Date: Sat, 11 Aug 2007 14:37:28 -0700 (PDT) From: Matthew Templar Subject: Never Take Love For Granted - Chapter 20 All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. Furthermore, every word of this story is fiction. Nothing within this tale happened to anyone I know. Any reference to anyone, anything or any place, real, living or dead is coincidental. If there is someone that has written a law saying that you can't read this story because of age or local laws or other such 'wisdom', then you haven't really gotten this far into Nifty to read this anyway, right! But write to me and say how you liked it anyway. I will answer all emails. Thank you in advance for your time to write. Unless you've submitted a story, you can't know how important it is to hear how you, the reader, like an artist's work. Thanks again. Finally, there is not enough room to express my gratitude to my friend, Dwight Wilson for his dedication to the editing of this work and encouraging me to continue. Read Brad's Idol in Adult/Youth and New Horizons in Authoritarian (it's really a beautiful tale about freeing boy slaves and very anti-authoritarian) to know the experience he brings to my story. You will not be disappointed! Then tell him to write FASTER! I need my fix too! Your comments and suggestions are most welcome. Matthew Templar at matemp1148@yahoo.com * * * * * * Never Take Love For Granted - Chapter 20 By the time the others found us, we'd been splashing in the pool for quite awhile. We'd already cuddled up on a chaise lounge for a time, enjoying the feel of each other's closeness, reminding us of the hour before. I played with his newly shorn hair. I was a little disappointed that it was so short. His hair was so thick and silky that it was a pleasure to run my fingers through it. Mostly, we just cuddled, got wet, then cuddled some more. But when we heard the shrill screams of two excited boys, sliding for their lives, we jumped into the pool to catch them. I'd gotten in front of Grant, anticipating Petey's leap into the pool and wanted to be able to help him surface safely. Imagine my dismay when I was trapped between the legs of a hefty young teenager as he flew off the slide and ground his limp meat into my face. He actually got part way into my mouth, which was open when I realized, in awe, that this wasn't a little boy. This was a big boy, with all his glory drilling into me, literally! "He's eatin' him, he's eatin' him, Dustin!" When we surfaced, I don't know who was blushing the most, but we were all soon laughing at Petey's outburst at the stunt. James and I grabbed the tyke nearest to each of us and started a game of boy beach ball to pass the attention somewhere else. We eyed each other and I winked at him to show I was okay with the mistake. James blushed again and got dunked by a flying boy! Clayton made a huge splash just as James and I got the games going and helped to toss any boy that came our way. He was always good at making everything even out. As fun as he was, no one could keep any disappointing emotion pent up too long. It just had to escape; and if it didn't he would just lay his arm over your shoulder and talk a bit in your ear and 'Voila!' - trouble gone; or at least at a better place to work on it at a later time. He really had a gift. Soon, even Russ and Sam had come down to join us, complete with swim suits. While the kids were a little disappointed that the older guys didn't participate in the altogether look, we were all glad to have them join the fun. And fun we had. I've never seen three kids make so much noise, enjoying the attention they were getting from the five of us 'adults'. At some point, someone decided that James was too young to be a 'tossor', so he was duly appointed a 'tossee'. That brought on even more ruckus from the boys whose goal now was to attack James and tickle him until he drowned or close to it. At one point his eyes were pleading to me for salvation and, for awhile, I ignored him. Then he looked with a bit more concern so I dived in between him and the tickle team of Grant and Dustin and aided in his release. Of course, the proximity brought me into their line of tickling so I had to endure a whole two minutes of the game until I dragged them both under. One thing I kind of missed was not having any swim suits to pull down to embarrass the guys. Of course, that's where the word came from, embarrass. Some hick sees two guys holding hands, nude, on a nude beach, points and yells, "'Em bare Ass!" Okay, maybe not. Moving along. I was pooped. I excused myself after telling Grant and everyone that I had to go lie down or fall down. Hey! I was still recovering! I made it a point to take Grant aside and tell him to stay until his dad came up. He loved that idea; he loved his time with Sam and so did his dad. When I left, Petey was being held under his tummy by a huge Clayton so he could practice his kicking technique. Russ was sunning in a lounge chair and Dustin was riding on James' back as he swam a length or two of the pool. I'm sure that most of the shine was a reflection of the sun on the pool, but not all of it. Everyone was having a great time and smiling with the best of their smiling faces. "I'm gonna go lie down Grant," I said, to which he did the eyebrow raising thing to indicate a replay of our earlier time together. "No. Really; to rest a little. I'll get stronger but I don't want to get hurt again either. You play with your dad and come up when he does. We can have more time if we go to bed a little early tonight." Then I did the eyebrow raising thing and he laughed and slapped my shoulder. Oh, he could do it and it was okay; but if I did it he'd blush and get embarrassed. Silly tyke! James had already gotten out of the pool and was laying on the edge, sunning; not that he needed it. As I passed him, I knelt down very dramatically, grabbed his leg and held it across my stomach to show the kids, well, everyone, how well my tan was coming along. I wasn't too far off of a white sheet still. James was a golden bronze, just a touch darker than the two youngest, maybe because of his heritage. Who knows? I stuffed it in my mind to ask him later what that heritage might be. I walked up the steps to the house, huffing and puffing by the time I was walking in through the kitchen area. I grabbed a glass of water and emptied it down my thirsty throat, then filled it again. I walked down the first flight of stairs and as I turned to go down the second flight toward our room, I heard a familiar sound coming from Russ' room. 'Ring-ng-ng-ng'. That was weird. It was the first time I had heard it ring. For some reason I didn't even question what I was doing. I just walked into the room and picked up the phone. "Um, uh, DeWitt residence. Uh, um David speaking." Glib. "Say there young man, David? Is that you?" "Uh, I'm sure you must think I'm. . . Dr. Owen? Uh, Dr. Owen, yes it's me, David. How are you , sir?" "Well, I'm just Jim Dandy. But the question is how are you, my boy; how are you?" I smiled at his voice. It was part of the memories I had of the good that came out of my hospital stay. Well, I guess it was all good, really. "I'm just fine, sir. I really like it up here with Russ and his gang, and can I say that Clayton has become a part of the clan as well? He is certainly wonderful with the boys, too." "Well, of course he is. I wouldn't have sent him if I didn't think he would be just that. But, I need to talk to Russ. I need to remind him of the high school reunion coming up. There's a couple of people I need his help tracking down. David, this is going to be a big one! We're inviting every graduating class since before we went there. It ought to be grand. There was a time, you know, that we had as many as seventeen seniors graduating together. It was glorious. Now, maybe ten or so. Not bad, but wow! Things were different then, you know. Much closer ties and lasting friendships. We had a wonderful class. In fact, fourteen of the fifteen in our class have been located and are still kicking. I think it's the water." "Wow, sir," I said, holding the phone away from my mouth while I yawned, "that's excellent. You think Russ knows where the last one is, huh?" "No, no," he said, a bit withdrawn, it seemed; thoughtful maybe. I could just hear it in his softened voiced. "I know he doesn't know where he is. But he might know the whereabouts of Amanda Fairchild. I think she worked in his office for awhile before she moved. Anyway, tell him I called. Tell him to make it snappy getting back to me. 'Time's awastin', he'd say. Not much time before the shindig. Ha! Have a good day, David. Good to hear you're doin' well." "It was good talking to. . .you. . .sir," I said to the dial tone on the other end of the line. Oh well, now I was exhausted. I wandered back to the stairs to hear, "Uh, David!" It was James. "Down here, James. Just going for a nap; I'm pooped." I continued down the steps, to our room, finally flopping on the bed. As I turned over James was standing in the doorway. As tired as I was, I realized that I hadn't paid any attention to him, physically; that is. Given a test on body parts being in all the right places, except for his handsome young face, I could not have described him until that moment. The sixteen year old was a little short for his age, I imagine, but he was so cute. He had an almost little boy look with pouty breasts and small nipples. His arms and legs were attaining some shape for a developing teenager; not too huge. While his abdomen had started to tighten around the sides, making the way for the natural process that turned him from a puffy, almost girlish shape, to a young man, his tummy was still trying to hold on to its puffyness. He was completely bronze. Every inch of his body was an ad for some sun tanning marvel, if they did it for young boys, except I knew he probably got it at Sunny Haven, with the Hawes. Below that sweet tummy, accented by that 'V' that was already beginning to cut away at the sides of a well formed boy, really, he was proportionally manifested with some nice equipment. That's when I noticed it jump a bit. I think he may have been noticing me scan over him, since it took me about a minute, greeting him with nothing but silence until he broke my concentration. "I, uh, I wanted to thank you for this morning; making me feel at ease," he said as he took a few steps toward the bed. When he started to talk, my reaction was to break away from my staring at his body and look into his eyes. It was a DeWitt trait that I was trying to mimic; concentrate on their eyes. As he walked closer, up to the bed, my eyes were drawn down, again, by the movement of his budding youth. Okay, he was hung like a man and it wasn't just swinging as he approached me; he was growing. "Well, you're welcome, James. You struck me as having some needs and I wanted to be there for you if I could." It hadn't occurred to me that he might still have a need to be met just then until part of him clearly made it to the bed a good six inches before the rest of him. I was glad to see him too, but.... "I guess I was wondering if there was any way that I could show you how much I appreciated what you did for me, David." He just kind of stood there without much expression on his face, almost a little bit robotic, like he was programmed. Weird! All I could think of was making a list of things for him to do that he could read later, like write me a poem or do the windows. My heart was racing, I was ready to start hyperventilating and I looked toward the door enough that he finally turned to look too. Something else was also trying to defy my monogamist promise to Grant, and it wasn't going to behave. Then he knelt by the bed and placed his hand on my knee. I must have jumped because so did he. It was the first emotion, surprise, which I'd seen on his face since he came into the room. I decided that there was some spell on him, curse maybe, and it was up to the caped intruder, me, to break him out of it! "So, tell me James, how long have you had this thing for Tom Hawes." Okay, I admit I went out on a limb there but he reacted to Mr. Hawes' injuries more than anyone else's, including the kids. And a job? I could just imagine, considering what the kids had said and could have been involved in. And I guess I wasn't too far off. "What? How did you; I mean, you couldn't know that." James was doing some back pedaling and had fallen back on his butt, resting on his heels, also doing a little gasping of his own. "I haven't done anything, honest. He just, well..." I rose up and motioned for him to come closer. He hung his head down and leaned into the edge of the bed, enough so I could lay my hand on his shoulder. God, I was becoming an adult! At twenty-one, I was dealing with everyone else's crap. I didn't even have time to be selfish. That stuff should be saved for some two hundred dollar an hour shrink somewhere. And how he somehow avoided contact with my other head was amazing. Luckily the sober talk had cooled things well enough, for now. "James. James, look at me," I said in my softest imitation of the psychoanalyst that I should have been seeing all those years. He lifted his head and gave me the slightest smile. "You've been through some pretty trying times recently, haven't you?" He nodded and lowered his head again. I moved my other hand to lift his chin to face me. "James, the most important thank you that you could give me. . ." He started to straighten up like I'd said some word that was the key to start his hypnosis; like he was blank in the face. "Hey! James!" He blinked. I swear, it was like he came out of something, a trance or that curse. There was that little smile again. Just barely a crack in the straight line of his lips. "I want to help you unravel what's going on upstairs," I said. Of course, he turned to look toward them, the stairs, like he should have heard something, too. "No. I mean your ka-noggin'; your head. I want to help get all the stuff that you've been through, out, so you don't have to be someone you're not. You aren't yourself, are you? You're thick into something, huh?" He just stared at me, his mouth slowly opening. I guess I was on to something. If someone had asked me ten minutes before, I would never have guessed those accusations would have come out of my mouth. And I thought HE was weird. "But I have a problem that I have to be totally honest about too." That got his attention. It's easy to divert ones needs to another; saves having to go through the healing pain, if only temporarily. "I just mean that I love someone so much that I won't let anything come between us." Unfortunately, airhead me looked down at James's formidable protrusion, laying on the edge of the bed, before I continued. Amidst James's deep red blushing, I said, "Not anything. If I talk with you, I have to discuss it with him first and he may insist on being involved. I won't take the chance of hurting him." I didn't say, 'again'. "Oh, sir, no!" he said scrambling up to the edge of the bed to sit, renewed, it seemed, with energy and his own will again. "I would never want to hurt you or anyone." Then he got a devilish grin on his face. It was good to see him react in a positive way, from his almost catatonic state seconds ago. "Grant?" As I blushed, he grinned, then reached out and pushed my shoulder back until I fell flat on the bed. "I knew it. He's all over you and you both kinda shine when you're together. I sure can see what he sees in you. He's a lucky little boy. I wish..." Just that quick, he left me for that ugly place again, but not for long. That time was different. That time I noticed a sparkle in each eye, then a drop of clear liquid leak down each cheek. He gasped twice, his chest leaping up to help grab any air that happened to be close by. He almost looked like a mannequin, devoid of any emotion again: but it didn't last, thank God. He looked straight into me and started bawling. Tears and sobs and crying came wrenching out of him, like I'd pulled the Dutch boy's thumb from its protective place in that dam. Damn! As he doubled over in his expression of sorrow his head came down to rest right in my crotch. Great! There was no way he could have known what he had done. At this point I was more concerned with his embarrassment when he came to realize where he was, than how it looked to someone coming into the room. He was pouring out everything he had in him. I reached over and used both hands to rub his beautiful back with hard, firm strokes. I'm not even sure he remembered I was in the room with him. Soon enough the crying and tears that were wetting my bed (I'd have fun explaining that!), to say nothing of my crotch in between him and the bed, began to subside. They were replaced with deep, hard breaths. He looked up at me with puffed up eyes and soaked cheeks that were the cutest pink. His rounded face reminded me of a black haired Raggedy Andy doll. "James, what have you been going through? What's happened and why the beat up face?" This is coming from the guy that was going to teach the art of subtlety to Grant. "Nuthin' really. Just stuff. I'm okay I guess." That was his answer? Well, he was going to have to do better than that. "Sorry, James. That doesn't cut it. You gotta do better than that. You're hurting physically and you just fell apart mentally all over my lap (he really smiled at that one and blushed deeply when he looked down to see the wet evidence of his tear bath.) It's okay and good, really. But you've got to come clean on this. You need to tell someone. If not me, then maybe, uh, maybe, the pastor." "Oh, man!" he said, fidgeting as he straightened up and plunked himself beside me, sitting over the side of the bed. "I don't wanna tell him. He'll think I'm a sicko or somethin'. If I gotta, can't I just tell you, please? Uh, you don't think I'm sick, do ya, David?" He looked like he was going to spring forth with another water fall. There was a glimmer of hope in those big dark eyes though. "No, James. I don't think you're sick. I think you got hurt pretty bad and I hate to think on how many levels or how deeply it's penetrated you." I couldn't get the look on his face that I saw earlier, out of my mind. He was like, in a trance or something. That may take the pastor and a bowl to catch the split pea soup as his head spins around during the exorcism. But I didn't think it should come to that. So he started his tale and the reason he was so graphic and emotional, I guess, was his only means of really escaping the hold it had on him. There was no estimating the toll it took on his young life, but I could see the anguish that built in him. When he was done...well, wait. First let me tell you what he went through since the Hawes family, including little Dustin and Petey, left him almost two weeks before he related the saga to me. This isn't going to be word for word, you know. I have trouble remembering my name by the end of the day. But it went something like this: NTLFG - The End of Chapter Twenty To be continued Comments on the story are very much appreciated. Thank you for the emails you've written. Each one is an encouragement. I'm Matthew Templar at matemp1148@yahoo.com