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Related post: Kerry body { margin: 0; background-color: #D0D8CD; scrollbar-base-color: #C9D1C6; color: #000000; } A:link { text-decoration: underline; color: #696A97; } A:hover { text-decoration: underline; color: #CC3300; } A:active { text-decoration: none; color: #CC3300; } A:visited { text-decoration: underline; color: #696A67; } p, li, dt, dd { font-family: "Arial", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: left; color: #000000; } pre { color: #000000; } h1 { font-family: "Arial", sans-serif; font-size: 15pt; text-align: center; color: #4A735A; } h2 { font-family: "Arial", sans-serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: left; color: #4A735A; } h3 { font-family: "Arial", sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left; color: #000000; } tleft { margin-left: 6px; font-family: "Tahoma", sans-serif; font-size: 8pt; text-align: left; } tright { margin-right: 6px; font-family: "Tahoma", sans-serif; font-size: 8pt; text-align: right; } hr { height: 1px; border: 1px solid #4A735A; } tmain { background-color: #EFF2EB; border: 1px solid #4A735A; border-collapse: collapse; } tdark { background-color: #E8EBE4; border: 1px solid #4A735A; border-collapse: collapse; } Kerry KERRY By sbb75043 DISCLAIMERS Although this story is based on actual events, enough "poetic license" has been taken with names and descriptions of characters, merging of characters, locations, sequence of events, and the like, that it must be regarded as a work of fiction. If, in describing these characters, I have described any actual person, living or dead, fine teen latinas porn I assure you that this is entirely unintentional and coincidental, and I ask for your understanding and forgiveness. This is the story of the love between a young boy and an older man--how they met, how their relationship developed, and how it stands now. Although there was no sexual relationship between them in real life, and therefore none in this story, there were situations and conversations of a sexual nature which may offend some readers. Certainly there will be those who disagree with some of the ideas I describe here. If this kind of story is not to your liking, now is a good time to look elsewhere. This is the only warning you will receive. As will become obvious to the reader, I do not believe that sexual relations between adults and children is ever appropriate. It is possible to have a relationship which is just as warm, loving, and fulfilling without any sexual elements. I know that some sexual relationships exist between adults and children, and I will concede that in a very few cases they may be based upon genuine love and affection for each other, but I contend that they are still inappropriate and can still lead to lasting emotional confusion and pain. I do not presume that my opinion alone will make any great amount of difference in the way such people live their lives, but I most earnestly urge you, if you are in such a relationship, please terminate the sexual aspects of it immediately! Believe it or not, you can still express all the love you feel, and can receive all the love that is offered, without sex, and your relationship can be just as fulfilling as it ever was, but it will be much less destructive in the long run. This is the first, and probably the last, story I will ever write. I own the copyright, and all rights are reserved. Feel free to download it for your own personal use, but do not alter it in any way, or post or publish it elsewhere without my permission. If you like it, please let me know. If you don't like it, I am still interested in your constructive criticisms. Like almost everyone else, I do not appreciate "flames," and will joyously ignore and delete any that come my way. Chapter 1 It was the first Wednesday in August, and choir practice had run long that evening. It had been doing that a lot lately, what with preparing for the special Christmas music (some day I will get used to practicing Christmas music in August). Also, the new soprano soloist had needed a lot of extra time. She had a beautiful voice, when she could control it, but absolutely no confidence in it, and just needed a little extra attention and encouragement, I guess. As Director of Music, I had to do all I could to help her, but there were times when nothing seemed to work. This evening had been one of those times. I wasn't ready to give up on her--far from it--but I was tired, and I was frustrated. Oh, well, next week will be better, I told myself. Also, I had stayed after practice to work on a particularly troublesome section of music on the organ, and to set up my registration pistons for the next Sunday service. I had promised one of the parishioners--a friend of mine--that I would play his favorite organ piece as the postlude that Sunday. It had been a while since I had performed the Widor Toccata, and my playing was still a little rusty in places. Oh, well, at least I could practice at home the next couple of days. Come Sunday morning, I would be ready. I liked to think I always was. And the minister had asked me at the last minute to come up with an accompaniment to a poem he had found and thought would make a good anthem. It showed promise, and I told him I would do my best. I would have to call the organ tuner first thing tomorrow morning--it was pubiscent teen porn about time for the general tuning of the organ to be done, and I had noticed some of the reeds were beginning to falter. I had a lot on my mind, and I was tired. I went out through the front door of the church and locked the door behind me. It was already dark, and there was never enough light in the parking lot. I noticed from a distance that my car was the only one left; the place looked deserted. I must be keeping late hours, I thought--even the custodian had already left, and he was known to keep very late hours at the church. As I approached my car, through the windshield I could see the figure of a man sitting in the driver's seat, and he appeared to be asleep. There had been a few auto burglaries and thefts in the neighborhood recently, and I was immediately angry. I stormed over to my car, ripped open the door, grabbed the intruder by the collar, and jerked him out of the car. "What the hell are you doing in my car?" I demanded angrily. God, I was mad! "Please, Sir, I was trying to do you a favor. I noticed that your car door wasn't locked, so I sat down in the car so that no one would try to steal it. I guess I just fell asleep." It was only then that I realized it was a young boy. In the dim light, I couldn't make out his features. His clothes appeared to be a little baggy on him, and he sounded like he was, indeed, tired. I became aware of a slight body odor on him, but nothing out of the ordinary for a boy his age--from his voice, he appeared to be about ten or twelve years old. But I was still nude asian teens angry. I know you have to make allowances for kids--they haven't yet developed mature judgment; but I couldn't let him think he had acted appropriately--it could get him into trouble. "Well, what would you have done if someone HAD tried to steal it--try to scare him free teen thumb porn to death with your snoring? A security guard who sleeps on the job is fired on the spot, more likely than not." "I am sorry, Sir. I guess I just was more tired than I thought." Since he was just a boy, and he seemed genuinely sorry, I calmed down and decided to just forget it. "Okay, porn stars teen I'll let it go this time. But from now on, if you see a car that is not locked, either leave it alone, lock it if you know whose car it is, or try to find the owner if you think you know where to look. Getting into someone else's car without permission can get you into a lot of trouble. You understand?" "Yes, Sir." I threw my music satchel into the back seat and started to get into the car. The boy seemed like he was going to cry, but was determined not to. I thought I heard a low whimper, and started to wonder if my initial anger had scared him more than I thought. As I turned back to look at him, I heard him speak, barely above a whisper, trying but really failing to appear in control. "Sir, since I at least tried to do you a favor, would you do me one?" "You can ask," I said, my voice somewhat mellower than before. "May I come home with you tonight? I promise I'll be good, I won't make any trouble, and I'll leave in the morning, but I don't have a place to sleep tonight, and I am awfully tired." "What do you mean, you don't have a place to sleep tonight? Where are your parents?" "My stepfather kicked me out of the house three days ago. My mom died last year." "What about your father?" "He's dead, too." A million questions started whirling through my mind as I grasped the enormity of what this child had asked of me. Does he even realize what he is asking me to do? Is this kid telling me the truth about his parents? Is he a "Trojan horse" for some gang that he wants to let inside my house after he gets in? Is he really a runaway? And if he is, what would happen if the cops caught me with him in my car, to say nothing about in my house? What kind of kid is this? Can I trust him? Can I trust myself? I must have taken too long to answer, because he started to whimper. "Please, Sir," he pleaded. I could see even in the dim light that his eyes were glistening, and he seemed so small and pathetic in those baggy clothes, and it was obvious he was going to cry in less than 30 seconds. Call me an old softy if you want, but I couldn't keep my heart from melting. I know there are laws governing what to do with an abandoned or lost child, but I had no earthly idea at that point who I was supposed to contact, and it was almost 10:00 p.m.--they would probably be closed anyhow. (I know, I was tired myself right then.) Not being able to come up with a better solution on the spur of the moment, I made my decision. "Sure, hop in." The boy seemed too tired to smile, but he managed to anyway, and I began to feel better about my decision. He climbed into the passenger seat and immediately scooted over against me and leaned his head against my shoulder. He was asleep in less than half a minute. I started the engine and pulled into the driveway. There was not a lot of traffic, but enough to keep me in the lot for about a minute before I pulled into the street. My house is about five minutes away from the church, but I started thinking: If this kid was kicked out of the house three days ago, I'll be willing to bet he hasn't had much to eat in those three days. I turned the opposite direction from my house and pulled into the drive-through of a burger place, apparently just before it closed. I ordered two baked chicken sandwiches (I thought they might sit better on an empty stomach than a greasy hamburger) and some potato salad. Then I headed home. My street was well lighted, but my house was dark. I waited for the garage door to open, pulled into the garage, killed the engine, and hit the button for the automatic door opener to close. The only light in the garage was from the door opener, and it was still so dark I couldn't make out the boy's features, but he was still sound asleep with his head on my shoulder. I shook him gently to wake him up. "Wake up, Tiger, we're home." He opened his eyes, but was still obviously not wide awake. I got out of the car and grabbed the sandwiches and my music satchel, unlocked the back door, turned on the kitchen light, and put the sandwiches on the counter. I waited a short time for the boy to come in, but when he didn't, I returned to the car. He was still sitting in the front seat, looking very tired and listless. He was apparently half asleep and didn't know what to do. "Come on, Tiger, you need to get something to eat." He scooted over the driver's seat toward me, but he seemed to be in no condition to walk into a strange house on his own, so I slid my arms around his shoulders and under his knees and picked him up. He put his arms around me and buried his face into my neck, totally exhausted. As I carried him into the house, I noticed that he was very light--I doubted if he weighed seventy pounds. I managed to get him seated in a dining room chair. "I stopped and got you a sandwich and some potato salad, but what would you like to drink? I have diet Coke, root beer, iced tea, water, or milk." "Root beer, please," he said. He seemed to perk up when I indicated he could have something to eat. In the brighter light of the dining room, I could see that his face was dirty, as were his clothes. He needed to get cleaned up before he ate, but he was obviously much too tired, and I could bet that he was so hungry he wouldn't notice anything but the food, so I opened his root beer, put his sandwich on a plate, and set his food in front of him, then got mine and sat across the table from him. He started to ea
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