Brother Jonathan

by FreeThinker

Disclaimer: The following may contain scenes of sexual activity between males. If you find this offensive or if it is illegal for you to read this in your locality, please do not do so. The author does not advocate nor condone the violation of any laws.

I ask that you send your comments to . I thank you for reading my story.

Brother Jonathan

by FreeThinker

"I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan:

very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to

me was wonderful, passing the love of women.

II Samuel 1:26 KJV

Chapter Three

March, 1969

A young boy with blond hair and blue eyes ran out the back door of his old white two-story house. Before the rickety screen door fell closed, he had climbed atop his green Stingray bike and was pedaling joyously out of the yard. The wind chilled his legs as he shot down the sloping driveway and turned onto Shawnee Avenue. But, it was Monday, the first day of Spring Break and he was determined that he would wear shorts.

All the trees along Shawnee were still bare, except for the redbuds and dogwoods, which were just starting to bloom. He shot through a stop sign on Fourth Street, causing an old Chrysler Imperial to honk as he rode up over the curb and through the crocus in front of St. Paul's Episcopal Church. He pedaled furiously around the side of the red brick Gothic style church until he came to an old white frame bungalow. Once behind the house, he jumped off the bike and ran up to the back door and knocked impatiently.

"Hey, Jon! Where's the fire?"

The boy turned around and found a man standing in a side door to the church. He was dressed all in black with a white collar.

"`Morning, Father. Is Davy in?"

The man smiled.

"I think he's just finishing breakfast. It must be the first day of Spring Break!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, go on in."

But, before Jon could turn back, the screen door burst open and a red-headed boy ran out. As he jumped off the porch and ran to his own red Stingray, he called, "Come on, slow poke! Whatcha waitin' for?"

Jon was mounting his bike as he replied, "Who ya callin' slow poke? I can beat your butt anytime!"

Catching himself, however, Jon looked up at the rector of St. Paul's with fearful eyes.

"Sorry, Father!"

The priest laughed and replied, "Have fun. Davy, be home in time for lunch!"

Davy was already in the street as he yelled, "I will, Daddy!"

The two boys raced up Shawnee until they came to the business district of town. They tore around the few cars on Commercial Street, past the County Courthouse and Jail with its wide green lawn, turned past the First Baptist Church, the largest church in town, and then up Front Street and along the railroad track. A few blocks on, they turned across the track and headed past a depressing sandstone building surrounded by a decrepit black chain-link fence. Outside the building, a few boys of various ages were sitting around on benches or lethargically playing basketball. They ignored Jon and Davy as they pedaled past. They turned into a giant park across the street and dropped their biked beneath a giant oak tree, its limbs still bare of leaves.

On a dusty baseball diamond, a group of boys was already organizing a softball game and yelled for Jon and Davy to join them. Soon, the teams were divided up and the battle began.

The two boys were on opposite teams. Davy was assigned to first base and by the time Jon came to bat in the second inning, the bases were loaded. The first pitch was a ball, the second a strike. But, on the third, the metallic crack of the softball bat signaled the ball was flying high and toward the left.

"Fly ball!" several boys in the outfield yelled.

As Jon ran toward first, he yelled, "Its good! It's a home run!"

And, then a debate ensued over where the chalk line actually ended and whether the crepe myrtle was in our out.

The pitcher, exasperated, strode over toward the debate.

"Holbrook! Why ya always so picky about the rules? It's a game!"

"But, how will we know who really won?"

Several boys rolled their eyes. Davy ran up.

"Jonny, why not just go ahead and hit again. It doesn't really matter."

Jon sighed and, defeated, returned to home plate. This time he hit the ball into right field and as the right fielder threw the ball to Davy, the runner on third scored. Jon was out.

"Sorry," Davy said softly to his friend.

Jon shrugged.

"Oh, well. As long as everyone's happy."

As the morning wore on, the battle between good and evil continued, though just what was good and what was evil was never clearly defined. Toward midday, however, all seemed to come to the same conclusion that it was time for lunch and the game dissolved.

Jon was sitting on a bench as the decision was made to suspend play. He was looking around the park. Toward the south, next door to the Boys Home, the depressing sandstone building the two had passed earlier, were several small fifties-style buildings, the Pushitaw Bible College. He could see a young man in slacks and a white short-sleeve shirt and a thin black tie walking away from the campus and toward the park. Other than he, there seemed to be no else around.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Davy asked as he approached. Jon turned around.

"Nothin'. Ya ready to go?"

Davy was looking off to the south and his face took on a strange look.

"Um, not yet. I, uh, I gotta go to the bathroom."

As Ben Maguire sat down next to Jon, he replied, "OK. Hurry," and as Davy walked away, Jon and Pete began to debate the previous evening's episode of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.

After a few minutes, Ben became bored with the discussion and left for lunch. Jon looked back at the sandstone building housing both the park's maintenance shed and the restrooms. He began to wonder if something was wrong with Davy. He stood and walked toward the building when the man he had seen earlier emerged from around the corner and walked quickly back toward the college. Jon's heart jumped and he began to walk faster. But, just as he neared the corner of the building, Davy emerged. His face was flushed and when he saw Jon, his eyes grew wide and he looked down at the concrete walk.

"Are you OK?" Jon asked.

"Yeah," Davy replied quietly. "I'm fine. Let's go."

"Man, what took ya so long? I started to get worried."

"Nothin'. Let's go."

Davy started back toward their bikes. Jon stood for a moment and watched the man cross the street to the college.

"Come on!" Davy said irritably.

"OK, OK, I'm comin'," Jon said with surprise.

The ride back to Davy's house was quiet and not as energetic as the ride to the park. Jon could not understand why his friend's demeanor had changed so abruptly, but he felt reassured when they came to the driveway between the church and Davy's house.

"You wanna come by after lunch?" Davy asked as he stopped in the drive. Jon paused in the street.

"Sure, if its OK."

"Well, of course its OK. Why wouldn't it be OK?"

Jon shrugged uncertainly.

"Well, I thought you were mad or something."

"I'm not mad! OK?" Davy responded angrily. "I don't wanna talk about it!" Then, he sighed and looked down at the driveway. He then added, contritely, "I'm sorry. I'll see ya later?"

Jon smiled, though not without worry, and replied, "Sure."

But, all through lunch, he couldn't stop thinking of his friend and the strange way he was acting. Davy had always been so cheerful and happy. Jon loved to look at Davy's laughing face and thought it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

As he swallowed a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich, his mother, standing by the counter in their kitchen, looked at him sitting thoughtfully at the kitchen table, and asked, "Sweetheart, is their anything wrong? You seem pretty quiet all of a sudden."

Jon shrugged.

"Not really."

"You sure?"

Jon smiled and nodded as he took a bite of his apple.

"Well, if you need to talk, you know I'm here."

Jon looked at his mother with an impatient smile.

"I know," he said through apple.

With sandwich and apple consumed and Nestle's Quik drunk, Jon walked out the back door and past his bike. He didn't feel like riding. He was in one of his "thoughtful" moods. Jon liked to walk through his neighborhood sometimes, to think, to enjoy the beauty of nature, to fantasize about being an astronaut or the President of the United States. As he reached the bottom of the driveway, he turned and headed up the sidewalk toward St. Paul's and Davy.

The afternoon was much warmer than the morning and he decided to take off his red and white striped pullover. With the shirt over his head, he tripped over a spot on the old sidewalk where a tree root had pushed up one of the concrete squares. The next square was cracked and crooked. As a "little" kid, he had spent many happy afternoons pretending the cracks in the sidewalk were streets and running his tiny iron cars along them. He felt a warm sadness at the memory and a longing to sit down and play with his cars again. But, instead, he took a sigh and strolled on with the shirt tucked into the rear pocket of his navy blue shorts.

Davy was sitting on the wooden back porch of his house nursing a grape Popsicle as Jon approached. He gave his friend a purple grin.

"Hey. I'm glad you came back."

Jon shrugged.

"Don't have anything else to do."

The two smiled and then chuckled. Jon felt better as he gazed at the face he loved, the red hair falling over the white forehead, the freckles across the nose and cheeks, the bright green eyes... the purple grin. He loved Davy.

"Hey," the boy said, as if reading Jon's mind, as he probably could. "You wanna go to The Fort?"

"Yeah!" Jon replied with a thoughtful enthusiasm. "Yeah. That would be really nice."

"Neat," Davy said as he jumped up. He dropped the Popsicle stick in the dented aluminum trash can beside the steps and opened the screen door.

"I'll go get the rug."

A moment later, he reappeared with the small rug rolled up under his arm he had used several years before during nap time in Kindergarten. Together, the two walked across the back yard and between two crepe myrtles just starting to show some spring life. They came to the back side of the church and crawled between the building and the giant overgrown holly bushes which ran from the church back and along the brick wall bordering the alley. Davy used the blanket to shield them from the prickly holly leaves as they crawled through to a little clearing- The Fort.

It was a square of weeds and overgrown grass, matted down after the winter, which had not yet completely come out of dormancy. The Fort was bordered on three sides by holly bushes and on the fourth by the back of the church, along the wall of which was stacked some leftover wood from a renovation some years before. The sun shown down warmly on them and they were completely blocked from the wind and completely isolated from the world.

Davy spread out the little rug and sat down on one end, "Indian" style. He smiled and Jon knew what to expect. He sat on the other end, "Indian" style, as well, with their knees touching.

"Take your shirt off," Jon suggested. "Let's get a tan."

Davy grinned and whipped his tee-shirt over his head.

"Let's take our shoes off," he said and they did.

For several minutes, they sat facing each other as a couple of doves cooed above on the power line.

Jon was glancing up at the perfectly clear sky as Davy said, "I'm glad its too early for the chiggers."

"Me, too."

After another moment of silence, Davy looked down at his knees uncertainly and muttered, "You think we're too old for The Fort?"

Jon shrugged.

"We're only in the fifth grade. Its not like we're in high school or somethin'."

A big old crow swooped over and landed on the bare branches of the pecan tree near The Fort and cawed proudly, declaring his sovereignty over the church. Jon was watching it as Davy whispered nervously, "You wanna do it?"

Jon looked back and smiled.


Slowly they untangled their leg and scooted up to each other, wrapping their legs around each other's hips and their arms around each other's shoulders. Davy rested his head on Jon's shoulder; Jon rested his against Davy's head.

Davy sighed.

"How long we been doing this?" he whispered.

Jon shivered. He could feel Davy's breath against his skin and it sent tingles through his body. Not only that, it gave him The Feeling.

"I dunno. Kindergarten?"

"Yeah, I guess. You don't think we're too old for this, do ya?"

Jon squeezed harder and then ran his hands over Davy's warm skin.

"No way. Besides, even if we were, I don't care. I love hugging you."

"Me, too."

The two boys sat on their napping rug for the longest time until, finally, Davy sighed. He pulled back slightly, and then looked Jon in the eye.

"You're my best friend, right?"

"Of course, I'm your best friend."

"You love me, right?"

"I love you, Davy."

"I can tell you anything, I mean anything, and you wouldn't hate me, would you?"

"No way could I ever hate you, Davy."

Davy bit his upper lip. A lock of red hair fell over his cowlick and across his forehead.

"What is it, Davy. Tell me."

Jon hugged his friend as Davy kissed him on the cheek.

"Do you ever, you know, like, get hard?"

"Well, yeah," Jon replied. "We've talked about that before."

"I know. Like how we always get hard when we hug."


A pause.

"Well," Davy continued. "Are you hard now?"

"Well, sure. I always get hard when we do this."

Davy took another breath and then said, "If I show ya something, ya promise not to hate me?"

"Davy, what is up with you? I'm your bestest best friend."

"I know, but this is like the worst thing in the world you can do, but its also like the best thing in the world."

"What is it?" Jon asked breathlessly. Suddenly, The Feeling was growing and Jon's heart was quickening. He had never felt this way before.

"You can't ever tell anyone we did this. Never. OK?"

Jon's "OK" was barely audible.

Davy looked so scared, yet so excited. He stood up, the front of his green shorts tenting outward to the right of his zipper. It was right in Jon's face and his eyes were locked on the sight. He couldn't breath.

"Stand up," Davy whispered.

Jon finally tore his eyes away from Davy's shorts and looked up at his friend. Davy was nearly panting and was looking downward at his friend with the strangest urgency. Jon struggled to his feet, his own shorts pushed out downward. His penis hurt, it was so hard, from the angle in his underwear.

The two boys looked each other in the eyes and Davy whispered, "We have to get naked."

There was something indescribably wicked, yet thrilling, about those words. Jon had never felt so alive, so excited, so certain he was breaking some commandment or other, some rule. He never broke rules. He hated breaking rules. He loved rules. Whenever he and Davy and the other boys got together to make up games, Jon always made the rules because he was so good at it. But, at this moment, it didn't matter what rules he was breaking or who had made them. Nothing could stop him.

His hands trembling, he reached up for the snap on his shorts and opened them, his eyes following Davy's fingers as they did the same thing. He took the clasp of his zipper between his thumb and index finger and slowly moved it downward. Gradually, his shorts opened until, suddenly, they fell to his feet, revealing his tight, tiny, white Fruit-of-the-Looms. His hard penis pointed downward and pushed the front of his briefs outward. A second later, Davy's shorts fell to the blanket. He kicked them to the side as Jon stared at the sideways protrusion in his friends underwear. He could make out perfectly the shaft and the shape of the cone at the end. He was visibly shaking, by now, as was Davy.

They stood for a moment looking up and down at each other, their eyes jumping nervously, excitedly all over each other's bodies. Jon's eyes stopped on Davy's mouth. Slowly, it formed a smile as Davy hooked his thumbs inside the elastic bands of his shorts. In one swift movement, he pushed the briefs down and kicked them away, revealing his hard little penis. Jon's mouth opened as he looked at it for the first time.

It was longer than his longest finger, thicker than his thumb, and stood upward rigidly, bobbing with his heart beat. It was the same creamy white as his hairless tummy and the cone at the end was a bright red. His little balls were tight against the base of the penis, almost invisible. Jon looked up at Davy's face and saw worry and concern, as well as hope and excitement.

"It... its beautiful."

Relief flooded over Davy's face.

"Its your turn."

Nervously, Jon hooked his thumbs under the elastic and pushed downward. Davy stopped breathing as Jon's own beautiful boyhood came into view. It was the same size as Davy's, only slightly darker, the line of the circumcision just a bit more apparent, and the cone at the end was a deep, throbbing purple. Jon's balls were also just a hint larger than Davy's and the skin covering them was just a touch darker.

They stood, gazing rapturously at each other, the warm sun shining on their innocent bodies. Davy's right hand slowly moved forward. Jon watched, afraid to move, afraid to think, as the hand came closer and closer. And, then, the tips of his fingers touched the sensitive area underneath and behind the cone. This was greeted with a gasp, almost a cry, by Jon.

Davy's fingers wrapped around the stiff boyhood and Jon's head fell backward as his eyes closed and he cried out.

"AAH! Oh! Oh! Uuuuugh!"

He thrust his hips forward and Davy squeezed the rigid little penis, eliciting more cries of shock from his friend, his love. Slowly, he moved his fist toward Jon's tummy.

"Oh, oh, oh..."

Davy's left hand came up and cupped Jon's tight balls. Jon was delirious. His cries became incoherent as Davy's right hand moved up and down Jon's throbbing penis and his left hand squeezed and caressed his balls. Jon's hips thrashed about wildly as Davy made manual love to him.

As Jon's moans and cries grew in intensity, Davy begged, "Do it to me, Jonny! Please!"

The words cut through the fog of ecstasy in Jon's mind. He opened his eyes and saw the desperation in Davy's face. He gasped and reached forward, taking his sweet Davy in his hands.

"Oh, my God!"

It was not Davy, but Jon who cried these words as his hands loved the rigid penis and tight balls. Frantically, the two boys felt and rubbed and caressed and thrust, and wriggled and writhed and cried until the feelings grew so strong, so intense, so powerful, so GOOD, that neither could stand it any more and they both screamed their passion and love as they fell over the precipice.

When the last spasms subsided, both boys fell down to the blanket in a tangle of naked legs and arms.

"Oh, my God," Jon gasped in Davy's face. "Oh, Davy. That was... that was..."

"I know," Davy gasped. "You don't hate me?"

Jon looked incredulously at his lover.

"Hate you?!? Oh, my God, Davy! I love you! That was... that was awesome."

Suddenly, their arms tightened about each other and the two boys desperately held each other, passing their love to the other through the intensity of their embrace.

It was some time before either was able to emerge from the emotion of the moment. Jon had never felt anything within or without to compare to this moment.

"Davy, this is so wonderful. I love you. How did you learn about this? How did you figure this out?"

A shadow came over Davy's face.

"I don't want to talk about that. I just want to hug you. I just want you to love me. You and me will always be friends, won't we Jon? We'll always be best friends. You'll always love me, right?"

"Yes, Davy. Yes. You and I will always be friends. I'll always love you. Forever."

"You'll never hate me?"

Jon looked at his friend with confusion and concern.

"Davy, I don't know what else to say. I love you. I love you. I love you."

And, with that, Davy closed his eyes, laid his head on Jon's shoulder, felt the warmth of his friend, the strength of his friend, and buried the darkness in his soul deep within.

Thus ends Chapter 3. I hope you enjoyed and were moved by this chapter. Please email your comments to . Thank you for reading my story.