The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely a coincidence. This work of fiction depicts sexual acts between adult and minor males. If reading such is illegal where you reside or you are not of legal age, please stop and go somewhere else.

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The Safe Zone – Chapter 2

I watch the two boys shut the common latrine door behind them and walk into the sunlight towards our kitchen. I get up and follow them. One boy caresses my hard cock jutting straight ahead as I walk past him. He is almost 13 and is sprouting a bit of fluff around his cock and armpits. I reach out and tickle his cock tip and, smiling, walk on. By the time I open the door of the latrine the two boys have almost reached the door of our kitchen. I quicken my pace so as not to miss any of the fun. In the hall my brother, Charles, is still sleeping with two boys fast asleep by his sides.  All three of them are flat on their backs and Charles has a hard on. His cock was always bigger than mine, I think with a twinge of brotherly jealousy. He has shaven off his pubic hair and I have shaved around his anus too because I like to rim him.

In the kitchen our helper, Peter, is grinning at Mr. Cock and Mr. Lick with excitement. Poor Peter, his tongue cruelly cut off by some unknown monster when he was a baby, can only make excited noises.   Mr. Cock, or Jacob as I have christened him, goes and stands directly in front of Peter. So close that Peter's nose is almost touching the shaft of Jacob's hard cock pasted upon his tummy. I can see Peter's cock springing to attention. Mr. Lick, Timmy, sidles up to Bob, another helper whose leg was spoilt by polio when he was very young, and fingers his ass crack. Bob pretends to be annoyed but his cock tells the truth. Bob has a cock which turns towards his left as he gets hard. And Timmy stares at Bob's cock turning slowly. The other two helpers, Mark and Roger, are trying their best to ignore us and pay attention to their cooking but are failing miserably. All four helpers are supposed to be hard at work but the two cheeky boys have got them hard and unable to work. Ha!

I stand watching the helpers, Peter, Roger, Mark, Bob and the two boys, Jacob (the 17 year old fellator) and Timmy (the 10 year old rimmer) forget their ages and chores. They lie down on the kitchen floor for some serious orgy. Timmy being the smallest of this lot always got his way with the others when it came to his anus and penis being serviced. Peter sat on Bob's face and Bob's tongue explored Peter's puckered hole. Bob massaged Peter's tool and Peter was lost to the world, his eyes glazed over as he moaned loudly. Roger and Jacob cuddled into a 69. They finger fucked each other's asses and deep throated their throbbing tools. Mark's bums were being explored by the young and expert tongue of Timmy. Timmy knew exactly how to reach into anyone's asshole with his small fingers and massage the prostrate gently. Timmy could only get dry orgasms at his age. We always celebrated the occasion when any of the boys grew up enough to start getting wet climaxes. Peter's moans grew louder as he came nearer to climaxing. I felt someone standing beside me. I turned and found Charles, my younger bro in his forties, looking at the orgy grinning. I fondled his penis lovingly.

"No don't kiss me now", Charles admonished as I was about to reach for his lips, "I want my mouth to smell good for you."

Smiling I pecked his cheek. My bro and I being in an incestuous relationship almost from the start, I was 10 when my parents died in a car accident. Charles was barely 2 months old at that time and miraculously survived the crash shielded by the protective body of our angel of a mom. Even in death her body had arched so as to protect his tiny body from the mangled metal and shards of glass. I was at home when their car crashed into a boulder. I remember feeling numb when I heard the devastating news. I stopped talking to anyone for almost a year after that. The only person I cared for was Charles. I was the one who changed his soiled diapers and fed him bottled milk. I had grown up overnight. My widowed uncle adopted us and watched in amazement as I laboured over my school homework night after night with little Charles rocking contentedly on my lap. My uncle soon fell into hard times and food came to be in short supply. By the time I was 11 we moved from the city to a small village in Sri Lanka and he got me enrolled in a tiny village school. I think I got the respect and dedication for acquiring knowledge from my uncle. He would hardly smile and our small house was very sombre. But when it came to exhorting me and my bro to study, he would be gently insistent. He would get books from goodness knows where for me to read or be read to. Books on medicine, astronomy, physics, you name the subject and we had it in our ever growing personal library. I don't know how he managed to get those books but they were our most prized possessions. I have known of days when we would only get a single meal to gulp and days when we could manage three. I would work after my school in a neighbour's house, cleaning utensils, dusting and sweeping to earn a few bucks. Those were the days of innocence in Sri Lanka. Boys and men would have no qualms openly shitting together in fields – there were no outhouses or latrines - and bathing naked together – bathrooms were unheard of – in village ponds. Same gender group nudity was not associated with sex or immorality. At home my uncle was completely ok with nudity. He would pray in front of images of Hindu deities kept in one corner of our house after his bath every morning butt naked. On hot afternoons and nights he would sleep naked and it was natural that we boys followed suit. Charles and I have gone through chores around our house completely naked since he was a baby.

Never in our lives has my uncle or any other adult approached Charles or me sexually, I was never "molested" as a boy by any adult, ever. That should freeze the venomous tongues of those who believe that child abusers turn out that way because they were brutalized in their childhoods. I am a homosexual child lover because I was born that way! I have never forced any child or man to have sex with me against his will and I abhor violence of any kind. I don't believe nudity and consensual sex to be wrong, evil or immoral. I do believe that stopping a child from exploring his sexuality when he is growing up is both wrong and immoral. My ideas don't resonate at all with the current beliefs in this world. Now do you know why I refuse to tell you where I and my beloved children are? If my account is read by those spewing hatred against us I would be lynched and then clamped in irons for the rest of my natural life. My children would be "disciplined" and their tender minds forced to wither away. I am a "monster" and "vicious paedophile" in the eyes of countless millions of "law abiding" citizens of this world. I leave it to you, dear reader, to make up your mind. Would you rather have orphan children imprisoned in horror homes or love homes? Would you rather punish your little boy because you have caught him masturbating with his friends and infuse their young minds with guilt or teach them that the human body produces sex hormones which are essential for growth? Sexual thoughts and actions are natural and so is the naked body. If little children everywhere are taught to be completely unashamed of their naked bodies and those of their parents and friends, the world will be a much safer place than it is today, we will have a lot less rapes and sex related crimes. We have allowed the poisons of unscientific religious dogmas, moral and rhetoric to be poured into our minds. We have equated sex with sin and homosexual love with evil, hence my interest in growing as a spiritual being rather than a religious bigot. I have already lost many readers by this point. If you agree with me thus far I urge you to read on my account of our lives. Undoubtedly you will have this question in your minds, `why when I was born a Hindu do I have a Christian name?' Well, it's just another level of protection from our vicious enemies. I shall never reveal the true identities of any one. All the names in my account have been changed for our own protection.

I was about 12 when I became fully aware of my intense homosexual desires. I would stare at the penises of boys and men shitting and bathing with me and feel a strong attraction. Early one morning I and two other boys were walking to the farm fields where we would regularly squat and shit chatting with each other about childish games. As we squatted, letting pieces of smelly turd squeeze out of our anuses on to the ground, my eyes sought out the penis of the oldest boy in the trio. It was stiff. I drew the attention of us towards it in fascination. We fingered it and the boy pulled at it. He stood up straight and wriggled his hard organ. He hadn't washed his asshole yet and the tiny hillock of shit he had made lay behind his feet. I could feel my penis hardening too. I felt an indescribable pleasure in my pubes. I had no way of knowing then how much that pleasure would rule my life and have ruled the lives of most men on earth.  

That night as I lay on my bed I pictured that boy's hard penis and instantly felt mine harden. My bro, now 2, lay fast asleep by my side. It was a hot summer night and my uncle and we were completely naked. I remember the pitter-patter of raindrops on our thatched roof. It rained quite a lot in Lanka and rains in summer were common. I saw my uncle sitting by his study table with a small reading fire lantern pouring over a heavy tome at his table. Till that day I would routinely lie on my tummy and rub my erect penis on the bed. My uncle would sit around reading and never stopped me. I had asked him about why it felt so good when I did it and he had answered that all boys and men felt good massaging their penises and that it does get erect from time to time bringing pleasure to the person. My uncle would get me to rub herbal oil all over my body just before my bath every morning so that my skin stayed healthy and smooth. I knew that he massaged oil over his body too. I had seen him pull back his foreskin to clean his Glans and he would tell me to do it too. "You need to keep your penis clean, Kevin", my uncle would instruct gently, "it is also an important part of your body." I would carefully and gently wash my brother's delicate body too. I was very good at taking care of my baby brother's needs and my uncle let me do that often.

That night my palm cupped my hard cock as I lay on my back beside my sleeping baby brother. I started massaging it, first slowly and then vigorously. I must have grunted or otherwise made some slight noises, because my uncle turned around to look at me. When he saw my hand around my erection he got up quietly and pulled out a soft, clean cloth from the drawer. He placed it beside me and went back to his studies without a word. As we were very comfortable with each other's nudity I did not feel the slightest discomfort. I wondered why he had kept the cloth. Having been rubbing my penis over the bed for many years I was already familiar with end-of-rub pleasure. That night, to my surprise, I found a small amount of white liquid oozing out of the same hole through which I passed urine. I felt that sticky fluid between my fingers and smelt it. I put my finger to my lips, it had a sweetish, tangy flavour. I wasn't able to make up my mind about whether I liked the taste or not. But I absolutely loved the sensations my groin was giving me. And strangely my uncle had known that I would bring out that white liquid and had placed the cloth beside me. I marvelled at his foresight. Not wishing to stop my pleasures I started pumping my penis again. After I had invoked that exquisite joy four times I got up and still with a hard penis walked over to my uncle. He looked up at me and smiled at my hard organ. He began to speak in whispers so as not to wake Charles. He opened a book on human reproduction and showed me pictures explaining the structure of the male sex organ. He made me read a few paragraphs on masturbation and the biological processes that accompany it. I was better read than all of the boys of my age in that village and I found little difficulty in understanding the text. What I couldn't understand my uncle patiently explained in the days and months which followed that night. I would happily masturbate all over our house and my uncle never made me uncomfortable. If we were at breakfast and I would get the urge I would start pumping while he ate and looked on smiling as I got to orgasm. He asked me to be more careful than ever in retracting my foreskin and cleaning the Glans Penis.

"Don't you ever masturbate, uncle?" I asked him one day. He smiled at me with sad eyes, "No Kevin," he answered in a small voice, "sadness takes away the need and the pleasure". As I got older and more mature I realized that my uncle must have been battling depression all those years he was raising us. We shall always remember him as the gentlest, most loving and caring paternal figure we boys could ever have had after our parents. I shall be eternally grateful to him for making me what I am: a free thinking individual, spiritual and moral. He would have been very appreciative of our work with this orphanage were he alive today. Years later when Charles and I stood by his death bed weeping uncontrollably at the thin, still figure lying supine in the clean hospital room I recollected all those times when our uncle taught us how to grow up freely. His gentle manner and erudite voice can never be stilled in our hearts. May his soul be nurtured by Indra, the king of gods in heaven, and kept by His side forever.

My baby brother was growing bigger every year and would be by my side playing with his toys or studying as I indulged in masturbation. He would hand me a semen-cloth as we called it just before I ejaculated. One sultry evening, my uncle was away at work in the farm, me and my bro woke up from our afternoon siesta. I was 15 and my brother 5, I remember, then. As was my habit, my hand found my penis and began to pump. My bro was sitting up on our bed beside me looking at my penis.

"Teach me how to matbate" prattled my bro, stroking himself. I turned my head and saw his tiny penis jutting up stiffly. I let go of my cock and gently stroked his penis with my forefinger. I could feel his organ throb. "Go on, bro," he said, "I like what you are doing to me". Almost as if I had known this always, I licked his penis with my tongue. He giggled with pleasure. I knew I was indulging in what was called "fellatio" with my bro. I knew from my studies that licking my brother's Glans Penis will bring him the maximum pleasure and also licking around his Anus. I gently raised his legs so as to put my mouth between his buttock cheeks. I had washed his bum innumerable times in the past and felt it natural to smell and lick it now. I was still hard but my sole desire was to bring pleasure to my bro. My bro kept exhorting me to continue licking his asshole. I reached up between his legs and wet his scrotum and penis with my tongue. Within minutes his little body went rigid and he gasped, I knew the boy was having the first orgasm of his life. I cuddled him in my arms. My penis was stiff but I didn't care to masturbate. I was happy to see my brother content with an erect little cock.

When my uncle came home that evening we told him what we had done. He smiled at us lovingly. "You have initiated your brother into the pleasures of homosexual love Kevin", he said, "that is good. Somehow I always knew, since you were 10 that you are homosexual. I used to be the same you know. They forcibly got me married off to a female. Fortunately my wife passed away very early in our marriage and we never had any sex. You make sure you never get married, Kevin, no matter how great the pressures. You are a homosexual teenager. And, by the looks of it, your brother is a homosexual boy." It was perhaps the most important advice I have ever received on sexual orientation and conduct. That piece of advice has shaped my destiny and my character. My sex commandment, if you will, "Thou shall be proud of your homosexuality and shall stay steadfast."

That night, as my uncle looked on appreciatively, Charles took my erect penis in his fist and massaged. He licked my penis and anus.  My kid brother, all of 5, was completely homosexual from then on. Both of us saw pictures of naked females in a foreign magazine my uncle had acquired from somewhere and did not feel the slightest attraction. Yes sir! we are completely homosexual and very incestuous siblings and have been that way since my bro was 5 and I 15.

What is it that I hear some of you say? "Evil? Sick? Immoral? Depraved?" "Who are you to judge?", I retort, "to each his own. My God does not condemn acts of love and this I know for certain."

By the time my bro was 9 he and I were having frequent bouts of sex every day. Never having to bother about censure from our uncle we engaged in it heavily whenever we were free of our studies. By that time my uncle had started making a tidy amount of money and we moved out of that village to a city in south of India. Education was better in the city and my uncle admitted me and my brother into a good school. My passion for devouring books on various subjects never showed signs of abating. My brother surprised his teachers at school with his knowledge of Biology. Almost from the beginning my brother's interest in reading books on medicine was high. His remarkable brain could absorb and store medical facts and figures with the greatest of ease. While other boys of his age were still struggling with basic chapters on life sciences, Charles was reading "Gray's Anatomy" with panache. Our sexual appetite for each other never abated and we were quite satisfied with each other for either of us feeling the need to seek sex outside. In the apartment where our uncle and we lived we had a rule of complete nudity. We would never talk about our lifestyle with anyone else outside the three of us. We had learnt from our uncle how adverse the world was when it came to sex and nudity. At 9 my kid brother would routinely suck me dry and swallow my semen. I loved to sniff and lick his anus and cock. Puberty set early and he started ejaculating semen at 11, got his first strands of pubic hair around that age. I remember my uncle getting home a camera and spending hours clicking me and my bro having sex. He preserved those pictures in our family albums. Every morning without fail I woke my brother up with blowjobs. My uncle captured many of those tender moments on film and till today we brothers love watching those black and white snaps repeatedly. I have had about 50 of the most erotic ones framed and have hung it on one of the walls of our love home. Every boy in our love home knows the history of the passionate relationship between me and my brother.

In school my brother stayed aloof and reclusive and preferred reading in the library. He shone academically. I graduated from school to college and studied finance. I knew the importance of money and was determined to learn more about the art and science of earning loads of it. Every evening me, my kid brother and our uncle would come home and strip off. My uncle would cook for all three of us while we brothers would sit studying. On Sundays we would go out to buy groceries for home and afternoons would be siesta time for uncle and sex time for us. Our voracious appetite for sex made us seek comfort in each other's bodies every single night. Saturday nights were the best since we could stay awake longer. Even in winters that part of India never gets so cold as to need clothes to be worn inside the house. So we would happily never wear any unless we had tradesmen come at the door to deliver something. We never had visitors.

Such were our lives when to my amazement my brother announced one evening that he had made a friend in his school. My bro was about 14 then and this friend was a student of the same school five years younger than him. My bro had seen him often in the school library reading alone. One day the little boy worked up courage to come and talk to my bro. His name was K. he said and he wanted to be friends with my bro since he found him to be uninterested in the rough and tough games of his boisterous classmates. K. was thin, my brother described, his sad, sunken eyes expressed his loneliness eloquently. K. was a neglected child, a sad but hidden reality in many heterosexual and "normal" homes. Both of K.'s parents worked hard to acquire wealth which they loved more than anything in the world. They would leave food in the kitchen for their son to come home from school and eat alone. K. would be in that empty house reading and re-reading his books. He had no friends and no one he could call over till his parents came back late every night. K.'s Sundays would be spent sitting quietly in the living room listening to his parents quarrel. Mr. Husband and Mrs. Wife did not get along with each other. They were together in society because of that "little wretch" and one would loudly berate the other for "spawning that vermin". Divorces were unheard of or frowned upon in those days in India. At 9 K. could understand every word of those angry bouts of shouting between his parents. His parents had never physically abused him but obviously the little boy was mentally traumatized. Such was the picture of this "normal and heterosexual household". My bro got to know K.'s life by and by and could grasp the enormity of that boy's pain. His gentle heart bled for that little boy who was struggling to survive in such an atrocious situation. That's when my tender bro made his first real friend at school, K. His little friend had no one to talk to except my bro and poured his heart out to him for more than two months before my bro opened up to him about his sex life with me. K. was enchanted with the stories of abundant love and care flowing in my brother's home. My bro resolved to get K. home to show how real people lived. My uncle who listened to this tale of horror readily agreed. He got in touch with K.'s parents the very next Sunday to let them know that K. was welcome to stay in our house every afternoon, holidays and Sundays. K. could walk back the short distance to his house once his parents returned. Finding a socially acceptable way of getting rid of their son they were over eager. They even offered to compensate my uncle for extending this favour which my uncle politely but firmly declined.

And so it was that my bro got his friend K. home that sunny afternoon. Our uncle had stayed back from work to welcome the kid. And K. was overwhelmed by our love and enthusiasm as all three of us walked back together to our home. It was the first time K. had met me and immediately took my hand in his. I became his elder brother from that day. We walked up to our 5th floor apartment and uncle unlocked the door.

.... to be continued.