Subject: Young Lovers, Chapter 7 Chapter 7 I was on my way back to my apartment after interviewing a couple of employees when Evan intercepted me. The slightly chubby and decidedly unathletic-looking guy was puffing a bit. “Hi Mike, glad I caught you. Marco wanted me to ask you if you’d mind getting together with him and Martin to talk over something.” “Sure, I guess. Right now?” “At 1:30. He looked at his watch. “In 20 minutes.” Twenty minutes later I entered Martin Kramer’s office. Marco and he were already there. Neither man was smiling. “Hi guys,” I said. “What’s going on?” I wondered if there was something about me and Joon and the island that they were upset about. Had I done something wrong? Had Joon acted out again? “Well, Mike, I’ll tell ya,” Martin began. “A situation we’ve been keeping our eyes on for awhile now seems to be entering a new phase. A more troubling phase. And we’re wondering if you can help us out.” “Me? Well, I don’t know. What’s it about?” “There’s this boy sex operation out of North Korea that there have been some ugly rumors about for awhile now. Boys being abducted to serve as sex slaves, basically. And now we’re hearing about some kind of experiments with genetics. We don’t even know what that’s about, but we need to find out. Our industry is still in its infancy. Those court decisions that, so far, allow American kids to come to places like Young Lovers — well, public support for them is marginal, as we all know. If some kind of scandal erupts it could ruin all of us.” “Well, that sounds pretty serious, but what does it have to do with me?” I was glad to know they weren’t upset with me, but I was mystified as to why they were telling me all about their business rival. “I’ve heard a little about this North Korean jerk who’s behind the operation. He’s basically an egomaniac who loves the spotlight. Rich guy, yachts, parties with A-list celebrities — always has to have the biggest and the best. I’m sure you know the type. He’s had connections with lots of shady dealers, probably organized crime as well. And apparently he’s got the blessing of the government, which is probably the worst collection of slimeballs of all. Anyway, I think his Achilles’ heel might be his craving for attention. He’s always in the news over there for something. Of course, everybody thinks he’s just a big shot businessman. Shipping. The public has no idea about his other little sideline.” Martin paused, eying me. “Mike, we need intel. I need to know how serious the threat is. I’m not willing to wait around until the shit hits the fan, spraying all of us.” “If you don’t mind the metaphor,” grinned Marco. Martin ignored him. “So here’s what I’m thinking. Your editor contacts him and explains that the magazine is ready to make a big splash with the cover story on Young Lovers. But, he’ll say, he’s heard great things about Asia Boys too. He’d like to send his crack reporter — that would be you — to do the same kind of story he’s doing on Young Lovers. It would be the Asian version — hipper, sexier, more edgy. Narcissist that he is, he won’t be able to resist that. Then we send you over and in the guise of doing a story you find out what’s really going on.” “Wow. Well, I can think of about 300 problems with that, Martin.” “OK, start with one.” “One is, I’ve got another assignment I’m supposed to start on after I’m back from this one.” “He’ll let you out of that. He assured me of that. He’s got someone else in mind for it already.” “What? You already talked to Barry?” “Of course! What would be the point of going over it with you if your boss wasn’t OK with it?” I was more than a little put out, but went on. “OK, number two, I don’t speak Korean. Even if this head guy and his handlers speak English I’m sure most of the people I’d be trying to interview wouldn’t.” “I know, and a solution to that problem has just presented itself.” He looked at me. I looked at him. I looked at Marco. “You don’t mean . . . ” “You and your new boy have bonded, right?” Marco grinned. “You take him with you as your assistant/ translator.” “Oh my God. For one thing, why would he agree to do that? We may have had some moments but I think he basically hates me half the time.” “He’ll do it because he likes money and I’m prepared to pay him,” Martin answered. “I was thinking half of what he’d have gotten if he’d won the Game. Not what he was originally hoping for, but that’s still a pretty nice chunk of change.” “Hmmmm . . . . Well, what about . . . .” For the next half hour I went through all the reasons I could think of to not cooperate with this crazy and dangerous scheme. Martin shot down every one of them. Finally I was beaten. “OK, OK, OK. I’ll do it. But Joon has got to be on the right page. He’s got to be totally willing and into it. I don’t want to be dragging his sulky ass around North Korea while I’m trying to dig up some dirt.” “I thought you had tamed the wild stallion,” he said to me while looking questioningly at Marco. “Mike’s the Joon whisperer, Martin. You should have seen them cuddling like two teenagers the other night. He’s figured out the secret.” There was just the suggestion of a sarcastic edge in his voice. Was Marco a bit jealous of how I had connected with the boy? Martin chuckled. “So what’s the secret, Mike?” I shook my head. “Hell if I know. Yeah, he can be docile at times, but I have no idea where he’s at today. He’s a teenager, for God’s sake, and we know he can be unpredictable, to say the least.” “Well, let’s get him in here and talk to him then.” Marco jumped up and went to get Joon. In a few minutes he was back with Joon in tow. The Korean boy looked around the room as he entered, said nothing, and took a chair next to me. He didn’t make eye contact with me. “Hello Joon, how are you?” Martin greeted him. “Fine,” he replied tonelessly. I could see he was back to his old asshole self. “His ass is still sore, though,” said Marco with a grin. Joon eyed him coldly. “Joon, there’s no point in pretending we don’t all know what’s been happening with you. We all know you won the Game four times but that you have done so much bodily harm to so many people we can’t have you here anymore. We all also know you lost the game to Mike, but that in spite of that you and he, uh, seem to get along. What I’d like to offer you is a deal that will help us out here on the island, will help Mike out greatly also and will help you recoup some of what you lost by losing the Game. Are you interested?” Joon eyed him. “I need specifics.” Martin briefly recounted what he’d told me, leaving out some of the details about Asia Boys. “We’re prepared to financially help you get a great start in life if you want the job.” Martin was so shrewd, flattering the boy by speaking as if he were offering him employment as he would an adult. “How much?” Martin named the figure. “No way. I want all of what you were going to pay me if I won the Game. Every cent.” Joon’s jaw was set. “But Joon, you didn’t win.” “That doesn’t matter. You need me, right? You got somebody else fluent in both languages?” He sniffed dismissively. “I’ll help you out for the original figure. That’s it.” I think we were probably all shocked, and yet, looking at it, it wasn’t shocking. There was no way anyone could offer Joon anything that was satisfactory. He’d have to up the ante in any situation. This wasn’t just about money, it was also about dominance. The two of them wrangled back and forth for 10 minutes or more. Martin was by turns persuasive, flattering, intimidating, and humorous. Joon was implacable. Finally, Martin said, “OK, let’s take a break in negotiations here. I’d like to ask you a favor. To kind of test your ability to be a translator I’d like you to just translate for us for a few minutes. I’ve got a new boy here, just arrived yesterday morning. Korean, speaks very little English, so I don’t really understand his story. All I know is, he used to be with Asia Boys, then they dumped him, then he somehow found his way to us. I’d really like it if you’d help us interview him. Will you do that?” “As a good faith gesture?” This kid didn’t miss a trick. “Sure.” “All right.” Joon surprised me by saying. Martin looked at Marco and he got up and left. He returned a couple of minutes later with a boy I hadn’t seen before. He was very surprising looking — obviously Asian, but I couldn’t tell if he was 12 or 20. I was in the middle of sizing him up when, looking around the room, the boy spotted Joon and froze. I looked at Joon; he stared at the boy in astonishment. The new boy’s face twisted with unrecognizable emotion, he blurted something I couldn’t understand and rushed to Joon and embraced him. The boy began sobbing. Joon held him limply, looking around at me, then Marco, then Martin, uncomprehending. “What in the hell is going on?” Martin blurted. “You know this kid?” asked Marco. “Yeah, um, this is, um, Johnny, the boy I was . . . ` His voice trailed off. I’d noticed that Joon’s public voice was always precise, unemotional, and in a tone suggesting complete control. I had never seen him like this, at least in front of others. It took a couple of minutes for the boy to recover from his sobbing fit and then he and Joon spoke for awhile in Korean. The boy sniffled, wiped his nose, and sat down on the floor at Joon’s feet. Then there ensued a lengthy conversation, in which we, mainly Martin, peppered the kid with questions, which Joon translated, and which the kid answered, again through Joon. Johnny was the boy Joon had told us about who was his friend back in L.A. and who left home with Joon after signing a contract to provide boy sex. Apparently his contract had been sold by the original company to Asia Boys. Once Johnny had gotten to North Korea there began months of insufferable treatment. He was forced to have sex with many men who used him for rough sex and then beat him. Apparently this treatment was routine there. He was forced to endure three, sometimes four customers a night. Other times he would be left alone for days, locked in a little bedroom that was basically a prison cell. He received no education at all, unlike what he had been promised. After a few months his stay there entered a new phase. They began regularly injecting him with some unknown substance, and his body began changing. His muscles began developing rapidly, even though he rarely got any exercise. He began growing body hair — first a little, which seemed normal for a twelve year old, but then more and more, until both in musculature and hairiness he was like a mature man. His cock also grew into a man’s size. He broke out with acne. At first his keepers seemed to be pleased with these changes, but after a short while they began growing increasingly angry. He had no idea why. They would beat him more often, as if what was happening had been his fault. The number of men who came to fuck him and abuse him were fewer and fewer. Finally he was taken out of the compound to a big city where he was apparently sold to a man — a fat, angry man, according to Johnny. The injections stopped then but his body changes continued. The man didn’t like it, and after a few very rough fucks, left the boy alone. Before long the boy began showing signs of illness; as he described his symptoms it was obvious he had acquired a sexually transmitted disease of some kind. Finally the man in great disgust loaded him into a car in the middle of the night and dumped him on the steps of a hospital, apparently an American hospital, and drove away. After that began a long and confused saga of care, being shuttled from agency to agency, being flown to Australia and then America, and finally, in ways that were a compete mystery to him, here to the island. “Joon, have him take off his clothes. I want to see what happened to him physically.” Joon spoke to the boy, who got up and without hesitation shucked his clothes. I found myself looking at one of the strangest bodies I had ever seen. The boy was impressively muscular. Thick pectorals, shocking on one so short and apparently young. Even more surprising, there was a small patch of black hair between them. A narrow belly and waist with a defined eight-pack. A trail of black hairs led from his navel down to an ample pubic bush, from which hung down a thick cock five inches in length. Below that hung his balls in a long scrotum. His biceps, quads and calves bulged as they might on a worked-out and stockily built boy konya escort — except Johnny didn’t seem to be naturally stocky, so the bulges looked strange, abnormal, on a basically slim boy. Thick hair covered his lower legs and yet was almost completely absent on his thighs. in some ways his body was very hot, and in other ways, grotesque. His face was perhaps the strangest of all. He had delicate, pretty features yet a rather heavy moustache. Wisps of black hair were beginning to cover his cheeks and chin. His hair was long and straight, hanging just past his shoulders. Some acne marred his chin and forehead. If you saw him on the street you’d have taken his face to be that of a mature 18-year-old with unusually delicate features. and yet we knew from Joon’s account this boy could be no more than 13. “Turn around,” instructed Martin. Joon translated and the boy turned. His butt was rather flat, as I had found was common with Asians. The somewhat defined musculature of his back was crisscrossed with scars. It was obvious he had sometimes, perhaps often, been beaten until he bled. “Shit,” Marco muttered. Jimmy turned around again. Martin and Marco looked at each other. “Steroids?” Martin wondered. “Well, maybe.” Marco responded. “Steroids might account for the muscles and the zits, but the body hair?” I wondered aloud. “And that cock and ball sack? It’s something more than steroids. Gotta be.” “Joon, ask him if the hair on his body and his pubic hair are like his dad’s.” Joon gave Martin a strange look but complied. “He says he’s never seen his dad without clothes.” “Mm. OK, he can get dressed. Tell him thank you.” The boys complied. When dressed again the boy sat down, again very close to Joon. Martin recommenced. “So Joon, let’s talk again about my offer. Now–” “I’ll do it.” Joon interrupted flatly. Martin stopped. “Oh . . . Well OK! Great!” “I’ll do it for free.” Joon said firmly. There was a look in his eye I hadn’t seen before. “Well, that’s great. But you’ll be performing a valuable service. I really want–” Joon cut him off and then said one of the oddest things I’ve ever heard a kid say. “It’s a matter of honor. I can’t take money.” I found myself astonished, and admiring Joon more than I had admired any kid in a long time. There was silence in the room. Martin gave Joon a long, long look. “I understand,” he said softly. I looked at him. I think maybe he really did. *********************************** It was unclear how long it would be before Joon and I left for North Korea, but it was going to be awhile. Strategies needed to be developed, plans laid, contacts initiated, reservations made. And there would be a wait of who knew how long for visas for Joon and me. According to Marco, as we filled out the papers he had thrust in front of us after our meeting with Martin, it might be as much as a month. “Another thing, Joon,” Marco had said with a frown, looking at the boy. “If you’re gonna be here awhile longer you gotta eat in the cafeteria, get some exercise, and so forth. You’ll be around people to piss you off. No more fucking up. No more fights. Mike, you’re in charge of him now.” “Yeah?” I turned to the boy. “Do you need me to be in charge of you? Or can you be in charge of yourself?” His eyes were downcast. “Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, in a very un-Joon like voice. I raised my voice. “Can Marco count on you, or not?!” Joon flicked a glance at me and then looked Marco in the eye. “You can count on me,” he said firmly. Marco gave the boy a long look. “OK, then.” There was no point in Joon and me pretending to anyone that things between us were the same as they had been. The next morning Joon and I went to his dorm, empty now with classes underway, packed up his things and moved them into my apartment. I learned a few things about him as I helped him collect his stuff. For one thing, he was obviously a highly intellectual reader, with very diverse interests. While school textbooks seemed largely unopened there were dogeared copies of Sarte’s Being and Nothingness, the Bhagavad Gita, Campbell’s The Hero with A Thousand Faces, and a collection of Greek tragedies. “Heavy stuff,” I commented as I put his books into a cardboard box. He handed me a worn copy of Shakespeare’s complete works. “Here’s another one. Light pleasure reading.” The kid could be droll, no doubt about it. “What about the textbooks?” I asked. “I guess I’ll return `em. Looks like school’s over for me.” We’ll see about that, I thought to myself. No way was I going to let a mind this brilliant go undeveloped. I also discovered he had very few clothes. When I commented on this he said, “The fuckboys get all this fancy shit to wear once they come to the island. They’re tailored for `em for maximal sleaze. The boys who play the Game wear whatever we want, because the only time anyone sees us is when they’re hunting us, and we’re naked.” “Yeah, but you’ve only got like, what, three shirts and two pairs of pants? I’m sure you still want to look good sometimes!” “Why?” he asked, staring at me. I shrugged, then looked at him. “What?” he demanded. “I want you to look good for me.” He eyed me. “What does that mean?” “It means we’re going to get them to give you some of those maximally hot, sleazy clothes too.” He rolled his eyes. I stepped up close to him, and he backed away, uncertain. I reached out, caressed his face and then spoke softly. “You’re my boy now. I want my boy to look his best. Why is that hard for you?” He shrugged. “I just really don’t care. Looks don’t matter.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “You’re wrong about that. But even if they didn’t matter to others — which they do — or to you, your looks matter to me. Is that enough?” He eyed me a second, then dropped his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.” “And one more thing . . . ” He looked up. “What’s the real reason you don’t care? Look carefully. Think before you speak.” He paused and wavered. “I don’t know.” “Fine. We’ll figure it out eventually, but we can leave it there for now. So where do the boys get their clothes? How is laundry done?” “They get their clothes at the supply cabin. That’s where they go to get fitted and remeasured periodically — they’re always getting new stuff, I guess as they grow. For laundry the staff collects our dirty clothes every three days from the dorms, and drops off clean stuff. I guess I’ll be taking my own laundry down there myself now that I’m persona non grata.” I shook my head. “I gotta hand it to you, Joon.” “What?” “You’re probably the only 16-year-old within a thousand miles of here who knows what `persona non grata’ means.” He smiled wryly, looking not displeased with himself. Once we’d finished moving his modest possessions into my apartment we went down to the supply cabin, which was actually a largish one-story building. After a couple of inquiries we were directed through a warren of storage rooms and work spaces to what was unmistakably a tailor’s shop. An old black man peered through half-glasses as he worked at a sewing machine. “Excuse me,” I said. He eyed us above his glasses. “They told us you might be able to get some clothes for this boy here. This is Joon.” “Well, now, ain’t you the skinny one!” the old man cracked. “Yeah, I s’pose I can find a few things. Make some up too if we ain’t got anything handy. One good thing — won’t be much fabric used up! Hee hee!” Joon and I eyed each other, as I tried to stifle a smile. Joon was not amused. “Git on over here, son, and let’s have a look.” The man waved a crabbed hand and Joon stepped obediently toward him. “All right now, first we need to take stock. Takin’ stock is the first step to lookin’ good. Take off those clothes — all of `em. We gotta work from the skin out.” Joon complied wearily as I continued to stifle a smile. When he was naked the old guy whipped out a cloth tape and briskly began measuring Joon every which way, making occasional noises of “mm-hm” and “umph.” He measured around his skinny chest in three different spots, carefully measured his arm from armpit to wrist, checked the thickness of his slender thighs at at least six different points, and made about twenty more measurements. He wrote nothing down. He also held up fabric in several different colors next to Joon’s face. Finally he had finished. “Well, I got a few things that’ll fit, but I’ll need a bit o’ nip and tuck to get you fitted just right. You got a unusual body, son, you don’t mind my sayin’ it. You eatin’ right?” “Yeah,” Joon replied, with more patience than I thought he had. “I’m just thin. My dad was the same when he was my age.” “Mm. Well, that’s fine, it be more fun for me. I always say I can make any boy look good in clothes, no matter what he look like outa clothes. I got all I need here now. Come back in two days. We’ll do a fittin’ then an’ see where we at.” Shortly after our visit to the old tailor Joon and I walked to lunch together. As we neared the dining hall we saw Johnny walking by himself to eat. “I need to go talk to him,” Joon said. “Yeah, go ahead. Sit with him at lunch, and then I’ll meet you afterward back at the apartment.” Joon nodded. As I ate my solitary lunch I kept an eye on the two boys sitting several tables away. Their conversation was animated, with Johnny doing most of the talking. ****************************** I was back at the apartment less than five minutes when Joon knocked. I opened the door to him and was surprised to see Johnny with him. The boy bobbed his head to me in greeting as they entered. I smiled at the strange looking boy. “Hello, Johnny, welcome.” He smiled shyly but did not meet my eyes. I knew enough about Asians to realize this was a sign of respect, not avoidance. “We need to help him, Mike,” Joon said as they sat down. I was a bit jarred at Joon calling me by my first name — he had never done it before. He watched me to gauge my reaction. “What’s going on?” I asked. “He’s miserable here. They stuck him in one of the big dorms with a whole bunch of kids, mostly older. Of course, no one speaks Korean. He says a couple of them were picking on him. I think it’s more than just fear and loneliness, though” “What do you mean?” “He’s been, like, traumatized. He shakes when he talks about what happened in North Korea, what he’s been through. He would be talking and then suddenly stop and start shaking. Maybe it’s PTSD or something.” “Poor kid. That sounds bad.” I looked the boy over. He really was odd looking, but there was something sexy about his delicate, little boy features and his moustache, his little, middle school-sized body and his bulging biceps and pecs showing underneath his thin T-shirt, and his straight, shoulder-length hair waving like a curtain as he turned his head and looked at Joon, then back to me. And I couldn’t help remembering that thick, man-sized cock. “I wonder what we can do to help him,” I mused. “Can he stay with us, until we leave, at least?” “Well, I guess so. I mean, maybe a few days with you, someone he feels safe with, will help him make the transition. But a transition to what? Do we even know what he wants? I guess he’s signed a new contract to be a young lover — otherwise, what’s he doing here?” Joon turned to Johnny and they talked for a couple of minutes. Johnny seemed morose but talkative. I was later to learn the boy could at times be a real chatterbox, at other times almost sphinx-like. Finally Joon said, “He’s signed a contract, but I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. I think his family and being a fuckboy are the only two things he knows.” “Maybe it’s time for him to go back to his family. He’s had his adventure, that’s for sure, and he’s still only, what, 13?” Joon said something to Johnny and the boy responded by shaking his head vehemently and jabbering rapidly in Korean. “He says absolutely not.” “Well, what does he want then?” “Um, he says he wants to be with me.” “Oh, man. That’s not going to work.” After a moment’s thought, I asked, “Joon, is he in love with you?” Joon shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know.” “But he could be, right? Look, I didn’t press you on this before because you seemed sensitive about Johnny, but now I need to know. Have you guys had sex?” Joon shook his head no. “Do you think he wants to?” “He wanted me to do it with him. He asked a bunch of times before.” “What did you tell him?” “I just told him no. When he asked why I told him it’s because I wasn’t gay. Which konyaaltı escort I’m not!” Joon added firmly, with a meaningful look. “Plus, he was, like, eleven then.” I decided to let that one pass for now. “But I think you love him. Don’t you?” Joon stared at me but didn’t answer. “OK, let’s talk to Marco and find out what the plan is for Johnny. And we’ll see if he’s OK with him living with us for a few days.” Joon nodded. Indicating Johnny I said to Joon, “I want this guy to see something. Come over here.” Joon approached me and I stood up. I grabbed Joon roughly and smashed my lips to his. He was startled and did not respond. I kept our lips locked for a long moment, then pulled away. Joon looked stunned. I turned to the little boy, who looked even more surprised, his little circumflex eyebrows shooting up out of sight under his long bangs. “If he’s staying with us he’s gotta know about that, doesn’t he?” Joon nodded slowly, his eyes a bit glazed. “Lemme call Marco,” I said, reaching for the phone. Marco didn’t answer his phone, so I called Evan, who told me Marco was in a meeting and it was probably going to take awhile. “Well, let’s go do something fun while we wait,” I suggested to the boys. “Like what?” Joon asked. Earlier I had passed by the small swimming pool, in which a class of boys were splashing around. “How about going for a swim?” Joon looked skeptical. “Ask him!” I gestured to Johnny. The boy responded with great enthusiasm to Joon’s translation. I returned Johnny’s big grin and ruffled his hair. He eyed me at length. Ever since I’d given Joon that big smooch he’d had a new look in his eye. “He probably doesn’t have a suit,” Joon observed. “He’s even smaller than me in the waist, so he can’t wear anything of mine.” “Hmmm.” I turned to Joon. “Not so excited about the pool?” “I don’t really like swimming.” “Not good at it, or don’t like looking all skinny in a suit?” He didn’t answer. “I may have a solution to both suit problems,” I said. “Come with me.” We marched over to the pool, I had the boys wait outside the changing rooms and I went through and into the pool area to have a word with the gym teacher. A short, nut-brown guy who could have been 35 or 55, he liked my idea right off the bat. “To tell ya the truth, kid, for the life of me I don’t know why they wear suits anyway. I mean, Christ, all the guests know these kids spend half the night naked and fucking! Who are they kidding with these suits? I mean, who are they looking all proper for, ya know? So, yeah, go ahead, nobody’s ever told me any different. If somebody doesn’t like it, just say, ‘Oops, sorry!’ I mean, what are they gonna do to ya?” “Are your boys about done?” He checked his phone. “Yeah, they got maybe 5 minutes left, then they hit the showers. There’s another gym class after this one but they’re not swimmin’ today, so I guess the pool’s all yours. Just let me get these guys out of here in a couple minutes.” I went back outside and relayed the plan to Joon, who rolled his eyes and then translated for Johnny. The little kid giggled and shot his fists up in the air in the universal sign of celebration. We waited the required few minutes, and then a whistle shrilled and we watched a couple dozen boys get out the pool, shouting and roughhousing, heading for the changing rooms. In another few minutes they began trickling out, dressed and with school books under their arms. I got up from the bench where we’d been sitting. “OK, boys, let’s go!” Johnny bounded ahead of us, dancing with delight. Joon followed unenthusiastically. Once in the locker room, I said, “OK, let’s strip and grab a towel!” I undressed slowly because I wanted to watch the interplay between the two of them. Johnny tore off his clothes in about ten seconds, and then stood, on one foot and then the other, his eyes glued to Joon, who was considerably slower. The little boy really did have a sexy body, I decided, after studying him again. Odd but sexy. His quads clenched and released as he bounced on his toes, waiting excitedly for Joon to get naked, and as he clutched his towel to his chest his biceps jumped. His eight-pack was breathtaking, his curtain of hair indescribably sexy. I couldn’t be sure, but I think his big cock was showing signs of hardening, hanging now a good five and a half inches from his boyish groin. And all this on a boy who couldn’t have weighed more than 90 pounds and was barely 13. Joon pulled off the last of his clothes, tossed them into a locker, and then picked up his towel. His body was a complete contrast to Johnny’s — skinny, pale, nearly hairless, with a much smaller cock despite being three years older. The only similarity was a narrow waist and washboard abs. He stared at me, and his look said, “Satisfied?!” I ignored him, finished undressing and noticed that Johnny’s gaze flickered to my cock, which had lengthened just a bit, and stayed there. I gave him a big grin. “What are you looking at?” I cried, and then made a grab for his cock. He danced out of the way, yelling with laughter, and scampered out toward the pool. Joon and I followed. Johnny and I both dove into the pool and began horseplaying, while Joon sat on the edge, his feet in the water. I repeatedly grabbed the little kid and tossed him in the air, and he howled with glee each time he hit the water with a big splash. After a few minutes of this I swam over to Joon. “Are you gonna come in?” “I really don’t swim.” “Don’t, or can’t?” “I don’t float, man!” “Come on Joon, everybody floats.” “I have, like, minus 10% body fat! There’s nothing to keep me up!” I decided not to push it. “Ok, fine, but don’t be a downer. At least get into the water here — it’s the shallow end.” He reluctantly complied, as Johnny came over and, without a word, splashed a wave of water onto him. Joon splashed him back. Despite Joon’s initial attempts to remain disengaged, Johnny was relentless in splashing water on him, trying to dunk him, and jumping onto his back, all the while shouting with glee. Finally he dove under water, swam up behind Joon and goosed him. “Ah, shit!” Joon cried, half-angrily, as he lunged for Johnny. They then began wrestling in the water. Johnny was stronger but Joon’s martial arts skills as well as six or eight more inches in height gave him greater balance and leverage and he manhandled the little boy with ease, dunking him time and again. “There,” he cried, as he shoved the boy under water one more time. Johnny came up gasping and spluttering, but still smiling. He glided slowly over to Joon and then, standing up in the water, gave Joon a big hug. Joon stood still, speechless. Then Johnny kissed him, and then stood, beaming up at him. Joon looked at me, nonplussed. I leaned over and whispered in my boy’s ear. “You’ve learned a little about how to fuck. It looks like now it’s time to learn how to love.” ************************************************* After another half hour or so in the pool the three of us got out, toweled off, and dressed. The events of the afternoon had obviously opened Johnny up, and he babbled almost constantly to Joon, and even tried some English on me. I discovered that he actually had more English than he let on. I mentioned this to Joon as we walked back to my apartment. “Yeah, he actually understands quite a lot. He’s just not confident speaking.” “Didn’t they teach him anything in that school you guys went to? He was there for like a year, wasn’t he? Don’t they have special classes for kids just learning English?” “I don’t know — he was in middle school, I was in high school. He cut class a lot. He didn’t have much continuity, I guess.” “Cut class? He was, what, a sixth grader?” Joon shook his head. “He’s a very headstrong person. He didn’t like anything about his life — he hated Koreatown, he didn’t like how kids treated him at school. His family couldn’t control him. He spent a lot of time away from his family. He’d just take off.” “To hang out with you?” “Yeah.” “So you probably did some cutting school too.” “My last semester I’d pretty much only show up on test days. We’d hang out in my bedroom, and when my mother would get too intolerable we’d head out — to the park, the beach, or just wandering the streets. Riding the buses.” “So when you decided to leave L.A. it was natural for him to want to go with you.” Joon nodded. “Didn’t it get boring for you? Smart people crave stimulation — he’s hardly your intellectual equal.” Joon looked up sharply. “He’s smart as fuck!” he exclaimed. “He as quick as I was when I was his age. Probably quicker now.” “Really!” “You’ll see.” “You’ve peaked already?” I teased. “What happened.” “Too much weed,” he replied, not smiling. “You must miss it. How do you cope?” “Reading and jacking off,” he replied matter-of-factly. I was learning than Joon enjoyed shocking people. I deliberately didn’t take the bait. “Well, keep on reading, by all means. As far as the jacking off — well, I think we can find some better ways for you to have your daily orgasm.” “Only daily?” Joon said, permitting himself a small smile. I chuckled, and noticed Johnny grinning up at us. “And you!” I exclaimed to him. “You understand, huh?” His grin widened. I asked Joon, “Do you think he got any of that?” “Oh yeah. Way more than half. Maybe all,” Joon guessed. “Come on Johnny, talk English!” I commanded. “OK,” he said simply. “Repeat after me: `I am Johnny and I am smart.'” He smiled, “I an Johnny and I an smar.” “Joon is my friend.” He smiled shyly. “Joon iss my frien.” Joon got into the act. “My farts stink!” Johnny burst into peals of laughter and danced ahead of us down the path. “My fars stink!” he yelled. “Yeah, I can see you’re a good influence, all right,” I chuckled to Joon. “He’s gotta learn the real stuff,” Joon smiled. His voice was soft, as if he had allowed affection to slip in for a brief moment. I changed the subject. “Is it weird for you to see how much his appearance has changed?” “Totally!” Joon replied emphatically. “His hair was way shorter, and he didn’t have that weird moustache. But mainly it’s his body. He was just a short skinny little kid before. Yeah, a little growth spurt would be normal, but his pecs are as big as yours, and you’re like a foot and a half taller. And I don’t know where all that body hair came from.” “Is it gross to you?” “Not really. It’s just strange.” “At first I was kind of repulsed,” I confessed. “But now, I think he’s actually kind of hot.” Joon glanced at me. I couldn’t read his face, but something was there. Anger? Jealousy? Maybe it was a sort of indignation. “Well, don’t rape him like you did me!” he glared. This was the first time he had raised his voice to me. “Don’t play the righteous victim with me! ” I replied sharply, trying to stay calm. “I didn’t rape you — you were as hot for it as I was! It’s not my fault you were in denial! I fuck you like I do because you need it, and you know it! He doesn’t need to be fucked hard.” “Yeah? How does he need to be fucked?” Joon demanded, still angry. “Well, Joon,” I answered. “I don’t know. But you know what? I think we’re gonna find out!” Joon stared hard at me and then went silent. A short time later the three of us were back at my apartment ensconced in front of the TV. Joon had found Johnny a Disney movie. I thought it was a little juvenile for a 13-year-old, but Joon knew his friend — the boy was immediately glued to the screen. Joon looked bored but was tolerant. I decided to try Marco again and this time he picked up. A brief conversation was all that was necessary to get the OK for Johnny to stay with us until we had to leave for North Korea. When I relayed the news Johnny jumped up before Joon had even had time to translate, raised his fists triumphantly, and then plopped down beside Joon on the couch and gave him a hug, chattering all the while in Korean. Joon sat passively. “Put your arm around him, you asshole!” I hissed. Joon complied, looking a bit shamefaced. Johnny responded by reaching up and kissing him. I decided it was time to force Joon out of his little comfort zone. I went and sat on Joon’s other side, put one arm around Joon’s shoulders, cupped his chin with my other hand, turned his head toward me and began kissing him, tenderly but insistently. As usual, he neither resisted nor responded. I let that be for now, but instead broke the kiss and turned my attention to Johnny. I caressed the boy’s konyaaltı eve gelen escort eager, upturned face and then leaned over in front of Joon and kissed him. He pulled back in surprise for a micro second, but then immediately responded with enthusiasm. After a moment I pulled away. “You like that, Johnny?” I grinned. He nodded with a huge grin of his own. “Want more?” More nodding. “Joon doesn’t kiss. He’s afraid he might like it too much,” I explained, as if Joon weren’t right there pressed against my side. I resumed kissing the boy more passionately. He groaned and responded in kind. As I continued to kiss him I dropped my hand into Joon’s lap and felt his erection beneath his clothes. I squeezed it roughly, still kissing the younger boy. Joon grunted softly and squirmed. “OK, boys, come with me,” I commanded briskly as I popped to my feet. I grabbed both of them by their hands and pulled the into the bedroom. “Joon, take all your clothes off, then grab that chair and pull it close to the bed and sit down. Johnny, take your clothes off too.” Joon began to comply wordlessly and Johnny, suddenly seeming to need no translation, began stripping with glee. I followed suit, and soon we were all nude. I sat down on the edge of the bed with Johnny. I took his hand and looked him in the eye. “Johnny I like you. I want to have sex with you. Would you like that?” The boy’s gaze flicked to Joon for a split second then back to me. He grinned and nodded. I turned to Joon, who looked awkward and morose, sitting naked and silent, his dusky pink cock semi hard. “You may know a little about how to fuck and get fucked, but you have no idea how to love. But that’s what this boy needs. So since you’re incapable, you just get to watch. I want you to play with your cock and keep it hard while you watch, but don’t cum. Understood?” Joon nodded wordlessly. “Watch and learn what it is to make love. Someday maybe you’ll deserve him.” I admonished. With that I turned my back on him and lay down. Needing no instructions Johnny lay down next to me and snuggled right up. It was obvious this boy loved physical affection. I cuddled him and began kissing him tenderly, and he responded feverishly. I caressed his long dark locks, his delicate neck, the strange fine black hair on his cheeks. He began kissing my face and my neck, and in response I caressed his shoulders and back, feeling as I did the tiny ridges where the scar tissue had formed. I pulled back. and gazed into his eyes. “You’re a sweet boy, Johnny. I’m happy you are here,” I spoke slowly and carefully. I could see by his expression that he got it. “I’n happy too, Mike,” he said shyly. I kissed him tenderly on the lips, and then gently stuck my tongue in his mouth. He pursed his lips and sucked me right in, then twirled his tongue around mine. We played tongues for another minute and then I urged myself deeper and began kissing him more passionately. He responded with a little grunt and jammed his body up against mine even tighter. I felt his hot cock hard against me. Breaking the kiss I reached down to grab it and was amazed again at its size. Rising thick and hard from his tiny hips was what must have been a good eight-inch cock, dusky pink with desire, its veins bulging with blood. “Your cock is beautiful, Johnny,” I smiled at him. He opened his eyes and gazed lazily at me. He was already lost in a sexual haze. “Would you like me to suck it?” He smiled slowly and gave a little nod. I turned and looked over at Joon, who was obediently caressing his dick and still looking awkward. “Watch and learn,” I said sternly. I turned back to Jimmy and began working my way slowly down his strange little body, while gently holding his big hot cock in my hand. I nibbled his neck, then caressingly moved his long hair out of the way and tickled his ear with my tongue. He giggled a little, but didn’t pull away. I spread kisses all the way down his neck onto his chest. I nibbled one dark pink nipple, then bit gently into the curving muscle of his overdeveloped chest. Johnny tensed, then relaxed with a sigh. I licked the little patch of straight black hair on his breastbone, then nibbled down onto his belly, licking and chewing his beautifully sculpted abs. I stuck my tongue into his navel and he squirmed and gave a giggle. I raised up and kissed his lips again tenderly, gently stroking his chest and belly with my fingertips. “I’m gonna keep trying to make you feel good, Johnny, and if there’s anything you don’t like, you just tell me, OK?” The boy nodded blankly; I wasn’t sure he understood that, but I went ahead anyway. “That’s a good boy,” I caressed him and smiled, looking deeply into his eyes. He smiled back. I resumed holding his cock, and bending it gently out of the way I began nibbling his lower belly, licking down into his groin. His pubic bush spread outward like a mature man’s, ending almost at his hip bones. Yet as I nuzzled into his tender groin there was no musky smell as there would have been with most adult males. Finally I turned my attention to his pride and joy. First I took a moment to admire the big mauve head, so hard it was shining. It was split by a small opening which as I tugged firmly on his cock yawned open to reveal a flame red lining. I stuck the very tip of my tongue against the opening and flicked it back and forth rapidly. “OOhh!” Johnny exclaimed, squirming. I chuckled, reached up and kissed his little nose, and then settled back down and began carefully licking his glans all over. Then I slid my tongue down and began wetting the whole big organ, paying particular attention to two veins that bulged out dramatically as they twisted their way up the stalk. Johnny seemed to particularly love how I traced them gently with the tip of my tongue, so I did it repeatedly. When his engorged cock was slick with saliva I slowly engulfed the whole head in my mouth, and it WAS a mouthful. Holding his cock in my fist I squirmed my tongue all over the glans, and Johnny arched his hips up and gasped. Then I sucked him in and gradually, inch by inch, let him slip down my throat. I could feel the boy’s hands clench my scalp as I continued to sink down, inhaling through my nose, calming my gag reflex, sinking down still more, until finally all eight thick hot inches were down my throat and my lips pressed against wiry pubic hair. Then I made swallowing movements with my throat, and Johnny gave a wild cry, gripped me tighter, and rolled his hips. Reaching under him I gripped his butt with both hands and slowly drew my lips up his shaft, squeezing hard and sucking as I went. When just the head remained in my mouth I sucked hard on it for a minute and then descended again, keeping up the sucking pressure. I kept this up for a couple of minutes as Johnny gasped more and more loudly, and as I did I began fondling his small balls in their hairy sack. At one point I tugged hard on his sac and he seemed to really like that, so I did it a couple more times. Going down on him one more time I began to feel his cock swell up, and immediately released it and squeezed it hard. I didn’t want him cumming yet. I slid up, nuzzled his neck, and kissed him long and deep. “OK Johnny,” I said, caressing his face. “Now it’s your turn.” I lay back on the bed and slowly rolled him on top of me. I looked over his shoulder at Joon. His previously semi-hard cock was now engorged and rock hard, and he was stroking it more vigorously. “Don’t you fucking cum!!” I yelled. The boy nodded, his mouth slightly slack, his body squirming. His face was flushed with the desire for orgasm. I embraced Johnny, and before I even had a chance to initiate a kiss he plastered his lips to mine and smothered me with kiss after kiss. I hugged him, caressed his back and butt, and kissed him back enthusiastically. Then he wriggled downward out of my grasp and, without ceremony, grabbed my cock and stuffed most of it in his mouth. Then the kid went like a house afire, sucking, licking, twirling his tongue, slobbering loads of spit, bobbing his head up and down, and smashing his face down to my pubes as he deep throated the whole thing. Later I was to discover that usually the little guy did have some subtlety and a sense of pace when he sucked. Right now, though, he was all wild enthusiasm. “Yeah, Johnny, yeah,” I encouraged him as I caressed his long locks and he worked me over insatiably. Down to my balls he went, licking, sucking, nibbling, then back up over my cock, swirling his tongue, then sucking rapidly up and down. I felt my cum approaching, and decided this wasn’t how I wanted it to end. I had a demonstration in mind I wanted Joon to see. “OK, Johnny, stop a minute,” I cried with a gasp, as I pulled him off me. He looked at me quizzically, panting, his lips puffy, his eyes glazed. I had decided I was going to screw him while he sat on my cock. I sat up, pulled him toward me, and tried to maneuver him into position. He quickly figured out what I was doing, and moved to sit between my legs, but he was attempting to squat. “No, no, ” I said. “Johnny, I want you to put your legs around me.” He looked at me, not comprehending. I tried to gesture, but he still didn’t understand. I looked at Joon, who had one hand on the chair at his side, gripping the seat, resisting temptation, as his bright pink cock waved in the air, as if crying out for relief. He was gnawing his lower lip in frustration. “Tell him,” I said. “And while you’re at it, toss me the lube in that drawer.” Despite his desperate state Joon jabbered some quick Korean, and Johnny immediately shifted position. I took the tube from Joon and lubed up my cock as Johnny waited, poised to drop down onto it the second I was through. “OK, ” I said, putting some more onto my fingers to put onto Johnny’s hole. “No, no. no,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “Don’ need it.” The boy quickly scooted into position, grabbed my cock, aligned it with his hole, then slowly but steadily sat down on it. “Aaaaahhhhh,” he gasped, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, as he continued his descent. His shiny black curtain of hair brushed his shoulder blades and he shook his head slowly back and forth as he impaled himself. I sat passively as he forced the last inch or so up his little butt until he was sitting down in my lap. I put my arms around him and pulled him to me. He leaned forward and met my lips with his own. “MMmm, you are such a good boy, Johnny. You make me feel good.” “Yeah, ” he panted, as he began to rise up a bit and then sit heavily back down. By pressing his heels against my butt for leverage and shoving down on my thighs with his hands he was able to begin fucking himself as we continued to kiss. I grabbed his cock with my still-lubed hand and began slowly stroking with a very firm grip. “MMAAAAAAHHHHH!” he cried, as he bounced more vigorously. I gripped his butt with my other hand to help him rise and fall, and also began hunching my hips up to meet him on his every downstroke. I nuzzled his neck, gave him little butterfly kisses, and rubbed my thumb firmly over his cockhead as I gripped his big hot organ. He began moving more and more vigorously, eyes squeezed shut. He was now softly grunting “unh, unh, unh, unh,” every time he sat back down on my cock. After another couple of minutes, me kissing his pretty face and rubbing and stroking his cock, him riding me more and more wildly, gasping and grunting more loudly, he suddenly stiffened. His body went rigid, his little pecs bulging, and his eyes flew open. He was absolutely motionless for a half second, then his cock swelled and spasmed in my fist. He sat down very hard on my cock one last time, and, as I began rapidly stroking his spasming cock, he suddenly cried out and then shocked me by bursting into tears. His head fell onto my neck, he clutched my shoulders with a vice-like grip, kept hunching himself on my cock, and sobbed his guts out. After only another minute his tears stopped, he pulled himself carefully off my still iron hard cock, and cuddled up to me. He had a big grin on his face. “Johnny, why were you crying?” I asked. “I always cry that,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Were you feeling sad?” He grinned. “No! Sexy!” I chuckled to myself and shook my head. “I notice you didn’t shoot any sperm yet.” His face got serious. “Not no more.” “You used to?” He looked blank. “You know, before?” “Little bit. But not now.” I wondered to myself if this were some change caused by whatever chemicals they had injected him with at Asia Boys. I squeezed him affectionately. “You are very sexy, Johnny. You don’t need any juice.” He smiled. “Juice. That funny word. Like oran’ juice.” Then with a sigh he closed his eyes, and in less that a minute was in a post-orgasmic slumber.

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