Some of you may recognize me from the Gay High School section where I normally post. My recent stories there include The Least of These, Sea Change, and Sealing Our Fate. This story, Masquerade, is a departure for me, except that it is a romance, and I do romance. It's just a different kind of romance.

I hope you enjoy it.

I wish to retain all rights to this story. However, I am delighted to grant permission to any person to publish this story as long as there is no charge to the reader and as long as no changes are made to the story.

Copyright 2006. All Rights Reserved.



Even before I knew what a brother was, I thought Jason was mine. He was actually my step cousin if there is that sort of thing. Jason was less than a year older than me, and his mom was my step mom’s sister.

My real mom left when I was still a baby. Dad never wanted to talk about it, so I’m not sure of the circumstances. I tried tracking her down years later, but I’ve never found out what happened to her.

My dad wasn’t the nurturing type and had no idea what to do with a baby boy. I can guess what he wanted to do with me – an inescapable reminder to him of my mom; all his resentment of her probably rested on me from the first time he had to change my diaper.

I think he married my step mom partly to get me off his hands, but in the process, he picked up two daughters who were two and five years older than me. We moved in with them before I can remember.

My step mom was something of a ditz; she didn’t know what to do with a boy, and was too busy catering to the whims of my dad and her daughters to worry much about me.

Aunt Ellie, my step mom’s younger sister and Jason’s mom, had her act only slightly more together, and managed to lose her husband to a blond coworker when Jason was only four and I was three.

Aunt Ellie had to go to work, and since we lived only two blocks away, my step mom took over watching Jason. And then she had two boys she didn’t know what to do with. Jason and I began living outside of and between our two houses more than we lived in them.

A year after Aunt Ellie’s divorce -- when I was four and Jason was five -- Samantha’s family moved to San Antonio; into the two-story, wood-framed house next door to mine.

Jason and I watched them move in, hoping for a boy our age. Instead, there was a girl with thick, dark-red hair. She saw us, and walked right up. My height, she looked right into my eyes, and I was like “whoa!” and backed up a step.

Samantha looked from me to Jason, said “hi,” and that was that. It was Jason, Timmy, and Samantha after that; the three of us constantly together, and usually at Sam’s house. Her parents were warm, friendly, intelligent… all the things Jason’s and my folks were not. And they always welcomed us there.

Sam didn’t just follow Jason and me on our ambling adventures around the neighborhood, she often led them. She was an equal partner in our triumvirate. She could climb a tree as quickly as us. She ran faster than I did. Princess Leia herself couldn’t have wielded a light saber any better than Samantha did when we took on the Empire.

There was a small, wooded park near our homes, and it became our kingdom; its depths, our fortress. The three of us built castles there, explored continents, and flew to far galaxies.

Sam was not one of those solidly built girls you think of as tomboys. She usually wore shorts and her legs were kind of skinny. Well, actually, she was thin all over. I know because she talked Jason and me into an ‘I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours’ thing in her room a few months after moving in. Jason was an only child, and I might as well have been; I certainly had never seen my step sisters naked. And since Sam was an only child, she’d never seen boys. We wound up taking off all our clothes and I remember noticing that her hipbones showed almost before I noticed the remarkable difference in her anatomy… or lack thereof.

Her mom, Dottie, caught us just as we were all getting ready to take a closer look. For a small woman, she could be loud when she wanted to be. “What’s going on here?” she demanded, and we froze. Dottie made us turn from each other to dress, and she gave Sam’s bottom a whipping. She threatened to give us one as well.

We never did that again.

However, whenever we were back in the woods at the park, and Jason or I had to take a leak, Sam would watch. For our part, we didn’t turn away when she squatted.

“Hey, Sam,” Jason said one day when he and I were standing side by side to take a whiz, “try peeing like we do; standin’ up.”

Sam looked at Jason suspiciously, but we could tell that she wanted to try. “C’mon, Sam,” Jason encouraged.

She came up beside me and tried pulling down the front of her shorts and panties like we did with our shorts and undies. That obviously wasn’t going to work, however, so Sam pulled her shorts and panties off. Then with her feet slightly apart like ours were when we peed, Sam cut loose… and sprayed down the inside of her legs.

Jason and I burst out laughing; pointing to Sam’s wet legs as she finished peeing and as she tried to dry the inside of her legs with the palms of her hand. Sam scowled which only made us laugh harder. But then she shook her hands at us and sent drops of her pee flying in our direction.

“Scatter!” Jason cried.

We turned to run, and Sam pelted us with rocks. That thing about redheads being fiery… well that starts at an early age.

When Jason began first grade, Sam and I began kindergarten. She never slept over like Jason and I did, but most of our waking moments were spent together, especially at her house or the woods.

In the first grade, Sam did something tomboys sometimes do when they like a boy; she wrestled me. The first time was in the woods. I was just sitting by her on a log watching Jason throw rocks, when next thing I knew, Sam and I were rolling around on the ground. At the time, I had no idea what I’d done to get her riled at me.

A day or two later, she wrestled me down on her front yard. Dottie came out and broke us up. “Sam, honey,” she tried to explain. “Little girls don’t wrestle little boys.”

It was news to me, too. And I was almost disappointed. Wrestling Sam this time was sorta fun. So despite what Dottie said, Sam and I wrestled again a few times before the end of first grade. Jason usually just watched except once when he jumped on, and Sam and I both wrestled him.

Nevertheless, people kept telling us about boys and girls being different, and school came with girls’ bathrooms and boys’ bathrooms. Sam began to step away from Jason and me when we took leaks in the woods.

My dad was not a patient man. When my step mom encouraged him to spend some time with me -- maybe teach me how to toss a ball – he made only one attempt, when I was about six.

My sisters had been whining about something I’d done – there was always something – and since my dad was home, my step mom turned to him. “Now would be a good time for you to spend time with your son, Arnold. Get him outside.”

Dad found a baseball glove that was too big for me, and a hard ball. I remember Sam climbing the fence from her yard and joining us. Dad tossed her the ball and she caught it easily, tossing it back. Then Dad threw to me and I dropped the ball. He was already angry that my step mom had made him do this, and he got angrier still as we tossed the ball around because a girl, Samantha, could play catch better than I could. He started burning them in to me, and the pain became excruciating. There was no way I could catch the ball.

When tears ran down my face, Dad went inside in disgust. I remember that Sam was shirtless in overalls and that she came up and put an arm over my shoulder. I pulled away, ashamed to be crying.

“We can do it,” she said quietly. “We can learn catch together.”

I wiped my eyes on the back of my forearm and glanced at her to see if she was teasing me. She tilted her head and smiled encouragingly, then picked the ball up from the ground and handed it to me. “Toss it!” she said, stepping back a few feet.

Sam must have said something to her dad, Max, because only a few days later, he started playing catch with the three of us. He had already become like a dad to Jason, and I preferred Max to my own dad.

Max was a tall, gentle man who laughed easily, adored his daughter, and loved her two best friends. He delighted in us, calling us “the boys,” Sam included. And he had ways to make each of us feel special.

For instance, Jason liked sitting on the couch with his knees up under his chin, and Max would sit down beside him, and quietly reach over, slipping his hand around Jason’s ankle. And he’d just hold it.

Jason would try to pull away, and Max would hang on. Jason would try to inch away, and Max would let him, for a few inches, and then just pull Jason’s ankle back. It usually took only a matter of minutes before Jason was helpless in laughter.

Even when Max played the game with me or Sam, we knew it was Jason’s game.

My special thing was a place -- behind Max’s back on the couch. One Saturday when Godzilla was taking on a three-headed monster on TV, and Jason and Sam weren’t nearly good enough protection for me, I climbed up behind Max who was sleeping on his side on the couch.

I peeked out from time to time to watch the movie whenever the monsters weren’t around, but it was safe back behind Max, and comfortable. It became my place, even when Max was awake and nothing scary was on TV. And when Max was awake, he would reach back from time to time and grab a handful of my ribs. I’d squeal, and he’d laugh.

Even when Sam or Jason crawled behind Max, we called it “Timmy’s Hideout.”

And Sam? Max did several special things with Sam, but her favorites were the word games. They had a Dr. Seuss “Sam, I am” thing that drove the rest of us crazy.

Then there was something Max did with us that was a favorite of all of us.

We were watching TV in Sam’s living room one Saturday after lunch and turned to “All Star Wrestling” which, at that age, we thought was a stitch. Inspired by a flying leap made by the “Texas Tomahawk,” I leaped onto Jason and we rolled on the floor. Hearing the commotion, and our laughter, Max came into the room, took one look at us, and pounced on both of us; tickling us unmercifully at the same time.

“Sam, help!” I yelled.

Sam jumped on Max’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck and he rolled off us with a howl. He collapsed and made a big show of Sam overpowering him. Bouncing in triumph on Max’s side, Sam loved every minute.

All Star Wrestling became a regular Saturday activity where the three of us took on Max. And Sam always seemed to win.

We loved Samantha’s mom, too. It’s funny, but Dottie, with only one daughter, knew more about how to be mom to two boys than our own moms did. She baked us cookies, taught us how to play card games, and tended to our scrapes and bruises.

It was from Dottie that Samantha got her red hair and blue eyes. Her height and humor she got from Max.

Those first couple of years in elementary school, I remember Sam as always smiling, with dimples when she did. She usually wore her dark-red hair in long pigtails, and if it weren’t for them, you really could mistake her for another boy.

Jason’s dark brown hair grew straight, and Aunt Ellie kept it trimmed at his collar. His eyes were dark and flashy, and he smiled almost as often as Sam. His smile always made me feel… happy; calm and happy. And his laughter… no boy ever laughed like Jason. If pure boyish delight and joy ever bubbled up in a sound, that sound would be Jason’s laughter.

Despite my screwed-up dad and family, and all due to Max, Dottie, Jason, and Sam, I was happy back then. I didn’t have a smile like Sam’s, or a laugh like Jason’s, but I was happy. And I had the kind of face that made other kids comfortable to come up to me. My light brown hair was a curly mop that feathered out around my ears; the kind of hair adults liked to muss. My eyes were the kind of light blue that people sometimes call gray.

In not one of our pictures from back then were any of us dressed nicely. Disheveled was our natural state… well maybe natural was our natural state.

After Sam’s and my first grade year, Dottie and Max took Jason and me with them and Sam on a weeklong camping vacation; and for that week, we were family. Dottie and Max cooked suppers over camp stoves, took us hiking and on day trips, and took us swimming in clear river water beneath river cypresses that were taller than I ever imagined trees could be.

At night Jason and I slept in a two-man tent that Max bought for us and which he had set up under a big oak tree, close to their own tent. Late into the evenings, Jason and I lay in our tent talking and listening to the echoing voices of campers while the smells of campfires and cedar filled the night.

It was magical, and the first real vacation Jason or I had been on. Aunt Ellie never had enough money to do much more than take Jason to Houston to see her brother’s family. My dad never seemed inclined to take a vacation; other than to stick around the house and work on projects.

“Someday,” Max promised that first week when we had climbed to the top of Garner’s highest hill, “we’ll take you guys to Colorado… to the mountains. You’ll love real mountains.”

But Jason and I loved the Texas hill country just fine. The next year, and the year after, Dottie and Max took us camping with them for two weeks each time.

Max died in a car accident when we were in the fourth grade. They took Sam out of class and I didn’t know why until we got home and my step mom told Jason and me what had happened.

The pain was immediate and unbearable… for both of us. Through our tears, we asked for details, but my step mom had few. She forbade us from going over to Sam’s house. “I don’t want you bothering that poor woman and her daughter. The last thing they need is for you two boys to be running around over there.”

When one of my step sisters threw a temper tantrum and my step mom was occupied with her, Jason and I went over to Dottie’s.

There were other adults there. Samantha was sitting at the table in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water with her grandmother. When she saw us, Sam’s face twisted up and tears instantly filled her eyes. We went to her, one on each side, and held her, the three of us crying with the same deep, deep pain.

From then until the funeral, Jason and I slept over at their house. It was the only time we ever did. They didn’t even make us go to school.

That first night, Dottie called our homes to set it up, and then made Jason and me a pallet on the floor in Sam’s room. She hugged the three of us in turn, and kissed us good night on the forehead. Then after Dottie closed the door, Sam crawled from her bed to sleep between us, and we went to sleep with Jason’s and my hands on Sam’s shoulders.

I woke that night when the door opened and Dottie quietly came in. Still in the same clothes she had worn all day, she took a seat on Sam’s bed and then lay down on her side, her eyes dropping down to us. She noticed that my eyes were open, and she smiled sadly. It didn’t seem right that this woman who was like our mom should be by herself up on the bed.

I climbed from the pallet in my pj’s and crawled up onto the bed with Dottie. She smiled and pulled me into her arms, pulling me back to her, wrapping her arms around my chest from behind and squeezing me like a child holds a teddy bear. And she wept.

I don’t remember much from the summer between Sam’s and my fourth and fifth grade. There was no vacation with Dottie and Max… nothing special to make one day different from another.

And then fifth grade came, and we made a couple of new friends; two guys our age, Allen Spencer and Richard Rodriguez. They were into games; any kind of games – mainly board games; video games weren’t really that good yet.

I made the mistake of inviting them and their Monopoly game, along with Jason and Sam, over to my house one Saturday morning. It was a mistake for several reasons. One was that my dad was home that morning. Another was that he had asked me earlier in the week to mow the lawn and I hadn’t done it after school, thinking I would do it on the weekend.

Dad didn’t have much patience with games. When he found us with the Monopoly game spread out on the den floor, he stopped and stood over us. I avoided looking up.

“When are you going to mow the lawn, Timmy?” he asked.

“As soon as we’re done,” I promised. I was the first one with a monopoly and I was doing well.

“And how long will that be - Monopoly games can go on for hours?”

I shrugged. “It won’t be long.”

“You and your friends can finish later.”

“No, dad,” I said. I meant it to sound like a request; at least I think I did. It sounded to my dad like a refusal.

“What’d you say?”

I glanced nervously at my new friends. Samantha and Jason knew what my dad was like. My new friends didn’t. “I… umm… Allen and Richard came all the way over to play.”

“And you promised three days ago that you’d mow the lawn.”

“OK,” I mumbled, hoping he’d go away. And he did for a few minutes. But before two other players could roll, he came back.

“Why aren’t you out mowing?”

“I will,” I said.

He waited.

I didn’t get up.

Bending down, Dad grabbed me by the waistband of my shorts and by the back of my T-shirt and picked me off the floor. “I’m tired of this,” he said gruffly. “I’m not raising you to be a lazy bastard.” He carried me to the back door and threw me out onto the porch. “You can finish the game after you do the lawn.”

The humiliation cut like a knife, and I quickly retreated to the garage, where I intended, just as soon as I could see through the tears, to destroy one fucking, crappy, broken down lawn mower. But first I leaned against the wall and cried. I cried because of the humiliation, and I cried because Max wasn’t there for me anymore. And I missed Max so much!

But then Jason and Samantha came into the garage, and I turned away from them trying to dry my eyes. “Why aren’t you playing the game?” I asked.

“The other guys went home,” Jason said, and my heart twisted because of the things they’d probably tell people; the things they’d think about my family and me.

Sam put her hand on my shoulder and I shook it off.

“Come on, Sam” Jason called to her. “You take the weed eater, I’ll take the mower.”

“Wha?” I asked, turning to them and wiping my face on my shoulder sleeves.

“We’re not doing anything else,” Jason said. “Let’s mow.”

I thought I should protest. I thought I should tell them not to worry about the lawn; I’d do it. But I was so damn glad they were helping that I started to cry all over again.

Jason pushed the mower out of the garage. “Bring some gasoline, Tim.” We need to gas up first.

When we finished my yard, we did Sam’s. And then we did Jason’s. After that, Jason and I, and usually Sam, too, did all three lawns at a time.

I slept over at Jason’s that night, and the next. We didn’t have Max, but we had each other.

In sixth grade, Sam made friends with Loren Peach, a girl with long, black hair who was a bit tomboyish like Sam. It was the first time that Sam actually hung out with any other girls. She even experimented with make-up though I thought she looked odd with it on.

Sam still spent more time with us than with her girl friends. Jason and I, though, continued to spend all of our time together, even though he had already begun junior high. Along with Allen and Richard, we got into Dungeons and Dragons that year.

We stayed away from my house with the games. Even when Dad wasn’t there, my step sisters were, and they always considered my friends and me to be an intrusion, probably because the house had been theirs before my dad and I ever moved in. They may not have hated me like my dad seemed to, but they didn’t care for me, and they didn’t like me being around.

I wish I could say that my dad was a drinker and that he behaved like he did because of that. But dad was just an asshole.

No one ever seemed to miss me when I slept over at Jason’s house, and so I slept over at Jason’s more and more. At first it was only a couple of times a week, and then more frequently. We still went to Sam’s and Dottie’s most days, but not when Sam had her friends around. I didn’t care much for girls. Sam and Dottie were the only females I ever liked.

Well, Loren Peach was OK, but she was a tomboy like Sam. When Jason went to spend a weekend with his dad in late October, I did chores for my dad, and then went over to hang out at Sam’s even though I knew that Loren was there.

I found the two on them upstairs sitting on Sam’s bed, talking. They jumped when I walked in, and Loren laughed. “We were just talking about you,” Loren said.

Sam slapped at Loren’s leg, shushing her.

Loren smiled mischievously. “Sam’s never kissed a boy,” Loren said.

I frowned. “Sam doesn’t need to kiss a boy,” I said, coming up beside Sam.

Loren laughed. “Yeah, right. Well I know a boy who wants to kiss her.”

“Who?” I said, leaning my hip against the bed.

“Roger Eckridge.”

I frowned. “He’s a creep,” I said. “Sam wouldn’t wanna kiss that asshole.”

“He’s cute,” Loren protested.

I bumped Samantha so that she’d scoot over to make room. She did and I sat down. “He’s a creep. Sam doesn’t wanna kiss him.”

“That’s not what Sam said,” Loren said, cocking her eyebrow.

I turned to Sam. “You’re kidding.”

“You know who she really wants to kiss?” Loren asked.

“Loren!” Sam exclaimed. “Don’t…”

“The boy she really wants to kiss…” Loren began, but Sam pounced, pushing her back.

Loren howled as Sam pushed her onto her back, yelling, “shut up!”

“She wants to kiss… “ Loren continued.

Sam tried to cover Loren’s mouth with her hand. “She wants to kiss you, Timmy!” Loren called out, rolling her head back and forth to avoid Sam’s hand. “I asked her which boy she wanted to be the first to kiss her and she said…” and then Sam got her hand over Loren’s mouth.

“Me?” I asked, surprised.

Loren struggled out from under Sam, her hair all messed, and fought away Sam’s hands.

Frustrated, Sam turned away from me and buried her face in the bed with a frustrated “Aaaah!”

“Have you ever kissed a girl, Timmy?” Loren asked.

“No,” I said, thinking that was a dumb question.

“Then kiss Sam. She’ll be your first kiss, too.”

I frowned. “I’m not gonna kiss Sam. She’s like my sister.”

Loren cocked an eyebrow. “Sam doesn’t think so.”

I glanced at Sam. She wouldn’t look at me.

“Don’t let Loren get to you,” I told her.

Loren laughed. “You’re the one who gets to her.”

“Come on, Sam,” I said. “Let’s go downstairs and play cards or something.

“You can’t,” Loren protested. “I mean, now you’ve got to give Sam her first kiss.”

I stood up. “No I don’t. I’m going back downstairs.”

Sam wouldn’t look at me the rest of the day, even after Loren left for home. At twelve, I wasn’t the most brilliant guy when it came to people’s feelings, but I knew Sam. And though I wouldn’t have been able to put into words why, it seemed important that I kiss her. I motioned for Sam to follow me out to the porch.

“I’m sorry about this afternoon, Sammy,” I said when she followed me out. “About the kiss and all.”

She shrugged.

I stepped closer. “Did you really want to kiss me?”

She looked away. “Forget it Timmy.”

“No, Sam,” I said, laying my hand on her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d like to.”

She turned to me, and her blue eyes looked steadily into mine. Sam could tell from my voice that I wasn’t kidding.

I smiled encouragingly. “Will you let me?”

She nodded, just faintly.

But I didn’t kiss her right away. Not yet. Because we’d never looked into each other’s eyes before; not like that. I’d always thought that Sam had pretty eyes. Even as a kid, the blue of her eyes dazzled in the sunlight.

But it was dusk now, and in the dimming light, her eyes gazed directly into mine, one special friend to another. For the first time, I was acutely aware that Sam was a girl and I was a boy… and that we weren’t just like any girl and boy. This was Sam… and I wanted to kiss her.

I leaned forward, and pressed my lips softly to hers, and held them there… wondering what to do next, but happy to leave my lips there. I could smell Sam’s breath, and I liked the smell.

Finally, I pulled back. My eyes dropped. “Sorry,” I said. “Not much of a first kiss.”

Sam placed her hands on either side of my jaw, and gently lifted my chin, her lips meeting mine. Laying my hands on her shoulders, I kissed her back. And suddenly, my twelve-year-old cock grew hard.

I pulled back, and cleared my throat. “I guess I better get going.”

She nodded.

I turned and started down the steps, but turned back. “Sam…”

She was watching me from where I’d left her.

“That was cool,” I said.

She smiled.

I thought about the kiss that night as I did homework, and then as I went to sleep. I thought I would like to kiss her again.

I saw Sam when she and Dottie got back from church the next morning, and waved. She waved, and looked happy.

My dad blew up at me after lunch.

One of my step sisters started yelling because I was eating a piece of cake she had put in the fridge – I didn’t know someone was saving it. Dad came into the kitchen as riled as a mother bear and started chewing me out. I made a remark about cake being the last thing my step sister needed to be eating, and Dad sent me to my room, cuffing my head when I went past.

First chance I got, I snuck out. Sam’s house was too close. Dad might see me or come for me. So I went to Jason’s and waited with Aunt Ellie until Jason got back from his dad’s.

As far as females go, I guess Aunt Ellie wasn’t bad. She always seemed glad when I showed up. She called Jason and me ‘The Twins’, partly because we were both growing tall and skinny, but mainly because we were always together. She really meant Siamese twins.

I almost forgot about the kiss I gave Sam – it was a hard week with my Dad, so I just stayed over at Jason’s. The more my dad rejected me, the more I just hung with Jason, and I had begun sleeping over there more nights than in my own bed. I may have kissed Sam, but Jason was my Max, my brother, and my best friend, all rolled into one. And we were tight.

At twelve and thirteen, we had grown tall enough that we needed all of Jason’s double bed when I slept over. Jason and I didn’t mind, though, when we wound up sleeping on each other. It was kind of brotherly. Then one night a couple of weeks after my kiss with Sam, when I had almost fallen asleep, Jason rolled onto his side with his back to me. The bed began bouncing gently, and it didn’t take but two seconds for me to guess why.

“Dude, are you jacking off?” I whispered.

The bouncing stopped. “Shit, no. Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you are,” I said, my own cock growing instantly hard. “Let me see.”

“I’m not letting you see, shithead.”

“C’mon,” I pleaded. “I haven’t done it yet. Show me how.”

“Really?” he asked, turning his head to look back at me. “You haven’t jacked off yet?”

“Nah, I haven’t. But look,” I said, kneeling up from the covers and pulling down my boxers. “I’ve got wood. Show me how to do it.”

Jason rolled onto his back, keeping his knees up and the covers over his middle. When he did, it put my cock right at his bicep. I was still hairless, but my body had put a lot of growth into my cock and balls, and I had quite an erection.

We both stared at my dick, realizing how close it was to Jason. I looked at him; he looked at me, and then back at my cock.

And then he reached up and closed his hand around my shaft, and all my internal wiring short-circuited.

I barely heard him saying, “Whoa, Timmy… nice wood.” My eyes closed and all I could feel was his big, warm hand wrapped around me.

“That feel good, dude?” he asked in a whisper.

I nodded.

He stroked me and I shuddered.

“Can you shoot off yet?” he asked.

“Dunno,” I whispered.

“Bet you can, dude,” he whispered. “That’s precum.”

“Wha?” I asked.

“End of your dick… that’s a drop of precum.”


“Yeah, your dick makes it just before you stick it in a girl. It makes it slick enough to go in, dude.”

Oh, that’s what that is, I thought, vaguely. I was barely hearing a word he said. I was barely thinking at all.

Jason pushed down the covers with his other hand, and then lifting his hips, pushed down his boxers; all the while without taking his hand from my cock. He began stroking himself with his other hand. My eyes were drawn there, and to his small pubic patch that I had been envying since he first began growing it.

His cock was longer and thinner than mine. Back then, neither of us was nearly as long as we would grow, but on our size bodies at that time, our cocks were plenty big looking. We were both cut, so there wasn’t much skin moving back and forth, but it was still fascinating to watch… and watching his hand on my cock was surreal.

“How does that feel, Timmy?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Oh, shit, oh shit,” was all I could say.

And then it was like something grabbed my balls and tightened them all up, and then everything was tightening up down there and the most incredible feelings churned deep between my legs.

“Ow!” I said, lacking a better word. “Ow!” and I doubled over, clutching Jason’s shoulder and side. “Ow… Ow… Ow..” I cried, grabbing handfuls of Jason’s bone and muscle.

“Shsssh!” he hissed, but he didn’t stop stroking.

My whole body began shaking and, suddenly, something impossibly thick was rising up through my shaft. My eyes went wide as almost clear semen squirted from the end of my cock and across Jason’s chest. At nearly the same time, a slightly whiter liquid squirted from Jason’s cock up his belly and chest, a stray drop hitting my side.

His stroking slowed

“Oh, dude,” Jason gasped.

“I came,” I breathed quietly.

“Yeah, the whole neighborhood knows that,” Jason said, releasing my cock and giving me a friendly shove away. “You got it all over me!”

“Sorry,” I murmured, sitting down onto the bed and wiping the spot of Jason’s cum from my side.

He wiped his hand over his belly. “Go get me a towel,” he whispered.

I wiped a finger across his chest, through my semen, and then held it to my nose. There wasn’t much smell. I tasted it.

“Gross, Dude!” Jason said with a groan. But then he lifted his head and picked up some of his own cum with a finger to smell and taste. He glanced at me. I shrugged. He grinned and shrugged.

After bringing him a towel, I watched Jason wipe himself off and noticed for the first time how smooth his skin was… how “touchable” it looked.

“Well now you know how to jack off, OK?” he said.

I nodded.

“So you can do it on your own,” he said a little gruffly.

I nodded again. I knew as well as he did that what we did was sorta gay.

And yet, when he lay down on his side to go to sleep, I moved closer on my stomach so that our legs touched. His dark eyes met mine in the faint light of the room, and he smiled. “Go to sleep, shithead.”

I smiled back and closed my eyes.

I did worry the next day, just a little, about whether Jason and me jacking off together might be gay; but mainly, I couldn’t take my mind off the feeling.

My dad didn’t care if I slept over at Jason’s every night, so I just stayed late at Jason’s that next evening hoping that if I stayed late enough, it’d just be natural to sleep over. I tried to concentrate on homework. I tried to watch TV, but I couldn’t get rid of my hard-on.

It was actually early when Jason asked, “ready for bed?”

After calling my step mom to say I was sleeping over at Aunt Ellie’s again, I hit the john and then stepped into Jason’s bedroom. He was already in bed. “Turn out the light,” he told me.

I did and started to undress.

“I’m sleeping naked,” he whispered.

Rushing, while trying to not look like I was rushing, I stripped, and my cock sprung up hard. Lifting the covers, I crawled in, my legs brushing against Jason’s. He was on his side facing me. I reached under the covers and found his cock… and marveled at the steely hardness of it under warm, incredibly soft skin.

He moaned when I closed my hand around his shaft.

We went three nights in a row, jacking each other off, and when we went to sleep that third night, Jason rested his arm over my back and we went to sleep with our legs touching.

The next day, I did start to worry about the feelings we were stirring up. I think Jason did too. I didn’t sleep over again for a week. And then my dad got on my case about not getting the garbage out in the morning, and I was back over at Jason’s, but this time, we slept in our boxers and didn’t do anything.

That was before Thanksgiving, and we didn’t do anything for ages. But I remembered about what we did; I thought about it every day.

Then one night in January, as we were climbing into bed, Jason paused. “Wanna sleep naked?” he asked.

I nodded instantly, my pulse skipping several beats.

Jason stuck his thumbs into the front of his waistband and pushed his boxers down. He was already thickening. I pushed mine down and they dropped to the floor. I stepped out of them, my cock climbing with each heartbeat. Jason stepped from his, and rather than crawl into bed, he stood there, looking at my cock. My eyes were on his. And then I reached out and took his into my hand.

It became almost a nightly event after that; at least every night I slept over. We tried to be careful, using towels to catch the cum, trying not to stain sheets. Eventually we tried different angles; lying down, standing up. One night Jason stepped behind me to see if the angle for his stroking me was any better that way, I felt his breath on my shoulder, and the side of his erect cock pressed against my butt. After a moment, he started stroking faster and circled my waist with his other arm to hold me tightly.

The way he held me to himself, the length of his long body and warm skin pressed against my back and the back of my legs, was intimate and sensual in a way we’d never experienced. But I felt something more, something I hadn’t felt since the times I hid in my safe place behind Max. In Jason’s arms, I suddenly felt comfortable and content, even while the inside of my loins stirred.

Jason rested his mouth against the back of my shoulder like something close to a kiss. Releasing my cock, he wrapped both arms around my chest and hugged me hard. I laid my arm over his and leaned back against him; dropping my head back onto his shoulder while he rocked me in his arms.

It was the best feeling I’d had in a long, long time, and something well beyond simply jacking each other off. Then Jason dropped his right hand back to my cock and gently stroked me while still holding me. And then he really did kiss the back of my shoulder.

I shook all over, and he held me tightly when I came, shooting my cum up onto Jason’s wall. As my breathing returned to normal, I realized that my back was wet; Jason had come on me. “Wow,” I whispered.

The next night, when I did Jason the same way he’d done me, I found that holding him felt as good as when he held me. I was surprised how his tight butt was the perfect height for me to lay my cock straight up between his butt cheeks. When I held him close with an arm wrapped low around his waist, and pulled tight, it pulled his butt right into my lap, trapping my cock and pressing my balls back. Then I did like Jason had done, kissing the back of his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his smooth warm skin on my lips.

I jacked him with my free hand, but when I came first, rubbing my cock in his butt crack, Jason moved behind me to finish the same way I had. He grabbed my hips and rubbed his cock up and down in my crack as I leaned slightly forward; and soon I felt him shooting up my back.

It became our favorite way to jack each other off. And after that, it was somewhat natural to wonder what it would be like to turn in Jason’s arms, and ask him to kiss my lips instead of the back of my shoulder. I began to dream about doing that.

My eyes started dwelling on Jason’s form, his body, whenever we were together -- and we were always together. His shoulders had muscles, and his back was firm. His torso tapered down to a narrow waist. His long legs were lean, and I could see the muscles in his belly and butt. And most of all, his familiar face began to stir my heart when I gazed into his eyes.

I don’t think Sam had picked up on it consciously at that point, but she began acting a little possessive, staying close to me when we were together; shoulders and legs brushing mine when we sat; laying a hand on my arm, or an arm on my back. Of course, I thought it could simply be that she did those things because I had kissed her.

It’s surprising when I think back, that all Jason and I did for the longest time was simply stroke each other at night; especially since we jacked each other or rubbed on butts almost every night. But it wasn’t until the end of summer, just before Sam and I entered the eighth grade that things changed.

Jason and I were lying, facing each other and stroking each other; just warming up, when Jason put his hand behind my neck and pulled my face toward his. The bottom of my stomach dropped out as I let his hand pull my head forward. Our lips met. And then his hand left my cock, and laying it behind my shoulder, he pulled my chest to his. We pressed our lips together, and our breath poured from our nostrils in hot, rapid streams; it was so different from my kiss with Sam.

Releasing his cock, I laid my hand on the side of his waist and pulled us together lower.

Jason rolled me onto my back and moved over me, and for the first time, I felt the weight of his naked body on mine. We wrapped each other up in our arms and his mouth opened over mine. When I opened mine, his tongue tentatively entered. Our hot tongues met, and for a breathless moment, they slid on each other, and the whole world stopped.

Jason was fifteen that year, and he had fine, black, body hair on his long forearms and legs. That night, those long legs tangled with mine, and his leg hair tickled the skin of my legs. It made me even harder. And when my hands slid to his butt, I was surprised at the hardness of his muscles there, and yet how smooth his skin was. And then his hips began to move, and his butt flexed under my palms; and our cocks ground between us as we murmured softly into each other’s mouth.

I remember it all…that first opened-mouth kiss; the weight of Jason’s body on mine; our hard cocks pressed between our taut bellies; the feel of his balls pressing on mine as we ground together; the feel of his muscles under the palms of my hands as I ran them up and down his sides and back. It was the first time Jason and I made love.

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