Date: Mon, 23 Sep 2013 12:59:37 -0400
From: Eff Del <nolitimere156@gmail.com>
Subject: Young-But Daily Growing-Part 8

Young, but Daily Growing-Part 8

By Eff Del

Honest love is the strongest and yet most fragile gift that one person can
give another.

  Neither the giver nor the receiver can hold it...gaze upon it admiringly
and then place it on some high shelf for safe keeping.

 It is there, fixed between the two of them- exposed and vulnerable and
whether it lives and grows or falters and dies is the shared responsibility
of the person who gives and the one who receives the gift.

I carelessly ran my fingers through the hair of the little boy sleeping
beside me.

 During the night he had slid down from my chest and snuggled warmly
against my side... one arm and one leg thrown across my body in what was
becoming his customary sleeping position.

His smooth little chest was rising and falling softly and regularly.  His
eyes were closed with nary a flutter of his dark long lashes. His sweet
lips were just slightly parted and he was emitting cute low noises...not
snores just little noises as he gently breathed.

Last night he had whispered to me that I was his friend...no...MUCH more than
that; I was his BEST friend...EVER.

This was as mighty a declaration of affection that an 11 year old boy could
possible make.

 Despite everything the poets have sung and writers have pontificated, in
the real world, he could not have gone further than that...he couldn't
possibly have professed his "love" for me.

What in the world could this child...this orphan child raised in a group home
know of Love?  He knew what kindness was, what loving behavior was.  He
knew about security, encouragement and praise...but LOVE?

`Best Friend Ever' he knew and understood. That was a GRAND gift and for
now, it was as generous as he could be and I accepted it gratefully and
humbly.

I on the other hand knew the full meaning of the word.  I had been raised
in love...had lived surrounded by love, shared it joyfully and freely...and, I
knew its dark side.

I'd had love ripped viciously from my life and dashed to bloody pieces
leaving me certain that I would spend the rest of my existence cold and
bitter...and yet, last night after his soft spoken profession of strong
affection for me I had whispered to him those words that I had been certain
I would never again utter.

I had spoken...I had given my love.

It was a fair trade...an excellent trade.  One that I hadn't dared hope would
have happened so soon.

Heeding the very compelling "suggestions" from my bladder, I carefully
extricated myself from under his  little limbs, slipped from the bed and
walked stealthily into the bathroom for my morning piss, While I was so
engaged , he came in silently and stood next to me his stream suddenly
crossing mine into the bowl.

He smiled up at me and then looked back down concentrating on the task at
hand.

When he had finished he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and greeted me
through a big yawn;

"Mornin!"

"Mornin yourself little man. Did you sleep well?"

"I always sleep good with you Eric.  It's the best."  He reached for the
toothpaste and after loading his brush he passed the tube to me.

Standing on his tip toes, Sean turned on the shower sound system while I
adjusted the water.  I picked him up and kissed him.

  "Practice!" we both smiled.

I cupped his little ass with both hands as he wrapped his arms around my
neck and I walked us both into the steaming spray.

As I worked my soapy hand all over his body lingering on his sweet ass and
tiny cock and balls, I wondered to myself if I would ever get used to this.

Naked, we walked out and down the hall to his room so that I could suggest
his wardrobe for today.  We selected jeans and a dark brown long sleeved
tee shirt.

While he was dressing I slipped into my room and put on similarly
comfortable and sturdy clothes.

Sean came back into my bed room dressed and ready with the green sweater
from the sporting goods store in hand.

"Should I wear this too Eric?" he asked.

"Might as well little man.  You're going to need it this morning."

His face was screwed up with inquisitiveness but he pulled on the heavy
dark green garment. It fit him very well...just large and bulky enough to
make him too cute for words.

 He pressed the shoulder pads with his fingers and his face asked the
questions that his voice didn't need to.

I sat at the edge of my bed and smiled.

"It's a shooter's sweater Sean. The pads are to soften the thump of the
shot gun's recoil against your shoulder."

He continued his questioning look.

"After breakfast we're going out to range to teach you to shoot.  With your
co-ordination you'll be blasting pigeons in no time."

His face took on a look of abject horror.  His eyes grew wide and tears
were puddled in them about to spill over and down his cheeks.  His lower
lip was trembling.

"N-nooo! Eric pleeeze! I don't want to shoot no pigeons! I never killed
anything in my whole life an' I don't want to! Pleeeze don't make me do
that pleeeze!"

The tears were now streaming.

"When the hell am I going to learn to be careful about what I say to this
kid? His clever mind works a mile a minute" I chided myself.

 My thoughts flashed a memory of an old comic sign I'd seen in College;

" WARNING-Please  ensure brain is engaged before operating mouth".

I pulled him to me wrapping him in my arms.

"Sean, Sean...I thought you knew me better than that.  Do you think I would
make you or even ask you to kill something?  These are CLAY pigeons...they're
targets...like little clay Frisbees.  We're not going to hurt anything you're
just going to learn to shoot because it's fun.  OK?"

He leaned back and looked up at me his eyes were red and watery, his cheeks
streaked with tears and he was snuffling his nose to keep snot from running
out. He was really upset.

"Kay" he said through his final heartfelt sob and nodded his head.

I carried him into the bathroom and sat him on the vanity counter by one of
the sinks.  I wet a cloth in cold water and washed his face and then held
the cool cloth against his forehead for a few minutes. His body stopped
trembling.

"Better?"... He nodded his head and looked at me.

"S-sorry Eric."

I leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

"Don't be sorry little man.  Don't ever be sorry for having a kind gentle
heart."  I kissed him again and then lifted him down and offered my hand.

We walked downstairs together. Martha was waiting with breakfast.

True to her word, Martha was setting out to demonstrate the different
popular ways eggs were served-besides scrambled.  This morning, it was eggs
over easy- my personal favorite.

Sean looked down at the three eggs on his plate with a confused look on his
face.

"Aha!" I thought. "For the first time since bringing him home the kid's
baffled by a plate of food."

He tentatively poked the glossed over center of one of his eggs and
immediately it burst with the rich yellow yolk running thickly over the
plate.  Sean blinked in dismay.  I decided to rescue him.

"Here's how I like to eat them." I said as I broke off a piece of toast and
sopped up the yolk running on my plate.

Sean was a quick learner and soon he was wiping up the last bit of eggy
goodness on his dish with his last piece of toast a smile on his face.

As we got up from the table he gave Martha a big hug.

"See ya later Mrs. Edwards... we're going to shoot pigeons today...BUT don't
worry they're not REAL pigeons; they're clay ones!  And thanks for the eggs
over squeezy...they were GREAT! "

Martha, bless her, managed to keep a straight serious look on her face
through the whole exchange.

We hopped into one of the golf carts out back and I headed us to the "Gun
Shed".

My Grandfather had originally had the shot gun range set up when he was a
young man; it was my father however that had it brought up to its current
standard.

The range itself was equipped with Matterelli machines and if not state of
the art, it was certainly more than functional for Skeet or Trap shooting.

Adjacent to the range was the "Gun Shed" which in actuality was a small
building that housed all the shooting equipment and supplies.  Andy was
waiting on the porch.

Andy was more or less the "Groundskeeper emeritus" while he was still the
titular boss of the property crew, the actual work had long since been
relegated to a staff of younger men.  One duty he never delegated to anyone
however, was the overseeing of the shooting range and the Gun Shed.

Andy had been on the property as long as I could remember. I had no idea
how old he was or where he originally came from.  He'd been loved and
trusted by my father all my life.

He was the "shotgun guru"...he seemed to know it all and he could teach a
novice to shoot well in just one session through some magical power or
osmosis that he possessed.

He had taught me as a child and he had taught Kyle...for all I knew, he had
taught my father.

Sean had met him just briefly during the full staff introduction in the
solarium but, typically, the little boy greeted him like an old friend.

No real pleasantries or small talk were exchanged between the old man and
me because that was not Andy's way.  We got right down to business.

"So, I hear the Professor's coming fer a while?  Means you'll just want me
t' set up just fer Trap today eh?"

"That's right Andy.  I've got to get back in form and Sean has never shot
before."

He nodded and indicated my gun and shooting glasses and boxes of shells
which he had laid out and readied for me.

 I picked up my gun and smiled with forgotten pleasure.

 It had been a birthday gift from my father the year I'd turned 17.  It was
a 12 gauge Beretta 471 Silver Hawk side by side.  I loved it for its
balance and weight.  I hefted it and smiled at Andy.

"Now Meester Sean, I been given a lot of thought to you since I heard last
night that you were to be shootin' and this is what I come up with..." he was
leading Sean over to another table.  "This were meester Kyle's when he were
about yer age tho' he were a bit taller I recall.

Last night I took a bit off the stock and I think her should be jest right
for ya."

The gun on the table had indeed been Kyle's. Andy was close in his
recollection. Dad had bought it for him when he was 12.  It was a lovely
Beretta 391 20 gauge automatic.

 Andy showed Sean how to properly shoulder the gun and checked the distance
relationship between the trigger and Sean's forearm with index finger
extended.  He nodded approvingly and said to me;

 "Preety close Eric. I'll tweek er a leetle more tonight but its good fer
him to go today.

Being a 20 gauge the gun had a disadvantage in bursting power, but its
lighter weight and wonderful balance made it a very acceptable if not ideal
gun for a small boy like Sean.

We walked over to the range and I toed the center point.

  "Ten from here to start Andy. "I said. He nodded.

"Pull!" I shouted and he pushed a button and a clay disc flew swiftly and
silently from the low scrub in from of me moving away and to my left. I
swung my barrel smoothly matching its flight just a bit ahead of it and
fired.  The target exploded into thousands of tiny bits as my pellets
struck true.  Sean clapped his hands in approval and I closed my eyes
enjoying the private pleasure of a shot well made.

Nine more times I called "Pull" and seven more times the targets exploded.
Two however, glided off unscathed into the brush.

"Eight outta ten ain't bad for a feller who ain't shot in four years." And
said approvingly. "Now it's the lad's turn."

He got down low next to Sean and began to explain "Andy's shot gun
wisdom"...passing on knowledge and confidence through some sorcery that only
Andy possessed...he showed him how to load, how to set the safety, how to
hold the gun.. how to sight down the barrel.  I watched his hand move over
Sean's as he showed him how to squeeze rather than pull the trigger.
Together they swung the barrel plotting the intercept for an imaginary
target.

  I knew everything the old man was doing with the boy. I remembered every
word he was saying just like it was yesterday when a much younger Andy had
done the same thing with my 9 year old self in this very spot.

Satisfied, Andy pulled the shooting glasses down onto Sean's nose and had
him toe the center post.

"Pull!" the hi pitched little boy voice called.  I watched the clay bird
spring out... like MY first it was veering to the left. Sean swung his gun
and fired. The target flew on unharmed.

"T'was just a bit behind her". Said Andy as he walked up to Sean, knelt
upon one knee and he and the boy swung the gun together as Andy whispered
more magic in his ears.

Sean's second shot was just ahead of the bird and again Andy knelt and
whispered patient instructive words while guiding the boy's hands and arms
as he shared his wisdom.

Sean nodded and toed the post and called pull. The target flew out and to
his right. The little boy swung his gun barrel swiftly but gracefully and
he pulled the trigger. This; his third bird exploded in the air as the
boy's shot was dead on.

I whooped with excitement Andy nodded his approval and Sean was wide eyed
with joy.

We shot for about two hours moving properly from station to station and
Sean had improved to the point that he was hitting seven out of a flight of
ten consistently...pretty damned good for a kid who'd never held a gun before
this morning but then... not every beginner has the advantage of having Andy
as a mentor.

As I suggested that we call this session to a halt, Sean hinted that he'd
like to stay and shoot more. I knew and so did Andy what his shoulder was
going to look and feel like after his first time shotgun shooting...despite
his padded sweater.

Back in the Gun Shed, Andy showed Sean how to clean and oil the gun before
he helped the boy put it up in a rack so that Sean would know just where to
find it.

Sean thanked Andy for his tutelage and help and wrapped his arms around him
in a hug. The crusty old grounds Keeper returned the boy's gesture of
emotion though he looked at me as if daring me to say anything.

When I had driven the cart to the main pathway, I stopped it and turned to
Sean.

"Do you think you know how to get back to the house from here?"

"I'm pretty sure we just follow this path to the parking lot right?"

I hopped out and indicated to him that he should slide over.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, his feet just barely touched the pedals.
I explained the operation of the accelerator and the brake and then I
hopped into the cart on the other side.

"Ok little man, take us home."  He looked over at me as if he couldn't
believe what I'd just said.

"Reeeally? You mean it?" I just nodded.  His first few accelerations were a
bit jerky but that was to be expected.  Pretty soon we were driving rather
smoothly and although I was anticipating a terrific jarring as we came into
the parking lot, he pulled into the marked space and brought the cart to a
perfect, comfortable stop.

He looked over at me his face lit up in a grin and just nodded his head.

"THAT was soooo cool."

Later as we were sitting having dinner I could tell something was troubling
him and so I decided to just ask.

As if my question somehow gave him permission to do so, he reached up and
rubbed his right shoulder.

"All of a sudden it hurts all around here." He said to me.

"It's all that shooting and your first time to boot." I said.  "We'll go
upstairs and see what we can do to make it better."

As we rose from the table, Martha came up with a glass of water and a
bottle in her hand: children's Tylenol...she'd been to the store today
obviously.

"Take two of these now darlin' they'll help to ease the pain.

Upstairs in my bedroom I helped him get out of his sweater. He winced as he
raised his arm to let me pull it over his head and did the same as I pulled
off his shirt.

I looked at the multicolored angry looking bruising on his shoulder and I
let out a whistle.

I'd been expecting it of course.  It always amazed me when shooting how
much punishment you can absorb without realizing it until much later.  I
was certain that my shoulder would be quite a sight as well.

"Wait til you get a look at you!" I said with a smile as I was pulling his
jeans down his lovely little legs and off.

In his black boxer briefs I led him into the bathroom and sat him on one of
the stools, and I held an ice pack to his "many colored" shoulder.  We made
small talk about all of the new things he'd done today and after about 20
minutes he told me it was feeling a lot better.

"Then check your colorful self out!" I said turning the stool so that he
faced the mirror.  His eyes got wide as he looked.  He tentatively reached
up and moved his fingers gingerly along the large bruises.

"Holy guacamole!" he whispered.

Before we go to bed, I'll have you take some more Tylenol and I'll rub some
cream on the bruises.  You should sleep fine and you'll feel a lot better
in the morning.

In the meantime, I think you could use a nice relaxing massage.

"I never had a massage before Eric."

"Well there's a first time for everything.  I'm no professional but I've
taken several courses.  I used to give massages to friends when I was at
the University and I received rave reviews.  Come with me and I'll fix you
right up."

"There is a small windowless room (formerly a storage room) down the hall
just past my bed room. I'd had it equipped as a massage room years ago.
I'd given Kyle many a massage there when I was home from the University and
I'd also treated several friends and lovers to my "magic fingers".  This
was also the place where I and my parents received our messages when we
called in a professional.

The room hadn't been used for years but like every other place in the house
it had been maintained immaculately.

I led Sean into the room and he obviously didn't know how to react. I'd had
the room done in stone and natural tile. The affect I intended was for the
space to feel like a Cliffside cave or grotto.

 The sturdy massage table occupied the center of the room. On the far right
side wall was a long stone ledge that served as a shelf containing soft
towels and vials of fragrant oils.  At the small wall opposite the entry,
an artificial waterfall sprang to life at the push of a button.

I pulled back the warm blanket that had been covering the table and folded
it at the foot and lifted Sean up onto the soft terry cloth covered surface
of the table.

"Slip out of your underpants and lay down." I told him.  I helped him pull
the small garment over his feet and I placed it on the shelf to the side.
I hit a programmed switch at the side and the lights dimmed down to a soft
low orange glow.  Natural sounds began to play softly through the sound
system complimenting the bubbling sound of the little waterfall.

"We'll do your back first Sean.  Roll over and place your face through this
opening up here place your arms at your sides and totally relax. Let me do
all the moving and all the work."

He rolled over as I'd instructed and squirmed just a bit trying to get used
to the face opening but soon he was stretched out on the table.

 I turned to the side shelf to select the oil. I wanted it to be subtle and
complimentary to his nature.  I am a strong believer in the mystical aspect
of sensual relaxation massage.

I selected a sesame seed based oil with just the ghost of a sandalwood
scent which I felt would complement his sprite like nature. I placed the
vial onto the oil heater and bent over and spoke softly to him.

"The secret here Sean is for you to be totally compliant. I'll move
everything that needs to be moved don't try to help.  Relax totally and
close your eyes...fill your mind with the sounds of the room and the
wonderful sensations you are feeling...ok?"

"Kay."

I poured some of the now warm oil into my palm and rubbed my hands together
to get them coated and slick but not actually slippery.

I began with a firm slow kneading of his neck slowly working down and
across to his shoulders taking great care to be gentle with the bruised
right side. Using skills I had honed over four years, I sensuously worked
his back and ribs (a skilled masseur will delight but never tickle).  I
worked each arm and each little finger before moving down to his legs feet
and toes.  He was sighing softly by now and I moved my attention to his
lovely white ass. I massaged each firm little globe individually and then I
had a thought...

While this is not a part of a normal massage, it will certainly someday be
part of our relationship.  I was overwhelmed with curiosity as to what his
reaction would be.

Reaching for the vial on the shelf behind me, I oiled up my index finger
and traced inside his crack with it until I was directly upon his little
bud.

I leaned over and whispered to him;

"Relax Sean.  Relax down there..."

Slightly rotating my finger I began applying pressure as I encouraged him
to relax and push slightly with his muscles.

I could tell he knew this wasn't "normal touching" but he didn't question
it nor did he try to resist it.

Slowly I felt his strong little sphincter give way and the tip of my finger
slipped into his private passage; the first visitor it had ever received.

I paused for a few moments twisting my finger in a gentle circular movement
while I gently and soothingly stroked his lower back and butt cheeks with
my other hand.

I cooed soothing and encouraging noises to him as I again applied pressure
with my finger. Slowly and smoothly it slid further in until it was beyond
the knuckle.

Sean was making little noises and was breathing deeply.  I noted gratefully
that he was showing no indication of pain..in fact if anything, he was
indicating curiosity.

I gently wiggled the finger in his hot little rectum exploring until I
found what I was pretty certain to be his little boy prostate.  I rubbed it
tentatively with my finger tip and his entire body tensed with surprise.

"Enough" I thought to myself. I withdrew my finger and turned him over to
lie on his back.

Re-applying warm oil to my palms I began the slow massage of his front from
shoulders to his feet when I had finished he was lying limp and breathing
softly.

"Did you enjoy that Sean?" I whispered.

"Oh yah.  That was so great." He murmured back.

All though I hadn't planned it initially, I knew what had to happen next.

"Now Sean," I said softly to him.  "This next part isn't usually something
that happens when you get a massage but it's something I want to happen
between you and me."

He looked up at me and his face showed no concern.

I turned him onto his left side and raised his right leg so that the knee
was bent. I re-oiled my finger and slid it (rather more easily this time)
into his rectum.

Keeping my finger in place I rolled him back onto his back and slicked his
penis with warm oil.

Grasping his little rod with the fingers of my free hand I began to slowly
but firmly stroke it letting it smoothly glide in my grasp thanks to the
lubricating oil.

All the while I was circling and wriggling the finger in his ass in a
rhythm and tempo matching my strokes on his little cock.

In short order he was panting and mewling like a little wild kitten and his
pelvis was thrusting and gyrating. Torn between the combined sensations in
his ass and from his cock he was going through sensory overload and I knew
I was witnessing...in fact participating in... one of the most sensational
dry-cums of the century.

Eventually I sensed it was through as he lay gasping on the table.  I
softly withdrew my intruding finger and impulsively leaned down and kissed
the tip of his little penis.

We exchanged smiles but no words.  I reached into the fridge under the
shelf and pulled out a cold bottle of spring water. He sat up and I
instructed him to drink the entire contents.

I left the room and started the tub running in the bath room. Satisfied, I
walked back to the massage room and because I doubted he could walk very
steadily right then, I picked him up, carried him down the hall and placed
him in the water.

 I ducked into the kitchenette in my bedroom suite and made myself a scotch
grabbing a lemonade for Sean. As an afterthought, I undressed before
carrying the drinks into the bathroom.

I slipped into the tub facing him and took a sip of my drink smiling.
Finally he broke the silence.

"That was more sex stuff huh?"

"Yes it was Sean. Did you like it as much as last time?"

"Even better.  Eric when you stuck your...when you put your finger in my
butt...first it felt weird but then you touched me someplace an it felt like
I was tickling and tingling all over.  I can't describe it but it felt sooo
good THEN...when you did that to my penis it was...What was it that happened
Eric?"

"That was what is called an orgasm Sean.  Do you know about cum and stuff
like that?"

"Uh huh.  The big kids at the nest would sometimes let us watch them, jerk
off and we got to see them shoot cum and I know that it's the stuff that
makes babies and that I'll make cum someday when I'm older. I know all that
Eric.'

"Good, well then, see what I just did to you that was like me jerking you
off...it's really called masturbation by the way. Now when a penis gets so
excited that it wants to shoot out cum that's what an orgasm is. As you
already know your body isn't ready to make cum...by the way that stuff is
really called sperm...while it can't make cum yet, your penis is all set up
to shoot when you are ready.  That great feeling you get when you're
shooting or like you TRYING to shoot is called an orgasm. Feels wonderful
doesn't it?"

"Feels even better than that!" he was grinning from ear to ear.

"That's what SEX is Sean.  It's when people do things to help each other
orgasm and feel great."

He gave me a serious look.

"Then what's fucking?"

I took a deep breath...this is going along faster than I'd planned I thought.

"That's a little more complicated Sean.  In a way it's the same thing, it's
a way two people can help each other orgasm.  Instead of doing it with
hands or like I did to you the other night with my mouth, one person puts
his penis inside the other person.

You know how girls are different than boys right?"  He nodded his head
affirmatively.

"Well then, when a boy and a girl fuck, the boy pulls his penis into the
girl's vagina and they move together until there is an orgasm.  When two
boys fuck, one guy puts his penis into the other guys butt and they move
until there is an orgasm."

"Sounds silly." He said with a curious look on his face.

"It's NOT silly Sean.  When two people who really care about each other do
it, it's like they almost become one body. There's no way to be closer and
it's the greatest pleasure."

  Then he seemed to think a bit and asked;

"So then, when are you going to fuck me?"

Naturally, my "bad angel" screamed; "NOW! Right now...bend over I'm gonna
ream your sex little ass  right now!"

But, I ACTUALLY said;

"Sean it's more complicated than that.  You're a little guy...I don't mean
young I mean physically little compared to me.  Just before when I had a
finger up your butt, it took a lot of work on both our part to do that and
until I found your "magic spot" it wasn't all that comfortable right?"

He nodded his head.

"Well then my penis is a lot bigger than my finger...look." I'd gotten up on
my knees so that my (now raging) hard on was completely visible and I held
my index finger against it.

"My penis would stretch your little butt hole so much right now that...that
you wouldn't like it".

He looked thoughtfully and said;

"That's why the big kids always told us that fucking would hurt huh?"

"Well yes, but if it's done right and if you're prepared for it right it
doesn't have to hurt...or at least not very much.

He looked solemnly from my face to my penis and back again.

"But, I could help you orgasm anyway couldn't I?"

 He reached out and ran his fingers around and up and down my penis.  I
looked at him and swallowed hard.

"Yes...yes you could." I smiled at him.

(To be continued)

Thanks for reading and thanks for all of the emails and comments. I've
tried to answer them all. In the next chapter, Sean gives his first
hand-job, Sean learns a little more about the Professor, Eric gets an
"itch" and the Professor arrives.

PLEASE remember NIFTY needs donations to keep this all going. Thanks!