Boytaur retreat

by Josh Dugan

David's asceticism causes not only his own body to blossom but the bodies of those around him.

I was visiting David in his stone retreat high in the mountains, where he had undertaken advanced disciplines of mind-body spirituality. The ascetic life and simple diet agreed with him; he had never looked more beautiful. He wore a simple, rough robe, but he was radiant and in good health. In addition to long walks and swims in the ice cold lake he practiced yoga meditations, long-distance running and calisthenics.

His simple room in at the top of a tower was devoid of furnishings but very clean, with only a sleeping mat, some candles and hundreds of books stacked around the edges of the room. He had met me at the base of the mountain path and welcomed me to come up to his tower, where he would meet me. I was prepared for his welcome, because he had told me in advance of his mastery of bilocation. He had visited me in my dreams while I was preparing for the trip, and I always awoke from those dreams feeling warm and happy. Because of his beauty, I was also fully aroused when I awoke from those dreams.

We had always felt a sweet communion as soulmates, and it delighted him to converse with me. Because of my interest in his obscure field of study, he delighted in finding answers to my questions. When he welcomed me at the base of the mountain, he had smiled and bowed, his slender hand resting on one another, right palm down upon the upraised palm of his left hand, and then he had opened both palms to me in gesture of welcome. To symbolize the sincerity and depth of his welcome, he extended the gesture to four hands, four palms gently held outward to me in simple warmth, and I returned his bow, inwardly excited at the beauty of his gesture.

He was gone when I arose, but I had gladly taken the walking stick he had passed among his four hands and gave to me, and gladly mounted the ascending trail. I knew that all the while he was meditating in the simple room in his tower, and I was pleased to be in his thoughts. I knew that he had become lighter and less burdened as he mastered the heights of his spiritual disciplines. He would search his own soul in dialogues with himself, at first before the mirror and later mirroring himself in local bilocation, knowing that the hardest one to master is oneself, and the hardest eyes to see into are one's own. Long into the night would he take on his own gaze and converse with himself from the depths of his soul, sitting face to face with himself in lotus position, palms touching, searching himself for any remaining deceit or dishonesty in a lifelong pursuit of unfettered self-knowledge.

In my dreams I had learned from him as he pursued the essence of being that he would totally immerse himself in the most essential elements of the simplest acts of life. Fleet of foot, he flew across the miles of mountainous terrain, his soul filling his body, not fighting it. While few probed the depths of his self realization as few could follow or achieve it, in our friendship, he shared his treasured inner depths with me, to my delight and to his. How I would love to know that purity of purpose he sought and treasured as life itself, and that solitary joy that it brought him, and how I celebrated in myself his sharing with me of his advanced exercises.

He had sensed my joy at his enthusiasm–for example, he would redouble the essence of his soul-filled body, filling it further–in the fourhanded gesture, or, as he advanced, in four-footed mountain runs, as beautiful as a deer, yet naked as a man, fleet on four beautiful male human legs, four beautiful male human feet lightly kissing the cold mountain earth as he ran his four beautiful feet as swiftly as thought. My musings had carried me to his tower room almost as swiftly, where he met me with gentle joy, knowing my love for him and my joy in his soul's exultations, expressing itself in the joy of his body as pure as his soul. We embraced, he in his simple rough monk's robe we smiled, and how we delighted in our sharing and communion with one another, soul mates and special loves in the clean, simple room high in the spare austerity of the mountain retreat. A simple meal followed, and a special toast with tiny glasses of sweet wine, and long did we talk of each other as he shared the simple beauty of his bare, sweet soul, and loving that of mine.

I poured him more, which made him smile, and in time he was asleep in my arms as I knelt there by the fire, yet I knew I was in his dreams, for he bilocated to me, appeared before me naked and beautiful, walking to me on four graceful legs, his four feet beautiful upon the bare floor, and he knelt his four legs to embrace me in a four-armed gentle hug, even as I held his sleeping robed form in my own embrace. He asked me to kiss his sleeping form and promised a gift of himself that would always be mine, and which would always bring him to me; the sweetness of this kiss I can never convey; I felt his kiss upon the top of my head as I bent it down to kiss his sleeping form's beautiful lips, and I loved his gift.

Within my embrace my sleeping David awoke and returned my kiss; in my joy I kissed also my naked four-legged David with his four arms about me, and he smiled at himself, exchanged a knowing glance with himself; my robed David kissed my naked David and opened his robe. The warm sweetness radiating as I held him, he said, “My feet, always yours as my love;" four of them nestled, large, smooth and as beautiful as his own four feet, on his handsome chest, snuggled in the robe. He turned to me and passed them to me, both Davids smiling at me as I held the four beautiful male David-feet to my lips, loving their warmth and beauty; and I was kissing David, alone with me, loving the gift of his own body, holding the four beautiful feet to me as he kissed me.

I dreamt as I slept, both Davids holding me, a fun dream in which I was riding David's beautiful, naked four-legged body along a beach, and loving the feeling of my arms around his handsome torso, and absently feeling and enjoying the beautiful, large wristfeet he had added because I wanted him that way, they were so beautiful and pleasant to massage and caress in my hands as I leaned on his shoulder and felt his four beautiful legs beneath me, his four gorgeous bare feet plying the soft contours of the hot sand they quietly walked upon. We came upon a volleyball game played by tall beautiful, tanned naked young men -and at once David knew my thoughts.

"Please?" I said–and at once the beautiful guys were four-legged and wristfooted, surprised and loving it! They were laughing and smacking each others' hindquarters with their beautiful wristfeet, and some did try to pick up the volleyball; for a while the game continued remarkably well. The lithe muscular four-legged bodies of the players adapted to the game, and the graceful wristfeet expertly set up and spiked the ball, and play continued until the players were so distracted by their four legged beauty and the incredible sexiness of their handsome wristfeet that they had to mate with each other in the worst way, which they did for hours, as did David and I, whom he had transformed as well! Oh, how nice to ache for him like that, both of mine and both of his aching, coming endlessly.

We awoke warmed and tanned, surrounded by the mating wristfooted boytaurs, who still couldn't stop coming. "I decided this would be real, not a dream,” David smiled. He kissed me and we both came, as the boytaurs groaned and made love all around us.

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