Eff Del

Young But Daily Growin'

Chapter 1

As I was watching over the garden wall,
I saw all the young boys a playing with the ball.
My true love was the flower of them all.
He's young, but he's daily growing.

I took a casual sip from my crystal tumbler of single malt scotch whiskey and absently appreciated the smoky tang upon my tongue as I leaned back into the my leather seat and pressed 'play' on the video display on my lap top.

Although I had watched these images more times than I had bothered counting, I still could not stop my heart from beating faster nor keep myself from holding my breath in awe as I watched.

The video began with a slow pan of the 22 young boys in their respective positions on a soccer field. It would be fair to say that all the boys on both teams were attractive but HE stood out from them all.

It was hard to tell his height; how tall are 11 and 12 year old boys as a rule? HE was not the tallest. He seemed to be more or less average in that regard but, aside from his height nothing else about him could be deemed average in any way.

His little body, slender but not skinny, was tensed… almost trembling like an archer's bow with the arrow nocked and waiting release.

His proportions were so perfect that they would make an ancient Greek sculptor sigh with admiring appreciation.

His thick full mane of onyx black hair gleamed in the light and as he turned his head it flipped and tumbled as if it were made of fine silk threads.

His striking blue/green eyes flashed with a perfect combination of happiness, excitement and anticipation.

I leaned into the screen and watched. The Referee blew his whistle, the ball was kicked, touched and passed, HE was on it at once moving more like a dancer than a soccer player… throwing his entire body into the game in a joyful frenzy. The dazzling smile never left his face for even a second as he wrapped himself into the contest. HE became the game and his total pleasure with his involvement in it was patently obvious.

I watched as time and time again HE dominated the action on the field.

When the match was over, HE strode across the grass bathed in sweat. His clothing clung to his perfect little body and his still glistening hair, plastered to his head, framing his glowing face.

His teammates thronged around him as if just being near him; just touching him somehow amplified their own joyful existence. He was a young god among lesser gods and all of Nature seemed to pay him homage.

I realized that once again, I had been inadvertently holding my breath. I inhaled, leaned back into my seat again and drained my glass. Filling it once more with amber liquid, I drew in a long sip as I reflected upon all those events that had led me to this particular moment in my life.

Simply put, I was born into fabulous wealth the much loved son of two amazing parents. My father and mother each being only children were the last of their families; two old lines of wealth, power and impressive reputation. My birth was celebrated and welcomed in many corners of the world because it ensured that the two great and influential dynasties would continue for at least another generation.

My education was beyond the usual received even by a child of privilege. It was discovered early on that I had inherited the best talents and attributes from both sides of my family tree. These talents were encouraged and nurtured. By the time I was 8 years old, I was not only a very well read and respected young scholar, but was also an accomplished athlete and musician. I was doted upon by family and friends. I wanted for nothing material, intellectual or emotional. Every day was filled with love and bursting with fulfilling activity.

In May of my 9th year, the joyfulness of my life increased 100 fold when (a bit to the surprise of everyone) my brother Kyle was born.

To say that I adored my little brother would be a gross understatement. As soon as he had developed from an infant into a 'person' (these being my youthful impressions), I spent every available moment I could with him. My initial fascination quickly turned into unequivocal love.

Kyle had inherited many of the same talents and interests as I and he grew into a cheerful talented boy. He was popular at school, extraordinary at sports an excellent scholar and, to my delight, he admired and looked up to me. We reveled in each others company. Even after I left home to attend the University, we Skyped every evening sharing our days with each other, exchanging secrets and laughing at private jokes. I was living a life so filled with love and satisfaction that it was almost ordained that it could not last.

I got the word while I was at the University studying for a final exam. It had been sudden and unpredictable as such things always are.

A semi driver pushing his schedule and juiced up to keep himself awake had lost control of his rig on a steep grade. My parents and Kyle were driving home from a regional swim meet. Typically, Kyle had won three gold and a silver. I like to think that they never realized what was about to happen. In an instant they were gone and with their deaths, all the love and joy in my life died as well.

I was too stunned to mourn in a normal way. I left school; my exceptional grades augmented by my unthinkable wealth and generations of generous family endowments to the University ensured that my degree was 'a done deal'.

Since my vast family enterprises were virtually self-running, there was very little need for me to become immediately involved in business and so I launched myself into a lifestyle consisting of an insane mélange of despair, grief, debauchery and self-indulgence.

My heart was ripped into shreds and there was a hole in my soul. I had no purpose or direction. I was alive and moving through this world but at my core I was as dead as my beloved family.

I might have stayed that way until death mercifully reached out and took me but something deep inside me kept screaming out that this was no way to live and certainly no way to honor the love my lost family had held for me.

Encouraged by friends, I sought assistance from one of the most highly regarded counselors in the world. After many sessions with this brilliant Doctor, she expressed her belief that I needed to fill the void in my existence by having another person in my life that I could protect, provide for and (hopefully) eventually love.

Her recommendation was very creative and probably would only be possible thanks to my vast wealth.

She suggested that given my personal history coupled with my known homosexuality, that it might be an excellent idea for me to become guardian to a young boy. This guardianship would not be of the normal type however. She calmly explained that the role of the boy would be multipurpose. The young man would serve as dependent, surrogate and even as a source of erotic fulfillment. Simply put she stated that I could redirect my life in a positive manner by assuming the status of parent, brother and even lover to a boy whose role would be counter point to my own.

A gave the matter much thought and as I mulled over the idea it became more appealing and made great sense. It seemed possible that I could in fact save my life by involving it with someone else's… but where to find the boy.

I dismissed the idea of adoption or foster care at once for many good reasons not the least of which being that I was not willing to become legally responsible for a child sight unseen on a permanent basis. I required a way by which I could experiment with this project for a reasonably lengthy but still limited time before I made any full term commitment.

Almost immediately, my thinking was drawn to the Nesswell-Turnbridge Academy for Boys… known generally as The nest.

The general population, if they had any knowledge of The nest at all, knew that it was an exclusive orphanage that took in carefully selected male children and raised them into well-educated and productive adults. Indeed, society was well served by many of the bright men who had been produced by the Academy over the years.

To those in the know however, the upper strata of society if you will, the nest was also a very expensive source of young male prostitutes… a training place for highly skilled classy and pricy catamites.

The truth of course was somewhere in between these two perceptions.

Established in 1952, the Academy founders Harold Nesswell and Bernard Turnbridge had recognized a desire and a need in society and had established the Academy to service that need.

They took in young orphaned boys whose lineage and (later) DNA had been scrupulously investigated and raised them in a very controlled and nurturing environment. The Academy did not take in any child over the age of six and never accepted a child whose intellectual and physical potential could not be checked and verified. They only took them young and they only took the very cream of the crop. The boys received a top notch education and as a rule became exceptional students academically and physically. They were also emotionally supported and to the man were well rounded and stable. Academy boys were extraordinary boys. That was a well-known fact.

There was however, the other social need that the Academy filled. From the beginning, an Academy boy was exposed to almost 100 percent male influence. The few females in their lives were never in any position that might allow a boy to develop any emotional attachment to them. All nurturing, encouragement and guidance was received from the male staff. At the age of 13, the boys' education became supplemented by intense training in the erotic arts of male/male sex. By the age of 15, a nest Boy was a highly skilled erotic practitioner and was available for 'lease' to any of the institution's many wealthy and influential clients. Nesswell and Turnbridge had correctly accessed there was a large demand among men of wealth… a surprising portion of whom nurtured (often secret) curiosity if not outright homo erotic desires. These clients paid dearly for the attractive and skilled services of the boys as well as the discretion the Academy provided.

Boys were 'leased out' generally by the day or for weekends although week and even month long contracts were not uncommon with repeat business being the norm rather than the exception. Some clients preferred to rehire the same boy while others held to the principle that 'variety was the spice of life'.

A nice portion of each boy's earnings was set aside in a bank account in the young man's name and he received the full sum upon reaching the age of 18. Additionally, upon leaving the nest at the age of 18, the vast majority of the boys were the recipients of generous scholarships. After graduating college most became very successful in their chosen fields. It was not at all unusual in fact, for many of them go on to become Academy clients themselves.

All in all it was a very reputable establishment even though it serviced what some prudish or unenlightened people would tend to consider a seamier side of human nature.

I came to the conclusion that the nest would be my perfect source for obtaining the right boy. Since they had already done the bulk of the work in selecting the best boys available, I only needed to make my selection by picking from the top of their inventory so to speak.

During the dark period of quasi madness following the deaths of my family, I had used boys from the nest on several occasions and found great sexual satisfaction in every case. These talented teens could milk a cock with their lips, hands, tongues and asses in ways almost unimaginable. They approached their jobs with gusto and enthusiasm all the while exuding good humor. They were well worth the money spent and if anything, they each exceeded my expectations. Now however, I was looking for a great deal more than just sexual pleasure and therefore did not want a boy who was trained and jaded.

I wanted a boy whose perception of life was not yet fixed. I wanted someone that could learn with me and about me as I would with and about him; someone I could learn to care for and who could grow to care for me hopefully and become an actual part of my life.

After days of serious consideration making long lists of pros and cons I came up with my specification. In brief I required a boy who excelled physically and intellectually. I required that he be attractive, clever and not self-absorbed

Although Kyle, who remained my ideal of a young boy was 14 when he was killed I decided that this would be too old for my choice because a 14 year old in the nest would be in the middle of his sexual instruction. I did not want the boy I selected to have even begun the nest's erotic training but I wanted him to be aware of it and to have grown to the point that he was curious about it.

I was not looking for a boy whore and I was not looking to replace Kyle. I had finally admitted to myself that Kyle and my parents were gone and it was time for me to move on. I was looking for a special boy who might with time and care become part of my life in every special way. I was looking for a boy who by his own right, would mend my ravaged heart and fill the hole in my empty aching existence.

I established my criteria and decided that the search would be restricted to boys no younger than 10 and no older than 12.

I contacted Mr. Coleman the director of the Academy and arranged a meeting.

Sitting in his office I outlined my requirements and explained what my intentions were. After listening he looked at me rather smugly and told me in no uncertain terms that what I was looking to do was out of the question.

"In the first place Mr. Tucker, it is unheard of to contract a student out for the uninterrupted period of an entire year. It would interfere with his education irreparably. Even if that were possible, we certainly do not contract out boys before they have completed their entire training. It is just not something we have ever done."

"I see," I replied as I reached into my jacket pocket and retrieved my cell phone. I quickly flipped through my contact list and located the number I was seeking and punched it in. My call was answered almost at once.

"Hello Bernie it's Eric Tucker how are you?"

Sitting behind his desk, the officious little director just looked at me curiously as he listened to the conversation… or at least my half of it. After a few minutes of small talk I got down to business.

"Listen Bernie, I'm here at the Academy sitting in the office with your Mr. Coleman and he's telling me that a project that I've got in mind just can't be accommodated," I proceeded to succinctly outline what I was looking to do and while I spoke I watched the face on the stuffy little fellow on the other side of the desk change from smug to curious to apprehensive.

What he didn't know was that I was talking to Bernard Turnbridge III the current Chairman of the Board and Majority Stock Holder in the Academy. He also didn't know that besides the not insignificant money that I had personally spent on teen aged 'companionship', my vast slew of companies were a major source of income as we entertained many clients by supplying them the services of Academy students.

On top of that, he had no way of knowing that his boss and I were classmates at the university, were fraternity brothers and played golf at least twice a year.

"This is Mr. Turnbridge on the phone Mr. Coleman," I said to the man behind the desk.

"He wants to speak with you," I handed the now sweating Director my phone.

After a short series of "but Mr. Turnbridge"s, his part of the conversation quickly deteriorated to a bunch of "yes Sir Mr. Turnbridge"s before he finally handed the phone back to me with a very uncomfortable look on his face.

After a short conversation which included mutual assurances that we needed to get together soon, I broke the connection and smiled at the very nervous Director.

"Well then Mr. Coleman, I've just been assured of your complete cooperation. Here are my requirements for the prospective young man," with this I passed him a rather thick folder.

"Please review them with your staff and make your investigation your first priority. I don't intend to waste time My agent Mr. Phillip Regent will be in next Wednesday to review your suggested candidates. With your assistance he will cull the list down to three or four and from these I will make my final selection."

I then thanked him as cordially as if we had never had our initial difficulties. There would be no point in laboring the issue. I knew his type all too well and now that he saw the lay of the land, I knew his cooperation would be genuine and professional. He knew what to kiss and when.

Phil Regent was as close to a loved and trusted Uncle as I ever had. He had been my father's most valued assistant and Kyle and I grew up calling him 'Uncle Phil'. Even now that I was his boss, I used that term of respect and affection when we were together out of the public's ear.

He knew me better than any person alive. I knew he loved me like a beloved nephew perhaps even a son. He was one of the first to embrace the Doctor's suggestion about getting involved with a boy. He enthusiastically agreed with the idea and I knew he was the man to trust with this task.

The next Tuesday evening I received a telephone call from Director Coleman letting me know that he and his staff had pre-selected ten potential candidates for Phil to review.

I personally drove him to the airport the next morning.

"Good luck Uncle Phil," I said as I embraced him. "Take as much time as you need but bring me back the brightest of the jewels," He smiled and gripped my shoulder affectionately as he nodded his assent.

He boarded my private jet and I watched as it taxied, took off and disappeared into the sky.

Upon returning home, I grabbed a decanter filled with single malt, plopped two ice cubes into a tumbler and walked into the music room of the mansion. Placing the bottle and the now filled tumbler upon the bench, I sat down at the Steinway and began playing not even thinking about what music I was producing; my fingers just raced across the keys.

When I finally stopped, my bottle was empty, it was 2AM, I was quite drunk but I knew that at least I would be able to sleep without being tormented by apprehension for the future and ghosts from the past.

Phil called me late Friday afternoon to fill me in on the progress.

"Eric, it would have been a hell of a lot easier to bring you the dossiers on all ten boys rather than have to whittle it down to three but, I'm satisfied that I've achieved what you asked and we should plan on sitting down on Monday to review. I'm staying over here until tomorrow because I want shoot a video of a soccer game that one of the boys is going to be involved in. I'll see you Monday."

The week end was pure hell. I reverted to my old habit of drinking myself into a stupor Saturday but managed to be sober albeit on pins and needles Sunday. I wanted to be clear headed for my meeting with Phil.

Monday morning he was waiting in my study/office for me and we got right down to business.

"Eric, while all ten of the boys were wonderful in their own right, knowing you and your tastes… at least that is, what you were like before you embarked upon this colossal bender that you now call your life… I've reduced the search down to three young men. One is 12 years old, one is 11 and the third is ten. I feel either of these boys could suite your purpose although I'll admit that I do have a person favorite among them."

First he handed me the folder on the 10 year old and we reviewed his information followed by viewing a video interview with the young boy. Each of the boys had been told he was being interviewed and filmed for an educational TV program. This little boy was beautiful. He was absolutely cherubic with golden hair and bright blue eyes and was well spoken for his age.

He was tiny in stature and appeared almost fragile. This seeming fragility stayed with me as I lay the file aside and accepted the next one.

We next reviewed the 12 year old a brown haired beauty with dark dancing eyes and a gorgeous smile. He was athletically built and seemed average in height. During the interview he seemed to have a quick wit. I was very impressed.

Finally I was handed the dossier on the 11 year old. While I glanced at the file, Phil turned on the interview video and I was stopped cold.

The boy on the screen had thick black hair that he wore over his ears and longish down on the back of his neck. Peeking out from under his bangs, long dark eyelashes accented the most startling blue/green eyes that shone intelligently as he listened and spoke. His full mouth with perfectly straight white teeth seemed to be fixed in a perpetual smile. He had a slender body that was exquisitely proportioned and his smooth skin tanned from time spent in the sun complimented his features.

When he spoke, the high but pleasant timbre of his voice gave proof that puberty was still some time in his future. He gave obvious thought before answering each of the interview questions and when something said struck him as funny he broke into a pleasingly natural young boy giggle that made me smile involuntarily as I watched. He seemed so alert and active and I smiled as I watched him try to refrain from wiggling as he sat for the battery of questions.

The boy was stunning and my hands actually trembled as a read his file: Current height: 4 feet 6 inches [1.37 m], Current weight: 80 pounds [36½ kg].

Grades: top 2 in every course, all around top of his class. Captain of the 11-12 year old soccer team, co-captain of the under 14 swim team first string on the novice tennis team.

His parents had both been medical doctors who had been killed by rebels while they were doing voluntary medical relief work in Africa. The child had been only two years old at the time and had been in the care of his only living relative; his grandmother who was a retired Professor of Art History at Georgia State University and was the author of several definitive books on Medieval French Art. She had passed away suddenly when the child was four and he had been snapped up by agents from the Academy before his was lost in the sea of child care mediocrity. The resumes of his other three grandparents had been equally impressive. He was a treasure… a true 'child of the nest'.

I looked at Phil and the expression on my face must have said it all. He smiled and said softly:

"I thought so too but you did charge me to bring back three possible candidates." He slipped a new disc into the laptop and said, "This is the soccer game I told you I was staying over to film. It's his game in every sense of the word. You watch and I'll go make us a couple of drinks." That would be the first of many multiples of times I would watch that video.

There was no further discussion. I immediately contacted Director Coleman and informed him to get everything ready. I would be flying in tonight and would pick up the boy tomorrow.

I smiled nervously to myself as I closed the computer and placed it in the bag next to me. I drained my scotch and put my chair into a safer upright position as my pilot indicated we were beginning our descent.

Tonight I would sleep as best as I could in the penthouse apartment I maintained in the city and if all went well and fate was kind, it would be the last time in a long while that I would sleep alone.

I knew that my night would be haunted and that actual sleep would be hard for me to come by. I fully anticipated I would be bidding farewell to some loved ghosts but I did not seek the security of drink induced oblivion. I wanted to stay alert and face the night with a heart filled with hope and anticipation. I wondered briefly if HE knew what tomorrow was to bring and if so, was HE as apprehensive as I was.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, for better or for worse, HE was coming into my life.

Tomorrow I was picking up Sean and taking him home.

Chapter 2

I rose the next morning extremely refreshed. Sleep had come to me quite unexpectedly and it had been a calming relaxing sleep unlike any I had experienced since the deaths of my family.

I dressed as I had planned: informally but not overly casual. Although I had rehearsed in my mind several possible scenarios for our first meeting, I was intelligent enough to know that almost anything could actually happen. Still, I was very conscious of first impressions and though I didn't want to be overdressed and stuffy looking, I certainly didn't want to 'dress down' for our first encounter. I had therefore chosen a simple white oxford cloth shirt which I wore open at the neck, tan twill pants and a blue blazer.

I breakfasted at the nice little restaurant located on the street level of my building and was pleasantly surprised that I had a rather good appetite. When I was finished, I returned to the penthouse, repacked my small overnight bag and called for a car to be brought around. I had decided to drive myself to the Academy and then, after collecting Sean, to drive us both to the airport for our flight home. As I thought about it, registered in my mind was the fact that for a good while to come, my home was going to be Sean's home as well.

I arrived at the Academy a few moments before my scheduled appointment and found Mr. Coleman waiting for me in the lobby. He was quite cordial as we walked back to his office and he explained that he had all of the paper work ready for me to sign. When I had added my signature to all the proper documents he sorted them out and handed me a packet of my copies. From this point on, I was effectively Sean's legal guardian for the next year.

"Is there anything you need to tell me about the boy?" I asked.

"Not specifically Mr. Tucker," the Director replied. "Your investigation was quite thorough so you know almost everything there is to know about him until you actually start interacting on a personal level.

"He was informed last night that he was going out on a contract today. He doesn't know how long the duration of the assignment is going to be as I didn't know if you wanted him aware of that information.

"I believe I should tell you he was shocked and I think a bit concerned when he found out that he would be leaving with you today. He knows very well that boys his age are never contracted out and he is concerned that he hasn't even begun his 'special' training. I tell you this Mr. Tucker because I'm afraid you may find that initially he acts very apprehensive. I assure you though that he is a remarkable child and not normally pensive. I'm certain you two will get along very well."

"I certainly hope so Mr. Coleman," I responded.

"Well then, shall I have him brought in?" I nodded in the affirmative hoping the officious little man didn't see me swallow hard as I responded. He pushed a button located on the edge of his desk and a few minutes later there was a knock at his office door. Mr. Coleman and I had been sitting together in in the casual corner of his office. We both stood as he called:

"Come in, Come in."

The door opened and I thought my heart was beginning to palpitate. HE walked in and stopped nervously a few paces from Mr. Coleman. He eyes darted back and forth between the Director and me.

He was cute as a button. Someone had wet his hair and attempted comb it 'stylishly'. This only served to further accent his beautiful little face. He was proportioned as perfectly as his videos had indicated.

At 4 feet 6 inches [1.37 m], the top of his head came level with my chest. I mused; If you were to look up the definition of 'beautiful boy' in the dictionary, you would simply find his picture.

He fixed his gaze on me and then looked down at himself and an impish little grin appeared on his beautiful face.

I realized at once what he was smiling at. It was as if we had both gotten the same 'dress code memo' because there stood my perfect boy dressed in white shirt, tan slacks and a blue blazer. The only difference between his attire and mine was the fact that I was wearing brown loafers and on his feet were what looked like new white sneakers. Also, while I wore my shirt open necked; he sported a striped navy blue tie that he didn't look all that comfortable wearing.

"Well then Sean," said Mr. Coleman placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and turning him toward me, "this is Mr. Tucker who we spoke about last night."

The little fellow looked me directly in the eyes and stuck out his hand.

"Hello Mr. Tucker," he said as we formally shook hands.

"Hello Sean," I replied. "I am very happy to meet you."

Mr. Coleman directed his gaze down to the boy.

"Now Sean, I don't have to tell you again that we expect that you will be a credit to the Academy. Do as Mr. Tucker says and make us all proud."

Turning to me he said, "You'll probably want to be on your way. Good luck to you both and if I can be of any assistance don't hesitate to let me know."

I noticed that the boy had placed a small travel case by the door. I picked it up, slung the strap over my shoulder, and instinctively extended my hand to the youngster. He gave me a momentary searching look and then put his small hand into mine. We thanked Mr. Coleman one last time and hand in hand we walked through the door and out to the car.

I assisted him in buckling his seat belt not because I thought he needed the help but because it gave me a reason to touch him.

As I climbed into the driver seat I turned to him. "Two things to start out with Sean," I said. "First… lose the tie."

He turned his face quickly in my direction, broke into a wide grateful smile and had the thing untied and his collar unbuttoned in a flash.

"Second thing; forget about all that 'make the Academy proud' crapola you just heard. I expect you to be a boy and that means I expect you to act naturally. I don't want you doing anything just because you think it will please me. We have a short drive to the airport and then a two hour flight home. That's going to give us time to talk and get to know each other a bit."

His eyes suddenly got wide and he exclaimed, "We're going to fly? Oh neat!… uh I mean that's exciting! I've never flown before sir."

"Well then, you're in for a real treat young man, my jet is really great and my chief pilot is wonderful. Your first experience is going to be so much better than it would have been if we were flying one of the airlines."

"You have your own jet?" he asked with wonder in his voice.

"Sean, you are going to find out that I have a lot of things and I hope you're going to enjoy a great many of them."

We made semi-comfortable small talk the rest of the drive to the airport.

I pulled up onto the private tarmac and we were greeted by three of my company employees who assisted us in getting on-board and ready for the flight. Before things progressed any further, I summoned the pilot back into the cabin.

"Captain Lucas, I'd like for you to meet Sean. This will be his first flight ever. After we're comfortably in the air would you be kind enough to bring him up to the cockpit and let him see what flying is like from your perspective?"

"I'd be delighted to do that Mr. Tucker. Hi Sean, it's a pleasure to meet you. Just give me a bit to get this bird up and I'll be back to get you shortly after we're airborne."

Sean's face was alight with excitement and anticipation as he thanked Captain Lucas.

"For now though gentlemen, please get buckled in and sit back. We'll be taking off in about five minutes."

I led Sean to a plush leather seat right next to a window and buckled him in (same as I had in the car and with the same ulterior motive) I took the seat facing him. I'd no sooner taken my place than the plane began to taxi out to the head of the runway.

The twin engines began to roar as they powered up and I noticed the boy's body tense and a look of apprehension came upon his face.

I smiled, reached out and took his hand and held it tightly. "This is the best part," I said.

As if on cue, the sleek craft sped down the runway, nosed high, gear rotation and… flight all in one smooth and almost instantaneous set of actions. The apprehensive look on Sean's face had changed quickly to excitement and pleasure. He had never taken his eyes off the window but had squeezed my hand tightly throughout the process of take-off.

Now he looked at me with a dazzling smile on his face.

I patted his hand and let it go. "Pretty neat eh?" I said.

"It was exciting! It happened so fast! That was the BEST Sir!!" he enthused. I winced at the 'Sir' but realized there would be time to take care of that. Don't over load the poor little guy I admonished myself.

Though I didn't usually use the services of one, I had arraigned for there to be a flight attendant on-board for this trip. Just as soon as the Captain had turned off the seat belt sign, the young man appeared, introduced himself as Barry and inquired what we would like to drink. I requested my normal single malt; Glenn Fiddich this time on ice. Sean was a bit confused… sensory overload I thought… and so I ordered a root beer for him. Immediately I quietly admonished myself for being so presumptuous. I had just suddenly remembered that root beer had been Kyle's absolute favorite.

As Barry left for the galley at the rear of the plane, Sean turned to me with a look of pure merriment on his face. I gave him a puzzled glance and he leaned forward and whispered to me, "Is everyone going to dress like us today?" and he broke into an adorable giggle.

It was then that I realized that Barry was wearing a white shirt, tan trousers and a blue blazer. So much for my wardrobe creativity I thought to myself and joined Sean in a laugh.

Barry returned with our beverages and as we sat sipping, I allowed Sean to enjoy the view from the window. I leaned forward and pointed out a few things down below that I thought would interest him. I found myself really enjoying the newness of flight as seen through Sean's eyes. While we were so engaged, Captain Lucas appeared.

"Excuse me Mr. Tucker, might I borrow this young man for a bit?"

I patted Sean's knee and indicated he should follow the pilot into the cockpit.

"We'll have a talk when you return," I said, smiling at the obviously excited boy.

When they had left I took a few serious sips from my drink as I collected my thoughts. Thus far, the boy was even better than I had expected him to be. He was polite and obviously eager to please and there was no doubt that he had a wonderful sense of humor that even the strangeness of his new environment couldn't suppress.

I was bothered by his formality but I dawned on me that we had known each other for less than three hours. I realized that ultimately I'd had the luxury of weeks to mentally prepare for this. He, on the other hand, had this whole concept thrust upon him just last night. New things were coming at him faster than he was used to having to cope with. I realized with a start that I was actually one of those new things and perhaps the hardest one to process so far. All in good time I thought. All in good time. I signaled Barry for another scotch.

About 20 minutes later Captain Lucas returned with a beaming Sean.

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked as he sat back down across from me.

"It was so neat! It was like a space ship! I don't know how the Captain keeps track of all those gauges and displays… and looking out the windshield… it's like being a bird! Co-pilot Ruiz got up and let me sit in his chair and listen to the radio stuff on his ear phones and then Captain Lucas even let me take the control and fly the plane. I was flying the plane for about five minutes! It was so great!"

"You were flying the plane?" I smiled "I didn't even notice a difference. You must have done a great job."

He just glowed with pleasure and his wide smile illuminated his whole face. I thought that he must be getting comfortable because he had returned to his habit of wiggling in his seat that I had noticed in his initial interview video.

I signaled for Brian again and ordered another root beer for Sean. Even though it was a bit early for lunch, I also ordered a tray of sandwiches. I remembered that Kyle had always seemed to be a bottomless pit when it came to food and I suspected that this might be true of Sean. When the food was presented my assumption turned out to be quite correct. If I hadn't known better I might have thought that he had been starved at the Academy.

While he wolfed down his sandwiches I began our conversation. "Now Sean, I suspect that you've got a lot of questions so why don't you ask them and I'll try and give you good answers."

He looked intently at me and I could see his mind working. I could tell by the expression on his face that he knew what he wanted to say, he was just trying to work out how to say it. Finally he just came out with it:

"Well sir, I hope you don't get mad about this but to be honest, I don't understand the whole thing. Kids my age are never sent out on contract. I haven't gotten any of the special training for how to work with clients and I've never done anything like this before. In fact, Sir, I've hardly been off the campus of the nest very often."

"I tried to tell Mr. Coleman about all this last night, but he just smiled at me and said it would be all right. I think there has been a BIG mistake, Sir, and I don't want you to be cheated so I think you should know about what a big mistake this is."

He spoke with such earnestness and genuine concern that I felt a thump of affection in my chest. I wanted to reach out and touch him but decided that it wouldn't be the correct move to make right now.

"Sean," I looked directly into his eyes and he, to his credit. did not avert his gaze. "I promise you that there is no mistake. You are the very one that I want. I know that this is not usual for a boy your age; I know that you haven't had any training and that is all part of my plan. I specifically wanted you without training or experience. I want you just the way you are and not some way that you have been trained to be. Do you understand that?"

With a very serious look on his face he nodded his head. I wasn't all that certain that he really understood, but at least we were beginning our communication.

I proceeded to tell him about my circumstances and about the past events that had led to this arraignment between us. In the simplest way possible, I tried to explain what I hoped our relationship would be. He listened solemnly to me and when I was finished he reached out and touched my arm.

"It must have been very sad for you to lose your whole family," he said in a soft little voice. "I lost my whole family too but I was just a baby and I don't remember. I think it's better not to have to remember something like that. I'm sorry that happened to you," I realized that a large single tear was trembling from one of his blue/green eyes as he spoke.

"Well, we're going to do things together you and I that will change my hurt to happiness I'm certain of it," I said as I patted his hand realizing that his simple little attempt to comfort me had brought me to the verge of misting up.

He sat lost in thought, his little legs swinging out from the seat and back again as they didn't quite touch the floor.

"How long is my contract for Sir?" he suddenly asked.

"One entire year, Sean," I replied.

A quick look of surprise registered on his face but he simply nodded and returned to his deep thoughts. His legs continued swinging.

"Are we going to do sex things?" he asked suddenly without looking up at me this time.

I replied startled at his candor, "Yes, I'm sure we will do sex things together, Sean."

He nodded again and returned to his contemplation.

Shortly he again spoke without looking up at me but in a much softer voice as he stared fixedly at the floor, "Are you going to fuck me Sir?"

I was taken aback by the abruptness of his question.

"Yes, at some point I'm pretty certain we will fuck," I decided I had to be totally honest with him.

He looked up and into my eyes with concern on his face. He was biting on his lower lip and then finally he asked, "Will it hurt a lot?"

I felt my heart flip almost as if I had been stabbed. All this time I had been so concerned about myself; about my own feelings and my own concerns. I hadn't given any thought to how this poor little boy was feeling or what he might be afraid of. In less than 24 hours this poor kid had seen his life turned upside down. He found himself sent out from the security of the only home environment he had ever known on a mission he had not expected to perform for at least another three years and that he had always been led to believe he would be trained for.

I had now confirmed that we would be doing 'sex things' and that we would be 'fucking'. I wasn't certain he even knew what 'fucking' and 'sex things' were but he at least knew they were something he was going to be doing with me and that some of it, at least, might hurt.

I leaned across the space between us and took his shoulders in my hand as I looked into his moist eyes. "Sean, what do you know about 'sex stuff' and 'fucking'?"

"The older guys talk, especially when we're all together on rec time or free study time, and we ask them questions about the training and about what they do out on contracts. They sometimes make it sound really scary."

"I know when I'm 13 I'm going to be trained in the sex stuff and when I'm 14 I'll learn about fucking. I don't really know what any of that it is but they say that it hurts, especially the fucking, especially when you start. How bad is it going to hurt?"

I put my hand under his chin and raised his head up to keep him looking directly at me. "Sean, listen to me," I spoke softly but earnestly. "I promise you that everything we do will be with your agreement and will be fun. I swear to you that I will never do anything intentionally that will hurt you. We will go slowly in doing everything and I will not do anything with you until you are completely ready. I care too much about you to let anything hurt or frighten you. The most important thing that is going to happen between us is that we a going to become friends. Do you understand me?"

He looked at me for a long time and tears were now dripping from his beautiful eyes. "Y-yes Sir," he said finally and I believed him.

"One more thing," I said, as I reached over and ruffled his hair and wiped his eyes with my handkerchief. "No more of this 'Sir' stuff. My name is Eric and, if we're going to be friends, that's what you should call me."

I was rewarded by one of those glorious smiles directed just at me.

I winked at him and raised my forgotten tumbler of scotch in salute and then I drained it. He giggled and did the same with his half-empty glass of root beer.

Captain Lucas' voice came over the intercom advising us that we were about to begin our descent.

I leaned over and made certain Sean's seat belt was snug.

"Let's get back on the ground eh?" I said "We've got to get home, little man, we've got lots of things to do."

"Sir… er, Mr. Tucker," I raised an eyebrow and looked at him pointedly. "Uhm I mean… Eric, will you explain to me about the sex stuff and the fucking so that I can understand?"

"Of course I will. I never want you to feel confused or in the dark about anything," I said reaching over and mussing his hair again "We've got plenty of time for all of that, though. I don't want you to waste one minute being afraid of anything… especially not of me"

He began to form another of those award winning smiles when suddenly his eyes got wide and round and his mouth formed a surprised 'O' as the sleek jet nosed sharply down toward the runway below us.

Chapter 3

In this I promise to get them 'home' and the exploration will begin.

The jet made a steep diving approach and a partial turn causing the aircraft to bank slightly to port before leveling off and gliding in for a perfect touch. Sean's eyes were wide the entire time and his facial expression was priceless.

As the plane slowly came to a stop, he just couldn't contain himself. "Wow! Man that was great! That was just the greatest thing!" I smiled knowing that Captain Lucas had done a bit of showboating on the landing… just for Sean's sake, unless I missed my guess.

As I escorted the almost bouncing boy to the door, the captain stood there to bid us goodbye. I arched an eyebrow at him and mouthed the words, 'Hot dog'. He simply smiled and shook my appreciative boy's hand.

"Goodbye Sean," he said. "I hope we'll have the pleasure of flying again soon," As he and the enthused boy exchanged goodbyes I thought to myself that, in my recent time of madness, I had forgotten what superior people I have working for me. I made a mental note to correct that omission soon.

As we disembarked from the jet, my long silver limo was waiting for us almost at the bottom of the steps. Once again Sean was wide eyed. "Is this yours too Sir!" he exclaimed and this time I shot him a look.

"I MEANT to say ERIC… is this yours ERIC," He corrected himself with an obviously contrived look of innocence. I couldn't help myself, I growled in my best 'angry bear' impression and snatched him up from the tarmac, madly tickling his ribs as he laughed and squealed.

"Stop! Stop! Eric stop… you're going to make me pee!" he laughed and cried and gasped for breath all at the same time as he kicked and squirmed wildly.

"Alright smarty," I said putting him back on the ground, "but only because you remembered to call me Eric."

John, my driver, was standing by the vehicle door and I introduced him to Sean who shook his hand and then poked me in the side as he tried to suppress his giggling. I was quick on the up-take this time as I realized that John was wearing a white shirt, tan slacks and a blue blazer. "I take it you like today's dress code," I whispered to the boy and he looked at me and snickered.

Sean got into the limo and I slid in alongside of him. We both sort of sunk into the soft leather and he looked around in awe. "This is Sooo neat! You could live in here."

I just smiled and put my arm around him and squeezed his shoulder. It was a deliberate move on my part. I wanted to see how he would react to my touching him in a casual but familiar manner. I was most pleasantly surprised when he leaned into me and sighed deeply.

"I didn't sleep last night," he said not looking at me but, rather, resting his head comfortably against my chest. "When they told me I was going out on a contract I was worried and then I got scared. The big boys tell us stories about the contracts and the clients and they sometimes try to frighten us, I think. I was scared of you and I was hoping you were going to forget to come get me or something."

He pulled back a bit and looked up at me. "I didn't expect you were going to be like you are. You're not some creepy old guy. I'm not scared anymore. I like you a lot."

My heart did a little thump and I pulled him close to me.

"I like you a lot, too, little man," I said. "We have so much to learn about each other. I don't know what your favorite things are… what kind of food you like… what kind of music you like… those kind of things."

To my amazement, that little statement opened up the flood gates. The shy apprehensive little boy from a few hours ago suddenly became a mile-a-minute chatterbox.

I quickly learned that he liked all types of food but especially Italian and Mexican. He didn't particularly like vegetables but he loved corn and beans done barbeque style. He hated broccoli. In fact, he stated that with a great deal of vehemence and I confided that I didn't much care for it either.

I noticed that my observation from his original video was correct; when his mind was involved in something while he was sitting, he wiggled. It was simply adorable and I realized that I was already mentally inventorying things I like about this boy.

He shared the fact that his favorite things to learn about were history and literature… (literature?!) and that he wasn't too fond of math but he was pretty good at it, none the less.

He liked almost all kinds of music except Rap and I was quite surprised to discover he had a rather good knowledge of classical music and was very keen on folk music as well as vintage Rock n Roll.

We were still discussing the 'good stuff according to Sean' when John pulled up to the gate and punched in the code to open it and let us in.

"Well, little man, we're finally home," I said as we drove through the gate.

Sean pressed his nose against the window glass trying to see and finally said in dismay, "I don't see nothing… I mean anything but trees and grass. Don't you have a house Eric?"

"Oh yes Sean, we have a house," I smiled.

I actually own several grand houses and another half dozen luxury condos all over the world, but this place we had arrived at was the place that I had regarded as 'home' my entire life. So much more than a mansion it is really like an enclosed environment.

Originally built by my great grandfather Tucker, it had been added onto by my grandfather and then modified further by my father. So far, thanks to grief induced insanity, I hadn't really changed it much.

It sat on a hill nestled within a bit more than 200 acres [80 ha] of private fenced-in land, most of which was allowed to remain in its natural state. From the gate, the winding tree-lined driveway was just under ¾ of a mile [1.2 km] long. There was no wonder Sean was confused because you couldn't see the house from the gate.

My great grandfather had named it 'Joyous Gaurde' after Sir Lancelot's castle in the King Arthur stories. After four generations, the name had stuck. I liked the place a lot and hoped that Sean would as well.

"Just wait," I said to him "It's up ahead a bit."

Once again, his little eyes popped open as the magnificent old place came into view.

"Wow! You live HERE?!"

"We live here," I corrected him.

The limo came to a stop at the house end of the oval drive. We walked together up to the massive oak front door and it was opened by Walter, my butler, who had been alerted of our arrival by a signal from the gate.

"Welcome home sir," he said formally as he took both my and Sean's overnight bags and placed them on a wheeled caddy.

"Thank you Walter. This fine looking young man is Sean who, as you know, will be staying with us for a good while. I'm just making quick introductions right now. Tomorrow I'll ask you to gather all of the staff and we'll formally meet. In the meantime please take the baggage up to our rooms," Sean and Walter shook hands and exchanged short greetings.

I guided Sean back into the house and as he "oohed, ahhed," and made comments I realized that it was like seeing it new for the first time in my life.

I had grown up here and took it for granted. It really is magnificent. I couldn't help thinking what a wonderful gift this is going to be; seeing the world as something bright and new through the eyes of this wonderful little boy.

We walked quickly through some of the 'public' parts of the house with me quickly naming the rooms and briefly explaining what purpose they served. "Some of these rooms are just for show and never really get used at all," I told him. "Maybe we should close them off and turn them into a Laser Tag Arena." He looked at me not certain as to whether I was joking or not.

"Now we're getting into the good parts… the section that we'll be spending most of our time in," I said. "First, let's go to what is probably the most important room in the whole place… the kitchen."

We entered in to the large comfortable space that was probably my favorite spot. Everything was neatly arranged and it just always felt comfortable. Except for regular appliance up-grades, the place hadn't changed from when I was a child. As I'd hoped, Martha was there, fussing at the stove.

Martha Edwards had been with my family since before Kyle was born. She was more than just the cook; she and Walter were in charge of the entire household staff. They ran the place and did so very well.

She was like a grandmother or favorite Aunt to me and she had suffered and agonized over my long period of drunken madness. Even in my most wretched state, I was aware of the many times she had wept for me out of love and despair.

"Mrs. Edwards, I've brought somebody for you to meet!" I called out, knowing she hadn't heard us enter.

She spun around and her face lit up.

"You must be Sean!" she exclaimed clapping her hands together. She rushed to the boy, gathered him into her arms and hugged him tightly to her ample bosom. Since entering the nest, Sean had experienced very little contact with females but, in this case, instinct took over. Martha was love, protection and comfort wrapped up in one short, plump package. My little boy sensed this at once and responded accordingly.

Still hugging the little guy to her and patting him like he was a puppy she said to me, "Eric you both go up and get changed and washed for diner. This poor boy! You've been dragging him all over the world today! I'm surprised he isn't all worn out!"

She pushed Sean back from her and looked at him (she wasn't but a foot or so taller than he was). "Now tomorrow you and I are going to sit down and we'll talk about your favorite things to eat so that I can plan my menus…"

"Don't get him started on that Martha he'll talk your ear off," I joked. "I already know you'll do fine as long as you don't try to serve him broccoli."

Sean, who had been moving his attention between Martha and me trying to follow the conversation, suddenly broke into a large grin causing Martha to bend down and kiss him on the forehead.

"Shoo the two of you!" she pretended to scold but, before we could leave, she grabbed me into a tight long hug.

"He's beautiful!" she whispered in my ear and then she kissed me on the cheek and said, "Welcome back to the world and to life Eric darling," As she turned back to the stove I realized that she was crying.

I've made this good woman cry a lot lately, I thought sadly to myself, but now things will change… things will be better.

I shook my head slowly and thought, we've only just gotten together and this boy is already resurrecting me from death and madness. For the first time in over three years, life felt good… really and truly GOOD.

"Time to show you the bedrooms!" I said to Sean. "Now, athletic young men like us should be taking the stairs but… seeing as how this is your first day, let's use the elevator," I extended my hand, he took it without hesitation and I led him down the hall. Leaning down to him I whispered, "Actually, I almost always use the elevator." He looked up at me with a wide grin.

When the elevator opened up onto the floor that I as a child had christened 'bed-room land', Sean's eyes were again wide as saucers. I hope I don't kill the poor little guy with so many shocks and surprises all in one day, I thought to myself.

I turned us to the right and we walked through the first door at the end of the hall.

"This is your room," I said to him.

The room was very large with bright windows on the far wall. At one end was a queen-sized bed with lamps and side tables and at the other was the active living section. A desk with a computer, a sitting area and a large, flat screen TV with two game systems hooked up (I didn't know which system he was used to playing). There were bookshelves and display and storage units for toys and sports gear. I'd had the room done up as I hoped an 11-year-old boy would like. It must have been all right because he just gaped as he explored muttering things like "how cool is this?" more to himself than to me.

I sat down on one of the chairs in the small sitting area and said to him, "Now Sean, we need to have a talk about a part of our relationship." I indicated for him to sit on the chair opposite me which he did looking at me intently.

"This is your room. It's your refuge. It's the place you can do your homework; it's the place that you can play; it's the place you can be alone and private whenever you want to but… it's not the place you will be sleeping very often."

He gave me a confused look and I held out my hand for him and led him out of the room and down the hall to my room.

What I called my 'room' was really more like an apartment. I'd had it completely redesigned and redone after my family tragedy. I wanted it to be luxurious and to have no reminders for me of that part of the house from before the accident.

I let him look around and then guided him to my large king-sized bed. I picked him up and dropped him onto the mattress. He landed butt first and bounced a few times and, at first, he looked concerned before realizing I was just playing and he flashed me a big Sean smile.

"Most of the time you'll be sleeping here with me," I told him. "Does that bother you?"

He didn't hesitate. "No Eric," he answered. "Honestly, I've never slept in a room by myself and I don't think I'd like it very much."

He sprawled out across the mattress on his back; arms and legs akimbo. "This will be great. This bed is so big my whole soccer team could sleep here!"

I picked him up and hugged him.

"There's a great bathroom in your room, but mostly you'll be using the one here in my room and its way better. Let me show you." I guided him into my spa like en-suite.

It was a large masculine room all done in wood stone and rough tile. It was at the same time comfortable and luxurious.

"This is the greatest shower I ever saw!" he exclaimed as he looked around "And is that a little swimming pool?"

"No, it's a bath tub," I said.

He peeked down into the large Jacuzzi tub and looked up at me with a grin. "You know what Eric? I've never had a bath."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"No, seriously all we have at the nest is showers I've been in a swimming pool tons of times but I never took a bath in a bathtub."

"Well, since this seems to be a day of firsts for you, we'll have to give you your first bath right after diner," I said. "Speaking of that, we'd better get ready right now. We don't want Mrs. Edwards sending out a search party for us."

Walter, knowing what the arraignments were going to be, had left Sean's travel bag in my bedroom. When we opened it, I was a bit chagrined to find it contained a toothbrush, two pair of underpants two pair of sports socks and a sweat suit.

Shaking my head I said, "I thought they'd at least pack a couple of changes for you Jeez! First thing tomorrow we're going into town and hook you up with a whole bunch of clothes. In the meantime, your track suit, here, will have to do," I tossed the garments to him.

Without hesitation, he removed his shirt and pants, folded them neatly and placed them on the top of a small occasional table near where he had already placed his blazer. He stood there unabashed, wearing nothing but a pair of tiny white briefs. The small garment clung to his shapely little athlete's butt and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. My cock instantly got as hard as a rock.

He noticed me looking at him and he gave me the cutest little grin and began pulling on his red sweat pants.

I quickly got undressed and changed into some old comfortable jeans and a rust colored pull-over Henley shirt.

"That's the end of today's dress code!" I said and he smiled back at me and gave me a 'thumbs up'.

Together we headed down for diner.

There is a smallish eating area just off the kitchen that our family always used to take our meals when the situation didn't require using the large formal dining room and it was here that Martha served Sean and me our first meal together.

She had used her instincts and prepared her buttermilk fried chicken with mashed potatoes, corn and homemade biscuits hot from the oven. Sean wolfed his diner down like it was his first meal in a week and happily accepted when he was offered seconds.

Apple pie for desert sent the whole meal over the top.

"Thank you Mrs. Edwards! That was the best chicken I ever ate!" he exclaimed.

A beaming Martha leaned down kissed him on the top of his head and patted his hand.

I thought to myself, my little 11 year old charmer may not have much experience with women but he's sure learning fast. The kid's a natural.

As we were getting up from the table to move our dirty dishes to the dishwasher, I noticed that Martha had withdrawn off to the corner and appeared to be crying.

I swatted Sean gently on the butt and whispered, "I'll meet you down by the elevator. I've got to talk to Mrs. Edwards for a minute." He scampered off down the hall and I walked over to Martha and hugged her from the back.

"I'm so sorry Eric," she said. "Watching him… listening to him talk… and that wonderful appetite… and his smile and all… reminded me so much of Kyle."

I hugged her tightly for a few long minutes and then kissed her cheek and said in a husky voice, "He's not Kyle Martha. He's Sean. He's the little boy who I think was sent by Heaven to save my life." I kissed her again and walked away to meet Sean at the elevator.

When we were in the big bathroom, I started the water in the tub and adjusted the temperature to a hot but comfortable setting. As the bath began to fill it dawned on me what was about to happen.

I swallowed hard and then, trying to sound casual, I said, "Well, are you going to take a bath in your sweat suit?"

He giggled merrily and, without giving it a thought, he shucked off the sweat shirt and pants and folded them neatly before laying them aside. He'd already kicked off his sneakers and now sat at the edge of the tile tub surround pulling off his socks.

In another second he stood up, and without hesitation, he pulled down his underpants and stepped out of them.

This boy hasn't even got a pretense of modesty, I thought to myself. I mulled that over analytically and realized that he had been raised in a totally male environment. Body shame and embarrassment over being nude was not only unnecessary, it would be impractical. It was a concept that was probably completely foreign to him.

I'd dreamed about having him naked and now suddenly; here he was. I devoured him with my eyes.

Unlike many boys his age, he didn't have any lingering baby fat on him. He was round in all the right places but this was due to developing muscle because of his athletic nature. He was thin but well fleshed… he'd never really gone hungry in his life.

His little brown nipples were less than the size of a shirt button and my eyes traveled down to his cute little 'innie' belly button.

Not surprisingly, there was absolutely no hair on his body. His little penis had been circumcised I noted with a bit of surprise as I didn't think that was being done much anymore. His scrotum was small and tight. I was right in my original assessment that puberty was still in this boy's distant future.

He knew I was looking at him and it didn't bother him at all; in fact, he spread his arms out from his sides and playfully turned around so that I could see him from all angles. When his small, perfect little round ass came into view I couldn't help but smile because it was so white in contrast to the rest of his tanned body.

I just looked and swallowed; he was so perfect in every detail I couldn't speak.

"Am I all right?" I was suddenly aware that he was speaking to me. "Am I all right for you Eric?"

"What do you mean 'are you alright'?" I asked emerging from my stupor.

"The big kids always tell us that clients like to see their nest Boys without their clothes on. Am I alright?"

I just shook my head slowly and walked up to him. I gently placed one hand behind his head and ran the fingers of the other hand slowly up and down his silky smooth adorable little butt.

He didn't move… he just looked into my eyes and I leaned in and kissed him gently, almost chastely, on his perfect lips.

In a voice scarcely louder than a whisper I said, "All right? Little man, you are perfect. You're just what I wanted you to be."

Before he could react, I scooped him up and placed him tenderly in the steaming bath. He broke into a gigantic smile, closed his eyes and slid down into the water until just his head was above the surface

"Enjoy Sean," I said… still too enthralled to do much else.

Chapter 4

Yes you patient readers, as Sean says, there will be some 'sex stuff' in this chapter.

Sean lay stretched out in the tub luxuriating as the hot water soothingly engulfed him.

I stared down at his remarkable little body through the clear liquid and breathed deeply with my heart thumping in my chest and a raging hard-on in my jeans.

Sean was, of course, completely oblivious to my wicked voyeurism and he happily soaked in the warm water making cute little noises as his body responded to new sensations of comfort.

"You stay right there' little man," I said, hoping I didn't betray my sense of urgency. "I'm going to run and get you a nice cup of hot chocolate. How's that sound?"

Now, there is a small kitchenette off of an alcove in my bedroom, so there was no need to go downstairs.

There was, however, a GIGANTIC need to appease the monster in my pants… which I did while Sean's hot chocolate heated.

With my personal pressure relieved at least temporarily, I snatched a couple of ice cubes from the small freezer and filled a glass with honey-colored single malt Scotch whiskey.

I emptied the glass in one pull and filled it again.

Thus fortified, I retrieved a small tub of Kool-Whip from the fridge and set a generous dollop afloat in the sweet, dark liquid in Sean's cup. I carried this and my glass back into the bathroom.

Handing him his mug, I sat down on the tub surround platform by his head.

Sean left his reclining position and sat up in the tub. He took a sip of his chocolate.

"Mmmmm. This is good Eric." He turned his head to smile at me and there was a blob of whipped cream on the tip of his nose.

I leaned over to him and licked his nose clean. "So was that," I said with a grin. He chuckled.

I sipped my scotch and sat there content to just watch him as he drank his cocoa. When he had finished, he placed the cup safely aside and slid back down into the water up to his chin.

"This is just wonderful Eric!" he said, flashing me a Sean smile. "Would it be OK to turn on the jets?"

"Of course, little man," And I bent over and activated the therapeutic air mechanism for the tub.

He squealed with delight as the water in the tub erupted into a storm of bubbling action. He began to wriggle in the water and quietly began singing a song that I couldn't quite catch.

"This is sooo GREAT!" he exclaimed. "I'm never gonna to take a shower again!"

"Not so fast, sport," I said. "The tub is for relaxing. The shower is for cleaning dirty, stinky little boys."

"Who's a dirty, stinky little boy!" he said in mock outrage.

"You will be if I know anything about you," I said, playing the game right back at him.

"Well, then you don't know nothing about me!" he exclaimed, standing up in the tub, hands on hips just reeking of phony indignation.

"For one thing, little man, I know that it's easier to look self-righteous when you don't have all that water dripping off your naked little butt. You look like a wet, plucked chicken and besides… I know a lot more about you than you may think."

He looked hard at me letting that information sink in and then he cocked his head to the side and said, with a devilish little grin, "Then come and take a shower with me if I'm so stinky."

"I will in the morning, I promise. But, right now, it's been a long day and I think it's time to get you dried off and into bed."

He spread his arms open to me and smiling broadly said, "Help me out Eric."

I grabbed one of the big fluffy bath sheets from the shelf and enfolded him in it as I lifted him from the tub. He stood there calmly as I rubbed him dry.

"I'm not really a stinky boy am I?" he asked quite seriously.

I dropped to my knees so we were almost eye to eye.

"Sean, you're going to have to learn about my weird sense of humor. I was only teasing, I promise. Come over here and let me brush your wild mane." He hardly squirmed at all as I worked the brush through his beautiful black hair. "There. All done you look positively lovely."

He batted his eyelashes at me and assumed a humorous quasi glamor pose.

I laughed and scooped up his naked little body in my arms and carried him into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed.

"Jammers or underpants?" he asked.

"What?" I replied a bit perplexed.

"Do we sleep in jammers or underpants?" he asked. "Cause if we sleep in jammers, they didn't pack me none."

"They didn't pack you any," I corrected.

"That's what I said… they didn't pack me any." He nodded his head in agreement.

"Well little man, here's the deal, the actual fact is you're going to sleep in the pajamas you were born in," He had to think about that for a second before he realized what I had just told him.

"Oh Coool!" he said with a big grin. "Cause… the ACTUAL FACT is… I've never slept naked before either… Eric you're BEST fun!"

I grabbed him and threw him over my shoulder head down and butt up using my free hand to pull down the covers while he howled with laughter. I gave him a playful slap on each butt cheek and plopped him back onto the bed.

I swiftly pulled my shirt off and dropped my jeans. Tossing my discarded clothes into a corner, I lowered my boxer briefs and stepped out of them adding them to the laundry collection. I actually felt shy to be nude in front of him. I turned around and he was looking at me with a serious expression.

"You're all right too big guy," he said with his arms crossed trying to make his voice sound deep and mature. "You're just the way I wanted you." I flashed him a smile and thought to myself, All of a sudden I'm laughing and smiling a lot and I'm as nervous as a maiden bride… all because of an 11 year old boy.

I dimmed the lights to 'almost' dark and got into the bed with him.

"Mine does that too," he said quite seriously as he pointed to my very erect penis. "The big kids at the nest told us it's supposed to do that… so don't you worry about it."

"Thanks buddy, I won't," I replied, trying not to sound like I was laughing at him.

I felt like a child again. My whole body was trembling with anticipation. I couldn't believe this was happening. Somehow I was no longer anxious or nervous. This was real and this was joyful.

I had to take the next step now or I might not have the courage to ever do it. Was it too soon to cross this line? I wondered frantically. Would initiating intimacy ruin what seemed to be a nicely blooming relationship? My practical side was telling me that this would be moving too fast, but my emotional instincts were telling me this was all right and completely correct.

I reached over and gently pulled him to me. I slowly stroked my hands down his back and along his wonderful little ass. I felt all tension in him begin to fade. I realized with such happiness that he was becoming very comfortable with me. My heart felt full.

"I could just eat you up little man," I said to him in a soto voice. "In fact, I think I will."

I rolled him over onto his back. He didn't say anything as I positioned myself over him supporting myself alternately on my elbows and knees in order to keep my weight from resting upon him.

I lowered my face to his and gently kissed his lips. He sensed immediately that a thing of some significance was beginning to take place. He didn't resist instead; he yielded to me completely.

I began to stroke his sides and his thighs with my hands as I moved my lips to his eyes and kissed each of them. Slowly and gently, I began to work my way down while my hands continued to tenderly stroke him.

I nibbled each ear lobe and then softly kissed it. I kissed both sides of his neck and then his throat.

I kissed my way down to his left nipple and slowly I swirled my tongue around the little brown disk and then gently teased it with my teeth. He let out a low noise and I felt him begin to gently move in concord with my stroking of his tender little body.

I kissed my way over to the other nipple and repeated the procedure drawing more soft noise from him. It was like a dance of action/reaction and we performed it in sensuous slow motion.

Using tongue and lips I tasted my way down his slender torso pausing to spend time in and around his belly button… nibbling at it tenderly as if it were a sweet treat left out just for me.

I slid myself all the way down to his tiny feet and he adjusted his body to allow me more comfortable access. I licked each, in turn, eliciting a muffled giggle from him.

I slowly kissed my way up one leg and inner thigh until I came to his tiny scrotum which I licked gently drawing my tongue slowly across and up and down which elicited a moan of appreciation from him.

I took the entire tight sack into my mouth and passionately sucked and licked it rolling the tiny little globes with my tongue. The tiny little goodie bag was a mere morsel to savor and explore and it seemed to bring out sensations in him that he had never experienced before.

Finally releasing his little balls I kissed my way down the other leg and then slid up repositioning myself right over his sweet, little-boy penis which was now standing as erect and hard as the small little rod could possibly manage..

Like some hungry predator I pounced upon the miniature tool, first swirling my tongue sensuously up and down and around. Next I took it into my mouth and began working the tiny organ with my moist lips. As my ministrations intensified, so did his body movements which had turned into rhythmic pelvis undulations… his little vocalizations turned from a soft mewling sound to deep primal moans.

I sped up my rhythm on his small penis adding tongue action to the equation and the little body below me responded by thrusting and gyrating with increasing rapidity. Suddenly he arched his back and released a succession of loud "Oooooooooh!" "Oooooh!" "Ooooh!" exclamations.

His hips thrust up, collapsed, thrust up and collapsed again as his arms thrashed and his legs kicked wildly. He was bucking like a young colt until, finally, he emitted a long gasp and sank into the softness of the mattress completely spent.

He lay panting as I released his little boy cock and looked lovingly down at him. Progressively his breathing slowed to something resembling normal and he looked up at me wide-eyed with a very surprised expression. His face and body glistened in the low light with a thin patina of perspiration.

"Holy guacamole Eric!" he whispered. "What just happened?"

I smiled and leaned down and tenderly kissed him. "That was some of that sex stuff you were so afraid of, little stud. Did you like it?"

He swallowed hard a couple of times and broke into a broad grin. "Uh huh… uh huh. Oh yeah. I liked it a lot. We should do that again," I grinned back at him and he raised his arms and encircled my neck pulling my head down and he smooched me on the lips.

I lay down beside him face to face and caressed his cheek. "Make a note little man. We've got to teach you to kiss better."

"Was it bad?"

"No, but we can do much better and you know what they say; 'practice makes perfect'."

We both giggled and he kissed me again.

I pulled him close. He threw an arm and a leg across me and rested his head on my chest pressing his little cock against my leg.

Within moments he was breathing softly and regularly, as only a little boy can do when they are deeply and innocently asleep.

I lay very still… afraid that if I were to move, somehow this magic spell would be broken and I would wake up in the morning and find that I had turned back into my usual miserable self.

At some point I fell asleep.

In my dreams Kyle came to the bedside and pulled the covers up over Sean and me.

He smiled at us and kissed us both. I made to speak but my little brother placed a finger on my lips. "Shhh," he whispered, "He needs his rest. Saving you is a big job for a little boy."

And then I slept again undisturbed by ghosts… loving or otherwise.

Sorry this was such a short chapter but I figured I'd better get them into bed before I got cold feet. Seriously, this one was a big step for me and I hope I did alright. You wonderful readers seemed split in half as to whether this was too soon to introduce intimacy. I was torn in both directions but in the end, what you have just read seems right.

Chapter 5

Things are going to start to get organized and we're going to learn some more new things about Sean.

There is a thing that occurs in the transition between sleep to wakefulness when the mind is slowly slipping into full function… there are a few brief moments when the senses have complete control.

I was aware through my closed eyelids that it was light. This awareness sparked the birth of a half thought in my emerging consciousness, It must be morning.

My body was relaxed and I was breathing normally. I sent out mental feelers and detected no pain, no stiffness or tension just calmness.

I was hearing nothing… it wasn't that there was silence; silence doesn't exist in the real world… we just learn to tune out all the millions of little noises that surround us every second so we can concentrate on the big important ones. I wasn't hearing anything important right now.

I sensed, before actually feeling, a weight upon my stomach and a second half thought rose to the surface of my mind, I have to pee.

I willed myself awake and, when I opened and focused, I was staring into a pair of dancing blue/green eyes and a stunning radiant smile.

He was sitting on my belly, little legs straddled my torso and he was leaning forward hands resting on my chest looking down at me with his cute nose less than two inches from mine.

"Morning! Morning!" he enthused.

"Eric isn't it great? This is our first morning that we woke up together! It's my first morning in your house! Cool huh? Oh wait… ," he leaned in further and planted a soft kiss on my lips. "Sorry I almost forgot. We're supposed to practice."

He was sitting and he was talking and so, being Sean, he was wiggling.

My brain received an urgent message from my bladder, to wit, THIS is not a good idea.

I smiled at him and said, "Morning yourself, little sack of sugar!" And I sat up and threw him over my shoulder as I had last night… his head down my back and his ass in the air… just as if he was, in fact, a burlap sack filled with some precious grain.

I grasped his ankles and strode rapidly into the bathroom with him giggling out a series of loud mock protests over this 'not fair' treatment.

I sat him down on the granite vanity top which chilled his naked little ass… or so he squealed… but I ignored his complaint and, yielding to my urgent need, turned my full attention to the task at hand… or more properly, took it in hand.

It is my belief that the male body never exudes a more massive rush of relief and gratitude than it does when taking a much-needed and too-long-delayed piss. I sighed long and hard as the exquisite comfort of release overtook me.

"Man, you really had to go huh?" he observed from his perch on the vanity. "I needed to go when I woke up and you were asleep so I just got out of bed, came in here and went.Then I came back into bed, but you were still asleep so I decided to sit and wait for you to wake up." He seemed rather proud of his little adventure.

I grinned at him. "And I suppose that I was the handiest thing to sit on while you were waiting?"

He nodded his head vigorously in agreement. "Uh huh. I hadda be able to see when your eyes got open so I'd know you were awake."

I walked over to him, grabbed him gently by the back of his head.

"Wait a second!" and kissed I him lovingly. "Sorry… practice… I almost forgot too."

I was rewarded by a glorious Sean smile.

My mind was racing as I gazed at my beautiful boy. In all of his morning chatter, he had not so far mentioned the intimacy we had shared last night.

I was filled with conflicting emotions of guilt and joy and had been certain it would be the first thing he would have wanted to talk about.

Suddenly, I realized that it was a momentous occurrence only for me. For me it had been the crossing of an emotional and moral Rubicon. It was nothing of the sort for him.

He had been raised in the unique environment of The nest and wasn't burdened with the baggage of fear and taboo that society, in general, loads us up with during childhood.

Sean was completely unaware of the evils of the world. He was a happy innocent.

I had told him during the journey home that he could trust me and that I'd never hurt him and that was good enough for him.

It wasn't mature 'good faith' on his part; it was honest acceptance pure and simple. He took me at my word because nothing that had ever happened to him in his life had given him a reason not to.

To my wonderful little Sean, the fellatio I had performed last night was no big deal. It was a fun experience just as the ride in my jet and everything else that had happen since yesterday had been. It was neither more nor less important. It just 'was'.

I made a solemn vow to myself that I would never do anything to betray or take advantage of such complete and purely given trust.

In my mind I quickly changed gears. "Come on," I said lifting him down from the counter top and grasping his hand. "You're REALLY going to like the shower."

My shower is, beyond a doubt. the most sybaritic thing in all of Joyous Gaurde.

Big enough to accommodate at least five people (though it never had), it is done in natural stone and neutral grey and earth-toned tile. The three walls each have granite benches for sitting or reclining and there are multiple shower heads strategically placed for maximum coverage. All but the rain-simulating shower heads in the ceiling are adjustable for different types and intensity of spray. Three of these can be detached from their mounting brackets and converted into hand-held units. There was not one thing in the entire shower complex that could be deemed to be purely utilitarian. It was totally over-the-top luxury and I loved it.

I had Sean stand back a bit as I adjusted things for a comfortably hot water temperature and a useful, but entertaining, variety of sprays.

There are high quality speakers recessed into the ceiling of the shower. The sound system draws from a massive library of MP3s stored on its hard drive. I tapped the controls in the wall and the area was filled with music. I hadn't pre-planned or chosen anything but I was happy with the randomly selected music I was hearing.

I remembered our long discussion about music in the limo yesterday.

"Let's see how good you are, little man," I said as I gently guided him into the spraying water. "Can you tell me what music that is playing right now?"

He grinned with a mixture of little boy cockiness and pleasure and said, "Way too easy, Eric. Way too easy. That's an Italian opera called Turandot and the song is called Nesson dorma," (He'd pronounced both titles perfectly).

I was smiling appreciatively and he was joyfully hopping/dancing under the water wiggling his cute little ass and wagging his index finger at me as if he were a professor delivering a lecture.

"And… and..you know what else? It was written by an Italian guy called Puccini… and… you know what else? It was his last thing he wrote cause he died while he was writing it. And… and you know what ELSE? Some other guy finished it for him but he didn't know because he was already dead!"

He spread his hands matter-of-factly, cocked his hip like a little pixie and giggled.

"Bravo! Bravo!" I laughed clapping my hands. He grinned one of his electric grins and took a deep bow. The entire spectacle was hugely enhanced, of course, by the fact that he was completely naked during the entire 'performance'. I couldn't decide which I enjoyed more… his stunning little dissertation or the vision of his animated little body. Both I thought… both.

"OK, now it's time to clean up this stinky boy!" He grinned as I guided him under the big overhead showers and adjusted several of the side ones in order to soak him well. This was obviously too much fun and, while I was adjusting, he was dancing and pirouetting under the streaming water singing along with the music.

This particular piece was written for a tenor, but, his lovely little boy-soprano voice wasn't at all out of place.

He sang as if he'd forgotten I was there or as if that didn't matter and as, the music came to its dramatic conclusion, he turned to me slowly wearing his best 'Luciano Pavarotti' expression and, spreading his arms wide, dramatically sang,

"Tramontate, stelle!

Tramontate, stelle!

All'alba vincerò!

Vincerò, vincerò!"

"Sean! That was beautiful!" I exclaimed. "Do you know what you were singing?"

"Yeah, I just told you it's called Nesson dorma and…"

"No, no. I meant do you know what the words mean?"

"Nah. It's some Italian stuff I don't know but I really really like the song."

I thought to myself; I could have spoken those words last night and I translated them for him;

Go down you stars! Go down you stars! Comes the dawn I will win! I will win! I will win!'.

Dawn HAD come and I HAD won. This beautiful, remarkable little boy had shared my bed, had allowed me the pleasure of his private body… of his very self… and this morning he still seemed happy and excited to be with me. My dark stars had set; this boy had come to save my life. I will win and so will he I promised myself.

I forcibly broke from my revere and turned back to the reality of here and now. "Step out of the spray a minute, little man, and let me soap you up."

He came to me and I lifted him up so that he was standing on one of the benches.

I placed a generous glob of my very luxurious body wash into the palm of each hand and began to slowly lather his perfect little body. His skin was so sleek and smooth. I could feel the young muscles and bone underneath as I worked the soapy liquid over him.

I worked my hands in a swirling caressing motion over every inch of him enthralled by the tactile pleasure of touching him so intimately.

I caressed his little genitals lovingly; both hands swirling around his balls and softly tugging, circling his sweet little penis. I noticed his eyes were closed and a soft smile adorned his face.

I moved my hands behind him and massaged the cleansing lather up and down and across his exquisite buttocks and, with the fingers of one hand, I carefully slid down into the crack between them. He made no move of protest and so I continued slowly until my fingers brushed the tight little pucker that was his tiny rosebud. Softly and slowly I stroked and soaped this most private of his parts.

Eventually, though reluctantly, I moved my hands away and told him in a husky voice, "Keep your eyes closed, little man. I'm going to wash your hair," I took a proper dollop of rich shampoo and worked it into his thick beautiful hair creating great luxurious lather.

"Rinse time!" I said as I lifted him down from the bench and guided him back under the multiple sprays of water. I had the various shower heads adjusted so that his entire body was met by the undulating water all at once. He squealed and giggled with glee as the white foam was swept away from his body by the sprays.

"Now I do you," he said leading me by the hand out of the cascading water.

He stood up on the bench, pulling me close, and worked his soapy little hands over my back and chest in perfect mimicry of how I had washed him.

Hopping back down from the bench he lathered my legs and butt and then my cock and balls. As I suspected it would, my cock sprang to attention at once as his little hands worked the soap around it.

He made no mention of my sudden erection nor did he display any special attitude regarding this part of me as opposed to another. Instead he finished lathering my body and then climbed back up onto the bench and worked shampoo into my hair.

I rinsed off in the spray with him standing next to me skin to skin. Both of us laughing and smiling encompassed in shared happiness and contentment.

After we'd dried off and gone back into the bedroom I told him to put his white shirt and tan slacks from yesterday on for now.

"We'll get you all fixed up with clothes after we have breakfast and you meet the staff," I said as I brushed his wonderful shining black hair.

Brushed and dressed we walked side by side down the staircase and into the kitchen.

"Morning Mrs. Edwards!" Sean exclaimed as he rushed up to her and gave her a hug.

(How does he know this is the 'right' thing to do?)

"Good morning precious boy," she said smiling and kissing him. "Who's that you brought down with you? Eric I didn't think you remembered that there was such a thing as breakfast."

I didn't bother to protest, she had me dead-to-rights; I just bent down and kissed her.

Martha escorted us to the table and, when we were seated, a huge platter of pancakes was placed before us. Sean also received a large glass of orange juice and a larger glass of milk. I, on the other hand, gratefully accepted a small tomato juice and a steaming cup of coffee.

I ate a decent stack of pancakes by anyone's standards but Sean wreaked havoc on the bulk of the platter. How can such a little boy put away so much food? I thought to myself.

Martha, in the meanwhile, just stood by smiling broadly as she watched the little eating machine at work.

I sat sipping my coffee, savoring the exquisite Kona blend that my family has always had shipped in exclusively for our pleasure, while Sean (between mouthfuls) kept up a running commentary for Martha about how GREAT her pancakes were, how neat the bathtub was last night and what a COOL shower there was upstairs… and oh yea, these pancakes are REALLY great.

I was relieved that he didn't comment about the 'sex stuff' to her. Discretion must be drummed into their little heads early at the nest," I thought to myself.

While we were finishing up, Walter came in and advised me that he had the entire staff assembled in the solarium to meet Sean. Before we left with him Sean went to Martha and hugs and kisses were exchanged again.

As we followed Walter to the solarium I reflected on the fact that this could be a bit embarrassing for me. Joyous Gaurde is a huge place and it requires a large staff. For the past three years I had been such a disgusting mess that I knew very few of our people by name. I only remembered the key folks who performed the most important functions and who had been with the family when my parents were still alive.

To most of the other staff I was just a name and someone they may have seen skulking around from time to time.

Walter had them standing in a very informal formation and he must have been reading my mind because, rather than deferring to me to make the introductions, he stepped before the assembled staff with his hand on Sean's shoulder gently leading the boy to stand beside him..

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "as you all know, we shall have the good fortune to have a guest with us for the next year. I know you will happily offer Master Sean every courtesy and provide him with your usual impeccable service."

He guided Sean from person to person providing introduction and a brief description of that person's job function in the household. I smiled with pride as my little boy looked each person in the eye, smiled and shook hands. I noticed that he contrived to have something personal to say to each and every one of them, and the buildup of approval became palpable in the room.

I located John in the assembled group and motioned him over to me. "Bring the limo around back when this is over John; we've got to make a trip to town."

When Walter had dismissed the staff, I led Sean to a door at the back of the house that I had always thought of as 'the family door'. It led to a flagstone walkway that meandered around a small garden and then to the private car park and long garage building.

John was waiting to open the limo door. "Your destination today sir?" he asked.

We're going to Strothers John. To buy the Emperor some new clothes!"

My clever little boy rewarded John and me with a Sean smile as he hopped into the car. When I had slid in next to him, he leaned over close to me and whispered, with a giggle, "I thought I was wearing the Emperor's new clothes this morning," I squeezed him and giggled myself. "Someone knows his Hans Christian Andersen eh?" He giggled again nodding his head.

As the limo was making its way toward the gate and then the open road, I turned to Sean, "Now, little man, let's get serious. We've got an important decision to make about you." This got his attention at once.

"It's almost the end of January and most schools have been back in session for a few weeks now. I know the schooling schedule at the nest isn't so formal and works on a more personalized basis, but your education is of prime concern to me. Your grades are too excellent to let anything interfere with your progress. Besides, I never intended for this to be a year-long holiday for you little man." (I smiled at his confused look… he still hasn't caught on to my sense of humor.)

"I've come up with two possibilities and I want to know your feelings. Just remember that we're friends and I really want what's best for you."

"First off, there is Chesterfield. That's a very excellent private boy's school located close enough that John can drive you there every morning and pick you up in the afternoon. You'd receive a first class education and be able to participate on their athletic teams. You'd have the opportunity to make friends and interact with other kids."

"The drawbacks would be that you'd be gone the entire school day and, of course, you'd be coming in at the middle of the term. You're a good enough student that I don't feel that, in itself, would be a problem."

"The second choice would be a private tutor who would work with you right at Joyous Gaurde."

"The benefits would be a curriculum structured specifically around you which isn't all that unlike the education you've been receiving at the nest. Also because it would be your own private program, your 'school day' wouldn't be nearly as long and would be much more flexible leaving us more time to do things together."

"The negatives that I see would be a lack of interaction with other kids and no organized sports like there would be available if you attended Chesterfield. I think we could easily overcome that problem by enrolling you in the Deer Run Athletic Club which I am a member of. It has a number of youth teams in a variety of sports."

"What do you think?"

I knew that little brain was working fast and furious because he was wiggling in his seat.

Finally, he spoke, "Eric, sincerely that Chesterfield school sounds very COOL but… if you REALLY want to know what I think, what I think is that I just got here. I've always been in a place with other kids since I was a little kid. I want to have time to do things like you said we'd do. I like the number two choice. Is that OK?"

"Sounds like a plan to me, little man. I've got just the guy in mind to help us with that. I'll call him when we get back home."

"It's almost the weekend so let's not talk about school anymore. We've got other stuff to do." I reached over and pulled him toward me and ruffled his hair.

Strothers is one of those wonderful stores that by, some miracle, still exists in this cookie-cutter, over-franchised world.

Owned and run by the third generation of the same family, it carries an extraordinary line of men's and boy's clothing and furnishings. I don't think I've worn very much in my life that hadn't come from Strothers. They sold great stuff that was also quite fashionable… not just frumpy 'old people' clothes.

We were greeted by Jacob Strothers himself. Jacob was third-generation Strothers and the family was working him into the position of General Manager; a job I knew he will excel at.

I introduced him to Sean and explained that we needed a complete wardrobe.

"Eric, you know we're always happy to take as much of your money as we can get," he joked.

"Sean, come with me and let's let Albert take your measurements," I smiled as my baffled little boy was escorted to a corner of the store and stood up on the short stool while Albert skillfully worked the tape all up, down and around his body… calling out numbers to Jacob who, pad in hand, wrote them down.

In the ensuing two hours poor little Sean must have felt like he had stepped into a hurricane. He'd probably never put on and taken off so much clothing in his entire young life.

When we were finished, we had my boy all outfitted with everything packaged and bagged except for his tailored pieces which wouldn't be ready for a week.

My only regret was that Jacob had talked me out of 'tighty whitey' briefs for the boy's underwear and into the more stylish boxer briefs like I wore myself.

Oh well, I thought whimsically, I suppose I can always change my mind later (if I decide I don't like the view).

Sean stepped out of the store wearing comfortable dark jeans that hugged his little ass like they were made for him, a plain black tee-shirt and a dark blue fisherman's knit crew-neck sweater that stunningly played against his jet black hair and blue/green eyes. On his feet were oxblood and tan boots that I felt looked cute as hell on him. All in all, I thought he was more gorgeous that ever… if that was even possible.

We decided to have lunch in town. John joined us for hamburgers and we shared large orders of fries, onion rings and a large salad at Deegan's' – a local place that made the best burgers. While we ate, Sean gave us both a running commentary on his Strothers experience.

Somebody snuck in last night and stole my quiet shy little boy from yesterday, I thought to myself as I sipped on my beer.

When we returned to Joyous Gaurde, and the staff had grabbed our packages, I left Sean up in his room to 'supervise' the staff putting away all of his new clothing while I ducked downstairs into my study to call Dr. David Swaim about Sean's tutoring. As I often did every time a placed a call like this, I mused over the fact that it was so 'old fashioned,' that I still used land lines when at home.

Perhaps it was, but somehow using old school telephones just seemed right in this place. There was no answer so I left a message asking him to call me back.

Taking the elevator back up to 'bedroom land', I found Sean sitting on his bed looking a bit shell-shocked. "Boy we got a lotta clothes today. How am I gonna ever wear them all?"

"Oh, I bet you'll work that out," I took Sean's hand. "Come on, little man, I'll show you more of the house."

We walked together side by side as I pointed out my favorite rooms: the well-stocked library, the game room with both billiard and pocket pool tables and the media center (which I hadn't used since the onslaught of my madness).

Sean had some interesting comment about each room and I reveled in seeing it all through his innocent, wondering eyes. The world is a bright shining toy to him, I thought. and I get to play with it too, as long as I'm with him.

Eventually we came to an alcove off of the main hallway that (before the tragedy) Kyle and I had called 'Father's Alter'. It was the place where my father had proudly displayed every award, plaque and trophy Kyle and I had ever won. It was on the 'must see' list for every special visitor father had to the house.

Looking at the displays for the first time in three years, even I was impressed. This little anteroom was filled with proud memories. Sean examined the displays almost reverently eventually pointing to a very large trophy set on a high shelf in what might be considered the position of honor.

"What's that one?" he asked (because it was placed too high for him to be able to read the inscription).

I put an arm on his shoulder and hugged him to me. "That's Kyle's. He won it when he was 13. It's the State swimming Championship. He would have won it again the next year if he hadn't…"

Sean looked up at me and squeezed me tightly around the waist. I quickly led him further down the hall and down a small flight of stairs.

He was ecstatic when he saw the indoor swimming pool and the adjoining gym. He was literally jumping up and down. "Can we go swimming later Eric? I LOVE swimming!"

"Of course we can, little man," I said hugging him to me with one arm. "Let's just finish the `tour' then we can do whatever you want."

We strolled down a long hall and I showed him my study/office. "If you're ever looking for me and can't find me anyplace, you'll probably find me in here," I told him "Now come on, I'll show you something neat!"

The music room truly was 'something neat'. The entire room was carpeted and paneled and fixtured in order to create as near perfect acoustics as could be achieved in such a space. My grandfather had been an accomplished violinist and the music room had been one of his pet projects.

The magnificent Steinway grand was the centerpiece of the room but glass fronted cases with other instruments lined the walls. There was everything here; percussion, winds, brass and strings. Comfortable chairs and occasional tables were distributed throughout the room.

My little music 'expert', was more than impressed; he was awed. "Do you play any of these Eric?" he asked.

"Mostly I play this," I said as I walked over to the piano and sat at the bench. I ran my fingers over the keys and began playing before giving it much thought.

Sean stood by me and he was smiling with pleasure. I stopped and looked at him. "That was Chopin," he said absently putting his little hand on my shoulder and looking intently at me. "The Raindrop Prelude I think."

I realized with amazement that was in fact what I had been playing. "How did you know that Sean?" I asked.

"I don't know. I just love music and if I hear it and I like it, I just remember it. I like Chopin a lot. I wish you would play some more."

"Any time you want, little man," I said, my throat catching with emotion. "Do you play an instrument Sean?"

"I played the guitar at the nest but they wouldn't let me bring it with me cause they said it wasn't mine to take," he said with a somewhat melancholy look.

For a moment, I thought that my heart was going to stop and I had to wait before I could speak. I walked over to one of the large cabinets and opened it, withdrawing a dusty black case which I carried over to the table and opened with trembling hands.

"T-this was Kyle's," I said in a cracked voice… I was terrified I was going to break into tears and frighten the poor little boy. "He loved playing and singing. I would… I would sometimes sit and listen to him for hours." I lifted the instrument out of the case and held it out to the wide eyed boy.

It was a beautiful instrument. It was a Martin 018. It had been crafted in 1952 and had been Kyle's pride and joy. The sound box was smaller than Martin's famous dreadnaught models but the quality of the wood and Martin's famous strutting system caused it to produce a surprisingly loud and gloriously rich sound.

All though it was an adult's instrument, the neck was thinner than a full sized guitar's. This, combined with the smaller body, made it perfect for a child's smaller hands and shorter arms.

Sean took the instrument from me and caressed the sound board lovingly, obviously recognizing and appreciating what a fine thing it was.

"We'll have to put new stings on it. Those must be quite old because they're from… ," I caught myself and didn't say: 'before Kyle was killed'.

Just then Walter entered the room and saved me from myself. "Doctor David Swaim is returning your phone call sir. I've had it transferred to the telephone in your study."

"Thank you Walter. I'll be right back, Sean, you wait right here."

Doctor Swaim was a well-known educator with an impressive resume, half dozen books and three PBS specials to his credit. He had worked with my father on a couple of long term projects which resulted in him spending a great deal of time here at Joyous Gaurde. We had all come to know him quite well. He had delivered one of the eulogies at the family funeral.

He was now retired but, rumor had, it he was working on another book.

I explained about Sean and what I was looking for regarding his education and asked if he could recommend a person or persons who might fit the bill as tutor.

"Eric Tucker you cut me to the quick," he said. "Why not me? I'm not that old you know."

For a moment I was speechless and then, not believing my luck, I accepted his offer at once. We agreed that he would arrive at Joyous Gaurde early Monday afternoon.

I hurried down the hall to share the news with Sean.

As I approached the music room, the air was filled with the most magical sounds. Delicate but intricate guitar arpeggios accompanied a sweet high crystal clear voice. I knew the song and I knew the words but I was stunned by the performance.

He was sitting bent over the instrument the fingers of his right hand quickly and rhythmically plucking and brushing at the strings as the fingers of his left hand moved delicately and complexly along the ebony fret board.

"… And I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I loved you more
In my life I loved you more"

I stood there frozen… unable to speak. He brushed his right thumb lightly down the strings in one final movement and looked up noticing me there for the first time. He gave me a questioning little smile.

I finally managed to breathe. "Kyle… that was absolutely beautiful!"

All expression left his face. He sat there for a few moments then he stood up, walked slowly to the table, placed the guitar carefully in its case and closed it.

He was standing with his back to me.

Perplexed, I walked over to him, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around.

Tears were streaming down his beautiful little face.

With his lower lip quivering he looked up at me with a sad intensity and said, "I'm Sean… You called me Kyle."

When a person has said or done something unspeakable without premeditation or intent, the mind's first reaction is to try to ignore it; the secondary reaction to attempt to dismiss it and the third is to go totally numb in shock and horror over the terrible thing that has just been done. I was almost instantly in the third mode and my mind could not comprehend how or why it had just happened.

I knew that I should speak to him and do so quickly but I was frozen; turned to stone… numb. I could do nothing other than stand there and watch him slack-jawed as he looked at me… his face a picture of hurt and betrayal while silent tears streaked those lovely cheeks.

Finally it was he that moved.

He rubbed both eyes with the knuckles of his hands and, then, almost reached out to me but he stopped in mid-movement. The hand that was going to touch me instead fluttered absently and he said, "I'm going up now." And he turned and walked past me.

I did nothing to try and stop him. I stood there like the fool I knew myself to be and watched him go.

At the door, he broke into a run and I could see he was headed for the elevator. I passed my hand through my hair and then, in a daze, I walked out of the music room down the hall and into my study.

I walked directly to the antique cabinet behind my desk and took out a bottle of scotch and a glass.

I filled the glass and tossed the liquor down in one swallow. It was good whiskey; 25 year old Glenlivet, a very fine single malt which I usually enjoyed immensely but right now, it just burned as it went down. I poured and swallowed a second glass receiving no more satisfaction from it than I had from the first.

I filled the glass a third time, but now I just sat there with the tumbler in my hand.

The reality was sinking in. With one careless, unthinking statement I had broken everything. To an adult it might have been no great thing… a simple slip of the tongue quickly and easily corrected. To Sean, however, with his pure, innocent soul, his still tentative foothold in this strange new environment, his identity had been attacked and grievously damaged. To his child's mind, I had basically denied his existence and given praise and credit to another at a moment when my encouragement and acknowledgment would have been so welcomed and important to him. I had essentially demolished his self-esteem and disavowed his persona.

If you don't go to him right now, you'll never be able to fix this, I told myself.

I rose from my chair, finished my drink in three slow swallows and, still in a daze, walked to the elevator. I knew he wouldn't be in my room but I looked in there just the same.

As I gazed slowly around I noticed that his black travel bag was gone and his blue blazer was no longer on the table in the corner.

My vision was blurring as my eyes grew damp and I made my way to his room. The door wasn't closed, but I didn't just walk in. I stood at the entrance.

He looked so tiny… he was in the middle of the bed, his arms wrapped around his legs with his knees pulled up tightly to his chest. The new clothes that he had worn today were folded neatly and placed in a little pile on the desk. Next to the clothing were his new boots. He had changed into the red track suit that he had brought from the nest and his travel bag, sitting on one of the chairs, appeared to have been packed.

I walked in slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn't look at me or acknowledge my presence; he just hugged his little legs and stared off into space, his wonderful eyes still wet with tears.

I ached to reach out and touch him… to hug him fiercely to me and beg his forgiveness but I didn't. I sat there with my hands folded in my lap, my head hung low, and I did absolutely NOTHING.

After what seemed like an eternity he spoke. He didn't move, he didn't look at me, he just spoke. "I'd like to go home to the nest now Sir," he said.

If at that moment he had slashed me with a knife, filled the wound with salt and set me on fire; it couldn't possibly have hurt more. Not only did he want to leave, I was 'Sir' again.

"I've only been gone for a couple of days so they should give you most of your money back… or m-maybe they'll let you have another boy," he sniffed.

"Sean, I…" but he didn't let me finish.

"I haven't worn none of the new clothes except those there on the desk, so the store should let you bring them back. If they won't take back those ones I wore today, I'll find some way to pay you back for them. It'll just take some time though."

I needed to speak… I had to speak!

"Sean, tell me; what do you think happened down stairs?"

He only gave it a few moments before he replied. Obviously he had been mulling over this very question since it had happened. "I think you wanted me to change into Kyle. M-maybe y-you thought I was already changed into Kyle."

"I thought you had wanted me to be myself… you even told me that's what you wanted back when we left the nest… and I thought you were liking me and that we were having fun but… now I know you don't want to have fun with me… you want to have fun with Kyle."

At this he broke into deep sobs and buried his face against his knees. Gulping for breath he said, "I k-know I'm just a little kid, but at the nest they say I'm smart… I know stuff… 'least I know Some stuff.

"I know that I can only be me. I can't be Kyle for you, Eric. Nobody can BE Kyle. Maybe after you take me back you can find another kid who can be good at PRETENDING to be Kyle and make you happy… but I can't.

"I wish I could try to do that for you because you're so nice… an I like you s-so much… but I can't. I can't do that; not even for you, Eric."

His sobs grew heavier and his little back and shoulders convulsed as he cried.

I moved over onto the bed alongside him and wrapped my arm around him stroking his raven black hair with my other hand. "Sean, listen to me and please try to understand what I tell you.

"What I said down stairs… the name I called you… it wasn't because I thought you were Kyle or that I wanted you to be Kyle. It was a mistake. A simple slip of the tongue.

"Sometimes people accidentally say things that just come out. It's a mistake and I'm a man who has made a lot of mistakes over the past couple of years. But you Sean, YOU'RE not a mistake!

"YOU being here is not a mistake!

"You were brought here because I want YOU here! I enjoy YOU here!

"Sean, I know who you are and that you can't be someone else! I don't want you to be someone else! I promise you that I only want you to be Sean. I don't want another boy, only Sean… only you. I want YOU to be my only boy here!"

He looked at me over the top of his knees, his beautiful eyes still streaming tears.

"Sean! What happened… it wasn't what you think. This is all new to you but, little man, please remember that YOU are new to me as well. Yes, there used to be another little boy who lived here. He was my brother and I loved him.

"He was cute like you, he was smart like you and he was funny like you. Yes, he was a lot like you. But, he was killed in an accident and he can't ever be back. When it happened, I went crazy, Sean, and I've been crazy for a long time but I'm not stupid.

"I know he can't come back and I know you can't be him. It's just that today, when I heard you sing so beautifully and playing the guitar he used to play, I was remembering… they were happy memories, Sean, but they were only memories. And right then and there you reminded me of him, and that's what I was thinking about. I was remembering a very happy time.

"Sean, until you came here… until you came into my life… I haven't been able to think about anything happy for so very long. In just a couple of days you've made me remember what being happy is, Sean. YOU did and I'm so grateful.

"When I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your music, his name slipped out just because I was thinking about both of you at the same time. It was just a mistake and I'd give anything if it hadn't happened. I'd give anything not to have frightened, hurt and upset you so much.

"I can't pretend it didn't happen. I can only hope you can understand the explanation I've just given you and… I hope you can forgive me."

He didn't say anything and we just sat there for a very long time. I could feel my heart breaking.

Finally I removed my arm from around his sobbing little shoulders and stood up looked down at him. "It's way too late to travel today. I'll ask Mrs. Edwards to have your dinner brought up here for you."

"I'll have John drive you to the airport and my plane will take you back to the nest. I'll make all of the arraignments in the morning." I walked to the door and stopped. "I'll ask Walter help you with everything you need tomorrow. Maybe I'll have him fly back with you to make sure that… everything goes…" I waved my hand dismissively.

"I won't see you tomorrow Sean. It would hurt too much to watch you leave. I only hope that you'll remember what I've just told you and that, someday, you'll understand and forgive me for my stupid, stupid mistake."

I walked to the elevator and rode it down.

In my study, I refilled my glass, leaned back in my chair and lost myself in deep sad thoughts. One thing in particular kept coming back to rip me apart, You've taken this beautiful thing and crushed it! This angel sent from heaven to save your stupid, worthless life. You've broken his heart and his spirit and he's leaving confused and unhappy.

You've ruined your chances… you'll never be happy again and you don't deserve to be… you are a fool!

I don't know what time I finally got up and entered the elevator I only know that it was late but, strangely, I wasn't quite drunk.

In my room, I pulled off my clothes and tossed them into a corner and crawled into bed. I lay in the almost darkness staring up into to the grey nothingness of the room: too sad to sleep, too full of pain to cry.

At some late, late hour, I became aware of movement by the side of my bed. I heard the soft rustle of clothing dropping to the floor and felt the covers turn back as he slipped into the bed. I held my breath not daring to make the smallest movement.

His smooth skin slid against mine as he squirmed himself hard against my side. I felt his lips softly kiss my cheek as his little hand pressed against my chest.

He whispered very softly, "I want to be here. I want to be your only boy Eric."

I didn't say anything. I just reached out and pulled him closer. He threw an arm and a leg across my body holding as tightly to me as I was to him… and that is how we fell asleep and that is how we both woke up the next morning.

He nuzzled my chin with his nose and whispered, "Morning! Are you mad to see me? Are we friends?"

"N-no I'm not mad to see you… you don't know how GLAD I am. Friends? I hope so, little man. Are we?"

"Yes."

He raised himself and was now sitting on my stomach looking down at me absentmindedly running an index finger along my chest. "I was sad, Eric. I was REALLY sad and I wanted to go home, but that made me sad too.

"Then you came in and said what you said and I thought about it like you asked me to. I thought about it hard, Eric, and I understood what you were saying and, all of a sudden, I wasn't sad anymore because then I knew you liked ME… really wanted ME."

He was wiggling as he talked – the smooth flesh of his little ass almost dancing on my abdomen – driving me crazy.

"And then, once I wasn't sad anymore, I didn't want to be alone in that room so I waited hoping you would come get me. But then I remembered you said you wouldn't be seeing me anymore and I was REALLY sad again.

"Then, Eric, I felt even worse because then I knew you were sad too… so I knew I had to come to you… an' make you not be sad. But you were already in bed and the lights were out and I thought you were sleeping, so I sneaked into bed with you and then… I kissed you and then… I fell asleep and then… TA DAH! Here we are in the morning!" He spread his arms wide with a huge grin on his face.

Obviously, to his innocent mind, everything was suddenly OK. As far as he was concerned, the whole matter was explained, understood and over with. I wished my own heart was that flexible. It felt like it was breaking again but, this time, with happiness.

I reached down and cupped my hands around his perfect little ass cheeks holding them to stop the wiggling and, as I did, I gently squeezed them like little melons.

"So, if we're friends, Sean, then we've got to know that we trust each other and… well… if I should ever again say or do something to upset you or frighten you or even confuse you, you'll tell me and we'll talk about it right away OK?"

He nodded his head with grave reassurance; "'K."

"And if you ever do or say something that hurts or bothers me, I'll tell you right away OK.?"

"'Kay."

"So, from now on, if I mention Kyle, you know it's only because I'm remembering him not because I want you to be him, right?"

"Right." And he leaned way down and kissed me.

I reached up and pulled him close and kissed him right back. "Practice!" we both said at the same time and burst out laughing.

I carried him into the bathroom and we peed, brushed our teeth and then frolicked in the shower for at least 45 minutes.

After our shower, Sean went into his room to get dressed. As I was putting my own clothes on I couldn't help but wonder what type of an outfit he would select for himself on this, his first day with a large new wardrobe. I was quite pleasantly surprised when he sauntered back into my room wearing a salmon colored polo shirt, black pants, white sneakers and a radiant Sean smile. He looked great.

"Every morning is going to be a fashion show around here!" I said with a grin. Heart bursting from happiness, I gave him a big hug before we strolled, hand-in- hand, downstairs for breakfast.

"Morning Mrs. Edwards!" he shouted as he rushed to her in order to exchange hugs and kisses.

Martha clucked over him telling him how handsome he looked as she shepherded us both to the table.

We were soon each presented with heaping plates of scrambled eggs, wheat toast, butter and strawberry jam.

As Sean began devouring his breakfast, Martha stood beside him. "Sean you little darling, I never got the chance to ask you how you like your eggs prepared. I hope these scrambled are all right for you."

He looked up at her a bit surprised and after he had swallowed his current mouthful he said, "This is the only way I ever ate eggs Mrs. Edwards. I didn't know there was other ways. These are great!"

Martha 'tsk tsked' as only she can do and said, "We'll try them different ways for you and you can decide what you like best you sweet boy."

As Sean's eating frenzy slowed down to a more moderate pace I took a sip of my coffee and said, "Well, little man, I've got some news that I didn't get to tell you last night." We exchanged looks that confirmed that what had happened last night was strictly between us.

Martha, with her usual discretion, pretended not to notice and had said nothing about having had his supper brought up to his room.

I told him a little about Dr. Swaim and explained that he would be coming to talk to us on Monday and that, if all went according to plan, the great man himself would be undertaking the job of being his tutor. I also told Martha that the Doctor would be having dinner with us Monday evening.

She remembered him well and said, "Roast beef! That man loves roast beef! That's what we'll have. I'll go to the meat market tomorrow. More eggs darling?" That question was directed at Sean not to me.

When he'd finished eating and I'd downed my second cup of coffee. I put my arm around Sean's shoulder and guided him down the hall. "I seem to recall that before… before… last night, we were talking about swimming."

"YES!" he exclaimed pumping his little fist in the air and then ,"but Eric, I just remembered… I don't have no swimming suit."

"You mean you don't have ANY swimming suit." I corrected. "Actually you do. We bought you three yesterday. However, little man, one of the perks of having your own private pool is that you don't need any swimming suit."

He looked at me curiously. "You mean swim with our clothes on?" he asked quite skeptically.

"No, I mean swim with our clothes off, you silly goof."

He broke into a gigantic grin and hugged me around the waist. "Naked sleeping… naked swimming. Eric you're just the best fun!"

With that, he was racing across the deck pulling off his clothes as he went. Somehow, he managed to strip, fold his cloths neatly and put them on a table and prance up onto the low diving board before I had a chance to move.

My eyes were riveted to the beauty before me. His perfect little body, displayed for me without shame or modesty, made me speechless. I wondered if I would ever get used to the stunning sight of him this way.

His legs were not yet the beguiling, though slightly ungainly colt's legs of a boy entering puberty; but instead were perfectly proportioned and exquisitely formed and as he moved them, his wonderful little ass flexed and jiggled.

God! I thought to myself. Every time I think about this boy the only adjective I can come up which is 'perfect'.

He was looking at me expectantly and his eyes asked the unspoken question.

"Go on in!" I urged him. "I'm right behind you."

He flashed me one of his trademark smiles and scampered to the back of the diving board.

With no fanfare, he raced up the length of the narrow board, gracefully hopped up just near the end and came down. His slight weight hardly bent the board but it still provided enough spring action to thrust him into the air and into a perfect shallow arch.

He split the water so smoothly that his splash was undetectable and I watched with pleasure as he glided sleekly under water for the entire length of the pool. He broke the surface at the far end and his grin was ear to ear.

"Oh man! It's Woooonderful! Come in Eric it's sooo great!"

My clothing was off in a flash and soon I was on the diving board. I am no slouch when it comes to water sports and my dive was classy and smooth. I swam under water until I came to his spot and surfaced just in front of him.

His face wore an expression of pure joy.

I rolled over and did a slow backstroke out toward the center of the pool and he followed. Together, we covered two lengths of the pool in this easy manner comfortable in our silence.

Back in the shallow end I grabbed him, raised him quickly into the air and launched him, squealing, back into the water.

"Again Eric!" he urged as he swam back to me.

I lifted him and threw him a couple of dozen times, enjoying running my hands all over his water-slick body. It could have continued for hours but I had to beg off for a moment… even a little 80 pound [36½ kg] boy gets heavy after repeated lifting and tossing.

He amused himself by swimming graceful little circles around me finally diving underwater and swimming between my spread legs. The globes of his little ass brushed against my cock and balls as he did so, and I thought to myself, Little boy you can do that all day.

When he stopped for a second I said, "How good a swimmer are you, Sean?"

Flashing me a hard 'look' he said, with adorable little boy audacity, "Eric, I been swimming since I was a little kid! I'm one of the captains of the swim team. I'm Aquaman!"

Grinning he said, "Watch me Eric… this is called Freestyle!" and he began swimming to the other end of the pool, did a perfect underwater racing turn and swam back. His form was flawless.

Not even breathing hard he said, "Now, the breast stroke!" And, again, he was off to the other end of the pool and, again, I couldn't find a thing wrong with his form.

When he returned to my end of the pool at least he had the decency to be breathing a bit hard.

"The Fly!" he grinned broadly and took off again performing a perfect butterfly stroke. When he returned to my end of the pool he rolled over onto his back panting and smiling happily.

The boy is part fish, I thought to myself. He seemed so comfortable… so natural in the water, I thought of the old Scottish stories my grandfather used to tell about the magical creatures that lived part of the time in the sea and part of the time on land. Sylkies he called them… this little boy is a sylkie.

We were standing in the shallow end when suddenly he jumped up on me wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist for no apparent reason. He was looking at me rather seriously. Not sadly, I thought, just seriously.

"What?" I asked, as I took this great opportunity to run my hands along his slippery little ass.

"Oh… I was looking at you just thinkin'. I'm such a twerp. I was just thinking' about how cool this is and how great you are and… how I was so silly to be scared about you when they told me I was going out on this contract.

"Eric, I was so seriously scared about having to go with you. But, you're so fun Eric! You're so nice! I'm sooo glad it was me you picked."

"Jeeze I've got pool water in my eyes." I said, in a cracking voice, as I wiped away the tears that were forming.

Finally I spoke about what had been on my mind since the wee hours of last night, "You know, Sean, there's one thing that happened… one thing about last night that's very special and not sad at all." His face took on a quizzical look.

"Last night when you came into my bed and kissed me when you thought I was asleep, you also told me something. You told me that you wanted to be here… that you wanted to be my boy."

He smiled sweetly.

"So, you see, last night, you chose me, Sean. I'm so glad it was me that YOU picked."

"You and me! We've chosen each other. It can't get more special than that."

He leaned in and kissed me and squeezed his arms and legs tightly around me, nuzzling his head against my neck and shoulder not making a sound.

We stayed just like that for a very long time.

To an outside observer, it would have been the perfect sweet scene… something out of a beautiful fairy tale… an exquisite painting… if only both of us hadn't popped boners.

Chapter 7

We'll get a ride in Eric's great new sports car, Sean becomes a sporting gentleman and somebody will say the 'L' word.

There is a place in the human heart that is each person's secret store-room… An impregnable vault where life's most special moments are carefully wrapped, boxed and stored to protect them from the ravages of living and relentlessly passing time.

This is a safe place and, when life has become grey and unspeakably cold… when the soul feels world weary and burdened… one can retreat into it and open a box or two of precious memories and smile. Cherishing the bright pleasure of a thing that… for at least one treasured moment… had blessed us and made us happy.

The accumulation of THESE, rather than of wealth and material processions, is what marks a valued, well lived life.

I felt so full of joy and peace that I would have held him there against me forever if that had been practical. But, of course, it was not.

I ran my hands down his silken back and clasped both tender globes as my fingertips gently, carefully grazed the soft private inside of his little crack. Slowly, sensually I brushed his neck, his cheeks, and his hair with my lips.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply filling my nose with the unmistakable glorious scent of… Chlorine.

That broke the spell quickly enough.

I lifted him up and stood him on the deck at poolside. "OK Buckaroo, time to get this pool smell washed off and get dressed we've got lots of things to do today!"

I gathered up our clothes and led him into the gym complex adjacent to the pool. I guided him to the changing /shower room.

"Sorry these are just regular showers, little man," I said with a grin, "but they'll do the job." I tossed him a bar of soap from the cabinet on the wall.

He was soon under a steaming spray lathering up and singing his little heart out. I didn't recognize the song he was singing but his voice was so pure and his singing so enthusiastic I totally enjoyed it.

I was under the shower-head next to him as he stopped singing and spoke very loudly so that I could hear him, "You know what Eric? This kind of stinks… I think I really like it better when we wash each other."

I reached over and lightly smacked his wiggling little ass.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"Sorry, little man," I said grinning, "that was target practice."

"What?"

"I was just trying to see how well I could hit a moving target because your little butt seems to never stop moving!" I leaned through the spray and planted a kiss on his head.

Shortly we were toweling each other off.

"So what stuff are we going to do today?"

"Well, here's what I had in mind…" I was busily working the towel through his wonderful black hair and he was excitedly dancing around little boy fashion making my job more difficult than it needed to be…"First off, we're going to drive out to the Sports Club and get you enrolled as a member and, while we're there, we can pick up a schedule for the different up-coming team try outs."

"Then, I thought we could have lunch at a little Mexican place I know about. Then back here we've got a few things we have to do to get ready for Dr. Swaim on Monday. That's for starters… how does that sound?"

"Way cool!" he said doing a little hop on the last word.

Very reluctantly I pointed to his clothes. "Get dressed then."

I guided him back to the elevator. "We've just got to grab jackets."

Now, Joyous Gaurde is located in the state generally known to have the absolutely best year round climate in the country but, even here, January sometimes gets chilly.

In my thinking was that, considering one of the things I had in mind for us to do today, wearing a jacket was probably a very good idea but, beside that, I was dying to seem him wear his new leather bomber. I opened his closet and pulled the garment I had in mind off its hanger and handed it to him.

It was a dark brown lambskin A2 style pilot's jacket, its fine leather burnished to a beautiful antique finish. It fit him perfectly and he looked so wonderful wearing it that my heart thumped and my dick got hard… he was at the same time the sexiest and most beautiful looking little thing I'd ever seen.

The little devil knew he looked good and he proceeded to perform a series of 'cool' poses just to get me smiling.

Ducking into my room, I grabbed my (matching) jacket from the closet. Putting it on, it was my turn to 'cool pose' for him which soon had him laughing hysterically.

Side by side, we two 'bad dudes' swaggered downstairs.

We ducked into the kitchen to tell Martha that we wouldn't be there for lunch and she, of course, had to cluck over her 'handsome darlin' little boy'.

"Now you see what you've done?" I jokingly said to Sean. "She USED to fuss over me that way".

"Tcch! And you USED to be a cute little boy once!" she said. Martha could always give better than she got.

I quickly guided Sean out the 'family' back door down the pathway and out to the garage building. The long garage is where the family automobiles had always been kept. It still contained an impressive row of fine vehicles but not what you'd actually call a 'collection'. In my family we tended to use our things not just collect them for the sake of 'having' them.

John was near the workbench at the far wall doing something under the hood of a deep green 1989 Lincoln Mark VII that had originally been my father's.

John was not just the family driver, he was also a top notch mechanic and he maintained the small fleet of cars we owned.

"Hi John!" Sean called as soon as he had spotted him.

"Hi Sean!" he responded getting out from under the hood. "Good morning Eric." (When in informal situations my key employees always used my first name). "What are you two cool looking dudes up to?"

"Headed out for a bit John. Is the 'red cat' ready to take?"

John smiled at me appreciatively. "It's about time you decided to take that little monster out for a run. It's all gassed and ready down there toward the end. Sean, my man, you're in for a treat."

I nodded to him appreciatively and guided Sean down to the far end of the line of cars.

"Call me if you get in trouble with the cops! I'll come and bail you guys out!"

"Ohhh my gosh!"… Sean had seen it.

I had only purchased it a few months ago near the end of my dark insanity. I'd bought it, driven it home and had not touched it nor set eyes on it since. 'IT' was a sleek low sexy red Jaguar F type.

It looked fast just standing there but the 495 HP 5.0 liter V-8 under the hood made it a road cat… err … car that very few stock vehicles could catch or outrun. Every inch of it screamed 'waaaay beyond cool!'

Sean walked up to it and slowly touched it. The boy, it seemed, knew his sports cars. He dreamily walked around it his eyes popping and his mouth open. From the other side of the car he looked at me and asked,"Is this yours?"

Then he shook his head and gave me a goofy little grin and said, "Of course it's yours! I'm such a dweeb! Are we gonna drive it? Can we take it out with the top down Eric?"

"That's why I made you wear your jacket' little man. Hop in."

I certainly didn't have to tell him twice. He was in the seat buckled in and looking around before I even opened the driver's door.

"Almost ready, champ." I said reaching into the bag I'd been carrying that he hadn't even noticed. I pulled out matching grey and brown tweed Ivy League flat caps and handed one to him as I put on my own. Before he could react I handed him a pair of black Aviator-style sunglasses and of course, I had a pair for myself.

I gestured at our matching jackets caps and glasses and pronounced, "This is TODAY'S dress code!" He of course remembered our running joke about the blue blazer outfits and broke into a huge Sean smile.

The tuned exhaust of the little red beast growled as we sped down the drive and through the gate. On the open road Sean squealed with delight as I worked the shift paddles putting the car through its paces.

Of course I was showing off and we both loved it.

The Deer Run Athletic Club is a very high class, but not actually snooty, organization. Originally set up as a gentleman's hunting club it has expanded over its 110-year existence to encompass golf, tennis, swimming and several other sporting activities, but no longer engages in hunting.

I was a third generation member.

Among its many activities, it sponsors, maintains and coaches several youth teams in competitive sports such as swimming, soccer baseball, basketball and tennis. These teams consisted of the cream of young local athletes many of whom were recruited by club scouts… their memberships sponsored by donated scholarships.

They competed all around the county and were usually very successful. It was rare that they didn't have at least of couple of teams in the state playoffs in any given sport.

Kyle and I had each been members of several Deer Run teams. Knowing Sean's extraordinary athletic talents I was certain that this was the place for him.

We roared into the parking lot with Sean laughing hysterically. "Eric that was just sooo cool!"

He opened his door and hopped out.

I gazed at him in wonder… this perfect little boy wearing his leather bomber jacket, black slacks, tweed cap with gorgeous black hair peeking out from underneath… his stunning blue/green eyes hidden secretively under very suave shades.

If there is a more beautiful little creature in the world, I don't know where it might be found, I thought to myself.

With Sean being my legal ward (if only for a year) it was quite simple to enroll him as a member since he qualified under the category of 'legacy'. It was merely a matter of filling out some forms and, of course, forking over some money.

While his membership card was being printed and laminated, I grabbed copies of the upcoming sports schedules for the season. Sean looked around.

"We'll come back another time so that you can tour the place. Right now we've got to get moving."

"Talk about a dress code," he whispered, as he nudged me indicating the several people moving about or seated comfortably in the lobby… all wearing blue trousers and dark grey blazers, each with an embroidered emblem on the chest.

"Don't make too many jokes," I whispered back "That's the club jacket. Yours will be ready next week… Jacob Struthers is tailoring it for you."

He looked at me quizzically.

"I'm WAY ahead of you kiddo!" I laughed.

I purposely lagged behind him as we headed to the car so I could watch his little ass move in his tight fitting pants as he walked.

I am so happy! I thought to myself. To think how close I came to losing this last night. I sighed deeply as we both got into the Jaguar.

Right on the corner of Avenida de los Arboles which is the main street of town is 'Cochina Alfredo' the best Mexican restaurant in the county as far as I was concerned. Though not much to look at, the food was simply heaven. The place is usually mobbed but, today, we were lucky and there was only a light crowd.

I turned to Sean and I could see that his little nose was picking up the smells wafting from the kitchen in the back of the place.

"You go fill up a couple of bowls with salsa," I said, pointing, "and meet me over at that table. I'll go get lunch… let me do the ordering for you this first time, OK?"

"Kay!" he agreed.

About 20 minutes later we were seated at the plain wooden table tearing into a fabulous lunch: Carne Asada burritos, San Diego style, which is a giant, lightly-toasted flour tortilla, over-filled with skirt steak that had been marinated in lemon and lime juice and diced jalapenos, cut into bite sized pieces and mixed with finely chopped onions guacamole and sour cream… all rolled into a large tight package. On the side were tiny tubs of hot sauce, a heap of frijoles, rice and Pico de Gallo salsa.

Sean had lemonade and I had a frosty, cold Corona.

There was enough food for even Sean's appetite. As he finished his last bite, he leaned back in his chair and let out a tremendous loud burp. It must have surprised him because his eyes opened wide and he stared at me looking startled.

"Scuze me!" he exclaimed and then he started giggling uncontrollably. His laugh was infectious and soon I was laughing too. We were still sniggering as we walked to the car.

"One more stop. It's just down the street." I told him.

We pulled into the parking lot of Greenwold's Sporting Goods. "I noticed back at Deer Run that tryouts for the youth swim team are all next week." I told Sean as we were walking around to the front of the store. "The three swim suits we got you at Strother's yesterday are the 'fashionable' type. You'll need a Speedo competition suit because I don't think they'll let you swim naked in the club pool… as cute as your little ass happens to be."

He smiled and gave me a shoulder bump just as we entered the store.

An attractive young saleswoman whose name tag identified her as 'Terri' helped us select four suits that she felt might be appropriate and she directed us to the changing room. I held Sean's jacket, hat and sun glasses as he scampered into one of the booths. I was convinced he would have stripped off and changed right in the middle of the store and not been bothered a bit about it if I hadn't said anything.

When Sean stepped out from behind the curtain wearing a miniscule black Speedo, I thought that my heart might stop. He did a cute little pirouette, took a bow, flashed me a grin and went back in to try on the next suit.

He modeled all four and, in the end, we took the black the blue and the red. For some reason I didn't like the way the yellow one looked on him. Just getting fussy, I thought to myself.

While we strolled through the store, I found and added to our little basket three pair of swimmer's racing goggles, two regular jockstraps and a jock/cup combination (marveling that they even made such things in his small size). I was thinking to myself that with an athletic kid like this little boy I might as well be prepared.

Although it was winter, the baseball section still caught my eye. During his long soliloquy in the limo that first day, Sean had mentioned that he'd never played organized baseball. Although the season was far from being upon us, I thought that having some basic equipment might offer us the opportunity to fool around and give him a feel for the game… to see if he liked it.

I selected a couple of boxes of balls and four bats of various length and weight.

The real puzzle came down to the glove. Perusing the excellent selection I was trying to decide on the best glove for a young athlete who would be a first time baseball player. Finally I found a neat little 11.5 third base closed pouch model that I thought would be ideal.

I had Sean slip it on and I checked the ease with which it opened and closed. Feeling around the glove it seemed to fit well although the strap would need adjusting. I ruffled Sean's hair just for good measure and added the glove to our basket.

My eyes were drawn to a far corner of the store and another idea sprang into my head.

"Come over here with me Sean," I said as I poked around the shelves until I found what I was looking for. "Take off your jacket and try this on kiddo."

I handed him a sage green chunky-knit sweater with padded suede patches at the shoulders and elbows. He slipped it over his head and on. It fit perfectly. He looked at himself in the mirror and turned to me crinkling up his cute little nose with curiosity.

"This is a funny looking sweater Eric. What's it for?"

"You'll find out in a little bit… probably tomorrow," I assured him.

I paid for our purchases and we walked back to the car and we headed home… with me driving like a madman just to impress an 11 year old boy who sat in the passenger seat howling with glee.

When we arrived home, I pulled Walter aside to talk to him and Sean and I went upstairs to hang up our jackets and put away his new stuff.

"Leave that sweater out on the table. You're going to need it tomorrow and… lose the hat, Joe Cool, it's just for the sports car." He grinned, took it off and tossed it on top of the sweater.

I reached in my hip pocket and held up a rectangle of plastic. "This is your club membership card. I'll hold onto it for you right now but later you'll need it so you can get in and out of the facilities at the club without me holding your cute little hand."

That got me a 'look'.

Walter was waiting for us downstairs and the three of us walked out the 'family' door and climbed onto a waiting golf cart that Walter had brought around.

"What are we doing Eric?" Sean was busting with curiosity.

"We're going to check on 'Fish Camp' to make sure everything's OK there," I answered, leaving him as much in the dark as before.

In the northwest corner of the property there is a nice little lake (really more of a big pond) that my grandfather was particularly fond of. Whenever he needed to be alone to think, 'Pa Pop' would bring a fishing pole out there and 'wet a line' (as he used to say). Sometime after my grandmother died, Pa Pop had a small cabin built on the north shore. He christened the little place 'Fish Camp' and it served him, and later my father, as a perfect short term get away.

Grandfather, and later my father, had the pond stocked with fish every year. It had now been four years since it had been stocked but, then again, it had been at least as long since anyone had fished it… with the possible exceptions of Walter, John and Uncle Phil on rare occasions.

When Dr. Swaim and my father began the first of their several long term collaborations, Dr. Swaim had somehow discovered Fish Camp and fell in love. From then on, disdaining a guest suit in the house, whenever he was in residence at Joyous Gaurde, he stayed at Fish Camp. Not even Martha's cooking could change his mind although he always managed to join us for dinner at least three times a week.

Though we hadn't actually discussed it when we talked yesterday, I assumed that the good Doctor would be expecting the usual arraignments. No one had really used the Fish Camp for years and I was afraid it might not be fit for habitation. But I hadn't taken into consideration Walter's professionalism, efficiency and common sense.

"I've been sending a small crew out there about every two months to keep the little place in good repair and reasonably clean," He told me as he steered the golf cart onto the dirt trail that led to the cabin. "I was out there about six months ago on one of my days off and I can tell you the fish are biting like crazy. The Professor should be very comfortable and very pleased."

I turned to my little boy. "Walter just reminded me of a very good point, Sean. Doctor Swaim doesn't like to be called 'Doctor'; he likes to be called 'Professor'".

"Why?" Sean asked.

"Because he thinks 'Doctor' sounds too phony baloney", I answered.

"Ha! As if 'Professor' doesn't!" Walter guffawed.

Just then we rounded a corner and my grandfather's cabin came into view. I felt a tug at my heart as I looked at the pretty little thing. My mind was flooded with warm wonderful memories and I thought to myself, Except for the tragedy of the accident, what a wonderful life I've had. Now thanks to Sean it's starting to become wonderful again. How did I get so lucky?

Walter stopped the cart and we got out with Sean just busting to look around. We stepped up onto the stone porch and through the door which was almost always unlocked. I had always loved this little place. While not really isolated… how isolated can you be on 200 acres [80 ha[ of fenced in land… the location and the woods-like nature of the property gave you the feeling of distance and solitude that was peaceful and comforting.

The cabin though rustic in appearance, was certainly not lacking in the amenities. My grandfather enjoyed his creature comforts as much as the next man.

When you walked through the door you were immediately in the 'big room' which actually was the bulk of the cabin.

The 'star' of the room was the huge stone fireplace with a couple of comfortable chairs flanking the hearth and, off to the side of the room, was the 'visiting' area with two facing couches and three overstuffed armchairs scattered in a casual grouping. In a corner two large primitive bookcases laden with books and magazines loomed over a desk that I am told once belonged to my great grandfather and had been used in his first office in Chicago many, many years ago.

Off from the Big Room were a surprisingly large and well equipped kitchen and a comfortable dining area.

The kitchen was well equipped because both my grandfather and my father knew their way around a stove and both were wizards when it came to preparing a supper of fresh-caught fish. I had never developed more than rudimentary cooking skills myself but I knew enough to appreciate the amenities it contained.

Up a simple wooden staircase were the two bedrooms. Each contained a comfortable queen-sized bed and each had a private bathroom. Both bedrooms had large windows that looked out over the pond. My mind flashed me a memory of waking up on a cool autumn morning just after sunrise, padding barefoot (and bare-assed for that matter) to the window and looking out watching the mist rise from the surface of the pond.

When my father was born… or so the story goes… Pa Pop had gotten rip roaring drunk and had proclaimed to the entire household that in honor of his new son, the little pond would forever more be known as 'Lake Eric'. Since I shared my father's name, it wasn't until I was about twelve and heard that story for the first time that I realized the pond wasn't named after me.

I strolled through the cabin wistfully… remembering. Then, my mind whisked me back to reality. I'm daydreaming a lot lately, I noted to myself. I concluded that. Thanks to Walter's diligence, all we needed to do was have a couple of the staff come out here tomorrow to do a quick dusting/cleaning.

While I had been strolling down memory lane, Sean had done a quick inspection of the cabin and then made his way down to the water's edge. He was standing… if that boy actually ever stands… bouncing in place is more like it… talking with Walter who was pointing and gesturing to places in and around the lake. Most likely talking about fishing, I thought and then I wondered, Does the kid know how to fish?

"Well, no matter, I decided. If Doctor Swaim comes into his life, he'll learn really fast.

We got back into the golf cart and, as we were driving back to the house, I ticked some items off my mental 'to-do-list'. "Walter, besides the cleaning we need to send someone into town for supplies to stock the refrigerator and pantry. You should get together with Martha… she'll know what he likes and what he'll need." Walter drove the cart and nodded his head agreeably… as if HE needed me to tell him how to do his job.

"Also… that bourbon he's fond of… a couple of cases ought to do for starters and, oh yes, that awful apple schnapps he likes so much. Better get him a case or so of that." I was going over things in my mind as we drove silently along… electric vehicles are weird that way. You get so used to the roaring of internal combustion engines that the quiet of something like a golf cart almost seems to be missing something.

"And Walter, before I forget, would you tell Andy to meet us tomorrow morning at the gun shed? About 9:30 would be good. Got to get Sean prepared for the Professor."

Sean was looking at us totally confused. I hugged him to me and laughingly said, "Tomorrow Kiddo. You'll understand it all tomorrow."

"Oh yes Sean," Walter chuckled. "As the Professor himself is fond of saying 'All shall be revealed'" and he laughed heartily. When he's not busy being 'Mr. Efficient Butler', Walter is a great guy to hang around with.

Dinner was a real treat. Martha had prepared her special Spaghetti Carbonara.

While Sean had never had this dish, he knew a good thing when he saw and smelled it. He smiled up at Martha as she placed a large steaming plate in front of him.

Both Martha and I watched with happy anticipation as he lifted a forkful of the perfectly al' dente pasta with big chunks of prosciutto all dripping in a gooey, heavenly cheese and cream sauce.

He took a bite closed his eyes and smiled from ear to ear. "Man, Mrs. Edwards! Man! I never tasted anything this good in my WHOLE ENTIRE life!" he enthused. Martha and I smiled and he proceeded to attack his dinner.

I had opened a bottle of a pretty nice pinot noir from Napa, California. After filling my glass, I filled another glass about ¾ full and offered it to Sean. He gave me a quizzical look and then took a sip. He gave me a funny little look but didn't say anything. I noticed that he didn't touch the glass again for the rest of the meal preferring to stick to water.

I knew that tiramisu MUST to be coming for desert but Sean didn't nor did he know what it was when Martha placed it in front of him but it only took a split second for him to learn how good it was. "Mrs. Edwards! Mrs. Edwards! You're the greatest cook in the whole world!" he exclaimed jumping up and wrapping his arms around her (as far as they would go) and hugging her tightly. She just beamed and 'tsk tskd'.

"What would you like to do before bed time, little man? Would you like to watch some TV?"

"I don't much like TV Eric. We don't watch it a lot at the nest; usually we read or play games."

"What types of games do you like Sean?"

"I like chess. Do you play chess Eric?"

"In fact I do, little man. Follow me."

For as long as I could remember, the little area to the left of the fireplace in the library had been the 'chess corner'. Two overstuffed chairs faced each other over a small antique oak table. To the side of each chair was a personal side table for holding drinks or whatever and the game set was always out on the table.

The board was marquetry… exquisitely inlaid thin veneers of dark and light wood that I have never been able to identify, surrounded by a band of matched veneers in a deceptively simple herringbone pattern.

The pieces themselves were individually carved from dark ebony and light ivory yellowed from age. The set was very old and very beautiful. It had served at least four generations of my family, perhaps more.

While I poured myself a snifter of cognac, Sean hopped up into one of the chairs. By the time I was seated across from him, he had selected one pawn each, a white and a black and closed a little hand around each. He reached out across the board offering his closed hands to me… I tapped the left. He opened that hand and it held the black pawn. Sean had first move.

He moved his first piece quickly and I countered with almost no hesitation. We each moved determinedly in this manner for four moves by which point each of us had lost one inconsequential pawn.

The pace of the game slowed down considerably as I moved against him for the fourth time carefully planning my strategy. I was astonished. While I am most certainly not 'master' class, I am much more than competent at the game. I seldom lose to a casual opponent but this little boy had me on my toes. I was thinking and planning unusually hard for this early in the match.

I must have Sean going though, I thought to myself. He was leaning over the board on his elbows, his head resting in his hands his little face a picture of concentration.

I glance up at the clock. "OK, little man. It's way late. We'll leave the game just as it is and we can pick up where we left off tomorrow."

He didn't protest. He sat up and smiled at me. "You're a very good player Eric."

"It would seem that so are you, little man."

We walked upstairs chatting casually about our day. The ugliness of last night was never mentioned and I marveled at our comfortable ease with each other.

As we entered the bedroom I told him that we would skip a bath or a shower tonight and just hit the hay; it had been a very long day. As we undressed I could see something was troubling him. "What's up Sean?" I asked.

"I was just thinkin' that you haven't showed me where I wash my clothes."

"What?"

"I'm getting to have a pile of dirty clothes and you haven't shown me where the washer and dryer are."

Ah… the discipline of the Academy, I thought to myself. I sat down on the bed and motioned him over to me. I picked him up and sat him on my lap (a first for us).

"Sean, you need to understand this. I'm rich. In fact I'm VERY rich. There are some things that I pay people to do for and me one of those is to wash and dry my clothes. Every morning you just need to put your dirty clothes in the hamper behind the door in the bathroom and they will be collected, washed and put away for you. This doesn't make us better than the people who do this for us; it just means that's part of their job. It doesn't mean that you should leave your stuff lying all over the place and expect someone to pick up after you. It doesn't mean you should expect people to do simple things that you should be doing for yourself… like hanging up your jacket this afternoon. I know this is still all new to you but I'll try to help you understand as time goes by, OK?"

He was leaning back into me as I talked his head nuzzled under my chin."Kay." He said softly.

I put him down on his feet and looked at him. He was wearing only a pair of grey boxer briefs that hugged his body like a second skin. Damn! I thought I guess Jacob was right about the choice of underwear after all.

I stood up and turned down the covers on the bed, picked up my precious little boy and laid him down with his head on a pillow and reached down for the waistband of his underpants. He raised his hips to allow me to slip them down and off. I tossed the tiny garment to into the corner, stepped out of my own skivvies and lowered the lights to 'almost dark'.

I slipped into bed and pulled him over and on top of me. His little head was on my chest and he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. I moved my hand slowly, stroking and feeling the sleek smoothness that was his skin. His little body was relaxed and felt as if it was molding itself to mine. My right hand gently kneaded his little shoulder blades while the fingers of my left hand played softly and teasingly with his tiny ass, occasionally gliding through his crack and brushing against his secret spot.

I breathed in deeply this time smelling only the intoxicating scent of boy… pure wonderful boy.

He breathed deeply but he didn't move. Without raising or even turning his head he said very softly, "Eric, you're the best friend I ever had."

Instantly my eyes were flooded and my throat dried and tightened. I squeezed him tightly to me trying to almost make him a part of me… surely he could feel my heart beating.

I knew.

How could it possibly be? It's been such a short time… it's not possible… but I knew.

In a low throaty voice I whispered to him, "I love you, little man. I love you, my little Sean."

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