Eff Del

Young But Daily Growin'

Chapters 8-13

Chapter 8

We're killing clay birds, getting a massage and having a BIG sex talk.

Honest love is the strongest and yet most fragile gift that one person can give another. Neither the giver nor the receiver can hold it, gaze upon it admiringly and then place it on some high shelf for safe keeping. It is there, fixed between the two of them… exposed and vulnerable… and whether it lives and grows or falters and dies is the shared responsibility of the person who gives and the one who receives the gift.

I carelessly ran my fingers through the hair of the little boy sleeping beside me. During the night he had slid down from my chest and snuggled warmly against my side… one arm and one leg thrown across my body in what was becoming his customary sleeping position. His smooth little chest was rising and falling softly and regularly. His eyes were closed with nary a flutter of his dark, long lashes. His sweet lips were just slightly parted and he was emitting cute low noises… not snores, just little noises as he gently breathed.

Last night he had whispered to me that I was his friend… no… MUCH more than that; I was his BEST friend… EVER. This was as mighty a declaration of affection that an 11 year old boy could possibly make.

Despite everything the poets have sung and writers have pontificated, in the real world, he could not have gone further than that… he couldn't possibly have professed his 'love' for me.

What in the world could this child… this orphan child raised in a group home… know of Love? He knew what kindness was; what loving behavior was. He knew about security, encouragement and praise… but LOVE? 'Best Friend Ever' he knew and understood. That was a GRAND gift and, for now, it was as generous as he could be and I accepted it gratefully and humbly.

I, on the other hand, knew the full meaning of the word. I had been raised in love… had lived surrounded by love, shared it joyfully and freely… and, I knew its dark side.

I'd had love ripped viciously from my life and dashed to bloody pieces leaving me certain that I would spend the rest of my existence cold and bitter. And yet, last night after his soft spoken profession of strong affection for me, I had whispered to him those words that I had been certain I would never again utter.

I had spoken… I had given my love.

It was a fair trade… an excellent trade. One that I hadn't dared hope would have happened so soon.

Heeding the very compelling 'suggestions' from my bladder, I carefully extricated myself from under his little limbs, slipped from the bed and walked stealthily into the bathroom for my morning piss. While I was so engaged, he came in silently and stood next to me his stream suddenly crossing mine into the bowl.

He smiled up at me and then looked back down concentrating on the task at hand. When he had finished he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and greeted me through a big yawn, "Mornin'!"

"Mornin' yourself, little man. Did you sleep well?"

"I always sleep good with you Eric. It's the best." He reached for the toothpaste and, after loading his brush, he passed the tube to me.

Standing on his tip toes, Sean turned on the shower sound system while I adjusted the water. I picked him up and kissed him.

"Practice!" we both smiled.

I cupped his little ass with both hands as he wrapped his arms around my neck and I walked us both into the steaming spray. As I worked my soapy hand all over his body, lingering on his sweet ass and tiny cock and balls, I wondered to myself if I would ever get used to this.

Naked, we walked out and down the hall to his room so that I could suggest his wardrobe for today. We selected jeans and a dark brown long-sleeved tee shirt.

While he was dressing I slipped into my room and put on similarly comfortable and sturdy clothes.

Sean came back into my bedroom dressed and ready with the green sweater from the sporting goods store in hand. "Should I wear this too Eric?" he asked.

"Might as well, little man. You're going to need it this morning."

His face was screwed up with inquisitiveness but he pulled on the heavy dark green garment. It fit him very well… just large and bulky enough to make him too cute for words. He pressed the shoulder pads with his fingers and his face asked the questions that his voice didn't need to.

I sat at the edge of my bed and smiled. "It's a shooter's sweater Sean. The pads are to soften the thump of the shotgun's recoil against your shoulder."

He continued his questioning look.

"After breakfast we're going out to the range to teach you to shoot. With your co-ordination you'll be blasting pigeons in no time."

His face took on a look of abject horror. His eyes grew wide and tears were puddled in them about to spill over and down his cheeks. His lower lip was trembling. "N-nooo! Eric pleeeze! I don't want to shoot no pigeons! I never killed anything in my whole life an' I don't want to! Pleeeze don't make me do that! Pleeeze!"

The tears were now streaming.

When the hell am I going to learn to be careful about what I say to this kid? His clever mind works a mile a minute, I chided myself.

My thoughts flashed a memory of an old comic sign I'd seen in College: 'WARNING - Please ensure brain is engaged before operating mouth'.

I pulled him to me wrapping him in my arms. "Sean, Sean! I thought you knew me better than that. Do you think I would make you, or even ask you, to kill something? These are CLAY pigeons… they're targets… like little clay Frisbees. We're not going to hurt anything. You're just going to learn to shoot because it's fun. OK?"

He leaned back and looked up at me his eyes were red and watery, his cheeks streaked with tears and he was snuffling his nose to keep snot from running out. He was really upset. "Kay" he said through his final heartfelt sob and nodded his head.

I carried him into the bathroom and sat him on the vanity counter by one of the sinks. I wet a cloth in cold water and washed his face and then held the cool cloth against his forehead for a few minutes. His body stopped trembling.

"Better?"

He nodded his head and looked at me. "S-sorry Eric."

I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "Don't be sorry, little man. Don't ever be sorry for having a kind gentle heart." I kissed him again and then lifted him down and offered my hand.

We walked downstairs together. Martha was waiting with breakfast.

True to her word, Martha was setting out to demonstrate the different popular ways eggs were served, besides scrambled. This morning, it was eggs-over- easy… my personal favorite. Sean looked down at the three eggs on his plate with a confused look on his face.

Aha! I thought. For the first time since bringing him home the kid's baffled by a plate of food.

He tentatively poked the glossed-over center of one of his eggs and immediately it burst with the rich yellow yolk running thickly over the plate. Sean blinked in dismay. I decided to rescue him.

"Here's how I like to eat them," I said as I broke off a piece of toast and sopped up the yolk running on my plate. Sean was a quick learner and soon he was wiping up the last bit of eggy goodness on his dish with his last piece of toast a smile on his face.

As we got up from the table he gave Martha a big hug. "See ya later Mrs. Edwards. We're going to shoot pigeons today… BUT don't worry they're not REAL pigeons; they're clay ones! And thanks for the eggs over squeezy; they were GREAT!" Martha, bless her, managed to keep a straight serious look on her face through the whole exchange.

We hopped into one of the golf carts out back and I headed us to the 'Gun Shed'.

My Grandfather had originally had the shotgun range set up when he was a young man; it was my father however who had it brought up to its current standard. The range itself was equipped with Matterelli machines and, if not state of the art, it was certainly more than functional for Skeet or Trap shooting.

Adjacent to the range was the 'Gun Shed' which, in actuality, was a small building that housed all the shooting equipment and supplies. Andy was waiting on the porch.

Andy was more or less the 'Groundskeeper emeritus' and, while he was still the titular boss of the property crew, the actual work had long since been relegated to a staff of younger men. One duty he never delegated to anyone, however, was the overseeing of the shooting range and the Gun Shed.

Andy had been on the property as long as I could remember. I had no idea how old he was or where he originally came from. He'd been loved and trusted by my father all my life.

He was the 'shotgun guru'… he seemed to know it all and he could teach a novice to shoot well in just one session through some magical power or osmosis that he possessed. He had taught me as a child and he had taught Kyle. For all I knew, he had taught my father. Sean had met him just briefly during the full staff introduction in the solarium but, typically, the little boy greeted him like an old friend.

No real pleasantries or small talk were exchanged between the old man and me because that was not Andy's way. We got right down to business. "So, I hear the Professor's coming fer a while? Means you'll just want me t' set up just fer Trap today eh?"

"That's right Andy. I've got to get back in form and Sean has never shot before."

He nodded and indicated my gun and shooting glasses and boxes of shells which he had laid out and readied for me. I picked up my gun and smiled with forgotten pleasure.

It had been a birthday gift from my father the year I'd turned 17. It was a 12-gauge Beretta 471 Silver Hawk side-by-side. I loved it for its balance and weight. I hefted it and smiled at Andy.

"Now Meester Sean, I been given a lot of thought to you since I heard last night that you were to be shootin' and this is what I come up with" He was leading Sean over to another table. "This were meester Kyle's when he were about yer age tho' he were a bit taller I recall. Last night I took a bit off the stock and I think her should be jest right for ya."

The gun on the table had, indeed, been Kyle's. Andy was close in his recollection. Dad had bought it for him when he was 12. It was a lovely Beretta 391 20-gauge automatic.

Andy showed Sean how to properly shoulder the gun and checked the distance relationship between the trigger and Sean's forearm with index finger extended. He nodded approvingly and said to me, "Preety close Eric. I'll tweek er a leetle more tonight but its good fer him to go today.

Being a 20-gauge, the gun had a disadvantage in bursting power, but its lighter weight and wonderful balance made it a very acceptable, if not ideal, gun for a small boy like Sean.

We walked over to the range and I toed the center point. "Ten from here to start Andy, "I said. He nodded.

"Pull!" I shouted and he pushed a button and a clay disc flew swiftly and silently from the low scrub in front of me, moving away and to my left. I swung my barrel smoothly matching its flight just a bit ahead of it and fired. The target exploded into thousands of tiny bits as my pellets struck true. Sean clapped his hands in approval and I closed my eyes enjoying the private pleasure of a shot well made.

Nine more times I called "Pull" and seven more times the targets exploded. Two, however, glided off unscathed into the brush.

"Eight outta ten ain't bad for a feller who ain't shot in four years," And said approvingly. "Now it's the lad's turn."

He got down low next to Sean and began to explain 'Andy's shot gun wisdom'… passing on knowledge and confidence through some sorcery that only Andy possessed. He showed him how to load, how to set the safety, how to hold the gun, how to sight down the barrel. I watched his hand move over Sean's as he showed him how to squeeze rather than pull the trigger. Together they swung the barrel plotting the intercept for an imaginary target.

I knew everything the old man was doing with the boy. I remembered every word he was saying just like it was yesterday when a much younger Andy had done the same thing with my 9-year-old self in this very spot.

Satisfied, Andy pulled the shooting glasses down onto Sean's nose and had him toe the center post.

"Pull!" the hi pitched little boy voice called. I watched the clay bird spring out… like MY first it was veering to the left. Sean swung his gun and fired. The target flew on unharmed.

"T'was just a bit behind her," said Andy as he walked up to Sean, knelt upon one knee and he and the boy swung the gun together as Andy whispered more magic in his ears.

Sean's second shot was just ahead of the bird and again Andy knelt and whispered patient instructive words while guiding the boy's hands and arms as he shared his wisdom.

Sean nodded and toed the post and called pull. The target flew out and to his right. The little boy swung his gun barrel swiftly but gracefully and he pulled the trigger. This, his third bird, exploded in the air as the boy's shot was dead on. I whooped with excitement, Andy nodded his approval and Sean was wide eyed with joy.

We shot for about two hours moving properly from station to station and Sean had improved to the point that he was hitting seven out of a flight of ten consistently… pretty damned good for a kid who'd never held a gun before this morning. But then, not every beginner has the advantage of having Andy as a mentor.

As I suggested that we call this session to a halt, Sean hinted that he'd like to stay and shoot more. I knew and so did Andy what his shoulder was going to look and feel like after his first time shotgun shooting… despite his padded sweater.

Back in the Gun Shed, Andy showed Sean how to clean and oil the gun before he helped the boy put it up in a rack so that Sean would know just where to find it.

Sean thanked Andy for his tutelage and help and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. The crusty old Grounds Keeper returned the boy's gesture of emotion though he looked at me as if daring me to say anything.

When I had driven the cart to the main pathway, I stopped it and turned to Sean. "Do you think you know how to get back to the house from here?"

"I'm pretty sure we just follow this path to the parking lot right?"

I hopped out and indicated to him that he should slide over. Sitting behind the steering wheel, his feet just barely touched the pedals. I explained the operation of the accelerator and the brake and then I hopped into the cart on the other side.

"Ok, little man, take us home." He looked over at me as if he couldn't believe what I'd just said.

"Reeeally? You mean it?" I just nodded. His first few accelerations were a bit jerky but that was to be expected. Pretty soon we were driving rather smoothly and, although I was anticipating a terrific jarring as we came into the parking lot, he pulled into the marked space and brought the cart to a perfect, comfortable stop.

He looked over at me his face lit up in a grin and just nodded his head. "THAT was soooo cool."

Later, as we were sitting having dinner, I could tell something was troubling him and so I decided to just ask.

As if my question somehow gave him permission to do so, he reached up and rubbed his right shoulder. "All of a sudden it hurts all around here," he said to me.

"It's all that shooting and your first time to boot," I said. "We'll go upstairs and see what we can do to make it better." As we rose from the table, Martha came up with a glass of water and a bottle in her hand: Children's Tylenol… she'd been to the store today obviously.

"Take two of these now darlin' they'll help to ease the pain."

Upstairs in my bedroom I helped him get out of his sweater. He winced as he raised his arm to let me pull it over his head and did the same as I pulled off his shirt. I looked at the multicolored angry looking bruising on his shoulder and I let out a whistle.

I'd been expecting it, of course. It always amazed me when shooting how much punishment you can absorb without realizing it until much later. I was certain that my shoulder would be quite a sight as well. "Wait til you get a look at you!" I said with a smile as I was pulling his jeans down his lovely little legs and off.

In his black boxer briefs I led him into the bathroom and sat him on one of the stools, and I held an ice pack to his 'many colored' shoulder. We made small talk about all of the new things he'd done today and, after about 20 minutes, he told me it was feeling a lot better.

"Then check your colorful self out!" I said turning the stool so that he faced the mirror. His eyes got wide as he looked. He tentatively reached up and moved his fingers gingerly along the large bruises.

"Holy guacamole!" he whispered.

"Before we go to bed, I'll have you take some more Tylenol and I'll rub some cream on the bruises. You should sleep fine and you'll feel a lot better in the morning. In the meantime, I think you could use a nice relaxing massage."

"I never had a massage before, Eric."

"Well there's a first time for everything. I'm no professional but I've taken several courses. I used to give massages to friends when I was at the University and I received rave reviews. Come with me and I'll fix you right up."

There is a small, windowless room (formerly a storage room) down the hall just past my bedroom. I'd had it equipped as a massage room years ago. I'd given Kyle many a massage there when I was home from the University and I'd also treated several friends and lovers to my 'magic fingers'. This was also the place where I and my parents received our messages when we called in a professional. The room hadn't been used for years but, like every other place in the house, it had been maintained immaculately.

I led Sean into the room and he obviously didn't know how to react. I'd had the room done in stone and natural tile. The affect I intended was for the space to feel like a Cliffside cave or grotto.

The sturdy massage table occupied the center of the room. On the far right side wall was a long stone ledge that served as a shelf containing soft towels and vials of fragrant oils. At the small wall opposite the entry, an artificial waterfall sprang to life at the push of a button.

I pulled back the warm blanket that had been covering the table and folded it at the foot and lifted Sean up onto the soft terry-cloth covered surface of the table.

"Slip out of your underpants and lay down." I told him. I helped him pull the small garment over his feet and I placed it on the shelf to the side. I hit a programmed switch at the side and the lights dimmed down to a soft low orange glow. Natural sounds began to play softly through the sound system complimenting the bubbling sound of the little waterfall.

"We'll do your back first, Sean. Roll over and place your face through this opening up here, place your arms at your sides and totally relax. Let me do all the moving and all the work."

He rolled over as I'd instructed and squirmed just a bit trying to get used to the face opening but soon he was stretched out on the table. I turned to the side shelf to select the oil. I wanted it to be subtle and complimentary to his nature. I am a strong believer in the mystical aspect of sensual relaxation massage.

I selected a sesame-seed based oil, with just the ghost of a sandalwood scent, which I felt would complement his sprite-like nature.

I placed the vial onto the oil heater and bent over and spoke softly to him, "The secret here, Sean, is for you to be totally compliant. I'll move everything that needs to be moved; don't try to help. Relax totally and close your eyes… fill your mind with the sounds of the room and the wonderful sensations you are feeling… OK?"

"Kay."

I poured some of the now-warm oil into my palm and rubbed my hands together to get them coated and slick but not actually slippery.

I began with a firm, slow kneading of his neck slowly working down and across to his shoulders taking great care to be gentle with the bruised right side. Using skills I had honed over four years, I sensuously worked his back and ribs (a skilled masseur will delight but never tickle). I worked each arm and each little finger before moving down to his legs feet and toes. He was sighing softly by now and I moved my attention to his lovely white ass. I massaged each firm little globe individually and then I had a thought.

While this is not a part of a normal massage, it will certainly someday be part of our relationship. I was overwhelmed with curiosity as to what his reaction would be.

Reaching for the vial on the shelf behind me, I oiled up my index finger and traced inside his crack with it until I was directly upon his little bud. I leaned over and whispered to him, "Relax Sean. Relax down there…"

Slightly rotating my finger I began applying pressure as I encouraged him to relax and push slightly with his muscles. I could tell he knew this wasn't 'normal touching' but he didn't question it nor did he try to resist it.

Slowly I felt his strong little sphincter give way and the tip of my finger slipped into his private passage… the first visitor it had ever received. I paused for a few moments twisting my finger in a gentle circular movement while I gently and soothingly stroked his lower back and butt cheeks with my other hand.

I cooed soothing and encouraging noises to him as I again applied pressure with my finger. Slowly and smoothly it slid further in until it was beyond the knuckle.

Sean was making little noises and was breathing deeply. I noted, gratefully, that he was showing no indication of pain. In fact, if anything, he was indicating curiosity.

I gently wiggled the finger in his hot little rectum exploring until I found what I was pretty certain to be his little-boy prostate. I rubbed it tentatively with my finger tip and his entire body tensed with surprise.

Enough! I thought to myself. I withdrew my finger and turned him over to lie on his back. Re-applying warm oil to my palms I began the slow massage of his front from shoulders to his feet. When I had finished he was lying limp and breathing softly. "Did you enjoy that Sean?" I whispered.

"Oh yah. That was so great." He murmured back.

Although I hadn't planned it initially, I knew what had to happen next. "Now Sean," I said softly to him. "This next part isn't usually something that happens when you get a massage but it's something I want to happen between you and me."

He looked up at me and his face showed no concern.

I turned him onto his left side and raised his right leg so that the knee was bent. I re-oiled my finger and slid it (rather more easily this time) into his rectum. Keeping my finger in place I rolled him back onto his back and slicked his penis with warm oil.

Grasping his little rod with the fingers of my free hand I began to slowly, but firmly, stroke it letting it smoothly glide in my grasp thanks to the lubricating oil. All the while I was circling and wriggling the finger in his ass in a rhythm and tempo matching my strokes on his little cock.

In short order he was panting and mewling like a little wild kitten and his pelvis was thrusting and gyrating. Torn between the combined sensations in his ass and from his cock, he was going through sensory overload and I knew I was witnessing… in fact participating in… one of the most sensational dry-cums of the century.

Eventually I sensed it was through as he lay gasping on the table. I softly withdrew my intruding finger and impulsively leaned down and kissed the tip of his little penis. We exchanged smiles but no words. I reached into the fridge under the shelf and pulled out a cold bottle of spring water. He sat up and I instructed him to drink the entire contents.

I left the room and started the tub running in the bathroom. Satisfied, I walked back to the massage room and, because I doubted he could walk very steadily right then, I picked him up, carried him down the hall and placed him in the water.

I ducked into the kitchenette in my bedroom suite and made myself a scotch, grabbing a lemonade for Sean. As an afterthought, I undressed before carrying the drinks into the bathroom. I slipped into the tub facing him and took a sip of my drink smiling.

Finally he broke the silence, "That was more sex stuff huh?"

"Yes it was, Sean. Did you like it as much as last time?"

"Even better. Eric when you stuck your… when you put your finger in my butt… first it felt weird but then you touched me someplace an it felt like I was tickling and tingling all over. I can't describe it but it felt sooo good THEN… when you did that to my penis it was… .. What was it that happened Eric?"

"That was what is called an orgasm Sean. Do you know about cum and stuff like that?"

"Uh huh. The big kids at the nest would sometimes let us watch them, jerk off and we got to see them shoot cum and I know that it's the stuff that makes babies and that I'll make cum someday when I'm older. I know all that Eric."

"Good, well then, see what I just did to you that was like me jerking you off… it's really called masturbation by the way. Now when a penis gets so excited that it wants to shoot out cum, that's what an orgasm is. As you already know your body isn't ready to make cum… by the way that stuff is really called sperm… while it can't make cum yet, your penis is all set up to shoot when you are ready. That great feeling you get when you're shooting or like you TRYING to shoot is called an orgasm. Feels wonderful doesn't it?"

"Feels even better than that!" he was grinning from ear to ear.

"That's what SEX is Sean. It's when people do things to help each other orgasm and feel great."

He gave me a serious look, "Then what's fucking?"

I took a deep breath. This is going along faster than I'd planned, I thought.

"That's a little more complicated, Sean. In a way it's the same thing; it's a way two people can help each other orgasm. Instead of doing it with hands or like I did to you the other night with my mouth, one person puts his penis inside the other person.

"You know how girls are different than boys, right?" He nodded his head affirmatively. "Well then, when a boy and a girl fuck, the boy pulls his penis into the girl's vagina and they move together until there is an orgasm. When two boys fuck, one guy puts his penis into the other guy's butt and they move until there is an orgasm."

"Sounds silly," he said with a curious look on his face.

"It's NOT silly, Sean. When two people who really care about each other do it, it's like they almost become one body. There's no way to be closer and it's the greatest pleasure."

Then he seemed to think a bit and asked, "So then, when are you going to fuck me?"

Naturally, my 'bad angel' screamed; NOW! Right now… bend over I'm gonna ream your sexy little ass right now!

But, I ACTUALLY said, "Sean it's more complicated than that. You're a little guy… I don't mean young I mean physically little compared to me. Just before when I had a finger up your butt, it took a lot of work on both our part to do that and until I found your 'magic spot' it wasn't all that comfortable right?"

He nodded his head.

"Well then my penis is a lot bigger than my finger… look." I'd gotten up on my knees so that my (now raging) hard-on was completely visible and I held my index finger against it. "My penis would stretch your little butt hole so much right now that… that you wouldn't like it".

He looked thoughtfully and said, "That's why the big kids always told us that fucking would hurt huh?"

"Well yes, but if it's done right and if you're prepared for it right it doesn't have to hurt… or at least not very much."

He looked solemnly from my face to my penis and back again. "But, I could help you orgasm anyway couldn't I?" He reached out and ran his fingers around and up and down my penis. I looked at him and swallowed hard.

"Yes… yes you could." I smiled at him.

Chapter 9

Sean gives his first hand-job, Sean learns a little more about the Professor, Eric gets an 'itch' and the Professor arrives.

Those stolen moments when we take the opportunity to put the demands of the world in abeyance and pause just long enough to bestow upon ourselves the personal gift of pleasure are both sweet and necessary. The flawless exultation of body, mind and spirit at such times is surpassed only by those extraordinary moments when, unexpectedly, the pleasure is administered by another.

When that benefactor of our bliss is also the one we love, the moment and the pleasure are both transcended from the wonderful to the sublime and we are reminded once again how truly extraordinary life is.

What had been an enjoyable and event-filled day seemed to be headed for an unexpected but not unwelcome conclusion.

For the first time outside of the shower, I felt his hands touch my penis in a deliberate fashion causing that already throbbing member to surge with a passion such that it seemed possessed of a will and a mind of its own.

Having received my relief solely through clandestine masturbation for the past few days, the feel of another's hands upon my sensitive rod was exquisite and the fact that they were Sean's hands made my arousal all the more delightful.

My mind, which was a battleground… my protective instincts fighting my loving but demanding needs… came quickly to the conclusion that I was going to let this happen… with no superfluous commentary.

He traced the length of my cock with one small finger; he was barely touching… merely brushing… as he watched his hand moving… making such minimal contact… with an expression that was a study of curiosity, mischief and humor.

"Sit up on the edge of the tub so I can reach you better, Eric," he said to me with his blue/green eyes dancing.

I didn't speak. I locked my gaze to his, nodded and pulled myself up so that I was sitting at the edge with my legs in the water. I spread them wide to allow him room.

He rose up and onto his knees and slid himself into a position between my legs. He gave me an impish little smile and cupped my scrotum in one small hand while he explored it with the fingers of the other.

I looked down astonished at the sight of his hands against my genitals. While I've never needed to be embarrassed in the company of other naked men, I was likewise no paragon of size either.

In high school when (as I'm certain all boys have done) we had taken a tape measure to each others equipment, I had come out just a tad over average. Nothing to be ashamed of but certainly no colossus. His little hands against my erection made me look proportionally much larger than I am but he certainly didn't seem daunted by any size issue.

While he continued to stroke my ball sack with his left hand, the fingers of his right hand encircled my cock and he began a slow rhythmic gliding from the just below the head to the base and back again.

How in the hell does he know to do these things? I wondered, but I came to the conclusion that it must be natural and instinctive. I suppose we're born knowing how to do it. I suspect that the first caveman to ever give another caveman a hand-job did it very much like this, I smiled silently at this thought.

After what could have been no more than a few minutes, he increased the pressure of his grip and accelerated the pace of his movements. His face was a picture of concentration. His eyes fixed upon his work… the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he determinedly stroked my grateful erection.

I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes letting my mind concentrate on nothing but the pleasure of his surprisingly skillful ministration. Soon I became aware that I was breathing heavily and I heard the sound of soft pleasured moaning… to my surprise, I realized this noise was coming from me.

All too soon I began to feel the tell-tale red hot pressure that signaled that release was imminent. There was no holding back this much-needed eruption and he must have sensed it as well because he again increased the speed of his strokes.

"Sssssean!" I hissed through clenched teeth as my dick literally exploded sending the first spurt up and onto my chest. This was followed by four or five additional spurts of diminishing intensity until at last my orgasm was spent. I collapsed onto my back panting and smiling unable to say a word.

Sean was now standing in the tub looking down at me… a tremendous grin on his face. "Man you cummed a lot Eric!"

He reached out and placed a finger into one of the pools of thick, white stuff on my belly, raised his hand and examined it closely. He didn't say anything and he certainly made no move to taste it. I decided not to attempt to encourage him to do so… all in good time.

I slid back down into the water and pulled him down to me. I held him sitting between my legs… his back against my chest. "That was wonderful Sean," I murmured into his ear.

"I can do it better," he replied.

"I doubt it, little man."

"Practice, Eric," he said and I could hear the grin that I could not see right then.

I squeezed him to me tightly. "I love you precious boy." I whispered as I kissed the back of his neck and his thin little shoulder blades. I lay back in the tub just holding him and thinking to myself; How did I earn such grace? How can it be that this remarkable creature was sent to save my life?

Eventually, we climbed out of the tub and toweled each other dry. We took a few moments to admire and comment on each others colorfully bruised shoulders. I rubbed some soothing therapeutic cream into his hurt and he did the same for me.

I handed him two more Tylenol which he washed down with the last of his lemonade. As I watched him I realized that for the first time in years, I had walked away from an unfinished glass of whiskey.

Holding him in a one armed hug we walked into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed together.

We exchanged a long and tender kiss… our best one yet and, as I held him tightly to me, he thrust an arm and a leg over my body. In no time we were sleeping the sweet sleep of the innocent… well, perhaps not innocent but at least the blessed.

We lingered in bed the next morning just cuddling and touching. Exchanging 'practice' kisses and smiling at and with each other. Eventually, our demanding bladders drove us from the warm comfort of the bedding and into the bathroom.

Once washed, brushed and dressed we headed downstairs together to find that Martha had prepared bacon, English muffins and poached eggs ('pinched eggs' if you speak 'Sean-ish') milk and OJ for Sean and for me a steaming pot of coffee.

When breakfast was over and Martha had been properly hugged and kissed, I suggested that we go upstairs, get our gloves and toss a baseball around out on the grass in the back.

While he'd never played the game in an organized fashion, he certainly knew how to catch and throw the ball and I was thinking it would be a fun leisurely diversion while we talked.

I again checked out the fit of his new glove and adjusted the strap while I explained to him the 'fine art' of breaking in the leather through use augmented by steady conscious pounding of a ball into the pocket. "That's a great pastime for when you're sitting around with nothing else to do," I joked

We began at a comfortable distance apart and I gradually increased it until I judged we were at optimum distance for him to return the throw comfortably and for us to maintain a good conversation without shouting.

I tossed the ball to him leisurely several times and once I was convinced his mechanics were more than adequate for this simple exercise, I began to put some 'pepper' into my tosses, increasing the difficulty level just slightly because the true intention of two people 'having a catch' is to share each others company… the catching and throwing are truly secondary.

We were comfortably silent the first several times the ball was exchanged and finally I spoke, "So, Sean, are you liking it here so far?" This drew a large 'Sean' smile".

"Oh yeah, Eric, I REALLY am! This is like some adventure you read about in a book… I never had so many experiences and met so many neat people… and ate such GREAT food…" He held the ball momentarily before throwing it back to me. "An YOU Eric, you're the best person I ever met in my whole life! I like it just when we're together even if we're not doing nothing."

"When we're not doing ANYTHING." I corrected. He nodded his head affirmatively.

"Yeah… even when we're not doing anything," The ball passed between us several more times before he added, "I hope every contract I ever go out on is fun as this."

I felt something hard and cold in my chest and I thought to myself, Don't be thinking about other contracts so soon. I've barely gotten you here… time will pass quickly enough.

A few more silent throws…"Eric, would you explain somethin'?"

"Of course Sean, what?"

"Well, I know this guy, the Professor, is coming here to be my teacher, and I know he's been here lots of times before an everybody seems to know him but… why did I haffta know how to shoot because he's commin' here? I mean, I really like it and I'm glad I learned, but what's it got to do with school?"

"That's a GREAT question Sean." I chucked the ball high to him so that he had to position himself properly to 'field it'. I noted with satisfaction that 'this kid's a natural'.

"Doctor Swaim is a remarkable educator but he has very different ways of teaching and guiding young people into what he calls 'the adventure of developing and feeding the mind'. I shouldn't tell you this, but Kyle and I used to think he was a wizard like Merlin or Gandalf. Almost nothing you do with him will seem like any kind of school work you've ever done before in your life, but you'll discover that you are learning something every minute you are with him.

"Being taught by him is not so much like being taught; it's like learning to see… to understand… and that's a BIG difference."

Sean was looking at me with a bit of a puzzled look. I knew he was trying to follow what I was telling him but it seemed just beyond his grasp… just as I knew it would be. "To answer your question, Sean, the Professor feels that beyond reading and writing, there are two skills every boy should have: they should be able to fish and they should be able to shoot. He feels that these two things are the purest and most basic disciplines for developing the mind.

"Fishing, he says, allows the body to operate on remote control while the mind is 'thinking like a fish'. Since this actually takes up so little of the mind, the rest of the mind is free to ruminate on other things in the background. Fishing, he maintains teaches you to do this naturally.

"Shooting on the other hand requires the mind and body to operate in tandem… instinctively sharply and accurately. Besides developing excellent hand-eye co-ordination, it trains the mind in practical mathematical and dynamic thinking while still freeing up time and brain space for more cerebral activity. Once you have learned shoot competently, your mind, your eyes and your hands will always be synchronized and fluid."

Sean wrinkled his nose and looked totally perplexed.

I smiled at him and said, "You look just the way I felt when I was a kid and Doctor Swaim explained it to me that way. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you it works."

"Walter or I could have taught you to fish, but I expect the Professor is going to want to instruct you himself."

"I had Andy teach you to shoot because Andy is one of the few people in the world that Dr. Swaim thinks is as good as he is at something… Kyle and I always secretly thought that Andy may actually be better… but don't ever tell the Professor that."

"I won't!" said Sean grinning.

I lay my glove down on the grass and picked up a bat.

"Go way out kiddo. Let's see how good you are at snagging flys."

The next hour was spent playing fungo with the boy. As I hit a variety of fly balls out to him, he threw his whole body into the act of exuberantly running into position and catching them. His face was lit with the same pure joy I had witnessed in the original soccer game video. I wondered if I had ever been that joyful just 'doing something'.

His natural skill was evident and astonishing. He failed to catch only a few balls and, of those, most were hits that I had erroneously batted in such a way as to make them virtually uncatchable. Wait until some coach gets ahold of him this spring, I thought to myself.

"How about we wash up and have some lunch and then some swimming?" That suggestion received an enthusiastic response and so we set off for the house. I lagged behind him as he headed up the path because I enjoyed watching his little ass cheeks dance as he walked.

Martha was not in the kitchen when we got there. She had left a note saying she'd had to go into town to pick up some things for dinner tonight. She'd placed a tray of cold cuts, cheese and shredded lettuce in the fridge and hoagie rolls were on the counter. I let Sean make our sandwiches while I filled a large bowl with chips.

Reaching into the fridge, I grabbed a root beer for Sean and a cold IPA from the Stone Brewing Company in San Diego for myself. Looking at the frosty bottle of beer in my hand I was struck by a 'second thought'. Shaking my head in surprise, I put the bottle back into the fridge and grabbed another root beer for myself.

I sat at the table and smiled at my little boy, complimenting him on his sandwich making skills.

We talked more about the Professor, about baseball and swimming and I realized, with amazement how comfortable I was sharing my thoughts and feelings with this marvelous 11-year-old.

We washed our plates and utensils and put them properly away, looking around scrupulously, making certain we left the kitchen as clean as we had found it.

As we were walking down the long hall I had a thought. "Sean, you head on down to the pool. I'll meet you there. I just want to get something out of my office."

"Kay," he smiled and I watched him scamper down the hall.

It took me a moment to remember where I'd placed it, but shortly I opened the lower right drawer in the credenza against the wall and took out the walnut box that held my father's stopwatch.

It was a beautiful thing to hold. Manufactured by the Swiss company Hamhart, it had a silver case with a black face that displayed black and red numbers. With the Swim Team try-outs this week, I wanted to get some idea of what the boy could do.

I, of course knew that my cell phone had a perfectly good stop watch function but, to me, there was something intrinsically right about using this fine old time piece in this old great house. My father had timed Kyle and me in countless swimming and running competitions using this watch and now I lovingly slipped it into my pocket. In the same drawer was my father's old Acme Thunderer whistle. I grabbed it as well

When I got to the pool, Sean was already naked and sitting on the edge of the diving board bouncing like the kinetic little ball of energy he was. He flashed me a big grin as I walked in.

"They taught us at the nest never to go swimming alone so I waited for you," he said with a suddenly serious face.

"That's very wise, "I said, "that's something I hope you'll always keep in mind."

"Come on then and get undressed so we can swim!" he said bouncing.

"I will in a little while Sean but first I want to see how fast you can swim the different strokes you showed me the last time."

I set a pad of paper I'd grabbed from the office onto a table and pulled it and a chair over near the side of the pool. I lay the stop watch next to the pad and slipped out of my shirt and slacks leaving me standing poolside in just my underwear.

"Now Sean, I won't be in the pool with you right now but I'm right here and can reach you in seconds so, you're not really swimming alone OK?"

"Kay," he smiled.

"Alright then," I said as I hung the whistle around my neck, "hop off the diving board and stand ready at the edge of the pool. When you hear the whistle you can dive." He got off the board and placed himself at pool-side hunched over the water in perfect readiness.

"First, Freestyle, Sean 100 meters; that's up and back, Ready?"

He nodded his head, I blew the whistle and clicked the watch. He was off in a flash plunging smoothly into the water and letting his inertia carry him in a slick glide before he surfaced and began swimming in earnest.

At the far end he flipped under making a perfect racing turn and was pounding the water on his return leg. I watched the pool wall closely and clicked the watch as he touched… 1 minute 9 seconds (I wasn't bothering with fractions) awfully good time for an 11-year-old.

I let him rest a bit and then set him up for the second 'event': 200 meter backstroke (four laps). In the end he touched the wall at two minutes forty-four seconds… another respectable time.

With really only minimal rest he accomplished the 50-meter breast stroke in 41 seconds and the 100-meter butterfly in a remarkable one minute sixteen seconds.

Considering he'd only had short rest periods between strokes and taking into account that the adrenaline factor of competition was not present, I had no doubt that this kid was going to do very well at the Sports Club try-outs.

Slipping out of my underwear I jumped into the pool and swam over to him as he stood in the shallow end.

"Sean, that was a terrific performance!"

He grinned and made a strongman pose with his arms. "I told you Eric… I'm Aquaman!" and he burst into a fit of giggles prompting me to grab him and toss him high into the air. "Again Eric!" he squealed, swimming back to me. I happily obliged… about two dozen more times.

While I rested he swam and floated near me often diving duck-like below the surface offering me a wonderful view of his round white ass.

Almost out of nowhere I realized that my cock had sprung to full erection and I knew that I was suddenly lusting hungrily for his little body. I shook my head in a sudden burst of fear. What the hell is happening here? I screamed in my own mind. This isn't what you want! But something deep and dark within me answered, Yes you do… this is exactly what you want.

"Time to hit the showers Kiddo!" I called, hoping that my panic was well disguised. Without protest he climbed out of the pool and headed for the locker room. I watched his ass hungrily as he walked away.

Following him, I quickly got under a showerhead which I'd adjusted to barely lukewarm. My thoughts were racing a mile a minute while he sang sweetly under the showerhead next to me oblivious to my internal conflict.

Thinking about it rationally, I concluded that his masturbation exercise last night must have triggered some hidden reaction in me. My rational mind fought against my sudden carnal desires.

Certainly when I had planned this experiment I'd always intended to 'screw me some boy ass'… I'd even told HIM so on the plane. That, however was abstract thinking and was before I'd known THIS boy… before I'd come to love THIS boy.

He was not a delicate little china doll but he was much smaller than I'd imagined he was going to be. I'd never had sex with anyone younger than sixteen and I wasn't prepared for him being so little but mostly, I wasn't prepared for him being HIM.

I remembered our sex talk last night and my shock at how large my cock was in relation to his hands. To take him would be rape… painful cruel damaging molestation… and yet, if I were to ask, he would give himself to me willingly. He would submit cheerfully and with trust because I had told him I'd never hurt him and he believed me.

He was mine to simply reach out and take and for that reason I would not do it… not like this.

As I began to think more clearly I came to the conclusion that he was currently just the trigger for a deeper more primeval need. This was an itch… and it could be scratched.

It was simple! At the next opportunity… a little overnight business trip… a quick call to the nest and one of their well-trained young men would provide the remedy.

I would be sated, Sean would be safe and our relationship would be free to blossom and become whatever wonderful thing it was destined to be. While I didn't know what we were going to develop into I knew that, while I hoped that Sean would someday become my lover, he would never be my 'boy whore'.

Hours later, we were looking at each other across the chess board. It turned out he was a marvelous and creative player. We were surprisingly well matched. I was pretty certain that I could beat him but it was going to take some doing.

Walter entered the room and said, "Sir, I've just received a message from the gate. Doctor Swaim has arrived."

Wide eyed, Sean looked at me and I gave him a small smile. Standing up, I offered him my hand. He took it at once trepidation all over his face. With my free hand I ruffled his hair. "Cheer up Kiddo… we're off to meet the wizard!"

Chapter 10

The Professor enters Sean's life

We all walk this world following our own personal trail; a vast series of interconnecting circles… sometimes passing, sometimes interacting with others who are traveling their own looping courses. There are no coincidences in this. The intersections are not haphazard. They are purposeful and ordained. The meeting and touching of one life by another, while sometimes seeming inconsequential, is never without impact. Infrequently, some such assignations are anticipated in advance and are of great significance.

As the Buddha tells us,"When the Student is ready-the Teacher will appear".

Sean and I were waiting together at the massive front door as a white Range Rover HSE pulled up the drive stopping just at the steps to the front entrance. The driver's door opened and we watched silently as the Professor extricated himself from behind the wheel.

I managed to sneak a sidewise glance at Sean as he stood rooted in place wide- eyed and mouth opened. I wished, just briefly, that I had the power to see this man for the first time through this little boy's eyes, although I remembered well enough my own impression when we'd first met when I was 13 years old.

David Swaim, Ph.D. was a massive man. No other single word suited him better. He stood six feet four inches [1.93 m] tall and I would not venture to guess his body weight. A casual observer might call him overweight but that would be true only if you would also call a grizzly bear overweight. Not one bit of him appeared flabby… he was just big.

He wore a light tan safari jacket over a faded blue tee shirt and brown twill trousers. On his feet were dark grey socks and comfortable old Birkenstock sandals. His very large hands were busily folding up a pair of polarized sunglasses and stuffing them into a jacket pocket while simultaneously exchanging them for a pair of black rimmed spectacles.

His round full face was more ruddy than tanned… his cheeks were like plump apples and his wide grin revealed a mouthful of even white overlarge teeth that were not obstructed by his grey Lord Kitchener mustache. Behind his eyeglasses danced a pair of sparkling blue eyes that I knew from experience could pierce into the soul like lasers when he so desired.

His longish, shaggy grey hair sprung out wild and unruly from underneath the floppy grey-tweed Irish walking hat perched comfortably upon his head. To my eyes and mind he hadn't changed a bit in four years.

I stepped up to greet him extending my hand which he clasped in both of his massive paws holding it lightly but firmly as he stared in my eyes.

"Ha! Eric Tucker you certainly don't look like the desolate wreck I'd been expecting to find. All things being equal you look quite splendid and it's so awfully good to see you!"

"It's wonderful to see you again Professor but, I didn't realize that you were going to drive all the way out here. I'd have sent my plane for you; surely you know that."

The big man let out a deep hearty laugh and said, "What?" he gestured toward the Range Rover. "And leave Shadowfax home alone to pine over my absence?"

For our entire long acquaintance, Doctor Swaim had driven Range Rover vehicles exclusively… white ones at that… and everyone had been christened 'Shadowfax' after Gandalf's horse in the Lord of the Rings books. As near as I could figure, the vehicle parked on my drive was the fourth or, perhaps, the fifth incarnation of the Professor's 'trusty steed' since I had known him.

The large man turned his gaze to my awe-stuck little boy and, not waiting for me to make any formal introductions, he extended his right hand in greeting. "You, of course, are Sean," he said with a smile on his face and in his voice. "We shall be getting to learn a great deal from each other in the coming weeks and I am delighted to meet you!"

Sean extended his own hand which was quickly engulfed in the Professor's huge grasp. "H-hello Professor Swaim. It's very nice to meet you too."

The big fellow delivered another hearty laugh and placed a hand on Sean's shoulder. The little boy was totally dwarfed as they stood there. He looks like a tiny elf compared to him, I thought to myself and suddenly I couldn't hide a smile at my own secret thoughts, that's what we've got here, I mused, It's the meeting of Merlin and the Elf boy!

I couldn't stop myself from laughing which of course drew a quizzical stare from both of them. Responding to their unspoken question I quickly said, "Oh, sorry, it's nothing. It's just that you two look like you're going to get along very well." This drew appreciative smiles from both the boy and the giant.

"Well Professor, your timing is perfect… as always. We've got about an hour before dinner… time for a drink and a chat. If you'll leave your keys, Walter will have someone move your car… err… 'Shadowfax' around back, unload your gear and cart it out to Fish Camp for you. I assumed that's where you'd like to stay as usual."

Breaking into a large smile he said, "I'm so happy that the considerate little boy from all those years ago has grown into an equally considerate man! Well, the Fish Camp indeed… I wouldn't think of having it any other way. You're very kind and thoughtful Eric."

He handed his car keys to Walter who had slipped out to make his own friendly but silent greetings. "Thanks Walter. I'm certain you and I will set many a hook while I'm here!" Walter smiled and nodded in agreement as he walked off to summon some help from the staff.

I guided us all back into the house. Passing the kitchen, The Professor poked his head in the door and exclaimed, "Ah there she stands; the enchantress of the kitchen… the beguiler of my taste buds… the Circe of the sauce pans! Hallo Martha it's grand to see you again!"

Martha greeted the big man with a huge smile and the two exchanged a long friendly hug.

"Dinner's in one hour," she said looking up at him. "You'd better hurry. If I know you you'll want to get in more than one measly little drink before you're called to the table." They traded smiles and we moved on. I was left following behind as the huge man herded my little boy toward the library with one massive hand on his shoulder.

Sean was looking up at him with rapt attention and the two of them were already involved in a quiet but animated conversation as they walked. Sean's apprehensions seemed to have disappeared and he looked to be spellbound by this friendly giant beside him.

He's a human tornado, I thought to myself. He roars in and sweeps up everything in his path… he really IS a wizard.

By the time I entered the library, the Professor already had Sean over in the corner by the wet bar and was demonstrating to the boy the proper way to prepare a 'whiskey and water'.

For my benefit more than for my little man's he said, "Now Sean, that crass uneducated bumpkin over there will try to tell you that this is bourbon." He held up the bottle of Jack Daniels they had been working with. "It is NOT bourbon. It is Kentucky whiskey and there is a significant difference that his poor blighted pallet cannot discern despite all my years of attempting to educated him. Ah… Eric I assume you still prefer that peaty Hibernian stuff?" He asked over his shoulder.

Not waiting for my answer, he poured a stiff measure of Glen Fiddich over two ice cubes and indicated to Sean that he should bring it to me.

Soon we were comfortable seated in leather armchairs and Sean did not look out of place as he cradled his crystal tumbler of root beer.

"Now Sean," the good Doctor leaned across and patted the boy's knee. "Tonight we shall all have a friendly visit. I'm tired and I'll want to turn in early. Tomorrow, however, you and I shall be spending a great deal of the day together. I need to learn quite a bit about you. I don't want you to think I'll be testing you tomorrow but actually, that's exactly what I shall be doing."

Sean had a puzzled, perplexed look on his face and the big man burst into one of his booming hearty laughs. "Once I've learned what I need to know about you, I can plan our course of action together… we can begin the adventure of developing and feeding your mind."

My bright boy recognized that phrase from our earlier conversation while having our catch and he shot me a look. I waggled my eyebrows and gave him a slight smile.

The professor raised his glass to us and offered, "Vive bene, Spesso L'amore, di risata molto!"

Sean looked between us quizzically.

"It's Italian," I offered. "It means; live well, love often and laugh much."

"Good rules to live by, young man!" the Professor added with a large smile.

"Sean, let's see how quickly you've learned," he spoke to the boy. "Fix us each another drink would you?" He smiled as the boy took our empty glasses and headed to the bar. He returned shortly handing me my glass of single malt over two ice-cubes. He handed the other glass to Doctor Swaim who took a sip and, smiling at the boy, proclaimed it a 'perfect Mr. Jack and water'".

As we eventually found ourselves on our third drink, Walter entered the library and announced, "Mrs. Edwards advises that dinner is served and… quote 'you'd all better hurry your butts.' Oh, and I'm to add that includes you, Master Sean." He came as close as I'd ever seen him to cracking a smile while on duty.

Martha did not consider Doctor Swaim a guest… she considered him as extended family and, as such, had eschewed using the formal dining room in favor of the smaller family eating room Sean and I had been using. This was a great compliment to him and he accepted it as such.

It was obvious to me that the menu had been designed with the Doctor in mind. There was a crisp mixed-greens salad with Martha's own secret dressing, followed by roast beef, roasted small potatoes and delicately breaded and grilled asparagus.

As his plate was placed before him, I could tell that Sean was not all that certain about the asparagus but, when he saw the Professor and me each eating it with obvious pleasure, he decided he'd be game and try it. I think he was pleasantly astonished to discover he liked them because he proceeded to attack his meal with his usual gusto as Martha watched him with obvious pleasure.

I had opened a bottle of very nice Napa Valley pinot noir which the professor and I enjoyed together. I noticed that once again the small glass that I had offered to Sean had gone untouched and unremarked upon.

Martha's New-York-style cheese cake topped with fresh strawberries ended the meal. The professor was effusive in his praises to Martha though Sean's less sophisticated compliments were received by her with equal pleasure.

The big man and I sat alternating between sipping a glass of Gran Marnier and drinking a cup of coffee. I suggested to Sean that he go on upstairs and take his bath or shower to get ready for bed. He looked at me with distinct disappointment on his little face, but he made no objection and he rose from the table bidding Dr. Swaim a proper goodnight.

Before he left the room it was established that the two of them would begin at 10 o'clock in the morning and they would meet in the library.

Less than ten minutes later it was obvious the big man was fading from his long drive and I suggested that we call it a night. "Walter has a cart parked and waiting for you out back and the cabin is all stocked and ready for you. There are even a couple cases of that bourbon." He cocked an eyebrow up and looked at me trying to appear cross but he failed miserably and had to surrender to a big smile.

"You were always such a GOOD boy Eric Tucker," He smiled. We both got up from the table and I escorted him out to the 'family door'.

He clapped me on the shoulder with one big hand and gazed into my eyes. "You are wearing your hurt well Eric but it's not hidden from us who know you and love you." He kept his gaze upon me for a long time and then abruptly bid me good night. As he walked to the waiting golf cart, he added, "It's going to be all right you know."

I got out of the elevator and headed straight to the bedroom. Sean was not in there and so I quickly undressed and walked into the bathroom. I could hear his high sweet voice coming from the shower as he sang.

I walked into the shower. He was under the spray with his back to me… his luscious little ass wiggling in time to his singing. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his chest.

"Oooooooh!" he exclaimed in shock as he jumped and spun around almost simultaneously. He stared at me wide-eyed his mouth open gasping for breath.

"Oooh Eric! You scared me so bad! I almost pooped."

"I'm sorry, Sean, that was really mean of me. You just looked so cute I wanted to just hold you." I hugged him to me and he sort of melted into my chest snuggling his hair against my jaw.

We toweled each other dry and walked into the bedroom. He hopped onto the mattress and I followed him and grabbed him into a cuddle.

"The professor is a neat guy and he sure knows a lot of stuff, huh?" he asked in a soft voice.

"You don't know the half of it, kiddo. Every moment you spend with him is going to be like an adventure. You're a lucky boy to have him in your life." I kissed his little shoulder and I noted that the bruise was already faded significantly.

After a silent moment, he turned his head so that he was looking directly at me, "You're wrong, Eric. I'm a lucky boy to have YOU in my life."

I felt my heart swell.

I moved him so that he was lying on his back and, conscious of my weight, I positioned myself over him. I placed my lips against his and kissed him long and tenderly. Gliding my hands down his smooth sides, I broke the kiss and wasted no time in moving my mouth down his body to his erect little penis.

Taking it in, I slowly teased it with my tongue as my lips wrapped around the little shaft and commenced the short up and down journey from tip to base.

This time, perhaps, knowing what to expect, his little hands reached down and he ran his fingers through my hair as his body began to move to the rhythm of my sucking. Soon he was making his high pitched kitten-like noises as his pelvis began wildly thrusting. The enthusiastic gyrations of his little body told me exactly what was happening and I sucked unrelentingly until he collapsed limp onto the mattress.

I released his little tool and allowed his breathing to return to normal. His eyelids hooded his eyes as he smiled at me dreamily. "It gets better every time, " he almost whispered. I kissed the tip of his little boy cock and then moved up and kissed his lips. I rolled onto my side and ran my hand up and down his beautiful body.

Suddenly he was gently pushing me over onto my back. "Now I do you," he said with a smile.

"Sean, you know what happens when I orgasm. I shoot sperm. You…" he had placed a little finger on my lips to silence me. He gave me a sly little grin and slipped down between my legs pushing them to open wider.

I felt his warm breath on my raging hard cock as his little mouth drew nearer. His tongue was suddenly on it darting in and out like a snake's as he tentatively tasted first my cock and then my balls. The darting tongue soon became a hungry sensuous tormentor as he licked the length and width of my hard rod slowly and deliciously.

He was licking with deliberate languor using long stokes as if my dick were a delicious lolly- pop.

I was soon moaning and writhing in accord with the stroking of his tongue… and then the tongue torment stopped and I felt the incredible warmth as his lips wrapped themselves around my throbbing organ and he took me into his mouth.

He could not take much and he made no attempt to over-extend his comfort level. What he did not, or could not, take in was soon engulfed by his little fingers that began to pump while his lips moved up and down the upper portion.

It seemed like only moments before I could feel the fire in my cock rising in sweet warning. "Sean!" I said in a harsh whisper. "Careful I'm going to cum! Better pull back!"

Rather than hesitate, he increased both the speed and the strength of his lips and his hand. There was no longer any chance of my holding back:

"Oh, Jeeze, Sean…!" I almost screamed as I exploded shooting cum into the mouth of my precious little boy.

Three hard bursts I shot and he never stopped or attempted to pull off. Only after my cock had stopped pulsing and I lay still did he raise his head to look at me.

He had a wide smile on his face, his lower lip had a small blob of white semen upon it but, except for that, he had swallowed it all! This little boy had sucked me off and swallowed my cum all of his own accord and he was smiling about it.

I pulled him down to me and kissed his spunk flavored lips. Holding him tightly to me I murmured, "That was wonderful. Thank you Sean."

"I can do it better."

I chose not to speak. I just held him until we were both asleep.

Sean will be tested by the Professor and Eric will see an opportunity to 'scratch his itch'

New Characters: Clay Riorden (coach); Jack (15yo); The Seven Samurais:

In one way or another, we are tested almost every day of our lives. As we communicate, share, aspire or feel-even as we simply live- we are observed and subsequently evaluated by someone else. More often than not these assessments are casual and the results are only fleetingly considered by the observer and then discarded.

We, as the one scrutinized, usually are unaware the appraisals have taken place and they certainly have minimal if any effect upon us or the way we live and think. Even the most formal evaluations are significant to us only when they benefit us in some tangible way… When the results determine the granting of reward or administering of punishment for instance. Ultimately, the very best or worse the results of any test can achieve is to affect how someone else regards us.

This is unimportant because the only significant evaluation is the one we make of ourselves under the unflinching eyes of heaven. In the end, our value is never the property or domain of another person. When we realize this, then we have passed the only test that matters.

Once again I climbed from the depths of sleep to find a small naked boy perched upon my stomach gazing down into my face… his smile as bright as the morning sun itself.

There are far worse ways to wake up, I thought to myself as I smiled and received a sweet kiss… his morning gift to me.

My first impulse was to grab him close to me and tell him how much what he had done last night meant to me… to express my joy and gratitude over what we had shared, but in my heart I knew this was neither the time nor the place. That conversation was better reserved for later… more properly saved as pillow talk.

So, instead I reached up smiling and touched his gorgeous little face. "Good morning wonderful boy," I said through my own smile. "Ready for your busy day?"

"Uh huh… Only I wish I knew what was gonna happen and… mornin' by the way… I forgot … sorry *kiss*… I just wish I knew what was gonna happen. I hope I know most of the stuff… An…"

As he delivered this mile a minute diatribe he was wiggling, Sean style, and my bladder was warning me urgently. I placed one hand on his wiggling little butt cheeks to still them and held up the other in silent protest. "Whoa! If you keep this up I'm going to wind up peeing all over you and the bed you squirmy little monkey!" I threw him sack-like over my shoulder and headed for the bathroom.

Through his laughter he exclaimed, "Eric seriously! What happens if I don't pass the tests? Will he not wanna be my teacher no more? Will I hafta go to that other school… that Chestafell place?"

"That's 'Chesterfield' and no, you won't have to go there and no, the Professor will not decide not to be your teacher AND… they won't be those kind of tests. Everything will be interesting and fun. I promise. Stop worrying." By this time I had placed him on his feet and, side by side, we were draining our bladders into the bowl.

Later, as we emerged from the shower and were toweling each other off he asked, "Eric, aren't you gonna shave?"

From our first morning shower together, Sean had been fascinated with watching me shave. I did it the old-fashioned way… as my father had taught me… first causing a disc of soap, rich in oils and emollients, to be whipped up into a creamy lather in my porcelain shaving mug using a wonderful badger haired brush that my father had given to me when I was 16 years old.

I was barely shaving twice a week back then and at least one of those times was purely out of vanity and not necessity. To my father, giving me the brush was a sort of rite of passage and I think of him every time I use it.

I have tried shaving in other ways… cans of chemically foamed shaving cream, tubes of smear-on oils even several electric shavers but I always return to my brush and blade. It had finally occurred to me that Sean had never seen anyone shave before… certainly not using a razor, brush and mug. Being still pre-pubescent the procedure was an interesting mystery to him and he watched with rapt curiosity every time I performed this morning ritual.

"Nope," I answered. "Not going to shave today. I'm, going to be lazy and scraggly while the Professor is giving you the third degree."

"Why?"

"Why? So that tonight, when we're in bed, I can rub my scratchy beard all over you." I bent down and rubbed my morning-growth-covered cheek against his.

Bursting out giggling he squealed, "If I had a beard I could scratch you all over with mine too huh?"

"Yes, but you won't have a beard for a long time… and I like that."

I bent down again this time kissing him tenderly. "Practice!" we said in unison as we smiled at each other.

After dressing we headed down to breakfast. Martha wasn't there because today was the 'big shopping' day for the household and that was a task she didn't trust to anyone else. Moving about in the kitchen was an attractive young lady that I vaguely recognized as being part of my staff. This is going to be awkward. I don't even know her name, I thought to myself.

In the past three (almost four) years when in my drunken, debauched insanity, this sort of thing wouldn't have bothered me at all. I seldom had given any regard to the rank and file of my staff and, for that matter, had rarely come down for breakfast. Now however, I wished I had behaved differently. I wanted so much to BE different. I wished right this moment that I could do something simple and decent… something as straightforward as greeting this pretty young woman by her named and bidding her good morning.

Sean saved and amazed me. "Morning Jenny!" he smiled up at the woman who returned his smile immediately.

"Good morning Master Sean… good morning Mr. Tucker." It was obvious who was getting the 'love' here.

She guided us to the table and soon juice and a small bowl of fruit was placed in front of each of us. Milk for Sean and coffee for me were soon followed by scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. "This is wonderful, Jenny." I said, hoping desperately to make up for my shameful lack of knowledge just moments earlier. "Thanks very much."

She smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgment but her smile grew tenfold in size when Sean added,"Yeah Jenny, this is GREAT! Thanks!"

Sean and I left the table and strolled casually down to the library conversing comfortably. I could tell he was still apprehensive and I tried to ease his stress and tone down his anticipation.

As we entered we found Dr. Swaim already there. He was standing in the 'Chess Corner' studying the pieces that represented our still unfinished game.

He was pulling one end of his great mustache thoughtfully as he noticed us walk in. He made no formal greeting to either of us, instead, not looking up he asked, "Which of you is playing white?"

"I am." Sean answered.

The large man nodded and strolled casually around the table still gazing at the board. "And whose turn is next?"

Sean glanced up at me automatically as he replied, "Eric. Eric moves next."

The large man arched an eyebrow at me significantly holding my gaze for several beats before he turned from the chess table and said, "Yes then, shall we sit for a moment?" He indicated the three chairs we had occupied last night.

As I sat I noticed, for the first time, that the big oak reading table was strewn with paraphernalia. I took note of three lap tops, what looked to be a dozen pads of lined paper, a cup filled with yellow pencils sharpened points facing up, two stacks of irregularly-sized books and three black plastic crates containing items I either didn't recognize or couldn't associate with today's stated purpose.

He settled back in his chair and I noticed that, while he was ostensibly talking to both of us, except for a very rare moment or two he never took his eyes off Sean. "Well Sean, are you ready for our little exercise today?" he smiled as he spoke.

"Yes sir… at least I THINK I am. 'Course I don't know for sure." He'd fixed his eyes upon the Professor's and was holding him gaze for gaze.

"And you're not intimidated or frightened are you?" His black rimmed eyeglasses had slipped down his nose as he leaned in toward the little boy.

"No Professor I'm not afraid or intimidated… and, I'm not afraid of you either but…"

"But?"

Sean never took his eyes from the big man's and his voice was steady and clear as he asked, "But… is it true? Are REALLY a wizard?"

The man's large face was momentarily frozen in surprise as the boy's question sunk in and then, instantly, it was transformed into the picture of merriment as his loud deep laughter filled the room.

When he'd regained his composure he reached over and clasped Sean's shoulder in one of his great hands and said, "I'm not certain how to answer that Sean. I think perhaps we'll see what you think about that yourself in a couple of months, eh?" I knew at once that Sean didn't consider that to be an answer to his question but he also seemed satisfied in the assurance that the query would be revisited sometime in the future.

Settling back into his chair again, Dr. Swaim continued, "First off Eric, I extend my apologies to you for being so presumptuous as to commandeer this library without asking but I did feel certain you'd have no objection." I nodded my head in agreement.

He turned his attention back to Sean. "I propose that we get started at once and that we go at a rather rigorous pace. We'll take a few short breaks mostly to use the toilet I expect. The lovely Miss Jenny has graciously agreed to prepare us lunch and have it brought to us in here so that we can work as we eat… or vice-versa," he chuckled amused at himself.

"If all goes as I suspect it will, we should be finished by two o'clock. Eric, I've taken the further liberty of asking Andy to meet us at the Gun Shed at 2:30 so that I can see how this young man shoots. The fresh air should be most welcome to both of us by then I suspect."

"And now…" He stood up and, with one big paddle-like hand, guided me out of my chair and out into the hall. The library doors closed silently behind me. Standing alone in the hall I realized that I hadn't planned very well and I didn't know what I was going to do with myself. I actually felt lonely.

Without really giving it any conscious consideration I strolled down to the pool/gym. In the little locker room I stripped off my clothes and slipped into a jock strap and a pair of black work-out shorts. After tying up my Nikes I mounted one of the two treadmills, set the speed to moderate and began my workout.

After 30 minutes of good, steady running I was sweating pretty profusely and I set the machine to slow down into a gradual stop. Stepping off the treadmill, I wiped myself down and mounted the old Nautilus machine that my father had purchased about ten years ago. He liked it because it provided a good low-impact upper and lower body workout in an efficient time- effective manner.

While I did (before I'd become a blithering mess) enjoy an occasional workout with free weights, I was trained since childhood to be safety conscious so I never used the weights when I was alone in the gym. I also never used weights for bulking up because it was not in my nature or taste to sport bulging muscles. I didn't like that look on myself or on others.

I much preferred the natural way exercise like swimming and running toned and shaped my muscles. Even as much as I'd neglected myself in the recent past, I was still pleased with how my body looked and responded.

After a timed 45 minutes on the device, I stepped off, walked out of the gym and into the pool area. Stripping off my shorts and supporter I walked to the board. Ignoring my conversation with Sean yesterday and despite my childhood training, I often broke the cardinal safety rule and swam alone.

I sprinted down the diving board. With a crisp hop I launched myself into the air and smiled with pleasure as I smoothly entered the water.

I began swimming laps alternating strokes every two lengths of the pool. While I intended this to be a mindless, hard workout, I knew that it would be anything but that. Swimming in this manner is like long distance running… It begins as a pleasurable exercise but, if continued beyond normal tolerance, eventually pushes itself into strain, fatigue and pain.

It is at or near this point that most people quit; however, I learned as a 14-year-old Cross Country runner that if you push your body beyond that barrier of pain and lassitude, you emerge on the other side virtually transcended. Pain is forgotten, weariness is forgotten… your mind, body and soul unite and exultingly operate on a new plain of existence. The running or the swimming is the ALL. There is only IT. The athlete exists for nothing else… wants nothing else. Scientist have attempted to explain this phenomenon as resulting from the release of endorphins into the system, but I prefer to regard it as a metaphysical experience.

I don't know how long I swam or how many laps I'd traveled, but through some built in biological mechanism I slowly came down from my high and knew I couldn't swim another stroke if my very life depended upon it. I rolled upon my back and let everything slowly return to normal. The water gently supported me; cradled me as I drained down from my euphoria.

Crazy thoughts flood your mind when this is happening and mine suddenly burst full of memories of my recent intimacies with Sean. I played them over almost at will… the taste of him… the feel of him… the sound of him the smell… And then, as if coming from a camera guided by the hand of another, the picture in my mind shifted suddenly almost violently to his round white ass. That beautiful perfect little ass that he'd displayed to me without shame on the very first night.

I thought hungrily of how it came out and formed a natural flowing curve between his back and his legs… not abrupt or large, just perfectly turned like it might have been designed as a geometric exercise… The sweet taut, yet soft, round globes that I held in my hands almost at will… that I caressed, squeezed and touched with impunity… how they dimpled when he flexed his leg muscles… the perfect arching crease where the globes joined the legs…

The image shifted abruptly again, close focusing in on the small, tight nubbin that was the door to his velvety, warm, dark secret conduit. My mind filled with memories of my probing finger… forcing my way past the resistance of the tight muscle; the strong little one-way valve that ultimately was no match for my insistent pressure.… memories of my actions and his reactions… sweet memories now slowly turning into desire.

Desire suddenly ruled my thinking, lust filled my heart and I knew that above all else I needed to have him completely.

Irrationally, I became obsessed with the notion that I must have him… have my hard flesh penetrating his soft warmness. I must take him as mine because I wanted him and because he WAS mine for the taking. THIS was why he was here. This was why he had been brought to me. He had been bought and paid for for this reason.

I would do it quickly… it must be done with speed and… without remorse. How could there be remorse? What would I have to regret… making a little boy cry?

Certainly there would be pain… HIS pain… he KNEW there would be pain… he was EXPECTING the pain. The pain was his consequence for providing my pleasure.

I screamed then. I was still sane enough to scream. It was long and loud and from so deep within me that I could not guess at its source. I screamed until my throat felt raw and torn and when I could scream no more, I let my body slip below the surface of the water and drift almost casually to the bottom.

A strange thought entered my mind, Is this death? Is this what it is to die? Strangely, I didn't care. I felt remarkably at peace.

I sensed more than saw the light at the surface above me and more by instinct than conscious action, I willed myself upward. My head broke the surface and I gasped, sucking air into my screaming lungs with an almost passionate urgency. My breathing slowly returned to normal as I floated feeling amazingly calm. It seemed that my mind was a temple of clarity now… I could see the truth and knew what I must do.

I knew now that within me there dwelt a monster… a hideous dark primordial creature that lived to destroy and that had set its sights upon my little boy. It wanted to break him and rip him and tear him and take its hideous pleasure leaving my Sean weeping from pain and betrayal… smeared in his own blood and shit… innocent no more. Trusting no more. Pure and whole no more.

In my new state of quasi calm I swore that this would never happen. I would protect him. I would be his salvation just as he had been sent to be mine. At the same time, though, I knew that the monster must be appeased… its hunger must be fed. I knew what to do.

I managed to get myself to the ladder and, weak-limbed, I pulled myself out of the pool sprawling onto a near bye lounge chair.

Water streamed off my heaving body pooling onto the floor and I thought to myself; I'm going mad again.

I must have slept because, when my thoughts returned to some semblance of normality, I was dry and feeling a bit cold. My once hard and raging cock lay flaccid across my leg. I showered, dressed and walked to my study.

Reaching into the cabinet behind me I withdrew the bottle. Pouring the golden fluid over two ice cubes, I took a slow sip and reviewed things in my mind. "He's safe with me," I spoke aloud to no one but myself. "I'll keep him safe. I'll protect him… even from me."

I took another slow sip this time taking the opportunity to enjoy the biting tang of the liquid. "Custodite omnia tuta," I murmured, remembering the Latin that I'd worked so hard to master as a young man, "keep all things safe."

I glanced at the old white-faced Regulator clock hanging on the wall. A relic from some bygone day that had once hung from the wall of one of my grandfather's offices long before I was born. To my complete shock I saw that it was almost four o'clock. They must be through. I walked, glass in hand, to the library.

It was empty, the items on the big oak table neatly arraigned and the black crates packed and stacked. The session was obviously over.

I walked through the residence until I spotted Walter. "Have you seen Sean and the Professor?" I asked him.

"They took a cart out to the Gun Shed about two thirty and I haven't seen them since."

I walked out back and hopped into one of the golf carts parked against the stone wall and headed out to the gun shed. Before I'd even turned off the main path I could hear it. There was still some shooting going on over there.

Anyone who has not experienced gunfire in the open air before is usually surprised the first time that they do. Television and motion pictures lead us to believe that discharged firearms make a loud, abrupt and harsh crack… the popular BANG! Of cartoons. But outdoors, in open country, this is not so. The noise dissipates almost immediately and what is heard (as well as actually felt) is an almost muffled POP.

As I turned into the yard I saw there were three figures over at the range. Sean sat perched upon a stool with the control box in his hand, Andy stood at position number one and Dr. Swaim was toeing position five.

Just as I came to a stop Andy called, "Pull!" Sean pushed the button; a bird was launched and immediately destroyed by Andy's shot. This was quickly followed by the Professor's cry of "Pull!" and his flying target was likewise obliterated.

Upon seeing me, they both lowered their guns, safety's quickly engaged. The Professor smiling and Andy wearing his normal dour face turned in my direction. Sean hopped down from the stool and ran to me.

"Eric! You won't believe it! I've launched 300 pigeons between them and nobody has missed yet!"

I reached out and pulled him into me wrapping my arm around his shoulder. "Oh I believe it, little man. This goes on every time those two get together. Over the years they must have shot at a few thousand targets and neither of them has missed in all that time. I don't know what will happen when one of them finally does miss a shot… maybe the world will end!" I joked.

"Well then Andy, we shall do this again at a later time," said the Professor clapping a large hand on Andy's shoulder as they walked off the range and towards the Gun Shack. Sean and I followed.

The two men laid their shotguns on the cleaning table and Sean did the same with his. I watched with pride as the little boy began cleaning his gun perfectly even though he had only been shown how to this once.

While they worked, Dr. Swaim looked briefly in my direction. "This young man shoots remarkably well, Eric. He even had one perfect flight of 10! That scoundrel has obviously taught him well," He was gesturing toward Andy who grinned… just barely… and winked at Sean who rewarded him with a brilliant smile.

"All that remains now is for him to learn at least the rudiments of fishing. Now I propose he sped a couple of days out at Fish Camp with me and we'll see how well he can learn the ancient art of angling."

"Not tomorrow, Professor." I said. "Tomorrow I'm planning on taking him out to Deer Run and having him do try-outs for the swim team. How about you two get together early Wednesday morning and I'll come fetch him back on Friday?"

"Excellent idea," said the large man by now wiping down his freshly oiled gun. "By then we can have the course of this year's education plotted out and ready to embark upon the following Monday."

Sean obviously wasn't quite certain what we were talking about but I ruffled his hair and whispered that we'd talk about it later. I watched as Sean placed his shotgun on the rack where Andy had designated.

"Are you joining us for dinner Professor?" I asked.

"No, not tonight, my boy. Andy here will accompany me to the cabin where we will broil a couple of steaks and then later share a bottle of apple schnapps… which we shall enjoy thanks to your thoughtfulness. Eric, I do want to have some private time with you tomorrow afternoon if I may?"

I agreed that we would certainly make that time to talk.

As I walked with Sean to my golf cart I mused to myself, What an odd couple. I wonder what kind of an evening that's going to be? The loquacious Dr. Swaim and the reticent Andy.

As we approached the cart, Sean looked up at me. His face asked the question. "You better drive Champ. I'm too tired from doing nothing all day." Beaming, he hopped up behind the wheel and soon we were on our way back to the house.

Martha had prepared what she called a 'simple dinner' for us. It was an Italian peasant meal of spicy and sweet sausages grilled in a cast iron skillet with potatoes onions and peppers. The marvelous flavor combinations were enough to set a person's taste buds dancing the tarantella. I washed my diner down with a wonderful pilsner from the Czech Republic. The small glass that I'd poured for Sean was tasted but then untouched during the meal.

All during dinner Sean talked constantly about the events of the day. From what I gathered, to him it all seemed like a long series of games, puzzles and tricks. I knew that it was so much more and that, by now, Dr. Swaim had a very good appraisal of Sean's knowledge, skills, abilities and intellect. In this regard, if in no other, the man was indeed a wizard.

After dinner was concluded I told Sean to head down and get ready for our game but that I had to do something in my study first. He told me that was fine because he had to select a book to read which Dr. Swaim had to approve first, so this would give him time to search the shelves.

I ducked into my study and brought up the web site for The nest. This was not the official website of the Academy but rather the secret, very private website available to nest clients only.

I was quickly browsing through photos of the boys who were currently available for a short term contract. My eyes were soon caught by the face of a young man with bright green eyes and carrot red hair. His smile was captivating and it was emphasized by the sprinkle of freckles on his cheeks and nose.

His name was Jack and he was fifteen-years-old, which was younger than I'd previously had any experience with, but he WAS a nest boy and he had been fully trained and apparently been out on contract a few times already. I was intrigued and so I pulled down the 'comments' section.

I read with interest,

• "A very talented bottom for such a young man."
• "Uses his sphincter and stomach muscles marvelously."
• "A real charmer from both ends."

"That'll do." I decided and typed in my codes securing the services of Jack for Wednesday and Thursday. Turning off the computer, I walked down to the library to continue my game with Sean.

Six moves later I was bewildered having lost a knight and a bishop while I had succeeded in knocking off a mere three of his pawns. This kid is good.

We called it a day at this point and headed upstairs.

As I held him naked and warm in bed, I explained that tomorrow we were going to the swimming try outs. "I hope you'll swim as well there as you did for me yesterday in our pool," I told him.

"On Wednesday morning you're going out to Fish Camp to spend some time with Doctor Swaim. He's going to teach you how to fish. I've got to be out of town on a short trip for business but I'll be back on Friday and we can do something fun over the weekend. OK?"

"Kay," he murmured into my chest, "but, I'm going to miss you. I even missed you just today cause I didn't get to see you until the afternoon."

"I'll miss you too but it's just for a little while," I said running my hands down his soft back and ass. I was lying to him and it felt wrong and painful but I reminded myself that what I was going to do I was doing for him. I was protecting him from the ugly thing inside of me. Something had to be sacrificed to appease the monster and that something was the ass of a 15 year old boy named Jack.

For the first time since bringing Sean home I slept badly. I know I dreamed but by some blessing I didn't remember them when I woke up the next morning to see dancing blue/green eyes looking down upon me.

Chapter 12

We've got swim team try outs and Eric has a serious conversation with the professor. Sean will pose for some photos

Often, the most joy is found in the simplest things. The most profound pleasure is frequently experienced in the most common occurrences. The greatest satisfaction can come from something so simple that it is habitually overlooked.

I followed Sean's bouncing, naked little ass into the bathroom making my first stop the toilet for my much needed morning piss. The monster isn't with me this morning… thank God for that, I thought to myself

Sean was standing by the vanity rather dramatically placing my shaving gear on the counter where it was all VERY obvious. I raised an eyebrow in a query and he said, "I just wanna make sure you shave this mornin' Eric. Your chin was so scratchy last night that it was no fun cuddling." I nodded my head in grave acquiescence, as my eyes drank in the sight of him… delightfully naked and displayed just for me.

As had become our routine, I adjusted the shower while he activated the sound system. He had quickly learned not just how to turn the unit on but also how to access and select from the large data base of music stored on the hard-drive. He's a kid, I'd thought to myself. They're born knowing how to do that stuff these days.

Since our first shower and Sean's amazing display of music knowledge, it had become part of our morning ritual to take turns selecting the 'shower song' and for the other person to guess what it was. We were each perfect so far.

"Too easy peezy today little man!" I said as he jumped up on me, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist… leaving me the 'terrible duty' of having to cup his little butt in my hands as I walked us into the steaming water. "That's an oldie but real goodie… Mustang Sally and THAT is Mr. Wilson Pickett himself singing."

I put him down and he was immediately dancing under the water singing along with the recording. He did a dramatic little turn, legs spread and hips swaying in time to the beat as he sang,

All you wanna do is ride aroun Sallaaaaay
Ride Sallaay ride!
All you wanna do is ride aroun Sallaaay
Ride Sallaay ride…

He faded his singing along with the recording and I clapped in legitimate appreciation of his performance. He took one of his cute little bows and flashed a brilliant 'Sean smile'.

"The Professor and Andy are perfect on the gun range but you an me are perfect with our shower music!" he said, while I was soaping down his belly and his adorable little 2½ inch [6½ cm] cock.

As we were rinsing off under the multi-directional sprays, I casually brought up something that had been on my mind, "Hey, little man, I was thinking. Later on after the try-outs, what would you think about letting me take some pictures of you in my studio?"

"You have a studio?" he asked looking up at me.

"Yep. I sure do. A few years ago I actually thought that I'd like to be a professional photographer and, I'm not bragging mind you but I'm not bad. I've even had some of my stuff exhibited at a couple of galleries."

From the look on his face, it was obvious that he didn't fully understand what in the heck I was talking about. I keep forgetting he's only 11 years old, I thought to myself. And raised in the isolation of the nest to boot.

"Anyway…" I continued, hoping to erase the confusion, "Yes, I've got a studio… a really good one and I want to take some photos of you. OK?"

"Kay!" he said walking out of the spray and squeezing water from his beautiful black hair. "That sounds like it'll be fun Eric!"

Martha was back on duty in the kitchen when we descended the stairs for breakfast. After her morning hugs and kisses from Sean, she walked him to the table and said, "Now darling, this morning I'm going to have you try eggs in another different way. If you don't like them I won't be upset and I'll fix you something else in a flash. Is that all right?"

"Mrs. Edwards, I don't think you could cook ANYTHING I wouldn't like… honest."

She looked down at him with a warm smile and said, "Well this is a little different way to serve eggs and a lot of people don't enjoy them this way but, I promised we'd try out all the styles. This," she said as she placed a plate in front of the now curious boy, "is called a 'soft boiled' egg" I almost spit out a mouthful of coffee as I observed the look of total dismay and confusion on his face as he looked down at his plate.

In the center of the dish stood an egg cup holding what to the uninformed eye appeared to be an intact whole egg… just as it might have dropped out of the chicken not so very long ago. Stacked attractively on both sides of the egg cup were the 'soldiers'… buttered toast cut into handy strips for dipping into the soft runny yolk.

Poor Sean… if he had been initially confused when confronted with the 'eggs over easy' a couple of days ago, he was totally stymied by the dilemma before him this morning.

Before moving to rescue him from his predicament, I gave Martha a 'look'. She countered with one of her own. Martha knew very well that I really didn't care for soft boiled eggs. Not that they didn't actually taste good, it was just that I considered them too 'fussy' and way too much work for the satisfaction they eventually yielded.

"Observe." I said to Sean in my best silly scholarly voice. Raising my knife in a melodramatic fashion, I tapped around the top of the shell briskly with the flat edge of the blade. Having done that, I used both knife and spoon to carefully remove the shattered bits of shell from the top of the egg. With the sharper edge of the knife, I sliced off the very top of the egg revealing the runny interior. I scooped out a small mouthful with my spoon and then, proceeded to my favorite part… dipping one of the strips of buttered toast into the almost liquid yolk. As I raised the yummy morsel to my lips, I waggled my eyebrows at Sean who began to giggle.

I continued to eat while I watched the boy attempt to mimic the procedure I had just demonstrated. He did very well but I noticed he was having trouble removing some of the shattered bits of shell with his knife and spoon. I leaned across the table and said in a stage whisper, "You're only eleven… you can use your fingers."

He broke into a wide appreciative grin and proceeded to pick the remaining shell from his egg and move on to opening and enjoying. As I was watching the whole complicated procedure, I couldn't help but smile. Since my childhood, when soft boiled eggs were served I always had a memory flash about something I'd read in Jonathan Swift's 'Gulliver's Travels'.

In that book, in Lilliput… the island of tiny people… one of the major points of political faction concerned which end of a soft boiled egg was the proper end to open… big end or little end. The Lilliputians had actually fought wars and committed mayhem over this issue.

I'd noted long ago that Martha always presented them little end up… she was a staunch 'little ender'. I'd never decided if I thought Jonathan Swift would approve. It was a little mental game I couldn't help playing every time the dreaded egg cups came out.

"Did you like that Darling?" Martha asked Sean as she removed his plate from in front of him.

"They were very good…" I could see his young mind working hard to be politically correct… "But… I think they were a lot of work to eat."

Good boy! Brilliant Boy! Wonderful boy! I cheered silently.

Martha knew… she always did. Within moments a plate stacked high with pancakes appeared before a grateful Sean who attacked them with gusto.

With breakfast over and hugs and kisses exchanged, we headed back upstairs to pack a kit for him to bring to the tryouts. I was already getting nervous for him.

In his gym bag we placed the black speedo (my choice) two pair of goggles, nubby rubber soled flip-flops, swimmer's cap, a set of dark blue sweats and an oversized hoodie just for good measure. As an afterthought I tossed in a bar of soap and a small bottle of shampoo even though I knew that, like towels, these would be provided by the club in the locker room.

I handed him his laminated membership card. "Ready to go?" I asked, hoping that I didn't sound apprehensive.

"Yep!" he said with a smile. He didn't seem nervous at all. "Are we going to take the Red Cat?" his face looked at me hopefully.

I smiled at that… he'd picked up on my nickname for the sexy little Jaguar quickly. "How else would Aquaman get to swim team tryouts?" I said. With a grin so big that it could have lit up the room, he quickly ducked into his closet and returned with his leather jacket and his cap.

I hugged him to me with one arm over his shoulders as we headed down to the elevator stopping quickly at my room to retrieve my matching driving outfit.

Everyone in the household obviously knew where we were going. Martha stepped out of the kitchen to hug him and wish him luck. Walter was waiting by the door to shake his hand and speak a word of encouragement. "Try your best Master Sean. That's all that you can do and it's all that anyone can expect. I know you'll make us all proud."

In the garage, John was pretending to be busy down by the Jaguar. "Good luck Sean… give em hell!"… he looked quickly at me and I just smiled. "Actually, meant give em HECK… anyhow, go get em." He was pumping Sean's hand vigorously and smiling so broadly I was afraid he might break his jaw.

A few minutes later, we were through the gate and the little red roadster was tearing down the open road. I was shifting and accelerating in such a way as to make the tuned exhaust scream and roar… to the total delight of my young passenger.

As we were walking across the parking lot into the big clubhouse I was talking to Sean, "Now, they're having tryouts for all age groups this entire week but today is the first day and all of the best swimmers will be here. If you're going to shine, today's the day to do it." I hugged him tightly and he nodded his head silently.

"After we register and get you set up with a locker and stuff, I won't be able to stay with you. I've got to go up in the stands so you'll be all by yourself is that OK with you?"

He smiled up at my and squeezed my arm as if to offer ME reassurance. "Don't be nervous Eric, I've done these lots of times before. You just promise me you'll keep watchin and that you'll cheer and stuff OK?"

"OK." I couldn't stop a small tear from forming so I quickly wiped it away while pretending to scratch the bridge of my nose. "Well, they don't allow cheering at tryouts but you know I'll be watching."

We sat at a small table filling out the registration form. He was sitting by my side wiggling in his chair, his little leg bouncing delightfully against mine. "Ok, which events do you want to compete in, Sean?"

"All of them."

"No, I mean which strokes do you think you're best at and want to try out for?"

"All of them."

I looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow. He just grinned and nodded vigorously.

I'd been trying not to make comparisons since that horrible night in the music room, but just now, I couldn't help it. Kyle had been just like this, competing in each of the strokes ignoring how difficult that was supposed to be. Kyle not only talked the talk, he also walked the walk delivering superbly every time. In my heart I knew that Sean would be the same.

"OK Aquaman." I winked at him and completed the form. We both walked over to get him registered.

Clay Riorden was a tall, well-built man with iron grey hair. He had been overseeing the club swim teams since I was a youngster. He, of course, recognized me at once and took the form from me as I introduced Sean as my ward.

He scrutinized the document I'd just handed him and glance quickly again at Sean. "Ambitious young man eh?" He looked at both of us. "Must run in the family," he smiled. Sean didn't understand what he was referring to and I chose not to correct Clay's mistaken impression that Sean was related. Clay handed Sean his registration tags and we headed off to the locker room.

Pointing to an empty locker I said to Sean, "Get changed and put your stuff in there. I'll check out this schedule and figure out what's happening and when." I glanced around the locker room it was filled with pre-teen boys in various states of undress and my accessing eye took them all in deciding that none surpassed the beauty of my special boy.

He quickly stripped down and hung his street clothes up in the locker. I managed one quick glimpse of his little ass before the small black swim suit was up and (barely) covering him. He looked outrageously sexy in it. I felt my dick in my pants get hard as a rock and thought to myself that this was going to be a difficult morning in that regard.

I suggested that Sean like most of the other boys in the locker room had done, put on his sweat suit to prevent his muscles from getting cramped in the cool air. After he had done so, I pinned his registration tags to the jacket and noticed that they were ushering the boy's out into the pool area. I hugged him tight and sneaked a quick kiss to his forehead. "Good luck Bucko. I'll be out there pulling for you."

I wandered out the same door I'd come in and found myself a seat on the bleachers.

I hadn't said anything to Sean, but this was going to be rough. There was a mere 15 minutes between events… not much rest for a little guy who was intending to swim it all.

Clay addressed the swimmers and spectators explaining that today and the rest of the week, each of the basic strokes would be swum once at 100 meters and once at 200 meters. From those runs the top 3 swimmers in each category would wind up being invited to participate on the team with individual events being determined by the coaches after a week of practice and evaluation.

The first trial was 100-meter free style. Sean was in the first heat (there would be four heats in this event I learned). He had drawn lane 3 in the 8-lane set up. I watched as he shucked off his sweats and pulled on his swim cap and goggles. He mounted his starting block and stood hunched over the water shaking and flapping his arms to loosen up. He looked so poised and professional it made my heart flip.

I took a quick look at the other seven boys. My first assessment was that they all had damned cute little asses. My second thought was this being an 11-12 year old category, there was a noticeable difference in size and physical development among them. Sean was certainly not the smallest of the eight but he wasn't close to being the biggest either.

My attention was quickly drawn to the boy on lane 7. He was the biggest of the kids in this heat. My guess was that he was about 5 feet, three inches [1.60 m] tall. He'd obviously entered puberty because not only was he taller but his shoulders were broader and his pecs were more developed. That's trouble. I thought to myself.

The horn sounded and all eight boys were off their blocks and into the water.

The 100-meter freestyle is a very fast race in any age group. The boys all seemed evenly matched for about the first ¾ of a lap and then three swimmers began to pull away: Sean, the boy in lane 7 and the boy in lane 5 who I hadn't paid much attention to at the start of the race. They looked to be dead even as they went under and hit the wall for the turn.

Lane 7 was first up, followed closely by Sean. The boy in lane 5 seemed to have lost some steam because he was dropping behind… even saying that though, these three were a quarter way into their second lap before the rest of the group had hit the wall to turn.

Into the final 20 meters it was a two person race. The boy in lane 7 was holding his lead but Sean was swimming madly and closing the gap rapidly. Lane 7 touched the wall first with Sean just a second or two behind him. I went quietly nuts with excitement.

Two things about these trials that were strictly enforced; the swimmer's times were kept secret and excessive demonstration by spectators was forbidden. I intended to play by the rules… I wasn't going to embarrass my little boy.

I watched the next heats thinking to myself that this gave Sean more rest than I'd initially anticipated. There were some good swimmers in these but none that I felt posed any great threat to Sean.

They were setting up swimmers for the 200 meter Freestyle. There would only be three heats for this event and Sean had been placed in the second one. I watched the first heat with only minimal interest after I'd noticed that the bigger kid who'd beaten Sean in the 100 meter wasn't in it.

Shortly they called the swimmers for the second heat. Sean took his place in lane 5 and I watched as the bigger boy who'd beaten Sean last time stepped up onto the block for lane 6. This could be very interesting. I thought to myself. I did take a quick moment to scan all eight attractive little butts packed tightly into their miniscule speedos finishing my scrutiny just as the horn sounded.

The eight splashes were almost simultaneous as they began their first lap pretty much all evenly spaced. By the first turn however it was already a four man race and one of those was Sean, another being the kid in lane 6. I watched with interest as both boys stroked evenly… seemingly settled into a comfortable rhythm.

By the second turn the other two swimmers were beginning to fade and the rest of the group were hopelessly behind. As they approached the wall for the third turn it was totally a two-man race.

They went under for the kick and this time Sean was up first his arms whipping madly as they cut through the water. The bigger boy in lane 6 was obviously putting forth his maximum effort but Sean was steadily pulling away from him… he was moving rhythmically like a little swimming machine. I was on my feet pounding my fists into my thighs! Sean continued to increase his lead, finally touching the wall a full body length ahead!

I let out a loud whoop and flung my fist into the air… drawing several dirty looks in my direction. Fuck 'em! I thought to myself as I laughed (silently) with pride and joy.

The rest of the morning was astonishing. The bigger boy who'd beaten Sean in that first heat was apparently only proficient in free style as he didn't compete in any of the other strokes.

Sean's performance continued to be extraordinary as he not only swam the remaining six trials… he won most of his heats coming in third (his worst finish) in the 200 meter breast stroke which was also the last heat of the day for him. I suspected that weariness had finally begun to catch up with him.

We spectators were told that after the boys had showered and dressed Clay wanted to talk to them for a few minutes and we should meet them out in the parking lot when they were finished. I started walking slowly to the exit when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and found myself looking into Clay Riorden's hazel eyes. He had a strange look; one that I couldn't read.

I watched as he swallowed hard a couple of times and finally spoke, "You know the last time something like this happened… it was seven years ago." To my surprise I realized there were tears forming in his eyes. "It was Kyle that time, Eric. This is so…" He trailed off and just squeezed my shoulder and nodded his head. He turned abruptly and walked away down toward the door to the locker room.

It was only just beginning to register with me as I sat in the car watching the front door. I missed not having been able to run down and hug him to share in the joy of his victory… but then I realized that these were his moments not mine.

He emerged from the building surrounded by a group of other kids all of them talking and giggling… animated as only 11 and 12 year old boys can be.

They were excited and self-involved, laughing and jumping as they spoke. They each, at some point, took an opportunity to touch him as they spoke. He was the center of the grouping and all of the action moved around him.

I shook my head slowly. This was almost like watching the end of the original soccer game video. They flocked to him. He attracts them… they just want to be near him.

I had moved the car but it wasn't very hard for him to spot. I watched him point to it and then move his hand casually in its direction as he shared some sort of 'Sean wisdom' with his new mates. They all looked and nodded appreciatively. Sean waved at me. Turning to the group surrounding him he said something and they all hi-fived each other and broke off to go their separate ways.

He was beaming. There was no mistaking the glorious happiness he was feeling. He literally floated into the car. "Eric, guess what?" he said excitedly tugging at my sleeve to make certain he had my full attention. "Coach Riorden says we're not supposed to tell yet… but us seven guys are definitely on the team for sure!"

Making a not so quantum mental leap, I concluded that 'us seven guys' was Sean and the group of boys he'd just walked out of the building with. "You were just great today, Sean," I said reaching over to ruffle his hair and then carefully replacing his cap. "Those two freestyle races were so exciting you had me holding my breath."

"Yeah Brandon is a great swimmer. I'm pretty sure he's be on the team too. Coach just didn't say yet. But… know what Eric?" I looked at him as if to say I didn't know what. "I'm better than him even if he is bigger. I could of took him that first race but I made a bad turn at the wall that was dumb… won't happen no more."

I'd pretty much given up on correcting his grammar when he was excited especially after noticing that he spoke very well when he was calm… or at least as calm as Sean could be.

"So-let's celebrate over lunch. Burgers or burritos?"

He didn't even pause to think about it. "Buuuuuuuurrrittos!" he shouted.

Very soon we were chowing down at Cocina Alfredo and neither one of us could stop smiling.

I just sat listening as between mouthfuls; Sean replayed every heat he had swum this morning. I was impressed at how much actual thought and strategizing he had put into each race, until I remembered a certain chess match that I seemed to be losing back home. This kid thought about everything he did.

I led Sean down the hall and up the stairs into a section of the house that he hadn't been in before.

Opening the door we walked into my studio. It occupied most of the top floor of one of the newer small wings that had been added to the complex by my father.

I had it set up to be as flexible and adaptable as possible. It was mostly open floor space with lighting fixtures scattered around rather haphazardly, a few props and miscellaneous furniture mostly stacked and scattered. On the far long wall was a wooden workbench with several cabinets mounted above it. Two large skylights in the roof could be opened or blocked out depending upon how much ambient light I desired in the room.

I walked over to the work table and ensured my favorite photography 'toy' was charged. It was my fabulous Nikon D4 digital SLR. After giving things some thought I selected a Nikkor 16-85 mm lens and clicked it in place.

With the camera slung around my neck, I lowered the all-white back drop down from its reel near the ceiling and placed a simple wooden stool in front of it.

"Sit up here Sean. Keep your jacket and cap on." I instructed.

As he perched on the stool I hurriedly arraigned a few light fixtures to different heights and angles constantly checking through my camera lens. When I was satisfied I began walking around him clicking off pictures.

"Tell me all about riding in the red cat, Sean," I encouraged and, as he began to speak, his face became more animated and the photos I clicked became more alive. I constantly worked the zoom on the lens in and out to change perspective. After a long series of photos, I took his cap and jacket from him and captured a series of him sitting on the stool in his jeans and tee shirt.

I then had him get down from the stool and move around in front of the back drop while I snapped like mad.

Happy with what I'd done so far, I casually asked him to undress. He broke into a mischievous grin.

"Are you gonna take naked pictures of me?"

"I am if you'll stop talking and get your clothes off." I answered with a smile.

"Eric… you're the BEST fun!" he giggled as he pulled his shirt over his head and off.

This kid loves being naked, I decided.

Once he was nude, I had him stand in place while I readjusted some of the lighting. "Just move around Sean. Talk to me… tell me all about the swimming today while you're moving."

I snapped off about 100 pictures and then I had an idea. I set the camera to its 'action' mode which allowed me to shoot ten frames per second at a single click. "Sing Mustang Sally for me Sean."

He gave me a cute puzzled look and then began to sing.

Sean being Sean, the singing was quickly accompanied by dancing and soon he was lost in his music no longer paying attention to me or my camera. I began shooting multi-frames in quick bursts.

Among these was an image of this beautiful boy… his face alight with happiness and his eyes glancing unintentionally but directly at the camera.

His lovely body was turned in a frozen jumping twist at such an angle that the camera got just a glimpse of his perfect ass and just a tease of his penis. The light caught the tip of his hip bone under skin made taught by his twisting. His juvenile leg muscles were flexed as he moved… frozen in the camera's lens.

He was captured in mid-hop; the far foot completely off the ground, while he seemed (in the image) to be balancing on the toes of the foot closest to the camera.

His arms were spread bent at the elbow. Both hands were open as if attempting to catch something as delicate as a sunbeam.

It was the very essence of an 11-year-old boy… it was pure and total Sean.

It is this image that now hangs as part of the permanent collection in the Annenberg Museum in Los Angeles while a smaller copy sits in a teak frame on my desk to this very day.

Laying the camera aside so that I could down-load and process the pictures. Later, I held out my arms to him.

He skipped more than ran to me and hopped up wrapping his legs around my waist. Supporting him with one hand cupping his little ass, I kissed him and said, "Did you have a good day?"

"Oh yah!" he said with his eyes sparkling.

"Now you remember I'm going away tomorrow, right?" his face took on a very unhappy expression. "And you'll be staying up at the Fish Camp with the Professor learning to fish yes?"

He'd placed his head down on my shoulder and he wasn't looking at me. "Yes, I remember but…" He now turned his face so that he was staring into my eyes. "… I don't like it." I slowly rubbed his back with a soft circular motion.

"Did you select a book to read that Dr. Swaim approves of?"

"Yeah. It's Huckleberry Finn; he says I'll probably like it."

"I think you will too. So… how about you get dressed and you can read your book while I have my meeting with Dr. Swaim OK?"

"Kay, but Eric… can I read in our room instead of that other room?"

"Oh, you mean instead of YOUR room?"

"Yeah, I like being in OUR room better."

I left him lying on the bed reading his book with a cup of hot chocolate on the bedside table and I headed down to the library to meet with the Professor.

The big man was already there. Sitting in one of the leather arm chairs, a stack of papers on the floor beside him and a drink in his hand. He looked at me over the top of his glasses which had slid down his nose. Holding up his whiskey and water he said, "I've started without you. Go pour yourself a glass of that Caledonian poison you relish so much and join me.

The Doc would not call it Scotch. He called it 'Hibernian' which was a stretch since the modern usage of 'Hibernia' is now pretty much limited to Ireland or (as he just had) he would refer to its 'Caledonian' origins (that being an ancient name for Scotland.) It was pretty much like my calling his Jack Daniels 'bourbon'. It was a game we'd played with each other so long that neither of us could remember how it started.

When I was seated glass in hand, he settled back into his chair and smiled kindly. "Let's talk."

Uh oh! I thought Here comes trouble.

"Sean is a very bright boy. He is perhaps brilliant to be more accurate. I am, of course, used to working with brilliant boys in this house."

I knew he was referring to Kyle and (to a lesser extent) me.

He reached down and retrieved a folder of papers from the floor and thumbed through them.

"All of his tests put him over the top in virtually every subject. His memory is extraordinary, his reading comprehension is at college level and his lateral thinking skills are exquisite. Thus far he has received a superior if unorthodox education at that place you fetched him from"

Doctor Swaim's dislike for the Academy was well known but he was always fair and in all things he gave the devil his due.

"Sean has come to you a happy well-educated fairly well-adjusted boy who has a desire to succeed in almost all things and seems to have the talent and ability to do so."

"Well that's all very good, right?" I asked.

"Yes it is… so far as it goes." He took a sip from his drink and nailed me with those laser-like eyes. "My concern is not how he arrived here, nor is it for his education while he remains here; that is essentially MY responsibility and with no false modesty, I am up to the task.

"My concern, Eric, is WHY he has been brought here and, more importantly, how he will leave here.

"Eric I am your friend. You know this. I've been your friend since you were a child. I care for you and I would do anything for you. I would put myself in jeopardy to help ease the pain that is eating at you from the inside… but I have always been your teacher… not your healer.

"I'm here enjoying your wonderful hospitality because, at your behest, I've come to serve as tutor to that boy. Under these circumstances, my responsibility to my student has to come before my personal affection for you.

"You have brought a boy into your home for very selfish reasons and, unfortunately, the boy you have selected is not only extraordinary in his abilities, he is also remarkable in his emotional needs and desires.

"He has an ability to feel and to care that exceeds his current understanding. He is incredibly vulnerable and could be prone to terrible emotional damage if not handled properly.

"I must honestly tell you that unless you understand the full extent of this, I feel it would be better to return him to that place you took him from. As much as I detest their nefarious practices with innocent boys, it would be better for him to proceed along their disgusting path… better for him to become a trained and practicing catamite believing (as they are taught) that this is a natural and acceptable chapter in their lives.

"Better all of that Eric… than to damage him by allowing him to feel and trust and depend upon something no… SOMEONE who cannot be and has no desire of becoming the Rock that he is unintentionally beginning to reconstruct his whole life around.

"Eric, that boy LOVES you. He doesn't know the meaning of the word yet, his youth and his circumstances both put him in a position where he cannot verbalize what he is feeling but he is feeling these things nonetheless.

"You have become to him something that he's never had in his life… something he's been taught never to expect to have.

"You are his father, brother, friend and lover and SO very much more… there's never been anyone to fill those roles for him and, until you brought him here, he was perfectly happy not knowing those niches even existed in his life. I don't approve of the system he was raised under, but he was happy living under it.

"During our talks yesterday, his conversation kept bringing up 'when this contract is over' and 'when I've got to go back to the nest'. He's aware his time here is finite but he cannot actually come to grips with an end to this relationship. It's not a fear so much as a sad resignation that he's holding internally because he doesn't want to spoil the joy of the time he does have here.

"Eric he adores being with you. He wants to be with you as long as he can and you must never do anything to spoil damage or disrupt that for him. If you can't commit to giving him all of your attention this year, then it would be best to send him back tomorrow."

I realized that my glass was empty. I was weeping and I didn't even know when it had begun. I reached over and took his empty glass and walked over to the wet bar.

While I made our drinks, I began explaining about the famous Lady Shrink's plan for me that had started the whole thing, how I had so carefully selected Sean for this task… and I told him about our days together so far.

I shared about our simple sexual play and our cuddling and touching… our laughter and then I told him about being told I was his 'best friend ever' and my telling him that I loved him.

"I DO love him Doc… with everything I know about the word I love him and I want to protect him… especially from the monster." His eyebrow shot up and he was about to ask but I continued instead.

"There's a monster inside me. At times I go crazy and despite how much I love him, I don't WANT to love him… I want to fuck him that's all.

"I want to bend him over and shove my dick up his ass and fuck him. I don't care if it hurts; I don't care if he screams! It's not me… it's some monster inside me… but I have to hear it-I have to listen to it!

"I hear it and I listen to what it wants and I fight it but I'm so afraid that it's going to win… that's why I'm going to trick it. I'm going to give it what it wants… but it won't be Sean… it'll be somebody else. Sean will be safe." Tears were now pouring down my face and I was speaking through sobs. Dr. Swaim just sat there watching me and listening.

After some deep breathing in order to gain some control, I told him about the incident in the pool, how I'd almost killed myself in order to kill the monster and of my plan for a surrogate boy… a bait and switch for the monster's appetite… about my appointment with little Jack tomorrow. I told him everything and I wept like a small child.

After I'd calmed down a bit, he spoke again. "Eric, let's just review a few things that I know… things that you know as well.

"You have never been a sodomizer of little boys, that's never been your taste or your nature.

"You've never been someone to hurt another person, that's foreign to everything within you-mind body and soul.

"You have always had the capacity to love little boys, but that's never been your sexual obsession. You know very well that they are not physically capable of withstanding anal intercourse without sustaining pain and damage.

"Your love for Kyle was one of the deepest and purest relationships I've ever seen but you never considered screwing him… you loved him too much to hurt him in any way.

"Since I first met you both you were always protective of Kyle. You would go out of your way to keep him safe and you did a wonderful job Eric, a wonderful job until one day… You weren't there to protect him, you weren't there to keep him safe and you blame yourself for that. Eric… deep inside you, despite every rational argument to the contrary, you blame yourself for somehow not keeping Kyle safe.

"Now, along comes Sean, another boy you love and who can love you in return and somehow you feel something in you wants to by-pass all that love in favor of an horrific carnal act.

"Eric, you're not secretly obsessed with fucking Sean… that's not the issue. Something deep inside you wants to hurt Sean… to damage him brutally and irreparably just as Kyle and your parents were hurt and… damaged.

"By hurting Sean you think you are reinforcing you failure. You think you prove to yourself that you're not capable of protecting anyone… you're trying to find a way of demonstrating you can't keep anyone you care about safe.

"You simply cannot forgive yourself for the brutal fact that Kyle is dead. In your heart you know you couldn't have done anything about it, but someplace deep within you feel that you failed him and that you will continue to fail… be it Sean or anyone else you come to care about.

"Once you recognize that and realize how wrong that is… how diametrically opposed it is to EVERYTHING you actually are, your so called monster will be dead. It has no power over the truth Eric. It will simply die and you can really learn to live again… yes even learn to love again."

Through blurry eyes I returned his gaze and shook my head. "I don't know Doc, you may be right… you usually are… This wasn't what I'd been expecting we'd be talking about tonight. I'll think about it, I promise I will. But, I'm still going to keep my appointment tomorrow. I still think my idea is a good one and that it will work."

We both stood. "I'll bring Sean to you out at Fish Camp right after breakfast. I've got my flight booked to take off at 11:30."

He put a large hand on my shoulder and gripped it tightly. "I hope you'll have considered what I've just said before you take any action that you with your gentle nature will surely come to regret. Remember that once certain steps have been taken… Alea iacta est."

He sighed softly and walked out of the library.

He knew I would recognize those words. Caesar said them as he ordered his army to cross the Rubicon and enter Roman territory. They proclaimed with stark finality that a decision has (for better or for worse) been made. alea iacta est… the die is cast."

Chapter 13

Eric keeps his rendezvous with the red haired boy

We are often advised to follow our instincts when faced with a difficult decision. This is not always the best choice of action because our instincts are not necessarily founded upon wisdom or even experience.Sometimes, we must examine our heart and weigh what we find there against our best thinking: often settling upon a middle ground between the two and utilizing that as our compass.

When uncertain, the best course of action is to face the direction we have selected and proceed to walk forward. In this way, right or wrong, we are certain to reach our chosen destination.

I surprised myself by not pouring another drink after the Professor had left me with my thoughts. Instead I went directly upstairs.

He had obviously fallen asleep while reading, his beautiful body stretched out on the bed. He was wearing grey boxer briefs (apparently he'd chosen not to get completely undressed, just comfortable). His fine young legs were slightly splayed, one arm extended at his side while the other lay across his stomach. Beside him, his book rested where it had fallen from his hand as sleep had overtaken him.

His mouth was slightly open and the sound of soft breathing came gently past his full red lips. His silky black hair spilled in unruly fashion upon the pillow. His young beauty was almost too much for me to bear.

Moving quietly so as not to wake him, I slipped into the bathroom and washed my tear streaked face. Silently, I slipped out of my clothes and crept back into the bedroom.

Lowering the lights to 'almost dark', I carefully moved his book to the bedside table. Fetching a light blanket from the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, I placed it over his sleeping form. I slipped under the same cover and lay next to him.

He didn't move at all, while I lay tortured by the prodigious conflicts in my mind.

Dr. Swaim's words all rang true. He was seldom wrong about things of any importance and in my heart I felt he was right about this. He wasn't wrong about Sean and he wasn't wrong about me. The problem was reconciling these things with what I felt about myself.

They were so diametrically opposed that I felt there could be no happy solution. I was sick in my heart and anguished in my soul and I saw no resolution other than to follow my instinct and fight my monster on my own terms.

Sleep took me by surprise and sometime during the night, he rolled in close to me and threw a leg and an arm across my body.

It was our first quiet morning. We didn't laugh and even our smiles seemed forced and insincere. We talked very little and what we did say was inconsequential.

He knew that I was leaving. I knew WHY I was leaving. Neither of us was happy.

To my surprise, the Professor was seated at our table when we came down to breakfast. He sipped his coffee and we exchanged rather somber greetings. Sean was subdued as well. Even his morning hugs for Martha lacked their usual enthusiasm.

Gazing over the rim of his coffee cup, Dr. Swaim spoke directly to me, "I thought I'd join you this morning to see if any of your plans had changed."

I didn't look at him pretending instead to concentrate on spearing a piece for French toast with my fork.

"No… no nothing's changed. I've got a business appointment set for this afternoon. My… business will keep me occupied until Friday."

I wanted desperately to lighten up the atmosphere. I turned to Sean and said,"I expect that by the time I get back, you'll have become quite the fisherman." He looked at me blankly and nodded his head. He returned his attention to his breakfast plate not saying a word.

"Have no fear of that. I expect great feats of angling from this young man. I suspect there will be fabulous yarns to be told of his prowess." Dr. Swaim was suddenly my ally in attempting to ease the tension for Sean.

"Since I'm here, I'll help Sean pack up some things for the next couple of days and we can head out to Fish Camp together. This way you can have John take you right to the airport."

I wasn't even planning on bringing an overnight bag with me since I kept a complete wardrobe at the apartment in the city so there was no reason not to take advantage of his offer.

"What you are about to do, do quickly." He said looking at me pointedly. He was quoting Jesus's words to Judas from the gospel of John. The implication was not lost on me.

Sean didn't know what was actually going on. He just knew I was leaving and I think he suspected that it was more than just a business meeting. He sensed instinctively that something was not right. He was very unhappy about it.

I got down on my knee so that I could look at him face to face and kissed his little cheeks as I hugged him. He had thrown his arms around me and he pulled me tightly acting as if he'd never let go.

Finally, he broke the embrace and managed to smile at me and bravely attempted to sound cheerful, "Have a great trip Eric. I'll see ya when you get back OK?"

"OK, little man." I gave him a shitty phony smile and headed for the door.

Walter was on top of things as usual, he had John waiting with the limo. The flight took off early and landed early… one of the many perks of having a private jet.

By two o'clock I was in the penthouse finishing up a late lunch and preparing myself for what I had planned.

I decided that I had time for a short nap and, because it was such a mild day for late January, I poured myself a drink, grabbed a light blanket and stretched out on a lounge chair out on the balcony.

I nodded off quickly and must have slept deeply because I awoke to the sound of the telephone. As I sat up, I noticed that the sun was low on the horizon and the air had become considerably chillier.

The phone call was from security informing me that I had two visitors waiting down in the lobby. I glanced quickly at my Rolex and noted it was shortly after 5PM. They were right on time, but then, I would have expected nothing less. I issued instructions that they be sent right up.

I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror and, on impulse, I ran a brush through my hair. I was dressed casually but my clothes were expensive and well made. Despite my nap, I wasn't rumpled or in any way less than presentable. I had a silent chuckle as I wondered why that should matter to me considering my intentions.

The door chime indicated they had arrived.

The man in the dark grey suit introduced himself as Martin Longstreet, an Academy Agent. I knew of course that unless special arrangements had been made, (such as when I'd picked up Sean personally) nest boys sent out on contract were delivered and picked up by representatives of the nest.

I shook his hand civilly and invited them into the room.

The boy he was escorting was lovely. He's much better looking than his photos, I thought as I gave him a quick once over.

He stood about five feet, seven inches [1.70 m] and, though it was hard to tell, I guessed that he weighed around 120 pounds [55 kg] which was in line with the statistics the web site had listed for him. He was wearing black tight fitting jeans and a white fisherman-knit crew neck sweater.

His straight red hair was cut fashionably short and fell just off the ears. His eyes were such a startling green that they almost seemed unreal, as if he were wearing colored contact lenses. They sparkled with a keen intelligence shining from behind them.

When he smiled, his nose crinkled up cutely and the small galaxy of light brown freckles on his cheeks accented his pale complexion, so typical in red haired people.

"Mr. Tucker, this is Jack. He is here as you've requested and I have every confidence that you will find him to be a good and entertaining companion." So saying, the man from the nest gently nudged the boy in my direction.

The young fellow extended his hand which I accepted and shook far more formally than I'd intended. "Hello Jack." I looked down at him.

"Hello Mr. Tucker. It's very nice to meet you."

I wonder about that… I thought privately. Although I had done this a good number of times before, I had never contracted for a boy this young. I also startled myself when I realized that I'd never done this sober either.

I felt a bit awkward, uncertain as to how to proceed.

Mr. Longstreet produced a pre-printed form and handed it to me along with a pen. "If you'll just sign here acknowledging my safe and satisfactory delivery of the boy, I'll leave you two to… enjoy each others company."

I didn't care for the tone in his voice nor did I much like the implication hidden behind the actual words he spoke. I signed his form, he presented me with my copy and I escorted him to the door.

I shook my head and thought Here I am planning on plowing this little boy's ass and I've got the audacity to be miffed over that guy's attitude. Could I possibly be a bigger asshole?

I turned from the door to face the young man who was still standing in the middle of the room quite obviously awaiting instructions from me.

I walked over and put an arm on his shoulder and guided him to the couch. I realized that my hand was trembling and I felt my face had become hot and sweaty.

"Now… Jack. Why don't you have a seat?" He politely took a seat on the couch keeping both feet flat on the floor and his hands folded on his lap. He didn't look very comfortable at all.

"Well, Jack, I'll just go get us something to drink. Would you like a beer? Are you allowed to have a beer?"

He smiled his delightful smile. "Yes sir, I'm allowed to have a beer when I'm with a client. Thank you. I'd like one please."

In the kitchen I looked into the refrigerator and found I had quite an assortment of different beers on hand. I was going to ask him what he would prefer and then realized that he probably wouldn't have the slightest idea.

I remembered when I was a young teenager first experimenting with drinking and how (in retrospect), the things I'd liked the best were in actuality the blandest. A kid's taste would not lend itself to a sophisticated, hoppy beer… there in the back of the fridge I noticed some silver cans of Coors Lite… that's the stuff I decided.

I popped the can and poured the frosty, pale yellow brew carefully into a tall glass creating a rather puny head at the top of the brew. Light beer… what are you going to do? I put two ice cubes into a tumbler and filled it with single malt scotch and carried both glasses into the living room.

He accepted his beer with a smile and took a sip all the while looking at me waiting for my directions. I sat in a chair across from him and took a large drink from my scotch.

"So… Jack. You're what… 16 yes?"

"I'm 15 Sir. I'll be 16 this August," he answered"

In my mind, I winced. Why in God's name did I select a boy so young for this? I thought. What in the hell should I do now? Should I just get down to it? Should I ask him about himself? No… Do I really want to know anything about him. He's here to be used isn't he? Is there any need for small talk?

He broke the ice. "Shall I get ready for you sir?"

"Eh?"

"Shall I get ready for you… do you want me to get undressed?"

This was moving very quickly. I felt as though I had lost control and then realized that I'd never actually had control since opening the door. I only knew that now I was sweating profusely. I couldn't think clearly. What the hell was happening?

"Uhhh… Yes. That's a good idea, Jack, why don't you do that… you can uhhm put your clothes over on that table."

"Do you want a fancy strip or shall I just undress?"

I blinked; momentarily confused. "What?… no… no fancy uhm … just take your clothes off… that will be fine."

He nodded and got up from the sofa, walked over to the table in the corner and began to methodically undress… first his sweater and tee shirt and then his sneakers, socks and jeans. He folded the clothing neatly and placed each item on the table top.

When he was standing in nothing but his beige briefs I motioned him over to stand in front of me. I got up from my chair and walked around him slowly-inspecting the prize that was now mine for the taking.

I brushed the fingers of my right hand down his cheek, his neck and around one reddish brown nipple. His lips formed a small half smile as my hand moved down and across the bulge in the front of his briefs.

I looked into his emerald eyes and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He had been trained well. Without breaking eye contact the small beige garment was on the floor and he was stepping clear nudging it aside with his foot.

My eyes drank in the vision before me.

Just as the last golden light on the last perfect day of spring reveals to a discerning eye all that is wondrous and right about that season, the young body displayed before me revealed all that is right and wonderful about boyhood.

It was a breath-taking glimpse of a thing so pure and perfect perched just on the brink of change.

Like the green living lushness of spring about to change into the dry productive summer. The startling promise of a sunrise just before it becomes the light and reality of day. A boy about to pass from that enchanted joyful state of being into the less miraculous less wondrous state of young manhood.

He was gorgeous. Under different circumstances, I think I might have wept. Instead I smiled and ran my hands softly over his smooth flesh still glowing with its glorious aura of 'boyness'.

He stood still and silent while I explored him with my eyes and hands. I wasn't certain if his red hair suited his personality or if his personality suited the red hair but I could sense that there was a bit of a devil behind those green, green eyes.

His ears stuck out ever so slightly from the side of his head, not in any comical way but just enough so as to add to his cuteness. His pleasant square chin gave character to a face that would all too soon become strong, handsome and, sadly, less enchanting.

He stood straight with no hint of a slouch to his already broad shoulders. The prominent collar bones of youth were already being hidden by developing chest muscles. His belly was flat though his ABS were not defined in any notable way. I noted that he had one of those rare 'half-innie, half-outie' bellybuttons that looked very much in place on him.

His arms and legs were well formed with youthful naturally developing muscle. They were a bit out of proportion to his torso which was typical of a young body on the brink of what might essentially be the last surge of growth that would propel it from youth to maturity.

I'd heard the term 'colt's legs' applied to the limbs on youngsters such as this and it struck me now how appropriate the expression was.

His slightly too large hands and feet gave me to believe that his final growth spurt would eventually push him well over six feet [1.80 m] tall.

His body was essentially hairless with the exception of a sparse bit under his arms and a healthy little grove in his pubic region. I ran my fingers through this 'new growth forest' a bit surprised at its softness. I noted its red color and smiled at him. "This is the answer to the question that everyone asks about a red head you know."

He understood me and smiled in return.

I nodded appreciatively at his penis. Though still removed from being a man's, his member was far from being that of a child's. It hung flaccid against his scrotum which gave no doubt to the fact that his balls had dropped. It was circumcised and I wondered, fleetingly, if this was customary procedure for all nest boys.

I estimated his cock to be about 4 1/3 inches [11 cm] in its present state and, while not overly fat, it certainly was no pencil dick either. It was and would certainly continue to be no source of shame or embarrassment for the young boy.

His ass cheeks were prominently rounded and well fleshed forming what was commonly known as a bubble butt. While this normally was not my preference in a young man, it suited him well and added nicely to his overall appearance.

A perfect package, all in all… although just balanced upon the verge of becoming a man, he was for now, still very much a boy.

"Well now Jack… I'm certain I won't have been the first person to have told you that you're a very good-looking young man. Why don't you sit back down and enjoy your beer while I finish my drink and enjoy looking at you."

"Thank you Sir," he smiled again and sat back down. This time I noticed he leaned back into the cushion and looked considerably more comfortable.

As we sat together finishing our drinks and making small talk, I decided that, despite my unexpected nervousness upon initially meeting this gorgeous young man, this was going to be a pleasant undertaking after all.

I threw back what was left of my drink in one quick swallow. Placing my empty glass on the side table, I stood up and extended my hand to my red-headed wonder.

He gave me a long look with those wild green eyes and reached out and accepted my hand. I led him into the bedroom.

I allowed him a few moments to take it in. The room was large and was sided on three sides with floor to ceiling windows offering a breathtaking almost completely panoramic view of the city.

The larger than king-sized custom-made platform bed occupied the center of the room and aside from a long low row of cabinets along the one solid wall the room was essentially empty.

Everything from lighting to room temperature was controlled by a panel recessed into the side of the bed. There were also convenient drawers built into the bed frame. The large screen TV and other occasional conveniences were set upon retractable platforms that lowered into the floor or rose into the ceiling.

The floor itself was covered with a rich dark blue deep-piled carpet and soft music filled the room escaping from hidden speakers scattered strategically about.

With a small smile, I gestured toward the bed. He responded immediately walking over to it and lying down upon the thick duvet patterned in dark blues, deep reds and purples.

Exercising the inner devil that I'd suspected was part of his nature; he rolled over onto his stomach with his head supported by hands. He very round ass rose pertly and one leg was bent back raising one foot into the air. He smiled an enticingly wicked smile and fixed his green eyes on me.

I noted with pleasure how wonderfully his pale skin and bright, almost orange, hair contrasted but complimented the coloring of the bed spread. It was almost as if it had been designed with him in mind.

I removed my shirt and pants unhurriedly and his eyes never left me. In my black boxer briefs I crossed the room and climbed onto the bed with him. He read the signal in my eyes and rolled over onto his back opening his arms as I gently came down on top of him.

I pressed my lips to his and almost at once they parted allowing my probing tongue access. The kiss quickly became passionate as our tongues danced with each other. Caressed each other. Fought each other in a wildly erotic frenzy. I couldn't tell if it was minutes or an hour later that I broke the kiss and he lay back panting for breath.

I began the slow process of exploration with my hungry lips and tongue as I licked the small of his throat noting the well-developed Adams Apple that was bobbing in his neck as he took in deep breaths.

I worked my way down to his chest and circled my tongue around the light brown aureole of his left breast. I circled it languidly, teasingly before closing in on the tiny nipple itself taking it between my teeth and nibbling lightly but firmly while my hand tweaked and squeezed the nipple on his right side.

I bit down just slightly harder and flicked the little tip quickly with my tongue. I heard and felt him suck in air as his body twitched slightly. For long minutes I played with his lovely nipples alternating from side to side between my mouth and hand.

He was now breathing deeply and rhythmically.

Finally I kissed and tasted myself down to the place that would one day be the pride of his manhood. My nose passed through his soft red bush and I inhaled the smell of him; it was a sweet and salty smell that I soon realized perfectly complimented the taste of him as I gently licked nibbled and sucked his wonderful ball sack.

Using fingers and tongue now I rolled and savored each of his balls individually teasingly brushing a finger up and down his perineum going far enough so as to gently stroke his rosebud as it passed. He was making soft whining sounds now as I worked these special boy parts.

Stopping suddenly, I gave him no time to wonder or guess, I closed my lips around the head of his rampant cock and ran my tongue seductively across the head.

Like a cat, I teased him this way for a minute or so before taking him in completely. I felt him suck in a deep surprised breath.

I am a pretty decent cocksucker and I began using my skills upon his boy dick which hadn't increased in length that significantly as it became erect. Glancing at it I'd guessed it to be just a bit over 5 inches [13 cm] and I was determined to enjoy every inch.

My lips and tongue were working their practiced magic as my mouth rose and fell the length if his shaft. He was writhing slowly in perfect rhythm to my movements and he was muttering softly, "Sooo good Sir… Siiiir sooo good."

Even though he was trained and experienced I knew that a boy couldn't hold out against the assault of this type of pleasure. I could sense it I think almost as soon as he did.

His hands suddenly grasped the back of my head attempting to hold me still while his pelvis arched up from the bed. "Ooooh Sirrrrrr!" he exclaimed almost frantically as his young cock exploded in my mouth.

I felt four strong spurts as he throbbed in release… his hips jerked upward four times and then he collapsed onto the mattress. I greedily caught his small after squirts on my tongue and gently licked the tip of his still quivering cock clean. His taste was sweet and salty. Just as it should be, I thought.

I looked down at him. His eyes were closed and there was a broad smile on his face. His chest rose and fell in heaving breaths and his forehead was slick with sweat.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me with an expression of half fear half concern.

"Oh Sir… that was supposed to be my job. I'm supposed to be giving pleasure to you!"

"What makes you think that you didn't just give me pleasure, Jack? That was wonderful and I enjoyed every minute of it." I leaned in and kissed him receiving a smile for my trouble.

It was then that the monster made itself known. Take him now! it growled from deep within me. He's here to be fucked! He's here to be reamed!

I pulled Jack close to me and held him tightly I know that he could feel me trembling and I suspect it frightened him.

My fear and anger rose as the monster within me tried to assert itself.

This is not a thing I'm holding in an embrace! This is not some hardened world wise prostitute! I screamed silently at the thing that was eating my soul. This is a little boy! I felt my fear and rage manifest themselves in silent tears. This is just a LITTLE BOY!

The Thing had no pity and it was relentless. It was strong and I was so very weak. I couldn't protect this boy from it. I couldn't protect Kyle from the… I couldn't protect anyone.

I knew that I was going to give it what it wanted but at least this was Jack… it wasn't Sean. That was a small victory wasn't it?

The boy beneath me looked at me with a frightened confusion as I sat up and opened one of the side drawers in the bed frame and removed a white tube. At least I'll lube him very well. I thought That'll give him some protection from the hunger of the beast.

The boy Jack realized then what was about to happen. He'd been expecting it would probably happen and he'd certainly done it before.

Without my saying a word he pulled his knees up toward his chest giving me access to his precious gateway. Taking a large glob of the lubricating jelly I worked it onto and around his anus. I then liberally coated my painfully erect cock from tip to base.

I coated two fingers and pressed them against his lube slick rose-bud increasing my pressure until together they broke through the resistance and into the hot smoothness. I turned the fingers slowly hoping to spread the lube over generously inside him.

I'd taken no notice of his reaction to this initial penetration. If the truth be told, I didn't want to know.

Now! the grating voice in my mind commanded. Take him now! Don't worry about his pain or his tears you damned fool… it's his job! It's his fucking job!

The boy below me was still confused and probably worried. He looked up at me no doubt completely baffled by the sudden change in my demeanor.

"How?" he asked softly.

I looked at him like he was the crazy one. "What do you mean 'how'?" I asked, but silently so that he didn't hear.

"How?" he asked again and I realized he was asking me how I wanted to take him.

The monster gave me the answer, Keep him on his back so I can see him scream and cry! So I can watch while we hurt him!

I swallowed deeply. I didn't think the boy could see my tears and, while I was afraid to speak, I knew I had to give him an answer and perhaps even offer some sort of assurance. "Stay on your back just like you are Jack. I want to watch your wonderful green eyes while we do this."

He nodded silently and pulled his knees further into his chest as I slid back onto my haunches and guided my steel hard cock to his exposed and vulnerable bud.

Moving my hips, my cock slid between his two fleshy globes and I felt the tip of my cock press against his gateway. One hard thrust and I'll burst right through, I thought. I looked down at him. His hands had grasped handfuls of the bed cover and he was gripping them as if for support.

His eyes were tightly closed and his face was scrunched up. As I pressed my cock against him I saw him grimace and bite his lower lip.

"My God!" I shouted at myself. "He's been made to do this before and he knows it's going to hurt. He's no seasoned adult. He's a little boy… he knows it's going to hurt and he's afraid! He's a LITTLE BOY! What am I trying to do to him?"

I pulled back and off the bed standing there shaking. Little Jack sat up with fear and confusion all over his face. I reached out and stroked his cheek with a trembling hand.

"It's all right Jack! It's all right! You just stay there for a few minutes. I'll be right back." I pulled the warm duvet up over him and tucked it around his shoulders. I bent over and kissed his forehead and rushed out of the room and down the hall into one of the guest bedrooms.

I stood shaking, tears were pouring down my face as I listened with dread. I shook… frightened of the angry retribution the monster would demand for my failure.

To my shock, there was silence.

There was no raging beast screaming at me from the depths of my soul. I took a deep breath and then another and yet another. I held my hand out and it was steady. There was no trembling… no anxiety; no fear.

I was calm… calmer than I had been in years and I realized what had happened.

I hadn't failed. I had succeeded. I had recognized the truth and I had protected that boy. Just as the Professor had promised me, I'd confronted the monster with the truth and it had perished.

All of it came rushing into me like a flood but rather than being overwhelmed I soaked it in, recognized it and let it nourish my poor, starved soul.

The Professor had known all along. He'd even told me but, I had to recognize it for myself and I had… I finally had.

I didn't want to fuck this little boy, Jack; I certainly didn't want to fuck my darling Sean. I didn't want to or need to hurt either of them.

It was a ruse I'd somehow invented to make me cruel and unworthy of love. It was spawned by a feeling of weakness and failure because I felt that I had somehow broken my promise to my little brother. Somehow I felt that I should have been able to save him even though I was almost two thousand miles away when the accident happened.

I hadn't failed to protect Kyle, I hadn't failed to protect my parents.

There was absolutely nothing I could have done.

I had not properly grieved at their deaths because I kept the grief at bay with guilt. I'd hidden behind a wall of booze, sex and irresponsibility. I'd done everything but the proper thing… the normal thing; face the terrible truth and get on with living.

I might never have faced the truth were it not for a wonderful little boy who I had left sad and confused at home this morning. I would fly back tomorrow and begin to make it up to him.

Now, however, there was another little boy down the hall who was also confused and I needed to attend to him.

I walked into the bathroom and washed my face. I was thinking clearly for the first time in four years but there was one more thing I needed to do.

I closed my eyes and I saw the face I adored looking at me. "Good bye Kyle," I whispered. "I've tortured your loving spirit for too long now. I realize that I didn't let you down and I know you would never have blamed me but, I blamed myself because I loved you so much and I couldn't bear the thought of my life without you. I've tried to bury myself in the same cold dark grave with you and Dad and Mom."

"I'm over that now Kyle and our love will no longer be a melancholy ghost making my life bitter. I'll keep you and the folks in my heart where you belong but I'm going to start living life again Kyle. Remember that I'll always love you."

My little brother's face smiled at me and I smiled back.

Shortly thereafter, I walked down the hall and back into the master bedroom.

I smiled at the frightened confused little red-haired boy.

I reached out my hand.

"Come over and let me hug you for a while Jack."

He was in my arms instantly and as I held him close, I closed my eyes and smiled thinking of another little boy I would soon be holding in my arms. My little Sean… I was no longer fearful of loving him and letting him love me.

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