Date: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:40:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pok Bepxtep <pok_bepxtep@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sander chapter 8

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XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX by Pok Bepxtep XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer
----------

I don't know why I should add one... If you're here, it means you don't
really mind reading erotic stories about adults and boys. But I'm still
gonna do it, cause it's something people seem to do around here.

Anyhoo: do bear in mind that this story is purely fiction and that nothing
like this has ever happened nor will ever happen... Well, at least not in
my life. There's a huge step between writing down sexual fantasies like
this and actually doing it. That's a step I'm not willing to take, because
I would never take the risk of hurting a boy in any way. Besides, I have a
hard time believing there are boys that young who're actually interested in
doing this kinda thing.


Chapter 8: Picture this...
------------------------------------------------

It wasn't until I headed out to visit my parents the next weekend that I
discovered the calling card of the photographer who'd taken pictures of
Sander during that final tournament in the back of my wallet. I'd
completely forgotten about that, due to the commotion caused by the chat
the boy's mother and I had had earlier. So, before leaving the house, I
picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card.

"Patrick Taylor speaking," I heard on the other end.

"Hello, this is Robert Fisher," I replied. "I'm calling about the pictures
of my nephew, from that football tournament a few weeks ago."

"I took a lot of pictures like that," the man said rather bluntly. "Can you
give me more details?"

"Sure," I said, understanding the confusion. "It was two weeks ago. My
nephew was playing for Racing Doomkapelle. I'd asked you to shoot some
photographs of him during one of his matches."

A few moments of silence followed, probably with the photographer on the
other end trying to remember what I was talking about. A lamp bulb then
must have lit up above his head, when he answered: "Oh, you mean the little
blonde kid. I was wondering when you'd call me about that."

"Yeah, sorry about keeping you waiting," I apologised. "It completely
slipped my mind. I only just found your calling card again."

"That's okay," the man said understandingly. "So, would you like to see the
result?"

"I'd love too and I'm pretty sure Sander would like that too," I told him.

"Okay, then," Patrick said. "When would you like to come over?"

"Not sure, really," I told him. "I'm heading out to visit my folks
now. They invited me for lunch. I have to ask Sander first when he wants to
do this. Knowing him, I'm pretty sure we'll manage to stop by this
afternoon."

"This afternoon is fine," he agreed. "If you can make it, just ask for me
when you come to the store. If not, just give me a call and we'll set
another date."

"Cool, thanks," I said. "If we can't make it, I'll let you know as soon as
possible."

"That's settled then," the guy answered. "Thanks for calling. Goodbye!"

"Bye," I replied, hanging up the phone.

There was still some time before I had to leave for my parents. I decided
to cross the street and check if Sander was available and willing to tag
along to the photographer's store later on. It was Annie who opened the
door upon my arrival.

"Hello, Annie," I said politely, knowing I would only get Sander to tag
along with her approval. But it was a bit of secret, because the pictures
were a present for her Mother's Day. It'd be a bit of a challenge to figure
out how to get past that, but I had an idea or two.

"Hi, Robert," she greeted me and stepping aside to invite me in. "Come on
in."

"Thanks," I accepted the invitation.

"I take it it's not's me you're here for," she said as we entered the
living room, knowing quite well her grandson was the goal of my surprise
visit.

"Nope," I smiled, briefly looking around and finding Sander absent from the
living room. "I'm going out to have lunch with my parents in a bit, but I
wanted to ask Sander if he'd be interested in a movie."

"You mean the theatre?" Annie asked. "I'm pretty sure he'd like
that. Anything he might like to see, then?"

"They're running that second Smurfs movie, I believe," I told her, taking a
wild guess. I had no idea what movies were in the theatre at the
moment. "That is, if you're okay with it."

"If you promise not to make it back too late, it's fine with me," Annie
concurred. "He's at his friend's house now, though, so I'm afraid you can't
ask him yet."

"Hmmm... pity," I nodded, a bit disappointed. I had my heart set on seeing
my Little Prince before I went out.

"Well, I have your number. I'll ask him when he gets home for lunch and
then text you or call you," the lady suggested.

"Okay," I agreed. "If he's up for it, let me know. If not, we can do it
some other time."

"He'll be up for it," Annie just smiled. "You probably know quite well he'd
drop everything to get to spend some time with you. You're pretty much all
he talks about."

"Really?" I asked, still a bit surprised at the effect I had on Annie's
grandson. "I must be doing a good job, then."

"Yes, you are," she confirmed. "I was wrong to doubt you last
week. Sander's happy when he's with you and I can't ask for more."

"I feel the same way about him," I confessed. "He's a wonderful kid and I
feel lucky to have him as my friend. Don't worry. I'll never do anything to
hurt him in any way."

"I know," the woman nodded. "Good, I'll tell him to text or call you when
he gets back from his friend's place, so you can invite him properly."

"Thanks," I said, already looking forward to Sander's message. "You have a
nice day, too, Annie. Now, I'd better run if I don't want my lunch to get
cold."

"Okay, Robert," Annie replied. "I'll be seeing you again when you pick him
up this afternoon."

"Yep," I said, already turning back to the door to head out. "I'll see
myself out. See you later, Annie."

I then headed out and crossed the street again to get my car. The drive to
my old home was eventless, as was lunch with my parents. We chatted about
my work and about my first weeks on my own legs. They seemed rather
relieved I'd earthed in my new place so quickly. Of course I didn't mention
Sander. They might ask questions about me being friends with a nine year
old and wondering why I didn't go chase after a future wife
instead. Especially my mother was keen on grandchildren.

Sander's text message came shortly after we finished lunch, while we were
in the lounge with a cup of coffee and a piece of chocolate cake. It simply
said `Yay!!!', which pretty much meant he was already excited about the
movie. Although the visit to Patrick's photo studio was the main reason for
asking Sander to come along, going to the movies would be fun, too. So,
what was meant as an excuse turned out as a genuine plan for an afternoon
out with my Little Prince.

I left my parents around two o'clock. When I got home half an hour later, I
first called Sander's grandmother, who almost immediately handed the phone
to her grandson, who'd been anxiously awaiting my call.

"Hello, Uncle Rob," I heard the sweetest voice on the other side, and
before I could say hello back, "when are we going?"

"Hehe, hold your horses, buddy," I laughed, his enthusiasm effecting me
through the phone. "It kinda depends on when your grandmother wants you
home, tonight."

"I'll ask her," the boy answered cheerfully. I then heard some shouting
back and forth between Sander (close to the speaker) and Annie (a distance
away, probably from the kitchen) and a minute later Sander was back on the
phone. "Granny says nine o'clock at the latest."

"Okay. Then we can go watch the movie at 5.30 and make a stop at McDonalds
on our way back," I suggested. "That should get you home perfectly on
time."

"Cool," Sander agreed, but I could hear the disappointment in his answer
from my side of the line.

"What's wrong, buddy?" I asked, wondering what was on his mind. "You don't
like McDonalds?"

"That's not it," Sander said quietly, probably not wanting his grandmother
to hear. "I kinda... you know... Can't I come home with you, tonight?"

Having Sander spend the night at my place had gone through my mind, but I
still felt safer if I left that up to what his grandmother wanted. "You
know you're always welcome, buddy," I told him. "That's why you've got your
own room here. But you should ask your grandmother first."

"Okay, I'll go ask her," he answered, sounding as if he was about to set
out on a risky adventure.

This time he'd put the phone down, so I couldn't make out much of the
background discussion between Annie and Sander. A few minutes later, I
heard the sound of someone picking the receiver up again.

"You really should learn to say no to him once in a while," I heard the
boy's grandmother say. "It's not nice of him to impose himself upon you
like that."

"He doesn't," I simply said. "I'd happily let him spend the night here, if
he wants to. Unless you want him home instead."

"No, it's okay," Annie gave in. "Just make sure he goes to bed in time."

"Sure, no problem," I promised. "I don't want to risk him being grumpy in
the morning because he didn't get enough sleep."

"Hey, I'm not grumpy!" I heard Sander shout from the other side.

"Oops," his grandmother said, snickering. "I should have told you I'd left
the speaker on."

"Oops, indeed," I laughed. "Still, you're going to bed right on time,
mister eavesdropper."

"Okay," the boy giggled, the clearer voice telling me he was holding the
phone again.

"I'll be with you in fifteen minutes," I then told him, getting back to the
reason for my call. "I know it's still a bit early for the movie, but I
have to run a small errand before we can go the theatre. You don't mind
coming along for that, do you?"

"No, it's cool," Sander said cheerfully.

"Okay, then, buddy," I concluded. "See you in a bit, then."

"Yep, bye," Sander answered.

I hung up the phone and raced upstairs. I washed up a bit, slipped into a
clean shirt and then headed back to the kitchen for a quick snack. Not
really needing the full fifteen minutes, I was out of the door and walking
the few hundred yards to Sander's place. When I got there, my Little Prince
was already peering out of the window, waiting impatiently for me and
waving merrily when he saw me walk up to the door. Quick and agile as he
was, Sander made it to the door before I did, so I could take ringing the
bell of my to-do list.

"Look who's all pumped up and ready to go," I remarked when Sander appeared
in the doorway, his smile going ear to ear.

"Hehe, yeah," the boy blushed, slightly embarrassed for showing his
excitement so abundantly. "It's the first time I ever go to the movies."

"Really?" I asked as the two of us entered the house.

His grandmother, who'd heard my arrival, stood by the dining room
table. "I've never really been too keen on movies, so I never thought of
taking Sander," she explained.

I just smiled at her and said: "I'm glad to be there to introduce him to
the wonders of the movie theatre, and Happy Meals."

"Yaaay!" my Little Prince cheered excitedly.

"What's this errand you mentioned to Sander," Annie then asked.

"Oh, errr, nothing special," I told her. "Just picking up something I
ordered a few weeks ago. I got a call yesterday about it, and I made an
appointment to get it today. It'll only take ten minutes."

"Okay, then," she nodded, "because our little rascal here is way too
thrilled about the movies to endure a long wait."

I chuckled, briefly looking at Sander who was standing by the door, tapping
his little feet, more than ready to get going. "I'm aware of that," I said
winking at the blonde angel. "We'll be seeing you again tomorrow morning,
then, right?"

"Okay, Robert," she agreed and then told her grandson, "be a good boy,
Sander!"

Sighing deeply and rolling his eyes in annoyance and impatience, the kid
nodded and shouted back: "I will, granny."

Annie and I said our goodbyes, both Sander and me more than ready to
go. Jointly we crossed the street to where I'd parked my car.

"So, what's this thing you're picking up?" Sander asked as we got in.

"Curiosity killed the cat, nosy little bugger," I smiled at him, "something
you'll like, I think."

"Really?" he peeped, his eyes big as saucers. He then returned the smile
and said in all honesty, "you really don't have to get me all that stuff,
Uncle Rob. I'm already happy you're taking me places."

"I know, buddy," I said. "I didn't say this is for you, though, only that
you might like it."

A flash of disappointment went over his face, but that blew over quickly. I
knew him well enough that even if he didn't really expect any presents from
me, he's still a boy who likes a little surprise every now and then. "Well,
let's hurry up and get it, then," he urged me on, as he buckled up in the
backseat. "We don't want to be late for the movie, ey."

"Right on, partner," I chuckled.

I turned on the engine and steered the car onto the road. I'd set the
navigation to the address of Patrick's Photo Studio, not quite knowing
where to go. Sander sat quietly in the back, looking out of the window,
occasionally glancing at the screen of the GPS to check if I was going in
the right direction. Twenty minutes later we arrived at the studio. I
parked the car almost in front of the entry and told Sander to get out of
the car.

In the studio, we were welcomed by Patrick himself, who clearly recognised
us from the football tournament two weeks ago. Sander, who was checking out
the photographs on display, seemed to be catching on as well, going by his
pondering look on his face.

"Welcome!" Patrick greeted us both in the friendliest of voices. He reached
out his hand and said: "You must be Robert."

"Yep, that's me," I nodded, shaking hands with the man. I beckoned Sander
to join us and introduced him to the photographer, "this is my little
nephew, Sander."

"Hello, there, fellow," offering his hand to my little friend, who seemed a
bit taken aback by the one-man welcoming committee.

"Hi," he simple croaked in reply, politely shaking the man's hand.

"So, you're the future Red Devil," Patrick then remarked, obviously trying
to break some ice between him and the boy.

"Huh? Oh, maybe," Sander smiled and then a grin appeared on his lips. "Hey,
you're the guy who took pictures of me when I was playing a match."

"So, you remember," the man said, maintaining his joyful
disposition. "You're right, that was me."

Sander then turned to me and proved that he knew why we were here. "We're
here to pick up those pictures, aren't we?"

"Yep," I nodded. "I kinda figured you wouldn't mind coming along to get
them."

"No, it's cool," Sander smiled brightly. "Can I see them?" he quickly
asked, turning to Patrick.

"Of course, kiddo," the man nodded and invited us both to follow him into a
small office behind the front desk.

The office wasn't too big, but was clearly furnished with the purpose of
receiving customers who want to check the result of their pictures. Instead
of the usual desk and chairs on either side, a coffee table stood in one
corner of the room, with comfy looking leather seats around it in a
corner. On the other side of the office stood a wall to wall cupboard,
filled with cardboard boxes of various sizes.

Patrick told us to sit down while he quickly browsed through the boxes,
which were all labeled with names and/or dates. One of them said "April
18th, Racing Doomkapelle, #8", in pencil, which clearly referred to the
pictures of Sander, who'd indeed been wearing the number 8 on his back. He
sat the box down next to the table, opened the lid and retrieved a book
that looked like the ones people use for portfolios. He carefully laid the
book on the table, and then sat down, in the chair that sat on the other
side of the corner. Sander and I were sitting right next to each other and
I could tell by Sander's shaky legs that he was pretty anxious to see the
result.

"I selected 25 pictures from the ones I took that day," Patrick explained,
not yet revealing his work. "They're the ones I think look the best. You
know, composition, lighting, pose... I'm more used to studio photography
and modelling, though, so pictures of a quick footed football player like
Sander here are a bit more difficult to take. Still, I think they came out
okay."

Patrick then turned the cover of the book and showed us the first of the
pictures. Two things were obvious straight away: Patrick was a skilled
photographer and Sander was immediately hooked on the pictures. As we
slowly and carefully flipped through the pages, we became really impressed
by what we saw. Sander was all wows and oohs and ahs, every time a new
picture of him was revealed. I was equally amazed by the result. Often it's
said that pictures don't do a person justice, but that did not apply in
this case. Sander looked truly awesome in those photographs.

It was Patrick who broke the silence, closing the book after we went
through the whole set. "So, what do you think?" he simply asked.

"I think Sander's grandmother couldn't wish for a better Mother's Day
present," I said. "You've really done an excellent job."

"Yeah," Sander piped in. "They're really cool pictures."

"Why, thank you," Patrick smiled, the praise hitting home. "I take it this
means you're buying them?"

"Yeah, definitely," I confirmed.

"Then how would like them?" Patrick asked, the salesman waking up inside
him. "Just an album like this? Or do you have something else in mind?"

I turned to Sander for this and said: "It's a present for your grandmother,
kiddo. What do you think she'd like?"

"The album would be really nice," Sander told me and then turned to
Patrick. "Is it possible to frame one of them, and maybe enlarge them?"

"Sure," Patrick said, "let me go get something to write it all down. Would
you like a drink in the meantime?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, "a cup of coffee would be nice."

"How about you, Sander?" he asked, turning to the boy, who'd taken the
liberty of browsing through the album again.

"Errr... Ice Tea?" he simply said.

"Ice Tea it is. I'll be back in five minutes," Patrick said, leaving the
office.

"This one is really awesome," Sander claimed after Patrick exited the room.

I looked down at the photo album and agreed with Sander. The picture in
front of me showed my Little Prince, wearing his yellow and purple soccer
outfit and in full action. Against a blurry background of supporting
parents, Sander stood firmly on his left leg, his right leg up in the air
after kicking the ball, which floated a few feet above the ground, flying
towards the aimed target. The boy's arms were swung in opposite directions,
complementing the performance of a well-balanced shot/pass of a talented
little football star. Sander's face, slightly flushed by the effort of the
football match, showed utter focus and concentration in the execution of
what had most likely been a free kick. Bangs of his luscious blonde hair
seemed to dance in the quick pace of the match. His brow was slightly shiny
with beads of sweat. I was simply in awe with the picture in front of me
and was yet again reminded of why this wonderful boy had wiggled himself
into my heart.

"Yes, it's brilliant," I agreed with the boy, who seemed to be proud of
seeing himself in the colours of Racing Doomkapelle.

At the same moment we faced each other. The broad smile on Sander's lips
told me a very happy boy was sitting next to me. On instinct, I wrapped my
arm around his shoulders and pulled him into me. I squeezed his shoulder
gently and let him know without the use of any words that I was equally
proud of him.

At that very minute Patrick returned, carrying a plate with our drinks and
a notebook. He briefly glanced at the picture in front of us and said:
"That one's my favourite, too. Is this the one you want framed and
enlarged?"

"Yes," Sander nodded.

"Make that double," I added. "There's an empty spot on my wall where this
picture would look nice."

Sander turned to me again, his smile maybe even wider than before. I just
winked at him and then got back to Patrick, who was busy writing down our
order, with the size the picture would be and the colour of the frame. The
rest of the order included the 25 pictures in front of us, in a nice
leathery album, making a perfect Mother's Day present for his caring
grandmother. The price was a bit steep, but it was worth every cent.

After concluding our little business, Patrick stayed with us as we finished
our drinks. We were chatting about this and that and the other thing, when
Sander popped up a peculiar question.

"Sir," he beckoned shyly, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Sander...," the photographer answered in the same friendly tone
he'd been talking to us with, "and please call me Patrick."

"When we came in, I saw all those pictures on the walls," the boy
said. "Did you take those in the studio?"

Patrick briefly looked up, trying to recollect the pictures on display and
then focused back on Sander. "Most of them are done in the studio, I
think. I didn't do all of them, though. I have an entire team working
here."

"Oh, okay," Sander nodded understandingly.

Patrick recognised the curiosity in my little friend's eyes and added: "I
mostly work with kids like you, though. So if there's any with boys or
girls in them, they're probably mine."

"Cool," Sander beamed, happy to have the photographer's attention.

"Why? Do you like them, then?" Patrick wanted to know, as did I, to be
honest.

"Yeah, they're cool," Sander nodded.

"I don't always do this, but if you want, you can see some more," the man
then offered.

The boy's eyes immediately grew big with anticipation. "Cool!" he cheered
in his enthusiasm. "I mean, yes, I'd like that."

"Hehe, okay, then," the kind man smiled at my Little Prince, "always glad
to see someone with an interest in my work. Anything in particular you want
to see?"

"Dunno," Sander shrugged. "I kinda liked the one with the kid in the pirate
getup."

Patrick nodded, his memory clearly sharp enough to know which picture
Sander was referring to. "That's Sebastien," he stated as he got up and
walked over to the cupboard with all the boxes. "Yeah, that's one of my
favourites. What do you like about it, then?"

"Dunno," Sander shrugged again, a bit of a blush on his cheeks. "It kinda
looks fun with that outfit. Did the boy get to choose what he wore?"

"Usually it's the parents who choose what they're kids wear during shoots,"
the man answered as he grabbed for a box on the top shelve. "But yes, the
pirate costume was his idea. I like it better when the kids have a say in
what happens. It helps them relax a bit and they do have more fun during
the photo shoot."

"Cool," Sander beamed at the attention he got from the photographer.

"Well, then, why don't you look in here," Patrick suggested as he put the
box on the table in front of us. "These are all Sebastien's. You picked out
a special one, there, Sander."

"Great, thanks," Sander smiled happily. He shuffled forward bit to reach
for the box and carefully lifted off the lid. Inside there were about half
a dozen albums. Sander took one in the middle and laid it on his lap. On
the front cover it said: `Sebastien - 10th birthday - Set #4: Cowboy'.

I was starting to wonder where this sudden interest in the man's work came
from...  and I was also a bit jealous of the man.  There was no need for
that, though, because as soon as my Little Prince opened the album, he
beckoned me to sit closer and look through the pictures with him. The first
picture showed Sebastien, wearing a red and blue checkered shirt and a
jeans that had seen better days, held up by a gun belt. He also sported a
jeans vest with a big sheriff's star adorning his chest and a red scarf
around his thin neck. On top of his head stood a real stetson and his feet
were wrapped in leather cowboy boots that almost reached his knees. He was
pointing a toy gun right at the viewer, ready to shoot a hole in his belly.

Besides looking smart as a true Billy the Kid, Sebastien was pretty
handsome. His hair was a dark shade of brown, combed backwards in a stylish
manner. His eyes were a strange kind of green, that looked almost grey in
some pictures. It gave him a bit of a mystical appearance. He seemed
slightly taller than Sander, but equally slim. I was starting if Patrick's
referring to him as `a special one' had something to do with his looks.

Even though the boy in the picture was posing, it didn't seem like a pose a
photographer would tell him to take. Every ten year old has seen enough
cowboy films (and if not, Lucky Luke and the Daltons was a fair
representation of the Wild West), so Sebastien would know how to act like
one. As Sander slowly turned the pages to reveal the little cowboy in
different poses, the proof of what my little boy had said was evident: the
kid in the pictures was having fun.

"They're cool," Sander said halfway the first album.

"I'm glad you like them, buddy," Patrick smiled warmly at him. "Check out
the other ones too. I'm sure the pirate ones are in there too somewhere."

Sander accepted the offer and switched albums. This time, he discovered
Sebastien posing in clothes that made him look like a cool kid, with an
open leather jacket, white tank top underneath and a pair of long jeans. A
baseball cap, a pair of shades and a selection of bling around his neck
finished it off. Again, the kid showed both talent and enjoyment.

My wonder for Sander's curiosity in the man's work remained. Somehow I had
the idea he was toying with an idea about the pictures.

"You really like those pictures, don't you, kiddo," I finally asked him as
he reached out for a third album.

"Uhuh, yeah," he admitted, nodding firmly and smiling cheerfully. "Look,
these are the pirate ones!"

The pirate version of Sebastien was dressed in a torn up shirt, with bits
of his pale skin showing through the gaps, and a pair of torn up jeans. A
bandana covered his head. Bit by bit the thought came to my mind that
Sander was looking at the pictures as an inspiration.

"You'd make a cute pirate, too," I told him.

"You think so?" Sander asked, looking up at me. The twinkling in his eyes
told me I'd hit the mark spot on.

"Yes, I do think so," I said. "I even believe you'd look good in just about
anything you'd choose to wear."

"Hehe, you're just saying that because you love me," the boy challenged me.

"True, I love you," I smiled at him, tickling him a bit, "but that doesn't
mean that it isn't true."

Sander smiled back at me and blushed deeply. Of course he knew I meant
every word I said. Still, he seemed a bit shy to ask what he really
wanted. What he really wanted was to be in the spotlights and try his luck
at modelling. I could make the suggestion for him, but I felt better if he
popped the question himself.

We probably would have sat there for a long time and dropped the matter, if
it hadn't been for Patrick. He'd been listening in on our little
conversation and must have drawn the same conclusion I did.

"So, Sander," the man said as he observed the boy grabbing another album,
"do you still think those pictures look fun?"

"Uhuh, yeah," my little friend nodded, looking up as he heard his
name. "Who picks the outfits?"

"In most cases parents want their kids to put on their best clothes, but
with Sebastien and some of the others, it was different," Patrick
explained. "They got to choose what they wear."

"Do you have all those clothes hear, then?" Sander inquired further.

"Most of them," Patrick nodded. "I've got a small wardrobe with all sorts
of clothes the kids can choose from. I usually only help finding the right
sizes and the accessories that go best with their selections."

"Cool," Sander smiled, his interest in the man's approach growing
exponentially.

It became more and more obvious that my Little Prince was fishing for an
invitation to have his picture taken the way the boy in the albums in front
of him had. I could have easily granted his wish, but I still preferred him
to actually ask for it. All I decided to do was steer him in the right
direction.

"What would you go as, then?" I asked him.

A bit surprised by my question, he turned to me and looked up, thinking
deeply. He then smiled brightly, but instead of telling me, he said: "I
have a great idea, but I'm not gonna tell you."

Yep, we were slowly getting there. "Oh, why not?" I asked, faking a sad
face.

"Because it'd be a surprise for you," the boy beamed mischievously. His
enthusiasm then suddenly faded away, as he turned to Patrick again and
said, looking down. "But it probably costs heaps to do it, doesn't it."

Patrick nodded, not wanting to get my buddy's hopes up. "I won't name any
prices, but it isn't cheap," he said.

"Oh, okay," Sander sighed, disappointment dampening his excitement.

Patrick then surprised us both when he said: "Of course I only charge so
much for my work when parents come in to have pictures taken of their
kids. When the kids ask me themselves, I work a lot cheaper."

"Huh, you do?" my favourite neighbour asked, wondering if he might still
get his wish.

"Of course," Patrick confirmed. "I know kids can never pay the normal
price. So, for brave boys or girls who come to me and ask if they can do a
real photo shoot, I only ask for a small fee to print the pictures and to
put them in an album."

"How small?" Sander wanted to know.

"How much have you got?" the photographer returned the question.

"Dunno," the boy shrugged, thinking hard. "I've got about 15 euros in my
piggy bank."

"Fifteen, you say," Patrick nodded, feigning deep consideration, before
smiling down at Sander. "Yeah, that should cover it."

"Really? You'd do it for so little money?" Sander asked, not believing his
ears.

"Sure," the man nodded again. "That is, if it's you asking me, and not
someone else like your Uncle Rob here."

Sander was even more thrilled than before and was quick to finally pop the
question. "Yes, I really want to do it," he almost shouted. He then turned
to me, puppy dog eyes ready to reel me in. "Can I? Please, please, pretty
please?"

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do it?" I asked him. Sander nodded
excitedly, eagerly awaiting my permission. "And you say the pictures are a
surprise for me?"

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander said. "As a gift for being such a cool Uncle and my
best friend."

Clearly he meant that last bit. Even without seeing the pictures, I was a
bit surprised at his generous offer. I liked the idea of having a photo
album of my Little Prince, too: a tangible memory of the time we spent
together, for when he's at home or for later, when he's grown up and gone
from my life. A boylover's life is like that: the luck of having a special
boy as a friend is always temporary.

"Then how can I say no to that," I winked at him. "It's okay, you can do
it."

"Yippie!!!!" the boy yelled cheerfully, leaping happily into my arms.

"Well, then, Sander. How about we discuss the whens and hows of your photo
shoot," Patrick said when the boy had cooled down a bit. "I'll give you a
slip of paper and a pen. You write down what it is you would like to do. In
the meantime, I'll ask your uncle here when we can do this and bill him for
your football pictures."

"Okay, yep," the boy agreed to the man's proposal. When he got his tools,
he turned to me and said, almost threateningly. "No peeking, uncle Rob!"

"Hehe, no, sir," I promised, winking at him and patting his thigh.

Patrick then beckoned me and said: "Why don't we go to my office and make
the necessary arrangements for Sander's photo shoot?"

"Okay," I agreed, getting up. "I'll be right back, ey, kiddo."

"Yep," Sander nodded, a pen ready in his hand to scribble down his ideas.

Leaving the boy to his surprise homework, Patrick and I crossed the hallway
to a more official looking office, with the necessary computer, desk and
chairs. Patrick invited me to take a seat while he sat down behind the big
screen. The next couple of minutes were filled with the man punching in my
details and completing the order for Sander's football pictures. The total
sum was indeed steep (although I had no way of comparing it with others),
but I happily signed the order form.

Knowing Mother's Day was coming up in two weeks, Patrick promised to get
the album and the two framed pictures ready in one week. That brought us
straight to the next item: when would Sander like to have his pictures
taken. Not quite sure of the necessity to let his grandmother know about
it, it wasn't easy to pin down a time and day for it. It also depended on
the time frame Patrick foresaw for a task like this.

"How long does it take to do a shoot?" I asked the man sitting in front of
me.

"That kind of depends on what Sander wants," he told me. "But in order to
get a good selection of pictures with enough variation in poses, it takes
at least the better part of an hour."

"Maybe it's best to check with him what he wants, then," I suggested.

"Yes, that would be a good start to make a decent estimate of how much time
we'd need," Patrick agreed. "I'll go see if he's done making his wish
list."

The man got up from behind his desk and exited the office. I patiently
awaited his return, which took a bit longer than expected. Probably he was
discussing the possibilities of my little buddy's desires. Five minutes
later the man returned, a sheet of paper in his hand and a big smile on his
face.

"Your nephew's got a curious little mind," he told me.

"Are his ideas that awkward, then?" I wanted to know, my curiosity about
what the boy had in mind suddenly awakened.

"No, not awkward," Patrick said. "He explained how he got to this idea and
I think it's quite lovely. I can't tell you anything about it, but it's
obvious he really wants to surprise you with it."

"I see," I nodded, wondering what my movie date had in store for me. "Are
they feasible?"

"Sure, no problem there," Patrick assured me. "I've got the clothes he
needs and the props I can easily get by. I already told Sander that what he
wanted to do was okay with me."

"Then all we need to do is decide on a date and time," I concluded.

"Tomorrow!" the most delightful voice said from behind me.

I turned around, finding Sander standing by the door, looking very
anxious. "Tomorrow is a Sunday, buddy," I smiled at him, his enthusiasm
most endearing. "I don't think Patrick's working on Sundays."

Patrick, who also noticed how badly Sander wanted to do this, cleared his
throat to get our attention and said: "For a boy as brave and polite as
Sander, I'd gladly make an exception."

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"Positive," the man nodded. "To be honest, Sander here is the first kid who
ever asked me to do a photo shoot with him. Usually it's parents or
grandparents telling their kids to do it."

"That's Sander for you," I chuckled as the boy joined us around the office,
"a barrel full of surprises."

"I noticed," the photographer grinned, winking at my little friend, sharing
the secret of the forthcoming photo shoot between them. "But it does make a
difference. With him I won't have to worry about getting him interested. He
already is."

"Definitely," I agreed, briefly glancing at a very eager boy. "Well, he's
staying with me tonight and I only have to get him back home in time for
lunch. Would tomorrow morning give you enough time to get it done?"

"Yeah, that should do," Patrick confirmed. "I'll set things up tonight, so
we can start as soon as you arrive. An hour or two should give us ample
time, without needing to rush things."

Again I turned to Sander and said to him, sighing deeply: "I guess that
means no sleeping in tomorrow, buddy."

"Hehe, yep," the boy giggled happily. Standing right beside me he leaned
into me and gave me a big hug. "Thanks, Uncle Rob. I mean, for allowing me
to do this."

"That's okay, buddy," I answered, returning his hug and gently clapping his
back. "I'm already looking forward to seeing the result."

"You'll like it, I promise," Sander said confidently. He then straightened
his back again, smiled at me. "Can we still go see a movie now?" he asked.

"Of course we can," I winked at him. Snickering at his joy for life, I
turned to Patrick and said: "See what I have to deal with. No chance for a
breather for me with this one."

The photographer joined me in the humour of the situation and said:
"Nothing but an energetic kid to keep you in shape, Robert."

"Quite," I agreed. I then got up and reached my hand out to Patrick and
said: "I suppose we'll be seeing you again tomorrow morning, then."

"Yes, we will," the man nodded, shaking my hand. Looking at Sander he said:
"I'm looking forward to seeing you in action, buddy."

A faint blush appeared on the boy's cheeks as he nodded and declared:
"It'll be great!"

Sander and Patrick also shook hands and the photographer then showed us
out. My Little Prince skipped joyfully towards the car with me tailing
him. When we sat in the car, allowing him to take the passenger seat for
once, I turned to him and reached out to stroke his blonde hair and said in
a soft face: "Did I ever tell you that I love you?"

"Uhuh, you did," my special little friend nodded with an ear to ear
smile. He leaned over to me and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and said:
"You're the best uncle ever."

"Silly boy," I smiled at him, tickling his sides. "That kiss just earned
you an extra helping of popcorn. Ready to go?"

"Uhuh, yep, let's go!" my blonde little angel said, sitting straight and
buckling up.

I let the engine of my car roar (not really, my car's engine only powerful
enough to purr like a kitten instead of roaring like a ferocious beast) and
we were off, heading for a fun, relaxing evening at the movies.

At the theatre, Sander opted for the newest Despicable Me movie. We took
our seat on the side of the theatre, right above the staircase. Only three
seats there, so we had the whole row to ourselves and we didn't have to
worry about people sitting in front of us and blocking the view. That was
my choice, mostly because I don't really like sitting in the middle of the
theatre with people going back and forth. With a big bucket of popcorn and
a large coke (two straws) between us, we sat down and eagerly awaited the
beginning of the movie.

By Sander's big eyes as he looked around the room, it was clear that it was
his first visit to the theatre. His amazement rubbed off on me, making it
almost a novelty for me as well. It was, in a way. I had never been to the
movies with a young boy tagging along. Sander's presence made the
experience unique and unforgettable.

That feeling remained throughout the entire evening. After the movie we sat
at a table at McDonalds, munching down a burger and fries, with Sander
retelling the entire movie, going from one funny moment to the next. As an
adult, I see a movie in a different perspective, so it was a revelation to
hear my little friend chatter away about how he had perceived the Pixar
film. It being his first time of course topped the experience, but his
boyish excitement made me live a trivial thing as a movie through a child's
view, making it just as thrilling to me as it was to him.

Stuffed with cardboard beef and tasteless fries, we drove back home. It was
close to nine pm when we got back and I could tell that the visit to the
photo studio and the movies were taking their toll on Sander's
energy. During the ride home, he fell silent in the backseat, and through
the mirror I could see him struggling to stay awake. By the time I pulled
my car into my garage, my little prince had dozed off.

I decided to let him sleep and carefully lifted his lithe body out of the
car. Taking gentle steps I carried him inside and up the stairs into his
room. With the boy still in my arms, I pulled away his covers and then laid
him down softly onto the bed. I took off his shoes and socks, and was about
to reach for his pants when my conscience sounded the alarm bells.

Of course I knew Sander slept in the raw and I had seen his naked body a
number of times, ...but it had always been the boy who'd stripped off his
clothes, not me. Doubt about me taking his clothes off to get him comfy for
a good night's rest crept into the back of my mind. Although he probably
wouldn't mind, it would still surprise him to find himself naked in his own
bed. In the end, I decided to keep the decision of whether or not he would
sleep naked his. So, I pulled my hand away from his jeans and simply draped
the covers over him. I leaned forward to give him a goodnight's kiss and
the quietly exited the room.

I then headed back downstairs to close the doors. Not knowing if there was
anything on TV, I just switched my computer on and played a few quick
online games. Losing all my pool games, not really focusing on the games, I
soon called it a day and decided to go to bed as well, knowing that with
Sander's forthcoming photo shoot, it would be an early Sunday morning.

----------

When I woke up the following morning, I was a bit disappointed not to find
Sander next to me in bed. I'd already gotten used to him being the first
thing I saw at the crack of dawn on Sundays. I yawned and stretched and
glanced at the alarm clock, which told me it was 7.25, still early, but
that would allow me enough time to prepare a hearty breakfast of French
toast for my guest of honour.

Before heading downstairs, I crossed the hallway to check on Sander. I
quietly opened the door to his bedroom and found him still sound asleep,
lying on his side, one arm on top of the sheets. The bare shoulder sticking
out from underneath the covers and the heap of clothes on the chair beside
the desk told me that somewhere between our coming back from the movies and
now, he'd woken up to get more comfortable for the night, in the way he
sees fit. I gently closed the door again, allowing him a few extra minutes
of sleep before it was time to get up and ready for his moment in the
spotlights.

Downstairs I rummaged through the cupboards and the fridge and found the
right ingredients for a breakfast of French toast. When I flipped a second
couple of slices of bread into the pan, I heard the unmistakable pitter
patter of bare feet behind me. I turned around and found a still sleepy
little boy standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the
daylight, completely oblivious about his nakedness. Or was it the
burgeoning of a habit of clothing free Sunday mornings. Even his brand new
robe had been left behind. The morning chill caused goosebumps to appear on
his delicate skin and his little pecker stood at attention. Goosebumps and
stiffy were quickly forgotten when he caught a sniff a the freshly made
French toast.

"Those smell yummy," he declared, his voice still a bit raw.

I smiled at him and motioned for a chair by the kitchen table. "Better sit
down quickly, then. The first batch is ready to be served."

Not needing any more invitation, Sander shuffled towards the kitchen table
and sat down. It's a good thing my chairs had a cushion on top, because the
coldness of the wood would against his bare buns would have definitely
woken him up. I put a plate with four French toasts in front of him, with
the necessary fork and a truckload of sugar on the side. Without looking
up, he grabbed his fork, camouflaged the soggy bread with the sugar and
quickly dove in. Gulping down the first bite, he looked up with a happy
smile, clearly enjoying the taste.

"They're good!" he complimented my cookery skills.

"Glad you like them, buddy," I smiled at him, "there's more on the way."

"Cool!" Sander simply beamed, his breakfast melting away the last bits of
sleep.

While he wolfed down the first batch, I prepared another dozen slices of
French toast for the both of us. I then joined him at the table and shared
breakfast with him, although a bit less in a frenzy. We didn't speak during
the first meal of the day, which wasn't necessary. Feeling each other's
presence was enough to enjoy the early break of day.

A bit later, when we were both full and had our French toast washed away
with a cup of hot chocolate, Sander stood up and came standing right in
front of me. He wrapped his little arms around me in a loving hug, which I
gladly accepted by pulling his frail body into me and gently caressing his
bare back, once again familiarising myself with the softness of his
skin. We held onto each other for a little while and then Sander
straightened his back, smiling brightly at me.

As on auto pilot, I quickly let my eyes wander down his body, where I found
his willy sticking up again. The giggles escaping from his lungs when my
eyes were level with his privates told me he knew exactly what I was
looking at. Not wanting him to feel embarrassed in any way, I quickly
diverted my admiring eyes, bringing them back up to his. I found him
looking down at his little predicament, as well, and found his cheeks
slightly more red then usual. Not wanting to make our cozy Sunday morning
into an awkward experience, I decided to change the subject.

"Excited about the pictures?" I asked him.

"A bit," he said. "Thanks again for allowing me to do it."

"That's okay, buddy," I simply replied. "And I just know you'll do an
excellent job, too."

Sander flashed another one of his radiant smiles. "I'll do my best," he
promised, "especially because it's for you."

"Do it for yourself, in the first place," I told him, caressing his
arm. "Just go there and have fun and I'm sure it'll turn out wonderfully."

"Uhuh, yep," Sander nodded cheerfully. He then moved closer again and
clambered sideways onto my lap. "Can we cuddle for a bit before we have to
go?" he asked almost pleadingly.

I brought one hand around his back for support and put the other one on his
thigh, rubbing it gently. "There's always time for that, my Little Prince,"
I whispered into his ear.

With a loving smile he laid his head in the nook of my neck and sighed
deeply, his right arm around my back, his left hand on my shoulder. I
pulled him a bit closer to me and buried my nose into his still messy
blonde hair, inhaling his scent. The hand I had been caressing his leg with
now travelled up and down his side, once going inward over his soft chest,
another time moving further to his back and down past his little buns.

Sander breathed softly, now and then snickering into my chest when my touch
was a bit ticklish. Knowing how much the boy enjoyed our cuddling sessions
made my resolve to not take our relationship into the forbidden zone of
sexuality stronger. I knew he felt safe with me when we cuddled like that
and that was more satisfactory than sex could ever be.

We sat like that at the kitchen table for quite a score before Sander sat
up and then rewarded my affections with a sounding wet kiss on the
cheek. He blushed a bit when he looked at me after his kiss and then looked
down between his legs. I followed his eyes down and discovered that he was
again (still) sporting a healthy erection. We both looked back up at the
same time and I found Sander grinning at me, his cheeks now cherry red.

In two weeks' time, he'd gone from a shy boy hiding his stiffy, as he
called it, to a very self-conscious child who showed some pride in his
masculinity. Somehow I knew that by diverting my attention to his erection
he wanted some form of recognition. I could no longer deny him that,
although I had to choose my words of praise carefully to avoid any possible
awkwardness.

Reaching up to brush a loose strand of his golden blonde hair away from his
brow, I smiled at him and mentally rehearsed my comment on his appearance
and then said: "You are an incredibly, amazingly handsome boy, do you know
that?"

I wasn't sure if that told him what he wanted to hear, but the ear to ear
smile and the blush on his cheeks showed me that he appreciated it. There
was no further reaction, which I took as an invitation to carry on express
my admiration for him. After all, it had only been a superficial comment on
the whole of his image. I could have gone into detail, but that felt a bit
too farfetched. Still, I knew he wanted some sort of confirmation that what
I said about his natural beauty also referred to his currently very
prominently visible boyhood.

I briefly glanced down between his legs again, before leaning into him and
bringing my lips to his ear, as if I was about to let him in on a big
secret. "And a very healthy boy, too," I whispered softly. "You can be
proud of what you have down there."

When I looked back into his eyes again, they were twinkling happily,
telling me he knew exactly what I meant by that. The blush on his cheeks
was still there, but I could tell he appreciated me acknowledging his
masculinity. After all, I had seen him naked and sporting an erection a
number of times, now, and had never really expressed my admiration for that
part of his body. I would have been a fool if I hadn't done so at this
moment, where he had, without words, called my attention upon the most
intimate parts of his young, developing body.

Besides the smile and the twinkling eyes, his only reaction to what I had
told him was to once more wrap his arms around me. He gave me big wet kiss
on the cheek before melting into me with a deep sigh. It was the start of
this Sunday's second round of cuddling, something my Little Prince clearly
couldn't get enough of. He was in luck, because I couldn't get enough of
it, either. My hands were travelling all over his the soft, supple skin of
his bare backside. Rubbing and often squeezing his little butt cheeks was
where I had drawn the line, but I made sure to enjoy that sensation as much
as possible, also because I knew Sander liked it just as much.

After another couple of wonderful minutes of sharing each other's
affection, Sander let go of me and slid off my lap. "Isn't it time to go,
yet?" he asked.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall, which told me that it was indeed
time to get ready to head out. I nodded and said: "You go up and have a
quick shower, so you look sharp for your pictures."

"Okay," Sander simply nodded. Giggles followed when he briefly glanced
down.

Already knowing what I would see, my eyes went down as well, finding
Sander's little soldier still saluting. I shook my head, not believing how
open the boy had become about having an erection. With a big grin, I looked
back up and grabbed him by the soldiers, turning him around and swatting
his little butt to spur him into action. "Get a move on, you naughty little
rascal!."

Of course this provoked more giggling as he slowly trotted off into the
hallway. Halfway down the hall, he looked over his shoulder with a big
toothy grin and cutely shook his little butt before picking up the pace and
racing up the stairs. Luckily he wasn't aware of it, but his boyishly crazy
act was somewhat sexy. It was clear that he knew quite well I admired his
physical appearance...  Heck, I just told him I liked what his penis looked
like. I just hoped he wouldn't pick up on my actually being attracted to
him, because that might be troublesome. For now, though, he simply seemed
to enjoy our special and unique close bond, strengthened by the sharing of
the secret of his love for being free of clothing.

Sander took about fifteen minutes for his shower. When he came back
downstairs, he was all jumpy about the photo shoot. Not needing to look my
best myself, I rushed through my Sunday morning hygiene, so my Little
Prince wouldn't have to wait much longer before we headed out. It was only
when we were in the car on our way to the photo studio that I realised my
little friend would be showing up before the photographer wearing exact the
same clothes as the day before. Not too big a problem, but it was something
that needed some extra thought for future sleepovers.

While waiting at the crossroads for the light to turn green, I turned to
him and said: "We ought to go shopping for an extra set of clothes for you,
someday."

Probably going through the possible poses he would take during the shoot,
Sander seemed to wake up from a day dream when he looked at me and asked:
"Huh... clothes? Why?"

"For when you stay at my place and we go out the next morning, like we're
doing today," I explained. "It might be a good thing if you could put on
some clean clothes in the morning."

"But I don't wear clothes in the morning when I'm staying with you," my
passenger stated simply, probably thinking I'd gone silly.

"Hehe, I'm well aware of that, little devil," I winked at him, "but I don't
think your grandmother would mind if I take you home at least wearing fresh
underwear. Besides, I'm kind of hoping for visits longer than a single
night."

"You mean, like a whole weekend?" Sander asked.

"Yeah, maybe," I nodded. "Of course that's up to your grannie, but with the
summer holidays coming in a just a few weeks, it might be fun if we can go
places together during the weekends."

"Like where?" Sander wanted to know, obviously warming up to the idea.

"Don't know. Amusement parks, the beach, the Ardens... Anywhere, really," I
suggested. "I'd take Fridays off so we can have the entire weekend to
ourselves and do something other than watch movies and such."

"Yeah, that'd be great!" my little buddy cheered enthusiastically.

"I think so too," I smiled at him. "Again, it's up to your grandmother, but
we can always ask if she'd be okay with it."

"Yeah, sure," the boy agreed, not really worried about such trivial
details.

At that very moment, I parked my car right in front of Patrick's Photo
Studio. Just when I killed the engine, Sander wrapped his arms around me
from behind and gave me a quick loving hug. "You're the best Uncle ever!"
he declared.

I took his hands in mind and gave them a little squeeze, quietly thanking
him for his words of praise. I then turned around, smiling at him and said:
"We're here, buddy. Time for your moment in the spotlights."

A blush appeared on the boy's cheeks as he nodded and looked out of the
window at the entrance to the Photo Studio. He then shuffled to the door
and got out, waiting for me to escort him to Patrick's shop. From the car
to the door, Sander held my hand, tightly, so I knew he was a tad bit
nervous, but I had all confidence in Patrick's skills to help him over
that.

Clearly expecting us, Patrick stood by the front desk and welcomed us in.

"Good morning!" he greeted us cheerfully. Immediately he turned to Sander
and asked: "You still want to do this?"

"Uhuh, yep," Sander said, already looking a bit more confident. "Just a bit
nervous."

"Naturally," the man smiled at my little friend. "Don't worry. Everything
will work out just fine. Now, why don't you come with me?"

He guided us towards the actual studio. In front of the door, he told me to
wait and without too much drama, he went inside and told Sander to follow
him in. A few minutes later, Patrick reappeared and showed me to the lounge
room where he'd shown Sander's football pictures.

"So, Robert," he said as he invited me to sit down, "Sander's getting ready
for his shoot in there. You know, putting on his outfit of choice and all
that. We'll need about ninety minutes to do the whole shoot, maybe
longer. If you want to, you can wait in here."

"Hmmm... ninety minutes is a long time to sit still," I said, scratching
the back of my head. "I've got some grocery shopping to do, actually, so I
might as well get those done now. I'd better tell Sander where I am,
though."

"This being a surprise for you, as I recall, it's better if you don't see
him in his chosen outfit," Patrick told me. "I'll tell him you're out
shopping, okay?"

"Well, ask him if he wants me to stick around or if he's okay with me
stepping out for an hour," I suggested.

"Okay, I'll go ask him," Patrick nodded, already opening the door.

Five minutes later the man returned and told me Sander was absolutely sure
I didn't have to stay around the whole time. So, I told Patrick I would
hurry out to the store and be back right on time to pick Sander back up
after his photo session. Patrick told me to just go and wait in the lounge
room where he'd shown us the football pictures until they were finished. I
agreed and headed out, walking to the car faster than ever. Although I
trusted Patrick with Sander, I didn't really want to leave my little
trustee alone for too long.

Luckily one of the larger stores was open on Sunday mornings. With all the
commotion about the pictures the day before, I'd completely forgotten to
stock food for the week. I rushed through the different aisles, knowing I
would forget a thing or two (and probably buy stuff I'd never use). The
store was right next to a shop for clothes, which was closed, but the
displays in the window of boy's clothes looked quite cool. I'm pretty sure
Sander wouldn't mind getting some new shirts and jeans to put away in the
room we'd decorated together, even if he didn't plan to wear them too
often.

Traffic on the way back was horrible. A cycling race passing through the
town centre caused a bottleneck at the crossroad not too far from Patrick's
studio. It took more than half an hour before the crossroad was cleared,
which resulted in me needing more time for my grocery shopping than
expected. So, when I returned to the photo studio, Patrick was already
waiting for me at the front desk. He took me to the lounge room where
Sander sat in the sofa, waiting impatiently for my arrival. When he saw me,
a big smile appeared on his face and he jumped up from the sofa, almost
right into my arms.

Hugging him and caressing his back I said: "Someone sure looks happy!"

"Hehe, yeah," Sander grinned. "It was fun!"

"I can tell," I replied, ruffling his hair, which seemed a bit damp. "Fresh
from the shower?"

"Uhuh, yeah," the boy nodded. "It was really hot in there with those spot
lights and all, so Patrick let me take a shower afterwards."

"Perfect," I said and then looked up at Patrick, who'd been observing our
little soliloquy. "Thanks for doing this for him."

"No problem, Robert," Patrick smiled politely, "the pleasure was all
mine. Sander did a great job and he came up with some good ideas, too."

As he stood next to me, I grabbed the boy by the shoulder and gave him a
brief hug to show him I was proud as a peacock. "Now I'm definitely curious
about the pictures. I almost can't wait to see them."

"Well, usually it takes a bit longer, because of other jobs," Patrick told
me. "But for you two I'll gladly make an exception. Hop by next Saturday
and everything will be ready, including the football pictures."

"Cool!" Sander shouted excitedly and then turned to me. "But we'll only
watch them when we're at your place, okay! It's a s..."

"A surprise, I know!" I winked. "It's gonna be tough focussing on the job
the coming week, because I'll probably be thinking about what the pictures
will look like the whole time."

"Hehe, maybe," my little buddy giggled. "I promise you'll like it."

"He's right! You will like it," Patrick confirmed. "It's become a real
special present for you. No boy I know of would do this unless he really
loves you."

Sander blushed slightly as he turned to me, telling me Patrick had told the
truth. I reached out and caressed his cheek and said: "That goes both
ways. I love him, too. I think this idea with the photo shoot shows how
special he is. He's inquisitive and he likes a bit of a challenge."

"He'll definitely be someone I'll remember for a long time," Patrick told
me. "Maybe I'll even give one of his pictures a spot on display."

"You hear that, Sander?" I said. "Maybe your pictures will inspire other
kids to give it a go."

"Cool," the boy simply chimed.

"I'm afraid it's time for us to head home, now," I then announced. "We
don't want to keep your grandmother waiting with lunch, now, do we?"

"Nope," Sander said, shaking his head. He turned to Patrick and offered his
hand for a shake: "It was real fun, Patrick. Thanks again."

"The pleasure was all mine, buddy," the man smiled, shaking the boy's
extended hand. "I'll be seeing you next week, then."

"We'll be here," Sander replied for the both of us, already certain of him
and me being together again the following weekend.

I shook hands with Patrick as well, we said our goodbyes and then headed
out of the store. Sander skipped the distance to the car happily, like a
bunny hopping in a meadow. Clearly his hour in the spotlights had done him
well. It was only when I was steering the car onto the road that I learned
the photo shoot had had another effect on him, besides being extra
cheerful.

"Uncle Rob," he said, requesting my attention, "can I ask you something?"

"You know you can ask me anything, buddy," I said, looking at him as he sat
in the passenger seat beside me. "What's on your mind?"

A glance down, which I mistook to be a search for the right words, had in
fact been a quick look at the subject at hand. He looked me right in the
eye again and asked: "Do you really think I look good, you know, down
there."

Upon `down there' he nodded at his private area, spreading his legs
slightly to make it clear that he was indeed referring to the part of him
that makes him a boy. Most likely the subject he wanted to discuss was
probably calling for some attention, too. And although the following
conversation wouldn't make focusing on the road easy, I couldn't let
Sander's question unanswered.

So, I turned to him with a reassuring smile and said: "I think you're
perfect, my Little Prince."

Knowing quite well I meant it, he smiled back at me, but there was still
some doubt left in his eyes. Biting his lower lip in thought he asked:
"Don't you think it's... you know... small?"

"Small? You mean your little soldier, down there?" I asked, deliberately
more precise about what he was referring to. I had to be tactful about
this, so I didn't risk hurting his feelings. This is a sensitive topic to
just about any boy who's a bit curious about the workings of his body. I
was also getting curious what had brought this up so suddenly. "Not to me,
no," I said, hopefully choosing the right words. "I think it's the perfect
size for a boy your age. Why do you ask?"

"Dunno," Sander shrugged, clearly not ready to reveal the real reason for
his sudden inquiry. "Just wondering."

"I see," I nodded, not wanting to fish for the cause of his doubts about
his boy-parts. Still he seemed not quite convinced with my answer. "If you
really want to make sure, I bet there's info on the net about the sizes of
a boy's... penis. You can always... measure and look it up."

"Maybe," the boy sighed, still not satisfied with how I approached this
delicate matter.

"Although I'd rather you didn't," I then said, "just in case you don't like
the outcome."

"Why not?" Sander asked, wondering what I meant by that last remark.

"Because you might decide to hide it when the result is not to your
liking," I explained, putting a caring hand on his leg. "To me, you look
absolutely perfect, and I would miss the chance of staring at you like I
always do."

Those last few words had to find their way to Sander's consciousness before
he realised what I meant exactly. When he finally comprehended the deeper
meaning of what I had just told him, a broad smile appeared on his
lips. "You can stare all you want, uncle Rob," he said, with a faint blush
on his cheeks. "Besides, I like being naked too much."

I gave his thigh a tender squeeze and grinned at him. "That's the spirit,
little devil, you." Still I wondered what had inspired Sander to question
the size of his boyhood, I turned to him and repeated my earlier
question. "So, what made you think you were small?"

This time my little buddy seemed more willing to give a sound answer. "You
know when you were at our place yesterday morning, to ask if I wanted to go
see a movie..." his voice trailed

"Yeah, I remember," I nodded. "Your grandmother told me you were at a
friend's place."

"Yeah, when there's no more footy on Saturdays, I always go and play with
Ruben, so I don't bother granny when she's tutoring other kids," he
explained. "Ruben's my best friend!"

"Cool," I simply smiled. "Is he in your class, then?"

"No, we go to different schools, but he lives close by and we often go to
the skatepark together," my friend told me.

"He sounds like a good friend," I told him.

"He is," Sander smiled. "Yesterday, when I was at his place, we were in his
room playing videogames. His parents were at a funeral or something, so
only his older sister was there to watch us."

"And I suppose his sister doesn't really care about what you two are up to,
huh," I said, winking at him.

"Hehe, no," the boy grinned mischievously, "she just wants us to stay out
of her hair, as she calls it."

"So, what kind of shenanigans were you two up to?" I asked, wondering what
two practically unsupervised nine-year-olds did when they're out of sight.

"Nothing, really," Sander said, "we were just played videogames. I beat him
at FIFA13! But then Ruben started asking funny questions."

"Such as?" I wondered.

"Well, he knows I play footy," my buddy told me. "He asked me if I shower
together with the other kids after practice and if it isn't weird to be
naked with all the others."

"I see," I nodded, slowly understanding where this was going. "I suppose he
doesn't do any kind of team sports?"

"No," Sander said. "Why?"

"Well, you're used to it since you started playing footy, so to you it's
natural to take showers together," I explained. "I can imagine it's a bit
awkward for someone who isn't accustomed to that."

"Maybe," the boy shrugged. "Ruben then told me he'd never really seen
another boy naked and he asked if he could see my, you know, my dinky."

A bit amused by his referring to his penis as a dinky, I smiled at him and
asked: "And what did you tell him?"

"It was a bit weird for Ruben to ask me," Sander told me, blushing a bit as
he retold yesterday's secret events. "But he's my best friend, so I told
him it was okay. He promised to show me his, because it's only fair."

Aaah, the typical I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours-act loads of kids
play out at least once in their lives. I didn't dare ask how they went
about it, although I was a bit curious. We'd just arrived home when my
Little Prince described what had occurred the day before, but there was
still some time left before we were expected for lunch. I parked the car
and suggested that we'd stay in the car a bit longer so Sander could finish
his tale.

"We didn't have much time, because I had to go home soon," Sander carried
on with his story, "so we could only show each other our dinkies for a
little while. We simply stood in front of each other and pulled the front
of our pants down."

"I see," I nodded understandingly, the image of Sander and his little
friend standing in Ruben's room ogling at each other's privates clear in my
mind. This was of course the moment when Sander's doubts about the size of
his `dinky' had arisen. "And I suppose his looked bigger than yours?"

"Uhuh, yeah," Sander nodded, blushing again. "We didn't have stiffies,
though."

"It might have been a bit bigger," I honestly said,"but you really
shouldn't worry about that. As far as I'm concerned, yours looks absolutely
fine."

"Okay," my little friend smiled. "It was kinda fun, though, showing my
dinky to Ruben and seeing his."

I snickered at his last remark, recognising Sander's free spirit in it. I
ruffled his hair a bit. "Little rascal," I simply said.

"Is it bad if you want to see someone else's privates like Ruben wanted?"
he then asked, wanting to make sure he was not in trouble.

"No, not at all," I reassured him. "He was just curious, like many other
boys before him. But I don't think Ruben's parents would have been too
happy if they'd caught you with your pants down, though."

"Ruben said I couldn't tell anyone," Sander confirmed. "He said he'd
probably be grounded for months if they'd catch him doing something like
that."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," I nodded.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" my little friend then asked,
understanding that he'd taken a risk by telling me.

"Don't worry, you're secret's safe with me," I vowed, caressing his cheek
lovingly. "Now, we'd better head home or your grandmother might serve us a
lunch gone cold."

"Hehe, okay," Sander giggled. He then scooted over and gave me a kiss on
the cheek. "Thanks, Uncle Rob."

"What for?" I asked, his kiss lingering on my cheek.

"For listening to me and all that," he said.

"That's what friends are for, my Little Prince," I smiled, pulling him
closer for a quick hug. I returned his kiss, planting my lips on his
forehead and then, as I released my grip on him, I playfully shoved him
towards the door. "Now, out you go, before your granny cooks us for lunch
instead."

Sander giggled cutely, getting out of the car quick like a tiger and we
then sprinted to his home. Luckily, the boy's grandmother didn't get angry
for our tardiness (only a few minutes), so our lunch, a nice juicy steak
with French fries and veggies, came fresh from the stove. During lunch, my
little friend told her about the movie we'd seen, but cleverly left out the
date with the photographer. After all, the football pictures were a
surprise for Mother's Day. It wouldn't be cool to spill his beans and ruin
the surprise, ey.

During the rest of the day, as I sat home alone, watching some children's
movie on TW and played a few online games, the whole weekend came back to
me in shards, going from the visit to Patrick's Photo Studio and Sander's
photo shoot, to my complementing the boy on how he looked `down there' and
to our delicate, private chat in the car. That last part, Sander's tale
about how he and his friend Ruben had done a brief show and tell, I
envisioned quite clearly, even without knowing what his friend looked
like. Somehow I knew that my Little Prince would be telling me about
further exploits between Ruben and himself soon enough.




Please let me know if you like the story or not. Feedback is the best
encouragement to continue writing. So, send me a little mail at pok_bepxtep
(at)yahoo(dot)com.