Date: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 14:37:39 -0400 From: Eff Del Subject: Young-But Daily Growing-Part 9 Young, but Daily Growing-Part 9 By Eff Del Those stolen moments when we take the opportunity to put the demands of the world in abeyance and pause just long enough to bestow upon ourselves the personal gift of pleasure are both sweet and necessary. The flawless exultation of body, mind and spirit at such times is surpassed only by those extraordinary moments when, unexpectedly, the pleasure is administered by another. When that benefactor of our bliss is also the one we love, the moment and the pleasure are both transcended from the wonderful to the sublime and we are reminded once again how truly extraordinary life is. What had been an enjoyable and event filled day seemed to be headed for an unexpected but not unwelcomed conclusion. For the first time outside of the shower, I felt his hands touch my penis in a deliberate fashion causing that already throbbing member to surge with a passion such that it seemed possessed of a will and a mind of its own. Having received my relief solely through clandestine masturbation for the past few days, the feel of another's hands upon my sensitive rod was exquisite and the fact that they were Sean's hands made my arousal all the more delightful. My mind- fighting with my protective instincts versus my loving but demanding needs- came quickly to the conclusion that I was going to let this happen ...with no superfluous commentary. He traced the length of my cock with one small finger; he was barely touching...merely brushing as he watched his hand moving-making such minimal contact- with an expression that was a study of curiosity, mischief and humor. "Sit up on the edge of the tub so I can reach you better Eric." He said to me with his blue/green eyes dancing. I didn't speak. I locked my gaze to his, nodded and pulled myself up so that I was sitting at the edge with my legs in the water. I spread them wide to allow him room. He rose up and onto his knees and slid himself into a position between my legs. He gave me an impish little smile and cupped my scrotum in one small hand while he explored it with the fingers of the other. I looked down astonished at the sight of his hands against my genitals. While I've never needed to be embarrassed in the company of other naked men, I was likewise no paragon of size either. In high school when (as I'm certain all boys have done) we had taken a tape measure to each other's equipment, I had come out just a tad over average. Nothing to be ashamed of but certainly no colossus. His little hands against my erection made me look proportionally much larger than I am but he certainly didn't seem daunted by any size issue. While he continued to stroke my ball sack with his left hand , the fingers of his right hand encircled my cock and he began a slow rhythmic gliding from the just below the head to the base and back again. "How in the hell does he know to do these things" I wondered but I came to the conclusion that it must be natural and instinctive. I suppose we're born knowing how to do it. I suspect that the first caveman to ever give another caveman a hand-job did it very much like this...I smiled silently at this thought. After what could have been no more than a few minutes, he increased the pressure of his grip and accelerated the pace of his movements. His face was a picture of concentration. His eyes fixed upon his work...the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he determinedly stroked my grateful erection. I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes letting my mind concentrate on nothing but the pleasure of his surprisingly skillful ministration. Soon I became aware that I was breathing heavily and I heard the sound of soft pleasured moaning...to my surprise I realized this noise was coming from me. All too soon I began to feel the tell-tale red hot pressure that signaled that release was imminent. There was no holding back this much needed eruption and he must have sensed it as well because he again increased the speed of his strokes. "Sssssean!" I hissed through clenched teeth as my dick literally exploded sending the first spurt up and onto my chest. This was followed by four or five additional spurts of diminishing intensity until at last my orgasm was spent. I collapsed onto my back panting and smiling unable to say a word. Sean was now standing in the tub looking down at me- a tremendous grin on his face. "Man you cummed a lot Eric!" He reached out and placed a finger into one of the pools of thick white stuff on my belly, raised his hand and examined it closely. He didn't say anything and he certainly made no move to taste it. I decided not to attempt to encourage him to do so...all in good time. I slid back down into the water and pulled him down to me. I held him sitting between my legs- his back against my chest. "That was wonderful Sean." I murmured into his ear. "I can do it better." He replied. "I doubt it little man." "Practice Eric." He said and I could hear the grin that I could not see right then. I squeezed him to me tightly. "I love you precious boy." I whispered as I kissed the back of his neck and his thin little shoulder blades. I lay back in the tub just holding him and thinking to myself; "How did I earn such grace? How can it be that this remarkable creature was sent to save my life?" Eventually, we climbed out of the tub and toweled each other dry. We took a few moments to admire and comment on each other's colorfully bruised shoulders. I rubbed some soothing therapeutic cream into his hurt and he did the same for me. I handed him two more Tylenol which he washed down with the last of his lemonade. As I watched him I realized that for the first time in years, I had walked away from an unfinished glass of whisky. Holding him in a one armed hug we walked into the bed room and climbed onto the bed together. We exchanged a long and tender kiss...our best one yet and as I held him tightly to me he thrust an arm and a leg over my body. In no time we were sleeping the sweet sleep of the innocent...well, perhaps not innocent but at least ...the blessed. We lingered in bed the next morning just cuddling and touching. ..Exchanging "practice" kisses and smiling at and with each other. Eventually, our demanding bladders drove us from the warm comfort of the bedding and into the bathroom. Once washed brushed and dressed we headed downstairs together to find that Martha had prepared bacon, English muffins and poached eggs ("pinched eggs" if you speak "Sean-ish") milk and OJ for Sean and for me a steaming pot of coffee. When breakfast was over and Martha had been properly hugged and kissed, I suggested that we go upstairs, get our gloves and toss a baseball around out on the grass in the back. While he'd never played the game in an organized fashion, he certainly knew how to catch and throw the ball and I was thinking it would be a fun leisurely diversion while we talked. I again checked out the fit of his new glove and adjusted the strap while I explained to him the "fine art" of breaking in the leather through use augmented by steady conscious pounding of a ball into the pocket. "That's a great pastime for when you're sitting around with nothing else to do." I joked We began at a comfortable distance apart and I gradually increased it until I judged we were at optimum distance for him to return the throw comfortably and for us to maintain a good conversation without shouting. I tossed the ball to him leisurely several times and once I was convinced his mechanics were more than adequate for this simple exercise, I began to put some "pepper" into my tosses increasing the difficulty level just slightly because the true intention of two people "having a catch" is to share each other's company...the catching and throwing are truly secondary. We were comfortably silent the first several times the ball was exchanged and finally I spoke; "So Sean, are you liking it here so far?" This drew a large "Sean smile". "Oh yeah Eric I REALLY am! This is like some adventure you read about in a book...I never had so many experiences and met so many neat people...and ate such GREAT food..." he held the ball momentarily before throwing it back to me... "An YOU Eric-you're the best person I ever met in my whole life! I like it just when we're together even if we're not doing nothing." "When we're not doing ANYTHING." I corrected. He nodded his head affirmatively. "Yeah...even when we're not doing anything." The ball passed between us several more times before he added; "I hope every contract I ever go out on is fun as this." I felt something hard and cold in my chest and I thought to myself; "Don't be thinking about other contracts so soon. I've barely gotten you here...time will pass quickly enough." A few more silent throws... "Eric, would you explain somethin'?" "Of course Sean, what?" "Well, I know this guy the Professor is coming here to be my teacher, an I know he's been here lots of times before an everybody seems to know him but...why did I haffta know how to shoot because he's commin' here? I mean, I really like it and I'm glad I learned but what's it got to do with school?" "That's a GREAT question Sean." I chucked the ball high to him so that he had to position himself properly to "field it"...I noted with satisfaction that "this kid's a natural". "Doctor Swaim is a remarkable educator but he has very different ways of teaching and guiding young people into what he calls `the adventure of developing and feeding the mind'. I shouldn't tell you this, but Kyle and I used to think he was a wizard like Merlin or Gandalf. Almost nothing you do with him will seem like any kind of school work you've ever done before in your life but you'll discover that you are learning something every minute you are with him. Being taught by him is not so much like being taught, it's like learning to see...to understand...and that's a BIG difference." Sean was looking at me with a bit of a puzzled look. I knew he was trying to follow what I was telling him but it seemed just beyond his grasp...just as I knew it would be. "To answer your question Sean, the Professor feels that beyond reading and writing, there are two skills every boy should have; they should be able to fish and they should be able to shoot. He feels that these two things are the purest and most basic disciplines for developing the mind. Fishing he says, allows the body to operate on remote control while the mind is `thinking like a fish'. Since this actually takes up so little of the mind, the rest of the mind is free to ruminate on other things in the back ground. Fishing he maintains teaches you to do this naturally. Shooting on the other hand requires the mind and body to operate in tandem...instinctively sharply and accurately. Besides developing excellent hand-eye co-ordination, it trains the mind in practical mathematical and dynamic thinking while still freeing up time and brain space for more cerebral activity. Once you have learned shoot competently, you mind, your eyes and your hands will always be synchronized and fluid." Sean wrinkled his nose and looked totally perplexed. I smiled at him and said: "You look just the way I felt when I was a kid and Doctor Swaim explained it to me that way. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you it works. Walter or I could have taught you to fish but I expect the Professor is going to want to instruct you himself. I had Andy teach you to shoot because Andy is one of the few people in the world that Dr. Swaim thinks is as good as he is at something...Kyle and I always secretly thought that Andy may actually be better...but don't ever tell the Professor that." "I won't!" said Sean grinning. I lay my glove down on the grass and picked up a bat. "Go way out kiddo. Let's see how good you are at snagging flys." The next hour was spent playing fungo with the boy. As I hit a variety of fly balls out to him, he threw his whole body into the act of exuberantly running into position and catching them. His face was lit with the same pure joy I had witnessed in the original soccer game video. I wondered if I had ever been that joyful just "doing something". His natural skill was evident and astonishing. He failed to catch only a few balls and of those, most were hits that I had erroneously batted in such a way as to make them virtually uncatchable. "Wait until some coach gets ahold of him this spring" I thought to myself. "How about we wash up and have some lunch and then some swimming?" That suggestion received an enthusiastic response and so we set off for the house. I lagged behind him as he headed up the path because I enjoyed watching his little ass cheeks dance as he walked. Martha was not in the kitchen when we got there. She had left a note saying she'd had to go into town to pick up some things for dinner tonight. She'd placed a tray of cold cuts, cheese and shredded lettuce in the fridge and hoagie rolls were on the counter. I let Sean make our sandwiches while I filled a large bowl with chips. Reaching into the fridge, I grabbed a root beer for Sean and a cold IPA from the Stone Brewing Company in San Diego for myself. Looking at the frosty bottle of beer in my hand I was struck by a `second thought'. Shaking my head in surprise, I put the bottle back into the fridge and grabbed another root beer for myself. I sat at the table and smiled at my little boy: complimenting him on his sandwich making skills. We talked more about the Professor, about baseball and swimming and I realized with amazement how comfortable I was sharing my thoughts and feelings with this marvelous 11 year old. We washed our plates and utensils and put them properly away looking around scrupulously making certain we left the kitchen as clean as we had found it, As we were walking down the long hall I had a thought. "Sean, you head on down to the pool. I'll meet you there...I just want to get something out of my office." "Kay." He smiled and I watched him scamper down the hall. It took me a moment to remember where I'd placed it but shortly I opened the lower right drawer in the credenza against the wall and took out the walnut box that held my father's stop watch. It was a beautiful thing to hold. Manufactured by the Swiss company Hamhart, it had a silver case with a black face that displayed black and red numbers. With the Swim Team try outs this week; I wanted to get some idea of what the boy could do. I of course knew that my cell phone had a perfectly good stop watch function but to me there was something intrinsically right about using this fine old time piece in this old great house. My father had timed Kyle and I in countless swimming and running competitions using this watch and now I lovingly slipped it into my pocket. In the same drawer was my father's old Acme Thunderer whistle. I grabbed it as well When I got to the pool, Sean was already naked and sitting on the edge of the diving board bouncing like the kinetic little ball of energy he was. He flashed me a big grin as I walked in. "They taught us at the NEST never to go swimming alone so I waited for you." He said with a suddenly serious face. "That's very wise " I said "that's something I hope you'll always keep in mind." "Come on then and get undressed so we can swim!" he said bouncing. "I will in a little while Sean but first I want to see how fast you can swim the different strokes you showed me the last time." I set a pad of paper I'd grabbed from the office onto a table and pulled it and a chair over near the side of the pool. I lay the stop watch next to the pad and slipped out of my shirt and slacks leaving me standing poolside in just my underwear. "Now Sean, I won't be in the pool with you right now but I'm right here and can reach you in seconds so... you're not really swimming alone OK?" "Kay." He smiled. "Alright then," I said as I hung the whistle around my neck "hop off the diving board and stand ready at the edge of the pool. When you hear the whistle you can dive." He got off the board and placed himself at pool side hunched over the water in perfect readiness. "First, Free style Sean 100 meters that's up and back...ready?" He nodded his head I blew the whistle and clicked the watch. He was off in a flash plunging smoothly into the water and letting his inertia carry him in a slick glide before he surfaced and began swimming in earnest. At the far end his flipped under making a perfect racing turn and was pounding the water on his return leg. I watched the pool edge closely and clicked the watch as he touched...1 minute 9 seconds (I wasn't bothering with fractions) awfully good time for an 11 year old. I let him rest a bit and then set him up for the second "event"; 200 meter backstroke (four laps) in the end he touched the wall at two minutes forty four seconds...another respectable time. With really only minimal rest he accomplished the 50 meter breast stroke in 41 seconds and the 100 meter butterfly in a remarkable one minute sixteen seconds. Considering he'd only had short rest periods between strokes and taking into account that the adrenaline factor of completion was not present, I had no doubt that this kid was going to do very well at the Sports Club try outs. Slipping out of underwear I jumped into the pool and swam over to him. "Sean that was a terrific performance!" He grinned and made a strongman pose with his arms "I told you Eric...I'm Aquaman!" and he burst into a fit of giggles prompting me to grab him and toss him high into the air. "Again Eric!" he squealed swimming back to me. I happily obliged...about two dozen more times. While I rested he swam and floated near me often diving duck like below the surface offering me a wonderful view of his round white ass. Almost out of nowhere I realized that my cock had sprung to full erection and I knew that I was suddenly lusting hungrily for his little body. I shook my head in a sudden burst of fear..."What the hell is happening here?" I screamed in my own mind. "This isn't what you want!" But something deep and dark within me answered "Yes you do...this is exactly what you want". "Time to hit the showers Kiddo!" I called hoping that my panic was well disguised. Without protest he climbed out of the pool and headed for the locker room. I watched his ass hungrily as he walked away. Following him I quickly got under a showerhead which I'd adjusted to barely lukewarm. My thoughts were racing a mile a minute while he sang sweetly under the showerhead next to me oblivious to my internal conflict. Thinking about it rationally, I concluded that his masturbation exercise last night must have triggered some hidden reaction in me. My rational mind fought against my sudden carnal desires. Certainly when I had planned this experiment I'd always intended to "screw me some boy ass"...I'd even told HIM so on the plane. That however was abstract thinking and was before I'd known THIS boy...before I'd come to love THIS boy. He was not a delicate little china doll but he was much smaller than I'd imagined he was going to be. I'd never had sex with anyone younger than sixteen and I wasn't prepared for him being so little but mostly... I wasn't prepared for him being HIM. I remembered our sex talk last night and my shock at how large my cock was in relation to his hands, To take him would be rape...painful cruel damaging molestation and yet...if I were to ask, he would give himself to me willingly. He would submit cheerfully and with trust because I had told him I'd never hurt him and he believed me. He was mine to simply reach out and take and for that reason I would not do it...not like this. As I began to think more clearly I realized that he was currently just the trigger for a deeper more primeval need. This was an itch...and it could be scratched. It was simple; at the next opportunity- a little overnight business trip...a quick call to the NEST and one of their well-trained young men would provide the remedy. I would be sated, Sean would be safe and our relationship would be free to blossom and become whatever wonderful thing it was destined to be. While I didn't know what we were going to develop into I knew that while I hoped that Sean would someday become my lover. He would never be my "boy whore". Hours later, we were looking at each other across the chess board. It turned out he was a marvelous and creative player. We were surprisingly well matched. I was pretty certain that I could beat him but it was going to take some doing. Walter entered the room and said; "Sir, I've just received a message from the gate. Doctor Swaim has arrived. Wide eyed, Sean looked at me and I gave him a small smile. Standing up, I offered him my hand. He took it at once trepidation all over his face. With my free hand I ruffled his hair. "Cheer up Kiddo...we're off to meet the wizard!" (to be continued) As always, thank you for the wonderful emails! They make creating this little adventure so much more fun. In the next chapter the Professor enters Sean's life. Remember that NIFTY needs your help to keep all of this going. Please consider a donation: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html