Date: Mon, 30 Jul 2001 21:10:14 +0000
From: aidan leary <aidan_leary@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Bailey Boys

Following the sense of satisfaction I got from writing 'the chatty student'
(posted in the adult-youth section) I wanted to see if I could write
something completely fictional.  Hence the following, which bears no
resemblance at all to my real childhood and my real brothers.  It's about a
group of brothers living in (extremely) close proximity and does include
some sexual material: if you're under 18 I suspect this is technically
illegal, so you best look elsewhere for thrills, although that seems silly
as the story itself is concerned solely with teenage boys.   I am sure there
will be another part to it in the near future.  If you take the time to read
on, I hope you enjoy it.

aidan_leary@hotmail.com



*********************************************************************


THE BAILEY BOYS

I think that all my parents had ever wanted to do was raise a family, but
that in itself doesn't explain why they raised one as large as they did.
Certainly my mother says now that when she and my father were celebrating
the birth of their first son, my brother Will, they never at any point
envisaged that they would welcome seven more children into the world.  Will
was followed swiftly by Jamie, and then by Paul; only two years separating
the births of all three boys.  At that point my mother jokes it became
something of a game, to see if there was any way possible that she could get
pregnant that would result in a girl.   They had this mad idea (mad
considering they are both educated people) that if my mother conceived
during the day then a girl would result, and I wonder if they ever got over
the disappointment, presumably after a long period of only shagging during
daylight hours, when a fourth son, myself, was born, two years after Paul.
Apparently it took eight days to choose the name Simon for me, as they had
not considered any boy's names at all.  There then seems to have been
another slight lull in their pursuit of a girl, perhaps as they toyed with
pragmatism, after all, four boys would have been more than enough for most,
but, no; it appeared that now it was a matter of honour: by hook or by crook
a girl would be born into the Bailey family or my mother it seemed would die
trying.  Two years after me another boy, Mark, was born and a sixth son,
Chris, followed within a year.  When my mother tells the story, more or less
to anyone who will listen, she does concede that she really did intend to
stop there.  The older boys by now were finding the process funny, and I
have always wondered whether they felt a little unsure of their own roles in
this family at that time (I know I did): did our parents value sons at all
if they were so desperate for a girl?  My mother always maintained (of
course) that she didn't want a girl INSTEAD of a horde of boys, just AS WELL
AS.   But I remember clearly the joy of the day when, two years or so after
Chris was born, my mother was finally delivered of a daughter, after a
"wonderful surprise" pregnancy, as she always says.  Christened Emily Olga
Susanna, she was instantly everybody's darling, everybody's favourite, and
nobody at all, not least any of her adoring brothers, begrudged her the
slightest thing.  I honestly believe my mother when she says that Emily was
a surprise, but I don't believe her when she says the same of Louisa, born a
year after Emily.  I just reckon she thought the chromosomal tide had
obviously turned and she might as well see if she could sneak another girl
in before the neighbours began to wonder about how on earth we all managed
to fit in the house.  That, then, was definitely it.  Will was ten when
Louisa was born, I was six, and my father drew the line right there, having
a vasectomy within weeks of Louisa's arrival.

Fitting in any house was of course a problem.  Until Louisa was born we
lived in a fairly modest house in a smartish part of London, a house that my
father had inherited from his parents.  But whereas for the average-sized
family four bedrooms would probably have been ample, it was pretty cramped
for us.   Even before the girls came along we shared two boys per room.  But
after the arrival of our sisters, us six boys had to cram into two rooms,
and a move to a larger house was essential.  The greatest stroke of luck my
father ever had was with the London house, playing the property market
(quite accidentally) like a pro by selling in the 1980s just before the
prices tumbled.  I know quite well he didn't have a clue what he was doing,
but that's not the way the story goes now.  With the proceeds he bought a
large house out of London, with an enormous garden (and, wonder of wonders,
a pool!) and it was that day, the move out of London to the place I still
call home, that forms my first vivid memory.  My life, starting at age six,
began.

Of course it still wasn't large enough for us all to have a room each.  My
sisters and parents had the two largest rooms on the first floor, and there
were also a couple of spare rooms for guests and a couple of bathrooms.  But
by far the best part of the house, and I guess the reason my parents chose
it, was the second floor: a vast attic space which they divided up into two
large bedroom areas, a big bathroom, a sectioned off bit with desks in for
schoolwork and another sizeable part that we used as a play room and later
as our own TV and computer den.    All round it was a pretty cool place to
live.   We were a group of six brothers who often fought like dogs among
ourselves but who were ultimately bound together by the attic domain which
became our whole world, and with this private kingdom went its own laws,
rules and codes that still define who I am today.

Will was always our leader.  As the eldest, he was also the tallest, and I
am sure he will still be the tallest when we have all stopped growing.  He
takes after my father in every way imaginable, a natural organizer who cares
and empowers without ever being abusive or dictatorial.  Jamie, the second
eldest, is nothing like him at all, and I think of all six of us those two
are the most different.  Jamie is irrational, unpredictable, intelligent,
over-sensitive, highly talented and cripplingly competitive and always
thought that Will was too nice to warrant the responsibility of being the
eldest.  But without doubt, Jamie was (and remains) my favourite brother,
even though some days he seemed to look right through me.  There was just
something exciting and zesty about him that appealed to me from as early as
I can remember.  Paul was more like Will, but without the responsibility of
having to set an example he always seemed to be the one in trouble at
school.  I knew that Paul was going to be one of the best sportsmen ever, he
could run, swim, play football and tennis better than anyone I knew, but our
school never seemed to see in him what I could.  Then there was me, two
years younger than Paul and two years older than Mark, caught in the middle
of this nest of conflicting personalities.  The older three all called me
'simple Simon', but I never let it hurt me as I knew I was at least as
clever as Jamie and, I hoped, perhaps more so.  Will was terrifically
protective of me in many situations, although I don't think I needed the
security he offered any more than any of the others, and he always tried to
make sure I wasn't left out of anything.  I appreciated this immensely, as
there was definitely a feeling of the three elder boys forming one faction
at their own end of the attic, and the other end was me with Mark and Chris,
who were rather alike and so close in age that they were in the same year at
school, so it was easy for me to feel lost in the middle.  When we divided
into threes for stupid boys' games and stuff, it was always the three eldest
versus the three youngest, and of course we always lost; that's what
families are about.  But if we ever divided into twos, Will would always go
with me, and that made me feel pretty special.  Mark was looking like he
might be a good sportsman like Paul, and was steady and reliable and decent,
and Chris was musical and intelligent with a wild streak and a mean temper.

Physically, Will was tall, dark, well built and wonderfully good-looking,
definitely a case of the first in the queue got the pick of the genes.  He
got all the good points of our father with my mother's fantastic olive skin
thrown in for good measure.  The rest of us were more or less all out of the
same mould, dirty blond hair, skinny and of medium height, and to a man had
watery blue eyes.  Jamie, infuriated with Will's looks and appeal, resented
this genetic distribution beyond reason.  Will was always the one who the
girls were interested in, and from 14 or so onwards had strings of admirers
practically lining the route that we all cycled together each morning to get
to school.  But I was happy with our collective look: to have that
recognisable sub-Scandinavian colouring and the thin wiry body identified me
as one of 'the Bailey boys', and I wore that particular badge with a certain
amount of secret pride.   There was always much joking that Will must
obviously have been fathered by a third party, but these comments were never
harmful as nobody looking at Will could ever doubt that he was his father's
son; moreover, both Emily and Louisa have Will's colouring, and look like
developing his looks.

Whatever the physical differences between Will and the rest of us, it didn't
prevent the time-honoured tradition of clothes begin passed down the line
from brother to brother until Chris ended up with so many clothes that there
was scarcely any room to store them.  And even allowing for clothes being
formally passed on, there was still always a certain communal feel to most
of what we wore.  Whenever one of us bought something or was given it by our
mother, it was never very long before you saw it being worn by somebody
else, and I think we all accepted this from the very beginning.  Certainly
when my mother bought functional essentials like boxers and t-shirts for us
she just used to buy in vast bulk and then leave them for us to fight over.
I still remember when all six of us were living in the attic there was one
huge drawer of socks that we all went to rather than having six individual
collections.  Shoes were a bit less communal, but sports gear never really
had any kind of specific ownership.  I suppose each of us had a few items
that we classed as 'personal', usually bought out of our own money, and in
the main this was respected, although I still remember the time that Jamie
bought a pair of designer jeans and Paul wrecked them playing football; the
fallout lasted for weeks, Jamie being even more stubborn than usual.  We all
had friends where the number of boys in the family never numbered any more
than two, and of course all these mates had their own gear and wouldn't ever
have dreamt of letting their brother borrow anything, but I know that when
it came to communal living none of us would have changed any of it.  When
you see your brother wearing your rugby top, you really know he's your
brother, and I always got a kick out of that.  And anyway, I suppose, we
didn't know any different.

Another aspect of six boys living together was the bathroom.  In many ways
it was the best room in the house.  There was a bath (seldom used by any of
us) and three basins in a row with mirrors, a pair of shower cubicles
side-by-side with green curtains on rings, and, a stroke of genius my mother
always claimed, a urinal.  There was a separate toilet which did actually
have a lock on it (christened by Will 'the crapper', and it has never lost
that name) but the bathroom didn't even have a proper door, just an archway.
  It was simply never envisaged that bathroom usage would be private, and
moreover it couldn't ever have been:  we would have been hours late for
school if we had had to use the bathroom in shifts.  There were certain
times in the bathroom when I experienced the strongest sense of fraternal
camaraderie, a feeling that I expect many brothers have never enjoyed.  One
occasion in particular sticks in my mind, the only time I can actually
recall all six of us being in there at once, although I am sure there must
have been others.  It was a summer morning when we were all going to a
family wedding, I was standing at one of the basins, pathetically trying to
shave although I was years off needing to, and Jamie was next to me showing
me how to use soap and blade.  At the third sink was Mark, cleaning his
teeth, waiting for a shower to become free, as both Will and Paul were
already in.  Chris was in the bath, flicking water at the three of us at the
sinks, and Paul told a filthy joke at which he, Will and Jamie laughed
uproariously, but I doubt whether the three younger lads, myself included,
understood it.

Despite the communality of the way we lived, there was not masses of group
nudity.  Certainly we were never coy about seeing each other naked, in fact
it was unavoidable with our bathroom arrangements, but that didn't mean that
we spent hours lolling round in the buff at complete ease with each other.
In fact much of the way we all behaved and lived and existed alongside each
other, we all did the same; so I guess we must have learned it ultimately
from Will and how he was.  We all slept either in boxers or naked, because
Will did.  I never remember any of us owning pyjamas, and I think that there
were only two dressing gowns between us, usually used when someone was ill.
We all left the bathroom with a towel round our waist, because that's what
Will did.  We all preferred to shower in the evening, because so did Will.
There was just a Bailey way of doing everything, and we all did it like that
even though it had never been explained or written down or insisted upon.

The Bailey way was pretty clear on masturbation too, although for some time
the rules were only necessary at one end of the attic.  But towards the end
of the time when we all still lived there, before Will left home, there were
a couple of years when all six of us were at it, and it never caused the
slightest embarrassment on even one occasion.  The unwritten understanding
was that if you wanted to do it in bed at night you could, and nobody would
comment however obvious it was, and if you were alone during the day in a
particular attic area, that was cool too.  If you ever disturbed a brother
enjoying one off the wrist, you never commented, just walked away.  It was a
private thing, and even though the setting was far from private, Will always
said that we were entitled to that privacy whichever rung on the fraternal
ladder we occupied.  Concerning masturbation of course, the older you were,
the greater your head start on getting your head round it, so even though we
all understood from day one about what shower and bathroom protocol were, by
the time the younger boys got round to wanking, the older ones had been at
it for years, somehow without the younger ones' knowledge.  So the younger
ones had to glean the rules about wanking for themselves as we each in turn
reached the stage when it became relevant.  I remember once seeing Will
wanking in the shower and, not knowing what on earth he was doing, turned
away with the instinctive knowledge that I must have seen something
personal.  I was probably about 10, Will would have been 14 or 15, and even
then he was sensible and caring, saying to me afterwards that he would
explain to me what I had seen when I got old enough to understand.  He was
true to his word: a couple of years later, when my time came, he was
charming and caring and sensitive, and allowed me to ask all sorts of silly
questions.  There was no mystique about wanking, nothing rude or crude or
embarrassing, but it was still private, like taking a crap.

So there were never any group wanks, all six of us going at it in a circle.
But if I judge by my own experiences, and assume that they must at least in
some part be common to the others, then there were a couple of moments when
that privacy was shared.  Once I remember, about 15, Paul was 17, when we
were both showering at the same time, and I could hear from his cubicle next
door that he was having a wank, and I was too.  I think that it turned into
a contest about who could cum first and make the most noise without either
of us ever declaring it, or even being able to catch the other's eye to make
the joke.  When we both finished and pulled back our curtains, Paul was
sniggering, kind of under his breath, and one look at each other showed how
funny we had both found it.  Another time, I was perhaps about 11, I rushed
into the older end of the attic to ask Will something, but he was sitting
with his back to me with his trousers round his ankles.  He just said that
he was a bit busy, and could we speak in a few minutes.  Then he stood up
and tuned round, kind of formally showing me what he was doing, and I
retreated, the image of my brother's erect cock still in my mind, wondering
when I would be able to behave in this mysterious way.

But it was Jamie with whom I had by far my most important experience in this
respect.  I remember a sunny afternoon when most of us were in the garden
and, aged 12, I went in to lie down because of the heat.  Up in the attic I
found that Jamie, 15 at the time, was already there, on his bed wearing only
a pair of shorts.  He called me over and I sat on his bed next to him.  His
conversation was casual and unthreatening, and after a while of talking
about nothing, he said,

'You know about wanking yet, Si?'

'Yeah, course', I replied, with only the vaguest idea.

'You do it yourself yet?'

'Well, not exactly...'

'But your dick gets hard yeah, like stiff and big?'

'Yeah'.  That much was certainly true.

'Well when you get hard there's a really cool thing you can do'.

'Yeah?  Do you do it?'

'Sure.  I was going to when you came in'.  Then, really innocently, 'wanna
see?'

'Cool'.  I was pretty excited, but I didn't know why.

He lifted his bum off the bed and pushed his shorts down, and I got my first
good look at an erection that wasn't my own.  It seemed huge to me at the
time, all ugly and hairy, but I doubt it was much more than 6 inches.  He
gripped hard and began to stroke, quite slowly, then got a gob of spit and
rubbed it into his foreskin.

'Why d'you do that?'

'Makes the skin slip back easier'.   He started to go really quick, and then
stopped for some more spit.  'You wanna try?'

'I dunno, it looks weird'.  (Although my own cock was hard by this time).

'Just have a go, you'll like it'.  He let go of his own dick and I gingerly
held it like he had been.  Then I started to move my hand.

'Ok, now what?'

'That's great, now just get a bit faster and you can see what happens'.  He
added some more spit while I was working him and then he began to breathe
heavily.   'Hey you're good for a beginner', he laughed, stretching back and
laying down properly with his hands behind his head.  I could see his
armpits with their light dusting of hair.  Then he gasped a few times and
his cock spat out a few blobs of white stuff.  'Hey slow down!' he called
out as he was cumming.  Some of his spunk landed on my wrist.  The image of
my brother's spunk glistening on my hand that hot afternoon in the attic was
one I have never forgotten.  'Great eh?' said Jamie, flushed.

'Yeah', I answered, not convinced.

'When you get hard and feel sexy, do it to yourself, I'll bet you shoot
loads if you've never done it before'.

'But why?'

'Coz it feels fucking great when you get there, Si.  It's called an orgasm.
Try it on your own later, when you get a bit of privacy.  Don't let Chris
and Mark see you coz they're not old enough yet'.  There was silence for a
while, during which I felt my own cock throb with painful erection, and I
gazed at Jamie's purple knobhead, all sticky with his stuff.  His cream was
running down my hand, slightly, and I looked for somewhere to wipe it off.

'You want to try it?' Jamie asked, innocently.

'Yuck.  Why?'

'Tastes nice', he said, matter-of-factly.  Then he lowered his head to my
hand and in one long lick took it all into his mouth, now lost in his own
world.  Seemingly completely unaware of my presence, he was savouring his
own taste.   Then he scooped the rest of his stomach and ate that too.
'Yum', he said, laughing a little at me.  'You can sod off now'.

Curiously, it was some time, a full couple of days perhaps, before I got
round to doing it on my own.  But as soon as I did, it was, well...every guy
remembers his first wank.  It was so unbelievable I did it about twenty
times in under a week.  And each time the image of Jamie's engorged sticky
cockhead and, for some reason, his armpits, was in my mind.  Jamie was right
of course, that first time I was delighted with my own spunk, and I thought
nothing of eating it like Jamie had done.  Great taste: I was hooked.

I don't know whether Jamie actually told Will and Paul about what we had
done, but within the first week of my becoming a fully fledged wanking
Bailey, they both came to me, on separate occasions, and sort of
congratulated me on taking this step.  Perhaps it was just so obvious that I
was spending loads of time on my own, or maybe they actually heard or saw
me.  Paul just said, in passing in the bathroom, 'hey bro, welcome to the
pleasure dome!', laughing as he simulated a wank with his right hand.

Will of course was more sensible and supportive.  He sat down with me one
evening that summer next to the pool when all the others were dressing for
supper.  Mum always insisted that we ate as a family once a day, and all
traces of the garden and the pool had to be eradicated before we were
allowed to sit down.  Will and I had been the first pair in the showers and
as we waited for the family to assemble, clean and dressed, he said that
he'd noticed I was spending a lot of time on my own, and did that mean I'd
discovered wanking?  I answered yes, and he said not to be shy or
embarrassed ever about it, and that I must do it as often as I wanted and
enjoy my own body without feeling dirty, and if I ever had any questions
about anything I should go to him.  We spoke openly about it for ten fifteen
minutes or so.  If I wasn't already in love with him a bit, I certainly was
after that.  There was a quick warning about Mark and Chris still being too
young, and we went in for supper.  I felt like a man.

There were other moments of intimacy that made a big impression at the time.
  The following summer, when I was 13, my father decided to extend the
terrace around the pool.  It was hot again, and with ten of us, and guests
(a pool in England is still enough of a novelty to attract friends from
miles around when the weather is good) the existing space was hardly large
enough.  One afternoon when it was almost too hot to move, mum and I were
lazing in the shade, dozing.  Mark and Chris, always with a surfeit of
energy whatever the weather, were racing round on their bikes at the far end
of the garden.  My dad, Will, Jamie and Paul were all shovelling soil,
trying to level an area of ground alongside the pool.  Emily and Louisa,
little girls in floppy sunhats, were 'helping' with their own plastic beach
spades, but my eyes were drawn to my brothers.  They were all wearing just
shorts, and working far too hard for the heat.  I was becoming increasingly
aware that Will's body was on the way to stunning.  Jamie was wearing my own
favourite pair of shorts, and they were almost indecently too small for him:
I could see the outline of his cock as he toiled away, occasionally laughing
at some joke that I couldn't hear, and quite obviously competing with Will
and Paul as to who was working the hardest.  Sweaty and grimy, tanned and
slim, just looking at them was giving me an erection.  And those shorts!
Why was Jamie wearing them?  I got a special thrill out of that.  They
stopped work, leaning on their shovels, pleased with their progress.
Suddenly there was a big burst of laughter and the three boys all kicked
their shoes off, pulled their shorts down and dived into the pool.  The
girls shrieked in delight.  I was captivated by all that wonderful male
flesh, and felt awesomely proud to be related to it.  I saw all their cocks
before they hit the water, and even though I had seen them all a hundred
times before it was quite erotic.  My dad looked on in pride at his three
eldest; all good lads, all fit and strong.  And then he pushed his own
shorts down and dived in after them.  He swam a length of the pool right
underneath the splashing boys, and pulled himself out at the far end, and
then walked back along the side to where his shorts were on the ground.
Paul yelled something like, 'Whoa, dad's got his bollocks out!'  I watched,
entranced.  It was the first time, and also the last, that I ever saw my
dad's cock.   It was thick and meaty and hung quite low, and swayed a little
from side to side as he walked.  Bigger, I reckon, than any of his sons by
some way, but I suppose none of us were fully grown then.  It was exactly
the kind of cock that you would expect a guy who had sired six sons to have,
and I felt that he deserved it.  He pulled his shorts back on and went to
make a fuss of his daughters.  My mum, snoozing through the whole scene,
didn't notice as I slipped away up to the attic for a wank.

It was a couple of years after our first moment of intimacy before Jamie
showed me any more personal attention in that respect.  During that time I
had worked out that I was gay, and was scared of being found out,
particularly by my brothers, with whom I lived in such physical proximity.
My wanking was dominated by other cocks and other boys' bodies.  I was
nervous of being around Will as he had become a total hunk and sometimes
just one look at him fully clothed would be enough to get me hard and send
me away with incredibly guilty thoughts.  I tried hard never to fantasize
about Will when I wanked, but sometimes it was bloody difficult.

Then one weekend in the autumn of when I was 14, things took a definite step
in some kind of direction.  Mark and Chris were away with their football
team, and Paul was staying at a friend's house.  I went to bed on the
Saturday night; my parents were having a dinner party and I welcomed the
chance to sneak off, looking forward to a full-on session, as with both the
younger boys away, I had my end of the attic to myself.  I had managed to
conceal from them what I did so regularly quite easily, not knowing about it
at all they had never been suspicious.  Anyway I was beginning to think that
the precautions of secrecy were very soon going to be irrelevant for Mark,
who I had recently seen in the shower with a raging boner.  I wondered if
Will would talk to him, or whether I should actually tell Will that perhaps
it was time to welcome Mark into the fold as he had done for me two years
earlier.  No, Will would surely know without my telling him.  Will knew
everything.  But even so, I was pleased to have the privacy Mark and Chris's
absence offered.  After a while, when I was well into a fantastic fantasy
involving a boy at school, I heard Jamie come up the stairs.  It was only
about 10pm and I thought it was early for him to be coming to bed.  He
messed about at his end of the attic for some time and in the end I just
ignored him and got back to stroking myself.  I was just imagining my mate
and I jacking each other off when I heard Jamie approach my bed.  I looked
at him, he was wearing just boxers.

'Hey Si', he said in a low voice, 'wanna share?'

'What d'you mean Jamie?'

'Hey Si, it's cool; I know what you're doing.  I remember once you helped me
out, now if you want I'd like to return the favour'.  Fucking great!  Jamie
wanted to wank me.  I didn't wanted to sound desperate though; I was
paranoid that he would be able to tell I was gay.

'You reckon?'

'Yeah, it'll be good.  And I owe you one'.

'What if Will comes up?'

'Will's downstairs at dinner and it'll go on for hours yet.  I got away coz
I said I was going to bed'.

This was good news.  But I still played it a bit reluctant.  'OK, if you
think it's gonna be all right'.

He sat down on the bed, wanting to chat a bit.  'You do it a lot, Si?'

'Jamie man, I can't STOP doing it!' I laughed.

'Yeah, I was like that when I was your age.  Still am I suppose.  You reckon
Mark's started yet?'

'Dunno.  Last week I saw him in the shower with a stiff hardon though'.

'Yeah?  Is he big?'

'Dunno.  He's only twelve remember.  Just like the rest of us I suppose'.

He laughed.  'Si, you really think the Bailey cocks are all the same size?'

'Aren't they?'

'Fuck no.  Will's huge.  Massive.  Lucky bastard'.

'How do you know?  He looks pretty average soft.  You ever done it with him,
like...like you did with me that time?'

'Yeah, once, when we were a lot younger.  Paul hadn't started yet.  One
night Paul couldn't get to sleep and we were both horny.  Will locked
himself in the crapper and I knew what he was up to, so I went to the
bathroom.  After a couple of minutes he left the crapper and came in with
me.  It was pretty cool, neither of us had ever spoken about it before, and
we had a long chat and then beat each other off.  We were both weeny boys
then, probably 13 or so'.

'So how do you know he's bigger now then?'

'I saw him last month, lying on his back on his bed.  Up our end of the
attic, we don't hide it.  It's private, but not secret.  He was sneaking a
quick one in before supper.  Looked like he was pulling on a whole fucking
salami.  He turned away to the wall when I came in, but he needn't have
bothered.  I'd already seen him, and it's hardly the first time.  You ought
to make sure it's like that for you when Mark and Chris get going'.

'Yeah, I know.  Will spoke to me about it when I first started.  Told me not
to be embarrassed about it.  Said I should enjoy my own body whenever I
wanted'.

'Did he?  Well, isn't he just the perfect big brother to you'.  He sounded
peeved.

'Yeah, he is', I said, wanting to stick up for Will.

'Si, let me warn you of one thing; might save you some heartache.  Don't
idolise Will, he's not like you and me'.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, well, I suppose I mean that Will can give you advice and care and
love and a shoulder to cry on and all that shit, but, well, I can do other
things for you, that he couldn't dream of'.

'Like what?'  I was intrigued, and a little disturbed.

'Like, well, move over and I'll show you'.

He stood up and slipped his boxers down, revealing his boner.  It was bigger
than when I had last seen it, and I was pretty excited.  I moved over to the
wall and he pulled the duvet back.  I was already naked and still hard from
my earlier session.  'Hey', he said, grinning, 'it's simple Simon all grown
up.  You're nearly as big as me already'.

'Am I?'

'Sure, look'.  He lay down next to me and stood his erection up
perpendicular to his body.  'Do the same to yours', he said.

I did as he asked.  He was about an inch longer than me, perhaps seven
inches to my six.  'Cool', I said.

'Anyone else ever touched your dick, Si?'

'No, course not'.

'You're gonna like this a lot then', he said, as he reached over and held my
dick firmly in his hand.  It felt great to have someone else touch me.  'Now
just lie back', he said.

He leaned over slightly and started to wank me.  His action was firmer than
mine, and his strokes longer.  I linked my fingers behind my head and leaned
back, exposing my armpits the way he had done two years before.  It felt
magic.  For the first time I realised that having someone else do it meant
that you gave up control of the wanking action, and it was the
unexpectedness of sudden changes of speed and angle that was so sexy.  After
a couple of minutes I felt the need for an extra bit of lubrication around
my foreskin, so I gobbed a big load of saliva into my hand and moved it down
to my dick.  He kept going, and then really surprised me.

'No need for that, Si', he said, 'I know a better way to get you slicked
up'.

'How?' I asked, intrigued.

Then without saying anything he moved his head to my crotch, and, still
wanking me, closed his mouth over my cockhead.

'Jamie!'  I cried out.  'What the fuck are you doing?'

He didn't answer, concentrating hard on the task in hand.  The feeling of my
brother's warm wet mouth and his active licky tongue over my most sensitive
part was amazing.  I gave in to the feeling and lay back again to enjoy it.
He was really getting me going, this was loads better than wanking.  All too
soon I felt the familiar rush of blood around my body and the burning in my
balls.

'Jamie, I'm gonna cum', I stuttered as my muscles tensed, and as I said it
he quickened his wrist significantly and took more of my cock into his
mouth, his hand now banging against his lips as he wanked me.  The lovely
warm sexiness of orgasm rushed through me and I bucked my hips a bit as my
spunk flooded down his throat.  He swallowed every last bit, and carried on
gently sucking, making sure there was none left 'in the tubes'.  Finally he
released me, and then looked up and grinned.

'You like that?'

It had been marvellous.  My first blowjob.  But I didn't know how to react.
'Yeah Jamie it was cool', was all I ventured.

'Just cool?  Fuck Si, blowjobs are awesome.  You should be begging for more.
  Didn't I do it for you?  You certainly shot loads, so at least some part
of you enjoyed it'.

'Jamie it was fucking ace, honestly.  But...'

'But what?'

'But you swallowed all my spunk.  That's, that's...'

'Gay?'

'Shit, I dunno Jamie, I just wasn't expecting you to suck me and swallow
when you offered me a wank'.

'Yeah but spunk tastes top.  Don't you like it?'

'Jamie, I fucking love my own and I always eat it, after watching you do it
that time.  But...but somebody else's?'

'What's the problem Si, we're brothers, and I know you really enjoyed it.
And your spunk tastes as good as mine, and there was LOADS!  It was great.
Loosen up, bro'.

'Yeah sorry Jamie, it really was ace'.  That was the understatement of the
year: if he had sucked me non-stop for a month it wouldn't have been long
enough.  'Thanks, I owe you one now'.

'I will remember that, little brother', he laughed.  'Now, help me out here,
you've had all the fun so far.  I gobbed on my hand and rubbed it into his
foreskin and then wanked his cock as I would my own.  It felt completely
natural to wank another dick.  He shot in a couple of minutes, all over his
stomach.  I kept wanting to lick his cockhead, but resisted; and when he
shot, I really wanted to taste it, but I let him lick it all up and eat it
himself.  'Good one, Si', he said, 'cheers'.  Then he picked up his boxers
and padded naked back to his own end of the attic.

I sensed that Jamie was in some ways a kindred spirit, and for the first
time, but by no means the last, I wondered if he was gay too.  I thought
that statistically it would not have been unbelievable for two out of six to
be gay, and Jamie seemed to be pretty sure of how to manipulate another
boy's body, and something instinctive told me that mine was not the first
cock he had sucked.  And he had swallowed my load!  Blimey.  I knew deep
down that I wanted to taste his spunk too, but could I just go to him and
ask?

I didn't have to.  It was only a couple of weeks after he had given me my
first blowjob that Jamie and I found ourselves alone in the attic again.  He
wasted no time at all.

'Hey Si', he called from his end, 'fancy some fun?'

'What kind?'  I asked as I made my way over to where he was lying on his
bed.

'The spunky kind of course!' he laughed.  He was naked on his bed, toying
with his erection.  'Get your kit off, bro', he said, grinning
conspiratorially.

I pulled my clothes off and lay down next to him, hard in an instant.  We
immediately started to wank ourselves, then Jamie switched our hands so we
were doing each other.  'Oh man you are good', Jamie said softly, in a voice
I had not heard from him before; kind of deep, primal, totally adult.
Gradually he stopped pulling on me as I worked harder on him, then he let go
of me completely, lying back to enjoy what I was doing for him.  'Yeah', he
said, again in that uninhibited sexual voice.  'Yeah, great, just grip a
tiny bit harder'.  His eyes were closed and his head thrown back.  I knew
what I was going to do.

My head started the inevitable journey to his cock.  I just couldn't stop
it, couldn't pull away.  I was desperate to know what it was like.  As Jamie
realised what I was about to do, he very gently helped my head down on to
his cock with his hands.  My mouth engulfed his cockhead.  It tasted
sensational.  I sucked and licked hard like he had done for me.  I kept
pumping on his dick and licked all over his knob, eager for him to feel good
and to like what I was doing for him.  'Oh Simon, Simon, Simon', he
whispered.  I was desperate for him to cum, and within only a few minutes he
started to thrash his hips and breathe really fast.  The first bolt of jizz
filled my mouth and I let his cock slip from my lips.  The rest of it went
over my face and his stomach.  The taste was indescribable.  Like pure sex.
I swallowed what was in my mouth.  He lay there, panting.

'Simon, that was fucking ace, bro.  That the first time you ever sucked a
cock?'

'Yeah, course'.

'Well you are great, Si.  That was brill.  You enjoy it?'

'Yeah, it was OK'.  Another huge understatement.

'You get some of my stuff to taste?  What you think?'

'Nice.  Nearly as good as mine'.

'Good, now I need some'.  He sat up and totally surprised me by holding my
head between his hands and licking his cum off my face.  When he had got it
all he gently kissed my forehead.  'Thanks bro'.

I was raging hard, and he saw.

'OK, your turn', he said, smiling.  He started to wank me then went down on
me as before.  Then when I was really hot and bothered he took his hand away
completely and did it all with his mouth.  Jees-suus!  I bucked my cock
deeper into his mouth, and then spurted, a big, long load.  Again, he
swallowed the lot, and released my dick a long while after I had cum.
'Fuck, Si, you do taste fucking gorgeous'.

'Thanks Jamie'.

'Cool.  Next time I know a way to make it even better'.

Great!  There was going to be a 'next time'.  I went back to my own bit of
the attic, wondering where on earth all this would lead, but not for one
moment wanting to stop it.

Jamie and I traded blowjobs fairly regularly over the next few months, but
the 'way to make it even better' didn't actually materialise.  Still, I
hardly minded, as those sessions with Jamie were by far the hottest times
(shit - they were the ONLY times) that I had at that age; but then something
happened which made me stop and think a bit more objectively about what we
were doing.  Mark and I found ourselves in the bathroom one evening, and he
obviously wanted to talk.

'Hey, Si, can I ask you, er, about, er, wanking?'  He had the unstable voice
of a lad in the first grip of the dreaded break.

I smiled.  'Sure Mark.  What you wanna know?'

'Well, for a start, when did you, like, find out about it all?'

'When I was about 12 I think, just a little bit younger than you are now'.

'And when you started, how often did you do it?'

'Hey Marky, honestly, all the fucking time.  Couldn't stop.  Still can't!'

He smiled.  'Me neither.  I was just fiddling around in the shower a couple
of months ago and, then suddenly, wa-hey!!  Since then, it's like having a
new game I never get bored with'.

'So what's the problem then?  If there's something really bothering you, you
can tell me, but I recommend you have a chat with Will.  He was pretty cool
to me when I first got going'.

'I have spoken to Will.  Or rather, he found me and had a chat.  It was
cool.  Will is so ace.  It's just that, one of the things he said was that
it was fine to do it when ever I wanted, and he also said sometimes I might
even want to do it even more than once a day.  Even more than once a day?!!
Jesus, Si, yesterday I did it five times!  Is that bad?'

'Fuck no.  Do it however much you want.  Maybe Will doesn't have as much
desire for it now he's older and got a girlfriend, or maybe he's forgotten
what it's like when you first start; like, you can't leave your damn dick
alone!  But he'll never criticise you for anything.  But fuck, Mark, five
times yesterday?  When the fuck did you find the time?!'

We both laughed.  'Jees, Si, I just do it anywhere.  Anywhere I can be alone
for a few minutes.  I even did it behind the shed last week!'

'Well, feel free to do it in bed, Mark.  I do, have been for two years or
so, just be careful around Chris.  He's still a bit young, let him discover
it for himself like you did'.  Then I added, 'Like we all did', although
this was a blatant lie on my part, as Jamie had introduced me before I'd
really found out for myself.  It always felt slightly odd to think that the
very first time I had wanked a dick it hadn't been my own.  Still, Jamie had
more than made up for that since then.

'You've been doing it in bed for two years?  Fuck Si, I had no idea'.

'Usually I waited till you were asleep.  But not always.  Just wipe it up
with your boxers, or keep them on and cum straight into them and then put
them out for laundry.  Mum doesn't seem to mind: remember, you're number
five, she must be well used to it by now.  Cool, now there are two of us in
the club at our end, we'll just run it like Will, Jamie and Paul do'.

'How's that?'

'They just do it whenever they want, and the others don't mind or get
embarrassed about it, they just ignore it.  Seeing as there's no fucking
privacy up here, we'll just have to make do.  Don't let anyone put you off
it, Marky, it's too important.  Just do it, although we still have to be
aware of Chris.  It'll be much easier when he gets going too'.

'Cool, Si, I was really hoping you would say something like that.  And
anyway, I don't reckon Chris will be that far behind'.

'What makes you say that?'

'Well, he's already got pubic hair, and his dick's practically the same size
as mine.  And he gets erections all the time.  He had one in the shower the
other day.  I almost told him what to do'.

'Don't do that, Mark; let him find out for himself.  It's pretty special
then.  But, good news: as soon as he's done it, we can be like the other
three.  No stresses.  No secrecy.  Was that all that was on your mind?'

'Well, no.  It's just that, when Will and I had that chat, he never said
anything about, er, about doing it with anyone else'.

'Eh?  Why should he?  What do you mean?'

'Well, why did...?'

'Why what?'

'Why did Jamie offer to wank me off recently?'

'Did you let him?'

He blushed.  'Yes', he said quietly.  'And it was even better than usual'.

'I don't think you need to be worried about that.  You just do what you want
to do.  If you don't want to do anything, don't.  I think Jamie's just got a
pretty high sex-drive, much higher than Will's.  He's always looking for
ways to make it more interesting'.

'Have you done it with him?'

Now it was my turn to blush.  'Yes.  A couple of times, when I was a bit
younger.  It was cool'.  This outrageous lie sprang effortlessly from my
lips.  But I sensed I did not want anybody to know about what Jamie and I
got up to.

Mark was obviously relieved.  'Thanks Si', he said, 'that's what I wanted to
hear'.

'Cool Mark', I smiled, 'happy wanking!'

We both left the bathroom and moved on to other topics of conversation.  But
my mind was still back on what he had said about Jamie.  Fucking hell, I
felt weird about this.  Jamie had gone to Mark for a wank?  What was wrong
with me?  And also, I thought that Jamie and I had a special connection.
One that I didn't have with the others.  But, it seemed that Jamie would
wank with anyone.  I knew he had done it with me and Mark, Jamie himself had
told me about him and Will once, and I bet there was some distant episode
with Paul as well.  I suddenly felt like Jamie was preying on his younger
brothers.  He had to be gay, he absolutely had to be.  With him it was
obviously more than a special moment with a favourite brother, he was
cock-mad.  I wondered how long till he got into Chris's boxers.  Probably
only a few months judging from what Mark had said.   Jamie was gay, he must
be.  And that meant, as I was gay too, that we weren't two brothers doing
each other a favour.  We were having sex.  SHIT!  I was having sex with my
brother!  That made me feel weird again.  I went to bed that night and
didn't wank, although Mark did.  Twice.

The next few times Jamie suggested a quick one, I declined, saying I wasn't
in the mood, or I was busy.  Did I really want to have sex with my brother?
Oh god, yes I did!!!  But it was still weird.  Then one Sunday morning about
a month after my conversation with Mark, Jamie and I were alone the attic
again, the other boys all having gone out on various day trips, and I was
feeling horny as hell.  As I heard Will, the last to leave, go down the
stairs, I got up and went over to Jamie, who was lying in bed.  He thrust
something under the covers as he heard me approach.  And when he saw the
tent in my boxers, he just said, 'Ah simple Simon, ready for action!' and
grinned widely.  'I'd almost forgotten what your special juice tastes like,
bro!'

I smiled and slipped my boxers down and climbed in with him.  He was naked,
and hard as a rock.  'Hey, Jamie', I smiled, 'feeling horny?'

'As ever, little brother.  And I have got the most fantastic thing, you are
just going to cream your pants, were you wearing any, in an instant'.

'What?'  I was excited by his presence, his manner and his body.

'Well, what's the best thing about being a fully signed up member of the
Bailey Boys Wanking Society?'

'Er, dunno.  What?'

'Blimey Si, have some imagination.  The spunk of course'.

'Oh yeah, spunk.  Yours, pretty nice; mine, delicious'.

He laughed.  'If you say so.  But therein lies the challenge.  There are
five, soon to be six, wankers in this club.  And we only know what two types
of jizz taste like.  Well, not for much longer, simple Simon'.

'What you talking about?'

He produced what he had stuffed under the pillow moments before.  It was a
scrunched up pair of boxers.  'Behold.  An enormous load of fresh Bailey
cream, shot from the hairy bollocks and overlarge dick of our esteemed
eldest brother, the beautiful and perfect William, not 10 minutes ago.
Still warm and gloopy.  He had a wild thrash around wearing these, seemed to
cum just about for ever, dumped them in the laundry then jumped in the
shower and sodded off.   You interested?'

Was I?  Fuck yes.  I was hard as iron.  I wanted to taste his stuff more
than anything.  But it was just so sick.  Lying in bed with my favourite
sexy brother with a stolen pair of the best-brother-in-the-world's spunky
boxers.  Like prying through his stuff.  Like completely fucking sick.  But
my dick dictated my reaction.

'Fuck, Jamie, you fucking filthy ass.  You are sick.  Let me see!'

He giggled, and unwrapped them like they were a precious piece of porcelain.
  A monster load of jizz lay over the whole inside of the front panel, only
partially soaked into the fabric.  I instinctively scooped some up in my
finger and delivered it to my mouth.  Jamie did the same.  It tasted like
Heaven.  We looked at each other, grins gone, and both buried our noses into
the crotch of Will's shorts.  Licking, snuffling, sniffing, snorting our
gorgeous brother's most personal, most intimate stuff.  Long after all his
jizz was gone I kept taking in huge lungfuls of the sweaty, spunky whiff:
the sensation was incredible.  Jamie and I lunged at each other's dicks and
starting sucking frantically, falling perfectly naturally into our first 69,
the 'way to make it even better', as Jamie had once called it.  It was not
long before we both spunked copiously into each other's mouths, Jamie first,
trying to fuck his dick down my throat as he came, and then about minute
later, me, flooding him with more Bailey cream, which he swallowed, as
usual, to the last drop.

Fuck that was hot.  I looked at Jamie, he was laying back staring into
space.  I stood up and slipped my boxers back on, and turned away, but for
the first time he didn't want me to leave straight after we had cum.

'Sit down, Si'.

'What?'

'We can't dismiss this anymore.  I know what it means, but I wonder if you
do'.

'What you talking about Jamie?'

He sighed.  'Don't be obtuse, Simon.  I am gay.  And I strongly suspect you
are too.  There is no other possible explanation for what we just did:
licking the spunk out of our brother's boxers.  A brother we both lust
after, but will always be denied'.

I was silent.  Age 14, the rest of my life was staring me in the face: I was
a sick gay perv.  I couldn't help it, the tears started rolling.  I fucking
hated myself for what I had just done, and I fucking hated myself because I
had enjoyed it like I had enjoyed nothing else before.  Jamie sat up, still
naked, and held me in his arms.  'Hey, Simon, Simon, Simon, don't cry,
please, don't cry, it's not like we're going to die.  Being gay is cool.
Sex is fabulous, not sick.  I promise you it will be all right'.  At that
moment Jamie became Will for me, and it was a long time before I ever went
to Will with a problem again.

Jamie understood me totally, and I loved him for it.


aidan_leary@hotmail.com