At the time of writing I see there's a new movie out called 'Astro Boy.' Sure would have liked to use that title for this story. Still 'Extra Sensual Perception' ain't bad. I got that idea from a movie too. In fact I get a lot of my ideas from movies. This one was billed as a science fiction sex film. It was about astronauts and extra-terrestrials but very disappointing as there was very little science or plausibility, too much fiction and hardly any sex. Just a few raunchy scenes with voluptuous women and the inevitable fade out as the man drops his pants. The basic premise was good though and I started fantasising about what I might have done with the subject. I have a very fertile imagination, not to mention a fulsome ass always ready to be plowed by some earthy individual, and those late night movies with gorgeous guys from the fifties and sixties invariably send me into sexual orbit. Half-forgotten actors with macho names like Stephen Boyd, Jeff Chandler and Jeffrey Hunter are my constant companions on tv and dvd. I often wonder what kind of movies they would have made nowadays. In fact, for me, the word dvd has come to stand for Divine Visions of Deceased Dudes. These three actors set female hearts a flutter many years ago and have had a more recent effect on my dick. You can google them up for yourself and join me in adoration. You can also add to the list John Derek, Cornel Wilde, Guy Madison and Sterling Hayden although they didn't all die young.

Anyway, to get back to the science fiction movie which started me off on this little adventure. It was about this guy discovering a machine which not only could travel in time and space but could read people's minds. I'd give my bottom dollar -- and willingly give my bottom -- to get hold of that machine. Imagine all that time that usually goes wasted when you're wondering if a guy's up for grabs. And one that tells you the best way to hit on him and turn him on.

Of course, you might give me all that philosophical shit about the journey being more exciting than arriving at your destination and tell me a machine like that would spoil all the suspense of a sexual chase, but when push comes to shove knowing what's in the mind can get you quicker into a guy's pants. Or vice versa. Especially as the horniest hunks send out the wrong vibrations and want you to think they prefer pussy. Don't ask me why, but it's an age-old story and I ain't getting any younger. I want to strike while the dick is hot.

My first errant night vision was of travelling through time and space and arriving in a wild western. They've made that movie about what lonely cowboys do on the prairie but I don't think they've ever made a love story about cowboys and Indians. Not one I remember seeing anyway. You don't get that kind of stuff on late night movies. So there I was -- a century or so ago -- living in a Bible belt somewhere in the mid-west and being belted by a good-looking guy who turned out to be my stepfather. He looked like one of my movie idols from the fifties. Someone like Sterling Hayden. Tall and Viking blond. I could feel him getting hard as he lay me over his lap and it was my first introduction to the manifold wonders of a man's dick. It was hot and it pulsed with every stroke he gave me. Until that day I'd never equated physical punishment with pleasure but this was a lesson to me in more ways than one. The way he smoothed my butt before he raised his hand to hit me was a turn on in itself. After a while he wasn't content just giving me a heavy hand and began to slowly unbuckle my belt so he could use that. To do so, he had to work his way underneath me and my erect teenage dick was a real give away. "Enjoying this," he said. "I'll soon beat that out of you."

Naturally I went red in the face but nowhere near as red as my flaming butt by the time he'd finished with me. Unfortunately this erotic dream morphed into my mother coming home so I didn't get the just 'desserts' I was waiting for. Those came a little later. My mother was heavily pregnant and went to stay with her parents in a nearby fort as my stepfather's cabin was in a very isolated spot and they were worried about Indian attacks on land verging on his territory. Of course, it never entered my mother's mind to worry about her new husband's attacks on my virgin territory.

But then she wasn't in possession of the time and thought machine I had somehow acquired.

It was only a two-roomed cabin and I slept in front of the log fire. That night, for reasons I was about to discover, he decided to wash there. He stood with his back to me and took off his shirt. He was a mass of muscles and I trembled at the sight of him. But not with fear. I knew he wanted what I wanted. His body was a wonder to behold in the candlelight and I beheld as much as I could as he washed himself down with a jug and sponge. He had long hair which he usually kept tied behind his head. It fell in golden waves over his broad shoulders. He was a brute but he was beautiful.

After hesitating for the shortest of whiles, he stepped out of his long johns and began to lather up his genitals. His butt tensed as he did so and his knees bent as he washed under his copious balls. The flickering flames of the candle made erotic patterns on his body. It glowed like the dying embers of the fire. And I glowed with it. Then he turned round, his dick like a Winchester rifle, and asked me if I could get him a towel and some more water to rinse off with. I padded over to the sink and obediently came back with both. "Be a good son and rub me down," he said.

I stood behind him and rubbed his back but only as far as his waist. I didn't dare go any further but he asked me to dry his butt so, like a dutiful son, I did as I was told. More than I was told actually as I lingered as long as I decently - or indecently - could over the process. Inside his crack and all. My hands trembled and my knees buckled at the sheer pleasure of what he was letting me do to him and at the thought of where it would lead. Slowly he turned round and stood with his legs astride so that his aroused dick was very much in evidence.

"If you're cold, put your hand under my thigh," he said. I told him I wasn't cold. "Put your hand there anyway," he ordered. I slipped my hand between his thick thighs, my fingers coming into contact with the base of his balls. I hesitated. My butt-belting, Bible-thumping stepfather looked me straight in the eye.

"I'm only asking you to do what it says in Genesis: And Abraham said unto the eldest servant of his house, that ruled over all that he had, Put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh and the servant put his hand under the thigh of Abraham his master, and swear to him concerning that matter."

I stood gaping at him, my mouth open somewhere between surprise and desire.

"Swear to me that you won't say a word to your mother and I'll let you put my dick in your mouth."

"I swear," I said just before I was rendered speechless by the force of his aforementioned member. At first I wasn't quite sure what to do exactly but I cradled and fondled his balls as his man-meat took full possession of my mouth which seemed to get moister and moister and more and more malleable at the fabulous feel of him and gradually and progressively gave him more than he had bargained for. I gagged a bit but not much and I spent a long time tonguing the inside of his thighs, before finally moving to his generous balls and giving them little licks before sucking them into my mouth. His eyes were closed and he groaned his appreciation as he tore at my hair. Soon he was tearing off my flannel nightgown and tearing into my ass. He lifted me clear off the ground and the lubrication from the pre-cum which was leaking from his dick like a faucet, together with the willing thrust of my eager ass to receive him, facilitated his triumphant entrance into the open arc of my being. It was more than I had ever dreamed a fuck could be. In fact, he fucked me so hard I almost fell into the fire. Then he rammed me against the wall until I felt like part of the brickwork. He was a long distance runner and it went on for what seemed to be an eternity, then he finally roared like an enraged bull and broke the banks of my butt as his cum spilled out of him and into me and then out of me and dribbled between my thighs and down my legs.

I was well and truly fucked and couldn't have been happier. And it wasn't over yet. He carried me over to my bed and I lost count of the number of times he entered me during the night. Then the dream morphed into a nightmare. My stepfather's cabin and my ass were on fire and we were both being carried off by a bunch of savage Indians. Why they didn't kill us wasn't immediately clear. It became abundantly so as the dream progressed and the vision unfolded. The flames this time were gigantic and there wasn't much flickering going on. Only a whole lot of fucking. I was tied to a tree - don't ask me why - and forced to witness my stepfather's degradation as a band of Indians gang-banged him and fucked the veritable ass off him. I think I'll refer to him as Sterling from now on. That wasn't his name but it makes a change from calling him stepfather and they soon turned his sterling ass to quicksilver.

They say revenge is sweet but this revenge was as horny as hell and anyway I wasn't planning on any revenge as I'd enjoyed the fuck-trip he'd taken me on. Those savage Indians tore off his shirt and pants and tore into his ass just like he'd torn into mine. They sucked his dick and his pits and plugged his mouth all at one and the same time. To my surprise he turned into a whimpering butt slut and seemed to enjoy every minute of it and opened his mouth - and his ass - even wider in order to accommodate each successive brave. Their chief looked a bit like Jeff Chandler in one of his Cochise movies but he didn't take part in the sexual carnage. He stood firmly by watching the ferocious orgy with a look of sullen and supercilious irony on his face. He seemed to be keeping watch over me obviously having claimed me for his own.

Eventually the Apache braves finished grinding my sterling step-father into the ground and left him covered in their combined cum so that he looked like a cotton field before harvesting. As we all know, a white man's scalp is subject to barbaric use and they sliced off his corn-coloured hair and looked like they were ready to slice off his dick too but I begged Cochise to have mercy. Sterling may not have been kith or kin but he'd been the first to fuck me and that must count for something. They say an Apache is one-third coyote and the balance all tiger but on the command of Cochise Chandler the bloodthirsty warriors agreed to let my stepfather go. Thanks to me he lived, but he never did tell the tale. Real men don't eat quiche and 'straight' men who have been fucked prefer to keep it to themselves. I lived to tell the tale though and hope you are enjoying it even if sometimes I make it difficult for you to separate fact from fantasy.

Of course having longed for Jeff Chandler to take off his shirt in movies and drooling at the sight of his nipples and wanting to get my tongue in his dimple and armpits, it was a great thrill to have him in the flesh and in my fantasy and finally find out what his dick was like and how it felt to be fucked by him. Or what it was like to be fucked by Cochise. The first night he undressed and possessed me, the drums were pounding outside and I felt the gooseflesh rise all over my body as he touched and explored it with expert fingers. He was only my second man but I knew then and there that he was the first and the last who would ever touch me like that. He knew exactly how to stimulate me, how to arouse me, how to awaken my feminine side, how to make me want it, how to fuck me. He made me shudder with desire and had turned my bones to jelly even before I had seen his magnificent phallus and felt its impact on my ass or felt his totem pole of a dick pulse with the vital fluid of a virile warrior as he entered me. I grasped it like a vice as he came inside me, not wanting to spill a single drop; feeling for all the world that I needed his cum to live and longing to have him inside me again even before his dick had left my ass. But this was lust, not love and vanished into vapour like the morning mist when the real thing came along in the shape of his son Shaman. He was the result of one of the Apache raids on white man territory. He'd been raised as an Indian but his mother was of Irish descent like a lot of women who came to America so that's why his name sounds Irish. And what's more he was beautiful and had blue eyes just like Jeffrey Hunter, another movie idol of mine who often played Indians. I loved him on sight although it took me a long time to free myself of his father's clutches. And I knew I was on dangerous ground.

It was common knowledge that I was Cochise's male whore but that was accepted. Being unfaithful to an Apache chief and with his own son of course was not and would have meant a fate worse than death. Terrible things which I don't want to begin to describe but which I am sure you can imagine; but this is supposed to be an erotic, love story not a horror story. Fortunately my time and thought machine gave me some control over the situation and kept Shaman and I out of harm's way. Still we had to meet and 'kiss in a shadow' like the lovers in the "The King and I" with Yul Brynner, another much lamented actor. I've looked up the lyrics for you but you probably know the song: We kiss in a shadow. We hide from the moon. Our meetings are few, and over too soon. We speak in a whisper. Afraid to be heard; when people are near. We speak not a word. Alone in our secret. Together we sigh, for one smiling day to be free. To kiss in the sunlight, and say to the sky: "Behold and believe what you see! Behold how my lover loves me!"

Love is altogether different from lust and I just wanted to slide my hand down Shaman's smooth body and drink the nectar from his sweet dick. The passion came later after we had exchanged lips and tongues and savoured every part of each other. Experienced the joy of loving and knowing another being and discovering he is altogether more wonderful and precious than anything you could ever have imagined even in your wildest and most erotic dreams. The thrill of his touch, the sound of his voice, the depth of his soul reflected in your eyes. Such sensations lead poets to write poetry and musicians music. Although words and semi-quavers are never enough to describe the quivering feelings you experience when your love is near. Or when you adore him from afar.

My attraction to him was total. I loved him more than I had ever felt possible. When I was away from him I could feel my desire rising. My dick became hard as a rock. It was painful and it seemed like I hadn't cum for days and weeks, even months. The first time I loosened the fronds of his deerskin loincloth I felt I was unwrapping the best gift in the universe. It was as if everything I had ever wanted or would ever need was just beyond that chamois material. I wanted to hold him close to me, groom his young body with my tongue. He was so slim and slender. So soft.

His boy cock jumped at my touch. Like a timid gazelle. Then it grew warm and full in my hand and eventually in my mouth. We were both rather shy at first, afraid to unlock inside us something we had never shown to another human being. Something private. Something exclusively ours. It's not true what they say about all Indians being savages. He's the gentlest boy I've known. Of course you could say he was only a half-caste but that half was Irish and they're supposed to be hot headed. His skin was a copper coversheet to the most beautiful statue in the world. I found myself tracing my tongue across every surface. When my mouth had reached his nipples, I gave them quick flicks and then moved on to his lovely, firm but not yet distinct pecs and abs. Then I kissed his thighs and heavenly hips. I loved taking in his body with all my senses, stopping to rub my face in his small patch of dark pubic hair, enjoying its feel and slightly musky smell. I took his beautiful cock slowly in my mouth, being careful to wet the whole shaft with my lips. When he was well-lubed with my saliva, I held the base of his rod with one hand and jerked him off slowly until he was sobbing with pleasure and begging me to stop. It was at once awesome and awful for that was the moment that Cochise walked in. His face was terrible to behold because besides being contorted with jealousy and rage it seemed to transform into the aquiline features of a bird of prey. One with talons cruelly outstretched to rip out our hearts and destroy us. At the same moment I reached out instinctively for my time and travel machine and suddenly, magically Shaman and I were transported to the ever present now. Don't ask me how. He's still adjusting to a different century and environment but we're blissfully happy. He's cut his hair short and posed by my swimming pool so you'll probably have a few hot shots to gloat over and they'll help keep your mind off the how's and why's and wherefores of this story. Just "Behold and believe what you see! Behold how my lover loves me!"