Title: Blow That Whistle 2
Author: Shadey Grey
Story Codes: Mb, cons, mast, oral, pedo, ped, preteen
Synopsis: Warren's (28) voyage across the country has begun with
the railroad owner's son in the cab with him. Benjamin (6) has
already had his first taste of being a relief crewman, but he
isn't sure he likes the job so much yet...
*****Please feel free to email me!  Let me know what you think:
shadeygrey0@gmail.com
*****You can find more of my stories here:
/files/Authors/Shadey_Grey/

	Things settled down for the next hour. Besides the rumbling of
the diesel machine around us and the wind buffeting the doors and
windows, it was quiet. Ben had taken up position in the rocking
chair with some picture books while I manned the controls. Which
is where any responsible train operator was supposed to be. Not,
you know, fondling young boys. Or attempting to drown them in
bodily fluids. While long straightaways with nothing in between
left little for me to do, I would have been canned for so much
time not looking out the window. And arrested.
	Things got fairly busy on the rails at that point anyway.
Passing through little hamlets and sharper turns meant constant
changes in speed. Status updates on the radio and route
confirmations had to be made as well. Not surprising, considering
how unusual the destination was. But it left me precious little
time to glance back at my passenger, whose cheeks remained flush
red for a while after his first relief experience.
	Once upon a time, the operation of a train could mesmerize me.
Each lever, knob, or gauge blended together into a cohesive
whole, one that seemed to fill me up with each new mile of rail
that passed by. I could feel the wheels turning, the mechanics
pumping, the fuel flowing. Seeing them wasn't important-- it was
all in the vibrations coming off of the cabin floor. They rode up
my legs, told my arms what was next. That was how we talked, how
we bonded.
	Up until this run, it had always been like that. Now, this
diesel beast could not have felt farther away. Everything else
felt like empty metal, lifeless machinery. The movement of Gurta
was not a foreign language, but it hardly spoke to me. The fact
was that I had something that superseded every dream and scheme
that came before. The only thing my body wanted to connect with
was Ben.
	Everything was on autopilot because my mind was focused on a
singular goal. Through every adjustment, I was thinking about how
to maximize my time with him. His innocence, his willingness, and
his trust made me think of nothing but how to make dreams come
true. I was surprised to even find myself wondering if he would
grin and bear being fucked for me. The boy was only five,
impossibly small, and I was trying to wrap my head around how to
convince him to do it and take the pain. I came in the boy's
mouth, so anything seemed possible in my head.
	After a while, we came back to a smooth patch of steel, miles
before any changes to be concerned about. The rail way had
rescheduled a number of other trains on our behalf and had given
us a wide berth to account for any issues with the engine-- and
avoiding pushing her anywhere near her limits. The allowance left
my mind wandering back to the boy behind me. After that first
experience, I thought space would be an appropriate thing to
give. But less than two hours later, distance was the last thing
on my mind. One time and  I was addicted to Ben. And I already
needed more.
	“Hey, Ben!” I called.
	At first, I got no reply. I was afraid to ask whether it was
just the loudness of the engine or him ignoring me that made it
so. “So, do you want to learn how to drive this train or what?”
	Ben practically ran into my legs, leaving a trail of picture
books in his wake. “Really? I can drive?!” The light had returned
to his eyes, leaving no uncertainty as to where his spirit had
gone.
	“Sure, buddy. Of course you can. But first, you got to know what
it all does.” As I put him front and center at the chair-less
console (modeled after the steam engines that came before), I
immediately realized the first problem with this idea. “And you
also need to be able to reach them.”
	My young relief crew looked down at the ground, as if the world
was over. But I was not ready to give up that fast. “Wait here.”
	I rummaged around in some of the cabinets on the far wall,
looking for something I could use. A moment's searching provided
what I needed. A large plastic milk crate containing a few small
assembly parts that had frequently failed on Gurta. They were the
sorts of things you just couldn't think to store anywhere and
just could not find when you needed them most. Without a second
thought to them, I dumped the contents into the bottom of the
cabinet and slammed the door shut.
	Ben had stabilized himself with a bar by the console, waiting
patiently. The milk crate was flipped over and put into place,
with one of my feet stopping it from sliding around.. With a
dramatic flourish, I waved Ben over. “Mister Engineer, I believe
you will find this to be adequate.”
	As the object of my affection clambered up, a bump caught him
off guard. I was ready for it and caught him from behind. The
return to contact sent shivers up my spine. I carefully righted
the boy on the box, keeping one hand on his back. Ben looked
bewildered. “I thought I was going to fall down!” he exclaimed,
laughing nervously.
	“You are fine with me, buck-o. I'll be right here,” I told him,
wrapping an arm gently around his waist. And so I began to
explain each gauge and lever, drawing up his little hand to each
part as we went. Whenever possible, I had him adjust things a
little, making sure he could feel the difference. I talked to him
about signs on the way and how to respond to them. Ben was all
smiles and giggles at the sheer joy of standing there, doing what
seemed like only something an adult could do.
	I also made sure to rain down affectionate praise on him for
every question, every bit of a job well done. At first, squeezes
and verbal encouragement were the limit, but as he leaned back
into me and regained his comfort, I got a little more forward.
The arm wrapped around him was exploring his front quite a bit,
tickling his sides, stroking his chest and tummy, and even
chasing down his legs a bit. I even gave him a few kisses on his
cheek and neck when he did really well, eliciting more shy, silly
laughter.
	Gentle, aimless strokes became targeted investigations of my boy
engineer. Broad caresses of his entire chest narrowed to teasing
his nipples through his shirt. And trips down his belly led to
his inner thighs and I was no longer shying away from his special
junction. It was hard to feel much through the baggy overalls,
but errant gropes did find more than just rippled corduroy. The
laughter died down a bit as my jokes and jibes became whispers
and my kisses lingered a bit longer on his neck, a bit lower
towards the edge of his shirt.
	Ben was trying to keep up with the console, but all of the
touches were a big distraction. His little knees wobbled a little
and he left most of the responsibility of keeping himself upright
to my chest and shoulders. My trips between his legs had the most
effect on him. He would put his legs together, mashing my hand in
between his thighs and holding it there while a finger or two
explored the tiny bulge inside. His shyness only excited me more.
	“You are a very good engineer,” I whispered into his ear before
giving the little lobe a nibble. Ben's cheeks were flush red with
a mixture of embarrassment and stimulation. While he was
distracted, my hand slipped into the side of his Osh Gosh
overalls and dipping swiftly under his shirt. The luxury of a
five year old's skin, intensely soft and smooth, warm and without
flaw, was something I had never known before then. I cupped the
beautiful, rounded tummy of a boy hardly old enough to attend
school. My finger found his belly button, dipping and giving a
playful wiggle.
	I could have been content just petting this boy for hours, but I
could not hold back when the prize was so close. I kissed him
just shy of his lips as my hand slid downward, enveloping the
whole of the boy's underwear-clad groin. The heat of my hand and
his body together radiated over the both of us. Ben let out a
gasp at the feeling, the first vocalization since I began.
Inside, I could feel the soft head of his Kindergarten-sized cock
and balls, barely large enough to stand out from his abdomen.
With all the care of a lover, I massaged his lump all at once,
rolling and squeezing his boyhood around within the confines of
his undies.
	My assault on the rest of his body continued. Abandoning the
pretense of teaching him the train, my free arm pulled his shirt
free of the overalls keeping its hem down. My head dove down his
neck and over the crumpled shirt I had pulled up, finding the
milky skin of a little boy's chest to taste. My tongue and lips
roamed across the pale flesh, chasing its rises and its falls.
His youthful sweat and silky skin left me intoxicated.
	And lo and behold, in my lower hand, I felt something I had only
before imagined feeling. Up against my rubbing palm, a stiffness
poked, riding each stroke along the creases of the underwear that
trapped it. A part of me couldn't believe it, that a boy so young
could even get one. And that it was happening because of what I
did. I swiftly slipped my hand under the band of his final
defense and took hold of his cock in my fingers, feeling the tiny
shaft thickened with blood and youthful stimulation. A few slow,
full strokes rewarded me with a twitch and a quick breath from a
boy entirely uncertain of what was happening to him.
	 I stopped for a moment, unlocking my lips from a hardening boy
nipple and cradling this precious childhood erection. My eyes
caught his. I looked for signs of fear or a flight instinct, but
couldn't see it. Confusion-- and something akin to sexual
tension-- was all I saw. I took hold of one of the clasps on his
overalls. “It looks like I am not the only one,” I said quietly
as I popped the shoulder strap free, “who needs a relief crew.”
The strap fell away . “And since you are the engineer now,” I
continued, taking hold of the other clasp, “I guess it is up to
me.”
	The front flap fell away, revealing the baby boy belly of the
beautiful, spoiled, little five year old on that crate, all the
way down to the beginning of his underwear. I shucked the
corduroy down to his ankles to reveal a loose-fitting pair of
Thomas the Tank Engine underoos, plastered in blue and white,
faces of the characters everywhere. And one of those faces looked
stretched, with something trying to escape its left eye.
	Ben stared down at me from his crate, eyes unblinking. His
little hands nervously clutched the top of his shirt, unsure of
what to do with them or any other part of his shaking body. I
swiveled myself in front of him, both hands keeping a firm grip
on his hips so that he wouldn't fall. I tilted my head and kissed
his tummy while looking up at him, making sure he could see me,
as I eased his final bit of clothing down his legs.
	Finally, I had him. The baby fat created a v shape that drew my
eyes down to a nub of an erection, probably less than two inches
forward, but doubtless stiff as a board. The warmth of my hand
may have relaxed his little sack, but the rush of air to it made
it begin a retreat. “Oh Benji,” I said, almost gasping it out. My
hand followed the crease of that v down, took hold of his little
cocklet. “You are incredible, buddy. Just perfect.” Teasing it up
and down experimentally, watching his little balls rise with each
upstroke, I gently milked the young boy I knelt before. I cupped
his jewels, kissed his abdomen, and breathed warm air over the
jumpy little helmet of his cock. Before I had the time to censor
myself, I whispered “I love you, buddy,” as my lips made contact
with his cock.
	I practically groaned as my tongue touched the juncture of his
abdomen and his bouncing  penis. Tracing the underside and over a
little ripple of  white skin, I reached his little, circumcised
head, bright pink with pleasure. Back down, the taught sack
cradled two tiny orbs, almost hidden within his abdomen. Still, I
could roll them this way and that. When I returned to the center
of this boy's sexual pleasure, I engulfed it. Ben whimpered as
heat and wetness surrounded his most sensitive place, lashing it
with whips of the tongue, sucking it straight and teasing places
he never knew could give feelings like this. His back arched with
the surprise, but relaxed quickly in my arms.
	Cradling his torso in my eager arms, I went to work on the boy's
immature cock. Slow, easy movements became firmer. I sucked
harder and lapped all over his glans. His hips and leg muscles
twitched randomly while I worked, unprepared for the assault. And
when his body didn't know where to go, I took hold of his bottom
and humped his hips into my face. When my eyes strayed upwards to
Ben's face, he was watching me with rapt attention, riding my
hands and my mouth with his lips pursed into an “o”.
	Extra saliva dribbled over his scrotum, making it glimmer in the
speeding day light of the train. And as I pumped the boy into my
curling tongue, my fingers explored the hidden confines of his
plump ass, seeking darker recesses. Ben barely seemed to notice
my fingers stumbling upon his puckered entrance, but he let out
another gasp when I centered one finger on it and began to
massage it.
	A little excess saliva from his front made playing with his
bottom easier. Just the very tip wiggled against it, using the
wetness of my spit to tease some relaxation from his muscles. The
process seemed like digging a hole through concrete with a spoon,
but each wiggle of my fingertip found his ass a bit more pliable.
As the boy's legs became truly weak, barely able to keep himself
upright, I felt something give and one of my fingers slipped in
to the first knuckle.
	That is when it finally happened. Ben's hands fell from his
shirt and clutched at the hair on my head.  His little frame
quivered as all of his muscles gave out on him and he leaned
forward, relying almost exclusively on my head to keep him from
falling. A crying gasp fell out out of his mouth as his hips
jabbed in any direction he could conjure, kept in check only by
the guidance my hands forced them to continue moving in. In my
mouth, Ben's little cock became stiff as a nail and swelled once,
twice, three times before suddenly going soft and slipping from
my lips on its own. Around my finger, I could feel his tight anus
rippling, squeezing and releasing, sucking and pushing, before
finally devolving into a weak shudder.
	I pulled my hand free of his vice grip of a rear end and eased
Ben to a sitting position on the crate. His Osh Gosh overalls and
underoos remained bundled around his ankles. He breathed so hard
that I could see his rib cage pressing up against his skin. The
boy's head hung low over his bare chest, the mop of hair
disheveled.
	Just as Ben was overwhelmed by what happened to his body, I was
equally so about how intense an orgasm he could have. I came into
the trip not even sure if a boy could maintain an erection, let
alone go that far. But looking at the mostly naked boy in his
afterglow, I knew something had been broken past, something new
opened up-- for both of us.
	“Are you ok?” I asked.
	“Yeah,” Ben replied, not looking up.
	I pulled his chin up to look at me. “Was that good?”
	Ben didn't really know how to respond. That much was clear in
his eyes.
	“Well, buddy, that is what it felt like for me when you helped
me. It is a really special thing people do for each other. I know
it felt pretty weird, but it is pretty good too, I think. I like
doing it. I like doing it with you the most. So, if you want to
feel that way again, I want to do it for you. And I like it when
you do it to me too, but you don't have to do it if you don't
want to.”
	Ben looked around for a moment. “But that's what relief does...”
	“Lots of other things too. Every crew does it differently,” I
said. “That one you don't have to do. But I like doing it, for me
or for you.” I put my hands on his bare thighs, stroking them
with my thumbs. “I think it is fun to blow that whistle and pump
the piston with you.”
	Ben had a confused look, then smiled a little. “The code!” he
gasped.
	“Now you got it.” Pulling Ben up to a standing position by his
armpits, I took one last look over his nude form before I reached
down to begin covering it up when Ben stopped me.
	“Wait,” he said. Before I could even straighten up, he threw
himself at me and wrapped his short arms around my neck and
hugged me. I pulled him tight to me and hugged back.
	“Alright, now let's get back to running this train,” I said,
pulling his underroos back up and snuggling the elastic high up
to see his little bulge. “As much as I like looking at you, I
can't have you tripping around the cabin.” The overalls came back
up and, before either of us knew it, there wasn't a single
visible sign that anything had taken place. Besides a slowly
relaxing bulge in my own suit, anyway. There would be time for
that  later, I decided.

	By the standards of the first half of the day, the second half
was uneventful. With both myself and Ben “relieved” and having
plenty to think on, it was nice to take a break. My bulge took a
while to relax after having a personal dream of mine come true.
It did not help that I continued to replay Ben's faces and sounds
in my mind. The mesmerizing blur of forest and countryside made
it easy to slip in and out my memory.
	My five year old companion was tired out by the work so far. He
was returned to the rocking chair to rest it off. Soon enough, he
was asleep, with a tiny, high pitched snore. The things kids
could sleep through boggled me. The sound of the diesel engine
was enough to make speaking difficult and he was out like a
light. Every bump of the rails bounced his hair a little, but
left him motionless on the cushions. It was almost easy to
pretend that the whole day could have been that way.
	I was left to myself. And when introspection was upon me, I was
surprised to find that I did not feel particularly guilty about
what we had done. If anything, I felt more courageous than ever
before, even invincible somehow. Fear did not fit into the
equation either. I had no doubt that Ben and I would have to talk
about keeping secrets or some such, but nothing made me think he
would rat me out. Predicting the future was never my strong suit,
but there was no reason I could come up with that this could end
up any other way besides happily.
	The only scary bit to the whole thing was an errant phrase I
told him. He probably didn't even hear me confess my love for
him, but that wasn't the truly terrifying part of the moment; the
fact that it was probably true was. My fantasies about boys were
just sex. There were no poems, cuddles, or moonlit strolls in my
masturbatory imaginings. I never hoped to spend years with a kid,
building some kind of bond with him. And growing old was a deal
breaker for both of us.
	And yet, every time I glanced over my shoulder at Ben, there was
no denying something beyond lust creeping into my chest. Parental
concern? Cute overload? Dear God, I thought to myself. Anything
but love. Not only did it seem silly for an adult to fall in love
with a five year old, but I only had a few days with the boy. Not
to mention that we only met a few hours ago. By any reasonable
standards, I was acting like an idiot. Or a teenager.
	The only advice I could come up with for myself was to keep
cool. It was a bit too late for that. As if I could even stop
myself at this point. I had enough of a taste to know nothing
else would suffice. So the only question left for me to answer
was how far I would go. The question wanted an answer, but I was
afraid to pin any of it down. Not because I didn't want a limit,
but because I didn't know whether or not I had the self control
to obey one.

	No clock was needed for me to realize the first day of travel
was already over. With no relief crew and a goal of making the
most distance I could each day, I had plotted overnight stops for
sleeping as far apart as I could. Only one stop had any
conveniently-located civilization and it wasn't tonight. We
remained on schedule and the next stop was ours: an old
side-track that hadn't been used for anything besides allowing
passes and emergency stops for about 4 decades. Originally, it
had been an extension that led to a mine, but that area had long
since shut down and the rails leading all the way there left in
disrepair. Eventually, it would be blocked off.
	I called in to make my rail change as I ramped down my speed. It
took about five minutes of arguing on the radio because no one
knows how to handle anything beyond routine on rails these days.
But,when the junction arrived, Gurta eased herself off of the
main line and the engine slipped into a crawl, then a halting
lurch.
	“Up and at 'em, relief crewman!” I said, kicking the rocking
chair a few times.
	Ben stirred from his nap, yawning like a baby. “How come we've
stopped?”
	“We are done for today. Time to set up camp,” I said as I
rummaged through a storage cabinet.
	“...camp?”
	“Yep. Take a look out the window, bucko.”
	The boy stumbled to the open door of the train. Outside, he was
greeted with a vision of a span of trees and a small, beaten down
opening in them. The sun had almost completely set. Besides the
engine's light, there appeared to be nothing electrical in sight.
With the loss of the sun, the breeze and turned from kind to
sharp and even the heat off of the engine wasn't enough to make
it disappear entirely. “There is nothing here,” he said, a touch
of concern in his voice.
	“Besides us, anyway.”
	“And it is cold.”
	“Then we bundle up. Haven't you been camping before?” I asked as
I wrenched free the camping tent. A fold up chair tumbled out
along with it, making an unholy clatter on the steel floor of the
engine.
	Ben hurried back to me, concern turning to fear. He shook his
head and frowned with puffy pink lips.
	“Oh don't be like that, bud! Camping is fun. We are going to
build a fire to stay warm, see the stars, and cook up some grub.”
The cooler slipped free of a shelf and nearly hit me on the head.
I barely caught it. “I mean really, what boy doesn't like
camping?” I muttered to myself. “You'll see, Ben. Once you've got
a hot dog going, you'll be a happier camper.”
	“...there are hot dogs?”
	“Oh yes. All the hot dogs you can eat.”
	That did it. Ben was all smiles again. He was about ready to
leap out of the engine door before I caught him. I told him to
gather up his things and put on a jacket while I lugged the
bedroll and supplies down. The climb up and down an engine wasn't
for a young boy, especially one his age. With a tent, bedding,
food, drink, and cooking supplies brought down, I picked Ben up
out of the doorway and swung him to the ground. The dramatic
flair was certainly appreciated with a few giggles before we got
to setting up.
	“Alright crewman, time to set up camp. Take a look over by those
trees and bring some wood over here. Sticks, bigger pieces,
whatever you can find. Just leave it if its got a lot of leaves
or if it feels wet, ok?”
	Ben ran to the tree line, eager to have a job again. I assembled
a ring of rocks for the fire and began setting up the tripod for
cooking. Maybe he wouldn't care so much for the beans, but I
could not imagine his stomach being able to handle more than
three hot dogs and their buns anyway.
	While I wrestled the tent into submission, my helper came
dashing back with some meager pickings, sticks and twigs, and
dumped them in the circle. I told him a couple more piles that
big and it would be enough. So off he went shuffling through
leaves and grass in a puffy blue coat, almost waddling as he ran.
A part of me wondered if I looked that silly when I was his age.
If I blurred my eyes, I thought he was a cartoon blueberry.
	I had to join him in the search for wood before it was over. A
few bigger pieces made the most impact. I carried a few bigger
pieces back with us. A dash of lighter fluid and a flash of the
match got our fire going, accompanied by the claps of a five year
old never before having been so close to an open fire in his
life. We set up my only camp chair and I brought the milk crate
down for Ben.
	We settled down and watched the fire. Ben was mesmerized by it,
following the popping ash into the air, carried by tendrils of
smoke, then becoming invisible when they got out of range of the
fire's light. Really, I liked watching his joy. I always thought
of kids his age as having no attention span, really just jumping
from toy to toy. But Ben seemed to savor this fire like it fed
his soul or something. It seemed to--
	“I'm hungry.”
	Well, he made it a few minutes. “Dinner it is.”

	Ben had a ball roasting hot dogs. He caught his first one on
fire, so I ate the charred mystery meat for him. By his second,
he had a good handle on skewering his dog and getting it nice and
hot. Before I knew it, the two of us were chattering away about
this and that like new best friends. He had a lot to say, but
that was fine by me. Talking with five year old kids has it's
challenges-- ones that might have driven me nuts for any other
kid--, but, for him, it seemed strangely relaxing. I didn't have
an explanation for it, nor did I question it. It was perfectly
reasonable for me to like it when Ben did things other children
would have earned my ire for.
	 As the fire died down and Ben ran out of things to carry on
about, we got cold and quiet. Without any fanfare or declaration,
Ben crawled off of his crate and into my lap. I held him close
and leaned back with him, looking up at the stars. I never
imagined myself being much of a father, but this was the sort of
thing boys were supposed to do with their dads. Though I didn't
know much about Ben's life, I imagined that his father wasn't the
type to make time to sit like this. A mountain of nannies, video
games, or toys could never replace sitting in the lap of someone
who you feel safe with at his age. Even if that person molested
you mere hours ago...
	Despite the mess I had led the two of us into, both of us found
some semblance of peace underneath Orion and the Big Dipper. Even
though he was probably so confused he couldn't begin to ask for
clarification and I was stuck somewhere between mania and
addiction, we had found an eye in this storm. And while the
looking forward or backward only showed the threat of chaos,
remaining in the moment left us at ease.
	I knew I was going to ruin the beauty of it before the night was
out, but at least I got to feel like it was all ok for a little
while.

	Eventually, it was time to turn in. And when I pulled out the
only sleeping bag and looked it over, I couldn't believe I hadn't
thought about it sooner. It was too cold not to be wrapped up.
Then again, had I been able to see everything up until this point
before I started packing, I might have “forgotten” a second
sleeping bag anyway. I sent Ben for one more chance to go potty
in the bushes while I got things ready for bed. The ridiculous
period costume I was forced to wear came off in no time. Had Ben
not been with us, I might have done the whole first day after I
pulled out of the station in the buff just to get out of it. It
probably cost someone a pretty penny, but I wasn't about to start
respecting that crap if I didn't agree to. So it found a place in
the corner of the tent where I wouldn't have to look at it
anymore.
	The sleeping bag would be enough for the two of us. Ben was so
small he barely counted as a stuffed animal. I settled into the
bag, warming up the soft material with a few wiggles. Still, the
cold air was nipping at my top half while I waited. And Ben took
his time.
	When he finally stepped into the tent, he froze. It took me a
moment to realize why. I probably looked like a bad imitation of
a porno shot for women: reclined on one side, head resting on my
arm, and the sleeping bag unzipped just far enough to show my
cock waiting for him. He looked at me shyly. “Where are your
Pjs?” he asked.
	Not here, I thought. “Well, there's nothing to hide,” I said.
“You have seen all this before.”
	Ben started to sit down on the open part of the sleeping bag,
clothes and all, but I stopped him.
	“Buddy buddy... Come on now. You don't sleep in your clothes.
What? Are you nervous?”
	Ben looked at me, uncertain of what to do.
	“Is it because of the stuff we did earlier?”
	The boy looked away.
	I sighed. “Look, Ben. That sort of thing is special, for people
who really like each other. And I really like you. But if you
don't like it, I won't do it. Either way, there isn't a reason to
be shy. You've seen my...” What does a kid his age call it?
“...thing. And I've seen yours. So, nothing to hide. Ok?”
	Ben nodded slowly.
	“Good, now let's get you out of those nice clothes and under the
covers. Its cold out here!” I sat up in the bag, quickly undoing
the suspender snaps. He did the one-two step out of his overalls,
using my shoulders for balance. I pulled up his shirt and he
shivered. Before he could contend otherwise, I tugged away his
dirty undies as well. I damned the moon for not being bright
enough to enjoy his figure properly.
	“Its too cold,” he whined, hopping in place as I tossed his
closed aside.
	“Well, then get in here, silly,” I replied, dragging him down
onto the bag and pulling him right up into my chest. A quick zip
and a bit of wiggling around left us bundled, all naked. His back
followed my chest and stomach, his bottom ending just short of my
pubic mound. And his skin was already having an effect on me. I
had never felt something so smooth, so electrically tactile, in
all my life. “Warmer now?”
	“Yeah,” he said, not looking at me.
	For a while, both of us laid there in awkward silence. In my
sex-rutted mind, I had imagined us passionately making love
together, with lots of orgasms and not a single word of dialogue
beyond “ooo's” and “ahh's”. Instead, we were laying ramrod stiff,
each of us afraid to move. It was becoming clear that I had
messed things up. I don't know why giving him a blowjob was
supposed to erase forcing it on him or make him feel more
comfortable about the whole thing. The longer he had to think
about it, the more I felt like shit. Even my dick couldn't get
past that forever.
	“Can we talk about it?” I asked finally.
	“I guess,” he whispered.
	“I know what we did probably scared you,” I said. “I'm sorry.
But I promise it is not bad or naughty. I told you that it is for
people who like each other. That's because people do it to make
each other feel good. Remember how I got all excited and told you
it felt really good after that stuff went in your mouth?”
	Ben nodded, finally turning his head a little to look my way.
	“Well, that's because it was true. You did something that made
me feel awesome. And remember when I put your thing in my mouth?
How did it feel?”
	The boy paused. “It felt funny...”
	“Funny how?”
	“I dunno.”
	“Did it hurt?”
	“No.”
	“Did it make butterflies in your tummy?”
	Ben finally looked me in the eyes. “Yeah, like that. And it made
me want to fall down.”
	“It made you pretty tired in the legs, huh?”
	“Yeah.”
	“Did you feel tingles on your thing too?”
	“Kinda like peeing, but better.” Ben rolled over onto his back
to look at me. “But I didn't pee.”
	“No, you didn't,” I said. I got courageous enough to pet the
hair on his head. “It is called an orgasm. Or 'cumming'. It feels
like peeing because your thing is trying to push something out,
but you don't have it yet. Remember when you did my thing? How
some stuff came out? That's what will come out when you grow up
some. Did you like that feeling?”
	Ben cocked his mouth to the side, his deep thought face. “I
dunno. It was scary.”
	I nodded solemnly. “Well, I didn’t do a good job explaining it,
did I? It took you by surprise, didn’t it?”
	“Yeah.” He wasn’t upset, just exasperated.
	“Well, do you understand it a little better now?”
	“Sort of…”
	I remembered reading endless declarations about the need to
sexually educate children and agreeing without much thought. I
never tried to puzzle through how to explain sex to a kid. In
erotic fiction, they always made it out to be so simple. “Why
don’t you ask me a question then? Maybe I can help you figure it
out.”
	Ben bit his lower lip, squeezing the plump little bit of flesh
as he sought words for his confusions. The boy’s readjustment had
my half-hard dick resting on his thigh. His body was like hot
silk and made it hard to concentrate on selling all this sex
stuff to a six year old. “How come it gets big?” he asked at
last.
	“Well, uhh… It gets big—we usually call it ‘getting hard’—for
lots of reasons I guess. Sometimes if you rub it, it gets that
way. Or if you really like the way somebody looks. And sometimes
it does it for no reason at all, just to make your pants look
silly.” I smiled and poked his sensitive neck a little, eliciting
a small giggle from him. “Just like a big old tent!”
	Ben batted away the assaulting fingertip, wiggling in place.
Relief washed over me as I finally caught a smile on his face
again, a sign that maybe everything would be ok after all. As his
laughter fell away, he realized-- at about the same time I did in
fact-- that his smile was not the only thing that returned to us.
Between the wiggling, the talk of sex, and the breaking of
tensions, my cock had found even rubbing up against the boy's
knees as worth rising for. He paused as he nudged it tentatively
with a bare leg. “Your thing got big,” he muttered, almost as if
it were an inconvenience, not unlike discovering the batteries
died on a toy.
	“Yep,” I said, matching his level of enthusiasm.
	“How come?”
	“This time? You did it this time.”
	Ben furrowed his brow and huffed. “It is not my fault! I didn't
do anything.”
	“All of this,” I replied, wobbling the boy's body around like a
wet noodle in the sleeping bag, “is why. Don't worry about it.
You are off the hook for this one though.”
	“Huh?”
	“If it scares you so much and you don't want to be the relief
crew, you don't have to be. You can just ride the train and
watch.” I was being genuine, trying to free Ben from what I was
starting to realize was just a dirty manipulation. I felt pretty
guilty, even as I craved him doing more, setting him up with the
whole relief crew idea.
	We sat for a few minutes in silence. My erection was not
settling, resting against the back of his thigh. Even motionless
in the cold, I found heaven in that skin. I could promise Benji
that he didn't have to do anything with it, but so long as his
mop top of strawberry-scented hair, pink lips, and boyish charm
remained alongside me, I would be spending much of the trip on
the rise. I buried my nose in that auburn mess and just breathed
it in. Though I had always fantasized about boys, it never
included romance or intimacy. I was starting to see what those
lovey-dovey perverts were getting at with their fawning over
their lovers. There was something to this, just being with a boy.
Even if nothing ever happens again, I thought, just being around
him might be enough.
	“Mr. Harris?” His voice was a delicate squeak muffled in the
sleeping bag's pillow.
	“Yes, Benji?”
	“I want to help.”
	I took a deep breath. My cock flexed of its own volition,
pressing in between the little boy's thighs. Whether or not he
really wanted it or was just trying to please me, the offer was
going to be taken. “I would like that a lot, bud. Would you mind
if I helped you feel good too?” I asked. My arm, once wrapped
around his chest, slid down over his belly, thumb tracing the rim
of his belly button and finger tips spreading down the slope
toward his boyhood.
	Benji nodded quietly, not moving.
	My hand pressed on with permission, pushing his thighs apart.
Ben's tiny testicles were nestled almost inside him from the
cold, with a nub of circumcised head poking out above. The boy
splayed out for me as I coaxed his smooth sack to relax with
gentle rubs and tugs. Between my finger and thumb, I began to
tease the boy out. Fingertips slipped, rolled, and stroked over
the sensitive surface of his little exposed head. Even in the
cold, with the nerves of a boy still uncertain of all of this, he
grew stiff in my clutches. I flicked his two inches of hard
youth, eliciting squirms from him. “Now yours is like mine,” I
said quietly as I took the boy's immobile hand and led it to his
own erection. Ben grasped himself experimentally. My hand still
held his, guiding him on how to hold it, and how to stroke it.
“Doesn't it feel nice?”
	The darkness hid Benji's flushed cheeks. He remained silent, but
as his hand, gripped in my own, began to make a rhythm on him, he
rolled fully onto his back and let out a gargled giggle of
childish pleasure. Placid faced and dazed with the funny
feelings, he soon got the rhythm down of stroking himself. “Keep
going,” I whispered to him as I adjusted my cock to rest on his
legs again. As much as I wanted Ben to get me off, I wanted him
to learn why he was doing it, how it felt. And it wasn't just his
front I was after either.
	As Benji clumsily jerked on himself in the tight confines of our
sleeping bag, my hand snuck down farther between his legs,
pushing through the resistance of the boy's tight butt cheeks. He
whimpered in surprise when my finger found his entrance, even
though I did nothing more than play on it delicately. His whole
body turned tense. “You're ok,” I said quietly. “Just relax...”
And it did. His legs laid flat and his back eased. He maintained
his rhythm. For my eyes, there were little stabs below our heads
where his hand bobbed up and down on himself. As I nuzzled the
cold air away from Ben's cheeks, he began to pant like a little
puppy dog from the stimulation.
	Massaging circles worked away the tensing muscles protecting his
virgin rear. But Ben had plateaued with his hand, seeming to be
no closer to cumming than he was the minute before. And as much
as it sounded nice to just feel him stroke himself and rub his
ass, I needed more for myself. I reluctantly departed from Ben's
ass and cradled his hand until he stopped. “Why don't we make
each other feel good at the same time? Would that be ok? I gotta
shift around here...”
	Ben nodded, though I hadn't waited for consent. I grabbed him by
the waist and pulled him atop me as I slid onto my back. The
boycock of my new lover pressed into my stomach, twitching with
excitement. Face to face in the night, I stole a little kiss and
smile out of Ben. “Alright kiddo. Spin around.”
	“Huh?” The tyke tried to rotate onto his back, but I stopped
him.
	“No... Go down under the covers, goofball. Go find mine, head
first now. Then I'll have yours up here. Go on.” Ben looked more
than a little dubious, but his head slipped down under the folds
of the sleeping bag. A leg nearly caught my balls as he made his
way. “H-hey, watch what you are doing down there!”
	Between the constricting bedding and a confused boy, the moment
was slipping. “I'm stuck!” he squealed somewhere down there. A
ball of limbs kicked and wrenched their way around inside, like a
baby bear had found its way in. All I could see was a flailing
amorphous shape under the covers. When I tried to reach down and
guide him, he squealed and shrieked in laughter. “T-tickles!” he
wailed. The more I helped, the worse it got. “Ahh!” he shrieked,
kicking away from my hands playfully.
	Before I knew it, both of us had devolved into laughter. I
realized pretty quickly how silly my whole plan was, which
brought on more laughter. Here was a kid who could hardly dress
himself and I was asking him to try and figure out a sixty nine
before he knew what that even was. If you had asked me a week
before if I would have thought being blue-balled by my own idiocy
was a laughing matter, I would have slapped you silly. And yet,
here I was, out of breath with amusement with a tangled up tyke
and that was a joy unto itself. I was surprised to have ended up
with Ben at all, even more surprised to fulfill a fantasy with
him. But of the many unexpected aspects of this whole affair, I
think the most shocking for me was how much I was turning out to
care for him.
	I unzipped the sleeping bag, letting a wave of cold air sweep
over us. Benji, the hairless spider monkey of a child, quickly
climbed back up me. “Cold!” he whined, clinging tightly to my
chest. With a flourish, I wrapped us back up again. Ben buried
his face in my chest and hugged me tight, legs akimbo over my
stomach. He had gone soft, his boyhood nestled into my belly
button. I was halfway to following suit myself. I decided nothing
could be done about it tonight. In these temperatures, it
couldn't be helped. There was nothing sexy about the chill. I
wrapped my tired arms around him, one hand to his side and the
other over his bubbly rump.
	“How's about we save the relief for when the sun is up?”
	“Ok.” He rested his head on my chest, just below my chin. We
must have sighed as a chorus. The pressure was off.
	The quiet of a forested night took over, with bugs, birds, and
the occasional breeze to fill in for the familiar noises of
sleeping in a bed. Even hours ago, the very act of cuddling a
naked kid would have driven me wild with lust. But like that, it
seemed just as fine to lay like this. Simply being close offered
something I spent my life scoffing at, something I wouldn't have
the balls to admit to for a while...

	When I woke up, I saw a cherub haloed in light-- just like the
stain-glassed windows promised and the priests often dreamed of.
But unlike the glorious hymns and imagined interventions of such
angels, this one's message from the divine was less magnanimous:
“I'm hungry.”
	As my eyes focused and my senses came back to me, I felt his
tiny hands propped on my pectorals and his bare rear end settled
just beyond. He was shaking me awake by pushing on me, rocking
back and forth. The birds chirped happily in the sun, whose rays
had stolen the icy nip from the air. I could not have guessed the
time, but it was probably late. I decided that I didn't care.
“Good morning to you too, brat.”
	Ben puffed his cheeks. “Am not!”
	“Are two times infinity plus infinity.”
	The boy's eyes went wide as he tried to figure out what came
next. I gave no time to formulate the reply as I rolled him off
me and undid the zip. A rush of gentle morning air greeted him,
far from the harsh cold of the evening. The cool air quickly
invaded every crease and junction, banishing the stuffy glow of
warmth. A tension in my abdomen reminded me of the first task of
the day, regardless of any grumbling bellies. “Up and at 'em,
crew. Time to drain the pipes.”
	The five year old scrambled out of the twisted sleeping bag
naked as the day he was born. It was my first time to get a good
look at him in his complete glory. His skin was pearly white, the
kind of perfect cream complexion that women dreamed of. Soft
curves rounded his chest and baby-fat belly, framing a shallow
belly button. His ribs were just barely visible, under a thin
layer of rich softness that the rough and tumble boys of my own
childhood couldn't afford to have. Sloping down and in, all lines
led to a tiny, pink ball of boy flesh outlined in a pale turtle
neck of wrinkled skin. The rest of his boyhood was driven into
hiding by the cool morning, tucked away into warmer climates.
There were no tan lines over his plump thighs and knobby knees,
nothing to indicate that he ever had to go out to play. I could
have stared at him all morning, but was brought to by his
question: “Is that another code?”
	“Uhh, yeah, it is. From steam engine days. It means take a
leak.”
	“Huh?”
	“I gotta pee!” I said in a silly voice, playfully messing up his
crown of spikey bed hair.
	“Oh!” Ben chirped his laughter, just as light and airy as the
birds.
	“Come on.” I ushered him to the edge of our little encampment
for the ever-important morning relief so essential to being a
boy. I led him in front of me, but hardly looked where I was
going. My eyes streamed down his spine, pouring over the lovely
arch that only kids his age had. I followed it down to a pair of
pristine buns with dimples on the sides when he stood up
straight. I imagined unconscionable things being done to that
rear in the name of boy love. I imagined him loving it, as
impossible as that seemed. I was hungry too, now, but it wasn't
the same thing.
	I stopped Ben with a jolt, both of my hands on his shoulders.
“Alright, drain those pipes!”
	Ben knew what was required of him and did it gladly. He thrust
his hips as far foreward as he could, grabbed hold of his willy
with both hands, and let loose a narrow stream in a big arc over
the bush. White teeth dug into pink lips as he focused on pushing
it all out. My eyes were absorbed in the whole affair, watching
every little change. The way his toes twitched and gripped the
dirt to keep his balance. The way his breathing became deeper.
The way his little cock head swelled and turned a paler shade of
pink. And, of course, standing behind him, the way his pristine
butt cheeks squeezed together. All to support the challenging
task of taking a wizz.
	When he was done, I reminded him to shake it off thoroughly,
like I had done for him on the engine yesterday. He did so, and
kept doing do for almost a minute. Pudgy fingers milked at the
soft skin, squishing and squeezing it into all sorts of shapes. I
wished I had done it for him. The show ended too quickly as he
looked back at me. “Your turn!” he said, pointing his finger up
at me. “Drain the pipes! Drain the pipes!” he nearly shouted at
me.
	I reached down to my own cock to find it as hard as it has ever
been in my life. I could barely aim it downward and every touch
sent jolts through me that had nothing to do with emptying my
bladder. I tried to push past it, but a few empty grunts was all
I got for my trouble. I've never been able to pee through an
erection and it was pointless to try.
	Before I could explain why, Ben reached over and grabbed hold of
my cock. “Do it!” he ordered, pushing it down farther than I was
ready for. I flinched and quickly grabbed the tyke's hand and
eased it up. “Looks like I can't go like this,” I said. “When its
hard like this, I can't pee. Maybe later.”
	I turned to walk back and Benji followed for a few steps before
dashing in front of me and grabbing my dick again. “Should I,
umm... Do I gotta help?”
	I froze at his touch. Benji looked up at me with those sparkling
big eyes and a nervous smile on his pink lips. Before I found
words, I had a flash of ropes of cum tossed over that perfect
expression. I shook it off. “I, uhh... Well, I'd like that, but
you don't-”
	Two hands immediately began rubbing the underside of my cock. My
knees nearly buckled at the sudden, firm stimulation. This early
in the morning, I was not used to that kind of attention. Ben's
eyes were fixed on the work before him, determined from last
night's talk to be good at it. His flat-palmed technique,
however, was lacking in the mastery department. Even that, from a
five year old boy, was a prize, but I wanted gold before this was
out.
	“O-ok, Benji, hold on a sec.” I peeled his hands off of me and
quickly led him by the arm back to our camp chairs. My original
intention was to get comfortable, but I changed my mind
immediately and lifted him up by his arm pits and sat him down in
the chair. I wanted to see all of him. Splayed out in the canvas
with his legs spread, I felt that hunger pang again.My cock hung
between us and I quickly leaned over him, bracing myself on the
back of the chair. I wasted no time grabbing his little hands and
putting them back on me. “Wrap your fingers around it, just like
this...” I explained as I molded his hands around the base of my
shaft. “Then slide up and down, just like this...” My hands moved
his for a few strokes, carefully adjusting his hands to make sure
they hit all of my spots. The cold was gone, replaced with a
lustful heat working through me. Ben's eyes were locked on his
task, staring the head of my dick eyes to eye.“Do you remember
what this is called?”
	The boy broke concentration as we paused. “Umm... Blow the
whistle?”
	“We're getting there,” I said. “What came before?”
	“Umm...” I let go of his hands and he stopped as he thought.
	I humped into those hands a little to inspire thought.
“P...p...”
	“Polishing!”
	“Polishing what?” I asked.
	Benji giggled nervously as his hands started up again, albeit
slowly. His hands were as soft as satin, untouched by work or
age. I wished they would never come off of me. “The... uhh...”
	“Crankshaft,” I said, winking at him.
	“Polishing the crankshaft!” he said excitedly, unconsciously
speeding up his ministrations.
	“Yes!” I groaned out, both for encouragement of him saying it
and for my own pleasure. “You got it buddy.” Benji used his whole
arms to work the grown up cock in his clutches. I watched each
pump move like a wave through him, shaking his nipples, flowing
over the little cushion of fat on his tummy, and jostling his own
little penis between his milky thighs. “Now you got it.” His
hands had similar effects on me. My balls swung with each pass,
the muscles in my chest and thighs twitched with involuntary
eagerness, and I panted with a mighty craving. I was leaking
freely over Ben's hands, making it all the easier for him to keep
my heart beating out of my chest. I could feel it in my fingers
and on my lips. Despite my relief yesterday, I was not going to
last long looking down at the gorgeous image of a willing five
year old splayed out underneath me. “Do you remember what comes
next?” I asked, my voice hoarse with perverse hunger.
	“Now blow the whistle?” he asked, pausing to look up at me.
	“You got it,” I muttered as I pushed my hips forward, putting it
right up against his lips.
	Ben didn't hesitate. His mouth opened wide and wrapped around my
head. The hot insides of his mouth hit me like a diesel train. I
throbbed and my balls jumped and tightened. Hunched over him, his
nest of brown hair bobbed over his bare tummy as if he was doing
crunches. I could see the edges of hips lips stretched around me,
pink turned pale from fitting such a big mouth full in. I could
hear little huffs from his nose as he kept up his breathing.
	“Keep those hands moving,” I urged him as I grasped a wrist and
restarted his jacking. “That's it. Now use your tongue on it
and... go up and down with your mouth.” Benji didn't really
understand my instructions, so I put my hand behind his head and
bobbed it for him, from tip to just past the crown. “Keep that
up, baby,” I groaned as I freed his head. He halted for a moment,
letting my cock out to breathe for a second, before slipping it
back in and doing his best to keep it up. Bobbing and jacking was
tough for the little guy and he only really managed to do one
well at a time. But it didn't matter, because I was on the edge
of cumming from the moment I put his hands on me. His mouth was
coated in precum, blended with his own saliva to make a potent
lubricant that was drenching his digits. I couldn't help but
hunch my hips into his mouth, bumping his head with every thrust.
I did my best to restrain myself from pushing too far in, but
with his lips stretched around me, I wanted every milimeter I
could get inside him. He gagged several times, but took it like a
trooper and kept on me for it.
	Nothing could hold me back any longer. I had a vision to create.
As my cum welled up, I stood up a bit straighter and pulled my
cock free of Ben's dribbling mouth. He kept it open, expecting me
to put it back in. I held his head in place as the first jet
splashed into his hair and over his cheek. Ben quickly closed his
eyes when he felt it, but kept his mouth open dutifully as the
second splash poured right in with the straggling drops over his
chin and down his chest. I grabbed Benji's hands and slowed them
down to a milking as I released his head. Ben and I watched in
collective amazement as he worked several more pale white globs
onto his panting chest and belly. The boy was slack-jawed as he
righted himself, cum still dripping down his lip, chin, and
cheek. My whole body was awash in my orgasm, soaking in the
sights, sounds, and incredible touches. After a moment of
catching my breath, I pulled my softening member from Ben's grip
and knelt beside him. I drew up the streak of my cum from his
chin and wiped it off on his upper tooth. It was only then that
he closed it, still dazed from the effort, and smacked his lips
to swallow and cleanse his pallet.
	“Phew!” I muttered at last as I slumped to a sitting position on
the soft dirt. “Benji, buddy, you did it!” I patted his limp
thigh firmly, giving it a squeeze, as he caught his breath. “You
did it so good. Was it ok for you?”
	Ben was licking his lips and wiping the side of his face to get
the errant splatter off of him. He didn't seem to care about his
chest or belly, even as a tiny drop of liquidy cum rolled down
his pubic mound. “It wasn't so hard,” he said, a hint of his
childish bravado and pride in his voice. He was busy inspecting
the juices now in his hand, seeing how they stretched and beaded
around his knuckles.
	The relief wasn't just to my libido when I heard him say that.
It was a far cry from his reaction to doing this the first time.
Ben's cheeks were still flushed, but he didn't burst into tears
or get scared of me. My concerns about the whole arrangement were
rolling away.“Well, not anymore...”
	“Huh?” he asked, finally looking down at me.
	I turned toward him and spread my legs. I tugged at the skin of
my pubic mount, showing  how floppy it had become. “See? All soft
now. You did it. You are the best. Now don't leave me hanging,” I
said, holding up my hand.
	Ben happily leaned forward in the chair to high-five me.
	“That's my crewman!” We both laughed over it. “So, you think you
are ok with being my relief crew after all?”
	Ben nodded as his hands began exploring the wetness on his chest
and belly. “I am born for the rails!” he said in as deep a voice
as he could muster.
	“Still hungry?” I asked, my hand lingering on his thigh and a
finger nuzzling his tightly-bound balls.
	“Yeah!”
	“Up and at 'em, crewman. Let's clean up and get some food in
these bellies then!”
	Benjamin Holden and I returned to the edge of the camp, even as
a dribble of my cum rolled down his stomach and thigh. Like a
charm, the boy's ministrations resolved my difficulties and I
finally was able to let loose a stream of dark, heavy-smelling
urine. Ben applauded the stream for how far it could go. For me,
it was like a second orgasm when it broke, sending more
electricity through me. Ben playfully helped me shake it dry,
something that got me half way hard again. But we ignored it, as
we had a day to get on with. I cracked open a gallon jug of water
and dumped some on his head and down his chest. I watched the
individual streams roll around the topology of boyish charm, from
the veil of dripping waterfalls of his hair to the  natural
channels and estuaries of his hips and thighs. There was a
certain sadness in watching the last of my seed be washed away
from his body. Of course, Ben could not sit still as cool water
met morning air. Hugging himself tight and dancing a jig in
place, he urged me to hurry with the bar of soap and washcloth as
I cleaned all of his dirty spots: under the arms, behind the
ears, down the belly, between his legs, and up between his butt
cheeks. I spent more time than I needed on the last two. I
treasured his boyhood, making sure every wrinkle of skin was
meticulously cleaned and that his circumcised head sparkled a
bright pink. Similarly, I thoroughly worked soap down the crevice
of his bottom, one finger plainly feeling for the boy's little
hole to ensure it was as fresh as could be. I hoped to spend a
lot of time there someday. But detailed exploration was not an
option with a shivering, hungry child. Another few glugs of water
sleuced away the remaining soap. “The towel is in the bag there.
Run or you'll turn into a snow man!”
	Ben bolted, flinging droplets of water as he dashed toward the
ashen remains of our campfire. The whole trip was announced with
a bouncing cry of sensitive skin on cold air. While he wrapped
himself up, I washed myself off. With a similar disappointment, I
washed the lagging drops of my ecstasy from the tip of my cock.
When I looked down, I could still see those lips wrapped around
it. It was hard to believe that fantasy had become reality, that
imagination had been replaced with simple memory. Still, if I had
to remind myself, all I had to do was look behind me and see a
naked boy wrapped up in a beach towel.
	I traded Benji's half wet towel for some of his clothes and
dried myself off. I should have known at his age that he might
still need some assistance. For all that I had accomplished with
him, I was no experienced guardian. He managed to get his
underwear and shirt on backwards before I realized my mistake.
Ben was a great kid, but not the most cooperative when trying to
dress him. If it weren't for the temperature, I might have given
up on that and kept him nude.
	Under the mottled shade of the trees, we ate instant oatmeal
with a large helping of maple syrup and some toast with jam on
it. This campsite was perfect to spend a few days, but I was on
the clock. I began to realize this would happen a lot, leaving
perfect moments. I wondered if Benji and I would be able to see
each other after this. After all, in a few days, we'd arrive in
California and the trip would be over. He'd go back to his
father's palace, wherever that was, and I would return to my
shitty apartment back east. Was it selfish to want to keep him in
my life? I mean, it was just sex, right?
	The two of us cleaned up our camp. Ben dragged the bags to the
engine and I tossed them in the cab. Soon enough, the only
remains of our passing were recent ashes and DNA evidence. I got
my young crewman settled into the cab and started getting the
engine going. Bertha was unkind to start up procedures, often
rejecting even the most basic instructions. Despite her
reticence, her various parts began to lurch after about thirty
minutes of preparation.
	I called in to control on the radio. They were more than ready
to inform me of how late I was and how much I could be fucking
their schedule. I apologized and claimed engine trouble,
encouraging them to plan for that considering the condition of
the engine. They offered a tow, which I flatly denied, citing
undue stress on a chassis not designed to handle the power of a
modern engine. They made us wait for a freight train to pass.
After about 20 minutes on the track idling, we got our clearance
and I eased us back onto the tracks proper. We were away.

	Ben had disappeared into his toys on the floor. And the rumbling
roar of Bertha dragged us away from our little hiding spot in the
New England trees. I already missed it-- a first for me really.
I've always lived my life as a transient idiot, job to job, city
to city. Attachment wasn't something I felt. Just like the trains
I always wanted to run, moving down the line seemed more
important than any of the places along it. This last time, I wish
I had brought a camera or something. Pictures to remember it by.
It seemed ridiculous. What would I have written on the back of
those prints? Here's the camp we made. Here we are setting up the
tent. Here is the chair I put him on so I could cum all over him.
Here's me fucking his face. What a scrap book. Maybe it was
better that I forgot the camera, so that when the cops inevitably
came for me, I don't have to share the money shot. As the trees
zipped past the windows, I knew that it was for the best if I
stopped taking advantage of Benji like this. I should have just
left those sordid events in the grove we left behind. But all it
took was one look back at the boy sat indian style on the
metal-graded floor, pushing his truck over a fallen action
figure, and I knew that no matter what I thought in my head about
it, I was not going to stop until the end of the line.