Indian-Gay Stories

New To Love Part 2

2007-09-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night's class drags during the two hours. It's hard for me to concentrate on mylesson with Jesse in the room. I'm glad that he's here but I have to be on guard with my emotions. Nolove eyes sent his way and
I don't get near him when I'm standing beside his mother to help her with
the computer. He's been able to show his mom some of what I have been
teaching tonight. His face has also been guarding our secret well.

I'm often glancing at Jesse. He is a slim Indian with arms and legs
that seem a bit too long for him. You would under estimate his age by the
way he acts: shy, lots of energy though and a boyish high-pitched voice. I
love hearing him speak with his mom in their soft Indian language. He's in
a chair beside her at the end of my classroom. His attention is focused on
the computer she's working on. When asked by one of my students for some
help, he shies away, causing Mr. Swenson some embarrassment. The old man
mutters something under his breath. I rescue the situation by rushing to
the man's computer station to see what he's got hung up on.

There's another anxious moment when Jesse yells at his mom. She had
somehow exited MS-Word and lost the text she'd been working on up to this
point. That draws startled glances from the other students. I ignore his
outburst and help Mrs. Winnapah get back into Word and load tonight's
lesson. I fear that Jesse is going to get a yelling later on.

The clock finally reads 9pm. I have everyone shut down Windows and I
go around to make sure that all the monitors are off. Mrs. Winnapah waits
for me to erase the chalkboard. The lights are shut off and I lock the
classroom door. We leave the building and head for the parking lot. She
looks angry.

The woman makes quick strides to her truck. That gives me the chance to
whisper in Jesse's ear. "Tell your mom that you're sorry. Okay?" I hang
back and watch him catch up with her. They speak in Indian. I'm standing
by the passenger side door, waiting for them to settle it between them.

Mrs. Winnapah unlocks her door and Jesse gets in. He crawls over the
long seat to open my door. It's dead quiet inside; tense. She starts the
engine and puts her truck in gear. I pull Jesse's right leg against mine
so that he won't flinch when she stick shifts. No need to get his mother
angrier than what she already is.

I keep my eyes forward. Jesse presses against my side and it takes a
lot of self control not to look at him. I feel a tightness in my chest
and my breaths are quick and shallow. My heartbeat is booming in my ears.
It's difficult being this close to someone I love and not show it. I'm
glad to be holding his leg, a small embrace under the guise of giving his
mom access to the stick shift. I give his knee a fond squeeze. He turns to
me but I can't meet his eyes for fear of returning his loving gaze that
might be seen by his mother. His right arm rubs over mine in a return
gesture of how we're feeling.

Mrs. Winnapah concentrates on her driving. I feel the tension in her.
Should I say something about Jesse's behavior tonight? To assure her
that it wasn't that big a deal? I fear she may not allow her son to come
to class anymore and I'd miss losing those hours of seeing Jesse.

The silence becomes unbearable. I've been thinking over what happened
and I know what has upset his mom the most. Not only that Jesse yelled
but the whole class knew she had messed up her assignment. She lost face
in front of them.

I'm tapping on Jesse's knee to try warning him about what's coming.
"Do you know what you did wrong tonight, Jesse?" He turns his head at me.

"I said that I was sorry."

"That's good." Mrs. Winnapah concentrates on making a turn into my
trailer park. No reaction from her. I think she's still angry so an idea
comes to me to close the matter. I reach for Jesse's shoulder and squeeze
it hard. "You embarrassed your mother in front of the other students.
That's why she's angry with you."

"Oh."

"You're there to help her but not to scold. That's my job." I laugh.
Mrs. Winnapah releases a loud sigh. She glances at the both of us and I
feel the tension easing. "I'm willing to give Jesse another chance.
There's only three weeks left of class. You can keep coming to help your
mother but no more outbursts. Okay?"

"I promise! I'm really sorry, mom."

Mrs. Winnapah decides something. "No television for you tomorrow."

"Okay. Can I go over to Mike's place after school? That way, he can
tell you that I didn't watch any."

"I don't know, Jesse..."

The woman glances at me for my reaction. "I don't mind, Mrs. Winnapah.
Really. Ah, what time do you get out of school, Jesse?" He pauses a
moment before answering me.

"Four o'clock. My uncle picks me up but I could tell him to drop me
off at your place tomorrow. Can you show me how to use MS-Word so that I
can help my mom with it?"

"Yeah. Would you like me to come over tomorrow night to give you a
lesson, Mrs. Winnapah?" I notice that the truck has stopped. We've
reached my trailer.

"Let me think about it."

That probably means no. My head hangs. She notices my disappointment.

Mrs. Winnapah explains, "I've been trying to catch up with things at
work so I may not come home until late, Mike."

"I understand. It's difficult learning something when you're tired.
I've seen this in some of my students tonight." Has she caught my hint?

"The weekends would be better for a lesson, Mike. Probably on Sunday."

"That sounds good. Let me give you my telephone number." I'm reaching
into my satchel for pen and paper. I write down my information. "Ah, can
you give me your phone number, Mrs. Winnapah?" She does. I tear the sheet
in half, handing her the top part with my number.

"Good night. And thanks for the ride, Mrs. Winnapah." I pull on the
door handle and get out. Jesse waves at me through the window. I'm
waving back, watching their truck returning to the road that will lead
them out of the trailer park.

I'm closing my eyes for a moment. That had been tense. Did Jesse and I
manage to pull it off? No television for a day isn't bad. His mom may even
let him come over and spend time with me. That's no punishment at all, I
realize with a grin.

I enter my trailer and head for the bedroom. I'm feeling very tired.
My good clothes are stripped off. Naked, I get into bed. My body settles
down but I'm feeling the need to piss so I make my way to the bathroom.

After flushing the toilet, I notice my underwear on the sink. How did
that get there? I'd left my dirty clothes on the floor earlier when taking
a shower. Then it hits me. Jesse had been over this afternoon! My eyes
widen when recalling what happened.

I grab the underwear and check out its label. Size 26. These must be
his! I examine the front of them and feel a wet stain there. It's brought
to my nose for a sniff. Oh, Jesse...

My cock stiffens when remembering our embrace. His hands were pulling
over my backside while I felt his butt humping in my hands. And what that
led to. I look down at the floor. There's no sign of my underwear amongst
my shirt and pair of dirty jeans. He must have taken mine to wear in
place of his own.

I rush back into bed. My hard cock is pushed down between my thighs.
I'm turning onto my right side and press Jesse's wet underwear against
my nose. I imagine what it would have been like to hold him in my arms.
Naked. Our passionate kisses, hands feeling over humping butts while the
front of our bodies...

I wipe myself with Jesse's underwear to join my love seed with his.

I'm sleeping in late this morning. My clock reads 11:18am. I turn onto
my back and pull a pillow over my head to block the sunlight. I've nearly
fallen back to sleep when a car honks outside my window. Okay. I'm awake
now! I angrily sit up, yawn, and stretch my arms. I'm feeling the need to
go to the bathroom. That reminds me of what I'd done last night and a
smile comes to my lips. I find Jesse's underwear at the corner of my bed
and bring it to my face. They're smelling sweet.

I'm regretting yesterday, how close we came to our first loving embrace
and I blew it! Jesse wanted to. He was so turned on in my arms that his
dick came out. I'm holding his wet underwear. He's expressed his love for
me sexually while I held back, having to beat off last night to a mere
fantasy. My hands tighten with anger.

I breathe in slowly to calm myself. No. I'd done the right thing
yesterday. We've proclaimed our love but it must grow stronger in our
hearts. We need to get to know each other first before having sex. I want
to know if Jesse is the right guy for me and if he wants me beyond the
physical stuff. I have to remind myself that in spite of his age, he is
young in his head. Does he realize the difficulties we face by being
together? Can he love me in a mature way?

I'm glad that we'll have the chance to find out. But we must go slow,
keep it a secret until I can work everything out. There's no problems
legally. He's over eighteen and most states allow gay relationships.
Can you believe that sodomy was, until recently, against the law and
that you could go to jail if you're caught fucking a man?!

If we were to become a couple, the greatest challenge comes from
Jesse's Indian culture. They don't accept gay love. In the past, a man
had to cross-dress in his tribe to express a female spirit. I'm not a girl!
Lots of people think that's what gay guys are like, wearing outrageous
dresses, high-heeled shoes, earrings and Flaming. That's not me! Jesse
isn't that way either.

I am a man inside who is simply attracted to other men but people
can't accept that. That's why I have kept my feelings a secret. I've
avoided acknowledging my needs by getting wrapped up in my work. It's left
me feeling unhappy though. Finally, I did something about it. That's why
I've ended up here in Havre, Montana. To meet someone like Jesse.

He's not quite the Indian warrior I imagined falling in love with.
I'm attracted to a strong body, some hardness and manly pride. Jesse has
a kid's face and is young at heart. Maybe too young for what I'm looking
for but he can grow up. I can be his mentor. A sinking feeling comes to
my stomach. What are we going to do about his mother? She's been taking
care of him for all of his life. She understands her son's challenges and
is doing the best for him, such as placing Jesse in a 'special programs'
school where his developmental needs can be addressed. If our love is
discovered, he'd be put in the middle of wanting to be with me or staying
with his mom. I don't want him making that difficult choice.

Is Jesse's spirit strong enough? He acts like a kid but there are
moments when I see his maturity coming through. His mother commented
that he's opened up to me unlike anyone else she'd ever seen him with.
The key to that was simply love.

But can we keep it a secret? I've heard somewhere, probably read it in
a book that there are two things that can't be hidden from others: smoke in
the open bled and a man's love. I can guard my emotions. Most Indians do
that to the extreme but Jesse's face is very expressive. That's what I
love about him. He did manage to hide his love eyes from his mom during
dinner and at class last night but if his longing for me slips even once
in front of someone...

I jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom. I'm sitting on the pot,
my favorite place to think. Hmm. I've only known Jesse for a few days
but look how far our love has come. It's too late to stop it now. If I
were to run away from the difficulties we face for my own sake, what
would happen to Jesse? He'd be crushed!

We're both new to love; inexperienced with what that is all about.
I do know that I like the way it makes me feel. I'm alive now, happy as a
human being should be by finding that missing half that completes me. Is
that going to be Jesse? I hope so. I want him to be the one.

After flushing the toilet, I pick up my dirty clothes from the floor.
My t-shirt is pulled over my head to keep the top half of me warm. I hold
up my jeans. They're too big for me now so I carry them to the kitchen and
toss them into the garbage can. I've bought some new clothes at Wal-Mart
yesterday. Two pairs of jeans, dress pants and underwear. All size 30.
That amazes me, how I've lost weight.

I've been hiking, horseback riding and exploring Montana these past
three months. The cold weather has taken a lot out of me. It's slimmed me
down. Fear grips my heart when I think about AIDS. No way! I can't be
infected because I'd never had sex with anyone. That's always a gay fear.
I'm sure that Jesse has never been with anyone so when we do make love,
it can be done naturally without the need for condoms.

I'm looking down at myself, twisting my waist to catch sight of my ass.
Jesse has seen it. I know he likes my body because it's hairy. I'm not a
bear like a lot of white guys. Most of it is on my back. My arms and legs
have some hair. Only soft patches on my chest. My butt is smooth but when
reaching down to my cheeks, I feel fine hair over my lower humps. A thrill
goes through me. Jesse has touched my butt. I've touched his. I wonder if
he'd give that part of himself to me in an act of ultimate gay expression.
I'd give myself to him. What does it feel like to fuck?

I pour myself a glass of cold water from the frig and drink it down.
That may help me lose my raging erection, not that I mind feeling excited.
I sit at the table. The ring is seen laying on it. My first impression is
that it's a beautiful thing. I look at the thick silver band and the black
stone that reminds of a tear. Running Water's grandfather had made it. He
actually crafted two rings. Ron's is the mate to Running Water's and I
realize something else. Could they have been marriage bands?

Why wasn't Ron wearing his when he died? In my trailer! That gives me
the creeps, especially after what Running Water and his grandfather said
about that man's spirit wanting me to find his ring. I'm not sure if I
believe them. It was only a lucky find. The tiny hairs lift at the back
of my neck. But what if they're right?

I'm badly startled when I hear my front door banging. I rush to the
window and peek out. It's Jesse!

I run to the door and open it. Jesse's eyes grow wide when he sees me,
reminding me that I'm not wearing anything down there. He rushes in, gives
me a hug that feels real good. My heart soars to be in his arms! I remember
to close the door with my foot before anyone sees us.

"Jesse..." I breathe against his left ear. My nose is tickled by his
long hair. I breathe in its smell. Something flowery from the shampoo he
uses. His face is pressed against my neck. A gentle kiss is given me that
brings tears to my eyes by his affection. He won't let me go. His long
arms are really squeezing me to show his love and I squeeze him back. I'm
rubbing his back. His body feels very slim in my hands; warm. I want this
moment to last forever.

Jesse lowers his hand to my butt. I'm gently pushing him away because
of what that may lead to. I did purchase a new package of underwear...
We slowly separate but his hands still cling to my arms. I reach up for
them so that we can hold hands. We are staring at each other, smiling and
smiling until it seems like my heart is going to burst!

"Do you always answer your door half-naked?" Jesse asks. His face is
flushed.

I look down at myself and feel a burning to my face. "No. When I saw
you at the door, I forgot myself." Jesse giggles. He's staring at my cock.
"Ah. I should get some pants on."

"You don't have to, Mike. I like looking at you."

I laugh from nervousness. "Indian braves in the old days had gone about
half-naked. I liked looking at pictures of them in the books I read as a
boy."

"Silly! They covered the lower parts of their bodies with flaps and
didn't cover their chests. You have a shirt on." The garbage can catches
his eyes. One of my pant's legs is sticking out from it.

"I threw away my jeans because they've become too big for me."

"Can I have them?" Jesse asks.

"You already have my underwear!" I tease. Jesse looks down at himself
with a sly grin.

"You're wearing them?" He unbuttons his pants to show me. I see the
outline of his hard dick in the front of them. My underwear sags around
his slim waist. When it looks like he's going to pull them down, I rush to
button up his pants.

With downcast eyes Jesse asks, "Why don't you want to do anything with
me, Mike?"

My heart aches from longing. "I want to but... We should get to know
each other some more before we do." Jesse peers into my eyes with an
intensity that's hard for me to resist.

I reach for Jesse's hands again. "Love is much more than showing it
with our bodies." He looks down the front of me. "If we were to join
them, it becomes a kind of trap. What if I were a bad person, Jesse?
Yelling a lot or beating on you like some husbands do to their wives?
Your love for me would have you enduring all that pain."

Jesse closes his eyes. There's a tense expression on his face that
turns to anger.

"That's what my father did to mom."

I squeeze Jesse's hands with the hope that he'll tell me more. To let
all his bad feelings come out.

"He was mad at my mom because of me. How I turned out. It's my fault
that he left us!"

"No, Jesse! You shouldn't think that." In a low voice, "My parents also
divorced and I wondered if it was because of me. Something I had done.
Later, I learned that my father had been seeing another woman."

"It was because of me! I heard him say so!" Jesse shouts. He drops
to the floor like a broken doll.

Anguish fills me to see him in pain. I sit down close in front of him,
my left knee fitting between his folded legs. His shoulders are slumped,
face covered by his flowing hair. I think he's crying.

I reach for Jesse's shoulders. His long arms rush around my back. He's
clinging to me like a frightened child. I feel his chest heaving. No sobs
come out his mouth but he is crying really hard. Such woe in him. His
sadness is making me cry too.

Fear squeezes my heart. If Jesse can't cope with what happened to his
father, how will he endure losing me if our secret is discovered?

"No one will find out about us," whispers Jesse.

He is showing maturity by realizing that. "But it could happen," I warn
him. "Then you won't have anyone to cry with." I'd meant that as a joke.

"My therapist tries to make me do that. She's always asking how I'm
feeling about my father but I won't tell her. It's my pain! I don't have
to share it with anyone."

Jesse has, with me. We hug for a long while. My legs start to ache
from having fallen asleep. I'm ignoring the pain.

"I'm sorry for acting so dumb..."

"No! It's okay. Really." I get Jesse to his feet and he grabs my waist
when my numb legs has me staggering. We sit at the kitchen table together.

"Mike. What are you doing with Ron's ring?"

A cold shiver goes through me. He's staring down at it on the table.
"I found it in the trailer." He timidly picks it up, turning the band in
his fingers until seeing the black stone. He gives me fierce eyes. Almost
as if he's angry with me.

"You have to tell my uncle about this!"

"I already have." How does he know that this was Ron's ring? My stomach
feels like there are rocks in it when I realize something else. Did Jesse
know that they were a couple? I have to find out.

"Why did he let you keep the ring?"

I'm staring intently at Jesse to read his face when I tell him all about
it. My being brought to Chinook to see Running Water's grandfather. What
they said about Ron's spirit wanting me to have it (but not the reason why)
and I tell him how I found out that his uncle had switched rings.

"I can understand why he tried that," Jesse whispers.

"Tell me." Jesse looks right at me. An expression I've not seen from
him before.

"They were a couple... like we are. My uncle wanted to keep Ron's ring
to remember him by." His eyes take on a far away look. "You have it now.
He should give me the ring he wore so that we can walk in their footsteps."

I get an eerie feeling that Jesse has Seen something. Like what Indian
shamans can do. "Don't ask your uncle. I don't want him to know about us."

Jesse drops his eyes. "He can help. My mom is going to be a problem
for us getting together. She respects his judgment. My uncle could
convince her that it's okay for us to be a couple. Like it was with him
and Ron."

"Don't tell him!" Jesse's eyes flare but he nods his head. "Not yet,
anyway," I add to appease his anger.

I decide to reveal something else to Jesse. "After I noticed the
switch, he returned Ron's ring to me and told me that he loved him. He
even cried."

"Running Water really did that?"

I nod my head. "Jesse. How did you know that they were lovers?"
He breathes in deeply, releasing it through his nose while he considers
answering my question.

"I saw them doing it."

My eyes widen. I hope that Jesse will tell me all about it.

"Ron and him were good friends. We'd often drop by his trailer for a
visit after I got off from school. I liked talking with Ron and my uncle
cooked dinner for us. My mom worked late at her job back then."

We exchange grins.

"Last October, my uncle stopped letting me come with him to Ron's. He'd
take me right home after school but I suspected that he went over to see
him. I didn't know why they didn't want me over anymore."

I interrupt Jesse. "You didn't know they were gay then?"

"Not really. I was angry at my uncle for not letting me have dinner
with them and spending time at the trailer like I used to so one day, I
walked over to Ron's place after my uncle had dropped me off. The door
wasn't locked. It didn't even occur to me to knock because I'd been over
so often. It was like my second home.

"They didn't seem to be around. I knew they had to be because my
uncle's pickup was parked outside along with Ron's car. A blue Honda
Accord. Anyway, I went looking for them and heard moaning in the bedroom.
It was stupid of me but I went in. They were naked."

Jesse's eyes are aflame. A sharp tingling goes through my cock at the
thought of what he'd caught them doing together.

"Ron was laying over my uncle's back," Jesse adds.

"They were fucking?" I gasp. Jesse nods, his breaths are trembling.
Mine, too. We exchange knowing grins that gets me very excited. I think
he'd want to do that with me.

"When they saw me, I ran for the front door because I was afraid of
getting yelled at. They stopped me outside. Explained things and made me
swear not to tell anyone. And I never did. Until now."

I'm quickly nodding my head. That explains some things but I need to
know more about Ron. "Was he a white guy like me?"

"Yes. Lots of hair on his body."

That has me smiling. My expression turns dark when I ask, "How did Ron
die?" Jesse reveals fear in his eyes. I reach for his hand, the one
holding the ring and wait for him to answer me.

"They say he'd died in his sleep. A heart attack or something but Mike!
He was young. My uncle wouldn't ever talk about it but I knew there was
something going on that made him angry at the police."

"Did the police know about your uncle and him?"

"No way. He didn't even reclaim any of his belongings that were kept at
Ron's trailer. Some mechanic tools, the stereo they'd bought together and
his powwow drum. I knew that my uncle regretted losing that. After dinner,
I'd beat on that drum while the two of them chanted and sang."

Jesse is smiling. That must have been a happy memory for him. I wonder
why his uncle didn't go to the police to get his belongings. Oh. He must
have been scared they'd question his relationship with Ron. Learn that
they had been lovers.

"You don't want to wear his ring?" asks Jesse.

I stare at it. Even more now, I'm afraid to put it on my finger.

"You're not stealing from the dead, Mike, if that's what you're afraid
of or something..."

"Because Ron's spirit wanted me to have it?" Jesse nods. Anger fills me.
"I don't believe in ghosts!"

"I do, Mike." Jesse stares at the ring in his hand.

I release a sigh. Indian culture takes this subject very seriously. They
believe that one's spirit flies Above to the Sky People but can be Called
back down to answer a shaman's plea to do battle with evil spirits on his
behalf, aid in healing and to grant him visions. Ron was white though.

"He was adopted into our tribe."

I'm staring at Jesse. How did he know what I was thinking? This isn't
the first time that he's done it.

In a low voice, "My shaman told me that I'm special."

No. I don't believe what I'm hearing. Jesse can't read my thoughts!
I'm pulling my hand away but Jesse grabs it, slipping the ring on. My
right pointing finger. He peers at me for my reaction.

"Why are you not in school?" I ask in my attempt to change the subject.

"Oh. It's in-service day for the teachers so classes ended early. We
both forgot that it was today so I was given a ride home by Singing Hawk."

I suspect that Jesse is lying about him not remembering. By not telling
his uncle about it being in-service today, he can spend time with me until
his mom comes home from work. Both of them none the wiser.

The silver ring on my finger catches my eye. I really don't want to be
wearing it. I'm not Ron! Jesse looks at me. He sees my frown and when I'm
pulling the ring off, his brown hand wraps around my fingers to prevent me.

"Did your mom say that you can come over to see me?" Jesse drops his
eyes. He doesn't want to answer me.

"You should be getting on home then." My voice was a bit too stern.

"I'm old enough to do what I want, Mike."

I realize that but he should respect his mother's wishes. She's been
taking care of him. He doesn't act his age because of his handicaps. I've
seen his moments of maturity but he is still very much a boy needing to be
looked after.

"I don't want your mother to get mad at me," I explain. "When your
uncle discovers that school ended early today, he may go to your house.
When you're not there, he may come here..."

"Okay. I'll go."

It breaks my heart to see Jesse's face. I don't see anger, sadness,
fear or anything to let me know how he's feeling inside. He can become
very Indian when he needs to be.

We get up from the table and walk to the door. Jesse lifts his hand in
warning to remind me that I'm unfit to see him out. I had forgotten about
my nudity. The door closes behind him with a bang. My heart feels pained
by the way he left me. No hug, tender smile or even a 'goodbye'.

I'm feeling gloomy so I find retreat in my laptop. The telephone and
power cords snake across my bed to the floor. I log onto my email and check
for messages. Nothing new except for some span that I'm deleting. Dianne
has sent me another email with the subject line asking: 'Where are you?'.
I decide not to click on it.

I'm in the mood to check for any new Indian pictures posted with the
Yahoo! Group: 'LongHairedGayNativeAmericans'. I've downloaded lots of good
images from them in the past. I check on the latest postings but most are
repeats from what I've seen before. The Indian guys depicted are in their
thirties or older. I click on one that shows a cute guy standing in a
shower. His body is smooth and brown, slightly muscular with his hands
raised to grasp the shower curtain rod. His long black hair spills down to
his chest. I look at his face. Stoic. That's so typically Indian to hide
what he's feeling inside. My eyes drop to his big cock. At least that part
of him betrays his excitement.

I look at more images of nude Indian men. Great bodies! My cock rises
along my belly with lust. That's all these pictures inspire in me though.
I click on one image after another but they're all the same. No readable
expressions on their faces. Why can't they acknowledging their sexual
excitement, smiling or anything expectedly human? I click on another one.

It's an image of a guy cumming to his belly. White streaks cover his
dark body and his face does reveal something. He has his mouth open in an
exaggerated moan of ecstasy. Probably for our benefit. It doesn't look real.

A realization comes to me. Those men were modeling for pay. Their sexual
performance was for the camera, not with a lover so that's why there's no
human warmth seen on their faces.

I exit Yahoo! Groups with disappointment and disconnect from the
Internet. I used to enjoy lusting over those Indian men to get my cock
hard. None of them give rise to the strong emotions in my heart like what
I feel for Jesse. His expressive, smiling face...

An idea comes to me. I've secreted some illegal images on my laptop of
boys with cute smiling faces. I look around my bedroom before accessing
them on my computer. Silly of me. I'm alone so no one will catch me.

After performing several layers of decryption on a zip disguised as a
Windows system file, I run VuePrint. That's my favorite jpeg viewing
program. With only a press of the spacebar, I can see one image after the
other. I'm looking at little Indian boys on my screen. I found these on
newsgroups where pornography is readily available. I didn't risk using my
own computer to download them but paid for time at a cyber cafe with disks
in hand to transfer this illegal stuff to my laptop. They were zipped up
using multiple passwords and hidden on my laptop's hard drive.

The image: '10Hard.jpg' is displayed. It's of a naked Indian boy who's
ten years old. He's lying over a couch, sporting an erection but what
catches my eye is his cute face. He's smiling. I press the spacebar after
taking a good look at him.

The next image appears. Two Indian boys are beating off together. They
look like they're nearing puberty from the size of their dicks. No hair on
their groins yet. One boy lies on his back over the couch while his friend
(whose butt is nearly slipping from the cushion) is handling his friend's
erection for him. A cute scene. Neither looks like Jesse. They are smiling
at each other, a smug 'we are bad boys' expression on their brown faces.

I'm quickly looking through my collection. Many are so young. They're
performing all kinds of adult sex acts that kind of surprises me. Who had
taught them? Their bodies may be little and immature (I doubt any of them
can cum) yet their erections still feel good in each other's hand, mouth or
sticking into a butt. There's one image that shows an twelve year old kid
fucking an eight year old. Boy, that's unbelievable!

I come to the end of the slide show. A lot of cute expressions were
seen on those youth's faces but none that reminded me of Jesse. When
he's in my arms, I see longing in his eyes for me that makes my heart
ache. He really loves me! By acting younger than his age, he can be
expressive unlike the Indian men I've seen. He is real. A feeling human
being who isn't afraid to reveal his emotions to others.

Those unzipped images are deleted from my hard drive. My stiff cock is
revealed when I set my laptop aside. Pornography fills me with lust but it
cannot satisfy the needs of my heart. Only Jesse can.

I lazily stretch over my bed and enjoy my excitement. My cock is pushed
down between my thighs. I'm clutching my pillow as a substitute lover while
laying on my right side, feeling my building pleasure that explodes out of
me. I release a sigh of relief. Jesse's underwear is used to clean myself.
The good sensation after having sex fades away, leaving me feeling sad;
empty. I pull the blanket over my head and try going to sleep.

I watch television later in the evening after my nap. I'm constantly
looking at the clock but my telephone never rings. I was hoping that Mrs.
Winnapah would call, invite me over for dinner or something so that I can
see Jesse. I need to know if he's alright. He'd left my trailer this
afternoon in a huff.

I'm watching the news. A report about Indians grabs my attention. The
reporter interviews members from a group of Blackfoot blocking the
entrance to a mine. They're protesting the release of heavy metals into
the creeks and rivers where they fish for salmon. The mine's runoff has
been killing them. I doubt the U.S. Government will do anything about it.

The weather report comes on. A late winter storm threatens sleet and
even heavy snowfall. I glance at the clock. It reads 7:14pm. My heart
sinks. I don't think Mrs. Winnapah is going to be calling. After watching
some game shows until eight, I switch the T.V. off and climb into bed.

Late in the night, I hear rain falling against my window. My blanket is
drawn over my head and I return to sleep. Perhaps I'll dream about Jesse.

I'm awakened by the cold. It's 7:48am so I try returning to sleep. My
body is shivering. After a quick run to the bathroom, I pull on some
clothes and plug in a heater. This trailer's heating system doesn't work
so I'd purchased a few portable units in February to keep me warm. I'm
staring out my window. It's snowing outside. Spring comes late in northern
Montana though we've enjoyed some warm weeks recently. But snow in April?

After a while, the room turns comfortable so I go back to sleep.

I pour the last of my milk over a bowl of Cheerios. I'll have to go in
town to get more. Snow continues to fall. I don't look forward to riding
through that! I'll call Jesse's mother later to ask if she can drive me
to class.

I mope around my trailer all day, watch television, check on my email
(no new messages; it seems that Dianne has given up on me) and pass the
time by going through my few belongings. If I plan to stay in Havre past
summer, I should find an apartment to rent. This place is run down, cold
and I don't want to run into Ron's ghost!

There's a knock on my door at 5:30pm. Maybe it's Jesse! I have to pull
on my door a few times to open it. Ice breaks away from the other side and
I face Running Water. He scurries inside from the bitter cold.

"Hello, Mike."

"Hi." The Indian gives me a look that sends a shiver down my spine.

"I came over to see if you're alright."

For some reason, I don't think his concern is about the weather trapping
me inside my trailer.

"My aunt will be working late tonight. She won't be able to drive you in
time to make your class, if she can make it at all. I'll give you a ride."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that."

"We can run into town first if you need anything."

I'm nodding my head. "I need to buy some milk." Running Water gives me
that look. "Let me get ready for tonight." He waits in the kitchen.

I'm rushing around the bedroom to find everything that I'll need for
class. My satchel, a winter jacket and I look for a clean shirt to wear.
I've left some drying in the bathroom after hand washing them this
afternoon. That reminds me, I need to take a shower. I grab some pants. A
new pair of underwear is taken from the package I've purchased from
Wal-Mart. Some clean socks are added to the pile of clothes in my hands.

The water for my shower takes a long time to get warm. There must be
something wrong with the water heater but more likely, it's just the cold
weather. I step out of the stall. Running Water gasps. He's sitting on the
toilet with his pants pulled down to his feet. We both stare at each other.

"I didn't know you were in here," I mutter. I avert my eyes but I had
gotten a good look at the man's cock. He's seen every part of me. I grab
a towel and streak to my bedroom.

I'm gasping for breath. A smile comes to my lips from what's happened.
We'd seen each other naked. And both of us being gay, too. My towel is
brought up to my head to dry my hair. I'm toweling off the rest of my body
when there's a soft knock at the bedroom door.

Running Water has brought my clothes I'd left in the bathroom. My hands
are keeping my towel wrapped around me so I gesture for him to place them
on my bed. He strides in.

Some mischief comes into me when I expose my butt to the Indian. I've
turned away from him, drying the front part of my body. A sharp thrill
goes through me when he lingers in the room. My cock is stiffening. It
becomes awkward when I'm done drying myself off. He'll know that I am
putting on a show if I don't get dressed now.

I turn towards him and go to where my clothes have been placed on my
bed. We peer at each other. I see his dark eyes following my every move.
Sexual tension builds between us. With a casual tossing away of my towel,
I stand naked near the Indian while going through the pile of clothes to
find my underwear. Not too quickly. I'm sure that he's seen my erection.

"You look nice," breathes Running Water. He sits over the bed.

I flash the Indian an embarrassing grin. I'm startled when his hand is
felt over my butt. My body freezes up. I like the man touching me but this
is too sudden. We don't really know each other and I'm forgetting about
Jesse; our pledge of love to each other even though we've not had sex yet.
This man obviously wants to do something with me. His hands go to the
front of his pants. I avert my gaze so I'm not watching what he does.

My heart is pounding inside my chest. I'm panting for breath. When the
Indian manages to catch my eyes, I see their intensity. Such lust in them!
That frightens me real bad. I'm turning away from him, looking out the
open bedroom door when I consider running through it to escape.

I'm pulling up my underwear. My left foot gets caught and I'm falling to
the floor. Right on my butt! He rushes to me, offering me a hand up. We
look each other in the eye.

I see longing in this man. It's the same endearing expression that I've
seen on Jesse's face for me. I'm feeling excited and frightened at the
same time. My eyes fall to the revealing bulge in his pants. They sag
around his waist, unbuttoned and the fly has been zipped down. He pulls
them down to his ankles. The outline of his hard cock can be seen in his
underwear. I'm surprised that he's not pulling them down as well.

"Let me look at you, Mike."

I turn away. Brown hands grab for my waist and tug on my underwear. My
hard cock is caught in a fold so he reaches forward to pull on the elastic
band. They fall to my feet. I stand naked before this man, scolding myself
for allowing him to undress me.

I hear him pulling down his underwear behind me. My hips are grasps and
I'm pulled back into the man's lap. I feel his bodily warmth against me.
His cock sticks between my cheeks while mine stands tall against my belly.
I see his arm reaching around me. I'm grabbed!

I'm held mesmerized by his brown hand moving over my cock. It feels
good but I can't get myself off that way. His legs surge against my legs.
I'm feeling his wet knob against my asshole and it slips inside. Pain! I
rush to my feet, turn, and glare at the Indian for what he's tried to do
to me. I'm holding my aching butt.

Running Water drops his eyes in shame. He pulls up his underwear then
his pants. I watch him fastening them. He gets off my bed and heads towards
the door.

"I don't know what you want, Mike."

The Indian glares back at me. I rush to pull up my underwear after he
leaves the room. His hopes were obviously dashed.

I'm left feeling many conflicting emotions: embarrassment, regret for
having led him on but too, I am feeling much relief. He wanted to fuck me!

I get dressed. Running Water is waiting by the front door and when he
sees me, he goes outside, almost running to his pickup while minding his
steps over the frozen pavement. I get into his truck. We don't look at each
other. He starts the engine and we're off.

When we get into town, Running Water stops at a gas station. They have
a convenience store so I go in to buy milk. He comes in to pay for the
gas. We go out separately but meet back at his truck.

While he drives, the silence between us becomes unbearable. I need to
talk with him, explain things to salvage our friendship. He's obviously
regretting what happened in my bedroom. Me too.

I see a McDonald's and ask Running Water if we can stop there. I've
only had that bowl of cereal to eat this morning. He pulls in. Parks. When
he doesn't open his door to get out, I turn to him.

"I shouldn't have rushed you, Mike. Are you angry with me?"

"No. It was my fault. I led you into believing that we... I mean, for us
to. You know." The Indian's tense face lightens up. He looks at me in a
peculiar way. I'm feeling undressed by his eyes.

"You've not ever been with a..."

"No." Running Water goes deep into thought. He takes a deep breath and
speaks.

"My grandfather told me that I would find another man. He said that the
ring you are wearing was a sign."

"A sign for what?" I ask with my voice trembling.

"He said: 'Ah-ee-ne has chosen Mike to walk in his footsteps.'"

Jesse has told me something similar! but with his uncle's ring going
to him while I wear Ron's ring. We would walk in their footsteps. My eyes
widen from revelation. I'm bursting to share what I know with Running Water
but that would give our secret away.

I glance at my watch. I didn't note the time because I'm so nervous.
Running Water opens his door and gets out. We enter McDonald's. He doesn't
want me to order anything for him. I'm hungry so I get the 'Big and Tasty'
combo meal.

Running Water is sitting in a corner of the restaurant away from
everyone else. I sit down opposite him. He looks down at my food. I tear
into my hamburger and to my surprise, see him taking some of my French
fries. I gesture that he can have some more.

We eat in silence. Often, Running Water catches my eyes but he hesitates
from speaking. I see his yearning for me, to fulfill what he thinks his
grandfather Saw about the ring being a sign for us getting together. I
know the truth but I'm afraid to reveal it to him.

After we're done eating, I take a look at my watch. It's 6:30pm. My
class begins in half an hour but we're close to the college. I want to
spend that time talking with Running Water. To ease his heart away from me.

"Mike. Have you left someone behind in Indianapolis?"

I shake my head slightly in reply. He's initiated the conversation.

"Have you found someone here?" he asks in a lower voice.

Fear clutches my heart because I don't want him to find out about me
and Jesse! I'm trying to keep my face from revealing anything. I think he
suspects something so I should try to show some interest in him. I'm hating
myself for considering that but it's the only way.

"I ah, shouldn't have asked, Mike."

"No. You have to. Otherwise how can you find out? It's hard being...
who we are. Especially in a small town." I shut my mouth.

"You are very attractive, Mike. I couldn't help myself in your bedroom
when I saw you in the nude. I thought you wanted me to touch your butt."
He looks around to see if anyone has heard him.

I'm surprised that Running Water can speak about this so easily. Then I
remember. He's had a lover before. This man is more experienced when it
comes to being gay so that explains why he rushed having sex with me. No
consideration in trying to win my heart first?

"I haven't been with anyone after... him. I'm aching inside for you,
Mike. Is there even a chance for us?"

Running Water's eyes look fierce. I know how he's feeling because I'm
burning for Jesse in the same way but we've gotten to know each other
first. We have proclaimed our love. Kissed. We'll express our hearts by
having sex when the right moment comes. Sometime soon, I think.

I'm feeling badly for Running Water. He doesn't realize that there's no
chance for us. The man drops his eyes with his hopes dashed. My silence
has spoken for me. I need to say something to explain my rejection. A
gentle way of letting him down.

"You were the first Indian who befriended me, Running Water." I see the
man's eyes light up so I quickly add, "I value your friendship but I don't
think it will become anything more than that." There. I've said it.

"Are you sure, Mike? I know you don't believe that my lover chose you to
find his ring but my grandfather has the Sight. He's interpreted what you
told him about your dream and when you spoke Ron's given Indian name..."

I'm staring at the empty French fries box. My lips are pressed tightly
together to prevent me from speaking. Running Water's shoulders slump.
He seems to have given up trying to convince me. I'm feeling a deep sense
of relief.

I grab the tray and empty it in the garbage can. We walk back to his
pickup truck. It's begun to snow again.

Only five of my students braved the icy roads to attend class tonight.
Mrs. Winnapah is not amongst them. I decide to review my past lessons in
MS-Word because teaching anything new tonight will only be repeated on
Monday. I'm often looking at the clock, hoping that Jesse and his mom are
just being late but they never do arrive.

While I'm erasing the black board, fear creeps into my heart. Could
Jesse's mom have found out about us! Is that why she's not come to class?
I lock the classroom door. Running Water has been waiting for me down the
hall. We walk out to the parking lot.

It's freezing outside. When I get into the Indian's pickup, it's cold,
as if he's had it parked here during the two hours while I was teaching.
Was he sitting in his truck all this time? I hope not. The hallway outside
my classroom would have been warmer.

He carefully navigates the icy roads. I'm wearing a seatbelt. We've not
spoken a word but his eyes often come to me with his obvious desire to
talk. I have to admit my attraction to him. He's a good looking Indian and
if Jesse hadn't taken my heart first, something might have happened
between him and me. I just don't know.

Running Water parks in front of my trailer. He shuts the engine off.

"Can I come in for a cup of coffee?" he asks.

I nod my head, getting out of his truck with the gallon of milk in my
hand. He follows close on my steps. It's cold inside my trailer. I plug in
the portable heater then prepare coffee for us. I feel his eyes on my back.
He tries making eye contact with me whenever I'm looking in his direction.
His interest in me gives me a swift erection. I see the outline of his cock
in his jeans when handing him a cup of coffee.

"I've heard some things about you from my friends," the man whispers.

Fear rises in my chest. "What things?"

Running Water frowns. "You were seen wandering around the reservation,
trying to strike up conversation with everyone in sight. Especially in
that little bar where a lot of us hang. Cloud Under Eagle figured you out
real quick. He told me, 'That white guy is hungry for an Indian man.'".

"Really? He said that!" I ask with growing alarm.

Running Water nods. "But he says that about all white guys who wander
into our bar." A smile creeps onto his lips.

I'm feeling relieved. I stare at Running Water to read his face. Is he
trying to pull my leg?

"I'm one of the few gay Indians that you'll find in these parts, Mike."

Our eyes meet. I have to look away before things get out of hand. "Ah.
Do your friends know about you?"

"It's not talked about. My grandfather is shaman of our tribe so no
one will say a bad word in my direction."

I sip coffee from my mug. Silence grows between us. He's been trying to
catch my eyes again but I won't let him.

"Don't be scared of me, Mike. I want you. And I think you want to be with
me so let it happen. Please."

The man's intensity is hard to ignore. I see the longing on his face and
feel my resistance crumbling. He's nothing like those computer images of
Indians whom I've lusted over. Running Water is a real. He shows emotions.
I'm being drawn to him over the warning from my heart.

Running Water gets up from the table and pulls off his shirt. I look
over his dark slim body. There are tattoos of Indian design covering his
chest. He slowly turns around. A blue inked eagle is seen above his left
shoulder blade. I watch his hands loosen his jeans and they fall down at
his ankles. His butt is outlined by his shorts. I get to see it when he
pulls them down too. His brown cheeks are smooth but rather lean.

My cock throbs. I'm feeling very excited and when the Indian turns to
me, I see his cock. It's long and stiff. His oozing knob sticks out from
its foreskin. I fold my hands in my lap to deny my excitement.

Running Water looks down at himself with pride. I'm staring at his nude
body, feeling a sharp lust for it. The Indian reaches his hand out to me.
When I remain seated at the table, he comes to me. His left hand gently
gets me to stand up next to him. He loosens my tie and unbuttons my shirt.
His warm brown hands are massaging my shoulders but they soon fall to my
chest. I hear the man sigh.

"Hair. I like that," breathes Running Water.

I know that Jesse likes that about me too. He seems far away, our love
only the promise of what could be while this is a real man in front of me.
He wants me bad.

Running Water unbuckles my belt. He fumbles with the fastening to my
pants and zips me down. I close my eyes. His firm hands pull them down
along with my underwear. The cold air assaults my nakedness.

My shoes are being untied. He gentle pulls them off. I peek down at
the Indian to see him removing his shoes. Then he's slowly rising, face
roaming close to my body as if sniffing my scent. His lips come to my
cock. It's tenderly kissed and I gasp sharply when he slips it in his
mouth. The sensation of getting sucked is very intense. I'm squirming in
his hands that have slipped around for my butt. He's pulling over it.

The Indian has swallowed my all. I watch his head bobbing up and down.
His long hair dances about his shoulders. His nose presses into my groin.
I'm feeling his slippery tongue swirling around my knob, an intense
sensation that's hard to endure.

"Too ticklish!" I gasp. Running Water pulls his mouth from my groin. He
peers up at me with a fierce expression on his face. He stands up, turns,
and reaches back to pull on my hips. My cock bends down into the crack of
his butt. Does he want me to fuck him?

My breath trembles with lust. I hear the Indian spitting to his hand and
he reaches back for my hard cock, directing it deeper into his butt until
my knob presses against his hole. He arches his back. I'm slipping into him
with an ease that surprises me.

Our bodies come together, pale on brown. There's a thrilling push into
his butt that takes my breath away. My groin hair crunches against his
cheeks. I'm inside him. I've fantasized about an Indian warrior raping me
but I never considered doing his butt. My lust has me considering it and
that drives away all the concerns screaming in my head. His hands pull
over my hips. My stab is forced through his tight slimy warmth.

I shyly reach for the Indian's hips. My cock slips deeper through his
asshole. It's really tight. He's getting his butt to squeeze me and the
sensation is tremendous! So. This is fucking. I'm not able to get myself
to release in hand or from getting sucked but sticking a man's butt might.
The sensation is similar to beating off between my thighs.

The Indian's hands reach back for my butt. He makes strong pulls there
to get me fucking him. A sexy rhythmic beat. He's moaning, enduring my
careful stabs that become more confident. I watch my long cock sticking in
and out of his brown butt. I'm enjoying the sharp building thrills.

Pride fills me. I'm acting as a man by mounting another man. I want to
conquer this Indian warrior but then my heart cries out. What we're doing
is wrong!

I'm struggling to free myself of lust's hold over me, both physically
and mentally. Jesse's loving smile fills my inner Sight and that gives me
the strength I've been lacking. I push on the man's lower back. Slip my
cock out of him. He waits for me to stick in again but I remain frozen in
place. My aching cock is only inches from his butt that wants to fuck it.

I'm coming to my senses. This is risky sex, especially since another
white guy has fucked Running Water. Ron could have had AIDS. I'd be giving
that to Jesse that would result in both our horrible deaths!

"I can't do it." Running Water turns around to face me. There's such a
fierce look in his eyes. I think he's very angry with me. He releases a
loud sigh and I see him frown with disappointment. I'm feeling stupid.

The Indian attacks me! I flinch when his arms snake around my back,
hands locking there. Oh. He only wants to hug me. I release my held breath
but gasp when our cocks are mashed together. There's flame in the Indian's
dark eyes when he stabs against me. It feels good. Yet I'm scolding myself.
Why have I allowed this man to have his way with me?

Guilt squeezes my heart when I remember my love for Jesse.

"Please stop!" Running Water ignores my plea, so intent he is to get
off from our belly rub. I've had my hands at my side but lift them now,
pushing on his shoulders to try separating our bodies. His grip tightens,
one hand firmly planted over my back while he pulls over my ass. I'm
feeling his urgent stabs. My cock wants to do battle with his but my heart
cries out. I don't want to make love to this man!

"Almost..." warns Running Water.

I'll endure his savage use of my body for a while longer knowing that
he'll let me go afterwards. A part of me enjoys his sexual embrace: how
he's pulling over my butt and grinding our swollen cocks together, that
sensual rubbing of our chests. That's the lust in me speaking. I'm
struggling to listen to my heart.

Running Water release a low throaty moan. I feel a liquid warmth on my
belly and realize that he's cumming. He becomes very passionate. Face
pressed into my neck, kissing me while both his hands are gripping my ass.
Harsh upward pulls. My hands have been pushing against his shoulders. He
breathes in, loosening his hands around me so that I can get away. I'm
stepping back from him.

The Indian looks at my face to read me. I'm feeling embarrassed, shamed
for letting it get this far. Much regret in me too. I think he sees this.
The man frowns, his eyes lowering when he becomes ashamed of what he's done.
It was not a loving act.

We both see the result of his lust that's been spilt from him. It covers
my belly. I should be angry but I'm feeling thrilled that he did that,
like when Jesse wet his pants when in my arms. This is different! I'm not
feeling any love for this man. He only wanted me for sex.

"I shouldn't have let you..." The remaining words remain stuck in my
mouth. Running Water is already feeling bad enough. I see the ring on my
finger and reach down for it, angrily pulling it off. I stick it against
the palm of his right hand. "I don't want it! This was your lover's."

His brown fingers close around the ring. He peers up at me with a
haunted look in his eyes. I'm feeling his anguish.

"I know that you aren't Ron," he explains, "but try to understand that
this was meant to happen. My grandfather Saw it."

"I'm not an Indian! I don't believe in such things." The man flinches as
if I'd struck him. That was terrible of me to say. A lie. I've lashed out
in anger but also to hide what I know to be true. Jesse has revealed it
to me. We were meant to walk in their footsteps; not to replace Ron.

Without any further words, Running Water puts his clothes back on. I
stand over him with tight fists. He peers at me with seeking eyes that are
filled with much regret. My anger softens a little.

"It was my fault that I allowed this to happen. I was feeling too good."
Hope shines in the man's eyes. "It won't happen again."

"You don't feel anything for me in your heart, Mike?"

"How can I? You just wanted sex from me. Is this what you got from Ron?"
I'm regretting my last words, realizing that was my anger speaking.

"I didn't mean to say that, Running Water. I'm sorry. But I know what
love feels like and you seem to have forgotten that." Tears sting my eyes.

"I didn't know," whispers Running Water.

My eyes are swimming with tears when I look at his face to read what he
meant by those words.

"You are already in love with someone."

My eyes drop to the floor. Does he suspect who that is? My shoulders
are grasped, forcing me to look up at him.

"Calm yourself, Mike. It pains my heart to see your tears."

The Indian's soft voice is soothing. I wipe an arm across my wet face
and try to be strong.

"That's better. Remember. You are a man and must act like one."

I put on a brave face. Inside, my feelings are in turmoil.

"I am going now." Running Water walks to the door and turns. "When you
are ready, we'll talk. As friends. I can offer you advice about that man
who has taken your heart so you won't make the same mistakes I had. He is
very lucky to have you, Mike."

I see Running Water's feigned grin. The door opens and he is gone. I'm
breathing a sigh of relief. My nose fills with the strong odor of his cum.
I look down at myself. Thick white streaks are running down my belly. It
catches in my groin hair. My heart pains me because I've betrayed Jesse!
I'm feeling dirty; used. I head for the bathroom to take a shower.

I lay in bed thinking about what happened. It was all my fault! I
shouldn't have let him undress me because that led to us... I'm trying not
to think about it. I've hurt him. Badly. If Jesse hadn't taken my heart,
I could have fallen for that Indian man. He is so lustful. Powerful! Yet
what about our hearts? I don't feel anything strong in mine for him. We
don't really know each other. That's why it's wrong to have sex before
knowing, really knowing when you're meant to be with someone.

Tears fill my eyes. I'm very ashamed of myself. How easily I had cast
aside Jesse's love for me to have sex with Running Water. That's what
pains me the most.

Fear clutches my heart. What will Running Water do if he finds out that
the man I'm in love with his Jesse? He'll likely be that much harsher
towards me for having rejected him. I can't talk with him about it! His
offer to help had felt sincere. Oh, I don't know what I'll do so I must
avoid seeing him again.

I force myself to stop thinking about it. What's done is done. My heart
is set on Jesse and I must honor my commitment to him.

Eventually, I fall into a troubled asleep.

I'm awakened by the wind howling outside my window. I am cold, alone
and feeling miserable. Perhaps I should leave Havre. That would solve a
lot of problems. Jesse would get over me and no one will ever learn what's
happened between us. I won't return to my old life though. I've freed
myself from it and will seek love somewhere else. This is a big country.
I can make a fresh start with the lessons that I've learned here.

My telephone rings. A quick glance at my clock shows that it's 9:48am.
I streak from my bed to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Mike?" asks a woman.

"Yes."

"Did I wake you?" asks Mrs. Winnapah.

"No. It's alright. I missed seeing you and Jesse in class."

"I had to work late and the roads were terrible! That's why I asked my
nephew to give you a ride."

"Thank you for that." A frown crosses my lips. She has no idea what that
had cost me.

"I'm calling to ask if you would like to come over for dinner tonight?"

My heart leaps into my throat. Jesse! I've almost dropped the phone
but quickly answer her, "Yes. I'd like that. I'll bring my laptop over and
work with Jesse." There's a pause.

"He's not feeling well, Mike."

Anguish squeezes my heart. Fear. That's why I didn't seem them in class!
"What's wrong with Jesse?" I ask with my voice trembling.

"He is very sad," answers Mrs. Winnapah. "I've not seen him like this
for a long time. If you come over tonight..."

"I can bring him out of it. I know it!"

"Ah. Hmm. Yes. I'll pick you up after I get off from work."

She works on Saturdays too? "When will that be?" She was talking again
but I missed it by my interruption.

"Sometime after six-thirty. It may be a bit later than that if I have
to work late."

An idea comes to me. "Can I go over to your house now and check on
Jesse?" There's a pause on the line.

"That's not a good idea. You won't be able to get in."

"Why? Isn't Jesse home now?"

"Yes. But I don't think he'll answer the door. He is deep inside
himself, Mike. Like what I warned you about. I've tried to snap him out of
it but he won't respond."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Winnapah!" This is all my fault. I knew that Jesse
had left me on Thursday with a sore heart.

"I'll pick you up and we'll have dinner. Perhaps you can give me a
lesson since I've missed a class."

"Okay. I'll expect you after 6:30."

"Goodbye, Mike. And thanks."

The line is disconnected. I place the phone in its cradle and wrap my
arms around myself. I'm feeling very cold. Not because of the weather
outside. I have to see Jesse! Help him snap out of his sadness.

I switch on the heater. I'm racing to get my satchel from the kitchen
and I dig in it for that piece of paper with Mrs. Winnapah's telephone
number. I dial it. It rings and rings. I cradle the phone with a bad
feeling in my heart. Another idea comes to me. I get the number to Roy's
Motorcycles from 411. I'm dialing it, hoping that Running Water is there.
He must have a key to their door! Pete answers. I quickly hang up when
changing my mind at the last moment.

What would I tell Running Water? He'd figure it out if I ask him to
take me over to see Jesse. It's frustrating! I need to see him but we risk
being discovered. I'm reminded about what happened between his uncle and
me last night. I shouldn't see him for that reason also.

I'm pacing the trailer while deep in thought. The heater had been left
on in the kitchen since last night. I walk back and forth between the two
warm rooms, wrapping my arms around myself in the hallway between. I'm too
upset to lay in bed. The wind is howling outside. It's snowing hard. No
way for me to ride my bike over to Jesse's because of the dangerous
roads. I could walk. No. Even after braving the bitter cold, his mother
said that he wouldn't answer the door.

A darker thought comes to me. I hate to consider it but I'm feeling
really depressed. What if I were to just run away? Leave Havre behind me
to spare us both the difficult challenges ahead. My heart aches me. I
can't leave Jesse now!

There's nothing I can do but wait. Mrs. Winnapah said that she'll pick
me after six-thirty. That's the best way to proceed. It aches my heart
that Jesse is feeling sad. It's all my fault!

I return to my bedroom and get some clothes on. The heater is switched
off. I spot Jesse's underwear at the edge of my bed. I'm reaching for it,
pressing this part of Jesse against my breast. They feel cold and clammy
in my hands. A poor substitute for him. Oh, how I'm aching to hold my
lover!

I wander back to the kitchen. My good clothes from last night are found
on the floor. I fold them before placing them over the chair. Tears sting
my eyes. I angrily wipe them away. Running Water is right - I need to act
strong like a man.

I settle down to watch some television. The clock reads 10:08am.
After flipping through the channels with nothing good to watch, the clock
mocks me with its red glowing digits - 10:16am. This is going to be the
longest day of my life!

There's a knock on my door. I'm filled with much trepidation. If it's
Running Water, I cannot ask him to take me over Jesse's as much as I'd
want him to. The door is stuck with ice and has to be forced open. It's
Mr. Augusten. I'd helped him foundate his battered trailer last week. I
invite the man in.

"Pretty bad weather," comments Mr. Augusten. He stomps his feet on the
mat before coming inside.

"Best to stay home and weather it." The man takes a quick look around.
"What brings you over?" I ask.

"Need some help."

I look at the elderly man and wait for him to tell me what that is. He
is white, in his sixties and from his drawl in speech, has me guessing
that he comes from the South. I figured that out the last time we met.

"Pretty warm in here." He eyes the portable heater in the kitchen.

I've seen what his eyes have fallen on. "I also have one in my bedroom.
This old trailer I'm renting doesn't have a working heater system."

"You're renting it?" asks Mr. Augusten. He looks around again.

I'm tempted to match his accent by saying 'yup' but I nod my head
instead.

"You were very handy with helping set my trailer down. Thought you were
traveling the road like us."

"What can I help you with?" I ask impatiently.

"Well, the Misses is getting cold because the heat isn't working in our
trailer. I told her it is but she says it's too weak to even warm her nose
due to the weather, and all."

"Why don't you borrow mine?"

"That's mite kind of you, Mike. Are you sure you won't be left in the
cold?"

"No. I have another one in my bedroom so I'll manage. Just me here."

"My wife would sure appreciate it. Come on over for lunch. That's the
least we can do to thank you."

"Okay. Let me get the one from my bedroom. It's been switched off so I
can carry it over to your trailer right now."

Mrs. Augusten is beaming. She has set a spread of food on her table and
my heater has sure helped raise her spirits. We sit down and eat lunch.
Mr. Augusten likes to talk. He's telling me about their travels in Canada,
even during the winter that puts our storm to shame. His wife is always
interjecting corrections to what he says or adds a comment. I see their
obvious love for each other even after all these years of being together.
I wonder if gay relationships can be as resilient.

After eating, I sit in an old reclining chair (that squeaks when I rock)
and get my ears filled with more stories from the old man. His wife is
cleaning up in the kitchen. I've had a chance to look around their trailer.
It's cluttered with nick-knacks from their travels. A plaque on the wall
below their clock reads: 'We're spending our children's inheritance'.
Funny, that.

Mrs. Augusten shouts from the kitchen. "The sink water ain't running
again!"

Her husband flashes me a weary smile and goes to check on it. I look at
the clock. It's almost noon. Still more than six hours before I can see
Jesse. I'm feeling a pang of loneliness. I realize that this has been the
longest that we've not seen each other. Two whole days!

Mr. Augusten returns.

"The water is running slow again," he explains. "Had that since a few
years back when we were bumped in Washington State."

"It was in Utah," corrects Mrs. Augusten. She had followed her husband
into the room. "You backed into a tree in Manti four years ago."

Mr. Augusten doesn't bat an eye. I suppose he's used to his wife
correcting him and chooses to ignore it.

"Mike. Do you know anything about water lines in a trailer?"

"I'm afraid I don't but I'll take a look."

Two hours later, we have to admit defeat. Mr. Augusten traced the lines
back to the intake but they didn't appear to be clogged. The bathroom water
runs fine. It's the kitchen faucet that runs but a trickle.

"It could be the water pump," I suggest. "Your kitchen is furthest from
your reservoir so it's either that or a plug in the line somewhere in
between. I'm sure the park manager would be more helpful."

"I thank yeh for trying."

I'm surprised that Mr. Augusten hasn't thought to ask the manager.
Perhaps he doesn't have enough money to pay him. A funny thought strikes
me. They could raise cash from selling all the stuff they've accumulated
during their travels. Sure would save on gas when they're back on the road.

"We'll get the heater back to you when the weather warms up. Again,
thanks for loaning it to the Misses."

Mr. Augusten walks me back to my trailer in the snowstorm. He didn't
have to do that. I'm approaching my door and offer him to come inside for
a cup of coffee. He declines. That's when I notice that he's carrying
something under his left arm. He offers it to me.

"A tarp to cover your motorcycle," explains Mr. Augusten.

"Thank you." I walk along the side of my trailer to my bike. It's
covered in a thick layer of snow. I wipe it away and Mr. Augusten helps me
drape the tarp over it.

"If you take care of your transportation, it will take care of you."

Good advice. How could I have forgotten about looking after my bike?

I'm thanking Mr. Augusten again for his thoughtful gift. He may be poor
money wise, but he's very rich in heart. I decide to ask him how things are
really faring for him and his wife.

"Not too badly," he answers in a strong voice. "Well. You've probably
figured right off that we're going to be stuck in Havre for a spell. One of
our kids may help us out. Been asking that often of them these past years
though. They have their own families to look after."

"Why don't you just settle down somewhere?"

"You know, Mike. We love to travel the road, see places and meet new
people like yourself. Lots of good people out there."

"For how much longer?" I ask, regretting those words out of mouth.

"Hmm. I am feeling my age and the Misses is sure complaining a lot.
More than usual. But it's like this, Mike. A man has to walk forward in
his life. If he stops, the great adventure ends. Remember that. Keep
putting one foot in front of the other. You can look back, see the
mistakes so you won't be repeating them. Just keep walking forward no
matter what."

I take his words to heart. Mr. Augusten and his wife have been on the
road for a long time. I can imagine the wonderful places they've visited,
their great adventure! Havre is only a temporary stop for them. They'll
keep going, even if it's only in their truck.

We raise our hands in farewell. The old man trudges through the newly
fallen snow until he's lost from sight. I'm entering my trailer while deep
in thought.

Mr. Augusten is a very wise man. The Indians would consider him a
shaman of the White people. Age and experience does that. I start thinking
about me and Jesse. We have something wonderful that I should not let slip
through my fingers. I'm feeling ashamed that I'd considered running away.
I have to walk forward in my life. Jesse alongside me. We'll experience
the great adventure together!

After watching some television to pass the time, I take a shower at
5:40pm. My new underwear and jeans are put on. They feel snug. I don't
even need to wear a belt. I'll bet that my butt shows nicely. Too bad there
isn't a tall mirror in the trailer to look at myself with. I'm running
hands down both sides of myself, feeling over my flat stomach and shapely
butt. My body is more fit than I can remember in a long time. No wonder
Running Water wants me.

I decide on a casual shirt to wear. No need to be formal for Jesse's
mother and I'll feel more comfortable. So that I won't forget, I fetch my
laptop bag from the closet. It's set down by the front door.

I plunk down on the couch to watch some television. The news is mostly
about the unusual winter storms raging over Montana. They're expected to
worsen later tonight.

The clock reads 6:30pm. I'm keeping my ear out for the door but I
expect that Mrs. Winnapah will probably arrive closer to seven. The roads
must be awful now. A quick prayer is offered to keep her safe. I also ask
God to look over Jesse. I'm sure he'll come out of himself when he sees
me. He has to!

I become anxious when it passes seven o'clock. The television is
switched off along with the portable heater in the kitchen. I grab my
winter jacket and put it on. I'm peeking out my door at the thick flurry
of falling snow. Headlights are approaching. I'm grabbing my laptop bag
and step out even though I don't know if it's Mrs. Winnapah's pickup.

It's her! I lock my door and walk to the road. Snow crunches beneath my
gym shoes. I'm careful with my steps so I won't slip. I pull on the door to
her truck but it won't open. The woman reaches over to unlock it. I get in.

"Sorry about that, Mike."

"That's okay. I'm glad that you made it here safely with the storm and
all." I set my laptop bag on the seat between us. My hand brushes against
a warm bag. It smells like roasted chicken. My mouth waters.

Mrs. Winnapah slowly makes her way out of the trailer park. There are
no other vehicles in sight. When she makes the turn, a strong wind gusts
against her truck but she compensates by turning her wheel sharply. I'm
feeling along my chest. No seatbelt. I remember that she's told me it
doesn't work. We're nearing her home anyway.

She plows through her driveway with much slipping and turning. We come
to a stop. Her garage is in the distance. I don't ask her why her pickup
isn't parked inside.

"We've made it," announces Mrs. Winnapah. The engine is shut off.

I see that she's exhausted. I'm grabbing my laptop and the bag of
chicken that will be our dinner tonight. At least she won't have to cook.
We get out and struggle against the fierce wind until entering her house.

In the hallway, I shed my winter jacket and am stomping my feet over the
mat. My laptop bag is dropped in the front room. I follow the woman to the
kitchen with the bag of food.

"I hope that you don't mind," referring to the carry out food. "Do you
like chicken?"

"Yes. It smells good." I gently grasp Mrs. Winnapah's left arm. "Where
is Jesse?" She nods, leading me to the bedrooms in the back of the house.
There are two doors opposite each another. She knocks on the left one.
After waiting a moment, she opens the door and we go in.

It's dark inside. There's a nightlight on the right wall and that's
where Mrs. Winnapah goes. I make out a bed. Jesse appears to be sleeping.

"How are you, honey?" she whispers. Her hand goes to her son's head and
gently strokes his hair. "I've brought Mike home. Come and say hi to him."

I get closer to the bed to greet Jesse. I'm filled with anticipation to
see him that my heart bursts! The woman turns to me with a sad expression.
Then I remember to guard my feelings but she may have caught a glimpse of
my face. I see that Jesse hasn't stirred. There's just enough light to
see his eyes. They're open. Occasional blinks but what worries me is the
blank stare on his face. Anguish fills my heart to see him this way!

"He hides within himself," whispers Mrs. Winnapah. "Sometimes for days."

"When... When did Jesse become sick?" I don't know what other word to
describe it.

"When I came home Thursday. Jesse was sitting on the couch and good
to his promise, the television wasn't on. He asked if you were coming over
for dinner. I told him no, realizing only then that he'd fallen sick again.
That's the last words he spoke."

I'm close to tears. Mrs. Winnapah turns to her son and gently strokes
his cheek. There's no response. When the woman turns to me, I've managed
to get my feelings under control. At least what shows on my face.

"Can I stay with him for a while?" Fear squeezes my heart for asking
but I can't think of any other way to be with Jesse alone to try lifting
him from that place where he hides inside himself.

"I'll set the table."

Mrs. Winnapah passes me and leaves the room. She's kept the door open.
I'm kneeling on the cold floor, my right hand reaching out to touch his
face. "Oh, Jesse. Please wake up! I am here. I've brought over my laptop
for you to play with. Your mom has brought home some roasted chicken to
eat. Aren't you hungry? I am. Please wake up!"

Jesse continues to stare at the ceiling. Tears fill my eyes and I'm
quickly wiping them with my arm in case his mother returns. I look towards
the door. I hear the clinking of dishes from the kitchen. That assures me
that we're alone.

I lean over to Jesse's face and press my lips over his. They feel
cold, like death. I'm gently kissing him while my tears drop. I know that
he's in his head somewhere but how to reach him? Our kiss ends. My breath
trembles when I whisper, "I love you, Jesse. Love you!" No reaction from
him. I glance at the door again.

Something that Jesse has told me pops into my head. It's an unbelievable
thing but I'm willing to try it. I press the left side of my face against
his face, close my eyes and Think of how much I love him. I'm filling my
head with images of how I see him: his warm smile, the longing on his face
that shows his love for me, his soft voice that enchants my ears, our
loving embraces that makes my heart pound, the feel of his warm body next
to mine and how I ache to make love to him! Even the sweet smell of his
underwear. I picture all these sweet things in my head and Will them into
his head.

Footsteps down the hall. I pull from Jesse and quickly wipe my face of
tears. Mrs. Winnapah comes to the door. She stands in darkness but I can
sense her disappointment. I slowly get to my feet and take one last look
at Jesse. He blinks a few times but continues staring into nothingness.

I drag my feet towards the door but my heart is left behind with Jesse.
Mrs. Winnapah turns away. She leads me through the kitchen to the dining
room table. I plunk down in the chair. Stunned.

The three burning candles catch my eyes. I watch their mesmerizing dance.
Mrs. Winnapah bows her head a moment and I do too, pleading unto God.
'Please All Mighty. Awaken my sweet love and I promise never to leave him!'

My eyes return to the candles. I'm staring at them, three burning
spirits like to those in this house: Jesse, his mom and myself. I feel a
deep calm coming to me. It pushes away my anguish, my fear and even hope.

"Mike."

I violently shake my head to try awakening as if from a dream. I'm still
feeling stunned, without emotion or thought. Like a sleeping stone. Breath
fills my lungs and my eyes focus. Mrs. Winnapah stares at me in a peculiar
way then gestures at the spread of food. I'm not feeling hungry. She's
waiting for me so I reach for a drumstick.

Dinner proves to be difficult. Mrs. Winnapah doesn't speak a word but
she's often glancing at me. Does she realize that I've fallen in love with
her son?

I force myself to eat. The chicken is good along with the sides she's
purchased: coleslaw, corn on the cob and mashed potatoes. They remind me
of the food you can get from Kentucky Fried Chicken. I remember my dad
taking us there to eat.

"Are you done eating?" Mrs. Winnapah asks.

I'm nodding my head. The woman sighs, turning towards the back of the
house with a worried look on her face.

My stomach feels very full. Concern comes to me about Jesse. "Are you
able to get him to eat when he's... sick?"

"Sometimes. He likes chocolate pudding. I spoon some into his mouth and
he'll eat. Sips of water, too. His uncle has been coming over to check on
him while I'm at work."

I'm glad. He's a rather thin kid... no. A man. But he needs to grow up
some more inside.

"Mike."

I look at Mrs. Winnapah and fear what she's about to say.

"You're very taken by my son. I appreciate your concern but he'll snap
out of it."

The candles catch my eyes again. I watch their soothing dance and feel
a withdrawing into myself.

"You said that you used to be like Jesse? When you were young?"

I can barely hear her voice. It takes effort, but I return to the Now.
What was her question? Ah, yes. Was I like Jesse when I was young. A deep
breath fills my lungs before answering, "Yes. I know why your son does it.
He escapes being hurt by withdrawing into that safe place deep inside him."

"Do you still do that sometimes?" she asks softly.

I see the concern in her eyes. "I've found escape by working on my
computer. It's taken over my life though. That's why I'm on extended
leave from my job. To see the world where things are real. To meet new
people. I want to try living my life." The woman nods with understanding.

"Life hasn't been easy for Jesse. His father..."

"I know. He's told me what happened." I'm hoping to spare her having to
explain what must be a very painful subject for her.

"He's told you?" gasps Mrs. Winnapah.

"My parents also divorced. I'd thought I was to blame but later, I came
to realize that things like that happen sometimes." I become daring. "It
hurt Jesse to see your husband abuse you. And getting the blame for it."

Mrs. Winnapah stares down at her plate. She tries composing herself.
"You've missed your calling in life, Mike. You should have been a Healer."

Guilt fills me. My love for Jesse was what had brought him out of his
shell. At least in front of me. I notice his mother's intense eyes. Has my
face given myself away? I have to say something to divert her attention.
"I think it's my fault that Jesse is sick."

Before she can ask, I explain that to her. "He had come over to my
place after school on Thursday. Classes ended early because of in-service.
He came to see me after being dropped off by Singing Hawk. We got to
talking. That's when he told me about his dad.

"He cried. That was difficult for both of us. Then I asked him if you
had given permission for him to come over. When I realized that you didn't
and his uncle who was to pick him up from school would become worried by
not finding him at home, I sent Jesse away. That's why he is sick. I
should of let him stay with me! I'm sorry."

Mrs. Winnapah gets up from her chair. She grasps my shoulder.

"You are the most caring... person I've ever met, Mike."

I think she was going to say 'white' person but had swallowed that word.
I'm feeling tears in my eyes. The woman stares at me so I can't hide them
from her.

"You two have become like brothers," whispers Mrs. Winnapah.

I nod my head. I'm wiping my wet face with my arm. She starts clearing
the table while I just sit there staring at the burning candles. I look
at the empty chair where Jesse would sit. I'm feeling lost without him.

The food has been left on the table. His mother's hope that Jesse will
eat later? I don't know, but I'm hoping so. The chicken smells very good.
I hear voices in the kitchen. I'm rushing from my chair to see if it's him.

Mrs. Winnapah is hugging Jesse. Such relief fills me that I'm running
to him, grasping his arm and almost, I forget to hide my love eyes.

"Hello, Mike."

"Hi!"

They separate and I see how happy his mother is. "We've saved you some
chicken. Come. Let's eat!" Jesse eagerly follows me to the dining room.
Mrs. Winnapah brings two plates. We finish off what's left of the food and
both of us exchange secret glances. His mother just sits at the table.
She's beaming.

We go into the front room while his mother clears the table. I get my
laptop out. Jesse drops to the couch. He looks kind of tired so I let him
play the Hover game. Teaching him MS-Word will be for another day.

Jesse gets through the first two levels quickly. I can see that he's
memorized the mazes so finding the randomly placed flags is easy for him.
He manages to get past level three. The computer cars find their flags
before he does on level four. The game ends.

I squeeze Jesse's shoulder to console him. He doesn't start the game
again but turns to me with his seeking eyes. "I'm sorry about Thursday!"
I blurt out.

"We wouldn't have gotten into trouble," he whispers.

I see Jesse looking out for his mother. I'm leaning closer to him and
steal a kiss when he looks back at me. He responds. Passionately! Our lips
press together nicely. My heart soars. All my worry and pain goes away. He
loves me! That's all that matters right now.

I gently withdraw from our kissing. We both turn to look for his mom.
Jesse releases a weary sigh. I smile. He turns to the laptop's screen and
gets the Hover game running again. My arm reaches around him. We shouldn't
kiss anymore but I'm really needing to hold him.

He manages to pass level four. That's further than I've ever gotten in
that game and I tell him so. He gives me the laptop at the end of his game.
I'm shown where to look for flags and to look out for floor traps. He knows
which balloons I should pop to grant me immunity from them.

Jesse holds me. I think that would look better than if I were holding
him when his mom comes into the room. At that moment, she does. I offer my
place on the couch to her but she declines, dropping into a chair on our
left. She picks up the remote control. The television turns on with a
weather warning. High winds have downed power lines. The snowfall is
expected to become heavy.

Mrs. Winnapah often glances at us. I'm trying to read her face whenever
the game pauses to load in the next level. She seems to be happy; relieved.

My laptop is given to Jesse when I grow tired of Hover. He plays
Solitaire. After giving him a quick review of the rules, his finger darts
over the glide pad. I point out a few card moves he doesn't see. His mother
leaves the room.

I'm startled when Jesse gives me a kiss. It's sweet, but brief. I see
such longing in his face for me. That makes me feel guilty though. I had
seen that same endearing emotion on Running Water's face when he...

Jesse gasps. "My uncle likes you?"

A cold chill goes down my spine. I glare at Jesse for two reasons:
that he knows what had happened between Runner Water and me, and how he
has learned that. "Jesse. How can you know what I'm thinking?"

"I'll tell you if you'll tell me about my uncle being with you."

I'm afraid to. Jesse's eyes return to the screen. He makes another
card move before speaking again.

"My grandfather has told me that I'm special. I can sometimes See
what's in someone's head. Especially when I'm touching them. Your thoughts
are very strong and, I think that I can feel you and hear you because we
love each other so much."

Jesse makes another card move before he turns to me with pleading eyes.
It's my turn to confess. I look for his mother and am disappointed that
she's not here. He squeezes my shoulder really hard.

"I won't be angry with you, Mike. Just tell me."

"Can't you see what happened by looking in my head?" My words may have
been a bit too strong.

"Please, Mike. I want to hear you tell me."

"Alright." I take a deep breath. "Running Water came over Thursday
evening to drive me to class. He saw me naked after my shower. Touched my
butt." I glance at Jesse. He reveals no emotions on his face. Well, maybe
a little worry.

"He drove me home after class. In the kitchen, he revealed that he likes
me. He took off his clothes. I couldn't help but look at him. He undressed
me and I felt like I was in his power. He held me."

In a small voice, "Did you have sex with him?"

"He did but I didn't come out from my dick. I swear it!" Jesse nods.

"You are telling the truth, Mike. I can feel it."

The bad feelings about what his uncle has done to me fills my head. It
makes my heart ache, especially because I feel that I've betrayed our love.

"You didn't, Mike."

I stare at Jesse. "You really do know what I'm thinking."

"Yes. I'm not suppose to tell anyone because it would frighten them.
That's what my grandfather has warned me."

"Who else knows?" I ask in a trembling voice.

"My mom and Running Water."

Jesse stares at the screen. He moves a few more cards around. I study
his face intently. He's not showing anger but simply concentrates on the
game. I'm unsettled that he has this psychic power. I wonder what else he
can do?

Something Running Water said comes to mind. I have to tell Jesse!
"I know why your uncle thinks I'm meant for him." He pauses the game and
gives me his full attention. I'm about to speak but he does first.

"It's because of Ron's ring," says Jesse.

I'm nodding my head. "His grandfather told him that my dream meant I'd
be following in Ron's footsteps. That's why his ghost showed me where to
find his ring. But they're wrong! I'm not ever going be with your uncle. I
told him so." I hold up my right hand to show Jesse.

"You aren't wearing it."

"No. I gave it back to your uncle." Jesse's eyes have that far away
look in them.

"We will follow in their footsteps. Those rings should come to us."

A cold chill goes through me. "Did your grandfather tell you that?"
Jesse's eyes return to me.

"No. But it just feels right."

"Are you going to be a shaman, Jesse?"

"My grandfather said I would when I'm grown up. I'll try to serve my
People like he has."

Mrs. Winnapah enters the room with a tray. She notices Jesse's arm
around me but he doesn't try to pull it away.

"I hope you like this, Mike."

The tray is set down on the coffee table. It's fried bread smothered
in honey.

"This is what our People eat for dessert."

"It looks good, Mrs. Winnapah."

"Please call me Winna. Ah. I wanted to mention this before to you.
Winnapah is my first name."

"I didn't know. Sorry."

The woman smiles. "I signed up for your class using that name so you
couldn't have known."

Jesse has already taken a piece of bread. He's been smiling during our
conversation. I see Winna looking at the tray so I take a piece. It tastes
good, kind of like eating pancakes.

I take another piece. Jesse is already on his second and he wipes honey
from his mouth that erupts with a yawn.

"It's getting late." She looks at Jesse with a mother's Look that says
it is time for bed.

"But mom! I'm not that tired. There's no school tomorrow and, I want to
work on Mike's laptop some more. He's going to show me how to use MS-Word."

Jesse turns to me for help. "The weather out there is pretty bad, Mrs.
Winnapah. Remember when we drove here? It's probably gotten even worse so...
Can I stay here tonight?

I see her considering it. "Please, Winna." I glance at her son who is
excitedly nodding his head.

"Okay, Mike."

"We can get you blankets and a pillow," says Jesse. "It will be like
having a sleep over!"

"Kind of," I whisper. "You have a bed, Jesse. I'm going to be sleeping
here on the floor." I've said that so his mom won't get suspicious.

Jesse must have caught my hint. He reaches for the last piece of fried
bread with nothing readable on his face. Winna takes the tray away.

I grab the laptop Jesse had set aside and lift its screen up. I'm
exiting Solitaire. Word is brought up and I ask him a few things to see
what functions he already knows and what to teach him. His mom returns
with three blankets and a pillow.

"Thank you, Winna. You'll get your turn on my laptop tomorrow." The
woman nods. She sits down in her chair and changes the channel to watch a
movie. I focus my attention on the computer's screen.

My laptop is handed over to Jesse. I'll show him some advanced functions
that will come up in Monday's class. I ask him to type out a few sentences,
something about the snow storm. He's slowly plucking the keys with his two
fingers. I demonstrate the Find function. He gets it. Then I show him how
to Find and Replace text.

Jesse glances at his mom. She seems absorbed by the movie on T.V. His
fingers type out another sentence even though I didn't ask him to. I'm
smiling to myself. On the screen, it says: 'Are you afraid of the dark'. I
reach my hands over to the keyboard and type: 'No. But back at my trailer,
there is a ghost named Ron. He scares me.'

Jesse types, 'You shouldnt be'.

I avoid the subject by typing, 'An apostrophe goes between the letters
n and t to make the word: shouldn't and end your sentences with a period."

Jesse takes a while to read the screen. He peers at me. I see his face
light up when he plucks out three words. I'm given a longing gaze. I
answer him with those same three tender words. I'm saving this document to
the hard drive so that I'll have our declaration of love for always.

I exit Word and shut down my laptop, placing it on the coffee table.
Jesse snuggles closer to me. His right arm comes to my shoulder. I'm
squeezing his thigh when his mother isn't looking. This is a very happy
moment in our lives. Almost, we can be together as a loving couple with
his mom in the same room.

The movie Winna is watching ends. It's a b&w classic: The African Queen.
I've seen it many times before. It ends with the couple (married by the
ship's German captain granting Humphrey Bogart's last quest before they
were to hang) swimming away from the sinking ship to freedom as man and
wife. Jesse fondly squeezes my shoulder.

The television is clicked off. Winna gets up from her chair and turns
to Jesse.

"Okay. Time for bed. You'll see Mike in the morning."

"Good night, Mike. I hope you sleep well..." Jesse says with a sly grin.

I catch his hint. It sends an exciting tremor through me. I'm unfolding
the blankets; two are placed on the floor so it won't feel so hard against
my back. Winna leaves the room with her yawning son in tow. She switches
off the light.

It becomes very dark in the room. There's a faint glow coming down the
hall from the kitchen. I suppose she's left that on for me. Not enough to
disturb my sleep. A yawn fills my mouth. I'm sitting over my bed to pull
my shoes off. Then my pants. My shirt comes off next. I usually sleep in
the nude but tonight I'll keep my underwear on.

The blanket is pulled over me. I've managed to sleep over in Jesse's
house tonight but I'd have preferred staying in his room to be with him.
A smiles comes to my lips. I remember what he said about me 'sleeping well'
and his sly grin. That was a hint! If so, I'll probably not sleep a wink
this night.

My body settles over the two blankets beneath me. I can still feel the
floor against my back but it's not that bad. I'm listening to the wind
howling outside. A clock is ticking somewhere. It's a soothing sound that
reminds me of my apartment back in Indianapolis. I realize how far I've
come. Not so much in distance but in acknowledging my gay self, to find
happiness with Jesse. I am finally living my life.

I've stumbled some when giving into the temptation of having sex with
Running Water. He has a nice body. I can't believe that my cock had stuck
in his butt! Then I'm remembering that his had almost stuck in mine. Guilt
fills me. I wanted him. He came out from his cock but I didn't. That makes
me feel a little better. I'd only want to do that with Jesse when we're
ready to be a couple.

I'm yawning more often. My eyes close but I won't allow myself to fall
sleep. My troubling thoughts about Running Water are pushed aside. I think
about being with Jesse. How his slim body would feel in my arms, us kissing
and nice things like that. The wind is really howling. Like my hungry heart.

I'm shaken awake. It's dark, and I don't know where I am.

"Mike?"

In a rush, I remember! My blanket lifts so that Jesse can scoot in with
me. His arms come around my back. I bring his body closer to mine. He feels
so cold! My hands try warming him up.

"I stood a long time listening to you snoring," Jesse explains.

"Silly! I was waiting for you."

"Really?"

"What about your mom?" I whisper.

"She's asleep. I listened for a while at her door until I was sure.
Then I heard you snoring too but I didn't know if I should wake you."

"I'm glad you did." My heart bursts that we are together! I'm feeling
very happy. He's shivering but I don't think it's just from being cold.
My hands wander down Jesse's back. I touch upon the elastic band to his
underwear but don't reach any lower. His cold feet press onto mine.

Jesse's long arms tighten around my back. I enjoy the feel of his body,
so slim in my arms like a boy's shape. I'm feeling his erection through
his underwear that's pressed against my hard cock. His chest is against
mine, his erect nipples sticking into me. When he takes a breath, his
tummy expands. An exhale. I breathe him in. I'm really loving him! Yet I
question whether we should dare being together tonight. What that might
lead to. I fear his mom catching us and there's no way to explain that away.

"She's sleeping," assures Jesse. "We can finally be together and..."

"I want to hold you, Jesse. Maybe nothing more than that. Okay?" His
arms give me an angry squeeze. My breath is forced out of me so I spank
his butt. He giggles.

We face each other in the dark. How I wish that I could see his eyes!
I'm feeling the strong urge to make love to him but I worry about getting
caught. And if we're even ready to. Running Water comes to mind. He and I
had sex but there's nothing in my heart for him. Jesse has taken mine.
Completely. I really love him but it feels different somehow; not an adult
attraction. His uncle is a man both physically and by how he acts. He can
support himself. Jesse is more like a kid brother to me, needing protection
and to be looked after. I don't want to take advantage of his innocence.

"Mike?"

"Yes," I breathe. Jesse doesn't speak for a long moment.

"I'm feeling that you are troubled. How you think of me as being too
young to love."

I swallow nervously in my throat. It's difficult knowing that Jesse can
see inside my head but he's voiced my greatest concern. Is he really old
enough to be my lover?

"I'm only two years younger than you, Mike. I know that I don't act
grown up but I'll try to, with your help. I love you so much! I know what
I'm doing and I really want you."

"I want you too, Jesse! I do love you." Tears sting my eyes. "But can
we be a couple like Ron was with your uncle?"

"We can try to this night. Give me a chance! And in the morning, if you
still feel that I'm too young then we'll forget what happened."

Jesse is being very mature by saying that. It proves that he's ready
to love me in an adult way like what I'd felt in his uncle's arms. I make
a decision.

With my left hand, I pull the blanket over our heads. Jesse's face
comes really close. I'm feeling his breaths. His nose touches mine, turns,
and our lips press together. We kiss. Gently. Almost as if we're afraid of
waking his mom.

Jesse pauses from our kissing to take breaths. My lips roam over his
face - his big nose, soft cheeks and lift to his forehead. I've also been
smelling him. He has a clean lime scent that turns flowery when I kiss his
hair. He's kissing my neck. That tickles me!

Our lips rush to meet again. We're kissing frantically but I'm needing
to do more! My tongue shyly explores his mouth until it finds his tongue.
A shiver goes through Jesse. He sticks his tongue in my mouth. I'm sucking
on it until he takes his turn with my tongue. We're gasping for breath. Our
hands have been exploring each other.

When I'm touching Jesse's butt, I feel its humping. His dick has been
rubbing against mine. I realize that will get him to explode like in our
last embrace. Another wet pair of underwear! I pull them down in a rush.
He's pulling mine down. Our bellies come back together with the meeting of
stiff male heat. Thrusting. It feels so good.

Jesse cries out. I feel his release against me and try getting my cock
to shoot. That proves difficult. I've only had sex with myself and in a way
that's unusual from how other guys get off.

I'm trying to have sex with Jesse. My face is buried in his neck. His
long hair tickles my nose. I'm pulling over his butt, rubbing my cock over
his but the sensation is too slippery. It feels good though. I just can't
reach that thrilling point where I'll cum.

"Let me get on top," Jesse suggests.

I help lift his slim body over mine. He grasps my shoulders, pulling
over them when making slippery stabs against my cock. I feel my butt
flexing against the blanket below. I'm holding his butt. It feels nice
and sexy! My fingers slip between his crack when I get the urge to touch
his hole. His legs spread. I'm rubbing over it, feeling really turned on
and I wonder what it would be like to fuck him.

We are kissing passionately. Lots of wild tonguing. I'm drinking in
Jesse's love and can't get enough of him! He stabs his dick against me. I
meet his downward thrusts over my cock. There's a sinking feeling in my
stomach that I'm not going to be able to win this battle though.

I've been sticking a finger in Jesse's asshole. He moans against my
left ear. I feel his slimy tightness, the bodily heat around my finger that
has penetrated into his butt up to my knuckle. It really excites him. His
whole body quivers as if feeling an electric shock. Would I be able to
come out by fucking him? I'd think he'd let me.

Jesse makes a few harsh stabs against me and cries out. He's managed
to do it again. I'm glad. Such need in him to come out but I can't. That's
not important. We have expressed love with our bodies, experienced that
joy and I am not regretting it. I'll try to find release the next time
that we're together. Maybe if we have sex in my trailer, I will feel more
comfortable. His mother won't be around to catch us in the act.

I slow my heated body. No more thrusts since I've given up trying to
cum. I'm feeling disappointment; really embarrassed. Does Jesse realize
that I haven't done it?

We hold each other and rest. Jesse's breaths become slow and even.
His arms no longer clutch me that tightly and I suspect he is going to
sleep. I've been enduring his weight on top of me. Kind of hard for me to
breathe so I gently lower him to his side next to me. The smell of cum is
strong under our blanket. I pull it down to our shoulders, breathing in
the cool fresh air.

I listen to the clock ticking. Jesse's breaths blow gently against my
face. My heart bursts for him and I want to squeeze him in my arms but fear
that would awaken him. I'm feeling content.

It's hard staying awake. I want to keep holding Jesse but he should be
getting back to his room. But not yet. I don't want this moment to end.

New To Love Part 1

2007-09-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

This is a story about Mike Yager who falls in love with a Native American named Jesse. They must overcome the difficulties of cultural differences (White versus Indian), gay prejudice and try to seek acceptance to their relationship that just felt right. Gay love can be found even in the smallest of towns where it lies hidden until awakened. This happens between these two young men who are new to love.

I glance at the clock above the chalkboard and see that there's ten minutes left of class. I'm relieved. As much as I enjoy teaching, these two hour sessions can be grueling for me. Especially when my students are older adults who don't take to computers like a duck to water. They are more disciplined than the kids I've taught. 'Computer Camp' comes to mind, a disastrous class of thirty 'gifted students' ranging in age from eleven to fourteen. We didn't have enough computers to go around so two or three kids would share one. Not a good idea. The bored students would throw paper balls at each other, shout across the room or whine about not getting their turn at the computer. I spent most of my time with crowd control than with actual teaching.

I've never taught kids again. This evening class consists of ten adults, most new to computers who have come to learn Microsoft Word. I like that program. It's universally used by many Windows users. Just a lot of functions that need to be learned. My students use it at work or want to write letters on their home computers. We meet three times a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It's a non-credit course. I'm showing them how to use the spell checker right now. I chalk out the sequences they'll need to click on their computers.

I turn to my students. "Okay. Follow these steps to do it." I'm wandering around the room to help anyone who gets stuck. The hard part for them is deciding which boxes need to be clicked.

"Excuse me, Mr. Yager. The word it chose isn't the right one."

I lean closer to Mrs. Winnapah to see the list of suggested words on her screen. "It thinks 'tats' is the correct suggestion but we both know that the word should be 'test' so click it." She does. I don't see her clicking the 'Change' box so I point that out on her screen.

"Click that?" she asks.

"Yes." Mrs. Winnapah is one of my slower students. She's still afraid to do things on the computer and I'm often at her side to help. I think she's in my class because her job requires her to learn this program. Something to do with secretarial work, if I recall.

The Indian woman nods her head and smiles at me. The correction has been made. "Now click that box - the 'OK' because it says that the spelling check of your document is completed".

A man sitting nearby asks, "Why doesn't the computer automatically correct words?"

"That's a good question." I've raised my voice to address all of my students. "MS-Word will automatically correct common spelling mistakes. If you're out of spell checker, type: 'Teh' and press the spacebar."

I watch Mr. Kent two-finger type those letters. After he does, the word 'The' appears. I address my class again.

"Did you see what happened? Typing 'Teh' was automatically changed tothe word 'The'. That's a simple correction. Other words like 'tast' that we purposely typed wrong had too many possibilities for automatic correction so that's why we used the spell checker. The suggestion from the computer was wrong but the second word below it, 'test' was correct. After you clicked that word, it replaced the misspelled one in your text."

I look at the clock and clap my hands once. "Okay. Let's exit Word and shut down your computers. We'll meet again on Monday." I wander around the room to make sure that everyone exits Windows and that their monitors have been turned off.

I return to Mrs. Winnapah's side to make sure she has shut down the computer. She has. I nod my head to assure her that she did it right.
"You're learning it."

"Slowly... There's so much to remember with these computers."

"That's why you keep notes. Practice at home and soon it will become easier for you." The woman's lips form a grimace.

"I don't own a computer."

"Are you learning this program for use at work?" The Indian woman nods her head. "Try to practice there, after hours if you can." Mrs. Winnapah gets up and pushes her chair into the computer station. Her long hair dances over her shoulders. She is a short lady, and plump.I feel pity for her. It's hard to learn a required skill for her job and not have a computer at home to practice on. She's probably under a lot of pressure from her boss to get up to speed.

I erase the chalkboard. At the door, the lights are turned off and I lock the classroom. I'm relieved that it's Friday night. Not to party; I'm too new to this town to hang with friends (don't have any yet) and other than the bars (not my kind of scene), it's pretty dead at night. Miss Owens waves at me from down the hall. She's talking with someone I don't know so I pass them with only a casual greeting. She hired me to teach this class. It's a community college that serves this town. The only one around for miles. I do it mostly out of fun; I like to teach. I'm hoping that Miss Owens will assign me more computer classes but I don't know if there's much demand for it. This is horse country.

I walk to my motorcycle. It's a warm night for April, a clear sky filled with stars that lifts my heart. But only for a moment. I'm a pretty lonely guy with no chance to find someone around these parts. I don't like girls. I've hidden that part of myself from everyone so there won't be any trouble. No sense in making it known that I'm gay.

The ride back to my trailer is a dark one. I breathe in the Spring smells that awakens something in my heart. I'm tempted to make a trip to Great Falls this weekend. It's only ninety miles away. That's where I flew in last December from Gary, Indiana - my childhood home. The sandy flats I'm familiar with has been replaced with tall mountains and the rolling grass prairies of Montana. They have trailer parks here like back at home. I'm renting one through the summer.

Of all the places to visit in these United States, I chose Havre. It had been on a whim. Montana has a number of Indian reservations to explore and that's why I came. I'm part Indian on my mother's side. Only an eighth though most of me is German from my father. I've always been fascinated by Native cultures, at least what it had been hundreds of years ago that's often romanticized in books. As a boy, I enjoyed looking at pictures of half-naked Indians riding painted horses to hunt and make battle. I've had sexual fantasies about them: getting ravaged by a handsome Indian warrior that's led to love.

A visit to the Rocky Boys Indian Reservation shattered that dream. It's a wasteland of run-down shacks and trailers, ranches, old pickup trucks (everyone has a pickup truck or jeep) and most Indian men I found were getting drunk in a bar. There are no good jobs to be found so they get money from the U.S. Government. I see the loss of spirit and freedom in their faces. A shadow of the once proud people that they were.

I found a museum on the Blackfoot but it was closed. The gift store too because of winter. There will be powwows during the summer. I look forward to attending one and it's my hope that I'll meet someone.

I park my motorcycle near the door to my trailer. A Winnebago. It's a name similar to that Indian lady in my class. After unlocking the door, I cast off my good clothes (worn only when I teach) and lay naked over my bed. I'm not feeling up to beating off. Teaching takes a lot out of me. At least it gives me contact with people. I've been feeling pretty lonely. Oh, what am I doing here?

I've left behind a good computer job in Indianapolis. I was part of a software development team coding educational programs for kids. I'm drawing Royalties from a few titles I did on my own. That's allowed my wander lust to be indulged and I thought Montana would be a good place to explore. A break from my 9 to 5 job (I've often worked late into the night to meet deadlines). I've burned out from the stress.
I'm getting lots of rest now. Other than that one class, my days are free. I've ridden my motorcycle all over these parts to take in the scenery: the tall mountains, creeks and endless prairies. I love nature. I've hiked lots of trails and done some horseback riding. They do that Western style out here with a horned saddle; I was taught to ride English where you post to your horse's strides (butt raised slightly off the saddle with legs bending up and down to keep your balance).

Once, when I was allowed to ride unguided, my horse sprang an erection that I curiously handled. Their cocks can get very long. Mine couldn't cum because he'd been gelded. Not from the lack of trying. I pulled over his dong and even dared to suck on his knob. A naked horse reminds me of what I like about Indians: their natural wildness and freedom. In the three months I've been here, there's been a lot of cute long-haired guys to look at but none who've given me the eye. Those I've tried striking up a conversation with had been unfriendly, even hostile. I suppose that's because I'm a White man in their eyes and this is Their land. Too much bad history between us.

Why am I attracted to Indians? I suppose it's because they're dark skinned, have smooth bodies and long black hair. My interest in them had been awakened from reading children's books depicting half-naked warriors. I knew that I was gay at a young age but kept it a secret. I've never done anything sexual with anyone. I'm not counting that time in second grade when a boy named Gordon tried things with me in the bathroom. We rubbed our stiffs together and sat on each other's butt.

I feel my cock getting hard. I'm not a boy anymore but a man withneeds. I could return to Hogeland and do some more riding, get that same gelding and play with him some more. But you can't hug a horse and kiss him like a lover and that's what I'm yearning for. To be with a man.

I pull the blanket over my head and turn onto my right side. My cock is pushed down between my thighs and rubbed. That's how I get off. I imagine being with an Indian man who holds me close, his dark eyes staring into mine with fierce love to express what's in our hearts. It's a nice dream. I need to find a way of making that happen.

Saturday is spent with me doing a bunch of things: laundry, buying groceries, writing Easter cards to family sent via snail mail and I helped a new neighbor foundate his trailer. They're an old couple who plan to summer here. Can't imagine why. Yellow Stone would prove a better vacation spot but park fees can be expensive. I wasn't offered any money for my help and wouldn't have accepted but it makes me think they've fallen on hard times. Their trailer was pretty beat up. A big gouge in its rear right corner hadn't been fixed. Their truck is old. I think that their retirement travels through Canada and the U.S. has wound down and they're stuck here. 'Havre Cottage and Trailer Park' will likely be their grave site, both for their trailer and themselves.

I watch some classic b&w movies on television until late into the night. It helps lift my spirits until I get in bed alone. I'm far from friends, familiar hang outs and a demanding work load that had turned the blur of passing weeks into months. I hate to admit but I miss that. My computer work was a crutch though. It kept me from really looking at myself, the sadness and lack of fulfillment that I'd been suffering.

Sunday morning comes. I'm up late and moping around the trailer until it's an hour after noon. I throw on some clothes and brave the chill of a wet and windy day. That's April for you.

After getting gas for my motorcycle, I discover that the chain is too loose. It's already on the tightest setting. I'd bought this bike shortly after flying into Great Falls. A cheap used bike. It's proving to be a bad purchase because things keep needing to be fixed on it. I'm on first name basis with everyone at Roy's Motorcycles. I head there right from the gas station so that they can get it taken care of. I've a class to teach tomorrow night. Too far for me to walk and I'd hate to call up Miss Owens to ask for a ride because she'd be only to happy to give me one. Oh, the terror an unmarried woman can bring to guys like me. She's been giving me hints to ask her out on a date. Uhg!

The head mechanic named Pete tells me they don't have the chain my bike needs in stock. Running Water offers to drive me into the next town to get one. I'm glad because he's a good looking Indian. We take off in his new red pickup, a Ford. The man hardly utters a word even when I try striking up a conversation about the weather, Havre, the mountains, repairing motorcycles and anything else. I've learned not to talk about the subject closest to my heart - Indians. That's simply not discussed between a white guy and Them.

Running Water is actually friendlier than most Native Americans I've met. His face isn't taunt. No raising of shoulders nor that blank stare I usually see when I'm within two feet of an Indian. I'm careful not to stare at him too much. He wears his hair long and loose. Turquoise jewelry is in evidence around his neck, both wrists (silver bracers) and in a ring worn on his left pinky finger. Even his belt buckle is adorned with that blue stone. I look lower for the outline of his cock in his jeans but am disappointed.

I'm often glancing at his crotch but force myself to stop looking before he catches me. He's in his mid-thirties. A good looking man. Very slim. A lot of Indians have become fat from enjoying White people food like hamburgers and fries too much.

We arrive at a bike shop in Chinook. Running Water comes in with me when I purchase the chain. He converses with another Indian for a moment. I'm not surprised that he doesn't introduce me. Is that man his father? We head back to Havre. I peer out my window at the rolling landscape of grass blowing in the wind. Just thirty miles to the north is Canada. When I rode that gelding out of Hogeland, we passed over the unguarded border and it was the first time I've ever been out of the United States.

"What's brought you to Havre?" asks Running Water.

I'm momentarily startled by his initiative in conversation. "I needed to take a break from my job in Indianapolis."

"What's that?"

"I write computer programs for kids. I'm teaching a class at your community college." Running Water looks at me. It's the first time that we've had good eye contact.

"My aunt is taking a computer class there."

"Is it for Microsoft Word?"

"I don't know. She needs to learn how to type letters on their computer at work."

"That's probably my class. Mrs. Winnapah is one of my students."

"She's my aunt."

Running Water looks at me again. I have to drop my eyes for some reason. "She's a good student," I blurt out. "I'll do my best to have her learn that program."

I think he's nodded but I'm not sure. His arms draw my attention when pulling over his steering wheel during a turn. They seem unusually long. I look down at his legs. When we walked into that bike shop in Chinook, he stood a little taller than me which had come as a surprise because there's not much to his body in the middle. He's kinda like a scarecrow with long sticks for arms and legs.

Running Water remains quiet. I've been trying to come up with something to say, just to hear his voice. Indians are a soft spoken people. I love hearing their accent when they speak.

The tiny hairs lift at the back of my neck. I get the feeling that he's been watching me through the side of his eyes. He's attentive to driving but I am being studied. What does he think about me? There's also a peculiar air to him, like a throw back to earlier days when Indians were strong and proud. He wears the clothes of a White man. Inside, he is all Indian. Not the modern kind.

We return to Roy's Motorcycles. I hand Running Water the bike chain with a twenty dollar bill held against it. He gives me a look. The kind of Look I've often seen from an Indian when I act or say something stupid.

"To pay for the gas," I explain. He takes the bill and I'm startled when my shoulder is grasped.

"My aunt told me that you are a fine teacher. Very patient."

I peer into Running Water's dark eyes. "Thanks... for helping me get
the chain. I'll be able to drive to class tomorrow night and I will tell
your aunt that we've met." He nods. I'm following him into the garage
where he hands Pete my new bike chain. Nearly an hour later, my
motorcycle is ready. I didn't catch sight of my new Indian friend during
any of that time.

I chalk out the sequence to highlighting text in MS-Word on the board.
"Anchor your mouse at the beginning of a paragraph to be marked. You do
that by holding down your left click button. Drag your mouse over the
text until it's all blue then let go of that button."

I watch my students perform the operation. When most of them turn to
me, I continue. "That's what you do first before the next step. I'm
going to show you how to cut that marked text and paste it to another
part of your document."

I'm wandering around the computer stations to be sure that everyone
has highlighted the paragraph in the example document they've loaded
from disk. Mrs. Winnapah is having trouble with getting part of the last
sentence marked. Before I'm able to help her with it, her son tells her
something in an Indian language. She moves her mouse over the pad, clicks,
and the paragraph becomes highlighted. "That's right."

I smile at her boy. He averts his eyes from me and tries to act like
he's not there. Invisible. I've been watching him all during class to
determine his age and I simply enjoy looking at him. I think he's in his
late teens. His hair is long. And just like I've seen with Running Water,
the length to this boy's arms and legs stretch out further than what I
would expect. He's thin. What's often caught my attention are the strong
emotions on his face. Very unusual to see that in an Indian.

The last half hour of class is spent showing how a marked text can be
cut, copied, put to bold, underlined, italics and have its font and size
changed. I'm often at Mrs. Winnapah's side to see if she needs any help.
Her son gets her to do it right. I praise the boy often but he slinks
back into himself whenever I'm near.

When class ends, my students close down their computers and file out
of the room. Everyone that is except Mrs. Winnapah and her boy.

"Mr. Yager, I apologize for being late today." She turns to her son.
"This is Jesse. I hope you don't mind that I've brought him to class."

"Not at all!" I offer Jesse my right hand but he doesn't take it. My
hand slowly lowers to my side so my rejection won't be that noticeable.

"I'll try not to let it happen again," whispers Mrs. Winnapah.

"I don't mind. Really. You can bring him to class anytime you want.
He seems to know a lot about computers." Jesse lifts his eyes and I
smile at him. My heart leaps into my throat. He smiled back.

I quickly collect my things, foregoing the erasing of my instructions
from the blackboard so that I can follow them out of the room. They wait
for me to lock the door.

We walk out to the parking lot together. We reach my motorcycle and
Jesse circles around it. I tell him that it's a Honda 440. He stands
before the headlight and taps on it.

"That's my eye in the dark," I joke. Jesse doesn't respond so I turn
my key in the ignition. The headlight casts its beam over him. He laughs.

Jesse glows like an angel with his face as bright as the sun. I'm
stunned for a moment by his loveliness. Longing fills my heart for him.

"Come here Jesse."

I put on my helmet and wait until her son has moved out of the way
before turning the ignition key. The engine doesn't start. Oh, I didn't
unlock the kill switch.

"It won't start?" asks Mrs. Winnapah.

I'm about to explain the reason for that when an idea strikes me.
"No. I had it in the shop yesterday but it seems that they didn't fix
the problem."

"I can give you a ride."

"Thank you." I get off my bike and remove my helmet. Jesse grabs my
satchel. He hands it to me and our fingers brush for a moment. The effect
is electric. Why am I feeling this strong for a kid I don't even know?
His face. I remember how he smiled at me back at the classroom. Never
has any Indian shown me such warmth.

"Where are you staying?"

I'm taken from my thoughts and stare at Mrs. Winnapah, trying to
recall what she's just asked me. "Havre Cottage and Trailer Park," I
blurt out.

"We only live down the road from you. Are you with family?"

"No. I'm there by myself." Jesse starts heading towards a pickup
truck in the lot. Mrs. Winnapah walks at my side, slightly behind me
when we go to join her son.

The truck comes into view. It's too dark to make out its color or
make. Probably a Ford. That's what most of the Indians are driving. I
stand by Jesse and wait for his mother to get in. There's no rear seat.
When Mrs. Winnapah opens the door on our side, the boy scoots over but
it doesn't leave much room for me to sit.

"Put your left foot over here," Mrs. Winnapah asks her son.

Jesse moves closer to his mother and that's when I notice the stick
shift. He has it between his legs. I close the door and after dropping
my helmet and leather satchel at my feet, I look for the seat belt.

"It doesn't work."

I fold my hands in my lap. Jesse is pressed against me with our arms
touching. I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt. I would have liked to feel
his bare skin against mine.

Mrs. Winnapah starts the engine. She reaches between her son's knees
to put her truck in gear. I catch Jesse looking at me. It's too dark to
see his face but I stare back, feeling the seeking of our eyes to find
each other. The longing in my heart grows to a sweet aching for him.

Headlights reflecting in her center mirror draws my attention. There's
an object hanging down from it: round and netted like a basketball hoop.
Two feathers are strung to it by a thong. They sway this way and that
each time she makes a turn.

Jesse drives his knee into my left leg each time his mother has to
change gears. It's becoming annoying.

"Stop that, Jesse!" the woman scolds. "Try to be still."

He keeps doing it. Why is he trying to make his mother mad at him? I
grasp his knee and hold it next to my leg, away from the gear shift.
That solves the problem. I'm enjoying the warmth of his body. It's giving
me an erection.

Mrs. Winnapah clears her throat. "My nephew told me that your
motorcycle needed a new chain."

"Yes. Running Water helped me get one in Chinook." Fear pierces my
heart. If she tells him what I'd said about my bike not getting fixed
right, they may discover my lie. This was a stupid plan! I only wanted
to spend a little more time with Jesse.

Mrs. Winnapah drives through the entrance of my trailer park and I
direct her along the maze of roads to where I'm staying. "It's there."
She stops her pickup near my door.

"That was Mr. Earlman's place," she whispers.

"He died there," Jesse adds.

Goose bumps rise over my body. Someone died in my trailer? I realize
that Jesse has spoken some words in English. My helmet and satchel is
taken from the floor and I push on the door. "Thank you. You've been
very kind for giving me a ride. I don't know how I could have made it
home without your help." I'm half way out of my seat, lingering for a
moment to look at Jesse one last time. What a cute Indian brave. Our
eyes meet.

"Goodnight, Mike."

"Goodnight Jesse, Mrs. Winnapah." I can't get myself to turn away
from the boy. There's pleading seen in his eyes. He turns to his mom.

"You can come over for dinner tomorrow night," offers Mrs. Winnapah.

"I'd like that." Jesse says something to his mom. I can't follow his
Indian words but they're nice to listen to. My longing grows for him.

Mrs. Winnapah speaks to her son. "Ahn, Jes-ee-ah. Eep-ta-ma-ah."

The woman has reverted to speaking in Indian. Then she addresses me.
"You can come over at 6:15, Mr. Yager."

"Please call me Mike."

"We live at 219 Winding Creek Road. That's a handful of houses past
the entrance to your trailer park. You'd turn right."

"219. I'll be there. Again, Thank you." I'm slipping out the door and
Jesse scoots over to where I was sitting. He peers out the window at me
and I wave back at him.

Their brown pickup turns around and I watch them speed off. My chest
tightens with longing. I notice that my breaths are trembling. Is this
what it feels like to fall in love? I'm fumbling to unlock the door to my
trailer. My head fills with troubling thoughts that has me scolding myself.
'You can't be with that kid! He's at least ten years younger and they'd
kill me if I touch him!' Images of getting scalped comes to mind.

No lights are turned on. I'm feeling lonely; lost. My good clothes
are removed and I lie in bed for a long time thinking about Jesse. My
hand grasps my cock but it's not hard. I can't get myself to think about
him that way. Not that I wouldn't want to jump his bones. No. I'm feeling
pain in my heart because we can't be together in a way I'd like. He
probably isn't gay. And even if he were, we just couldn't!

I'm staring at the ceiling for a long time thinking about the sweet
possibilities of him and me. I don't remember the moment when I finally
managed to fall asleep.

I awaken from a strange dream. It's already fading but I recall seeing
an Indian face. He looked like the man Running Water was talking to at
that bike shop in Chinook, but older. I sit up in a rush. A cold chill
goes down my spine when I remember the strange part. He had spoken an
Indian word to me and smiled!

After breakfast, I tidy up the place. My good clothes are hung up to
air over a rope I've tied between the walls near my bed. I wander around
the trailer, opening every drawer as if looking for something. Most are
empty or contain things I have placed there. I search the closet. Nothing.
Then I recall what Jesse had said about Mr. Earlman.

My eyes close when I concentrate on quieting my thoughts. It's silent.
Not even the sound of traffic. My foot digs under a fold of carpet against
the wall. I feel something cold against my big toe.

I'm kneeling down so that I can pull the carpet up to see what it is.
Something round. My fingers close on it and to my astonishment, I discover
that it's a silver ring set with a rough black stone. There are no
markings within the band. I try slipping it on my right pointing finger
and it fits.

I stretch out my hand to admire the ring. What kind of stone is that?
It's not been faceted so this can't be a precious gem. Light seems to go
through it, like a dark teardrop. Did this belong to that man who died?

I consider taking the ring off. I'm pulling but it's tight around my
finger so I leave it on. This was meant for me, I fancy. That's why I
was searching the trailer to find it. An eerie feeling goes through me.

I fetch my black zippered bag from the closet and remove my laptop
from it. The power supply is plugged into an extension cord I've snaked
to an outlet from the bathroom. The electricity near my bed doesn't work.
I connect the telephone line to the modem port and turn the computer on.
I sigh with anticipation. When the screen activates with the familiar
colored flying squares and a running row of blue dots, I feel that I've
come home.

My email is checked. There are some messages to answer from family and
friends. I do so. Dianne has three messages for me. The subject lines
hint about a programming contract. I'm groaning. I had taken extended
leave from her division to recharge my batteries. It's been barely four
months and already she wants me to return to work!

I review Dianne's proposal. She acknowledges that I'm on vacation but
asks if I could code some voice recognition modules to a new software
title they're working on. That's my specialty. The 'Read and Say' series
have been selling well in the kid's educational market. I'm feeling drawn
to working on this new one. I click the 'reply' button.

My fingers relax over the keyboard when I consider taking the plunge.
Even though I could work on code here and upload it to the office, that
would utterly consume every waking hour of my life. That's how I do
things. I'd be ordering out for food with pizza boxes and empty cola
bottles piling up at my door. I wouldn't be leaving the trailer except to
teach class, begrudging even those few hours lost from writing code.

I stare at the ring on my finger, the black teardrop. It reminds me
that life passes too quickly. That's why I left Indianapolis to escape
the relentless demands as a computer programmer so that I could address
my own needs - to find happiness. Jesse comes to mind.

After a moment of struggle within me, I watch my ring finger moving
across the glide pad until the 'Cancel' box lights up. It's soundly
tapped. I won't give Dianne a reply. Done. An aching fills my heart for
Jesse. Even though I don't know if anything could develop between us,
I need to give it a chance.

My laptop is closed down and returned to its bag.

I'm feeling the need to get away. A long ride on my motorcycle will
help pass the time before dinner tonight. An excitement fills me. I'll
be seeing Jesse tonight!

When pulling on a pair of jeans, I realize that my bike has been left
at the community college. Too far for me to walk. I'm stuck here. The
black bag containing my laptop catches my eye. I grab it, walking with
it the closet so that I won't be tempted back into my old life.

I turn on the television. It's a new Sony 14" that I picked up at
Wal-Mart. It didn't surprise me to find one in this small town. They
even have a McDonald's and a Burger King.

I'm flipping through the few channels. I don't have cable. A Canadian
program catches my eye and I watch it through. Some kind of investigative
series on acid rain that had me frowning when blame for their loss of
trees and fish stock was placed squarely on the U.S. because of our
millions of cars and industrial releases into the air that has gone
unchecked. Good propaganda. I know what they've said is true but what
can you do about it? Hey, we're the U.S. of A.

I don't find anything else good to watch. The clock over my television
reads 12:48pm. More than six hours to go. What can I do to pass the time?

I clean up my trailer. There's no vacuum cleaner for the carpets so
I'm sweeping the three months of accumulated dust over a piece of
cardboard. I'll have to remember to stop by Wal-Mart to get one. I'm
going to be staying here for another two months before returning to work.

The dishes are put away. I wipe down the stove and countertops. Stuff
scattered about are either put into a garbage bag or tossed into drawers.
This trailer has lots of empty drawers.

When I'm done straightening the place, I feel a bit sleepy. My jeans
are pulled off. I'm getting into bed and as an after thought, my underwear
is also removed. I toss it to the floor.

My hand goes to my cock. It's limp so I pull over it to get myself
hard. I'm trying not think about Jesse sexually. That wouldn't seem right
because I don't want to demean my deep feelings for him with lust. Hmm.
How would he look like naked, I wonder? He's a slim brown-skinned Indian
with long black hair. I'm not sure about his age. Could he be as old as
twenty? He acts like a kid though. There's something odd about him that I
can't put my finger on. I've not heard him talk much. Not in English,
anyway. He has a soft voice and I try picturing his face in my head.

Like most of the Blackfoot Indians around these parts, Jesse has a
nice oval face. Black eyes. A younger version of his uncle but he
expresses his emotions. That's what surprised me. I remember his smile
most of all and the way he looked into my eyes. He spoke my first name.
My head shakes angrily. Am I reading too much from him? He likely doesn't
feel the same way for me as I do. With his mother guarding him, there's
no chance to see if maybe he does. We also come from very different
cultures. There's the age difference. God! This is a hopeless situation.

I've not been able to get my dick hard. The blanket is drawn up to my
chin and I cover my face with a pillow to keep out the daylight. I am
feeling weary. Thoughts are chased out of my head that allows me to
eventually fall asleep.

I'm awakened by loud pounding at the door. Who can that be? A quick
glance at my clock shows that it's 4:26pm. My blanket is pushed away. I
don't bother with underwear when I pull my jeans on. Where's a shirt?!
More pounding. I rush half-naked to the door and open it.

It's Running Water. A cold draft blows past me so I fold my arms over
my chest, also to cover myself from the man's sight. He looks at me for
a moment but drops his eyes.

"Hi," I mutter embarrassingly.

"Hello. I'm sorry if I've disturbed you. Jesse said that your
motorcycle broke down at the college. I can give you a ride there."

"Thank you." Worry fills me that he may discover that I'd lied about
it not starting. "Can you give me a moment?" The Indian goes back to his
pickup truck.

I rush to a drawer and find socks and a shirt to put on. I'm trying to
come up with a convincing story about my motorcycle but nothing good
comes to mind. I can't let him bring it to the shop. They'll find out.

My gym shoes are pulled on. I see my underwear lying on the floor but
it's too late to wear it. The truck is started. I fly through the door
and nearly forget to lock it.

The Indian doesn't say a word all the way to the community college.
I've kept my eyes from him. During our trip, I can't think up a convincing
story to explain why my motorcycle didn't start last night. What am I
going to tell him?

Running Water parks in front of my bike. He gets some rope from the
back of his truck but I'm already unlocking the engine lock, turning the
key in the ignition and it starts. The Indian shakes his head.

"Maybe the carburetor flooded with gas last night or something..."

Running Water throws the rope back into the back of his pickup. I
wave my thanks to him. To my dismay, he follows me back to the trailer
park. I've been keeping my speed slow because I'd left my helmet behind.
My eyes tear from the wind.

When we reach my trailer, I get off my bike and see Running Water
getting out of his truck. He gives my motorcycle a careful inspection.
All the bared wiring is checked, the spark plugs and he fiddles with the
carburetor. I hope that he doesn't notice the engine lock!

Running Water checks the tension in the bike chain. At that moment,
my motorcycle starts to fall and I rush to grab it. He helps me get it
back up. "The kick stand is weak," I explain. That's always been a problem
so I bend over to straighten it out. My loose jeans start to drop. I'm
having to use both hands on the kick stand and can't pull them up.

The motorcycle is set down and it holds. I stand up. My jeans fall to
my ankles and I'm quickly pulling them back up. I'm sure that the Indian
had seen my butt. I look around to see if anyone else was watching.

With a burning face, I turn to Running Water. He was smiling. "Thanks
for helping. Ah. Do you want to come inside for a cup of coffee?"

"No."

There was a brief flash of fear on the Indian's face. Does he know
that I'm gay?! It could be something else so I'll test him. "Your aunt
told me that this was Mr. Earlman's place. Jesse said he died here."

Running Water nods. He keeps his face plain of emotion.

I hate that when people hide their feelings. "I'm not afraid of
ghosts." Some boldness comes into me. "I think that I felt his presence
this morning. He wanted me to find this ring." I show the Indian my right
pointing finger with a grin.

"You can't wear that!"

I see fear on Running Water's face again. He angrily thrusts his hand
out so I pull the silver ring from my finger and drop it into his palm.
"Was it his?"

"Yes." He examines the ring closely.

"Please tell me what's going on!" Running Water stares at me in a
peculiar way. I don't think he's going to say anything about it but he
does. A low, strained voice.

"My grandfather had made it for him."

My dream returns to me. "Was that who I saw at the bike shop in
Chinook?" The Indian continues staring at me. His fingers tighten around
the ring.

"No. That was my father you saw."

Yeah. That man wasn't that old. "I think that I should tell you
something. Maybe you'll know what it means."

Running Water glares.

"I saw your grandfather's face in a dream last night. He spoke to me."

"What did he say?"

My eyes drop from the Indian's tense face. He looks really angry. I'm
trying to recall my dream but the only part that I can remember from it
is that old man's smiling face. The strange word he spoke. I wet my lips
and try repeating the syllables: "Ah-ee-ne." I hear his gasp for breath.
"What does that mean?"

Running Water only stares at me, a real glaring look but I don't drop
my eyes from his. There's no anger on his face. It's excitement, I think.
His widening eyes prove that it is so.

Without a word, the Indian goes back to his truck. Almost at a run.
He's still clutching the ring when he puts his pickup in gear and turns
the steering wheel sharply. I watch him speed away. He's going to see
his grandfather. Somehow, I know that.

I enter my trailer while deep in thought. There's something going on
but I don't know what. That frightens me. I spin around, searching for
ghosts. "Why did you give me your ring?" Silence. I wasn't really
expecting to hear an answer.

It's nearly 6pm. I've taken a shower and am wearing fresh clothes. I
realize that I don't have a gift for Mrs. Winnapah. An idea comes to me.
I grab my laptop from the closet with my intent to give her a lesson
after dinner.

It's a long walk through the trailer park. Mr. Earlman's had been set
in the back near the cottages. Newer trailers are closer to the entrance.
I turn right along Winding Creek Road. There's a slight rise to the
pavement under my feet. I pass three houses before catching a numbered
address: 216. The homes here are made of wood, two storied and big. They
appear very old; weathered. I can imagine how harsh the winters can be
around these parts this close to Canada.

I come to 219 Winding Creek Road. It's not that big a house, only one
story. I'm walking up the driveway. Mrs. Winnapah's pickup isn't seen but
it could be parked in the garage. I heft my laptop bag that's hanging
down from my shoulder and approach the front door. No doorbell.

I knock. After counting to ten, I knock harder but I don't think
Mrs. Winnapah has come home yet. She told me 6:15pm. Was that the time
she comes home from work or after dinner has been made?

There's a face in the front room window. Before I can see who it is,
the curtains fall back into place. I hear the door being unlocked.
Jesse greets me.

"Hi."

The boy smiles.

"Did I come too early?" Jesse shrugs his shoulders. I give him a
good look. He's wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and brown pants. No
shoes or socks. His long legs and arms are very noticeable. A very thin
body in between them. I peer at his face and note his Indian features:
a broad forehead, big nose and nice brown lips all set in an oval of
smooth dark skin. His long black hair falls down the front and back of
his thin shoulders.

A deep longing squeezes my heart. Jesse has also been looking me over.
I wonder what he thinks of me? My body is very fit, especially after
enduring three cold months in Montana and from all the hikes I've taken. I
have lost some weight. That's why my jeans fell down in front of his
uncle. The next time I go to Wal-Mart, I'll see if I can buy pants sized
32 or even 31.

Jesse's eyes fall on my black bag. "I've brought over my laptop."

"Cool!"

I see the boy's excitement and he eagerly gestures for me to come
inside. I'm looking around his house. There's lots of Indian things
covering the walls: paintings, crafted objects of tied sticks and large
woven hoops that remind me of what I saw hanging down from his mother's
mirror in the pickup. I see several hand drums. Framed photos show
Indians dancing in a powwow. Jesse leads me into the front room.

I set my black bag down on the coffee table. My laptop is removed
along with its power supply that I'm unwrapping. I hand the plug to
Jesse and he dives under a lamp table where there must be an outlet.

My eyes fall over Jesse's backside. He is on his knees, head stuck
under the small table so he can't notice my peeking. His rounded cheeks
are outlined within his pants. I'll bet that his butt is very brown.
Smooth. I tear my eyes away from it to get my laptop set up.

Jesse drops down beside me. His knees stick up and I realize that
the coffee table is too low to use the laptop. I connect the power and
bring it to his lap.

"I can hold it?"

"That's why it's called a laptop." I show the boy how to pull on the
side hinges and I'm lifting the screen up. "Push that button to turn it
on." He does. The computer gives a familiar beep. After entering the boot
password, the Windows XP logo appears. After a moment, the desktop comes
up. My laptop is one of the newest on the market. A three gig processor
with plenty of memory and a large capacity hard drive. All of the
educational programs I've worked on are stored there.

Jesse studies all the icons. Then he's searching both sides of my
laptop and I realize that he's looking for a mouse. "You use the glide
pad." I demonstrate by running my right finger across it. His eyes widen.
He sets the pointer on 'Start'. He clicks that with the left button in
front of the glide pad. A menu appears. He runs through it to get to my
list of program files, studying each entry intently.

I realize that he's familiar with Windows. "Can you find Solitaire?"
Jesse looks in the Games folder and sets the pointer on that card game.
He presses the left button.

"Good." I squeeze the boy's right leg. He looks down at my hand then
peers at me with his gorgeous black eye. Something unspoken passes
between us. I feel a swift rising in my pants.

"Ah. Set the program's window to full screen. You don't have to press
the left button. Just tap the glide pad." Jesse tries that.

"Neat!"

An ace of hearts appears as the first card. "Double tap it. That card
goes over here." The next card is a nine of spades. I wait a moment but
Jesse doesn't place it over the ten of diamonds. "You put black cards on
red in a descending order in these rows." I show him. I'm double tapping
the nine of spades and run my finger across the glide pad until it's
dragged on top of the ten of diamonds before releasing my finger.

A seven of diamonds is our next card. "Tap on that card to reveal the
next card, Jesse. There's no black eight in any of the piles where it
could go." A four of hearts appears. After giving him a chance to place
it, I point at the five of clubs. He drags it over.

"Now lift your finger." The card sets down over the five of clubs. He
looks amazed. I'm often glancing at his cute face, filled with emotion.

"If your card is red, find a place with a black card that's one
number higher. They go in order: 2 through ten, then jack, queen and
king. Aces go up in that row." Jesse places a few cards by himself.

I've been enjoying the boy's warmth next to me. I'm torn between
giving him a little more space (my arm is pinned between us) or remaining
close to him. I hope that he doesn't mind. This is a small couch.

I notice that a pile of cards held by a black jack could go over the
lone queen of hearts. I show him how to move all those cards over. A king
is revealed next and I have him set it down in that empty spot.

Jesse is really getting into this game. He hardly needs my help. My
left arm had been pinned between us so I lift it to rest my hand on his
shoulder. My breath trembles. I watch his progress. He's speeding through
all the revealed cards and skips those that can't be placed. When a stack
doesn't move after several tries, he's tapping the glide pad angrily.

"Be gentle. Just tap twice on the uppermost card then drag it over."
Jesse is skipping all the lower cards, I notice. "There is a final part
to this game. See your four aces? Place the same colored cards with the
same suite, ah shape, in a rising order. That two of hearts goes over the
ace of hearts. Put the three of hearts over that and so on. The game ends
when all the kings cover the pile of cards beneath them."

Jesse's finger flies over the glide pad. He is amazingly fast. I see
how intent he is to finish the game, almost as if his life depends on it.
I'm squeezing his shoulder when the last king is placed. A victory
parade of cards drop down and bounce again and again.

"You did it. You've won this game!" Jesse watches all the cards make
their bouncing dance until a dialog box appears asking if he wants to
start a new game. He turns to me with a grin. My eyes peer deep into his
for a long sweet moment. He peers back at me. Not as shyly as before.

I'm really falling for this kid. I think he likes me too. His lips
are trembling and I feel the urge to kiss him. My face leans closer to
his. He closes his eyes. I feel his breath against my face but at the
last moment, I become afraid and pull back.

"You have a booger hanging from you nose." That was something stupid
of me to say but I wanted to distract his attention from my attempt to
kiss him. He rubs his nose a few times.

"Is it gone?"

I look at the boy's nose and nod. He continues staring as if waiting
for me to do something with him but I'm afraid to try.

Jesse releases a sharp breath. He lifts his right hand to his heart.
"It hurts."

I see much longing in his eyes for me. I'm lifting my hand and point
to my heart. "Mine, too." Jesse stares at my right hand. His eyes widen.
Does he realize what we've just revealed to each other?

I reach my hand over to Jesse's left shoulder and fondly squeeze it.
The boy turns towards me, nearly dropping my laptop. I set it down on
the coffee table. He buries his face in my chest. My face drops to his
hair and I sniff it. My breath comes out hard.

We hold each other with deep feelings swelling in my heart. Oh, God.
I think he's falling for me! I'm tempted to pull the boy closer but I
stop myself. His mother might catch us hugging.

"Not home yet."

"What?"

"She hasn't come home yet."

The tiny hairs lift at the back of my neck. How did he know what I
was thinking? I gently push Jesse away. There's a sad expression on his
face but when I look more closely, I see that it's intense longing.

"Are you like Ron?" asks Jesse.

"Who's that?" Jesse lowers his eyes and blinks a few times.

This is an awkward moment. I reach for my laptop and bring it to him.
"Let's play another game." I exit Solitaire and get Hover started.

Jesse is shown how to control his car with the arrow keys. I explain
that he needs to find three blue flags while avoiding the floor traps
that will either spin him around, hold him or steal one of his flags.
Popping the green balloons will grant immunity from those hazards. When
the blue car is spotted, I have Jesse bump into it for fun and tell him
that the computer's car is looking for red flags. It's a race to see who
will get their three flags first.

The laptop is brought into Jesse's lap. I notice the bulge in his
pants. He studies his screen intently and is racing his car all over the
place: through corridors, up the stairs and around walls. He quickly gets
his three flags while the computer's car only managed to find one. The
next level loads up.

Jesse explores this new maze but he doesn't find all three flags in
time. The computer beats him. I restart the game to the first level and
he's racing around. I'm amazed by how quick he is. It's almost as if he
has memorized this maze. The laptop's fan turns on, startling him.

"It's okay," I assure him. "The laptop is getting hot and the fan
turns on automatically."

Jesse captures his three blue flags even before the computer could
find any. The second level loads up. He zooms around and gets two flags
but the computer beats him again.

"Have to piss."

I take my laptop from Jesse and we both look down at the front of his
pants. "Did it get burned?" I joke. The boy gets up without answering me.
He straightens his erection and quickly leaves the room. I reach for my
cock to lift it to a more comfortable position inside my pants. A sharp
thrill is given me.

The front door is heard opening. I close my laptop and place it down
on the coffee table. Mrs. Winnapah is carrying two bags of groceries
through the front hallway. I offer to help.

"Oh, Mr. Yager. I am sorry that I'm late."

"That's okay. I've been showing Jesse how to use my computer." The
woman looks around for her son who appears suddenly like a ghost. She
hands him the other bag of groceries. I follow them into the kitchen.

Mrs. Winnapah removes her coat and sets her purse down on a chair.
Jesse is fumbling through the bags, pulling out a pack of chocolate
pudding cups. He turns to his mom with pleading eyes.

"Not until after we've eaten."

Jesse breaks off one of the dessert cups and whines when his mother
angrily points her finger at him.

"No, Jesse!"

I can see that she's exhausted. I go to her son and gently take the
pudding away. I lead him back into the front room. "Continue playing
Hover. Ah, don't try running anything else. I'm going to help your
mother with dinner. She looks really tired."

Jesse drops to the couch and brings the laptop to him. He pulls the
hinge releases to lift the screen. I hear the game starting. As I'm
about to turn for the kitchen, he peers up at me. Smiles. I grin back at
him and see longing in his eyes.

I'm slowly walking back to the kitchen. Concern fills me. If Jesse's
mom sees that in his eyes, she may know what's developing between us. I
must try to avoid looking at the boy from now on. It pains my heart to
do so.

Mrs. Winnapah is slicing onions. She already has a skillet going on
the stove to fry some kind of rounded bread. I wonder what I can do to
help? Not with cooking because she would likely object. That's a woman's
domain, deeply seated in Indian culture. Mine, too. I've read a lot of
historic books about the Native American to know that.

I notice that the sink is filled with dishes. It looks like they had
rushed with breakfast and didn't have time to wash them. I start running
the water. Mrs. Winnapah sees what I'm doing.

"No. I'll get that, Mr. Yager. You are our guest."

"I don't mind. Really. You have enough to do with cooking dinner so
please let me help out." I see the hesitation in the woman's eyes but
she returns to mincing the onions.

There are only a few bowls to wash, spoons and a mug. Looks like they
had cereal this morning. I see a little coffee remaining in the mug.
Dish soap is poured over them and I scrub each one out with a pad.
They're rinsed. I set them over the rack to dry.

Mrs. Winnapah is finished with the fried bread. I've eaten them once
before in Arizona at a Native American restaurant near the Grand Canyon.

The woman turns her efforts to cooking what will top her fried bread:
sliced beef, onions, tomatoes and other ingredients. She seasons with
salt and pepper only. I think she's making that same dish I'd eaten in
Arizona and my mouth waters in remembrance.

"You'd better check on Jesse," suggests Mrs. Winnapah.

I nod my head. When entering the front room, I don't hear the Hover
game playing and my stomach tightens with fear. He can't do too much
damage, I assure myself. I have a drive image backup burned on cd-roms.

Jesse quickly taps a few times on the glide pad. He peeks at me and I
give him a knowing grin. "Been exploring my laptop?"

"I didn't run anything. Just looked."

I sit down beside him. He hands me the computer that's been returned
to the desktop. I take a peek at the History file. It has been cleared,
not even the two games we've played are listed. He's a pretty smart kid.

"How far did you get in Hover?"

"Almost to the fifth level," he boasts. "I had to find four flags on
the third level and there are two blue cars against mine. Not very fair."

I'm surprised by his accomplishment. "I've only made it past the third
level myself. They keep getting all their flags before me." Jesse smiles.
I remember to keep my eyes from him so our love will cool by dinner time.

I shut down my laptop, close its cover and return it to the coffee
table. Jesse has his hands folded over his lap. I've been noticing that
he's been talking to me in complete sentences. What a nice soft accent! I
guard my emotions so that he won't notice the strong feelings inside me.

Jesse keeps glancing at me. I try not to notice because I'm afraid
what that would lead to. He touches my shoulder.

"How old are you, Mike?"

I love hearing him calling me by my first name. "Ah, I'm twenty five."

"That means you were born in 1978."

That was quick of him. "I'll be twenty six this June. How old are
you?" I'm guessing that he's sixteen or even seventeen.

"I was born July 20, 1979."

I'm surprised. He's two years younger than me? I stare at Jesse and
a lot of things come together. His shyness made him appear younger. I
know that Asian and Indian people don't show their age like us Whites.
They eat more healthy, too. That gives them good complexions. I should
have added years to my estimate of Jesse's age when he showed how
quickly he learns things, at least on the computer but he is awkward in
other ways. Why is his mother still looking after him?

Jesse drops his eyes. He kicks his feet against the coffee table and
I'm reminded by how unusually long they are. His arms, too. I've heard
that Indians have degenerative conditions that lessen their lifespan when
compared to other cultures. They are prone to diseases. They also get fat
on White people food because of their very efficient digestive systems.

I recall what I've learned from reading books on that subject. Before
the arrival of horses to America from the Spaniards, Indians were mainly
gatherers and small game hunters with the use of traps. Shooting arrows
or a spear is more successful when done from horseback. That's allowed
them to follow buffalo herds and hunt them. After ten thousands years of
being here, their numbers swelled only after the horse came.

"What school are you attending?" I ask. I suspect that Jesse isn't
attending college.

"A special program," he mutters.

"Do you play sports?"

"I can't."

Hmm. Is there something physically wrong with Jesse? I suspect that
he has mental difficulties because he acts younger than his age.

Jesse continues to look down at his lap. My questions have embarrassed
him, especially about school. "I didn't graduate from college. I'd gone
for a year but ended up teaching the Faculty to use computers."

"How can you teach without a license?" Jesse asks. "All my teachers
have those on the wall. And I've seen your name on some of the files in
your laptop. Where did you learn to program?"

He's done more peeking on my hard drive than he's admitted to. "I've
taught non-credit courses where you don't need to be certified. I learned
how to use the computer on my own. I'm really good. I've written code for
children's educational software - voice recognition modules, and to make
the programs more efficient so they'll run faster."

"I'd like to learn how to do that."

"I know that you're using computers in school. You could learn QBasic
to start with. It's fun telling the computer what to do."

"Can you teach me?"

"I'd like to see you some more. Not to play games but teach you useful
things like MS-Word so you can write papers for school. And you can help
your mom."

Jesse stops kicking the coffee table. He's dropped his eyes again
and I realize that something is wrong. I hear his mother calling us to
dinner. We glance at each other for a moment, some secret understanding
passing between us before we get up from the couch. I follow him into
the dining room. The table has been set with fine dishes and a spread of
food. There are three candles burning in the middle.

Mrs. Winnapah greets us to her table. She waits for me to sit down
before taking her seat. Jesse drinks water from his glass. That earns a
stern look from his mother. He bows his head. They seem to be praying
but without the folding of hands that us Christians do.

The woman breaks off half a piece of the fried bread and places it on
my plate. The other rounded half is given Jesse. She breaks from other
piece for herself. A steaming bowl is handed me with a ladle. I top my
bread with it. It's a meaty gravy. There are other serving plates around
the table filled with freshly cut vegetables and fruit.

I drink from my glass. It's water. If I had my choice, I'd have asked
for milk because that's my favorite drink to go with good food. No one
speaks while we're eating. I know that's custom amongst the Indians.

I've been avoiding looking at Jesse. I glance at his mother often
but she rarely looks back. We continue to eat in silence. I'm not used to
that. The food is very good. I take cucumbers and some slices of tomatoes
from the serving plates. I'll wait to eat the fruit for my dessert.

I glance in Jesse's direction when forgetting myself. His plate draws
my attention. He has cut his fried bread into neat sections. Two halves
of cucumbers have been joined to form a circle in the middle. Four slices
of tomatoes form quadrants. He eats from opposing sections and sips water
after each bite.

Mrs. Winnapah notices what I'm looking at. She drops her eyes to her
plate as if trying to avoid my asking about her son's matriculate eating
habits. Jesse peers at me. What a pretty face! I break eye contact and
continue eating.

When our meal is done, I nibble on some orange slices. Mrs. Winnapah
asks for my plate and I allow her to take it away. Jesse is using his
fingers to wipe his plate clean of gravy. When the woman is out of the
room, he flashes me a smile. I grin back.

She returns to remove all the other plates and glasses. I know better
than to offer to help. When she's left the room again, Jesse sneaks
away to another part of the house. I get up and go to the kitchen.

Mrs. Winnapah scrapes all our plates into the garbage can. They're
piled into the sink. I catch her glance and don't offer to clean them.
The leftovers are placed into plastic containers.

"Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Winnapah. It was good." She smiles.
"I've brought over my laptop if you are up for a lesson." The woman
takes a deep breath. I see her exhaustion. "Or we can do that another
time. This weekend, if that's better for you."

"You are very kind."

I smile. "Jesse is very skilled with the computer. Even better than
me in some things but I suspect that he needs help with writing. And
social skills. What kind of special program is he attending at school?"
Mrs. Winnapah almost drops the plate she was washing.

"They're working with Jesse to improve his writing in English. He uses
the computer because that's fun for him."

I notice that the woman is avoiding my eyes. She's uncomfortable that
I'm asking about her son but I really want to know more about him. What
challenges he's facing. Why he can't play sports. My heart is being drawn
to Jesse so I need to know everything about him.

"I can also teach him. I've helped write some educational programs
that help kids with reading, writing and math." Mrs. Winnapah peers at
me. She seems to be considering my offer.

"Let me think about it."

I suspect what her concerns are. The expense of private tutoring and
if I'm able to work past Jesse's handicaps. I'll try to convince her in
a round about way so that she'll understand my motives.

"I'm on extended leave from my job. I almost burned out on developing
software, meeting deadlines, fixing errors and that kind of thing. Havre
is the furthest town from Indianapolis that I could find so I could get
away from it all. I've been enjoying the sights: your beautiful mountains
and rolling grass plains. I like to horseback ride."

In a low voice. "I am also interested in Native American culture
because my mother's grandfather was full blooded. We think he came from
the Haskell Reservation." The woman stares at me.

"I'm mostly German from my father's side of the family. That's what you
see but I feel this yearning for the outdoors. I've been cooped up too
long inside a room with my computer and not spending time with people. I
am unhappy inside, with my life as it was."

Mrs. Winnapah is staring at my feet. I realize that I've opened up too
much to her. Especially when telling her about my interest in Indians.
That's always a mistake.

"I am sorry. For a moment, you reminded me of my mother." That's the
truth. My mother is a quarter Indian with black hair, short and plump
like this woman.

"Mike..." shouts Jesse.

I leave the kitchen and go see what he wants. Relief fills me. That
was getting difficult back there. I doubt that I've convinced her of
anything. In the front room, Jesse has turned on my laptop. I know
what's wrong.

"Need a boot password?" I tease.

"What is it?"

I shake my finger at him. A sense of loss comes to me when remembering
that ring I'd found in the trailer this morning. Running Water took it
from me. He's probably returned it to his grandfather by now. Was it
really that valuable? Jesse stares at me, reminding me about the laptop.

"You want the boot password. I won't say it because that would be
telling! You'd spread it around and before I know it, everyone will be
able to get into my laptop. Who knows what secrets it contains?"

"That's silly, Mike. You could always change it. Ah. What secrets?"

I laugh. I'm dropping to the couch next to Jesse. My hands reach for
the home keys position but I pause from entering in my password. "Close
your eyes." He giggles. I pluck a few keys and catch him peeking.

"Don't look or I'll tickle you or something!" Jesse shuts his eyes
really tight and I finish entering my password. He has a cute smile on
his lips. My heart aches to kiss him so... I do.

Jesse doesn't seem to react. I turn to the computer screen and stare
at the colored flying squares filling it. I'm feeling stunned. Our kiss
had felt wonderful but I'm afraid he was shocked by it.

The desktop appears. I glance at Jesse. There's no readable expression
on his face from what I did. He's pretending that it didn't happen.

In a low voice, "Click Start and find the 'Read and Say' folder." He
does. He clicks on one of the software titles I had helped to develop.
Fear creeps into my heart. Jesse hasn't said a word and he won't look
at me. But that may be because his attention is focused on the program's
opening screen. I hang my head. I shouldn't have kissed him.

"It's okay, Mike."

I glance at Jesse. He smiles, a understanding smile that assures me
that he's not mad. I lift my left hand to his shoulder.

"Enter your name." Jesse does and I have him select the first lesson.
A brown dog starts speaking to explain how the game is played. The story
text appears. I have him click the option to have it read to him. Then
sentences appear, each with a blank for the missing word.

"Dogs like to bury _____," I read to Jesse. There are four possible
answers and I read those to him. "Which word fills that blank?" I press
the spacebar to activate voice recognition.

"Bones," says Jesse.

The brown dog sticks his tongue out and says: "That's right. Dogs
like to bury BONES."

"He heard me?" asks Jesse.

"Yes he did. Now try the next sentence on your own. Read it to me."

"They... a word goes here, their tails when excited."

Jesse was slow with reading the sentence but he got it right. "What
are the four possible words that could go in that blank?" He reads the
words from the screen to me.

"Bite, wag, bark, dig. The answer is..."

I'm quickly pressing the spacebar.

"... wag."

The brown dog on our screen turns sideways and wags his tail. "Right!
Dogs WAG their tails when excited," it speaks.

"That's neat! I saw you pressing the spacebar. Why?"

"That's so the program will know when to listen for your answer. Try
the next sentence. Read it to me along with the possible answers. Before
you speak the word that fits, press the spacebar."

Jesse reads the third sentence to himself. He look at the four
possible words and is deciding which one would fill the blank. I see him
pressing the spacebar. He speaks. The dog runs around the screen.

"This is too easy," Jesse says.

"I know. I just wanted you to see the kinds of programs I helped
develop."

"You wrote this?"

"The speech recognition module," I explain. "I'm part of a whole team
of people like artists who animate the dog, programmers who get the text
displayed and so on." I exit this screen. The credits appear and I point
out my name.

"Wow. What other programs have you worked on?"

I move my finger across the glide pad and get another program running.
'Write and Say: It's a Boy's World' appears. This software is used by
more advanced grade levels that should be more challenging for Jesse.

A screen appears with boys playing softball. Below the animation is
an empty text box with a flashing cursor. "Okay Jesse. Write a sentence
that describes what they are doing."

"I don't know what to type."

"Okay. Try this: 'The boys are playing softball.'" Jesse stares at
the keyboard with a frown. I help him some more. "Type the first word:
The." He hits the letter 'T', then 'h' and takes a moment to find 'e' on
the keyboard. "Press the spacebar." When he does, we hear the computer
saying the word 'The'.

"Now type the word 'boys' and press the spacebar. It will speak that
word. Go on to finish the sentence: 'are playing softball.'" I watch
Jesse struggle with finding letters on the keyboard. When he hits a
wrong letter, he knows to press the backspace to erase it.

When Jesse has typed the whole sentence, I ask him to press period.
The computer speaks: "The boys are playing softball." He smiles at me.
"Good! Now come up with another sentence to describe what those boys are
doing when they play softball." I point out the bat, ball, a catcher's
mitt, the bases and the score board.

I'm feeling an urge to piss so I get up from the couch. "I'll be
right back." Jesse continues to stare at the screen. I hear him slowly
plucking on the keyboard as I leave the room.

I wander around the house before finding the bathroom door. My hand
fumbles in the dark to find a light switch. I step to the toilet, unzip
my fly and let go. A sigh of relief comes out of me.

My cock is slightly erect in my hand. I'm pulling over it, thinking
about what it would be like to embrace Jesse naked. A thrill shoots
through my erection. I hear someone walking down the hall so I tuck it
back inside my pants.

After closing the bathroom door behind me, Mrs. Winnapah catches me
in the hallway.

"Mike."

She walks towards the kitchen and gestures for me to follow her.
Fear grips my heart. I think she was peeking on us and didn't like me
holding her son. Maybe she even saw me kissing him!

Mrs. Winnapah stands in front of the stove. When she smiles, a great
sense of relief goes through me. We didn't get caught.

"You are a good teacher. I saw you working with Jesse and I've never
seen him open up that much. Not even with his therapist... the teachers
at school. I've been thinking about your offer."

I smile and decide to reveal what I suspect is wrong with her son.
"Jesse is autistic, isn't he?" The woman drops her eyes and nods. "I
was that way too when I was little. Always inside myself in a world of
my own but I broke out of my shell. Star Trek did that for me. You know,
the T.V. program. It made me read books about Spock and Captain Kirk,
all the planets they visited. I went to meetings with other trekkers.
That's how I became comfortable talking with people. I built electronics
inside tricorders, communicators and made a phaser gun light up. That
amazed my older friends. It gave me confidence in myself."

The woman nods so I continue. "Computers are doing that for Jesse.
He's really good with them."

"It's you too, Mike. You seem to understand my son."

She doesn't realize that I've unlocked Jesse's heart with my love.
And mine by him. "He's a lot like me..." I'm scolding myself for having
said that. I must be careful not to reveal my innermost secret to her.

"I want you to tutor my son, Mike. How much would you charge?"

I shake my head. "I don't need money. I can come over for dinner and
teach him afterwards for a few hours."

"That is very kind of you."

"I've been getting lonely in Havre. It's good getting away from work
but I miss talking with people. That's why I'm teaching that computer
class. I've spent three months exploring this area on my motorcycle,
hiking and horseback riding. I want to see a powwow this summer and
learn more about... your culture. That's hard to do as an outsider."

Mrs. Winnapah gently touches my shoulder. She is looking at me, right
in my eyes and I fear that she's seen straight into my heart.

"Alright." The woman goes into deep thought before speaking again.
"You like to horseback ride? Jesse's grandfather keeps horses and he
likes going to his ranch when his uncle can drive him out there."

"I have a motorcycle. I'll buy Jesse a helmet if you don't mind me
taking him."

"You should know that my son has Marfan's Syndrome. It makes his arms
and legs unusually long because his body stretches too much. He can't
endure much physical exercise or he'll be hurt."

I nod my head with understanding. I remember hearing about that
degenerative disease but couldn't remember what it was called. "I'll be
careful with him."

"Jesse also has fits sometimes when he gets upset about something
and he can become violent. He usually just sulks, hiding inside himself
for days at a time. I wanted you to know that."

"I understand."

Mrs. Winnapah gives me a weak grin. She lets go of my shoulder and
leads me to the front room.

"Jesse. How would you like Mike to start tutoring you?"

My laptop is dropped to the couch beside him and he stands up. Head
nodding excitedly. His bright eyes find mine.

"If you are good and do well with Mike's lessons, I'll let you ride
horses with him at your grandfather's ranch like you used to."

"Can I?"

The woman nods. "You must behave yourself. Listen to Mike and learn
what he's teaching you."

"I will!" Jesse shouts. "I promise."

"This has been a good evening," says Mrs. Winnapah.

I get the hint. I'm also feeling a bit tired so I start packing my
laptop. Jesse shows his disappointment. I point at the power cord and
he dives under the lamp table to unplug it. Mrs. Winnapah leaves the room.
My hand reaches down for his butt and I give it a pat. He turns to me
with a sly grin.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jesse." I heft my black bag over my shoulder.
Mrs. Winnapah returns to the room with a grocery bag.

"Here are some leftovers," she explains. "Do you have a microwave?"

"No."

"Well, you can heat it in the oven." She hands the bag over.

"Thank you." I glance at Jesse and see his sad eyes. I'm led to the
door by his mother and my heart sinks. I am missing him already!

Back at the trailer, I place the plastic containers of food in my
refrigerator. It hums after I close it. My clothes are stripped off and
I jump into bed. Everything that I've done with Jesse is reviewed in my
head. Am I going too fast with him? Our hug, kiss and touching his butt.
I'm lucky not to have been caught by his mother.

I consider beating off. Jesse really turns me on but it's the strong
feelings in my heart that endears me the most. I'm not trying to use him
for sex. That's something we'll do after we know each other better. I
like the way he makes me feel. Tonight, I've learned that he feels the
same way for me. When his hand touched his heart saying that it hurt him.
That's gotta mean he loves me!

Tears fill my eyes when my heart aches. I didn't know that love can
hurt so much.

The next morning, I ride into town. I'm needing some things from
Wal-Mart like pants, a vacuum cleaner and whatever else comes to mind.
I stop by McDonald's first. It reminds me of home.

I'm chomping down on some fries when I look around. Few White people.
There are a lot of fat Indians. A woman waddles past me with her tray of
food and I smile at her. She ignores me. It's hard to get inside their
culture, I realize. Mrs. Winnapah may help with that. Her nephew,
Running Water has warmed up to me. I feel that there was a connection
between him and Mr. Earlman whose trailer I'm renting. Were they good
friends?

What's the significants of that ring he took from me? I saw his fear.
He wouldn't even come in for coffee. Is he afraid of Mr. Earlman's ghost?

At Wal-Mart, I discover that I'm able to fit into a size 30 pants.
That really surprises me. Three months ago, I was a 34. Hiking must have
done that. And I've not been cooped up inside with my laptop where the
only exercise had come from picking up my phone to order food or walking
to the bathroom.

I miss that life a little bit. Weeks would fly by when I'd be coding a
particularly challenging module and see the result selling on the store
shelves. It was good money. Those few titles I did myself are earning me
Royalties that I'll be able to live on for a number of years.

I've put that all behind. Here in Havre, I can try to find myself and
be happy. Meeting Jesse has done that. My heart really aches for him.

I'm embarrassed when tears fill my eyes. I wipe my face before anyone
in the store sees me. Do we really have a chance to be together? Jesse
has some problems to deal with; his learning disabilities, Marfan's
Syndrome (would having sex be too hard on him?) and his mother warned me
about his fits. That's why she is taking care of Jesse. A boy still, in
a man's body though I've seen glimpses of his maturity. Can I help him
break out of his shell?

I pile up my motorcycle with the new vacuum cleaner and bags of
clothes. I'm careful with my driving. Lots of pickup trucks are zooming
past me. Why are they in such a hurry?

I enter my trailer park. The manager didn't tell me that its previous
renter had died in it. I suppose that's why the rent is cheap - only $250
per month.

With my arms filled, I go to my door and find a note taped to it. I
take it and enter the trailer. Probably something from the manager but
I have been paying my rent on time.

I sit at the table and read it. A short note from Running Water. He
wants me to see him at the motorcycle shop right away.

I park my bike outside the shop and enter through the garage. Pete
sees me. His eyes are rolling in dismay.

"Something wrong with your motorcycle again?" he asks.

"No. Where's Running Water?" He points back at the stock room. I see
the Indian and he rushes me back outside. He gets into his pickup truck
without a word and I slip in the seat beside him.

"What's wrong?" I ask. Running Water has a plain expression on his
face. That scares me. I'm thinking about Jesse, that somehow he knows
about us and I'm being taken outside town to get scalped.

"My grandfather wants to see you."

I sit quietly while Running Water drives me through town. He doesn't
say another word. I'm looking out my window, at the houses passing by
that dwindles to the occasional building then empty fields. We're heading
east. I see horses. Black cows are standing along ranch fences. The land
slopes gently with grass and an occasional tree. In my home state,
there's forests for miles and miles. Montana is big sky country.

I'm trying to enjoy the ride. It's nice to keep warm and out of the
wind by sitting in a truck. My motorcycle grants me the same freedom of
travel but it's not as comfortable. I look forward to summer.

Running Water glances at me every so often. I feel his eyes but try
ignoring them though I'm burning to ask him questions about where we're
going and why his grandfather wants to see me. I know it has to do with
that ring I found. Could it be something more though? That my secret has
been discovered and they fear for Jesse? I try to remain calm.

A battered road sign announces that we're entering Chinook. His
attention shifts from me to navigating the streets, traffic and looking
out for pedestrians. Our eyes had met once during the long ride. A peering
glare from him that's left me feeling naked.

Running Water drives to the edge of town. I smell wood burning. He
pulls into the Chinook Community Center. It's a rather plain looking
building, not what I was expecting for our meeting. They don't use tipis
or wooden lodges anymore, I suppose. He parks the truck in back. We get
out and enter the building through a side entrance.

I'm taken through a large room filled with lots of chairs. It reminds
me of the kind of place where I've gone for Boy Scout meetings in my youth.
There's a podium in front of a low stage. Few Indian things in sight.

"What's this all about?" I ask. I'm getting scared now.

"My grandfather wants to hear about your dream," says Running Water.

"Is he shaman of your tribe?" I know a few things about his culture.

"Yes. That ring you found interests him. How it came to your hand."

We go through a door and walk down the hall. My steps become slower.
Running Water grips my shoulder when he notices my uneasiness. We come
to a door. He knocks softly, calling out his name in Indian. Too many
strange syllables for me to remember it.

I hear a gruff voice answering him. Running Water opens the door and
we go in. It's a small room with no furniture. A window has been left
open. An old man wearing overalls and a wrinkled shirt greets us. He
exchanges a few soft words with Running Water. They both turn to me. I'm
asked to sit down over the floor with them. It feels hard against my butt.

"Welcome. I am Eh-an-tre-na-pee," says the old man. "That means
He-who-runs-up-mountains in your language."

"I am Mike Yager." The two men exchange glances. An Indian pipe is
brought out and the old man lights it, drawing smoke through its long
wooden stem. He offers the pipe to me.

I've read many accounts where smoking is done in council. Never did I
imagine that I'd partake of one. I hold the pipe in both hands and
carefully suck smoke into my lungs. I'm coughing violently in the next
moment. The old man grins. Running Water takes the feathered pipe from
my hands and smokes. My head starts to buzz.

The shaman is returned his pipe. He smokes it while gazing at me, his
aged eyes seem to go right through me. I'm feeling very uncomfortable
but I try not to show it.

"Mike Yager. I am hearing many things about you. My sister's daughter
says you have a good heart and says that you to want learn from us. Is
that so?"

I nod my head.

"Then it was meant that your life's path was to cross mine."

I wait for the old man to say more. I'm glancing at Running Water. His
plain face provides me with no clue. The silence becomes unbearable.
Perhaps he's waiting for me to say something.

"Grandfather. Is this council about that ring I found?"

"Hmm. You acknowledge me as an elder?"

"Yes, grandfather. I've come from a different society but I respect
your culture."

"But you don't understand us."

I've read books about many Native American tribes, their varied
practices, religious beliefs, how they've lived but those things were
from the past and written by White men. I suppose that I don't understand
them from their point of view. "No, grandfather."

"Then I to teach you." The shaman lifts his hands up and offers a
prayer unto Him.

I see Running Water raising his head so I lift mine, my plea sent
unto God to guide my steps in the days ahead. Especially with Jesse.

The shaman smiles at me. I can't help but smile back.

"Let me say some things and see if they are true. You have run away
from your People. You came here. You live in a place of a dead man who
speaks to you in a dream and guides you when awake. Is this not so?"

I nod my head.

"Tell me what you Saw."

Is he asking me about my dream? I turn to Running Water and he
gestures for me to speak. I face the shaman and begin. "I awakened
yesterday morning from a dream about Indians. What I remembered upon
awakening was your smiling face. You spoke to me."

"What did my dream self say?"

I wet my lips and utter the strange sounds. "Ah-ee-ne."

"Do you know what that means?"

"No." The old man goes deep into thought. I think he's sad. His eyes
come alive again when he looks at me but not too unkindly.

"I will tell you. It is a name I had given to the man who is dead."
The shaman shows his grief. "Tell me about the ring," he whispers.

"That morning grandfather, I felt the need to find something in the
trailer. Everywhere I looked. Then I closed my eyes and felt something
against my toe under the carpet. That's where I found the ring."

"He wanted you to find it."

"I put it on my right pointing finger. It fit. I thought to remove
the ring but it wouldn't come off. I didn't really try that hard. It
seemed like I should keep it."

The shaman nods. He turns to Running Water and something unspoken
passes between them.

"I should not have taken it from you, Mike."

Running Water pulls the ring from his pocket and hands it to me. I'm
not even looking at it when I slip it on my finger.

"Ah-ee-ne!" the man shouts.

I flinch as if struck by something unseen. My eyes close. I'm trying
to Hear that dead man's voice or something but nothing happens.

"Mike."

I open my eyes.

"If you See anything more, come to me."

"Yes, grandfather." The old man is staring at me and I try to endure
his eyes but after only a moment, I lower my mine in shame.

"I see your heart, Mike. Do not feel bad."

I'm swallowing nervously in my throat. Is this man saying that he
knows I am gay?

"I'll take you home, Mike."

I see Running Water standing up. The council is over? That's it?
There's a strong hand over my shoulder. Running Water leads me out of
the room, down the hall, through the door into the auditorium and we
step outside. I'm feeling stunned.

We near Running Water's pickup when the ring slips off my finger. I
stop. I'm looking down at it and realize something. "That's not my ring."

Running Water picks it up. His eyes won't look at me when he pulls
out another ring from his pocket. I'm given it. I slip it on my finger
and it feels right somehow. I'm glaring at the Indian for an explanation.

"That was Ron's ring," he admits.

Ron? I remember Jesse asking me if I was like Ron. My eyes widen
with understanding. In a low whisper, almost so he won't hear me I ask,
"Was Ron your lover?"

Running Water turns from me. He opens the door to his truck and gets
in. I look at the Indian through the windshield. He gestures for me to
get in. I'm sitting down instead. He gets out of his truck and joins me
over the grass. I look at the ring I'm wearing. I think he wanted to
keep it because it was Ron's. He had given me the ring's mate that he
had worn.

I look towards the building. My eyes wander to the grassy fields
beside it that runs off into the distance. The mountains stand far away.
This is a beautiful place, not flat like Indiana, my boyhood home. I
cannot explain it but at this moment, I've grown up.

Yet a man does not have all the answers. I look at Running Water. He
doesn't either.

"Why didn't you tell me? It must have been painful for you to know
that I was living in his trailer, when asking you to come inside for
coffee and to show you his ring I had found. How can it be that I'm
living there? It's more than a coincidence. Something strange is
happening. I'm afraid what it is because it makes no sense. Things like
this cannot happen! They can't!"

"That is why you do not understand us, Mike."

I stare at Running Water. He reveals sadness on his face and I see a
glimpse of the man he is. His heart is like mine. And, I think he knows
that I'm like him.

The Indian returns my stare. Some emotion inside him spills out onto
his face and he struggles to regain control. I see his pride. My hand
reaches out to him slowly, palm up in a gesture of understanding. I
close my eyes and wait.

My hand is covered. I feel his warmth, the trembling fingers so I
close my fingers around his. My eyes remain closed. This is a difficult
moment for him as it is for me. Almost, we are admitting who we are
inside with a chance still to deny it.

"I loved him."

My eyes open. Running Water wipes tears from his eyes but they keep
coming. I feel embarrassed for him. I'm trying to look away but I can't
help myself when I continue to stare. I've not seen a man crying before.

I get to my feet and pull Running Water up from the ground. I release
his hand. He staggers to his truck and gets in. I'm opening the door,
slip inside and close it with a bang that seemed too loud. I've learned
what I wanted to know but that's made him cry. I feel horrible.

Running Water pulls up to my trailer. We've not spoken a word to each
other during the long ride and I've not dared look at him. I open the door
and get out. I'm walking to my door when I hear him get out of his truck.

I'm fumbling with the keys and manage to unlock my door. I keep it
open to see if Running Water wants to come in. He does. He's glancing
around the trailer with sad eyes, looking for anything familiar to what
he remembers of Ron living here, I guess.

I enter the kitchen and sit down wearily at the table. Running Water
joins me. He folds his hands over it. There's no emotion on his face.
"Would you like something?" I whisper. The man shakes his head.

"Talk to me." I'm surprised those words came out of my mouth.

"What is there to say? He is gone. There is nothing here that remains
of him, except my memories."

I stare at my ring. The black stone twinkles and I get a very peculiar
feeling. I'm hoping that I've only imagined it. My mouth opens to say
something not from me. "Don't be sad. You'll find love again." Running
Water stares at me with his mouth hanging open. I become frightened by
his widening eyes. Anger? What possessed me to say that?

My left hand comes to my right and I clutch the ring, struggling to
remove it. I hear it fall to the table with a tinkling sound. "This ring
should not be mine. I didn't ask to have it. He was your lover and you
wanted to have his ring. It should be returned to you."

"No, Mike."

We both stare down at it. Such a small thing. But the problems it has
caused!

Running Water gets up from the table. He goes to the door and is
about to walk out when he turns to me. I see a strange expression on his
face: one of love, understanding, and some sadness. He lifts his right
hand in a gesture of farewell. Then he is gone.

I've been asleep in my bed. This day has been difficult but I must
get prepared for teaching tonight. I'll be glad to see Jesse again. The
ring has been left on the table. I don't know what to do with it.

The clock reads 4:36pm. I yawn a few times and consider going back to
sleep but I'm worried that I may not awaken in time for class. I've been
trying to escape the strange events of this day. The things I have seen,
felt and was told. Some of it doesn't make sense. That's the scary part.

It's now 4:38pm. I continue staring at the clock while troubling
thoughts go round and round in my head. Running Water is gay and I'm
sleeping in his dead lover's trailer. He knows that I am gay. His
grandfather may know this too. Will they find out that I'm falling in
love with Jesse?

I force myself out of bed. I'm feeling hungry and realize that I've
not eaten all day. Mrs. Winnapah's leftovers will give me strength. I
don't bother with heating them up. Guilt fills me. She's shown me
kindness and I feel like I've betrayed her trust by doing things with
her son. I shouldn't have kissed Jesse. He didn't get mad or tell on me
but neither did he try kissing me back. Perhaps he's only feeling strong
friendship for me or something.

The silver ring on the table catches my eye. What should I do with it?
Running Water's father said that I was meant to have it. But why? I decide
to put the matter off to later. Let it lie where it is.

I watch some television to get my mind off things. The time passes
slowly. I'm startled by a knock on my door. Through the peek hole, I see
that it's Jesse! My heart lifts but I clamp down on my strong emotions.
The door is opened for him. He remains standing on the doorstep.

"Hello, Mike."

"Hi."

"My mom wanted me to tell you that she'll drive you to class tonight.
That way, you won't get stuck at the college if your motorcycle won't
start. Is that okay?"

"Yes. That's very kind of her. Ah, will you come in?" Jesse smiles.
He slips past me and I close the door. We go to the kitchen. He sees the
empty plastic containers on the table.

"I'll wash those so you can return them to your mother. It was good."

"She wanted to cook something you'd probably like."

I glance at the clock on top of my television. It reads 5:52pm. I
hear water running in the sink and see Jesse washing out the containers.
"Thank you. I'll be taking a shower." He nods his head, squeezing more
dish soap into the water.

That should keep Jesse busy for a while. I'm rushing to the bathroom.
My clothes are stripped off. I look at the doorknob and see that it
doesn't lock. After sitting on the toilet, I get into the small shower
stall. I'll try to be quick.

I soap up my body and shampoo my hair at the same time. A razor is
taken to my face. My right eye burns from the soap so I hurry with my
shaving. I've rarely used a mirror and can do this blind.

When I'm rinsing off, Jesse comes into the bathroom to take a piss.
I hear the toilet flushing. I'm feeling tense, wondering if he's going
to peek at me and if I should let him. The bathroom door creaks. He has
left. Relief fills me but too, I am feeling a bit disappointed.

I turn the water off. A big white towel is taken from the shelf to
dry myself with. A pile of dirty clothes is at my feet. I decide not to
wear them to my bedroom but will wrap myself in this towel.

Jesse sees me streaking from the bathroom. The middle of my body is
covered. He follows me into the bedroom. I select a good pair of pants
and shirt that I'll wear when teaching tonight. Fresh underwear as well.
And some socks.

"You have a lot of hair," Jesse remarks.

I turn around and smile. "That's because I'm mostly German from my
father's side but I do have a little Indian in me from my mother."

"Don't you use a hair dryer?" he asks.

"Sometimes. Ah, you can get it from the bathroom for me." Jesse runs
to fetch it. I'm searching for the end of the extension cord that I've
ran from the bathroom's outlet.

Jesse returns. He keeps the hair dryer in his hand and plugs it in.
It's switched on.

"I'll dry you!"

"Okay." I'm bending over so that he can reach my head but he blows
hot air over my chest. I look down at myself. I've never thought about
drying my body that way. It is hairy. A towel never does a good enough
job. That's why I often stay naked for a while before dressing.

I straighten up. Jesse waves the dryer in his hand so I won't get
burned. He does this to my chest and belly. I turn around so that he can
also dry my back.

"You have a lot back here too!" Jesse remarks.

I enjoy feeling the hot air against my skin. I'm startled when Jesse
touches me. He pulls on the hair over my back. When he's satisfied that
I've been dried, I feel hot air blowing over both my legs. He runs his
hand down them, grasping their tight muscles.

I feel Jesse's hand creeping under my towel. He's touching my butt
and before I can stop him, the towel falls at my feet. Hot air blows
against my cheeks. He pulls on the fine hair over my butt, tickling me.
I'm feeling very tense.

I look down at myself. My cock stands along my belly. Jesse circles
around to the front of my legs to blow them with hot air. He slowly
stands up in front of me. The hair dryer is switched off. I see where
his eyes are on me and that makes my face burn.

This is an embarrassing moment for me. I should be covering myself up
with the towel but a part of me wants him to look at my nakedness. He
timidly reaches out to pull on my groin hair.

"It's still wet."

"That's okay. Ah, Jesse. Can you return my hair dryer to the bathroom
for me please?" He's staring at my cock. I'm tempted to get him naked so
that we can embrace but I won't. We need to get to know each other first.
I want to make sure that he's the right guy for me. And I for him.

My earlier plea registers with Jesse and he's unplugging my hair
dryer. Walks out of the bedroom. I grab my underwear and put it on. My
good shirt is worn next and I'm buttoning it when Jesse returns. I open
my pants and slip my legs into it. A black belt is pushed through the
loops around my waist and buckled tight.

"Ah, Mike?"

"Yes?" I turn to Jesse and see that he's pulled down his pants. His
underwear, too. I'm staring at his brown dick. It stands along his tuft
of groin hair. A rosy knob is tucked within his foreskin and it's oozing.
My breath trembles with excitement.

Before I can be tempted to reach out and grab it, Jesse turns around.
He has a nice butt. Smooth and brown, not as flat as I thought. My hand
gives his cheeks a fond pat. "Very nice," I breathe.

He turns around. "You've already gotten dressed."

"You should too." I see Jesse's disappointment and realize that he
wanted to do something with me. He pulls up his underwear then his pants.
I'm feeling many conflicting emotions. I want him but feel that would be
wrong. We're not ready for that. I'm not.

"My uncle told me to be careful with you," Jesse whispers. "Is that
why..."

"What did he say!"

Jesse looks down at his feet. "Nothing bad. He just asked me to,
you know, think about where you come from. A big city. That you're
unfamiliar with our culture and stuff like that."

I see Jesse's uneasiness so I grasp his shoulders. He lifts his eyes
to mine. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"I know."

Jesse's seems to be searching for something in my face. I give him a
smile and deep longing fills his eyes. He embraces me. My arms reach
around him. Strong emotions that I'm feeling for him swell in my heart.
This feels so right.

"I love you, Mike."

"I love you too, Jesse." Those words just came out of me but I'm not
regretting them. His long arms give me a tight squeeze. I bury my face
in his hair. My nose pains me when I hold back tears. I'm so happy!

Jesse's hands lower to my butt. He's pulling over me hard, grinding
the front of our bodies together. I reach down for his butt and feel
their urgent humping though his pants.

A harsh breath comes out of Jesse. It had almost sounded like a moan.
He trembles in my arms and an alarming thought comes to me. Did he wet
in his pants?

We slowly separate. Jesse looks down at himself with his face burning.
I think he did. "You can clean up in the bathroom."

I turn from Jesse and look for my black shoes. The clock near my bed
reads 6:19pm. His mother should be home by now. I look for my satchel
with the stuff I'll need for class. I'm trembling.

I go to the kitchen and place Mrs. Winnapah's plastic containers in a
grocery bag. I've calmed down some after what happened in the bedroom.
It made me feel awkward and tense at the same time. I wait for Jesse to
come out of the bathroom, hoping that he's alright. I'm not sure what I
should say to him.

Jesse meets me near the front door. I'm trying to read his face; is
he embarrassed, angry at me or even feeling joy that he did that in my
arms? I feel honored in a way. That our embrace excited him so much that
he came out.

I touch Jesse's shoulder. "Let's go to your mother's house. She'll
need your help tonight with the computer." He follows me outside.

Jesse is very quiet when we walk through trailer park. I've been
glancing him. He appears to be in deep thought, maybe trying to deal
with what happened. I don't know. We turn right on Winding Creek Road.
Four houses are passed. I stop in front of his house and turn to him.

"I won't say anything," Jesse whispers.

Relief fills me. I give him a smile and stroke his brown cheek with
my fingers. I'm feeling very strong for him in my heart. I straighten
out his long so that it flows down his back. He gives me a shy grin.

We walk up the driveway and I see the pickup truck. There's a pinging
sound from the engine that tells me she's just gotten home. I'm glancing
at Jesse. His face is plain of emotion.

We go inside but I don't see Mrs. Winnapah. We go through the house,
into the kitchen and Jesse grabs a pudding cup from the counter. He
offers me one. Spoons are taken from a drawer. We eat them in silence.
His mother startles me when she comes up from behind.

"Hello, Mike."

I'm glad that she calls me by my first name. "Jesse said that you'll
be driving me to class."

"If you don't mind."

"Not at all." The woman looks at her son and something unspoken passes
between them. I return the plastic containers to her with my thanks.

"I'm going to dress. You can watch some television in the meanwhile."

Jesse tosses his empty pudding cup into the trash. I'm nearly done
with mine. We watch the woman leaving the room and I throw my cup away.

"She can take a long time with that," Jesse remarks.

My breath trembles from what he meant by that. I follow Jesse to the
front of the house. He turns on the television, some news program then
plunks down on the couch. I sit down beside him. His long arm reaches
around me. I hold him back, enjoying the warmth of his body. He looks at
me with a nice expression on his face.

Jesse wets his lips. I get the strong feeling that he wants to kiss
me so my face leans over and our noses bump. His lips manage to press
against mine. We kiss. He has his eyes closed. Me too.

It feels wonderful! Too quickly it ends when Jesse looks past me for
his mother. I also look. This isn't a good idea, I scold myself yet I'm
drawn into another kiss. A longer one with our lips moving against each
other. I've heard about tonguing but decide not to try that with him.

Jesse blows his breath into my mouth. I let it fill my lungs. We're
kissing some more, the good feelings inside me is making it hard to stop.
He pulls his face away. We both turn our heads to look down the hallway.

I slowly pull my arm away. Jesse folds his hands in his lap. I've
peered down at the front of his pants, seen his hard on. My cock has also
stiffened in mine.

Jesse reaches for the remote control on the coffee table. He flips
through the channels. I'm panting for breath, enjoying the afterglow
from kissing.

"Mike?"

"Yeah?" Jesse turns to me with shy eyes. He appears to be deep in
thought when he speaks.

"Have you ever... done that before with anyone?"

"No."

"I'm the first one you've ever kissed?"

I nod my head and smile. Jesse smiles too, relief showing from his
face that's quickly replaced with longing. I find his right hand and
squeeze it hard. His long brown fingers dig into my palm. That has me
noticing the contrast of our skin color. Our clashing cultures. Was that
what his uncle tried warning him about?

We hold hands for a while, peeking at each other with obvious love
while keeping an eye out for his mother. I have no idea what program is
on T.V. I'm finding it hard to concentrate. This sweet moment with Jesse
simply is. A beginning. Please, God. Let us find our way together and
find happiness!

For The Love of Indian Boys End

2007-09-17T17:23:00.000-07:00

A cool wind blew over the boy, awakening him. His small body felt stiff over the river stone. He rose up and sought out the warmth of Father Sun. Long since allen from His sky and about to sleep, the youth realized. He saw the orange glow of His blanket in the west.

His vivid dream returned to him. A powerful vision that helped to explain troubling things to the youth. Answers to why that young brave's butt had taken his boy seeds into it and why his warrior friend wouldn't embrace their love in his tipi. Here was his dream.

The boy saw three youths that looked exactly like himself. One approached to hold him. It was a wonderful hug of warmth and deep love of self. He knew that this was Heart Boy. In his ear was whispered, "all human beings need love. I love myself. My warrior friend loves me. Yet he doesn't have to prove it with his dick."

Father Sun's golden hand touched Heart Boy and made him become one with the boy. The second look-alike youth approached. He was naked. In his hand was the boy's erection. His loins were on fire. A quick handling soon released his boy seeds. He cried out, "my lust is squirted from me!"

He too became a part of the boy. Only one youth remained. He was fully clothed in a breechclout, leggings and moccasins. Wisdom was plainly seen on his face. He spoke. "I am your third self. You have seen your heart and your lust. I am your head that asks 'why?' Listen to yourself!"

The boy's vision had ended there. He watched the fading glow in the west for a long while before allowing himself to think again. The effect was calming, like a mother's lullaby. The stars became less shy in night's sky. Grandfather Moon grew in brilliance. He listened to the boy's words and smiled.

"Grandfather, you witnessed the first seeds spilt from my loins," the boy whispered. "A young brave sat in my lap and had me squirt some into his butt. Not for love. Only for lust's pleasure. My warrior friend loves me. He didn't take me into his tipi to embrace it. I think that I know why."

Grandfather Moon smiled. He watched a little boy growing up.

"Our hearts wanted each other," explained the boy. "My warrior friend was proud when I told him that my loins could wet boy seeds. Yet he's a man that has lust for only the squaws. He wouldn't allow me to naked embrace him. That young brave enjoyed our body's joining only for lust. Not Love. How I wish that I could find a nice man who would both love me and have desire for what my body could offer him!"

The boy stood on the river stone. At his feet, the trickling stream giggled at him. Wind touched his shivering body. He ran into camp to find his warrior friend. His heart ached to be held in that man's warm arms once more.

For The Love of Indian Boys Part VIII

2007-09-16T16:07:00.000-07:00

I am awestruck. Coming into our river camp is a boy that I've not seen for several summers. His face is different; more stretched out and older looking. He's taller than me by half a hand and his black hair is longer. But has he changed inside? Does he still feel for me the deep friendship that cries out from my heart? I unglue my eyes from his beautiful form to look at his parents for changes.

Leading the boy's family is He-who-swims-and-fishes, his warrior father. This man displays several feathers of the eagle in his hair which tells of his onorable coups. He was only an unfeathered brave when he had left our tribe two summers ago.

Behind the warrior is his squaw, several horses and a small naked boy who's new to me. Perhaps that is Spotted Tail's brother. He appears to be eight summers ld. I don't remember there being a baby boy in the care of his mother before they had left our tribe. I wonder if this little boy had anything to do with their sudden departure.

My eyes fall to their heavily laden horses. I see folded tipi skins and poles which fills me with hope that they've returned to our camp to stay. I want to have my friend back. I'll have him take me to our secret place along the river. My body has grown much since last we've embraced.

The joyful cries of women from our tribe fills the air. As they rush to greet the family, I slowly approach with my eyes ever upon my lost friend. He hasn't seen me yet. The little boy clutches his brother's leg in fear of the squaws. How I long to be held in my friend's warmth as before!

Spotted Tail enjoyed making love to me. His was a man's aching that I was glad to satisfy. I took his sperm against my hard loins in our embrace or when he stuck into my butt. Those naked acts made us feel good. Our special friendship. He was always telling me how much his long pole pained him for release.

I hear my name called. Spotted Tail runs up to me. His face is all bright and grinning. I remain frozen in place as everything around me seems to be in slow motion. Strong emotions grip my heart. I hope that this boy is seeking to renew our close friendship.

Spotted Tail comes to stand but a short stride from me. From behind, his little brother runs up to peek at me. I don't return the youth's curious glances since my eyes are ever on my friend.

"How have you been, Little Raven?" he hesitantly asks. His eyes search for signs of old friendship.

I step closer to touch him - to see that he has really come back to me. My hands reach out for his shoulders. I feel the warmth of his body. It becomes too much for me. I smile. His face loses its plainness to become an expression that I've often seen when he's held me. His obvious longing fills me with deep feelings in my heart.

Unable to stand apart any longer, we embrace with such fierceness that my breath is forced from my lungs. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters save that of holding my long lost friend!

Our chests press warmly together. I rest my head on his broad shoulder and glance down at his brother. The little boy smiles back. I gasp when feeling Spotted Tail's hand under my rear flap. His fingers pull on my cheeks. I'm sure that he's noticing that I've grown some there. Very bold of him to be taking back what was once his. I reach down for his butt. Soft, yet firm in my hand. The little boy smiles at our naughty handling.

"I see that you've both missed each other," announces the low voice of Spotted Tail's father. (He watches the two boys slowly release from their tight embrace to face him. On their faces is a deep expression that touches him. More than that of friendship, the boys reveal their love.)

I greet my friend's father with respect. He replies strangely by seeming to be unfriendly. I become afraid that we've given our secret away! Never has anyone learned of our naked embraces or the things Spotted Tail has done to my young body. Our greeting has bared our happy spirits before this warrior. He acts like one who has peered deeply and has discovered our deep friendship. Why then is he angry?

"Come my son. You'll have time later to play once our tipi has risen," speaks the warrior. "Your mother is tired and will gladly accept your help to the task of it. I must go visit with the tribal chief." (The man watches the three boys run to help his wife unload the horses. He wonders about his son and that younger boy. Their embrace revealed the male bonding that two adult braves sometimes have for each other.)

Later that afternoon, Spotted Tail and I finish helping his mother to raise the tipi. Though many smaller tasks could be done, she sees our restlessness and allows us to go play. His little brother follows along.

I race Spotted Tail to our hiding place by the river. My friend understands my intent and plays along. The little boy can't keep up. We pass the tall marsh weeds and come upon two tall grey rocks resting against a huge one. Spotted Tail reaches them before me. He has some trouble squeezing past the tall rock brothers before dropping into the cavity between them. I quickly join him in our secret hiding place.

Our breechclouts drop to the ground and naked, we embrace like those many times two years before. I notice the growth of his body. His butt is fuller in my hands. Against me, I feel his coarse groin hairs. Erections quickly form between our sweaty bodies. I'm sure that he notices my development. No longer that little boy of ten, I have hair on my groin and bear a longer, thicker dick.

Spotted Tail looks into my eyes for that special friendship we once had. My fingers fondly pinch his butt in reply. He begins a ritual we had performed many times before. I was too young to fully share in it but now I'm older.

"You've grown some!" exclaims Spotted Tail. "Can seed flow from your loins?"

I nod my head and smile sheepishly. My friend laughs. Both of his hands drop to my butt and he begins a familiar motion around it. I grip his to join in our loving. Between us, I feel his dick rubbing against mine. It's a very pleasant feeling that will grow stronger. It thrills me to be in the arms of my special friend once more.

Spotted Tail is smiling. I show him my great happiness from seeing him again. My arms hold him more tightly to me. Our poles get crushed between us. My friend slaps my butt for having interrupted our fleshy loving. Yet I'm wanting to take our time with it. He was a long time away from me. I want to know if anything inside him has changed.

My friend reveals his deep longing for me. It almost seems like a pain that he's feeling. His face comes to my face. Before I know it, the boy's lips press onto mine for a kiss! I turn my head away.

"What's wrong?" asks Spotted Tail.

I quickly shake my head. My eyes fall downwards in shame. I feel Spotted Tail's hand bring my face up to his. His dark eyes peer deeply into mine. I swallow nervously in my throat to delay answering him. I don't know what to say.

My friend is strange to me. I bury my face in his neck to hide. My eyes fill with tears. What is this scary thing that I'm feeling? His hands resume to pull on my butt. My hands clutch his body for support.

Spotted Tail urgently rubs his swollen pole against mine. I take in its sweet sensations. Thrills fill my dick. My stomach tightens from the power of our sex. My mouth opens to take in breaths. I detect the lime smell of his sweaty body. It's a sexy smell. My hands grip the boy's butt to help him bring us to it. I've become very excited and need to release.

Our boyish mating becomes familiar. Spotted Tail directs the pace of it with his hands over my butt and by his quick stabs against my dick. I gladly follow along. Our high pitched moans fill our secret place whenever we release our held breaths over each other. My attention is forced downwards at our rubbing poles, long with excitement and filling with sharp thrills. I hold a big breath.

My loins tingle wonderfully and release strongly. I thrust against Spotted Tail's body to wet on him again and again! My cries touch the rocks. They smile back at my accomplishment.

The older boy rushes his climax. As in our previous embraces, he pulls on my butt hard and grunts when his loins flow. I look down to see a strong spurt of his sperm hit my belly. He thrusts again to squirt out more. His releases are thick and white like a man's. I notice a pool of my clear wetting on his belly.

I'm startled by giggling. I push hard on Spotted Tail to separate our revealing embrace. He falls to the ground. I sit down at his feet. A small boy drops into the stone cavity with us. Relief fills me. It's only Lost Cub, my friend's little brother. The boy walks towards us with shining eyes. His sly grin proves that he's seen much.

"You tried to run away from me!" shouts Lost Cub. "But I can track. My brother has told me of your secret place between the rocks. And what you do there. I want to play too!"

The small boy squats over our discarded flaps. He has a sly grin when pointing to our revealing nakedness. I look over his nudity. Pushed out from the youth's groin is an erection. A mere finger length that reminds me of my dick when I was his age.

The youth begins pulling over it. Spotted Tail laughs. Memories of two years ago fill my head from what I'm seeing. I was nearly as small as this boy. Spotted Tail was a few summers older. He took my nakedness with different love acts. Our hard poles were rubbed together in an embrace, my length sucked on in his mouth or made to feel intense in his hand. I couldn't get my erection to shoot though. For his pleasure, he often stuck into my butt. I felt a deep sense of pride for
getting my friend to release as a man in me.

I sigh from those fond memories. It was only two years ago that I was this young boy. A sexual being, yet immature to fully share in
Spotted Tail's mating. I smile at Lost Cub's lusty efforts.

I begin to pull over my forming erection. It quickly springs up against my belly. The young boy grins. Spotted Tail also masturbates with us. The small cave fills with our squishy, skin-rubbing sounds.

Lost Cub steps up to his brother. Some secret understanding passes between them. I watch the small boy leap into Spotted Tail's arms with his legs wrapping around the boy's waist. Spotted Tail supports the youth with hands under his small butt. I watch their bodies rub. Lost Cub's butt flexes in and out with a revealing motion of sex. I turn to my friend in dismay. He avoids my eyes.

My heart feels pain. Yet I control it. I'm not going to shame myself by shouting or running away. I suspect that much has happened between these two boys. Spotted Tail has a man's need. I wasn't there for him these passing two summers. He must have embraced his little brother to satisfy his aching loins.

I watch Lost Cub pleasure himself in his brother's arms. His butt humps in and out as I imagine his little erection stabbing against Spotted Tail's belly. I realize with a smile that the boy is rubbing over my clear sperm. Its slipperiness aids his quick thrusts. I wonder if his little pole will squirt?

My head fills with questions. I couldn't ask them earlier since Spotted Tail's mother had us working hard on her tipi. Now is the time. With my hand on my friend's shoulder, I gain his attention and ask, "is Lost Cub truly your brother?"
"He is my father's son," Spotted Tail replies.

I accept my friend's answer. The meaning of it begs another question. "Where is your father's other wife?"

"She is long dead," Spotted Tail whispers. "That girl wasn't taken by my father as his squaw. He only spermed her as expected of him during the Mid-Summer's Full Moon Rite."

"I don't know of that ritual."

"It's practiced by the tribe of his fathers," Spotted Tail explains. "He visited his birthplace nine summers ago to partake of their sacred rite. It resulted in gaining him a son. The girl died shortly after giving birth. My father thought that the boy had died with her."

I watch Lost Cub's body slow around my friend. He turns to me with a grin. So this is Spotted Tail's little brother though birthed by a different mother. Their blood is the same only through their father.

My most anxious question comes to mind. I ask it. "Why did you leave me two summers ago!"

Spotted Tail glares at me. An uneasy silence fills our hiding place. After a few breaths, my friend speaks.

"A warrior from my father's tribe came to us. He told my father that his little son lived and that he would lead us back to his camp."

"Why didn't you even say goodbye?"

"I couldn't," answers Spotted Tail. "My father intended to steal his son back from the dead girl's parents. He didn't want anyone to learn of his plan. We dropped our tipi in the night to avoid any eyes on our retreat. The warrior who was blood-bonded to my father aided us."

I nod my head in acceptance to my friend's words. Yet I'm puzzled by another thing. "Why were you gone so long from me?"
"It's a place far away from here," explains Spotted Tail. "My father stayed with his tribe for two years and became a warrior! He prospered. His lost son was returned to him." My friend's story explains many things. Another question comes to mind so I ask it. "Why have you come back here?"

"I missed you."

Our laughs fill the small cave. I'm sure that's not the only reason his father decided to return! Lost Cub becomes restless. Instead of dropping him to the ground, my friend brings him into my arms. The boy's legs wrap around my waist while his hands grip my shoulders. His
small weight is easy to carry on me.

"Like me?" asks the small boy.

I nod my head in reply. My hands reach around for the youth's wiggly rump. So soft in my hands. Spotted Tail gives me a sly grin. I gasp when feeling the boy's stabs against my belly. His erection easily slides over the sperm that his brother has given me from our loving. I feel a warmth against my back.

Spotted Tail embraces me from behind. His hands reach around and lay over my hands holding the little boy. The youth flexes from his sexy motion against me. My erection forms. To share in the small boy's thrusts, I pull him down my body until our poles rub. His dark eyes peer intently into my own. Two pairs of hands over the boy's butt direct our loving. I'm enjoying the warmth of his body. My friend's warmth covers my back. Caught between the two boys, I'm being loved
from both sides of my body. It's a wonderful feeling.

My body fills with deepening thrills. My pole will soon become intense. I'll be glad to show the young boy that I can release against him. My back feels chilled.

Spotted Tail squats behind me. I'm startled by his kisses over my sweaty butt. His hands pull my cheeks apart. A wetness pushes inside me there. The boy hungrily mouths between my cheeks and bites its soft skin. The sensation is thrilling. His tongue sticks deeply through my butt. I
gasp when it wiggles up my hole. He is tasting my innermost ass!

Before I can really enjoy Spotted Tail's strange act in my butt, he stands up to embrace me from behind. I feel his hard dick sticking through my slippery cheeks. My eyes widen in surprise. Spotted Tail lusts for my butthole! I'm a little afraid to be taken there since I've not been mounted for a long time. Yet I yield to my friend's need and spread my legs. I offer my butt to him like those two years before.

Spotted Tail slowly sticks inside of me. I'm hurt by the length and thickness of his erection. His dick wasn't so big that last time he had pushed into my butt! My hole may not be able to take it all in. I keep my pained breaths hidden from him.

"Is my brother inside you?" asks Lost Cub.

I'm startled by the youth's question yet nod my head in reply. I realize that I've stopped my thrusts. The little boy continues to rub over the front of me. Deep stabs go into my backside. I try taking my mind off that pain by asking the youth a question.

"Has your brother ever stuck into your butt?" I ask. The young boy
giggles in reply.

"No. He sticks into a willing young man who wears a squaw's dress. I've witnessed their butt-mounting and have taken my turn at putting my dick in."

I shake my head in amazement. A boy is free to experience things without shame but for a man to allow his butt to be taken as if he were a squaw... That's a very unusual thing. There seems to be many strange customs practiced by that far away tribe of Spotted Tail's father.

Heated breaths blow down my neck. Spotted Tail's hands on my butt pull me to him with each deep thrust. His balls slap against my sweaty cheeks. My hole was hurting before but now I'm use to his size. His moans over my shoulder makes me giggle. My butthole must feel real good to his hard dick!

I'm amazed by our sharing of sex. My body has never been touched by two naked boys before. The sensation is very thrilling. I would be embarrassed if the young boy were to see my butt being taken. That man in squaw's clothing must have no pride. He allowed both of these boys to mount him.

Lost Cub cries out in his high-pitched voice. I feel his quick stabs over my erection. No squirts to my belly though. My arms keep his frenzied body onto mine so that he won't fall to the ground. He cries out again. The dry release of a young boy. His body becomes limp in my arms.

I feel wet lips over my neck. It's Spotted Tail who kisses me. He sucks on my soft skin and moans. His stabs are quick through my butt. The squishy sound from being taken fills the cave. Lost Cub giggles knowingly. When I glare down at him, the youth startles me with a kiss!
I reluctantly accept the little boy's affection.

Spotted Tail grunts lustfully. His thrusts remain deep and slow in me. I feel a throbbing from the swollen tip of his hard dick. The boy is filling my butthole with his thick seed. I'm thrilled to be taking it from him.

My hands tire. I lower Lost Cub to the ground while pulling my butt off Spotted Tail's dick. I stand sideways to the two boys and become bold. My hand slaps my sweaty cheeks in a boast for having taken the boy's sperm into me. The youth giggles in reply. My friend only grins. I glance down at my erection and remember my own need.

"Lay down, Spotted Tail!" I shout. "I'm needing to get my dick released." My friend kneels down to the stone floor and gets onto his back. I quickly lay over his warmth. With our bodies pressing together, I begin my urgent thrusts. My hard pole rubs over his slippery pole. I gaze into his face with my need for love.

A tickly sensation in my butt keeps me from concentrating. I feel Lost Cub's mouth over my cheeks. He kisses the sweaty skin and gives my butt small bites. I gasp when his hands pull my butt apart. My hole opens. It leaks the boy's release from it. The youth's mouth eagerly
sucks it in.

"Is my brother on top of you?" asks Spotted Tail. "The boy is licking inside my butt!" I answer him.

Spotted Tail laughs. "After I mounted the squawman, my brother would suck on his hole for what I squirted there. We were told that it would help with the boy's maturity to swallow sperm. The squawman's butthole was filled with the seed of other men who had fucked him. Lost Cub was always eager to drink it all in."

I feel a weight over my back. The little boy pushes his erection between my cheeks. It doesn't reach far enough to penetrate my hole though. I arch my back. My butt opens wider to get the youth inside me. His stabs begin. A quick in and out rubbing motion with his little dick between my cheeks. It's a tickly sensation.

I'm caught between the two boys again. Their nakedness against me is both thrilling and strange. I continue my thrusts over my friend's pole. The youth's body above me isn't heavy. I can manage to finish loving my friend while the little boy stabs through my butt.

"Is my brother's dick inside your hole?"

"Not too deep," I answer Spotted Tail. "He claims to have stuck into the squawman after you finished mounting his butt."

"That's true. I've spermed that man's asshole in several different mounting positions," explains Spotted Tail. "Mostly, I enjoy stabbing into his butt when he's laying on his belly - me on top! The man has to lay on his back with his legs spread wide to get my little brother to penetrate his butthole. Lost Cub has a short erection."

I nod my head in agreement. As deeply as the little boy tries to stab, his erection can't reach far into my butt. He must achieve his intense thrill by dicking within my hole. I press my legs together.The boy stabs through my tightening butt. I know that his pleasure is increased by my efforts.

I concentrate on making love to the boy beneath me. He's my lost friend who has returned to me. I need to show Spotted Tail how much that I've missed him! The warmth of his body feels good. I rub over his dick with my tingling length. I've come to the thrilling, quickening part!

A tightness comes to my stomach. My lungs are nearly bursting for breath. I become very tense. Squirts flood against my friend's heated body when I release my love to him. He squeezes my butt for my accomplishment. It has me groaning in ecstasy. I'm joined by the little boy's high-pitched cries. His stabs end in my butt.

The three of us rest in a pile of sweaty flesh, arms around each other and mouths open to take in breath. I smell our spilt seed. The sex from our bodies has been drained.

I look into Spotted Tail's face. He grins. I remember what his little brother had given me in our embrace so I try it with him. My friend accepts my lips on his. I feel such a happiness from it. Gone is its strangeness. We have made love like that long ago summer as little boys.

"I have missed you," I whisper to my long lost friend. "Will you be remaining in camp?"

Spotted Tail nods his head. "It is my father's intention that we stay... and mine! I've missed you, Little Raven."

A great happiness surges in my heart. In the two years that have passed we've nearly grown into men while a young boy, Lost Cub, joins us in our secret hiding place. My heart is big enough to embrace love for him as well.

For The Love of Indian Boys Part VII

2007-09-05T16:45:00.000-07:00

It's raining hard. The fort's sentries are slow to give challenge. As I wait for them, I dismount to lean against my soggy mare. Her heated body feels good. I'm looking forward to the dry place that I'll sleep in tonight, assuming of course that the soldiers allow me in.

My mare is burdened with animal skins and rock samples. The lieutenant of this fort will accept my bundles of beaver pelts and elk hides for trade. More money will be fetched at the larger fort for the rocks. Its captain was interested in my discovery of golden pebbles that I've taken from the rivers where I've trapped. Perhaps the lieutenant here would be interested in my find as well. A loud shout takes me from my thoughts.

"Who be you, stranger?" shouts a uniformed man from the high wall, "and why has yea come?"

"I'm called the Wanderer. I have furs to trade."

The blue figure looks me over a moment before disappearing behind the wooden wall. I wait a while longer in the pouring rain. The sturdy gate finally opens. I tug on Patricia's reins and enter Fort McKenzie.

Fortifications and bastions armed with ordnance prominent the front and sides. My destination is the large wooden enclosure in back. It's there that I'll confer with the lieutenant about my trade goods. Another soldier joins us when we head towards the main structure.

"You best get yourself inside mister," suggests the young soldier. "Don't want our guest to catch his death of cold! I'll see to yer horse. The lieutenant will probably be able to see ya now."

In removing my soaked hat to his kindness, I watch the young man frown. My dark face and long black hair is revealed. The older soldier shows hatred in his eyes. I know why. They see me as an Indian that they've been trying to exterminate. My mother was white skinned so my blood is only half wild. This situation of my birth has given me no comfort. Neither race, white nor Indian will accept me so I'm without a home. It has me wandering about and trading to both sides.

The older soldier accompanies me while the other sees to stabling my horse. We walk along the creaking porch to a door. He opens it. The light and warmth of a fireplace chases away the gloomy spirits. I glady follow the soldier into the dry common room.

A lone man sits before the fire. He's drying his clothes over the chimney stones. To cover his nakedness, this bearded man has around him a large buffalo skin. He appears to be sleeping when we pass him down the left hall.

"The lieutenant will see you briefly," the soldier whispers. "If he'll have you, I'll see to finding you a room."

I ignore the soldier's rudeness. A quick glance around has me spying on a naked Indian boy lying before the blazing fireplace. He appears to be sleeping, sprawled out on the wooden floor on his belly. It's difficult to tell his age without seeing more of him. I guess he's twelve summers from the length of his back and small rump. The more revealing part of the boy is kept from my eyes. I nodge the soldier and point back to where we've come.

"That's ol' White Whiskers," the soldier answers. "A white trader who comes with skins as yourself."

"No, I mean the boy... Who is he?"

The soldier smiles. "That's the fort's Indian. He's available if you want him."

Pity mixed with longing fills my breast at the lot of that small boy. I would like to talk with him. I'm curious to know how he came to this fort to be used by its men. A sexual urge has me considering to take the youth's nakedness into my arms. I shake my head from that lusty thought.

The soldier turns a left corner, knocking on the first door that we come to. A voice inside bids us to enter. I follow him into a room filled with a colored map and wooden chests. A good looking man sits before a desk. The lieutenant, I assume. He puts down the papers that he was reading to look at me. His lips form a tight frown. This always happens when first I meet a white man of authority.

"He's a fur trader," explains the soldier with a salute. "Brigham has taken his horse to the stables and is unpacking the skins now. This half-breed claims to have rocks as well."

"Thank you, Mister Mileson. Please wait outside the door."

The old soldier gives me a hard stare before turning from us to wait outside. The door is left open. I approach the lieutenant's desk. From my breast pocket I remove a skin bound package. I open its oiled wrappings. Folded papers are inside. These I place before the lieutenant while giving him my name and business. He looks the documents over and speaks.

"Captain McGethers has tasked you to find rocks. Why do you bring them here?"

"My horse has become overburdened with skins," I explain, "including that of a black bear who came upon my night camp to his ill. I wish to exchange the skins here before traveling to Fort Union with the rock samples. Unless, of course, you would like to purchase them."

"What would I want with rocks?" he asks without humor.

I simply stare back while keeping my smile within me. What would he want with rocks? He must not have heard the rumor of there being gold in the high mountain streams. I decide not to share this with him.

"You can bed down inside tonight," the lieutenant announces. "Be off by tomorrow! I'll have our furrier look your skins over and offer a price in the morning."

The officer shouts for Mister Mileson. He directs this soldier to find me a room while returning my papers to me.

I follow the soldier back down the hallway and through the common room. The white bearded man is no longer sleeping. He embraces the Indian boy within his large buffalo skin. The soldier averts his eyes. I curiously watch what transpires between the man and boy.

Their lusty, belly-rubbing motion brings to mind several possible sex acts. It brings a stone heavy feeling to my stomach. The bearded man sucks on the youth's neck. An opening in the buffalo skin reveals his strong hands around the boy's rear end, guiding him.

I pause a moment longer to watch them. The Indian youth peeks at me. There's a pained expression on his face. It's timed to the white bearded man's thrusts. The boy continues to stare at me. I have no words or even a gesture to offer him.

I turn away from them to catch up with the soldier. He's taken to the long hall of many doors. We pass several before coming to the hall's end. A door is opened. I wait on the threshold as the soldier sees to the room's lamp. Its growing light chases out the darkness.

A gold coin in my palm attracts the grim soldier. His eyes widen. I ask my request with a simple head nod down the long hall. He smiles slyly when taking my money. I'm sure that he understands my intent.

I watch the old soldier turn and walk away with his hard boots sounding against the wooden floor. He would be an easy mark for my bow in the forest. I turn to the open room behind me. It calls out to my urgent need for sleep.

From the lamp's light, I see a small bed and a chest here for my use. I remove my drenched clothing. The room is cold and offers little hope for drying them. I lay my soggy wrappings over the wooden chest and strip down to the skin. A cotton blanket lies folded on the bed. This I eagerly wrap around my weary form. Sleep quickly takes me.

A small knock forces me awake. The door opens slowly to reveal my visitor. The Indian boy. He enters with his dark eyes ever upon me. When I wave him to approach, he puts on a feined smile. His naked form strides casually to my bed.

My eyes fall to the boy's small loins. I accept my earlier guess as to his age. He's smooth groined; a small pole without its thick skinwhich reveals to my surprise that he's been Christianized, at least in the flesh. I remind myself that we're only going to talk.

I raise my palm to the youth in a common Indian greeting. The boy's eyes become intelligent. He answers back in the tongue of a Caddoan, the tribe of Arikaree Indians which I know only a few words. Yet I give him back his native greeting. I shake my head when the youth's fast speech confounds me. He becomes sad. I open my warm blanket in gesture for him to join me on the bed.

I scoot deeper over the small mattress. The naked youth eagerly sits in my lap. His cold butt wiggles over my thigh, thrilling me. I feel my manly growth. The youth presses his soft body against my chest and peers up at me with a genuine smile. My loins want him badly yet I begin with my questions.

"Do you speak the white man's tongue?"

"Yes... little," the boy answers. "What yea want me do?" (His small hands reach for the man's butt and lengthening penis. He smiles at the man's obvious excitement for him.)

I freeze at the boy's handling. His cute eyes looking into mine has me shrugging my shoulders in reply. My loins are eager to find out what he can do. The youth brings himself to sit fully into my lap. His small legs wrap around my butt while his head come to my breast. I take in a trembling breath from his warmth around my nakedness.

I feel our poles touching. The boy has an erection which he rubs against my greater length. Sharp thrills shoot through my dick. I reach for his small butt to guide his gentle thrusts.

His mouth sucks on both of my nipples. I feel them harden under his swirling tongue. It has me moaning. The youth releases a sharp breath. A wetness runs over my belly and dick. The boy's release?

His arms rush through my armpits to grasp my shoulders from behind. His body rises slightly. I feel his erection near my mouth. It's wet and sweet smelling.

"Kiss penis, yes?" the youth asks.

I'm surprised that the boy feels a need to release it again. I'll gladly oblige him. I kiss over the youth's skinny shaft. His hand directs my lips to its tip. I suck on the boy's knob lovingly and find its length inside my mouth.

The youth sticks his warm pole between my lips. He giggles when it slides down my tongue. I've not sucked on a male's length before. I know to keep my teeth away. It quickly becomes stiff. I reach around his naked form and cup the soft cheeks of his butt. The boy's in and out flexing is like an erotic dance he performs in my hands. I'm struck by how intimate his small body is connected to mine.

I hear the boy's small cries of pleasure. He must feel very good from thrusting into my mouth. I feel my dick dripping excitedly. Having sex with this youth is thrilling! I think that there's nothing I would deny the little boy.

A high-pitched cry. The youth sucks in a breath and holds it. Wild stabs between my lips. I suck on his pole to keep him inside me. His butt quivers in my hands like a frightened animal that I've caught. His loud moan. I feel a strong spurt at the back of my mouth. I'm swallowing it. The boy utters some strange words when his loins flow to me. One more squirt and no more. The boy pulls his dick wetly from my mouth.

He lowers himself slowly over my lap. A tickly sensation comes from the tip of my dick. It's sticking under the youth's balls. His hard pole presses against my belly. I'm surprised that it never gets limp. Even after cumming.

A sharp thrill goes through my dick. The boy has a hand around it. His attempt to beat it off for me? He pulls my erection away from my belly to stick it through his butt cheeks. My oozing tip presses against his hole. He humps his butt to get my penis into his tight body. I become wide in the eyes.

When his hand releases my shoulder, I feel his weight dropping onto my legs. My dick pushes through his anal passage. Its slimy warmth surrounds my dick, squeezing it. I'm amazed by what seems to be the impossible! My hands try pushing him off. Yet the boy's legs tighten around my body. His arms reach around my back, keeping his body on mine. My dick is forced to rape his small butthole.

I'm reminded of the bearded man's embrace with this youth. They had belly rubbed under the buffalo skin in the common room. Did he put sperm into this boy, I wonder? Our bodies are similarly connected. I feel my dick's release being coaxed by the youth's up and down motion of his small body. My hands cup his humping cheeks, guiding him. I'm torn between the wrongness of this brutal act and my need to release as a man. My lust controls me for the moment.

Small kisses touch my breast. The boy's hands pull himself over my groin from my shoulders. I stab through his tight hole with much pleasure. The sweet thrills of our mating fills my penis towards the explosion I know will soon come.

I reach low for the youth's butt. It flexes from his up and down motion over my dick. My finger traces my length through his small cheeks to the boy's asshole. It continues inside there. I'm amazed that my man-sized length can fit into a small boy. His willingness to be taken like a squaw allows me to continue my lusty thrusts in his body without feeling shame.

This is a new experience for me. I've not ever been with a woman. My wanderings have kept me from remaining in one place long enough for me to court a willing squaw. Now, I realize that my loins don't lust for one. This small boy has taken my heart. Soon, my lust will spill inside him. The joining of our male bodies is beginning to overwhelm me.

I look down between our heaving bodies. The boy ends his sweet kisses to stare up at me with a grin. No sign of pain is on his brown face. He must be used to taking male thrusts. Perhaps he even enjoys the stabs through his small ass. I notice his erection. It surprises me that the youth has twice released his clear seed and still he remains hard.

An intense thrill shoots through my dick. I hold my breath and push out my seed into the little boy's butt. His hole takes all six strong gushes from my horny loins. I cry out in brief ecstasy. My climax is a powerful one. Is it joining with that of that white trader from the common room, I wonder? I think so. The boy's hole was very slippery to fit inside it my thick cock.

I gasp for air. The boy's heated breaths are quick against my breast. His sweaty body flexes around mine as if in deep agony. His face reveals lines of tension. It pains me that my dick has hurt him. Why then doesn't he rise from my lap? I notice his erection stabbing against my belly. With his hands over my shoulders, the little boy lifts and lowers himself over my stabbing dick in him. A revelation comes to me.

The boy cries out. My dick is squeezed by his tightening butthole muscles. His pole squirts to me. The clear rain of a young boy. My belly runs with his lusty accomplishment.

I feel a small squirt going through my dick and into him. An intense sensation after having achieved my first release. It's because the boy excites me so much. The way he pleasured our bodies from a deeply male connection that I've only heard rumors out. My arms hold the youth closer to me.

We rest over the warm bed and catch our breaths. My dick softens in his slimy butt. At least two men have filled this youth with sperm today. My seed is joined with that of the bearded trader. That man's lusty act sickens me. I'm no different than that white man.

The boy's arms reach up for my shoulders. He pulls his butt off my dick and leaps from our bed. I look over his small body with amazement. The things this little one knows about sex! When his hand soundly pats his rear end, I have to turn away in embarrassment. The youth boasts from having captured yet another man's seed in his butthole. He reveals such wicked looking eyes.

The youth turns for the door. My mind races. I've gained my lusty satisfaction from his body but I still have many questions to ask. I also want a more eaningful thing to happen between us than having joined our flesh.

The door opens. I can find nothing to say to stop him. The boy goes to find another companion on this night. I leap from my bed and chase after him. He turns to me curiously. I scoop his small body into my arms and carry him back into my room.

I spy a wound on the boy's neck. He flinches when I examine it with my fingers. "How did this hurt happen?" I ask. The youth sits heavily over my bed. I get behind him and notice the black and blue marks on his shoulder and the bleeding sore on his neck. My searching fingers outline several bruises. I realize with a shock that this boy has been bitten!

"Who?" I whisper questioningly. The boy lowers his head and only shrugs his small shoulders. Without the need of his words, I'm learning how the men of this fort have been using him badly. That white man had cruelly marked him with sharp teeth. I begin to have a real hatred for the men of this fort.

I reach over his small form to grab at my clothes over the chest. Within them is a pouch which I take back to me. I untie the thong closing my medicine pouch. Within it are some healing herbs.

The boy wipes his eyes to watch my busy hands. I gather some dried leaves to apply to his wounds. Their crushed essence will stop his blood and end any pain he may be feeling. I apply the medicine skin to his neck and hold it there. His warmth in my arms is comforting to me. I'm glad to be helping my little friend.

My hand holds the boy's wound to stop his blood. Our bodies warm each other in a nice way. I'm feeling weary. My head rests over the boy's unhurt shoulder. He doesn't complain. My eyes close when a light sleep takes me.

The naked Indian boy sprints from the fireplace room and out the door. In pursuit are half-naked white men giving chase. They all desire to take the youth to their beds. I stand in the fort's center, naked, and in lust for his small body as well. Yet the boy leaps into my embrace for protection. I fend off the hungry men by feeding them beaver furs from my horse. To the lieutenant, I give my prized black bear hide. He joins the others by leaving me be with my boy.

In gratitude, the Indian youth offers me one naked act after another. I accept the pleasures that he gives me. My horse is near the gate and ready to go. I toss the youth into a sack to hide him. This prevents the fort's men from taking him back. I pass by their eyes of hate and manage to exit the fort undiscovered. Once outside, the boy springs out of hiding to embrace me with love showing in his small heart. I finally accept that which my heart has secretly longed for...
A boy.
I awaken with a start in a dark place. I'm laying on my side over a small bed. Kisses to my butt and the sensation of someone pulling over my thick erection skin brings me back to the fort and its Indian boy. I lay unmoving to accept the pleasure that he brings me. The youth's lips wander over the sweaty skin of my butt. My loins harden in his hand. I have to take in deep breaths. The good feelings increase. I search out his nakedness hugging my back. His toes press into my neck. I find his small butt and massage it. It's a very soft one. He's even humping it for me.

I notice that the boy flexes his butt in beated time to his thrusts between my shoulder blades. His boyhood is long and rubs over my body with a purpose. He breaths blow quickly over my rear end. I'm close to release as well. The boy mouths my cheeks and sticks between them. He daringly bites near my hole. What a powerful sensation! When the boy sticks his tongue in I'm brought to my sudden climax. I groan at his lusty accomplishment. My seed floods through his hand.

After the youth pulls over my dick for a few more beats, he brings that hand back to my butt. He wets my crack with it and pushes on my hole. I get a suspicion of his intent. My bed creaks when his body turns behind me. I feel his toes down at my legs. His hand reaches around for my belly. A stab into my butt! I feel the boy's erection slide through my butthole and sheathe itself. There is some pain. Yet I stick my butt out to his need. I'm thrilled to have the boy joining to
my body. This time, I'm playing the squaw.

The sensation is strange. I feel the boy's long pole stabbing quicklyin and out of my hole. A sense of fullness in my butt. His balls press against my cheeks when he goes deeply into me. Our bodies are tightly connected. He will soon release his clear sperm into my body.

This last thought is both thrilling and strange. I would never allow a man to have his way with my butt. Too great a humiliation for me to bear. Yet this boy is very dear. He has given his flesh to me and I'm hoping for his heart as well.

The boy's hands become tight around my body. I no longer feel his breaths against my back. Wild, quick thrusts. They pain me a little. The boy has released several times this night and he must find it hard to get his hard dick to shoot off again.

The bed creaks from the boy's lusty efforts. I reach back for his little butt to feel his man-like motion there; his taking me as if I were a squaw! I laugh in the darkness.

I feel a throbbing in my hole from the boy's swollen knob. His frenzied pace slows. I think the youth has squirted into my body. His voiced breaths sound loud against my sweaty back. We have mated.

A strong sense of bonding comes from that. We've both seeded each other's butt. The boy rests in my bed, and I hope, will stay with me throughout the night. I feel in my heart a strong thing. Does he have this same feeling in his heart for me? I'll find out in the morning.

The boy untangles himself from me. A profound sense of sadness fills my heart. I sit up in the darkness, expecting him to open the door and go onto his next man. But that door never opens.

I reach for the lamp and light it. Its glow filling the room reveals that the boy is using the chamber pot. I notice his long pole. He has to bend it away from his belly when he urinates. It's still erect. He gives me a sheepish grin.

A great longing comes into me to hold this boy. I've spilt my lust with him. It's my heart that speaks. I want to take him under my care as if he were my own son. This white man's fort should not be his home!

The youth's plea takes me from my thoughts. In his hands is the small chamber pot. I nod my head from my own need for it. At my great surprise, his hand directs my limp member down into it. A pool of deep yellow reveals what the boy has given up. It takes me a while before I can release my shy urine, held in his gentle hand.

I take hold of the rounded vessel after pissing. He watches me shake it a few times to mix our yellow waters. It's with a smile that I bring the pot to my lips and take a large sip. The liquid is warm and flavorful down my throat. He giggles when I offer him some to drink.

The boy looks into my serious eyes. Does he understand what I'm asking of him? I think back to a long ago time and place of my youth. I was twelve years old. My father had performed this rite for me. Instead of a porcelain vessel, my father cupped his hands to catch the yellow flow from his penis and mine. We had drunk of it. As his son, I obeyed him in all things. He was testing me with his strange rite.

Joy fills my heart when I watch the boy take a sip. He grimaces from the taste. I nod my head with approval. This youth accepts me as his guardian. I lower the pot to the floor and slide it under our bed with my foot. I open my proud arms to him.

The boy eagerly embraces me. His small hands reach around my back while I reach low for his cold butt. His weight shifts on me. Legs wrap
tightly around my body. I laugh at his playfulness.
"Like me?" the boy asks.

"Yes, very much. How did you come here?" I watch all happiness drain from his eyes. He thinks for a long moment before speaking.

"Stolen from my tribe by white trader and horsed me here as his boy. He naked with me and did things. But sick and die in fort. I stay."

"What's your name?"

"Nom-ba-dant," he replies in the language of his People.

"Would you like to go home, Second Twin?" The boy's face turns bright when he looks up at me with hope. I nod my head. His head lays against my breast. I hold his small form close to me in the darkness and think.

A plan begins to form in my head. Why not take him away from these bad men? My dream returns and whispers to me how I can purchase the boy's freedom. Every skin will go to the lieutenant if he asks so that Second Twin and I may depart in peace. And though I love him dearly, I will place him back into his father's hands and depart. My spirit is a wandering one that has no place for a small boy.

For The Love of Indian Boys Part VI

2007-09-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

Fire! It glows in the distance like a beacon and my curiosity of it has brought me dangerously close. I drop from my brown gelding and tie him to a tall bush. The horse's soft neigh attests to his own nervousness. Where there is fire, often can the presence of one's enemies be found. I'm filled with much suspicion. Without giving time to paint up my face for battle, I crawl over to spy out this nightly scene.

A woman's wretched cry leads me towards her. I try using the tall prairie grass for concealment. Dark mud stains my belly and chest when I cross a very wide, rain soaked deer path at a crawl. My hands feel over the strange path in the dark. I find two straight lined depressions about an arm's length apart. Unlike an animal's many footed signs of passage, this strange beast has left long lines that seem to never end. Something man-made. I pause only a moment longer to consider what my hands have found before entering the tall grass on the other side.

I find the fire at last. It eats on a small wooden house that has fallen on its side near the path. Two dead horses lie at its side. The poor beasts are tied together and to the burning dwelling behind them. Held by many leather thongs wrapping their bellies and tied around haunting open mouths now silent, arrows sprouting from their necks tell of what unfolded. Rounded wheels stick out from the bottom of the small wooden house. It explains to my eyes what formed those lined path markings. This moving lodge with its horses were stopped by enemy bow shots. But where are its inhabitants?

Another cry calls out in the night. This time, it's a boy's high pitched voice. I slowly bring myself though the tall grass and peer out. I can make out several dark forms lying on the ground. The fire has stunned my night vision so I keep still until my sight returns.

Muffled cries come from the two forms before me. Atop one is a warrior. I can't glean from which tribe he's from. The man is naked and mounting the woman below him. A boy is sitting nearby. He's being held by another man. The youth is forced to watch the woman's rape with his cries kept within him by a hand over his mouth. I peer at his captor to see that it's a brave. He hungrily kisses the boy's neck while his free hand feels over the youth's bared chest. Deep groans from the warrior bring my eyes back to him.

As the woman cries sharply below, the warrior humps his butt violently until he's seeded her. A low grunt of satisfaction comes out with is breath. After resting a moment, he whispers something to the brave. Speaking in the tongue of a Comanche, I take his meaning but with great difficulty.

The warrior has asked the brave if he wants to use the white squaw. Many words come from the brave in reply which I can't follow. The warrior reacts by taking up his knife and striking the woman's chest. She is dead before I can aid her had I wanted to! The warrior removes
her long hair with a scalping knife. He fetches his breechclout from the ground and covers himself.

The brave's hands pull on the boy's clothing to bare him. His companion laughs. Strange long leggings and a white undergarment are taken off the boy. His hands are tied behind his back with thong.

Naked, he's brought to his belly by the two Comanche. The warrior holds down the youth's arms while the brave pulls away his front flap. He lays over the boy's backside. Many loud shouts come out of the struggling youth.

The boy ends his cries to suck in a pained breath. I can imagine the brave's fleshy spear stabbing into the boy's ass. I realize with morbid interest that the brave is performing the male-sex act of a hee-man-eh. The brave's body flexes wildly over the squirming boy that
he's raping. I prepare my knife for action.

My best chance for surprise is to wait until the brave has finished. He'll be momentarily exhausted from the lusty act. The warrior may also take his turn in the boy. Such men are always needing to prove their manhood virility.

My night eyes improve. I can distinguish more from the lusty scene before me. The brave appears to be a boy no older than the youth he's raping. Theirs is a matched struggle. The youth tries rolling over the ground to separate their bodies. Only the warrior's hold of his arms
prevent it.

Strange cries come from the youth. I don't understand any of his harsh words. His struggling is ineffective and weak. He acts like a girl. he young brave stabs into his butt like a wild man. I hear the youth's voice tremble with each of his thrusts. The warrior's release in the squaw had been quick. I wonder why the brave performs a lengthy mounting.

After a handful of heartbeats, the young brave releases a low, drawn out moan. His body slows over the struggling youth. The warrior aughs. A loud victory cry from the brave shatters the night. I get the impression that this is the brave's first copulation in another male. I draw my knife.

I leap from hiding while screaming my loud war cry! Before the brave can react, my long knife stabs between his ribs and splits his black heart in two. The warrior turns in surprise and launches himself at me. I try pulling my knife from the brave's body but the handle is slippery with his blood. Weaponless, the warrior and I struggle above the two naked forms. His painted face reveals his fierce hatred. Such a will in him to kill me! I take hold of his arms and prepare myself for a desperate struggle. Will my life end here?

We roll off the dead brave with my opponent disadvantaged below me. Before I can take hold of his neck, his arms reach around me in a tight embrace. His sharp teeth finds my neck and bites down. I howl out in pain! Held to him in death's embrace, I reach out my left hand to the brave's body for my weapon. I pull my knife out with care and turn it around in my hand. With the warrior sucking out my life's blood, I tab into his unguarded back. He screams out in pain. After a long moment, his mouth releases my neck while his arms loosen their hold around me. I take in deep breaths. I'm thankful to be the one left alive...

"You are allowed to live," announces the old chief. "Yet forever are you banished from our tribe! You leave us not as a brave or even a man. And you will never become a warrior. Only a strange boy will you remain since you turn from the path given you by the Great Mystery. Though you have loins of a male, your hands were destined to take up a woman's gathering basket instead of a man's hunting spear. Your acts with the boy only attests to what our shaman knew to be true. By refusing to wear a squaw's dress you set yourself apart from us. Your life is twisted and we do not accept you. Go!"

Tears wet my face when reliving my chief's strong words. If I were named a brave before this night, the taking of these Comanche scalps would have set me on the honored path of a warrior. They are my first kills. Yet all I have gained is a boy and a dead woman.

I roll the dead warrior off me and take back my knife. The brave's naked body is crumpled on his side. The youth is gone! Having risked my life, the boy rewards me by running away. I cast my eyes on the dark path for his tracks and tune my ears to the night.

The sound of running points my way to the boy. I race through the tall grass and come upon him. My arms reach for his shoulders in a gesture for him to slow. He sprints away instead. I give chase and tackle him to the ground. He struggles with fists to my chest and face. One strike lands on my bloodied neck. I'm painfully reminded of the warrior's bite there. I embrace the youth tightly while speaking to him
in a soothing voice. It's becomes a long struggle.

The boy's body in my hands is exciting. His flesh is soft and warm to my touch. I manage to hold him within my lap with his arms pinned under mine. After a while, the youth tires. We sit in the prairie grass until we recover our breath.

The sound of approaching horses fill me with dread. The fire has attracted the attention of others. Men from which tribe? Comanche warriors would find their dead tribesmen and seek revenge while Kiowa warriors would take their unguarded scalps and ignore me if I came out to claim them. I'm given no safety or honor in either situation. I hope the youth understands our peril and will remain silent.

We rise together and walk in a round about direction towards my horse. The boy's feet often stumble and makes sounds against the dry rass, angering me from his ignorance! I take hold of his hand and lead him quickly to where my horse is tied. By the light of a sliver of Grandmother Moon, my eyes widen when I glance back at the boy. His hair is light in color and his face also seems strange. I pause only a moment longer to study him. My hands feel over his body and notice his large butt. His stomach too isn't as lean as it should be yet it's his light hair that amazes me greatly. This boy is not of the Plains People!

The strange boy pushes my hands away and he begins to speak. I quickly cover his mouth to quiet him. His body tenses up. Fearing that he'll try to run again, I grip his arm while slowly removing my hand from his mouth. Doesn't he understand the peril that we're in?

The boy nods his head. He surprises me with an embrace. Our bare chests press wonderfully together. Deep feelings come into my heart from
this boy's obvious longing. Yet when he cries, I realize with sadness his true reason for it. That dead woman back there may have been his mother. I prevent my hands from lowering to his butt. I was tempted a moment ago for a more lustier embracing of our flesh.

Rain Stomper's nickering brings me out of the boy's embrace. I go to my horse and untie him from the bush. The boy squats to the ground to empty his butt. He groans in pain. I smile from my morbid memory of having witnessed his rape. If the situation were reversed, I'd have welcomed that young brave's use of my butthole. His seed would have been kept in me until I'd drawn all its power into my being. This boy
is quick to rid himself of the brave's unwanted gift.

I jump over my horse's back and offer my hand down to the boy. He takes it and comes up behind me. I glance about for any signs of the horsemen. Finding none, I choose a direction to make good our escape. Rain Stomper takes us slowly away from the fire. Behind, my young companion lays his weary head on my back while I take us to a safe night camp.

I ride throughout the night. It has become very dark with Grandmother Moon's departure to sleep. My eyes are heavy. I find a stand of trees and make my way nto them. After going far enough inside, I dismount and take the sleeping boy down to the ground with me. His naked body stretches out over the mossy ground while I tend to my horse. Weapons, food, water skins and a blanket are taken from Rain Stomper so that he may rest. Though the blanket is sweat-soaked, I lay it over the youth to keep him warm. I dig out a small hole to lay my body in for the night. Only a short moment passes before my eyes close. Deep sleep takes me at last.
Tomorrow is Summer's Eve! I'm to undergo the naming rite that will make me a brave. I'll be able to bear weapons and hunt as a man. And I'll be expected to take me a wife though I don't desire for one to be brought to my lodge. Several girls in the tribe have cast their hopeful eyes in my direction. They know that upon becoming a brave, I can take any one of them to be my squaw. Yet I've ignored their hopeful glances and choose instead to love a boy.

Pony legs is a year younger than myself. He's a handsome boy who's been my good friend for all of my life. He feels sad to lose me and takes us to our secret place on the river. We'll swim together and make love one last time as boys. After tomorrow though, to be caught taking his need into me could cause dire consequences.

We drop our breechclouts on the bank and enter the shallow river. In its middle, I sit down with Pony Legs coming into my lap. His long legs wrap around my backside while I take hold of his soft rear in my hands. Our lips meet and we kiss deeply for a long while. Below, our long poles slowly rub against each other with love's rhythm.

Our love making is usually of another kind. The more satisfying position of me on my knees with the youth pressed into my body from behind. I enjoy his manly thrusts through my butt. I've been acting as his squaw for a year and have taken much of his sperm. No baby from it. I'm glad to retain my male identity. Yet I enjoy giving the youth my body as if I were a woman.

Pony Legs squeezes my butt in time to our increasing thrusts. I pull on the boy's backside in that same lusty beat. My erection is soon to squirt against his. Our passion keeps us from seeing the shaman's angry approach.

"Stop this, Blue Pebble!" the man shouts. He takes hold of my long hair and pulls me from the youth's embrace. "I've suspected that you were performing male copulation with this young boy and now I've caught you! No brave will you become on the morrow. You're hee-man-eh."

I alone face the angry shaman. Pony Legs has run away. In a calm voice, I beg, "forget what your eyes have seen, shaman. I don't want to be a woman! Tomorrow, I'm to be named a brave."

"Our chief will make the final decision," the shaman replies. "Accept what the Great Mystery has chosen for you, Blue Pebble."

I thrash over the cold ground at the shaman's words in my head. His angry voice fades when I rub my sleepy eyes in the night of the now. It's dark still. My body feels chilled from my cold sweat. Again, I have dreamed of that terrible day from two summers ago. I think back to its result. Nothing bad happened to Pony Legs. Our chief claimed that he was a young boy who wasn't responsible for his actions. I knew that he was protected by his strong warrior father. A worthy consideration upon the chief.

I had no father to defend me. My mother was laboring for others to provide for our small lodge. Even worse, the shaman knew that I hated him since the day my father had died under his care. Some believed that his healing medicine had grown weak. All these things had set me up for the harsh judgement from our chief. He commanded me to wear women's clothing and to perform the duties of a hee-man-eh. Our tribe already had one aged cross-dresser. I loathed to think that I would have to live such a life so I went against my chief's council. He banished me from the tribe.

Now I hunt and live a lonely life on the plains without a home. Although warriors of the Kiowa won't seek my scalp, neither will they accept my very presence. I'm banished from our tribe's camp as well as from the People's hearts. Only a boy do I appear to those who see me. My name is Blue Pebble, a boy.

I recall the events from last night. My eyes go to the youth under the horse blanket. I hear his soft breaths. What am I to do with him? He isn't of the People and shows such an ignorance of plains living. He'll be a burden to my travels. Therefore, he must be taken back to his tribe. The People of light-colored hair.

I sit in the darkness and listen to the boy's breaths for a while. My body hungers for his embrace again. I can't force him to rape me nor am I interested to perform on him what that Comanche brave had done. My love-acts with Pony Legs were freely offered and taken. That is the only way I would allow this boy to nter my arms.

I sigh at my longing and dashed hopes. My body is restless though. What harm can come from sharing our warmth under the blanket? Surrendering to this last thought, I carefully scoot under the blanket next to the boy's heated form. His back is to me. I scoot up close to him and turn away. The boy remains asleep. I hear his gentle breaths and risk more. With only my shoulder blades whispering against him, I remove my rear butt cloth. Then, carefully and slow, I press my backside onto his.

The boy's soft flesh feels nice against my butt. It fills me with a woman's desire to be taken. Yet my loins are a man's. I hunt to provide for myself and tonight I've killed two men of an enemy tribe! My path does seem twisted. Yet it's the only life I know.

My heart races from my stolen backward embrace with the boy. I feel our building warmth. With our butts touching, I know that sleep won't claim me for a while. I plan out how to coax the youth to me. It's been a few years since I've touched another human being, let alone a boy. I would welcome his lusty use of my body. He's of age to have that aching in his loins and the knowledge of how to release himself. It would be too much for me to hope for love.

I feel an erection forming under my front flap. Touching butts with the youth along with my lustful thoughts has excited me. I carefully reach down to handle my aching length. The building thrills are soothing. It casts my pain away; the aches of my body and of my spirit. I feel like I'm floating on a cloud. Sleep claims me.

Pony Legs waves to me from across a large stream. All my love for him swells in my breast. I ask him to cross over to join me. Yet he remains on his side. Perhaps he fears the water's strong current. I'm not afraid so I enter the stream and start crossing over to him. Yet a great wave sweeps me away. The boy of my love is left far behind. The waters of time takes me to what will be.

I awaken with a start. My ears careful listen to the forest around me. Nothing. I don't sense anything amiss. The boy's warmth still presses against me. Perhaps he stirred and that had awakened me. I close my sleepy eyes to rest for a while longer.

My eyes pop wide open. I feel something tickly against my backside. The boy must have turned around during the night. His left hand rests on my shoulder. I feel his right arm between us over the dirt. What excites me is the part of him touching my butt. I flex my body to investigate it further.

While slowly arching my back, I stick out my butt to the boy. His erection is plainly felt against my right cheek. A lusty plan forms in my head. I doubt if it'll succeed but I'll enjoy trying it.

Ever so gently, I flex my cheeks to move away from the boy's cock. I spit to my left hand. I bring that hand down my side and push my wet fingers inside my crack. My hole easily takes one finger into it. I keep still for a moment to listen. His breaths remain even. Removing that finger, I pull on my left cheek to open my butt. I slowly back onto his erection with careful aiming. A sharp thrill goes through me from what I've accomplished.

I feel the tip of the boy's hard cock against my hole. My fingers relax. The cheeks of my butt come together around his erection. I listen to his breaths for an agonizing long moment. The youth remains asleep. Now I can begin coaxing his sperm into me in earnest.

My butt starts with small flexings. A suggestive in and out rubbing against the sensitive tip of the boy's cock. If he has ever mounted a squaw, his body will know how to react to my lusty movements. I bring my left hand to the front of me. I'm so excited that my cock is oozing. I spread its wetness down my curved shaft and take it in hand. An enduring patience is required now. It could result in a very exciting and successful hunting for me this morning!

I continue to coax a lusty response from the boy. His swollen tip is just within my hole. I relax my inner muscles to open myself more. I daringly push my butt onto his cock, swallowing him in. My hand slowly rubs over my erection for pleasure. I'm very excited by what I've been able to take from the youth so far.

A small sound escapes the boy's lips. My body becomes still. I wait for a long moment to see if he's awaken. No movement. The youth continues to sleep. My body is restless though. I back my butt against his groin to fully impale myself on his long dick. My butthole feels the passage of his knob through me. His groin hairs crunch against my cheeks.

I gasp in surprise. The boy's thrust! His tip pushes on the sensitive place deep within my butt. It causes my dick to surge. I've not felt the pleasure from being mounted for such a long time that my flesh is reacting too severely. I stop pulling over my cock. My mouth quietly takes in small breaths to prevent my loin's explosion. It's very difficult.

My body trembles under the horse blanket. I try to remain still. Yet my body is tense like a great bow with an arrow fitted into it and the string pulled back. I wish that the boy's fleshy arrow would shoot into me! It's hard to have our bodies this close to joining without something happening.

Streaks of sweat run down my back and tickle my butt. It contrasts the pain of my pierced butthole. My body is on fire. Breaths try to rush through my mouth but I prevent them to keep myself silent. The boy hasn't made another move.

I begin again the flexing of my buttocks. My hole sucks on his big cock. There's more of his length inside me than I realized. I wonder how long the boy is? I'm not sure of his age. His groin hair is thick and coarse against my backside. I would imagine that the size of his erection is that of a man's. A boy of fifteen? He's old enough to have been named a brave in my tribe.

My butthole is eager to feel more of the boy's thrusts. Yet he remains still inside my body. If I were to slam my ass over his cock like I'd want, the violence of that act would awaken him. He may pull out before gifting me with sperm. I must be patient like the hunter who is close to catching his prey. My gentle motion around his cock should be able to trick the release of his seed even while he's still sleeping.

I tighten and loosen my butthole with a slow and deliberate beat. The boy would have been making that motion with his thrusts. I feel his fleshy knob deep inside me. His cock gets thicker towards his body. I wish that I could have seen his full size before getting it inside. From the aching of my butthole, I know that his is a big dick.

Intense feelings are building in my erection. I don't even have to handle it. My hand rests at my side. The sensation of squeezing around the boy's cock sends exciting thrills into my aching cock. I can't prevent my release any longer!

The boy stirs behind me. His fingers dig painfully into my left shoulder. I feel his deep stab through my butthole. His gasp for air. My hands rush into motion. I reach back for his butt to keep our bodies connected. My cock swells up and cums. My right hand catches its many squirts. The boy cries out as if in agony.

I feel the tip of his cock throbbing inside my butt. The boy's strong releases going into me. His butt flexes wildly under my hand. I'm trying to keep our bodies together for as long as I can. I want my butt to catch all of his loin's flow.

The boy's hands strongly push on my back. We separate. I gasp from the painful sensation of his thick cock pulling from my butthole. The horse blanket is kicked from our bodies. The youth gets up and angrily stands over me. He acts like one who's had something stolen from him.

I rise before him with a sly grin. His eyes are wild and he shouts at me with raised fists. I don't understand why the boy is so angry. It wasn't as if he was the one getting raped. Not this time.

I take this moment to look the boy over in morning's light. He has pale skin to match his light-colored hair. A freckled face. Small nose. What surprises me most is his deep blue eye. He looks like a strange spirit that I've wisked away to my peril. But I have felt his flesh and know that he's mortal.

The boy calms down. He looks at my dripping cock and the pooled sperm in my hand that I reveal to him with pride. His eyes widen. He looks down at his erection which bears my brown stain upon it. I turn sideways and slap my butt with a bright smile. The youth gasps in revelation.

Many thoughts must be going around in the boy's head. His eyes become glazed and lifeless. He recovers after a moment. I take up the horse blanket and shake it free of dirt. The boy reaches down for my rear flap and uses it to wipe off my butt stain from his dick. I reach down for my front cloth. Before I hang it over my thong belt, I reach back to my butt and wipe off my sperm-filled hand between my cheeks. This was a love rite I had often performed for Pony Legs after he mounted me. The act further joined us together.

I throw my blanket over Rain Stomper. From the ground, I fetch a water skin. I untie the spout and pour water into my hands for my horse to drink. He eagerly laps it up. I glance at the boy and find him looking around for something. At his feet is my soiled rear cloth. There it shall remain. I will go naked from behind to remind myself of how I coaxed a pale boy-spirit to seed my butt. It was quite an accomplishment!

I drink from the skin after my horse. The boy gestures for the water skin. I hold it out for him to take. He approaches slowly before grasping it. It pains me that there's little trust in him. Yet I suppose that events from last night must be weighing heavily. He lost that woman whoever she was to him and possibly others that I didn't have time to search for. My lusty trick this morning wasn't taken well by the youth. I shrug my shoulders in dismay.

My stomach rumbles. I search for my pouch of dried meat. Last night was to have been spent in hunting. Discovering the fire changed everything. I don't regret my rescue of this youth and what followed. At least not yet.

I open my food pouch and pull a few strips of dried elk meat from it. This is my emergency supply. It's to be used when I fail to catch an animal, become hurt, or have to spend days evading enemy warriors. It's difficult not to have a tribe to belong to. I'm always on the run.

The boy returns my water skin to me. He stands at my side and watches me eat. I hand him a long piece that I've been chewing on. The youth accepts it reluctantly. He grimaces at its taste. I shake my head in dismay again. He's so strange.

With our meal finished, I start packing up my horse. I'm glad that the boy helps me. I take the water skin from his hands and secure them to Rain Stomper's side. He grabs my spear, bow and quiver. I become nervous since I'm weaponless save for my short knife. The boy hands me these things.

The youth turns from me and walks away through the pines. I become anxious until seeing that he's finding a place to relieve himself. It makes me realize my own need. I lift my flap and piss after turning from my horse. My butt could be emptied as well. Yet I want to enjoy keeping the pale boy's seed in me for a while longer. It may be powerful medicine.

I mount up. My butt is hurting from having taken the boy's thrusts. My lack of butt cloth brings a smile to my face though. I'll be enjoying that sweet memory for many moons. Sadly, I don't have anyone to share my story with. Even if I were still Kiowa there wouldn't be many friends who would enjoy hearing about my clever trick. Only that aged hee-man-eh and Pony Legs would be amused. A pang of sadness fills me. I wonder how the boy of my love is doing back at the tribe?

I lead my horse to the white youth. He pisses a moment longer behind the tree. My eyes take this moment to study what I can see of him. The length of his golden hair barely reaches his slim shoulders. A very pale body! My gaze falls down his back to his rounded backside. This youth has eaten well in his white tribe. He turns around to face me. His belly isn't flat as it should be though not actually fat. His chest and arms show strength. Pink nipples push out from his breast. Hanging below his dark groin hair is a strange looking penis. It's missing a thick skin around it. His sack of balls is almost a handful.

What captures my attention are the boy's blue eyes. He stares back at me a moment before lowering his gaze. I offer him my hand to mount up behind me. The youth talks instead. His words are strange sounding and holds no meaning for me. His hands try making hand-talk: outstretching arms, a finger pointing at himself, my horse, then to the prairie behind us. I shake my head in reply.

I watch the boy begin another gesture. One that Ican understand. His hands press over his loins and his butt. After covering himself, he tugs on my front flap. I reply by shaking my head. The boy is to go naked since I've no spare animal hides to give him. I remember his use of my rear cloth and point back to our night camp to where it lies. He can use that for his loins if he must. A dumb stare from him again. I shrug my shoulders and sigh.

My hands reach down for the boy. This time, he allows me to bring his pale form up my horse to sit behind me. His hands come loosely to my side. Our bodies aren't touching. I shake my head at his strangeness. When I kick Rain Stomper ahead, arms rush around my stomach. The boy's body presses close to mine. I smile. He's a very rebellious and perhaps even a stupid boy. I really need to return him to his white tribe before he gets himself lost or killed. A heavy burden for me to carry. He became my responsibility when I saved him from death.

My thoughts turn forward. Where should I start looking for his tribe? A memory from last night drops into my head. It comes together with things that I've heard about the white men and their strange ways. I saw their moving wooden house and the lined tracks over the wide path. It must lead back to their encampments.

I keep my horse at a walk. We'll keep to the forest for a while since to show ourselves in daylight would be dangerous. That lined path is deep in Comanche territory. I'll only take to the prairie at night.

Images from last night come to mind. The fire that drew me; two dead horses, the white woman's rape and murder. My finding this handsome boy. He was worth rescuing! My butt hasn't felt the pleasure of being seeded for over a year. How I yearn for more to happen between us; a joining of hearts. That may not happen. I task myself at returning the youth to his People. Yet I'll keep my heart open to receive his.

The morning turns into a very warm day. Father Sun is high above. The trees have sheltered us but our bodies have had to endure their stinging branch fingers. Rain Stomper becomes heated. A heavy sweat covers his shaggy body. I drop down from my horse to water him. The boy eagerly drinks from the other skin before handing it back to me. I drink sparingly. The skin is light in my hands. There's a real need to be finding water soon. I'll keep my eyes open for signs of it.
I swing the reins over Rain Stomper's head to lead him. The boy is content to follow behind my horse. I glance back at my sweaty, uncovered butt. If that were Pony Legs with me, he'd not be content to follow behind the horse but would keep close to me. I'd only have to bend over to coax his dick up my butthole. This white youth acts like a shy girl.

A clever plan forms in my head. I call out to the white boy and get him to hold Rain Stomper's reins. I walk ahead and feign tracking while bending down low. This gets my butt to open. A pleasant tickle fills my loins from my vulnerable stance. My pace is a slow one. This keeps the youth close behind me.

An erection is quick to grow against my belly. I turn to the boy a few times to be sure that he sees it bulging under my front flap. My sly smile makes clear to him my intent. When I pause to study the trail, my butt sticks out again. How can he resist it? I continue to follow the deer path. My hope is that it'll end at a stream. My body is very sweaty. I itch around my shoulders and upper back from the scratchy bushes and tree branches. I'll be glad to find a cold stream to wash in.

I look back at the boy. He has Rain Stomper in hand with his eyes down casted at the ground. I notice his weariness from the heat. Red markings cover his chest, shoulders and neck. His body is very sweaty. My eyes look low at the boy. A smile comes to my lips from seeing his excitement there. Sticking up against his hairy groin is the boy's erection.

I marvel at its size. This is my first opportunity to view it when erected. As my butthole had discovered, the boy's dick has a large red knob. Not brown and small like those of the Indian People. No thick skin around it. His dick isn't curved either. It becomes wider towards his groin. I'm surprised that my butthole had managed to swallow it whole.

I rub over my butt with my hand to draw his lusty attention. The youth continues to stare at the ground like a bashful girl. His unwillingness to take my offering is puzzling. I wonder how I'll trick his seed into me this time?

To ease the aching in my loins, I reach my left hand under my front flap. My quick handling is thrilling and makes an obvious rubbing sound for the boy to hear. I won't bring myself to release from it yet. This is yet another trick that I'm using to coax the youth. I rub over my butt again. He must notice my desire for our bodies to come together. His cock is hard enough. Why does he wait?

My attention returns to the widening deer path. Smaller paths cross over or join up with it. A very good sign. I bend low to study a line of clawed markings that appear fresh. My eyes see that a raccoon has recently come this way. This small brother likes keeping close to the water. I lift my head towards the sky in thankfulness to the All Seeing Father. A cooling swim is soon to be ours!

I turn around when hearing a rubbing sound from the boy. One of his hands clutch the horse's reins while around his long cock is the other hand. Popping out from his pale spear is its blood-red tip. I notice his excitement from the way it drips into his quick hand. The youths eyes are closed.

My woman's longing to get dicked becomes overwhelming. I back my butt onto his moving hand and aim for the tip of his cock. My sweaty cheeks open around the boy's oozing knob. I feel its heated tip on my butthole. A sharp thrill goes through me. I press my ass against his hairy groin and feel his cock pushing into me. His hand is still rubbing over the skin of his erection. I try pulling his hand away but he resists. Why?

An idea comes to me. I reach back for the boy's butt and grip him there. My butthole tightens around his swollen knob to keep it inside me. With a strong pull on his backside, I force the boy's thrust. All of his cock slips through my butt. His voiced breath fills me with dread. I hope that the youth isn't already sperming me!

My wild hand over his backside begs the white boy to keep fucking me. I need to feel my own pleasure and release. He responds. His hands grab for my hips and surge. I'm glad that the boy finally performs a man's duty at last.

I glance back at Rain Stomper. He wanders to a bush to nibble on its green leaves. I push my concern for the horse out of my head. A tremendous surge goes through my erection. It comes from the boy's unaided thrusts. My hand relaxes over his flexing butt. I'm thrilled to feel the power of his lust using my tight body for its release. He'll be cumming soon.

I feel my own powerful release building up in my cock. I reach down for my front cloth and pull it away. It falls at our feet. The youth's body slams into mine; his hairy groin crunches against my sweaty cheeks with each savage stab. I feel all his power from our mating through his cock deep inside me. The boy has a very long one. Yet his thrusts doesn't hit upon that tickly spot in my hole. I reach out for a small tree and bend over. Small lightning bolts flash in my eyes. His
cock presses on my thrilling place with each of his deep stabs. I moan out from its thrilling sensation; my womanly feelings of pleasure. Our mating is good.

The boy's breaths blow hot over my sweaty back. There's no pause from his lusty efforts. No willingness to trick his hard loins into a lengthy pleasuring by pausing to keep its thrills from building up. Pony Legs had learned how to control his sex. He would prolong his first climax or release himself twice during one mating. I enjoyed giving that clever boy my butt to sperm into. His heart was one with mine.

I cry out a lusty wail when feeling the pleasurable squirts coming out my cock. My seed flies to my belly. Deep satisfaction! I quickly recover from the thrills in my loins. My butt thirsts for the boy's release. I'm surprised that he hasn't put seed in me yet.

The boy's efforts are frenzied and chaotic. Without a proper beat, he holds a breath for a long moment before blowing it out over my back. His hands bring my butt to him for a few quick stabs. A pause to rest and he takes in a deep breath. He seems near his release but unable achieve it. I wonder at the youth's lack of control.

A realization sweeps through me. I scold myself at my ignorance. The boy has already spermed me and tries for his evasive, second release. All the signs point to it. He must have cummed in me when first sticking up my butt. I suspected it when hearing his voiced breath earlier.

I task myself to aid the frantic youth. My inner muscles keep a tight squeeze around his wild cock. I also slam my butt against his body when he stabs. His large breath! The youth cries out. I imagine his strong flow going into me. My sore butthole feels the tip of his throbbing cock. Proof of his seeding. He sucks in breaths as if drowning from our wild mating. I pat his backside to signal to him my pride.

The boy holds onto me while he recovers. I feel his sweaty body trembling. This is a tender moment for us both. My heart feels the approach of his heart. Already, my flesh has enjoyed the wild passions from his flesh. Yet my head warns me to be rid of this troublesome youth. He doesn't know our Indian ways! How do I listen to all of my inner voices?

Rain Stomper's affectionate nudging startles the youth. His arms push me away. My butt is pained when he pulls out his cock. I feel a trickle running down my balls and left thigh. To complete our mating ritual, I gather up sperm from my belly and join it with the boy's seed flowing down my crack. This sacred act makes us one.

The leather thong to Rain Stomper's mouth is taken in hand by the white boy. I retrieve my cloth from the dirt path. My butthole pushes out more of the seed it has captured. I keep my legs pressed together to stem the urgent flow. With the stream close at hand, I make my way towards it. The youth pulls on the horse's reins and follows me.

I cautiously step into the sunlight. My eyes spy up and down the small stream for enemies. I also listen for telling sounds. Nothing alarming touches upon my keen senses. We're alone here. I look at the stream's disappointing flow. It's too small to swim or to even sit in. I look further down the stream and discover a small pool. Eagerly, I walk to it. The youth ties Rain Stomper to a tree and follows me.

I step into the small pool. The water is cold but not overly so. I sit down while gesturing for the white boy to join me. He pauses from doing so. I signal gain for him to sit down. The boy points at the pool and at my body taking all of its width. I release a hearty laugh. We've joined our bodies in love but now he's shy to join me in a stream! My hands beg for him to sit in my lap.

The youth steps between my crossed legs before lowering himself onto my thigh. I reach around his pale body to steady him. The pool isn't deep. It only comes up to his navel. I'm glad to share his warmth in this small pool. An urgent push comes from inside my butt. I release all the precious boy-seed that my hole has been trying to hoard. The stream steals it away. I peer into the youth's blue eyes. He gazes back. My hand affectionately pulls over his butt cheeks. How wild they had felt in my hand when he was mounting me! I hope soon to have our bodies joining again.

Tears well up in the boy's eyes. His face turns red from the deep emotions that he's feeling. For me? Arms fly around my shoulders and the youth buries his face into my breast. I hear his agonizing cries. All the pain from last evening is coming out with his tears. He wails like a little girl. A boy his age should have better control. Yet I hold his trembling body in my arms and wait for his weak moment to pass. A deep sadness fills my spirit.

I look at the green trees rising above us. They watch over our embracing forms; my loving hold around a boy that I wish would love me back. My heart is hurting. It doesn't find that special feeling in this white youth like I had with my Pony Legs. That was a love all three of my inner voices sang in unison. With this boy only our flesh has become one.

I pull away my front flap from its thong belt. With it, I wash over the boy's shoulders and back that were scratched during our trail walking. My handling soothes him.

The stream flows past our bodies for a long while before the boy quiets down. He's in much pain. Only a shaman from his white tribe can drive away the demons tormenting him from that night of fire and death. I can only help the youth by bringing him back to his People. My hand reaches for the sky in a prayer to the Great Mystery. Please! Aid me in this task!

The boy rises from the pool with a red face. He wipes the remaining tears from his eyes. I nod my head in approval. With my front flap in hand, I wash over my itching shoulders, chest and back. My body has felt the brambly bushes and tree branches all afternoon and welcomes the water's cold relief. I get up after cleaning the rest of my body. The youth is filling up my water skins from the stream. I smile.

Rain Stomper's long neck stretches towards the cool water. I let him drink his fill. This stream's waters are sweet. My cupped hands refill three times before my own thirst is satisfied. I look around for danger.

After washing my face, I wring out my breechclout and hang the one cloth over my loins. My hand slaps over my butt soundly. I lustily glance at the white boy. He rolls his eyes in disbelief. I suppose that he's not ready to mate with me again.

I take up my horse's reins and lead us along the stream. It should bring us out of this forest. Darkness will fall by the time the trees fail and the prairie begins. I'll try finding the white man's lined path in the moonlight.

Father Sun soon falls from His sky. It grows cooler, especially with a damp front cloth and nothing for my butt. I take the naked youth into my arms to share our warmth. We have become friends. No love for me though. It's enough to have rescued the white boy from that Comanche brave. I've been rewarded with the sweet embrace of his young body several times now.

We stop to eat from my pouch and to rest our legs. The forest is difficult to navigate in the darkness. Grandmother moon casts her sliver of light and points me out to the prairie. We leave the forest behind us with its sweet memories. Danger lurks out here.

I mount Rain Stomper and pull the boy up behind me. His arms reach tightly around my waist. Our bodies come together in warmth. A great happiness fills me from having a traveling companion. It's been a long time since anyone has been with me. A handsome boy at that. Sadly, I've asked the Great Mystery to help me return this white youth to his People. If I accomplish this, then alone again will I become.

I drive this troublesome thought away. My eyes look about for danger while Rain Stomper canters over the rolling hills of the prairie. I steer clear of where we were last evening. My direction is more towards the right armed heading of where the sun sets. I hope to hit upon the lined path there.

The youth rests his sleepy head against my back. All of the night is spent without my finding a path. It'll be morning soon. We'll have to hide in the tall grass when Father Sun wakes up.

I'm about to give up the search when my eyes spy a dark road between the grassy hills. I kick Rain Stomper to a gallop. The boy wakes up and asks me something in his strange language. I ignore him while my heart fills with hope. Yes! It is the white man's wide dirt path. I pull on
my horse to investigate it further.

The sky grows lighter behind us. A bad time to be studying trail signs. I drop from Rain Stomper to feel over the dirt path. My hands plainly make out the two lined grooves in the earth. The white boy drops down from my horse. He excitedly points to the markings and speaks words I don't understand.

Rain Stomper roams to the path. He curiously sniffs at some old horse droppings. I angrily gesture for the boy to keep hold of his reins. I shake my head in disappointment. The signs are old. They're probably from that doomed party of white men this boy was a part. I shrug my shoulders. I'll head us in the direction from where they had come.

We mount up. I can feel that the boy is very anxious from our discovery. How I wish that we could talk. He could have explained things to me and tell me what his People are all about. Mostly, I would have liked to know if he was interested in me for more than a friendship. I would welcome him as a traveling companion. Much could I teach him.

I kick my horse to get him to run. It's dangerous to be one man out on the prairie. The boy keeps a tight hold around me. His loins rub over my butt with each galloping stride. The violent motion gives both of us erections. The horse's bouncy ride prevents our body's connection though.

The long night turns into morning. I become more and more afraid at
our lone appearance on this dirt trail. Are there eyes upon us? I wonder
if this white boy knows how to use a bow or spear? This is the land of
the Comanche. My eyes have seen what they do to their captured enemies.

The white man's dirt path goes on and on. Father Sun peeks at us with
his golden head. I look for a place for us to hide. The boy has long
since lain his weary head against my back. My head also feels heavy.

The safety of the trees are left far behind. Before us are the
rolling hills of golden grass. The white man's path continues far
beyond. I leave the road and head us towards an outcropping of rocks.
A river has worn away the dirt to form a cavity between them. This
hiding place will do until the darkness returns. Rain Stomper eagerly
heads for the water.

I drop down from my horse while carrying the sleeping boy to the
ground. A pile of my belongs pile up beside him. I cover the youth with
a blanket. Before joining him, I attend to a few tasks. My horse is
watered and I fill all the water skins. I track around our hiding place
for signs of animals and of man. There are none. I mark several escape
routes in my head should we be surprised during our sleep.

Wearily, I lay under the blanket with the white boy. My arms reach
around for his warmth. He stirs a little and moans out as if in pain. I
keep his body close to mine until he quiets. What struggles are
unfolding inside his sleepy head? I have Rain Stomper tied up nearby.
He'll have to guard over us. After whispering a solemn prayer to the
All Seeing Father, I close my eyes and let sleep claim me.

(A lone warrior rides into the small camp. His arrival should have
alarmed Rain Stomper but the horse is unable to see his fleshless form.
The man drops down from his pale horse to study the pair sleeping beneath
the blanket. A sign of recognition fills his ghostly face.)

(The warrior smiles. He sees that the young man has his arms around a
youth of golden hair. Happy memories fill him from that time when he had
been the boy in that man's arms. A few years have passed. He no longer
bears a boy's name but that of a proud warrior. Just like his father. It
saddens him that this young man still goes by his boyhood name of Blue
Pebble.)

(An eerie wind sweeps through the camp. Its hand blows past the
sleeping pair and into the golden rolling hills. Rain Stomper looks
nervously about. His aged eyes had glimpsed the ghostly form of a man
riding upon a horse. They are gone now. Like the wind. The sun sets in
the west.)

I slowly awaken. These past few days have made me weary. Things have
been done, distances traveled; I've not had such excitement since my
banishment. My hand reaches for the youth. His body is warm to my
touch. A pleasant sensation goes through my butthole. It wants to drink
from his dick again.

The boy stirs from my caresses. He stares up at the sky with those
deep blue eyes of his. The look of his pale face still haunts me. I
wonder what he's thinking? My hand reaches low on his body. The tuff of
his groin hair guides me to his penis. It's soft and moist in my hand.
I palm over it so that it will grow.

Words come from the youth. They're soft sounds that I don't understand.
He knows that we don't share a language. Yet the boy continues speaking.
Perhaps he voices a prayer to his God. Maybe he only talks to himself. I
get the feeling that he's talking to me; telling me things that he needs
to have said. My heart is touched by the sound of his words.

I lay my head over the boy's breast. The sound of his heart fills my
ear. It's a strong, steady drum beat. The sweaty lime smell of his skin
excites me. My hand feels the stirring of his loins. Our bodies will
join soon to make love. A pang of sadness fills my heart. I get the
premonition that this will be our last day together. Another boy
taken from me.

I turn my face towards the boy's sweaty breast. His pink tits draw my
lusty attention. I mouth over each hardening nipple. The youth's breaths
quiver. I know that he's feeling good. My mouth wanders down his body.
He giggles when I mouth over his sensitive stomach. I wander lower.

The boy takes in a sharp breath when I kiss over his big cock. I'm
still amazed by its size. Its knob is like a huge crimson mushroom.
Deadly to my small butthole. This white boy can fill my squaw body to
capacity. My Pony Legs had a smaller fit inside me. His heart was big
enough for me though.

I cast away my long ago memory to enjoy this new boy. I sample the
sweetness of his sexual oozing. My mouth goes down on it. I can't get
all of his manly shaft to spear into me. His length makes me gag
otherwise. I begin a sucking motion. The boy breathes in deeply.

I'm worried that he'll release so I pull away from his long cock.
It's not that I wouldn't want to drink his seed; my butthole enjoys
more being filled from it. I lay in the dirt over my stomach with my
butt pointed to the sky. I hump it suggestingly to the youth.

A handful of heartbeats passes in silence. I turn my head to stare
back at the reluctant youth. He's taken his big cock in hand, stroking
over its length. His blue eyes seem shy. I spread my legs. My butt
sticks up from the ground... Take me!

I feel his weight over my back. He sits on my butt. Hands come to my
back and rub over my muscles in small circles. I'm surprised by the
boy's actions. He massages my body as if he were a loving warrior
taking care of his squaw. I relax over my folded arms and moan.

It's a long massage. The boy's hands feel over my neck, shoulders and
all of my long back. His fingers form different pressing techniques.
Hard pushings followed by light fingered pleasuring. Their People are
knowledgeable with the use of their hands!

The boy rests. He still sits on my butt though no erection pushes
from his groin. I haven't felt it tickly over my ass cheeks for a while
now. An idea comes to me. It's a fair trade for the wonderful pleasure
he's given to my back.

I turn myself under the boy. His butt presses over my hard loins.
When he tries to get up, I keep his body to mine with my hands around
his waist. I urge him to lay over my body with his. The boy reluctantly
does so. I sigh when feeling the warmth of our touching skin.

I stare into his blue eyes. He returns the stare for a moment before
looking away like a bashful girl. I pull his head to my breast. His
breaths warm me there. I feel the growing of his cock. Mine is already
swollen against his. I'll soon show this boy a wonderful love act.

My hands reach low for his butt. I begin a suggestive pulling motion
over him there. It gets our dicks to rub. The boy gasps. He feels the
pleasure of our sweet joining. I continue to pull over the youth's
backside with loving hands.

The boy's hands reach up for my shoulders. He eagerly joins into
battle with his cock against my cock. I startle some when feeling his
mouth over my breast. He kisses my nipples! I feel them harden from the
boy's lips. The wetness of his tongue swirls against my sensitive
spots. Yet another thing the boy shows me from his white People.

Our bodies become frantic. The boy lifts himself over my body with
strong hands gripping my shoulders. He grinds his big cock over my
throbbing cock. They meet in lusty pleasure. My hands become savage
over his butt. I play over his sweaty butt cheeks like a war drum I'm
striking. The boy cries out.

I feel a warmth on my belly. The boy cries out again when releasing
his hot seed to my body. My butthole is disappointed. It had wanted the
boy's huge cock in it again. Yet my heart is glad for the boy's loving
embrace. I rush myself towards the sweet release building up in my loins.

I roll our bodies over the ground until I'm on top. My cock slides
over our slimy bellies with a wild man's rhythm. My breaths hold. I
open my eyes to stare into the boy's. Our faces come together. My lips
find his rosy lips and press hard. A kiss. My cock erupts between our
heated bodies. It's very sweet!

I wail out. My sperm flies from me in wonderful drum beated thrills!
Five squirts. I notice that the boy has turned his head away. He doesn't
like kissing, it seems. Breaths race through my mouth. When my pleasure
fades, I lay fully over the pale youth. He squirms beneath my weight.

I drop my knees to the ground to sit over the youth's pale body. His
slimy cock tickles against my ass. I hump over the boy to entice an
erection from his groin. He has already released but I may be able to
coax him to perform again. I stare into his deep blue eyes for a sign
of his willingness.

My hands rub over the boy's sweaty breast. This gets him to close
his eyes and moan. I smell our mingling cum. My fingers scoop some up
for a quick taste. Very musky! The rest of it is smeared over my swollen
cock. I enjoy the feel of our milky sperm around my penis. I'm hoping
to get another strong flow from this boy's loins into my butthole.

I continue to rub my butt over the youth's heated body. My hands
massage his upper chest. I notice some faint hairs there. Thin and
blond like on his head. It surprises me. None grow on even the oldest
warriors of the Plains People. Our brown bodies are smooth. These white
people are strange indeed!

I pull over my slimy cock to keep it erected. Below me, the boy's
penis has gone to sleep. My butthole, sadly, won't be filling with it
any time soon. I hear a heavy breathing sound from the youth. His eyes
are closed. Has he fallen asleep?

I keep myself from laughing out loud. Our love making has worn the
boy out. My penis is long and fills with its tense urge to release
again. I pull over the thick skin to get its brown tip to pop out. Our
cum makes it a slippery motion through my tight fingers. I hold breaths.
The youth below me may need sleep but my body is restless. I arch my
back with each of my forward stabs. My butt slips and slides over the
boy's warm body. I enjoy the feel of his moist skin below.

The boy's penis tickles against my backside. It's growing long from
my lusty motion over it. Snores continue to come from the boy's mouth.
He's still sleeping. I move my legs apart to open my butt. The boy's
hard dick lifts into it.

My clever trick from this morning comes to mind. Will I be able to
trick this boy's cock into me again? I slow the lusty pace around my
dick's thick skin to delay my needed release. My efforts go to another
task. I move my butt until the knob of the white boy's cock hits
against my hole. My hands grasp his sides for support. I lower my
weight over his groin. A penetration! The slipperiness of our bodies
makes it an easy fitting. My butt has trapped his maleness into me again.

I tighten and loosen the muscles of my asshole. The boy's thickness
still amazes me. It fills my insides like a warrior's deadly spear. And
like in the hunt, I force the boy's weapon to wound me again and again.
My hand resumes its lusty task around my hard penis. The thrills there
build up. Once again, I've managed to join the boy's body to mine
though he sleeps.

I try making our sweet loving a lengthy one. When my dick feels
ready to surge, I slow my hand around it. My butt keeps up the steady
pace of the boy's forced thrusts through it. His length and thickness
through my hole feels good. It satisfies my womanly desire of taking a
man's sex in me.

I glance down at the white boy's face. Loud breaths move through his
mouth in sleep. There are lines of tension over his freckled face. I'm
surprised that the boy doesn't awaken. Our bodies are intimately
connected and surging. Love's seed will soon flow to each other. Yet he
ignores the efforts of my love for him. Why?

A deep pang of emotion grips me. It's as if a ghostly hand has hold
of my heart. Whispered words fill my ears. They tell me that this
moment with my pale youth is the sweetest point in my life. A brief
time. When he is gone, I'll be alone again. On the run from enemy
warriors while ignored by men of my tribe who chance upon me. The ghost
words shout out for me to make a change in my life!

A sharp sensation shoots through my hard dick. I gasp when my cum
flies to the boy's belly. My butthole tightens and a surge goes through
the cock inside of me. His lust fills me up. I enjoy this brief sweet
moment like the eagle who's dared to fly high into the clouds. My
flesh, spirit and heart are soaring high!

The intense feelings soon wane. My wings become still and my body
drops down to the earth. I slowly open my eyes. Eyes of blue stare
back at me. His hands over my butt loosen while his cock slows its
thrusts through my slimy hole. He awakened at the end to finish his
manly duty. I accept his seed. Any love for me?

My heart gets squeezed again. I look around for His ghostly form. No
warrior. His warning is taken to heart. My head races with thoughts. Is
this boy my new life? I shake my head in disappointment. No. He's not
of the Plains People and he needs to be returned to those of his kind as
I've promised. I should also return to my own kind.

The white boy speaks. I try listening to his strange words but not a
one is understood. I shake my head. His body is restless below me so I
lift myself off his groin. Some pain is felt when the boy's long dick
pulls wetly from my aching butthole. I smile at the thought that some
part of his life remains inside me.

I slap over my sweaty cheeks with a grin. The white youth shows me
bashful eyes. He's performed as a man yet a girl he appears to me. I
must appear strange to him. My butt has played the squaw though I've
proven my manhood through battle when I rescued him the other night.
Yes. We are both strange human beings.

The white youth rises from the ground and stands before a bush. I
hear the strong splash of his urine against it. My bladder pains me as
well. I join him at the bush. Our two yellow streams cross above the
dirt for several heartbeats. His lips form a sly grin. I laugh.

At its finish, I turn to the boy and hold him. He reluctantly
accepts my arms around his back. Our wet poles touch. His hands slowly
reach around my hips. I'm puzzled by his shy behavior. Am I the first
person that he's made love to? Perhaps he's troubled by his male
desires. We haven't a language between us for me to ask. I hold the
youth close to my body for a long while of warmth. I've enjoyed his
sexual embracings but I can see that he's not the One for me.

A strong longing for Pony Legs fills my heart. My ghostly visitor
reminds me of my early thoughts. Why not return to my tribe? A banished
person isn't expected to survive a year on his own. I've managed two
summers. Much have I learned on my own. My manhood was proven in battle
with that Comanche brave and warrior that I've killed. It's time for me
to return to my own People!

I release the white youth in my arms. He stares into my eyes with
those haunting blue eyes of his. What does he want? When he looks at my
horse, I realize that we should be leaving this place. I've found his
People's trail and need to run it out to their camp. My promise unto
him to be fulfilled.

We break camp. The white boy helps me to pile my few belongings and
weapons onto Rain Stomper. I don my front flap as any proud man should
to cover his male nakedness. Only from behind do I beg lusty attention.
I'm not ashamed of my womanly desires to get fucked. But I won't wear a
dress for it!

With a strong resolution in my heart, I face my life with the changes
that will have to be made. The white boy will return to his tribe and
so will I. A great burden is lifted from me. I look forward to seeing
old friends, especially Pony Legs!

We mount up. The river is left behind when I kick Rain Stomper
towards the white man's trail. I keep my eyes about for enemies. The
growing darkness should protect us. I'm comforted by the boy's arms
around my waist. His warmth against my back is nice. I feel that this
will be our last night together. So be it. He's helped me to face
myself. I now face my life as a proud man.

All night long we travel down the white man's lined road. The boy
lays his head against my back in sleep. Grandmother moon lights the
way. I'm traveling deeper into the lands of my enemies. I hope that the
white men will find us first.

Morning comes. My body is weary from all our traveling. I'm alarmed
by the flatness of the plains. No good places to hide ourselves. I keep
my eye out for a safe camp. I'll need to be sleeping soon.

Fear grips my heart. I spy a dust cloud ahead of us. I slow Rain
Stomper to study its meaning. The youth behind me is excited. He jumps
down from my horse before I can ask him to wait. I hope it's one of
those white man's moving lodges rolling down the path. I get my horse
to chase after the foolish boy.

A moving lodge comes into sight. Four horses are pulling the squeaky
house-on-wheels. Two white men ride on top. One holds the reins while
the other points a stick at me. A fear comes over me. I've heard about
the white man's lightning sticks that kill easily. I'm about to gallop
away to safety when the boy runs up and holds my arm. I lift him to sit
in front of me. He anxiously faces the approaching men.

I see the intelligence of his act. He's protecting me from getting
shot at. My earlier attempt at escape may have been in vain. I've
heard how long distanced the white man's lightning sticks can shoot. It
wouldn't go well to have rescued the boy from death and to be killed in
my attempt to return the boy to his People.

The noisy white men stop before us. I keep my eyes on the man with
the long stick. For now, he points it up towards the sky. My boy speaks
words to the men. A door opens from the lodge with a feathered head
sticking out. The strange figure turns into a man who wears a rounded
head-covering with a feather sprouting out from it. Sharp commands from
the reins-holder man gets his house guest to stay inside. Another face
peeks out the lodge's window.

It's a long talk between the men and my boy. It ends when the youth
drops down from my horse. I dismount at his side. He's about to walk to
the lodge when in turning, he gives me a tight embrace. My arms welcome
him. I feel his hand reach down and slap my backside. It makes me laugh.

We part slowly with his deep blue eyes staring into my face as if
trying to remember me. I nod. The boy turns away and walks to the
wooden house. The door opens. A man I've not seen before steps out to
greet him. A blanket is given the youth to cover his nakedness. He goes
inside with the man.

The two men riding on top give me a long stare before the reins-holder
man gets his four horses to run. I watch the wooden house speed down the
path until it fades from sight. On the dirt path is left the fresh lined
markings of its passing. I quickly reach down to take some of the
pressed dirt into my hand. This I ritually rub across my butt in the
hopes that the boy's path and mine will cross again.

For The Love of Indian Boys Part V

2007-08-28T15:53:00.000-07:00

The heated bodies and breaths of young Indian boys crowd around me to watch my hand's labor. I try keeping my curious eyes from staring at their bare, sun-darkened bodies to give full attention to the task. It's difficult, especially when one Indian boy at my side touches me. His warm hands rest on my thigh. Funny sensations shoot into my stomach from it. The good feelings delay getting my toy wound up for them.

When the long string is tightly wrapped around the wooden ring, I stand up and motion the crowd of boys to give me some room. My hand pulls on the string while my other hand holds the base. Wooden blades spin rapidly as it soars away from us. The Indian boys shout out their amazement at its flight. They race to where it's falling over the tall grass.

I become fearful at the racing boys and join them in retrieving my wooden flyer. I'm not worried that a boy would steal it. Their feet in haste may step down and break it.

Running at my side is the small boy who had touched me. I glance at him and become struck by his dark eyes. They hold me with such a mysterious power that I slow my pace to face him. The other boys go on to fetch the fallen flyer for me.

The boy at my side is a few years younger than myself. His dark eyes peer into mine deeply and makes me feel strange. I take in his tanned face while envying his long hair and dark body. My own hair is blond and short because my mother often sits me on the porch to cut its length off with scissors. Indian folk allow their children to wear it long. I watch his dark eyes studying me. I wonder what he sees in me or if he even likes me.

Laughter brings me out of the youth's spell. An older boy hands my wooden flyer to me with a smile. I glance down at his dark body covered with hanging cloths. Beneath the back cloth is a nicely shaped rear end. His front cloth hides his penis well enough. The boy notices where my naughty eyes fall on him and he gives me a big grin. I'm embarrassed by his wicked-looking eyes. I turn to the youth at my side.

His dark, deep eyes try to bind my eyes to him again. I cast them down at his naked body instead. Below a smooth groin is the boy's brown pole. It's wrapped in a thick skin and is slightly erect. He's still a young boy because of his lack of body hair. Dark hairs have been sprouting over my body since last year. A terribly aching has come with my maturity. Being with these boys has made my loneliness go away.

'Little Deep Eyes,' which I'll name him, smiles at my curious glances. He reaches up for the toy in my hands. I'm caught in his spell and offer no resistance. His soft hands take it gently from me. The other boys look at him with great envy showing on their dark faces.

The young boy begins wrapping the thin cord around the ring rather loosely. I shake my head from knowing that the loose winding will go badly for its flight. I keep silent and wait. When he's finished wrapping the cord, the other boys step back. Little Deep Eyes pulls hard on the string. My toy flies upward only a little ways. It sends the shouting boys running to fetch it.

Little Deep Eyes turns to me after watching its fall. He shrugs his small shoulders and sighs. I take back the stick and long string from his reluctant hands. Turning from him, I wait for the Indian boys to run back. In that time, I recall how this amazing thing had come to me.

My father had gifted me a toy instead of the knife I had asked for. Though fine clothes were given me from mother, it was this wooden flyer that had filled me with such excitement! He had purchased it from a trader of hard goods who was passing through town last month.

A copper bed warmer was gifted to mother though it wasn't her birthday. She had hugged my father and said that he was all the warmth she needed! I giggled when they started kissing and all that stuff. I ran outside to play with my new toy alone. Now, I share it with my
Indian friends who are as amazed by it as I am.

The older boy has returned it to me again. His face reveals the hope of my allowing him to fly it. I frown upon his desire because I'd seen him steal it way from a younger boy who had found it. I hand my toy to this younger one. His dark eyes shine. I help him attach the bladed ring
around the stick. He looks to me for more help to get it ready to fly.

I begin by winding the center ring with string tightly. The youth simply holds the flyer while my hands work over his. Once the cord is wound there, the young boy gestures for the others to give him space. His hands pull on it hard as all eyes look up at its fantastic flight.

The boys giggle and shout out in wonder. They race again to where it will drop. This time, they don't run back to me but bring it to that youth instead. He had kept the stick and string and holds the power over making it fly again.

My attention returns to my companion who's been staying close at my side. Little Deep Eyes sits down on the bank of a small river. I join him. His hands come to rest on my thigh again. I feel the urge to touch him back yet nearby are some old women washing clothes in the stream. They've been watching us as they talk. I feel guilty for some reason. I turn from the little boy to watch his friends.

The older boy has taken control of my flyer. He's learned how to wind its string tightly and his flights are high and long lasting. The younger boys chase after it for him. I enjoy watching their naked bodies at play.

I wonder at what age an Indian boy is given a breechclout to wear? The older boy appears to be about my age. All the younger boys are naked. I look over their bodies for signs of maturity. They have small poles and bear no groin hair. I can't check out the older boy because he wears the flaps.

I've always worn clothes. It's shameful for anyone to run around naked as these boys do. I could never invite any of them back to my father's farm! Ma would probably chase them away with her broom. My being here is a kind of freedom for me. These boys are my only friends to play with.

After a long while, the Indian boys return. The oldest boy hands my flyer back to me with a wicked grin. Some of the youths sit close and bring their noses to my new clothes. They sniff the bright cloth and touch its softness with dirty hands. My eyes return to my young friend
beside me.

We peer deeply into each other. His dark face is so mysterious... beautiful! I feel my penis rising up in my pants. Surrounded by boys all around me, I feel trapped from not being able to hide the bulge in
my pants.

I'm startled by a strong hand gripping my shoulder from behind me. I turn to view the intruder. It's an old warrior. He smiles kindly at me and releases his hold. I rise up to greet the Indian man and to study him. Like the boys, he wears only a breechclout on these hot summer days. Around his neck are many necklaces of white beads. Several eagle feathers are stuck in his black hair. My nervousness leaves me when I hear the old man speak words that I can understand.

"Yaah-te-hay, Tom-mee. Come to play our land, eh? No whites often come. That good. You boy visit boys hearts not hating. That good! Come me show to my tribe?"

I ponder over the man's broken words and think through its meaning. The warrior wants to show me around his tribe! I've often been told to stay away from the Indians because of past wars and deep hatred. These Indian boys were always friendly to me and played at this stream outside of their settlement. I must now decide whether or not to disobey my parents and go with this warrior as he asks. It's an easy decision, really.

"I will go with you but only for a short while," I reply.

The old man nods his head in understanding. He walks past the women washing in the stream who wave to him. The boys crowd around me when I follow the man. Their smiling faces cheer me up. I'm glad that they're coming along as I go to meet the other Indians. My parents have often spoken of Indian atrocities which now frightens me in rememberance.

We follow the river and come upon their settlement. It's busy with the activities of women tending fires, cooking, and sitting on mats while performing different tasks. The braves and warriors seem scarce here. Those who are present look upon me with guarded glances. I welcome the old warrior's closeness with his long arm across my shoulders. Under his care, I'm taken deeper into his tribal camp where there are more of his People.

They live in earth mounds. Sticks and logs brace the mud bricked structures. A single doorway leads down into each one. No windows. From their small size, I suppose a single family inhabits each one. I count dozens of earth mounds.

Two young men angrily approach with one reaching out to strike me! They grin at my show of fear. The old warrior speaks sharp words. They back off to smile wickedly and to stare at me. I've heard that scalps are still taken in this time of peace. Wouldn't my parent be mad if I were to lose some hair here!

We leave the two braves to their guarded whisperings and come before two old women sitting before an earth mound. Their cracked faces smile at me while their bright eyes study my form from head to toe. One aged hand comes to my face and gently brushes her bony fingers across my cheeks and hair. My warrior friend utters a few words. The women answer in their sing-song whines. It seems that I'm the first white that they have ever seen.

The boys play and shout around us as I'm brought to a small earthern lodge. Formed of dried mud bricks and prairie grasses, its shambly form stands lower than the others. The old warrior enters. He gestures for me to come down as well. I slowly follow him into the darkness. Why has he brought me down here?

The dirt floor is lower than the ground and it's noticeably cooler inside. All around me are objects. There are corked jugs, long wooden poles, blankets, rope, and other piled things. I can't keep from wondering at why the warrior brings me into this storage shed. He seems kind so I'm sure that no harm will come to me.

The warrior fetches a scrap of elk skin from a gunny sack. His eyes measure my form and quickly cuts up two long pieces with his knife. On the floor near him are pieces of leather thong. He brings up a length and cuts it in his agile hands.

"Tom-mee... off," the warrior asks.

The man gestures something about my new clothes. His hand reaches out to my pants and undoes a button. With a sweeping motion with his other hand, I gather that he wants me to undress. I glance back at the doorway. We're alone down here so I become alarmed by what this man intends with me.

"Take breechclout gift," says the warrior. "Play our land as good Absaroka, not hated white!"

I'm relieved by the warrior's words and eagerly take the cloths and thong that he hands me. With them, I'll look like a real Indian! He gestures again for me to take my clothes off. I lift off my new shirt and pause from dropping my pants. He senses my modesty when he goes to the doorway to shoo the curious boys away.

Very reluctantly, I take off my new jeans. The old warrior turns to face me. He eyes every part of my pale body. My nakedness makes him grin for some reason. I bring the thong belt around my waist. I quickly cover my loins with one cloth and hang the longer one against my butt. I look up sheepishly at the warrior. Behind him, spying on me from the doorway is Little Deep Eyes. He must have been watching my undressing. I'm thrilled by the boy's interest.

After carefully folding my clothing around the wooden toy, the man grasps both of my shoulders. He smiles fiercely with blackened teeth and speaks some Indian words that I don't rightly understand. He removes one string of white beads from himself and brings it around my
neck. Our bare chests come together. Deep feelings shoot into my stomach when we share this gentle moment of hugging.

"Tom-mee, welcome our land!" he announces. "Wear beads, no man bad to you. Go play our land with good heart!"

I feel the warrior's hand reach under my rear flap to pinch me. He's smiling. His hand lingers over my nakedness a bit longer than I'd like.
It doesn't make me afraid; only a little embarrassed by his bold handling.

I slowly break from his embrace. The warrior turns for the dirt steps. I follow him up. My naughty eyes fall to his flapping rear cloth over his butt. His skin beneath it is pale. I feel a rising from my groin. I hope that my front cloth will hide my growing length. No one must know of my strange feelings that I've kept hidden deep inside me.

Little Deep Eyes meets us above. He speaks a few excited words, taking my hand to lead me somewhere at a run. My skin feels cool under the scanty cloths. We pass Indians and many earth mounds. I look over the boy's nude body browned by the summer sun. He isn't even wearing what little I am and doesn't seem to mind his revealing appearance.

After a long run, we sprint down a hill towards the river. Six Indian boys are playing in it. All naked. Even the oldest boy with the wicked grin goes about uncovered to escape the afternoon heat. He waves to us from the water.

Little Deep Eyes fingers the knot in my thong belt. His eyes peer deeply into mine. He wants me to get naked and join his friends in the river. I look around for any adults. My bundle of birthday clothing and toy is carefully placed on the bank. I look around once more before
nodding for the young boy's eager hands to undress me.

My two cloths fall from my waist to the ground at my feet. Naked before the boy, he stares at my groin. His dark eyes widen. He seems amazed by my dark hair or the way my penis looks. His hand reaches out to touch it. I become embarrassed when he handles this most naked part of my body!

I just stand there and allow the small boy to handle me. His gentle fingers rub over my swelling member. I look past him at the river and feel relieved that his naughty act goes unnoticed by the other boys. They're too busy playing.

My pole quickly erects in the boy's hand. His dick sticks up against his brown belly. I look at its strangeness. Brown in color, his dick is very long but skinny like my thumb. Tucked within its thick skin is the red knob of his penis. I curiously reach down and peel the skin back to free it.

The boy's eyes shine. I stare into his dark eyes while enjoying his thrilling handling below. My fingers pull on his erection. I'm struck by the comforting notion that Little Deep Eyes shares those same feelings I've always felt for boys.

I'm startled by an older boy's approach. I pull my hand away from Little Deep Eyes and step away. The older boy glances over our revealing excitement and gives me a wicked grin. It's a difficult humiliation for me to bear. The little boy turns from us to jump into the river. I'm quick to follow him in.

The cool water comes up to my chest. The Indian boys swim in this part of the river because of its depth. Down river, where the women were washing, the water was too shallow.

Mud squishes between my toes and a few stones bruise my unknowing feet. Yet the river is very clear. I sit under the water to wash my hair. My hands quickly move down to my face to wash my sweat away. I hold my breath and clean the rest of my body. The cold river is refreshing.

I surface near Little Deep Eyes. He stares at me in surprise. Don't Indian boys know about cleaning themselves? The other boys swim to us and shout. A game is beginning.

A little boy springs up from under the water and slaps my shoulder hard. He shouts something to the other boys. Everyone darts away from me. Even Little Deep Eyes. I realize that it's a game of tag. When I chase after the little boy who had slapped me, he turns to me in surprise and shakes his head. I suppose that there's some rule that prevents the tagger from being tagged himself right away.

I pursue another youth who's easily caught. My hand slaps over his rear end while I shout, "you're it!" Though my words aren't in Indian, all here understand what I mean. I stand by him close, unafraid of being tagged back.

During the game, I often become the target for getting tagged. The Indian boys are curious at my pale body and enjoy hunting me down to handle me. I welcome their naughty grabs after I've given them a long run through the water.

The older boy with the wicked grin always chases me. He grabs my dick and he especially likes to feel over my butt. Only after a long chase with his hands all over me will the boy finally announce, "ne-eh!" We play this game for a while before coming out to rest on
the grassy bank.

Like many of the boys here, I lay sprawled out on my belly with my butt aimed towards the warm sun. Little Deep Eyes sits close by. I reach a hand to my back to rub over a strained muscle. I startle some when a pair of small hands massage my shoulders. It's my young friend.
I welcome the boy's hands over my body. He handles my hurting back until the pain goes away. I rest my head on crossed arms and completely relax to his wonderful caresses.

A heavy softness presses over my rear end. I turn my head to see what's going on. It's Little Deep Eyes who sits on my butt. His hands massage my back. His wiggly softness on top feels good and allows him to easily handle me.

With our butts touching, I begin moaning when his fingers pull on my shoulders and neck. My pole grows long below me. It remains hidden in the soft grass from the others. Boys start to watch us with curious stares. It causes me some embarrassment. I remind myself that we're all naked here. I bury my face in my arms to ignore their peering dark eyes.

I giggle when Little Deep Eyes pulls on the wet hairs under my arms. His fingers reach lower to feel over my breast. The sensation is very nice. I get the strong desire to beat off. My dick is very hard and begs me to be handling it. I promise myself to release it later on.

After a long massage, Little Deep Eyes lays over my back to rest. I'm tickled by his nose pressing into my neck. I keep my face buried in my crossed arms. The little boy is excited and slowly rubs himself between the cheeks of my butt. I can't believe the boldness of this youth! Yet I'm enjoying the naked feeling of his body over mine.

The young boy gets off me in a squeal. An even heavier softness sits over my butt. I turn my head to see what's going on. Another boy is laying over my back. He mouths my neck with fierce kisses. It's the older boy who tries to take my body.

I feel the boy's hard dick rubbing between my butt cheeks. Quick, seeking stabs... I feel its wet tip try entering my butthole. Pain! My eyes widen from the very naughty act he's trying on me. Great anger rises in my breast. I roll over the grassy bank to separate us. He won't have his way with me!

The older boy falls off my body with a loud shout. Little Deep Eyes comes to my side. We watch the angry boy pick himself up. He vents his anger at my young friend. The brute shoves him to the ground. While laughing, he points at the boy's hard pole. I glance at the older boy's erection and realize something. He thought that I was giving the little boy the use of my butthole.

The wicked-smiling boy grabs my arm. I become angry at his forceful ways and push him away. He falls hard to the ground next to a laughing youth. All the boys look at me in surprise.

I help Little Deep Eyes to stand beside me. His trembling hands hold my body in fear. The older boy keeps his place while glaring meanly at us. I return his fierce stare and wait. Seeing that he has no fight left in him, I fetch my Indian flaps and tie them around my body. I'm glad there's not going to be a battle between us.

I take my friend away from here. We follow the grassy bank with our arms across each other's shoulders. The Indian boy smiles at me with his fears forgotten. I'm glad to have him as my friend. I feel a deep thing for him, almost like the love for a younger brother. Different though. Are these feelings for a boy a good and normal thing?

After we've walked a ways, Little Deep Eyes brings his hand down from my shoulders to feel over my backside under the rear flap. I glance at his penis and find it sticking up. Popped out of the skin is a moist pink head. He glances at my erection then peers into my eyes with deep longing. I turn to the boy and take him into my arms. His warm body presses against mine.

Our eyes stare into one another for a long, sweet moment. I'm confused by my strong feelings. It's much more than the need to be releasing my dick. I see my strange desires reflected in this boy's dark eyes. A deep, intense look. I had seen this same expression earlier when he had sat next to me.

The boy brings his face close to my face. His dark eyes study all of my features. What does he see in me? I'm startled when his lips press on my own. I step back feeling real scared for some reason!

Little Deep Eyes wants me back in his embrace. I slowly reach my arms around him. His hands pull my thong belt away to bare my body. Our bellies touch. Below, I feel his erection pressing over my hard dick. He begins rubbing himself against me.

I glance down to see the boy's red knob popping out from his dick with each thrust. His erotic motion sends deep feelings of pleasure into my penis. I drop my hands to his wiggly butt in a rush, eager to join into his belly rubbing.

We pull on our rear ends with hungry hands. Our erections rub with an exciting up and down rhythm. His warm breaths blow over me gently. I've been trying to avoid his eyes.

The Indian boy begins making low noises. It almost sounds like he's in pain. I've noticed that I've been keeping my breaths in me. The good feelings are getting stronger in my erection. Our tight embrace feels real intense. It's strange to be wanting this boy naked in my arms. Our rubbing poles is nice. My heart feels the need for it.

I pull hard on his butt skin to rub our groins harshly together. My breath is held in me. My stomach tightens. Exciting thrills build in my long penis. Our bodies become one with thrusting poles and humping butts.

The little boy cries out. Nothing is felt against my belly. I glance down at our rubbing dicks. No wet release from his. The youth must be too young to have anything to squirt from his dick. I know that it still feels intense to try.

Little Deep Eyes moans again. I bring my eyes up to his. He looks deeply into me and holds my gaze. Our faces get closer. He reaches up to me with his soft lips. My feelings of love cast aside any sense of wrongness that I'd felt earlier. We kiss. The sensation is wonderful... Our lips cling to each other. My eyes close from the intense feelings.

My pole tingles in warning. I thrust out my sperm onto the little boy. He takes it all from me while slapping my butt hard with his hands. Intense pleasure! Too soon, my loins run out of stuff to give him.

I blow out my held breath into his mouth. This makes him giggle. Our bodies separate. I gulp in breaths of fresh air. Little Deep Eyes giggles again. He watches me with his dark, curious eyes. I give him a smile. My body needs a little time to recover from making love to him.

Little Deep Eyes reaches down for my two flaps and thong belt. He places them around his thin body. I giggle at how large the breechclout is around him. My hands bare the youth since his beauty shouldn't be covered! I have need to cover up my nakedness.

When my breaths return to normal, I lead the young boy back to the others. We hold hands and often glance at each other with smiles. Our close friendship has become deep in our hearts. I know that it isn't wrong. A soft wind blows over our nakedness and clothes us from harm. My spirit is high. I'm glad to be alive and so full of good feelings!

We near the Indian camp on the river. Since I'm naked, I lead Little Deep Eyes down the bank to fetch my clothing. All the boys have left. I glance back at my friend and notice my manly wetting still on him. He jumps into the river to clean his body.

Little Deep Eyes waves to me from the water. I shake my head in reply to his desire. The day is getting late. Ma is probably worrying about me since I've missed lunch. I'm relieved to find my toy and clothes on the bank where I've left them. The youth joins me on the bank.

I quickly dress back into my clothing. The small boy gives me a sad face. He realizes that I must be leaving. His eyes fall to my wooden flyer. Strange emotions grip my heart when I lift my best present up to him and place it into his hands. His eyes grow wide when I gesture that he's to keep it. He accepts my toy with bright eyes. I smile to myself in rememberance of his own special gift of self.

I'll be back again some time to play with my Indian friends, especially with Little Deep Eyes!

For The Love of Indian Boys Part IV

2007-08-23T16:15:00.000-07:00

My sleepy head rises from the dirt. I'm filled with a familiar aching so I stumble my way towards the earth lodge doorway. It's late at night that I must go to relieve myself.

I carefully step past the other sleeping children. My feet are silent as the rabbit who fears the swooping hawk. I reach the steps that lead up into the night.

Mother Moon is full and bright tonight. I climb the remaining steps and emerge onto the vast prairie. Not many stars out. They have been chased away by Her brilliance. I stand in strong moonlight.

A low moan has me turning back to where I've just come from. I walk back down a few steps to where a couple are sleeping along the earth lodge wall. My eyes widen. I see a warrior atop his squaw and mounting her in the moonlight!

A large buffalo skin has fallen off their restless bodies. The warrior is naked. He seems to be doing all the work as his butt humps in and out. I know that he's sticking his long dick into the squaw. They're unknowing of my curious eyes so I sit on the earthern steps to watch the warrior perform a man's duty.

The warrior kisses his squaw's neck, causing her to moan softly. I know that his erected penis is inside her and that his humping will soon get him to release sperm. All the boys have spoken about how it's done. Now, I'm getting to witness this mysterious act with my own eyes.

I feel my pole erecting. It's a pleasant feeling that will make me feel tense. All the older boys have boasted that they can coax themselves to spill seed. I haven't managed to do that yet.

The warrior's butt flexes wildly. I hear his low voiced grunts and imagine the man releasing his seed into her. The young squaw cries out too. Their joining bodies slow though the warrior continues to kiss her mouth. The act of love seems to be a hurried one.

Watching them has gotten me very excited. My pole is stiff and pushes out the front flap of my breechclout. I don't have a squaw to offer me relief from its aching.

With their love making finished, I rise from the steps with a sigh. Eyes from the warrior stare at me hard. I run out the earth lodge with a giggle. It's not my fault that their buffalo robe had fallen off their struggling bodies and that I had chanced upon seeing his naked, manly act!

I'm reminded of my reason for waking. I walk a bit further from the earth lodges before lifting my front flap to piss. When bending my pole away from my belly, several sharp sensations dart though it. It makes me gasp. The feelings are thrilling and causes me to wonder at why they come from just holding myself. For now, I concentrate on relieving myself. I relax my butt and allow my yellow stream to flow from me.

A ground hog hoots in warning to the sound of my pissing. I ask for his forgiveness. A small mist rises from the wet grass I relieved myself to. It's a cool evening. With my bladder emptied, I drop my buckskin cloth over the front of me and head back to the earth lodge.

Fear grips my heart when a dark spirit approaches. Strong hands grip my shoulders so I can't get away! I peer into its face and discover with relief that it's our shaman. He gestures for me to remain silent and to follow him.

The aged man is robed in a feathered buffalo hide. A ritual must be taking place. I'm clad in only a breechclout and begin to shiver from the cold. I can't help but to wonder where the man is taking me and why.

The shaman leads me far from camp. I'm glad that we approach a large burning fire. I welcome its warmth over my bare skin. The man sits down near it and motions for me to join him. I squat on the grass at his side.

"The moon is full and all the others are sleeping," says the shaman. "All but you and me, and the two you watched, Buffalo Ear. It was wrong to look upon their love making."

I remain silent. A small fear fills my heart from what he may do for my spying. Though our shaman is a great worker of healing medicine, he's a strange old man that can be quick to anger. I wonder again as to why I've been brought here.

"Tonight is sacred," the shaman whispers. His arms reach up to the sky. "Mother Moon watches over us and may grant Her medicine unto me with your help. But first I must test your innocence, Buffalo Ear. Speak only the truth to me boy least harm come to you!"

"I always try to speak truly, shaman. Especially to my elders like yourself. Ask me what you will and I shall answer with only the truth!"

The old man looks the boy over and hopes that he'll be the One. He has always known Buffalo Ear to act well in the tribe and never has he been associated with wrongful acts. He'll now see if that's so.

"Have you ever been naked with a girl," the shaman sternly asks.

"No!" I yelp out in surprise. "If you're asking me if I had ever done anything naughty with anyone, my answer again is no."

"Don't you like girls?"

"I'm not old enough to desire one like that warrior."

"That may be true, Buffalo Ear and again that may not. Tell me truthfully now... do you like boys?"

I pause to think through my innermost feelings. I had once felt a longing for a boy named Painted Arm. After he became a brave and had taken a wife, I was no longer able to play with him as a boy. I had fantasies of being naked with him; a real desire to touch each other's bodies and a hope that he'd show me exciting things. Yet nothing ever happened between us. I was never bold enough to ask. Seeing that the shaman is waiting, I answer him carefully.

"I may shaman but I'm not sure."

"Have you ever done anything naked with a boy?"

"No!" I shout back in surprise. I'm curious by what things the man is refering to.

"Were you ever interested in anyone to be naked with?"

"Yes," I slowly answer. "But he's been named a brave and has taken a wife. My longing for him disappeared."

"You've thought about him with lustful desires, eh Buffalo Ear?"

I can only nod my head at the shaman's revealing question.

"There's no wrong for such thoughts unless they become actions or interfere with a sacred rite. Tell me, do you pull over your erection?"

"No!" I shout out in surprise again. "I've heard that some of the other boys do so but I haven't."

"Why not?" the man whispers in disbelief. "Are you only a little boy?"

I stare at the shaman for his unexpected answer. Boys who played with themselves were thought of as acting badly. That's why they performed it away from the earth lodges. Is the shaman saying otherwise?

"So, you've never spilt your seed then," the old man mutters to himself. "That's a good thing, Buffalo Ear. I want you to give me your first sperm so that I may become strong with the help of Mother Moon. Will you allow this?"

"I don't know how to do it shaman," I whisper in shame. "How can it give you strength?"

"You are young and full of life, boy. I'm an old man. To remain on this Earth for a while longer I'll eat of your first flow after it's been blessed by Mother Moon's Light."

"I'll give it to you, shaman. But how will you take it from me?"

"By ritual," the man answers. "Stand up and bare yourself, boy. I'll purify your body and then coax your seed from you."

The man's words excite me. Not only am I to partake of a sacred rite but he'll show me how to bring forth my seed! I wonder how the shaman will accomplish this?

I untie my thong belt. My two flaps fall away from my body. I rise up before the blazing fire and notice the shaman's eyes over my body. I turn to show him all of me. It excites me that the man looks over my nudity with bright eyes. I feel the tickly growth from my pole and know that it'll soon grow long.

"You are a beautiful boy," the shaman whispers. His hands release the fine buffalo robe from around himself. The man is clad in a breechclout which he keeps on for the moment.

I squat near the fire to keep warm. The shaman pulls out a burning branch. He lifts its light towards Mother Moon. After receiving Her blessing, the man drives the burning point into the earth to smuther it. His hands crunch up the stick's blackness. He performs this on several more branches until he has collect much charcoal.

"Hold out your hands," the shaman commands, "and keep this for me, boy."

I cup my hands and accept the warm powder into them. The shaman's warmth brushes against my arm and side. I'm too shy to look over the man's scantily covered body. His dark eyes draw me. There's a fire burning in him. It frightens me.

The shaman brings up a lump of warm coal and marks up my face with black lines. With some powder from my hands, he spreads it over my slim shoulders. Next, he brings his blackened hands down my breast. He rubs over them while smiling at me. His touches fill me with good sensations.

Reaching into my hands for more powder, the shaman walks around to my backside. His hands rub the blackness down my back and near my butt. I wonder if he'll touch me there?

I drop the remaining powder into his begging hands. He kneels down to apply the warm charcoal to my lower body. I become excited from his touches there. His hands pull on both my cheeks and caresses them for a while. I glance down at the front of me. My erection stands up very tall against my belly.

The shaman rises up and faces me. I notice his glances at my long pole. It makes him grin.

"Buffalo Ear, I want you to look into Mother Moon's face while I hold your penis and rub over it. My hands will coax your seed to come out. You'll always keep your eyes on Her. Think about that young brave you wanted to be naked with."

I lay my head back to look up at the sky full of stars. Those nearest to Mother Moon have been outshined by Her Great Light. I look into Her smiling face. My thoughts turn to that handsome brave, Painted Arm. I imagine that we're naked and rubbing our butts together in a stream. I gasp when the shaman's hand grasps my erection.

The man's other hand reaches around my body to handle my butt. The sensation is very pleasing. He begins a low chant which my ears can barely hear. I don't understand the words that he's singing but the rhythm of his voice is very sweet. It fills me with great joy to be hearing him sing a sacred song for me.

The shaman's fingers pull over the skin of my long penis. His touch is very light. His song joins the rhythm of his strokes over me. My body becomes tense.

Wonderful sensations begin to build up in my erection. My thoughts return to that handsome brave. I imagine that it's he who handles my nakedness under the moonlight.

To strengthen the good feelings in my dick, I begin to flex my butt in and out. It's like I'm dancing in beat to the shaman's singing. Above me, Mother Moon kisses my young body with Her soft lips.

My breaths race through my open mouth while my head feels light and airy. My penis fills with increasing pleasure from my stabs through the man's hand. A moan escapes my mouth. I'm feeling intense down there! I hold a breath and feel something squirt to the man's hand. My spirit flies to the stars. I cry out to the night sky.

I'm feeling faint. I take hold of the shaman's shoulder while trying to catch my breath. He patiently waits until I can stand on my own.

"Can I lower my head now?" I ask.

"Yes, Buffalo ear. Look upon your first seed my hand has fetched," the shaman announces with pride.

The muscles in my neck feel cramped when I bring my head down to face the old man. Under Mother Moon, I see a wetness pooled in the shaman's hand. He looks into my eyes and asks me a formal question.

"I have here the first release from your loins, Buffalo Ear. Do you give it up freely to me so that I may draw from it your youthfulness?" "I do, shaman."

The old man nods his head at me and raises his hands up to the sky. He prays to Mother Moon and Her guardian stars with many words that I can't understand. He lowers his hands and brings them to his mouth. His tongue licks up my clear sperm and swallows it all. My face burns from watching him do that.

The shaman's shrill voice pierces the night. It scares me to hear such a thing from him! I suppose that my essence, blessed by Mother Moon, has given him the strength that he's sought for. He drops to his knees before the fire. My curious eyes that this chance to look over the shaman's body.

I've not seen him without his buffalo robe. He's wearing a breechclout which reveals to my eyes how thin he is. Long hair flows down his back. It doesn't reach his butt as I've seen with the older warriors. The man's chest is smooth and muscled. My eyes roam lower.

The man's front flap is pushed from his groin. His manhood must be erected! I fill with desire to see what his looks like. I've not seen a man's long cock before.

The shaman opens his eyes. He stands up and faces me. I'm startled by how young his face appears! Eating my blessed seed must be powerful medicine. His hands reach out for my shoulders and grips them fondly.

"I thank you, boy. Your youthful strength has filled me with hope and desire! You must be given an equal thing in return. I can offer wisdom and courage. Under the eyes of Mother Moon, take seed from my loins and imbibe these qualities for yourself."

I eagerly nod my head. The shaman unties his thong belt and allows the flaps to fall to the ground. My eyes look for the man's nakedness that I've wanted to see earlier. His groin is filled with dark hair. Standing against it is his long manhood with its brown knob popped out from the thick skin. Something oozes from its tip.

It excites me that the man will be allowing my hands to touch him there. The shaman stands sideways to me. His hands guide me to his hard loins and rear end. He begins to sing. I pull over his hard length while keeping in time to his ritual song. His muscled cheeks flex under my hand.

I glance down at myself. My pole erects again from being so excited. Both my hands have hold of the man's nakedness. From what I've learned this night, I can handle my erection any time to release it like the other boys!

I clench my fingers around the man's hard cock. A sticky wetness comes from the tip. I've heard that a man produces this to make his thrusts come more easily when mounting a squaw. My fingers bring it down his erection. His hard dick becomes slippery in my hand.

The shaman humps his butt while his stabs quicken through my fingers around it. The man's song fills with many breaths. He faces upwards, at Mother Moon. This makes it easier for my shy eyes to watch his naked
body straining for release.

The man's song ends. I cup his brown knob to catch his flowing sperm. It wets my hand warmly as he fills it with many squirts. He scares me when shrieking out a loud war cry!

The shaman faces me. His hands carefully raise up my filled hand to the sky. He speaks a prayer. At its finish, the man brings my glistening palm close to him.

"I give to you my sperm, Buffalo Ear. May it fill you with wisdom and courage. Do you accept it?"

"I do, shaman." He flares his eyes at me to signal that I'm to drink it. I look into my filled palm. Unlike my clear release, this man's milky seed is thick and white. More of it flowed from his loins than mine.

I bring his wetness to my mouth but first sniff it. The sperm has a very sharp odor. With my tongue, I lick up his thick essence and swallow it several times. It tastes salty and rather bland.

When I'm finished with my sacred meal, the shaman give me an embrace. I feel his warmth all around me. Our poles touch. Mine is still erected and fill with sharp thrills from the closeness of our bodies. I slowly rub it against him. The man's hands reach low for my butt in response.

I'm pulled up the man's body until I'm standing on my toes. My long penis is pressing against his swelling manhood. I bury my face in his sweaty chest. When his hands move my butt in a timed beat, I realize that he accepts my need to release to him. I become bold by reaching for his rear end.

It flexes under my palms. I feel our lusty thrusts against each other. My breaths quicken. The smell of his sweat is exciting. It makes me wild! I close my eyes and concentrate on the building thrills. The man moans through his nose.

I release my breath as a loud cry. My dick shoots out! The man's hands turn savage over my butt. His thrusts battle with my spurting pole while his groin hair crunches against my belly. He finally grunts out. I feel a warmth on my belly. The man's seed is coming out.

I turn my head from the man's chest to stare into the fire. Our loud breaths fill the night. When his arms loosen, I release his butt and stand away. I welcome the coolness of the night over my sweaty body.

The shaman squats near the fire. I glance at his belly to see streaks of my clear seed running down it. His manly thickness is pooled on my belly. I let it be and allow the fire's heat to dry it along with my sweat. It's a peaceful moment that the shaman shares with me.

"Keep to yourself the sacred rite that I've performed for us tonight," asks the shaman.

"I will."

"You're a beautiful boy, Buffalo Ear, both in spirit and in flesh," the shaman whispers. "I'll welcome your embrace anytime you have need."

I nod my head at the shaman's words. His arms reach out to me with a man's longing for love. I jump into his lap to hold him. His warmth around me feels good. I'm glad to have this man for a special friend.