I Only Wanted Aaron - Part 10

by Jordan West

© May 28, 2000 by Jordan West

Love is only love when it's experienced--by the other person--receiving yours.  -J. West

NOTE:  If male-male sex, gay relationships, or teen sex offends you, or if you disapprove of this, or if you are not of the right age to read about it, please -- to protect your rights and the rights of others, stop reading now, and go elsewhere. 

This story is intended for adults, OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE ONLY.

This is a gay love story, and includes sex.  This story is fiction, and represents no actual persons, living or dead.  The names of all the people, places, and things in this story, are made up.  This is not a story of dirty, smelly sex.  It portrays love, and the beauty of sex, not the insensitive kind.

The following is a portrayal of love and sexual thoughts and actions of consenting, male high school students, under 18, and possibly other fictitious characters, as the author chooses.  One or more of the scenes may involve sex on school property, which, in real life, is illegal in most places, and the author specifically urges all readers NOT TO TRY THIS IN ANY WAY, NOR DO ANYTHING SEXUAL IN PUBLIC, NOR ON PUBLIC PROPERTY.

PREAMBLE — New stuff, mostly.

WARNING!   Reading this PREAMBLE may be dangerous to your health, the health of your pets, or may possibly cause cancer in laboratory rats.  OK!  J/K!
May 28, 2000

Hi guys,

Happy Memorial Day.

I am submitting Part 10 today, Sunday, the 28th, but I have no idea if anyone from Nifty will be around, to post it.  I hope it posts today, so you can have the holiday, to read it.

I should explain to anyone from another country, who might not know what our Memorial Day is -- that it's a day we put aside to remember all those who died in wars, and to thank them for what they did for us.  I guess it doesn't exactly sound like party time, but we do have family get-togethers and picnics, on Memorial Day, when we can.  I hope it never happens, but if the time comes, I hope I can be as brave as they were, and give my life for a good cause.

Now, I'm really excited!  This is the way the new HTML format was meant to look -- with left and right margins.  At least, I hope that's what you see.  If you study writing, you also get classes in "layout," and one of the things I learned was that the eye should only "travel" a small distance, to get from the beginning of a line to the end, so that's why I wanted the margins.  In the last chapter, Part 9, there was a problem with italics, that I talk about in, "Corrections...."

Play with your monitor's brightness, for best text clarity.  I tend to keep mine low, but when I brightened it a little, it seemed to make the text clearer.

Unless you like to use a narrow window because your eyes need that, be sure you widen your window to the full width possible, or you might get weird line breaks, and wrong margins, or even worse, you might get confyoozulled.

If you see tons of weird codes on your screen, like, '& nbsp;' that means you need to get your browser updated, in most cases, so it can read the latest version of HTML, and all the new codes that get added with each new version.  If you go to the Netscape or Microsoft site, you can get your Netscape or Internet Explorer browser updated for free.  I'll bet everyone knew that already.

Some of you wrote in, and said you liked the pale blue, background color. That's great, thanks!  If you have an older monitor or video board, with fewer colors, your background color might be more of a "medium" blue.  Let me know if you like the new format, or if you have trouble with it.  OK?

Sometimes just knowing one little problem tells me how I can write the HTML code a slightly different way, and make it better for a lot of people.  If you write about the HTML, be SURE to tell me what browser you use, and the browser's version number, like, "Internet Explorer 5.1" or "Netscape 4.7."  Thanks to the readers who wrote me about it -- that really helps me to improve.

Aaron's thoughts are in italics now.  Finally!     :- )    

Many of you wrote in about the S&M and Bondage question.  Thanks for that. Please read the answer under, "Corrections and Stuff."

Some of the things in the Preamble are repeats from last time -- well, more things than usual, some things because I thought they were worth repeating, and others because I wanted to get Part 10 out as soon as I could.


About the New Format  (and last week's format)
. . . You will see paragraphs that start with three dots.  That means one of two things.  Either there is a switch from speech to thought, or, a switch from one person thinking, to the other.

But!  If there are a bunch of paragraphs, in a row, of the same person's thoughts, only the first paragraph of the bunch, will be led by the three dots.

Correction to Last Week's Format
I apologize.  After the Preamble, in Part 9, some of you saw the entire story in italics.  I left off one tiny little code, forgetting to end the italics in one spot. But another code that came right after that, allowed many of you to see the text of the story correctly -- I hope!  The way I understand it now, if you had IE, you got the italics all through, after the Preamble, but with Netscape you saw it the way it was meant to be. Anyway, for you HTML buffs, when you cancel the font, IE holds on to the italics.

The S&M and Bondage Question
This keeps coming up.  The quick answer is, "No."  But, even though no one will do any real rough stuff, the characters might decide "play" at it.  You never know.  So, don't quit reading, or get scared, if you see the word, "rope," or "slap."  They will be having fun, not abuse, or any real pain.  OK?  I won't let that type of thing dominate the story.

E-MAIL   :-)

Hotmail goes down, on and off, so if you mysteriously don't get an answer from me, of if you got mail returned, please try again!  I answer all your mail.

Thanks for the good e-mail responses!

If there's something that happened in the story that hit you, or if something isn't there, that you'd like to see, talk about that.  I love to hear about what you're thinking, and I get some nice suggestions that way!

I really think about those, and try to do them, if I can. 


HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Guy!     :-)

LAUGH TIME   --   *NEW*    Remember, send me stuff for this!  OK? 

Southern Words
The space I made for the new TV was too nayrow.  The TV turned out to be a lot wahdder than I thought!


OK.  This is not made up stuff or busy stuff, it's real questions that someone sent in, or that I have, that I'm too lazy to look up.    :- )

This Week's Question -- Sent in by Dave.
"Why isn't there a 'cent' key, (like the 'c' with a slash through it), on the keyboard?"  Thanks to Dave for submitting this.  I like that question.  I hate to write, "$0.18" instead of just saying 18 cents, but a key for it would be great. Now, we know there is a way to do this with some kind of code, whatever it is. But, -- why no 'cent' key?

Last Week's Question and Answer
"What does it mean when your system freezes, and all the lights on your keyboard are blinking?"

Thanks, to the one, and only one, reader who with the answer:
"It means you're froze up real good, buddy."


Special thanks to Eagle, Ray, Guy, and Omi, who have been faithful correspondents, and help me stay motivated, and absorb my insanity every day.

Of course, now they will go insane, but, there are trade-offs for everything.

Special thanks to Phil, who came up with a great suggestion for a future chapter! Also, Ryan, David, Jeff, Brandon, RK and LS, who are great pen-pals. And thanks for the tech info on Scroll Lock and Print Screen.  That was good!

Thanks for your e-mails!  Thanks to everyone who e-mailed me, (yessss)!  ...and shared your thoughts with me.  That is always awesome.

Well, that's it, for now.

: - )

Jordan =

I Only Wanted Aaron - Part 10

by Jordan West

© May 28, 2000 by Jordan West

Love is only love when it's experienced--by the other person--receiving yours.  -J. West

. . . I couldn't remember ever trying to jack off with blue balls before.  As I thought about it, I didn't remember my nuts ever hurting this bad, before!  I tried to stroke gently, because my regular strokes were too strong, and made my nuts bounce and hurt so bad.  I finally held them in one hand, and that stopped most of the pain.  Then it started to feel really good, and pictures of Aaron flooded my mind.  

I was going slow—looking forward to shooting the load of the year—when I remembered it was dinnertime, and I was supposed to set the table.  If either of my brothers ended up doing it for me, I could be in big trouble, and that could mean I might end up grounded, on a day I could normally visit Aaron.  No way could I take that chance—so I had to stop.  

'Oh God!' I thought I was going to die, just with the idea of stopping now.  I looked down at my nuts, to see if they really looked blue—they never hurt this much before.  As I carefully wiped off the precum, I wondered, for a moment, if I could damage myself by stopping now, but I had no choice.

I was pushing the limit with my parents, staying at Aaron's for so long, so no way was I going to take any chances that I might get in trouble, and miss a chance to visit him, by being late for setting the table!  I was way behind on chores—Brian and Matt filled in for me, while I was gone, so I had to catch up on some of theirs, now, to make up for it.  I kicked myself for not waiting till later, to try to jack off.  Now, I was hurting worse.

I grabbed my tightest jock, so it would press tight—to hide my hardon.  With my dick and nuts complaining all the way, I stuffed myself inside the jock.  

"Ow!"  I hoped no one heard me, but damn, that hurt!  As I slipped my shorts on, I realized the tight jock hid my hardon OK, but the pressure was like a vise, on my nuts.  As I took my first step, it was like a punch in the groin—I was a walking, self-torture machine.  Making sure I could see Aaron was worth the pain—there was no doubt in my mind, about that.

I was walking—almost limping—to the kitchen.  I forced myself to walk normal, as mom came into view.

"Hi, mom."  I gave her a quick kiss.

"Hi, sweetheart.  Everything OK?"

"OK? — Sure.  Why?"

"Nothing special, Scott.  Its just that you're—well, you are a little early to set the table, so I thought you wanted to—"

"Oh, God!  I forgot.  It's Sunday."  We always ate late on Sunday.

"You can do it later, if you like."

"No, that's OK, mom, I'll do it now.  Thanks for letting me stay over at Aaron's, this weekend."

"Well, honey, I was worried that you and Aaron might stay up too late, but, you don't look tired.  So I guess you guys did OK.  I always did like Aaron.  I'm sure he's a good influence on you."


. . . Oh yeah!  We influenced each other real good!

"You are wincing some, and breathing a little strangely, Scott, did you hurt yourself?"

"Umm, no!  I was um, doing some pushups, just now."

. . . Hurt myself?  Yeah, my nuts will never be the same!

"You do look good, hon.  I guess you're doing all right, working out over there.  Did you guys have fun, together?"

"You bet, mom!  Aaron is such a cool guy, I feel lucky he picked me to workout with."

. . . Fun?  Workout?  Oh yeah!  He picked me—and we had a workout, all right.

"Well, he is a good boy, and I'm sure he's the best one to train you for football. He did so well this season—I enjoyed watching him play.  Did you eat well, while you were there?  I was worried about that."

. . . That's mom.  She never missed a chance to worry.  Never missed a game, either.

"Don't worry, mom.  One night we had pizza, one morning I made oatmeal, one night we even went to Sophie's, and had Lasagna.  And Aaron made great sandwiches for lunch."

"That's good, hon.  Did you have enough money to pay for your dinner, when you went to Sophie's?"

"Well, Aaron paid for it.  I—"

"Sweetheart, you should pay him back."

"I will—I promise.  Well, I'll offer to, anyway.  Aaron's just not like that.  It's different with us."

. . . I could feel myself blushing. Why did I say that?  It was different with us, all right!  I was so glad mom wasn't looking at my face.

"I know Aaron comes from a good family, honey, and—I just wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself, that's all.  I'm sure he knows his manners.  Didn't you take money with you?"

"Well, yeah, I did."

. . . Mom gave me one of her looks, like, I should know better.

"OK, mom.  I promise I will tape the money to his... um... carseat!"

. . . Oh God!  I almost said, '...tape the money to his butt!'

"Mom—I need to find Brian, I haven't seen him yet."

"I think he's downstairs, watching television.  But if he's sleeping, don't wake him up.  He's still getting over that cold."

"OK, mom.  I won't"

. . . Sleeping?  I was surprised Brian didn't snag me as soon as I walked in the door.  I would bet he doesn't know I'm home yet.  

Brian was cool, for a 14 year-old.  We were very close, and I liked the things we did together.  He was more street-smart than I was, so in that way, he was more like Aaron.  So Brian filled me in, more than once, on things I had no clue about—but we loved each other, so he almost never rubbed it in.  I guess he accepted my being dumb about things, like I accepted his being skinny and twerpy.  Actually, I kinda liked him skinny and twerpy, but I wouldn't admit it.

It was embarrassing, though, that my little brother was the one who taught me how to jack off—that's how dumb I was, then.  I was twelve, and here was this ten year-old, showing me how to do it, like an expert.  That made us even closer, but I still felt weird about it, sometimes.  I used it to my advantage, though—threatening to tell mom and dad what he taught me—that he had, "defiled and corrupted me" for life.  I wondered how long he would fall for that, before he realized that it was an empty threat.

Then, I remembered I had to call Aaron, to ask him something—before I talked to Brian.  I ran to my room, and punched in the number.  I remembered to keep my voice low.


"Hey, little dude, what's up?"

. . . 'Oh, God, how was I going to explain this?'

"Nothing much really.  I miss you."

"Miss you too, Scotty.  You sound nervous.  Come on, what's up?"

"Aaron... I forgot to tell you—it's—about me and Brian....  Brian and I....   Well... you know, we're close, and we're really good brothers, and um... well... we—uh... well, it just sorta happened, when I was twelve.  He was ten!  We were really horny, and—I mean like now, we still mess around—just being brothers 'n' stuff—I mean, it's not like we're in love or anything, I just—"

"Oh, fuck!"

. . . Aaron sounded really pissed.  The phone was silent.  I waited, and waited.  I could hear my heartbeat.  I could feel my heartbeat.  I thought my ears were going to pop.

"Aaron?  Look—I'm sorry.  Please, OK?  I'll stop.  I won't do it, I promise.  Aaron?  Please!"

. . . I started to cry, softly.

"Oh shit, little dude.  No.  Don't cry.  OK?  I'm sorry, Scotty, I'm just yanking your chain.  It's OK, I swear.  I don't care what you guys do.  Hey, I meant to tell you but—"

"What?  It's OK?  You're not mad?  No shit?"

"No shit, Scotty.  Chill, OK?"

. . . I was still crying.

"OK, Aaron.  If you're sure."

"I'm sure.  Shit!—I know how horny you were when you left here.

"Aaron, that is so cool, I was—what were you going to tell me?"

"Shit, little dude, me and David messed around, too!  I wouldn't tell anyone but you, baby, so—"

. . . David was Aaron's older brother, he was married, now.

"Damn!  Aaron, no kidding?  That is SO COOL!"

"Yeah, but don't tell Brian.  Don't tell anyone! "

"I hope you know you don't have to say that, but I promise."

"Shit, Scotty, I feel like a perv, now."

"You think that's embarrassing?  Brian taught me how to jack off."

"No way, little dude."

"I'm serious, Aaron.  He was ten!  Oh, God, I feel like a perv, now."

"Maybe you do need jack-off lessons.  I better check out how you do it."

. . . We both laughed at that.  Then I gulped, realizing I had one other biggie to tell him.

"Aaron, remember that second-hand store—that thing I bought, right before Christmas, that that looked so neat, and we didn't know what it was?"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe you bought that thing.  You still got it?

"Well, umm... yeah... I figured out what it was.  Remember, it had a long strap, and two shorter ones?  Well, the big one is for your waist, and the smaller ones are for your legs."

"Damn!  You mean you wear that thing?"

"Well, um... not me... Brian."

"Scotty, what the hell is it, anyway?"

"Oh.  Well... umm... it's a chastity belt."  I braced myself for Aaron's reaction.

"A chastity belt??!!  Holy shit, little dude.  Is he your servant now, or what?  Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I'm sorry Aaron, I just couldn't.  I can't stay on the phone too long.  Let's just say, I got a few things over on him, and... it gets interesting."

"Shit!  You perv!  Ha Ha Ha!"

"Not funny, Aaron!"

"Shit, Scotty, no worries, little dude! — You're making me horny.  Damn!"

"Oooo, cool!  Way cool.  Then I don't feel so bad Aaron!  But, uh... you really think we're pervs?"

"Shit, NO, little dude!  You and your bro play around, that's OK.  Hey, we love each other, Scotty.   We know we're OK.  Fuck what the world thinks!   Just— damn!  OK, just one thing, little dude—just... no butt sex.  Save that for me."

"Oh, God—we don't do that—no way—God, no.  Aaron, I wouldn't do anything like that with Brian.  And I wouldn't do anything that would—"

"Mess us up?  NO worries dude."

"Oh, God.  I love you, Aaron."

"Love you too, baby."

"I better go.  OK?"

"Sure.  —Scotty, we're off school, tomorrow, remember?  You think we could, you know, get together?"

"Oh, God!  I'll do whatever it takes.  I'll ask, for sure!  As soon as I know, I call you."

"I know you will, little dude.  OK, later."

"Bye, Aaron."


. . . I headed for the basement, and snuck up behind Brian.  It wasn't until I had my hands over his eyes, and said, "Boo," that I saw the tools in front of him, and realized he was trying to get the chastity belt off.  I'd put it on him Thursday night, as a punishment for getting me in trouble, and now it was Sunday night!  No wonder Matty said Brian was acting weird.  He had to be horny as hell, by now.  I felt bad that I forgot about him.

"Scott!  Dammit!  Where the hell you been?  You know it's been since Thursday!  I'm dying in this thing!!"

"Thursday?  What's been since Thursday?"

. . . Brian hated to talk about it directly, and I loved forcing him to.

"Scott, you know!  Come on!  Get this thing off me!"

"No, I don't know.  You better tell me Brian.  Maybe you need that dick armor on for a few more days."

"No, Scott, no, please!  OK, OK.  Thursday was the last day I could jack off.   You put this thing on me Thursday night, when I went to bed.  I'm horny as hell—I'm gonna die!  Please, take it off me!"

. . . I thought Brian was going to cry.  Then, again, he was a pretty good actor.  

"Die?  I don't know, Brian.  I think you're lying.  I think you got that belt off and jacked off while I was gone."

. . . I could see Brian's face get red.  He sure looked horny as hell.

"I swear, I swear, Scott.  Damn!  Look, you got locks on this thing.  Please, please believe me!  There's no way I can get this off.  You have the key, right?"

"Maybe, Brian."

"MAYBE??!!  Scott!  Come on, don't do this!"

"You twerp, Brian!  Did you forget how much trouble you got me into, telling mom I punched you?"

. . . Brian was fully flushed—deep red, now.  It was about a week ago, in my room.  I still had my clothes on, but Brian had taken off his pants and underwear, and was laying down, on the bed, jacking off.  I jumped on top of him, when I heard mom start to come in, so she couldn't tell he was naked.  I saved his butt!  I told her we were fighting, that was bad enough.  Then my smart-assed little brother told her that I punched him—Brian thought that added a note of "realism," and I was grounded for it.

I told Brian I would take my time to figure out a really bad punishment, for him. I finally thought of the chastity belt Thursday night.  I knew Brian jacked off three or four times a day, and I figured Friday night he'd be begging to cum, and I would have some fun with him.  But Friday, I went right to Aaron's, after school.

"That was your fault, Scott, and you know it."

"You're just digging yourself deeper, Brian!  I saved your little, twerpy butt!   Was it my fault you didn't lock the door, when I told you to?"

. . . At this point, Brian realized he'd better be nice to me.

"OK, Scott.  I'm sorry!  Oh God!  Please, I'm really sorry.  Scott, really!  Thanks for saving me.  OK?"

. . . I was so horny myself, I couldn't wait much longer.

"That's a little better, Brian.  It's about time you said that!  Let me take a look at you, and then I'll decide.  Take off your shorts."

"OK.  OK!  But please—I gotta cum!"

. . . Brian's shorts were off in a flash.  He did look pretty pathetic, with pre-cum smeared down his leg, and this cage over his dick—which was hard, of course.   Very hard.  I laid back on the couch, and told him to come close, so I could inspect the locks.

"I don't know, twerp.  I see scratches on these locks."

"Please, Scott..."

. . . Brian's voice was losing it's strength.

"OK, Brian.  Just remember, I've got more for you to do, to make up for the trouble you got me in."

"Yessssssssss!  I don't care.  Anything!"

"But, I warn, you, you get out of line, and this stays on for another week."

"I promise, I'll be good, I swear!"

"Where's the lotion?"

"It's upstairs, I think."

"Well, put your shorts back on, and go get it, airhead!"  I stood up to add emphasis to my command.  Then, our eyes met, and one of those brother-things happened.  Brian leaned in for a hug.  I was a sucker for a hug, and so was he, as tough as we both tried to be.

"Now get your ass upstairs, before I spank it."

. . . I guess I wasn't a very convincing commander—Brian gave me one of his sexy, know-it-all smiles.  It was something fun to joke about, but he knew that would never happen.  Still, it was cool to play this game.  And except for giving my brother a case of blue balls as bad as my own, there wasn't any harm in it.   Brian loved it as much as I did.  Most of the time.

Brian was hot looking.  He was the cutest one in the family.  He was an inch taller than me, a lot thinner, dark, reddish-brown hair, and his body was tight-looking and smooth as hell.  I could see Brian was going to have a great build, judging by his pecs and abs.  Aaron thought I had a cool chest—he should see Brian's!  

I took my shorts and jock off while Brian ran upstairs.  I was a real mess, myself, with precum all over me, and I decided if he didn't notice my condition and offer to help, I was going to threaten him with another day in his chastity belt.  Before long, Brian was bouncing down the stairs.

'Damn!  All this screwing around—I could of jacked off twice, by now.'

"OK, Scott.  I got it.  You ready?"

"What do you think, little brother?"  Brian's eyes widened, as he saw my deep-red, hard dick, and sheets of precum.  

"Jesus, Scott.  You look hornier than me!  Messy, but hot, man."

"Well, you're the one who taught me, Brian.  Go for it."

. . . Brian started to heft the lotion, but I realized I had enough precum to more than handle that need.

"Brian, skip the lotion, for now."

. . . His hand slipped slowly down Scotty Junior.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh. . . "

"Scott, can't we do this together?"

"Dammit, twerp.  OK—hand me my shorts."

. . . I got the key out, and unlocked Brian's little penis prison.  Then I told him to undo the straps by himself.  Usually I helped him, because he had a hard time undoing them.  I waited for him to complain, but, I guess he didn't want to take any chances that I would change my mind, and make him wait another day.  

Another day?  That would make four days without jacking off!  If it was me, at 14, I would have gone crazy by now—after three days without doing it!

Finally, Brian had the thing off, and was lubing his dick, and my hand.  It really bothered me that his dick was bigger than mine.  I guess I was jealous, but I was still growing too, so maybe we would at least come out equal.  My hand tingled—just knowing where it was going.

We laid side-by-side, on the carpet, and started in, and I was in no mood to try to make it last, or worry about who came first, or how far, or any of the contests.

"Brian, if you get loud, I am quitting, and you're on your own.  And make this a quick one.  Got it?"

"No problem, Scott."

. . . It was obvious that Brian was doing the same thing I was—giving the best strokes he knew how.  We both needed to cum really bad, and we both knew exactly the right strokes to use on each other.  I had to admit, this was way better than jacking myself off.  I loved being jacked off.  But being jacked off with pre-cum, was even better!  I closed my eyes, and thought of Aaron.

The basement filled with our low moans, and the sounds of two slippery, hard dicks being stroked.  About a minute into it, I was ready.  From the pulse of Brian's dick in my hand, I knew, he was ready too.  If mom came downstairs now, we were dead meat—there was no way we could stop now, even if we wanted to.  Brian sucked in a breath real hard, and, before we knew it, we were cumming all over ourselves, panting, and humping our hips up, into the air.

After a minute, I raised up my head, to look.  We had never cum this much before.  We just laid there and caught our breaths.  Then, Brian sat up.

"Freeze," I said.  "Double header.  Another quick one!  And dont even breathe, until I start!"

. . . Brian never said a word.  I paused for about two long minutes, with my hand still wrapped around his dick, and as I wiggled my fingers—ever so slightly, on his hardon—I watched him shiver.  I was tease-torturing his dick, just to drive him crazy.  Brian shut his eyes tightly, and squirmed, desperately.   I knew he was dying to be stroked again, but he didn't move, or say a word.  He knew if he complained, I might just make him wait until later.  He waited for my hand to start first, and we were at it, again.  It only took a little longer this time, and we were both covered in a second layer of cum.  I waited until we both could breathe, then I gave my instructions to Brian, doing my best to sound like a drill sergeant.  

"You know what to do.  Clean me up, and clean up this mess."

"Oh, that felt so good, man.  Yeah, got a towel right here, no sweat, Scott."

. . . I watched Brian as he did a good job cleaning me up.  He really was a good brother.  I caught him smiling at me, and I couldn't help smiling back, just a little.  So much for the tough drill sergeant—at least until I could get him at my mercy, again.

"That was good, Bri.  Just remember—"

"Scott, I could do it again.  OK?  Please?"

. . . We were both still almost completely hard.

"Save it for after dinner," I said, as I put my hand on the chastity belt, laying next to the couch, on the floor."

"OK, OK!  No sweat, man."

"Besides, I gotta go set the table."

"I'll do it for ya."

"No, I can't take any chances," I said, as I pulled my shorts on, suddenly realizing that I was on my way upstairs, and about to take another chance—leaving Brian down here, alone, meant he would jack off again, for sure, and that might take the edge off my advantage.

"Chances?  What do you mean, Scott?"

"Never mind," I said, as I reached for the chastity belt, for real, and lifted it.

"Hey, wait!  What are you doing?"

"You're horny, right, Brian?"


"You're gonna stay that way, for now.  After dinner, you're all mine, and if you're good, I just might take this off again."

. . . I finished locking the belt.  Brian was not looking too happy.

"Stand up straight.  You look cute in that, Brian.  Now, get dressed."

"Shit," Brian said, as I got to the top of the stairs.  

. . . One little problem—I was still hard.  No way could I go into the kitchen and set the table, with this!



"Throw me that jock, the one on the floor, there."

. . . I was setting the table, and thinking about Brian—how cute he looked, how much he admired me, and put up with all this.  I knew it was mostly to please me, and to be accepted, but it turned us both on, too.  

Funny, in four years, I don't think either of us ever insisted on sex, as bad as we needed it, sometimes, but I also didn't remember either of us turning the other down.  Most of the time, we never asked.  We just looked at each other and knew.  It was a great feeling, being able to give your brother a hardon, from across the dinner table, with just a look.  That was a cool, brother-thing we had. He could do it to me too, but he almost never did—not at dinner, anyway.

I'll never forget that first time, with Brian, four years ago.  Everything changed that day.  It was in the fall.  I remember, because it was cool, and the leaves were dropping off the trees....

I was twelve.  I had just come home from school—hard as hell, carrying my books in front of me, to hide it.  I went to my room, thinking no one was there. I put my books down, and I remember the good feeling the pulse my dick made, as it tented my pants—and there was Brian staring at me.  I was sticking out a mile.  I know I blushed, really bad.  For me, hardons and brothers did not mix.

"Scott, no sweat, man, I get those too."

"Get what, twerp?  And what are you doing in my room, again?"

"Get hardons, like the big one you got."

"Oh, you think you like them, huh, Brian?"

"Yeah.  Hardons are sexy."

"Sexy?  Well, I got news—they drive you crazy.  All day and all night.  So you can't have the same kind of hardons I do, Brian.  You're too young, anyway."

. . . Yup, I was really dumb, then.  Brian was sitting on the bed.  He must've had his pants halfway unbuttoned, because in less than two seconds, he stood up—naked from the waist down, and hard.

"Scott, you mean a hardon like this?"

. . . My heart skipped a beat, I think.  At the time, I couldn't understand why my brother wasn't dying a thousand deaths of embarrassment, standing in front of me—like that!  For some reason, I wasn't complaining.

"Oh, my God!  You DO have a hardon, and damn!  It's almost as big as mine!!"

. . . I sounded surprisingly casual, to myself.  Inside, I was shaking.  I was amazed, too.  Brian's dick was twice as big as mine was, when I was ten.  

"Scott!  I know how to make it feel really good, so the tight feeling goes away, and then you feel mellow—and don't go crazy for a while."

"Yeah, right, Brian."

. . . I was still stunned.  I couldn't get over this—my brother, standing up naked, with a hardon, right in front of me, and he wasn't even embarrassed.  I stared at it.  I felt my dick jump against my briefs, like it was trying to get out.  It was incredible we were even having this conversation.

"I swear!!  Johnny Gilmeyer showed me how to jack off.  He's got a huge one."

. . . I had heard the guys use the term, "jacking-off," but I only half-listened to that stuff.  Now, it was starting to come together, in my mind.

"Johnny showed you how to do it?  Naked?"

"No, not naked, but he had it out."

"Did you have yours out too, Brian?"

"Yeah.  How else... ?"

. . . I had to admit, I was turned on.  Brian and I had been sorta looking at each other, for months now, on and off, and I knew something was up, but I wasn't exactly ready for THIS.  My heart was pounding, as I reached over to lock the door, and started to strip off my clothes.

"I think little brother better get naked too.  Get that t-shirt off, Brian."

"No problem............  Scott, do you think I'm cute?"

"Yeah, I guess you are kinda cute, Brian.  Why?"

"Well, 'cause, I think you're hot."

"You think I'm hot? — So that's it, you wanna see my dick, huh?"

. . . I think the idea of showing off, in front of him, was starting to take hold.   Competition too—if he had the balls to be naked, then so did I.

"Yeah, that too—but I can show you how to jack off.  I swear you'll love it, Scott."

"Well, take a look at it, Brian—here it is," I said, as I nervously stepped out of my briefs, and stood up—letting my hardon stick out, right in front of my brother.  My mind raced, back and forth, between feeling excited, and feeling stupid—being hard in front of him.  

. . . Brian's eyes widened, and I swear his hardon jumped up.  I know I was blushing really bad, but all of a sudden, for some reason, I wanted to do this—be naked with my brother.  It sounded weird, but it didn't feel that way, just then.  How could my feelings change so fast?

"Wow!  Scott, I'm not near as big as that.  You're huge."

. . . If that was a sales pitch, it worked.  Little Brian was a great salesman.  I was so turned on, I was ready for anything.  But I still thought I wasn't that much bigger than Brian.  I guess my little brother wasn't so little, after all.

I had a feeling Brian was telling the truth.  I didn't think he would be this brave, without really having something to show me.  He sure caught me at the right moment—I was super horny when I got home from school.  

Something clicked inside me, all at once.  Now, I saw Brian in a new way, and I didn't feel stupid anymore.  His chest, his skinny stomach and legs—the way he looked at me—he was like oozing sex.  I wanted to be closer to him.  I needed relief, from whatever this was—I never felt it so strong—and Brian was looking really good.  My dick was like almost hurting, but it felt so good having it out in the air.  

Ten minutes ago, I didn't want anyone to see my dick.  Now, it was like, we were willing to give the most private part of ourselves to each other, and we were both staring like crazy, at our hard dicks, and not embarrassed.  I told Brian how good his looked.  He said the same, about mine.  

It was Brian's eyes—the way he was looking at me.  That's what made me do it. His arms were down at his sides.  I thought for a minute, this was wrong, but that didn't last.  Then I saw how he was looking at me, with his big, brown, doe eyes, and his dick right there, pointing at me, like this was the way it should be. And for the first time in my life, I had a hardon and was proud that someone was looking.  I was glad it was Brian.  His eyes seemed to be pleading with me, and that look of his was like a magnet, I couldn't say no—and I swear—I felt like a rope tighten around my chest, and start to pull me toward him.  

This felt so good.  Why didn't we think of this before?  

I don't know if I moved fast or slow, but it seemed to happen in half a second.   I felt our dicks touch as I walked up to him, and I thought I was on fire.  I pulled him to me, with my arms behind him, and just squeezed our bodies together.   Poor Brian was breathless, but his arms were doing the same to me—and we fell back, and crashed on the bed, with Brian on his back, and me on top.  I looked right at him.  My eyes probably had a special look of their own, by then—he seemed to be reacting to them.  

I loved my brother, but this was way different.  A pulse went through me as I moved my head lower, and—for the first time in my life—I kissed my brother on his lips.  I could hear, "Mmmmm," and I swear, I don't know which of us made that sound.  I was shaking with excitement.  Brian was squirming.

I didn't know what he would think of kissing.  I couldn't believe myself—that I was doing this.  I thought, maybe he would get pissed, and punch me, until I felt his legs wrap around me, and his tongue poke into my mouth.

"Oh, God!"

"Oh, yeah!  Scott, I been waiting for this."

"You been waiting?  Hell, I been waiting for something, I didn't know it was gonna be this!  This feels so good, I think I'm gonna explode."

"Yeah, you will Scott, for real, you'll explode."

"HUH?  Oh, yeah.  Show me."

"Scott, just let me do it for ya?  I promise it feels great."

"Do it for me?  You mean, you're gonna touch it?"


. . . I could tell, Brian was nervous when he said that.  His voice got real squeaky, and his heart was pounding.  I was nervous too.  

"Yeah, I don't care."  I was so hot, I really didn't care, at that point.  

"OK, now don't be scared, Tooter, OK?"

. . . Tooter, my nickname, because I had this toy trumpet, all the time, when I was little.  My family called me that, a lot.

This was backwards as hell.  My little brother, telling ME not to be scared.  His hot hand touched my aching boner, and I thought I would explode, like a huge shock went through me.  Nobody ever touched me there, before.  It hurt just slightly, because he was pulling down on it, a little.  But I didn't want to shout out and scare him off—it felt so damn good.

"Ohhhhhhh, yeah, God!  Just don't pull it down so much, OK?"

. . . Brian was in another world—he looked hypnotized.  He changed the angle, and it stopped hurting.  His hand pulled slowly, up and down, on my dick.  His hand—the way he was doing it—made my dick feel like it was a foot long.  I couldn't believe how good this felt.  

"Ohhhhh, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!  Geeez!  Uhhhhhhhhh!"

"Yeah Scott, that's it.  See?"

"DAMN!  Holy shit!  Yeah!"

. . . Brian's hand went slower, now.

"Tooter, do it to me too, OK?"

"Yeah, sure!  Just don't slow down—keep going."

. . . My hand got a shock of electricity, when I touched Brian's hot boner.  It didn't feel much different from mine, but my hand—my body—was getting a whole different reaction from it—powerful, exciting.  I imitated his moves, gently stroking him up and down, and I could hear him, liking it.  That made my dick go crazy.  I had never had another boy's dick in my hand before, and I liked it right away.  

"Ahhhhhhhh!  Yeah, Scott, yeah!  Ohhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Shit, something's happening, Brian!  Aahhhhhrrrrggghh....... UHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Yeah, Scott, yeah!  Go!"

. . . Go?  I was exploding.  This white stuff was shooting out of my dick, and it was the best feeling of my life.  My butt was bucking up and down.  I couldn't believe what was happening.  I was shouting.  Then, my voice started to squeak.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

"Damn that is so cool, Scott!  You're shooting cum, man!"

"Yeah, oh yeah.  Ahhhh!  Damn!  Brian.  Ohhh!"

. . . I could hardly breathe, let alone talk.  

I must've let go of Brian's dick, at that point, because the next thing I remember, I was looking down at him and seeing his hand, like a blur, pumping away at his dick.  And with the shift in my position, my white stuff was going on him now.

A few seconds later, he was squealing and shouting, bucking his skinny hips, like I did, and I knew he was feeling what I just felt.

"Tooter, I'm cumming, Oh God!  Yeah!  Oooooooooooggghuhh!"

. . . Cumming.  Yeah, that's what I was doing.  And it looked like Brian was doing it, too—but nothing came out of his dick.  I wondered if I did it wrong, or something.

When Brian was done, it was like an automatic thing.  His arms shot up at me, and we were hugging again, our mouths on each other's necks, our chests heaving like two runners—and suddenly, the heaves of his rapid breathing, turned me on, feeling it against my own chest.  I stayed there a while, drinking it all in, it felt so damn good.

After a while, I rolled off him, so we were side by side, on our backs again, and grabbed his dick with one hand, and mine with the other, and started to go at it, again.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!  SHIT!" . . . That felt awful!

"Tooter, no—it's OK.  You can't do it again right way, it's too sensitive, now.  You got to wait a few."

. . . Brian couldn't quite help chuckling, a little, but he was trying so hard to keep me from getting scared.

"Yeah, tell ME!  Damn.  I thought it was broken or something!"

"No, it's OK!  That's just the way it is.  I wish I could shoot cum, like you did."

"Oh, that was SUPPOSED to happen?"

"Oh, yeah, Tooter, they say that's the best, when you can shoot cum, for real."

"So why didn't you shoot it, Brian?  Did you stop it?"

"No, no.  I'm not old enough.  My balls are too small yet, to make cum."

"Oh, OK.  So, when can we do it again?"

. . . This brought a smile to my brother's face.  The warmth of that smile, took away my nervous chills.

"See, I told you you'd like it, Scott!"

. . . It was a satisfied, cute smile, with an open honesty that said how happy he was, for me, and wanted to please me—and that felt so good!

. . . Damn!  My kid brother just turned me on to jacking off.  Now, he was just turning me on, and I was practically begging him to do it again.  This felt so good, I could do it forever.  I did feel more relaxed, too.

"Like it?  Brian, I love it!"

. . . I could see the relief and joy, in my brother's eyes.  Brian wanted me to like this so much—and he was so damn cute!  He was giving me that look again, and I swear, he had no clue about it, either.  

"You were right Bri, I feel great, now!"  And his magnetic eyes drew me to him, again, but this time I was the aggressor.  

. . . Very little has changed for me and Brian, since that day, four years ago.   Now, when our hands are all over each other, we say, "I love you," but it's not the same as when I say that to Aaron.  

I shared something with Brian, that I could share only with him.  Yes, we were two boys needing to get our rocks off, really bad, but that was just part of it.   There was a deep brotherly bond there—stronger now.  I figured, because we are brothers, we were born with parts of each other inside us—there was a sameness, there—and when we had sex, I was loving myself as much as I was loving him, and we both grew from it.

We never talked about it much, with each other, and never told anyone—until I told Aaron, but Aaron respected what we had, and I was very happy about that. But there was no way I could explain to Aaron, all the stuff—all the feelings and thoughts—that Brian and I shared.  

In the weird little roles that we played now, Brian knew that every time I called him, 'twerp,' and every time I was rough with him, I was loving him—in my own dumb way.  I don't think any outsider could ever understand that, but we did.  He knew that neither of us would, or could really hurt the other.  

Brian wanted to be dominated, a lot of the time—he wanted my roughness, my maleness, and, in a way, he was absorbing that masculinity from me, every time we went into our role playing.  

But, there were times, in the middle of our rough play, when he'd give me a look—almost a hurt look, like he needed more—needed the softer side of me, for that minute, that day—and I would stop, in mid-sentence, and just hug him.

Then, there were the times, I knew, when he needed that tenderness, but he waited—until I'd had my fill of "using" him—until I was satisfied—before he asked for that, with his eyes.  So I learned a lot about patience, and giving, from Brian.  As I think about it now, that was backwards too—me being older, and all.  But some day, when he can understand—and when I understand it better myself—I will thank him for that.

My brother and I got along better, did more things for each other, after that first time.  We still argued and fought, at times, and all those other things, but it wasn't bad, somehow.  I know, a lot of people would think what we do is wrong, but we both knew there was everything right about love, when it was really sincere, and ours was.  Nothing bad came into it, when we were having sex, or making love—we were absorbing all kinds of things from each other, and feeding them back, and it was good.

Yes, I loved Brian, and what we were doing was very exciting.  But it was more than me making love to him, it was like, at the same time, I was making love through him, to some older boy, who I would love, in the future, and we were learning how to love, through each other.  

That first day, I looked in my brother's eyes, one more time, before I kissed him, again.  I could see, that while Brian wanted me, maybe more than I knew, he was offering his body and soul to me, letting me do what I wanted with it, and even though I didn't understand it, that made me want to do one thing— offer myself, in the same way, to him.

Entire Web Page, including design, proportions, shading, "HTML Code" and sayings, Copyright © May 15, 2000 by Jordan West, et. al. All rights reserved.

Postscript:  To be continued?  Even one favorable comment will help make sure that more will be written.      Write to:  jordanwest19@hotmail.com     :-)