Date: Tue, 20 Jul 2004 18:57:16 -0400 From: T.K. Walters Subject: All For Him, Chapter One ALL FOR HIM By MKP Chapter One For as long as I can remember, I loved seeing my big brother naked. This happened long before I knew anything about sex; or for that matter, dicks and what they were used for. When he was ten, and I was eight, I would sneak peeks at his soft dick in the showers at the communal pool. I always was smart about it and only did looked at him for so long or when there was a big crowd-so I fell into the swarm of people; and if he ever did see me staring at his sleek, wet body, he never said anything about it. Sure, other men interested me, but at that age, the only person in my life that I really looked up to was my brother. No one could compete with him in beauty. In looks, he was a god. Blessed with locks of sunlight blond hair and green eyes, he got his share of second and third looks come his way, from boys and girls. He was often considered a bit feminine by the boys because he looked very glam when he was at that age but when they were the opposite team in any sport he liked, they soon lost that notion from his athleticism and strength. It was probably around his sixth grade year, when my father bought a gym membership-that was supposed to help his heart condition-that my brother started to look less like a little girl and more like a defined and sinewy boy. Seeing as my father rarely did go to the gym (it took a heart attack when I was twelve for him to get his act together and start working out), my brother used his membership more than he did. And, whew, did it do my brother good. If ever I was not in love with him before the moment I found him undressing after his work out, I became an adherent of his immediately. He liked to shower right after working out but he says that the locker-room always made him feel slightly dingy, even after washing off the sweat that he had accumulated over the two hours he spent. I brushed open the bathroom door a crack and through the small gape, I saw him. His black wife-beater fixed to his body-due partially from his sweat and partially from the tightness of the cloth itself-sticking desperately to the muscles of the tenth grader. Working out for almost five years, his small but strong muscles grew even stronger and leaner, protecting him with a suit of armor that no one dared to challenge. Locks of hair, drenched in his sweat clung to his neck. Even as a child, I knew that my brother's body was sweated a great deal, no matter if it was just a small piece of work to do or a little warmer than usual, he sweated. But that didn't mean he ever did reek; never once would anyone complain that he should take a bath in an odor connotation, since he always was a sweet smelling boy. My heart was beating as I stood outside of the doorway, looking in and seeing my big brother undress. A fluid sound hit my ears when I saw his shirt drop down to the ground. His tight pants, always cupping his muscled ass, also, stuck close to his body. Then all of the sudden, he called out to me, "Kiddo?" I froze. My body was a stone and if you threw me in a watery grave that I deserved, I wouldn't have been able to swim back up to save my life. "Kiddo, is that you?" he asked. As soon as he said that, I got some feeling into my body and my waist snapped up and my chest jutted out, a position that I always took in front of my militant mother. Then the door was pulled open and there was my big brother, nude as that day that doctor was lucky enough to pat that stunning ass of his. He was holding in his hand, his clothing, all of his clothing, and he handed it to me. I don't remember what I exactly said or did, but I think my voice let out a squeak. "Hey, buddy," he said, "could you take these to the washer. I'll wash them tonight or mom will kill me for leaving those smelly clothes in the hamper." Of course I nodded. I was blind-sighted by his pert, pink nipples that lay on his tanned, strong, and cut chest. My head was down, as I tried to avoid eye contact, but I reached for the clothing, my hand shaking and twitching the whole three inches that he was away from me. I heard him chuckle and then felt his hands muss my brown hair before he shut the door. The pipes groaned slightly from the hot water that started to fill the tub. I looked down at the wet clothes and took his scent from the cloth and a shiver went down my spine. It was torture for me to put them into the washer and add soap that would bastardize his scent that was still tickling my nostrils. After I shut the cover to the washer and left the room, I ran to my room grabbed a pillow to muffle my gleeful squeal/scream. "What are you doing?" a voice from my doorway asked. The pillow left my face in a blaze and was soon over my crotch. "Nothing, um, just fooling around," I told the person, who happened to be my father. His face was contorted in a bewildered expression but he didn't ask anything more. "Alright, just get ready. Take a bath, mom's coming home soon and we'll probably go out for dinner." He smiled. I returned the same smile. Mother was a horrible cook but if she was bad, father was an abomination to all that is culinary. He boils eggs and comes out with burning hotdogs. "Be ready in thirty minutes," he said, sternly. "Oh, and tell Pete not to take too long." Nodding, I watched him leave my room and heard him walk down the stairs, making the third to last step creak along the way. Standing up, I threw the pillow on my bed and closed the door behind me as I walked to my brother's room. Opening his closet, I pulled out clothing he'd probably wear out-a button up tee and slacks. Grabbing boxers, socks, and an undershirt from his dresser, I walked back to the bathroom door where Pete was soaking in the tub. I knew him and I knew me, whenever we would work out, we both like to sit and lay in a hot tub of water and just rest for at least an hour or two. The door was closed so I knocked softly and called out to him, "Pete? Dad said to hurry up. We're going out today." "Like every day," he called back. I chuckled. He was right, if we ever did have a home cooked meal that didn't end up being nuked in the microwave, and then we'd go out. "Pete?" I called, again, "I have some clothes. I'll leave them out here." "No, don't. They'll get dirty; I used my shoes up here. Just bring them in." I dreaded this very notion. If I went in, I would be stuck with a woodie in front of him and if I don't, there might not be a chance for me to see him naked again. What to do? What to do? "Are you sure? I can just leave it in your room." "Nah, it'll save me a trip. Just come inside. I feel weird talking to a disembodied voice when I'm in the tub. It's too Alfred Hitchcock." "Are you sure?" I asked, tenaciously trying to get out of going in there while trying to get in there at the exact same time. "Yeah, already!" he said, sounding a little exasperated. I opened the door, since I never wanted to see my older brother flustered because it robs him of his beauty and grace. Walking in and closing the door behind me, I saw the bronze claw foot tub with my brother pecs deep in the water. His arms were gripping on the sides of the tub and his hair was wet from the bath. Steam was everywhere and it was getting in the way of him and I cursed it. I cursed the inanimate object. "I'll just leave them over here." I gestured to the double sinks. "Actually," he said, "do you mind putting them down on the hamper and hand me the towel on the rack?" I took a big gulp and walked over to him and place the clothes where he said, two feet from him. The floor had condensation from the cold tile and the warm air. I almost slipped but caught myself. "Be careful!" he said. After I nodded, I took the towel of the rack and handed it to him. I turned away when he started to stand, embarrassed to be in such a compromising yet arousing situation. Water droplets fell from his body as I heard the trickling and the splashing, and yet, I kept my head turned away. He chuckled. "What?" I asked when I felt the towel leave my hand. "You never was this modest when you were this younger. Weren't you the boy who got a stiffie in the locker-room?" My eyes blew open! How did he remember that? It happened such a long time ago, my first time in a locker-room at school with all the young flesh surrounding me, what else could a soldier do but salute? I told him what happened when I was at that age but no one else knew of it. I knew that everyone would call me names like fag, fudge packer, brown hatter, queer, and all that shit but Pete never did. He laughed about it at first but then he told me that it happened to everyone and when it was his first time in that same locker-room, he saw half the guys looking down at each others' crotches and get hard themselves. Even Pete admitted to having checked out a few! He reached for his clothing, which was now starting to moisten from the humidity of the room. His body flashed in my face and my already flushed body turned a shade of blood red. "Excuse me," he said, reaching for the clothes on the hamper. But he didn't wait! Pete just thrust his hand directly to the clothes and his wrist dragged slightly against my tight jeans. The same shiver that I felt earlier, crawled down my neck and into my feet when he did that and I just couldn't help it, I moaned. He chuckled, again. "It's your turn," he said, as he pulled at my sleeve trying to get me to face him. All that time, I kept trying to avoid eye contact but when Pete ordered me to do something, I did it, no questions asked. He held-and still does-a lot of power over me. Pete dressed in front of me, but I tried to keep my eyes away. I heard his zipper being pulled up and picked up my head. He was dressed, at least on the bottom half of his body. And as he pulled his white tee over his head, I pulled off both of my shirts, a buttoned up shirt and a white tee. Unbuttoned and zipper down, I yanked off my slacks and threw them in the hamper as Pete sat on the sink. "Hey," he said, "did you put them in the washer?" "Yeah," I told him, remembering his scent. "It's washing right now, actually." He nodded and said, "Cool, thanks." I half expected him to leave and half wanted him to stay; and stay he did, not moving as soon as he buttoned up his shirt and pulled on his socks. I guess there was no way around it. He had to stay, at least for now. We talked about a few things, sports, the weather, and girls, the last not really interesting to me. We got into a conversation about sex, like all teenage boys' conversations seem to end up in. He asked me how often I jacked off. Again, I froze. The new hot water from the faucet was the only thing that could be heard in the room. "Its okay, you don't have to tell me," he said. "But then again, your silence tells me everything, so do your sheets. Off went my boxers as I stepped into the hot water. You might wonder what happened to my modesty, or for that matter, Pete's. I only got modest when I'm in front of someone like Pete and his body. I have no problem with my nudity. The bath was calming and soothing but not so soothing that I could get out of his question or comments. "What exactly do you mean my sheets?" I asked when I calmed quite a bit. "Please! Ever wonder why your sheets are always miraculously clean after you `accidentally' spilled yourself all over yourself? I usually wash them just in case Mom or Dad has to go into our rooms." "But how do you know?" "Easy. You're a moaner. Hell, I think if you were horny enough, you'd be a screamer. Thin walls, thin walls," he mumbled the last sentence to himself. I was tempted to splash some water on him but he was already dressed and looking magnificent that I thought it would be a waste, so I let that comment go. Instead, I just told him that I walked the dog, pounded the pud, and made my Jack rip at least once a day. Pete took it upon himself to let out a harsh laugh. Again, I blushed. "Oh," he said, still holding his sides from laughter, "I'm not laughing at you. To tell you the truth, I did the same thing when I was your age. Here's another question: Do you have a jack off buddy?" "Uh, what exactly are you saying?" "You know; a person you jack off with. Do you have one?" "You mean a fuck buddy? Like someone I call for sex?" His face scrunched up in thoughts for a moment, then he said, "No," in that long, drawn out way he does, "not exactly. I think you're thinking about a girl. What I was thinking about was a buddy, a guy, that you . . . you know, help each other with your problems . . . tension problems?" I shook my head in response but soon was thinking about that image, me and my best friend Jake, hand in . . . can't exactly say `hand' here, can I? Anyway, the way things were going, you'd think that he just asked if I was gay, which I am, for you clueless but loveable people out there. But I can't really say that I am, can I? "Really?" he asked. I expected him to drop the subject and go on to a new one but the next thing he said, blew my mind. "I just lost my jack off buddy." My eyes flew open, as did another body part. I never once heard him tell me about his jack off buddy. I never even knew what one was! And now, after he tells me what it was, he goes and says that he lost his. Who could it be? Kevin Donahue! He moved away just a few months ago. Pete and he were inseparable, always seen, hand in-god, for the rest of my life, I will never be able to let go of an image like this as long as I repeat that phrase. Well, they were never really hand in hand, maybe just shoulder to shoulder. People say that they were born twins but to different parents, not from the way they looked, but in the way they acted and the way they were always together-one always relying on the other. I don't even recall any time on my life that they fought. Sure, there was that little squabble in '92 but they were young then and it was a tiny argument about something I can't even remember-I doubt that even Pete remembers what it was. "Kevin?" I said, whispering at first before I repeated his name, "Kevin Donahue?" Pete had dropped his head while I was contemplating it but I could see his smile and maybe a drop of tear fall on to his lap, from the way light shone. Maybe it was just condensation, I thought to myself. But it might have been. "Yeah," he laughed, his voice breaking at first. It took a minute for him to say anything else and I didn't want to say anything because it was just too awkward. "Yeah, it was Kevin. He was a jack off buddy." Again, he laughed to himself but this time it was filled with grief. "You miss him, don't you?" "Yeah, he was my best friend. Anyways," he said, changing the subject abruptly to my relief. "I was wondering if you had one because I need a new one." Suddenly, his voiced seemed much cheerful and more warming than it had before Kevin was mentioned. My eyebrows scrunched as I asked him, "You want me to set you up with one of my friends, a guy friend?" "No!" he exclaimed. "No, Doofus, I want you to be my new jack off buddy." The water around my crotch splashed as my erection said hello to the world, and to Pete's face. "I take it, you want that, too? Look, if you really want, then get dressed and go to my room. No pressure. But if you don't want, finish your bath and then we'll go downstairs to Dad. Mom will be home soon, so, either way, you'd better hurry." __________ So, there I was; my heart beating, with nothing but a towel on and soaking wet from the speed I carelessly dried in. I faced my brother's bedroom door, and I could hear the sound of music playing. I heard it almost everyday when Kevin was still here and now I knew why. It was to drown out any sound that came from inside. I never noticed that it stopped anything other than sweet, soft music from coming out the small gap between the door and the floor. How was he so sure that I was going to go to his room? How was he so sure that I would even do it? Why am I asking myself these questions and why don't I just go in? As soon as I reached for the door, I remembered that Pete hates it when I don't knock, or for that matter, when anyone doesn't knock. It was a habit that was forced on us by out parents. Respect other people's privacy, they said. Knock before entering, they berated. "Pete?" I said, knocking twice. The music was lowered and I heard someone say, "Kiddo? Come in!" So I did. And lo and behold, Pete was undressing again, before my very eyes. The same tan body that was in the bathroom looked as beautiful as ever, but this time, his dick looked a lot bigger! He wasn't at all done growing at that moment but was it huge! I guess since I was so young at the time, every dick looked big to me, but damn, if it didn't stop growing any time soon, he'd have to have a blood transfusion. Luckily enough, it did, so there was no unneeded interruption of having to rush my sick and blood lost brother to the hospital. Try explaining that to the doctor. "I knew it," he said under his voice. His cockiness annoyed me to an extent that thrilled me. "You think you know everything," I told him as I walked in the room. I didn't notice it before when I got his clothes but now that I froze my butt off in the hallway, I realized that his room was rather warm and inviting. Then again, so was Pete, so it would make sense that his style would rub off on everything he touched. "Close the door." After the door was shut, and after Pete walked over to me and pulled off my towel, I felt very much like I was in a porn dream, and that I was gonna wake up soon, but I didn't. I just stood there while Pete began to touch my body. My sensitive nipples started to burn as his calloused palms, from baseball practice, glided on them. His hands wandered farther, tickling the fine hairs, which were my forming treasure trail, rubbing my bellybutton. I giggled like a child. He knew what he was doing to me and to make more of a statement about it, he dropped the whole seduction act, and just started tickling the shit out of my sides. That made me curl into my usual protection position. I thrust my waist down to try and stop him but he was more powerful and he just grabbed me by my sides and threw me onto his bed. We wrestled for a while, which I was winning, or so I thought. I didn't know it at the time, but he was just playing with me, he really could have beaten me if he wanted. I was on top of him at the end, straddling his waist and pushing him down on the bed and grinning like a mad man. Before I knew it, the ice had been broken. All thoughts of masturbation with my brother that caused an unnerving feeling in me were gone and all I could think about was his smile, his body. "You're ready for it now, aren't you?" he asked, lifting his head off the bed and looked down toward my crotch. I was sporting a full hardon and was leaking a major amount of precum that was gathering on his abs. But soon, fear took hold of me again and I started to get off of him, apologizing. "Don't!" he almost yelled. His killer smile broke out as I looked down at him, then at the minute puddle, then at my dick. I was extremely turned on. Has this really happened? "Don't say you're sorry. This is what I did with Kevin and he never once said that he was sorry for dripping on me." "Sorry," I said, obliviously. Pete glared at me before his finger took a swipe at the fluids that were falling of the tip of my dick. A clear line of precum stuck to his thumb and to the puddle, which by now was growing in superfluously. Before I could do anything about it, he took his thumb and dragged the liquid over his tongue and tasted me. I frowned at him, but all he did was smile at me. I had no choice but to smile back. He encircled my dick and started to use slight pressure to jack me off, using my precum as lube. I trembled in his grip, though it was softer than what I would've wanted. "How is it?" he asked, like it was something I could explain. "Tighter," I told him, not knowing anything else to say. He let go of me and wiped all of the precum that gathered between his chest and abs; he smeared it on my dick and proceeded with a tighter grip. Most of the precum was his though, and it increased the sensations in my dick-just the thought of something belonging to him used like this completed one of my fantasies. "Kevin never did like it this tight. He was uncut and he liked the feeling of his foreskin dragging on his head than anything else." "Uh-huh," I said, closing my eyes. I involuntarily started to plunge into his hand, not really listening to the entire story. All I could do was focus on his palm. I was close so I told him to slow down. He did, but then that didn't work; I was too much in a hurry to cum. Then, he told me to lie down next to him. Half of me, the left half, lay on the bed and my right was on top of him, my leg twisted with his. He started rubbing my pubic hair, massaging that area, before he moved down to my balls, completely and deliberately bypassing my dick. He tugged at them softly, and rolled them his hand. It took about five minutes for me to calm down for him to continue but now that I could see his body clearly, I told him not to touch me anymore. Instead, I touched him. I trembled as I tried to touch his dick, which was sticking straight up, pointing at the ceiling. Globs and globs of clear, sticky fluid flowed copiously out of his slit and matted his light blond pubic hair. This position mainly gave him the advantage and let him do everything, but it was my turn to roam around his body. So, I sat up and straddled him again, this time, hovering with my knees over his shins so I could look closely at the organ that I needed to manipulate. I took his own question from him, "How is it?" "Don't focus so much on the head. I don't want to cum to early," he told me, clearly forgetting that Mom's due back in a few minutes. I nodded and moved down to the base of his dick, which I was tempted to lean down and lick. I wanted to do what he did, also, to reach down and try his precum but I wasn't as daring, instead when he closed his eyes I massaged his pubic area to coat my hand in his fluid. I tried the sticky liquid and it tasted incredible. Maybe it was just because it was Pete but it was just heaven. Sure, it was kinda salty but I don't know why, it just thrilled me even more. With my free hand, I did the same as he did to me, I tugged at his balls and at the same time, I stroked his dick, only touching the tip every tenth stroke. It surprised me, the stamina my brother had. I kept doing all I did on my dick to try and coax myself to cum on his but it didn't help. If Pete didn't want to cum, I guess, he didn't cum. Out of the blue, Pete grabbed my wrist and brought it to his left nipple. In the future, I would finally realize that my brother was way into nipple play. I didn't really know what to do and I guess he knew that because when I didn't do anything but drag the balls of my index and thumb against it. He took my hand and licked the fingers I used and set them back. Without telling me out flatly, he began to rub his nipple with only my slicked index finger and every once in a while he would use both of my fingers to lightly squeeze the harden button. That made his dick bounce in my hand, which I never stopped manipulating. "Wait," he breathed out, his eyes still closed, "I'll cum if you don't." But I ignored his pleas and sped up my hand. "We can't wait any longer. She'll be home in a few minutes." I looked at the clock on his nightstand. "We've been at this for forty minutes already. She must be home!" Persistent, my brother insisted on trying to get me to stop. He sat up and tried to pull my hand away but in the process his dick throbbed and grew even bigger in my hand and cum flew straight out of his slit and all over him and me. The first of his shots jumped two feet above us and landed on my cheek. The next ones were strong but not as strong as the first. Pete fell over onto my shoulder, moaning constantly, but the music kept its hold and drowned him out. His breath was on my chest, and his lips were right above my own nipple. It was enough for me to get two hard little buttons, myself, but not enough to make me cum. After he cooled down and his breathing returned, Pete sat up. I didn't want to move him at all, even though his cum that was on my cheek was closing down to his hair. I hated being bothered right after I cum, so I guessed that he did. I was right because when I tried to move my hand up and down his still rock hard dick, he let out a yelp that sounded like, "No!" Afraid that I hurt him, I let him go. After a minute, Pete smiled at me before he took snatched a rag out from under his pillow. He ensued at wiping off the cum that was on his lower abdomen and thighs and my pubic area, which was surprisingly enough, as flaccid as a wilted flower. I craned my neck out to him, expecting him to wipe it off. But instead, he leaned over and licked my cheek, savoring the taste of himself. Not only that but when he noticed that it was everywhere on my face, he apologized and took my chin in his mouth and licked off the remaining cum that was there. God, I blew up like a balloon! I wanted him to kiss me right then and there and I knew if he did, I would've cummed buckets full. But he didn't. After he got everything on my face, he licked off my neck, which was still orgasmic but not as much as it would have been if his lips touched mine. Busy trying to get all of the feeling to my neck, I was jolted when he grasped my dick. He stroked it down, coating it with left over cum; I slumped forward onto his body, resting my head on his shoulder. I was close and I knew he knew; my breathing was quite audible even in the music filled room. He knew exactly how to control my dick and its spasms. He focused mainly on the head of it, which caused me to bite my lip. I think in my mind I drew blood. I licked and nibbled his shoulder as he brought me closer and closer to the edge. The skin was hot and smooth to the touch and it increased the sensations in my crotch. He was doing it without abandonment now, using every trick he knew, forcing me to cum. "Pete! Nick!" my father yelled from downstairs. I froze but he kept on. "Stop," I told him, which he did. I got off of him and walked over to the window which was at the other side of the room. I moved the blinds down a bit and saw my mothers Durango sitting in the garage. "Shit! She's home." "We can finish," he said, reluctantly. He and I both knew that there was no way he could finish up on time, seeing as my erection was already began to droop. The animalistic pressure that was throbbing in my head told me to try but my fears overrode it and I told him no. "I'll go get dressed," I told him as I picked up the towel. I can only hope that neither of my parents was in the hallway. After I wrapped it tightly around my waist, I walked to the door. The music was playing but I didn't hear it. I could only pick up on his breathing and his looks that was locked straight on to me. "Thanks," I said; it was the only thing I could think of that wasn't praising him and making him a god in my eyes, which he already was. __________ We had found Marcello's a long time ago and it was a nice place to eat, with quiet booths, a bar, and a small waiting area, which, even in the packed nights, never was uncomfortable to be in. We were sat at a booth near a window, me next to Pete (I was near the window), our parents were across us. After we had ordered, Dad began the conversation, talking about school first, of course. "Well," Pete started, "It was okay but the dipshit coach kept bitching at me." "Pete . . ." Dad warned. "Sorry, but you had him in high school, you know!" Dad smiled over at mom and said, "Yeah, he was." Mom glared at him. Our food came and our waitress, Katie, set them on the table. She took a quick look at Pete, which only I noticed; Pete and my parents were totally oblivious to her hair flips and of her dirty pillows. She leaned over the table and made sure that Pete got a good look when she gave him his plate. This got his attention. My parents were still unaware of her and Pete. Picking up the big brown tray, she flipped her hair once more and left. I was so fucking confused and pissed off. I mean, I knew that we didn't have anything going on and we were just jack off buddies but that didn't mean that he had to flirt back with her. That slut! With her big boobs and her fake hair, and her . . . ugh, she disgusts me. Okay, I admit that was harsh, and all of it was untrue, but it did annoy me that she kept his attention when she sauntered away. I guess he sensed my hatred toward her because I felt his knee push against mine. I looked up and saw him smiling at me. He shook his head in a no and put his hand on my thigh, going up a little to show that he still wanted what we had. Or have. I forget. "What?" Dad asked my brother and me. "What?" I said, jumping up from my seat. "Honey," Mom said, "Is something wrong?" "No, Mom," I told her, "nothings wrong." She looked at me with that knowing glare she has and started to play around with her chicken parmesan. Dad also looked at me but I knew that he didn't really have a clue onto what was going on. Neither did Mom but I'm not always positive about her and her intuitions. I sensed Pete's grin from far away and I couldn't help but smile myself before poking my veal Marsala. My left hand was off the table and I felt a snake, my brother's pinkie, intertwine with mine and he kept it there throughout the whole meal, much to my exuberance. The meal ended in about an hour. Katie the Slut gave us our check, which Dad picked up. After we had paid and left about twenty dollars on the table, we stepped outside. But Pete went back for a few minutes, much to my worry. When he came back, Dad asked what that was all about. "Nothing, just needed to go to the rest room," he said, calmly, but I knew he was lying, so did Mom but I doubt that Dad did. Mom smiled, Dad went inside the car, and I huffed into my seat; well, I huffed in my mind. Pete held in his hand a card, which we all knew was Katie's number. __________ Pete and I were in our beds two hours after we got home, around 11 o'clock, and so were my parents. It was around 11:45 when I heard a tapping outside of my door. I was groggy and about ten minutes into slumber. "Nick?" I heard Pete whisper from beyond my door. "Wait," I said as I woke up in a flash. "Let me just . . ." I began to say but thought about it twice. I needed to adjust myself. I was having a good dream about good ole Pete before he woke me up. Opening the door, I saw him in his white shirt, probably the one I gave him earlier, and the same boxers. He had a big grin on his face, just like a cat in cream. The feline meandered close to my door but never entered, waiting for me to invite him in. "Well? Can I come in?" he asked. I wanted too much to turn him down, to make him pay for the fact that he got the slut's number, but I couldn't. No matter how much he sleeps around, or the fact that he goes both ways (which, personally, I think is kinda gross, all those girl parts mixing with boy parts is just plain wrong), I can't turn him down. I never can, never will. So, I sighed, a small sigh, dropped my head into submission, and let him in. He sat down on the bed, and called for me to sit next to him. Outside, he whispered, but inside, he talked in his normal tone. "Listen, I wanna just tell you what's up. You know that thing we had, earlier?" "You want to break it off, don't you?" I asked, devastated. "NO! God, no! I love what we have, and had. But I want you to know that it's not all I do. You know that, right?" "Yeah," I said, bowing my head down further. "Kinda guessed it when you got the slu-Katie's number." "Be nice," he warned in that I'm-just-kidding tone. "But really, you do understand that I love what we have but that doesn't change the fact that I do sleep with girls. So, it's now time for that talk." "Which talk?" I asked, knowing full well which one. Pete glared at me and then smiled, "You know which talk. All the stuff you've been doing, at the gym, locker-room? Don't make me come out and say it!" In my mind I sank lower, and I was sure I hit the floor but in real life, I ended up blushing. "So you knew?" "Yup," he said, with a proud grin. "And you never mentioned anything about it?" "Well, I figured that if you were already checking me out at that time, what can I do to stop you when you become such a little hornball?" "What . . .?" I said with a laugh. I think I said it too loud because he covered my mouth and put a finger over his. He giggled and it was amazing to see him giggle, his blond hair bounced and his eyes lit up. "Well," he started, "you barely could stand to look at me when I'm naked. But just a few hours ago, you jacked me off!" I smiled and was about to yell at him but I lowered my tone, so I wouldn't wake up our parents. "You did the same thing. And by the way, you never finished!" It was his turn to grin. "So, that's what you want. Does my little brother have blue balls?" "Yup, caused by my older brother who molested me and made me do things to him and-and-and . . ." I pretended to cry. All of the sudden, Pete wrapped his arm around my neck, his bicep almost squeezing the life out of me, and pushed me onto my bed. It made my bed squeak when he hit a certain spot. I didn't understand why it made him laugh so much. But he did. He released me and lay down on his back, staring up at my ceiling that had a tableau of the night sky. His right hand was behind his head which he used as a pillow, and his left hand was on his stomach, stroking the lines of wrinkled shirt. I laid down about two feet from him before he grabbed me roughly by my elbow and pulled me toward him. He proceeded to hug me, his left arm around my neck this time. Pete was a few inches taller than me, about five to be accurate, and in this position, I was able to rest my head on his shoulder. His right hand, though trapped under his head, was stroking my hair with a gentle ease. We sat there for a while, not speaking, but reflecting on all that was said. When it was time to talk, I took the lead. "Pete? I think I'm gay." He chuckled, and his stroking never ceased. "Nick? I think you're gay, too. But you know what? I think I like having sex with men." "Is that why you and Kevin got together?" I asked, changing the subject back to my brother's first jack off buddy. Though the fact that he had other sexual pleasures bothered me, I did want to know about Kevin. It seemed like these two loved each other very much. "Yeah, it is why I ended up with him. It was weird not to have sex together when we first met. I mean, you've seen him, he's a catch." "You're a catch," I said, stroking his ego. "Thanks, but I'm not talking about me. Let's talk about Kevin." That surprised me. When Kevin moved and my parents wanted to talk about him, or about how Pete feels about it, he wouldn't say a thing and would just leave the room. So, it's kinda weird that he'd want to start up a conversation about him. "Okay, what about him?" "Well," He said, as he switched positions, this time on his side and his elbow was on the bed supporting his head on his hand. "How come it bothers you when I asked Katie out? I mean, we haven't even done anything and when I told you about Kevin, you didn't seem to have a problem with it and we went father than I think me and Katie would go." I sighed. I knew he was going to ask this sooner or later. I used a response that I thought of, "I guess maybe it's because Kevin's a guy and Katie's a girl. It's different with guys. I mean, sure, I know that gay guys and their boyfriends do remain faithful to each other, but most of us, me for sure, for sure, like to fuck around. With girls, it's extremely taboo. Around school, whenever a guy supposedly cheats on a girl, then the whole school knows and with guys, he is praised, with girls, he's scorned." "True. I get what you mean. Like how I was considered a man whore because I like to sleep around." "You sleep around?" I asked, sincerely. I sat up and crossed my legs. He scoffed in my face, "Where have you been? Danielle? Jennifer? Gracie? I've slept with most of the girls in my class!" "Wow, you are a man whore!" He scoffed again but this time with a laugh added at the end. "Dork, I'm not whoring myself out. I like sex. That's it . . . period. I don't know why people focus so much on relationship bullshit and don't focus on what's important in our lives for now, sex. Sex isn't just for college kids and repressed men in back alleys. It's also for people mature enough to handle it." "Does that mean, you think I could handle it?" "Sure, that's why I got you into this whole thing. I don't mean to sound all judgmental, but you did seem like you needed guidance. Actually, that's a lie. I didn't really notice anything until Kevin pointed it out. That time we were at the community pool, you were watching me while you were swimming laps and you ran into that giant woman!" "Thanks for that frightful image, again." I shuddered. "A thong," I groaned and shuddered again. Pete smiled and then said, "Well, when we were in the showers, and while you and dad were playing around, Kevin told me that he caught you checking me out." "Do you mind, by the way?" "No, not really, actually, I like checking you out too. Now stop interrupting!" It was my turn to smile. "'Kay." "Anyways, we were in the showers and he told me that when we were in there, you kept rubbing your dick. So, he thought you needed someone to help you with that." "Well," I said, after I took in his story, "I'm thankful for that." We went silent after that, both remember Kevin in our minds. Then a question suddenly popped in mine. "Pete?" "Hmm?" he said, sounding a little bit sleepy. "Is Kevin gay?" Pete lay down on his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah, he is." "Pete?" "Hmm?" "Were you boyfriends?" I could tell he was half asleep already, but he did answer my last question. "Yeah, we were." ********** To Be Continued Send all thoughts, critiques, or grammar changes to the address above. Responses will decide whether or not I continue witht he story. Thanks for taking the time to read this story. I know its not exactly the best story ever, but I'm trying. I do get points for that, right? Well, I hope you aren't too harsh. And again, thanks. -MKP