Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2006 00:39:17 -0700 From: Kevin Harness Subject: Until Zory Came Along... Chapt 1 The usual diclaimers apply - if you aren't old enough per your laws / statutes to read this, don't. If you are offended by gay inter-generational relationships or by gay material in general, don't read this story. If, however, you find boylove an interesting subject, please read on. All characters in the story are played by persons 18 years of age or older, and the story is fictional. If it were a real story, I would normally change the names to protect the person or persons involved. ************************ I was at a stage in my life that I would describe as very trying. Being gay and more specifically a boylover, I think I began to find the age disparity between myself and my proposed boy(s) too great, despite the fact that almost no one knew my true age, and I had kept myself in very good physical shape. While not being particularly built or heavy, I was probably in the upper middle zone as far as strength and body tone. I did the usual things to make the actual signs of age seem less, and I loved either being in the sun or a tanning bed on occasion so that I had a fairly good tan most of the year 'round. While "boylover" would seem to encompass a rather wide range of ages, I supposed that I always loved boys around the late pre-teen years to early teens. That doesn't mean that I didn't see the beauty or attractiveness of boys outside those parameters, quite the opposite in fact. But, well... you know what I mean. Anyway. I was giving a talk on science and model rocketry to a scout troop about an hour's drive from my apartment, and as always was having a great time of it. I'm pretty light-hearted and animated, and had the scouts laughing all the while. Afterwards, several of the boys came up and asked question, including this one bright and cheerful blonde boy who looked liked he'd walked out of a teen idol magazine. Rosey cheeks, spikey blonde hair kind of messed up, and hazel eyes with a great smile. I guessed that maybe he was around 10 years old. But MAN! this kid was frankly... beautiful. He stuck around for a few minutes watching other kids asked questions first, and then he stepped up. "That was a great talk," he said, and he stuck out his hand to shake and thank me. I thanked him for being so kind, to which he said, "I'd love to be a scientist some day and fly rockets." "Oh," I said, "you don't need to be a scientist to start flying rockets. You can look up and find a couple of the local clubs here that go out to the desert and camp out and fly rockets all weekend, kids included." "Really?" he asked incredulously, "Are you serious?" I nodded, "Yup, totally. Tons of fun, lots of smoke and fire, and very safe. Oh, and did I mention it was tons of fun?" He lit up like a New York Square Christmas tree, mouth dropping open in just the cutest pose. "In fact," I could probably get in touch with the guys at one of the club and see if your whole troop could go." Well, I t-h-o-u-g-h-t he was lit up like a Christmas tree before. I was obviously mistaken, because every light, bell, whistle, fuse and sparkler went off in this kid's face . "Oh gee! Dang!" he put both hands flat on my stomach and said, "Stay right there. Uh, ok? Thanks!" and he jetted off into the crowd of scouts, parents, and troop personnel. I'd finished off after my alloted time, and was preparing to go when the the scoutmaster introduced herself and asked me to stick around for their awards ceremony. Gratefully, I thanked her and seated myself in the audience. Various awards and advancements in rank were given, and then the scoutmaster took the podium microphone and asked how everyone had liked the science and rocket demonstration. The boys almost in unison said "Yeah!" or "Great!", and literally erupted in laughter, clapping, and began looking around to see if I was in the audience. I was. And they instantly found me. The scoutmaster continued, "Zory, can your escort our guest up to the podium?" Yup, same kid, sparks still flying and lights and bells still going off like a fire truck. Zory took me by the hand and smiled hugely, and said, "Come on," pulling me from my seat. I don't remember climbing the three or four stairs up to the stage and podium. "It seems," the scoutmaster began, "that Zory was talking to Mr. Branson after his demonstration, and that it may be possible that we could all attend a rocket launch and campout in the desert." The scouts looked at each other speechlessly for about a tenth of a nanosecond, and then all hell broke loose. You'd think you'd just freed Earth from intergalatic slavery and centurys of oppression. The excited boys seemed to be in a contest with one another to see who could leap into the air the highest, hooting and hollering at the same time. "Alright, come to order," the scoutmaster announced, raising her voice ever so slightly, but with that unmistakable tone of authority. The scouts immediately ceased jumping, some still in mid-air. Um, or so it seemed. "So I take it that's a yes? You'd like to go to the desert?" she asked. Every scout raised his hand. Zory raised both of his. I smiled at him and he beamed back at me, both of us knowing he'd presented my statement as an offer instead of a suggestion of what could happen. Then I raised my hand, too. Before it was over, Zory had high-fived me about half a dozen times and thanked me endlessly, and finally took my hand again and led me over to meet his mom. "I see you've made a new friend Zory," she smiled. She spoke with a definite accent, I was guessing Russian. She was, in fact, quite a pretty woman with the same eyes as my new little friend. "Yup," he smiled proudly. "Can we invite him to dinner, mom? Please?" His mom apparently was well acquainted with Zory's unrelenting enthusiasm, and gave him the 'we already talked about this sort of thing' look, and said, "Zory, we live another 40 minutes away from here, and Mr. Branson, is it...?" I nodded. "...Mr. Branson lives quite a few miles south of here. After he got off work and drove, he'd be having dinner about 12 am." Zory gave his mom the `it doesn't work when you exaggerate to make it sound worse' look, and said to me, "She's a great cook," nodding. I laughed, and his mom laughed too. "I wouldn't want to intrude..." I began. "I'll help cook, mom. You know I can cook." She looked helplessly at Zory, and then laughed again. "What day do you supposed would be good for you for dinner?" she asked. "Would Friday be alright? That way if you got home late you wouldn't have to worry about going to work the next day." I nodded, "That would be fine, if it's ok with you." She nodded back, chatted a bit, shook my hand and gave me her phone number. In return, I gave her mine in case anything came up. "Cool!" Zory said, and thanked his mom and led me back in the direction of the other scouts, boasting that I was coming to eat dinner at his house. He had ahold of my hand the whole time. I grabbed my briefcase and a box of props for the demonstration, and Zory asked if he could carry some of the stuff to my car. I knew better than to try to talk him out of it, so hoisted the last box of stuff and we brought everything to the parking lot by my car. He stuck around until the truck was closed and sort of just stood there smiling. "Thanks, Zory, you're quite a guy," and I winked at him. "Thank you," he said, and he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a big, tight hug, his cheek against my chest and eyes closed. I could feel his warmth, and patted and rubbed his back for about a second. Ulp. He didn't hug me toooo long, really, and I didn't paw him, either. But another second or so and I am sure he would've felt what was a becoming a rising issue on my part. "Yeah, I know," he said, breaking the hug and bowing as though he was taking a stage bow, "but you'll get used to it." I laughed, and told him he cracked me up. He laughed too, and turned to go back into the scout hall. Several feet away, he turned, smiled again and winked at me, then continued on his way. Oh. My. God. **************************