Date: Sat, 26 Oct 2013 14:58:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pok Bepxtep <pok_bepxtep@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sander - Chapter 6
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Chapter 6: Saturday Night Fever
-------------------------------
After painting the room during the first three days of the week, putting
the furniture in place went smoothly. Sander proved to know how to read a
plan quite well, so after doing the bed together, I pretty much let him
take charge. He went through the steps on the plans meticulously, telling
me what goes where and pretty much only helped me by holding the pieces
straight and handing me the right screws and stuff. He quite enjoyed doing
it and I'd prefer Sander as a boss over anyone else. His voice is a lot
sweeter and he's a lot more easy on the eye.
The end result was simply marvelous. The color of the furniture, almost
black but not quite, matched the walls perfectly. His bed went right next
to the door, with the head in the corner of the room. Next to it, he'd set
up one of those square blocks, divided in smaller squares, 4 by 4, that
held drawers and small closets, where he wanted to put his stuff
in. Clearly he was planning to store a few things in the room, for when he
would be spending the night at my home, including some spare clothing.
On the other side, in front of the one burgundy red wall he'd put a desk
that was empty at the moment. If it would ever happen that I'd have to
watch over him on a school night, or just after getting home from school,
he would do his homework up there. His grandmother had always told him to
get his homework over and done with as soon as he got home and he'd made it
a good habit to do so. He wanted to keep that up, even if he was with me,
something I could only admire. The rest of the room was still empty, for
now, but posters and frames would follow to make it more homely.
We finished the task by Friday, shortly after lunch. Sander had gotten the
go ahead from Annie to spend Saturday night with me. So, after the room was
done, we simply sat together in the lounge together, making plans for the
next day. That day would be pretty much filled with football, because
Sander would be playing a tournament and of course, he and his team mates
hoped to win it.
Since we had no idea when we'd be back, we decided on a movie night. Sander
had mentioned a few titles of movies he wanted to see, mostly Pixar or
Disney. I had a few of those lying around and I told him that when we got
back on Saturday, he could search through my dvd's, which we'd neatly
sorted in the small storage room upstairs, and choose three we could watch.
I sent Sander home around 4 o'clock, with the excuse of grocery shopping I
had to do for the weekend. I actually did need a couple of things, mostly
snacks like pop corn and ice cream for our movie night and a selection of
pop drinks, but I also wanted to get him a bit of a welcome gift. It was my
memory of that first dinner at his place that gave me the perfect idea. It
was a bit of a guess, but it would make a handy thing to have during his
stay. When I got back from shopping, I put Sander welcome gift on the bed I
hoped he'd be sleeping in often.
When Saturday finally came, it was hard to tell who was more thrilled about
Sander's overnight visit. When my little prince arrived early in the
morning, ready to head to the tournament, he was quite jumpy. The moment I
opened the door, he dropped his sports bag and leaped into my arms, holding
me tightly and showering me with kisses all over my face. Of course I had a
clue why he was so excited and it would take more than the usual prematch
chat to calm him down a bit. I carried my buddy into the lounge and sat
down with him still in my arms and his legs and arms wrapped around me.
I returned his countless kisses with one big kiss on his forehead, rubbing
his shoulders. "Now what are you so excited about, huh?" I asked, winking
at him, showing that I knew the answer quite well.
He giggled cutely and smiled happily at me. "We're going to have fun,
today," he declared. "I finally get to stay with you tonight."
"If I had a room as cool as yours, I would be excited, too, kiddo," I
smiled back at him.
"It is a cool room, isn't it," he stated proudly. "Just like my uncle. He's
cool, too."
I knew exactly what he meant by that. Sander often made a comment like
that, concealing an 'I love you' that always made me feel the happiest man
alive. "How can he not be cool, with such a special little boy as his
nephew," I answered his love.
"I can't wait till tonight," he said, hugging me once more.
"Patience, my little prince," I replied softly, rubbing his back
tenderly. "Time will fly when you're playing football, today. We'll pick up
some pizza for dinner and then we're going to have ourselves a wonderful
evening, together."
He smiled brightly when he sat back up, kissed me on the cheek again and
then got up. He headed for the hallway where he'd left his sports bag. He
carried it into the lounge, unzipped it and retrieved a small rectangle
frame. He showed it to me and said: "Would it be okay if I put this in my
room upstairs?"
'This' was the drawing he'd made when I first told him the room would be
his. I thought it was an excellent idea. "Of course it's okay," I told
him. "It proves that the room is yours and yours alone. And it's a
wonderful drawing, too."
"See, I told you I had a cool uncle," he grinned.
"Silly boy," I chuckled, tickling his sides. "We'll put it up there
tonight, after dinner."
"Okay," he giggled, trying to get away (but not really) from my tickling
hands. "Are we going?"
I checked the clock and nodded. "Yep. Leave the frame on the living room
table. I'm gonna go put my shoes on and then we're off."
Sander climbed off my lap and zipped his sports bag up. "I wonder if we can
win the tournament this afternoon," he said as I tied my shoes.
"That depends on who your playing against, I suppose," I answered. "You
guys are a good team, though, so why not. Just do your best and you'll see
how it turns out."
"I guess," he simply nodded.
"The most important is for you to have fun," I told him, not really knowing
what to say.
"Uhuh," he nodded again.
"Now, we'd better get a move on if we don't wanna be late," I said,
steering out of the house towards the garage.
About twenty minutes later, I was driving Big Dan (on the passenger's
seat), Sander and two of the other kids towards the venue where the
tournament was held, some 25 km away from the Racing Doomkerke stadium. The
kids chattered amongst one another about tv shows they'd seen and DS games
they were playing. Big Dan and I mostly talked about my future position as
the coordinator for the youth's teams of Racing. Besides telling me about
some of the tasks that would fall onto me, he invited me to the club's
staff meeting, come Friday night. I told him I'd be there and asked him if
there were any other people on the list of candidates for the position, to
which he said, laughing heartily in the way only he can laugh, that I was
the list.
Once we arrived out our destination, I pretty much left Sander in the care
of Big Dan and some of the other parents who always helped hand out jerseys
and such. I was handed a roster with the matches Sander's team would be
playing and when. Every team participating had been given a row of tables
for the supporters to sit at in between matches. We decided to each throw
15 euros in a hat to pay the drinks and snacks with, during the
tournament. It was a rather warm and pleasant day for Belgian spring
standards, so beer and pop sodas would flow in abundance. I decided to
stick with lemonade, since I'd be driving Sander and his buddies home
afterwards, not wanting to risk driving under the influence.
Around lunch time, in between two games, practically everyone was gathered
around our table, munching down a small pack of french fries they were
selling at a small stand outside. I know it's greasy and unhealthy, but
there's very few boys, big or small, who can resist the scent of freshly
baked fries. Sander's team had been doing well, winning the first two games
rather easily. The third and last match of the preliminary round would
decide on what team of the other half of the roster they'd be playing. If
they won that one, they'd end up on top and would drawn up against the team
winning the other series in a sort of finale to declare the winner of the
tournament.
Although they were quite excited about the possibility of playing those
finals, the boys seemed to have a great time. In between matches they were
given time to have some fun at the playground situated behind the football
fields. They'd been playing a game of tag, together with some of the other
teams. During lunch, Sander sat with me, quietly eating his fries. That was
when a photographer came to our table, asking if we wanted pictures taken
of our boys. Those pictures would be sent to one of Racing's officials,
which could then be bought for a fair price. Not having any pictures of
their kids in their football gear, all parents agreed and thought it to be
a nice idea.
So, after finishing our lunch, having enough time left before the third
match, we gathered the boys. Obviously knowing his trade, the photographer,
a rather kind man in his late thirties, showed us to a good spot for the
pictures. One by one, the boys posed for their pictures, hunched down on
one knees, their hands on a ball in front of them and smiling
brightly. That must have been the first moment of the day when I allowed
myself to really look at Sander. Of course I already knew very well he was
a handsome kid, but once in a while I couldn't help but let my attraction
towards him get the upper hand. While he posed for his picture, the idea of
me having some pictures of him formed in the back of my mind. So, after all
boys had struck their poses for their pictures, I went to talk with the
photographer.
"Excuse me, sir," I beckoned for him. "May I ask you something?"
"Sure," the man said, looking around, checking if he'd had every team
present.
"Would it be any trouble to take pictures of one of the kids during their
next game?" I asked.
"No trouble at all, sir," the man assured me. "It'd be nice to be doing
something else besides portrait photos."
"Great," I said gratefully.
"Any special occasion you want the pictures for then?" the photographer
asked.
"I want to surprise the boy's grandmother," I fibbed, although that idea
wasn't so bad. "She can never make it to his matches because she tutors
some kids on Saturdays. I think she'd like to see pictures of him playing."
"I bet she'll like that," the man nodded understandingly. "I can put them
in a nice album, if you'd like that."
"That's be nice," I said.
The photographer then reached in his breast pocket and fished out a calling
card. "This is my card," he said. "Call me later this week for an
appointment, so we can discuss how you'd like it done."
"Okay, thanks," I answered, briefly glancing at his card. "I'll bring
Sander along. I'm pretty sure he'd like to have a say in it, since it's his
grandmother we're surprising."
"Perfect," the man said. "You're his father, then?"
"His uncle," I told him, lying again, but not really, since Sander calls me
his Uncle Rob. "The boy's parents passed away when he was little. His
grandmother's been raising him and I help out where I can."
"Okay. So, which boy is it?" he then asked as we reached the pitch where
Sander would be playing his next game.
"Number 8," I said, pointing at Sander who had his back to us, lining up
for a warmup exercise.
"Cute kid," the photographer said. "I'll do my best to get a few good shots
of him."
"Thanks," I nodded and then walked over to where the rest of the Racing
supporters were.
Throughout the match I followed the photographer with my eye, watching him
aim his camera at Sander the whole time. He was definitely doing a thorough
job. I hadn't even noticed him calling my little prince cute earlier, but I
didn't make much of it. Even if there's no attraction to speak of, I think
lots of people recognize a good-looking boy when they see one. A
photographer, having seen many during this kind of events, has probably
seen many to be some sort of an expert. Anyway, after the match was done,
Racing coming out victorious again, although a bit less convincing, the man
held his thumb up to me and I waved back at him, thanking him for his
business. I admit I was pretty curious about the pictures. What I hadn't
expected was that Sander had actually noticed the man taking the pictures.
"Why was the photographer taking pictures of me?" he asked as we walked
towards the entrance of the cafeteria where the board with results sat.
"I thought it would be nice if we had some pictures of you playing for your
grandmother," I explained. "Mother's Day's coming up soon, if I'm not
mistaken. It might be a nice present."
"Oh, cool," he smiled. "You should have told me."
"Yeah, maybe," I admitted. "But I only got the idea after he made your
portraits earlier. Besides, I think you might have paid too much attention
to him during the match."
"I guess," he shrugged and then looked at the board. "Hey, we made it to
the finals. We could actually win this."
"Yeah, well done, buddy," I said, giving his shoulder a complimentary
squeeze. "I'll be rooting for you extra hard during the final match."
And I did, too, if that was at all possible. It was necessary, too, because
the adversaries for the finals were a tougher team than the ones they'd
played against so far. I had seen Mark's nationals play once and these kids
didn't come too far from that level. But, having become a bit of a leader
on the field, his skills had improved since he joined Racing and his
confidence had grown visibly. Advised by Mark, Big Dan had positioned
Sander in the center, as a playmaker, a role that fit Sander remarkably
well. It was no secret Mark wanted to cram my little buddy for the next
season, where he hoped Sander would play for his team, at the national
level. I had confidence in Sander taking that leap of faith, next summer,
after having fully integrated with the team by then.
The match itself went up and down and was quite tight. The only real
difference between Racing and the other team was that Racing seemed to be
more attuned to each other, whereas the opponents bulked in individual
skill. That resulted in the match in a feverish last five minutes, where
each team tried hard to find that one gap in the defense of the opposing
team. And, I don't want to brag, but it was my Sander who found that gap.
The ball had gone out of bounds for a throw in. Sander was wide open to
receive the throw in. He skillfully controlled the ball, faced his direct
opponent and then spotted Simon, his team mate on the left flank sprinting
towards the baseline. Sander passed the ball to Simon, dragged his opponent
with him and then pivoted on his quick feet, launching himself in the
opposite direction. Simon had been paying close attention to Sander's
actions and quickly noticed that his quick change of direction had left his
opponent stranded. Simon passed the ball to the second post where Sander
was wide open, knocking the ball into the back of the net with a sounding
header. And with only three more minutes on the clock, that header clinched
the match and the tournament in Racing's favor.
So, when the end whistle blew, everyone in the yellow and purple of Racing
sprinted towards Sander, jumping him and practically burying him under the
pitch, cheering him for winning the trophy for them. All Racing supporters
-parents, grandparents and other relatives present- clapped their hand and
congratulated the team for their wonderful achievement. Big Dan himself
pretty much choked every one of his players in a big hug, just as overjoyed
with the win as his boys. I was a bit more calm in my joy, waiting for the
right moment to walk up to Sander, lift him up and holding him tightly in a
loving big bear hug.
"I'm so proud of you, my little prince," I whispered in his ear while I
held him.
Sander smiled broadly at me and then kissed me on the cheek a couple of
times. "We did it, uncle Rob," he said cheerfully. "We won!"
"You sure did, buddy," I nodded, smiling back, putting him back down on his
feet. "You were awesome out there. Now go on and celebrate with your
mates."
"Yep," Sander chimed and ran off to where the Racing boys were happily
dancing and jumping around.
Big Dan came to me as I observed my little friend probably having one of
the best days of his young life. "That's the first time my boys have won
something like this," he confessed to me. "Your boy's bringing the best out
off the others, somehow."
I was about to correct him for calling Sander 'my boy', but I decided to
let it slide. "And the other way around," I answered. "Joining this team
was the best thing that could have happened to him."
"That's your doing, Uncle Rob," Sander's coach smirked. "Can I call you
that? It kinda sounds nice."
"I think that title comes with the job, doesn't it," I laughed, having
found a good friend in Big Dan.
"I don't know about that," Dan smiled. "What I do know, is that the other
boys are referring to you as Uncle Rob, ever since Sander told you you were
his uncle. They all agree that you're a cool guy. Mark's done a great job
applying you for our new coordinator."
"I had doubts about that, but when I see those kids having a ball out
there, I know who I'll be doing it for," I said. "There's no greater
reward. And now, since I seem to have the job even before a vote is cast,
I'd better go buy our little champs a drink."
"Finally you get why we really hired you. Free drinks!" Big Dan joked as he
walked over to the boys.
I laughed out loud at Dan's teasing and then walked inside the cafeteria to
get coupons for the boys. Outside, the president of the organizing club
called the team to the front and handed them a rather fancy looking
trophy. Parents and people from the local newspaper took group pictures of
the kids, with their trophy standing proudly in front of them. They then
walked off the pitch towards the locker rooms to get showered and
changed. I decided to sit down at our table to wait for them. Big Dan and
most of the boys' dads joined me a minute later, leaving the kids to take
care of themselves, with a few of the mothers staying with them to make
sure they didn't go and wreck the place.
We stayed there for about an hour, letting the boys play outside after
they'd picked their drinks or snacks. We chatted about all kinds of things
until some of the kids announced that they were getting a bit
hungry. Dinner time was closing in, so we decided to call it a day and
gathered our belongings to head home. After dropping Big Dan and the other
two boys, who'd carpooled with Sander, and me off, we headed back to my
place, stopping at a pizza parlor to get our dinner.
It probably doesn't need to be told, but during dinner, Sander couldn't
stop talking about how much fun he'd had at the tournament and how cool it
was that he and his team had won. Of course, with his team mates out of ear
range, he dared boasting about him being the one scoring the winning goal,
as well. The smaller, 5 inch version of the trophy every player had been
awarded stood proudly in the center of the table and would find a place of
honor in his new room upstairs, after showing it to his grandmother and
telling her the entire story. When our pizzas had been completely devoured,
I decided it was the right moment to give Sander his welcome gift.
"Why don't you go and put that frame up on the wall, upstairs," I
suggested, reminding him of the drawing he'd framed to decorate his room
with. "I'll clean up here and then we can start our movie night."
"Okay," Sander nodded, getting up from his chair.
"There's a hammer and a box of wall hooks in the garage," I told him. "Just
be careful not to hit your fingers."
"I won't," the boy promised as he headed for the garage to get the tools.
After finding what he needed, Sander headed upstairs, carrying the frame up
to his room. Of course it was the thumping of a hammer on a nail I heard a
minute later. The package containing my little friend's welcome gift was
large enough to immediately catch his attention. So, only two minutes later
Sander reappeared in the kitchen, wrapped in a brand new, burgundy red bath
robe. On his feet he was wearing a pair of fluffy slippers, made like one
of those Pokémon characters that are so popular these days.
"Is this for me?" he asked as he stood before me, rubbing his hands over
the soft material of his new robe.
"Well, I think it's a tad bit small for me," I replied jokingly. "Do you
like it?"
"Yeah, it's nice," he nodded. He then walked over to me and wrapped his
arms around me. "You really don't have to buy so much stuff, uncle Rob," he
said.
"I know, buddy," I replied, running my fingers through his lovely blonde
hair. "But I thought one of those might come in handy for when you're
staying over. I want you to be comfortable when you're here."
"I really like it," Sander said again, fiddling with the rope around his
slim waist.
"I'm glad you do," I smiled. I then lifted him up and sat him on the
counter, ready to tell him the real purpose of his new bath
robe. "Actually, I got you this because I don't want you to catch a cold
when you're down here in your pajamas."
"But, I don't wear any pajamas," he quickly reminded me. "You know I sleep
with no clothes on."
"Exactly," I winked.
For a couple of seconds he looked at me as if I'd turned mad, but then he
understood what I was telling him. His pondering look turned into a big
grin. He leapt of the counter and left the kitchen, bounding back up the
stairs. I stood there for about a minuted, wondering what the kid was unto,
until he returned into the kitchen.
"Is this for me?" he repeated the question he'd asked me not five minutes
ago. And just like before, he also rubbed his hands over the cloth of his
new bath robe.
It was odd to see him replay the scene, but it didn't take me long to
realize why. From underneath his bathroom, I could see his bare knees and
calves, where before he'd been wearing the purple pants of his Racing track
suit. He'd clearly understood the message I'd sent him during our talk
about pajamas earlier. He didn't have to untie the ribbon for me to know he
was now naked underneath his new garment. Instead of waiting for my answer
and probably wanting to avoid my silly 'too small for me' remark, he ran
into me and wrapped his little arms around me.
"I take it you really like it," I said, caressing his head.
"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded, smiling up at me. "Now, can we go watch those
movies?"
"Of course, buddy. Go ahead and get one started," I told him. "I'll bring
some snacks and stuff."
"Cool!" my little friend cheered, heading for the lounge.
While I was getting popcorn and crisps out off the kitchen cabinet and a
bottle of Coke from the fridge, I heard Sander turn on the tv. When I
joined him in the lounge, he was trying to find his way around the dvd
player. I let him handle things at his own pace, knowing that in this day
and age, any kid knew how to get a dvd running. In the meantime, I decided
to turn of the big lights and switch on the small lamp standing on a small
table in the corner of the lounge. In the half dark, I saw Sander had found
the right buttons. He selected one of the Shrek movies, put it in the
player and then maneuvered himself right next to me on the couch. I handed
him the remote, let him hit play, so our movie night could get started.
Having played football throughout most of the day and the celebrations
after his team's win in the tournament, it was clear that three movies had
been a very ambitious plan. The movie hadn't been playing too long before I
noticed Sander wouldn't last long before getting sleepy. He'd put his
little feet, still wrapped in his Pokémon slippers, up on the
couch. He'd put his head against my shoulder at first, with my arm around
his shoulder to allow him to snuggle up close to me, but it hadn't taken
long before he'd decided lying down with his head in my lap was a lot more
comfortable. My arm was now draped over him with my hand on his shoulder.
Not an hour into the movie I noticed Sander had abandoned the snacks and
had become really quiet. His breathing had slowed down a bit and he barely
moved a muscle. Obviously sleep had snuck upon him, steeling him from what
was supposed to be a night of staying up late. I didn't mind, though. Even
his presence was enough to make me the happiest man alive. I decided to sit
through the rest of the movie, so he would be fast asleep when I carried
him up to his room.
Half an hour later I carried my sleepy little prince up the stairs, careful
not to wake him. When I reached his new bedroom, the door still open, I
pulled back his brand new sheets and gently laid him down. It was only when
I tucked him in that I realized he was still wearing his robe. For a second
I thought about taking it off him, knowing he prefers to sleep with nothing
on. I decided against it, though, thinking it would be better to leave that
up to him. Taking of the single piece of clothing myself felt too much like
taking advantage of the situation. I was pretty sure that somewhere during
the night, Sander would sense the change in environment and make himself
comfortable. So, I simply bowed down over his little head and kissed him
goodnight. Even if it was only a simple gesture, it was something I knew
I'd love doing whenever my little friend spends the night at my place. Most
of all, I was very happy to see how quickly he felt at home with me.
With Sander safe and sound in his bed, I left his room and headed
downstairs to clean up whatever mess we'd made. I then sat back down on the
couch to watch the football match reports (my team's way down on the bottom
of the table) and to relax a bit. About an hour after I'd put Sander to
bed, I headed upstairs myself, calling it a day. The best day ever, all
thanks to that wonderful little boy sleeping soundly in the room next to
mine. As I lay down in bed, reminiscing about the day, it almost felt as a
dream.
When I woke up somewhere during the night, still much too early for a
Sunday, I found that the dream was still going on. There was only a dim
light coming in through the curtains from the street lights, but that was
more than sufficient to be able to see that the left side of my bed, which
was usually empty, held a small figure. It even took me a couple of
seconds, but when I realized that somewhere during the night, Sander had
snuck into my room and into my bed. His left arm was draped over the
sheets, with the dim light reflecting on the smooth skin of his bare
shoulder. My little prince had indeed made himself comfortable, having left
his bathrobe behind and finding his way into my bed. Seeing his small form
next to me brought a smile upon my face and I knew that when dawn came, I
would be greeted with the most wonderful sight a man can wake up next to.
It was about two hours later, around 7 o'clock, when I was woken by some
movement next to me. I opened my eyes, this time to a room lit with the
first rays of spring sun seeping through the thin curtains. It took a while
for my eyes to adjust to the light and when they did, I saw Sander doing
creeping out of bed, doing his best to be quiet and not to wake me. He'd
pulled a corner of the covers back and sat upright, slipping his legs out
of the bed. Before getting up, he turned back and blushed when he noticed I
was awake.
"Oops," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"'s Okay, buddy," I smiled at him. "Getting up already? It's still pretty
early."
"I gotta go pee," he explained.
"Better go, then," I yawned, stretching out on the bed.
Swiftly, Sander crawled out off bed, naked as the day he was born. To reach
the bathroom, he first had to walk around the bed, with the door being on
the other side of the room. He probably wasn't aware of it, but his tour
around the bed gave me the opportunity to get reacquainted with his bare
body. I know I'd already seen him naked during the last day of painting,
but because a few days had passed since then, today felt like the first
time. My conclusion was the same as the other day, though: my little prince
is an incredibly beautiful little boy.
When he returned to the bedroom, after his morning visit to the bathroom,
Sander seemed to be a bit more awake. The big grin on his face when he saw
me following him walk into the room and around the bed to reclaim his spot
next to me told me he was at least more aware of his being naked.
"You were staring again," he said as he covered himself up again.
"Well, it's not often that a small boy walks around my bedroom naked on a
Sunday morning," I smiled, knowing my staring didn't bother him.
"It might happen more often, from now on," Sander said, turning on his
side.
"I could get used to that," I replied. "So, what happened to that cool room
of yours? Tired of it already?"
"Nah," my little friend answered, shaking his head. "I woke up in the
middle of the night to get a drink of water and I kinda felt like getting
in bed with you after that. You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not, sweetie," I reassured him. I reached out to him and pulled
him closer to me, allowing him to snuggle up against me. Luckily I was
wearing pajamas, because I would have made a very close contact with his
naked body, if I wasn't. "You're free to do whatever you feel like, here,"
I said as he put his head on my shoulder.
"Cool," he replied.
"So, if you want to get in bed with me, just do it," I told him. "On one
condition."
"What's that?" Sander wanted to know.
"No getting up before 8 o'clock. This is Sunday, I sleep in on Sundays," I
explained.
"He he, okay, I won't," my little prince promised. "I don't want to get up
early anyway."
"That's settled, then," I said, caressing his arm, which was draped over my
chest. "So, why don't we try and catch a few more z's before getting the
day going, okay?"
"Yep," Sander agreed, nodding.
To show me he really agreed to my terms, he snuggled up as close as he
could and shuffled back and forth to get comfy. I continued caressing his
arm until I felt his breathing slow down again. Apparently he was still a
bit sleepy, like me, although in my case, lazy is the right word for
it. Somehow I think Sander just wanted to make this cozy moment between us
to last as long as possible.
I only managed to sleep about half an hour longer after that. There's days
when you don't want to wake up from a dream, but this particular Sunday
morning, the real thing was much better than the dream. Sander was still
sound asleep, his little body practically glued to me. I decided to stay
put until he woke up again and to enjoy the feeling of his body hit against
me. Careful not to wake him, I shuffled backward to be able to lean against
the head of the bed. Making sure my maneuver hadn't woken my little prince,
I relaxed and then gently brushed the loose strands of his blonde hair past
his ear.
It was only fifteen minutes later when Sander stirred in his sleep. He
opened his eyes, adjusting to the daylight. Briefly he looked up at, smiled
warmly when he noticed I was awake. Slowly he turned on to his back and
then copied me by sitting upright against the head of the bed.
"Good morning, sweetie," I greeted him.
"Hey, uncle Rob," he yawned, stretching out. "Is it still to early?"
"A bit, but we can't stay in bed forever, now, can we," I said.
"He he, no, we can't," my little friend giggled cutely. "But I wouldn't
mind if we stayed here just a bit longer."
"I'd like that too," I smiled. "What would like for breakfast, later on?"
"Dunno," Sander just shrugged. "Have you got any cereal?"
"Yeah, I think I have some," I said. "Are you sure you don't want me to fix
you something else?"
"Nah, cereal's cool," the boy shook his head. "You're already doing so much
for me."
"That's because I love you so much," I said, thinking it sounded a bit
cheesy.
But cheesy wasn't a problem for Sander. He smiled at me and then slipped
out from under the sheets and crawled over me, straddling me and wrapping
his thin arms around me in a big hug. He leaned forward and planted a wet
kiss on my lips. "I love you, too," he then said as he looked me in the
eyes.
I embraced the boy and pulled him back into me. Clearly Sander was in the
mood for a Sunday morning cuddle and I was not going to disappoint him. As
I held him, I caressed his bare back. The soft, smooth skin of his back
felt heavenly and the humming escaping Sander's throat told me I was doing
a good job. I didn't dare let my hands wander further down, though, afraid
that touching his buns was a bit too risky.
"Feels nice," Sander softly whispered, taking me off guard a bit.
"You like that, huh," I answered just as quietly. "I can do this all day,
too."
"Uncle Rob?" he then said, a bit hesitant.
"Yes, buddy?" I replied, curious about what was on his mind, holding my
hands still near his lower back.
"You can rub my behind, too," he said as if it was the most common of
things. "I mean, if you want too."
Apparently, the limits I had set for myself didn't match the ones he had in
mind. Even though I strongly believed that the meaning of letting someone
touch your posterior was different for the two of us, I had to be careful
not to tread on thin ice. "Are you sure, kiddo?"
Sander raised himself up a bit to be able to look right at me and
nodded. "Uhuh. I really like the way it feels when you rub my back like
that. So I think it'll be nice when you do my butt, too."
By the way he looked so hopeful at me, I knew it would be wrong to deny him
his wish. I decided to take my chance and give him the benefit of the
doubt, thinking that letting me rub his butt had no sexual meaning to
him. In the end, he might not have taken it well if I refused. A talk about
setting boundaries would follow in case he ever asked for something more
delicate than rubbing his butt.
So, on this particular Sunday morning, I found myself in my bed with the
most amazing little boy lying on top of me, his head resting on my
shoulder. My hands glided over the back of his bare body, from the top of
his shoulders, down the smoothness of his back and then following the
curves of his incredibly soft and supple butt cheeks. From the first moment
my hands came in contact with my little prince's perfectly shaped mounds of
boy flesh, I was addicted. It wasn't long before I let my hands linger on
his butt, drawing circles with the palm of my hand, now and then giving his
two cheeks a gently squeeze and letting my finger tips roam over the
crevice.
Sander had giggled when he felt my hands on his buns the first time,
telling me it felt a bit funny, but more or less forbidding me to
stop. Soon, he was humming and purring again, clearly enjoying the touch. I
knew then that he was just as hooked as I was. I also realized that the day
when his curiosity would go beyond me rubbing his behind might be coming
sooner than expected. That's when I would have to be strong of mind and
heart and tell him that this was as far as I was willing to go, even if my
own heart told me different. Because I would be lying if taking things a
notch up wasn't on my mind. Fortunately, I was able to keep reminding
myself about how lucky I was for haven such a wonderful boy in my otherwise
empty life and that it was not worth it to lose him.
After about ten minutes of cuddling and running my hands all over his
backside, Sander raised himself up again. He smiled down at me and then
planted another wet kiss on my lips.
"Getting hungry?" I guessed as I brushed some hair away from his face.
"A bit," he admitted.
"Why don't you go wash up a bit, then," I suggested. "I'll go downstairs
and get your breakfast ready."
"Okay," he simply agreed.
Sander then rolled off me. I followed his maneuver closely and when he
ended up on his back next to me, evidence that he'd really enjoyed the
cuddling came into view, which drew my attention. When Sander realized what
I was looking at, he blushed a deep red and moved to cover up his
erection. I felt a bit guilty for making him feel a bit embarrassed about
his little predicament. Before his hand could hide his privates, I gently
laid a hand on his wrist and smiled reassuringly at him.
"You're a beautiful boy, little prince," I told him in a soft voice and
then gave him a loving kiss on his forehead. "You have no reason to be shy
about anything."
Sander allowed me to move his hand away again. "I thought you might think
bad about me for... you know... "
As he looked down at what he wasn't comfortable calling by name, I brushed
a strand of his hair away from his face. "For your dickie being hard? Or
what do you call it when it's like this?"
"A stiffie," Sander simply said.
"Well, you're a boy, Sander," I continued. "It's perfectly natural for you
to have a stiffie every now and then. There's nothing bad about it."
"Really?"
"Really," I nodded, kissed him on the cheek and then got up. "I'm gonna get
your breakfast ready, now. You go and freshen up a bit."
"Okay," he smiled, happy as before, his embarrassment flushed away.
I followed Sander out off the bedroom and headed downstairs to get his
order of breakfast cereal served, while he crossed the landing into the
bathroom. In the kitchen, I made myself some fresh coffee and fixed me a
chocolate paste sandwich. When I sat down at the table, stirring some sugar
into my cup, the picture of my little friend lying in bed next to me with
his dickie pointing up formed in the back of my head. I wondered if I'd
handled everything okay and also realized that the awkward moment might
only be the first in many.
I found it a bit reassuring that Sander hadn't linked my rubbing his butt
with his getting a stiffie. Yet... That might still happen if there'd be
more of those cuddly Sunday mornings in the future, which I really hoped
there would be. Waking up with my little prince right next to me was the
best I could ever dream of. The fact that it had been his choice to spend
the second half of his night beside me showed me that he somehow needed to
be close to me and he knew I would never push him away.
I did hope his curiosity about feeling my hands on his body didn't go
beyond what happened this morning. Then again, it might be a rather small
step for him to figure out that maybe it might feel nice to be touched
'down there' as well. I dreaded the moment where I would have to tell him
'No' when he asked me to do that. Not just because I knew a rejection like
that would hurt him, but most of all, because it will not be easy to say
'No'. As I told him earlier, he is beautiful. That includes that part of
him that makes him a boy, and my attraction towards boys, him in
particular, would make it difficult to resist.
I know Sander's not the kind of person who'd take 'No' for an answer if he
ever popped the question. At least not with a sounding explanation as to
why I won't touch him 'down there'. That explanation might not come easy. A
simple 'I cannot do that' won't suffice. He'll want to know why not. In the
end, I might even have to make a confession to him that I didn't want to
make, at least not just yet. I don't think he'd take it well if I told him
I was actually head over heels with him and that I actually do want to
touch him 'down there'. I do know that one day I will have to be honest
with him, even if that might be the end of our friendship.
While I was pondering over all that, Sander walked into the kitchen. He'd
put his bathrobe over his shoulders but hadn't bothered tying the ribbon to
cover up his naked body. I winked at him when he sat down at the table,
letting him know I was rather happy to see him behave so freely around
me. He smiled back and then checked the selection of cereal I'd set out. I
always buy those small packages, so they won't go stale in the cupboard. He
made his choice, poured the contents into his bowl, added milk and started
munching down his breakfast.
I'd already finished breakfast when he arrived so I couldn't help but
observe him. We started chit chatting about silly things like tv shows and
so on. He ate slowly, clearly wanting to make his visit last as long as
possible. When he finally drank the last of his milk, he put his bowl down
and then got up, walked over to me and wrapped his little arms around me.
"I wish I could stay here," he sighed as he held me.
"I would like that too, buddy," I said, hugging him closely. "I'm pretty
sure there'll be more days when we can be together. I know that when I take
you home, I'll be counting the days until you're with me again."
"You mean that?" Sander asked, briefly loosening his hold to look me right
in the eye..
"You bet," I smiled, softly caressing his face. "I really like having you
with me."
"Yeah, me too," my little buddy sighed, melting into me again. "Do we have
some time left before I have to go?"
"Sure, there's no rush," I said. "Anything you'd like to do?"
He leaned further into me and put his lips to my ear and whispered: "Can we
cuddle a bit more?"
He looked right at me again, hopefully, blushing a bit. Knowing Sander to
be a boy who craved for some affection, I could not deny him his
request. Besides, cuddling with my little prince is something I could never
get enough of. Of course I also realized Sander had made the suggestion
because he'd enjoyed my rubbing his bare backside, earlier, and that he
simply wanted me to make him feel just as good again.
Without saying a word, I simply smiled at him, got up and extended my hand
for him to hold it. He took my hand and allowed me to lead him to the couch
where I sat down, with him standing before me. I beckoned for him to climb
onto my lap. He smiled brightly, knowing that I was indeed inviting him for
another round of cuddling, he straddled me. Before he sat down, I pushed
his robe back so it wouldn't get trapped underneath his little butt. With
his robe now draped over his back and my knees, he shuffled back and forth
to get comfortable. With his bathrobe wide open, I had a full view of his
wonderful body. Even though I'd been seeing his naked body practically all
morning, every time I allowed myself to really look at him, it felt like
discovering his natural given beauty over and over again.
"You sure like looking at me, Uncle Rob," Sander simply said.
Calling my attention with his voice, I looked him right in the eye and
smiled admiringly at him. "I can't help it, my little prince," I
apologized. "I just can't believe what an amazing boy you are."
Sander blushed a deep red, briefly glancing down his naked
self. Understanding that my staring felt awkward to him, I reached behind
him and let my hands slip underneath the robe that now hang on his frail
shoulders like a cape. My fingertips met his bare back and slowly traveled
up to his shoulders. Once there, I gently pulled the small boy into me,
holding him close to me and tenderly caressing caressing his back.
Sander sighed deeply when he felt my hands on his delicate skin and melted
into me completely. At first, I only rubbed his back, but soon I let my
hands slide down the small of his back and over his smooth, perfectly
shaped butt cheeks. Purring like a kitten, Sander let me do as I pleased
and clearly enjoyed every second of it. I did too, even if I had to fight
back the urge to take things up a notch. I had made a vow to myself to not
go beyond what I was doing now, and I had no intention to break that vow.
Sander and I stayed in that position for quite a while. I had been holding
still on his little butt for a couple of minutes, gently squeezing his butt
cheeks every now and then. Probably wondering why I'd stopped rubbing his
backside, my little friend sat upright, smiling happily at me. Of course
that meant I got to see his naked form again, with his little dickie
sticking up between his thighs.
This time, instead of covering up like he did before, he just giggled
cutely, blushing and declared: "My thingy's all hard again."
I smiled, happy to see having an erection didn't bother him anymore. "I
thought I'd felt something poking my belly."
"Why does it get like that?" the boy asked.
Knowing that this might be heading for one of those typical birds-and-bees
talk, I had to be careful with how I answered his innocent little
question. This would be the moment where I would have to tell him to ask
his grandmother if it's okay for me to discuss that rather particular
matter, or, ask her myself later on. Still, I couldn't send him home
without an answer.
"Well, as I said before, you're a boy," I started carefully. "It's
perfectly natural. I suppose it happened today because you enjoyed our
cuddling."
"Will I get a stiffie every time we cuddle, then?" was his follow up
question. "Because I really liked it and I hope we can do it lots more."
"Hehe, probably not, buddy," I told him. "I think you got a stiffie more
because of how you're dressed and where my hands were when we were
cuddling."
"You mean because I'm naked and you were rubbing my behind?" he
asked. "Then I will get stiffies a lot. It feels great and I want you to do
it again, next time I get to spend the night."
"I can't say no to that," I smiled, reached up to rub his
shoulder. "Besides, I'm starting to really like your behind."
"Hehe, silly," he giggled and then showed me his trademark mischievous
grin. He climbed off my lap, turned around and then flicked his bathrobe
off his shoulders. He leaned forward a tad bit and wiggled his bare butt
right in front of me, looking over his shoulder, chanting naughtily: "Uncle
likes my bu-utt!! Uncle likes my bu-utt!!"
His antics had me laughing out loud and I thought it was amazing to see he
was so liberal with his naked body. I never hid the fact that I liked what
he looks like and I believe that makes him show off the way he's doing now.
I take it as a sense of pride over his body. Pride that's not misplaced,
because he really does look stunning. His little buns going back and forth
right now, for example, was a sight I could look at pretty much all day
long. But that might get a bit boring for Sander and the naughty nature of
his current actions told me he wanted to play. So, after allowing myself a
few moments to enjoy the view, I did the first thing that came to my mind.
"Uncle does like your butt," I laughed. I reached out with both hands and
started playfully slapping his buns, adding: "It makes for excellent little
bongo drums.
The little imp yelped as he felt the slaps. He let forward to get out of my
reach, turning around with a silly giggle. "Hey, you can't do that," he
whined, trying to sound offended, the big grin on his darling little face
telling me this was exactly the kind of playing he had in mind. His little
boyhood still betrayed his excitement, as well.
"Why not? It's fun and it sounds superb," I said, trying to grab him.
Sander jumped away again, so I had to get up from the couch if I ever
wanted to continue my bongo drum concert. It was the start of a wild chase
around the house, with my little prince deftly avoiding my grabbing arms
and outsmarting me by climbing over or crawling under the furniture. This
went on for almost a quarter of an hour and it was really fun. Sander's
constant laughter was intoxicating and it was heaven to see him enjoy
himself so much. I think along the way, he even forgot that he was running
about the house stark naked.
Our game of chase ended when Sander decided to move the chase upstairs. Not
a smart move, because when he entered his bedroom, I was able to trap him
in the corner where his bed stood. When he realized he'd made a mistake, he
begged for mercy. But I was not about to let him off so easily, after
having me run after him like that... So, when his legs bumped into the bed,
I launched myself forward, grabbed him and flipped him onto the bed and
went straight for the armpits.
More giggles followed when I tickled him all over as he did his very best
to fight me off. Every time he managed to block one ticklish spot, I
quickly found another, and believe me when I say that there aren't many
spots on his body that aren't sensitive to tickling. During the chase, his
little dickie had gone down a bit, but the tickle fest also brought that
part of his body back to life. I didn't pay much attention to it, though,
not wanting to ruin my little buddy's fun.
After a couple of minutes, Sander held out his hands in surrender, begging
be to stop. His face had gone all red and flushy and our little bout of
rough housing had clearing left him breathless. I was actually starting to
feel sorry for him, but the big happy grin on his face as he laid sprawled
on the bed eased my worries. I sat myself down at the foot of the bed and
smiled back at him. For some reason, we both realized at the same time that
with the end of our playtime, the end of his overnight visit was also
coming near.
"I now know how a farmer must feel when he has to catch piggies that break
loose," I winked at him, patting his thigh.
"Hey, I'm no piggy," Sander quickly reacted. And to prove his point, he got
on his hands and knees, with his butt practically in my face and said:
"See, no curly tail!"
"Okay, you're not a piggy," I chuckled, giving his little butt a few
playful slaps. "Piggies are a lot harder to catch and I don't think they'd
like tickling that much."
My little prince turned around and sat down on his knees. He crawled closer
to me and game me a quick hug, before looking right at me with a big
smile. "That was fun, uncle Rob," he said. "No one's ever played with me
like that."
It didn't take rocket science to understand what he meant. With only his
grandmother around, it's easy to comprehend how much the boy's missed
having someone to do those things boys like to do. I was more than happy to
fill that void, especially because I quickly discovered it was just as much
fun for me.
I brushed a finger over his cheek and said: "I'm sorry to hear that, my
little prince. But now you know who to look for when you want someone to
chase after you or something."
"Uhuh, yep," Sander nodded joyfully. "You're gonna have to get faster if
you ever want to catch me, though, you slowpoke."
"Slowpoke? Me?" I asked, trying to sound offended but failing
miserably. "Those are tough words for someone who begged me for mercy only
five minutes ago." I then stabbed his sides with a finger, knowing he was
very ticklish there, saying: "If you want another round of tickling, you
only have to ask, love."
Sander backed away from my prying fingers, giggling cutely. "Meanie!" he
retorted.
I winked at him and said: "Don't worry, kiddo, I'll save it for later. But
I will get you back for that slowpoke remark, that's a promise."
"Phew!" he sighed dramatically. "I don't think I would have survived more
tickling, right now."
"Probably not," I chuckled. "And I bet I haven't even found every ticklish
spot on you, yet."
"Hehe, I don't know," my buddy giggled, briefly glancing down at
himself. That look reminded him of his current state of dress. With the
excitement of our playtime gone, his dickie had gone back to its normal
state.
"You do look comfy like that, kiddo," I remarked.
"You mean, with no clothes on?" he guessed. "It just feels nice like
this. It's not bad, is it? I mean, to like being naked."
"Not at all, buddy," I reassured him. "I think it's part of who you
are. You're a free spirit. I like that about you and it makes me happy to
see you dare to be yourself with me."
"I best not tell granny about it, though," Sander then said, worrying about
his grandmother's reaction.
"I don't know, buddy," I answered. "You shouldn't keep secrets from your
grandmother, though."
"So you think I should tell her?" my little friend wanted to be sure.
"I don't see why not, kiddo," I shrugged. "That way you can find out if
she's okay with or not."
"Maybe," Sander still doubted. He then looked up at me with a big grin and
said: "But I'm leaving out the part where you rub my butt. I don't want her
to know about that."
"Hehe, okay, sonny," I snickered. I patted his inner thigh a couple of
times, saying: "I'm afraid it's time for you to get ready to go home, now."
"Oh, already?" Sander complained.
"If I take you home in time, like I promised your grandmother, she might
let you stay with me again, soon," I explained.
"Okay, then," the boy gave in. "I can't wait till I get to come over
again."
"Me neither, my little prince," I smiled. I leaned over to him and kissed
him on the cheek. "Put your clothes on, now, sweetie. I'll wait for you
downstairs."
"Okay," Sander obeyed, getting up from the bed to reach for his clothes,
which he'd left on the chair by his desk. Before I headed out of his room,
he called out to me. "Uncle Rob?"
"Yes, kiddo?" I replied, turning around, wondering what was on his mind.
He stood by the desk with his shirt in his hand, ready to cover up his
nakedness. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?" he practically whispered.
I studied his nude body one last time and knew then I was totally smitten
the boy. "You are the most beautiful boy I've ever met," I told him, not
sure if he realized how I really felt about him.
Sander just smiled broadly and then giggled as he slipped his shirt over
his head. I left him to his getting dressed and headed downstairs. I wasn't
sure, but somehow I knew I would have to reveal my real feelings for him
sooner than I'd expected. Hopefully, that revelation wouldn't jeopardize
our friendship, because I didn't want to lose him. But that's something I
could only find out when that time comes.
Ten minutes later Sander and I crossed the street to his home, where Annie
was dutifully preparing a lovely Sunday lunch. During lunch, Sander did
most of the talking, thrilled about winning the tournament and about our
evening together. He didn't mention his slipping into my bed during the
night, or me chasing after his naked butt, but I guessed that he wanted to
keep that for after I'd gone back home.
After lunch, I helped do the dishes and talked a bit with his
grandmother. I thanked her for letting Sander spend the day with me and
told her I'd really enjoyed having him with me. She seemed happy to hear
that and promised me that she would allow her grandson to spend the night
with me in the near future. I thanked her again, silently hoping that the
she wouldn't change her mind after Sander told her the rest of the story.
I went home around two o'clock. I gave Sander a last big hug before heading
home and told him he was always welcome to drop by at my place. Sander
smiled happily at me and then waved me goodbye from his doorstep, watching
me until I turned around the corner. It was the conclusion of a weekend I
would never forget.
Back at home, I went up the stairs to clean up Sander's room, finding his
trophy on his desk. He'd left a little note with it, saying: "This trophy
is for you, Uncle Rob. Being your little prince is the best prize I could
wish for. I love you. Sander."
I was almost in tears when I read the note. Such big words for such a small
boy, but I knew they came from his heart. I took the trophy downstairs, put
it on the mantelpiece where everyone could see it and put the note in a
small frame next to it. I couldn't wait to put Sander's picture up, so I
could look at it all day long, and dream of the fun we were still to have.