Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2001 18:24:13 EST
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: Finding Love - Chapter 1

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.

Don't read this story if:
**You're not 18 or over,
**If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live,
**Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex.

The author retains copyright to this story.  Placing this story on a
website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be taken
against violators.

I wish to extend my thank you to Ed for his editorial assistance with this
chapter.

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://www.teenboyauthors.org/thewolf, in the 'Other Stories' section.

E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive'
comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.

		*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Finding Love - by BW                              Copyright 2000 by bwstories44
Chapter 1 - My world is shattered and recreated.                     April 2000

No one knows what caused the accident for sure.  It could have been almost
anything.  It might have been a defective pressure valve or a damaged seal
around a window or around a door.  It may have been a defect in a
windowpane or in a seam along the body of the vehicle.  Whatever it was, it
caused the corporate jet to depressurize quickly, killing everyone on
board.  The investigators claimed that the passengers and crew were most
likely dead before the Learjet crashed into the ocean but they couldn't be
certain.  What they could be certain of was that they would have definitely
been unconscious before the crash.  I wasn't that fortunate.  The crash
left me in severe pain, emotional pain.  I was only seven years old and my
whole world had just been shattered.

It all began on that fateful Wednesday in May when my father left for the
airport.  That was the last time I saw him or heard his voice.  He came to
my room, kissed me on the forehead, and told me "I'll be back by the
weekend, pal.  You be good for your mother and we'll do something special
when I return."  This wasn't all that unusual.  He often went away on
business during the week and this trip was no exception.  He was scheduled
to travel in the corporate jet to attend a negotiation session in Los
Angeles, California.  He met three of his business associates at the
corporate terminal and they boarded the flight with the pilot and the
co-pilot.  They were quickly in the air, heading for the west coast.  The
jet rose higher and higher before leveling off at 35,000 feet.  That was
their assigned cruising level and they would stay at that altitude until
they began their descent to land.  That was the last piece of information
that anyone ever knew for sure about the ill-fated flight.  Hours later the
plane ran out of fuel and crashed into the ocean.  There were no survivors.
My father was gone.  He had been the center of my universe, the giver of
love and life, and he was no more.  To put it mildly, I was devastated.

My dad had been educated as a lawyer but his job was to serve as president
of the oil company that had been founded by my great-great-grandfather.  He
died while fulfilling the duties of that position.  Dad was flying out from
our home in Dallas, Texas, to meet with one of four small similar
businesses that my father's company was trying to take over. I was told
that he was ruthless when it came to business and he didn't care whether he
bought the other companies out or if he just drove them out of business.
If they didn't agree with his terms, he might buy out their suppliers and
keep them from having materials to work with, or he might buy out a similar
company and undercut the prices of their products until the company he was
after folded.  One way or the other, they wouldn't be there to compete with
him in the future.  This particular company was to receive a reprieve,
however, as he and his team never made it to that meeting.  Once the plane
was at its cruising altitude, the pilot engaged the autopilot, but beyond
that nothing is known for sure.  With everyone aboard either dead or
unconscious, the plane flew past Los Angeles and kept going until it ran
out of fuel and crashed forcefully into the blue waters of the Pacific
Ocean.

I was always surprised when I heard people talk about how vicious my father
could be in his business dealings because he was always so gentle and
loving at home.  My dad was my whole world back then.  He was my buffer
against the realities of life and the bitter truths that life offered.  As
far as I could tell, no one else loved me.  Loved me?  Hell, they didn't
even care about me.  My mother was an alcoholic and she could never stay
away from the bottle long enough to give me any affection.  I shouldn't
take that personally, though.  I'm not sure that she loved my father,
either.  I always heard that she married him for the prestige of the family
name and the things that the family fortune could buy for her, including
her precious booze.  Now, that wealth was all hers, but I doubted that she
could pull herself out of the bottle long enough to manage the daily
affairs of the business or her own finances.  She would have to trust the
honesty of others, most noticeably one of the senior vice presidents and
her accountant.  They were the ones who would take care of everything, now
that Father was gone.

Even though my mother and I mixed about as well as oil and water, I was
never alone.  The house was always bustling with a complete staff of
domestic help.  Regardless of how many people were there, no one else was
ever interested in me or concerned about my welfare.  As long as I ate,
slept, and kept clean, that was all that mattered.  The staff had their own
duties to perform and they had no time to be bothered by a young boy, even
if he was the son of the master of the house.  During those last few years
before my father died, no one ever seemed to have any time for me, that is,
no one except my father.  I could hardly wait for my dad to come home each
evening and I waited even more impatiently for him to have a day off from
work.  He would spend much of this time with me and we would do many things
together.  He would take me places and we would play games together, but
that wasn't all.  My dad had this wonderful playground built for me in our
backyard and that's where he would spend hours of fun time playing with me.
I was a lucky kid.

We did so many things together but, best of all, I enjoyed the time that he
would spend reading to me.  We read all sorts of wonderful stories
together, stories filled with adventures and wonderful places.  When he
died, it was those stories that kept me going and gave me the courage to
survive.  I remembered every story that my father had ever read to me and I
retold them to myself over and over again until I was old enough to read
them for myself.  If it weren't for those marvelous pieces of 'Kiddy Lit',
I would have remained a lost, lonely, and forgotten child.  If my father
hadn't given me that special gift, I might have just shriveled up and died
shortly after he did.

As soon as I had worked past the initial stage of unbearable grief, I would
go out to my little sanctuary and play out various scenes from those
stories.  My little playground and surrounding area served as the setting
for every memorable adventure that I would take part in, from that day
forward.  Over time the playground would become Never Land or Sherwood
Forest.  After that, it would be transformed into Treasure Island or a
small patch of ground on Mars.  It would serve me as a pirate ship or a
horse-drawn coach.  It would become Tarzan's tree house or I could use it
to take a ride on the space shuttle.  This haven from reality soon became
the only bearable aspect of my life.  Here in my fantasy world, a world
where I could be someone who was important and loved, I could escape all
the pain and loneliness that I felt during the rest of each day.  Needless
to say, I spent as much time here as I could possibly get away with, so I
could experience my fantasy happiness.

Even school was a drag.  I didn't have any real friends there and the
teachers were only friendly enough to perform their duties.  Sure, there
were kids that talked to me in class.  Heck, they might have even been
somewhat nice to me, but I think that was mostly because of my last name
and the prestige that name evoked in the socially conscious neighborhood in
which we lived.  We lived on the Randall family estate that had been built
by my great-grandfather.  This grand home was meant to remain in the family
forever and it would be handed down to each succeeding generation of
Randall heirs.  Our home, if you could call it that, sat on several acres
of well-manicured lawns with impeccably sculpted shrubbery.  Our simple
little abode consisted of more than thirty rooms, spread out over three
levels, and it was one of the most impressive of the mini-castles around.
That is what gained me the modicum of respect that I enjoyed.  Other than
that, I was a cute child but small for my age.  I was the odd boy who had
no interest in the athletic activities that most boys my age reveled in.  I
was a bookworm with a vivid imagination.  I was the introvert who had
forced himself to become a loner to keep from being hurt, mostly
emotionally, by everyone else.  I was the square peg that wouldn't fit into
the round holes that life offered up to me.  I had a nineteenth-century
romantic's soul but I was forced to live in a twenty-first century world.
It appeared that the cards were stacked against me from the start and I'd
have to find my own niche in life and survive this existence the best way I
could.

It had been two years since my father's death and my life had continued on
its downward spiral.  That is, it had until the day that I met Tad.  He
just turned up in my classroom one morning, a breath of fresh air that was
swept into my stagnant world.  His family had just moved into the area and
it was my good fortune that he had been assigned to the same classroom as
me.  He was so unlike anyone I had ever met before.  Even his appearance
was different.  He had red hair, green eyes, and a milky-white complexion.
To put it mildly, he stood out quite noticeably from the others who
attended my school.  I, myself, was blond haired and blue eyed but then
there were many blondes, brunettes, and children who had jet-black hair.
That was the norm around here, but Tad was the only redhead I could ever
remember seeing.  I guess that I must have been staring at him on the
playground, so he came over to introduce himself to me.

"Hi, my name is Tad."

I didn't answer right away and then I realized that I should.  "Oh, yeah.
Hi, I'm Win.  Really, my name is Winthrop Aaron Randall IV, but I prefer to
use Win."

"Yeah, I know what you mean.  My name is really Thadeus Albert Driscoll.
My mom said I could go by either Thad or Tad.  I chose Tad.  I think that's
a nickname for Thadeus but it's also my initials."

"Hey, that's pretty neat.  My initials are WAR and my name is a family
name.  My father was Winthrop Aaron Randall III and my grandfather was
Winthrop Aaron Randall II.  I'm not sure if it was my great- grandfather,
my great-great-grandfather, or a great uncle who was the first Winthrop
Aaron Randall but, whoever it was, we all got our names from him."

"I was named after my mother's grandfather, Thadeus, and her father,
Albert.  Thadeus became my first name because my great-grandfather had most
of the money and they were trying to get on his good side.  It must have
worked because he left them a whole bunch of cash when he died."  He stood
silent and looked at me thoughtfully.  "What did you mean when you said
that your father was named Winthrop Aaron Randall III?"

"I said it that way because my father is dead.  He died in a plane accident
two years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  I didn't know."

"That's okay.  It took me a while, but I've finally accepted the fact that
he's gone.  It doesn't bother me as much as it used to."

"That's good.that it doesn't bother you any more."

"Thanks.  Why aren't you playing with the other boys?"

"I'm not into sports.  I'm not good at them, so they don't interest me."

"Me either.  What do you like to do for fun?"

"Oh, I play with my computer, I like to swim, and I read a lot."

"Really?  Me too.  What kinds of things do you like to read?"

"Almost anything, but I like adventure stories the best.  I like to think
that I'm part of the story.  Do you like adventure stories?"

"Uh huh.  They're the best.  Have you ever played any games like that?"

"Like what?"

"Adventure games where you act out one of the stories that you've read and
you play one of the characters from that story."

"Unh uh.  I just think about being part of what's going on while I'm
reading it.  I've never done anything more than that."

"Well, maybe you could come over to my house sometime and I could show you
how I play out my stories.  We could do it together.  Would you want to do
that?"

"Yeah.  It sounds really cool."

We told each other where we lived and then we explained how to get there.
He didn't live in one of the big fancy mansions, like the ones that lined
the street where I lived.  From what he said, though, he lived in a very
nice house.  He informed me that it had about fifteen rooms and it had a
fairly large lawn.  He told me that his father had been transferred here
with Lockheed Martin and they had only moved in this past weekend.  He
wasn't sure what his father did, but he knew that his dad had a very
important job and that he made a lot of money.  He also told me that he was
an only child, like me.  We had an awful lot in common.  I had a feeling
that Tad and I were going to become good friends, so I didn't waste any
time trying to get to know him better.  I invited him over to my house to
play an adventure game this weekend.  I told him that he could come over on
Saturday and, if he wanted to, he could stay over with me on Saturday
night.  He said that he would check with his parents and let me know if he
could.  Already I was feeling better than I had since my dad had died.

The next day he asked me if I would come home with him that afternoon, to
meet his mom.  He explained that he thought they would bring him over
Saturday, once they met me and knew more about me.  I agreed, and that
afternoon I went to his house and chatted with his mother.  She asked me
many questions about my family and myself.  I only told her the good things
about us, though I did tell her the story about how my father had died.
She drove me home afterward, to make sure that she knew where I lived, and
I think she was very impressed when she saw the house.  Tad told me
Wednesday that he could come over Saturday and that he could stay
overnight.  This was going to be great.

This was the first thing that had excited me in a very long time and now
the only thing that I could think of was Saturday with Tad.  It seemed as
though that day was never going to get here, but it finally arrived and so
did Tad.  The doorbell rang and I raced down the stairway from my bedroom
and got to the door just as the butler opened it.  Tad's mother was with
him and I invited them into the house.  I told them my mother was out
(passed out in her room), but there was plenty of staff to watch over us.
I asked them if they would care for a drink or something to eat, but they
refused.  I gave them a quick tour of our little shack, conveniently
bypassing the master suite, and his mother's eyes nearly popped out of
their sockets with some of the things she saw.  When our tour was finished,
she excused herself and went back home.  After she left I took Tad up to my
room so he could leave his overnight bag there.  Then I dragged him out to
the backyard to show him my little play area and to teach him how to play
one of my fantasy adventures.

He was impressed with my little playground and he told me that it was even
much nicer than the one at school or the one in the park.  I agreed.  My
father had this one specially designed just for me.  Starting on the left,
there was a huge spiral slide.  You had to climb up to the upper perch and
use that to get onto the slide.  The perch had one set of stairs leading up
from the ground and another set of stairs that led to a lower perch.  There
were two ways to get off of the lower perch, going to the right.  You could
take the horizontal ladder, using your hands and arms to swing from one
rung to the next, or you could walk across a sling bridge.  The bridge had
no support underneath it and it moved with each step you made as you
crossed it, swaying from side to side.  Both of those apparatus led to the
lower level of my bi-level tree house.  Actually it was a huge telephone
pole buried in the ground that had two circular floors built off of it.
The bottom floor had no sides but the upper floor had a wall that ran waist
high completely around it and it had a slanted roof above it.  You needed
to climb up a rope ladder to get into the upper level.  From the right side
of the lower level of the tree house ran a rainbow bridge over to the porch
of the playhouse.  The rainbow bridge was just a wooden bridge that arched
slightly skyward and it often served as the drawbridge to my castle.  The
playhouse had two doors leading into it, one in front and one across from
the rainbow bridge.  It also had at least one small window on each wall.
This would always serve as the Great Hall of my castle, in all of my
fantasy adventures that had a medieval setting.

Now that Tad had seen the entire layout of my own personal fantasyland, I
asked him what type of adventure he wanted to take part in.  He said that
he thought a pirate adventure would be fun to start with.  I agreed and
then I explained how the playground would fit in.  The upper perch was now
the forward deck of the ship.  The upper level of the tree house was the
crow's nest on the main mast and the playhouse was the captain's cabin.  I
let Tad be the captain, while I served as his first mate.  That day we made
several raids on other ships, we plundered small towns and villages along
the coast, and we had a big naval battle with Queen Elizabeth the First's
navy, the one that defeated the powerful Spanish Armada.  We beat Sir
Francis Drake in a huge sea battle and then we left to rest up on a small
tropical island with lots of hula girls and other natives who didn't wear
very much clothing.  We pretended that we were living like the natives and
we stripped down to our tight, white briefs that now were our loincloths.
After a while, Tad decided that he had to pee and he didn't want to get
dressed to go back into the house.  I took him over to the small grove of
trees in the corner of the lot so he could relieve himself.  That area was
only a few feet from the playground and it served as Sherwood Forest in my
Robin Hood adventures.  As long as we were there, I decided that I might as
well go now, too.  Tad pulled his underpants completely down and he began
to pee against the bark of a tree.  I just took my weenie out, placing the
elastic band from my briefs under my balls.  I watched Tad the whole time.

"Tad, why does your weenie look so funny?"

He looked over at mine before he answered.  "It doesn't look funny, it's
just that I wasn't cut like you were."

"What do you mean?"

Tad had finished peeing and he waddled over to stand beside me, his
underpants still around his ankles.  "Boys are all born with this piece of
skin over their pee-pees.  Your parents had your skin cut off, but my
parents wouldn't let them do that.  My great-grandfather didn't believe in
circumcision, that's what they call it when they cut the skin off, and they
were trying to impress him.  That's why I wasn't cut.  They're both the
same, really.  Here, I can prove it."  After saying that he took his hand
and pulled the extra skin back until the pink head of his wiener popped
out.  "See.  Now my pee-pee looks just like yours.  Most of my friends
where I used to live were cut like you.  I'd see them when we would go
skinny dipping in the old pond behind one of my friends' house."

Damn.  I was totally amazed.  I had never seen anything like that before.
I couldn't get the picture of the transformation out of my mind.  I just
stood there, staring at Tad's weenie.  "Do you want to try it?" Tad
eventually asked me, seeing how fascinated I appeared with his small piece
of flesh.

"Try what?" I responded naively.

"You can pull the skin back and forth if you want."

"You mean.touch your weenie?"

"Uh huh.  I don't mind.  You can slide the skin back and forth if you want
to and see what it feels like.  Do you want to try it for yourself?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't.  Go ahead."  He thrust his hips out toward me and I
tentatively reached my hands out to grab that piece of meat that dangled
between his legs.  My left hand grabbed it at the base and my right hand
slid his foreskin back and forth over his shiny glans.  I was totally
fascinated as the head popped in and out, and I think Tad enjoyed it too
because his little dick got hard and pointed straight toward me.

"Wow, that's neat.  It's really fun to do this.  Thanks, Tad.  You can
touch mine too, if you want."

All I heard was a faint response of "uh huh" and Tad's hand reached out to
rub his fingers over and around my exposed glans.  It didn't take long
before my little prick became very stiff, just like Tad's had done.  "Man,
that feels really cool," I told him.  "You can touch me whenever you want.
It makes me feel really good inside."

"And you can touch mine whenever you want, too.  It feels really good when
you touch me there and I want you to do it some more."  We moved further
back into the trees, to ensure we weren't seen from the house, and we
continued to stroke each other's immature cocks.  Nothing happened from it,
other than a few pleasurable sensations, but Tad and I now had this unique
bond from this special type of contact.  It was something that neither of
us had enjoyed before but it was one small pleasure that we knew that we
would want to repeat again and again.

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If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://www.teenboyauthors.org/thewolf, in the 'Other Stories' section.
E-mails may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.