Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:51:27 EDT
From: Marrauder 390 <marrauder390@hotmail.com>
Subject: Will's Story - Parts 4 - 7

The story that follows is pure fiction.  Do not read anything into it. It's
make believe: what you see is what you get. The author neither promotes nor
agrees with sexual relationships between men and teenage boys. I'm sure
that there are characters who resemble those depicted in the story, but any
resemblance to persons living or deceased is unintentional coincidence. Any
sex acts depicted should not be attempted without proper precautions. You
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			       Will's Story

				    IV

Nothing else happened between us for about a week and a half, and then Will
came to my classroom crying, his math teacher hot on his tail. One of the
boys in his math class had been making comments about his messy clothes and
unkempt hair. The boy was probably hoping to create an outburst from Will
to distract the teacher, as there was a big math test scheduled for that
day. Instead of the desired response, Will just fled the room crying.
Will's math teacher explained all this to me, and once quickly and once she
was sure that he was safe, she hurried back to give the test. I was left
alone with Will, who was sobbing pitifully at a table near my desk. When I
got up to sit closer to him, he immediately sprang up and wrapped his arms
around me.

What I noticed immediately was that he was indeed filthy dirty, both his
clothes and his body. He really smelled bad too. Not the unwashed - boy
smell that is so common in middle schools, but a really dirty, almost sick
smell. When he had calmed down a bit, I made a decision. I detached myself,
made a phone call, and then led Will down to the gym. On the way, I told
him that I had secured the use of the locker room for the next hour and
that if he wanted, he could have a shower while I cleaned his clothes. Will
looked unsure, and I reminded him that it states quite clearly in his
school handbook that the school reserves the right to compel students to
bathe and exercise good hygiene. Will still seemed doubtful, and I was
wondering if this was going work, when we came across the gym teacher in
the hall. The gym teacher was on his way to cafeteria duty, but on seeing
Will, stopped to chat. Will likes the coach a lot, and when he found that
the coach supported the idea of getting both boy and clothes clean, Will
seemed more comfortable with the idea. As soon as the coach had left, Will
ran ahead of me to the locker room.

From the trail of clothes that I found when I entered, Will must have
started shucking clothes as soon as he hit the locker room door. I had
planned on having him use the varsity room and showers in the back because
it's a little less institutional, and because it's also where the washing
machine is. I followed the trail of boy clothes into the class shower area,
pausing to pick up his revolting, greyish, tighty whities as I entered. I
yelled my idea into the shower area just as he was starting the water, but
he didn't seem to care, so I went off to clean the clothes.

				     V

I was pleased that the detergent available was still Wisk. I have always
liked the scent of Wisk. I washed his clothes quickly and was stuffing them
into the dryer when I heard him shut his water off. A few moments later, he
came into the carpeted Varsity room with a white school towel wrapped very
low around his waist. I immediately noticed with distaste that his hair
seemed about half a shade lighter.  Isn't hair supposed to be darker when
its wet? How dirty had this kid been?

Will flopped down on the couch, which caused the towel to loosen
considerably. I couldn't believe that the towel could be so low without
showing anything, and then I realized that I was looking to see something!
I was momentarily flustered and sat down on the couch across from him. He
hopped over to sit next to me, and thankfully the towel stayed on. We
chatted for a while about school stuff, and I didn't notice how close to me
he had crept until he started playing with my tie.

It's not uncommon for kids with hyperactivity disorders to be touch
oriented. They seem to perceive the world differently than those who don't.
Being a person who grew up suffering from some of the symptoms, and also
having learned about it in college, I was not too alarmed by this behavior.
Nor was I alarmed by his behavior when he abandoned my tie in favor of my
hand. We talked a little longer while he played with my hand, and then,
thankfully, the dryer shut off. Before I could react, Will bounded off the
couch and was at the dryer in a blink. His towel had stayed at the couch,
and I was greeted with a view of a perfect little round bubble butt.

I had never appreciated boys' bodies before, but looking at Will's butt was
most certainly having an effect on me. Will's skin is several shades darker
than my pasty white German skin. He's a delicious dusky golden tan even
before the sun has done any work on his skin. His round little butt was the
same golden tan as the rest of him, and just a little bit redder where he
had been sitting on the couch. My eyes were glued to this beautiful boy
butt. I sat there transfixed, watching the muscles ripple under the skin as
he opened the dryer and rummaged around searching for his underwear. This
child was certainly comfortable with his body, which is surprising in an
early teen. My eyes stayed glued to his rump as he slowly covered it with
his undies, which were now quite warm, but considerably less grey. When the
undies had cooled a bit, he quickly finished dressing, looked in the
mirror, and then started to cry with heartwrenching sobs. You'd think the
world had ended.

As he was now quite clean, it didn't take much brainpower to realize that
he was upset over his hair. Although he had combed it, it was just a tad
too long and shapeless for a boy. I kept my peace until he asked what I
could do to help. I told him that I'd make arrangements with a barber of
his choice, and that, if he wanted, he could get a haircut on his own. I
was a little surprised to find that he used the same barber that I did,
which was quite near my new house. At least it would be convenient to leave
off the money.

				    VI

Will came in the next day wearing the same clothes, but what a difference
the haircut had made. He had gotten another of those silly bowl cuts that
he used to have, but this time, he had gotten the area under the bowl
trimmed quite short, fading off to nothing below his ears. It looked very
smart on him, and quite a few of his classmates made positive comments
about it. Not a few of the girls must have suddenly realized what a
handsome kid he was. I was happy for Will that the haircut seemed to
distract his classmates from noticing that his clothes were the same as the
day before.

Later in the day Will came to me whining about how he wouldn't get any
compliments the next day, because he was sure that his classmates would
notice that he was still wearing the same clothes.  I made a decision at
that moment to schedule him out of one of his study halls and into a life
skills class. If his mom wasn't going to take care of him, then I guessed
that the school should at show him how to do basic things like washing his
own clothes. As a temporary measure, I gave him a small gym bag that I used
to take things in from my car and told him that I would wash a some of his
clothes for him if he would get them after school and bring them back. Will
jumped at the idea and then happily settled into some classwork for the
remainder of the period, all traces of anxiety gone.

Washing Will's clothes that afternoon passed by without event, and in fact
it became a regular event for us on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Its amazing how
much fun wash day can be when you add a video and some popcorn, or a
pizza. Even though it put a burden on my schedule to stay 2 nights a week,
each and every week, I didn't mind too much, because the kid was growing on
me. I was rapidly becoming fascinated at how much he was changing
emotionally, and yes, a part of me was really starting to notice him
physically. I had to put that out of my mind however, because 26 year old
male teachers just aren't supposed to notice how cute 13 year old boys are.

				    VII

The hugs started in December. Quite often, when we were alone in my
classroom, usually after I had said or done something that Will decided was
nice, he would give me a hug. This too was frowned upon by school rules,
but what was I going to do? I guess I had started that game when I hugged
him a month before. At least it was easier than getting slugged. I got to
enjoy * THAT * treat from some of my eighth graders.

As Christmas approached, Will of course became more and more anxious, and
seemed to be having difficulties with just about all of his teachers. I
decided that decisive action was necessary if he was going to stay on
anyone's good side, so I pulled him out of most of his classes for
independent study in my room. None of his class teachers objected, as I'm
sure that they all disliked him equally. The boy did have a reputation,
however unjustified. Will's reaction wasn't what I had expected.  I had
braced myself for an angry outburst, and perhaps some name calling.
Instead, Will just accepted it and did what was asked of him. I was
impressed.

During this isolation, Will would of course chat with me about whatever was
on his mind. Of course, Christmas and Christmas gifts were a big topic. I
gathered that he would get some stuff from an aunt and uncle that had taken
an interest, and that he would also get some stuff from his grandmother.
Granny was good about buying gifts and remembering holidays even if she
couldn't find a nice word to say. Some people are like that.

The day before we left for Christmas break, I decided that I'd get Will a
small gift. He was on my mind a great deal because he was with me for the
whole day, and I have to admit that I have a soft spot for hard luck
cases. I headed on over to Media Play and despite my better judgement, got
him a KORN cd, which he had seemed to want. He mentioned it enough. When I
gave it to him the next day, he again started crying. He hadn't given me a
gift, and he was really broken up about it.  I kept telling him that he
didn't have to give me a gift, but he didn't stop crying until I hugged
him. School was over shortly after that, and I didn't expect to see Will
until January. This of course didn't happen.

More coming soon....

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