21 Ağustos 2022



Subject: Yuuto (Gay Adult-youth) Yuuto ©MCVT2017 31 July 2020 Beauty and tenderness of ancient customs passed along brings a silent son to voice. Yuu too, can make a donation to Nifty so fine stories will continue to entertain you: fty/ Many thanks Frank, without his encouragement, I wouldn’t be posting. 100% Fiction, adult content, Mb, inc. ===================================================================================== A tall, strong man waited until he was midway through his life to marry. Perhaps he wasn’t waiting, but preparing, planning his dream. Saving a sizeable amount would draw the wife he wanted, a strong partner and a mother who appreciated the blessing of a home and family, a spouse who yearned for the security and safety he would provide. Very busy designer of homes in a far eastern country, renown for his simple, graceful designs and the efficiency of this work, the bachelor sought a woman. … His nation’s culture did not allow a person to buy and reside in the home of another family; taboo. A new place must be constructed after every older home was removed. The home designer was in demand, earned a grand reputation; became wealthy in comparison to some, but certainly not royalty. After posting his intention to marry, he attracted a young woman with dark, almond eyes and a degree in fashion design. She was extremely petite, an eager sexual partner and immediately after nuptials, she gained weight with their son. Father-husband took his beautiful wife and his swaddled son to their own home in area with sweet air and open skies. He had built his family a new house between the city and the farmlands in a small town. … Mother’s manual labor increased with a dependent child on her hip. She became resentful, impatient. She missed the hubbub of work and life in the inner city with friends. Mother abandoned her family, moved back to the city to seek further opportunity in her profession and her old friends. Shocked and saddened, the father and son adapted their ways; clung to each other. They both became silent partners in life. Father’s tears fell in the boy’s bath water, salted his cereals. Moved like spirits through the dark house toward their traditional cotton padding unrolled on the floor. Snuggled closely, more tears stained their pillows, their quilts. Suddenly alone with a toddler, the father found a neighbor, “He’s not ready to speak yet, don’t force him. When his sorrow fades, when something important touches his heart, my boy will speak. Until then, play with him, hold him close and comfort him while I work.” The elderly woman relished caring for the boy and he thrived with her loving hands nearby offering rice candies, treats. Many smiles but no sounds came from little Yuuto. … One of their morning rituals father and son shared was sipping from the same tea cup and looking through the newspaper together. Little Yuuto pointed to a curious photo, then looked at his father’s face for explanation. They chuckled often at the politicians’ antics, strange new gizmos, the European, and Australian sports teams and silly cartoons. New Year’s Day was everyone’s birthday, father asked what the boy wanted for a gift. “A wagon or a tricycle? Would you like a big, red dragon kite?” Yuuto shook his head. He spread the newspaper in front of them. Boy searched drawings in the ads and scoured photos for what he’d been thinking about. He brought a stub of a pencil and in the margin, he drew a simple fish, took his father’s hand and pulled him outside. A tiny finger pointed to the ground, making a circle above a flat area in the yard, then pointed back to the newspaper. “You want a pond with a fish–a koi pond?” Yuuto grabbed his father’s thigh, hugged hard, rubbing his tiny upturned nose into his father’s groin, nodding and grinning. Tiny feet jumped in glee. “Yuuto, muğla escort that’s a lot of work. You have to help.” The boy shook his head, delighted. … The tender, young boy attended school, still silent and he excelled. Reading, writing, maths, he surpassed others of his age. In the arts, painting, poetry, and such, he appeared to reflect the inner perspective of a person beyond his years. Semesters brought rituals to the father and son. Afternoons in their yard, a narrow, rocky place they began a garden to delight the soul, a calm place for meditating beside the koi pond; water so clear it appeared the fish were moving in air. They were silent and content as Yuuto drew a small waterfall over rounded rocks. Father studied it. Yes, he could build that for Yuuto’s koi. … On a very special New Years, Yuuto gave his father a koi of his own, he’d saved his yen through the year. Now, two lantern-bright koi with dark spots played in the pond. Dark spots were on the very top of their heads, between the fishes’ eyes making them look like they were wearing berets. How the boy enjoyed the pond, studied how to keep his fish happy and healthy. Dad was proud. A co-worker came home with father to see the pond. He raised koi as a hobby. The three approached the pond, hearing their fish splashing, “Ahhh, okama-koi!” The co-worker joked and smiled. Yuuto looked up at his father, his full, red lips making an “o” and his eyes wide. He didn’t understand. “Later. Shhh.” Father and son and showed the co-worker around, they spoke about widening the pond, water lilies and a purple sycamore maple for dramatic balance. … In bed that night, Yuuto was frowning pointing to the koi pond, and patting his head. This was the signal he used for his koi, “Why did that man say `okama-koi?'” Yuuto appeared to ask. Father pulled his boy on his chest, “Have you seen the weddings come through the streets? A man and a woman get married?” Yuuto nodded. “They love each other. A man and a woman fall in love and marry. When they’re alone together, the man takes his log, like mine,” he put his son’s hand on his erection, “and puts it inside the woman, he leaves his sperm there to make a child. That’s how I made you.” Yuuto nodded. “If we wanted thousands of baby koi, we would get a girl and a boy fish. They would fall in love and make baby koi. The male puts his sperm with the eggs from the mother and babies start forming. Understand?” Yuuto nodded. Father pulled the boy close to his face, rubbed his hair, “We have two male koi. Looks like they fell in love. They mate to feel good and say `I love you, too.’ Since neither of them has the eggs to make babies, they mate and love each other in their way. Understand what okama-koi is now?” Stillness. “Okama means a person loves another person of whose body is the same, their privates are the same. A woman who loves a woman or a man who loves a man. That’s what okama means–a homosexual. We have two male okama-koi. Okamas happen all through nature.” Feet at father’s hips, knees splayed in frog-like form, the boy rubbed his face on the smooth skin under his face, heard his father’s heart and enjoyed the great satisfaction that filled him being close. He kissed his father’s chest, thinking “Me–okama-boy.” … Yuuto was coming to an age when he felt the need to exercise more power in his life. School was so easy, it bored him. His fish still fascinated him, even more as he studied genetics and chemistry online. Still, the boy had time on his hands while his father made his way home from work. Father noticed Yuuto’s drawings, they revealed his son was planning mischief with other boys, which could cause him to lose his beautiful son. Wisely, father and brought home a small length of bois d’arc wood to carve and gave Yuuto specific instructions, measurements, muş escort tools and sand paper. Yuuto thought the shape he was required to make was odd, but sat outside daily, whittling, smoothing and readying his work to present to his father. In order to keep Yuuto within the confines of their culture, father adapted their routines even further. Father showed the boy how he shaved, kept his body clean, though Yuuto knew this already. He’d bathed with his father since he was very small. Now, though, as his twig lengthened toward becoming a log like his father’s and his sperm repositories expanded, father changed his strategies again. … Many undisclosed, quite intimate traditions occur behind the reserved, formal requirements in Asian public life. Cultural practices, traditions between men, fathers, sons, grandfathers, uncles are ancient, yet unspoken practices. Father knew them well: Yuuto was creating a wooden replica of his own father’s rigid penis. Smoothly dipping line of his corona, deftly, neatly joining at his frenulum and the most beautiful curves ending at a small slit only opening half-way across his father’s dusty-pink knob. Father’s hard shaft was such a work of art, Yuuto wanted to run his tongue over again and again; he licked his carving instead. Yuuto thought his father’s penis, his scrotum and sparse hair were beautiful, his lean, muscular body was Yuuto’s ideal. He longed to hold his father’s eggs in his mouth while breathing the musk of a strong, working man; dreamed of the taste of his father’s cum, the cum that brought him into life. … Achingly cold winter kept father home the year his boy turned twelve. Snows came and winds calmed as they donned thick coats and boots, left for the market. Beer, kare pan, kuri kenton, oranges, a small feast at midnight. They strode the slushy streets stopping to wish their favorite vendors a prosperous new year and arrived home to celebrate. They watched as the world closed the old year an opened a new one, singing along with revelers around the world. Father watched Yuuto closely, gave him beer, fed him like he was still a child. Yuuto held sections of the orange he peeled for his father. Before bed, father went to his tool shed and came back, bringing a gust of cold through the room. “Get your carving.” … He held his boy close on their bed, squeezing him. “Where is it? Let’s see how close you came to perfection.” By the light of a small, dim lamp, he stroked his erection as they boy held his carving close. “Is it the same?” Boy’s eyes flashed to his father’s and he grinned, nodded and made a comparison. Then he handed the smooth, wooden rod to his father for a closer inspection of dad’s warm, pulsing erection. With father watching, Yuuto kissed his father’s slit, taking a lick of his juice. Father trembled and pulled his son alongside him, “Put your leg over my belly. Holding the boy close along his side, “I made a carving for my father, an exact copy of his beautiful rod. When I was ready, I had to spit on it. He pushed it deep inside me, it felt like he caressed my heart.” His finger went to Yuuto’s hole, “Your grandfather showed me how men share love.” Yuuto looked to his father’s face, eyebrows raised in question. “No, he was not okama. Well, maybe sometimes — it’s not important. Love is important.” Father reached under the pillow and pulled out the carving of his father’s erect rod. Son took it in his hand, eyes wide. He looked back to his father’s face; lips parted in a grin. “Yes, my father was a big man. Bigger than me.” Stroking the boy’s hair as Yuuto compared the two wooden carvings, “Which do you want tonight, my okama-son?” Yuuto chose the dildo his father carved, the smooth replica of his grandfather’s proud erection. A larger penis must mean more love. Holding the boy by his nevşehir escort side, he pressed his face to his chest and spit on the middle finger of his left hand and began rubbing gently, telling Yuuto how proud he was of him, how much he loved him, and how incredibly smart he was, “Such a good son. This year will be a very profitable year, very profitable, as well as a very quiet one after our new business begins. We’ll make tea house for lover’s trysts behind the pond. I’ll be able to stay home every day.” Yuuto was in a dream-state, filled with joy and excitement but found a way to nod. The boy was in heightened anticipation wanting more, and not wanting to give up a moment of warmth next to his dad. Father continued probing, then, “Spit on the one you want inside you and give it to me.” Yuuto spit, then father slathered his saliva on it and held it at the boy’s hole. “This will hurt, and then incredible pleasure comes. Be patient, you’ll feel your heart being caressed.” Their ancient tradition began, Father kept the boy close as he gently pushed, twisted and gave silent thanks to his father for teaching him so gently. The two became as one as the young body jerked, and breaths stopped while the smooth, wooden cock went deeper. Stayed, chests close so father could feel his son’s breath, hear every sound he made. “If you’re hard, you can rub your rod now.” Father aimed the head of the dildo to rub along the boy’s wall, every pass giving a long, smooth, deeper rub. Small hand grabbed his rod, then found his way to his father’s leaking shaft. He glanced upward. “Not now. This time is just for you.” … Took a while of gentle prodding, sighs and patience, and the boy began pushing back, wanting more inside him. Father pulled the wooden substitute away abruptly, Yuuto didn’t like that. “Lay on your back, lover. Open your legs, this is what you really want.” A thoughtful, slow defloration began inside the ready young body. Feet over his father’s shoulders, eyes locked as they spoke in silence, describing their sensations, their anticipation for the moment of filling. The hot, wet shiny-tight glans of father touched the relaxed muscle of the boy’s hole, “I love you.” Yuuto shut his eyes, expecting the harsh stretch again, but it didn’t happen. Father brought moisture, ease to his penetration. Slowly, just watching each other’s faces, unseen trembles rocked both of them. Father hadn’t enjoyed such a moment in over a decade, he relished each millimeter of the hot folds parting against his glans. Yuuto wanted the stroking to begin, exciting him, like before. He wanted the small explosions sending sparks of electricity to the inside of his skin. Only the introduction to this tradition was slow. Father leaned back on his knees, pushing his son’s thighs away, knees near the boy’s ears. An ancient rhythm began, both bodies adjusted for their needs and in the cold air, their sweat dripped, an odd sensation; hot and cold. It heightening their need to come together in that final fulfilling moment. Close. Close. Closer, harder. Urgency filled their eyes, colored the skin red as lust speeded their breaths. Father couldn’t stop himself, he rammed as his semen filled the small rectum, again, again. It escaped the boy’s heated tunnel filling the air around them with the aroma of passion. Again and again, he pushed, rammed hard into the depths of the boy whose face was asking for all of him. Again and again, he tried forcing more from his rod, deep into his son. Emptied. Unable to bring any more motion between them any more pleasure, any more gift. Relaxed, his grimace fell into a soft, satisfied smile. Relaxed, his arms flexed as he lay on top of the boy gently. Father relaxed as he sighed deeply in relief. Their smells coated him, sweat, lust, mostly his. An adolescent doesn’t make much, and he was grateful for their closeness Holding the boy against him with tenderness. “Is it what you expected? Did I please you, my love?” Smooth cheek rubbed his stubbled face with a pleased nod. “I love you.” Yuuto’s first words. End. Yuuto

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