Date: Fri, 6 Sep 2013 17:55:25 -0400 From: Eff Del Subject: Young but Daily Growing part 1 Young but Daily Growin' Part 1 By Eff Del As I was watching over the garden wall, I saw all the young boys a playing with the ball. My true love was the flower of them all. He's young, but he's daily growing. I took a casual sip from my crystal tumbler of single malt scotch whiskey and absently appreciated the smoky tang upon my tongue as I leaned back into the my leather seat and pressed "play" on the video display on my lap top. Although I had watched these images more times than I had bothered counting, I still could not stop my heart from beating faster nor keep myself from holding my breath in awe as I watched. The video began with a slow pan of the 22 young boys in their respective positions on a soccer field. It would be fair to say that all the boys on both teams were attractive but HE stood out from them all. It was hard to tell his height; how tall are 11 and 12 year old boys as a rule? HE was not the tallest. He seemed to be more or less average in that regard but, aside from his height nothing else about him could be deemed average in any way. His little body, slender but not skinny, was tensed...almost trembling like an archer's bow with the arrow nocked and waiting release. His proportions were so perfect that they would make an ancient Greek sculptor sigh with admiring appreciation. His thick full mane of onyx black hair gleamed in the light and as he turned his head it flipped and tumbled as if it were made of fine silk threads. His striking blue/green eyes flashed with a perfect combination of happiness, excitement and anticipation. I leaned into the screen and watched. The Referee blew his whistle, the ball was kicked, touched and passed, HE was on it at once moving more like a dancer than a soccer player...throwing his entire body into the game in a joyful frenzy. The dazzling smile never left his face for even a second as he wrapped himself into the contest. HE became the game and his total pleasure with his involvement in it was patently obvious. I watched as time and time again HE dominated the action on the field. When the match was over, HE strode across the grass bathed in sweat. His clothing clung to his perfect little body and his still glistening hair, plastered to his head, framing his glowing face. His teammates thronged around him as if just being near him; just touching him somehow amplified their own joyful existence. He was a young god among lesser gods and all of Nature seemed to pay him homage. I realized that once again, I had been inadvertently holding my breath. I inhaled, leaned back into my seat again and drained my glass. Filling it once more with amber liquid, I drew in a long sip as I reflected upon all those events that had led me to this particular moment in my life. Simply put, I was born into fabulous wealth the much loved son of two amazing parents. My father and mother each being only children were the last of their families; two old lines of wealth, power and impressive reputation. My birth was celebrated and welcomed in many corners of the world because it ensured that the two great dynasties would continue for at least another generation. My education was beyond the usual received even by a child of privilege. It was discovered early on that I had inherited the best talents and attributes from both sides of my family tree. These talents were encouraged and nurtured. By the time I was 8 years old, I was not only a very well read and respected young scholar, but was also an accomplished athlete and musician. I was doted upon by family and friends. I wanted for nothing material, intellectual or emotional. Every day was filled with love and bursting with fulfilling activity. In May of my 9th year, the joyfulness of my life increased 100 fold when (a bit to the surprise of everyone) my brother Kyle was born. To say that I adored my little brother would be a gross understatement. As soon as he had developed from an infant into a "person" (these being my youthful impressions), I spent every available moment I could with him. My initial fascination quickly turned into unequivocal love. Kyle had inherited many of the same talents and interests as I and he grew into a cheerful talented boy. He was popular at school, extraordinary at sports an excellent scholar and, to my delight, he admired and looked up to me. We reveled in each other's company. Even after I left home to attend the University, we Skyped every evening sharing our days with each other, exchanging secrets and laughing at private jokes. I was living a life so filled with love and satisfaction that it was almost ordained that it could not last. I got the word while I was at the University studying for a final exam. It had been sudden and unpredictable as such things always are. A semi driver pushing his schedule and juiced up to keep himself awake had lost control of his rig on a steep grade. My parents and Kyle were driving home from a regional swim meet. Typically, Kyle had won three gold and a silver. I like to think that they never realized what was about to happen. In an instant they were gone and with their deaths, all the love and joy in my life died as well. I was too stunned to mourn in a normal way. I left school; my exceptional grades augmented by my unthinkable wealth and generations of generous family endowments to the University ensured that my degree was "a done deal". Since my vast family enterprises were virtually self-running, there was very little need for me to become immediately involved in business and so I launched myself into a lifestyle consisting of an insane mélange of despair, grief, debauchery and self-indulgence. My heart was ripped into shreds and there was a hole in my soul. I had no purpose or direction. I was alive and moving through this world but at my core I was as dead as my beloved family. I might have stayed that way until death mercifully reached out and took me but something deep inside me kept screaming out that this was no way to live and certainly no way to honor the love my lost family had held for me. Encouraged by friends, I sought assistance from one of the most highly regarded counselors in the world. After many sessions with this brilliant Doctor, she expressed her belief that I needed to fill the void in my existence by having another person in my life that I could protect, provide for and (hopefully) eventually love. Her recommendation was very creative and probably would only be possible thanks to my vast wealth. She suggested that given my personal history coupled with my known homosexuality, that it might be an excellent idea for me to become guardian to a young boy. This guardianship would not be of the normal type however. She calmly explained that the role of the boy would be multi-purposed. The young man would serve as dependent, surrogate and even as a source of erotic fulfillment. Simply put she stated that I could redirect my life in a positive manner by assuming the status of parent, brother and even lover to a boy whose role would be counter point to my own. A gave the matter much thought and as I mulled over the idea it became more appealing and made great sense. It seemed possible that I could in fact save my life by involving it with someone else's...but where to find the boy. I dismissed the idea of adoption or foster care at once for many good reasons not the least of which being that I was not willing to become legally responsible for a child sight unseen on a permanent basis. I required a way by which I could experiment with this project for a reasonably lengthy but still limited time before I made any full term commitment. Almost immediately, my thinking was drawn to the Nesswell-Turnbridge Academy for Boys... known generally as The NEST. The general population, if they had any knowledge of The NEST at all, knew that it was an exclusive orphanage that took in carefully selected male children and raised them into well-educated and productive adults. Indeed, society was well served by many of the bright men who had been produced by the Academy over the years. To those in the know however, the upper strata of society if you will, the NEST was also a very expensive source of young male prostitutes...a training place for highly skilled classy and pricy catamites. The truth of course was somewhere in between these two perceptions. Established in 1952, the Academy founders Harold Nesswell and Bernard Turnbridge had recognized a desire and a need in society and had established the Academy to service that need. They took in young orphaned boys whose lineage and (later) DNA had been scrupulously investigated and raised them in a very loving and nurturing environment. The Academy did not take in any child over the age of six and never accepted a child whose intellectual and physical potential could not be checked and verified. They only took them young and they only took the very cream of the crop. The boys received a top notch education and as a rule became exceptional students academically and physically. They were also emotionally supported and to the man were well rounded and stable. Academy boys were extraordinary boys. That was a well-known fact. There was however, the other social need that the Academy filled. From the beginning, an Academy boy was exposed to almost 100 percent male influence. The few females in their lives were never in any position that might allow a boy to develop any emotional attachment to them. All nurturing, encouragement and guidance was received from the male staff. At the age of 13, the boys' education became supplemented by intense training in the erotic arts of male/male sex. By the age of 15, a NEST Boy was a highly skilled errotic practitioner and was available for "lease" to any of the institution's many wealthy and influential clients. Nesswell and Turnbridge had correctly accessed there was a large demand among men of wealth...a surprising portion of whom nurtured (often secret) curiosity if not outright homo erotic desires. These to clients paid dearly for the attractive and skilled services as well as the discretion the Academy provided. Boys were "leased out" generally by the day or for weekends although week and even month long contracts were not uncommon with repeat business being the norm rather than the exception. Some clients preferred to rehire the same boy while others held to the principle that "variety was the spice of life". A nice portion of each boy's earnings was set aside in a bank account in the young man's name and he received the full sum upon reaching the age of 18. Additionally, upon leaving the NEST at the age of 18, the vast majority of the boys were the recipients of generous scholarships. After graduating college most became very successful in their chosen fields. It was not at all unusual in fact, for many of them go on to become Academy clients themselves. All in all it was a very reputable establishment even though it serviced what some prudish or unenlightened people would tend to consider a seamier side of human nature. I came to the conclusion that the NEST would be my perfect source for obtaining the right boy. Since they had already done the bulk of the work in selecting the best boys available, I only needed to make my selection by picking from the top of their inventory so to speak. During the dark period of quasi madness following the deaths of my family, I had used boys from the Nest on several occasions and found great sexual satisfaction in every case. These talented teens could milk a cock with their lips, hands, tongues and asses in ways almost unimaginable. They approached their jobs with gusto and enthusiasm all the while exuding good humor. They were well worth the money spent and if anything, they each exceeded my expectations. Now however, I was looking for a great deal more than just sexual pleasure and therefore did not want a boy who was trained and jaded. I wanted a boy whose perception of life was not yet fixed. I wanted someone that could learn with me and about me as I would with and about him; someone I could learn to care for and who could grow to care for me hopefully and become an actual part of my life. After days of serious consideration making long lists of pros and cons I came up with my specification. In brief I required a boy who excelled physically and intellectually. I required that he be attractive, clever and not self-absorbed Although Kyle, who remained my ideal of a young boy was 14 when he was killed I decided that this would be too old for my choice because a 14 year old in the Nest would be in the middle of his sexual instruction. I did not want the boy I selected to have even begun the NEST's erotic training but I wanted him to be aware of it and to have grown to the point that he was curious about it. I was not looking for a boy whore and I was not looking to replace Kyle. I had finally admitted to myself that Kyle and my parents were gone and it was time for me to move on. I was looking for a special boy who might with time and care become part of my life in every special way. I was looking for a boy who by his own right, would mend my ravaged heart and fill the hole in my empty aching existence. I established my criteria and decided that the search would be restricted to boys no younger than 10 and no older than 12. I contacted Mr. Coleman the director of the Academy and arranged a meeting. Sitting in his office I outlined my requirements and explained what my intentions were. After listening he looked at me rather smugly and told me in no uncertain terms that what I was looking to do was out of the question. "In the first place Mr. Tucker, it is unheard of to contract a student out for the uninterrupted period of an entire year. It would interfere with his education irreparably. Even if that were possible, we certainly do not contract out boys before they have completed their entire training. It is just not something we have ever done." "I see." I replied as I reached into my jacket pocket and retrieved my cell phone. I quickly flipped through my contact list and located the number I was seeking and punched it in. My call was answered almost at once. "Hello Bernie its Eric Tucker how are you?" Sitting behind his desk, the officious little director just looked at me curiously as he listened to the conversation...or at least my half of it. After a few minutes of small talk I got down to business. "Listen Bernie, I'm here at the Academy sitting in the office with your Mr. Coleman and he's telling me that a project that I've got in mind just can't be accommodated." I proceeded to succinctly outline what I was looking to do and while I spoke I watched the face on the stuffy little fellow on the other side of the desk change from smug to curious to apprehensive. What he didn't know was that I was talking to Bernard Turnbridge Jr. the current Chairman of the Board and Majority Stock Holder in the Academy. He also didn't know that besides the not insignificant money that I had personally spent on teen aged "companionship", my vast slew of companies were a major source of income as we entertained many clients by supplying them the services of Academy students. On top of that, he had no way of knowing that his boss and I were roommates at the university, were fraternity brothers and played golf at least twice a year. "This is Mr. Turnbridge on the phone Mr. Coleman" I said to the man behind the desk. "He wants to speak with you" I handed the now sweating Director my phone. After a short series of "but Mr. Turnbridge"s, his part of the conversation quickly deteriorated to a bunch of "yes Sir Mr. Turnbridge"s before he finally handed the phone back to me with a very uncomfortable look on his face. After a short conversation which included mutual assurances that we needed to get together soon, I broke the connection and smiled at the very nervous Director. "Well then Mr. Coleman, I've just been assured of your complete cooperation. Here are my requirements for the prospective young man." with this I passed him a rather thick folder. "Please review them with your staff and make your investigation your first priority. I don't intend to waste time My agent Mr. Phillip Regent will be in next Wednesday to review your suggested candidates. With your assistance he will cull the list down to three or four and from these I will make my final selection." I then thanked him as cordially as if we had never had our initial difficulties. There would be no point in laboring the issue. I knew his type all too well and now that he saw the lay of the land, I knew his cooperation would be genuine and professional. He knew what to kiss and when. Phil Regent was as close to a loved and trusted Uncle as I ever had. He had been my father's most valued assistant and Kyle and I grew up calling him "Uncle Phil". Even now that I was his boss, I used that term of respect and affection when we were together out of the public's ear. He knew me better than any person alive. I knew he loved me like a beloved nephew perhaps even a son. He was one of the first to embrace the Doctor's suggestion about getting involved with a boy. He enthusiastically agreed with the idea and I knew he was the man to trust with this task. The next Tuesday evening I received a telephone call from Director Coleman letting me know that he and his staff had pre-selected 10 potential candidates for Phil to review. I personally drove him to the airport the next morning. "Good luck Uncle Phil" I said as I embraced him. "Take as much time as you need but bring me back the brightest of the jewels." He smiled and gripped my shoulder affectionately as he nodded his assent. He boarded my private jet and I watched as it taxied, took off and disappeared into the sky. Upon returning home, I grabbed a decanter filled with single malt, plopped two ice cubes into a tumbler and walked into the music room of the mansion. Placing the bottle and the now filled tumbler upon the bench, I sat down at the Steinway and began playing not even thinking about what music I was producing; my fingers just raced across the keys. When I finally stopped, my bottle was empty, it was 2AM, I was quite drunk but I knew that at least I would be able to sleep without being tormented by apprehension for the future and ghosts from the past. Phil called me late Friday afternoon to fill me in on the progress. "Eric, it would have been a hell of a lot easier to bring you the dossiers on all ten boys rather than have to whittle it down to three but, I'm satisfied that I've achieved what you asked and we should plan on sitting down on Monday to review. I'm staying over here until tomorrow because I want shoot a video of a soccer game that one of the boys is going to be involved in. I'll see you Monday." The week end was pure hell. I reverted to my old habit of drinking myself into a stupor Saturday but managed to be sober albeit on pins and needles Sunday. I wanted to be clear headed for my meeting with Phil. Monday morning he was waiting in my study/office for me and we got right down to business. "Eric, while all ten of the boys were wonderful in their own right, knowing you and your tastes...at least that is, what you were like before you embarked upon this colossal bender that you now call your life...I've reduced the search down to three young men. One is 12 years old, one is 11 and the third is ten. I feel either of these boys could suite your purpose although I'll admit that I do have a person favorite among them." First he handed me the folder on the 10 year old and we reviewed his information followed by viewing a video interview with the young boy. Each of the boys had been told he was being interviewed and filmed for an educational TV program. This little boy was beautiful. He was absolutely cherubic with golden hair and bright blue eyes and was well spoken for his age. He was tiny in stature and appeared almost fragile. This seeming fragility stayed with me as a lay the file aside and accepted the next one. We next reviewed the 12 year old a brown haired beauty with dark dancing eyes and a gorgeous smile. He was athletically built and seemed average in stature. During the interview he seemed to have a quick wit. I was very impressed. Finally I was handed the dossier on the 11 year old. While I glanced at the file, Phil turned on the interview video and I was stopped cold. The boy on the screen had thick black hair that he wore over his ears and longish down on the back of his neck. Peeking out from under his bangs, long dark eyelashes accented the most startling blue/green eyes that shone intelligently as he listened and spoke. His full mouth with perfectly straight white teeth seemed to be fixed in a perpetual smile. He had a slender body that was exquisitely proportioned and his smooth skin tanned from time spent in the sun complimented his features. When he spoke the high but pleasant timbre of his voice gave proof that puberty was still some time in his future. He gave obvious thought before answering each of the interview questions and when something said struck him as funny he broke into a pleasingly natural young boy giggle that made me smile involuntarily as I watched. He seemed so alert and active and I smiled as I watched him try to refrain from wiggling as he sat for the battery of questions. The boy was stunning and my hands actually trembled as a read his file: Current height: 4 feet 6 inches, Current weight: 80 pounds. Grades: top 2 in every course, all around top of his class. Captain of the 11-12 year old soccer team, co-captain of the under 14 swim team first string on the novice tennis team. His parents had both been medical doctors who had been killed by rebels while they were doing voluntary emergency medical relief work in Africa. The child had been only 2 years old at the time and had been in the care of his only living relative; his grandmother who was a retired Professor of Art History at the State University and was the author of several definitive books on Medieval French Art. She had passed away suddenly when the child was four and he had been snapped up by agents from the Academy before his was lost in the sea of child care mediocrity. The resumes of his other three grandparents had been equally impressive. He was a treasure...a true "child of the NEST". I looked at Phil and the expression on my face must have said it all. He smiled and said softly: "I thought so too but you did charge me to bring back three possible candidates." He slipped a new disc into the laptop and said; "This is the soccer game I told you I was staying over to film. It's his game in every sense of the word. You watch and I'll go make us a couple of drinks." That would be the first of many multiples of times I would watch that video. There was no further discussion. I immediately contacted Director Coleman and informed him to get everything ready. I would be flying in tonight and would pick up the boy tomorrow. I smiled nervously to myself as I closed the computer and placed it in the bag next to me. I drained my scotch and put my chair into a safer upright position as my pilot indicated we were beginning our descent. Tonight I would sleep as best as I could in the penthouse apartment I maintained in the city and if all went well and fate was kind, it would be the last time in a long while that I would sleep alone. I knew that my night would be haunted and that actual sleep would be hard for me to come by. I fully anticipated I would be bidding farewell to some loved ghosts but I did not seek the security of drink induced oblivion. I wanted to stay alert and face the night with a heart filled with hope and anticipation. I wondered briefly if HE knew what tomorrow was to bring and if so, was HE as apprehensive as I was. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, for better or for worse, HE was coming into my life. Tomorrow I was picking up Sean and taking him home. (to be continued) ... This is my first story so all constructive comments are welcome. You may send them to: nolitimere156@gmail.com Also, PLEASE consider making a contribution to NIFTY. Thanks! Eff