"You really want to go to the beach?" Steven growled. "Or would you rather check out the inside of this tent? Hmm?"
Closing in on Kawa, Steven stole the scarf from his head and quickly wrapped it around his thin brown neck. His black hair shimmered in the mottled sunlight filtering down through the treetops. Kawa's skin was perpetually flawless, light honey brown, but that he owed to some line of products he washed with unrelentingly, and to a dab or two of liquid concealer over erupting zits. His eyes were black oil spots in pools of gold. They reminded Steven of snakes or lizards, though, at the moment, they dabbled in mock fear.
"You wouldn't harm a poor country girl?" Kawa sang in a southern-accented falsetto.
It was starting to get to Steven that Kawa so often referred to himself in the feminine, but a fondness for all things girly and camp was an inexorable part of Kawa's queerness, or so Steven had observed. Nothing much he could do about it but steal Kawa into the tent and tear off his glam T-shirt and his capris. It was no surprise to find him without underwear. He almost never wore any.
"No panties, young lady?" Steven played along. "Must be that you were expecting some handsome farmhand to mosey on down your path today."
"Oh, no sir," Kawa protested in his overblown southern accent. "I only had it in mind to wander down to the stream and watch the baby ducklings learn to swim."
Flipping Kawa onto his stomach on the tent's clean blue tarpaulin base, Steve spread the boy's legs. God, they were thin as pins. Steven was almost afraid he'd snap them when he leaned his denim knees on top of those skinny thighs. When he'd pulled off his T-shirt, he leaned down flat until his bare chest met Kawa's naked back.
"How's about I teach you something new?" Steven had played games for years. He could keep up with this or any role. Pressing his mouth to Kawa's ear, he whispered, "You ever been fucked before?"
"Why no, I never have," Kawa said, leaning his head to the side. He was incredibly convincing. His voice was tinged with fear and curiosity. "I've heard it hurts something fierce."
"No, no," Steven cooed. Now he was the charmer, seducing his prey. "You just relax and it won't hurt one little bit."
Steven rose from Kawa's back to take off his jeans. There wasn't quite enough room to stand in the tent, so he rolled on to his back and wriggled out of his pants and his black jockey boxers. Kawa turned to his side to watch. His half-hard cock drooled pre-cum onto his smooth thigh, and Steven got distracted by the sight. Naked, Kawa was an objet d'art. He was young and slender, like the ancient sculptures of Greek athletes.
In his everyday voice, Kawa said, "Condoms and lube are in my shoulder bag."