Date: Sun, 15 Sep 2013 08:16:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pok Bepxtep <pok_bepxtep@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sander - chapter 5

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Chapter 5: Painting 101
------------------------

I'm pretty sure Sander knew quite well I loved him even before I'd said the
words and it hadn't really been a surprise when he told me he loved me as
well. Still, now that we'd expressed our feelings for each other, it seemed
as if it had brought us closer. I was already well aware that Sander was an
affectionate little boy, but now that he was sure the hugs and kisses I
gave him were not just out of kindness, he looked for physical closeness
even more. After soccer practice, when I picked him, he always came to me
for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. On match days he made sure to be at my
place early enough to spend some time chattering about school and stuff,
while sitting on my couch, cuddled up to me or sitting on my lap. Saturday
dinners with his grandmother started with a frog leap into my arms and a
shower of kisses and ended with a long goodnight kiss on his forehead and a
tender caressing of his bare back.

All those moments my love for the boy grew stronger and stronger. His trust
in me helped me set my physical attraction for him aside, although I would
still often stare at him. With my love for him growing stronger, he grew
more beautiful. And even though Sander was most of the times the one
seeking affection, I would often just reach out for him to caress his face,
hold his hands or rub his back, wanting to show him that our love went both
ways.

Picking him up after practice every Tuesday and Thursday night shortened
the working week noticeably, even if we only saw each other for about an
hour. I'd arrive at the football stadium fifteen minutes before the end of
practice, allowing me to watch him for a bit and seeing how quickly he'd
adapted to his new environment. He'd even made a couple of friends, which
made me happy. After changing, during which I waited outside, talking with
the other parents, I drove him home and dropped him off at his doorstep
with a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

The first Saturday after shopping for furniture, right before going to his
next match, I handed him a collection of color strips, telling him to check
them out later and choose which colors he wanted for the bedroom walls. He
picked a broken white as the main color, wanting the room to be bright. One
wall, the one where his desk would sit next to, would be burgundy
red. Picture frames and posters would go on that wall.

When our first working day came, all furniture was safely stored in the
storage room upstairs, my c.d.'s had moved downstairs to the living room
and my dvd's were temporarily stuffed in cardboard boxes. I'd spread
newspapers all over the room to make sure the floor wouldn't get covered in
paint. I'd also filled the few drilling holes in the walls, making the
walls even and ready for their first coat of paint. On Monday, the start of
my week off, Sander arrived at 8.30 in the morning, ready to get the job
done.

My little partner was smiling broadly when I opened the door and looked
excited, as if he were about to open up a birthday present. He was dressed
in a pair of blue jeans and a red sweater with some Disney like figure on
the front. His clothes seemed rather new, which might be a risk with the
job at hand. Luckily, I'd already come up with something that would prevent
his clothes from getting painted along with the walls.

"Hey, there, my little prince," I greeted him, stepping aside to let him
in.

"Hi," he just said as he came in and headed for the stairs.

"Ho, there, buddy," I stopped him. "I know you're a bit impatient, but I'm
not starting before I get a hug from you."

The boy stopped and turned around, giggling sweetly and then wrapped his
little arms around my waste. I leaned forward and lifted him up so I could
carry him into the living room, sitting down on the couch with him in my
lap, facing me.

"Aren't we gonna start painting?" Sander asked, wondering why we were
sitting there instead of being upstairs with paint brushes and rolls in our
hands.

"In a minute," I nodded. "I'm afraid you're a bit overdressed for the
task."

He looked down at his outfit, tugging at his sweater. "What do yo mean?" he
asked.

"Those clothes aren't fit for painting walls," I explained. "I'm not an
expert, but I don't think paint stains come out easily. I don't think your
grandmother will be too pleased if you get back home with your sweater
covered with paint."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," the boy blushed. "I can go home and change
into something else."

"No need for that," I told him. "If you just take off your sweater and
leave it down here, I got something to prevent the rest of you getting
dirty."

"Oh, okay," he agreed. He got up and stripped off his sweater, leaving him
in a green and white t-shirt that looked more worn than the rest of his
clothes. "Now can we go upstairs?"

"Sure, go on up. I'll be with you in a minute," I said.

He quickly turned around and went up to his room to be. Before following
him, I went into the kitchen and grabbed some scissors and a roll of
plastic blue garbage bags, which is used for PMD waste. A minute later I
found Sander standing in the room in front of the makeshift table I'd set
up to put all our tools on. I ripped one of the bags from the roll and held
it in front of him, upside down. I then cut an opening in the bag, wide
enough for Sander's head to go through, and clipped off the corners for his
arms.

"There, put this over your head," I instructed Sander. "It should fit well
enough and it'll keep the paint from dripping onto your clothes."

"Okay," Sander agreed, taking the bag. After clumsily trying to get the
plastic cover over him and failing, he handed it back to me. "Can you do it
for me?"

"Sure, kiddo," I nodded. I rolled the bag up a bit and then pulled it over
his head, telling Sander to stick his arms through the other holes. I then
rolled it down his body till it reached his knees. "There you go," I
smiled. "Paint stain proof!"

"I looks silly," Sander complained a bit and then grinned at me. "You're
not gonna put me outside for the garbage men to pick me up, are you?"

"Nah, don't worry," I laughed at his wittiness. I then pointed at the
printing on the bag and said: "Besides, I can only put plastic bottles and
tin cans in here. It doesn't say anything about small boys."

"Eèèh, not funny!" the boy retorted, sticking his tongue out. "Now,
can we start painting? At this rate, we'll need a whole year to get the
room done."

"Sure thing, boss," I said, ruffling his hair a bit. "We'll start with the
red wall. I've already taped off the edges, so it doesn't go on any of the
other walls. I'll do the borders, first"

"What do I do?" Sander asked.

"First poor some of the paint in that tray over there," I said, pointing at
the tray on the table. "Not too much, so it doesn't overflow. Then grab one
of the paint rolls, roll it through the paint, scrape it off so it doesn't
drip and start painting."

"Okay, the boy said, excited again. This was new to him (and to me, as
well, to be honest).

I watched as Sander followed my instructions, waited until his roll hit the
wall and then took a brush and the can with paint, climbed the ladder and
started working on the upper borders.

"Make sure to go over the same spot a couple of times, so you cover
everything," I told Sander as I stood on the ladder, occasionally looking
at the boy's work.

"Yep," he simple nodded.

The rest of the morning we worked on the one wall, making sure not to miss
a spot and to even out the paint. Sander did a good job, mostly working on
the lower half of the wall. After a while I allowed him to climb the ladder
and get to the upper half as well. We had the radio playing in the back and
we chattered throughout the morning, about everything we could come up
with. Even if it was work, it was rather pleasant and I could tell Sander
enjoyed it. His plastic cover also did its job, getting a smudges of paint
that would otherwise go on the boy's clothes. A little past noon, the one
wall was done. We headed downstairs into the kitchen, where I fixed us some
sandwiches and some instant soup to store energy for the rest of the day.

"It's going rather well, don't you agree," I complimented our work as we
sat in the kitchen together.

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded happily. "The room will look great when it's
done."

"I think so too," I agreed. "You've got a good eye for this sort of stuff."

"I'm a kid who knows what he wants, ey," he smiled self assured.

"You sure are, my little prince," I chuckled, tapping his leg a couple of
times, feeling the plastic of the bag under my hands. "The bag doesn't bug
you too much, does it?"

"Nah, it's okay," Sander said, looking down at the plastic. "I'd just like
it a bit shorter. I have to keep rolling it up."

"Then I'll cut of a couple of inches when get back upstairs," I promised.

"Cool," he just smiled.

We finished our lunch a couple of minutes later, let it digest a little
while and then headed upstairs to work on the other three walls. It was
clear that they would need a second coating as well, the grey underneath
still coming through a bit. We kept busy until dinner time, taking short
breaks every now and then for a drink, a snack and a bathroom visit. We
progressed rather well and Sander turned out to be rather handy with the
paint brush. I even let him take over on doing the borders, which he
appreciated. What little I could teach him, he clearly wanted to learn and
he picked it up quickly. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Sander
could have a future in interior design, if he wants to.

We finished the three white walls by dinner time. We stood next to each
other near the door overseeing our first day's work, being happy with the
result so far. We then put the lids back onto the paint cans, and headed
downstairs to rinse our brushes and rolls out in the backyard. All done,
Sander quickly shed the plastic cover, stuffing it into the bin. We then
headed into the lounge and flopped down in the couch, sighing deeply,
almost in choir.

"The paint should dry nicely overnight," I told Sander as we relaxed on the
couch. "I"m leaving the window open a bit to air the room. Tomorrow, we'll
do the second coating."

"Cool," Sander agreed cheerfully. "Will we get it done before I have to go
to practice?"

I briefly checked the clock and said: "We might, but it's going to be a bit
tight."

"How about we just do the whites tomorrow and then continue on Wednesday?"
Sander suggested.

"That's a good idea," I complimented the boy's clever mind. "We then have
Thursday and Friday to put your furniture together, and Saturday afternoon
we can finish up."

"Uhuh, and Saturday night I'm staying with you," Sander concluded.

"I would love that, buddy," I said, putting an arm over his shoulder and
hugging him close to me. "Did you ask your grandmother about that?"

"Not yet," Sander confessed, looking a bit worried. "I'm afraid she might
say no."

"Really? Why's that?" I wondered.

"Because I might do something... naughty," he said hesitantly.

"Something naughty? Like what?" I asked, slowly figuring out what this was
about.

Sander blush wasn't too far off from the burgundy red paint in the room
upstairs. "I... errr... I sleep with no clothes on," he stammered. "I think
she won't want me to do that when I'm here."

I left a bit of silence after his confession and then caressed his cheeks,
pushing his chin up so he looked right up at me. "I kinda already knew
about that, buddy," I told him. "And I've talked about it with your
grandmother, too."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes big with surprise.

"Yep," I nodded, smiling reassuringly at him. "In the end, it's your room,
so you can do whatever you like. If that means sleeping in the buff, then
that's fine with your grandmother and me."

"You mean that?" Sander wanted to make sure.

"Sure," I said. "So you shouldn't worry about your grandmother not letting
you spend the night this weekend. Just ask her."

"I will!" Sander nodded cheerfully and then maneuvered himself into my lap,
facing me and hugged me tightly.

Never refusing a hug from my little prince, I wrapped my arms around him
and held him close to me, rubbing his back. As I took a quick look at the
clock, I noticed it was getting a bit past dinner time. Regretfully I
loosened my hold on the little fellow, knowing it was about time to send
him home.

"Your grandmother will be getting a bit worried where you are," I said as
he sat up, still on my lap.

"She knows I'm right here," Sander shrugged. "I wish I could stay here
already."

"Patience, kiddo," I smiled. "Four more days and we'll have ourselves a fun
evening. Until then, you best not upset your grandmother by being home
late."

"Okay," the boy surrendered. "I'll ask her about Saturday as soon as I get
home."

"You do that," I smiled and then planted another kiss on his
forehead. "You'll see, it'll be alright."

Sander returned the kiss, a wet one on the cheek, and then climbed off my
lap. "See you tomorrow, uncle Rob," he smiled almost longingly.

"Sure thing, Sander," I winked. "Don't forget your sweater."

Sander then grabbed his sweater, which was still where he'd left it before
exchanging it for a plastic bag. He passed by me, still sitting on the
couch, not finding it necessary to see him out, gave me another quick hug
and then left off. That was the end of a wonderful day, with the prospect
of more to come.

----------

Although shortened because of Sander's football practice, Tuesday was
pretty much a copy of the day before. The only big difference was that
Sander no longer needed to wear a garbage bag. At 8.30 sharp he showed up
in the same sweater as the day before, but with a pair of cut off jeans
that had seen much better days. The shorts only made it halfway past his
thighs and where he'd cut off the rest of the jeans, the cloth was all in
threads. They also fit rather tight around his waste, which looked a bit
uncomfortable, but he didn't complain. Neither did I, because the tightness
of the jeans awarded me with a very good impression of the shape of his
little butt. Remember, I was still very attracted to the boy, even if I had
no intention to let it show.

As soon as he was inside, he stripped off his sweater, wearing a tank top
underneath, and declared smartly that he'd made sure to wear clothes that
were allowed to get dirty. I complimented him on the clever move, seeing
that with his tank top tucked into his jeans, the pants left nothing to the
imagination. It actually reminded me of those Coke Light commercials where
women had the hots for the workmen in the office.

Knowing we had a lot of work to do, I snapped out of my reverie and headed
upstairs with Sander tailing me. There we went on with the plan to give the
white walls a second coating. I left Sander to start with one of the side
walls, while I did the one where the window sat. By lunch we'd done more
than half of the room, leaving only the third wall and the burgundy red
one.

"We might get all of the walls done before I have to go," Sander declared
as we sat down having microwaved spaghetti.

"Yeah, we could, but I don't want to rush things," I told him. "It'd be
better to finish the ones we set out to do today and leave the last one for
tomorrow. The time left before you have to get ready for practice, we can
just chill and do something else instead."

"Like what?" Sander asked.

"I don't know," I said. "You like boardgames, right? Maybe we go get some
to put in your room."

"You don't have to buy me anything anymore," Sander honestly said. "You've
already got me an entire room. If we want to play games here, I'll just
bring mine."

"Is there anything you'd like to do, then?" I fished for his ideas.

"There won't be that much time left, so we don't really have to do
anything," he simply suggested. "Or maybe, if it's okay with you, I'd like
to listen to some of your c.d.'s."

"Of course that's okay with me," I smiled, caressing his bare arm. "You're
right, doing nothing can be fun as well. I'm already happy to have you
here."

To show how much that last bit meant to him, Sander simply got up from his
chair and gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Now, let's go
upstairs and finish painting," he declared, already heading for the
stairs. "That way there'll be more time to do nothing."

"Sure thing, boss," I agreed. "Let me clean this mess up and I'll be there
in a minute."

A bit later, I'd done the dishes first, knowing Sander knew what to do, I
found him upstairs on the ladder, already going ahead with the painting. I
let the radio play again and then joined him, going over the edges first. A
little over an hour later, the job was done and we stood proudly next to
each other, looking at the result. With tomorrow's second layer of burgundy
red on the remaining wall, the room was starting too look really neat.

"I think we've deserved ourselves an afternoon of lazying about, don't you
agree," I said as I wrapped an arm around my little friend's shoulder.

"Yep, we have," he nodded happily. "It looks cool, doesn't it?"

"Sure does, sport," I agreed. "It's going to look even better when it's all
done."

"Uhuh, yep," Sander smiled happily.

I gave Sander's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you go ahead and
check those c.d.'s. I'll clean up in here."

"Okay," he simply said and went down the stairs.

A few minutes later, while was in the yard rinsing out brushes and paint
rolls, I heard the latest Depeche Mode play on the stereo. I know that's
not material for a nine-year old boy and I don't think much of what I own
will qualify as good music to my little guest of honor. It was an obvious
first choice, my Depeche Mode albums sitting somewhat aside from the rest,
with me having the entire discography.

When I entered the room, the c.d. was still playing. Sander had retreated
into the couch, having discovered my comic book collection. That collection
is less vast, having only one series (Thorgal). When I passed by him to
take the clean brushes and stuff upstairs for tomorrow, I noticed he'd
started with one of the middle albums of the series.

"You should start by n° 1," I suggested as I sat down next to him, a few
minutes later. "It's an ongoing story."

"Oh, okay," he just nodded, briefly looking up from the book. "You don't
mind me reading these, do you?"

"Not at all, buddy," I smiled. "Do you like comic books, then?"

"Some," he said, laying the one he held next to him. "I've never read these
before."

"They're for an older public, I think," I said. "I don't think many kids
your age would read them."

"I don't think grandmother would let me read them," Sander stated.

"Maybe not, but I'll never say no to a boy who wants to try something a bit
different," I told him. "But you're a bit special, that way, I've noticed."

"Special? How do you mean?" Sander wanted to know.

"It's actually like you said earlier," I explained. "You're a kid who knows
what he wants. Take this music, for example. No nine year old would put a
Depeche Mode on and actually let it play."

"It's actually not too bad," he shrugged, briefly glancing at the stereo
the music was playing from. "I'm always a bit curious about music and
stuff."

"That comes with your creative mind, I think," I nodded. "Like with the
design of your room. That was really good."

"You think so? I don't know," he thought deeply. "It seems difficult."

"Nothing comes easy, Sander," I smiled. "It's just a thought, but I think
you'd do rather well. But that's up to you, of course."

Sander then shuffled closer to me and leaned into me, resting his head in
the nook of my shoulder with his right arm across my waist. "Isn't doing
nothing fun?" he said softly.

"It sure is, my little prince," I answered in an equally soft voice,
running my hand over his arm. "Especially when we get to do it together."

The little munchkin snuggled up to me, putting his bare feet on the couch
and just clung to me. It didn't take too long before his breathing slowed
down and his little body sunk down, his head now resting on my lap. I ran
my hair gently across his cheek, brushing his soft blonde hair behind his
little ear. The hard work had clearly taken its toll on the young boy and a
feeling of warmth crept over me, overwhelmed by how much at ease he felt
with me.

I sat there for a while, not wanting to disturb the boy in his sleep, until
nature called for an urgent bathroom break. Carefully I lifted the boy's
head off my lap, placed a pillow underneath and quietly headed for the
bathroom to do the necessary. When I came into the lounge room again,
Sander was still sound asleep, as I'd hoped. I grabbed one of the fleece
blankets I kept underneath the couch pillows and covered the boy up to keep
him from catching a cold. While he took his nap, I walked over to my
computer to check emails and such.

Sander slept for the better half of an hour. From where I sat I could see
him slowly coming back to life. I turned to him, watching him look around
to remember where he was. I quietly called out for him to let him know I
was nearby and he smiled when he found me still sitting by the computer. He
got up, draped the blanket over his shoulders and shuffled towards me.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"That's okay, kiddo," I said when he stood next to me. "You've been working
hard the past two days, so it's absolutely normal to get a bit tired. Did
you sleep well?"

"Uhuh, yeah," he nodded with a smile and then focussed on the computer
screen. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Oh, nothing special," I said. I briefly glanced at the clock on the
computer and saw we still had a little time left before I had to take
Sander to football practice. "Want to play a game or something?"

"Sure," Sander nodded.

"Okay, then, grab a chair," I told him as I got up. "I'll go get us a
little snack. D'you like vanilla ice cream?"

"Yummie, yeah, it's my favorite," he nodded enthusiastically.

"Mine too," I smiled, heading for the kitchen. I scooped us both two balls
of ice cream in a bowl, sprayed some whipped cream on top, added a little
chocolate sauce and took the icy snack back to the living room where Sander
was still standing next to the computer. I sat down, handed him a bowl and
a spoon and remarked: "Still deciding on what chair to sit on?"

"No, I'd already chosen one before you got up," he grinned cheekily. He
then dropped the sheet on the floor and swiftly maneuvered himself onto
lap. "I wanted this chair."

"Interesting choice, silly boy," I chuckled, pinching his sides, causing
him to giggle and to almost lose his balance. "Ticklish, are we?"

"Yeah," he still giggled.

"I'll keep that in mind for later, then," I winked at him. "I bet you know
your way around the computer, so just find us a game to play."

"Okay," he smiled brightly, stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth
and then reached for the mouse and the keyboard, clicking away till he
found a game of online pool.

While we were having our ice creams, we played on the computer till it was
time for Sander to get ready for soccer practice. I could tell he was a bit
sad that he had to leave. I told him to go get his gear and that I would be
driving the car by his house to pick him up.

Today's practice was the first I could follow from beginning to end, but I
decided to spend most of the time in the cafeteria with a cup of coffee and
the company of the bartender. Although I was pretty sure Sander would have
loved me to stay and watch him during practice, but I decided leaving him
with his friends was a better option. I didn't want to be a distraction for
him during practice and I don't think I'd make a good impression on the
other kids if I favored Sander that much as a future coordinator. Before he
headed off towards the locker rooms, I'd let Sander know where he could
find me afterwards.

When I dropped him off at his house about two hours later, we said our
goodbyes with a hug and a kiss. I only drove the last few yards home when
Sander was safely inside, already looking forward to the next day. The boy
was like a drug to me: no matter how much time I spent with him, I always
wanted to be with him more and more. If that was a healthy evolution, I
couldn't quite say, but it felt almost natural. Maybe I was developing some
fatherly feelings for my little prince, after all.

---------

On Wednesday Sander showed up in the yellow and purple tracksuit Big Dan
had given him when he joined Racing. Probably in the rush to come to my
place to finish painting his room, he hadn't thought about putting clothes
on that were allowed to get stained. His 'Oops' when I made the remark
proved he had indeed forgotten about that.

"Well, you can use Monday's system with the plastic bag again," I suggested
as we stood in the room we were working on.

"Awww, do I have to?" the boy complained.

"No, but it'd be a shame to get that new tracksuit ruined," I said.

"I guess," he sighed as he looked down at his clothes, tugging at the
trousers. Then a mischievous grin appeared on his face. "I know something
better," he giggled.

And before I could ask what he'd come up with, he started stripping off his
clothes, starting with the jacket of his tracksuit, followed by his
trousers, kicking his sneakers off in the process. My eyes grew big at his
boldness, but in the end, his idea wasn't too bad.

"Good thinking," I chuckled as he stood before me in a blue t-shirt and a
pair of light blue briefs. "Go put your clothes on my bed next door," I
told him.

"Hehe, okay," he giggled, blushing a bit and the carried the clothes he'd
taken off away from the danger zone.

I started setting our gear up to get the last wall a second coat of the
burgundy red while he was away. Dropping his clothes on the bed took longer
than I'd guessed and I was about to find out what had stalled him. Maybe he
had been checking out my room, since he hadn't been in it yet.

"Look, Uncle Rob, now I can't get my clothes dirty, anymore," he said in a
rather quiet voice as he came into the room.

I'd been standing with my back to him as he returned after putting his
tracksuit and his sneakers on my bed, so I hadn't seen him come in. But he
did say 'Look', so I turned around and almost dropped the brush I was
holding when I discovered why taking his clothes into my bedroom had taken
him a bit longer. Sander stood proudly in the doorway, with his hands in
his hips, a big toothy grin on his lips and a blush matching the paint on
his cheeks. Indeed, his clothes would not get dirty, today...  None of his
clothes!

When the initial shock faded, I couldn't help but laugh. Seeing my little
prince standing there with not a stitch of clothing on his body, smiling
broadly, blushing a bit because he knew he was doing something a bit
naughty, was beautiful and funny at the same time. And even though seeing
him completely bare for the first time, it was the boldness of his little
stunt and the fact that he stood there so self assured about himself that
made the scene picture perfect. It was obvious there was only one reason
why he'd done it: to find out how I'd react to him doing something so
daring. So I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" I laughed.

Sander giggled cutely, letting his arms drop to his sides and joining me by
our working table. Apparently that one line was enough to let him know I
approved of his little dare. Still, he looked up at me a bit nervously,
wanting to know I was really okay with it.

"I can go put my underwear and my shirt back on, if you want me too," he
smiled. "I kinda thought it'd be funny, is all."

"It was, too," I winked. "You're free to do whatever you like. If you think
it's better to put some clothes back on, then do so, or stay as you are. As
long as this wall gets done by lunch."

"Hehe, okay," Sander giggled again and then grabbed a brush. "Can I do the
edges?"

"Sure," I nodded, happy to see him dare to do as he pleases around me.

Of course I knew I would one day have to set some boundaries, but right
now, I just wanted to allow Sander to find out for himself what he could
and could not do. That way I would learn more about his character and about
what he liked to do. Maybe his habit to sleep without the burden that comes
with pajamas had stimulated his curiosity about being naked during the
day. I suppose that was something he didn't dare to do with his grandmother
around, but thought I might grant him the chance to find out how it felt to
move through the daily routine without bothering with clothes. Not seeing
any harm in it, I could not deny him that opportunity. And of course it
gave me, the part of me that was attracted to him physically, the chance to
get to know what had been hidden under his covers when I first tucked him
in.

At some point during the morning, Sander had just gone over the edges,
climbing up and down the ladder to reach the top border, he turned to me,
putting his brush down to change it for a paint roll.

"Is it okay if I do the rest alone?" he asked.

"Are you sure? We'll get it done faster if we do it together," I said.

"Not if you keep staring at my butt all the time," he giggled.

'Busted' I thought to myself. I had indeed been rather distracted by his
being naked. It was stronger than I dared to admit, but my interest in his
body was constantly drawing my attention away from the work at
hand. Luckily, his giggled told me it didn't bother him. It even seemed
amusing to him. Still, I felt a bit bad for staring.

"Sorry," I said guiltily.

"It's okay," Sander just shrugged. "Now can I finish the wall on my own?"

"I don't see why not," I said. "You've been doing a great job so far, so
I'm sure you can manage.

"Cool!" he smiled broadly. Only a minute later he was up on the ladder
again and started rolling fresh paint on the wall.

I stood there observing him for a couple more minutes, seeing he had gotten
the hang of it over those two days. Knowing he wouldn't need my help with
the wall, I looked around, trying to find something useful to do. Lunch was
still a while away, but I decided fixing us something to eat was my best
option.

"I guess you'll be hungry when you're done," I said as I slowly headed
towards the door. "I'll go check if I can make you something nice to
eat. Unless you'd like me to stay here instead."

Sander held his paint roll still for a bit as he turned to me. "You don't
have to make me anything special, Uncle Rob," he said. "I'm happy with just
some sandwiches."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "It's no trouble if you want me to fix you
something."

"Well, maybe an omelet, if you've got eggs," Sander suggested. "They don't
take much time to make. I'd kinda like it if you stayed with me.

"Omelets are fine with me," I okayed his suggestion. "I'll get all that
tape off in the mean time, and..."

Sander then took me off guard, abruptly stopping my train of thoughts. He
put his paint roll on the table, came standing right in front of me and
beckoned me to stoop down. He looked at me rather seriously, almost
pleadingly. "I just want you to be here so we can talk or something," he
said. "I want us to be together this week as much as we can."

"I want that too, my sweet little prince," I smiled at him, reaching out to
brush his cheek with my finger. "Then I'll just rush downstairs, catch me
some crossword puzzle to do and I'll be right back."

I was about to get back up, but Sander stopped me by grabbing my hand. He
sighed deeply and then told me what he really wanted. "Wouldn't you like
to...  you know...  stare at me a bit more."

Now that was unexpected. I was perfectly aware that he was enjoying being
naked. Up until now I believed that he'd stripped off his clothes just to
find out how it felt to walk about with nothing on. Apparently, my presence
had something to do with that bold move. Was he perhaps aware that my
feelings for him also had something to do with his appearance?

That might complicate things a bit, even though at his tender age, I
couldn't imagine him thinking beyond hugs and kisses. I had definitely done
my best to hide my physical attraction towards him, even if I did remember
moments where I was watching him more closely than I should, like during
his first match for Racing, or during our boardgames. I decided to not make
too big a deal of what he'd just told me and just humor him. Chances are he
was seeking some confirmation about his looks. After all, I'd been able to
check him out rather closely while he'd been working on the edges of the
wall, and I hadn't even told him if I liked what he looked like or not. I
was definitely going to remedy that before he went home. Until then I might
as well take him up on his offer, without appearing too interested.

"That doesn't bother you, then?" I asked. "I don't really mean to stare,
but it happens anyway."

Sander shook his head and smiled at me. "It was a bit weird at first," he
admitted. "But I got kinda used to you looking at me. So if you stay up
here with me, I won't mind if you keep watching me."

"I suppose it took some getting used to for me, too," I told him. "It's not
like I decorate rooms with a naked little boy helping me. But I'd love to
keep you company until you've done painting. If you keep talking to me, I'm
pretty sure I should be able to stay focussed long enough without the view
distracting me too much."

"He he, okay," the boy giggled.

"I am getting me a chair to sit on, though," I declared as he went back to
finish his job. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Yep, okay!" my little friend just replied as I headed out of the room to
get the chair from my bedroom, which I use mainly to put my clothes on at
night.

A bit later I sat in the corner of the room and watched Sander as he
applied paint to the wall. At first, I did scan his body up and down a
couple of times, front and back, paying attention to the details. I did
manage to keep the conversation, which was mainly about the boy's school
and stuff. After a while, when I'd memorized every square inch of his body,
I mentally zoomed out to get the entire picture and slowly got used to
having him wander about naked in front of me. I loved every bit of him,
including his delicate boy bits, but seeing him being so carefree was the
most beautiful part of it all. Whenever he did catch me with my eyes a few
inches further down his body, he'd simply smile, his cheeks just a tad bit
more pink than usual. He couldn't fool me anymore. It was plain to see he
liked the attention I gave him, even if it was sometimes directed at the
most private parts of his body.

I suppose this is where I could go and describe him inch by inch and put
his natural beauty into words. That's not easy to do, but I'll try. You
already know his facial features. There's his lovely blonde hair which had
grown a bit since I met him only a month ago. I suspected he was letting it
grow and it suited him, although it might do with a bit of a trim to even
it out and to prevent the bangs of hair in front from blocking his
view. There's the blue gem stones that are his eyes, which literature would
justly refer to as the mirror to his lively, energetic soul. His little
nose stood cutely in the middle of his face and his lips, which had often
left a wet patch on my cheek, were most of the time smiling, showing two
rows of perfect teeth (one had come out a while ago) and dimpling his
healthy rosy cheeks, showing me how happy he was to be with me. From
underneath his blonde hair, his little ears slightly stuck out, making the
picture of his face nothing short of perfect.

His head stood on a thin, slender neck. His shoulders were frail, but
typically those of a young growing boy. His arms were thin and if you
looked closely, covered by the finest of downy hairs. His deft hands with
ten small fingers always seemed busy and it was a pleasure to hold them in
mine. His upper body showed no remainder of baby fat, his chest very nicely
shaped, dotted with the smallest of nipples that were only a shade darker
than the rest of his nicely tanned body. His 'innie' belly button marked
the center of his belly. His body was carried by too slim, smooth looking
legs and the cutest of little feet that I still had to test for
tickliness. In between those legs was the proof of his masculinity, which
looked perfectly proportioned for a boy only a few months shy of ten years
old and I was pretty relieved to see his little dickie was still untouched,
the way nature intended it to be (I've never approved of circumcision,
unless it's done for medical reasons). His little nuggets seemed to have
started packing for their trip downwards, but were still clinging nicely to
his body inside the sensitive looking fleshy pouch. When facing away from
you, it's Sander's bare back that beckons you to be touched, as well as the
perfectly round cheeks of as well as the perfectly round cheeks of a nicely
shaped little boy's butt.

My description does not do the boy justice, but there's simply not enough
words in English language that fully express the sheer perfection of
Sander's body. But it should be enough to explain why I'd been
staring. It's hard not to and I believe it to be an insult to the boy if I
do not pay attention to every bit of his naked self, which he had so
voluntarily offered for me to behold.

It took Sander about an hour to finish painting. He sighed deeply when he
finally put the paint roll back on the makeshift table. He turned to
inspect his work and seemed really happy with the result. From the corner
where I was sitting I had a broader view of the room and liked the
combination of the broken white with the one burgundy red wall. I tried to
recall what the furniture he'd chosen looked like to picture it inside the
room, but couldn't quite remember.

"Looks good, doesn't it," I remarked from where I was sitting.

Sander looked over his shoulder from where he stood and smiled
happily. "It'll look even better once the bed and all is in here," he
thought forward.

"Definitely," I nodded, loving his positive thinking. "You've done a good
job, too. The paint's nicely evened out. By tonight it'll all be dry and
ready for further decorating."

"I kinda like doing this kinda stuff," he said. "Now it'll really my room."

"Indeed," I said. "You've earned yourself some bacon with that omelet. And
a big hug. Which would you like first?"

With a big grin Sander quickly stepped over to where I was sitting and
clambered onto my lap, sideways, and wrapped his arms around my neck. I
couldn't help but laugh at his being so direct. I put my right hand on his
shoulder and pulled him into me, caressing his arm. My left hand rested on
his thigh. With the boy being naked, I had to be careful not to touch him
inappropriately. His little boy bits were strictly off limits and for now,
so were his buns. Staring is one thing, touching is something totally
different. Luckily the lad didn't seem to notice I was holding back.

We sat there like that for about ten minutes, quietly, until I heard
Sander's little stomach rumble. He blushed a bit at that, but I simple
patted his thigh and smiled at him.

"Getting a bit peckish, huh, my little prince," I said.

"A little," the boy admitted, nodding. "But I don't mind waiting a bit
longer. I like it here."

I knew he was referring to our cuddling, so I squeezed his shoulder softly
and then planted a kiss on his temple, letting him know I was enjoying it
too. Still, lunch hour was approaching and I wanted to have it out of the
way, so we would have the entire afternoon to what we wanted.

"I can't have you starving, kiddo," I said softly. I then ran a finger
across his chest, provoking some giggles and pointed at the few smudges of
burgundy red paint that had found their way onto his bare body. "Why don't
you go take a quick refreshing shower, while I get those eggs done."

He looked down at where I was pointing, giggling again when he saw the
stains and simply nodded, agreeing to my suggestion. "Do I have to put my
clothes back on?" he wanted to know before washing up.

"That's up to you, buddy," I said as I let him get up.

"Okay," he simply nodded, turning around to head to the bathroom.

"Sander," I called out to him as he reached the door.

"Yeah?" he answered, turning sideways and waiting for what I wanted to say.

"I really liked staring at you," I said, hoping he'd understand what I
meant.

A broad smile appeared on his lips and his cheeks colored a bit darker,
proving that he'd indeed picked up the compliment. He didn't say a word,
but that wasn't necessary. Knowing that I liked what he looked like made
him happy. He trotted out of the room and two minutes later I heard water
washing down from the bathroom. Sighing deeply, the view of Sander's lovely
naked body engraved in my memory, I got up from my chair and went
downstairs to get lunch ready.

About fifteen minutes later Sander joined me in the kitchen, where I'd just
finished preparing our lunches. I'd added a couple of toasts to his omelet
and sat out the bottle of ketchup, which I expected him to spray over his
omelet (I always do). When he sat down, he attacked his lunch like a hungry
tiger, showing me his hard work this morning had given him a healthy
appetite. I sat down with him and followed his example, although a bit more
slowly.

My little friend had chosen to get his clothes back on, except for the
jacket of his tracksuit. He'd combed his hair back neatly and looked really
refreshed. Having seen his naked body throughout the morning, I wasn't even
disappointed to see him dressed again. He had clearly enjoyed the
experience of being without clothes for a while and I had a feeling he
would repeat it when the time was right. He knew I was okay with it and
even seemed to like me being there to witness it. The knowledge that I'd
also liked the view would most likely be an extra incentive to do it
again. And as for me: no matter how much I'd liked seeing him naked, an
overdose is never good. With some time in between, the next time he'd
decide to reveal his little body would be a rediscovery and would probably
have me stare at him all over again.