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Copyright 2003 by Nicholas. The author retains all rights to this story and requests that you do not alter or post this story in any form without his permission. The following is a work of fiction. The characters are purely fictional, as are the events. This story depicts acts of love and sex between consenting persons, youth and adult. If stories of this nature offend you, please leave now.

If you are under age then get your friend and have him read it to you. Sit on his lap and cuddle up, I hope you'll love the story as much as you love him.

Surfer Magazine, in their collectors edition of October 2001 had an article by Rod Cox defining a grom:

"You are definitely NOT a grom if ... A. the last time you paddled out you were clinging to your dad like a baby sea otter. B. when someone asks you if you think "Barney" is cool, you say, "Yeah, but those Teletubbies are kinda scary." C. you ride any board with a deck softer than its bottom. D. you've shaved anything other than your head, graduated from anything other than the eighth grade, ... or paid rent by any other means than cleaning your room, taking out the garbage and promising not to pee on the toilet seat.

You definitely ARE a grom if ... A. you can get to the beach by yourself – or in any automobile or public conveyance other than your parent's mini-van. B. you have been either punched, kicked, spit on, Dutch-rubbed, pantsed, pink-bellied, head-shaved, tampon-nosed or otherwise humiliated by older surfers, who obviously consider you enough of a pack member to perform initiation rites. C. you have more than two stickers on your board not laminated under the glass. D. you're between the ages of 11 and 18 can actually surf."

Namaste, Nick

The Grommet – Chapter Three

Most think that the beach is basically alive only with the people and pets that visit. That once the sunbathers and splashers go, the beach is dead. The miles of sand unwalked; the dunes unclimbed. The waves are not splashed and the surf breaks just upon the twisted hulks of driftwood and stalks of kelp ripped from the ocean floor.

After all, there are no native animals adopted and turned cuddly by a protection group. If there are seals and sea lions, they prefer the craggy surface of offshore rocks. No cute and fluffy mammal runs the surf line; tortoise and porpoise stay well offshore.

The beach and sky and surf is awash with life on such a scale that most beach goers would find amazing if they just stopped and watched for half an hour.

What the casual sunbather calls a gull might actually be a shearwater, a tern, a petrel, a jaeger, a skua, a skimmer, or really a gull. If it is a gull, it might be any one of more than eighteen varieties common to the coast. A flock of gulls will most likely be the common herring gull or California gull, but might include a kittiwake or even a Bonaparte's gull. The wading birds are just as numerous. To the jogger they are just the sandpipers which scatter along the ground apparently just in time, but they might be curlews, or godwits or dowitchers or even the elusive snipe. Every abandoned piling and even deck railings are magnets drawing brown pelicans to sit and roost between their days of flight.

I knew my deck railings were now guarded by Daisy and I was pretty sure that pelicans were a thing of the past. What I didn't know was that Cam's wetsuit drying on the rail and his surf board leaning against the corner of the house was like a magnet of another kind. I had raised the flag unknowingly and it had not been unnoticed. As Cam cuddled in my lap and seemed to glow from the top of his platinum head, I heard the first hail from down the beach.

"Hey! Grommet!" was shouted out.

Looking down the beach both Cam and I turned our heads and saw two of the older boys from our winter group waving up at us and walking slowly along the break. They clearly were looking at us. Waving and starting a little dog trot toward the house. They paused just long enough to drop their boards and gear and started to trot right up in front of the deck.

I saw it was the oldest boy, the one who had taken the scary step of actually asking me to make their portrait. I remembered his name was Jim, but I hadn't met the other boy before.

Jim shouted up at us, "Hey Grommet! Where you been man? We were worried about you!"

"Hey Jim!" Cam called back sitting up a little in my lap and waving back. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that he was sitting here, folded in my arms, Daisy nuzzling up beside us, without a stitch of clothing on. I'd have covered him with a towel, but I had been first in the chair just enjoying the sun and sea when he crawled up.

The older boys stayed down on the sand and called up again. "Cam, we were worried when Corey said you didn't make it to school yesterday or today. Are you okay?"

Cam held my arms around himself even tighter and looked back and up at me first then turned a radiant smile toward his friends below. "Yeah, I'm fine now. I was really sick, but Mr. Nick made me better. Tell Corey I'll see him tomorrow."

"Kewl!" they called and turning back toward the break they trotted off and gathered their gear and headed up the beach once again. They turned and waved and Cam and I both waved back.

"Corey's in my class," Cam explained. "He's Jim's brother and my best friend. Wow, I guess it really is Wednesday if I missed two days of school!"

"Yes, Sunshine, it really is Wednesday. I told you you were real sick and missed all of Tuesday and now you've slept most of Wednesday away."

"Well, I'm awake now," he said and hugged himself with my arms. "I woke up from the best dream and then when I came out here both you and Daisy were real. It feels so good to have you hold me."

"It feels wonderful to me too," I said. "But shouldn't you put your clothes on?"

"I hate clothes!" Cam replied. "I'd rather feel the sun on my whole body when I can. Now that its warmer, I want to get my tan all over like I always do."

He turned into my chest and placing his cheek against it, he twined his hands behind me and gave me a huge hug.

"Well, why don't you hop inside and put your shorts on at least, and let's take Daisy for a walk. Okay?"

"Yeah! Great!" He leaped out of my lap and was almost inside the house when he rushed back and slammed into me with another huge hug. "Thanks for making me well!" he said and then was off like a rocket again. I'd barely been able to get up out of the chair when he was back in his shorts and halfway down the steps calling, "Come on Daisy, let's go!"

Daisy was bouncing around yet clearly looking to me and waiting for my permission. Laughing I nodded and barely said, "Okay girl, follow him!" and she too was off like a rocket. Both dog and boy were a blur running in the sand down toward the water's edge and down the beach. I followed at a more dignified pace, and marveled at how just yesterday when I had walked a mile, Daisy had probably done ten. Now it seemed that Cam was already up to ten and Daisy must be nearer fifty. They both would chase the gulls and it was nip and tuck whether boy or dog would get one first. I think a couple of the old timers were caught off guard and must have had their hearts pumping a little bit when first the boy and then dog would get too close.

Somewhere Daisy found a stick and presented it to Cam. As they were flying along the dune edge, she quickly trained him how to play fetch. She'd hand it to him on the fly and he would toss it either into the water or up the dune. Daisy would explode off the mark and tear after it. Sometimes on the sand she'd catch it mid air before it hit the ground. Then she'd turn and show him where it was she held it in her mouth and he'd run forward and fetch it from her and they would start again. It was so clear from my vantage point I was surprised I'd never seen before that clearly in this game the dog had taught the boy.

They must have played and romped for a full half hour as we worked our way down the beach. Just as I was thinking it was time to call them back, the game turned into keep away. First Daisy had the stick and would keep it from Cam. He'd chase around and around and try to corner her between me and the water. I swear she'd smile and flick her tail and suddenly they were circling with parry and thrust and me as object in the middle. Then she'd dash by and let him tag her and she'd drop the stick. He'd grab it up and take off back up the beach toward home and she'd follow, just barely keeping back enough to make him think he was free. He'd laugh and shout and hoot and holler and then she'd dig her back legs in and turn on the afterburners. Suddenly he'd have dog all over him and she'd have the stick and be trotting back towards me. As he'd get up and brush the sand away, he'd holler and they would begin again. It was like a courtly dance: Bow to your partner, run rings around the old guy, drop your stick, fly up the beach, then roll in the sand. I could almost imagine the fun Mozart would have had creating a Divertimento for Boy, Stick and Dog. I wondered if poor Wolfgang had ever had a childhood or if the prodigious talent had flooded out the simpler joys. Then thinking of the marvelous runs and laughter in his operas, I knew he probably was a devilish child, playing pranks and then hiding behind an angelic smile and offering a new wrought sonata as a peace offering. I could see Tom Hulce the boy, as Wolfie, terror of Salzburg, but darling of the court. I can imagine that laugh ringing through the streets!

Surprisingly we found ourselves back in front of the house in no time at all. Daisy bounded up the beach to her side yard, quickly sniffed around the edges to be sure it hadn't been violated by some other dog, did a quick business and bounded back towards Cam.

Cam was walking slowly to the house at my left side, panting, but still laughing and retelling the tale of keep away on the beach. I assured him that I had seen it all, and laughing myself, I put my arm out and around his shoulder. It was just as natural as it had been reaching down beside my chair and petting Daisy that first day on the farm. I surprised myself with the unconscious action, but Cam just leaned into my body and reached his right hand up and across to cup my left hand more closely to his chest. Daisy stopped in front of us and looking first right then left, she made her pick and trotted to Cam's other side. She managed to arrange herself so his free left arm was trailing across her back in gentle caress as we finished the walk to the end of the stairs.

Stopping at the hose, I washed down my legs and feet and turned to Cam. Looking at his sand coated body, I couldn't resist and tweaking the end of the hose to be ready, I first gently sprayed his feet. Working the water slowly up his legs, I had him right where I wanted and suddenly I pinched the hose so the stream was more forceful and I began to spray him in long sweeps from knees to the top of his head.

I caught him totally by surprise and he shrieked and then began to dance around and laughing tried to get the hose. Of course that just put him closer to the action and I sprayed him unmercifully. Daisy was bouncing and barking and getting between us and soon she too was drenched. Finally Cam just gave up and laughing till he was almost crying he collapsed in a heap of boy and dog. I continued to spray them, but with a gentler touch and then turning off the tap, I reached down and lifted Cam up and into my arms. Carrying him up the stairs, I turned to Daisy just in time for her to shake and we both were soaked again. Cam was giggling in my arms and holding close and when I tried to set him on the chair, he wouldn't let me go. Realizing I was going to drop him if I didn't do something quick, I simply turned and sat back in the chair, boy and all.

Cam squirmed a little getting comfy and then looked up at me with those cerulean pools and said, "I love you Mr. Nick. I love Daisy too. That was so much fun. I love it when you hold me."

I melted once again into those eyes and thought of Bryant's quote, "Blue, blue, as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall."

"Oh, Cam," I gasped. "I'll hold you forever, Sunshine. And I know Daisy loves you too!" As if she knew exactly what I said, Daisy's nose was pressed between our bodies and Cam was getting a real and total doggy kiss right on his check and chin. I added mine to the top of his head and he just giggled more and hugged us both.

We just sat together, feeling the sun and the wind across our bodies, listening to the sea and the gulls crying in the sky. Cam was drying out, partly by soaking through my shirt and shorts, partly by the natural heat generated from his little body. I could feel that heat against my chest and in my lap. It was a comforting, close fire completely different from the raging furnace of yesterday. I could feel his heartbeat in the palm of my hand against his chest. It was a fluttering, pulsing touch so organic to his life it made me want to hold him forever. The steady rise and fall of his chest and abdomen as his breath moved in and out seemed like a wave gently running through him and breaking on my own heart. I knew that I had completely succumbed to this beautiful boy who so deftly claimed my bed, my dog and now my heart.

Deciding I needed to stir some before my mood turned maudlin, I gave a little squeeze across Cam's chest with the breadth of one hand and asked, "You must be hungry, Sunshine. Are you ready for some supper?"

"Yeah! I'm starving!"

"I bet you are. You haven't had anything but that piece of toast for at least two days. How about a hamburger?"

"Kewl!"

"Good, help me start the grill and we'll be eating in no time."

Cam squirmed out of my lap and ran over to the grill. Opening it, he asked, "How do we start this? I've never grilled out before."

"Really, I'd have figured you for a hamburger connoisseur." I laughed joining him at the grill.

"Gross! Who'd want a burger from the sewer! Naw, I only get hamburgers when Mom's boyfriend takes us to McDonalds. I've never really seen a grill cook."

"That's funny!" I said tousling his hair. "Not the sewer silly, a connoisseur is someone who knows, enjoys and makes really perfect food. Well, it's not really magic. You push this big knob in and turn it to Light, then you push this little red button and ..." demonstrating as I went, the grill gave an obliging whoosh right after the clicking of the piezzo lighter started. Cam gave a little jump at the whoosh and stepped back a step, but quickly returned to my side. "See, Viola! It's burning, just turn the big knob to the right temperature and now we just let it heat up a little, scrape the grate and add the burgers."

"That's pretty neat," Cam said. "Can I start it next time?"

"Sure, just be sure it's not on too long before you hear the whoosh."

"'K," he said. "Where's the burgers?"

"In the fridge of course, want to help me get them ready?"

"Oh, yeah I guess they wouldn't be out here, would they? What can I do?"

I lead him to the kitchen and we busied ourselves getting a tray ready with the burgers and ketchup, mustard, onions and the buns. As we carried the tray back out, I sent Cam back to the kitchen to bring the rest.

Soon he was skipping back with one arm full of drinks and a bag of chips in the other hand. I was stunned as he plopped himself at the picnic table, he had found the food and drinks just fine, but he had lost his shorts. There he was, sitting on his knees and heels, elbows up on the table, ripping open the chips, naked butt flashing the world as it walked by on the beach below the deck.

"This is nice, you buy the best kind of chips. I love these but I never get them, they cost too much."

I couldn't even remember what brand I bought I was so overwhelmed. "Uhm, Cam, what happened to your shorts?"

"Oh, well they were full of sand, so I took them off and shook them in the trash can. They're in by the washer now. We can add your shirt and shorts too and do them up later, 'K?" he replied so matter of factly, I didn't stand a chance of a reply.

Just then the burgers started hissing and smoking and Cam jumped up and came over to watch the cooking. Twining a hand around my waist, he watched my every move as I adjusted the position on the grill to keep them from burning and then as I flipped them, he hid behind me a little and giggled at the sudden burst of flame and smoke when the juices hit the rocks at the bottom of the grill. As I put down the flipper, he moved back in front and taking my now free hand and drawing it across his chest, he backed into me, essentially hugging himself in my embrace. We stood that way for a minute and then he turned and pulled me to the table.

Plopping back down he once again attacked the chips. I heard the words before I even thought, "Don't eat to much, you'll spoil your dinner." He grinned at me and pushed a huge handful into his mouth. I groaned back and shook my head. What a stupidly adult thing to say. I was hopeless, he was priceless. Without a word he'd made a mockery of my idiocy. Of course his eating anything wouldn't spoil the dinner. The food was fine, only I could spoil it by letting it burn and at just that moment a huge eruption of flame and hissing called me back to the grill.

Quickly I turned down the temp and then placed the buns to the edge to warm. A minute later I was serving two perfect burgers and I watched fascinated as Cam's was deftly covered with ketchup and mustard and then seemed to slide out of sight in less time than it took me to get the ketchup on my bun. As I took my first bite, Cam was looking across the table at my burger. I could tell that he was well, but the feral look he gave the burger told me this sweet boy had the hunger of the wolves locked up inside. Laughing I answered the unvoiced question and setting my burger down I cut it in half and slide the plate with the bigger portion across the table. I think the word that tried to get past the enormous bite of meat was "Thanks!"

Cam finished my dinner and then sat back a little from the table. Rising on his knees, he reached across for the chips and proceeded to decimate the rest of the bag. He was so precious, balanced on his knees, thighs against the table, one arm elbow deep in the chip bag, his little cocklet resting just above the table top and a look of pure bliss upon his face. He looked across, saw me watching and passed me a million dollar smile made none the cheaper by a little dusting of chip grease and salt around it's edges. Then wiping his forearm across his mouth, he cleaned the beauty of his face and looked again at me. With a cherub's smile, he took a breath and dredged from his toes a medium sized belch. Collapsing in a fit of giggles, he proved the wolf was back to boy.

We puttered around cleaning up with Cam doing almost all the running around. He trotted the condiments back to the fridge, scraped the grill after learning how to turn it off, and put the dishes in the trash, yes, we had used paper plates. He chattered about everything and nothing the whole time. Mostly about how cool it was to cook on the grill, how much fun he'd had running with Daisy on the beach and how had I seen when Daisy stole his stick?

I assured him I had seen it all and that it really looked like fun. I marveled at his slender body as it seemed to find every combination of bend and stretch possible in even simple tasks like brushing off the table top. I realized Daisy had been very quiet throughout our cooking and meal and looking round for her I found she had pulled her blanket from inside the house and was sprawled in the sun with her muzzle on her paws. She wasn't sleeping though because she'd arranged herself so she could follow every move our Sunshine made without lifting her head. I'd swear she winked at me when I looked her way and made eye contact.

Soon Cam had exhausted all the little tasks and coming from the kitchen one last time he handed me a cold beer and popped the top on his own 7-Up. Without a moments hesitation he wormed his way back on my lap. Hooking his feet on either side of my legs, he pressed straight back into my chest. Seeing I had my beer in my right hand, he put his pop in his left and we were both sitting, relaxing, looking at the beach with our drinks resting on opposite chair arms. I naturally leaned forward and kissed the top of the platinum head before me.

He seemed to press back into the kiss and said, "Thanks for really good dinner. I didn't know burgers could taste so good! You're a lot better cook than Ronald," he giggled.

"Ronald who?" I stupidly asked. "Is that your Mom's boyfriend?"

"No silly, Ronald McDonald! I told you that's the only burgers I ever get."

"Ho, Ho," I chuckled, "you got me with that one!"

We settled back for a few moments and then I decided I really had to ask. I had to know why this vision of boyhood beauty had ended up living under my deck.

"Cam, you know I have to call your Mom. I'm sure she's worried about you. She maybe knew you were sick and she's probably got the police looking for you now. If you had trouble at home, we'll get it sorted out, but you know we have to call her."

"No, we don't!" he matter of factly declared. "She doesn't care anyway and she doesn't know I was sick, so there's nobody looking for me."

"But Cam, I'm sure she's worried. What Mother wouldn't worry about a missing angel like you?"

"Yeah, bullshit!" he spat out. "She don't give a damn! I'm just a fucking chain around her neck! At least that's what she always tells me!"

"Oh Sunshine. Nobody could think that about you!" I cringed at his sudden coarse language. I knew I might be treading on soft ground with the boy, but I couldn't stop. If his mother was looking for him, I'm sure the fact he was on my deck nude and had slept for two days in my bed without me notifying anyone wouldn't sit very well.

"She fucking does!" he whispered.

As if sensing the tension in the boy, Daisy was once again at his side and pushing her nose in for a cuddle of her own. I saw that even though he'd tensed during his outburst, he hadn't moved on my lap and his hand went directly to Daisy when she was close.

"Well, I'd worry about you. I'd worry a lot and I wouldn't be able to sleep or eat or anything until I knew you were okay." I said quietly into his hair.

"I knew you would. I knew you'd be my friend. I just knew you'd help me," he sniffled and then he seemed to just transform from cursing little tough guy into a scared and damaged little boy. Somehow he turned completely around on my lap and now he was facing me, his legs on either side and through the chair arms. His face was buried in my chest and he was crying. His body racked with sobs, he once again was soaking through my shirt.

Of course I didn't mind. I just felt as helpless now as when he was racked by fever. I smoothed his hair, patted his back and patted Daisy's head where she had managed to get into the act. I whispered sweet nothings into his hair and just held him close and let him cry.

A third group of Groms can be found at www.81x.com/nicholas6996/beach

I'm sorry if you tried to see my Groms and were locked out. It is been incredible to me the number of people viewing the pics. Since the first Grom story was posted there have been over 3,200 hits to the main page and 2,800 to the second galleries. I've placed the new Grom pics at an entirely new location. It offers free two page hosting with no download limits. We'll see if they can keep up. Thanks for your patience.

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