Date: Thu, 25 Dec 2003 19:59:06 +0100
From: joshua Caddy  <joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk>
Subject: Chapter 7 For the times they are a changing

Legal Notice: The following story may contain descriptions of graphic
sexual acts. These acts may be between boys or between a man and a boy.

The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. The author, or
his designee, retains copyright to this story. There may be no reproducing
or distribution of this story without expressed written consent.

To all of you have written demanding the next chapter sorry it has taken so
long.

Many thanks to Adam for his continued support, Its really appreciated
although I don't say so as often as I should!

Your comments are always welcome

Joshucaddy@lycos.co.uk

Chapter Seven - Please get out of this new world if you can't lend a hand.

Those first weeks after Nick and Jerry went abroad must be ranked amongst
the happiest of my life.

My developing relationship with Ryan was an absolute joy. Having someone to
look after, care for, cook for, nag at for leaving his trainers in the
middle of the kitchen, was everything I had ever dreamed of and more, far
more.

That Ryan could accept my love in the way he did made me feel blessed
beyond compare.

His acceptance made me open my heart to him in ways I had never dreamed I
would be able to, allowing another human to glimpse the frailty and
emptiness of my soul and then allowing them to strengthen me and fill the
void of my loneliness was something I never thought I would ever
experience, thought I would never, could never deserve. Society labelled my
feelings as unclean and yet here was the object of my longing; that which
society thought it should protect from such as I, embracing me in body and
soul, enjoying my company, craving my attention and beyond hope, my love.

Ryan had filled my soul, my life and my house, for the first time making it
a home. Which ever room I entered there was an artefact that was his, be it
a discarded item of clothing, a book, a game even a half eaten sandwich.
Some may not have welcomed this sort of disruption into their homes (and
lives) but for me this was the fulfilment of my deepest dreams. I could not
help but smile when I saw some item of my boy's in an unexpected place, a
warm sensation seeped through me, often bringing a tear to my eye.

In those closing weeks of summer we did all those "father-son" types of
activity we both thought we had missed out on. Not wanting to voice the
cliche but I will; we indulged in the hunting, shooting fishing type
activities that promote male bonding.

Our relationship was not that of the normal parent and child, we shared a
bond far closer than that, a bond forged by our mutual need and choice. The
proximity of someone to share things with, someone who would not judge us,
only love and accept us was absolute bliss.

It was a "Swallows and Amazons" type existence we followed, drifting
through the hazy days of summer walking through the woods, skipping stones
across the pond, watched the farmers bringing in the harvest; doing nothing
important in the most important way. How many parents share those sort of
moments with their children, not many I would wager.

After our endless days of careless wandering we would return to the cottage
and linger in the parlour watching nothing of moment on the TV, just
enjoying each others company.

We developed a nightly routine of my putting Ryan to bed and telling him
stories. This simple act cemented our bond together. I got someone to put
to bed and Ryan got someone to put him to bed, thus giving both of us a
missing piece of our jigsaw.

Many times Ryan would sit on my knee after I had undressed him and we would
just hold each other without speaking, just enjoying the warmth of someone
else.

You may think that the temptation of having a naked boy on my lap would
have become too much for me but quite the contrary was the case. Whilst I
was passionately attracted to Ryan, my love for him was far more
abiding. Taking our physical intimacy to deeper levels would have been
incorrect for our relationship.

Whilst I put Ryan to bed each evening in his own room without fail he would
wake up in my bed. One minute I would be asleep on my own the next I would
feel a leg and an arm slide over me and soft lips would be pressed to my
cheek. The best of both worlds!

As the summer drew to a close we went through all the preparation necessary
for Ryan to return to school. He was indifferent to going back to school
but was rather pleased that my interpretation of school uniform was
different than his mothers. Firstly I wouldn't buy anything that would take
him four years to grow into and secondly I understood the need for the
right brands in a boy's wardrobe. This year when he went back to school he
would be far more fashionable than in the past.

Whilst out shopping for his new school uniform, in the middle of a large
busy department store Ryan very intuitively whispered to me "Bet you like
boys in school uniform don't you?"

What could I say, "Mea culpa, you know me far to well."

"I know you're a dirty old man," he said with a naughty giggle.

"Less of the old, smelly boy."

Ok so I shouldn't have that sort of conversation with a twelve year old,
but he now knew me almost better than I did myself. He knew about my
predilection for boys, knew I was enormously attracted to him but also knew
that I loved him with all my heart and would never do anything to hurt him.

So our relationship was unconventional but we were happy! We both had
needed someone to care for and be cared about and in each other we had that
special person.

I was sitting in the parlour after our shopping trip, recovering from
having Ryan drag me through shop after shop when he came in his new
uniform: blue blazer, grey trousers, white shirt and stripped tie.

"Do you fancy me in this Uncle Mikey, " said Ryan posing in his new uniform
for me.

"Far too much," I responded with a wry smile, "and so will all the girls in
your class."

My comment made him look most thoughtful.

"Michael."

"Yes?"

"When... when did you first realise that you liked boys?"

"I don't really know Ryan. Its one of those things I have always known I
suppose. I don't think I can remember ever looking at a boy and being
disinterested. I suppose when I really first thought about it I would have
been a little older than you are now. Now I wonder why you just asked that
question. Don't answer me just yet. I know what you're thinking; you don't
know who you are yet. You don't know if its girls or other boys you
like. You're confused and because you like being with me, at least I hope
you do, you're wondering if you're like me.  I really, really hope you're
not Ryan. It's a very lonely life to lead"

"But your not lonely now are you?"

"Not since you came into my life but before that I was desperately lonely."

"Just like me then."

"Happens we were just supposed to be together, at least for a little while
anyway."

"What do you mean a little while? You're not going to leave me are you?"

"No of course not; but eventually you will leave me."

"Won't!"

With that defiant word Ryan threw himself around my neck.

Not wanting to dwell on his eventually moving on (as he grew up his need
for me would lessen) I did not pursue the conversation just sat and enjoyed
what I had now; a very cute boy trying to hug the life out of me.

Ryan's first weeks back at school were uneventful. He went out of the house
in the morning catching the school bus and came back in the afternoon. When
asked about his day I would get the standard issue boy grunts. As there
were no apparent problems I did not push the issue supposing that if he had
any problems he would tell me.

One thing did concern me and that was his lack of friends. Not wanting to
broach the subject directly, I asked him if there were no after school
clubs he wanted to join.

"I always wanted to join the football team but I don't suppose I can."

"Why not, I know your good with a ball."

Having spent a good part of the summer kicking a ball about with him it was
obvious he had some talent as a footballer.

"All the training sessions are after school and I wouldn't be able to get
home."

"Pardon?"

"The bus doesn't come here after 4.00pm and I wouldn't be able to get
home."

"So why can't I come and pick you up!"

"But mum and dad were always too busy at work to do that."

"Since when am I your mum and dad? If you want to join the football team
then do it."

"But..."

"But nothing. In fact if there are any other clubs you want to join, do
that as well. The bus is not a limiting factor."

In the weeks to come I began to half wish I had not said that because I
became Ryan's personal taxi service.

The change in my boy was worth it though. He practically bounced around the
cottage. His boundless enthusiasm for his new hobby's meant the boy - grunt
communication was gone and I actually found out what he did all day!
Through his in depth monologues on his daily doings it became apparent that
at last he was making friends. Any number of names kept cropping up, one or
two far more regular than others.

You know how it is when someone keeps talking about people you have never
met and you want to put faces to names well I must confess that I was
getting curious about Ryan's friends. Plus the fact that the mother hen was
coming out in me. I wanted to know what sorts he was mixing with, the last
thing I wanted was him getting in trouble.

Ok so what was a cool way of meeting his friends, without embarrassing him
and without looking as though I was checking up on who he was mixing with?

This kept my little grey cells active for some time.

After much thought I realised that most boys are interested in guns so why
not have a clay pigeon shooting party.

I broached my idea over supper with Ryan.

"You keep telling me about all your mates at school but I have never met
any of them why don't you invite a few of them over. We could have jelly
and ice cream" I said in the way a mother might try and manipulate a
toddler.

A first he thought I was serious; this was obvious from the look of horror
that crossed his face. I sat there in all innocence whilst he concocted
some tale to fob me off.

Half way through his contrived narrative I put a finger on the tip of his
nose and whispered "Gocha!"

 As he started to swear at me, I moved my finger from his nose to across
his lips.

"Ok I know that was rotten but I would like to meet your friends. I was
thinking we could go and do some clay pigeon shooting with them down at
Grange Farm, but only if you want to that is?"

Grange farm belonged to one of the locals down at The Bull. Times many,
George had offered me the use of his traps if I ever fancied a shoot.

The mention of fire arms brought an enthusiastic response from Ryan. Let's
face it, how many boys have no interest in guns, not many.

Later that evening as I was putting Ryan to bed he looked at me rather
apprehensively.

"Uncle Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Uncle Michael, you know my friends...."

"Yes?" I prompted.

"You know all my friends are boys don't you?"

"Yes?", I think I could see where this was leading. With a heart like a
lump of lead I asked, "Yes, so?"

"You won't, won't do anything with them will you?".

With a tear in my voice I responded, "If you even need to ask perhaps we
had better not bother."

With that I briefly kissed him on the forehead and said good night.

Closing the door to his bedroom I went downstairs into the study and poured
myself a large single malt. With that in my hand I sat and stared into the
fire. My mind was working overtime. Was that how my boy really saw me as a
predator, a monster just waiting for a boy to come within my range so I
could leap out and....... I could not bring myself to contemplate what ever
he thought I was capable of. Staring into the amber flames my contentment
of the last weeks leached from me, disappearing up the chimney with the
smoke from the fire.

How fragile a thing like happiness really is. The happy little nest we
build inside our minds are so easily torn apart by the intrusion of
others. Perhaps society was right.  Men like me should be locked up. Even
the boy who shared my bed thought I would touch up the first lad that came
near me.

With these unhappy thoughts swilling around in my brain I turned out the
lights, ensured the doors were locked and made my way to bed. As I passed
Ryan's door I though I could hear a noise but felt disinclined to
investigate.

I lay awake for what seemed like hours staring into the inky darkness of my
chamber contemplating the hand which fate had dealt me. In the happiness
stakes the lord giveth and the lord snatches back just as quickly.

As I was beginning to drift off into a fitful slumber my bedroom door
opened and Ryan came into the room. Rather than his usual swift entry into
my bed he walked round to "my" side of the bed and quietly whispered, "Are
you awake Michael?"

I did not trust myself to answer and so I feigned sleep, observing my boy
through shrouded lids.

He stood looking down at my supposedly slumbering form for an eternity then
he bent down and lightly kissed my cheek and with slumped shoulders and
returned to his own bed.

I cried myself to sleep that night. Tears soaked into my pillow absorbing
my sobs of loss, rejection, betrayal and despair.

When I awoke I lay in bed and decided I must pull myself together. Ok so
Ryan really thought I was a molester of boys. That he could not trust me
around his friends made that obvious. This did not change the fact that I
loved him and had committed myself to care for him.

His revelation had changed our relationship unequivocally. Our time
together had been a lie as far as he was concerned. Did he just see me as a
predator who wanted him only to satisfy my twisted fantasies? In reality he
did not want me to put him to bed, nor did he want to sleep with me nor
want me to touch him. He just thought he had to do these things in order
for me to let him stay, for me to "love" him.

How could I explain that this was not the case. I had already opened my
heart to him. What more could I do?

Unable to face him over the breakfast table I remained cosseted in my bed
until I herd him leave for school.

The remainder of the day was grey and uninspired. I sat in the study
reading the paper and swilling gin and tonic. I lacked the energy to
contemplate doing anything else. The happy little nest I had built was gone
and without that I felt empty. Hours passed without my recognition so it
was something of a surprise when I herd the back door bang open and Ryan
shouted, "Uncle Michael where are you?"

"In the study," I answered somewhat noncommittally.

Ryan breezed into the study tie askew school bag still over his
shoulder. "I hope it's all right but I've brought Tom and Adam back from
school with me. Can they stay for dinner?"

To use a quaint local expression I was "gob smacked."

Shaking myself out of my solamnic state I answered "Er yes fine sure I'd
better see what I can rustle up. Where are your friends?"

"There in the garage looking at Lizzy."

As I rose to leave the room Ryan put his arms around my waist and holding
me very tightly he looked into my eyes and said, "You know what I meant
last night don't you?"

"I got the message," I responded, "but I was hurt that you think I might
try it on with your friends. I thought I had explained how I am."

Ryan looked at me puzzled, "No, I meant I don't want to share you and don't
want you doing all the stuff you do with me: all the stupid names, teasing
and stuff." Then the realisation struck him, "You thought I meant THAT!"

A look of shock, horror even dashed onto his face.

"But that's NOT what I think. I know you wouldn't do those sort of
things. It's just that I know how much you like being with me and I don't
want you to start to be like that with anyone else, I don't want to loose
you to another boy."

Then another revelation struck Ryan.

"You though I meant you would touch up my friends, that's why you didn't
put me to bed and ignored me when I asked if you were awake!"

"So you don't think I'd molest you're friends."

"No of course not you're not like that."

Ryan then started to giggle.

"Your guilty conscience got the better of you; I keep telling you you're a
dirty old man."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this little outburst. I had spent
a day and night in absolute agony thinking Ryan regarded me as a child
molester and all the time it was my own stupidity responsible for my
torment. I suppose if I had properly considered the situation I would have
realised how ludicrous it was.

Ryan's giggling subsided as he looked into my eyes to be replaced by a look
of concern. He knew what this misconception had done to me.

"You do still love me don't you?" he tentatively asked. "Because I love
you."

"You're not worried I'm going to molest you then?" I enquired.

"No," he answered rather apprehensively.

"Well you should be," I shouted as I wrapped both hands around his neck and
pretended to strangle him.

The cheeky grin on his face relit the fire in my heart. How could I have
been so stupid?

It was as I was pretending to throttle him that two rather nervous looking
boys peeped into the study.

Seeing the rather shocked expressions on there faces made me begin to
laugh, in fact I was laughing so hard I collapsed into a chair with Ryan on
top of me.

As I regained my composure Ryan introduced me to his two friends.

Shaking hands with the two boys I could not help but rattle their knuckles
causing them both to squirm and giggle. Ryan gave me a withering look.

"Ok sorry Ryan I will behave now," I promised my boy.

Looking slightly mollified Ryan took Tom and Adam upstairs away from his
"weird" uncle to play with the latest games.

Listening to the boys laughing and joking as they went upstairs caused me
to reflect on the past few moments. I had come so close to loosing the one
person I truly cared about through a stupid misunderstanding. Although this
had been resolved, the thought did continue to reside at the back of my
mind deep down: did Ryan think of me as a paedophile as portrayed in the
media.

Pushing this thought away I went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. As I
raided the freezer for various lumps of meat and such I did make a mental
note to tell Ryan I would need more than three seconds notice in future if
he intended to have guest for dinner.

Having the minimum of notice I resorted to pasta rapidly preparing a
lasagne, side salad, chips plus other goodies. Considering the age of our
dinner guests I knocked up a rather spectacular chocolate dessert laced
with a little brandy. Like guns boys are interested in alcohol and I have
always been of the opinion that providing they are educated about it in the
correct way from an early age then problems do not arise in later
life. This being the case I opened a bottle of red wine to go with the
meal.

Going to the foot of the stairs I was about to shout up to the boys to wash
their hands when it struck me that it was rather quiet upstairs. Being of a
curious nature I quietly went upstairs and paused outside Ryan's partially
open door. Peering through the crack in the door I observed all three boys
sat in front of the computer. The numerous naughty little giggles they kept
uttering told me they were looking at something they shouldn't be. Whilst I
was intrigued to see what they were looking at I thought it better not to
intrude and embarrass Ryan in front of his friends. So making a hasty but
silent retreat back down stairs I shouted up that dinner was ready and went
to dish up.

The boys came tearing into the kitchen in the way that only adolescents can
do. Ryan instinctively went to his own chair and almost started to fill his
plate.

"Manners young sir," I murmured.

Not wishing to labour the point I asked Tom and Adam to sit down and help
themselves.

So it wasn't a conventional "What shall I fed someone else's kids" sort of
meal i.e. burgers and chips etcetera but they all filled their plates. When
I offered them a glass of wine not only did I gain cool adult status but
Ryan got a couple of envious looks as if to say that his adult was "cooler"
than theirs.

During the meal I managed to extract a little information about the boys
without seeming too inquisitive. They both came from professional families,
had various siblings dogs guinea pigs all in all very normal likeable boys.

Just as we were finishing dinner a knock came at the door. This turned out
to be Tom's father who had been summoned to collect my extra dinner
guests. I'm not fond of mobile phones but can see there uses. As the boys
inhumed copious quantities of ice cream I made Nigel (Toms father) a coffee
and we chatted about inconsequential matters.

It rapidly became apparent that he was the representative of the local
"parent mafia" and I was being surreptitiously assessed for my suitability
to host their kids.

Once he realised I was lacking two heads, did not have tattoos and was
unlikely to vote Labour we got on well enough.

After our visitors depart Ryan and myself sprawled out in the parlour
watching nothing of consequence on the TV.

"So did I pass muster then hippo boy?" I enquired prodding Ryan with my
foot.

"Yes cause you did" He said trying to crush my foot in his hands.

We tussled around a little which inevitably ended up with Ryan sat on top
of me looking smug.

Even though we had resolved the earlier misunderstanding the question was
still praying on my mind. I had to know for sure what he thought about
me. Simply not knowing would gnaw away at my insides.

Taking my hands from around his waist I grasped the nettle and said with
some trepidation "Ryan you know you don't have to do stuff with me for me
to love you, don't you? What I mean is I don't expect anything from you,
anything personal."

He looked at me rather puzzled

"Look I'm not making myself very clear when I say do stuff I mean anything
that makes you feel uncomfortable like getting you ready for bed. Things
like that."

"But I like you getting me ready for bed" A look of comprehension then
crossed his face.

"Your trying to talk about sex and stuff again aren't you"

"Yes look sorry I'm not good at this sort of thing. What I'm trying to say
is I don't want you to think I expect you to do anything sexual with me
just because you think I expect it. If my touching you or anything makes
you feel uncomfortable tell me and I'll stop."

"This is about what I said about my friends isn't it."

"Ultimately it is. I really need to know what you think about me. I've
tried to explain my feelings but I'm not sure if I've done it well enough
for you to understand who what I am"

Ryan took a deep breath and with a serious look took hold of my hands

"You're my Uncle Michael, the first person who has ever spent any time with
me, shown any interest in me. You're the only one who has ever said they
loved me.

Smiling down at me he continued "I know you're a dirty old man who
fantasises about doing naughty things with boys but won't, even if I want
him too" At which he pointedly moved his bum across my groin. "I know
you're not some sick pedo who goes around raping kids. I think you just
want someone to love but don't think anyone can love you, because of what
you are.

He then lay full length on top of me and placing his forehead on mine
looked deep into my eyes.

"Well I love you even though you're a dirty old man who has fantasies about
me and probably my mates as well. You're just my Uncle Michael that's what
I think about you and I dont't want to be with anyone else."

His monologue completed he kissed my cheek and snuggled into me.

Laying with my boy blanket over me I felt for the first time truly loved
for who I am . How many of us can truly say that?