By the following day my body had just about fully recovered and Adrian and I could enthusiastically get on with our fucking. I told my godson that because of his wonderful seven and a half inches it was still hurting me a bit in the beginning – especially if Adrian started to thrust wildly. He would appear to collide with something that felt like a wall in my arse and it was rather painful. However I’d been doing some research on this. I’d read a book on anal sex. The author said that most of us imagine that our back passage is straight – but this is not the case. It’s more like an S bend. He recommended the best way to get the muscles relaxed and the S bend opened up was for the bottom to have his body in a kind of right angled position in the early stages of the fuck. This made sense because I think I’ve mentioned previously in this journal that Adrian’s favourite position was for me to lie flat out on my stomach and for him to lie on top of me.
Anyway we were keen to experiment so I got my godson to sit upright on the edge of the bed and then I sat on his glorious cock. Next I lay on my back and pulled my legs up to my shoulders and he plunged himself into my arse.
After we’d been fucking for about three hours we stopped for a beer and a chat. Again I brought up my Australian idea. Adrian looked at me.
“I’m not sure Godfather… what about my little sister?”
“Well maybe she could come too.”
Adrian glanced at the floor. He knew I was talking nonsense.
At that moment I decided to bring up something that had been troubling me – my godson’s “work.”
“Adrian, we’ve been fucking now for several—”
“Making love Godfather… making love.”
“All right, if you want to put it like that. We’ve been making love now for several months but I still don’t know anything about your work – these “commissions” you earn.”
Adrian fluttered his eyelashes.
“Oh Godfather, I hope you won’t be angry with me…”
My heart skipped a beat. Was my boy involved in something nefarious? Drugs? Gay for pay? Was he involved in some sort of crime syndicate? No, how could I even think that of Adrian? Besides, he never had any money.
“You know Godfather that I never ask you for money… apart from taxi fare maybe. I’m not like that. But you know the clothes you buy me…?
I suddenly recalled all the fun times we’d spent shopping at Manhatten’s or Gringo’s. And then I recalled conjecturing that Adrian must have wardrobes crammed full of the shirts and shorts and jeans I’d bought him. And yet it was puzzling – he always seemed to turn up at the Corus in the same outfit.
“Well Godfather, most of those clothes I sell to my friends.” He looked at me apprehensively.
After a moment I couldn’t help myself. I roared with laughter and gave my refugee boy a huge hug.
“You mean you are a kind of fashion retailer my godson? My God, I love you… I love you for your enterprise!”
We clinked glasses.
“Now Adrian, have you thought about coming to live with me in Australia?”
“No Godfather, I won’t be doing that.”
My heart sank.
“I want you to come to Burma,”
“Burma?”
“My family will adore you Godfather.”
“But what would I do in Burma?
“Write, teach English. Fuck with your godson.”
Adrian laughed uproariously.
Clinking glasses and glistening eyes again. A vision opened up before me. I would do it. I would spend the rest of my life with my Burmese Boy.
Copyright
Copyright 2014 Kevin Armstrong
First published in February 2014 by Balmain Publishing
All rights reserved worldwide. This work is not to be sold, manipulated or reproduced in any format without express written permission of the author.