Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2001 00:50:43
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Brewsters Celebrate Sadie Hawkins Day" (t/t, t/b, incest)

Caution/Welcome.  This is a story involving four brothers, one recently
turned twelve-year-old, one thirteen-year-old about to turn fourteenth, and
two fifteen-year-old twins, who with the New York boy band Dream Street,
celebrate Sadie Hawkins Day.  This story is posted at free gay adult story
sites for adult entertainment only.  Lyrics are copyright of Dream Street
and Lava/Atlantic Records.  Permission is not given to copy electronically
nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites
other than those described here.  This is the thirtieth story in the
Brewster Boys special events and myths series.  To all the guys out there,
watch out for girls wearing hobnail boots this holiday, and be sure you
have a pack of condoms with you.  If they don't catch you in the Sadie
Hawkins race, maybe one of their hunky brothers will.  Comments and future
story suggestions, Kickapoo Joy Juice, and naked pictures of Dream Street,
Dogpatch- type boys, and shmoon can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson
at authorsix@hotmail.com

   THE BREWSTERS AND DREAM STREET CELEBRATE SADIE HAWKINS DAY

     "You have a letter from your brother James," Brenda announced as she
sorted out the mail that had accumulated while they'd been in Mexico.
     "James?" asked Barry with a slight concern in his voice.  He and his
younger brother had always been close, but over the past year his letters
had been getting farther and farther between and every time they'd talked
his brother had seemed depressed.  He was not the only one to notice that,
his sister Tammy and his older brother Cory both having also commented on
their brother's less than cheerful disposition.  As he opened up the letter
and read it, his family studied him for any sign of what was in the letter.
     "He says he's going to stay over at his condo in Orlando for another
month," Barry said, "and he's sorry, but he's not going to be able to join
us on Thanksgiving as he'd originally said he would."
     "That's too bad," Brenda said.  "You phone him up and tell him we
expect him here no matter what his reason for changing his mind.  He has to
get out more and mix with others.  There's more to life than work and
making money."
     "He doesn't give a reason, but from some of the events he's attended
this past month according to his letter it sounds like he's getting
involved with some of the socialites in Orlando."
     "Well, I'm glad he's getting out.  What he needs to do is find a nice
girl and settle down."
     Brett and his brothers glanced at each other and exchanged knowing
looks before turning their attention back to their dad.  That was not going
to happen.
     "And he appears to have taken an interest in the opera."
     "Opera?" asked Brenda.  Barry's younger brother had made his fortune
in the oil industry in Alberta, Canada, and if anyone represented the
rugged west macho man in behaviour and interests, it was James.  Opera
definitely was not typical of James Brewster's interests.
     "Yes.  He's raved on and on about a performance he's seen lately,"
Barry replied, rasing the letter in his hand.
     "He say anything about meeting a new friend?" asked Brent.
     "No," said Barry, looking at his second youngest by just over two
minutes.  "Should he have?"
     "No," replied Brent, obviously disappointed.  "Just thought maybe that
was why he was staying at his condo."
     "Can we be excused?" asked his twin brother before Brent said
something he wasn't supposed to.
     "May we be excused," corrected his mother.
     "Sure.  Where you going?" he replied with a smile.
     "For a fuck," Bobby mouthed behind the back of his hand.
     "What did you say?" asked Brenda.
     "Ah, to go make some bread," Brenda's fourth youngest responded.
     "That's great Mom."
     "Oh yeah, I love homemade bread."
     "And buns," added Barry.
     "Cinnamon buns."
     "Oh yeah."
     "Thanks Mom."
     "Call us when they're done."
     The boys scooted out of the family room and headed to their bedroom.
They smiled at each other as they heard their mom observe that cinnamon
buns was not a bad idea.  Pulling their chairs up to the computer, they
checked out their own mail.
     "Oh wow, we got twelve messages."
     "Wicked."
     "One's from Billy to you Brent, 'with all my love'."
     "Oooo, la-la," grinned Bobby, getting a punch in the shoulder from his
older brother in response.
     "And we got one from our cousins from Connecticut," observed Benny,
referring to their cousins Trevor, Bobby and Brad who had been having some
wild sexual adventures of their own ever since their participation at
Nacy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City almost two years ago.
     "And another one from Dream Street."
     "Wow, what a surprise," Benny said sarcastically.  "I wonder what they
want?"  From his tone it was clear he already knew, and from the look on
the faces of his brothers, so did they.
     "Look, we got mail from Giovanni!"
     The boys immediately thought back to their visit with their uncle a
month ago, in the beginning of October.  Leaving after school on Friday the
fifth, they'd had a quick snack at Macdonald's upon arriving in Florida
after which their uncle had driven them out for a personal tour of the John
F. Kennedy Space Centre at nearby Cape Canaveral, knowing his nephews were
keen about science, especially Bobby and Brett.  Being the president of one
of the major fuel suppliers to the centre, it had not been difficult for
him to arrange a tour just for themselves, which in itself awed his four
nephews.  Bobby decided right after becoming a Catholic he was going to be
an oil tycoon.  Following the tour they'd headed for their uncle's Orlando
condo where they'd unpacked and then had a long visit in his hot tub.  Of
course their uncle asked the typical things all adults ask about, how they
were doing in school, what their favourite subjects were, and what other
interests they had.  The boys in turn wanted to know what it was like to be
the president of an oil company and what he did and what it was like to be
able to jet around in his private jet all over the world.
     "So you must be mega rich," Bobby observed, looking around the condo.
He didn't know anything about art, but he knew the paintings and sculptures
had to be worth big bucks.
     "Boooobyyyyy," groaned Brett.  "You don't ask that sort of thing."
     "Bobby does," responded Benny with a frown, hoping the joke would
lessen the embarrassment.  Sometimes his kid brother was such a jerk off.
     "That's all right," James replied with a grin.  "I am."  He was rich,
and he saw no reason to deny it.  "But not as rich as your dad."
     "Dad?" the four boys said in surprise.
     "Fu-, fu-, fu-, fucrying out loud, Dad's not rich."
     "Like he's not poor," observed Brett.  "But he don't have condos and
jets and stuff."
     "I didn't mean material wise," James responded.  A despondent look
clouded his face for a second but he quickly recovered.
     "Huh?"
     "There are other ways to be rich," their uncle explained.  "He has
your mother, and you four boys, and your two little baby brothers and baby
sister.  Those are things that can be cherished forever, love and family."
As their uncle paused with a faraway look in his eyes, the boys immediately
realized this was one of the clues their father had asked them to watch out
for.  "But enough of that.  Who wants some ice cream?" he asked, lifting
himself out of the tub.  The sight of his dripping body immediately
distracted the four brothers.
     Their uncle was forty-two, two years younger than their father, and
had his same hazel eyes and handsome good looks.  He was also of the same
height and had a great body, for an old guy as Bobby observed later that
night.  His hair was thick and wavy, and unlike their father, a strawberry
blond.  Like their father, it formed a thick mat across his chest and down
the centre of his body besides on his lower arms and calves, "like an
orangutang" Benny had whispered to his brothers as they'd soaked in the
tub.  The four boys wondered if their uncle was hung like an ape also as
they eyed the impressive bulge in his swimsuit.
     "Oh man, this day has been awesome," sighed Brett as he collapsed on
the large king size bed they were sharing an hour later.
     "Oh fuck yeah," agreed Bobby as he flopped down beside his older
brother.
     "Any of you guys see any sign of Uncle James feeling down?" asked
Brent, one of the boys' goals on this weekend being to check out if their
uncle was depressed for their father, and if so, why.
     "Just when he said that stuff about Dad being rich," observed Benny,
pulling up his pajamas and joining his brothers on the bed.
     "Yeah.  What was that about?"
     "I think Uncle James envies Dad cuz of us."
     "Course.  Who wouldn't?" joked Brett, and the boys giggled.
     "Anyway, I've found out the gossip we've been hearing at the family
get-togethers is true," Benny said with a wide grin, that being a second
goal of theirs for the weekend.  Leaning over the bed, he pulled out a
couple gay magazines from under it.
     "Oh maaaaaaan!  Where did you get those?"
     "Under Uncle James' bed," Benny replied.  "He keeps his stash in the
same place as Dad."
     "When did you get these?"
     "When you guys were in the hot tub.  Figured while I was taking a
leak, I'd take a quick look in his bedroom to see if I could find anything
out.  For Dad, you know," he added quickly.
     "Hope he don't notice these are missing."
     "Naw, he's got a tonne under there."
     "All right!"
     The boys huddled together and began to thumb through the magazines,
and then later to take care of what had come up.
     They were out of bed early the next morning, their uncle having
planned a full day for them.  They began with the Epcot Centre and after a
delightful morning, they spent the afternoon at Sea World.  Their uncle had
always been their favourite uncle out of all their uncles and as far back
as they could remember they'd looked forward to his visits or going to
visit him.  He had always been delighted to see them also, and this weekend
was no different for any of them.
     "So, you boys hungry?" James asked.
     "Oh fu-, fu-, fugoodness sakes yes," responded Bobby.
     "You boys like Italian?"
     "Oh yeah!"
     "There is a great place near here, Ciao Italia.  They have the best
Tiramisu in the country."
     "Cool," responded Brett.  "But what is the food like?" he asked with a
twinkle in his eyes.  His uncle laughed and tousled his hair, which
normally for a fifteen-year-old would be asking for trouble, but they had
the type of relationship where an act normally reserved for children and
one that meant risking your life when it came to teenagers was not just
tolerated but accepted.
     Ciao Italia was not the type of restaurant the boys were accustomed to
going to with their parents, who usually went to a chain like Pizza Hut or
Boston Pizza if they were having Italian.  This was a mom-and-pop eatery
and from the fancy paintings, elaborate wine baskets and other lavish
decorations, not an inexpensive one.  The menu confirmed that and the boys
glanced at each other with bulging eyes at the high prices, and with
perplexed looks at the unfamiliar selections written in Italian.
     "The fried calamari is one of their specialities here," James advised.
     "What is calamari?"
     "Squid."
     "Ewwww," responded the boys, wrinkling up their noses.
     They began with Itallian bread served with a plate of olive oil and
balsamic vinegar for dipping it in, which was totally new for the boys and
who decided they preferred butter, followed by Caesar salads which got high
marks from all of them.  Being the braver and more cultured of the
brothers, Brent decided on a dish with clams and shrimp, Fettuccine alla
Trasterverina.  Intrigued by the smoked bacon, Brett ordered Spaghetti alla
Carbonara, and Benny having heard about truffles decided on Risotto coi
Tartufi.  Bobby ordered Casonsei di Bergamo, tortellini stuffed with
sausage meat, and Brett observed to the amusement of his brothers that
Bobby's choice made sense since the recently turned twelve-year-old loved
getting stuffed with sausage, to which Bobby replied out of sight of his
uncle with his middle finger.  Their uncle decided on Spaghetti con le
Cozze, spaghetti with mussels.
     "So, like that's noodles with biceps?" asked Benny with a grin.
     "What do they do, inject them with steroids?" Brent added impishly.
     "Brett's got muscles like spaghetti, limp spaghetti," Bobby teased, to
which Brett gave him the middle finger out of sight of his uncle.
     As they ate, the boys could not help but notice the couple sitting
near them, a man around their uncle's age, and a boy about Benny's age.
They had thick black hair and olive complexions and the sexiest dark brown
eyes that the boys had ever seen.  They had difficulty keeping their own
eyes off them, and they noticed that both the man and teenage boy kept
glancing in their direction also.  When the boy got up and headed for the
washrooms, the four boys excused themselves and chased after him.  As they
entered the men's room, they found him standing before the mirrors and
closely examining his face.
     "I thought I might have sauce on my chin or something, from the way
you kept looking at me in the dining room," he said with a smile that
caused his bedroom eyes to narrow even more and that resulted in an ache of
desire deep in the boys' chests, and lower down.
     "Sorry," Brent responded, not denying they'd been staring.
     "Yeah," Brett joined in.
     "Your fault for being so damn hot looking," Benny observed with a
grin, ready to say it was a joke in case the boy decided to take offense
but from the boy's joking opening comment figuring he was on pretty safe
ground.
     "Sides, you and the guy you're with been looking over at us too."
     "That guy is my father," the boy responded.  "And the man you are
with?"
     "Our uncle."
     "We're down here visiting him for the weekend."
     "Cool," the boy responded though with a hint of disappointment in his
eyes.
     "So, you and your dad were looking over at us."
     "Well, you're hot looking yourselves," the boy observed, cocking his
head and looking straight at them confidently.  "My name is Giovanni by the
way," he said, extending his hand.
     The boys introduced themselves.
     "So, your uncle.  Is he married?"
     "No."
     "Nor is my father.  My mother died giving birth to me, and he said no
woman could ever take her place in his heart."
     "So he hasn't dated or nothing for . . .  ah. . . ."
     "Thirteen years.  Thirteen and a half to be exact."
     "Wow!"
     "So how does he, well, you know, doesn't he, well, you know, have
needs?" Benny asked.
     "Sure.  But a man does not need a woman to satisfy that need."
     The four brothers looked at each other, each with the same thought on
his mind.
     "So, he interested in our Uncle James?" Benny asked.
     "Your uncle is very handsome, and has a great body," Giovanni observed
in response.  "And from where we were sitting it looked like your uncle was
interested too."
     "So your dad gonna ask our uncle out?"
     "Adults are not so straight forward," Giovanni observed, shaking his
head with a sorrowful look in his eyes.
     "Yeah, we know."
     "It's dumb."
     "True."
     "But he'd like to get together."
     "I think so.  He of course has not said so, but I have seen that look
in his eyes and I know what it means."
     "So he didn't send you to the can hoping we'd join you so you could
scope Uncle James out?"
     "Oh no.  Your uncle didn't send you to follow me so he could make a
move on my dad?"
     "No.  Following you here was our idea."
     "Why?"
     "To see if you'd come to take a leak and if you had to check out your
dick," Bobby responded openly and honestly, causing Giovanni to laugh.
     "At least your brother is honest if not subtle."
     "Sometimes that is the best," Benny replied and his brothers quickly
agreed.
     "So how we going to get them together?" the thirteen-year-old
Italian-American asked.
     "We're going to Walt Disney World tomorrow," Brett offered.
     "Great idea.  What time?"
     "Uncle James said we'd be there when the gates open so we can spend as
much time as possible," Brent replied.  "We're going to the Dream Street
concert tomorrow at six."
     "Cool."
     "You like them?"
     "They're okay.  I'm more into Latino music, like Ricky Martin."
     "So about Walt Disney World," Brett began, getting the boys back on
topic.
     "We'll be there," Giovanni promised.  "And they can accidentally bump
into each other."
     "Wicked!  So we'll see you there then!"
     Elated with their plan, the five boys bounced back to their tables.
For dessert their uncle had ordered Cannoli, which were Sicilian pastries
and which mean "pipes" from the round metal pipes around which the pastry
was rolled and baked until crisp before being filled with sweetened cheese
and candied fruit, and sprinkled with vanilla-flavoured icing sugar.  Uncle
James had the same sweet tooth as their dad.
     To the boys' delight Giovanni and his father were waiting at the gates
at Walt Disney World that Sunday.  The boys just happened to team up for
the rides, leaving the two adults to join them by riding together, or to
pass the time waiting by talking to each other.  As the day progressed the
boys began to get to know their new friend, and it was evident that the two
adults were getting to know each other too.  It was an awesome day and they
would have hated to see it come to a close had it not been for something
even greater that evening that they'd been dreaming about for a long time.
     Six months ago the boys had discovered the New York boy band Dream
Street and had begun sending the band email messages as the "Dream Street
Dream Beat Fan Club", referring to a nightly exercise they'd been engaging
in while listening to their music and gazing at their pictures on the walls
of their bedroom.  Telling them how hot they were and how much they admired
them and liked their music, the boys were surprised when they got an email
back not from some agent but from the boys in the band themselves.  Of
course that resulted in another message with more praise, and of course the
Dream Street boys responded with an even more personal email.  What the
Brewster brothers said was true and not just buttering the boys up in an
attempt to get the band to come and play for one of their school dances,
the brain child of Brett, whose logical way of thinking his three brothers
had already greatly appreciated on many occasions.  Guessing with the group
still being comparatively new they'd be looking for exposure, the boys had
figured they'd have a good chance of getting the band to play for them.
     Then the beginning of September their parents announced their
surprise.
  As a joint birthday present to the four boys, Brenda and Barry had gotten
them tickets to the Dream Beat performance in Orlando on October 7.  The
boys immediately emailed the band with the news and began trying to arrange
to meet them while they were at the concert in the hopes that by meeting
them in person they might convince them to perform at their Sadie Hawkins
dance in November, besides hoping they might give the band an exposure of a
far different kind.
  Finally as a reward for their persistence, and unable to resist meeting
the executive of such an ardent fan club, the boys of the band had agreed
to meet them, thinking of course that they were a girl fan club.  They even
tentatively agreed to play at their Sadie Hawkins dance with the deal to be
signed when they met in Orlando.
     Benny was so positive that the band would come they had sounded so
certain, he could not resist bragging that they were getting Dream Street
to play at the high school dance, to which the junior high was also
invited.  Of course he and his brothers met with many skeptics, especially
those boys who'd been victims of the Brewster's pranks and plans before.
Before any of their critics realized what they were doing, they agreed that
if the Brewsters really did get the band, then they would scream and toss
their underwear on stage with their names and phone numbers just like
they'd seen girls do on televised concerts for other boy bands; but if the
band didn't come, the Brewster brothers would have to streak at the dance.
To make things even better, those who had made the original bet convinced
their friends to also place bets with the Brewster boys so that they'd not
only streak across the stage, but through the gym itself, ending with
almost two dozen junior and senior high school boys in on the wager.
     So, that Sunday just over a month ago, the Brewster brothers headed
over to the Hard Rock Live arena along with over a thousand other young
fans.  It was an awesome concert, and for the next two hours they cheered
and clapped and swung to the music with the rest of the audience, which
consisted mainly of preteen and teenage girls, a few boyfriends, even fewer
stag boys who simply liked the band's music, and a couple dozen boys who,
like the Brewsters, had the hots for the boys in the band.  Just the sight
of the perfectly groomed boys in the stage clothes caused the gay boys in
the crowd to ache, and as they began to sing that ache got all the
stronger.  The Brewster boys were sure they'd died and gone to heaven.
     As the fans began to file out of the arena at the end of the concert,
the boys headed for the back of the stage and presented the letter they'd
received that would gain them entrance into the dressing room area.  The
arena security guards had been informed that a fan club was going to be
meeting with the band, but they had not expected it to be four young boys.
One of them escorted the boys through the dungeon-like back corridors of
the arena to the room the band had been given to change clothes and take
their break.  The drab, cinder brick, locker room with its metal folding
chairs, wire hangers and single table was hardly what the Brewster boys had
expected for an awesome and famous band like Dream Street, but it just made
the five boys waiting for them look all the more glamorous.
     "Ah, hi," said Frankie in surprise, looking at the four brothers, and
then at his fellow performers.  The security guards' surprise was nothing
compared to that of the band.  "You're the Dream Street Dream Beat Fan
Club?"  He was the oldest of the boys by three months and the more
assertive, so he tended to be the spokesman for the band.
     "Right," observed Brett, who also as the oldest and more assertive
tended to be the spokesman for his brothers.  Frankie was still wearing his
performing clothes, baggy black trousers and a grey muscle shirt with a
modified American flag design on the chest.  His hazel eyes had a dark sexy
look, and with his dark brown, irregular cut hair style, and thick, dark
eyebrows he had a smoldering macho sexuality that made Brett's dick begin
swelling.
     "You guys were wicked tonight," offered Brent.
     "Freakin' right!" agreed Bobby.
     "Totally," added Brett.
     "This is so cool you agreeing to meet us," observed Benny, the four
boys so excited and so awed at finally seeing their idols close up their
usual confidence and self-control momentarily taking a break.
     "You're the Dream Street Dream Beat Fan Club?" Frankie asked again,
glancing at the others of the band once more.
     "Yeah," responded Brett, not knowing what else to say.
     "So, how many members in your club?" asked Greg.  He was almost the
same height as Frankie and had hazel eyes and brown hair also, but his
muscles being a bit more defined and his face thinner, he looked the oldest
although he was three months younger than Frankie.
     "Four."
     "Four?" Greg asked, his eyes widening.
     "Yep.  You're looking at them."
     "You're kidding," observed Jessie, the youngest of the band, not
believing this.  A club of four, and all guys?  Since forming the band just
over a year ago he and his companions had had some strange experiences, but
this was one of the strangest.
     "Well, actually you got tonnes of fans back home.  We just haven't
invited them to join our club."
     "So, uh, this interview you wanted," began Matt uncertainly, "it's
for.  . . ?"
     "Our student newspaper," said Benny, which really was the intention of
the boys.
     "Yeah, the Crestview Heights Chronicle," added Brent.  Not only would
it be awesome having an interview of the band in the paper, but they would
be one up on some of the snobs at the high school who thought they were big
shots because they had articles in the paper.
     "So, uh, like you have some questions or something?" Frankie asked,
shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably.
     "Oh yeah," said Benny, taking out his tape recorder.
     "Ah, cuz like, it's late, and we gotta, you know, clean up and stuff
yet."
     "We can talk while you do that," offered Bobby eagerly, "like if you
gotta change and take off your clothes and stuff, that's okay."
     "Ah, that's okay," said Frankie.  "So, ask us some questions."
     "Where'd you guys get your name?" asked Benny.
     "From Broadway Avenue in New York City, the street of dreams,"
responded Jesse.
     "How'd you get together?"
     "We were cast, like in Making of the Band."
     "But we did it first."
     "They copied us."
     "So, what about your clothes for your concerts?" asked Brent.  "You
pick them out or what?  They really rock."
     "Oh yeah," agreed his three brothers, looking at the boys admiringly.
     "Ah, well, ah," stumbled Matt, blushing, "like our choreographer picks
our outfits, Claudia Swan.  She's from Brazil."
     "Cool."
     "But, you, like, got favourite brands of clothes, right?"
     "Tommy Hilfiger," responded Frankie.
     "Gap, Caffeine, and Structure," Greg replied.
     "Caffeine and Structure, yeah, but Emporio Armani too," added Chris.
     "Structure for me," Jesse said.
     "Me too," agreed Matt.
     "You guys go to school or what?"
     "I go to a private school," said Frankie.  "Chris goes to a performing
arts school for actors and the rest of the guys go to public school."
     "You like touring?"
     "Sure," the four boys agreed.
     "It's really great performing and having fans cheering for you and
screaming," observed Jesse.
     "Yeah, that's every boy's dream, to have a room of girls screaming at
him," supported Greg.
     "Yeah, girls," emphasized Matt, glancing at the others in the band.
     "It's really cool walking down the street and having a group of girls
recognize you and stuff," Chris added in support.
     "Yeah, being surrounded by girls that have the hots for you is the
coolest thing about being a pop star," commented Frankie and his band mates
all laughed.
     "Well, you'll have lots of fans screaming when you come to perform in
November."
     "And that are hot for your bodies," added Bobby.  The boys all
chuckled but the band looked at each other nervously.
     "Oh, yeah," said Benny with an impish 'I know a secret and you don't'
type of grin.  "You're gonna find some really special fans that are really
hot for you."
     "Ah, well, that's going to be a problem," Frankie said, looking at the
others.
     "What you mean?"
     "Things have come up.  I'm afraid we can't come as we'd planned."
     "But ."
     "Sorry.  That's the way it is."
     "Yeah," added Greg quickly.
     "Yeah, we're really sorry."
     "And we're sorry but we gotta cut this interview off."
     "Yeah, real sorry."
     "We gotta like get on the road.  School and stuff you know."
     "Yeah."
     "Well, that's too bad," Brett said.  "But we understand.  Com'on guys,
we'd better go.  Uncle James is waiting for us."
     "But ," objected Bobby.
     "Com'on Bobby, we gotta be going."
     "But ."
     "Nice to have met you guys," said Frankie as they headed for the door.
     "Yeah," the others agreed.
     "Fuck, that's it?" asked Bobby as the door closed behind them.
     "They weren't glad to see us at all," Brent observed.
     Motioning for them to go in the dressing room beside the one the band
was in, Brett quietly closed the door.
     "What the fuck was that all about?" asked Bobby.
     "Yeah, why give us the bum's rush like that?"
     "What a disappointment."
     "That sure the fuck isn't worth putting in the Chronicle that's for
sure."
     "And they ain't gonna perform at our Sadie Hawkins Dance!"
     "And they promised."
     "Well, they did say it was tentative."
     "That really sucks."
     "More than you know," observed Benny, telling his brothers for the
first time about his bet.
     "Oh maaaaan, Benny," groaned Bobby.  "How could you?"
     "I was sure they were gonna come," he said, "but hey, we might still
get out of this."
     "Yeah?  How?"
     "I left the tape recorder in the room and I left it on.  I bet a tape
of the Dream Street band talking without anyone interviewing them would be
worth lots.  We could sell it to "Teen People" or MTV or something for a
pile of money.  Then we can offer the guys that I bet with money instead of
streaking."
     "I dunno," said Brett, knowing how badly some of them wanted to get
revenge.  Appearing stark naked before the entire high school and probably
most of the junior high was a perfect way to get them, something typical of
their own pranks.
     His brothers were not so certain of Benny's plan either, but the tape
was the only chance they had.  So they settled back glumly and waited for
the boys to leave so they could retrieve it.  Barely five minutes later the
boys emerged, but instead of leaving, they headed down the hall to the
washrooms.  Five minutes not being much but better than nothing, they
slipped into their change room and while Bobby watched the door, the boys
played back the tape to see if they'd taped anything worthwhile.
     "Oh maaaan!  Can you believe those guys?" said a voice that sounded
like Frankie's.
     "Who'd think the Dream Street Dream Beat Fan club would be four guys."
     "Not just any guys."
     "Yeah, fags for freak sake!"
     "So Chris, you were right.  At least some of the guys at our concerts
really are fairies."
     "Oh maaaan," Frankie groaned.  "I was really hoping the guys at our
concerts would either be boyfriends or that they were there because they
appreciated our music."
     "I'll never be able to look at a guy in the audience again without
wondering," observed Matt.
     "I won't be able to look at a guy in the audience without my skin
crawling."
     "Oh yeah.  Can you imagine them down there looking up at us and
imagining doing stuff with us, like us imagining doing stuff with some of
the girls in the audience!  That's soooo sick."
     "Maaaaan!  Did you see the way the youngest was looking at me," said
Jesse.
     "At all of us."
     "Ewwwww."
     "That grossed me out even more than that fat chick who was bouncing up
and down in front of the stage tonight."
     "Oh yeah.  What a cow."
     "She had boobs like a cow," Matt said with a giggle and the others
laughed.
     "Bet just her boobs weighed more than Matt," observed Greg and they
laughed louder.
     "What gets me is how some of those chicks think they'd have a chance
with us."
     "Yeah.  We can pick any girl we want, so why'd we want a dog?"
     "Like that group with the banner with their fan club URL on it
tonight?"
     "Oh yeah.  Uuuuugly!"
     "There were some hot girls out there though."
     "Like that chick in the red dress Greg pointed out."
     "Oh yeah.  What boobs.  I'd love to make it with her," observed Jesse.
     "Com'on.  If she pulled down her panties, you wouldn't know what to
do."
     "Wanna bet?"
     "And there were those two brunettes at stage right with the gorgeous
long hair."
     "Oh yeah," the others groaned.
     "Oh man, just remembering them is starting to bone me up," groaned
Frankie.
     "So what else is new?" joked Chris to the amusement of the rest.
     "Just the word 'girl' bones you up," added Frankie, referring to a
well-known problem the youngest member of the band had, one which, to his
embarrassment, some fan sites had even picked up on.
     "Well, I gotta go to the can for a fast jerk before we leave," Jesse
commented.
     "Better be five stalls there," observed Greg.
     The boys looked at each other as the tape ended with the sound of the
boys leaving and the banging of the door.
     "Shit," observed Brent, his face white with devastation as he recalled
the comments the band had made about them, and the disgust that had been in
their voices.
     "Why'd they go to the can for a jerk?" asked Bobby.
     "Some guys wanna do it in private," Benny observed.
     "But they all know that's what they're doing," replied Bobby.  "That
don't make sense."
     Benny just shrugged.
     "Stay here," said Brett suddenly.  Grabbing the recorder, he raced out
the room.  His brothers had no idea what his plan was, but they knew their
brother well enough to know he'd come up with something.  He returned a few
minutes later and called them into a quick huddle.  They were still huddled
when the door opened and the band returned.
     "Hey, what are you guys still doing here?"
     "Just picking up our tape recorder we forgot," Benny said with a wide
grin.  "Got some interesting stuff on it for our newspaper.  Thanks for a
great interview."
     As the boys headed to the door, the band looked at each other.  "What
are you talking about?" Frankie asked, stepping between them and the door.
     "Like what you really think of some of your girl fans," Brett said,
emphasizing girl.
     "And what you think about having gay fans."
     "Bet there's some gay mags that would like that part of the
interview."
     "And a lot are gonna like finding out how you celebrate the end of the
concert," grinned Bobby.
     "Maybe we can play the tape of the groaning and then the flushing when
our radio station interviews us when we get back home," said Brett.
     "That's a bluff.  There's no way you taped that," challenged Frankie.
     "Unnnngh, I'm gonna shoot any second," mimicked Brett in Jesse's
voice.
  "And I'm imagining it's right down the front of that girl in the low-cut
blue blouse."
     The boys looked at each other.  They knew that he'd heard.
     "So you wanna reconsider about playing at our Sadie Hawkins dance?"
asked Brett.
     "That's blackmail."
     "Right."
     The boys glanced at each other and knew they had no choice.  "All
right, we'll play, but we get the tape."
     "Okay, but if we can't keep the tape, you gotta donate half your fee
to a gay youth group, and announce your support at the dance."
     "Ah, com'on!"
     "Then we get to keep the tape."
     "We'll play for half the fee, and the school can donate the money
themselves."
     "Okay.  For half the fee we'll donate the other half, if you throw in
a nude photo of you guys jerking off."
     "Forget it."
     "All right.  A nude photo of just you guys posing."
     "No way."
     "Then I guess we're back to we pay you half the fee and you announce
you're donating the other half to a gay group.  Com'on guys."
     "But I thought ," objected Bobby as Brett headed for the door.
     "Com'on."
     "But aren't we ?"
     "Com'on Bobby," interrupted Brett, grabbing him and pulling him out
into the hallway.
     "But I thought you were gonna ," began Bobby as they headed down the
hallway.
     "I will.  But not now."
     "Oh."
     Bobby didn't understand, but he trusted his brother.  So that had been
where things had been left that Sunday night.  Over the past month the band
had tried to bargain with the brothers by email, but neither group was
willing to give in.
     "So, let's see what the guys have to offer this time," said Benny.
     Clicking open the message, the boys leaned forward and read the Email
from the band carefully.  Confirming that providing the posters announcing
they'd be playing at the Sadie Hawkins Dance didn't say they'd be donating
money for a gay youth group they'd be willing to negotiate some other terms
for the tape when they arrived, the boys in the band thought they were
gaining one up on the Brewsters, unaware that was exactly what the
Brewsters wanted them to think and to say when the brothers had offered not
to mention the donation in advance if there was still a chance of
negotiating terms.  The boys responded by saying that in not providing that
information it was going to cost them extra, something the boys in the band
had not expected in response, but they had never dealt with anyone like the
Brewster brothers before.
     Opening the Email from Giovanni next, the boys were delighted to learn
his father and their uncle had just had their fourth date since their
meeting at Disney World and that his father was really enamoured with their
uncle.  All five boys had hoped that the two would connect, and it appeared
that they really were.  In their short visit with their uncle they hadn't
been able to determine exactly why he was depressed, but they did know that
a large part of it was because he was lonely.
     The rest of the week went by quickly and there wasn't a day that the
boys who'd bet with Benny didn't try to change their side of the bargain,
but there was nothing they could offer that was better than what Benny had
agreed to.  Before they knew it, it was Friday, November 9, the day of the
Sadie Hawkins Dance.  It had become a tradition at Crestview Heights Senior
High and had a big build up with contests and pep rallies all week, a
dress-up day with everyone dressed like Lil' Abner, Daisy Mae and the rest
of the Dogpatchers, and ending with a period off in the gym for sack and
three-legged races.  As evening approached, this time it was the Dream
Street boys who were anxious to meet with the Brewsters instead of the
other way around.
     "If you give us the tape and forget about the donation, we'll work for
free," offered Frankie as the boys met in the boy's locker room off the gym
prior to the performance.  "The school can announce the donation of half
the money to a gay youth group if they want and keep half, or donate it
all, or whatever.  We don't care."
     "Tell you what," countered Brett, "we'll give you the tape and forget
about the donation if you work for free, and if each of you gives each of
us a kiss and lets us grab a feel."
     "You guys are sickos," objected Matt.  "Forget it!"
     "Ah, com'on, you'd like it if you'd try it," Brent flirted.
     "Yeah right," responded Matt sarcastically.  "There's no freaking way
we'd like it."
     "Tell you what," said Brett, about to make the proposal they'd talked
about a month ago and that Bobby had almost blown by mentioning it when
they weren't in a position to bargain.
     "We think you at least owe each of us a kiss for not mentioning the
gay youth group donation on the posters."
     The boys looked at each other.  That wasn't too much to ask and they
knew it.
     "How about you play for free and we forget about the donation and you
give each of us a kiss if we can give one of you a bone in five minutes,"
Brett offered, making it all the more palatable.
     "Forget it," snorted Chris.
     "What's the matter?  Chicken?"
     The Dream Street boys looked at each other and huddled for a quick
conference.  The insult raised their ire, which was what the Brewsters were
hoping, knowing that when people were made they made snap and often rash
decisions.  Their anger alone was enough to convince them to make the bet
with the homos, but what really convinced them to go ahead was the fact
that the odds were heavily in their favour, and it was an out for having to
pay them back for not mentioning anything on the poster.  "You have a deal
but you got to be able to give two of us bones," Frankie finally agreed on
the band's behalf.
     "For two bones you gotta do more than just give us a kiss.  You gotta
get naked and dirty with us."
     "What do you mean?" asked Jesse.
     "If we can give two of you boners in five minutes, you gotta agree to
make out with us, any which way we want."
     "No way!"
     "Well, that's our final offer," responded Brett.  "Either you make the
bet or we go back to what we'd agreed on, you'll work for half pay and
announce the other half you are donating to a gay youth group and we give
you the tape.  We'll leave it up to you to explain to your fans why an all
boy band would do that."
     The Dream Street boys conferred for a moment, and horrified by the
idea of any question about their sexuality, not just because it could
affect the band's popularity and future but for their own reputations also,
besides being confident the Brewsters would never be able to give two of
them bones, they agreed.  "If you can't get two of us up, you pay the full
fee and forget the crap about a donation," they responded, raising the
ante.  "And give us the tape of course."
     "All right, but if we do you gotta play for free, make out with us,
and sign a picture of all of you naked for us."
     The boys glanced at each other.  It was not going to happen.  "Okay,
but no touching our dicks or nuts, and we get to pick which two you gotta
try to get hard, and it's just one guy on one guy, not all of you on each
guy."
     "Deal," said Brett, offering his hand.
     "No need to shake," Frankie said, finding the idea of just shaking a
fag's hand repugnant.  "We agree."
     "So who's the two?"
     "Jesse and I," said Frankie, the boys having already decided.  Both
were confident they'd be totally turned off by any attempt to arouse them,
not turned on, and had agreed to do it for a bigger cut in the band's
profits, which the other three had readily agreed to.
      "Great," said Brett.  "Give us a moment to decide who'll turn on
who."
  The Brewsters conferred.  In that Brett was the closest age to Frankie,
and Benny was closest to Jesse, it was decided they would represent the
Brewsters.  "All right," Brett said as he approached the oldest member of
the band and Benny approached the youngest, "drop your pants and underwear
and bend over."
     "Oh man!" responded Frankie.  "No way.  You ain't fuckin' us!  That's
cheating.  You gotta bone us up before we have any type of sex."
     "Oh, we'll be fucking you," responded Benny, "but that's after the
dance when we collect on our bet.  We don't plan on sticking you with our
dicks right now."
     "Then why ?"
     "Do what we said and you'll find out."
     "Remember, no touching our dicks or nuts," warned Frankie as he began
to undo his belt.
     "Scout's honour," replied Benny.
     As Frankie and Jesse dropped their baggy UFO pants, the two boys
thought how meaningless that oath was, as if a fag could be a boy scout.
They stood there hesitantly with their pants about their ankles, Frankie in
his black Tommy Hilfiger boxers with the distinctive white band and label,
and Jessie in a pair of Extreme Zone print biker boxers with boys on motor
bikes emblazoned across them.  Like Frankie, one of his favourite hobbies
was four wheeling.  Glancing at each other, and then down at the floor of
the locker room, they slipped their hands under the elastic bands of their
underwear and pushed them down as they bent over, revealing their butts to
the Brewsters and the others in the band.  Frankie's was broad and had the
beginning of a few dark, silky hairs on the cheeks and down his crack.
Jessie's was much smaller and more compact and of course totally hairless.
Both were as white as porcelain.
     Taking out a tube of KY jelly they'd brought for that evening, Brent
and Benny greased up their middle fingers.  Realizing what was about to
happen, Frankie and Jessie recoiled with the thought.  "You buggers,"
Frankie cursed.
     "Naw, they ain't gonna bugger youse," Bobby responded with a leer.
"That comes later.  Right now they're just gonna finger fuck ya."
     "We said no sex," Jesse objected.
     "You said no touching your dicks or nuts," countered Benny.  "We got
to be able to do something."
     Jesse and Frankie knew they could not object to everything, and having
dropped their pants and bent over they might as well continue.  Besides,
the idea of someone sticking their finger up their ass was not in the least
erotic.  Bobby and Brent drew closer to watch and the band buddies of the
two hapless victims glanced at each other, thankful that it was not them
having to endure such a humiliation.  Having seen plenty of guys being
given the finger and presented now with the opportunity of seeing a guy
getting it for real, they could not help but steal embarrassed glances at
their two unlucky members despite their embarrassment for them.
     "Is someone timing?" asked Frankie as he felt Brett's greased
fingertip touch his anus.
     "I will," offered Matt.
     "And I'll watch him to be sure he's honest," said Bobby.
     "You sayin' I'd cheat."
     "Yeah."
     "Oh yeah?  Well, I'll have you know ."
     "Will you just get on with it?" asked Frankie irritably, which was
understandable considering his position.
     "Eager for it, huh?" asked Brett with a grin.
     Frankie made no reply knowing the four brothers would think what they
wanted anyway.  As he felt the boy's fingertip press against his asshole
and the greased digit slowly begin to enter, he tensed in anticipation.
The irritation around his sphincter was not unlike how it felt taking a
shit.  He could feel the finger slowly enter, and then the end seemed to
disappear.  He could feel the boney digit continuing to slide past his
sphincter, but in deeper it became a vague impression.  Then suddenly it
hit something that caused him to jerk.  Brett of course noticed the
reaction and immediately stopped his entry.
     Benny had been watching for the same reaction as he slowly slid his
finger up Jesse's rectum, and he glanced over at Brett and winked once he
found it.  Jesse, meanwhile, stood there bent over and grasping his knees
and blushing a bright red.  He'd never been so mortified in all his life,
having someone shove their middle finger up his asshole.  He did not know
how or what he'd do, but he was going to get the little faggot that had his
finger up his ass if it was the last thing he'd do.
     The two brothers began to slowly rotate their fingers ever so
slightly, gently massaging the prostates laying beside the rectal walls.
Of course the two boys who were bent over felt waves of stimulation
rippling out from the spot being massaged and through their loins, causing
their dicks to begin to swell.  They immediately fought that impulse, and
the more they fought it the faster their flesh seemed to fill out.
     "Look at that," giggled Bobby on cue.  "They're already getting
boners."
     "You guys really like having a finger up your asses don't you?" asked
Brent as rehearsed.
     "Must have previous experience," observed Bobby.
     "Maybe each other," adlibbed Brent, not having expected they'd be
doing two members of the band.
     "No way," protested Jesse, as he squirmed in an attempt to dislodge
the persistently massaging finger.
     "Just do yourself, huh?" responded Bobby with a giggle, causing his
brothers to snicker.
     "Must," added Benny.  "Look at the way he's fucking my finger."
     Jesse immediately stopped squirming, but now Benny began to work his
finger in and out of his hole, purposefully striking his prostate with each
stroke.
     "You're getting a nice hard," observed Brett, whispering in Frankie's
ear.  "But are you smaller than Jesse, or just slower to get aroused?"
     Frankie fell for the trick and glanced over at Jesse.  The
fourteen-year-old was getting stiff, and his semierect dick was almost the
same size as his own dick.  The sight of Jesse's cock, the thought of him
getting a bone, and the fear that they might think the fourteen-year-old
was better hung than he caused his reserve to falter and his dick to begin
swelling even faster.  Brett had spoken loud enough for Jesse to hear, and
of course the fourteen-year-old could not help but check out if he was
bigger than Frankie, having done some overt checking before when they'd
changed into their performing clothes, or stripped to shower, which was
quite understandable being the only fourteen-year-old in a boy band with
four sixteen-year-olds.  The sight of the teenager's dick beginning to rise
up above his balls caused his own dick to speed up its transformation just
as Brett had hoped.
     Chris, Matt and Greg glanced at each other, surprised and worried that
their two band mates were getting erect.  There was only one reason they
could think of that a guy would get aroused by having someone stick his
finger up his asshole.  The possibility that their two performing buddies
were really gay caused all three to wonder what the two had thought when
they'd stripped down together to change into their performing clothes, and
they tried to recall anything in the past that might give a hint as to
their sexuality.  That they were getting boned so quickly added to their
suspicions, but of even greater concern at the moment was what was going to
happen if they did get boners in five minutes.
     "How many minutes?" asked Greg.  Time had to be almost up.
     "Three," responded Matt.
     "Past?" asked Frankie, not sure he could hold back his erection for
two more minutes.
     "Left."
     Frankie's heart sank, and so did Jesse's.  Their cocks, on the other
hand continued to rise, and once the blood had started to flow there was no
holding back, especially with the constant massaging of their prostates and
the filthiness of getting an erection in front of everyone and without the
slightest involvement of a girl.
     "Man, you two are really groovin' this," observed Bobby.
     "Probably thinking about what it's gonna be like to really get plowed
with a dick tonight," observed Brent.
     The two hapless boys fought the natural reaction of their bodies even
more strenuously but with even poorer results as their bodies and the dirty
side of their minds took over.
     "Oh maaaan, you guys got great lookin' cocks," observed Bobby, knowing
they both thought he was hot for them.
     Of course they were right.  The twelve-year-old was hot for them.  His
comments and the persistent massaging of their prostates completed the
transformation, and there was still at least forty-five seconds to spare
when the two Brewsters extracted their fingers.  The two boys stood up
totally embarrassed and shocked by their reaction.  How were they going to
explain this to their three buddies?  They did not know where to look as
the Brewster brothers wiped off their fingers with toilet paper.  While the
boys washed their hands, Frankie and Jesse quickly pulled up their boxers
and their trousers.
     "So, we'll see you guys back here after the dance," said Brett as the
boys headed for the door.
     "Oh maaaaaan!" exclaimed Bobby as they headed down the hall.  "That
was so wicked!"
     "Wait until they meet some of their special fans tonight," snickered
Benny, and the four boys laughed.
     "Wait until after the dance," observed Brett.
     "Oh yeah!" his brothers sighed, and as they joined the others in the
gym, they reached down and squeezed their growing organs.
     Everyone was so awed at having the Dream Street band performing, and
they were all so hyped up over the dance, nobody noticed that as the band
began the boys were not performing at their peak and at times seemed to
have something else on their minds.  Of course as the evening wore on the
Dream Street boys soon forgot about their concerns with the enthusiasm and
applause of the teenagers in the gym and the rush of performing.  Those in
the crowd who had a special performance of their own to perform didn't find
it quite so easy to forget what was coming later that evening, but even
they managed to have a great time.  All too soon the boys on the stage
announced they'd be playing two last songs, a slow dance "for all the
Dogpatch lovers", and ending with "Sugar Rush."
     As they reached the end of the song and the last refrain of "You are
my sugar rush" faded, the packed gym of teenagers screamed and clapped and
cheered the band.  As several of the girls stepped forward and tried to
hand cards with their phone numbers or email addresses on them to the boys,
several boys, including James Forsythe and Danny Maartens, both now
seventeen and in grade twelve, and Troy Kholler and Ryan Poole, two
fourteen-year-old grade nine hockey jocks who had been giving Benny a hard
time about how hockey was more of a man's sport than soccer, pressed
forward with them.  Reaching into their pockets and blushing a bright red,
they tossed their underwear with their names and phone numbers on them up
on the stage.  The boys would later claim it was a prank and that they were
poking fun at fans who did that sort of thing.
     Conrad Blackwell and Jason Smyth-Jones, who had turned fifteen back in
March, had also stepped forward with the boys, but instead of briefs and
boxers, they had thrown panties and would claim later they'd done so for
their dates and had written their dates' names and Email addresses on them.
By now everyone in the school knew about the panty fetish the two boys had,
and none of them present believed for one minute that the panties they'd
thrown up on the stage were for their dates.
     The Brewster brothers noticed that two boys, Ron Wall, the
fourteen-year-old son of the new high school principal, and his buddy, the
new judge's son Dallas Sterns, had not fulfilled their end of the bet.
They would settle that account later, and when they did, the two boys would
regret having welched on their bet.  As the security men escorted the Dream
Street Band off the stage and to the locker room to change, the Brewster
boys had more pressing plans than planning their revenge against the two
errant teens.  Grabbing the underwear and panties and other things that had
been tossed onto the stage, supposedly to give to the band, they headed for
the locker room.  The guards, of course, had been given instructions to let
the boys through, and they stepped into the locker room in high spirits.
     "Awesome performance, dudes," said Brett as he brushed his long, blond
hair back.  "That was fantastic."
     "Oh yeah, totally wicked," agreed Brent.
     "For sure."
     "Fuckin' right," summed up Bobby.
     "Look, let's get on with this and get it over with," said Frankie
reluctantly.
     "See, told you they'd be hot and eager for some cock fun," said Benny
with a grin.
     "All right, can we just do it," asked Greg with a glare, just as
anxious as the other band members to get this over with.
     "Yeah, zip it," frowned Jesse.
     "And no kissing and hugging and all that fag stuff either," said Matt.
     "Aw, that's half the fun," said Bobby as he stepped over to Jesse and
looked up at him.  At five-foot-six, the fourteen-year-old was a head
taller than he was.  "But if that's how you want it, that's fine with me.
Let's you and I drop our pants and underwear and sixty-nine."
     "Sixty-nine?"
     "Yeah.  That's ."
     "I know what it means," Jesse said.  "I just didn't think, well, that
you'd be doing anything to our, well, to us."
     "Well, you were wrong," Bobby responded, unzipping his fly and
unbuckling his belt.  Unsnapping his cargo pants, he let them drop to his
ankles.  He was wearing his silk briefs from Abercrombie and Fitch
especially for this night.
     "Messing with our dicks wasn't part of the deal," objected Matt.
     "You agreed to make out in return for the tape, any way we wanted,"
reminded Benny.  "That means we can do what we fuckin' want," he added with
a leer.
     "So what do the rest of you want?" asked Frankie, looking at the
others.  He wasn't going to argue.  He just wanted it over with.
     "You can drop your pants and boxers and bend over again," said Brent
as he pulled down his fly.  "But this time it won't be a finger you'll be
getting up your ass."
     "Same here," said Benny as he looked over at Matt.  By this time Jesse
had dropped his baggy trousers and was pushing down his brightly coloured
Extreme Zone biker print boxers.
     "Guess that leaves me and both of you," Brett said, looking at Chris
and Greg.  "Let's make a daisy chain."
     The two boys had no idea what a daisy chain was, but they knew the
blue-eyed blond unbuckling his belt and unsnapping his tight black jeans
would instruct them.  So, the nine boys dropped or pushed down their pants
and their underwear. Matt, the shortest and thinnest of the four
sixteen-year-old boys, bent over with his pants and navy blue polka dot
briefs about his ankles and his long, grey sweat-stained T emblazoned with
white stars riding up over his hips.  Benny, cargo pants and navy blue
polyester briefs about his ankles, stood behind the slender blond singer
and flopped his rapidly swelling cock in his hand.  Brent was already stiff
as he shuffled up behind Frankie, his black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs about
his ankles and Frankie's black trousers and Tommy Helfigers about his.
     Jesse, the youngest of the band, had lain down on his back on one of
the low benches, his trousers and boxers tangled about his ankles.  Bobby
had removed his briefs and pants and was straddling the bench and the
handsome young singer in the opposite direction, his lips poised above
Jesse's limp cock and his own stiff cocklet jutting out above Jesse's face.
Brent, Chris and Greg had meanwhile lain down on the floor.  Brent had
pushed down his Markey Mark boxer briefs along with his pants and had taken
Chris's limp cock in his hands, having instructed Greg to lie down so that
he could be sucked off by his buddy while he sucked off Brent.  Both boys
were wearing plaid boxers, Greg's red with a black elastic band, and
Chris's blue.
     All nine boys were hot and sweaty, the band from having just performed
under the hot lights on the stage, and the Brewster boys from the nonstop
dancing for the past two hours.  Brett had come with Cam and Brent with
Billy and the four of them had chummed up with a group of friends of both
sexes that hung together loosely, none of them dating on a regular basis.
That gave them the chance to dance with various girls throughout the
evening, always dancing close together so they could imagine that they were
dancing with each other.  Of course they would have preferred to do it
directly, but they were not prepared yet to come out, and besides, the
teachers and administration at Crestview Heights were not that liberated
that they would allow gay boys to dance together.  Benny and Bobby, who had
been invited to the dance by their brothers, similarly did not dance with
any particular girl for any length of time, which was typical for boys
their age.
     Now they were about to perform a far different dance.  Knowing Frankie
was going to be tight, Brent greased up his cock, now six-and-a-quarter
inches long, with an ample amount of KY, and then placing the tip of his
dick against the boy's asshole he grasped Frankie's hips and slowly eased
forward.  The boy's hole was tight, as to be expected, and Brent eased
forward ever so slowly so he would cause the sixteen-year-old virgin as
little pain as possible.  Frankie could not believe what was happening to
him.  The young Italian-American teenager was as straight as a boy could
be, but there he was bent over in the boys locker room at Crestview Heights
High School with a long-haired faggot almost a year younger than he was
pushing his cock up his ass.  Not only was what he was doing filthy and
perverted, but it was the most degrading and humiliating thing to have ever
happened to him.  He was losing his virginity to a boy, and he was doing so
in front of his band buddies.  It was a small consolation, but at least he
was not the only one getting his ass fucked.  As he heard Matt grunting and
gasping for breath, he knew exactly how his friend and fellow singer was
feeling.  He grunted also as he tried his best to accept the stiff, hot
cock wedged between his ass cheeks.
     Benny's lubricated cock was more slender than his older brother's and
was just under five inches, but even so, he, like Brent, took it slowly.
He wanted the hot strawberry blond singer to enjoy his first fuck.  Enjoy
was not something the sixteen-and-a-half-year-old was thinking as he pushed
out with his stomach and grunted as he strained to accept the dick being
forced into him.  He was being stuck up the ass by a kid two and a half
years younger than himself.  If word of this ever got out he'd be toast.
He inhaled sharply as he felt the boy's knob stretch open his sphincter and
slip into his rectum.  Good God!  This was like a scene out of "American
Pie", except between two guys instead of a guy and a girl.  He dared to
sneak a quick glance at Frankie.  From the look of embarrassment in his
hazel eyes and the firm set of his pressed lips he knew Frankie was feeling
the same as he was.  Gooseflesh formed on his arms as he felt Benny's cock
ease further up his rectum.
     The two boys felt totally humiliated and used as they felt their
virgin asses being penetrated.  They sighed in despair and hoped the horny
pervs behind them would get off quickly as they grasped their butts and
began to work their hips to and fro slowly, easing their stiff cocks in and
out of their bodies.  They were getting fucked.  They were engaging in a
perverted act that other boys suggested doing as an insult.  It was
perverted, but to their surprise it was also erotically stimulating.
Prickles of arousal burned about their sphincters, and as their rectums
were penetrated the invading cocks brushed against that mysterious spot
that sent ripples of arousal through their groins and up their dicks.  To
their dismay, they felt their flesh slowly beginning to swell once again.
Fuck, they could not possibly be enjoying this!
     Chris, Greg and Jesse were experiencing their own mix of emotions.
Having a hot, moist mouth sucking on his still flaccid but rapidly swelling
prick was a perverted fag act but Chris had to admit that it felt damn
good, and that it felt a lot better than jacking oneself off.  Greg and
Jesse were thinking exactly the same thing.  Brett and Bobby were experts
of course, and as they sucked on the hot, throbbing cock in their mouths,
they brought thrills of pleasure to Chris and Jesse that the innocent boys
had never imagined possible.  Greg was not so fortunate, his first blow job
being by a novice, but even so, his cock was throbbing just as hotly and
his knob itching just as pleasantly.
     It was erotic getting sucked, but it was also perverted.  Even more
perverted was having a dick in their mouths.  To the surprise of the three
neophytes, the taste was not unpleasant as they'd expected, and in fact,
the taste and the smell of hot dick was highly erotic despite the
embarrassment of performing an act that boys told others to do as an
insult.
  They had a guy's dick in their mouths!  For Chris was the added
embarrassment of sucking a fellow band member's dick, and getting sucked
off by his buddy and band mate was just as humiliating for Greg.  Each of
the boys wondered what the other was thinking, and how he'd ever be able to
look the other in the eye after engaging in this perverted act.
     With nine hot, sweating, randy boys in the small enclosed locker room,
the temperature of the humid air quickly rose.  The boys sucked in the
sex-laden air, and the smell of hot teenage bodies and sweating nuts
increased their ardour.  The Brewster brothers, of course, were grunting
and panting in ecstasy, fully believing that enjoyment of sex was one of
their God-given rights.  They thrilled with the pleasure pulsating through
their loins, and the pleasure that comes from arousing and pleasing
another.  That the boys had never had sex before, with girls or boys, added
to their arousal.  As for their five partners, though every one of them was
a confirmed straight boy, they were hot, randy teens above all else, and
despite their feelings about boys who preferred boys, they slowly succumbed
to the pleasure pulsating between their legs.
     At first Frankie was embarrassed as he felt his dick swell and rise
until the six-inch tube of flesh was sticking up in the air like a
flagpole.  Getting boned up was embarrassing at any time, and to do so
while getting one's ass fucked was totally devastating.  Even worse, he was
getting off on it!  As Brett eased his cock in and out of his asshole, each
time the knob brushed against Frankie's prostate his cock jerked with
arousal, and now the tip was glistening with the first glorious drop of
teenage pre-cum.  He'd never felt so hot, not even when fantasizing about
making out with one of the sexy, big-boobed fans he'd seen out on the dance
floor.
     Glancing over at Matt, he was comforted to see that his
sixteen-year-old buddy also had a bone.  After all this time practising and
performing together, changing into their performing clothes and stripping
out of the sweat-stained outfits at the end of the performance, and laying
in hotel rooms fantasizing and talking about women and groping their
bulges, he'd never seen any of his band mates' dicks, never mind their
boners.  The sight of the slender, blue-eyed blond with whom he'd been
performing and touring with now for over a year bent over getting his ass
fucked and his slender uncut cock jutting out stiffly from between his legs
was so hot that Frankie felt another droplet of pre-cum ooze out of his
dick.  The young Italian-American boy turned another shade redder.
     Matt was feeling the same way, and although embarrassed that his cock
wasn't as long as the thick-veined monster Frankie was sporting, seeing his
buddy not just with a woodie but so aroused that he was beginning to leak
was something he'd on occasion imagined in his solo jerk off sessions after
performances.  He had never had sex with a guy before, and had never even
entertained such an idea, but he was a teenager and horny and like all
horny teenagers, he had wondered about his friends and what they'd look
like, and to enrich his jerk off sessions, on occasion imagined him and one
or another of the band having sex with a couple girls.  Now he had the
opportunity to see not just Frankie in the throes of ecstasy for real, but
the rest of the band too.  Although it was humiliating doing it with a guy,
it was erotic.
     For anyone of experience, that Jesse's young cock was throbbing with
enjoyment would not be a surprise considering it was his first blow job,
and considering that Bobby was one skilful cocksucker, but it was a
surprise to the innocent young singer.  Having sex with a guy was sick, so
how could he be enjoying it?  Even more troubling and confusing was the
mixture of emotions the fourteen-year-old was feeling doing the same to the
smooth pubed youngster as the youngster was doing to him.  Sucking on a
boy's dick was a filthy, disgusting act, something you told others to do as
an insult.  Having his own sucked, however, he found felt great, and he
knew from Bobby's squirming and moaning that he was finding just as much
enjoyment in being sucked as he was.  Caught between feelings of shame and
the most exquisite pleasure he had ever known, the young, green-eyed blond
closed his eyes and sucked on the slender dicklet in his mouth as he tried
to sort out what was going on in his mind.
     Chris was feeling much the same way.  The young bespeckled singer from
Manhattan could not believe that he was sucking on the cock of his fellow
band member whom he'd met only a year ago, and he could not believe that
despite the embarrassment and perversity of the act he was being forced to
perform, it was erotic.  He had a cock in his mouth, and he was sucking on
it.  He wondered how Greg was feeling about sucking their blond
fifteen-year-old gay fan, and if he felt as dirty and as embarrassed as he
did.  The guy was good-looking, in an effeminate sort of way, which had to
help.  Of even greater concern was how Greg was feeling about getting
sucked off by him.  What was his buddy thinking about him as he worked his
lips up and down his stiff cock?
     Greg was having the same mixture of thoughts.  He was sucking cock,
and getting his cock sucked.  That was perverted, and it was debasing.
Guys told guys to suck it as an insult, as a put down.  So, if it was such
a dirty, disgusting thing, why was getting his cock sucked feeling so good?
Chris's hot, moist mouth enveloping his dick and sliding up and down it as
he sucked on it was way better than jerking off, and had to feel just as
good as getting a blow job from a woman, something he'd never experienced
but that he'd fantasized about.  He could not exactly say he was enjoying
sucking cock himself, but nor was it as bad as he'd thought it would be.
He wondered what Chris thought about having to give him a blow job, and
what Chris thought about him sucking cock.  At least he wasn't doing
anything that his band buddy wasn't doing.
     While the Dream Street boys were struggling with the conflicting
emotions of embarrassment and arousal, the Brewster boys were all of the
same mind.  They were living their dream, they were having a hot all out
orgy with their singing idols, and this was the hottest sex they'd had yet.
Of course each time they had sex they concluded that it was the absolute
best, and considering that they approached each encounter with the same
zeal, every encounter had to be good.  After all, what was the purpose of
having a dick if you could not enjoy the pleasure it brought?

              Oh . . .  yeah . . .  yeah . . .
                 Every time you come around me
               I get strange shivers up my spine
                Ever since the day you found me
      I can't seem to think a single thought that's mine.

       I'm hooked on you, no matter what I do (What I do)
              I got it bad but I like it, like it
        I'm hooked on you, on everything you do (You do)
        I wanna give you up, but baby I'm hooked on you.

     Bobby sucked eagerly on the slender four-inch cocklet of the youngest
of the Dream Street boys while Jesse worked his lips up and down the shaft
of his own slender cock.  Bobby closed his eyes and would have sighed with
the thought of bringing the hot looking young stud off had his mouth not
been full.  He knew that there were thousands of girls out there who would
give anything in the world to be kissed by the hot singer, and that they
would die if they knew the young heartthrob had sucked cock and had gotten
his nuts off with another guy.  That idea was so fucking hot he felt the
pressure building up in his loins already.  Maybe this would be the time
he'd shoot his load for the first time!  With that thought, he concentrated
on the pleasure pulsating through his groin.
     Brent was slipping his lips up and down Chris's thick, teenage cock
with just as much zeal as Bobby was doing Jesse.  He was sucking the hot
sixteen-year-old singer, model and Broadway performer, the heartthrob of
thousands of teens.  The stud might model clothes for Macy's, Sterns and
the Gap, but he was the one who'd gotten into his pants.  He drew his mouth
up the solid shaft and ran his tongue over the firm, swollen knob,
delighting in the flavour of boy cock and delighting in the way he made the
horny stud shiver with desire.  How many nights had he lay in bed wanking
off with his brothers and imagining just this very scene.  Now he was
sucking the throbbing cock of the hot sexy-eyed singer, and his own cock
was being sucked by an equally hot- looking and horny stud idol.  Every
time he'd see Greg singing into a mike he'd think of the hot singer going
down on his dick.  This was so fucking wicked!
     Brett and Benny were working their hips to and fro with a regular
rhythm, knowing that they were rapidly approaching their climaxes but too
randy to try to delay it any longer.  That they'd been able to hold back
this long was a major accomplishment as it was.  They were fucking the
asses of two of their idols, the heartthrobs of thousands of teen and
preteen girls, and they were getting them so hot they were both leaking
pre-cum.  It was so erotic.  The two brothers eased their dicks in and out
of the hot, moist assholes of the two stars, and each time their cocks
brushed against their partners' prostates the two boys groaned and another
droplet of pre-cum oozed out of their throbbing, twitching cocks.
     Benny was the first to come, grasping Matt's hips and shoving his cock
deep up his rectum as his cum spurted out of his pounding cock.  Though it
was his first time, Matt knew what was happening and the thought of his ass
being filled with a guy's cum caused the teenage boy to shoot his load.
His thick cum shot out of his throbbing, jerking dick, shooting across the
locker room and lacing the floor before him.  Seeing his buddy shooting
off, Frankie was brought over the edge.  His huge, veined cock jerked in
the air as he blasted, sending his steamers of cum shooting across the
locker room also.  This was even wilder than his hottest jerk off session.
With a grunt and a sigh, Brett shoved his cock in up to the base and froze
as his balls contracted and he shot his load up the hot singer's rectum.
Frankie and Matt trembled in the ecstasy of ejaculation, bewildered how
getting their asses fucked had gotten them so horny.
     Brent was the next to come, and warning Greg to take a deep breath and
get ready to swallow, he grasped Chris's hips and went back down on his
glistening cock as he shot his first load into the sixteen-year-old boy's
mouth.  As the hot, slimy shot slid over his tongue, it was all Greg could
do to moan to warn Chris that he was also coming.  As Brent shot his second
load into his mouth, Greg shot his first into Chris's, his thick, tart
cream striking the back of his mouth and oozing down his throat.  That
triggered Chris who didn't have time to warn Brent, but the horny Brewster
had enough experience to know from the throbbing of the stiff cock in his
mouth that he was about to receive a load.  He drew back, allowing the
teenage singer to fill his mouth so he could savour the boy's cream before
he swallowed it.
     Jesse and Bobby were the last to reach their orgasms, Jesse clamping
his lips down hard about Bobby's slender, stiff noodle as he felt his cum
start to rise up his dicklet and into the twelve-year-old's eager mouth.
Shot after shot blasted out of his body and Bobby eagerly savoured and
swallowed what the young singer had to offer.  Jesse McCartney, the
youngest singer of the Dream Street team, was shooting his wad in his
mouth!  Bobby relished the boy's fresh cream as his body began to tremble
and jerk with his own orgasm, ripples of that sweet pleasure pulsating
through his groin and his tiny stiff cocklet.  To his disappointment it was
another dry orgasm, but it was so powerful his disappointment was only a
moment.
     The chests of the nine boys rose and fell as they relished the ecstasy
of their climaxes and the awe of having brought off another boy.  The stale
air scented with teenage sweat and lust was now perfumed with the nutty
aroma of fresh cum.  Never again would the Dream Street boys be satisfied
with jerking themselves off in the privacy of the bathroom stalls.
  With the taste of cum on their lips, Chris, Greg and Jesse inhaled and
exhaled deeply as their stiff, wet cocks slowly began to droop.  Frankie
and Matt, still bent over with their partner's dicks still stuck up their
asses, panted for breath.  Streamers of cum dangled from their still stiff
cocks.  The Brewster brothers closed their eyes and savoured the delightful
bliss that comes after one's orgasm.  Being a boy was so fucking great.
     Finally the boys disentangled and sat or stood there in the locker
room in a daze.  A knock on the door and the voice of the manager asking if
they were about ready to leave brought them all back to their senses.  They
dressed quickly and silently, embarrassment and self-consciousness
returning now that the thrill of sex was over.  After having had their
asses fucked and after blasting off a load across the locker room, Frankie
and Matt wondered how they'd be able to look the other members of the band
in the face again.  Chris, Greg and Jesse were just as embarrassed about
having sucked cock, and wondered what Frankie and Matt were thinking of
them.  Having sucked off his buddy, Chris could not bring himself to look
Greg in the eye, and having been sucked off by his fellow band member and
buddy, Greg could not look Chris in the face either.
     "Oh man!" exclaimed Jesse with a hint of fear.  "We haven't had time
to shower.  We must smell skunky as hell, and like cock."
     "We can say there was just cold water," suggested Brett, thinking on
his feet.
     "Happens all the time," observed Brent.
     "I think it's to prevent guys from getting boned up," added Benny.
     "We can shower at your hotel room," observed Bobby.
     "We?" asked Jesse in surprise, the blond teenager raising one of his
dark eyebrows.
     "Sure," Bobby replied.  "We're coming with you."
     "We just came with them," observed Benny, and the four brothers
chuckled.  The Dream Street boys didn't find the comment as funny, and as
the Brewsters followed them and climbed into the minivan too, the boys
frowned but did not object.  When they'd reached their agreement, they
hadn't thought that they'd be doing it once, never mind more than once.
     Arriving at their hotel room, after being crammed in together in the
minivan, showering was the first thing on everyone's mind.  Frankie, being
the oldest, claimed priority in the order in which they'd take showers, and
Matt quickly agreed, being the next oldest.  The others all objected of
course, complaining that it was not fair the two of them got the hot water.
Bobby and Benny were particularly vocal in that if they went by age they'd
be the last to shower.  In that it was their room, the Dream Street boys
ruled that at least the five of them got the showers first, and of course
they planned on being as long as they could in the showers to ensure that
when it was the Brewsters' turn there would only be cold water.  Not only
would that be a way of getting back at them, though small, it might also
cool their desires.
     Brett, of course, came up with the solution.  For all nine of them to
stand in the tub, it was crowded and awkward, but not impossible.  They
were crammed in like sardines in a can, but there was no other solution to
the problem, and they were slender, especially Matt, and small, especially
Bobby and Benny, so they did manage.  Actually, soaping up each other and
scrubbing each other turned out to be highly erotic as they moved from
backs to fronts, and from chests down to what made them all boys.  Not
knowing whose hands are giving you a back rub or reaching around from
behind you to rub their soapy fingers over your chest and your nipples was
very stimulating, and knowing you could grope and feel others with the same
anonymity enticing.  Before long, the Dream Street boys found themselves
reaching down and soaping up cocks and balls and slipping their fingers
along butt cracks just as eagerly as the Brewster boys.  Of course each one
rationalized that he might just as well since others were doing it to him.
     After showering and drying themselves off, they took Benny's advice
that there was no sense getting dressed if they were just going to have to
strip to have sex later on.  Sitting down in the few chairs and sitting or
sprawling out on the three beds, having a room with double beds and a
roll-away, they decided they should have a snack.  Following a debate if
they should order pizza or Chinese or both, they took a vote and the
majority opinion was pizza.  Of course their topping preferences were as
varied as their interests so deciding on what they'd order took even
longer.  Finally reaching a decision, the boys sat and talked while they
waited for the delivery boy.
     Finding out Chris's favourite subject was science, he, Brett and Bobby
got into a conversation about the wonders of chemistry, bugs and physics.
Finding out Jesse liked baseball he and Bobby began discussing who was the
greatest pitcher of all time, and finding out Chris collected chains and
necklaces, he and Brent talked about jewelry and body piercing.  The
Brewster boys asked about what it was like to be big performers, and what
it was like to be actors, Greg having performed in the theatre, Frankie in
"Jungle to Jungle" and "Hudson Street", Matt on Broadway, Jesse in"All My
Children", and Chris in various stage productions.  The Dream Street boys
wanted to know about the Brewster's interests and hobbies, and were
particularly interested in Brett's musical skills and Bobby's singing
ambitions, and even more in the developing boyfriend relationships of the
twins.
     When the pizzas arrived, Frankie slipped on his pants while the others
disappeared into the bathroom.  After their strenuous performance on the
stage and two hours of dancing in the gym, followed by an even more
strenuous performance in the boys locker room, the nine boys were famished.
Sorting out which toppings had been requested by which boys, the nine of
them dug in, and for the next half hour little was said.
     "That was delicious," announced Brent finally, wiping the tomato sauce
off his lips with the back of his hand.  Chris burped loudly.
     "That was well brought up," observed Jesse with a grin.  "Too bad you
weren't," he and Bobby chorused.
     "Now I think it's time for dessert," Brett observed, glancing at his
brothers.
     "Dessert?" groaned Jesse.  "Maaaan, I'm stuffed."
     "We didn't order any dessert," Matt observed with a perplexed look.
     "I was thinking of hot New York sausage," replied Brent, looking into
the strawberry blond singer's blue eyes suggestively.
     "And speaking of stuffed," said Brett as he grinned over at Jesse and
raised and lowered his eyebrows in quick succession.
     "All right," the fourteen-year-old responded, looking at Matt and then
at Frankie.  "I'll ask cuz I know Greg and Chris are thinking the same
thing.  What was it like getting fucked?"
     Matt and Frankie glanced at each other self-consciously.  Not only was
that a very personal question, but how could a guy adequately describe what
it was like?
  "You'll have to find out for yourselves," the two boys replied.
     "You guys really want to have sex again?" asked Greg.
     "You bet," the four Brewsters chorused enthusiastically.
     "Can't blame you," Jesse observed, adding with a smile, "we are hot."
     "So, you guys are all right with this now?" asked Brett.
     "Well, it beats doing it to yourself," observed Chris.
     "Fuckin' right," observed Matt.
     "Cool," observed Brent as he reached for Matt's dick.
     Smiling self-consciously, Matt reached over and cupped Brent's nuts.
One by one the rest of the boys reached over and began to stroke the dick
or the balls of the person sitting closest to them.  Chris began to fiddle
with Brent's nipple ring, and Benny reached over and began playing with the
sixteen-year-old's limp cock.  Jesse slipped off the bed and began to
stroke Benny's soft dick while Frankie reached for Greg's.  Acting on
impulse, Greg began fingering Brett's asshole and Brett twisted around and
ran his middle finger up Greg's crack.  That left Bobby and Frankie and the
two lay down in reverse directions and began to fiddle with each other.
That there was almost five years difference between the two did not matter.
It was not a set pairing, and the boys moved from one partner to the next,
grabbing ass, stroking dick and fiddling with each other's nipples, at one
time a Dream Street boy paired up with a Brewster brother, and other times
two band members messing with each other and two brothers engaging in
foreplay.  It was not long before the nine randy boys were sporting
erections.
     "So what is it really like to slip your dick up a guy's ass?" Greg
asked, looking at Brent and Benny.
     "It's sortta hard to describe," responded Brent.
     "It's lot easier to show," Bobby added with a huge grin.  Kneeling
down in front of Greg, who was kneeling down on one of the beds, the
twelve-year-old snuggled back against his groin.
     "Whoa, wait a minute.  I was just asking," Greg protested.
     "You gotta hold it by the base so it doesn't bend when you stick it
in," Bobby advised.
     "Here, let me help," offered Brett, getting up and reaching over to
grasp Greg's stiff cock by the base.
      Bending it down and directing Bobby so that the tip was aimed at his
tight little pucker, Brett continued to hold the boy's stiff as Bobby
backed down on it.  Greg knelt there in surprise as he felt the boy's tight
sphincter open up and his cock slowly ease into the twelve-year-old's body.
Easing down on it until the hot singer's dick hairs were pressing against
his smooth butt, and his rectum had totally engulfed the boy's cock, Bobby
motioned for Chris to kneel in front of him.  Although not exactly keen
about getting fucked, the sixteen-year-old virgin figured he'd never get
another chance to find out what it was like, and getting stuck by the kid's
slender little dick wouldn't be half as bad as getting fucked by one of his
older brothers.
  Getting the novice boy in position, Bobby placed his cock against the
boy's butt, and as he eased forward, he sank his slender dicklet up his ass
as he slid up on Greg's prick.
     Brett had turned to Jesse and had begun slipping his middle finger up
and down Jesse's crack.  The two now moved over to the threesome and as
Jesse leaned over and took Chris's stiff cock in his mouth, Brett knelt
behind the fourteen-year-old and placed the tip of his dick against his
anus.  Grasping the naked boy by the hips, the experienced teen slowly
eased his six-and-a- quarter inch probe up the younger boy's ass.
     Laying down on the other bed in opposite directions, Brent and Matt
began nuzzling each other's crotch.  Brent licked the older boy's hairy nut
sack and then sucked it into his mouth, and Matt followed suit, doing the
same to the long-haired blond.  Brent ran his tongue up the boy's quivering
uncut cock, and Matt ran his tongue up the teen's stiff dick.  Brent toyed
with Matt's knob, running his tongue along the sensitive rim and along the
groove on the underside, and Matt followed suit.  As Brent slipped his lips
over the boy's knob, Matt did the same to Brent.  Benny and Frankie lay
down beside the two boys and began to do the same, licking and savouring
each other's dick before beginning to sixty-nine.
     And so the nine boys began to satisfy themselves and to please their
partners once again.  Stiff cocks slid in and out of hot, moist assholes,
and smooth, moist lips slid up and down throbbing dicks.  Balls slowly
tightened underneath throbbing erections, and dick heads itched and tingled
with arousal.  One by one the boys felt the tension developing in their
loins, and one by one, they enjoyed the physical stimulation of their
swollen cocks while relishing the pleasure that comes from bringing another
pleasure.  The boys sucked in the lust-laden air as they inhaled and
exhaled deeply, their hot blood coursing faster and faster through their
veins as they approached that ultimate peak of pleasure.

                      Set the sun on fire
                     Scream a little higher
                   Hold you in the moonlight
                 I say yeah if you say alright.

     Heads bobbed up and down throbbing teenage cocks, lips tightening
about the solid flesh and mouths sucking on the aching erections eager to
suck out the thick, creamy marrow.  Assholes clenched and relaxed as hot,
stiff cocks thrust in and out of them.
  Nine boys grunted and panted as they rutted like the wild animals they
were, thrusting hips back and forth in an anxious drive to get off the
loads building in their tightening nuts.  Dick heads itched and burned and
then went numb as deep in their loins the pressure uncoiled and their
bodies trembled once again with that ultimate of pleasures.  Hot teen cum
spurted into eager, receptive mouths and was swallowed greedily.  Hot cum
spurted deep up young rectums and assholes clenched on the throbbing cocks
in shared orgasm.  Nine boys trembled and gasped with the climaxes ripping
through their loins, and once again the air was scented with sweaty teen
bodies and fresh cum.
     The boys lay there for a long time, naked bodies intertwined as they
recovered.  Stiff cocks once again went limp and temperatures and breathing
returned to normal.  Once again they talked, about the joys of sex, and the
joys of being boys.  They talked about rollerblading and sports, about
acting and singing, about school and teachers, about Reeses Pieces and
Hershey Kisses and sour candies.  They talked about their future plans and
as they talked, fingers wandered and explored.  They stroked and caressed
and squeezed, seeking pleasure and giving pleasure.  The boys from New York
knew they would never again seek their satisfaction alone behind closed
washroom stalls, and the Brewster boys knew they would never again listen
to a Dream Street song in the same way.  The night was no longer young, but
the nine boys were as lust coursed through their veins once again and five
new converts embraced and caressed their tutors.

                Can you hear the music playing?
                Can you feel the rhythm swaying?
         This is the sound of dreams come true. . . .

                     It happens every time
                   Oh it's magic when we meet
                   Baby down on Dream Street.