Well, apologies for the delay in getting this part out to you. Life sometimes interferes. Just a reminder, we last left Adam and Brad on Sunday night as Adam was introduced to a vibrator for the first time. We'll join them on Monday morning, where our boy will begin his final week of school. As always, your comments are very welcome. Also, as expected by now, I'll ask that you please consider donating a little something to Nifty for providing us the wonderful resource, but... mostly the comment thing. Let's not forget the comments. You can send them to rwxxx13@yahoo.com. Enjoy!

You And I Both
Part 6

The alarm woke us at seven the next morning. Adam's school day began at 8:10am. I'm not exactly a morning person, but I was excited to see Adam off for the first time. As for the boy, he was disgustingly bright and cheerful. He had showered the night before, so just ran a damp towel over his hair to combat his bed-head, and he was ready to get dressed.

While he did that, I got breakfast started. First, though, I went to my pc and loaded up Adam's favorite new website, www.24hoursofhappy.com. The sound of Pharrell's 'Happy' filled the house. Adam had said I shouldn't bother with breakfast, that he was used to just a bowl of cold cereal, but as I didn't even have any in the house it was going to be more eggs and bacon. Besides, I wanted to cook for him. It warmed me, knowing I was sending him off to school with a good meal in him. I'm sure my mother would be proud of me. Hmm, made me wonder what she would really think about me and Adam. Best not to go there.

“How do I look?” Adam asked, entering the kitchen, bouncing with the music. He spun for me, modeling his new clothes with a smile. He was wearing orange pants with a bright blue cloth belt. Up top was a matching blue and white striped shirt with an orange shark on the front. On his feet, white and blue sneakers. He looked adorable.

“You're adorable,” I told him.

Adam gave me a half eye-roll. “I wanna look cool,” he said.

“Adorably cool,” I assured him with a grin.

“Thanks again,” he said softly, coming over to give me a big hug.

I gave him a squeeze and gently kissed the top of his head. He smelled wonderful; maybe even better than the bacon. “Thanks for being here for me to spoil,” I told him. I got a quick kiss and a smile for that one, and then we sat down for breakfast.

We swayed happily in our chairs as we downed bacon and eggs, toast and orange juice. Finally, with a glance at the clock over the stove, I got us up and moving. As Adam gathered his backpack, it dawned on me to ask, “Did you have any homework over the weekend?”

Adam turned to me with a bright smile. “Awww, that's so cute.”

I had to laugh. “Leave me alone!” I said with a grin. “I'm new to this.”

Adam hugged me. “I did my homework Friday before school even ended. Thanks for askin' though,” and he gave me a kiss.

I felt all warm and fuzzy. The smell of bacon gave way to that of green growth and the flowers around the house. Adam skipped ahead of me towards the garage, spinning with his hands over his head, looking so happy I felt myself melting a bit.

Adam was first into the truck and was leaned over the seat trying to push my door open, but didn't quite have the reach, so he was basically stretched out and flopping his hands uselessly, which made me chuckle when I opened the door and saw him, especially as he kept flapping those hands and looked up at me with a goofy grin on his face.

“Move over, goof,” I told him.

“Maybe I'll stay right here,” he teased, his face where I was trying to sit. He raised a hand to his mouth and pretended to suck an invisible cock. I couldn't help it, the look on his face was enough to waken things that didn't even realize it was daylight yet.

“Move!” I said with a grin.

Adam ignored me, giving voice to a realistic sounding moan while his other hand rubbed at his crotch. His tongue flicked suggestively over the invisible cockhead. “Lord help me,” I said. “Arise, sex monkey!” I intoned. “Move thine ass or I shall smite it!”

Adam giggled and sat up then. He buckled his belt and then his hand went to his crotch, squeezing and leaving little doubt that he'd gone and gotten himself all hot and bothered.

“Well, that plan backfired, didn't it, smartypants?” I asked, reaching over to give his crotch a little squeeze of my own.

Adam gave a real moan this time, and said, “Brad could you... you know, before school?”

“Could I what?” I teased.

Adam gave an exasperated sigh. “You know...” then in a softer voice, as if he could be overheard, “suck it.”

“Sorry, sport,” I told him, turning on the truck and backing out of the garage. “We've barely got enough time to get you there on time as it is.”

“But my dick's gonna be hard all day,” he complained. “See?”

I glanced over to see his stiff three-incher rising obscenely from his fly. “Geez, Adam,” I said, half worried, half amused. “Are you trying to get me arrested? Put that away.”

Adam glumly returned his little erection where it belonged. “Sorry.”

“If it gets bad,” I told him, “then take care of yourself in the bathroom. I promise to make it up to you when you get home, ok?”

“You promise?” he asked.

“Scout's honor,” I said.

Adam grinned. “What are you gonna do?”

I laughed. “Anything you like. You think about it and let me know after school, ok?”

“If I think about that all day, then I'll definitely have to do it in the bathroom,” he groused.

“Aww, life is so unfair,” I teased.

Adam shot me a pouty look. “Meanie.” He couldn't maintain it though, and he quickly giggled.

By that time, we were nearing the school. It was an old one-story building, made of faded red brick. There was a long line of vehicles dropping off children, as well as buses and students walking and on bicycles.

“You can drop me off here,” Adam said as we sat on the corner across the street.

“You sure?” I asked.

Adam nodded. Then, taking a careful look around to see if we were being observed, he gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Remember, three ten, ok?”

“I'll be here,” I assured him. Then, with a last glance, he was gone. I watched him carefully cross the street. I'd have watched him all the way to the door but a car pulled up behind me and I had to move. The last I saw him he was weaving through a crowd of kids, quickly lost to view.

*             *             *             *             *

Back home I took care of the breakfast dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Pharrell was still singing 'Happy', but it wasn't the same without Adam there, so I turned it off. I went to open up the doors and windows, wanting the fresh air through the house. While I was doing that, I saw Henry about to head past my place in his little rowboat. I went out back and waved. He waved a hand in greeting, so I jogged out to the end of the pier. He angled in, and I helped stop him against the wooden dock.

“How are they biting?” I asked, by way of greeting, taking a seat on a little bench there.

“Can't say, as they aren't,” he responded.

I chuckled. Then we sat there for a few moments in companionable silence, enjoying the quiet of the lake.

Finally, Henry spoke up and said, “I see as you've got yourself a young guest up to the house.” I opened my mouth to deny it, but Henry overrode me. “Seen him t'other day,” he said, “strollin' 'round inside. Not a stitch on 'im.”

“Henry,” I began, mind racing, wondering how I could explain.

Henry grunted and waved a dismissive hand at me. “Ramsey boy, ain't it?”

I nodded cautiously.

Henry nodded in acknowledgment. Then he hocked up some phlegm, turned his head and spit into the water. “Damned shame 'bout his mother. Beats 'im like a rug. Everbody knows, and nobody'll do a damned thing.” After a pause he reached out and patted me on the knee. “Good for you. Doin' the right thing.”

“Thanks, Henry,” I said slowly. Was that to be the end of it?

Henry nodded. Then he looked up under his wide, hairy brows and gave me a wink and a sly smile. “Suppose it don't hurt none, him bein' cute as a Junebug.” Seeing my shocked look, he chuckled. “If I was twenty years younger,” he said, and sighed ruefully.

He patted me again on the knee. “Well, these fish ain't gonna catch themselves. Help me push off here.”

I stood up and put a foot on the side of his boat, still reeling a bit. As I gave him a little shove, he looked at me with a smile and said, “We've all got our pasts, son. You treat that boy right.” Then he was off, drifting into the early morning haze.

I stood for little bit, watching him row off, wondering about the paths we take in life. Henry seemed quite content with the life he'd led. With a smile, I turned back to the house. I glanced at the time, suddenly at a loss as to how I was supposed to fill the hours until Adam was freed from school. My daily routine suddenly seemed empty and meaningless.

I wandered through the house, looking for something to clean or straighten. I made my bed. I found Adam's pajamas in the bathroom and I folded them and then put them in his downstairs bedroom, but not before lifting them to my nose and inhaling, smelling Adam on them. The bathroom could have used a quick wipe, but I left it, again thinking of our camouflage. Eventually I found myself back in the kitchen with my head in the fridge, not even sure what, if anything, I was looking for in there. I realized, though, that we could use some groceries.

Grateful for a task, I made a quick list of essentials I needed, then grabbed my keys and headed out to the truck. Even though it was a bit out of the way, I drove past the elementary school. There was nothing to see. I wondered if any of the tiny figures in the windows was Adam. Was it possible to miss someone this much after knowing them such a short time? Adam had filled a hole in my life that I hadn't even realized had been hollow, and now his absence howled through me like a mournful wind.

I made short work of the grocery shopping. Nobody seemed to notice, or at least comment, on the fact that I bought twice as much food as usual along with a large assortment of things I thought an eleven-year-old boy would appreciate. I got home, put away all the groceries and once again found myself checking the time. Still over five hours to go. Sigh.

I sat down at my computer to check emails. I went ahead and turned 'Happy' back on, enjoying it this time around. No emails. Eventually, I headed to my studio, but it was hard to concentrate. I would stop every couple of minutes to check the time, which never seemed to change. So I went for a late run, tried to watch tv, tried to do things around the house. Swam a few laps. Anything to eat up the time. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the clock hit two-fifty. I practically ran out to the truck.

I made myself drive at a reasonable rate of speed, but I was still at the school a full ten minutes before it was to let out. Cars were already queuing up outside. I parked near where I'd dropped Adam that morning, across the street from the school. The minutes passed with glacial slowness. I sat in the truck with the windows down to enjoy the breeze, radio off so I wouldn't miss the ringing of the bell.

Finally, my patience was rewarded. Faintly I could hear the ringing of the bell, then moments later the double doors burst open, disgorging a horde of rushing children. I sat up straighter in my seat, eyes straining, desperate to pick my boy out of the crowd. Finally, I spotted that shock of coppery hair and I think my heart literally skipped a beat. At the sidewalk in front of the school Adam paused for a moment, searching, then he spotted me, smiled and waved, and started across the street at a jog, backpack bouncing on his back.

I waved in return, then turned over the engine. So focused on Adam was I that I didn't notice the figure step out from behind a nearby tree and say, “So who the fuck is that?”

Adam had stopped dead in his tracks, his face stricken. I looked to the right and saw what could only be his mother. According to Adam, she was twenty-eight; she looked forty. Her hair was straw-colored, or might have been if it were clean. As it was, it was a greasy, tangled mop. Her teeth were yellowed and blackened with rot, a sure sign of meth use. She was dressed in a black t-shirt, which read, 'Classy Bitch'. Really sums it up right there, without needing to mention the work boots and the too-tight cut-off shorts.

I shut off the truck and stepped out. I walked up behind Adam, and he backed until he was pressed against me. I could feel a shudder go through him. His mother turned her attention to me. And I wasn't the only one. I sensed the attention of others behind me.

“So, who the fuck are you?” she asked. “When the little shit didn't come home all weekend I figured he'd got up to something.”

“Ma'am, my name is-” I began, but didn't get any further.

She snorted laughter. “Ma'am?” she said, incredulous. “You some kinda faggot?” Then she stopped laughing and her eyes grew wide. I could feel a crowd growing behind me. “Holy shit!” she said. “You are a faggot, ain't you? Are you fuckin' my little faggot kid? He is one, ya know. Caught the little freak trying on my makeup once. He ever tell you that?” She laughed again. “Hell, he probly didn't need to. You two probly fag out together, puttin' on dresses and shit.” Then she turned her attention back to her son, oblivious or uncaring of the fact that he was trembling. The look of disgust on her face was horrible. “Told you you was a fuckin' freak, little faggot.”

I felt disgusted, not just at her, but at myself for not stopping her. Too late, I moved and put Adam behind me. I felt his face against my back. “Enough,” I said, quietly, but in a voice quivering with barely-restrained rage.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but I cut her off. “One more word,” I said, my voice full of quiet menace. “One more hateful word from you is all I need.”

She must have seen something in my eyes, because she backed a step, looking nervous. “Who the fuck you think you are?” she asked, all false bravado now, but her eyes were on the crowd behind me. “He's my fuckin' kid.”

“Leave,” I said, still not raising my voice. I wanted nothing more than to beat her there on the sidewalk until she couldn't move. I could feel Adam against my back and it was all I could do not to scream. She opened her mouth as if to give another protest and I said, “Now.” Her mouth snapped shut.

She looked again at the crowd, and must not have liked what she saw there. “Fine,” she said, disgusted. She walked about ten steps and then turned and snarled, “Don't think this is over, faggot.”

I turned then and wrapped my arms around Adam, who buried his face against my chest, trembling terribly. I looked around at the faces that had been gathered behind me. Many of them were watching Adam's mother walk off with a mixture of anger and disgust. Others were watching me suspiciously, but the majority were looking at me with sympathy and gratitude. It was to these people that I nodded.

Then I knelt before Adam, holding him at arm's length. His face was a mask of pain, his eyes squeezed shut. His cheeks were wet with tears. Quietly, providing as much privacy as I could, I said, “Adam, look at me.” He slowly opened his eyes. There was a depth of pain there that stabbed through me with such power that it took my breath away. I gasped, then gathered myself, meeting this beautiful boy's eyes with as much love as I could infuse into my gaze. “She's sick, Adam,” I told him. “Don't listen to a word she says. She doesn't know what she's saying. There's something missing inside her. Nothing she say has any truth to it. You're perfect. You're beautiful. You're a miracle, Adam. A blessing and a miracle. Please believe that.”

And then my boy was in my arms, sobbing against my neck. Two or three lingering adults started towards me, clearly wanting to help, to show their support and love. I gave them a grateful nod, acknowledging them, but indicating that I had things under control. I stood, lifting Adam in my arms. He wrapped his long legs around me like a much younger child. I just stood there with him, holding him while he cried.

Eventually the sobs diminished. Still holding him, I walked over to the truck and pulled open the passenger side door. I bent then, until he was sitting on the seat. For a moment, he refused to let me go, then with a shudder and a sniff, he released me. As I wrapped the seatbelt around him, he met my eyes.

“Can we go home?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course, bunny,” I said, cupping his cheek for a moment before closing his door and jogging to the other side of the truck.

*             *             *             *             *

Adam had curled himself into a sadly familiar little ball by the time we got back to the house. As the garage slid down behind us, I shut off the truck and went around to Adam's side. He was awake, but quiet. When I unbuckled him and took him into my arms, he hugged me fiercely, burying his face again in my neck.

Although the sun was warm on my back, casting brilliant dappled shadows as the branches swayed overhead in a soft breeze, my mood was dark and somber, and it made the beauty of the day fade around me in response. I walked slowly up to the house, Adam's feet bouncing loosely against my knees. I opened the door and shut off the alarm, and then headed directly up the stairs.

Without a word between us, Adam looking so sad and alone, I gently undressed him and put him into my bed. His clothes and backpack I took down to his bedroom, then I returned up the stairs. Adam was on his side under the covers where I'd left him, eyes open, but unseeing. I crawled onto the bed next to him, on top of the covers, and molded myself to his back. Then I just gently stroked his forehead and whispered to him softly, all the words of love and comfort that were mine to give. Eventually, emotionally drained, we both slept.

*             *             *             *             *

I was awakened some time later by the sound of tires whispering over the brick drive outside the house. A quick glance at the clock showed we'd been sleeping nearly three hours. It was twenty past six in the evening. I carefully stood and glanced out the large window to the front. What I saw froze my blood. There was a police car pulling up outside my house.

Adam was just beginning to stir when I went to him and shook him gently, but urgently. “Adam, you have to get up,” I whispered. Then, when he didn't open his eyes, “Adam!” His eyes flew open. He must have seen the panic in mine because his eyes widened. “The police are here,” I told him.

I saw the fear in his eyes and did my best to calm him, to calm myself. “It'll be alright, I promise,” I said, knowing I could promise no such thing. “You just need to hurry down to your bedroom, ok?” Adam nodded. “Get into the bed,” I continued. “Make it look slept in. Make sure you put on some pajamas.”

Adam rose, ready to rush downstairs, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. A glance out the window showed the cop walking towards the front door. “Careful of the windows, some are open,” I warned him. “Not the flap pajamas, ok?” Adam nodded in understanding. “Ok, go!”

I quickly followed Adam downstairs. I was grateful that the windows were still set on reflective, as I'd been too distracted earlier to change them. I reached the front door quickly. The police officer was about fifteen feet from the door. I worked on calming myself, slowing my pounding heart, as I watched Adam disappear into his bedroom. The door snicked shut, and I opened the front door just as the officer was reaching towards the doorbell.

He stepped back, startled, when I pulled the door open. I took a moment to study him while I put what I hoped was a calm and reassuring smile on my face. He was about fifty, with close-cropped gray hair, a bit darker on top than it was on the sides. He had a lean, angular face, friendly for the most part, but with a cop's eyes. The kind that had seen a lot and observed more than most. He was clean-shaven. His uniform was a mixture of khaki's and browns. The nameplate above his breast read Perkins.

“Sorry to startle you,” I smiled. “Saw you walking up.”

The man smiled in return, his eyes on the diminishing gap in the door as I stepped forward and pulled it shut behind me. “You'd be Mr. Canyon,” he said, reaching out his hand.

I took it and we shook, firm and friendly. I was glad he wasn't one of those types who tried to crush your hand in his grip, as if he were overcompensating. His palm was dry as, I hoped, was mine. “Please,” I said. “Call me Brad.” I stepped over to him, trying to make it look natural, but in truth trying to pull his gaze away from the house, not that there was anything to be seen. Then, because I felt it seemed right, I said, “I'd imagine you're here about Adam.”

He nodded his acknowledgment. “After a fashion,” he allowed. Then he explained. “Of course I'll want to see him, but mostly I wanted a chance to talk to you. About him, of course, but also about the incident this afternoon.”

“Would you care to sit?” I asked, indicating some comfortable chairs set out on the deck. Then, so as not to appear to be hiding anything, I added, “Of course, we can go inside if you prefer. Adam should still be sleeping. He was... upset, after the... incident.”

“Shouldn't take more than a few moments, then maybe we could go inside,” he told me. “First, just let me clear the air a bit here. I don't want you thinking I came out here with any sort of agenda. Legal or otherwise. I'm basically just responding to complaints about what happened this afternoon at the elementary school. As you can imagine, a town as small as this, we hear from half the population when something like that happens.” I nodded my understanding, and he continued.

“Most of the calls were folks concerned for the well being of the boy, and you should know that those folks had nothing but good things to say about you and the way you handled the situation today. As I understand it, things could have gotten much uglier than they did.”

“It's my fault, honestly,” I sighed. “Frankly, I was a bit shocked. I eventually came to my senses and put a stop to her... tirade, but I should have stopped it much sooner. I'd you'd seen the look on Adam's face...” I trailed off.

“I understand, but don't blame yourself. I've dealt with the woman myself, so I know.” He sighed. “Of course, some of the calls we received today were from busybodies with little minds full of dark thoughts, and while nobody has filed a complaint, because frankly, there would be no grounds to do so anyway, I still felt obliged to come out here and at least take a look around.” He looked at me, seeking to see that I understood. “I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” I allowed. Then, because I felt he expected more, I said, “It's... an unusual situation.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You haven't been around here quite long enough to know many people.” Then he laughed and said, “Of course, I've been here for nearly twenty-five years and I'm still thought of as 'that sheriff from the city'. Small towns,” he grinned. I smiled in return, sharing his insight.

He continued. “I went out to the Ramsey place, trying to find Angela. She wasn't home, but I got an earful from Edith Monroe, whom you've apparently met.”

I smiled fondly in remembrance. “If I recall correctly, her advice to me concerning Adam was, and I quote, 'to get my head out of my ass'.”

Sheriff Perkins laughed. “That sounds like Edith alright. She's a tough old bird.” Then he sobered. “She and some of the other folks there in the motor court do the best they can, looking over the boy, but it's still a bad situation.”

I felt I had to interject there. “That's what I don't understand, Sheriff,” I told him. “How does something like this even happen? How can he still be there with her?”

The man sighed, and I could see the shame and frustration in his eyes. “I hate to say,” he finally said, “but it's just bureaucratic bullshit. Excuse my French.” He sighed again. “Look, we all know what's going on there, and we do our best to shield him from it, but he doesn't help matters. Not that I'm blaming him!” he hurriedly corrected, seeing the sudden anger in my eyes. “It's just that he won't speak up against her. Look, I've personally called DCF, that's Department of Children and Families, out here on at least a dozen occasions. The problem is that the nearest DCF office is in Charleston, which is a three hour drive. Six hours both ways. That means travel vouchers and fuel and all the red tape crap that goes into that sort of trip, so DCF can't justify coming all the way out here and not get a chance to conduct their interviews and home inspection. So they call ahead and schedule, to make sure all parties will be present.”

“But that's-” I began to complain.

“Idiotic,” he interrupted. “I know. That's bureaucracy for you. So Angela has time to make the boy presentable, and clean up the house a bit, and bring in some groceries. So that by the time DCF gets there, things look halfway decent. She puts on her best behavior, in order to keep her checks rolling in, and when Adam doesn't speak out against her... well, it really leaves our hands tied.”

We stood there for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts, but I'm sure each of us were contemplating the unfairness of life and a system that could so let down the people it was meant to protect. Then Sheriff Perkins broke the silence.

“I've checked you out a bit,” he said, a bit apologetically I felt. “No record of course. Did a Google search. Read about your company. Your work with charities. Not too many people around town have had a chance to meet you, but I spoke with Edith of course. Also heard from another friend of yours. Henry Wallace.” He looked at me, as if expecting a response. I assumed he was talking about Henry, the old guy from the rowboat, and nodded to show I knew him. He continued. “Henry had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“He's a nice old guy,” I told him. “He fishes out on the lake. We've had some nice talks.”

The sheriff nodded. “Henry was sheriff here before me.” He was watching me, judging my reaction to this news. He must have been satisfied, because he said, “I'm guessing he didn't tell you.”

“He never mentioned it,” I assured him.

“Old Henry's not much of a talker. Honestly, I was surprised to hear from him, and even more surprised to hear him speak up for you. Not that there's any reason he shouldn't,” he hurried to assure me. “Just that Henry isn't the most outgoing man I know.”

“He's always seemed very friendly to me,” I told him.

“Which says a lot about your character, in my book. So,” he paused. “Look, Mr. Canyon. Brad,” he said, when he saw me about to correct him. “I'm satisfied that for now Adam is better off here than back with his mother. If I can just have a quick talk with him, I'd like to get statements from both of you about what happened today. Some of things I'm being told that she said... well, let me assure you we take mental abuse just as seriously as we do physical, and we finally have some first-hand accounts of just that. So I want you to know that we have started an investigation into allegations of mental abuse, and we're going to be pursuing it vigorously.”

“I see,” I said. I think it was finally sinking in that I wasn't going to be the victim of some sort of pedophile witch-hunt.

“It would really help if we could get Adam to make a statement as well,” the sheriff continued. “Do you think-” and he broke off then because the front door opened.

Adam was standing there, looking red-eyed and tired. He was dressed in another one-piece pajama I got him. These were alternating horizontal stripes in white, grey, and light blue, with black cuffs at wrists and ankles, as well as a black stripe up the front with the buttons, which then wrapped around the collar. Probably not the best time for me to be thinking about how cute he looked in them, but Adam just had that effect on you. I'd be surprised if the sheriff wasn't thinking the same.

Thinking it perhaps, but what he said as he walked to stand before my boy was, “Hey, Adam. I'm Sheriff Perkins. You remember me, right?”

Adam nodded warily.

“I heard you had a rough time today. I'm really sorry that happened.” I noted he was a natural with Adam. His voice was very calm and kind. Adam glanced at me over the sheriff's shoulder and I gave him a soft smile and an encouraging nod.

Adam gave a small shrug. “It's ok.” His voice still sounded hoarse from crying.

“I know it's tough,” Perkins said, “but I was hoping maybe we could talk about it a bit. Do you think we could do that?”

“I guess,” Adam allowed.

“Well, that'd be good,” he said. “I'll tell you what though, before we do that, maybe you could show me where you sleep? How about that?”

I tensed, knowing this was more than a simple request. The sheriff might say he was satisfied, but he was still investigating me. Adam didn't even glance at me, which I thought was great. He just said, “Sure,” and turned back into the house.

The sheriff at least had the good grace to throw me an apologetic look before following Adam into the house. He followed Adam, and I trailed them both, hanging back just a bit.

“Wow, this is your room, huh?” Perkins exclaimed. I could hear Adam's voice, but not what he was saying. “Yeah, it sure is,” the sheriff responded. I could hear drawers opening as well as the closet and Adam's voice, which must have been telling the man all about his new clothes. “Well, much better than those old hand-me-downs, I'm sure,” he responded. I moved closer.

Adam said something again, which I just missed. As I leaned into the doorway the sheriff was standing in front of the first painting I'd done of Adam, the one of him in the autumnal forest. “Wow,” he exclaimed, “that really is you, huh?” Then, sensing my presence I suppose, he turned to me and said, “That really is a fine painting. You're quite the artist, Brad.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Helps having a good subject.” I smiled at Adam, who came to me and melted against my side, both his arms wrapped protectively round my left arm. For a moment I began to worry about how that might look to this man who had seen so much, but then realized I simply didn't care. I loved this boy, and I wasn't going to hide that or make it a secret.

The sheriff's eyes missed nothing, I'm sure, but he gave a gentle smile, met my eyes, and said, “Well, let's see about taking these statements, ok?”

So we took places around the dining room table, the sheriff across from me with a pad and pen, and Adam in a chair as close to mine as he could get, still clinging to my arm. I told him about the incident with Adam's mother, providing all the detail I could, not just about what she'd said, but what I honestly felt, including my rage. Adam clung to me the entire time. Then it was Adam's turn.

“Do I have to?” he asked me.

I turned to face him. “Of course not, Adam. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” I glanced at the sheriff. Turning back to Adam I said, “Sheriff Perkins is just here to help. What your mom did today, what she's done for a long time... it's not good, Adam. It's not right. You know that, right?” Adam gave a small, hesitant nod. I couldn't help it. I reached up and cupped the side of his face. Adam's eyes closed and he melted into my hand, as always. I ran my thumb over the yellow bruise around his eye. “Maybe you could even tell Sheriff Perkins about your eye,” I said gently.

Adam turned and looked at the sheriff, who gave him a gentle smile and an encouraging nod. “Ok,” Adam said softly. My heart swelled with pride for him.

I leaned back and then rose. “Where are you going?” Adam asked, a bit panicked.

I knelt down by his chair. “I'm just going to start dinner. Give you guys a chance to talk, ok? I'll be right behind you, I promise.”

Adam turned to look at the kitchen, as if to judge how far away it was. “You'll be right there?”

“The whole time,” I assured him.

“Ok,” he said in that too small voice.

I smiled encouragingly. I stood and tousled his hair. “You'll be ok, Adam. I promise.”

Then I left them. I didn't exactly tune them out, but I allowed myself to become occupied with dinner. I thought Adam was in need of some comfort food, so I decided to make a meatloaf along with garlic mashed potatoes and some green beans with bacon, like my mom used to make when I'd had a rough day.

With the meatloaf in the oven, the beans simmering, and the potatoes boiling, I had nothing else to do. In the dining room, Adam was sitting a couple of feet with the sheriff, talking quietly. I joined them, once again kneeling beside Adam's chair. He turned and gave me a tired smile.

“We're doing ok in here?” I asked.

Adam nodded and the sheriff said, “We're doing great. Adam's being very brave.”

“He's a brave kid,” I said, tousling his hair again.

“I think we're about finished here, actually,” Perkins said, gathering his things. “Seems you'll be eating soon.”

“You're welcome to join us,” I said, being polite.

“Thank you for the offer,” he said, “but if I don't get home to my wife, I won't hear the end of it.” He stood and held out a hand, which I shook. “Maybe you could walk me to the door?”

“Of course,” I said, another twinge of worry going through me.

The sheriff turned to Adam and said, “Adam, you've been a big help. Thank you again for talking to me.” Adam gave him a soft smile.

Sheriff Perkins began walking towards the front door and I followed him. When we reached the door, I skipped ahead to open it for him. He stepped outside and then turned to me. I stepped forward and pulled the door shut behind me, steeling myself.

“You really care for him, don't you?” he asked.

I nodded cautiously. The sheriff nodded in return, looking thoughtful.

He took a breath and said, “Look, Brad, I'm going to be straight with you.” He gave me a look, not unfriendly by any means, but not exactly what you'd call warm and fuzzy either. It was a calculating look. “We both know how this looks. If the circumstances were different...” he faded off, then shook himself after a moment, “well, they aren't, so it doesn't matter. You seem to genuinely care for the boy, and he obviously cares for you. To paraphrase something Edith Monroe told me, the kid needs any bit of happiness he can get. So, if you can look me in the eye and tell me you're not doing anything to hurt that kid, then as far as I'm concerned, there is no issue here. Can you do that?”

I thought about it. I didn't just want to blurt out the obvious answer. I thought about Adam, and what he meant to me, what I meant to him. I thought about the things we'd done, the secret fears that plagued me, the guilt. Then I thought of the way he looked at me, and the way I felt when I looked at him. I still wasn't one hundred percent sure that I was doing the right thing by Adam, but I was one hundred percent sure that I loved him, that he loved me, and that I would do everything in my power to protect him. I met the sheriff's eye and I said, “You have my word.”

The sheriff seemed to consider that for a moment. Weighing me. Judging me. I endured it. Finally, he nodded and held out his hand again. I took it and we shook. “You have a good evening, sir,” he finally said. “If you ever need anything, you just call.”

And with that, he was gone. I stood and watched as the taillights disappeared into the growing gloom. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I took the first easy breath I'd had in hours. A glance at the sky told me night was nearly here. I finally turned to find Adam standing in the doorway, watching me.

“You ok, bunny?” I asked. He nodded. “We're gonna be ok,” I told him. “You believe me?”

Adam nodded again, and then he came to me. I went to hug him, but that wasn't enough apparently. Adam jumped into my arms again, so I held him, my hand stroking his back.

After awhile, I heard Adam's soft voice in my ear. “I love you, Brad.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. “I love you, too, bunny,” I assured him. That's when I really believed everything was going to be okay.

 *             *             *             *             *

The next morning Adam insisted on going to school. I actually tried to talk him out of it, but he was determined. As he took a shower, I got breakfast ready for us. Frozen waffles today, with sausage, a slice of cantaloupe and a few strawberries. Adam seemed to be in a much better that morning. Still a bit somber, but quicker to smile and resolute about his decision to go back to school.

He emerged as I was setting out breakfast, his lingering solemnity not reflected in his choice of clothing. He wore a dark blue and pink striped polo shirt with a white collar, faded blue skinny jeans, and the pink and gray striped tennis shoes I'd liked. He looked stunning.

“You look stunning,” I told him.

Adam blushed prettily and came up and gave me a hug and a wet kiss, which tasted of mouthwash. “Love you,” he said.

“Love you more,” I grinned. Adam smiled in return. “Ok, eat up, bunny. If you really want to go through with this, we're going to have to get going soon. I think you maybe spent too much time trying on clothes.”

“Maybe,” Adam allowed with a smile.

Breakfast was consumed quickly and we headed out to the truck. We drove in silence, each with our thoughts, but this at least was a comfortable silence. When we got near the school, I found a parking spot and turned off the truck. Adam looked at me quizzically.

“I'm going in with you,” I explained.

“Why?” he asked. Not worried, just curious.

“Ashamed to be seen with me?” I teased.

In answer, Adam unbuckled his belt and then got onto the seat on his knees, scooted over and gave me a quick kiss. “No,” he grinned.

“I just want to talk to someone,” I explained. “The principal or something. If something happened, and nothing is going to happen,” I rushed to assure him, “but if something did, I want them to know to call me. And I want you to know, that if, for any reason at all, you are uncomfortable today and want to come home, you have my permission to call or even text, ok? I'll be here in minutes.”

Adam looked at me, his eyes gently gazing into my own. “Thanks, Brad.”

I smiled. Then took a deep breath. “Ok,” I said, visibly gathering myself. “Let's do this!”

We each got out of the truck and met at the front, staring at the school, which was down the road a bit still. We started off, me on the lookout for any odd looks from parents or students, as well as any crazy blondes hiding out in bushes. I hadn't forgotten Adam's mother's threat to me. As we walked, I felt Adam's hand slip into mine. I worried for about two seconds what others might think, then decided I couldn't care less and gave his little hand a squeeze.

As we neared the school, I said, “Man, I hope this is ok. I don't think I could handle detention.”

Adam giggled. “I think you'll be ok.”

We did get a few looks as we reached the crowd of kids milling around out front. Although whether that could be attributed to our holding hands, the knowledge of what had happened the day before, or the simple fact that Adam truly was stunning in his new outfit, well, that couldn't be determined. Likely it was a combination of all three.

I was pleasantly surprised by the number of smiles I saw from students as well as adults as we made our way through the crowd. I returned several friendly nods and smiles. Eventually we reached the steps, and then we were inside. The entry echoed with the sound of young voices, and that was familiar, but it was the smell that hit me hardest. Old wood, pine-scented floor cleaner, books, and the scent of little bodies. It was a heady cocktail that took me right back to my own elementary school years.

“The office is over there,” Adam said, speaking up a bit to be heard over the crowd. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“You really think I'm safe from detention?” I asked.

Adam laughed. “I can come with if you want.”

“Go,” I smiled. “I'll be ok if you will. I'll see you right outside at ten after three, or before if you call.”

Adam gave me a quick hug, and then he was off down the hall, falling in with two other boys who'd apparently been waiting for him. He gave me a quick wave before turning to his friends, and then he was gone, lost in the color and noise. I turned my attention to the office.

It was about what I'd expected. A long counter, lowered to accommodate the smaller stature of the students. Behind that, several desks with middle-aged women working at ancient looking computers. There were several kids waiting around, giving me curious looks. I realized I should have asked Adam the principal's name. There was one woman behind the counter talking to one of the students. I waited for them to finish before stepping forward with a smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked, cautiously polite.

“Hi,” I said with a smile. “My name is Brad Canyon. I'm Adam Ramsey's... guardian?” I said, unsure myself.

The woman nodded sympathetically. “I heard about... well, it's nice to know he has someone... looking out for him.”

“Yeah,” I said, very unsure of my footing here. “Well, I was hoping I could speak with someone about Adam.”

The woman smiled. “I'm sure Principal Weston will be happy to speak with you. Just a moment.”

With that, the woman turned and made her way to a closed door in the back of the small work area. With a small knock, she opened the door and stuck her head inside. After a moment, she turned, smiled and beckoned me forward. I got a couple of curious glances, and one quite unfriendly one, which shocked me a bit, as I made my way through the office workers to the door.

The lady who I'd spoken to ushered me into the room and said, “Ruth, this is Mr. Canyon. Mr. Canyon, Principal Weston.”

The woman rose from behind her desk and stepped forward with her hand out. I stepped forward to meet her, pleased to note she had a firm handshake. So many women never learn how to shake a hand properly.

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Canyon,” she said, offering me a chair. The other woman left, silently closing the door behind her.

“Brad,” I insisted, taking the chair. The office was a bit nicer than the reception area. Lots of dark wood shelves filled with books. The desk wasn't ornate, nor was it just functional. A nice, sturdy dark wood desk. Very neat. The woman behind the desk was probably in her late fifties, or perhaps a well-preserved sixties. Her hair had been red in her youth, but was now mostly gray and white. It was cut short and fit her attractive face. I thought she had kind eyes. She was dressed conservatively in a gray flannel skirt, well past knee-length, and a white blouse.

“Then you'll please call me Ruth,” she said as she settled back behind her desk. “So, how can I help you, Brad?”

“Well,” I began, “I should say I'm not here in any sort of... legal capacity. I told the nice lady up front that I was Adam Ramsey's guardian. While that's true, it's certainly not true in any legal sense.”

“I understand,” she said. “I had a chat with Sheriff Perkins yesterday about the sad business outside our school, and again this morning. He explained your... arrangement, with young Adam.”

There was no judgment or censure in that voice, which gave me the confidence to go on. “I was just worried about Adam,” I told her. “He... didn't take it well. What happened.” She nodded. “I have to admit, I tried to talk him out of coming to school today,” I continued, a bit guiltily.

“I'll try not to hold that against you,” she said, smiling to take the sting out of her words.

I smiled, warming quickly to this kind woman. “Well, he insisted, and here we are. I admire his courage frankly. However, I don't know how Adam does here. I mean, I don't...” I paused a moment to gather my thoughts. “What I mean to say, is that we haven't really discussed how well he gets along in school. I don't know if he has friends, or if he's bullied, or what. After yesterday, I worried that any added stress might be too much for him. He was in a very bad place yesterday.” She nodded, sympathetic. “So, while I don't have any legal rights where Adam is concerned, I just wanted to come to you, to let you know that I was available if he... should need someone. Or if his mother were to show her face again. I just wanted to ask that you please give me a call if anything were to happen,” I said, finishing in a rush.

Ruth leaned back in her chair, appraising me, but in a friendly manner. Finally, she nodded, as if she'd made up her mind about me. “Well, Brad,” she began, “you're right in assuming we wouldn't normally contact someone who wasn't a legal guardian. However, given the circumstances, and taking into consideration my conversation with the sheriff, as well as your obvious concern, I don't believe that will be an issue in this case. However, just to ease your mind, I don't believe it will be an issue.”

“You don't?”

She smiled. “Adam is a remarkable young man, isn't he?”

I had to smile in return. “I've certainly found him to be just that,” I assured her.

“Anyone else in his situation...” she trailed off, then visibly shook herself. “Well, frankly, I'd rather not think about it. The fact is, you're right to be concerned. A boy like Adam, with his hand-me-downs, and his... unusual behavior and interests, well, he would normally be a huge target. As we know, children can be cruel and 'different' is rarely good. However, Adam is such a genuinely nice boy, outgoing and friendly and not a mean bone in his body, that he counters much of that. Not that he doesn't get bullied. I've caught bits of it here and there. There are always going to be children so caught up in their own misery that they feel they have no choice but to take it out on others. That's where bullying comes from, of course. However, Adam has many friends here. He's a favorite of teachers as well. Always attentive in class and always top marks. So I don't think you need to concern yourself.”

“Well, that's great to hear,” I told her, genuinely relieved.

“I do so appreciate your concern,” she told me. “It warms me to know Adam has someone looking out for his best interests.” She rose then and came around the desk. I stood to meet her. “You do have Adam's best interests at heart, don't you, Brad?”

“I believe I do,” I told her honestly.

She smiled and took my hand in both of hers. She squeezed it warmly. “I'm glad,” she said. “Now, if you'll talk to Carol again at the desk, you can leave your contact information with her. If it becomes necessary we'll be happy to contact you.”

“Thank you, Ruth,” I said, sincerely.

“Thank you, Brad,” she smiled.

After leaving my info with Carol, I made my way out of the school. The halls were quiet upon my exit. Just the the faint sound of muffled voices behind closed doors. I wondered again where Adam was right then, what he was learning, and perhaps if he was thinking of me, as I was thinking of him.

 *             *             *             *             *

Reassured that Adam was likely okay, I found it easier to get a little work done that day. I finished off a couple of illustrations I'd been working on and got them off to a publisher I knew would use them. I took a break before lunch to swim a few laps in the pool. The pool house seemed empty without the sound of Adam's laughter echoing off the walls.

After lunch, to kill some time, I took the Harley out for a ride. Late spring in West Virginia was just beautiful. Both sides of the road were thick with forest; oaks, walnuts, poplars. The roads themselves were perfect for riding a bike. Lots of hills and gentle curves. I should have been wearing a helmet, as it was required by law, but I'd rarely seen any police on these back roads and was enjoying the wind through my short hair.

I actually lost track of time there for a while. By the time I thought to check my watch I realized I was in real danger of not making it on time to pick up Adam. I broke a few traffic laws, but I was entering the outskirts of town with about two minutes to spare. I pulled over a moment to put on my helmet. Back roads were one thing, I was almost sure to get a ticket riding through town without it. However, I realized I wasn't going to have time to make it home and grab the truck. I'd just have to get Adam on the bike.

Probably not the brightest idea I'd ever had. Not that there was anything wrong with the bike, but first, I only had the one helmet, so when I gave it to Adam, as of course I would, that left me at risk of a ticket. Secondly, a Harley is definitely not the ride for someone trying to keep a low profile, as I'd hoped to do. The sound of the powerful bike was already turning heads far down the road from the school. By the time I made it to the pickup area, I practically had an audience.

I pulled up to the side of the road in front of the school, putting feet to pavement. After a few moments where I failed to jump up and start shooting, or whatever it is the onlookers were expecting, they went back to the business of getting themselves home, either by bus or bike or vehicle. I scanned the crowd, looking for Adam. I finally spotted him, standing on the sidewalk, looking across the street where I'd dropped him the past two days. I was off to his left and he couldn't see me, even after I waved to him.

Realizing I didn't have much choice, I waited for a little break in the traffic. A minivan finished loading kids right in front of where Adam was standing, both boy and girl apparently saying goodbye to Adam. The moment it pulled off, before the next vehicle could take that spot, I revved the bike and rudely shot forward and cut him off. I got a short honk of frustration and I raised an arm in apology. Adam just stared at me, slightly startled, like I was some sort of apparition.

I lifted off the helmet and said, “Hey, little boy, want a ride? I've got some candy here somewhere.” I patted the pockets of my light leather jacket.

“Brad!” Adam exclaimed, and then he jumped forward and hugged me, careful not to burn his legs against the exhaust on the bike. He stepped back, eyes wide with excitement. “I didn't know you had a motorcycle!”

“I have many secrets,” I said, having to speak up to be heard over the idling bike. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah!”

I was so happy to see that smile, that look of excitement in the face of the boy I loved. I handed him my helmet. “Put this on,” I told him. He eagerly shoved it down onto his head. Twisting to the side, I was able to help him adjust the chinstrap. When it was secured, I hit him on the side of the head a couple of times and said, “All good?”

Adam nodded, and I helped him hop onto the bike behind me. He quickly situated himself and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Ready?” I practically shouted, to be heard over the bike and through the helmet. I heard a muffled shout behind me, which I took to be an affirmative. Checking the traffic carefully, I pulled out. I noticed quite a few people watching us, and many of the kids waved, returning Adam's excited waving behind me. Then I got the break in traffic we needed and with a roar, we shot forward. I could hear Adam whooping behind me.

Minutes later we were nearing the pull off to the house, but I thought Adam was enjoying himself too much to stop just yet, so we raced right by it. Twenty minutes later, I spotted a little dirt road I knew from my previous explorations of the area. It led to a beautiful scenic overlook. Not one of those official ones with a sign. I think it might have once been a logging road, but it hadn't been used in some time. I'd seen evidence on my previous visits of a fire with lots of beer cans strewn around at the end of the little road, but the cans were faded and several years old.

As I reached the end of the road, I shut off the bike and just stared, as I'd done on my two previous visits. We were about one hundred feet above the valley that spread out before us, all green trees with a sparkling ribbon of water weaving through it. Birds soared above the valley and sang in the trees around us after getting over the shock of the bike.

I felt Adam get off the bike behind me. He struggled for a moment with the chinstrap, and then he pulled off the helmet, his reddish hair a staticy halo around his head. For a moment, he stood staring out at the beautiful view spread out before us, and then he was against me, kissing me soundly.

He pulled back with a smacking of lips and grinned. “I missed you,” he said.

I took him a bit awkwardly into my arms, having to twist a bit on the bike. I kissed the top of his head. “I missed you, too, bunny.”

He looked up and smiled at me. It was a smile of love and contentment and joy. I felt the same and more and squeezed him and kissed him gently on the lips. “So beautiful,” I said softly.

I turned so I could sit sideways on the bike, pulled off my jacket, then pulled Adam between my legs, his back to my chest, my arms around him as we looked out over the valley. Adam lightly rubbed my arms where they wrapped around him, his fingers playing idly with the golden hairs there.

“It's really pretty,” he said.

“You're really pretty,” I said with a smile. He tilted his head back so he could look up at me and grinned. I asked him, “How was school?”

“It was good,” he said, once again enjoying the view. “Everybody was nice.”

“I didn't realize you had so many friends,” I said.

Adam shrugged his little shoulders. “I don't really. I mean, I like a lot of people, and I think they like me, but they aren't really friends. Not like us.”

I chuckled. “Well, I hope you don't have too many friends like us.”

Adam smacked my arm. “You know what I mean,” he said. “Like a friend I can talk to. Somebody you can tell secrets to. Somebody you love.”

I bent over and kissed his cheek. “You're my only real friend, too,” I assured him.

“You wanna hear a secret?” he asked me then.

“If you want to tell me, I do.”

“Get closer so I can whisper it,” he said. Then, when I'd bent my head down even with his, he said, “I got a boner.” He giggled.

“That's not a very big secret,” I teased.

He smacked my arm again. “Meany. Anyways, you know you like it.”

I turned him around. Glancing down, I could indeed see the thin little tube of his stiff penis in his skinny jeans. “Anybody behind us?” I asked, just to be sure.

“No,” Adam said, grinning with excitement.

I reached forward and ran a finger boldly up along that little bulge, making Adam squirm a bit. His jeans were tight, again purposefully purchased a size too small, but I was still able to take that little, throbbing shape between my fingers. My heart was pounding in my chest, not just from excitement, but fear. We were pretty isolated here, but there still existed the possibility that someone could surprise us. This was not a smart thing to be doing.

Smart or not, I reached up and quickly undid Adam's belt. Leaving the blue cloth dangling, I unbuttoned, and then slowly unzipped his jeans. Pulling the flaps apart I could see his underwear. They were boxer-briefs, with yellow, blue, and black in a camouflage pattern. Even the camouflage couldn't hide the eager little outline of Adam's young cock. I placed my hand over that hidden hardness and Adam gasped and pushed forward, pressing himself into my hand.

“This is stupid, you know,” I had to say.

“Nobody is coming,” Adam assured me, voice already growing husky with lust.

“Not yet,” I said, teasing. “Gimme a minute.”

Adam's face was wild with mischief and abandon. He leaned forward and kissed me hungrily, his tongue instantly invading my mouth as I jacked him through his underwear. I released his cock then, my hands sliding down over his firm ass, under his jeans, but over his shorts. I squeezed each cheek, causing Adam to moan into my mouth. Then, despite the risk, I was pushing those undershorts down, along with his jeans. He was left naked from waist to knees. While one hand continued to caress his ass, I reached my right around and took his throbbing little dick in my hand. It was still moist from being stuck in his pants.

I caressed that hot little spike of flesh as Adam's hips began to work, thrusting himself into my fist. I loved the silky heat of his three-inch erection. I let my fingers tickle his swinging little nuts as he thrust away at me, his mouth still sucking hungrily at my own. He began to feed me those little moaning gasps of his, with which I was growing so familiar, and for which I was gaining a growing appetite. The fingers of my left hand found the sweaty cleft of his ass and worked their way inward. Adam shuddered as my fingers found his rubbery little sphincter and began to caress him there.

Adam broke the kiss then, his head going back, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth working, while his small body shuddered and his cock jerked in my fist. “Ungh! Ungh!” he grunted as he came. His cock jerked a few more times as he had his dry cum, and then his head fell forward and sucked in several shallow, rapid breaths.

Finally, he looked up at me, his face a mask of contentment. “Thanks, Brad,” he said and gave me a kiss. “I needed that a lot.”

“I'm not kidding when I say it was my pleasure,” I told him, giving his cock one last squeeze before reaching down to help him pull up his pants.

Adam zipped up and finished buckling his belt, and then he grinned at me. He reached out and put a hand over the lump I had in my own pants and squeezed. “Your turn,” he said.

“That's ok, bunny,” I assured him. “I'm fine. Besides, we shouldn't push our luck out here.”

Adam was alreay shaking his head. “Sorry,” he teased. “Wish I could stop,” he was already attacking my belt. “My hands just can't stop,” he said, unbuttoning and then working down my zipper. “Maybe I'm possessed or something,” he said, reaching his hand inside my pants and squeezing me through my briefs. I gasped and sat up straighter, unconsciously giving him better access.

With a glance over my shoulder, Adam was then bending over me. With one hand, he pulled down on the front of my briefs, and then his lips were wrapped around me. “Oh God, Adam,” I gasped, feeling the heat of his mouth surround me.

“Mmmm,” was the only thing Adam could say in return, the head of my cock in his mouth. I felt his tiny tongue flicking at me, swirling, poking. Then he was moving lower, taking more of my cock into that incredible heat. He paused for only a moment as he fought against a gag, and then he was going even further, until only an inch of my cock remained outside his mouth. That was apparently all he was prepared to take, and he slowly rose up until only the head remained. I reached out and carefully adjusted the mirror on the bike so I could see behind us, although it was difficult because my eyes were continually drawn back to the sight of this gorgeous little boy swallowing my cock.

Adam knelt then, my dick still in his mouth. He looked up at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. He released me then, and he took me in his hand, my cock glistening with wetness. “You like that,” Adam said with a grin. He ran a thumb expertly over my frenulum, making me squirm. I got the feeling I'd created a monster, but what a monster!

“I love that,” I assured him.

Adam grinned happily, then, eyes still locked on mine, leaned forward and flicked his tongue repeatedly against the place his thumb had just rubbed. Then, tilting his head a bit to the side, he pressed his lips widely against my shaft and began to move his head side to side, sucking at the flesh moving back and forth against his lips.

“Oh shit,” I exclaimed, unable to help myself. Adam's eyes twinkled and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “How did you get so good at this so fast?” I gasped.

“I'm a fast learner,” he said with a grin. Then he grinned even wider and said, “Plus, I have internet now.”

Of course, I thought. I get the kid a laptop and the first thing he does is find porn. What else had I expected? Still, it'd be stupid to complain at this point, especially if this was the result. I gasped again as Adam took me back into his mouth. His head began to bob up and down quickly, his fist rapidly jacking the base of my cock. My balls, still trapped inside my pants, began to swell. I caressed the side of Adam's face as my other hand worked to keep me upright on the bike. The last thing I needed was to fall over the damned thing or have it fall out from under me.

Watching Adam's soft pink lips wrapped around my cock, rising up and down, his eyes dancing with excitement, this was a sight which I wanted to sear forever into my memory. Could anything be sexier than this? The sight alone was nearly enough to make me come. Factor in the wet heat of his mouth, his firm grip on the base of my cock, and the greedy little noises he made as he worked my cock, and I was doomed.

“Almost there,” I managed to gasp, my eyes locked on Adam's. I began to thrust myself upward, hips working as I drove my cock into this sweet little boy's mouth. He took me without complaint, his eyes boring sexily into mine, willing me to fill his mouth.

“Coming!” I growled, and then I was shuddering, my hips jerking as my balls exploded and my cock bucked in Adam's mouth, suddenly spewing thick globs of cum into his greedy mouth. He coughed once, my seed squirting out of the corners of his mouth, and then he was swallowing rapidly, taking each hot spurt.

Adam continued to suck lightly at me, milking me for the last of my cum. Then he let my half-hard cock slide, glistening, from his mouth. His tongue gave one last swirl around the head of my cock, his lips one last, quick, suck, and then he was staring up at me, hand still wrapped around the root of me while my cock slowly wilted in his fist. The sight of him there, his tongue snaking out for the dribbles of cum at each side of his mouth, suddenly had my cock filling with blood again. Adam saw this and grinned evilly and moved to take me into his mouth again.

I pushed him away playfully. “No way, Jose,” I laughed. “You trying to kill me?”

“Only after you put me in your will,” he joked.

I made a mental note to put him in my will. I made another mental note to not tell him I'd put him in my will, not if I didn't want to die by blowjob. I carefully stuffed my wet cock away and then zipped and buckled up my clothes. Adam rose to his feet and I pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“You ready to go home, bunny?” I asked, hands lazily squeezing his ass.

“Yes, Braddy,” he said with a grin.

“Braddy?” I asked, amused.

Adam nodded and smiled. “Braddy.”

I playfully rolled my eyes and said in a disgusted voice, “Braddy.” Adam punched me, but I'd asked for it.

Getting the helmet back on Adam, I started up the bike and got us moving towards home.

Hope that was worth the wait. Obviously we still have some story left, so I'll be working hard on Part 7 for you. Another quick reminder that I really enjoy your comments, and although all suggestions for plot points will be ignored, they do amuse me :) Feel free to leave me yours at rwxxx13@yahoo.com. Until next time, hope your days are happy and your dreams are full of giggling boys.