches. By the third inch his hands were clenched into fists. It was so large that it was starting to hurt. Still, Rodrigo was wide-eyed and visibly impressed at how easily it went in. Fernando lounged against the door, watching. He was interested too, but for some reason of his own he did not want to be too obvious about it.

Joey's bottom quivered without warning and tried to pull away and I was still some distance from the point of maximum width. I could see his buttocks clenching, fighting the natural rejection of something foreign. He forced himself to relax.

"You doing okay kid?" I asked.

Joey nodded uncertainly.

"More?"

He nodded again, even more uncertain. "It's big… Man it's big. Keep going, Dad," he murmured.

"Feels good though, huh?" I teased.

Joey growled menacingly. It was a very different feeling to my cock even when the banana reached body-temperature. It was so thick and smooth it could slide back and forth almost without friction, especially when it was covered in oil. His anus pulsated around the thickening shaft, giving way. Already, he was stretched so wide that his anus was a pale thin line. Another inch. Then another inch. His anus had been defeated. It pulled inward suddenly, tugging, trying to draw even more inside him. He shuddered suddenly. It was far enough inside to press against his prostate. I stopped pushing.

"Oh fuck!" Joey groaned. "Oh yeah… Oh God."

"He be likin' dat, don' he?" Fernando guffawed. "Da's a boy's best fren yo got in dere. Dat ole nana's good, ain it Joey? He fuck dat boy-pussy when dere's no mens. De best thing fo fuckin' dat pussy when dere's only boys."

Joey nodded urgently. I moved it gently, testing. It was tightly buried, but not so tight it couldn't slide. A good third of the banana could still be seen. He was getting ready to climax when his toes curled over. His eyes closed to slits, his teeth clenched as tightly as his impotent little fists.

"Do it baby. Let it all out. Cum for me, lover boy," I said.

I began to jerk the banana back and forth, not moving it in and out, but levering it hard against his prostate. His arms and legs twitched in a sudden frenzy, writhing before my punishing attack. He was very close, then his head threw back in a silent wail. His naked twitching body was covered with a sheen of perspiration. With both concern and amusement I watched Joey shudder again and again. Not half a dozen times like I did, but at least twice that number until I lost count. It lasted for nearly a minute before he pushed feebly at my hand to move it away. That was what he usually did to show that he'd had enough. I left the banana inside him, not daring to move it until he slowly came down, until his breathing was no longer coming in gasping bursts but something steadier. I eased it out of him a fraction of an inch at time. It came out clean and glistening, shiny with a slick film of oil and nothing more. I dropped it on his trembling belly.

"That one was worth watching, I reckon Fernando," I teased.

"Dat boy cummed good. I sure s'prised dere ain't a few drop a' somethin' tha way he carry on."

Joey laughed, his breathing still erratic. "Yeah… I wish," he finally managed to say. He smirked at me, running his fingers along the oily skin of the banana. "I think I'm ready for breakfast now, Dad."

"Dere ain' time fer dat," Fernando interjected suddenly. "Da's wat we comes 'ere to say. Ya gotta be comin' wid us. Dem boys catch de Georgetun ferry ter school today."

"What's up, Fernando?" I asked as I stood up and moved away from the bed.

His tone was more worried than it had ever been. Something was wrong, very wrong. Fernando glanced at Joey nervously, then at me. He was frightened.

"De hooker boy, he come to de bar from dat beeg fishin' boat…las' night, " he whispered so Joey could not hear, "Roddy find 'im dead on de beach."

Chapter 6

On the way along the beach to where the fishing boats were kept, Fernando filled me in on what had happened, or rather, his version of it. There was no reason not to trust him, not since I had spent the best part of the last two years trusting him, yet I had the distinct impression that he was holding something back. However, whatever it was that he was, or wasn't telling me, I had no way of telling. It was just a feeling I had.

Based on the sequence of events that formed inside my head, and the way he spoke, it sounded true. He said that Rodrigo came back to the bar shortly after he had gotten out of their bed that morning. The boy, normally as effervescent and sex-hungry as Joey, was unusually quiet. According to Fernando, he muttered something about the beach and hurried into the tin-shed lavatory at the rear of the bar. He was gone for a while, which was only to be expected having discovered a body that was not unlike his own just a few minutes earlier. It took Fernando nearly half-an-hour to find out what he told me over the time it took to walk from the road. It seemed that Rodrigo left Fernando sleeping and gone down to the beach after the first light of dawn to see what the tide had brought in. The village boys could make good money by selling shells to the tourist shops, but they had to get up early to do it.

The body was beside the fishing boat where Joey and I had been lying the night before, half hidden beneath the side of the hull. A cursory glance suggested that it had apparently been washed up during the night. I walked closer. Death by any means is unpleasant, that of drowning even worse, but the lifeless body of a child is a horrible sight. I felt the bile rising into my throat. Two years away from Chicago surrounded by the beauty of the dry Exumas made it worse. I closed my eyes and quickly looked away.

"Da's the boy come from dat beeg fancy fishin' boat," Fernando said again. He tended to repeat himself, probably from constantly telling his customers the same stories while he served them beers.

I nodded slightly, but not showing any recognition. It was safer that way. I scanned the lagoon, the ocean beyond the reef. There was no sign of the yacht. In fact, there were no boats to be seen all the way to the horizon except the brightly colored ferry, already outside the reef and headed towards Georgetown with Joey and Rodrigo on board. I scuffed my bare feet in the sand, reluctant to approach closer than I already was. The last thing that I wanted to do was to become involved in a murder investigation. Except Joey, no one else knew that we had been on that part of the beach only ten hours earlier, or that we had seen a man and boy, this boy, having sex.

"Did you call the Georgetown police?" I asked pointedly.

Fernando nodded. "A'fore I come get ya, boss. Dey says dey be here by meed-day," he answered.

"By noon?" I growled. "What kind of shit is that?"

Noon was four and a half hours away. They could walk from Rolleville to Georgetown in that time. I did not need to consult my watch to know the tide would have returned long before then. Then, there wouldn't be a crime scene, or even a body.

"Damn!"

"Dere a problem wid dat, boss?"

"Yes, dere's a problem," I said sarcastically. I gestured towards the boat and the pale body of a boy. Water was already lapping at his feet. "That's a problem. The tide's coming in."

"Ese true," Fernando agreed. He glanced around him for a solution. "We carry dis 'ere body up de beach den so he doan' get wets?"

"Hell no!" I practically shouted at him. I took a deep breath. "You're not supposed to move a corpse, Fernie, especially in unusual circumstances. I'd say this qualifies as unusual. Hell! They're saying noon? There's supposed to be a medical examiner and a crew that comes… Damn! Why so fucking late?"

Fernando shrugged nonchalantly. "Deys all meetin' in Georgetown 'cause some problems wid de hotels. Dat what dey said, boss. Be dere by meed-day," he quoted again. "Ya know what to do, boss?"

"Yes, I know what to do, Fernando. I damned well ought to," I grumbled. "I did it for nearly twenty years when I lived in Chicago."

"Den dere ain't no problems. Ya do whatever dem cops does and we tell dem comes noon."

"Hell, I can. For one thing, I have a charter in less than an hour," I complained. I glanced to the side, suddenly guilty. "Poor goddamn kid."

"It scare Roddy something awful," Fernando said seriously. "Poor boy. Sure ain't pretty."

Even then, I was looking around me. With the tide coming in, it would not be very long before the villagers came down to the beach to take the boats out to go fishing. In fact, I could see a few of the early arrivals unpacking nets close to the road. I scanned the area around the fishing boat. There were a few sets of footprints in the freshly packed sand below the high tide mark. Mine, Fernando's, and a smaller set – Rodrigo had bigger feet than Joey – could be explained. Another set of footprints that had been there for a while. They might have been Fernando's, or any other man, but they were so obscured I could not be sure. Beyond that, there was no sign that Joey and I, or even Vincente and Adams for that matter had ever been walking there.

"Okay," I agreed half-heartedly. The body had to be moved from where it was. "I'll do my best. You go up to the fucking village and get a sheet of plywood, or a door or something like that. I need to place the body on it exactly as it is here. And I'll need a notepad and something to write with."

Fernando headed off, leaving me along. I squatted down close to the body. It was too soon to have much of a smell. Still, I had to close my eyes almost as soon as I began to study the small form. Mental shorthand, some detectives called it.

'Male child, probably mixed race. Skin color and facial characteristics suggests mostly Hispanic with some Negro, maybe some Caucasian in there as well. Victim's age is about twelve. Lying face up, both legs bent back, right arm extended out. Left arm crooked. No clothes. No sign of visible injury except a jagged tear on the inside of his right thigh. The skin's gone. A shark bite from the look of the torn flesh. Probably a small reef shark. No blood.'

Don't think about him. I don't even know his name, beyond Vincente. Should I say I'd never met him? It would be simpler that way. There would not be any questions about the circumstances of the meeting, about what was said, about what I knew was going on between Vincente and Steve Adams. It would be very easy to say that I'd never seen him before and keep everything simple. I swallowed then, put my hand before my eyes, felt my chest heaving. I breathed out and tried to exorcise the demon.

"Shit. Fucking god-damn fucking shit!"

He was a handsome boy. Vincente, whatever. Did Joey know his last name? Adams had never said. Of course, he was the likely suspect since the boy was last seen in his company. By me and Joey! Damn, again. Was it better to admit that we had met them at the Farley Street dock? Had anyone seen me talking to the owner of the motor yacht? At that time in the afternoon, it was unlikely that anyone would recognize Vincente or remember Joey. It could have been any one a hundreds of Hispanic boys who had been walking beside him. However, a good detective would place high priority on tracing the boy's last few days. It would not be too hard to find out where he had been, but then a good detective would already be on the crime scene. I looked again, long and hard, vaguely hoping I would survive without being sick. It was bad enough when the victim was young, but this was a boy who might have been Joey, except that my boy was much better looking.

"Damn!" I swore aloud.

Yes, he was handsome. Aren't they all at that age? Not nearly as good looking as Joey, but still exceptionally attractive in the way that boy-hookers had to be in order to make money. Professionally cut hair. Why was that surprising? Because I cut Joey's hair myself and it looked just as good? I went back to observation. For a long while I could not take my eyes away from the wrinkled hemisphere of his scrotum. The boy had the balls of a young teenager, but no hair. His penis was short but thick. It was almost thick enough to be of interest to another boy when it was hard. On his slim smooth torso it was almost too big, with his thin legs it was almost ridiculous.

'Weight maybe 45 kilos [100 pounds]. Height about one-point-six or so [5"3']. Slender build, but not undernourished. Genital size suggests he was probably sexually mature, but no sign of pubic hair.'

"Weird," I mused aloud.

I ran my finger across his groin. He had already reached puberty, that much was certain, but he was as smooth as Joey where there should have been some hair. The only explanation was that his groin had been closely, recently shaven. I twisted his penis to the other side fully exposing the injury on his thigh. Very weird. The boy had been bitten in such a way that the skin edge on one side was like a loose flap. I shuddered. The edge of the bite was white where the blood had drained into the sea. Somehow, although there was no reason I could put my finger on, I could not envision a shark doing that. Yet, neither could I imagine Adams doing it, but it would not have been the first time that a murderer had acted out of character. However I looked at it, it didn't make a damned bit of sense. It made as much sense as finding the boy on the beach in the first place. Maybe it was an eel bite. There were eels out on the reef that were big enough to do that, but eels had razor-sharp teeth. The edges of the bite were torn.

'No other marks to be seen on the front and right side. No visible sign of cause of death. Nothing except that shark bite and close-up it doesn't look right at all.'

I glanced up and saw Fernando struggling down the low embankment of the road. He was carrying a brightly painted paneled door. It looked like it belonged on his bar, the door to the men's bathroom perhaps? He stopped to talk to the fishermen who were working on their nets. I had a few minutes at most before he was back. Rigor mortis was stage one-barely setting in. Vincente had been dead for couple of hours at most, I estimated. Carefully, I turned the body over, face down, aware that I was breaking every rule of homicide investigation. It was not Chicago and time was passing quickly. Gently, I examined the small cheeks. They were still rubbery. The long muscles in the arms and legs stiffened first. In a few more hours even that softness would be gone.

He'd been fucked, of course, and recently at that. I knew the signs all too well. Indeed, only an hour ago I had seen Joey's body in the morning light. It always looked the same after we had sex during the night. There was the same luster from oil-based lubricant, the same red shininess around the rim of the anus where the skin had been stressed, the complete lack of pucker, the way it opened inwards. Only big cocks could do that to a boy. However, the signs on Vincente's body were largely irrelevant as far as I concerned. I knew what had happened to Vincente because I had witnessed the act from just a few feet away from where Steve Adams fucked him. I used my finger like a pathologist but without the latex gloves. There was lingering dilation in the anus, which was only to be expected given that the boy had been sodomised about ten hours earlier. Joey was the same way. Whenever I fucked him hard, his hole always looked like a finger could be inserted without difficulty. There was no way of being certain, but I expected all boys were like that after sex with a man. With a large man like Adams, it would probably be more dilated. It might even last longer, especially if he had done it often enough for the muscles to be loosened up.

Yet, as I gazed down at that most private of all places on a boy, some inner sense informed me with unsettling clarity that he had been fucked again during the night. There was a lot of residual bruising. Some old and brown, some recent and purple. Again, he was like Joey after we had prolonged sex. Joey usually had the same brown-purple circle around his opening, the same variegated rippled flesh that came from repeated excessive stretching of the anus. There was a newly made fissure very close to the perineum line. A big cock? Something else? The banana I had used with Joey didn't do that, but I was always very careful with it. There wasn't much give in a banana. Some men used plastic or rubber dildoes to make a boy's anus larger. Maybe that was it? I didn't. I had never needed to do that to Joey. I couldn't see the point.

There was enough slackness in the boy's anus to look within. As far as I could see, about the depth of half a finger, he was clean. No semen, unless it was in much deeper. Plenty of shiny lubricant in the rectum. Like Joey, he was well-used with just a slight trace of hemarrhoidal tissue. Another mental note to check him that afternoon, just in case. Then, I swore. There were more fissures deep inside, some old and nearly healed, some recent and red. I gulped and looked away. Was it really worth the money? However, for boys like Joey and Rodrigo, and Vincente too, I suspected, money was not the reason why they went with men.

'Some signs of anal penetration'. An understatement.

I sighed and looked elsewhere for some indication of what had caused his death. No boy had ever died from being fucked. Death had not come from the purported shark bite. That had happened after the boy was dead. His back was brown, darker than Joey's, a little line of bumps down the spinal ridge. There was some discoloration at the neck. I gently moved his head. The darkness extended to the front, beneath the chin. There was some hemorrhaging under the skin. Petechiae were on the surfaces of each translucent eyelid and conjunctivae on the eyeballs. I recognized those signs right away. The hemorrhagic areas on the boy's neck suggested that strangulation was the cause of death. I sighed loudly. Asphyxiation was a long slow death.

'Probable cause of death?.' Fuck! Fuck the bastard! '? Strangulation.'

"Dat's one strange place fer dat bite. Why dat shark bite him dere, you think Mister Kingston? Why bite him so close to dat nice boy-dick?"

I glanced around. Fernando was standing behind me, his head cocked to one side. I turned back, slowly looked down, following where his eyes had been. He had seen what I had missed. Why would a small reef shark bite there, on the thickest part of the thigh, instead of any other part? An eel was possible, but that would mean he was out on the reef at night. Very unlikely! However, the bite mark was close to the size of an eel's jaws, which was what had aroused my suspicions in the first place. I shrugged.

"No idea."

"Dis door okay?"

"Yes. It's fine. Help me get him on," I instructed impatiently.

In Chicago, dead people were 'deceased', sometimes 'corpses', or 'bodies', never 'him' or 'her'. Yet, I personified that small brown body just to keep his memory alive. In life, Vincente had the same infectious vitality, the same energetic boyish joy that Joey possessed. His death struck me as terrible waste.

"What were you talking about with them?"

He knew I was asking about the fishermen further along the beach.

"Nuthin'," he said blandly. It was a voice that lied.

"You were talking for a long while. Did one of them see something last night?" I held my breath and waited for his answer. There was always a chance that Joey and I had been noticed.

"Dey find dis up dere," Fernando said, gesturing towards the fishermen. They were a long way away from the crime scene. I felt a wave of reassurance.

His hand slid into the pocket of his tattered shorts. When his hand opened it was only for a second. I glimpsed gold. It was a small necklace and an intricate ornament that looked like two circles that overlapped. Arrows too, but I couldn't be sure. It didn't seem like it belonged on Vincente. It was too expensive. A tourist had lost it more than likely.

"You keep it, Fern," I said absently. "Maybe it's gold. If it is, it's probably worth a few bucks."

More likely, a few hundred bucks. It would look nice on Roddy. Joey would probably want one too when he saw it, instead of his shark's tooth on a leather cord.

Together, Fernando and I lifted the boy's body onto the door. I positioned him as closely as possible to the way that I had found him. Arms and legs bent, head to the side, even the thick boy-penis lying on his thigh.

"How dat boy die?"

"No idea," I lied.

"He get hisself fucked in de butt huh?"

"It looks like it," I answered coldly. That much was obvious to anyone who'd ever fucked a boy. There were often marks that took days to go away. It was time to cover my tracks. "Do you know who he is, Fernando? Was, I mean?"

"He from dat beeg fishin' boat. You seen it, dat white un, wid da beeg tuna tower." Fernando moved closer, uncomfortably close to peer at the boy's bottom. "From da look of dat boy ass, he gotta be hookin'."

"Probably."

"Dat boy, he look like he fuck anythin' with a dick."

"Yes?"

Fernando smirked. "I seen him 'round, boss. One, two days dis week. Las' night 'e wuz playin' dem eye games wid Roddy. las' nightat da bar. Ya know, flirtin' like dose hookers does at dem rich hotels in town. I seen dem pay-boys do dat when dey wanna fuck."

I smiled weakly and nodded. Fernando spent a lot of time looking at other boys. I had Joey. I almost never looked.

"Did you see them do anything?" I asked simply. We both knew what I meant was sex. I had watched Vincente and Steve Adams having sex, but I wasn't about to say that.

Fernando gave his characteristic island shrug. "I knows dat look, boss. Roddy got hisself a guy. He got da look for mens. Dis boy like yo Joey." He smiled. "Dat boy got hisself a man." He waved towards the lagoon, to where the motor yacht had been moored. "At da bar, he sit dat boy in de lap sometime. Maybe he be fingerin' dat boy-ass."

I nodded. When we were at Fernando's bar, Joey sometimes sat in my lap. If he wore loose-legged shorts and nothing underneath, it was an easy matter to get a finger or two of my left hand inside him without anyone knowing because I could still lift my glass with my other hand.

"Roddy found him, you said?"

I was not about to ask directly, but perhaps there was another reason besides shell-hunting why Rodrigo went down to the beach early that morning. From my experience, Rodrigo was as sexually active as Joey. Despite what Fernando said, it was entirely possible that he was interested in having sex with other boys. Some boys were like that. They fucked anything with a dick. Fernando shrugged ambiguously, either ignoring or unwilling to consider the possibility that Rodrigo was unfaithful to him.

"Why did you come to get me?" I asked at last. There had to be a reason why he came to me. One explanation was that his boy was involved.

Fernando shrugged again, less ambiguously this time. Clearly, he was holding something back.

"What is it?" I asked pointedly.

Fernando tried to avoid my gaze. Finally, he gave up. "Roddy, bring it back."

"What did he bring back, Fernando?" I asked patiently. He didn't like being rushed any more than I did.

It was like getting blood out of a stone. We were supposed to be friends. I did not want to resort to interrogation with one of the few men who I trusted to know about my love for Joey.

Just seconds passed before Fernando sighed. "He find dat slip."

"What? What slip?"

"Dat slip dat yo Joey wear all da time. The one dat show his dick when he get wet? Dat yellow 'un."

"Oh!"

I remembered then. I had taken it off, exposing all of him. We had left it lying beside the fishing boat, the same boat that I was kneeling next to at that very moment.

"Fernando…" I began.

"Robby finds it dere," Fernando said bluntly pointing to where Vincente had been lying. "Brung it back wid 'im. I got it 'ere," he added, patting the pocket of his shorts.

He quickly pointed again at the boy's body, then crossed his chest from side to side as if he was a practicing Catholic. Maybe he was. It was the only time I'd seen any religious expression from him. Like me, his religion was boys. Then, he dropped his hand abruptly as he muttered something under his breath.

"He was wearing it?" I asked in surprise. Fernando shook his head. "On the sand?"

Fernando slowly lifted his hand and pointed again. This time there was no mistaking where his finger was directed. He pointed to the boy's head. Not to his face, but lower. I swallowed. Joey's costume had been around the dead boy's neck. More than likely, although only an autopsy would prove it, Vincente had been strangled with it.

"God Almighty!" I shuddered. The blood drained instantly.

Fernando stared at me, not that he was shocked at what I had said. My face was ghostly white.

"Jesus. Then he… It doesn't mean that he was killed with Joey's swimming costume," I tried to explain.

Of course, Fernando knew otherwise. That was why he had come to get me early in the morning. More than likely, he had given thought to the possibility that I had killed the boy. Perhaps he was trying to give me a way out.

"We were here last night," I began while I scanned the sand beneath the boat to see if there was any thing else to be found. Other than some small shells, all I could see was sand. There was nothing else of mine or Joey's that I expected to find.

"You fuck Joey las' night?" Fernando asked hopefully. There was a hint of a smile.

I nodded. "Yeah, I did, Fernie. Right here in fact."

Yet, there was invisible evidence that a forensic team might find if they looked carefully. One or two of Joey's hairs might have fallen inside the boat. His fingerprints were on the deck and seat. Mine too. My decision was made in an instant. More information than necessary would eliminate Fernando's suspicion. He trusted me, just as I trusted him.

"He was leaning up against the boat while I got him ready," I continued.

I took out my handkerchief, carefully wiping the gunwale where Joey's hands had rested. If there was any hair I could not see it. What else had we touched?

"Then we lay down on the sand. That boy wanted a fuck something awful."

Fernando smirked and nodded. He understood. He had a boy of his own. Boys were like that when the urge arose. I could still hear Joey's sultry voice, demanding to be loved. It happened in a powerful rush, swept along by emotions, his longing to be loved by the only person who had ever cared about him, a need to be filled in order to go on living.

"Yo took dat slip off to do heem, huh?" Fernando smiled. His teeth were in worse shape than mine.

I smiled back at him. "Yeah. I guess we forgot it when we left."

He nodded. He believed me. I did not mention seeing Vincente and Steve Adams. That was a complication that I did not need to include at that moment. I would tell him later on after I had a chance to figure out what Joey and I needed to say and do.

"We better be carryin' dat door soon," Fernando said.

He handed me Joey's swimming costume, all bundled up into a tiny damp ball that easily fit within my fist. Important evidence was being removed from the scene of the crime. I could do nothing but follow my base instinct of self preservation, but at what cost. I glanced down. A boy had been murdered with what I held within my hand.

The waves of the incoming tide were little more than ripples, but they were enough to wash over the thickness of the door. It would not be long before the area beside the fishing boat was covered again in a few inches of water. We picked up the door, Fernando in front and me behind, and started up the beach. We stopped above the high-water mark, a wavering line of bits of coconut palm and crushed coral. I didn't put the body in the shade. It needed to heat up the same as it would have it was still lying beside the boat.

"I have to go take care of some business, Fernando," I explained. "I have a charter for the rest of the day. When the police arrive, tell them to call me on Channel 16. I'll tell them what I can about the crime scene."

The emphasis was enough. Joey's costume had never been there. Fernando nodded and gestured towards the road. "Take dat truck 'o mine back to de boat, boss, or yo be late."

Chapter 7

Compared to the two men, the boy was less affected by the motion of the sea. Like Joey, he enjoyed riding in the tuna tower even when it swayed. I had the opportunity to talk with him before he climbed up. He was recalcitrant at first, but gradually began to talk. Interestingly, when he sat back against the rail, his shirt fluttered open. He was nicely tanned, not quite as brown as Joey, but not that far from it. I glimpsed the glistening gold links of a necklace that looked very expensive. When he climbed the ladder to the observation crows-nest in the tuna tower, I turned around and looked up. It was quite a sight. Long lean legs, bronzed and muscular, and very sexy. His loose shorts revealed what seemed to be a tattoo on the inside of his right thigh, just a few inches below his groin. I only saw it for a second or two. Unless I was mistaken it was small and intricate, no larger than a quarter. It was also unsettling, not at all the sort of thing that a boy would do to himself. There were two overlapping circles, what might have been two opposing arrows, one large, one small. Although it didn't make much sense, it amused me to think of it as two male symbols united, united like Joey and me, like a boy and man when they joined as lovers.

All in all, the clients were happy to be back at the Farley Street Wharf, but only after I gave them a free tour around the bay and treated them to a lunch of beer and some of Fernando's chicken. They paid in cash with a $50 tip in U.S. dollars that were always welcome. The tip pretty much paid for the extra diesel and the bill at Fernando's and I still had the fish to sell. The previous day, the price for bonito was hitting $2.00 a kilo so I could count on an extra forty bucks or so. It meant there would be beer and margaritas for the weekend. I said goodbye and settled back to wait for Joey. School would finish in and hour. With a twenty-minute walk to the dock and ten minutes spent talking with his friends, meant that he would arrive sometime around four o'clock. I had never enjoyed routine until Joey re-entered my life.

Shortly after the New Yorkers had disappeared from sight, and I had deposited the fish at the market, a casually dressed black man walked down the dock. I had never seen him before, yet I recognized the manner. He was a detective, despite his colorful clothes. Most of the detectives went for white shirts. This one wore oxford-blue, no tie.

"I'm sorry," I began immediately as he came up to the stern.

He scowled, eyes narrowing as if I was the only logical suspect in Vincente's murder.

"Sorry?" he said loudly.

"About moving the body. I knew it was wrong of course, but there wasn't a choice with the tide coming in."

"And what about staying on your radio?"

His accent was distinctly British, yet his appearance said 'Caribbean'. It was only then that I realized that the VHF radio had been turned off all day. It was a safety breach, not serious enough to jeopardize my license, but one that still bugged me. Vincente's murder had unsettled me that much.

"Sorry again. I've been busy."

"Yes, I see."

At that moment I was lounging in my chair, my hand wrapped around an ice-cold beer. I stood up and placed the can of beer on the table.

"I'm Trevor Kingston."

He glared at me. "That's what I thought."

"Pardon?"

He didn't answer, at least not to explain what he intended. "Yes. You're exactly what I expected. I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope."

"Mostly," he said wryly.

"Hm… Can't be too bad, I expect. I haven't drowned any of my passengers. I've come close with a few of them, but at least not yet."

He didn't smile. "I'm Detective Brown," he said formally. "I have some questions for you, Mr. Kingston." Out came the notebook. The pencil was mechanical.

"I'm sure you do," I quipped, not really appreciating the emphasis on 'Mr.'. It was his way of emphasizing my lesser status. Some policemen were like that, almost pompous with their interviews. "Come aboard. Or am I to go down to the station for interrogation."

He shrugged, not picking up on my use of 'interrogation'. "Your choice, Sir."

He was using the subservient public officer routine. Fine by me. I shrugged. "Then, this will do nicely. I like the view from here."

I pulled against the mooring line to bring the boat closer to the dock. He climbed over the stern, a landlubber without sea legs, I decided immediately. He looked around the boat, dismissively arrogant, I thought. However, it was always untidy. To make matters worse, there was blood from yesterday's barely legal tuna that I had yet to clean off the cockpit deck. He rubbed his chin.

"If you need a sample, I can scrape some off. However, I can assure you that it's fish not human."

"Very funny Mr. Kingston."

He stepped back, still supercilious. I did not like his air. A lot of detectives were the same way, almost playing the role of crafty investigator like they were working on a movie set in Hollywood. It would not last very long. When the investigation stalled, he would become overbearing to compensate.

"You can start by telling me the time when you found the body."

"Me? No. Actually that honor goes to Fernando's nephew, Roddy. Poor kid. It must have frightened the crap out of him. He's eleven going on twelve," I added as if that information was of vital importance. It never fazed him in the slightest. It was just one more thing to put down in his notebook. "Fernando came to get me. I was there about an hour or so later. Maybe less. I have no idea when Roddy found it."

I described how Fernando had come to get me, about still being in bed, not about fucking the daylights out of Joey, then using a banana while Fernando waited for us to finish. He asked about the crime scene and I explained about the incoming tide, the position of the body relative to the fishing boat, about using the door to place the boy's body on it as close as possible to the way in which he had been lying. Nothing about the things I had observed and surmised. I left out those details that a policeman could have, or should have discovered for himself if he used his eyes and intellect. Nothing about Joey's costume. It all went down in detective shorthand.

"So…" He paused, still looking over the boat, at the untidy mess, taking in the discarded beer bottles, the tangle of line that was left from the tuna that got away. "You take charters out in this?" He sounded astounded. Obviously, he had not heard about what had happened during the hurricane the year before, or if he had, preferred to overlook it so he could feel superior.

"When I can get them," I answered dryly. "It isn't much to look at, but we do catch fish."

"What happened to it?"

I laughed. My moment of fame had long since gone. Still, it was an opportunity to brag on myself instead of Joey.

"Remember that hurricane last year?"

He nodded.

"There was a charter yacht that got whacked out in the Sound. It lost both masts and was taking on water pretty fast. I went out to pick up the survivors."

"That was you?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so. We almost made it. We were rolled coming past the breakwater. My boat went down just inside the harbor. We got her up the next week, but?"

I waved my hand around at the streaks of rust. Water had penetrated everywhere. Most of the electronics were destroyed. It took two months and all of the money I had left over from 20 years of service to make repairs. I still needed another $50,000 to finish the job. Now, I had the boat thoroughly insured.

"Pity. It would be a nice looking boat otherwise."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Real nice."

"About what time did you get here, Mr. Kingston?" Then, without a break. "Anyone see you when you got here?"

The last question was a dumb question however I thought about it. "Here?" I asked, glancing around the dock.

Conundrum wasn't the only vessel there. An island ferry, three fishing boats, a couple of tourist yachts. It was busy for a Friday. There were about thirty people at work, witnesses everywhere, but if one of them remembered when I arrived it would be unlikely.

The detective apparently knew enough to change course midstream. Amateur detective rule 25: keep the witness surprised, slightly uncomfortable. Let him think he was smarter than you. Most of them probably were. Detective Brown had probably taken a few courses on investigation, a few more on interrogation techniques. I regarded him, my impatience growing quickly. Still, he was smart enough. His kind always were. Too smart for my own good. Time to be careful. Then, he pointed with his finger, downwards to the deck, to where we were standing.

"Oh! You mean here, to pick up the charter?"

He nodded abruptly. He was putting the timing of events together, looking for an unexplained interval. Did he have any idea when the murder was committed? Probably did by now. Of course, the other explanation was that I was a suspect. The hand holding his pencil began to move again. He was writing down everything that I said. That was not unexpected, but it was disturbing in its own way. I had met detectives like that, people who did not trust their memories to retain the slightest detail however unimportant it first seemed. Remembering had never been a problem for me, except that my files were always incomplete. It annoyed the lawyers, especially from the defense, which was probably why I did it.

"Well, I spent about thirty minutes on the beach, maybe a bit less than that. So I was running about fifteen minutes late," I began slowly. "I was supposed to be here at 10.00 a.m. sharp. Actually, I didn't bother to tie up properly. Just one line to the dock." I stopped again, wondering what he would do if I started speaking quickly. "They came aboard. There were two men and boy."

He raised his pen, inclined his head. "They were going out on a charter?"

"Yes."

"Who were they?"

"Let me see. I think I can remember their names. There was Robert Gaynor." My mind clicked into gear. Likeable once he had calmed down from being kept waiting. He was tall, grey hair, distinguished looking. Not much of a fisherman. "An investment banker, at least that's what he told me. He works on Wall Street."

The other man was less affable, shorter too. A bit on the rotund side. He drank too much, even by my standards. Strange eyes.

"And the other man?"

"Hm. That was Peter Jacobs. He's a marketing guru," I added with a slight smile. I could hear his voice, loud, brash. He didn't call himself a marketing guru. Gaynor had said that. "I think he works for one of those big advertising agencies on Madison Avenue."

I paused. Then, there was the boy. Good looking, twelve, maybe thirteen. It was hard to tell when boys were entering the growth phase. Judging by his long limbs, he had probably started puberty, but he wasn't that far into it that he had filled out noticeably. Blond-headed, cut in a buzz, and blue-eyed. He was the kind of boy who made men like me look twice, and then if he smiled back, made it very difficult to look away. He had a tan that was nearly as dark at Joey's, at least from what I could see from his face, arms and legs. Despite his accent, he didn't look as if he had ever lived in New York.

The silence was disturbing. I glanced at the detective. His eyes had narrowed. He'd been trained to watch body language. Vaguely, I wondered what mine was saying. One thing was certain. If I hadn't been in love with Joey, I'd be fantasizing about that boy at night.

"The boy's name was Adam I think. I don't remember his last name." The strange thing, when I finally stopped to think about it, was that neither of the men seemed to claim him. He didn't look like either of them. For that matter, Joey didn't look much like me. He favored his mother.

Detective Brown nodded perfunctorily, his pen stopped. "Which one was his father?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Could have been either, I suppose. It never came up in discussion."

I didn't add that the boy struck me as being somewhat sulky. That was enough to counter his good looks for me. However, he had what I called 'the look', the same look that Joey and Rodrigo had, and Vincente too. The look that boys have when they make eye-contact and want to communicate interest in you. The curious thing was that both men looked at him the same way that I looked at Joey, the way that Fernando looked at his boy, the same way that Adams had looked at Vincente. Joey called it a hungry look and he was right.

"Where are they staying?"

I shrugged. "Not in Georgetown," I answered. He nodded slowly, expecting more. "They came and left in one of those inflatable boats that the resorts use," I explained. It had been moored next to the stairs. There were twin outboards on it, at least one hundred horsepower. Flat out it could probably get to forty miles an hour [65 km/h]. There was an islander at the helm too. I had never seen him before. "A big one. I didn't see the name on it." End of discussion. Finding that inflatable would be like finding a needle in the proverbial haystack. Inflatable boats were hanging of the stern of every yacht that passed through the Exumas. The hotels used them. Even some of the more successful fishermen had scraped up the money to buy them.

"Where did you take them?"

"I took them out a couple of miles past the reef. We did a run down the Sound to the south, almost to the channel marker. Mostly I stayed on the 250 meter mark. The water temperature was right so there was no point in going out further. I can give you the GPS coordinates of the route we used if you wish?"

"Not necessary for now. Go on."

"Okay. We had a good strike off the point, but it got away." That was Gaynor's doing. A good sized marlin too, from the look of it. "Then we did a few runs closer in. I stayed off the reef about a mile. On the western edge of the current. It usually works when there's a chop. We caught a nice tuna, about sixty kilos [130 pounds], and a few bonito." I didn't mention that the tuna got away with ten bucks worth of fishing lure, steel leader, and line. "They were happy, well they would have been happy except for getting seasick, so we came back about an hour or two early. I've been sitting here ever since."

"Since when?"

"I guess since two p.m."

Brown wrote that down as well. "I see."

"Am I under suspicion?" I asked gratuitously.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "You were a detective so you should know that everyone is until the crime is solved." He sounded like a college lecturer in Criminal Procedure 101. "Where were you between the hours of nine p.m. last night and when you found the body this morning?"

"I didn't find it. I was on my boat until Fernando came to get me." I didn't mention Roddy. That was up to Fernando.

"By yourself?"

"No. Actually I have a witness who can vouch for my whereabouts last night."

"Who?"

"Joey."

"Who's that?"

"My son."

"You're married?"

Brown sounded surprised. I tried to keep a low profile, but island people still talked. It was a small community and gossip was a way of life in the Exumas. At my age, if you weren't married, you were gay.

"Not any more. Actually, he's more like a business partner sometimes." I smiled slightly. 'Business partner' was hardly descriptive of our relationship, but it was better than saying he was my lover.

"Your son is your business partner?"

He was observant enough that his eyes settled on Joey's tee-shirt lying on the back of the seat. It was impossible for him not to realize that it belonged to a child.

"He's nearly twelve," I offered before he could ask.

"He's must be very mature if you consider him a business partner."

Why did I get the impression that the detective suspected there was more to it?

"He is. He helps out a lot. Actually, I haven't thought of him as my son for years. Not since…"

"Not since when?"

"Since we left Chicago," I answered ambiguously. I found myself wondering why he was writing that down as well. As if my son could have any possible bearing on the murder?

"Did you recognize the boy on the beach?" Brown asked patiently.

I was glad that he had changed the line of questioning. It was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable, but perhaps that had been his goal all along. Interrogation Techniques 101, I presumed. Keep them unbalanced.

"Meaning do I know his name or where he's from?" I queried, avoiding the obvious implication that I had seen him before. "Nope. I have no idea who he was."

It was clue enough for even a half-wit to pick up on. I had not over-estimated Detective Brown. Smart, but not smart enough. That was the trouble with public service appointments in the islands.

"I'll probably have some more questions for you after the autopsy, Mr. Kingston," Brown said pointedly. "Where can I reach you?"

"Hm, good question. I'm usually at St. Angelique. The best way to reach me is through Fernando, that is if you can't get me on the VHF. I usually keep Channel 16 open," I added apologetically. "Just call for Conundrum."

Detective Brown wrote that down and replaced his writing pad and pen. He scrambled over the stern with a landlubbers ineptitude. He stood on the dock, pulled out his pad again, reviewing his carefully made notes.

"I do have one more question, Mr. Kingston."

This was it. I steeled myself not to show surprise. He regarded me with eyes that seemed as if they were boring into my mind. I stared back, same treatment.

"Yes," I said, barely hiding impatience. I lifted my beer, ready to take a drink.

"You saw the shark bite I suppose?"

"Yes, I did."

"How big a shark would it take to do that, do you think?"

"Hm… a small one more than likely. Maybe three feet, a meter or so. A bigger shark would have really chewed him up."

Brown nodded thoughtfully. "Why just the one bite?"

I smiled. "He tasted like chicken. The shark was probably hoping for tuna."

Brown grimaced. He walked back up the dock. I had time to think. There was time to take care of a few things, but there was no time to waste. I waited until he was out of sight.

When I returned to the dock it wasn't long before Joey came running down, his back-pack dragging on a single strap. He didn't slow when he got to the boat. He cleared the stern in a single leap and stopped when he was in my arms.

"I've been horny all day, old man," he laughed breathlessly. "I got a hard-on in Science and it wouldn't go down no matter what I did."

"Poor boy," I laughed. "Couldn't you get Roddy to help you out?"

"No way. Anyway, he's in the other class for science. I needed your cock in me something awful, Dad. Let's go back to the lagoon fuck till dinner," he giggled.

I detected the sound of nervousness. He had heard about Vincente's murder while he was at school. I did not expect him to panic.

"What about your homework, sexy?" I asked calmly. "There's a rule, remember? No playing Friday until you've got it all done."

"Duh! I don't have any homework this weekend 'cause we have a holiday on Monday."

With the diesels gurgling, I cast off, spun the wheel and slowly backed up until the bow was clear. Joey heaved off the stern line and jumped back on board as I increased the throttles to a notch above idle. A minute later we were away from the docks and churning slowly out into the turquoise water of the channel. Joey dropped his shorts without any suggestion on my part. If he had his way he would always be naked. He was bare underneath. I pulled him close to me and used my free hand to play with his buttocks, sliding my finger up and down his crack. He was hot and horny and actually asked if we would make it back to St. Angelique Cay before we stopped for sex.

We didn't. Without his shorts it was simply a matter of time, time until we were out of sight of the Farley Street dock, and anyone in the town who happened to have a pair of binoculars trained upon us. I steered from the flying bridge where the wind could keep me cool because it was very hot. Sulty hot, like Joey. He lounged against the rail, watching me with half-closed dozy eyes, a hint of a smile. His tee-shirt hung just low enough to conceal his crotch, yet there was no hiding his erect cock. It pointed straight out towards me, pushing into the white fabric with its familiar banana curve. We didn't speak. We merely looked at each other, our eyes saying what words did not. I passed the port marker and slowly changed our heading to run north.

"Where are we going?" Joey asked.

"I thought we'd go for a run up the coast," I explained. "It's Friday. Maybe we'll sleep over… stay out for the weekend… whatever… I really haven't given it much thought."

"It's because of the body, isn't it?" Joey asked abruptly.

I nodded. I wondered what he knew. Rodrigo would have had the time to tell him a lot on the way to school. I shuddered. How much had he seen? At that moment, my plan was to keep Joey well away from the police. I needed time to help him get the story straight. Even one wrong word might shift the investigation to us, the last thing that I wanted to have occur.

"A policeman came to talk to Roddy at school," Joey said quietly.

"Yes, I know. He came to talk to me as well," I said.

"It was Vincente, wasn't it?"

He did not seem overly upset. Still, he had known the boy only for a matter of hours.

"Yes."

"How did he die?" Straightforward questions were part of Joey's modus operandi.

"He was strangled." I did not add with Joey's yellow swimming costume.

"We might have been the last people who saw him alive," Joey suggested. "Last night on the beach," he added as if I needed reminding.

I nodded again, thoughtfully. "Probably. But I think we'd better keep that between ourselves."

"Shouldn't we tell the police?"

"Tell them what? That I was fucking the crap out of you while Vincente and that Adams guy were standing about a dozen yards away?"

Joey smirked. "Um, well probably not that… But…"

I shrugged. I did not want Joey to think that we were doing anything but protecting ourselves. "We could say that we were just taking a walk along the beach… And we saw Vincente and Steve Adams beside the boat."

"But then the police would want to know exactly what we saw," Joey volunteered.

"Probably. And we didn't see that much," I reminded him.

Joey sauntered over from his perch against the railing. He straddled my legs and then sat down facing towards me. His arms lifted up, encouraging me to take his tee-shirt off. I obliged, and I was rewarded with his bare bronzed chest and shoulders, and a waist as skinny as a girl's. His nipples were dark and tiny, barely the size of dimes. Lazily I scratched my fingernail across one and watched it harden to a pinprick. Joey wriggled to get comfortable. My arms slipped around his back, steering with one hand while the other stroked up and down. Joey sighed, content in the steamy afternoon heat. Fortunately with the speed of the boat, there was enough wind to keep his sweat vanishing as soon as it appeared. He felt cool and dry to my perspiring hand.

"Fuck me," Joey said wantonly.

"You're always horny aren't you?"

"Yep. Don't you want to?" His tone changed to husky. That gravelly rasp that I loved so much.

"Of course, I want to. I just don't want to tire you out for tonight."

Joey grinned. "You won't old man I'll be going strong when they carry you off in a stretcher."

"I can fuck you into the ground anytime, lover boy," I teased.

"Then prove it."

We didn't use any lubrication other than what nature provided. Sweat, spit, and my liberal excretion of pre-cum, and whatever it was that came from inside Joey. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him very slippery. I held my cock and pointed it up and Joey, poised above it, gradually lowered himself down. I kept my hand there until there was no chance of my cock going anywhere but straight up. His heat embraced me, his body swallowed me, gulped me into his liquid seething intestines, held me there in his little fleshy oven. The sun beat down onto us, burning hot, hot enough to melt our bodies. We melted together. My cock sunk deeper, deeper and deeper until his entire weight seemed to be carried on my groin. I had to lean back into my seat so that he had room for his dick to stick out.

"Jesus that's so good," Joey purred.

"Tell me about it. I think I'll keep it in here forever."

"Okay by me."

We laughed. Both of us sat very still, absorbing the mutual heat and pressure that joined us. A minute passed, and more, my cock staying remarkably hard. We rounded the point, crossing into the channel current.

"Let her rip, Dad." Joey grinned from ear to ear.

Now came the fun part. I opened the throttles and let the boat surge into the waves. Against the current, the wind caused the waves to reach a height of nearly two feet [60 cm]. Not high at all for a vessel the size of Conundrum, but the waves were choppy and as we pounded through them, the boat was jerked from side to side and up and down. The movement came through my body into Joey and he rode me like a boy on a bucking bronco. Neither of us needed to do anything to fuck. We concentrated on the pleasure that soared between us. In and out, up and down, bouncing from wave to wave, crashing, crushing our bodies together. And all I had to do was hold him in place.

Joey came first. He always did. Shooting blanks from his little six-shooter, but carrying on like it was the real thing, like sperm was spurting out in bursting white-hot pulses instead of merely making his boy-dick twitch mercilessly. He groaned and slammed his body down hard, forcing my cock deeply into him. He held it there. Locked inside him, churning in his bowels, possessed, possessing him. I could feel his little muscle, ravaged by my oversized throbbing cock, yet still managing to clench and squeeze. We relaxed, resting, waiting for the urge to be restored. It seldom took longer than a minute, unless it was me who orgasmed first. In which case, it was over for an hour at least. While we stayed still, still joined, we kissed. He felt good, so good that I groaned and grasped his chest, pushed him down, lifted up to meet him, ensconced my shaft all the way within him.

"So good, Dad," Joey sighed. "I love it when he's right up inside me."

"Yeah, I know, Joey."

"If I die, I want it to happen exactly like this," he said.

"Same here."

"That boy who died… Did that man kill him?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps. It doesn't seem likely to me."

"Why not? Because of us? We're witnesses, aren't we Dad?"

"Yes."

It wasn't long before he looked up again. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't feel like doing it right now."

"That's okay."

I helped him off, felt my cock slithering out from deep within his rectum, sucking as the still swollen head plopped out. His opening was big, stretched big, so big that it seemed impossible that it would ever close up and be small again. He was usually like that, so dilated that contraction seemed unlikely, yet within an hour or so his soft flesh which had been so brutally expanded by my rigid unyielding cock, was back to normal, if somewhat sore.

He moved uneasily, still feeling the sensations lingering within him. Fullness, but a void, that was how he described it. Like it was still there, but it wasn't, and he wanted it back inside him so badly that he could barely stand it. He eased himself down onto the other seat and winced as his buttocks took his weight.

"Ouch?"

"Yeah. A bit. It'll feel better in a while." Joey turned and watched the island disappearing behind us. "Dad? If he's the killer, the Adams guy, and he knows we saw him… then?…"

"He doesn't know we saw him, Joey. At least what they did on the beach last night."

Of course, there was the small matter of Joey's costume, but the man had not seen him in it. It could belong to any one of the hundred island boys on that part of the cay.

"The only thing that ties us to them is we saw them at the dock. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that he didn't do it."

"How can you be so certain, Dad?"

"Human nature, Joey. In his own way, I expect he liked the kid. And logic too. Think about it. Remember what I said about a person needing a motive for murder. "

"Okay. You said that there has to something to gain. So what would he gain?"

"I see you've already eliminated love, hate, and revenge," I observed.

Joey smiled. "So have you, Dad. Mister Adams didn't love him like you love me, that's for sure, but he did like having him around. And for the same reason, it wasn't because of hate either."

"Revenge?" I prompted.

I found myself wondering what he would say. He had never expressed a single word of revenge for his mother's murder, strange indeed for a boy whose Hispanic genes required revenge for almost any unpleasant deed.

Joey shrugged. "He was fucking Vincente whenever he wanted. It wasn't like he was holding it back. Why would he want revenge?"

"That's true, but only as long as Adams paid up. Besides, I'm not sure that selling your body for sex, or not, has anything to do with revenge," I commented dryly.

"It might be revenge if he wasn't getting it in the boy's ass. Maybe he ran out of money," Joey said with a cautious laugh.

"Maybe. Perhaps it was nothing to do with their relationship. Maybe the boy just got in the way, Joey? He saw something, or someone he wasn't supposed to see."

Joey thought about that. "Last night I heard him say he said he was going to meet some people. That was why he sent Vincente back to the boat."

"That's correct. Maybe we'll make a detective out of you yet."

Joey smiled. He was always ready to follow in his father's footsteps. "So these other people he was going to meet were… hm… maybe… like drug dealers… or spies from Cuba… Or…"

"Or one was his brother in law," I laughed. "Speculation doesn't take the place of facts, kiddo. But you're right in putting the facts together creatively. Just make sure that there's logic to bind them into motive."

Joey stretched out and lifted his arms behind his head so that the skin over his ribs was tightly drawn. Every rib was a prominent curved line. His hairless armpits were brown. His nipples were tiny dark spots, oval-shaped given how he stretched his chest. His cock, all three little inches [7½ cm] of it was still hard. It was as brown as the rest of him. God, how I loved that sweet boy-cock.

"Now that's what I call very sexy. Very sexy indeed. Are you sure you don't want to finish what we've started?" I laughed.

"I'm not in the mood now," Joey playfully rebuked. "So who did it, Dad?"

"Good question, Joey. I think the visitor who Adams went off to meet probably had something to do with it. It's too much of a coincidence otherwise."

He thought some more about that. "I wonder who he met?"

"That's a very good question. I wish I knew the answer."

"So why are we going north instead of home?"

"You tell me, kid," I prompted.

"Hm… Because you want us out of the way? If not you, then me, at least for a while?"

I nodded and eased back on the throttles. "We're going to disappear for a few days."

"Are we in danger?"

He sounded nervous, yet he stood before me like a Greek god, shamelessly naked, tanned without break, a boy who lived for the moment, a boy for whom maturity was still a long way off. How could I ever live without him? There was no point in worrying him unduly, even though he had the situation pretty much figured out. I shrugged vaguely.

"If we are, Joey, I figure we're safer the further we are away from other people."

"How far away?"

"Hm… well I was thinking of going to that little island we were at a few months back. The one with the coral heads. Remember the reef where we caught the crabs?"

Joey nodded. "Cool." He grinned. "There's no water so I'll have to drink your beer."

"Maybe I got the tanks filled before we left."

"Did you?"

I shook my head. "Fraid not, butt-boy. I didn't want anyone to know what I was planning. So I didn't fill up. I didn't buy more food either. We're going to have to rough it for a while."

It was the same as saying that we would have to live on the fish we caught. Joey gave me a sour look that said more than any words could. At least I had managed to pick up some chicken after I sold the day's catch at the market.

"How long will be away, Dad? Really?"

"I don't know, Joey. At least a few days. A week. Maybe two. As long as it takes."

I did not add as long as it took for someone to find out where we were. It was just a matter of time until a search was undertaken. I needed to get a message to Fernando so he would know where to look for us.

"Just you and me and no school for two whole weeks?" Joey shrieked gleefully. "Awesome!"

I laughed and high-fived him. "I guess we should be grateful that I thought to pick up another gallon of butt oil for you before I left the dock."

He grinned shamelessly, but did not acknowledge the implication beyond that. If we were gone for two weeks both of us would worn out before a gallon oil was used up. Even if it was messy, coconut oil made it a lot easier going in. More importantly, it felt a vastly better than spit.

"What about beer, Dad? You won't last a day without it."

I winked. "I picked up a few dozen cases the other day from Fernando. They're stashed down in the bilge to keep them cool. There ought to be enough to last for a couple of weeks."

"So what do I drink?"

"You'd better hope there's still some coconuts around."

"Yeah, right!" He wrinkled his nose. Coconut milk tasted like piss.

"Then I guess you'll have to chose between cum and rainwater?" I suggested with a smirk. "That is if it rains."

We were about ten miles [15 km] away, off Rolleville and headed north up the Exuma chain when I heard the call for the 'Shaycargo dude' on the VHS. I did not answer. There was no time. Fernando's message was brief and the static was getting worse every second. There were warrants issued for the arrest of Joey and me. Joey's warrant said 'material witness', which meant someone in Georgetown had seen him with the dead boy. In my case, it was 'suspicion of murder'. Perhaps one my fingerprints had turned up on the fishing boat? I'd wiped it off very carefully. Somehow Detective Brown had made the association extend from Joey to me. Maybe he was out of his mind? The problem was obvious when we talked. He was a political appointment by a government that resented the influx of Americans like me. Worse, he wasn't all that bright.

Chapter 8

"Go up and spot the heads, Joey," I instructed, backing off on both throttles and bringing the bow around to line up with the cluster of palm trees.

There were some large heads of coral just waiting to tear the bottom out of the boat as we came through the channel. Joey nodded and scampered off. It was a pleasure to watch his agile body as he climbed around the cabin to the foredeck. He got to the pulpit and climbed up onto the rails, bracing himself as the boat nosed into the aquamarine shoals. I cut both engines back to idle, occasionally slipping out of gear to slow the vessel to a crawl. We went forward very slowly. Joey used his hands and arms to give direction. He concentrated totally, eyes gazing into the water as he tried to decipher the patterns. Dark meant danger, mostly. However, sometimes it indicated something on the bottom and not coral. The problem was it was difficult to tell what was what until you were right on top of it and then it was a matter of wild gesticulations to correct the course one way or the other, or in a few instances to go full-astern. That his nakedness distracted me so much that my concentration wavered back and forth, made the danger even worse.

"Go closer to the beach, Dad," Joey yelled over his shoulder. "It looks deeper there."

.I turned the wheel slowly, watching carefully while the bow turned. 10 degrees, 20 degrees, bringing the sand ever closer. Joey signaled to go closer still. Another minute and we crawled over a patch of coral, leaving some jagged cauliflower heads just beneath the keel.

"Slow! Slow! Oh shit. There's another one. Go right, Dad. I mean starboard! Hard!" he screamed over his shoulder, his arms waving frantically.

The bow missed the coral head by twenty feet [6 m]. The stern swung much closer, so close that I could have leaned out and touched the nearest clump had I been interested in seeing my arm ripped off. I pulled both engines into neutral and allowed the engines to idle and coasted, allowing the speed to dwindle until we barely had enough movement for steering. Again and again I found myself looking forward. His bottom resembled two small melons that had been pressed together, as if hiding something precious in the cleft between them. He waved again, indicating a course closer to beach, without the gesticulations of before. I smiled back. Surely he wondered what was up, or perhaps he could see for himself, for I had become aroused by the sight of him. It was standing out further than one of the throttle levers.

The next few minutes passed very slowly, but finally I turned the boat around and eased stern-first into the narrow gap that I had selected for our hiding place. Conundrum was effectively screened by low scrub and a dense thicket of palm trees. The tops of the outriggers and the tuna tower were just low enough that they were out of sight. From the ocean we were almost invisible, and even from above, a plane would have to be directly overhead before we were spotted. Joey trotted back from the bow.

"So much for dinner at Fernie's tonight, like you promised huh?" he smirked up at me.

I smiled back at him and clambered down from the bridge. The chicken in the galley would be a surprise. Together we went to the stern and peered over. The water was clear enough to see dozens of small colorful fish returning to where they had been before the boat scared them off. I handed Joey a stern line. He grimaced and handed it back to me.

"Why me?"

"Maybe because you're the only one who's naked," I suggested lightly. "Tie it off to a palm tree or something will you, babe."

He climbed onto the side and paused, poised sleek and brown, ready to dive. Joey diving was one of my favorite sights. He slid into the water like an arrow, making only the slightest splash. He emerged and a few strokes took him to the steeply sloping bank. He clambered up and pretended to shake himself like a dog. I coiled the line and heaved, landing the end next to his feet. He looped it around a palm tree, made a hitch for additional purchase, and put his weight against it. Even with a mechanical advantage of two, seventy plus pounds [31 kg] of boy was unlikely to be able to move twenty-five thousand pounds [11,000 kg] of boat, but Joey strained and grunted until Conundrum's stern was so close to the embankment that it was possible for me to step onto dry land if I wanted to. Satisfied, he looped the rope around the trunk a few times and tied it off.

"You doin' the bow line too, pussy-boy?" I teased.

Joey shook his head tiredly, turned around and bent over. His hands moved to his buttocks and he mooned me as he spread his cheeks far enough apart to reveal his reddened anus. It looked as if it had been used once too often. Laughing, I tossed the bowline to shore and jumped off to join him on the beach. I gave him a friendly slap on the bottom, taking care to avoid the tender area. He followed me like a puppy until I reached a suitable palm tree. I secured the line. With the small change in tide level, it was remotely possible that the boat might be grounded without an additional line to hold it in the deepest part of the inlet, but it was not a risk I was prepared to take. An inner sense warned me to be ready to leave at short notice.

"Can we go explore?" Joey asked.

"I don't think there's all that much to explore," I answered, not adding that we had already explored the island at length previously and all we had found was the remains of a small cabin. "If you feel like getting that cute little butt of yours up there, you can see all there is to see," I added, pointing to a palm tree.

"You reckon I can see the whole island from up there?"

"Maybe. I think I'll stay down here with a cold beer."

Joey grimaced his reply and added a grunt just in case I had missed the point that he was making. It left me no choice. Boys have an innate need to explore, so I accompanied Joey on yet another circumambulation of the island. Not a lot had changed. There was some driftwood on the far end of the beach that would be useful if we wanted to make a fire. Some of the coconuts we found on the beach had been broken open with a machete, implying that our island had been visited by others.

We continued down the beach, skirting around a group of palms that had been uprooted in a recent storm. It was on the other side of the palms that we saw the marks in the sand. I counted four grooves where two boats had been left on the beach when the tide was high. They were not deep marks, not like the grooves that would come from fiberglass dinghies, but wide and shallow. It was the sort of mark that the pontoons of an inflatable boat would leave when it was driven onto the beach in order to stop it. I don't know why we edged away from the beach, following the footprints in the sand. Curiosity perhaps, or some innate sense that made us go that way.

"That's interesting," I said, pointing down at a patch of sand that was undisturbed by the wind. "It's about the same size as your foot."

Joey brought his bare foot close, lining it up with the footprint in the sand. There was almost no difference in the length. He nodded at another set of prints.

"Those are bigger than my feet."

"Yes, but not by much."

"So a boy was here then. No. I mean two boys?"

"At least two kids," I observed. "What about those?" I pointed to where there were more footprints on the other side of a tree.

Joey walked over to the footprints. Again he aligned his foot. "It's a different boy, Dad."

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"Duh. He's walking in the same direction and he's over here. Besides, he's got smaller feet I think, but only by a little bit. Just call me Sherlock Holmes."

I laughed. "That you are, Joey. Now how can you be sure that they're they boys or girls?"

"Is there a difference between boys' and girls' feet?" he asked seriously.

"None that you'd notice from a footprint, so don't assume these belong to boys," I reprimanded with a laugh.

We discovered the remains of a fire a dozen yards from the water, the sand disturbed considerably. There were beer cans everywhere, at least a couple of dozen without actually counting them, also a number of condoms that had been used recently enough that their contents was still a murky white. Joey grinned, apparently no stranger to thin rubber membranes although as far as I was aware, his own experience was limited to balloons.

"There sure is a lot of them," Joey smirked.

I had stopped counting after eight. There were between twelve and fourteen condoms on the ground. Most were of the unusual variety that weren't carried at the pharmacy on Pier Street. They were ribbed and textured, black or red latex. Only a few were of the traditional cream-color. They had all been used, having that typically stretched, unrolled appearance.

"It looks like there was an orgy," I acknowledged with a smile. I bend down to pick up an unused condom, a black one still in its cellophane packet.

"What's that?"

"Huh? This?" I asked, holding up the packet.

"Duh! I think I know what a rubber looks like!" Joey smirked. He waited.

"Oh! You mean orgy? An orgy is when people get together to have sex. They usually exchange partners," I added sardonically because in truth, I could not see the point of having sex with someone I did not love. I tossed the packet into the air and caught it. I had never used a condom with Joey simply because I never did anything with anyone else to need one. Until then, I had never imagined he would have sex with someone besides me. Maybe I was deluding myself. He knew about AIDS and he was old enough to start taking precautions.

"Duh again! I think I ought to know what an orgy is by now, Dad,' Joey said with a show of exasperation. "I meant that," he said, pointing to the ground.

I knelt down, running my fingers through the sand. Only the smallest edge of silver metal could be discerned. It was shining in the sun, a brilliant diamond among the glistening sand crystals. I unearthed an ankle bracelet, with links that were somewhat thicker than a woman's wrist bracelet might be. It was broken at the clasp, but still holding an unusual looking charm. It was circular in shape, actually two circles together, one within the other, each with a round-headed arrow that was interlocked with the arrow of the other circle. I held it out to Joey as I reflected on the immediate possibilities. The last time I had seen that symbol was on a necklace that Fernando said the fishermen had found not far from a dead boy named Vincente. But other than that? I might have seen it again that day as well, but I couldn't be certain.

"Damn!" I muttered.

"What's up?"

"Nothing! I'm trying to think where I've seen this before," I said absentmindedly. "At least, I think… no… no… I'm sure. I only saw it for a second or two when we were talking."

"Huh?"

"My passengers today," I explained. "There were two men and a boy. I'm certain the boy was wearing something around his neck. It might have like this. He was wearing a necklace, that's for sure. I think there was one of these on it as well," I said, touching the ornament.

I didn't mention the tattoo I had observed on the inside of the boy's thigh for the simple reason I didn't want Joey to think I was looking at other boys.

Coincidence? The probability of random events did not extend to that degree.

"Weird, huh Dad?" Joey said in a muted voice intended not to disturb my train of thought. He wasn't paying much attention to what I was saying.

I nodded. All of it was weird, the footprints in the sand, the indications where people had coupled, the discarded contraceptives, even the charcoal remains of a fairly large fire. The number of nights during the last few weeks that it had been cold enough to need a fire for warmth on the beach was a big fat zero. Indeed, even for someone who had a heat fetish like I did, it would have been just plain uncomfortable.

"There were boys here," Joey remarked. His toes pushed yet another latex sheath to the side. "That just proves it."

Again, I nodded. "It seems there's a brain at work inside you after all, kid. Maybe it's just math that you have a problem with. So how did you come up with that conclusion? The necklace?"

Joey didn't answer. "Lots of people wear necklaces in the Caribbean. I have at least a dozen that you've bought me."

"That's true. Hell, this could have been here for years."

He scowled good-humoredly, scanning the ground for more signs. He was a detective in the making. His expression was determined., yet he was still unconvinced that he was right. Instead of explaining his conclusion, he wavered.

"I still think some of them were boys and the rest were men."

"Based on?" I prodded.

"Well, about half of the footprints are smaller for one thing. There was one boy who has very small feet. At least his feet are about the same size as mine." He glanced at me for reassurance.

I smiled back. "They could still be girls, or even women with small feet," I suggested lightly.

He rolled his eyes, practicing to be a teenager again. "Yeah, right. Since when do you need KY for girls, Dad?"

He pointed at one, then another of the crumpled up blue and white tubes. I had missed it, but he had seen them lying half-buried in the sand. It was time I laughed. It was almost a relief. Too many coincidences had that effect on me.

"You're turning into a very observant kid. It must be in the genes, or in the shorts in your case. When you wear them that is."

He smiled at that. "You don't need KY to fuck a girl, do you?" he asked, no longer quite as confident as he had been.

"Nope. At least not in my experience."

"What if you used a rubber?"

"It would help, I guess."

"You need lots of it for a boy," Joey observed.

Even if we didn't use KY, he was still the expert on the receiving end. He knew exactly what it took for a satisfying fuck.

"That's true. And if you're worried about the rubbers breaking, you don't use oil or Vaseline," I added. "Hence the KY."

"Two tubes for maybe five or six boys," he mused. "Palm oil would have been a lot cheaper."

"Probably more fun, too," I joked. "It's even more fun without a rubber."

He grinned. "You just like greasy butts, Dad."

"Yeah, that I do, kid. There's nothing quite like a tight greasy boy-pussy."

"What's it like with KY? Is it better?"

I wasn't surprised by the question, but I was surprised that he had forgotten we had started out using KY as the lubricant. That was two years ago, in the distant past when we lived in Chicago. However, his mind was working overtime, figuring that if they used two tubes of KY when it was so expensive, relatively speaking, then it had to be good. I shrugged absently. My answer surprised even me.

"There's probably some left in the tube. You want to find out what it's like first hand?" I said suggestively.

Joey glanced up from inspecting the ground, met my eyes, then hesitantly looked around the area. Absently, he groped his crotch, curling his fingers around the small spongy hemisphere of his balls. It was no secret when he was interested in the possibility of having sex. As always, his cock came erect quickly when he started in that direction. Dangling limp one moment and hard as iron the next. It was reassuring to me

"I'll take that as a yes," I teased.

He smirked, now stroking up and down on his dick with two fingers and a thumb. "You think some kids really got fucked here, Dad." He glanced around, mentally adding up the signs, lots of footprints and knee-prints, signs where bodies had been in the sand. "It looks like there were a lot of boys. Maybe six right?"

His voice quivered with excitement, almost as if he was about to participate in his very first orgy. I watched as he breathed deeply, filling his lungs. He changed his mind as quickly as he became excited. There were other things on his mind besides what it would be like to have sex with other men and boys.

"Dad?…"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think it's weird?"

"What?"

"This," he answered, gesturing around him. "I mean, well…We've been living here forever, right, and the only people we know who are like us are Fernando and Roddy. Some of the guys I know from school have sex together, but they don't do it with men, at least not as far as I know. Then, all of a sudden you meet that guy at the dock, and I meet Vincente, and they're doing it too." He glanced at me for support and I nodded in agreement. It was weird. Put together with the unusual symbol something inside me was saying it was very unlikely that we were observing a series of random events.

"Then we find this place, and you can see where there were guys doing it. Even there," he added, pointing at the trunk of a fallen palm tree."

There were signs in the sand, the impression of small bony knees and feet pushing down almost in an attempt to get away from the weight behind him. The boy with the small feet had been kneeling first, then leaning over the trunk. At some point he had lying over the rough scaly bark, his legs splayed wide, kicking at the sand. It must have been uncomfortable for him, maybe worse than uncomfortable. I wondered if Joey noticed that there was not just one set but several sets of man-sized footprints going to the palm tree where the boy had been sodomized. The men, and at least one boy had moved around, getting better vantage points, waiting their turns. Feeling sickened, but driven by the relentless need to know more that haunts every good detective, I walked closer and squatted down in front of the trunk. From a distance it had appeared to be brown spots on the thick scales, but up close the spots of blood were unmistakable.

"It's blood isn't it?" I heard from behind me. I didn't answer. "Poor kid. They must have hurt him pretty bad."

"Probably," I admitted without turning around. I ran my fingers through the sand several times before I found what I was looking for. The condom was streaked with dark brown, the color of dried blood. I regarded it with revulsion. There was another one not far away. I pushed sand back over it. Two men, probably more.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Joey."

"Do you think he did it with them, with all the men I mean?"

"Maybe."

"It can't be any fun if you don't love each other."

I wanted to hug him. "It might be because of he was getting paid to do it, or he didn't have any choice."

"Why does someone do that to a boy?" Joey asked. He pointed at the tree trunk.

"I don't know." I was not prepared to venture an opinion.

"But why hurt him so much that he bleeds?"

I sighed and stood up again. "Guilt. Maybe anger at themselves. Or they lose control and can't stop themselves," I replied. Those were the classic Freudian explanations of violence to a child.

Joey nodded thoughtfully. "I used to bleed a bit when I first started doing it. Remember?"

I lifted my eyes from the ground to meet his gaze. "Yes, I remember. You were a very brave boy. Most kids would have been scared to death when they saw the blood."

"I wanted to do it," Joey said bluntly. "You told me it was going to hurt for a while until I got used to it. Dad, do you think this was his first time or something?"

"You mean was he a virgin?" I asked. Joey nodded. "It's impossible to tell. He might have been. He was fairly young, I think."

"Why would all those men…" His voice trailed off, the question dying before it was out, looking back at the tree trunk. "I'm glad I only do it with you."

"Me too," I admitted.

He glanced back again, this time looking up at me. He was so fucking gorgeous that he often stopped me in my tracks. I stared all the time, usually too long. At first he was embarrassed, but no any more. He laughed at me and called me a dirty old man, and I was. I was in love, infatuated, obsessed by the beautiful half-Hispanic boy who I had sired. He smiled slightly, giving me the 'look'. Buck-naked with the beach and lagoon behind him, bright blue sky and wisps of clouds overhead, he was gorgeous. Seeing him there in that secluded place, where other boys had sex with men not so long ago, was enough to take my breath away.

It wasn't just that he was stark shamelessly naked. I was used to that, or I should have been by then. Indeed, it was when he wasn't naked, when he was cleaned up and properly dressed in something other than an unwashed tee-short and swim shorts, that there weren't any words I could think of to describe him. It was like trying to describe a sunset over the lagoon. Movie-star material came close, but it was trite. I wasn't about to resort to cute, or sexy or pretty, not even beautiful. To my eyes, biased as they were, he was beautiful, dressed or naked, but lots of boys were beautiful. A few of the boys who had laid in the sand where I was standing were probably in the beautiful category. However, Joey was special. Not the one-in-a-thousand kind of special, but the once-in-a-lifetime special. My own son fulfilled every fantasy I'd ever enjoyed, and I was a professional fantasizer when it came to boys. Just looking at his face made for an instant boner! Thank god he didn't smile all the time. I saw him naked every day and it didn't change anything. My erection wouldn't go away until I had fucked both him and me senseless.

We tumbled onto the sand, clutching at each other urgently like two lovers who hadn't seen one another for years. We wrestled for a few minutes, twisting and turning and getting my clothes off until I was bare as well, then continuing to enjoy our hot sweaty flesh as we pressed front to front and ground our rigid cocks together. Sand got into our hair, stuck to our bodies, pricked our private places as we writhed and struggled for no other reason than it felt good to be so close. And as we began to tire, the kissing started. Brushing away the sand, smoothing back his hair, stroking his delicate cheek, touching my tongue to his lips. His tongue dueled with mine, licking, stabbing, swirling around until our faces were all but covered with saliva. The end of my cock had started to become wet almost as soon as we began fighting.

Impatiently, I tossed him onto his back, legs up in the air, then pushing them back until his knees were against his chest. He locked his legs in place by crooking his arms around his legs. His anus winked at me, pulling inward so I could barely see the ripples around the rim, then opening and closing like one of the amoebae-like things that grew along the reef. It had to be the sexiest ass-hole in all of creation, especially with the oily sheen and that reddish hue to show how recently it had been used.

"What do you want?" I asked in a teasing voice.

"Geez, old man, if you don't know by now," Joey said in that familiar husky boy-whore voice that I loved so much. "I want to use some of that left-over KY to do it. How about it?"

"You've used it before, you know."

From the pained expression he returned, he didn't need reminding about the weeks we had spent in Chicago waiting for my early retirement to be approved. My apartment was on month-to-month because I hadn't gotten around to renewing the lease, which worked to my favor because we left the day after I received the letter from personnel. But those two weeks, nearly three weeks were heaven sent. I had loose ends to clean up, cases to be summarized and filed away, briefings for detectives who would pick up the cases where I left off, but other than that, I was on leave. I had nearly twenty weeks of holidays saved up, four weeks for every year that I had been without Joey. I used it to renew my relationship with Joey. It was time well spent. I kept in contact, hoping for a break in the only case I was interested in. None of it made much sense. There was no motive for my ex-wife's murder, except the possibility of a spurned lover.

"So? I forgot what it's like. Let's fuck, okay?"

His voice, especially for that single vulgar word, was guttural. Strange for a boy, rasping with a throaty sound that left me thrilled. My heart jumped up and down like my cock, causing Joey to giggle.

"Do you want to try using the rubber as well?" I teased, wondering whether it would feel different when my cock was inside him.

"Sure."

"Then you can put it on. It's about time you learned about safe sex anyway."

"He's got the right idea," Joey observed, flipping my steel-hard dick with his fingers.

"Yeah, well it's because he knows what he likes," I agreed wholeheartedly. "He's a big fan of boy-pussy. Especially yours. Do you know how to put it on?"

Joey shook his head. He watched with interest while I nipped the cellophane covering with my teeth and extracted the rolled-up ring of rubber. I handed it to him and he grinned and poked at the nippled end with his finger tip. It took a moment for him to place the end of my glans the right way so that it would unroll as his hand pushed down.

"That's right," I guided. "Now, use your fingers."

"Like this?" Joey asked as he worked the rubber ring over the head.

"Now, roll it down the shaft."

Joey smirked, gleefully unfurling the rubber and encasing my cock in a sausage skin of thin black latex. It was tight yet comfortable, the stretched membrane shining in the sun.

"It's kind of like a balloon, isn't it?" he giggled. "Only you blow jizz into it instead of air."

"Yeah." His hand felt nice.

"It looks like a wetsuit. I suppose it is in a way, only it keeps the wetness in this," he said, flicking his tip at the bulb on the end.

I laughed. "Without my little enema at least you won't be running to the can in an hour or two."

"Ha! It makes your dick look just like Fernando's," Joey said and grinned at me.

"Sounds like you're starting to like big black ones now," I taunted.

"Nope, but Roddy sure does." He laughed. "Fernando fucks him almost as often as you do me."

I kissed him on the forehead, then slid down the side of his face, leaving little wet kisses wherever I went. He smiled, as happy as a boy could be by the time I reached his neck. I contemplated leaving a hickey, because no one except me would see him for at least the next few days. He half-closed his eyes, dreamily reflecting on what it felt to be ravished by a man. I was thinking about what came next. I hadn't used a rubber in years. There had been no need to with Joey.

There was a tube of KY lying somewhere in the sand behind me and I had to roll away onto my side to feel around for it. Joey helped by climbing on top of me, straddling my legs and rubbing my sheathed cock between both of his hands. He grinned devilishly, fascinated as my cock became even bigger and harder, straining under the thin ebony membrane. He was right. It did look like Fernando's cock. Finally, my fingers touched the half-used plastic tube I was looking for. I flipped the cap off and squeezed. The tube crumpled under my fist, but nothing came out until the very end. It was more like water than lube and what there was, wasn't enough to lubricate a gnat's ass, let alone a boy.

"It looks like the heat has pretty much killed it," I observed.

It was hard not to feel despondent because the idea of using a condom and KY was right up there with having sex with other people watching. Of course, that had happened only a few times with Fernando and Roddy, but it was almost the same doing it where there had been an orgy not all that long ago. And it was as exciting to me as it was to Joey going by the sound of his voice and the look on his face. Having sex with him in the broiling heat with sunshine on my back was the final straw. My heart pounded frantically. I needed to bury my cock inside Joey's cute little ass as quickly as possible.

"Try the other one, Dad," Joey said straight away. His voice was croaky with excitement, barely able to speak. "Here, I can reach it."

He leaned to the side, using one hand to hold himself up with he reached with the other. He was remarkably agile, but I knew that already. He sat up again and handed me the second tube. It was noticeably cooler simply because it had been lying in the shade. He watched while I removed the cap and began to squeeze. A long silvery bead crept out onto my fingers.

"That's better," I said with relief. How do you want it this time? On your back or on your front, fuck-boy?"

"Whatever. The only thing is I want to watch you do it, old man, especially with your wet-suit on," he sniggered. "Just do it now. I don't want him going soft on me.

"Going soft of you?"

"Yeah, well that's happened before, hasn't it? Especially when you think I'm asleep."

I pretended innocence and Joey guffawed. "Don't pretend you don't do it, Dad. I know you mess around with me at night."

"You want me to stop doing it?"

"I didn't say that. Are you going to stick it in he's really hard, or what."

"Yes," I said, still surprised that Joey had been awake at least one time.

"Well? Are you going to do it or lie around talking all day?" He was insistent, his eyes open again and flickering with the thrill of what we were about to do. "I know, Dad," he said quietly. "Do it the way we used to do it?. AT first… When we were still living in Chicago?."

"Okay."

I eased him off me and onto the ground. Joey lay on his back, not quite at right angles to me but not far from it. He lifted his lower leg up to his chest and bent the other leg at the knee to place his foot on my upper leg. I wriggled closer, placing my fingers with the bead of KY right behind his ball-sac. I rubbed into his crack, distributing the gel. It was hot and slippery from lying in the sun, but I knew that within a few minutes it would start to dry out. Then, it wasn't going to be nearly as slick as coconut oil, which only got better in the heat and sweat in my opinion. I rubbed as much as possible around his anus, and even managed to push some in side. Two fingers went in easily. Not too deeply, just enough to get him used to feeling something there. Then, using my fingers like scissors to stretch his opening even wider, I started to get him ready.

"How does that feel butt-boy?"

"Big." Joey giggled. "It's okay. It's different to doing it with oil. It sure is slippery enough."

"You're telling me." "You can put George in whenever you want, old man."

"I thought I'd keep you waiting for a while longer."

Joey shook his head, then stopped when he felt my cock-head bulging against his anus. He took a quick deep breath and waited, nodding eagerly.

"In we go. All the way, okay," I teased.

All it took to get beyond his sphincter was a single continuous push, not even a real thrust like he needed in the mornings .It slid in several inches, but there was a lot more outside than inside. Joey groaned, nodding urgently, still eager for more. His fingers edged between us, examining the extent of penetration. I felt his fingertips against the latex membrane, stroking up and down as if encouraging me to put more inside.

"How's it feel?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He shook his head. "Fuck that feels so good. More. More."

"You just like being deep-dicked by your old man."

"Uh huh. Keep pushing it in, okay."

"I am. I am. Do you know the meaning of the word patient?"

"Yeah. It means hurry up and start fucking me. Put him all the way in me and let's get started."

We both laughed, almost like two crazy people. By then, our bodies were covered with sweat and sand. When we regained control I pushed steadily, holding Joey with one hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other hand keeping his uplifted leg in place.

"Oh man," Joey groaned as the thickest part of my cock eased inside his rectum. "Yeah, like that, Dad. All the way in now, okay? Yeah, mmmm… further if you can."

"You got it all, kid."

"No fucking way. I want more, old man."

I didn't encourage him to swear, but I swore so often when he was around that it would be hypocritical to stop him from doing it. I grinned at him, almost disbelieving that he could possibly enjoy what I was doing, let alone want even more inside him. It was tight as it was. I could feel that cramped sensation on the end of my cock that meant it couldn't go any further into him, even if I had more to give. We lay perfectly still for a while, listening to the rustling of the palm fronds above us, the lapping of the water on the sand. His face was contorted, but not in pain. That had long since gone. The intense pressure that I caused inside him was ecstasy, nothing less. He winced erratically, usually preceding or immediately after a spasm in his bowels. It was impossible to tell which. Each time he breathed out and tried to relax the way we'd practiced ever day and night for two years.

"Okay," he murmured. "I think it's loose enough, Dad."

"Sure?"

"Duh."

He used his sphincter to pull against my cock, initiating the motion by himself. I let him get in one or two strokes before I took over, slowly easing away before squeezing up against him. He sighed deeply, nodding slightly to show that he was ready for more. From the outset, I made every thrust count, pumping slowly and very intentionally. There was a trick to having sex with a boy. Joey liked it when my cock was in deep, shoving hard against his pleasure spot. So did I. Perhaps it was too deep because he winced when every push brought my pubis into the gap between his cheeks. On the out-stroke, I stopped only when the rim of his anus was about to pull past my cock head. If felt good there, like having his lips clamped into the depression around the head.

There was a noisy parrot in the nearby coconut trees that kept up a running commentary on my performance. Encouraging if critical shrieks came in bursts, simultaneous with my thrusts, mocking Joey's matching groans and shudders. I had an audience of one lousy bird yet I felt I was needed to show what I could do.

After a while, his inner muscles dilated completely and the spasms died away so that there was nothing to impede my thrusting. He half-closed his eyes, resting his head on my forearm, gasping with every inward push, sighing when I pulled back out. His weakened anus glided up and down my cock, excreting wetness that was probably as much from him as what remained of my morning orgasm. It gathered at my groin, clumping the pubic hair into a sodden greasy tangle. When my black-skinned cock was withdrawn I could see the veins swelling beneath the darkness, even the flared head starting to appear inside the membrane. If I wasn't careful it would pull right out of him. His anus had all but disappeared, just a brownish patch around my shaft where it disappeared into him.

Joey watched, glancing from my face to between his legs. Not that he could see much, because he couldn't see more than my lower belly without a mirror. Yet, he smiled distantly, concentrating on the sensations deep inside him.

"You going to cum soon?" I asked.

"I will if you speed it up." It came out with a grunt.

"I thought you liked it slow and deep."

"I do." He groaned. "It feels nice when it's so loose and slippery."

"You're telling me. We ought to do this more often."

He giggled. "I'll skip school. You can teach me everything I need to know from now on."

"Like math, or how to get your butt fucked properly?"

"Yeah, that." He grinned weakly. "Try doing it right on my ass-hole for a while."

"Why? Don't you want to cum?"

"I want to make it last."

I backed away in the sand, pulling my cock away. The latex sheath was glistening wet. It reminded of the last time I had watched Fernando fuck Rodrigo. Fernando's cock was straight and it slid into his nephew as if was meant to be there. It was big and thick, almost too big to go inside a boy's body, but it did. Nature had allowed for that.

When a boy was as narrow in the hips as Joey, it seemed almost absurd that a man's cock could go inside him, yet it did and remarkably easy at that. It was nearly the same size as his forearm. It was almost like I was fisting him with my dick. I rearranged his legs so that one leg was over my chest and the other was behind my butt. It had the effect of levering his buttocks higher, away from the sand, because the last thing I wanted was to get sand inside him. I reinserted the head easily into his gaping hole and pressed into him. There was so little tension that it slid into him, entering his rectum in a single push. Then, out again, sucking when it pulled free again. A few more of the quick thrusting movements that made his anus push in and out and Joey sighed deeply.

"What's it like?"

"Nice. Real nice."

"You like it huh?"

"Uh huh! It sure is loose down there."

"Yeah."

I pumped rapidly in and out of Joey's quivering ass-hole, slapping my cock back against his slimy hole every time it managed to get away. Finally, I used my hand to keep it in place, sliding back and forth about an inch so that the head popped in and out quickly. Within a minute Joey's ass was yawning open and coated with wetness. It was glistening and slippery and flecked with mucus. I don't think I'd ever seen his hole that big. I took my cock away and looked. I could see inside him, into a crimson canal, a tunnel of love.

"Oh shit! Don't stop," Joey gasped. "It feels so fucking good."

I slammed my cock back inside him. Fast, hard, all the way into him, then out again. It sucked loudly, squelching like a foot in mud. It felt so good.

"I wasn't planning on it. You ready to finish this off?" I said as I began to pick up the pace.

He didn't answer. He was too far gone by then. It didn't matter. It wasn't going to take me very long. Maybe half a dozen thrusts later I felt the tightening in my balls. I groaned, going wild. He liked to watch my face when that happened, but his eyes were tightly closed. His teeth were gritted, but not in pain. He was close, so close that his muscles were straining in that final peak of ecstasy. He gasped, inhaling but not breathing out. And then the shudders started. I quaked. My cock jerked relentlessly, spilling its fluid into the end of the rubber. Six or seven pulses from deep inside, spaced out like every one counted for it all. Joey's anal orgasm lasted even longer. I slumped against his trembling body, shaking with that mix of passion and exertion that existed only with a memorable fuck. I was so drained it was all I could do to breath.

By the time I pulled my cock out, the parrot had cased its torment and flown off, hopefully to give advance warning if someone else dared to invade our private paradise. Indeed, it bothered me that other men had visited in the not-too-recent past. Joey groaned and slowly rolled onto his belly. His hand reached behind him, feeling where my cock had been. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. His hole was huge. Lovingly, I stroked his back, brushing off grains of sand.

"We better not do that again, least not for a while," I said quietly.

"Yeah." He sounded very weak.

"Hurts?"

"No. Mostly it's numb."

"Very funny. Are you sure it's okay?"

"There's no blood," Joey observed as he studied his fingers. He sniffed them. "Smells different."

"No oil, remember?"

"Yeah." He poked at the bulging tip of the condom where it covered the end of my cock. "Least I don't have to worry 'bout getting pregnant, do I?"

"Nope."

"It's full of millions of sperms," he mused drowsily. "One of them could be the same as the one that made me."

"Yeah, that's true," I agreed humbly.

Yet, even as the words were leaving my mouth, I had a strange premonition that somewhere, sometime in the not-too-distant future a police laboratory would find a link between Joey's DNA and a sample of my semen. I'd always considered life to be something of a teeter-totter, a precarious balance of right and wrong.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" I began to slide the condom off my limp organ.

"Nothing? I think I'm going to snooze… just for a while."

A few moments later, his eyes closed. There was a slight smile on his face, just enough to show he was content. It would not be long before the shadows from the trees above covered us. Until then, I relaxed in the sun and watched Joey's chest rise and fall with each breath.

NEXT PART