Date: Fri, 19 May 2006 14:59:11 -0500
From: jockhunger@yahoo.com
Subject: Sharin' Chapter One - Jerk-off!

	"Tommy called me a jerk-off," Randy whined as he plopped down on
his bed in the room he shared with his older brother.
	"So?" Lance asked, looking at his younger brother like it was no
big deal.
	"He made it sound like it was a bad thing.  Is it?  I mean ...
Tommy's my friend, so why would he call me names?"
	Lance, working on his homework at the computer desk the two of
them shared, was thoughtful before he asked, "How old is Tommy?"
	"Eleven."
	"And you're  ... "
	"Ten and a half, almost eleven."
	`Hum,' Lance pondered silently, `is he too young for me to talk to
about sex?  Should a fifteen year old be telling a ten year old about
jackin' off?  Should I leave it up to Dad?  Nah!  By the time Dad talked
to me about sex, I already knew most of it.'  So he said, "It's just
something guys say to each other when ... uh ... what were you doing
that made him say it?"
	"I had one of my combat warriors battling one of
my dinosaurs."
	"Oh," Lance said relieved that it wasn't something sexual--even if
it was a rather lame excuse to call someone a jerk-off.   "Well,
sometimes guys call their friends names because they're doing something
dorky.  Other times, they do it in a friendly way just to prove how
strong their friendship is."
	"Like when Derek calls you an asshole?" Randy asked.
	"Yeah.  He's my best friend, so we can kid around like that."
Then with a stern glare at his little brother, he said, "But you're not
supposed to be saying cuss words, remember?"
	"I thought it was okay 'cuz it was just you and me in the room."
	"The problem with cussing is, once you start, you forget where you
are or who you're with and it just slips out.  Then you're in deep ... "
	"Doo doo?" Randy giggled.
	"Yeah, doo doo, doofus," Lance smiled.
	"If I'm a doofus, you're a ... a ... jerk-off."
	"You can't call someone a name until you know what it means,"
Lance warned.
	"So what's it mean?"
	"Basically, it's a ... well, it's a ..."
	"An asshole," Randy said like he knew what he was talking about.
	"Yeah, I guess."
	"I don't get it."
	"What?" Lance asked, getting impatient because he needed to get
back to his studies.
	"You call a guy an asshole because he's acting like he's full of
... poop.  But jerk-off  ... " Randy said as he started jerking his whole
body like someone having an epileptic seizure.  "It doesn't mean anything."
	Lance smiled, hesitated and then said, "Well, when guys get to be
a certain age, they ... their bodies mature and stuff changes."
	"Stuff?"
	"Uh, inside stuff.  Your body starts ... uh ... starts to go from
being a boy--like you--to being a man, like dad."
	"Did it happen to you?"
	"Well, yeah ... I mean, it's still happening.  I'm kinda in the
middle of it ... between being like you and becoming like Dad."
	"Does it hurt?"
	"No!  It feels great!  I mean ... sometimes it hurts.  You know,
like when I get all stumble-footed and people make fun of me.  But the
growing up part doesn't hurt.  In fact, there are some changes that feel
REAL good."
	"Like what?"
	"Well, that's the thing.  As a guy matures, his pecker starts to
grow and his balls start getting bigger and hangin' lower between his
legs.  Let me tell you," Lance said appreciatively, "feeling all that
swingin' goin' on, keeps you stiff most of the day."
	"Stiff?  Like a stiff neck?" Randy asked, suppressing a smile.
	"No.  A different kind of stiff.  Oh jeeze, how do I say this?
Uh, your pecker gets stiff and sticks out and you get all embarrassed ...
but the feelings you get while your dick's stiff ... uh, I mean ... your
pecker ... well, it's just awesome!"  Lance regretted using the word
`dick' in front of his little brother but it was too late.  `He's probably
heard all the bad words anyway, but it's not right that he hears them from
me.'
	"Really?  It gets stiff?  Like when I have to pee in the morning?"
	"Yeah, like that.  Except, when you get older, it's like your ...
pecker has a mind of its own and all it wants to do is get stiff."  Then
remembering the reason for this line of discussion, he said, "That's when
... some guys ... jerk-off.  They take hold of it and  ... " Lance made a
jack-off motion with his fist.
	"Why?" Randy asked, trying to maintain a serious demeanor but he
secretly loved to see his brother squirm.
	Lance rolled his eyes as he realized he was getting in deeper than
he felt comfortable doing.  "Okay, uh, guys who do that aren't supposed to
do it."
	"Why not?"
	"Grownups say it's disgusting and that if you do it, you'll go
blind ... or worse."
	"Damn!" Randy said wide-eyed.
	"But just so you know, most guys do it ... I mean, try it out ...
once or twice."
	"Do you do it?"
	"Well, Squirt, that's the thing.  Guys don't tell other guys if
they do it or not.  And they sure as hell don't ASK other guys if they do
it."
	"Why not?"
	"Like I say, it's supposed to be dirty and forbidden and  ... "
	"If it's forbidden, how come YOU do it?"
	Again Lance smiled, knowing he had somehow let his little brother
know that he jerked off.  "Maybe it's because it's forbidden, like smoking
or drinking or drugs.  Maybe it's because it just feels so damn good!"
	"Honest!  It's forbidden AND it feels good?"
	"Maybe it's forbidden BECAUSE it feels good."
	"So how do you do it?  Can I do it?"
	Lance finally recoiled from the conversation, knowing it had gone
too far.  "Randy, now you're being a jerk-off," Lance said a little too
harshly.  "You're doin' something that others don't like ... it makes 'em
feel uncomfortable."
	"I'm sorry," Randy mewled.
	"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but ... I'm just not
comfortable talking to my little brother about stuff I can't explain.
I'll tell you what ... when you're older, I'll try to help you out.  Okay?
But until then, until you start to mature, it's too soon to talk about it,
anyway.  Right?"
	"I guess," Randy said sullenly.  "But when CAN I talk to you about
it?  I mean, I'll be older tomorrow.  I'll be older in an hour, even.
When will I know?"
	"Okay, I'll make you a deal.  When you start getting hair around
your pecker and your ball bag starts to hang loose, come talk to me.
Maybe by then I'll know more, too, and I'll be able to help you better.
Have we got a deal?"
	"Deal," Randy said, smiling as he stuck out his hand to shake on
it.
	"Deal," Lance said.  Then he grabbed his brother, hugged him and
then began tickling him.
	"Stop!  Stop!" Randy giggled.
	"Okay, now let me study."
	"Okay," Randy said.  Then, "I love you, Lance."
	"I love you, too, Squirt."
	Randy picked up the phone in their room but put it back in the
cradle.  "I'll use the one downstairs, so I don't disturb you."
	"Thanks, Squirt.  World geography is killin' me.  All these
countries have such ... foreign names.  And they're so similar--Niger,
Nigeria, Austria, Australia."
	"Australia's a continent," Randy said as he walked out.  He didn't
see his brother flip him the bird behind his back.
	As Randy entered the family room to use the telephone, he saw his
mom and dad were watching TV.  He knew they had a phone in their bedroom
but he also knew from past experience they'd never let him use it.  Their
room was off limits, like they hid national treasures in there or something.
	"Okay if I call Tommy?"
	Looking at the clock, his dad said, "Ten minutes."
	As Randy punched in the numbers, his mom said, "And don't leave a
message for him to call back because it's gettin' late."
	"Yes ma'am," Randy said politely.  There was a pause before Randy
said, "Tommy!"
	"Radical Randy.  Glad you called."
	"We okay?" Randy asked.
	"Yeah.  Did you get things worked out?"
	"Sorta.  I did what ya said and I found out what I wanted to know,
so ... we're cool?"
	"Yeah, uh, see ya at school, right?"
	"Bye," Randy said.  Then, flopping down on the couch next to his
dad, he said, "Lance is studying.  Okay if I hang here?"
	"Have you got your homework done?" his mom, Anita, asked.
	"Yeah."
	"Want me to go over it?"
	"If you want.  It's upstairs."
	Anita glared at Randy.
	"What?  I don't want to disturb Lance.  That's why I came down
here."
	"Leave the boy alone, Anita," his dad said, officially ending the
argument.
	"As soon as Lance comes downstairs, you can get ready for bed,"
Anita said, more upset because her husband, Geoff, always took the boys'
side, than the fact that Randy had been rude.
	"Yes, ma'am," Randy said, knowing the drill.  It was the same
every school night.  Even so, his mom appeared to delight in saying it
every night.  `Control freak,' Randy thought.
	Several weeks passed but Lance kept remembering his promise.
During those weeks, Lance recalled how unprepared he was when he started
junior high school and found out he had to change and shower during gym
class.  He had been raised in a home where neither of his parents bathed
him after he was six or seven years old.  So, when he saw thirty or forty
naked guys cavorting around, playing grab-ass and snapping towels, he was
astounded.  He remembered how, until then, he had considered frolicking
around naked as a "heathen" activity and it took some getting use to.  He
didn't want Randy to have to go through that.
	He thought about how helpless HE felt when he started to mature
and how he knew absolutely nothing about his body or sex.  He recalled how
embarrassed he'd get when the guys were bragging about the sexual
adventures they'd enjoyed and how he had no clue as to what they were
talking about.  He agonized about the times he'd try to join in a
conversation--like he knew what he was talking about--only to be ridiculed
because he'd used the wrong word or phrase.  He once called a rap group a
`rape' group.  Then he made it all the worse by trying to pretend it was a
joke.
	A week or so later, on a Sunday and after going to church and
hearing yet another fire and brimstone sermon, Lance decided to take a
stand.  `I'm not gonna let poor Randy suffer like I did,' he thought.
`I'm gonna let him know it's okay to come to me any time he wants.  If I
know the answer, I'll tell him.  If I don't, I'll find out the answer and
get back with him.'
	Following through with his resolution, he decided Randy's
enlightenment had to be done in innocent increments so he didn't scare
his little brother.  So, that same night as he was getting ready for bed,
Lance took a deep breath to steady his nerves and lowered his boxers.  He
stood naked--as casually as he could--in front of Randy before bending over
his underwear drawer to rummage for a clean pair of shorts.  He couldn't
remember the last time he had been naked in front of Randy.
	"Have you seen my red plaid Joe Boxers?"
	"No," Randy croaked out, wide-eyed at his brother's unexpected
actions but admiring his strong round butt, nonetheless.
	"Damn!  I'll bet they're in the laundry."
	"Want me to go look?"
	Standing up to face his brother again, Lance said, "Don't be a
jerk-off.  I can't wear dirty underpants to bed."
	"Sorry," Randy said.  "I thought ... well, I guess I didn't think."
	Lance smiled at Randy to let him know he wasn't being cruel.
	Randy grinned in understanding.  "You called me that to prove we're
best friends, right?"
	"The best," Lance said.
	"You can wear a pair of mine," Randy offered eagerly but not
looking away from his fifteen-year-old brother's hanging jewels.
	"I haven't worn tighty whities in years," Lance said, "besides,
they'd be too small anyway."
	"Yeah, they'd be really tighty whities on you, huh?"
	"Yeah they would," Lance chuckled.
	"Especially in the front," Randy said, gawking at Lance's cock.
	Starting to feel uncomfortable, Lance grabbed a different pair of
boxers and slipped them on.  `That's enough for now.  I want him to feel
okay with being naked in front of each other but I don't want it to go too
far,' he rationalized in his mind.
	"When did you first start wearing boxers?" Randy asked.
	"I don't know.  I got a pair for Christmas one year and I've been
wearing 'em ever since."
	"Were you younger than me?"
	"I don't think so.  Why?"
	"'Cuz ever since you told me we could talk after my stuff started
to grow ... you know, down there, I've noticed it's not doin' anything."
	"Well, it's not gonna happen over night.  In fact, it's so gradual,
you won't even notice it until you've grown a lot."
	"Oh, because I was thinkin' that maybe I'm not growin' because
there's no room in my underpants for 'em to grow.  I mean, you said my
balls would start hangin' loose but there's no where for 'em to hang."
	"Don't worry, Squirt, it'll happen," Lance said climbing into bed,
successfully ending the conversation before it got too uncomfortable.
	Randy turned eleven on November first, All Saints Day.  The running
joke during his whole life was that Randy needed all those saints to look
after him because he was such a little devil.  His antics, his pranks and
his jokes all combined, however, to make him adorable--even for a devil.
Since it wasn't a momentous birthday like his first "teen," twenty-first or
a "Big O" birthday, there wasn't a big party or anything.
	It was shortly after Halloween when Lance made his next, innocent,
incremental move toward helping educate his little brother.  He waited
until he knew Randy was taking his nightly bath before he knocked on the
door.  "Hey, Squirt, I gotta pee like a racehorse.  Okay if I come in?"
	"Sure," Randy said.
	The way the bathroom was set up, the toilet was on the end wall
with the tub next to it.  If you stood at the toilet with the door open--by
mistake--no one could see your front.  If you were in the tub, however,
facing the door, you could look to your left and see the profile of the
guy standing there peeing.  Lance knew, too, that he could glance out of
the corners of his eyes and see his little brother.  It was important for
Lance to know if Randy had covered himself up or not with suds or a
washcloth after he asked if he could come in.
	Casually hauling out his dick, but looking straight ahead, Lance
said, "Sorry, dude, but I couldn't wait."  He saw Randy turn his head to
look.
	"That's okay.  Sometimes I get that way, too," Randy said.
	Using his peripheral vision, Lance saw Randy wasn't trying to hide
his dick.
	`Good, the kid's not a prude, anyway,'Lance thought.  Then he
moaned, "Aaah," as the stream hit the water in the toilet.
	"Lance?" Randy asked, "if you're taking a bath and I have to pee,
can I come in?"
	"Sure, Squirt," Lance said, casually turning his head to smile at
his brother before he added, "we're best buds, remember?"
	Randy beamed with pride.
	`Jeeze,' Lance thought, `I don't remember my dick being that small.
I wonder if I should say something to Dad?'  Then he averted his eyes
again.  When he was done, he milked it twice, flicked it twice and tucked
it away.  "See ya later, Squirt," Lance said as he left.
	By Thanksgiving, Lance felt he had helped free his brother from the
conservative and oppressive kind of life HE had endured.  He discovered
Randy was happier and more willing to talk openly about things.  `A lot of
it is still grade school crap,' Lance thought, `but he's at least talking
to me more--about everything.  But that question about kissing a girl and
getting her pregnant was cleared up because he was comfortable coming to me
about it.'
	Lance had casually gotten naked, again, in front of Randy once or
twice, hoping Randy would start getting comfortable with nudity.  `Of
course,' Lance thought, `I'm not gonna turn the bedroom into a nudist camp.
That would be freaky!'  He also promised himself he would try to make sure
Randy was ready before he introduced any new learning lessons.  `Since he's
coming to me more now, maybe I'll wait till he asks before I tell him
stuff.'  But even as he thought about it, he knew there would be times
when he would have to initiate something to let Randy know he needed to
ask questions.
	On December tenth Lance celebrated his sixteenth birthday.  He
warned his parents that "Sweet Sixteen" was reserved for girls and not to
plan a party for him.  He reminded them that just getting his driver's
license was celebration enough.
	It was Christmas, however, that was going to be the best as far
as Lance was concerned.  He made sure HIS present to Randy was on the
bottom of Randy's pile.  Naturally, Randy's pile was also the biggest but
Randy was well aware from previous years that Santa left "lots" of
inexpensive gifts or just a "few" more-expensive gifts.  Because Geoff and
Anita were afraid kids in school would divulge one of life's best-kept
secrets before the next Christmas, Randy--as it turned out--had to open
two presents to everybody else's one.
	As usual, Geoff and Lance sat cross-legged on the floor "Indian
style."  Anita sat in the chair next to the tree.  Randy was kneeling,
resting his butt on his heels so he could pass out the presents to the
proper recipient.
	"Settle down, Sport" Geoff said, "or you'll have to wait till later
to finish opening 'em."
	"Okay, Dad," Randy said, having been warned every year about how
manic he got with Christmas.  Even so, he knelt in front of the tree
bouncing his butt on his heels, excitedly.  "C'mon, Lance.  Open another
one."
	"It's Dad's turn."
	Lance and Geoff looked at each other and winked, knowing they were
just stalling to prolong Randy's agony--as usual.
	"No, you go ahead, Lance." Geoff said.  "It looks like Santa left
you more than he did me."
	Variations of this delay tactic went on until Randy got to his last
present.  He ripped the wrapping paper off, only to find the thin flat box
had been taped along all four sides.  "Awh, Dad, where's the scissors?"
Randy whined, knowing it would take that much longer to get it open.
Destroying the box it came in was taboo if not "forbidden" in their
household.
	Geoff made a big deal of rummaging beneath the piles of discarded
wrapping paper to find them.  Then, pretending absentmindedness, he said,
"Oh, here they are," as he pulled them out from between his crossed legs.
	"Dad!" Randy whined but grabbed them anyway.
	"Be careful," Anita warned.
	With the precision of a surgeon, Randy sliced all four edges and
tore open the box.  Flipping the two flaps of tissue paper aside, like
Moses parting the Red Sea, Randy peered in.  Open-mouthed, he looked from
his mom to his dad and then to Lance.  Then he broke into a huge happy
grin.  "Oh man!  Just what I wanted!  Thanks Santa Claus!"  Reaching in,
he lifted out a pair of red tartan-plaid boxers and held them up for all
to see.
	Geoff looked at his wife quizzically.  She looked back equally
perplexed.
	Randy ran to the laundry room but returned moments later proudly
wearing nothing but his new boxers.  "How do they look?"
	"Big," Anita said.
	"Baggy," Geoff said.
	"Like boxers," Lance said matter-of-factly.
	"Okay," Geoff said, in his parental tone,  "let's get all this
stuff cleaned up and then put everything back in the boxes they came in.
That way, we can display them under the tree for when your friends stop
by to see what Santa brought."
	"Can I keep these on?" Randy asked excitedly.
	"Not today." Anita said, "They go under the tree."
	Randy snagged a thumb under the waistband and started to pull
them down but Lance caught his arm before he did it.  "In the bedroom,"
Lance whispered with a jerk of his head in that direction.  "C'mon."
	Once in the privacy of their room, Lance said, "You're gonna have
to learn not to get naked in front of people."
	"It's Mom and Dad.  They've seen me naked hundreds of times."
	"I know, but as you get older, you have to ... change the way you
do things."
	"I don't get it.  You used to never get naked in front of me and
now you do.  But now you're telling me it's not okay."
	"It's complicated.  I started letting you see me naked because I
didn't want you to become sexually repressed but you can't just go around
getting naked whenever you want."
	"Oh," Randy said sullenly.
	To cheer him up, Lance said, "But those shorts look phat on you.
Wear 'em in good health."
	"Lance, these were the best present ever.  Thanks."
	"Why thank me?  Santa's the one who left 'em."
	"I know they're from you."
	"Why do you say that?"
	"'Cuz all the other presents were TO: Randy FROM: Santa and this
one was TO: Squirt, FROM: Santa Claus."
	"Busted!" Lance said, smiling.  "Now take those off and I'll give
'em to Mom to put under the tree."
	"But I want my stuff to start growing."
	Going to his underwear drawer, Lance pulled out a green
windowpane plaid pair that was still in the original shrink-wrap package.
"Wear these."
	Opening the bag, Randy asked, "Will they fit?"  Then, looking at
the waistband, he said, "Hey, these are my size!"
	"Thought you could use a change or two.  If you like 'em, let me
know and I'll get you some more."
	"Like 'em?  I love 'em."
	"Wear 'em a day or two, first.  Then decide.  Some guys don't like
the feeling.  They prefer the snug pouch of briefs."
	"Not me!" Randy said, swaying his hips from side to side.
	As Lance watched, he noticed nothing swayed but Randy kept
swinging his hips anyway.
	"Well, they'll start swinging soon," Randy said, "now that they'll
have room."
	"Put your clothes on and go help Mom," Lance said with a chuckle.
	Shortly after Christmas, Lance bought Randy three more pairs of
red tartan plaid boxers and three more green pairs.  While Randy was
downstairs, Lance threw them haphazardly onto his brother's bed.
	When Randy came in and saw them, he asked excitedly, "Are these
for me?"
	"They're too small for me," Lance said, suppressing a satisfied
smile.
	Wrapping his arms around Lance's neck and, giving him a quick kiss
on the lips, he said, "You're the bestest brother in the whole world."
	"Best.  There's no such word as bestest."
	"Sure there is.  We learned it in school.  Good, better, best and
your category, bestest!"
	"Oh yeah, I forgot," Lance said, rolling his eyes but secretly
relishing the praise, "but I've gotta warn you."
	"What?"
	"When guys get to be your age, they don't kiss other guys."
	"Sure they do.  I kiss Daddy goodnight every night."
	"Yeah, but  ... "
	"I'm not supposed to?" Randy asked like he had been caught doing
something wrong.
	"I'm just saying  ... "
	"But if I stop, won't he think I don't like him anymore?"
	"What I did was forget to do it once in a while until it just
didn't happen anymore.  But he knows I still love him."
	"Oh."
	"Since these shorts all look alike," Lance said, holding up a
laundry marker, "we're gonna mark 'em."
	"Huh?"
	"Open the packages and bring 'em over here," Lance said, moving
some of the clutter on the computer desk out of the way.  "Where's the
ones you got for Christmas?"
	"I'm wearing 'em."
	"Take 'em off."
	Without hesitation, Randy stripped, feeling so grown-up, getting
naked in front of his brother.  Handing them to Lance he said, "Here."
	"Get the green ones I gave you that day, too."
	"They're in the hamper," Randy said, racing across the hall,
naked, before Lance could stop him.
	When Randy returned with the green ones, Lance said, "What did I
tell you about running around naked."
	"Oops," Randy said shyly.  "My bad."
	"Give me those.  Okay, this is what we're gonna do.  I'll number
the red ones you got for Christmas number one.  The green ones will be
number two."
	"Why?"
	"This is to make sure you change your underpants every day.  If
you use them in rotation--numerically--they won't wear out as fast, either."
	Handing Lance a red pair, Randy said, "Alternate 'em.  That way,
number one will start on Sunday and seven will end with Saturday."  Then,
after a thoughtful moment, he asked, "Hey, what about the eighth pair?"
	"You can keep 'em in reserve ... in case you have a wet dream."
	"What's a wet dream?"
	"It's not anything you have to worry about.  I'll explain later."
	Then, shortly after that little exercise in personal hygiene,
things quieted down and Lance went back to being a brother rather than a
mentor--that is, until Easter.  There were only a few more weeks of school
before summer vacation.  Lance could count the weeks on the fingers of
both hands before school was out and he could start his first job--
lifeguard at the city pool.  He was envisioning beautiful bikini-clad babes
fawning all over him when Randy bounded into the room.
	"What's 'cumming'?" Randy asked.  He was out of breath, like he had
been running.
	"What's what?"
	"Cumming?  Tommy told me he jacks off and he cums.  He started
cumming six months ago."
	"Oh god," Lance moaned.  "Sit down."
	Randy sat on the edge of his bed facing his brother who was, again,
sitting in his computer chair.
	"He asked me when I started cumming."
	"So what did you tell him?" Lance asked, hoping he would only have
to fill in the holes in the story.
	"I got so scared because I didn't know what he was talking about,
that I told him it was none of his business and I ran away."
	"You ran all the way home?"
	Taking a deep breath, Randy silently nodded, `yes.'
	"The whole ten blocks?"
	Again, he nodded before he said, "I got to the traffic light on
Elm, thinking I could stop and take a breather but the light changed, so I
had to keep going.  I hit every walk light after that, so I never did stop
and rest."  Randy made smacking noises with his tongue and the roof of his
mouth.
	"Stay here.  I'll get you some water."  Lance knew this unexpected
question and lack of answers for Tommy bothered his brother a lot or else
he wouldn't have run all the way home.  But even as he pulled the
disposable cup from the dispenser at the bathroom sink, he deliberated
whether he was ready for this discussion.  With the resolve of a brave
sixteen year old, he convinced himself he was up for the challenge--even
if there WAS a slight doubt in his mind.
	When Lance returned, he saw Randy had pulled off his shirt and
trousers and was lying back on his bed in just his green plaid boxers.
His chest heaved and his lower belly caved in with each breath.  His eyes
were closed and, to Lance, the faint sheen of sweat covering his brother's
body made him almost glow.  `God! What a beautiful boy.  I've known girls
who would be envious of such good looks,' Lance thought.
	"Here angel," Lance said, stumbling over Randy's haphazardly
discarded Nikes and almost dousing him with the Dixie cup full of water
he'd retrieved from the bathroom.
	"Angel?" Randy asked perplexed as his brother sat on the edge of
his bed.
	Equally perplexed and shrugging his shoulders, Lance said, "I
don't know, I just saw you lying there like a little angel and ... it just
popped out, I guess."
	Randy smiled proudly.  He raised up so he was sitting next to
Lance on the side of the bed.  After taking a sip, he said, "If I'm an
angel, you're an archangel, Lance.  You're God's right-hand man 'cuz you
watch out for me and protect me."  Then snapping his waistband, he said
with a grin, " ... and you bought me boxer shorts."
	"You okay now?" Lance asked anxiously.  `All these months later
and he's still thanking me for his shorts,' Lance thought, `Jeeze, you'd
have thought I'd bought him ... a lifetime subscription to Disney World.'
	"Yeah, thanks.  So what's all this stuff about cum, cummed,
cumming?"
	Lance closed his eyes to calm himself.  "Remember when we had that
little talk about being a jerk-off?"
	"Yeah," Randy whined, "but I'm not being a jerk-off, I'm trying to
learn something and you said I could come to you any time  ... "
	"Calm down.  I'm not calling you a jerk-off.  The two kinda go
hand in hand."  Lance smiled at his unintended pun.  "You see, in order
for a guy to cum, he puts his hand ... ohmigod!  I can't believe I'm
telling you this."
	"You promised," Randy whimpered.
	"I'm gonna tell you.  It's just ... it's such a personal thing
that ... it's embarrassing."
	"It's just you and me, Lance.  I won't tell anyone.  I'm good at
keeping secrets."
	"I know, Squirt," Lance assured him but he knew Randy was lousy at
keeping secrets.  He prayed, however, that he would keep this one.  When
he saw the crestfallen look on his brother's face he realized he'd
forgotten to use his new nickname, so he quickly added, " ...  because
you're my little angel."
	Randy's expression brightened again, giving `halo' a whole new
meaning to Lance.  It was like his new nickname for his little brother
had brought them closer together.  Instinctively, Lance knew it was
something Randy would want only the two of them to share.  But then, he
remembered why he was sitting on his brother's bed.
	"Guys grab their peckers and jerk-off," Lance said brusquely
before he lost his nerve.  "It's called jackin' off, jerkin' off and
masturbating.  There's a dozen different terms for it.  Anyway, when they
do it ... long enough, they cum.  That's called cumming."
	"They come from where?"
	"No," Lance smiled, then he evaluated the innocent  question.
"They `come' from their balls.  That's where cum comes from."
	Randy looked confused.
	"Remember when I said your balls would eventually start hanging
down more ... like mine?"
	"Yeah," Randy said sullenly.  "I checked every day for ... like
forever, and it never happened, so I quit looking.  It got too depressing."
	"Don't worry, it'll happen.  Anyway, after they start dropping,
they ... mature ... and start producing sperm.  That's what guys call cum."
	"Why don't they call it sperm?"
	"Because when it comes out, it becomes cum."  `God!' Lance thought,
`I didn't think it would be this tough.  No wonder Dad waited until I knew
most of this stuff before telling me about it.'  "It's just a different
word for the same thing.  You could say `I spermed' or `I spurted'."
	"Oh," Randy said like it all suddenly became understandable.  "A
guy jerks off, his balls make sperm and he cums cum."
	"Right!" Lance said, glad the discussion was over.  He was getting
uncomfortable and all the talk about jacking off was making his cock plump.
	"So how does it get from your balls to ... wherever?  Where's it
come out?  Is it like sweat?"
	"Oh," Lance moaned as he thought, `It's not over yet!'  "Squirt."
Then, seeing Randy's forlorn look when he called him Squirt, he said,
 "Angel, it comes up ... well, you see, there's this tube inside your pecker
that leads straight down to your balls ... well, kinda straight.  Anyway,
it's like a sperm superhighway, only there's no on ramps and there's only
one lane."  With a smile, Lance added, " ... the fast lane."  Then
following through with his automotive analogy, he said, " ...  and the
only off ramp is your pee hole."
	"Oh," Randy said enlightened.  Then with a frown that told Lance
he wasn't done yet, Randy asked, "Does that mean I'll stop peeing when I
learn to cum?"
	"No.  I cum and I still pee.  It's just your body uses the same
tube for both."  Once the sperm comes up to the base of your pecker, it
shuts off a trap door to your bladder to let your cum pass through.  When
you have to pee again, the pressure from your piss opens the trap door
again.  I mean, that's not the exact way it happens but it's the same
principle.  You'll learn all about it in high school biology class."
	"You said you cum," Randy said, "but during our jerk-off talk you
said that was a bad thing."
	"Adults say it's a bad thing but everybody does it ... most
everybody, anyway.  If we didn't, we'd bust," Lance chuckled.  "I guess
the best way to put it is, don't jack off to the exclusion of having sex."
	"Yeah, like I'm gonna have sex," Randy said cynically  Then after
a thoughtful moment, "So, do you do it?"
	"Yeah.  Sometimes."
	"When was the last time you did it?"
	"Uh ... well ... "
	"I mean, recently or years ago?  'Cuz Tommy says he does it all
the time."
	"Some guys do it more often than others.  I can't believe he told
you about it.  What were you doing that brought it up in the first place?"
	"Don't change the subject.  How long ago?"
	"Last night."
	"Really?  When?  Where?  Why didn't you tell me?  I though we were
best friends."
	"Randy, we are!"  Then seeing the forlorn look again, he used his
new nickname.  "Honest ... Angel, we are but there are just some things
even best friends don't do together."
	"And jerkin' off together is one of 'em," Randy said resolutely.
	"Yeah," Lance said, hoping Randy was okay with his excuse.
	A thoughtful expression on Randy's face warned Lance they weren't
through.  `Oh well,' he thought, `I allowed myself to get into this mess,
I guess I'll have to see it through.  I guess it'll be good practice for
when I have kids of my own.'  Just that simple thought caused his brain to
create a mental montage of sex with girls ... real sex ... sex to
impregnate ... and he boned up to full hardness.  He felt his flesh tube
raise from the downward position to a more oblique one, to lie across his
hip like it was looking for room to breathe.  He leaned forward to rest
both elbows on his knees, hoping to hide it.
	"Okay, I understand that I'm not supposed to jerk-off.  If I do,
I'm not supposed to tell anyone I do it ... even though most guys do it
and some guys talk about it--like Tommy.  And I know if I do it, I'm not
supposed to do it very often and never with anyone else around because
it's supposed to be bad and all that stuff  ... but it's not--because
otherwise we'd bust ... something."
	Lance was so proud of his younger brother.  He knew anytime Randy
was able to recite what he'd learned, he'd remember it forever.  `He has a
memory like a steel trap,' Lance thought.  `Once it's in there, it's there
forever.'
	"So how do I learn how to do the thing I'm not supposed to be doing
so I can pretend I'm not doing it ... very often?"
	`Clang!' the steel trap in Lance's mind snapped shut.  `Oh fuck!
This is exactly what I hoped wouldn't happen.  Hell, I even prayed it
wouldn't be me he'd ask.  Remember, God?'
	"I mean, what if I'm already doing it but I don't know what it is
that I'm doing and somebody catches me?  I guess I could ask Tommy to show
me but then he'd know I jerk-off and nobody's supposed to know.  And if he
showed me how, what's to keep him from telling the whole school?  I mean,
after all ... he told me he does it.  I could ask Dad but he's an adult
and the grownups are the ones who make up the stupid rules that we can't
live by because otherwise we'd bust!"
	"Squirt ... my little angel," Lance said, reaching out to draw his
brother into a one-armed hug, "just because others do it, it doesn't mean
you have to do it."
	"I know," Randy said sullenly, "jumping off a bridge and all that
crap, but the way I see it, I should at least know what I'm not supposed
to do so I'll know not to do it."
	"First of all, I think you're still too young for anything to
happen."
	"Everybody's always telling me I'm too young!"
	"I mean your body isn't mature enough yet."
	"Tommy's not and he said he's been doing it for six months, so he
started at the same age I am now."
	"Oh, jeeze.  Okay ... uh ... well, just so you know, some guys
mature faster than others ... or later than others.  It's not like it
happens on one certain day of the year ... like Christmas or whatever."
	"I understand.  I might not cum if I jerk-off."
	"Right!" Lance said proudly.
	"So like ... if I jerk-off today ... "
	Lance got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
	"I might not cum but if I do it a month from now, I might, right?"
	"Yep!" Lance said in a tone that implied Randy had nailed it and
he secretly hoped he'd be ready to end the discussion.  Then a disturbing
idea shattered his need to end the discussion.  "Hey! You do know about
queers, right?  I mean the guys who want to ... uh ... just ... "
	"Yeah," Randy said, "the un-cool kind.  So the only thing I need
to do is to learn what not to do."  Randy looked up into his brother's
eyes with an impish grin, leaving the obvious question unasked.
	Taking a deep breath, Lance said, "Okay, but only this once 'cuz
I want you to know that guys who do it together are queer ... the un-cool
kind of queer."
	"Okay," Randy said amiably.
	"So how do you want to do this?" Lance asked, hoping Randy would
keep it more simplistic than anything Lance might try to figure out.
	"I guess if you just showed me, that would do it."
	`You want to watch me jack off?' Lance thought, `or do you want me
to jack YOU off?'  "Uh ... like, show you how?"
	"Maybe we should take our clothes off.  I mean, we've seen each
other naked, right?"
	"Yeah, but  ... " Lance stammered, knowing he already had a
hard-on.
	"Then we'll jerk-off," Randy said easily, "and it'll all be over."
	As Randy slipped off the bed and began undressing, Lance said, "Uh
... Angel ... does your pecker ever, uh, get hard?"
	"Yeah.  It started doin' it a lot just recently ... not just when
I have to pee.  Since Tommy told me his does, too, I didn't think it was
anything to worry about.  It's not, is it?"
	"Nope ... uh, it's natural."
	"It's hard right now," Randy said, pulling his boxers off.  "That's
okay, isn't it?"
	"Yeah, it has to be hard to ... uh, cum."
	"Does yours get hard a lot?"
	"Often enough," Lance said, trying to sound casual even though he
was anything but.  "Uh ... mine's hard right now, too."
	"Kewl!  Then we'll be all ready to do it once you get undressed."
	"That's the thing, dude.  Guys don't usually get naked in front of
other guys when they're sportin' wood ... uh, got a boner."
	"But we can.  We're not only family but we're best friends.  You
and I won't tell anyone else."
	"Yeah, you're right," Lance said, taking off his shirt.  "There's
just one thing.  Uh ... I know you've seen me naked.  You've seen my
pecker.  But, well, when it's hard ... it's ... uh ... bigger."
	"Really!" Randy said in disbelief.  "Bigger than that big thing
you've got hangin'?  No way!"
	Lance stood up after kicking off his shoes and knew the moment of
truth had arrived.  He knew he'd have to take his pants and his boxers off
at the same time or he'd chicken out.  With one quick shove he forced both
waistbands down below his knees.  Gravity took them down to his ankles.
	"Is that your pecker?" Randy whispered in awe, like he thought
sound would shatter it.
	"What were you expecting, Mickey Mouse?" Lance chuckled
uncomfortably.
	Randy giggled at Lance's attempt to lighten the mood.  "No, but
that's huge!"  Then he began inching his face closer and closer.
	Lance wanted to back away but his legs were already against the
edge of the bed.
	"It's crying," Randy mewled compassionately.
	"That's pre-cum," Lance said.  "It helps make the skin slippery
so that when you're having sex ... after you're married and all, you won't
get sore  ... or make your wife sore."  `Oh, god, I'm not ready for all
this.'
	"Will mine do that someday?"
	"Yeah ... after all your man equipment starts working."
	"Do you think my balls are hanging any looser?"
	Sitting heavily onto Randy's bed, Lance looked directly at Randy's
package.  "You know what, kid," he said encouragingly, although his
package wasn't what you would call impressive, "I think they are.  And if
I'm not mistaken, your wiener's bigger, too."
	Lance expected an outburst of pride from his brother but, instead,
Randy giggled hysterically.
	"What are you laughing at?" Lance asked.
	"You called it a wiener.  A wiener's something you eat."
	`There's no way I'm gonna tell him that it's called a wiener 'cuz
girls eat 'em ... give blowjobs,' Lance thought.  "They call it that
because when it's hard, like this, it looks like a hot dog."
	"Well, yours looks like the kind that plumps when you cook it."
	"Yeah, I guess you're right.  Well, anyway, what you do is wrap
your hand around it like this," Lance said, gripping his boner with one
hand, "and move it up and down.  That's all there is to it."  `Thank god
that's over.'
	When Randy wrapped his fist around his boner, it disappeared.  He
looked at Lance and tears began to well in his eyes.  His chin began to
quiver as he struggled to keep from crying.
	Quickly and with spirit in his tone, Lance said, "Of course,
that's when you're full grown.  Guys just startin' out have to use the
two-finger method.  Lance put his index and middle fingers on his cum
tube and his thumb on the top side.  Then he jacked up and down twice.
"Like that."
	Randy mimicked his motion but two fingers left no room to jack off.
	"Or one finger and a thumb," Lance offered.  "Like I say, the
technique changes as you mature."  `Jeeze, maybe I SHOULD talk to Dad
about Squirt's equipment--or lack of it!'
	With one finger and a thumb, Randy was able to get a good jerking
motion going.  After about twenty strokes, he said disgustedly, "This is it?"
	"It gets better once you start producing sperm."
	"I hope so!  Hey!  You said sperm comes out the pee hole."
	"Yeah."
	"Is that the tube you were talking about?" Randy asked, pointing
to Lance's cum tube."
	"Yeah."
	"It looks like it's full.  Look how big it is.  Jeeze, your tube
is bigger than my whole peck ... wiener.  Can I touch it?"
	"Guys don't touch other guys ... equipment.  That's queer."  Then,
in self-recrimination, Lance thought, `If I don't let him touch mine, he
might ask somebody else and get himself in trouble ... or worse yet, he
might get molested by a pedophile.  But it's so queer!  I can't do it.
It's all wrong.'  "I'll tell you what.  You can touch it if you promise
you'll never ask anyone else to let you touch theirs.  Okay?"
	"Okay," Randy said matter-of-factly, reaching out and gripping
Lance's erection firmly.  "Wow!  It's like hard and soft at the same
time."
	Lance's eyes rolled up into his head as he struggled to keep from
cumming.  "Aaaagh god!"
	Snatching his hand away, Randy whined, "I'm sorry."  Again, he was
almost in tears.
	"No!  It's okay," Lance assured him.  "It wasn't your fault.  I
mean, you didn't do anything wrong.  It's just ... I almost cummed."
	"Oh man!  I want to see it!"
	"Randy ... Squirt ... Angel ... it's just not something ... "
	"I know," Randy said, but this time the tears fell like a
thunderstorm, breaking his brother's heart ... and his resolve.
	"Just this once, and don't ever ask anyone else to do it."
	Sniffling, like he didn't believe his brother would really do it,
Randy said, "I promise."  Wiping his eyes along the length of his bare
forearm, he asked, "Did I REALLY almost make you cum?"
	"You bet!  I felt it cumming up the tube but I got it under
control before I spurted."
	"Why?"
	Bashfully, Lance said, "I cum a cupful ... that means I cum a lot.
It's kind of embarrassing."
	"I won't make fun of you."
	"I know you won't, Squirt."
	Randy smiled, finally realizing whether Lance called him Squirt or
Angel, he'd always be Lance's angel.
	"So ... want me to jerk you?  I mean, that way, I can learn the
real way to do it ... not the little boy way."
	"I guess, but  ... "
	"I know," Randy interrupted, "just this one time."
	Lance smiled and ruffled Randy's hair.  "You're a quick learner."
	Using a less firm grip than before, Randy moved his right hand up
and down his brother's shaft.  He moved all the way down to his pubes and
all the way up to his knob.  When he touched the helmet-headed flange,
Lance sucked in a lung full of air.
	"Sorry," Randy said.
	"No, that's supposed to happen.  Your dick gets so sensitive ...
worse than being tickled ... and then you cum."  Lance leaned back to rest
on both elbows, hoping to get some relief from the awesome hand-job his
brother was giving him.  His stomach muscles crunched, displaying the
flagstone abs of the young teen.
	With each upward stroke, more pre-cum oozed out until it came in
contact with Randy's fist.  As it worked its way under his palm, his hand
easily slipped up and over Lance's plum-colored cock head.
	"Aaagh!" Lance screamed.
	"Sorry."
	"It's okay.  Really!  It's just that when I do it myself, I know
when it's gonna happen.  Having you do it ... well ... its like I'm a
virgin all over again."
	"So it's okay to keep doin' it ... over the end and all?"
	"Oh yeah!  That's what makes it feel really good."
	"Well, that's what I'm here to learn."
	They smiled at the same time.
	As his right arm began to get tired from the repetitious motion,
he switched hands.  Then he used both hands.  That caused Lance's ball bag
to bounce more than before, attracting Randy's attention.  "Man, you have
big balls.  You're big all over, huh?"
	"Yeah, I guess so.  At least the guys at school think so."
	"Guys at school?"
	"Yeah," Lance said.  Then realizing how that might sound to
someone who hadn't experienced high school, he said, "We have to get naked
in gym class, so we see each other's junk."
	"Oh, man," Randy said anxiously, "I bet they'd laugh at mine."
	"They shouldn't because you're still growing but you're right.
Some of the guys make fun of the guys who don't have much.  I would imagine
by high school you'll be bigger than most of the other guys ... if size is
hereditary, so promise me you won't make fun of others ... ever."
	"I promise.  But uh ... how long does this take?  I thought you
about cummed the first time I touched you."
	"I did ... because I wasn't expecting it.  Now, I'm more accustomed
to it ... even if it does feel better than when I do it.  I guess it's
taking longer 'cuz we're talking and all but I'll be quiet so you can
watch me cum.  Then you'll be all grown up ... with this."
	Lance closed his eyes to evaluate his situation
	"Then you can jack me off."
	"Stay close to the head and use all my pre-cum."
	"K."
	After a few more slippery strokes over the ridge of his cock head,
Lance said, "Stand back, here it comes.  Unngh, unngh, right ... unngh.
Now!"  Lance's cock spurted thin jism in ten different directions at once.
Then, a huge clumpy load shot straight up in the air to land with a splat
on his chest.  Before that one had a chance to land, however, three more
volleys came gushing up through his cum tube to squirt out onto his belly.
Lance shot at least eight more healthy globs before the last one dribbled
out of his piss slit.
	Wide-eyed, Randy slowed his jacking motion until he came to a stop.
	Lance reached down behind his balls to press the hidden part of
his cum tube so he got all of it out.  "Wow, man.  I think that was the
best one yet."
	"Really!" Randy squealed in response to the praise.  "I'll do it
for you anytime."
	"No!" Lance yelled, scaring Randy.  Then more calmly, Lance
explained, "Guys don't do that.  I told you, that's queer.  That's ... I
mean ... we shouldn't have done this to begin with.  I was just trying to
help you out.  You gotta promise me you'll never, ever do this with
another guy."
	"I already promised I wouldn't.  But since we've already done it,
I thought  ... "
	"Well, you thought wrong," Lance scolded cruelly.
	Randy started crying again and fell face forward onto his bed.
	Rubbing his brother's back to console him, Lance said, "I'm sorry
... Angel.  It's just ... that kind of talk scares me.  I don't want you
to turn queer on me.  That wouldn't be cool, bro."
	"I can't do anything right," Randy mumbled into his pillow.
	"It's not that you didn't do it right.  It's just that we can't
make a habit of it.  First of all, it's incest.  That means it's worse
than illegal.  Second, it's queer, and you said you already know about
queers, right?"
	"Not really."
	"Well, we'll have that discussion some other time.  But I just
want you to know that my reaction was to what we were doing.  It had
nothing to do with you.  Okay, hon?"
	"Okay," Randy sniffled.  "Does this mean I don't get to jerk-off?"
	"Go ahead.  I've got to go clean up."
	"I thought you were gonna do it ... to show me the right place to
touch and stuff."
	"If you weren't such a perfect angel, I'd say no ... but okay."
	"I know," Randy said solemly as he rolled over, "just this once."
	Lance used his thumb and index finger to start stroking his
brother except that in this position, his thumb was on the underside-where
Randy's cum tube would soon appear, hopefully.  After a few strokes, he
said, "Hey, Squirt, stand up, will you?"  Once he was standing, Lance sat
up on the edge of the bed again.  Putting a hand on each of Randy's hips
to help twist him, Lance said, "Turn around and back up between my legs."
Reaching around to the front, he blindly felt for his brother's two-inch
pecker.
	"Like this?"
	"Perfect.  This just feels more natural for me and I want you to
get the natural feelings."
	"K."
	Without thinking, Lance pulled Randy closer until his brother's
back was pressed against his chest--his cum-streaked chest.
	Randy flinched at the cold cum as it came in contact with his hot
horny skin.  Just as quickly, he leaned back into his brother before he
could pull away.  "I've never had cum on me before," Randy said wistfully.
	"It's kinda messy, huh?"  Lance asked, continuing to jack tiny
strokes, occasionally touching Randy's cock head.  Each time he did, he
felt it jerk in his fingers.
	"Yeah, but it's not yucky."
	"No, I guess not," Lance said.  "Do you feel that jerk your pecker
makes when I touch the head?"
	"Yeah?" Randy replied inquisitively, wondering if it was normal
for his pecker to do that--or if it was another one of those "wrong"
things adults warned against.
	"Well, when it gets a hundred times more intense than that, you
won't be able to keep from cumming."
	"Oh man!  I feel like I gotta pee right now!  You mean it gets
worse?"
	"Worse ... better ... you'll have to decide for yourself after you
have your first cum."
	"Hey!" Randy said thoughtfully.
	"What?"
	"I don't have any pre-cum."
	Taking his hand off and holding his palm up to Randy's face, Lance
said, "spit in my hand."
	"Do what!"
	"It's okay.  Sometimes, if you don't pre-cum a lot ... like early
in your development, you can use spit."
	Randy spit in his brother's hand and Lance spread it over Randy's
pecker head.  Randy's legs turned to rubber and he slumped down.  He felt
Lance's erection slide up from his butt crack and along his backbone
before he could regain enough strength to stand again on his own.
	"Oh fuck!" Lance grunted as he felt Randy slip along the length of
his hard-on.
	"What?" Randy asked worried.
	"Jesus that felt good.  Sorry I cussed but my boner wasn't ready
for that!"
	"Mine either," Randy said.  "Spit sure makes it feel better, huh?"
	"Much better," Lance agreed.  Then he thought, `Christ, usually I
don't stay hard after I've cum.'
	Feeling the glob of his brother's cum on his arm start to slide,
Randy scooped it up and dabbed it on his cock head.
	"Whoa!" Lance shouted, peering over Randy's shoulder.  "Is that
pre-cum?"
	"No," Randy giggled.  "It's some of your cum.  It's okay that I
did that, isn't it?  I mean, I wanted to feel what real pre-cum would be
like and I thought this would be closer than spit."
	"Good thinkin,' kid.  Good thinkin'."  WithOUT thinking, however,
Lance reached around with his left hand and cupped Randy's balls.  His
middle finger instinctively sought out the perineum.  He pressed upward
and Randy squealed.
	"Oh man!  That's awesome.  I never knew there was any feeling down
there ... not feelings like that, anyway."
	"You've got lots of feeling places ... they're called erogenous
zones ... all over your body."
	"Where?  Show me some more."
	"They're not the same for everybody but usually a guy likes his
nipples played with."  Going for broke, Lance moved his left hand from his
brother's balls up and over to Randy's right nipple.
	Randy twitched as his brother tweaked him.
	"So my little angel," Lance said with brotherly love, "you think
you've got an idea about how to jack off?"
	"Not quite," Randy said with a giggle.
	Lance released his brother's cock, slapped him on the butt cheek
playfully and said, "I think you have."
	Turning between Lance's thighs to face him, Randy said, "Thanks
archangel.  You're my guardian angel and I'll love you forever and ever.
Then he leaned forward to push Lance onto his back on the bed.  Randy's
cock brushed up against Lance's belly and got covered in cum.
	Lance started tickling Randy and they squirmed around with Lance's
erection bouncing from side to side between his brother's thighs whose
feet were still on the floor frantically gripping for leverage against his
older brother's strength.  Then looking at his cum-streaked hands before
showing them to Randy, Lance said, "Come on, stud, we gotta get cleaned
up."
	Sliding down between Lance's thighs, Randy ran his whole belly and
chest along his brother's hard-on before standing up.  "Can we shower
together?"  When he saw his brother's worried expression, he quickly added,
" ...  like you guys do in high school?"
	`I set myself up for this, didn't I,' Lance thought.  Not wanting
to make him feel unwanted, or to think it was something he should avoid--
showering with the guys--he said, "Sure, let's go.  Just one thing  ... "
	"I know  ... just this one time," Randy grinned.
	Lance held his hand up for a high-five--a cum slick high-five.
Except for the occasional accidental bumping together, the shower
went well.
	At dinner, they smiled more than usual at each other and Anita
asked what was going on.  Lance shrugged it off by telling her that Randy
was growing up and being less of a pest.  They watched TV for a while but
went to bed early--both wearing only matching plaid boxers--and eventually
fell asleep.
	Before sleep overcame him, Randy recalled every touch, every
feeling, every smell ... even the taste of his brother's cum that he licked
off his arm when Lance wasn't looking.
	Lance, on the other hand, agonized over all the things they had
done.  `I shouldn't have done it.  What if I've unleashed some sexual
tornado that I can't control?  Maybe he's too young for all this.  And I
definitely shouldn't have touched him ... or let him touch me.  I should
have kept it at the intellectual level.  Dad would never have let it go
that far.  I guess that's why he's a dad and I'm still a kid.  Jeeze!  I
thought I was so grown up, then boom!  One little mistake and I'm a fuckin'
perv!'
	His recriminations went round and round until his final promise to
himself before he fell asleep was, `I'm not gonna get naked in front of
him anymore.  That's what started all this in the first place.'
	When the alarm went off, Lance woke up to a naked little brother
jacking off while sitting on the edge of the bed across the room from him--
not three feet away.
	"Sorry, but I had to try it again, just to make sure I didn't
forget."
	"Get ready for school," Lance mumbled.
	"Is your wiener hard?" Randy asked.
	"Yes."
	"You wanna ... "
	"No.  I said once."
	"K," Randy said, slipping out of bed to start getting dressed.
When he went to the closet for his shirt he said, "You gotta get dressed,
too."
	"After you go down for breakfast."
	"I've seen your wiener.  What's wrong?"
	"I'm not gonna do this stuff any more.  If you have questions,
you'll have to talk to Dad.  I'm just a kid and what we did was wrong.
No.  What I did was wrong because I knew I shouldn't do it but I did it
anyway.  You didn't know any better, so I don't want you to feel bad,
okay?  It's all my fault--not yours.  Understand?"
	"Lance, don't feel that way.  I'm not gonna tell anybody and I'm
never gonna ask you to do it again.  I want things to go back to the way
they were, please."  He was about to cry again.  "Please?"
	"Don't cry.  Don't fuckin' cry for Christ's sake!  We'll never be
able to explain to Mom why you're crying."
	"Promise to at least think about things going back to the way they
were." Randy pleaded.
	"They'll never be the same."  Then, seeing Randy's look, Lance's
resolve weakened.  "But I promise I'll think about it.  Then we'll talk.
But only talk.  Understand?"
	"I understand," Randy said, sniffling away his impending tears.
	As soon as Randy got to school, he sought out Tommy, right away.
	"Sorry I didn't call.  I fell asleep.  You'll never believe why."
	"Why?" Tommy asked eagerly, just as the late bell rang.
	"I'll tell you all about it at lunch," Randy said conspiratorially.

	To be continued.
	If you like the story and would like to comment, email me at:
jockhunger@yahoo.com