Date: Thu, 09 Sep 2004 03:49:21 -0700
From: fritz@nehalemtel.net
Subject: I love Corey, Chapter Twenty-one

	You here again.  What, you're looking for the warning and
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fritz@nehalemtel.net I hope you enjoy the following chapter.  Fritz

	I Love Corey, Chapter Twenty-one

	Sometime during the night Corey rolled off of me.  At least he was
on his side of the bed, flat on his stomach, when I awoke.  One thing about
that, at least he didn't snore in that position.  I sort of missed that.
On the few times I had caught him snoring, it was a soft kind of high
pitched (for a snore) sound.  It really wasn't quite what you'd expect from
him, more like someone much younger.  Since he usually seemed to be lying
on my chest or on his stomach I didn't hear it very often.  I idly wondered
if I snored enough to bother him.  I ought to ask him sometime.  In the
meantime, I just lay there, watching him sleep.  His face was turned
somewhat towards me and I could admire him.  I loved the way his long blond
eyelashes looked when he was sleeping.  His face was so relaxed and
peaceful.  I think I could watch him forever.  Well, if my bladder would
let me, I could.  Unfortunately, I now had to relieve myself or risk a very
wet bed.  I'm going to have to cut back on the coffee.  It seems to cut
into my quality time for watching Corey.

        Once I had accomplished the trip to the bathroom and the pause that
refreshes, I had a decision to make.  Should I go back to bed and wait for
him to wake up or should I head for the kitchen and start the day.  I would
probably have gone back to bed if I hadn't heard my stomach growl.  Not
only that, it was letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that it wanted
something to fill it.  We'd had a light dinner and I was now hungry.
Figuring that Corey would be too, I headed for the kitchen.  Of course, it
seems like he is always hungry.  I can't believe how much he can eat.  The
fact that he has shot up like a weed probably accounts for much of his
appetite.

	I had the coffee made, the juice squeezed, and was starting to cook
the sausage when Corey came padding out to the kitchen.  He never said
anything but started putting the plates and flatware on the table.  By the
time he was done with that, I had the hash browns cooking and was ready to
start the eggs.  He had just gotten the first batch of toast out of the
toaster when I had the rest of the meal cooked.  We started eating while
the second batch of toast cooked.

	By the time we were done with breakfast we were ready to start
talking.  The only thing was, neither of us had anything we wanted to say
right then.  That produced both of us sharing the morning paper.  Since he
had gotten better at reading, he now wanted to read more than the comics.
I noticed he now read the sports section and part of the living section.
He seemed particularly interested in what was happening with young people,
what they were reading, what they were wearing, what problems they were
having, and what music they liked.  So far I hadn't managed to get him
interested in the national news or the editorial page.  Naturally, those
were the two sections I got to read first.  When I'd lived by myself, I
could read the paper in whatever order I wanted.  Now I got it in whatever
order he let me have it.  We had just finished with the paper when I
remembered something.

	"Corey, I just remembered that the trap club has a shotgun that's
for young shooters.  Would you like to go try it out today?"

	"Wow, yessss, can we?"

	"Sure, after church we'll give it a try."

	Needless to say, that got him in gear.  I didn't even have to
remind him that the dishes needed to be picked up and put in the
dishwasher.  It seems like he's got a pretty good memory about doing his
chores when it might influence something he wants to do.  I wonder why it
doesn't work that well at other times.  Perhaps somebody should do some
research on why young people have such selective memories.  That ought to
be interesting.

	It didn't take long before we were ready.  When I first came to
this area I had attended most of the churches in order to find one where I
felt comfortable.  I'd been baptized a Methodist but the local Methodist
church was comprised of older citizens and their minister naturally
directed his sermons to them.  On looking the others over I'd chosen
St. Luke's Episcopal Church as the one I enjoyed attending.  They had a
nice, although small, pipe organ, a pretty good choir, and a friendly
congregation.  As I didn't have any strong feelings as to church dogma, I
had elected to attend there.  It was a decision I had never regretted.  In
fact, sometimes I thought I ought to take the necessary classes and join.
If all Episcopal Churches espoused the same loving message as St. Luke's,
they were my kind of church.  I'd never heard of any hate or any
discrimination from any of the members.

	It really didn't take us long to get ready and head for the church.
The day was slightly overcast so the sun didn't make the stained glass
windows glow as much as it did when the day was bright and clear, but they
still gave a nice warmth to the church.  As usual the homily was both brief
and uplifting.  As I listened I wondered why some churches preached and
practiced love while others seemed to be filled with hate for all things
that didn't exactly agree with their teachings.  I'd attended the
Rev. Langston's church on one occasion and found his sermon so filled with
hatred for several groups he was speaking against that day that I'd never
returned.  I just find it hard to believe that someone who professes to be
a Christian can hate others.  Christ preached that we should love one
another.  It seems to me those that preach hate have missed what he taught
and died for.  In my mind they have missed what Christianity stands for.

	After the service and a brief visit with Fr. George we went home
and changed into casual clothes.  After loading the shells and my guns into
the pickup we drove to the trap club.

	The trap club is small and on a normal Sunday has somewhere around
thirty to forty shooters.  Today appeared to be about normal.  I made
arrangements to use one of the traps and use the youth shotgun.  We were
assigned to trap number six which was the last one and was rarely used
unless they were having some type of competition.

	It took about twenty minutes to adjust the stock so it fit Corey.
After that, I started explaining how the range was laid out, what safety
rules applied, and what he should expect.  We were standing there watching
some of the other shooters as they were shooting a practice round and Corey
seemed surprised when I told him he shouldn't expect to do as well as they
were until he had shot quite a lot.  The members of the squad we were
watching were all good shooters and only dropped three targets between the
five shooters.  He couldn't seem to believe me when I told him he would be
lucky to hit five of his first twenty-five targets.  After watching for a
couple of squads, we went to our assigned trap and I started explaining how
to stand, where to point the shotgun, and where to watch when he was
calling for a target.  Since I was going to pull for him, it made it easy
to stand just behind him and watch what he did.

	He was a typical beginning shooter.  He started late, picked his
head up, and did about everything wrong that it was possible to do.  He
managed to hit a total of four targets, two from station three and two from
station four.  On stations one, two, and five he missed them all.  Needless
to say he was both surprised and embarrassed.  He'd thought I was kidding
when I told him it wasn't as easy as it looked.  After that we started in
on lessons and how to shoot correctly.

	After he had finished his fifth practice round, and only managed to
break seven targets on it, he turned to me.

	"You keep telling me what I'm doing wrong.  How good can you do?"

	"Well, I don't know, it's been about a year since I last shot and
my timing will be off.  Tell you what, you pull and I'll shoot," I told
him.  With that I handed him the bug, walked over to the gun rack, picked
up my shotgun, and took my place at station one.

	"Push the button when I yell pull and we'll see how good I still
am."  With that limited amount of instruction I loaded and prepared to
shoot.  His pulls were a little ragged as to timing but I went ahead and
shot anyway.  Twenty-five targets later and I had managed to break
twenty-three of them.  Several weren't real solid hits and I could tell my
timing was a little off but Corey was impressed.

	"Wow, how long did it take you to get that good?" he asked.

	"A couple of years of shooting every weekend," I told him.

	"Do you think I can get that good?"

	"I don't see why not.  You just have to practice and listen to
instruction.  I'll tell you this, you can do as well as you really want to.
That not only applies to trapshooting, but to anything you want to do in
your life.  Of course, there will always be things that you won't be able
to do.  I don't think you'll be able to be a jockey because it looks like
you're going to be too big and you'll probably be too small to be a
basketball player but anything else you want to do that doesn't depend on
certain size requirements should be open to you.  It's a matter of wanting
it bad enough to work hard at it."  I figured it was time to point out that
anyone can pretty much make of himself what ever he really wants to.  "In
most cases, failure is the result of not being willing to strive hard
enough to succeed.  That doesn't mean you can become the best in the world
at whatever it is you try to do, but you can become competent.  One other
thing, you can't be afraid to fail.  If you are, you'll never succeed.
Only if you're willing to try to win, and not worry about failure, can you
become as good as possible"

	We took a break and had a Coke.  While drinking it we discussed
what he was doing wrong.  After our break he shot a couple more practice
rounds and on the last one he managed to break ten targets.  I figured he'd
shot enough for the day and so we headed for the clubhouse to check out.
On the way I got to visiting with a couple of the regulars that always
seemed to be at the club anytime I was there.  Before I knew it I was
talked into entering one of the club's fun shoots.  It was a draw backer
upper and I drew Mitch Williams.  We'd shot together several times and shot
well together.  Both of us shot quickly and that gave the second shooter
lots of time to hit the target if the first shooter missed.

	As it turned out, both of us missed backing up our partner once
during the event.  That tied us for third place and we got to split five
dollars.  Since it cost five dollars for the two of us to enter, all we
were out was the cost of our ammunition.  I thought to myself that I was
going to have to come to the trap club and shoot more often.  I'd forgotten
how much I enjoyed it.  I'd quit shooting because I got involved in working
with the Boy Scouts.  Now that was no longer a problem.

	After I paid for the targets and turned in the club's youth shotgun
we headed home.  Corey couldn't seem to stop talking about how well he
thought I shot.  I kept trying to explain that I hadn't really done that
well but I guess that the fact that I shot a lot better than he did gave
him a poor perspective.  I finally managed to get him to shut up about the
way I shot and get him talking about what he thought about trapshooting in
general.  He said he'd enjoyed it and would like to try it some more.

	By now we had arrived at Downie's Market.  We went in and started
trying to decide what to have for dinner.  It was one of those days when
nothing really jumped out at either one of us.  After much discussion, we
decided to have a traditional fried chicken dinner, you know, fried
chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, cole slaw, etc.  I picked out a nice
big fryer and the rest of the items I needed and we went home.  I'd just
started cutting the chicken up (so I'm a cheapskate, I buy whole chickens
because they are cheaper, besides I don't like the way those packing houses
hack them up) when the phone rang.  It was Bob Asher asking if Corey wanted
his art lesson tonight.  I yelled at Corey and handed him the phone.

	After a little, very one-sided conversation, Corey asked if there
would be enough for Bob to have dinner.  I laughed and told him that unless
he thought he could eat most of a four plus pound chicken there ought to be
enough for three of us.  After he hung up Corey told me Bob would be here
in about thirty minutes.  After telling him they ought to have at least an
hour before dinner for his lesson, I continued cutting up the chicken.

	Bob showed up and took a few minutes to tell us about his new
grandchild.  He even had some pictures of her that his son had taken with
his digital camera and printed.  I'm sorry, newborn babies look like
newborn babies.  In my opinion one needs to wait a few days until some of
the redness goes away before you start bragging about how beautiful a baby
is.  Non-the-less I made the appropriate sounds about how pretty the baby
was.  Actually I would prefer to wait until they are old enough to grin and
interact with me.  That's when I start to think they are cute.  I just love
it when a baby grins at me.  I want to pick them up and hug them forever.

	While I was making all the appropriate noises about the baby it was
quite obvious that Corey wasn't all that impressed.  I finally couldn't
resist.

	"What's the matter Corey?  You don't sound very thrilled about
Bob's grandchild."

	"Oh no.  I think she's real uhh cu...err pretty."  Bob started to
grin when Corey said that.  It wasn't hard to figure out Corey was less
than impressed with the appearance of the new-born.  I decided maybe I
ought to lay it on a little.

	"Bob, I don't think I've ever seen a prettier baby.  Look at her
cute nose and eyes."  I wasn't sure how that would go over as her eyes were
closed in the picture we were now looking at.  "I bet she'll look just like
her mother when she grows up.  You can tell she has her mother's features."

	Now Bob knew I'd never met his daughter-in-law and I wasn't sure
how he would react but he went right along with me.  That was when I was
sure he had picked up on Corey's lack of interest.

	By the time Corey begged off to go to his room and get his lesson
ready, Bob and I had really laid it on about how pretty the baby was.  As
soon as Corey was out of hearing Bob turned to me.

	"God, new-borns really all look pretty much alike.  What were you
trying to do?  Drive the poor kid mad."  He was giggling so hard I wasn't
sure he was going to manage to keep standing.

	"It's good for him.  You will have to admit that ones first
experience to a new-born, unless you are the mother, is a little shocking.
I reacted about like he did when my Uncle Matt and his wife had their first
child."

	"I know what you mean.  I reacted about the same way when my wife
gave birth the first time.  I thought something was wrong with him," he
said while continuing to giggle.

	"Then they grow up and you know something was wrong with them."  I
couldn't resist that.  That was too much for Bob.  His giggles gave way to
an all out belly laugh.

	"I think you better go give Corey his lesson.  Dinner will be in
about forty-five minutes," I said while handing Bob a mug of coffee.

	"We can at least get started.  He really is doing well."

	"By the way, she is a good looking for a new-born.  I suppose
you'll soon be spoiling her rotten."

	"You know it Sam.  That's the first granddaughter.  The other three
are boys."

	"I think I'll take out some life insurance on you.  Her parents
will most likely kill you one of these days and there's no reason I
shouldn't benefit from it," I quipped.

	Bob headed for Corey's room, laughing all the way.  I went on with
dinner preparations.  Things had gone well today and I was in a good mood.
In fact, the last week had gone well.  The contractor would replace the
window tomorrow.  If it had been a standard size it would have all ready
been fixed but he'd had to order the replacement.  There had been no more
incidents with the Rev. Langston and his followers and I hoped they'd come
to their senses and would just let things drop.  I still wished the Scouts
would adopt a more enlightened attitude but wasn't going to hold my breath.
We'd just have to continue and hope for the best.  Maybe someday there
would be a change in policy and I could go back to working with the Scouts.

	When dinner was ready, I yelled down the hall to Corey and Bob.  I
had it on the table by the time they had washed their hands and come to the
dining room.  We all enjoyed the chicken.  I was somewhat puzzled as to why
Corey and I thought it tasted so good as we'd had chicken for lunch
yesterday while shooting our pistols, but decided the difference in the way
it was cooked probably accounted for that.  We laughed and visited while
eating and when we were finished I started picking up the dishes while
Corey and Bob went back to Corey's room to finish his art lesson.

	Since I couldn't really offer anything constructive to his lessons,
I decided to catch up on grading papers and my lesson plans.  I didn't have
many to do as I had managed to get most of them done in the odd free
minutes I'd had during the week.  I had all the grading done and almost
caught up on updating my lesson plans when Bob finished his lesson.  We
visited a few minutes and he told me he had to get home and get his own
plans caught up.  Corey stayed in his room, working on his lesson.

	Since my normal teaching was very flexible in its approach, meaning
that I wasn't wedded to what the day's plan called for, I soon had learned
that I had to make sure and check to see that I got everything in.  While I
had textbooks, a good share of the lessons were what I wanted to talk about
and the book was only used to make sure the lessons were properly learned
and understood.  I made sure my students learned what was in the book but
also taught them how those rules and problems were applied to real life.
For example, a couple of weeks ago we had been talking about statistics and
I had spent some time explaining how they could be used.  I taught them
about how a poll could be taken and used to indicate who would win an
election.  Since it was an election year, they all seemed to get a better
understanding of why one might want to be able to use those lessons
regarding it.  It's my theory that students get a better understanding of
the lessons if you can show them how they can be applied to real life.  If
you don't, they seem to soon forget the lessons.

	I was just finishing updating my lesson plans when Corey came up
behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

	"What's this for?" I asked him.

	"I don't know.  I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate
what you've done for me."

	"Oh.  What is it I've done for you?"

	"You've made me happy."

	"Why is that Corey?"

	"Well, before you took an interest in me I didn't have any friends.
Lots of times I was hungry.  I didn't get very good grades.  I knew I was
different and didn't know who to talk to or even if there was anyone else
that felt the same as I did.  Since I met you I've learned to accept
myself, made friends, and my knee no longer bothers me.  I get better
grades and now I think I might be able to do anything I want."

	"What do you want to do?"

	"I don't know.  For a long time I didn't think I would be able to
do much of anything.  I didn't think I was smart enough."

	All of a sudden it overwhelmed me.  I could see the difference I'd
made in his life.  A lot of the changes resulted from nothing more than
offering encouragement.  Some had required some work on my part or the work
of one of my colleagues.  I realized what had been required was someone to
take an interest in him and encourage him.  I wondered how many other
students would develop better if they had the same encouragement.  In one
sense I was thrilled that he had responded so well to my efforts but in
another I was saddened.  If such actions could make such a difference in
Corey, I wished that all the other students that were having problems could
have the same support.  It just didn't seem right that so many children
would lack such an important thing that was, in one sense, so simple, yet
so vital.  I wished I knew of some way to get parents to make the effort to
encourage their children and help them instead of running them down or
belittling them.  The best part of it all was that I had enjoyed doing
those things.  If all parents would take time to think about it, I wonder
how many would discover the joy of helping their child.  Add to that the
fact that they would have a child that they could be proud of and show off
to their friends.

	"I didn't really do much Corey.  You did it."

	"I don't think I could have done it without your help."  With that
he gave me a kiss.

	It's a good thing I was about done with my lesson plans because I
suddenly had need of him.  I wanted to hold him and love him.  I shut off
my laptop and we headed for bed.  I wanted to make him know how important
he was to me.

	It didn't take long before we were undressed and in bed.  Well
actually we were on top of the bed but both of us were a little too hot at
the time to want to be under the covers.

	It was very easy for me to figure out that he wanted to make love
to me.  Every time I started to do something to and for him he quickly
stopped me.  I soon gave up and allowed him to do what he wanted.

	We'd never gotten beyond oral sex but it's surprising how many
variations can take place in that one form of making love to someone.  Most
of the time when Corey took the lead he would do a lot of kissing and
licking.  Tonight there was a lot of that but he added nibbling.  After
some kissing and licking of my face and neck he worked his way down to my
chest.  That's when the nibbling started.  At first he just scraped his
teeth lightly over my nipples, but when he observed the reaction that
produced in me, he soon started gently nipping and licking.  Not being a
girl, I have no idea how sensitive their nipples are but I can tell you
this, if girls nipples are anywhere as sensitive as mine, I have no idea
how they can ever nurse a baby.  If Corey's work on mine were any
indication of how a baby suckling would feel, I'd kill myself with multiple
orgasms.

	Each time his teeth lightly scraped or he nipped, I'd shiver all
over with anticipation.  I knew I was leaking precum like a bad faucet but
he seemed in no hurry to examine that particular problem.  He just kept
nipping and licking and scraping his teeth on my nipples.  I was panting
and shivering and so hard it hurt.  I wished he'd hurry and get to the main
event, yet wanted this to last forever.  I was so hot and excited that I
had no idea what I wanted.  I just knew this was great.

	After what seemed like forever, he stopped and just let his head
lay on my stomach.  He was facing my engorged member and I could feel his
warm breath on it every time he exhaled.  I was so hot I was about to shoot
and to frustrate me he just lay there doing nothing.
	Slowly I came down from the edge.  When he sensed I was a little
more relaxed, he started licking.  It wasn't fast, just an occasional swipe
with his tongue.  Sometimes his tongue just flicked across the tip of my
cock, other times he would twist it a little with his hand and lick just
under the crown.  No matter what he did, every time he did something it
seemed like he was trying to send my senses into overload.  When he wasn't
licking, there was still the sensation of his warm breath gently rushing
past my cock.  All I could do was lay there and wait to see what he would
do next.

	Suddenly he made his move.  I'd managed to calm down a little and
then he swallowed me.  I could feel his throat muscles working as he
swallowed again and again.  His mouth was hot and the feeling of his throat
contracting again and again pushed me over the edge.

	As I arched my back I could feel him pull back slightly.  Somehow I
knew he wanted to taste his reward for all his work.

        I couldn't have stopped if my life depended on it.  I could feel
his tongue swirling around my cock.  With each blast my muscles contracted,
causing me to arch my back a little higher.  About the time I thought my
back would break from the strain I was putting on it, I was finished.  I
just collapsed back onto the bed.  I was panting, and sweating, and in
heaven.

        When I was totally limp he finally quit playing with my tool.  All
I could do was just lay there.  He'd managed to take me to a condition
where I'd given him my all.  I had no strength left.

        He squirmed around on the bed and kissed me.  I could taste myself
and the flavor that was unmistakably Corey.  I managed to wrap my arms
around him and we both drifted off to sleep.  All was right with my world.
The one who I loved more than life itself was in my arms and he loved me
back.  Who could ask for more?

        To be continued.