Рок Верхтер

Sander

Chapters 7-8

The working week after Sander's first sleepover went by in a flash, or so it seemed. The boy's energy seemed to hang around the house like some intoxicating fumes. Intoxicating in a good way, mind you. That effect was even strengthened by the note my little prince had left on his desk, which was now attached to the fridge by two magnets, so I could read it every time I was in the kitchen looking for something to eat. It was almost symbolic, too: my appetite was inspired by my hunger for Sander's company.

I didn't hear from the boy throughout the week. The tournament had been the conclusion of the soccer season, so there were no more rides to the training grounds to pick him up and drive him home. It was only when Friday arrived that I started getting a bit anxious. Before sending him home, Sander and I had agreed to not tell his grandmother about how we'd spent the morning together. But it wasn't unlikely that in his enthusiasm, Sander might have hinted at his being naked the whole time. His grandmother new and approved of his sleeping habits and we had more or less agreed on allowing him to do so during sleepovers, but there had been no mention of what Sander was permitted to do outside of his bedroom.

It was a text message from Annie, which I received while I was shopping for food for the weekend on my way back from work, that hinted at the lady knowing more about what had occurred during Sander's first overnight visit. 'We need to talk' was all the message said, but I could easily detect the seriousness of her request-slash-order. I texted her back, saying I would be home in an hour and that I was expecting her. It was with a fair amount of fright that I sat in the living room, waiting for Sander's grandmother to arrive. So, unlike before, the ringing doorbell was not a sound I welcomed warmly.

Still, I got up from the chair and went to the door to let Annie in. To my surprise, Sander stood by her side, dressed in a pair of blue faded jeans and a green hoodie. That made it difficult to judge what Annie's intentions were and what exactly she wanted to talk about. I tried to see Sander's presence as a positive thing, but because I'm generally pessimistic, I decided to make it out as Annie's kind offer to grant me a chance to say goodbye to her grandson.

I invited Annie and Sander to take a seat and offered them a drink. When we were all together in the lounge with our chosen beverages, with Sander unexpectedly close to me, I waited for Annie to share what was on her mind. She did so after taking a sip of her coffee.

"You're probably wondering why we're here," Annie started.

"I am," I confessed. "But I expect this has something to do with last weekend."

"It does," Sander's grandmother confirmed. "Sander told me everything you two did together."

Not quite knowing what everything meant, I decided to let her explain. "Is it something I did, then?"

The woman shook her head and answered: "It's rather something you didn't do. Sander told me about sneaking into your bed during the night. You should have told him not to do that."

"I didn't see any harm in him doing that," I said honestly, wondering if she also knew what her grandson had been wearing when he snuck into bed with me. "It didn't bother me. Besides, I only found out until morning when it was time to get up, so he didn't even wake me."

"I'm sorry I did that," Sander apologized with a guilty look on his little face. "I won't do it again."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I quickly shushed him. "You did nothing wrong, okay?"

"Really?" the boy asked.

"Really," I nodded, squeezing his hand in comfort.

The boy smiled back at me and held onto my hand, showing me we were on the same side. Of course we both knew what really happened that Sunday morning. I then turned to his grandmother and said: "I actually don't see where him sneaking into bed with me could be wrong."

"It's not," she sighed. "But Sander told me how you spent the next hour or so in bed, chatting and cuddling with him."

"We did do that," I admitted. "You know as well as I do how affectionate Sander is."

"Of course I know," she said, rather angrily. "He's my grandson. You're just a friend of his."

"I see," I nodded understandingly, feeling a bit offended to be seen as 'just a friend'. "So because I'm just a friend, you'd rather I push him away next time he wants to cuddle."

"No," she said. "It just doesn't seem… normal for a man like yourself to get so close with a boy who's not even related to him."

Finally the truth came out. What Annie was trying to say was that she thinks that I had a second agenda for my friendship with her grandson. Tricky situation, because she wasn't too far from the truth. I might not intend to have sex with the boy, our cuddling that morning had been a lot more personal than mere cuddling. Sander's being naked practically all morning and me rubbing his little butt were close to being sexual. I had to choose my words carefully from now on and make sure I got that nasty idea out of her head. I went with the offensive approach… I had to be make sure that what Annie and I talked about next didn't raise too many questions with Sander, though.

"Oh, now I see where this is going," I quickly said. "You think I want more than Sander's friendship."

"You already have more than that," Annie said. "Sander loves you to bits and I can tell you feel the same way about him. I just don't know what kind of love it is you feel for him."

"You're right about me loving him to bits," I said, briefly looking at my Little Prince, who blushed a bit when he heard me say that. "Sander's a special boy and I want to give him every bit of attention he deserves. That's why I would never be able to push him away if he wants to cuddle. And I'll admit I enjoyed it just as much as he did. I know the boy trusts me almost blindly and I would never do anything to damage his trust."

"Then I suppose you'd do exactly the same if he showed up beside you in bed next time," Annie said.

"Most likely," I nodded. "I thought it was quite nice to wake up and find Sander next to me. It happened so spontaneously. I'd have broken his little heart if I'd told him not to do it. That's the last thing I want to do."

"Would you ever ask him to spend the night in bed with you?" Annie wanted to know.

"No," I said honestly. "He's got his own room to go to. If he ever gets to sleepover again, I'll send him to his own bed, so he can get a good night's rest. But he's always welcome to come into my room in the morning."

"Would you ever do anything besides cuddling?" Annie finally asked, wanting to know if I had any ill intentions with her grandson.

"Well, I know Sander's quite ticklish," I joked, poking Sander's side to prove my point. "But other than tickling and cuddling, there's nothing I would do."

Annie sighed deeply and thought over my last answer for a bit. She looked back and forth between the boy and me, thinking about what she'd decide. I knew quite well my friendship with Sander was at stake here.

In the end she smiled at me and said: "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Something tells me your love for Sander is more than what you just told me, but as you said, my grandson trusts you blindly. Sander's usually a good judgement of character and he's never been happier than since the day he met you. I don't want to break his little heart, either, so I will allow you to be friends with him. All I'm asking is that you won't damage the trust I have in you, just as you wouldn't do for Sander."

It was my turn to sigh. "Thank you, Annie," I said. "I promise I will never hurt Sander in any way. I wouldn't forgive myself if I ever did that."

"That's all I need to know," Annie finally declared. She then turned to her grandson, who was smiling broadly. He was clever enough to understand what had just transpired between his grandmother and me and that he could still be friends with me. "Now, then, sweetie, why don't you show me that room of yours."

Happy to be allowed to show off the bedroom he helped decorating, he deftly slid off the couch and told his grandmother to follow him upstairs. I decided to let the two have a private moment, allowing Sander to proudly show his granny what a great job he'd done. I carried the cups and glasses we used for our drinks during our emotionally rather heavy chat into the kitchen, not bothering to clean them, and decided to call it a day as soon as my friendly neighbors had gone back home. When they came back downstairs, Sander climbed onto my lap and hugged me tightly. He seemed extremely excited about something.

"So, my Little Prince. Did your grandmother like your room?" I asked him.

"Uhuh, yep," the boy nodded cheerfully and then grinned cheekily. "Guess what?"

"What? Does she want to keep it to herself?"

"No, silly," he giggled, slapping my shoulder playfully. "Guess again!"

Not having a clue, I just shrugged. "I don't know, kiddo. What's going on?"

"I'm staying here tonight!" he announced almost victoriously. "Isn't that great?!"

"It sure is, buddy," I smiled. I meant it, too. This sure was a nice turn of events.

"I thought it was the best way to make up for scaring him, earlier," Annie explained. "Sander has grown really attached to you and it would have been wrong to separate you. I'd jumped to conclusions too quickly."

"I'm glad you were willing to discuss things with me," I said gratefully. "I would have felt just as bad about losing Sander, especially if I could have prevented it by not being so indulgent."

"I'm positive you will know when to say 'no' to him, Robert," she said. "I think your friendship with him is strong enough to overcome any rejections or setbacks."

"I'll make sure not to disappoint you," I practically swore. "So when do you want him back home?"

"At lunch, tomorrow," Annie said. "It's a Saturday morning, so I'll be tutoring a few students. Since the soccer season is over, he'd get bored at home anyway."

"Okay, then. I'm pretty sure we'll find something to do," I said and then poked the boy's sides. "Won't we, buddy?"

"Yep, we will," he nodded, giggling at the ticklish effect of my fingers poking him. When the effect wore off, he got up, clasping his crotch and hopping on his little feet. "I gotta go pee real bad!"

"You know where it is, buddy," I smiled. "You don't have to ask if you need the bathroom. Hurry up, before it's too late.

Sander quickly rushed upstairs to relieve himself. Annie got up as well and announced her going home. When her grandson returned from answering the call of nature, she gave him a big hug and told me to behave while he was with me. Sander of course promised to be a good boy and then gave her a loving goodnight kiss. My Little Prince and I then stood by the door, saying our goodbyes to Annie.

"What do we do now?" Sander asked as soon as his grandmother was out of sight.

"Not much, I'm afraid," I said. "It is getting a bit late. Why don't we watch tv for a bit, see if we can find anything good to watch."

"Oh, okay," my little friend just said. "You do have some snacks, right?"

"Sure I do," I smirked. "Go check the kitchen, I'm sure you'll find something you like."

Sander did as I suggested, while I sat down and zapped through some channels. Besides a football match (qualifier for the World Cup), there wasn't anything on that I found interesting. When my guest reappeared, holding a bag of salted peanuts and a glass of Ice Tea, he flopped down right next to me. He agreed to watch the footy for a bit and got comfy, kicking off his sneakers and shuffling as close to me as he could, his right arm draped over my belly. The bag of nuts was strategically placed on the other side of me, so he could easily reach for the snacks, without having to let go of me. That made it perfectly clear that it didn't matter what we were watching, as long as he got to sit close to me.

At half time, Sander looked up at me, yawning. "I'm tired," he said.

"I can tell," I smiled. "Why don't you go hop into bed? I'll come tuck you in in five minutes."

"Okay," he nodded, getting up slowly, reluctant to let go off me. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Although that was a tempting idea, I decided to be the responsible adult, but not without giving him some options that would make him happy, after all.

"It's better if you get into your own bed, buddy," I told him. "I'm gonna watch the rest of the game, so I'd probably wake you up when I go to bed, myself."

"Oh, okay," he sighed, genuinely disappointed.

"That doesn't mean you can't join me when you have to get up in the middle of the night to pee, or something," I then said, caressing his arm. "I'd be happy to wake up right next to you, like I did last time."

Sander's face instantly lit up again, happy with the prospect of getting to spend of his Saturday morning in bed with me. I'd already figured out that was why he'd asked to sleep in my bed in the first place. I had enjoyed the way Sander and I had spent the first moments of that Sunday morning and I was looking forward to do that again, just as much as he was.

I patted his thigh and said: "Now, go on upstairs and brush your teeth. I'll be with you in a bit to tuck you in."

"Okay," the munchkin simply replied.

I watched Sander as he clambered of the couch and slowly headed up the stairs. I picked up the remainder of the peanuts and carried them and the other stuff we used into the kitchen. I then climbed the stairs as well and headed into my boy's bedroom. It was still empty. I decided to sit down on the bed and wait for Sander to return from the bathroom, where I heard him gurgle and spit.

A few moments later my Little Prince walked into the room and smiled at me. "You're too early to tuck me in, Uncle Rob," he said. "I'm not ready for bed yet."

"Well, then, best get to it, huh," I smiled at him.

"Yep," he nodded.

It was only when he started taking his sweater off that I realized that in Sammy's book, getting ready for bed means taking his clothes off. I had seen the boy naked, of course, but I didn't know if he would mind me being there when he sheds his clothes.

"Do you want me to step out for a minute so you can get ready?" I asked, wanting to give him some privacy if he needed it.

"Why? You already know what I look like," he just shrugged, holding his sweater halfway up his chest. "I don't mind you watching me take my clothes off."

"Okay," I smiled. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Cool," he just said and carried on where he left off. Standing in front of me, he pulled his hoodie over his head and then threw it over the back of the chair that stood next to his desk. He then continued to take off the red t-shirt he was wearing underneath, asking: "What are we gonna do tomorrow?"

Seeing Sander reveal his body again had me staring again. Luckily I wasn't completely focused on his bare skin yet, so I heard his question loud and clear. "I don't know, Sander," I shrugged. "We've got the whole morning to ourselves. Any ideas?"

"Not really," he said as he undid the button of his jeans. He slid the trousers down underneath his buns and then sat down next to me to take them all the way off, leaving him in just a pair of plain white briefs and dark blue socks. He looked me right in the eye, hesitating to make his suggestion and then almost whispered: "I liked what we did last time. I mean, if that's okay with you."

I smiled lovingly at him, knowing he simply wanted to do anything that would involve me touching and holding him. The unique physical closeness we'd shared had been the perfect way to start the day. It was something reserved between my Little Prince and me and in all honesty, I was hoping he would come back for more. I was not about to let him down.

"That means cuddling, tickling and playing the bongo drums, then," I said while I watching him slip off his socks. He grinned naughtily when he heard me sum up tomorrow's activities and I reached out to rub his bare back. I leaned in and whispered in his ear as if to make sure it would be our little secret: "I liked that, too."

Sander got up from the bed to put his jeans and socks on the chair with his sweater and t-shirt. He then looked over his shoulder with a look of a little devil. "You forgot chasing the little piggy," he giggled and then swept me off my feet by pulling his undies down to his knees and wiggling his now bare buns, only an arm's length in front of me. "Look, still no curly tail," he almost chanted.

"You little rascal," I chuckled as I watched him standing there before me, acting silly and being naughty the way I know he would only do for me.

The kid clearly wanted to play and I was not going to deny him that. I reached out, grabbed him by his waist and flung him next to me on the bed. As he tried to break free (not convincingly), I pushed him flat on his back and dug my fingers right into his armpits, commencing a tickle fest that had Sander rolling and screaming around on the bed wildly. After a couple of minutes, the boy surrendered, begging for mercy, completely out of breath.

As Sander lay there flat on his back, his feet over my lap with his undies still halfway down his legs, I couldn't help but looking up and down his naked body, as always amazed by the sheer beauty of him. My eyes went slowly down his perfectly shaped chest, which was going up and down fast as he regained his breath after the tickle fest. Further down his belly, which was very ticklish and very soft to the touch.

This ultimately led me to the most delicate parts of his young body. Like the week before, the effect of our brief spell of roughhousing was evident. Sander's penis stood at full mast and I had to really fight back the urge to reach out and touch it. Somehow I had a feeling he wouldn't mind if I did, but I'd already set my limits at rubbing his bare backside, which was already a treat in itself. Touching his privates would inevitably complicate things and raise the boy's curiosity. Questions about 'stiffies' would come soon enough, but I wanted to put that off as long as possible.

My staring had created an awkward silence in the boy's room, but because Sander didn't move a muscle as he lay there before me, I could tell it didn't bother him much. It was only when I looked him in the eyes again that he broke the silence.

"When you're done staring, I'd like to go to sleep, now," he chuckled, amused by how much attention I was paying to his appearance again.

I reached out and brushed a strand of his blonde hair away from his forehead. "Oops! Sorry, buddy," I smiled.

The boy returned the smile and briefly sat upright to slip his underwear all the way off. Before lying back down, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug and kissed me on the cheek. "I love you, Uncle Rob," he practically whispered as he laid back down.

I got up from his bed and pulled the sheets over his nakedness, tucking him to make him as comfy as possible. Satisfied, I kneeled down beside the bed and leaned over him to give him a big wet goodnight kiss on his forehead. "I love you too, my Little Prince," I said as I looked into his droopy eyes. "Sweet dreams!"

"'nite!" Sander yawned.

Silently I closed the door to Sander's room, where I know my special guest would be snoozing soundly in no time. I went downstairs to watch the remainder of the footy match, thinking about how this evening had turned out. I couldn't see what had happened as anything but a test from Sander's grandmother. Obviously and not illogically, the boy's stories about how we'd spent our time together last time had gotten her worried. So it wasn't much of a surprise to find her on my doorstep, wanting to know what had happened and how it came to be that I had been rubbing her grandson's posterior.

From her enquiry, it was clear to see that she'd drawn a few possible conclusions of her own after she found out I'd had my hands all over Sander's bare backside. I was grateful to her for at least giving me a chance to explain my motives and to try and to bar out some of the possibilities she had figured out. I'm pretty sure part of what she'd thought to be my motivations still stood firm, but luckily and with the help of a very loyal young friend, those motivations no longer excluded me from her grandson's life.

I'm quite positive Annie knows I feel more than just friendship for Sander. Heck, she pretty much said so, even if she didn't say it word for word. Her wish for me to be honest about my feelings with Sander was justified. Telling Sander I loved him more deeply than he probably imagined was on the top of my to-do list. All the topic needed was a moment where Sander and I could talk. What the come-out of that talk would be, I could not predict, because I realized that it wouldn't be easy for a boy as young as Sander to really comprehend. If he needs it, I'd gladly give him all the time it takes for him to let what I tell him seep in. It would be his decision if he wants to keep our friendship alive or not. We had grown very close in quite a short time, though, and I expect the bond between us to be strong enough to overcome something so emotionally heavy laden.

I went to bed right after the football game broadcast. Because I'd done all my serious pondering during the game, I could now think about something better: the sweet little boy sleeping just across the hallway who'd become the most important part of my life. As I laid on my bed, mentally replaying his silly 'no-curly-tail' act, my imagination wandered off into the dark corners of my boy crazy mind. In my fantasy, I not only tickled the naked boy, I also did those things I vowed myself not to do. In my dreams, my hands did touch those most delicate parts of Sander's body and the boy happily returned the favor.

The effect of those dreams was a mixture of first ecstasy, followed by guilt. The guilt lingered the longest, virtually hitting myself on the head for even thinking about having a sexual relationship with Sander. It proved all the more how difficult it will be to not let things get irreparably out of hand. Those were the last thoughts in my mind before I fell asleep.

***

It was an unusual sounds that woke me up the following morning. I was laying on my side and the little noises came from behind me. My eyes adjusted to the daylight seeping in through a crack between the curtains, allowing myself to slowly wake up. That's when I realized who was responsible for that yet unidentified swooshing sound that repeated itself rhythmically. I turned on my back and was welcomed by the most welcome view.

"Good morning, Little Prince," I whispered, not wanting to startle my buddy.

Upon hearing my voice, Sander briefly looked away from the comic book he was reading. "Morning," he greeted me with a warm smile. He then immediately continued reading, seemingly enthralled by the story.

Even more obvious than the week before, my guest seemed to be perfectly comfortable. As I observed him, something I'll always love doing, I was happy to see how he'd made himself at home. Apparently, some time before I woke, Sander had gone downstairs to get himself something to read and had then installed himself on my bed. He lay next to me, upside down and flat on his belly. His little feet were bouncing on the pillow in a steady rhythm, explaining the origin of the sound that had woken me from my sleep. Being on top of the covers, he rewarded me with impeccable view of his bare backside, the cheeks of his little butt flexing with the up and down movement of his feet.

Waking up next to the most important person in my life and seeing him so at ease made this Saturday morning a precious moment. The sheer boyish innocence radiating from Sander made my resolve to keep our relationship free of any grownup complexities. Still, I couldn't resist reaching out for the silky softness of my little friend's skin.

"Sleep well?" I asked silently, gently letting my hand glide up and down the back of his thigh.

"Yeah," he nodded, briefly looking away from the comic book.

He shuffled a bit closer to me, pressing his leg against me and keeping his little feet still. That was enough proof to me that he appreciated the touching. I knew that if I wanted his full attention I would have to take things up a notch. I moved my hand to his other leg and let it travel up slowly and past his hip. There, I ventured towards the tender softness of his bare back and then brought my hand back down until it reached the suppleness of his right butt cheek.

Although he tried his best, Sander quickly lost his interest in the comic book he was reading. Only after a couple of minutes of feeling my hand following the curves of his delicious little butt, he moved the story aside. He purred appreciatively, not unlike a kitten, and looked back at me over his shoulder with a contented smile.

"Feels nice," he hummed.

I smiled back at him and said: "Well, I had to do something to get your attention."

"Hehe, silly," he giggled cutely and then grinned naughtily. He rolled over on his side, placing his left foot on the bed and looked down at his privates, saying: "Look what happened when you were rubbing my butt."

What happened was clear to see: Sander's penis was hard as a nail. Obviously, any shyness he'd had the week before about having a stiffie had gone, which I could only applaud. The fact that he had connected his penis growing hard with my rubbing his backside was new, however. I was well aware that the revelation might arise some questions with my young friend. But I was not about to say more than necessary before he popped those questions.

With his little maneuver, my hand had moved from his butt to his hip. I couldn't help but stare at his genitals, which I found perfectly proportioned for a boy only a few months shy of ten years old. Luckily I snapped out of my revery quickly enough to avoid the moment to become awkward. I caressed his hip gently and let my eyes wander up his belly and chest till they met his, which were looking right at me, expecting me to say something.

"You really are a beautiful boy, my little prince," I told him. Before he could react in any way, I held out my arms invitingly and said: "Now why don't you come here and let me give you a proper good morning hug."

A broad smile appeared on Sander's little face, shining brighter than any ray of sunlight. Whether it was because I told him he was beautiful or because I was offering him a big bear hug, I can't tell, but it had made him terribly happy. Within seconds he turned around 180 degrees and climbed onto me, letting himself practically melt into me. He wrapped his little arms around me, kissed me warmly on the cheek and then laid his head in the nook of my neck. I embraced him firmly, my hands skating over the smooth skin of his bare back. I kissed the top of his head, burying my nose in his slightly messy blonde hair to inhale his boyish scent.

We held onto each other for a couple of minutes, my hands slow drifting over up and down his backside, occasionally following the delicate curve of his butt cheeks. We didn't utter a single word until the need for a bathroom visit became urgent. Besides that, the physical closeness with Sander and the feel of his naked skin was having the same effect on me as my rubbing his butt had on the boy. That bothered me a bit and I didn't want to risk my little friend to discover it. So, with regret, I gently pushed Sander away from me, silently announcing my need to go pee.

I stayed in the bathroom a bit longer than necessary for a simple emptying of the bladder, but I wanted the signs of my state of arousal to be completely gone before I joined Sander again. So I took my time to splash some cold water over my face and to regain my composure. Once I was fairly sure my arousal was no longer showing, I returned to the bedroom, where I found Sander sprawled on the bed, flat on his back. He didn't notice me enter the room, because he was back to reading the comic book he'd smuggled up earlier. But I quickly noticed it wasn't the story that had his attention.

He was lying on his belly again, this time with his legs flat on the bed and spread a little. He used his left hand to flip the pages, his right hand was stuck underneath him. His hips were sliding up and down… Only slightly, but enough for me to notice. It didn't take rocket science to know my little friend was playing with himself and I thought the sight before me was quite sexy. Sander probably wasn't even aware of me knowing what he was doing and I decided to leave him in peace. Quietly, I left the room, taking a fresh set of clothes for the day and headed to the bathroom to get dressed. I then went downstairs to fix the two of us a hearty breakfast with French toast and hot chocolate milk.

Sander joined me in the kitchen about ten minutes later. He was wearing his bathrobe, probably to cover up from the early morning chill that went through the hallway and the kitchen. But what I noticed first was the deep red blush on his little cheeks. That made me wonder if he knew I'd seen him playing with himself. I wasn't going to bring up the subject, though, because I didn't want him to feel embarrassed about it. If he wanted to talk about it, I'm pretty sure he felt comfortable enough with me to do so.

After breakfast Sander settled down on the couch for some tv. With the heating turned up a bit, he no longer needed the robe, so he had slipped it off his shoulders and left it draped over the back of the couch. I joined him for his cartoons (Phineas and Ferb) ten minutes later, but didn't see much of Platypus Perry and the others. Although I was already quite used to having my Little Prince with me and to seeing him without any stitch of clothing, I couldn't help but being drawn to him and watch him closely. The wonderful image of Sander's naked body still seemed like a dream to me. I really was head over heels with him and it remained difficult to restrain myself from crossing that line between a close friendship that had every potential of being unbreakable and a sexual relationship that might ruin everything.

Although he didn't show it, I was perfectly aware of Sander knowing I wasn't paying much attention to the cartoons. I was still amazed at how quickly he'd grown accustomed to being naked in my presence. I often wondered if he knew he was more than just a very close friend to me. He did hear his grandmother and me talking last night, so he might be wondering what that really was all about. I could just go and tell him, but I preferred waiting until he actually asked me, which would mean he was ready to know what I really felt for him.

That moment came more quickly then expected. During a commercial break, Sander got up to fetch some orange juice. My eyes pretty much followed his every move as he left the room and they were glued to him just as much when he returned with his refreshing drink. He'd even brought me a glass, which I gratefully accepted. As he handed me the glass, standing right in front of me, my look involuntarily went down to his privates. I felt a bit guilty about doing that, so I quickly looked back up at the boy's face. I found Sander with a big grin on his face, which told me he'd noticed the brief glance at his boyhood.

The little rascal snickered when our eyes met, clearly amused by the effect his naked body had on me. "You sure like looking at me," he said after taking a sip of his juice and putting the glass on the coffee table. "You've been watching me all morning!"

"I can't help it, buddy," I sighed a bit guiltily. "I think it's because I still think I'm dreaming when I see such a handsome boy standing before me in his birthday suit. I'll try not to stare so much if it bothers you."

Sander's grin never faded when I explained my behavior. "It's cool," he said. "I kinda like it. I know you stare because you like me."

"You better believe it, my Little Prince," I smiled warmly at him. "I'll get used to seeing all of you soon enough, but I can never tired of it. Mind you, I'd stare just as much if you'd be fully dressed."

"Really?" my little friend asked with a blush.

"Really," I nodded.

He then crawled sideways onto my lap and laid his head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and held him closely. He purred like a kitten as I ran my hand up and down the side of his body and giggled cutely whenever my fingers crossed a ticklish spot. After a while he looked up at me with, smiling broadly.

"I like this part the best," he almost whispered.

I knew he was referring to our cuddling. After all, Sander was an affectionate little guy and he had learned very quickly that I would never push him away whenever he needs a big bear hug. The fact that the hugging and caressing happened with him being naked gave it a special dimension.

"I enjoy cuddling just as much as I like staring," I told him, pressing him closer into me for emphasis.

We held onto each other for a few minutes more, until Sander had to get up to empty his bladder. I watched him trot out of the room and sighed deeply, feeling happier than ever. Noon was slowly creeping closer by then, so I wasn't too surprised to see Sander reappearing fully dressed. He sat down right next to me and looked at me, clearly with something on his mind.

"Uncle Rob?" he said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, kiddo," I smiled, curious about what he had on his mind.

"You remember when I bumped into you with my skates?" he asked.

"I remember," I nodded.

"You then told me you didn't get mad because you didn't want to be a jerk," he recollected.

"That's right," I nodded again, slowly understanding what this little chat was about.

"Was that really why you didn't get mad at me?" he asked with a look that said he wanted the truth about how I acted back then.

"Part of it," I said. "I was actually about to scold you for crashing into me like that, but when I saw who it was who'd hit me, I knew I couldn't get mad at you."

"What do you mean, when you saw who it was," Sander asked. "You didn't know me yet."

"True," I admitted. "But back then, I saw the most handsome boy looking at me with tears welling up in those brilliant little eyes of yours. I just couldn't find it in my heart to be angry with you."

"You thought I looked handsome?" the boy wanted to know. "Is that why you didn't get angry?"

"That," I smiled, ruffling his hair a bit. "And I could tell you were a nice kid. Instead of scolding you, I decided being friendly would get me a lot further. A good decision, because I got to know you as a funny, witty, sometimes silly little boy whom I've grown very attached to. A thoughtful, free spirited boy who's become the best friend I could ever wish for."

"Is that what granny meant when she said I was more than just a friend to you?" Sander asked.

"Pretty much," I nodded. "You are my Little Prince, Sander. You've become very special to me."

"Is that why you're always watching me?" the boy carried on with his query.

"That's right," I admitted honestly. "And because you're a cute little devil," I added, tickling his belly to take a little weight of all this seriousness.

Sander giggled and shuffled back and forth to evade my tickling fingers. "Silly uncle Rob," he snickered, softly punching my arm to get even. He then leaned forward and whispered into my ear: "I really like being your Little Prince."

Taken a bit off guard by his heartfelt words, I smiled lovingly at him and reached up to let my fingers brush through his golden hair. Our eyes were glued to each other's for a while before Sander melted into me and hugged me tightly. Of course I happily wrapped my arms around him, holding him like the most valuable treasure on Earth.

It was impossible not to be totally smitten with the boy and I thought it was a bit of a shame I couldn't tell him how I truly felt. But at his tender age, he might not understand if I told him I was infatuated with him. It might even freak him out and eventually put the relationship we had at stake. Honesty is a nice virtue, but it's not always the best answer. Sander knew I loved him deeply, which was all I felt he needed to know.

Our chat had taken the last bite out of our time together. When I told him to get ready to head home, he clung to me for as long as possible, putting of the moment where I had to take him back to his grandmother. With a deep sad sigh he finally let go and slid off the couch. Before heading to the hallway where he'd left his shoes the night before, a big tooth grin appeared on his lips.

"It's nice to have a little secret, huh," he said with a big blush on his cheeks.

Of course I knew he was referring to him being naked when he snuck into bed with me the week before. "You bet," I winked at him.

He giggled again and then fetched his shoes. He brought them back to the couch and slipped his feet into them, not bothering with the laces. I followed his example and went upstairs to get ready to take my little guest of honor safely home, taking more time than usual. I wanted Sander to be with me for as long as possible. But eventually, Sander and I jointly crossed the street, holding hands. An hour later, after a relaxing lunch with my little friend and his grandmother, I sat in my couch again, sighing deeply, counting the minutes until I got to see the most important person in my life again.

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.

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