Maybe the boy would go to sleep.

Minutes later he opened the door quietly and turned out the light. There was Jim propped up reading. He seemed as far from sleep as Stephen felt. Jim looked up and smiled at him. "If only," thought Stephen, trying not to swallow too obviously, "if only he wouldn't turn on that damned smile of his!"

"All set?" asked Jim. His eyes made a quick inventory of his trapped cousin. At least, Stephen felt that way.

"Yeah," said Stephen, feigning a yawn, "just about." He took his pajamas from the chest of drawers and put them on with resolution. He fancied that Jim looked disappointed.

Too bad!

"Good night, Jim," said Stephen, getting into bed.

"Good night, Stephen," said Jim, turning off the lamp.

It wasn't a good night. Stephen, pretending sleep, had seldom experienced such delicious misery. Every fiber, every muscle yearned to turn and to move across the bed just those few inches. That Jim was as wide-awake as he, was incontestable: occasional sighs, a sudden movement, the gradual, steady encroachment of a bare thigh and leg upon his own thinly clad body.

Stephen, gritting his teeth and breathing deeply, gave a slight snore and turned over on his side away from his exquisite tormentor. The boy simple dovetailed, and then there was no doubt at all about how he felt. Not that Stephen had had much doubt for some time! He was wretched. God! It would be so easy! "I can't!" thought Stephen unhappily. "He's so young! He's only a kid! My God, I'm more than old enough to be his father!"

Stephen could feel the length of the warm young body behind him.

18

He could feel the boy's hand creeping over his pajama-coated shoulder until the fingers touched his bare flesh. For a time Jim's hand rested upon Stephen's chest, playing gently with the hair. Then his hand began to slip down, caressing Stephen's belly and navel. Then still lower until the fingers were entwined in the thick curls below his abdomen. Determinedly, Stephen continued to lie inert, breathing regularly and deeply, although the effort nearly suffocated him. How long could he hold out? Why should he hold out?

Just as Stephen decided that he could no longer stand the anguish of his situation, Jim's hand slipped farther. Stephen felt the strong, supple young fingers encircle him and tighten gently about his throbbing, traitorous organ. Stephen gave up. He turned over and crushed the boy to him.

Jim gave a sigh very like a sob and wrapped himself about Stephen, fumbling at his pajama coat until, with Stephen's cooperation, he had removed it. Stephen felt the smooth skin of Jim's breast against his own. He felt Jim's hand untying his trousers, slipping them away until they about Stephen's ankles. Impatiently he pushed them off with his feet and entwined his naked legs and arms with the boy's.

were

For a while they lay thus, feeling each pulsing against the other.

Finally Jim sighed. "Gosh, you play hard to get!" he whispered.

"You're a little devil!" Stephen whispered in reply.

"Not really," and even though Jim whispered, whispered, Stephen could hear the tremor in his voice. "I've always tried to do right, but I can't help the way I feel. That's how I got into trouble at school. I had a -a friend there-and another fellow-" the boy sobbed aloud, and then caught his breath, "another fellow who wanted