This story is for a mature audience that likes these type of stories. All of the characters are fictional, and not meant to represent a real person.
FROM BELL ROCK by Zane Hunter-Green
The dogs were frantically digging at the cabin door. "Damn those dogs!" I turned away from my word processor which I was in the midst of setting up, stumbling over several unpacked boxes to get to the screen door and see what was agitating them. Moving as cautiously as I could considering the mess the movers and I had made on the floor, I went to see what they had gotten into. Foolishly I had tossed the dogs outside to get them out of the way.
I now sensed that they were not alone. Not being a native of North Central Arizona. and the Sedona area; in my imagination I envisioned their demise from an animal that transformed itself from a mountain lion, to a coyote, then into a bear with the wings of a turkey vulture. I had allowed the two greyhounds their freedom to explore the high Sonoran desert lot surrounding my new home, and now I realized, that I had carelessly had put them in jeopardy.
I was here trying to escape the bitter after affects of death, not to lose something else in it's arcane jaws. I thought about ripping the boxes to quickly find a weapon. As I wondered what I could improvise, the dogs seemed to have calmed down. They were now barking in a friendly manor, almost as if- no I quickly put that thought out of my mind. They never barked in greeting for me, we merely tolerated each other. Perhaps they were bringing home another dog.
My real-estate agent had informed me that my closest neighbors, a mile or so away were a communal group of wiccas. I didn't give it too much though, a group of witches would add color to the neighborhood, and wasn't this Sedona, home of magnetic ley lines, artists, mystics, and others that didn't quite fit into the norms. I had come here to write, not to socialize.. Taking a deep breathe I looked out at ponderosa pine, and scrub-grass without seeing the misty bodies of the dogs. I could still hear them though. Suddenly they were looping towards me, chased from the back of the house by a creature, their new friend I figured. I watched from the doorway as the strange animal came closer I saw that the creature was running on two legs, then I realized the dogs had discovered human companionship when I spied a shock of auburn hair, and a slight body, adorned by a torn tee-shirt, and cut-off jeans.
"Hey Mister, are these your dogs?", the child inquired, sensing me through the screen.
I came out on the porch to speak. "Yes Miss., they do seem to like you."
The expressive child laughed at me, jumped up on the front porch with a smirk of mischief on the otherwise exquisite face.
"I'm not a girl," going over to shake my hand like one much older might do, the child continued; "My name is Tas, short for Tasmania, and everyone thinks I'm a female because I live with so many women. They won't let me cut my hair you know. They say it will diminish my power, kind of like Samson."
Not knowing how to respond to him I said, "I like your hair, but it can't be comfortable all tangled up with twigs, why don't you wear it back in a ponytail? Then it won't get in your way."
It was the river of hair running down his back that had confused me as to his gender. It looked like it had never been cut.
"How do you know?" he questioned.
"I used to wear my hair like that back in college?"
"Were you a hippie, or something?"
"Sort of," I found my self thinking for a moment of those days back in Berkley when I knew all of the answers. "Believe it or not I just unpacked some elastics that I use to wrap up extra computer cord. I'll get you one."
I went into the cabin and returned with a red and gold band. The child was sitting on the step waiting for me.
"Would you make the ponytail for me?" the boy-child got up and leaned close against me, he then reached out for my hand, his own hand seemed small and perfect, almost like polished glass, only later did I realize he lacked fingerprints as he drew his silken hands towards my groin.
Was this strange being so innocent or was he unbelievably trying to make a pass? I felt strongly overpowered by his crisp empowering scent like creosol after a rain. I had the most irrational though of reaching over and crushing him against me. I could see the boyhood through the feminine beauty of this little minx, and I was trying very hard to suppress feelings that were pushing me out of my dormant state. I quickly needed some distance to analyze the situation. I was getting too many cross signals from this little vixen.
"I'll have to get a hairbrush."
Fortunately my bedroom was already unpacked and set up so, I went inside to put some distance between me and the hot intense little body that was increasingly snuggling closer. As I should have known he followed me inside. He sat on the foot of my bed as I hunted for my brush. I found it and daringly went over, I couldn't seem to help myself. I started to stroke his hair. That was a mistake! His hair was so incredibly soft and beautiful. Red sparks of light like rich sherry. I lifted it up and gently started to take out the greenery caught in the silky locks. I could see his face reflected in the mirror. Bright blue-green eyes dancing around the room. He stopped to stare at the picture on my bureau. The solitary photograph that had been taken a year ago in Spain. It was a sunny portrait of my lover Jim, and I on the beach. Jim had leukemia and had died five months ago. In the community everyone thought it was AIDS. It was almost an affront to try and suggest that a gay man can die of anything, just like everyone else.
Tas stood up and looked closer at the picture.
"You know, he's with us now. I can sense him. Is his name Jim? He liked to be called something else. He designed computer games, didn't he? He tells me that he wants me to make you happy, that we should make love."
Getting goosebumps, I dropped the hairbrush. "How old are you, Tas?"
"Don't worry, I'm legal, I'm over eighteen. He tells me that you are a worrier."
Tas didn't look much older than twelve. "Stop trying to cast a spell on me or whatever you think you're doing. You shouldn't lie about your age. You act like a twelve year old, and you look about ten!"
"You think so, because you really don't know me. How long were you and Jim lovers?"
"I'm hardly going to discuss that with a child." He was provoking me to my limit.
"Jim tells me that it was nine years, and you were faithful too, we would be good for each other."
I caught my breathe. "You my friend as irresistible as you might be would be jail bait for me."
"I told you that I'm older than I look. I'm sick of being patronized. Why are we wasting time talking?"
I couldn't believe him! I was being seduced by a feral child. He turned around to me and started to rub his fingers against my awaking groin. His small strong fingers pressed hard against the fabric of my pants. This was quickly getting too intense. I backed away, very aroused but afraid where we were quickly headed. I stupidly said, "I truly need to see your drivers license or something."
"Where the hell would I put my license. besides I don't need an ID to prove my age to you, just look!"
At that he spun around and unhitched his cut offs. When He turned again once more I was looking at a beautiful diminutive uncut penis. It sat as lonely as I had felt for the last months from it's lack of companion balls. The young man was a eunuch. I could feel myself quickly rising to salute him, and his phenomenal beauty. What he lacked in front he more than made up for behind as I soon was to learn.
As I pulled him down into my bed falling headfirst into his mystery I touched his lone silken genitalia.
"Why do you look so childlike, is it because you were gelded?"
He took my hand and placed it beneath his penis where I could feel the faint ridge of a scar.
"Well, are you going to tell me," I shouldn't be asking him this. I should just take the gifts he was offering.
He was wiser than me. "Maybe when I get to know you better. You won't believe me if I tell you now. Besides, I can think of other things to be doing."
With that he stopped using his mouth for talking, and found out how delightful it could be used in other ways. I would be some time longer before I would hear his strange story. Tas was obviously not a stranger to sex. He had taken the lead, before I could think my own jeans, and briefs were on the floor. He leaned down nudging his head against my cock and balls. I felt a soft shudder as he licked them gently. My mind was in a turmoil. I had been celibate for many months now, and hadn't had sex with a stranger since I was a teenager.
His sex drive was on the fast track he was racing on. I knew that he could have almost anyone, he was breathless. I wondered why he had selected me. The dogs entered the room and sat on the floor as if they were protecting him from me.
Traders! When this boy was around they ignored me. Perhaps they missed Jim, they actually had been his dogs. I wondered how far the boy wanted us to go. It was obvious that he had taken the lead since I first spotted him like a generous gift of the woods. I didn't know much about him.
His amazing hair, still untamed spilled across my bed. I so wanted to fuck the daylights out of him, but I was afraid to break him, and tarnish him.
"Come on Daniel, I want you to love me."
I never told him my name. In wonder I reached down and started to stroke his childlike thighs, they were warm and felt like satin. Before I could stop myself I had his excited penis in my hand. It felt curious not to bump against balls. He licked my fingers as I brought my mouth down to taste the part of him left uncut. His glans peeked through his foreskin, so aroused was he. I was going crazy, and he knew it.
"Do you have any Vaseline", he asked.
I knew where that was going, and I reluctantly shook my head.
"Never mind, I have my own."
He didn't carry a wallet yet he had lubricant. He took my hand.
"We should finish outside."
"Outside?"
"Unless you don't mind staining your bed, it will wash out though."
I looked at the vial he handed me, and was taken aback. It looked just like glistening blood.
"Tas, you want me to use this in your ass! What is it?"
"It's great stuff. I mix cow udder cream with the red pigment from bell rock. This is red rock country. I gather the sandstone and grind it into a paste. Men get really turned on when they remove their cock and it looks like a bloody mess."
"You're 100 per cent crazy!"
He took his index finger, and swiped his concoction and painted it across his cheeks marring his angelic face with the paint, then he turned to me calling it love paint and did the same. It felt creamy, yet there was definitely something else in there that he wasn't telling me about. I could smell a scent I couldn't identify. The closest it came to was rain, and orange and honey suckle.
He planned to coat this stuff on my prick. I hoped it wasn't going to cause it to balloon out, or drop off or something. With this boy anything seemed possible.
If he wasn't so damn sexy flashing an ass as beautiful as I've ever seen, in my face, I would have stopped before we went further, and put on the breaks, although in my engorged state I was beyond thinking about anything else aside that perfect ass. I was so hard I could hardly stand it!
I gripped his small vial and smeared it on my cock, so much for caution. He laughed as I positioned him on his back, to elevate his indescribable butt upwards, spreading the crack open so I could savor his bud. I thought I'd find a welcome hole, but it was tight and puckered.
I grabbed more of his red lubricant to push it in with my fingers preparing his rectum for my visit. Oddly it was very hard to slip my finger in, almost unyielding.
"Tas, are you sure you've done this before?"
"Oh yes, of course, I've had many lovers."
"Finally I was able to get two fingers past his splinter muscle. He was crying.
"Tas, I'm hurting you. If you didn't tell me otherwise I would swear that you are a virgin."
"No, it's just been awhile, please keep going."
"I had a hard time getting the two fingers into his anus, then three. He wasn't having any fun. His anus was so tight, and velvety.
"Come on Daniel, fuck me please."
I carefully positioned my cock level to his delicious hole. It took a lot of pressure to get the head partway in. He was shaking and in pain.
"Tas, I can't hurt you like this." Deep down I knew that he was offering me his cherry.
"Please Daniel, just do it I'll be fine, just do it.
"Look, if this is your first time we're moving slower. I refuse to injure you."
"You won't do it, will you. No one wants a damn faggot eunuch." He looked pitiful.
"Honey, you're beautiful! How can anyone resist you?"
"Oh, believe me, they do. No one wants me." He started to get up. He looked at me as if I had rejected him. With tears in his eyes he backed away.
I had never scorned a woman, but I felt like this might be as close as I could come, looking at his tear streaked delicate face. The long strands of glowing hair plastered to his face where he had streaked the red paint. It broke my heart.
I went over to the picture of Jim, picked it up and said "Ok Jim, you talk to him, please tell him that I'm sorry."
Tas started to laugh. I went over, lifted him up, and carried him back to my bed. We started over. It was sublime! I finally fell asleep in the early morning. The dogs looked at me mournfully. The boy was gone.
I tore on some clothes, and ran down the road to the place where I was told the witches lived. I had to catch my breathe. In front of me was a large complex that was under construction. "What's this!" I must have sworn out loud.
A workman came over to me. "Have you seen a boy that lives here?" I managed to ask him.
"No, these units won't be occupied for at least six months, it's not safe for kids to play around here. We're putting up the Witch Creek Condominiums. Sedona as you know is growing like crazy."
I backed away, and then looked down. There was the blue and yellow sun hat that Jim had worn in Spain to cover his head, bald from the chemotherapy. It could only have been his as it had a set of Olympic Runners collector's pins stuck in the brim, the same that Jim had bartered for through our years together. Jim had been an amateur runner who had run out of time.. .. The hat had been stolen by the winds, and washed away in the ocean the afternoon after the picture was taken. Like a dense wave that had spread despair on our last holiday together. Only Jim knew about my obsession with eunuchs and angels. Somehow he found one to herald his message to me.
"Oh Jim!" I yelled out. The workman must have thought that I was crazy.
After we returned from Spain we had a disagreement. The fact was I couldn't accept that he was dying. Jim had moved out and returned to his family in Ohio, his father was a doctor and had finally convinced him to leave me on the grounds that he would find him a donor through his connections at his hospital. When I tried to contact him at his parents there was always an excuse, he wasn't home or he was sleeping, he never called me back, later when I learned how sick he was I felt worse. I should have gotten on that plane myself and dealt with his family. Deep down I had hoped that he would recover and come back to California. I had his dogs, I knew he would want them, his two loyal running companions.
It came as a shock when I was informed about his death several weeks after the fact, and then it was from an acquaintance. I closed the apartment, my memories and heart... I only stayed in Sedona a few more months. I was offered an incredible sum for my land and returned to the Bay Area. I never saw Tas again but he had restored my spirit, and renewed my faith that I would see Jim again, until then I had my own race to run as well as I could.
THE END