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Nifty - Gay - Adult Youth - Golden Boyhood Days

Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2000 14:40:11 -0800
From: Fredric L. Brothers <>
Subject: "GOLDEN BOYHOOD DAYS" (Man/Boy)

Disclaimer: The following story is a fantasy and a work of fiction. It
contains scenes of deep affection between an adult male and a minor boy.
If you find any of this at all disturbing, then leave. Please e-mail any
thoughts you may have:

                      GOLDEN BOYHOOD DAYS
       Copyright 2000 by Fredric L. Brothers - All Rights Reserved

       Autumn had always been my favorite season of the year. Maybe it
was because I had been born in October. I always found this cool, clear,
bracing weather to be a mind cleansing experience; it was like the
breathing in of all that crisp, clean air removed the moss and mildew and
other crap that had accumulated on the brain during the hot, suffocating
summer months. It left the mind amazingly refreshed and eager.

       It was early October and I was driving to New England from my home
on the eastern shore of Maryland. It was a rather long drive but really
quite delightful. The fall foliage was getting better and better the
farther north I traveled. The changing colors delighted me; the beauties
that nature provides to entertain and amuse us mere short-lived creatures
constantly amazed me. The trees were ablaze with the vibrant colors of
autumn. It was a beautiful day and these glorious sights made my mood
light and sunny.

       The trip was a combination business, shopping and foliage
sightseeing seeing to Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine. It
had been a wonderful (and extremely busy) summer and I needed the down time
before an expected heavy winter season. I had four days of business
meetings to be followed by two weeks of relaxation, great eating (Maine
lobster at least once every day, I hoped) and sightseeing in one of my
favorite areas of the country at my favorite time of the year.

       As I drove into the parking lot of the Marriott, I noticed a large
number of buses parked off to the side. "Tourists, here to see the
foliage," I told myself. When I reached the lobby, my suspicions were
confirmed - somewhat. I say "somewhat" because beside the large number of
tourists I also noticed a large contingent of young boys milling about,
both outside and inside the hotel. Most were wearing warm-up suits or
other sports gear, and they carryed large duffels. The registration clerk
told me that there was a major soccer conference being held at one of the
large private schools that litter the landscape in this area of New
England. It attracted boys and coaches from all over the northeast.

       What a fabulous added bonus - beautiful young bodies on display for
my enjoyment and leisurely perusal. After checking in, I unpacked and
headed to the indoor pool; I figured a swim, a shower and a nap were in
order after the long drive. Also, maybe some of the boys.

       I first saw him as he came into the pool area with a group - about
eight or nine young boys. For some unexplainable reason my eyes
immediately went to him. I really cannot explain why because he was not
the cutest kid in the group, nor the tallest, nor the biggest. Yet to my
eyes he was just the most compelling, and my gaze immediately fastened on
his marvelous face.

       I guessed that he was ten years old. He was thin, almost to the
point of looking undernourished. His legs were thin and hairless and his
knees were a bit knobby. He was dressed in a dark blue tee shirt and white
baggy shorts as were the rest of the kids in his group. He had short dark
blonde hair cut in a nice crew style (higher in the front) and wore large
glasses. He certainly did not present a truly forceful or imposing or
compelling figure - yet for some strange and unknown reason I could not
take my eyes off of this boy. It was like he was transmitting signals to
me and I was receiving them crystal clear.

       He carried a small backpack, which he set down on a chair near
where his group had established a beachhead. He stayed apart from the rest
of the boys. They all removed their tee shirts except for "my" boy. I
relished the remarkable sight of all those beautifully fit, smooth,
immature bodies parading for my benefit. One or two seemed to have entered
puberty but most were still just lovely boys. "My" boy took off his
glasses, put then in his pack and followed the others to the pool. They
all jumped in, "my" boy last. Something was different about him, though.
He did not swim with his group but stayed in the shallow end of the pool
while the others went off to the deeper part.

       He splashed around, swam underwater for a while, then walked up the
steps at the front of the pool and returned to his belongings. He grabbed
a towel and began to dry his face and hair. It was then that I finally
noticed what made him so different. My heart started palpitating. I found
I had great difficulty breathing. "Oh God! Oh, my GOD! This is
incredible! I cannot believe my luck!" I was elated at what I saw. "But
how did I miss it? I must be losing my touch. This kid has only one arm!
Yes! Absolutely! His left arm is missing."

       My heart was absolutely racing! "How do I get to meet this kid?"
I could barely contain my excitement. This was an incredible event! This
boy was a truly wonderful sight and an exhilarating sighting. As a devotee
of long standing I knew I just had to talk to this kid and get to be with
him.somehow. But how?"

       "Hey Charlie!" one of his group shouted. He turned, waved and
smiled. The boys were playing a version of tag in the pool and seemed to
be having fun and generating lots of noise.

       "So his name is Charlie. A nice enough name, I suppose - slightly
nerdy, like the kid, but okay. Now how can I arrange to meet him and get
to know him better? This is the big barrier! How do I overcome this one?"
I looked over at him again and he was staring at me - looking straight at
me. I may have read more into his look than he intended but I had this
incredible feeling that the kid was actually trying to make contact with
me. I hoped...I hoped.

       I gave him a nice, rather large, smile - I really don't know if I
did this consciously or unconsciously, but I did and was really stunned
when he returned the smile. It was a great big, beautiful smile and it
warmed my entire body. I was thrilled, absolutely thrilled, and I know I
was starting to get excited from the experience. This attractive young
boy, this great kid, was smiling at me!

       I watched as he picked up his pack, threw his towel around his
shoulders, slipped into his flip- flops and started walking to the exit.
My heart sank - "my" boy was leaving - "my" lovely boy was leaving me now.
He stopped suddenly, turned to face me, and gave me another big smile and a
small wave. I was electrified. I was riveted to my chair. I was
excruciatingly happy. I smiled and waved back to him. I knew I would
always remember his beautiful, shining face and this wonderful sighting.


       I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, waiting for a business
associate to arrive to begin our working dinner. I was gazing at some
reports, but really thinking about the events at the pool this afternoon,
when I felt my elbow being jostled.

       "Hi mister," I heard a piping young boy's voice say. "How y'doing

       I looked up and my heart started doing flips. Here was that
endearing kid - from the pool, the one who had smiled back at me. He was
standing right here! He greeted me and asked how I was doing! I know I
must have flushed because I felt my face getting hot. I was getting quite
excited. He moved quickly and sat down next to me on the sofa with his
empty left sleeve close to me. He was even cuter than I had first thought.
His dark blonde hair, blue eyes, slim boyish body and large eyeglasses were
the most wonderful things I had ever seen. His eyes looked so large behind
those huge glasses - they were so hypnotic and just drew me in.

       He wore a white shirt, navy blue chinos and a navy blue tie with a
crest on it (school tie?). The long left sleeve of his shirt was tucked
into the waistband of his slacks. His clothes looked at least two sizes
too large. His belt bunched his pants up and the right sleeve of the shirt
was much too long for his arm. The shirt was slightly translucent and I
saw that he was wearing a tee shirt underneath but I could not see his arm

       " don't think I know your name..."

       "I'm Charlie, sir. Charlie Caston. And you are..."

       "Hi Charlie. I'm Warren...Warren Lowell."

       He extended his right hand and we shook. I think I began to shake
slightly at the feel of his warm, soft, moist hand in mine. I put my left
hand over both of our hands and held his tightly for a few extra seconds.
He gave me another big smile and I did not know how I was going to eat
dinner. My heart seemed to be pounding uncontrollably; I felt perspiration
beginning to trickle down from my armpits and my eyes were getting more
than a little blurry.

       "Actually my real name is Jean-Charles Rene Caston. I was born in
Paris and we moved to America when I was a baby."

       "That's a real beautiful name - Jean-Charles Rene Caston. C'est

       "Vous parlez francais!"

       "Oui. I use it in my business. I also speak Spanish, German,
Russian and Hebrew. All for business purposes." I was speaking in French
- somehow I automatically fell into using it. It just felt so natural.

       "How do you know French?" I asked.

       "Well, I was born in France - just outside of Marseilles. - er - moved here a few years ago - along with I'm studying Russian right now in school. I can
practice with you."

       This was marvelous! No one around us would (or could) understand
what we were speaking about.

       His eyes twinkled and he smiled at me. Suddenly his face took on a
very serious expression. "I saw you this afternoon at the pool." He
looked down at his lap. "I liked it - I liked it a lot - when you smiled
at me." He blushed so endearingly that I had to restrain myself, with
great difficulty, from grasping him and cuddling him right there in that
hotel lobby.

       "Thank you, Charlie. I thought you looked a little lonely standing
there by yourself."

       "Yeah, I was - sort of..." He looked down at his lap. "My friends
take me along with them but then they forget about me and I..." He let the
sentence trail off into silence.

       "I saw all you guys and a lot more. Some kind of league?"

       "Yeah, we're in a soccer conference. We're here for a tournament -
well, some of us are. Teams from all over the northeast are here to
compete for some silly trophy."

       "I gather you play soccer."

       "Yeah, I do. Or rather I did - before I lost my arm. Before they
had to amputate it." He thought for a second or two, while staring at the
floor, then add, "Yeah. I still play. They've kept me on the team but I
only play if we're leading by a big score or we're losing by a big score
and it doesn't matter any more."

       "But at least you get to play," I said while giving him a big
smile. "You lost your arm recently, Charlie?" I could barely get the
words out. I felt I was hyperventilating sitting and talking and looking
at this attractive boy with one arm.

       "Well, yes and no, sir. I lost - it - almost a year ago." He
again looked at me with great seriousness. "It seems that I haven't
adjusted well at all. That's what my shrink would say, if you know what I

       I nodded my head. I looked at his left arm (or what was left of
it) frequently during our talk and noticed his very short arm stump. I
would occasionally see him moving it slightly; it happened particularly
when he seemed to get anxious or excited. His total appearance literally
took my breath away. I had difficulty speaking but made the supreme
effort. He was such a good-looking kid - and an amputee.

       I knew I had to lighten up the conversation. "You look very
handsome tonight, Charlie. Going somewhere?"

       He turned to face me again and looked so sad - and so precious. He
nodded and blushed beautifully. "We have a pre-tournament dinner tonight
at the school."

       "Very nice. They seem to be treating you guys well." I looked him
over again. "May I ask, how old are you, Charlie?"

       "I'm eleven, sir. And I'm in the eighth grade."

       "A good age to be. I'd say that you're a real smart young man if
you're already in the eighth grade." He blushed adorably again.

       "Hey, Caston!" an adult voice suddenly shouted from across the
lobby. "Get your scabby ass over here!"

       He stood up quickly. "Thanks for talking with me mister - er -
Mr. Lowell - Warren. I gotta go now; my coach is calling."

       "Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you Charlie. Feel free to
come by whenever you want to talk and I'll be glad to see you. Okay?" As
soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized the full extent of what I
had said and regretted it; but there was nothing to do now.

       However, Charlie smiled, shook my hand again, nodded and ran off to
his group. His empty shirtsleeve came out of his pants and fluttered as he
ran across the lobby. I held my breath as I watched him; his torso was
swinging from side to side and the empty sleeve of his shirt was flapping
as he ran.

       When he reached the group his coach grabbed him by the right
shoulder and shook him. I didn't like what he did; how could he do this to
a child, and a handicapped one at that. But I really couldn't say
anything. I felt so terribly sorry for poor Charlie and so utterly
helpless. The coach was saying something to him that I could not hear.
Charlie quickly stuffed the empty sleeve back into his trousers.

       My heart jumped again as Charlie turned and looked at me as the
whole group exited the lobby. He gave me a small smile, shrugged his
shoulders and tilted his head to the side so adorably. Just then my dinner
guest arrived and we went into the dining room.


       The next morning I'd showered and waited for my room service
breakfast to be delivered. I was wearing a robe over my underwear. A
knock on the door announced the arrival of the food and I let the waiter
in, signed the check and sat down to a nice breakfast.

       I hadn't even finished my first cup of coffee when there was
another knock on the door. "Now what?" Instead of speculating too long, I
answered the door. There, in all his boyhood glory, was Charlie. He was
wearing his soccer uniform, high white socks and cleats; he was carrying
his backpack in his one hand. He looked so marvelously appealing - just
adorable! I knew immediately my day had been made.

       "Bonjour, Warren," he said with a huge smile on his face.

       "Bonjour, Charlie." We were speaking French again, continuing what
we had started last night. I looked out into the hallway and there was
nobody to be seen. "How did you get to this floor? It's a reserved floor,
you know. How'd you get here?"

       "If you let me in I'll tell you."

       I opened the door wider and Charlie came bounding into the room.
He seemed very happy this morning and practically skipped into the sitting
room of my suite. I got a whiff of his fresh from the shower boy scent and
I became slightly weak in the knees. I had to steady myself by holding
onto the opened door. He put his pack on the floor and sat down on the
edge of an armchair.

       "Oh, I see you're still eating breakfast. I'm sorry."

       "That's okay. Now how did you get to this floor?"

       "Okay, I'll tell you, but promise you won't say anything to anyone.
You haveta promise Warren."

       "Okay, okay! I promise."

       "Well, I followed the room service guy in the elevator."

       "You did? Didn't he see you?"

       "Yeah, he did, but he just smiled at me and didn't say anything."

       "How did you know which room I was in?"

       "I just asked the person at the desk."

       "Jeez, Charlie, you're a great detective."

       He smiled and again I melted at his presence. I returned to my
breakfast after offering Charlie a muffin from the assortment on the tray.
He put it on a plate and I watched with growing fascination as he cut the
muffin, buttered it and spread some jelly on both halves with his one hand.
He looked up at me, blushed slightly and said sheepishly, "I've always been
right handed so it hasn't been that terribly hard for me to do things for
myself when - when they took off my arm."

I nodded. In the bright morning light of the room I was able to absorb all
of Charlie's delightful appearance and I appreciated the chance. I was
able to see his entire body as he sat on the edge of the chair eating and
drinking the glass of orange juice I had poured for him.

       His hair glistened in the sunlight flooding into the room. It
looked to be still slightly wet from his morning shower. He occasionally
glanced up at me while continuing to eat. His dreamy blue eyes seemed
enormous behind those glasses. His eyelashes were dark - those magnificent
eyes highlighted by dark lashes and eyebrows. His face was all a boy lover
could want - totally smooth without even the slightest hint of hair. His
lips were full and rosy and he had two adorable dimples. His ears were
medium size and just the slightest bit cauliflowered. His nose was small
and upturned and he had the requisite number of freckles across his nose
and on his cheeks.

       Then I looked at his body. It was very thin and his uniform looked
a little oversized for him. But he was incredibly adorable. His one arm
was thin and very lightly covered with the slightest sprinkling of
sparkling blonde hairs. The same for his thin, bony legs. The left sleeve
of the dark blue jersey was fastened with a large safety pin to the body of
the shirt. I could see a slight bump in this sleeve - his arm stump. As
before, he moved it occasionally. He had a big number "17" on the back of
his jersey and the name "Xavier Saints" on the front in script lettering.

       "You look great this morning Charlie."

       "Thanks, Warren. Can you come and see us play today?"

       "I'm afraid not; I have business meetings all day."

       "That's okay. If we win then you can see us on another day," he
said slightly dejectedly.

       "How was the dinner last night?" I asked to change the subject.

       "It was great and the food was really good. We had fun and a lot
of awards were given out."

       "That's wonderful!" I said enthusiastically. The kid seemed so
incredibly happy this morning that it brightened my whole disposition.

       When I finished eating (and third cup of coffee) I stood and told
Charlie that I would be getting dressed and leave for my first meeting of
the day. He rose and did something that had me galvanized. He nodded and
slowly walked up to me. He hugged me around the waist with his one arm,
his head pressing against my chest. I was absolutely stunned! I very
hesitantly and nervously moved my hands to his back and gently returned the
hug, while rubbing him gently and pulling him against me. I bent over and
lightly kissed the top of his head. Then, without saying a word, he moved
away, picked up his pack, threw it over his shoulder and quickly walked out
of the suite. I did not utter one single sound. I couldn't! I didn't
move for I don't know how long.


       I thought about young Charlie all morning, through the dull
business meetings. He was constantly on my mind - that delightful,
charming and wonderfully agreeable child. I pictured him in his cute
soccer uniform sitting in my suite. I'm certain that he noticed me staring
at him so deeply. I had checked out his left arm again - I could not get
enough of his fantastic appearance. I was also really curious about his
amputation. But I didn't know how to broach the subject with him. I knew
he must be terribly self-conscious about it, being so obvious a limitation
as it was.

       After a really exhausting day (You think sitting through four
business meetings is easy? It's hard on the ass and even harder on the
brain.) I walked into the lobby, picked up my snail-mail and headed for the
elevators. As I crossed the atrium a middle-age woman approached me. She
was wearing a navy blue sweat suit, carried a clipboard and had a whistle
around her neck.

       "Mr. Lowell?" I nodded. "Hi Mr. Lowell, I'm Amy Granger, one of
the soccer coaches." She put out her hand and we shook. "Can we speak for
a minute or two, sir?"

       "Miss Granger, I've had a..."

       "It's Mrs. Granger," she corrected.

       "Okay, Mrs. Granger. I've had a really long and trying day and I
really need to get back to my room and relax. I have to do some work. I
have another full round of meetings tomorrow."

       "I understand, sir. I know you are a very busy man and your time
is very valuable, but I really need to talk to you about Charlie.Charlie

       "Charlie? What about Charlie? He's all right isn't he?"

       "Yes, Charlie is fine. Absolutely fine. But all he keeps talking
about is you."


       "Yes, you. He keeps chattering away to me about what a great guy
you are, how you understand him, how you..."

       I interrupted her quickly. "Excuse me, Mrs. Granger, but I've only
chatted with Charlie twice and both times were for just a few minutes each.
I barely know him. I just don't understand how he can be talking about me
when I've spoken to him for maybe a total of five minutes."

       "I understand, Mr. Lowell. But you have to understand Charlie.and
the bad problems that he has - he's been through an awful lot recently. He
exaggerates things and I think that's what's happening this time." She
paused and began walking to one of the couches in the lobby. She sat down
and I sat next to her. "Charlie's mother was my best friend and I know I
would do."

"Did you say 'was' your best friend, Mrs. Granger?"

       She nodded. "Yes. She was my best and my closest friend. She's
deceased." She was silent and just stared at me. Then she began to slowly
shake her head. "You don't know about Charlie's family and the tragedy, do
you Mr. Lowell."

       I shook my head. "I know nothing, Mrs. Granger. That's why I'm at
a loss to explain why you're even talking to me. I really have no interest
whatsoever in the events of his life." I was lying, of course. I was
extremely interested in Charlie Caston, to get to know him so much better
and to learn everything about him. But I did not want her to think that or
to realize the depths of my desires. "Really, Mrs. Granger, I don't have
the slightest clue why I'm here speaking to you and why you're telling me
this stuff." I was acting like I was getting annoyed at her actions and
she read me perfectly.

       I knew she was shocked at my outright rejection of her request.
She stood up quickly and extended her hand. "Thank you for your time,
Mr. Lowell. I'm sorry I intruded." With that she walk quickly away.


       The incessant ringing of the telephone woke me up from a sound
sleep. I had dozed off on the couch of the sitting room and my back ached
when I went to answer that blasted instrument. I looked at the desk clock
- it read 6:49.

       "Hello? This is Lowell," I said sleepily into the receiver.

       There was silence at the other end. "Hello!" I said again. Again
silence. However, this time I thought I detected some sound; it sounded
like sobbing. "Hello! Hello!" I repeated.

       "Hello," the young, slightly sobbing voice said at the other end.
"This is Charlie, sir." He was speaking in English this time.

       "Oh, hello Charlie. Nice of you to call. How'd the game go
today?" I asked in a friendly tone.

       "We won, sir. But I didn't play 'cause the score was close - two
to one."

       "I see. Well, it's great the team won! So there'll be another

       "Yes, sir, tomorrow."

       "Wonderful! That's wonderful news Charlie."

       "Thank you, sir." Then there was silence from both of us. He
seemed to be overly formal and it disturbed me. Charlie spoke first and he
seemed to be crying slightly. "Warren - sir - please don't come to the
game tomorrow even if you've got the time. Okay?"

       I wasn't sure of the reason for this statement; I had no intention
of going to that soccer game. "Okay, Charlie. I won't be there," I said
with a quizzical sound in my voice. "I have a series of meetings tomorrow

       "Then I'll just say good-bye now. It was nice talking to you -
when we did, Warren - sir. It makes me happy."

       "It made me happy, too." I didn't know what to make of his
statement. "You're leaving now, Charlie?"

       "Uh, no, I'm not leaving yet, but I don't think I'll be seeing you
again before I do."

       Okay? So what was he trying to tell me? I'm sure there was a
message in that statement somewhere. "Sure, Charlie," was all I could
think of saying. "Good-bye and have a great tournament. Maybe we'll meet
up again in the future."

       "Yeah...maybe. Good-bye, sir." He hung up the phone.


       Charlie's phone call bothered me - it disturbed me deeply. All
through dinner, I had this nagging feeling that the child was trying to
tell me something and either he could not come straight out with it or I
was not responding or grasping to what he was trying to say.

       It was another business dinner, this time with two clients and
their wives. We went to one of the finest restaurants in the area; I had
made reservations weeks in advance. The dinner was excellent and I knew I
had closed another deal before we parted for the evening.

       When I returned to my room the message light on my phone was on. I
called the message center and was very surprised to hear that it was from
Mrs. Granger. What did this woman want from me? The message said to call
her whenever I returned to my room regardless of the time.

       "Mrs. Granger? This is Warren Lowell. Is there a problem?"

       "Thanks for calling Mr. Lowell. May I come to see you? I need to
speak to you immediately!" She paused then added, "It's about Charlie."

       "Of course it is." Jeez, about that kid again. "Okay,
Mrs. Granger. What floor are you on? I'll come down to meet you since you
cannot get to my floor."


       Five minutes later we were in the sitting room of my suite.
Mrs. Granger - or Amy as she insisted that I call her - I asked her to
please call me Warren - was telling me the story of the recent events that
had overtaken and overwhelmed Charlie's young life. It was a true tragedy,
absolutely horrendous in every aspect.

       She related the incidents slowly, methodically and without
embellishing the fact too much. "Charlie was the youngest of three
children; he had two older sisters, Caren and Cassie." I cringed when I
realized that she was speaking in the past tense. "Charlie's father,
Jean-Claude, was a well respected businessman in our town; we live in
western New Jersey. They all lived very comfortably and seemed to be the
ideal family - if such a thing exists." She drew a deep breath and her
mind seemed to wander for a second or two. "He was doing very well
financially - that is, until late last year when he suffered very bad
financial setbacks. I don't know the exact details of it but it was pretty
severe - enough to upset the stability of his home and family.

       "He became very withdrawn, not even coming to church on Sunday or
coaching anymore. Last November he took out his rage by shooting six
people, all fatally, in the insurance office he felt was responsible for
his losses."

       "My God!" I exclaimed. I knew what was coming and was sickened!
"I remember this! Oh Christ!"

       Amy nodded. "I'm sure you do. It was all over TV and the papers
for weeks. He then came home and with the same automatic rifle he had used
in the insurance office he shot his wife, my friend Carly, his daughters,
Charlie and then himself. He called 911 before he killed himself. In
fact, the sound of the shots is on the 911 tape. He didn't kill Charlie,
of course, only wounding him severely in his left arm and causing serious
internal injuries, including lung and kidney damage. The kid was in the
hospital for four months. His arm was amputated because the bone and
muscle damage were so severe the doctors couldn't save it."

       I was feeling terribly sickened and upset after learning Charlie's
story; what can one say after hearing about such a tragedy? Amy was crying
at the retelling of the tale. Charlie had lost everything; his whole world
had disappeared in a minute and his missing arm was a constant reminder of
the catastrophe. Still, I did not understand what she wanted from me.
"Amy, I do not know what I can do to help. And I certainly don't
understand what it is you want of me."

       She swallowed hard and spoke softly. "Warren, my husband and I are
the legal guardians of Charlie; well, actually I am, if you want to be
completely technical. We were his godparents and I was named in the wills
to be his guardian."

       She stopped speaking and gave me a strangely soft but piercing
look. When she spoke, she spoke in a low, quivering voice. "Warren,
Charlie wants to be with you." I was astounded - and more than a little
shaken. "He thinks you will be able to properly take care of him - like
Joe and I haven't been able to do." Now she started to cry hard. "We have
not been good for him," she said through the blubbering. "He hates us and
our home!" She sobbed harder. "And he's right, he's absolutely right, of
course. He gets no love - no love at all - and a lot of bad feelings

       I didn't know what to say or do. I was shocked into an almost
catatonic state. "Did I really hear her say what I think I she said?
Charlie wants to be with me? With me? Why? I barely know the child.
Barely? That's an understatement! I did not know him at all!"

Amy shook her head slowly and continued to sob. She sat still except that
her body seemed to be quivering. "Did you hear me, Warren?"

       I nodded and excused myself. I quickly walked into the bathroom to
splashed cold water on my face. I removed my tie and opened my shirt. I
tried to calm myself down, telling myself that this was all unreal.or a
nightmare.or a dream come true!

After drying my face I came back to the sitting room and sat across from
Amy. She had calmed down considerably and was wiping her eyes. "I cannot
understand what you are saying or asking of me, Amy. This seems to
be absolutely unreal."

       "I guess it does, doesn't it?" She chuckled slightly. "I'm sure
it does. But the child is so terribly miserable; I don't know what to do
anymore. I'm almost at--at the end of my." She began to sob again. "We
have three children of our own, Warren, and Charlie is extremely unhappy
living with us. Our kids are all older and they constantly tease him and
make comments about his arm, his glasses, his size, his being so
smart...all those things and more. He hates going to school, he has no
close friends, he has no privacy in the house, and he never wants to go out
with us and the kids. It was practically a pitched battle to get him to
come with us this week." She looked at me very intensely before she spoke
again. "And to be honest, Warren, he gets no...absolutely no love...or any
kind of affection from us." She let out a long, moan-like sigh.

       "But why me?" I shook my head. "I cannot understand why he would
even want to be with me?"

       She shrugged her shoulders. "All he asked was that I had to talk
to you - to beg you to let him be with you. He raised quite a fuss." She
had stopped crying and tried to regain control by taking deep breaths. She
folded her hands in her lap. "It started the evening of that banquet. He
had spoken to you for a few minutes in the lobby before leaving.
Remember?" I nodded. "Then he says he spoke to you again the next morning
at breakfast." She paused as if she had a disturbing thought. "Funny, I
don't recall seeing you in the restaurant that morning." The thoughts
passed. "Anyway, later that day he begged me to speak to you, which I did,

       I concurred. "Yes, I remember that; I dismissed you rather
quickly, didn't I?"

       She nodded. "When I told Charlie about the conversation, he became
rather sullen and didn't speak or want to do anything. I know he called
you...I believe to say good-bye?"

       I nodded again. "It was a short and very strange conversation. I
really didn't know what it meant. It had me totally perplexed."

       "Mr. Lowell - Warren - for some unexplained reason Charlie feels
that you and he are kindred souls - that you understand him and that the
two of you would be great together." She put her hands to her forehead in
a rather dramatic gesture. "He wants...he wants to be with you sleep here in your suite...and to be allowed."

       I became even more perplexed. My brain, after such a long day of
business, was absolutely spinning. "Amy, I don't think that is really
possible. Do you?"

       "I do think it's possible and.and that it's really most desirable.
He is such a good kid...if you'd only known him before the - the incident -
smart, athletic, artistic, musical. Charlie was a real dream child. He's
been through so much - and he isn't adjusting well. His therapist thinks
he's becoming overly withdrawn and I'm sure he is. He's also been losing
weight recently and his pediatrician is very concerned. And truthfully,
though I really hate to say it, it's - uh - he's driving my husband crazy.
Joe really can't put up with his erratic behavior any more." She began to
cry rather hard now. "I'm sorry, Warren. I think I'm becoming a little
over emotional." She blew her nose into the handkerchief. "But I don't
know what to do any more. I just don't know anymore..."

       "Does he have any other family?"

       "Not that I know of - at least not in this country. Maybe in
France - I think there are aunts and uncles - but I'm not sure. And now
this business of him wanting to be with you...I just don't know how to
handle it."

       "What I don't understand is how he thinks - or knows - that I would
want him with me," I said aloud. Meanwhile my brain was screaming, "Take
him! Take him! He can be yours! This wonderful loving child can be with
you all the time! What a wonderful life you could have with him!" However,
I did not want to seem over anxious or give any indication that I knew in
my heart that we would be so absolutely right together.

       "I don't know either," she replied. "But he seems so set on it, so
positive, that.that I think it may be right. When you spoke to him you
seemed so kind and caring. Those were the very words he used - 'kind' and
'caring'. I'm sure he also meant this as a criticism of Joe and me. He
said you didn't make any snide comments or give him strange looks about his
- uh - appearance, or appear to be repulsed by him or - or his missing

       "Okay, Amy," I interrupted while looking at my watch. "It's now
10:30. Do you think Charlie's still awake?" I had made my decision - it
needed to be made quickly otherwise we'd be here discussing this until the
early morning hours.

       "I'm sure he is."

       "Call the room, tell him we'll be right down to get him and that he
can spend the night with me. I'll talk to him and see what can or must be
done. Maybe we can work out an understanding for the next few days...or
whatever." She seemed so relieved at my suggestion that she practically
leaped off the sofa. "Remember, this is a very temporary solution to the
problem; please tell him that when you call. Okay?"

       She nodded her assent and called Charlie.


       Charlie (along with all of his belongings) was in my suite and Amy
was kissing him good night. She also gave me a hug and a kiss on the
cheek; I hugged her. She seemed to be very happy and feeling much better.
Charlie also seemed very happy and I was too, I suppose. Frankly, I was
feeling numb from all that had happened in the last hour, but also
absolutely exhilarated!

       I gazed at him with a rather stern expression on my face; he
lowered his head, looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. He spoke in a
very low, quivery voice. "I'm sorry, Warren. Sorry if I caused you any

       I squatted down, and held my arms opened. Charlie lifted his head
slowly; when he saw the smile on my face and my opened arms, he gave me a
tremendous grin and ran to me. I grasped him tightly, lifted him and swung
him around a few times, all the while tickling his body. He was giggling
and laughing; so was I.

       "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" he screamed. "I
knew you wanted me to be with you. I just knew it!"

       "You are one hundred percent right, Charlie my boy! You know me
like I don't even know myself."

       He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed me and I felt a
tremendous rush of love for this boy. I flopped down on a sofa with
Charlie on top of me. We were both immensely happy. He kissed my cheek
and I kissed his. We stayed this way for a few minutes, holding on to each
other, neither of us saying a word. I guess we were both just overwhelmed
by events and trying desperately to bring them into focus and perspective.

       I thrilled at the feel of his body on mine. He snuggled even
closer and it was as if he was trying to assure me that he wanted to be
here, with me, more than anything else in the world.

       I sat up and Charlie moved to straddle my legs. "You have a game
tomorrow, don't you?"

       "Yeah, I guess I do."

       "What time do you have to meet your group?"

       "Eight - in the lobby."

       "Then I think it's time to get to sleep. Shall I make up the
sofa-bed for you?"

       He just stared at me with a slightly hurt expression on his face.
"I'd hoped that.well, that I, maybe, you know, that I could sleep with you?
I'd like that very, very much, Warren. If that's all right with you, that

       He wanted to sleep with me? My most farfetched fantasy did not
include Charlie actually sleeping in my bed! I was overwhelmed and
completely thrilled. I nodded and smiled; he gave me a big smile again in
return. It sent ripples of pleasure throughout my entire body.

I bought both my hands up to his shoulders and squeezed him slightly. He
seemed to tense slightly, but it was only for a second. He smiled again.
I delighted in that beauty of that warm smile. It sent a series of chills
throughout my body.

       "Charlie? Can I ask you something?"

       He stared at me. "Sure, Warren. Ask me anything."

       I wanted to phrase this properly and thought a minute before I
spoke. "You told Amy - uh, Mrs. Granger - that you felt we were meant, you
know, that we, you and I, should be together. How did you know this? What
made you so absolutely sure?" He continued staring. "I mean, I'm a
complete and total stranger that you had never seen before yesterday. Just
how did you know?"

       He was quiet and looked at me intensely. I saw an unexpected
seriousness in his eyes. Then he shrugged his shoulders and just began.
"I saw you watching our group as we walked into the pool area. For some
reason my eyes just went to you; you looked so great stretched out there.
I tried not to look at you all the time because I was afraid you'd think I
was a little strange and be very upset. However, I did look at you a lot.
You're very handsome, Warren, and you've got a real great body." He gave
me another big smile and I blushed. "I knew you were watching me very
closely, too. I just felt your eyes on me...and I liked it very much.

       "Then when you smiled at me, I knew! I just knew. I cannot
explain how I knew but I knew! For some reason I felt that you understood
me, and understood all about my sufferings...and what I'd been
through...and what I'm going through now." He began to sob. He threw his
arm around my neck and I clasped him strongly to me. I slowly and gently
rubbed his head and back.

       He began again after slowing his crying. "Then I saw you in the
lobby and we spoke. Remember?" I nodded. "You were looking at me so
seriously and so strongly that.well, I felt that you really liked me and
totally didn't care that I had only one arm. That's true isn't it?" I
nodded again. His eyes took on a deep piercing quality, like he was
looking right into me. "As strange as it seemed, I had the strongest
feeling that you actually liked...liked it a lot...that I had only one arm.
Right?" I nodded again and smiled. He smiled at me. "That's the reason I
pulled my empty sleeve out of my pants when I ran across the lobby. I knew
you'd like it."

       "Well, I'll be damned! So the kid knows I was initially drawn to
him because he was an amputee. Well, well, well. What a remarkable turn
of events. The kid knows I'm a devotee even though he probably never heard
the term. I suppose this is very good. He will not shy away then from any
of my requests - because he already knows."

       He licked his lips and it was so gorgeous and adorable that I just
want to squeeze him and squeeze him. He moved his fist to his eyes and
wiped them. I took out my handkerchief and dried his face and let him blow
his nose. "When I came up here this morning, and you were having breakfast
- you seemed very happy to see me. You were really happy - none of that
pretend stuff. You didn't try to get rid of me. But you let me stay here
and eat with you and you were so nice and kind to me - you know,
understanding and loving." He lowered his head and spoke softly. "I saw
you watching me as I prepared my muffin and ate it."

       "I love watching everything you do, Charlie."

       "Yeah, I know." He looked right at me. "And I love it when you
watch me. It's the first time since - since my father shot me that I don't
mind when someone looks at me. When other people look at me I keep
thinking they're looking at me like a freak. But when you do it I feel
that you do it because you love me. That you really love me! Does that
sound stupid, Warren?"

       "No, Charlie. It doesn't sound stupid at all. It sounds perfectly
correct - and true. I do love you. I love you very much."

       He started tearing up again. "And I love you so much
much." He hugged me closely and I delighted in the feel of him clinging to
me and sobbing on my neck.

       I continued to caress his back and neck slowly, taking my time
until he had calmed down completely. "Charlie, is it all right with you if
I touch know, your body? Stroke your arms?

       He nodded. "I think I'd really like that, Warren. I'd like that a
lot. And I know that you want to do it very much." We smiled at each
other. He glanced over at his left shoulder. "You want to squeeze my
stump, don't you?" I nodded and smiled at him. "Good. You know, the
stump's very little - not much of my arm's left. But I'd really like you
to touch it - and me."

       I moved both of my hands off his shoulders and down onto his upper
arms. I was squeezing and fondling him through the oversized, heavy tee
shirt he was wearing. His right arm was really quite muscular and seemed
well developed for a boy his age. The stump of his left arms was, as he
had said, very, very short. I guessed at less than three inches - maybe
only two. The pleasure that coursed through my body at the feel of this
boy's body was almost indescribable. I felt that I had finally met - and
fallen in love with - a true kindred soul. He was so utterly delightful -
so giving and sweet and totally accepting of me and the love that I had to

       "Nobody's touched me there since they cut it off, except for the
hospital people. I guess most people don't like stumps." However, he
began to move his arm stump slightly and I was so incredibly thrilled I had
to catch my breath. He smiled. "You like when I do that, don't you

       I had tremendous difficulty speaking. "Oh, God! Charlie. I love
when you do that."

       "I'm glad. I'm real glad." He leaned in to me as I continued to
stroke his upper right arm and his left arm stump. This boy was so
fabulously loveable, so caring, so desirable. I stood up and he wrapped
his legs around my waist. I walked into the bedroom and gently lay him
down on the bed.

       "It's time for sleep now, Charlie. We both have a busy day ahead
of us - a very busy day."

       "I know, Warren. We've a lot to do...and a lot to find out about
each other."

       "You are so right - so very right. By the way, how do you sleep?"

       "Under the blankets and with my eyes closed." He giggled at his
own joke.

       I laughed. The kid had a sense of humor. "Okay, okay. You know
what I mean!"

       He gave me a beautiful smile. "I sleep in my briefs and my tee
shirt. I used to sleep naked before the-the incident. But I didn't want
to maybe walk around in the middle of the night in a strange house naked.
What about you, Warren?"

       "I usually sleep in my birthday suit. But since this is our first
night together I think maybe we should sleep in our underwear. Okay?" He
smiled a wonderful smile at me when I said that and gave me an emphatic
nod. "Can I undress you now, Charlie?"

       He smiled at me again. "Sure. You know something Warren? You'll
be the first person to really see my body since the sh-sh-shooting - since
they had to cut off my arm and after all the surgery they had to do on me."

       "I'll be gentle, Charlie. I promise." I lightly kissed him on his
forehead and he seemed to believe what I told him. "But haven't your
teammates seen your body, or your injuries?"

       He shook his head. "No. I never undress in front of anyone.
I...I don't want them to see me and make fun of me. Or gross them out.
And I never ever undressed in front of Amy or Joe."

       He lay back and the short left sleeve of his tee shirt was almost
flat on the bed. The shape of his arm stump was apparent through the
material. I took the sleeve into my hands. Charlie got a quizzical look
on his face. I moved my hand slowly up the sleeve until I could feel the
tip of his little arm stump. Charlie gasped as he felt my hand touch his
flesh. I gasped too. It felt so marvelous - so soft, soothing and
comforting. This surprised me; I could not believe how wonderful it felt.
This small stump was smooth and warm and a total delight to the touch.

       As I continued to squeeze and rub it, Charlie began to moan his
appreciation of my attentions. "That feels wonderful, Warren. Really
wonderful! Please don't stop. I've never felt anything like this before.
I didn't think that arm...what's left of my arm...could feel this
good being rubbed." He breathed deeply. "I also didn't know that
whole body could...could feel this good."

       Obviously he liked what I was doing. He had not known the sexual
nature of his stump. I was only too happy to continue ministering to
Charlie's newly discovered passion. I noticed that the crotch area of his
loose filling jeans had developed a little mound. I smiled when I saw it.

       I slowly and soothingly rubbed Charlie's chest through his tee
shirt; I could feel every rib. He moaned his appreciation and gave me a
really nice smile.

       I knew it was time to begin showing Charlie a more exciting time.
I removed his glasses and gradually lifted his tee shirt. I thrilled at
the sight of his chest as it began to appear. He skin seemed so smooth and
lustrous. Then I noticed a few scars, and then a few more, until the
entire left side of his body seemed to be covered in scars. He lifted his
right arm and I pulled the tee shirt off.

       I sat back and looked at Charlie's body. His chest was really
quite beautiful and well developed for a boy of eleven, although I was able
to count every single rib this kid had. But the area on the left side was
crisscrossed with scars, and the remnant of his left arm too was heavily
scarred. His stump was short (as I already knew from fondling it) and was
not what I would consider beautiful. He had no hair at all in his armpits
- they were smooth and looked beautiful and oh so inviting. The shoulder
area looked so thin, as if some of the muscle of Charlie's shoulder and
upper arm had been removed in the surgery. He seemed to have a very
restricted range of motion with the stump.

       I leaned over and kissed his shoulder and then his arm stump.
Charlie let out a long moan. I kissed his stump and then began to
soothingly and lightly massage it. It felt so thin and frail in my hands -
almost delicate. I could feel the very short length of bone in the stump.
"Oooooh! That feels so-o-o-o great, Warren."

       "Thanks kid. I thought you'd like it. It's relaxing, isn't it?"

       "Yeah, it's relaxing...and also very exciting. It feels real, real
great! I never felt anything like it before."

       I continued to kiss the stump, the shoulder and the area around his
arm. I poked my tongue into the armpit of the stump and I had to admit
that Charlie tasted wonderful - a full, heady, fragrant boy aroma. I was

       When I lifted my head and looked at him again, I noticed that he
was crying. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked in my gentlest tone of

       He just shook his head, as if he were unable to speak - or didn't
want to speak. I continued to stroke his body tenderly. Finally he
collected himself. He spoke softly but with great emphasis. "I'm just so
happy, Warren. I can't remember ever being this happy in my whole life."

       "I am so very, very happy too, Charlie." I wrapped my arms around
him and pulled him to my body. I reveled in the warmth and delightful feel
of this loving and lovely child against me.

       "My body is pretty horrible looking, isn't it Warren?"

       I looked at his chest again - the superb, small nipples, the nicely
defined chest and arm muscles, the cute "outie" navel, the sprinkling of
dark chocolate color moles, the scarring, the protruding ribs. I put my
hand on his chest and let it stroke his warm flesh. "I wouldn't say that,
Charlie. Truthfully?" He nodded. "I think you look wonderful. I
absolutely adore everything I see."

       "Even this?" he asked while raising his pathetically small arm
stump slightly.

       I leaned over and kissed it again, then took it in my hands and
lovingly stroked it more. "Particularly this!" It was so delightfully
warm in my hands.

       "I can't move it much, you know. They had to remove so much of my
arm plus a lot of the muscles around it that I can't do too much with it.
They told me I could never get a prosthesis because of that."

       "Maybe you can't get a prosthesis now, but who knows what the
future will bring."

       "Did you see my back?" He sat up and I saw the terrible scarring
caused by the bullets that had struck his beautiful flesh and the scars
from the extensive surgery necessary to correct his wounds. I kissed his
back and let my lips play over the scars. His body was so warm and so
surprisingly smooth and Charlie took in a deep breath as I continued to
stroke and kiss his torso.

I returned to his beautiful chest and kissed his delightful nipples. They
were very small, very pale in color and very wonderful to feel on my lips.
They became erect as tiny little points and it was a delight. I moved my
face and mouth to his other armpit and he threw his arm wide, giving me
access to that smooth, luscious area. I was so delicious that I did not
want to move - ever!

       Then I shifted in order to kiss him. I was pretty sure that
Charlie had never been kissed by a man before, or maybe anyone else for
that matter. I put my face directly over his and we looked into each
other's eyes. I'm sure Charlie knew what I was going to do, because he
closed his eyes and puckered his lips ever so slightly.

       I lightly touch his soft, warm lips, with mine. It felt divine. I
was immediately transported to another world, the world of boy appreciation
and boy wonder and boy love. I kissed him a little harder and he responded
by pushing his lips more forcefully into mine. It was the most delightful,
all encompassing and enjoyable kiss of my experience. And so very, very

       When we broke the kiss, Charlie fluttered his eyes and smiled at
me. "Oh, wow! That was wonderful, Warren. I've never felt anything like
it in my life. It was great!" His voice got softer. "I really loved
that, Warren. It made me feel very...very special."

       "Thanks, Charlie. I cannot begin to tell you how much I enjoyed
it. You are a great kid! And you are very, very special to me."

       I removed his sneakers, sock and jeans. I saw the cute very white
cotton briefs he was wearing. His small penis was poking the material of
the briefs up into a small mound. I gently rubbed my hand over this little
mound; he took in a large breath of air, smiled and moaned. I then covered
him to his waist with the blanket. I undressed quickly down to my briefs
and got under the blanket with my wonderful Charlie. I knew he was very
tired; it had been a very emotional day for the boy. It was a highly
charged day for the both of us.

       We held each other gently, our bodies pressed together. I was
overjoyed at the warmth and love and generosity of this boy. I continued
to caress his beautiful body and his delightful arm stump. He began to
kiss me on the neck and face, and tentatively began to rub my arms and
chest. It was so tremendously captivating and wonderful to feel his small
hands seeking out different areas of my body. We fell asleep in the
other's warm and tender embrace.


       The next morning we showered together. It was at Charlie's idea
and his suggestion took me completely by surprise.

       After I told him to shower first, Charlie came up to me, threw his
arm around my waist, hugged me and said in the sweetest voice imaginable,
"Uh, Warren? Do you think that it would be, you know, would be okay if we
shower together?"

       Of course, this completely floored me. I was speechless for a few
seconds. "What made you think of that, Charlie?"

       "Well, my dad and me - we used to shower together - we did it a

       "Okay? So since you did it together with your father you now want
us to do it?"

       "Yeah! Wouldn't that be great?"

       "I suppose so," I said, not completely convinced of the wisdom of
this. But my raging cock was now in control of things. I thought about it
for a while. I tried to figure out why this man - Charlie's father -
showered with his son all the time - except. I didn't want to think about
it! "Okay, Charlie, let's shower together."

       However, it was a truly exciting experience, and I used it to
reinforce and solidify the expressions of love that Charlie and I had
shared the night before.

       I washed all of Charlie's tantalizing body and he washed most of
mine. I soaped him up and loving moved my hands all over his frame. I
marveled at his beautiful uncut boy cock and his very small ball sac; I
washed them both very lovingly and thoroughly, peeling back the foreskin to
do a really superior job.

       Charlie had definitely not yet moved into puberty; the tempting and
gorgeous mound above his little cock was still completely smooth - not one
single hair that I could feel. His rigid dick was everything I could
desire; I adored it! It was about 2-1/2 inches long and the head was
completely covered by that thick, long foreskin.

       Again, I found his body to be incredibly tantalizing. I lovingly
play with his arm stump and he seemed to adore it again. I washed under
both arms carefully and gently. I massaged his chest and back, and gave
his gorgeous ass mounds and cute crack a scrupulous washing. I delighted
in washing his legs and feet. After soaping him up painstakingly, I
returned to making love to certain parts of Charlie's body - the ones that
held a particular fascination for me. He reached his dry boy orgasm while
I simultaneously and soothingly stroked his little cock and his stump.

       Charlie was slightly hesitant when it came to touching my body. I
encouraged him to do so - touching any part that he wished - and when he
eventually, but uncertainly, put his small hand on my rampant cock, I felt
absolutely incredible. I thought I would pass out.

       As his courage increased so did his exploration of my body. I
could not believe how spectacular Charlie's attentions felt - to my chest,
ass mounds, legs, back and scrotum. He used a washrag to soap different
parts of me then held it under the stump of his arm and he used his hand to
work up the lather. I had my eyes closed as he gently washed me. He
little hand cupping and gently squeezing my balls was the final act that I
could bear; I came with an incredible rush and almost lost my balance. It
was heavenly and so incredibly rewarding.

       "You produce a lotta the white stuff, Warren. That's cum, isn't

       "Yes, Charlie. That's the male sperm, the stuff that can make
babies when it's done...when a man has sex with a woman."

       "I don't make any of that, do I?"

       "No, not yet. You will after you reach puberty. In about a year
or so."

       "Really? I'm really going to reach puberty?" I nodded. "'Cause
some of the guys said that I wouldn' know, that I wouldn't ever
reach puberty because...because of my injuries and because I have only one

       I had to laugh. "Charlie, that is just not so! Don't believe
those guys. They're just teasing you and trying to make you feel bad.
That's all!"

       "My dad's dick - his, uh, penis - was smaller than yours, Warren.
And he wasn't cut - you know, circumcised - like you are. I'm not cut

       "I've noticed. You have a really beautiful penis, Charlie. I love

       "I love yours, too. You are so manly - so really handsome and
manly, Warren. I love everything about your body...and you."

       I blushed and thanked him. "And I think you know that I truly
worship everything about yours."

       We dried each other. The towels were big enough so that I could
wrap Charlie up completely in one of them. He was so adorable and I
grasped him and held him closely. He put his arm around me and hugged me
in return. "This is wonderful, Warren," he whispered. "I feel so great!"

       I smiled at him and kissed his luscious waiting lips. He smiled so
sweetly at me; I lifted him onto my lap as I sat on a small bench. We
kissed again and it was as so incredibly delightful. Charlie was a
wonderful person in addition to being a most marvelous and loving boy, and
a superb companion and friend.


       I left Charlie with his group and went off to my first meeting of
the day. I knew that his team would be playing at 11 o'clock and I wanted
to be there more than anything. However, things became very complicated at
the meeting and I could not get out until noon. Ultimately, I'm glad I
stayed, because everything fell in my favor and the contracts were
eventually signed.

       When I finally got to the game there were only eleven minutes left
to play and the score was tied at two all. I saw Charlie sitting on the
bench; he looked so cute in his uniform and special sports glasses.

       With under five minutes left, the star midfielder for Charlie's
team came down with a terrible muscle cramp and had to be taken out of the
game. The coach had no alternative but to put Charlie in. I cheered him
as he trotted on to the field. He turned, saw me, waved and gave me a big
smile. The opposing players made comments about the "one-armed wonder" and
"lets have a short arms inspection" and "being shorthanded". I'm sure
Charlie heard the comments but he only continued to smile and wave to me.
I was so happy for him. His teammates patted him on the back, welcoming
him into he game.

       The game proceeded, the clock continued to count down and the teams
marched up and down the field. Suddenly there were cheers and I saw
Charlie and one of his teammates break away from the crowd and begin
scampering towards their opponent's goal. Charlie's teammate, probably the
best player on the team, had control of the ball and was racing towards the
net. Charlie was on his right side, and when the goalkeeper came out to
stop the breakaway, the kid passed the ball beautifully to my Charlie, who
slammed it into the goal. The team erupted and everyone piled on Charlie
as the game clock ran out.

       It was a fairytale ending and I was so incredibly proud of and
happy for my wonderful Charlie. His teammates carried him off the field,
along with Fred, who had set up the goal. When Charlie saw me on the edge
of the crowd, he got off the shoulders of his friends and ran to me. I
lifted him high in the air and swung him around. He giggled and threw his
head back. I hugged him tightly to my body then set him on the ground. He
was absolutely ecstatic!

       Amy walked over and gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek and shook my
hand. Even the coach managed a smile and hugged Charlie. Everyone was
bubbling with joy and good cheer. The team had made it to the finals in
their category and the game would be played the day after tomorrow at 11

       "Will you be here for the game, Warren?" he asked breathlessly.

       "Wouldn't miss it for the world! But maybe I should come late,
like I did today." He laughed and hugged me around the waist with his arm.

       I lifted my beautiful enchanting boy.and
hugged him tightly. We beamed at each other and were totally absorbed in
one another.

       "I love you, Warren. I love you so much," he whispered into my

       "And I absolutely adore you, Jean-Charles Rene Caston. My
wonderful Charlie - you are my man!" He gave me a great big smile and
kissed me again.

       The team captain walked over and gave Charlie the game ball. He
positively glowed with pride. And I reflected those warm feeling for my
wonderful boy.

       Slowly the noise of the exuberant kids and parents began to fade.

       I suddenly felt that I was alone in this vast opened space,
surrounded by the beauties and stillness of nature. As I looked around at
the trees bordering the field on that beautiful autumn day, the warmth and
glow and feelings of love in my heart were reflected in the golden yellows,
the warm oranges and the vibrant reds of the foliage. It was a magnificent
time of year.

       Autumn had always been my favorite season of the year. Maybe it
was because I had been born in October. Now, with Charlie as a most
important and integral - and loving - part of my life, I knew that our
future would be an amazing one - year after year - a challenging and
fulfilling time of great opportunities and even greater devotion.

                             The End

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Nifty - Gay - Adult Youth - Golden Boyhood Days