Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2012 23:16:35 +0100 (BST) From: Trey P Subject: "Dylan" (1 of X) for /gay/adult-youth/ _____ ___ _ _ _ author info at bottom | \ \ / / | /_\ | \| | | |) \ V /| |__ / _ \| .` | (c)2012 Me |___/ |_| |____/_/ \_\_|\_| P A R T 1 send nice things to yayitstrey@ymail.com .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:. Dylan was the cutest eleven year old I had ever met. I'm sure good looks run in the family - his older brother Ryan (my best friend) was a stunner too. Ryan and I were 23 at the time this story took place. Now Ryan and I had been best buddies since early school years. We did everything together. We played computer games, we experimented with each other, we watched movies, we hung out nearly every day. When Ryan discovered girls and I kept liking boys we didn't drift apart like many friends do. We went through college together and got our achievements. We threw parties. When Ryan's dad died I spent almost a week with him, trying to help him in any way I could. We got separate jobs but regularly met up at weekends for drinks and movies. Our jobs were nothing special and both we still lived at home. As we grew up his 'annoying' little brother Dylan started to appear on my radar as a real little cutie. And he really wasn't that annoying. Ryan still found him a pain in the ass so, as much as I wanted Dylan to hang out with us, he wasn't allowed. Whenever the opportunity arose I would give Dylan some attention. With his dad gone and his mother working a lot poor Dylan enjoyed all the attention he could get. I spent many a sleepless night in bed wishing I could by Dylan's older brother instead. Some boys, particularly in Dylan's position, love physical attention. And Dylan was one of those boys. I used tickling and play-fighting as an excuse to get my hands on that cute little body but I needn't have bothered. It turned out we both preferred hugging and cuddling. Unfortunately our time together consisted of stolen moments when Ryan and his mom were distracted. That morning I had gone through my usual routine. I woke up with a raging erection, blew my load over thoughts of passionately kissing that eleven year old while jerking him off to his own boyish orgasm, showered and dressed, and drove to work in my beat up old car. But that day was going to be far from usual. I first knew something was wrong when my cell rang at work. I wasn't supposed to answer calls at my shitty warehouse job but the number that came up was Ryan's house. If it wasn't Ryan's cell number then something was up. I turned off the forklift and took the call. It was Ryan's mom. The next clue was how distraught she sounded - something was very wrong. She spoke so fast and most of the words didn't make sense over the noise of another forklift reversing. Someone was in hospital. I told her to slow down and start again. Ryan was dead. He had been cycling to work when a car hit him side-on at a junction. He was in hospital for a few hours but there was nothing the doctors could do. I remember my mouth was hanging open and my face went numb. I must have been white as a sheet. My head started spinning. I looked for somewhere to sit. Nowhere. I ended up on my knees on the warehouse floor. Someone came running up behind me, I don't know who, and I don't know what they said. My chest felt like it was on fire. Suddenly I remembered to breathe again. I mumbled something into the phone and hung up. I didn't know what to do. No one had ever died before. Not that I knew anyway, apart from Ryan's dad but I never knew him that well. At first I got back in the forklift and drove off in search of a pallet, but I ended up driving it in a huge pile of (luckily, quite light) boxes. I rested my head on the wheel and closed my eyes until my manager came over. He took the keys out of the ignition and told me in no uncertain terms to get the hell out of his warehouse. I let my car steer me home and sat in the driveway for a good 20 minutes. Finally I decided to go and see Ryan's mom. I let myself in the house as usual but the place seemed eerily quiet. I heard some noises from the living room so I tentatively walked in. Dylan and his mom were huddled together on the sofa. Both were puffy-eyed and had streaks down their cheeks. When Dylan looked up and saw me his eyes lit up. He untangled himself from his mom and came running over. He nearly knocked me down, wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, and buried his head in my chest. He didn't say anything - I suppose he didn't need to - so I just wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and held him close to me. Feeling a little awkward I looked up at his mom but she had started another round of crying into a tissue. I thought she might appreciate some time alone. I knelt down and wrapped my arms underneath Dylan's little butt. He got the message and jumped up as I lifted, wrapping his legs around my waist and holding onto me. He buried his face in my shoulder. I carried him out of the room, creaked up the stairs, and walked into his own bedroom before sitting on his bed. He leaned back but stayed sitting on my lap with his legs around me. I tenderly wiped away the tears from his face with my thumbs. "Is..." his voiced cracked. He cleared his throat and swallowed. "Is it true?" I nodded slowly and stroked his little back. He buried his face in my shoulder again and cried for a long time. All I could do was hold on to him. I nearly cried too but I just about held it together. It was a surreal feeling that day. ~ ~ ~ Life got back to normal pretty quickly. I felt a lot more lonely though. It quickly dawned on me that I didn't have any other friends - not good ones anyway - so my life consisted of working and sleeping. Until Ryan's funeral. About 30 people turned up for the cremation. I didn't know most of them. His mother chose some dreadful classical music for the occassion but otherwise it was as pleasant as it could be. What struck me most about that day was Dylan. First - he looked incredibly handsome in a suit. Second - he spent the entire afternoon glued to my hip. He hardly spoke to his mom and, like me, didn't know most of the people at the funeral. When the ceremony started he reached up and took hold of my hand. Then I remembered how Dylan had seemed lonely *before* his older brother had died. Now it must be torture. Dylan needed someone in his life and I needed someone in mine. Suddenly it all made sense. I decided then to be his loyal friend. I knew it would look weird to outsiders. I hoped his mom would understand. But no matter what happened I was going to be by his side. The next morning was the most beautiful morning I'd had in a long time. The sun was streaming in my window. I woke rested and refreshed and I had a strong feeling of fulfilment in my heart. This is not something a 23 year old living at home with a warehouse job normally experiences. "Why do I feel like this," I thought to myself. Then I remembered the silent promise I had made to Dylan. My life suddenly took on a new meaning. It wasn't all about me anymore, it was about Dylan. Instead of driving to work that morning I drove to Ryan's house. Dylan's house. The curtains were still drawn and the house had an eerie feeling of depression from the outside. I rang the doorbell but there was no answer. My heart sank a little. I tried the door and it was unlocked. I slowly opened it and half stepped in. "Hello!" I said. No answer. "Helloooo!" I shouted a bit louder. I briefly heard running water upstairs before it was turned off. A door banged and footsteps came running closer. A very wet and very cute Dylan appeared with a white towel around his waist. My heart did a samba and my brain screamed incoherent disbelief. His small frame was perfect in every way. His shiny wet tanned skin was offset by the bright white towel in ways that threatened to tear my heart in two. He looked surprised and happy to see me! His feet didn't stop and he ran right into me, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight. I returned the favor and my hands rested on his hot wet back. "What are you doing here!" he said excitedly. Then his tone changed. "Mom's upstairs in bed. She sleeps in 'til late since... y'know. Don't wake her or she'll get mad. Come back later, okay?" I held him tight. "I came to see you." He leaned back in my arms and looked up at me with a smile. "Why?" "I came to walk you to school." His face lit up with excitement. "Really?! Wow! OK! I'll ... wait here I need to get dressed. I'll be quick!" He slipped out from under my arms and turned to run up the stairs. Just as he was about to disappear from view the towel slipped from his waist and I caught a very tantelizing view of his cute little butt. All too quickly it vanished but the picture was imprinted on my mind. A few minutes later he came trotting down the stairs in his school uniform, his bag slung over his shoulder. "OK let's go!" he said. He tried to move me towards the door but I wouldn't budge. "You call this ready for school?" I asked with a smile. He looked confused. "Your tie is loose, your shirt is hanging out, and your hair is a mess!" I said. He looked down at his shoes and giggled as I straightened his tie. I moved behind him, pulled out the waistband of his pants, and tucked his shirt in. I spent a little too long running my hand down the thin material, feeling the warmth of his tight little tummy as I ventured below his waistband until the shirt was fully inside. I did the same down his slender sides and his back until I was satisfied that he looked like a proper schoolboy. I looked at him again from the front and nodded, satisfied. He giggled and blushed. He definitely enjoyed attention and I loved giving it. We left the house and I walked him the three blocks to his school. After a few minutes of walking he put his hand in mine. "Does your mom ever take you to school, Dylan?" He shook his head and looked at the ground. "Do you have friends that you can walk to school with?" He shook his head again. At that moment I could see how lonely he really was. "If you'll let me, I'd like to walk you to school every morning. And pick you up after school," I said with conviction. He looked up at me this time. "Really? But, why? No one's ever wanted to do that before," he said with inquisitive eyes. "Because I think we both need a friend right now." "Oh," he said looking at the ground again. "Just for now?" I smiled and squeezed his hand. "That's not what I meant. I'd like to keep being your friend too, Dylan." He smiled too and squeezed my hand back. "That sounds neat. I'd like that a whole lot." ''~`` ( o o ) +-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=.oooO--(_)--Oooo.-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it I'd love to hear. What should happen next? Constructive criticism welcome too. Friendly e-mails make it all worthwhile! yayitstrey@ymail.com Can't wait until the next installment? Read my first story: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/boys-and-bookshops EVERYTHING HERE IS FICTION YOU EXCITABLE LAW ENFORCEMENT BITCHES :3 Much love to all Nifty authors, readers and staff. Stay safe, stay happy, and love everybody. Trey xxx .oooO ( ) Oooo. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-\ (----( )-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-+ \_) ) / (_/