Date: Wed, 23 Aug 2006 16:38:44 -0700 (PDT) From: adm2780 Subject: Brads Idol Chapter Four 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. As in real life, the sexual themes unfold gradually and are kept to a realistic level. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at adm2780@yahoo.com This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between males, adult and minor. As such it is homoerotic, designed for the entertainment of mature adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if the subject matter would create irresolvable personal moral dilemmas, please exit now. The story is based mostly on real events with sufficient changes to names, dates, places and events to be fiction Chapter Four Staying with Uncle Ray the summer I turned nine was my choice, it was not dictated. The other option was to go south and stay with my grandmother (Dad's mother and her sister, my aunt). I think the big issue was trying to do what I wanted without hurting others that I know enjoyed having me around and truly loved me. The answer came from an adjustment in schedules. Grandma and my aunt both worked for a national company; they could not have me at work. Their original plan was for each to take their three-week vacations consecutively and this would cover six of the nine weeks Dad would be working. An important issue was that they usually had time with me during the summer. Who made the suggestion to adjust the vacations times? I have no idea. Grandma and my aunt knew I was working to get the money for the motorbike; my first calls were to them. They also knew how much Uncle Ray meant to me - they knew him and he was regarded as part of the family. The solution was for me to go to them as soon as school was out; we took a trip for vacation (they lived in South Florida). They took me to Uncle Ray's in North Florida where Dad met us and we celebrated my birthday and newfound wealth. Dad did stay with us a couple of days while school was out for the holiday and then he returned to university. Done, I had what I wanted and everybody else got what they wanted too. Now, don't even begin to think staying with Uncle Ray was all running around naked, getting special attention and playing. He had a business to run and worked during the weekdays. He owned a title business doing residential and commercial real property closings. He had two offices and worked primarily with banks and attorneys. He also invested in income producing properties, mainly apartment buildings in the historical districts. His 'hobby' was to acquire them, renovate, cash out and hold them for appreciation and tax advantages. His other 'hobby' was acquiring, restoring and showing antique cars. He normally drove what was referred to as a special interest car. Uncle Ray said buying a new car was a waste of money - and he never approved of that. Remember I said he and Dad graduated from undergrad together? His field of study was urban development and finance. He had a background in real estate before returning to school. Doing this work required clients. This involved time spent networking. Networking meant the private club membership was both pleasure and business. I viewed it as mostly pleasure. All this meant I had to learn to function in his world. It didn't take long for me to like it. Before it was decided I would stay with him he decided we needed to have a long talk about what staying with him would entail. Uncle Ray explained everything to me that I just outlined above, and then came the details. In business there was no room for what he termed 'cutesy'; i.e., don't act immature and think people will do whatever I want. Cutesy also meant the little boy or baby talk. A man did not have a 'thingy', the correct name is 'penis'. At school, the gym or out playing the words more often used are dick, prick, cock, log or sausage. Use the words most appropriate to the situation, which did not include toddler talk. This same type of rule would apply when referring to other portions of the body or bodily functions. When introduced to someone I should be able to give a firm but not necessarily hard handshake, looking them in the eye and either acknowledge them verbally or with a nod of my head. The smile must always be present. Always, and I mean always was in capital letters underlined, act like a young gentleman; he would not accept a sissy. When asked a question always answer in a pleasant tone of voice. This is when I started hearing about it wasn't what I said but how I said it. He told me I could call him an s.o.b. so long as I did it in a pleasant tone of voice with a smile. We would be making trips to the beach, occasionally at the private club. Sometimes I may go without him. His next-door neighbor, a widow, had adopted me as her pseudo-grandson; she was always very nice and generous with me and enjoyed the same club. I would be expected to wear a swimsuit with coordinated top and flip-flops or sandals. Some of the people I would see at the club would be the same people he worked with during the week. How much of a gentleman did he make me? How many nine year olds do you know that can handle their way through a formal place setting? I could even eat soup without messing up a shirt. Did he teach me all this? Mostly. He also sent me to a quick course in etiquette. In the beginning I didn't fully understand this part since I wasn't supposed to be a sissy. The ladies at the club loved it when I pulled out their chair for them to sit, or opened a door and stood back for them to enter first. I learned quickly being a gentleman does not mean you're a sissy, Uncle Ray definitely wasn't. How can I describe Uncle Ray? He was within two years in age of my dad. He was muscular without being overly so. I'd say average height, he carried a little weight that didn't look bad with his large boned frame. His chest was kind of barrel shaped, as was my dad's and mine. I heard a lot of ladies say he was good looking or handsome; I couldn't express an opinion on that. One thing everyone said was he was a gentleman and a man of his word. He did follow a tradition that a man is only as good as his word and a handshake should be more binding than the written contract; the handshake represented personal honor. Assuming his height and weight were average, I can say that many people said he has a way of carrying himself or presenting himself that commands attention and respect. He always said a man should understate himself and his position, let the other people try to guess because they will usually over estimate. Any one who knows him will tell you I'm not exaggerating. Where did all this leave me? This meant I did this his way or no way; he did not leave any room for negotiation. He was dead serious and let me know he would not allow anyone to play around with his reputation or his business. When we went to the office I could go downtown with one of the employees. They would teach me how to do recordings, get copies of official records and make some deliveries. The kicker here is I had to speak with courthouse employees, attorneys, receptionists, and legal secretaries. When I was there delivering something for the company I was representing him; how I acted would reflect directly on him and could affect me in the future. Wow. He was right and those impressions and contacts did help me considerably in the years to come. Now don't think I didn't use some of the cutesy downtown and in some offices. I did, but was careful when and where I did. The ladies loved it and gave me lots of attention. What can I tell you about me? When we had this conversation I was probably five or six weeks shy of my ninth birthday. In appearance I thought I was of average height but people said I looked muscular for my age. I do know that my chest was a little rounded and there was a hint of future muscular development, but that was really a little ways off. I was approaching the point where I was almost, but not quite, too tall for him to pick me up and carry me. When I did reach that point I refused to give up the pleasure and just moved from his front and side to the piggy-back ride. My nips were soft and oblong; other boys' seemed to be more rounded, but I really didn't care. The eyes are a dark hazel; my hair looked like a real dark auburn, there was only a suggestion of red except during and right after the summer. I was never allowed to sit around and watch television during the day unless it was bad weather. This was true with my dad and Uncle Ray. If it was warm and the sun shining, get out and get some fresh air and exercise. In spring and early summer I was told to not wear a shirt so I could build a tan foundation for the beach or a small sailboat Dad and Uncle Ray had (Uncle Ray capsized it once, we never let him live it down). I still carried a little baby fat, but not much. When it turned warm and I wasn't in school I liked to wear just a pair of cutoffs, the same as most boys at university. Of course, at my mother's parents' farm I preferred nothing, same at Uncle Rays. I could do this quite a bit but not all the time. Uncle Ray and I just sat at the table munching pretzels and sipping a drink (I don't remember what) talking like this. I knew he was serious and he knew I was taking him like that. After a while he said it was time to get a bath and I asked if we could get in together this time. He seemed surprised that I didn't want to go after him and play. Actually, this night I had some things I wanted to ask him. The tub was filled with warm water; we just sat there and soaked - no bubble bath tonight. Uncle Ray sat in the back leaning against the tub; I sat between his legs leaning against him. He cleaned my back with a small sponge and soap. The gentle rubbing always felt good - relaxing. He knew I wanted to talk about something; my big problem was how to start. After a few minutes he asked me what was on my mind. I finally opened up a little and told him I knew most boys didn't get to do most things he let me do. I asked him why he let me run around naked. His initial response was to ask me if I liked it, and I told him I did. He decided probably the best way to explain a lot was to let me know his experience as a little boy. His father never had time to spend with him doing what most people called father- son type things. His father was either working or ill. His father's illness was so severe that at one time it was thought his heart had stopped. All Uncle Ray knew is he and his sister were sent to stay with his grandmother for a few weeks. His grandmother's house was also occupied by his mother's sister and her family. They all attended church twice on Sundays and on Wednesday night. One day his aunt and grandmother came home to find him playing outside without a shirt. They told him he would burn in hell for exposing himself like that, it was a serious sin. The grandmother and aunt were members of a fundamentalist church. The ladies wore old-fashioned dresses that ran from the neck to the ankles and down to the wrist, even in summer. He paid the price for several days listening to them pray and read the bible to save him. We sat there with Uncle Ray detailing some of the events. I didn't understand the impact of everything he told me but understood enough to know he didn't have a particularly happy childhood. He was in the scouts, but when it was time for the father- son meetings, his dad wasn't there. When most boys were playing catch with a baseball or football with their father, he played with his mother or sister. There was no real male presence. I sat there leaning against him while he ran his fingers through my hair; there was something relaxing about that. I shifted so that rather than sit on the bottom of the tub I was in his lap with my legs falling to the outside of his. This way I could sit higher and when I leaned back my head rested on his shoulder. He let his arm fall to my side and across my stomach, gently scratching my side almost subconsciously. When asked whether he had ever been punished or whipped by his father he told me he had, more than once. Most of the time it was probably deserved but he remembers his dad would just get out of his rocker, take him to the bathroom and drop his pants. He used the belt from his suit. It was thick and doubled over. His dad would grab him by his left arm to keep him still and swing away. He always screamed and cried, but that didn't seem to slow him any. The last time was when Uncle Ray was about eleven. His mother was out of town, his grandmother was babysitting. Uncle Ray and friends climbed on top of the garage. They found some loose shingles, which they threw like a Frisbee. The shingle did so well they pulled a lot more off and they were spread over three yards. When his dad got home and saw what they did he snatched him up so his feet hardly touched the floor. His clothes were gone before they got to the bathroom. His dad hit him six times. He could count because the first strike was so hard it numbed his butt. He screamed more from fear than being hurt. Other details don't really matter except to say Uncle Ray promised himself he would never do that to a child. The most important part of our talk was after we had gone to bed. We lay there still talking when Uncle Ray said he hoped to let me have the kind of boyhood most boys could only hope for. He didn't say it would be perfect. He did say he didn't ever want me to feel afraid of him; I should feel free to experiment and learn about myself. If there was a problem or I was curious to know something I should be able to ask and get an explanation, feeling comfortable it would be honest and I wouldn't be in any trouble. It was important that I learned to be secure and comfortable with myself. This was one reason he let me run naked; he believed people had to be secure and comfortable with themselves and it would reflect in their work and daily activities. Over the years a consistent statement about Uncle Ray is that he has never appeared to be insecure about anything. As long as I was comfortable he would let me experience the joys I could find within me, but if I ever got uncomfortable with that, it would stop. He didn't want anything happening that would make me question myself down the road. I know I didn't really fully understand what he was saying then. I did know that I loved and trusted him. My heart and instincts told me he would never deliberately do anything to harm me in any way. After we went to bed and just lay there, I had stretched myself along his side with my leg propped over his leg. He lay there just running his fingers through my hair as he had done for most of our talk; this was comforting. I was using two fingers to curl his chest hair and then reached up, rubbing the end of my first finger over his chin. "Uncle Ray...?' "Yeah...." "...love you" He squeezed the cheek settled into his hand and we went to sleep. End Chapter four - comments welcome; contact Dwight Wilson @ adm2780@yahoo.com.