End of original BOYABUSE Stories – charges also included an unfinished version of Stand By America.

A Shocking Exposť of Child Sex Tourism!
Early 1990s

From Galle Road in Mt. Lavinia, Station Road passes by a large freshly painted Buddhist temple and school before winding down through older middle class homes to the commuter train station on the line that hugs the beachfront south of Colombo. Beside a tiny store there is a narrow passage along the high station wall past which lies a scrubby area beyond which huge breakers incessantly crash on a broad, typically magnificent, Sri Lankan, golden sand beach. To the right there’s a large resort hotel on a promontory with a clean, for guests only, section of the beach where pale Europeans sunbathe on lounge chairs or frolic in the surf while others sitting at tables under palm thatch parasols are served refreshments by dark white clad waiters in the shade of palms and a trellis which tries to obscure the high green painted wall that screens the tracks and nearby commuter station. The building itself is a 1920's colonial classic, not unlike a Canadian railway hotel in style, painted cream with green roof and trim. It is a place for local trysts and wingdings, and European, mostly German, tourists. To the left the space between the tracks and the broad beach widens up to fifty yards and for about a mile squatters have built shanties, shacks and several small concrete block houses in among the scraggly coconut palms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE PEDO: He emerges from the passageway and surveys the scene. He turns left and walks past a couple of shabby beach boutiques selling souvenirs and refreshments and notices maybe a dozen necking couples cocooned under umbrellas dotting the scrub. Privacy is hard for young people to come by in this crowded land. Stepping over a tiny fetid stream he enters the squatter area that had aroused his curiosity when he had observed it from the train a week earlier. Perhaps one or two thousand live here in the modest dwellings which intermingle picturesquely with old spindly coconut palms. He has heard from touts in the Fort district of Colombo that the local boys are available to tourists, and decided to check it out.

The Pedo also learned that most of the squatters had arrived only a few years earlier, at the end of the 1980’s, after fleeing the security crackdown on the militant JVP, a radical nationalist, marxist movement in the Sinhalese south of the island that was mostly made up of educated, but unemployed rural youth. To further their aims the JVP adopted a policy of assassinations and attacks on police stations. The military and security services while sympathetic to the movement’s goals lost patience and brutally put down the JVP insurrection: Tens of thousands of mostly single young males in their late teens and twenties were systematically murdered with their bodies dumped in mass graves and the larger rivers. Among certain castes in some villages an entire cohort of youth were eliminated. The Pedo expected to find many teenagers but relatively few men in their twenties among the refugee squatters.

Where the beach widens, and there's enough flat ground, boys play cricket, the sports craze of the land. Father out on the intertidal beach people make shallow holes, and squat and shit. Just back of the beach along the chest high bluff tall unused concrete outhouses are spaced about a hundred yards apart, and looking like a row of sentinel posts provide punctuation and a certain architectural unity to the community. Walking along the garbage strewn beach the Pedo is soon accosted by little boys, who once their few English questions and sentences are exhausted, simply beg for money, rupees and school pens. The Pedo has no coins or pens for little children and waves them away but he’s brought a large pack of Gold Leaf cigarettes he can use to gift the older boys and men he meets. It is boys just in their teens, horny, playful boys eager for sex that he hopes to meet. These are the boys who fulfill his desires and give meaning to his person.

It was the prospect of such boys more than anything else which first prompted the Pedo to visit the Third World years ago. However, he has come to appreciate their exotic cultures and simple life during his extended stays and he spends relatively little time in pursuit of his young prey. He’d had boys in his own country, boys he’d loved and known for years and become part of their lives. But now it was no longer possible, with the witch-hunts and crusading populist politics boys have become freaked out, brainwashed about sex with men. The only boys available are the casualties of dysfunctional families, drugs and the social welfare system, and hustlers good only for squalid untrusting relationships. His last boy, a long time ago now, had after three good years; camping and skiing trips, learning to drive his car, uncountable evenings of dinner, games and TV, and sleepovers had abruptly broken off the relationship and denounced him to his friends to protect his masculinity.

The Third World is different, it’s like it was still the 1970s only more so in some ways. The boys’ eagerness, enthusiasm and indulgent pleasure amaze and delight the Pedo. Third World boys can be so ingenuous and naturally affectionate, something he finds refreshing. He also likes the fact that there are no ‘innocent’ boys, or at least he hasn’t met any, and they soon figure out that you are one of those ‘men who like boys’, and can be preyed upon for gifts, money and other favours. Knowledgeable manipulating sellers make more and have more fun.

Perhaps best of all the sex is not burdened by heavy moralistic proscriptions, and the shadow of guilt, which can lead Western boys to freak out and see themselves as abused, as ‘victims’ subject to some great psychological trauma. Teenagers like such men to party with, and for material benefits. Many poor countries have an immense resource in their pragmatic and sexy boys. There are however always barriers to communication, and the sharing of other interests and pleasures may be difficult.

And there are logistic problems; the boy cannot conceivably be your ‘son’, and when taking boys places and travelling with them it may be necessary to bring along an older ‘cousin’ or ‘uncle’, or even a ‘mother’, and not just for appearances but to provide company for the boy, and freedom for yourself when what you want to do would bore him silly. Two beach huts allow for flexibility and privacy. The boys meet others and bring them around, and soon you know adults in the community who can clue you in about the mores of the place. It is wise to know local people and a respectful, mildly generous visitor will pick up useful information. The Pedo meets many boys, and their brothers, uncles, mothers and cousins.

He occasionally sees himself as a roving ambassador to boys, and his pursuit of boysex as a noble calling. Nobody really cares about boys anymore, or dares to. Men who used to befriend them, and get informed of their lives like no parent or person of authority can, and be loyal adults for them, they are afraid and insecure. Intergenerational suspicion is stoked with out of control kids high on testosterone, and lurking pedophiles everywhere inducing an age based apartheid. Despite boys’ charm and their arousing beauty, which in God’s Plan can serve to attract nurture, men balk at knowing boys. And boys are also insecure. Sex is the link. Boys need and want sex, it’s good for them to have lots of sex, all different kinds. Fortunately there are men like myself who are glad to help them. Boys need mentoring from understanding older men and they benefit from the wisdom, inspiration and the generosity of their elders. Unfortunately there are men who abuse boys, manipulate and mistreat them, even violently rape them, and they spoil things for decent men like me. Occasionally the Pedo will admit that he hasn’t always lived up to his ideals and boylove ethics. Lust and affection are not rational and seldom fair.

THE BOY: Beside the second concrete outhouse a sprouting coconut palm creates a secluded spot where Kuma can observe the beach. He can see up the beach to the hotel and railway station, and down past this season’s cricket pitch to the next point. From his perch on the low bluff he likes to watch the foreigners from the hotel who often walk up the beach to the point and beyond.I wish I were rich. I would give money to children. Sometimes Kuma joins other children and asks the foreigners for ballpens or money, especially if it’s just a man by himself. He practises his English, You give me ball pen mister? He does not like to say `please’ because he doesn’t like to beg, but he always says `thank you’. Mostly he doesn’t get anything, or maybe just a cigarette which he can trade for candy, or give to his friend Anil who sometimes lets him smoke ganja. Cigarettes are bad for you, ganja better, it makes things seem extra real.

All the times he's asked tourists he's only got four pens, and only one good one not made in Sri Lanka, and maybe a dozen rupees not counting the twenty rupees he got the time a tourist took him behind an outhouse and felt inside his shorts. Nice if there more tourists like that! Kuma knows that some boys make a lot of money from tourists although he’s heard it’s a bad thing. They do things, sex things with foreigners and get wristwatches, shoes and money from them. One older boy was even taken to a place called Switzerland for a holiday by his foreign friend. But sometimes it’s a problem, another boy he knew was sent to live with an aunt in Kandy after he was caught with a Sweden man who was deported. When he sees a foreign man he always smiles and asks him, “What your country?” and “What your name?” but he doesn’t know the English to talk to them. He would most like to have a big foreign man for a friend.

Kuma envies Benjamin, even though he's only ten, three years younger than himself, and has a twisted scrunched up face as if he’s always squinting. It’s more funny than ugly. Benny is smart and speaks English, or at least a lot more than he does himself, and makes lots of money from the tourists. He learnt his English from his mother's German boyfriend of a few years ago. He thinks he’s boss all the time with his English. Sometimes the foreigners buy him fancy shirts or expensive sports shoes. Benny also makes money buying ganja for the tourists and he shows them where Chandra's place is if they want to fuck a girl. Once Kuma heard, he got fifty rupees just for that. And Chandra always gives him something too. Once he and Benny spied on this German fucking Chandra but it was too dark to see much, but he could hear them do it.

Then he notices a foreigner walking by himself. He looks like the right kind. He decides to wait until he gets closer before approaching him and softly practises his limited English. “What name your hotel mister?” But just as he’s ready a bunch of little kids cluster around him. And then he sees Benny join them. Now I’ll never get to meet the foreigner. He decides to go to a friend’s place. Maybe Anil will let me smoke some ganja.

THE PIMP: Walking back from the trackside store smoking one the two cigarettes he’s just bought, D.K. recalls when he used to make good money going with tourists, back before the Troubles, and before his body became hairy and he lost his boyish looks. He still thinks he’s good looking and occasionally he gets paid for sex, but prefers younger boys himself. It had all started when he lived with his uncle in Colombo who used to do him when he was just a little kid. He told D.K. it would make him more of a man. His uncle was patient and gentle, used lots of grease so it wouldn’t hurt, and usually gave him a small present or a few rupees after. D.K. sought his uncle’s praise and tried his best to do it right. Then when he was about twelve some of his uncle’s friends started doing him after his uncle told them how good he was. Being much younger D.K. properly obeyed them when asked to visit to their places. Most were kind and gave him good times, but two weren’t very nice and hurt him. One liked to spank him hard first but gave him expensive presents. His ass would be uncomfortably sore the rest of the day. The other one liked to pinch and slap him until he cried, and he’d be lucky to get anything. He told his uncle and after that he left him alone, or would offer him small amounts of money, maybe twenty rupees which he refused.

Then on an errand in the Fort he met a man, a Pakistani businessman who bought him a fancy lunch, invited him to his hotel in Pettah, and gave him three hundred rupees for sex. He explained how to contact him and gave him at least three hundred rupees each time, and bought him the Walkman he wanted. He also introduced him to friends. Soon D.K. decided that foreigners were better and tried to stay away from his uncle and his cronies. When his uncle found out he got angry, gave him a nasty beating and told him to stay away from foreigners, he said they were dirty and had VD. For a while D.K. stayed close to his uncle who now insisted on fucking him every day, but gave him little, and threatened to beat him if he made a fuss. Through other boys he found out that if he hung around Galle Face promenade by the row of antique cannons pointing out to sea, it was very easy to meet rich men, nice clean rich men, who were generous, especially the foreigners and even the Englishmen. Soon D.K. didn’t need his uncle’s support any longer but his uncle said he needed him and threatened to really beat him. They fought and things were pretty awkward for D.K. for a while. Then he introduced some of his friends from the street to his uncle and things calmed down and he soon moved in with a wealthy Omani as a ‘houseboy’.

For several years D.K. enjoyed the high life of a kept boy and developed expensive tastes and habits. But by twenty he knew his appeal was fading, many of the more generous men wanted young boys, boys just entering their teens, and through his street friends and their contacts he found young boys for men, who paid him well for the introductions. But that was it, the boys would make their own arrangements and he would get no more money. He wanted boys he could control like the pimps did with their girls, but his boys kept running off. It was so unfair after all the work I did. To procure new and naÔve young boys he started going to the poor areas around Colombo. They were easier to control but complained a lot. He started threatening them and actually beat boys he caught cheating him. He liked beating boys, not too hard, and then fucking them. Then he badly beat up a twelve year old who’d ripped him off twice, and one his cousins swore vengeance and went looking for him with a knife. D.K. fled, and settled in the squatter area where he had a friend and had already met a few boys. It took him a while to get back in business, and it was never as good as before.

The Pimp carefully butts his cigarette at half length and then notices the European tourist and watches him deal with the small boys. The man tries to wave them away but a few won’t leave him alone. D.K. notes that the man is wearing a jacket and long trousers which suggests that he’s not from the hotel or one of the nearby guest houses. Maybe he just explore, but lone tourists usually want boy, and this man looks like one of them. Men don’t look for young girls on beaches. He sees that the man is not interested in the small boys and gives them a few coins to get rid of them. All leave but Benjamin. The small boy has gotten in the way a few times when he was trying to make arrangements with foreigners. Damn Benny, he’s always getting in the way. The pimp relights his butt to calm his nerves. I think maybe the tourist would like a young teen boy, maybe Alek, or Pela. He’d have to find out where Pela is, tourists like him better. But Pela cheats him. The last tourist gave him two hundred rupees when he set him up with Pela and he was supposed to get two hundred each time, but Pela took off to Hikkeduwa with the tourist and didn’t come back for a week. He slapped him around but didn’t get any money. It’s not fair when I introduce boy to tourist and then he run off. Next time I want 500 rupees… Maybe the foreigner would like Edwin, he’s small and wouldn’t rip me off. He does what he’s told. But he cries every time I fuck him, I try hard to break him in, tourists not like boys who cry. Maybe this man not want to fuck? Lots of tourists not want to fuck boy. I tell him boy not like fucking, or pay extra. But Edwin not suck cock either, not even when I smack him around. OK if the tourist just want hand job, and blow Edwin. He like blowjobs.

The boys in the squatter area didn’t know much about sex and were easy to control at first. They lacked the mentoring of older boys many of whom were slaughtered when the JVP revolt was crushed. The Pimp had to train the boys, something he enjoyed, spending many hours stimulated the new boy again and again, coaching him and introducing him to anal pleasures. Each boy was special at first, a ‘darling’ of sorts, but the Pimp liked his meat fresh and always sought new boys.

After the revolt was put down the tourists started to come back but the summers were always slack. The money wasn’t as good as before but it was easy to find young boys, at least at first. Lately business has been bad. The boys still cheat and make private arrangements. He sometimes beats them but has to be careful. Maybe squeeze their balls? And Benny, I’d love to squeeze his hard… Many foreigners don’t know much about finding boys, they are scared off by stories of men being set up and shaken down, and if they didn’t pay they might be arrested and that would cost more, and maybe even jail. The Pimp is on good terms with the local police as he informs them about who is dealing ganja and shabu in the neighbourhood, and if they make a good haul they may give him a split.`

With Benny still hanging around, D.K. decides to approach the foreigner, “Boy make trouble for you mister? I help.” and before the man can reply he tells the small boy to scram and threatens him in Sinhalese. The Pedo says that the boy wasn’t bothering him and the Pimp treats it lightly, “Sometimes boys bother tourists. Bad to beg.” He scowls at Benny who moves back.

“Bugao (pimp).” the boy shouts in Sinhalese as he moves off.

D.K. ignores him and goes to relight his butt when the man brings out his pack and offers him a Gold Leaf. “Can I help you?” D.K. asks. The Pedo replies that he is just going for a stroll. D.K. asks the man what country he is from, if this is his first trip here and if he is married. The Pedo answers politely but does not like the Pimp’s nosy attitude. “Maybe you like young boy?” The Pedo shrugs, he has not had good experiences with pimps and prefers independent boys for sex. “I know many young boys, nice clean boys.” The Pedo pretends he’s not interested but he’s not convincing and D.K. persists. “I know good guest house too. Many foreigners stay there. I bring boy to your room.” The Pedo hesitates, It’s better to find your own boys, pimps makes it more like prostitution. Better to meet knowing boys, get to know one a bit and negotiate, and maybe he knows a good place to and get your film developed. He thanks the Pimp anyway and starts to leave. “You be careful, many boys steal, or work with police, I know good boys, very sexy boys, like do all sorts of things. What you like?” The Pedo thanks him again and continues on his way. He has already met a couple of older teen boys on his own in the city but none he particularly likes.

A hundred yards down the beach, Benny who has been watching approaches him again, “So you like boy?” While he is a bit older than the others, maybe ten or eleven, he’s a bit too young to interest the Pedo, and with his funny face he’s not the hottest kid around. He is however a bright and animated child and has a basic command of English. The Pedo politely explains that he likes him but he’s not interested in sex with him. Benny’s obviously disappointed but comes back with, “Maybe you like ganja?” The Pedo thinks this might be interesting as he would meet people; he brings out twenty rupees and asks how much. The boy’s eyes brighten and he insists that the foreigner come with him, and holding his hand with the money he leads him to a low makeshift shack just back from the beach where the bluff has washed away.

THE PIMP: Keeping an eye on the foreigner he sees Benny lead him over to Anil’s shanty. Maybe he just want ganja? But no. He believes he knows when men are looking for boys. The tourist will find it’s not Hikkeduwa here with willing boys everywhere. Here you need help, and I reckon he will come to me. Things would’ve worked out better if that brat Benny hadn’t gotten in the way. I would love to squeeze his beans until he squeals. After the tourist has been in the shanty for a while he lights the half butt of his last cigarette. What’s taking him so long? He doesn’t think that Anil’s shanty is a good place to find boys.

THE PEDO: Inside several young men and older boys are sitting listening to a ghetto blaster wired to a car battery, and when Benny pocketing the twenty introduces him, he is invited to join them. Except at the back it is not tall enough for adults to stand up in and he squats down on the beach sand floor. Across from him he notices a boy - The Boy - sitting between two youths. He watches him entertain his neighbours, his grace, animation and expression, and words he cannot fathom. An incarnation of boy perfection – and very hot indeed. The Pedo is struck, the boy’s beauty is lean and well formed with smooth, glistening skin, big lively eyes and a comely smile. His thin legs are marked by a few scars and disclourations that are almost universal among poor children in the tropics, but this in no way detracts from his appeal.

And very importantly for the Pedo, for reasons difficult to explain, the Boy appears to be in that early, magical phase of puberty that some call’bloom’, when the texture of the face subtly changes and peach fuzz thickens. And while his body is still hairless his genitals are spurting. While he also likes older boys this is the most attractive age for him where boys are capable of multiple orgasms and produce their first taste of seminal fluid. And he is a charmer with the confidence of someone who is loved. The Pedo has difficulty keeping his eyes off the kid, and every time their eyes meet the Boy smiles ever so nicely. He passes his pack of cigarettes around, pleased to see the Boy take one, and in turn accepts a sip of thambili, a coconut wine, from a communal cup.

The shack belongs to Anil who looks about thirty and his wife who is not introduced. Anil apologizes for their humble dwelling and explains that they had to rebuild after the big storm last year which washed their place away. They point to the large sturdy sideboard, the only furniture they were able to save. The Pedo asks how long they have lived here. Anil says he’s been there for twelve years but that most people came after the revolt was put down in 1998. “After they killed the leaders they left the people here alone.” The Pedo wants to hear more but the conservation turns to small talk and then one of the youths asks, “You like smoke?” He brings out a paper bag of the inferior local ganja with not even a decent pinch bud on the spindly stems. “Flowers.” the youth proclaims in English, and proceeds to roll a huge three paper stogie which he lights and passes to the foreigner. The Pedo politely accepts it and after a deep toke he smiles at them and nods affirmatively. He tries to pass on the stogie but finds it’s all for him. I hate it when they do this sort of thing – aggressive generousity. He ends up a bit more stoned than he wishes and buys a few grams for a steep price, as much to justify his presence as anything else. Once again the Boy catches his eye and smiles. This time the Pedo winks and the Boy, unseen by the others, makes a quick jacking motion with his hand. The Pedo is thrilled, nods and smiles; he’s starting to worry about his love-like feelings for the lad.

THE BOY: Kuma has wanted to meet a foreigner man for a long time, especially since the time the German felt his paiya. So exciting! After, the German gave him twenty rupees but he never saw him again although he watched every day. He wonders about the man sitting across from him that he’d seen walking earlier. He shivers when he thinks of going into a foreigner’s room. He’d pretend that he’s done it lots of times before and his paiya always gets stiff when he thinks about it. What would the foreigner do? And maybe he would give me a hundred rupees or maybe a nice watch. Very nice to have foreign friend. He wonders if this man would make a good friend. I will find out which hotel and go to his room.

THE PEDO: He wants to befriend the people, especially the Boy and maybe his buddies, and get a feel of the local scene. His trusty befriending tool is his compact Canon autofocus which he takes out of the thigh pocket of his cargo jeans. Picture taking is the Pedo’s favourite ploy in the non camera portions of the Third World, and it gives him a reason to return and gift people with prints. He would of course like pictures of the Boy anyway. Taking a boy’s picture is the next best thing to having sex with him, you capture part of him, especially nude. Everyone is eager to have their picture taken; youths compose themselves, hammy scenes are posed by some younger boys, and the little camera flashes again and again. Anil takes an empty trophy bottle of Johnnie Walker Red proudly displayed on the sideboard and poses with it to his lips. The Pedo takes pictures of the youths individually and in pairs and threes with their arms linked around each other’s shoulders. He takes many pictures of the small funny faced Benny, and more of the Boy who smiles, claps and clowns, playing to the Pedo’s camera. The Boy loves posing, how interesting and delightful! Some nice sets of bold pics of the Boy seem possible.

The Sun is getting low over the Indian Ocean, and with Anil and his woman apparently having things to do, the Pedo feels that he should leave but desperately wants to see the Boy alone. The Boy watching him closely seems to share Pedo’s desire. He shakes hands with the youths who follow him outside and he promises to return in a day or two and give them prints of the pictures. The Boy tags along tags along but so do a couple of the smaller boys making it difficult to talk. The Boy asks, “What hotel you stay? What number room?” The Pedo alas, is not staying nearby, and even if the boy could make it he would raise eyebrows at his lodgings in the city. The big resort hotel would not allow boys but possibly one of the small guest houses he saw on his way to the beach? But how would he know? He explains that he has to go back to the city but will return and give out prints tomorrow or the next day. He longs desperately for the Boy and doesn’t want to miss an opportunity for intimacy with him. I might not find him again. He delays, he tries to make conversation, to entertain the Boy but the small boys limit what he can say. The Pedo knows that in the Third World younger children commonly chaperone and report on their older siblings. But they seldom know any English.

THE BOY: He senses that the man likes him and he’s excited in his presence. He finds out which country he’s from but the name’s hard to say, and that the man is staying in Bambalapitiya which is long way off. Kuma is delighted by the man’s attention and simple questions but wants the man alone. Finally, the Pedo becoming frustrated with the two small boys gives them each ten rupees and bids them goodbye, winking at the Boy. However the two small boys refuse to leave protesting that the man didn’t give Kuma ten rupees, at least that’s what the Pedo thinks, and he presents the Boy with ten rupees. The small boys satisfied with that insist that Kuma come with them, and the Boy is dragged off in the opposite direction. It’s a while before Kuma can politely excuse himself and longer still before he spies the man sitting on a rock by the furthest concrete outhouse.

THE PEDO: When he sees the Boy he slowly saunters out on the beach and waits for him to catch up. Kuma still catching his breath boldly asks, “How much you give for sex?” The Pedo, a bit surprised but pleased by the Boy’s directness, pretends to think and says he’d give him a few hundred. “Five hundred rupees?” The Pedo smiles and nods.

THE BOY: He calculates what he could buy with that: Nice shoes, a Walkman, maybe a wristwatch, but I should give some to my amma... I could still buy a very nice T-shirt and some bonbons for all my friends. The Pedo realizes the Boy is thinking right now, and apologetically explains there is no place to go. The Boy is clearly disappointed but brightens when he says, maybe tomorrow, he will get a room nearby. “But tomorrow I have to help my sick aunty, and maybe the day after!” The Pedo thinking to give the boy something anyway he pulls out fifty rupees. I couldn’t do much with only fifty and give some to my amma. He hesitates, pondering. After a moment he decides to ask his mother even though she has warned him to be careful of foreigners. “Come” he says, beckoning the foreigner.

THE PEDO: Expecting to be led to some makeshift trysting spot he follows the Boy. I hope it’s cleaner than the last one and that there’s not a bunch of boys secretly watching He likes the Boy’s practical confident attitude. Generally he likes boys who want money,it’s a lot simpler than buying them gifts. Rich kids usually want fancy presents with some even disdaining money as too commercial. And they probably know exactly what they want. Those brats can be quite demanding – a thousand rupees for designer jeans! Ordinary boys who want money for themselves – not to give their families – are the most fun. The Pedo’s not interested in poor boys like the vendors and beggars, but he often gives them small money. Five hundred rupees is a trivial amount to the Pedo, the only thing that concerns him is that it could attract unwanted attention if the Boy spends it recklessly.

THE PIMP: He lost track of the foreigner when he went to buy two more cigarettes at the trackside store, and as he surveys the beach Kuma walks past. They’re not friends and don’t talk since D.K. tried to make him have sex. The Pimp would love to have Kuma – That boy really gets me hard, and some day I’m going to get him, and put him out, I could maybe use pics to control him… He’d be a classy boy, Pakistanis like pale boys and would pay well for him... I’d love to train that boy – train him how to do everything. It’s a minute before he spies the foreigner at the far end of the beach, and Kuma running to meet him. Kuma doesn’t go with foreigners! But obviously he does. D.K.’s surprised, and then feels cheated, unfairly cut out of the action. He becomes angry and forgets to butt his cigarette halfway. I would train him hard, real hard.

But the Pimp is very curious, and keeping out of sight he follows them. Maybe he take the foreigner to the pump shed on the other side of the tracks. I wait and then go in and threaten to call the police. I bet he has lots of money. He’s quite surprised when Kuma brings the man to his mother’s house. What’s he doing? Why not go to guest house? He even wonders if there’s some other reason, but then he’s heard that some Hikkeduwa boys bring foreigners to their houses. They say fathers like it because safer and better for their sons. And maybe get more money from the foreigner that way. The Pimp thinks it might be a good idea, but only for some. Maybe I will ask some of my boys; boy could pay father half of guesthouse price. With not much else to do he decides to keep an eye on the house and wait.

THE PEDO: When the Boy says, “This is my house.” the Pedo is perplexed; But what about your mother? “Oh she be home, and aunty.” But what about our… (He pats the Boy’s crotch and gets a grin back) “My mother says bad for boys to go to hotels, not good, so I talk to her.” The mother’s house, a decaying, pastel blue hollow block structure, better than most in the squatter area, is back beside the railway tracks which are also the main path of the shantytown. The Boy rushes to greet his mother who embraces him affectionately. The Pedo, feeling rather awkward, is introduced to Kuma’s mother, a frail woman probably much younger than she looks, and Aunty, her late husband’s sister. A couple of curious neighbour women and a few small children wander into the front room to look at the foreigner. The Pedo is offered the only chair in the large, almost empty, central room, the other furniture being a tall cabinet and a small table with an old Singer sewing machine. The others stand around him and the Mother asks if he would like some tea. The Pedo graciously accepts, specifying plain tea as his hosts are unlikely to have milk. She goes to the cooking lean-to followed by her son. Kuma, an arm around his mother whispers to her that he wants the foreigner for a friend, and while it is very difficult for him to ask, could they use the backroom for a while? It is very important and he will be very good, collect lots of wood for the stove and give her money for food - three hundred rupees!

THE MOTHER: She knows what her son wants; she’s heard stories from neighbours about boys getting money for sex with foreigners. “It is wrong what the foreigners do to the children. Everyone knows that.” But Kuma is persistent and pleads with her. “Such a shameful thing for a son to ask of his mother.” He is all I have. Her mind drifts back to her older sons, the ones who are gone. She remembers the night the security forces took them away. Sunil was 19 and Anura was just 16, both had been part of the group that attacked a local police station. Her little one, Kuma was just seven. She courageously went to see the officer in charge of security, a Brigadier Ratnasinghe, but was told that they knew nothing. That was all she knew. It was a few days after Aunty’s young husband of only a month disappeared. It seemed like half the young men and older teenagers disappeared or were taken away, and now so many women without husbands. She tried not to believe the stories she heard from others, about mass graves and the bodies of boys and young men floating down rivers.

She remembers her daughter, her lovely, intelligent girl who’d swallowed insecticide in a pact with her boyfriend when his high caste parents wouldn’t let them marry. What am I to do? My only remaining child, but what is there for him here? Few of the young men have jobs. And now he wants this business with this foreigner. It is wrong despite what some say. They take advantage of a boy’s innocence. But her son says he will give her three hundred rupees and her sewing business has been bad this month. How can I? He is all I have.

She tries to recall the good times long before the Troubles began. She remembers when their daughter Adela graduated, Kuma was just a little boy and his older brothers Sunil and Anura went to the school up the hill. Then in 1986, her husband was killed in an accident and the nightmare began.

THE PEDO: He feels uncomfortable sitting on the only chair with people standing around him. He is again asked the standard questions of country, marital status, job and, “How do you like our beautiful country?” The Pedo has read books and articles, and knows about the violence and victims of recent years. Not quite honestly he replies that it is a magnificent country. He learns that Kuma’s father husband built the house when he worked at the big hotel before the Troubles began. He tries to keep the conversation alive during the awkward silences but the others speak little English. He finds out that Aunty wants a job in a garment factory in the Export Processing Zone near the city. But that’s about all he learns and he’s not disappointed when the neighbours and little boys drift away. Aunty shows him some children’s dresses she’s made on the mother’s sewing machine.

THE MOTHER: Returning from the cooking shed she pours the tea in the china cup, adds three spoons of sugar, stirs it and offers it to the foreigner. The Pedo politely thanks her and tactlessly inquires if the others aren’t having some too. The Mother explains that the other cups are broken but sensing his embarrassment she fetches a plastic jug which she and Aunty share. The boy tugs at his mother and looks at her pleadingly out of sight of Aunty. She doesn’t know what to do. If he wants to go with foreigners he probably will anyway. And there’s that awful man who sells boys to foreigners. That’s shameless. Fortunately my boy doesn’t like him. She’s seen boys visiting the Germans in the guest house across the tracks and heard they get two to three hundred rupees. At least if he does it here I’ll be around if he needs me. But what about Aunty? … I will tell her the foreigner is staying for dinner and send her to the market. We should serve meat. It would be nice to have beef. I have enough money in my purse. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. The Mother goes into the back room, tidies and puts her few possessions away. Kuma follows her in and she lets him know it’s all right. He hugs and kisses her. Returning she smiles at the Pedo and asks him to stay for dinner. The Boy answers for the Pedo giving him a wink.

THE PEDO: He is astonished and uncertain, but when the Boy gives him a delighted silly face smile followed by more winks, he assumes arrangements have somehow been made. He is still confused, he has never had a boy with his mother’s permission. That is weird! The Boy tugs at the Pedo, leads him inside the back room and immediately starts to take off his shorts. Slow down. The Pedo kneels in front of him and looks up into the Boy’s smiling eyes. How long since I have been alone with such a perfect willing boy? He hugs the Boy and caresses his neck and shoulders. The Boy shivers. And so responsive. And then he begins kissing his chest and insignificant nipples and around his belly button.

THE BOY: Kuma wants to please the foreigner and lets him do what he wants even though it feels strange. It’s so exciting! Why do the foreigner’s hands feel so different from mine or amma’s when she rubs my back? Kissing me? Oohiee! His lips and tongue, it’s like tickly tickling but it’s not. He feels his shorts being slowly pulled down and his hard paiya slaps against his belly. The foreigner seems happy as he touches it.

THE PEDO: Beholding the Boy proud and naked before him, “Oya hari lassana kolla. Laku paiya.” He tries to tell the Boy that he is beautiful and has a big cock. The boy looks very pleased with himself. He studies the boy’s genitals, there’s just a hint of hair on his pubes. Perhaps just a matter of weeks. His pink glans is just peeking through its dusky sheath. Such exquisite, virile living sculpture should be proclaimed on every other billboard, not hidden by Stanfields or Fruit of the Loom. And the twin beans in their delicate crinkly sac. His shaking fingers gently touch their yielding softness. He licks the Boy’s stiffness very lightly at first before retracting the prepuce fully and traces his tongue over the inner contours. The Pedo has fantasized a slow worshipful procedure to bring the Boy and himself to orgasm but his arousal overwhelms him and he begins to slowly suck the trembling boy’s hardon.

THE BOY: Kuma knows that this is what foreigners do to boys and feels the new sensation engulf him. Oohiee! I have to pee… but no, it’s electricity! “Ooo, ooo” … It’s not like this when I play with it… I always stop when it gets like this. Stop. Please STOP. But he can’t put it into words. The Pedo stops.

THE MOTHER: The Mother busies herself getting things ready for dinner. She scrapes a coconut and minces chilies for sambol. What have I done? To think that a mother in her own house would allow her son to do such a thing. I should stop it right now. She listens outside the door. What is the foreigner doing to my boy? She silently moves the chair over to where there’s a gap at the top of the wall paneling, climbs up and on her toes peers over. She sees her son naked for the first time in years. His paiya’s grown so big. She stares in fascination and after a minute feels aroused herself. The foreigner begins sucking the boy again. Unconsciously she begins fondling her own nipple. The idea of doing the same with her son briefly crosses her mind. Never! And the times she’d refused her late husband who’d begged her to try it. Oh that I had! The Boy has his hands on the Pedo’s shoulders, his head tilting back, eyes fluttering, and mouth half open in a smile. He likes it! She’s relieved that Kuma’s happy and recalls her husband having the same expression when she played with his paiya.

THE PIMP: Outside the Pimp becomes impatient and restless. What’s going on? Finally he makes like he is going to the trackside store and seeing no one around he ducks around the corner of Kuma’s place to where there’s a small window covered by weathered plastic. Hidden by an hibiscus shrub he pokes a tear in the plastic and through the lacy curtain inside he can see into the backroom where the foreigner is sucking on Kuma’s paiya. He watches, becoming both angry and aroused, but he can do nothing. I will get that boy, get him good, and I will make the foreigner pay. He lights his last butt and speculates on how best to use what he knows. And I will train Kuma hard.

THE PEDO: Inside the Pedo slows down not wanting to rush the Boy. He wants to savour the skinny erection in his mouth. Why is this the most thrilling and satisfying thing in the world to me? The trouble and expense I go to, and the risks I take to suck young boys’ cocks. But only young boys. Why am I as I am? He likes small boys but beyond playful pats on their bums or briefly teasing their genitals he has no real interest in them. The Boy starts thrusting ever so slightly. What a delightful lad he is! The thrusts become stronger. The Pedo knows it is time for the moment of … The Boy grimaces, “Ooo, it’s too much… Oooaah.” The Pedo tastes the meager essence and stops, maintaining suction. He is flooded with a feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment, and his own arousal subsides though he has had no orgasm as such.

THE MOTHER: From her perch she sees the foreigner lean back and gaze into Kuma’s bewildered face. Ooo, my nipple is sore. What have I been doing? She feels ashamed of herself. I must put on some water for the rice. But she can’t stop watching. My little Kuma, my dear little boy.

THE PEDO: “Did you like that?” The Boy nods. “Good? Hari honda?… Mama hari.” The Pedo tries some phrases he’s memorized. He’s very happy. He holds the Boy’s shoulders and kisses his chest and small nipples. The Boy allows it for half a minute before wriggling away. “Too much?” The man strokes the boy’s neck and shoulders and kisses his forehead.

THE BOY: I’m happy the foreigner likes me. He relaxes and smiles, and giggles as the Pedo swoops him up into his arms and cuddles him to his chest. Caresses and kisses tingle his skin and Kuma loses volition. Ahaeee In his unspoken surrender he sees the foreigner as some heroic figure, and thinks of how he’ll spend the money. But he can’t concentrate as the foreigner is again playing with his paiya and kissing his face. A torrid kissing scene from a movie he once saw skips through his mind, he feels smothered and mothered, and squirms free.

The Pedo sits the Boy on the sleeping platform and undresses in front of the curious lad and lets him examine his organs. “Loku!” he exclaims. It’s the first time Kuma has seen an adult’s erection, And a foreigner’s at that. He grasps the man’s cock eagerly, checks the underside, wiggles it as he might some toy and rubs it up and down, glancing up to see the foreigner’s reaction. The foreigner is delighted and encourages his efforts. Kuma jacks him vigorously with both hands and stops to check the peehole which fascinates him. That could squirt a lot.

THE MOTHER: What are they doing now? The Mother less protective and more curious gets up on the chair again and this time sees her son playing with the foreigner’s cock. Such a paiya! Not since her husband has she seen a man’s aroused cock, and again she feels the unfamiliar excitement, and perhaps a little envy of her son, and again she inserts a hand in her robe. Oh, more sucking In an almost trance like state she begins rubbing herself more vigorously and only after emitting a low moan does she stop. What am I doing? She feels ashamed. I must check the water, it should be boiling. She dashes to the cooking lean-to.

THE PEDO: Leaning over the sitting Boy, he lightly massages his scalp, down the back of his neck, and his fingers gently wander from his shoulders to his bum and thighs. The Boy energetically jacks his erection, glances up at his face grinning broadly, “You like?” He does but he doesn’t want to rush things and topples the Boy on the bed. He licks his chest, teases his tiny nipples with his tongue and lightly down to his groin. And then up from his knees before he starts sucking his skinny paiya again. Too slow? The boy makes rapid jacking motions with his fist to show what he wants. The Pedo lifts up the Boy’s legs exposing his untanned brown bum and sucks his little beans in their bag.

THE BOY: He’s never felt such a sensation, so strange and a bit scary, But if you stick with it it’s nice. He likes it on his paiya better though.

THE PEDO: Resuming his prayers at the fleshy font he wonders as he teasingly sucks, Why not as in ancient times where on the temple steps a man could find a young boy, or perhaps a girl or woman, to help him worship his divinity. He’s seen the small saffron clad, temple boys who are cared for and serve the monks in the temples, and he’s heard tales of how the monks get it on, gently for the most part, with the boys. Life in the sangha, I wonder, there’d have to be more to it than boys. He senses that the boy is getting close again. “Oooo. Lectricity!” When the Boy is ready to sparkle he stops. “More, more. Don’t stop.” The Boy is cruelly teased again and again, and finally the Pedo sits the Boy beside him and suggests that he jack himself. He wants to see the Boy’s style and soon takes over using a similar technique. And the boy happily jacks the foreigner. Strictly mutual masturbation however is fraught with distractions and very difficult for an inexperienced child. The Boy alternately concentrates on the thrilling sensations he feels and the fun of playing with the foreigner’s big paiya, and watching the expressions on his face. The Pedo can only take so much vigorous stimulation from the Boy and moans his ecstasy as he spurts. Wonderstruck at the sight the Boy immediately stops, his eyes focused on the foreigner’s dribbling peehole. Such divine bliss! The Pedo’s pleased to see the Boy take some cum on his finger and sniff it. A minute later his experienced fingers bring the Boy to tingly shudder again.

Fun? You like?

The Boy smiles, “Yes, very much yes.” And giving the Boy no respite his hungry lips descend for another helping of paiya. “No, no, too much.” And he pushes the foreigner away. After a hug the Pedo lights a cigarette and inhales deeply savouring the afterglow. The Boy demands a puff.

HIS MOTHER: Aunty may be back any moment. The Mother checks again tiptoe on the chair. Ahhh! My son is smoking! Imagine giving a cigarette to a child! The smoking is of much concern as sucking. Sucking doesn’t kill your lungs. The foreigner should set a good example. She busies herself with cooking making more noise than necessary hoping to speed up the foreigner.

Aunty returns just after the Pedo and the Boy come out of the back room. It’s a good dinner despite the rice being a little burnt. The mother is thrilled when the Pedo gives her five hundred rupees. She invites the Pedo back soon, “Tomorrow?” and it’s a date. Next time the Pedo will look for a room in a congenial nearby guest house. That will be better, and bring some bonbons, soft drinks and my other camera. The Boy will make a great model, he’s so expressive and animated. Just natural poses, maybe some with hardons, that’s natural too. All sorts of ideas trip through his mind. He is captivated by the Boy, enchanted. There are few things he wouldn’t do to be with and know the Boy; I will get my visa extended and move into a nearby guest house. I will find someone to tutor him in English, and he will try to learn some of the local language. He will do all sorts of things although he knows that in about four or five years the boy will be too old to really excite him sexually. He’ll try to find out more about the Boy and his Mother. He’s been a benefactor before with sexual success. He also gives the Boy five hundred rupee notes as promised, hoping it’s not too much for him.

THE PIMP: Having figured out an extortion plan he waits impatiently for foreigner to leave and accosts him a hundred yards back towards the way he came, “I hope you enjoyed your visit here with little Kuma.” He remarks sarcastically. The Pedo is taken aback but doesn’t know how to deal with the situation, but he knows it’ll be expensive. “You want boys, you see me, I find good hotel, bring you boy, even small boy and pick up after. Understand? If you don’t want dear sweet Kuma beaten and raped, or I talk to my police friends, I suggest you give me money, five thousand rupees. You got credit card, I go with you to bank.” The Pedo notices a knife holster under his jacket and decides to settle. After D.K. tells him, “Next time, you see me. I find you nice boy, maybe you even get Kuma for a price.”

THE PEDO: He’s read that life is cheap in Sri Lanka, a very violent country with many murders. He tells acquaintances of his problems with the Pimp and a few days later he is approached by a professional hitman with a very reasonable offer. He says he must think it over. He’s adverse to killing anyone on principle. But if it would free Kuma? The Pedo ponders the Pimp’s demise over the next day indulging in the life versus death fantasies. It would only be just, the world would be a better, safer place without the pimp. But his main concern is Kuma.

The next afternoon the phone in his room rings. It’s the Pimp, he wants to know if the Pedo is interested in having a boy: “For two thousand rupees you could have Kuma even, But you must act quick because the offer expires soon.” The Pedo is suspicious, he certainly doesn’t trust D.K: It could be more extortion or a set up. And how did the Pimp get my phone number? But the thought of having Kuma again, of maybe helping him stirs both his loins and sense of altruism. He questions the Pimp who seems impatient. Twelve hundred rupees would be enough, he could bring the Boy over to his hotel or meet him by the Galle Face cannon but it would have to be soon. The Pedo is pulled by fear of some sort of set up and his desire for Kuma, and hesitates. The Pimp tells him only one thousand and that is his final offer. The Pedo, alerted to the desperation in D.K.’s voice, offers him 800 rupees.

That evening with the Sun setting over the Ocean they meet at Galle Face by the canon facing out to sea. A quite haggard D.K. with luggage in tow quickly takes the money and leaves the relieved Boy with the Pedo. They catch a bus to Mt. Lavinia and take a taxi to the station. Kuma says he’s alright, “I had to do what D.K. told me. He slap me and say he tell my friends, and maybe the police, and my mum would get into trouble. He hurt me so much, my hole very sore. I think he like to hurt.”

THE PEDO: “It doesn’t have to hurt if the man doesn’t hurry and use cream, but I don’t like doing that anyway. I just like to eat paiya.” He grins and momentarily fondles Kuma’s crotch. The Boy hugs his chest.

THE MOTHER: She is very relieved to see her son and hugs him passionately. She tells him he doesn’t have to worry about D.K. any more. A neighbour had reported him as a peeping tom for tearing the plastic and peering through her bedroom window. The police were not informed but several young men including Anil and his friends confronted the Pimp and he decided to move on.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Note I started this story early in 1995 while I was staying in Sri Lanka but my notes were seized on my return to Canada. However I started working on it again occasionally during my legal troubles and this eventually became the basis of the version here. After my acquittal on my written porn charges in 2002 the original notes were returned and used to revise the newer version.