Date: Sat, 07 Dec 2002 11:47:15 -0700
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Stop the Violence Day" t/t. ws, incest, humiliation

Caution/Welcome.  This is a story involving four brothers, one who has
recently turned thirteen, one recently turned fifteen, and two
sixteen-year-old twins, who with the help of their classmates, decide to
take the issues of school violence, gay hatred, male chauvinism, teenage
pregnancies, terrorism and racial intolerance in their own hands, Brewster
style.  If descriptions of these events might upset you, you may want to
give this story a pass.  This story is posted at free gay adult story sites
for adult entertainment only.  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 forty-second
story in the Brewster boys special events and myths series.  The Brewster
brothers would like to remind everyone sex can be as harmful as any gun or
knife.  Pack a condom.  Be really safe.  Pack a pack.  Praise and story
ideas for 2003 can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at
authorsix@hotmail.com

	  THE BREWSTERS CELEBRATE NATIONAL STOP THE VIOLENCE DAY

  "So, Chucky, what are you going trick and treating as this year?" asked
Bobby.  The twins had just driven down to the mall in their new car to pick
up some milk and bread for their mother and to help Brent look for a
birthday gift for his boyfriend's seventeenth birthday coming up mid
November, and had taken their brothers and their next door neighbour,
ten-year-old Charles Elwood, along for a ride.
  "I'm going as Harry Potter," he announced, referring to a boy wizard who
was the main character in a what had become a very popular novel series by
a writer from England, and upon whose books a second movie was to be
released for December.  "Mom even got me a broom and false glasses and
everything."  Halloween was still two weeks away, and he could not wait.
  "Cool," the Brewster boys responded.
  "I think you should put a cardboard box over your body, write some
numbers up at the top, and stick your dick out a hole," observed Bobby.
  "What would that be?" Charles giggled as he pictured himself with his
dick sticking out of a cardboard box.
  "A gas pump," giggled Bobby, and the boys laughed.
  "It would be pretty real," observed Benny.  "Your dick is getting to be
quite a hose."
  "It's not that big," giggled Charles, pleased though with the comment.
  "You should go as a pump at least to Mister Steinhauser's house.  He'd
love that."
  "Mister Steinhauser?  The boy hater?"
  "He's not a boy hater," observed Bobby.  "Just the opposite."
  "That's not a bad idea," commented Brett.
  "Chucky going as a gas pump?" asked his three brothers in surprise.
  "No.  Of course not.  I mean Chucky getting to know Mister Steinhauser."
  "Oh.  Yeah, it is a good idea," agreed his twin brother, tossing back his
long blond hair.  "Chucky could really help him see there's nothing wrong
with being a boy lover and that there are young boys who like to have sex,
and Mister Steinhauser could show Chucky how good having sex with a man who
really likes boys can be."  His brothers nodded in agreement.
  "Hey, there's Billy.  Hey, Billy, wanna lift?" called Benny as he rolled
down the window.
  "I'd like a gun," the sixteen-year-old said, glaring at Benny as Brett
pulled up beside him.
  "Whoa, what's up?" asked Brent as Billy climbed in the back seat and
Brent switched places with Benny so he could sit with his boyfriend.
  Billy glanced at Charles.  "What I got to say isn't for little ears."
  "Hey, Chucky's cool.  He's one of us."
  Charles beamed so brightly they would not have had to turn on the car
lights had it been night.
  "Guess you haven't heard about Ellen Matsu yet," Billy observed with a
dark scowl.
  "No.  What about her?"
  "That fucking son-of-a-bitch Troy Kholler cracked her cherry while we
were in Germany."
  "Yeah?"  They were not sure why Billy would be so angry.  Girls were
always getting their cherries cracked.  Well, not always, but that was the
major objective of every straight boy.  None of them particularly liked
Troy Kholler, the fifteen-year-old hockey star having a major ego and
attitude problem and a well-known hatred for homosexuals.  Even so, it was
not Billy's nature to speak so vulgarly and so angrily, the soon to be
seventeen-year-old figure skater really being a very sensitive and private
boy.
  "The son-of-a-bitch taped it and showed it to the hockey team."
  "Fuck!"
  "Yeah.  Taped her saying how much she loved him, and how masculine he
was, and how good it was, and how glad she was that her first time was with
him.  The fucking son-of-a-bitch.  Never mind a gun.  Someone should cut
off his balls and shove them down his fucking throat."
  "How is Harry taking it?"
  "He doesn't know yet.  Nobody has the guts to tell him.  But he's gonna
find out and all hell's gonna break out.  He's gonna kill Troy."
  "Why would Troy do something as mean as that?"
  "Guys like Troy don't think about anyone except themselves. They're so
wrapped up in themselves they think nobody can hurt them and don't give a
fucking damn who they hurt," Billy replied, his face growing even darker.
With his dark trench coat, neo-spiked bleached white hair, piercings, and
black lip gloss and eye shadow he looked as menacing as he sounded.  "I
know."
  Brent slipped his arm about his boyfriend, Billy's comment reminding him
that his lover had a good reason to be upset.  Two-and-a-half years ago
during the Easter break his older step- sister had lost her virginity to
Billy Graham.  Billy was a good-looking, athletic boy with thick, dark
brown curly hair, sexy, dark brown eyes, and a smooth tongue.  Ever since
grade seven he had girls swooning over him.  He hadn't been so crude as to
tape the incident, but he'd bragged about it to everyone, especially since
Billy's sister was a gorgeous sixteen-year-old sophomore with humongous
boobs and who every boy in high school had jerk off fantasies about and he
was a fifteen-year-old freshman.  Everyone knew the girls thought he was
hot, and he took every opportunity to brag about his conquests.  Anyway,
unable to bear the humiliation and the shame, she went to live with her
deceased mother's sister shortly afterward.  Rumour at the time was that
she was pregnant, and her brother later confided in Brent that it was not
just a rumour.
  That was reason enough for Billy to hate Billy Graham's guts, but there
was more.  Billy Graham was just as vocal about his hatred for homosexuals
as he was about his conquests with women.  His favourite put down for
anyone he did not like was to call them a fag.  Billy Hollis being small,
different, and a figure skater, had gotten called that a lot in elementary
and junior high school, and even still did once in a while at high school
by assholes like Billy Graham and Troy Kholler and their type.  Being the
object of name calling he'd gotten used to, as much as anyone who is called
names can.  Being what Billy called him, a faggot, and knowing that the
majority of his classmates and the community of Crestview Heights hated
what he was did bother him.  That times were changing and the majority
becoming smaller was encouraging, but he knew it would still be a long time
before the love he and Brent felt for each other would be accepted.
  "Well, whatever happens to Troy Kholler will serve him right," observed
Brent.
  "Yeah," agreed Brett along with his brothers, "but for Harry's sake
someone should take care of Billy before Harry does something foolish."
  "Oh yeah, Harry's going to go ballistic when he finds out."
  "The worst part of it all is that Ellen really did love Billy Graham,"
observed Billy.  "The girls at the Crestview Figure Skating Club say she'd
been floating on cloud nine ever since school started with all the
attention Billy had been giving her.  She really, honestly, truly believed
the fucking asshole loved her and that was the only reason she had sex with
him, and all along the son-of-a-bitch was just after her cherry."
  "She has to be devastated."
  "Something has to be done to make Graham pay," observed Billy and the
others agreed.
  "Billy Graham doesn't know fuck all about love," observed Brent.  "Not
like you and me."
  "Yeah," said Brett slowly as he looked in the rear view mirror at his
brother and Billy, "yeah, he doesn't, but it's time he found out."
  "What you got in mind, brother?" asked Benny, he and the others knowing
that gleam in Brett's eyes meant he'd come up with a plan.
  "Something that's gonna make him sorry he ever taped Ellen and him making
out," Brett said with a smile as they pulled into the shopping mall.
"Something wicked."
  "Well, for now I'm going to go work off my anger at the arcade," observed
Billy.
  "I'll join you," offered Brent.
  "Naw, you got stuff to do," said Billy.  "Sides, I'm not in much of a
mood for company, love, you know?"
  "Sure," Brent responded, wrapping an arm about his lover and giving him a
quick kiss.  "You don't do anything foolish."
  "Who, me?" asked Billy with a grin.  It was good to see him smile, even
if it was just for a moment.
  "I gotta get him something extra special for his birthday," observed
Brent.
  "Cluck, cluck, cluck."
  The boys glanced at each other as the hair on the back of their necks
stood on end.  They knew that voice all too well.
  "So, if it ain't' the Brewster clucks out for walk," Ron Danson observed,
swaggering over to the boys with Danny Maartens, Troy Kholler, Ryan Poole
and the rest of his goons.  His faded stone-washed jeans were so loaded
down with chains they were practically ready to slip off his hips and were
revealing a wide band of his red plaid boxers.  He flipped his head,
tossing his long, scarlet hair about.  He smiled at the boys evilly as the
fine, luxuriant strands of hair settled back down over his shoulders.  He
had beautiful hair that was the envy of every girl and a lot of guys at
Crestview Heights High, and he did everything he could to accent it.  "Off
to buy some frilly little panties?"  Conrad Blackwell and Jason
Smyth-Jones, who did not normally run with Ron and his punk crowd, did
happen to be with them that day, and the two boys cringed as they, and
several others in the group, were reminded of their own humiliation
regarding panties.  "I think you'd look real cute in a pair of flimsy pink
panties, with white lace and hearts," Ron continued, not knowing about the
incidents involving Conrad and Jason and how embarrassing such talk was for
them.  "That where your boyfriend is heading off to, to buy you a pair of
panties and matching bra?" he asked, looking up the mall at Billy Hollis.
Ron Danson was a bully, but he was no fool.  He could easily beat the
skinny weakling with a hand tied behind his back, especially him being a
fem figure skater, but there was the rumour that he practised witchcraft,
and he certainly looked like he did.  Besides, he'd seen the punk friend he
chummed with, a weirdo called Mordock, who could easily be packing a gun.
  "With all that hair you look like a girl," observed Charles, unafraid of
the bully and coming to his heros' defence.
  "Yeah?" Ron sneered, looking down at the ten-year-old.  "And you look
like an ugly little snot-eating midget."  His friends all laughed as
Charles turned a bright red.
  "Oh yeah, well take this," the boy said, swinging at the
seventeen-year-old bully.  Ron stuck out his hand and holding the boy by
the head kept him at arm's length as the boy swung at the air helplessly.

"Leave Chucky alone," said Bobby, stepping up to the boy's defence.
  "Well, another snot-eating midget," grinned Ron, again to the amusement
of his goons.
   "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" challenged Brent.
  Ron looked around.  "Because there is nobody my size," he said with a
grin.  "So tell you what, girly boy.  I'll take on both you and your sissy
brother.  Two out of three falls, and the losers shave off their hair until
they are bald as a cue ball."
  "Forget it Danson.  We have no intention of fighting you."
  "Because you're chickshits."
  "Whatever.  Com'on guys, we got things to do."
  "Cluck, cluck, cluck," called out Ron as the boys continued down the
mall.
  "Oh mannn, he makes me so fucking mad," observed Bobby.
  "You and almost everyone else in the school."
  "You did wise not to accept his challenge."
  The boys turned to look at the speaker.  It was the oldest of the Wong
brothers, Wong Soeng-Jan.  The sixteen-year-old boy smiled shyly at them.
  "Hao xia ban shang," said Benny.
  "Good afternoon," responded Jan.  "You are learning our language well."
  "Pi hua yeah, Zi is teaching me good."
  "And Zi is learning your language well also," Jan said with a smile.  "I
just wanted to say it was wise not to accept that bully's challenge," he
observed, looking at the twins.
  "Yeah, that's what he was hoping we'd do," said Brett.
  "Violence is not the way to resolve differences."
  "Yeah.  But I don't know if Ron Danson knows any other way."
  "That is true," Jan observed.  The shy, quiet boy deplored any type of
violence and although new at school and struggling with the new culture and
language, had already set up a "Save the Children" club to raise funds and
awareness for children in countries at war, and volunteered after school at
the vet clinic to take the animals for walks and help groom and otherwise
take care of them.
  "Where is Jung?" asked Bobby.
  "Over at the arcade, of course," Jan replied, rolling his eyes.  Unlike
himself, his youngest brother felt the only way to stop discrimination and
racial hatred and any other form of violence was with his fists.  It was no
surprise he enjoyed and excelled at military and crime type video games,
and Jan knew that his youngest brother was practising wushu for more than
self-defence.
  "I'll see you guys back at home, okay?" asked Bobby, heading down the
mall without waiting for an answer.
  "I'm sorry if I intruded," said Jan with a slight bow.  "I just wanted to
say how I think you did the right thing."  Realizing he'd already said
that, he began to blush.  The Brewster boys were very popular and though he
normally made friends easily, he found he was nervous talking to them.
  "No intrusion," said Brett.  "We're on our way to look for a gift for
Brent's boyfriend."
  "The one that wears the wild clothes and with the white hair."
  "Yeah, Billy Hollis," said Brent.  He imagined Billy was quite a shock to
Jan, who wore the uniform of all teens, sports runners, blue-jeans, a
long-sleeved shirt, and a tan V-neck sweater from Abercrombie and Fitch,
and his thick, dark black hair combed forward and to the sides so it curled
above each eyebrow.  With his high cheek bones, flat nose, and puffy eyes,
he had a sexy appeal and a saucy look.
  "I think I might know something he would like," Jan offered.  "It is in
an import store here in the mall."
  "Cool," said Brent.  "Let's go look."
  Bobby had meanwhile joined up with Jung at the arcade, where, as Jan had
observed, he was eagerly killing off bad guys and racking up the points.
Fat Scott Hurd arrived only moments after Bobby, and spotting the two boys,
he headed immediately over to them.  Using his size and weight to push the
slender Chinese boy aside, he continued to play the machine.
  "Hey, I was playing that!"
  "Oh, were you?  Sorry, I guess I didn't see you, shrimp."
  "Well, I was," responded Jung, trying fruitlessly to push the bigger boy
aside.
  "Well, go play another machine.  I want this one."
  "My time hasn't run out."
  "It has now," Scott said, giving the boy a look that dared him to do
something about it.
  Jung looked helplessly at Bobby, so humiliated and ashamed he was about
to burst into tears, and knowing he looked like he was about to cry made
him come all the closer to doing so.
  "Com'on, Jung.  If the fat asshole wants the game let him," said Bobby.
  "What did you say?" asked Scott, stepping over to Bobby and pushing him
back.
  "You know what the fuck I said," Bobby replied, knowing that he would
likely get the shit beaten out of him but not willing to back down to the
bully.
  "You're right, Bobby.  Let's go," Jung said, tugging on his best friend's
shirt sleeve.  He didn't want Bobby to get in trouble, and especially not
because of him.
  Bobby noticed Billy about to come to their rescue, and at the same time
the owner of the arcade heading their direction.  The two boys decided it
best to leave.  They could have had Scott kicked out, but he'd just make
their lives hell, and the owner of the arcade would probably bounce both of
them out.
  "Yellow-bellied cowards," called Scott as the two boys turned.  They
ignored him.  "Stinking slant-eyed chink and chink lover," he taunted when
they didn't take the bait.
  Jung's knuckles were white he had them clenched so tightly in anger.  No
boy likes to be bullied, especially a thirteen-year-old junior high boy.
For Jung, it was even worse.  His name meant "brave", and up until moving
to America he'd lived up to his name.  Now he was bringing shame to his
name, and to his family.  "I wish we could do something about him."
  "We can," said Bobby confidently, "and we will."  The recently turned
thirteen-year-old knew that in time all bullies met their match, and that
nobody pushed a Brewster around for long.
  Having purchased Billy's birthday gift, the boys, along with Jan, stopped
in at the WeCare Pet Supplies store where Jan wanted to buy some special
treats to take to the Vet Clinic, and where the Brewster boys knew the
owner well and were always welcome, not just because their father was third
Vice-President of the chain, but because the owner knew the boys had a soft
spot for pets themselves.  They arrived at the store just as James De
Cazale stepped up to the cashier to pay for a dog collar and a leash.  His
brother, Max, was in the corner talking to one of the hamsters.  That was
not unusual.  Many people talk to pets, but what was different was that he
actually seemed to be deep in a conversation, and the hamster seemed to be
listening and responding!  Spotting their brothers in the store, Bobby and
Jung joined them, Bobby keeping his eyes on the De Cazale brothers, and
Jung noticed, keeping his distance from them.
  The De Cazale brothers were hard not to notice, standing at
six-foot-three and having the trim build of swimmers, a sport they'd
demonstrated they excelled at their short time at Crestview Heights High.
Besides, they were identical and good-looking and had beautiful red-brown
hair with natural blond streaks.  Max was wearing brown cords and an
earth-brown sweater, which made him look particularly handsome, and his
brother James was wearing black jeans with a shimmering blue shirt that
matched his eyes.  The two nodded to the Brewsters and their companions and
headed down the mall.
  "They are very close, those two," observed Jan.  "I never see one without
the other."
  "Oh yeah.  At least you never see Max without James."
  "James seems to be the bolder one.  He doesn't hesitate to join in with a
group, or a conversation.  I think he really likes life."
  "Max is definitely the shy, quiet one."
  "Well, there is nothing wrong with being shy and quiet," observed Jan.
  "Oh yeah," quickly agreed Brett, not meaning any offence to Jan and his
brother and knowing they were also very quiet and shy.  "But he doesn't
seem to have any friends, and when you do talk to him he gets all
tongue-tied and flustered."
  "Perhaps that is because he is deaf."
  "I suppose.  But there is something strange about the two of them."
  "Oh yeah, very strange," observed Bobby, thinking about what he'd seen in
the Black Forest.
  "Now, Bobby," warned Brent.
  Brent and his brothers had listened to Bobby's description of what he'd
seen in the Black Forest, and what he'd described certainly fit in with the
character of the two boys, and the fact they had bought the old creepy
mansion at the end of town, the old Von Spiel House.  They also knew their
kid brother's imagination, however, and so they took his description with
more than several grains of salt.  Having said that, they did not totally
discredit Bobby's conclusion.  They knew from two first hand experiences
that vampires were not made-up legends.
  Monday the fourteenth was Columbus Day, a holiday once widely celebrated
but with more and more protests by native Americans now downplayed by many
communities or substituted with a more politically correct celebration.  In
Canada it was also Thanksgiving Day, and Brenda had cooked a turkey with
all the trimmings and the boys had invited their closest friend over to
join them in the celebration, Canadian Thanksgiving being as much a part of
their heritage as Columbus.
  "Oh maaaannnn, I'm stuffed," groaned Bobby as he plopped down on his bunk
bed.
  "Well, that figures," observed Brett.
  "What do you mean?"
  "You are a turkey," Brett said with a grin, surprised his kid brother had
walked right into it.
  "Very funny," observed Bobby, giving his older brother a finger but his
eyes sparkling with amusement.
  "Was probably that third piece of pumpkin pie you had," observed Benny.
  "Your mom is an awesome cook," commented Justin, and the rest of the boys
all agreed.
  "If I ate like this every day I'd be as fat as Scott Hurd," observed
Aaron.
  "Well, I know one way we can wear off the calories," Brett said with a
grin as he put his arm around Cam.
  "I think I'm too full," groaned Bobby.
  "Too full to have sex?" asked his three brothers in shock.
  "Oh, that," said Bobby with a twinkle in his eyes.  "I thought you meant
going jogging."
  "Oh sure," his brothers chorused.
  The eight randy boys looked into the eyes of their significant other, and
there was no need to say anything further.  Some couples would be hesitant
to become intimate in front of others, but such inhibitions did not apply
to the four Brewster brothers and those they loved.  As Brett and Cam
turned to each other and embraced, so did Brent and Billy.  Holding each
other tight, the four boys kissed.  It was a soft, tender kiss, the type of
kiss lovers exchange, the type of kiss meant to please the other rather
than oneself.  Benny and Justin, who had been sitting on Benny's bunk,
reached out for each other and as Justin pulled Benny's shirt out of his
jeans and slipped his hands up the back to begin caressing his best buddy,
Benny slipped his hands up the back of Justin's sweater and began to
massage him.  Bobby and his best buddy Aaron Porter, more accustomed to
going straight for the groin and getting into the action fast, took the
lead of the older boys and wrapping their arms about each other, the two
thirteen-year-old boys kissed.  Their lips were smooth and moist, and their
long eyelashes fluttered as their lips parted and met again.  Kissing was
not that bad a thing.
  And so the four pairs of boys kissed and caressed each other, and as they
did so their lust grew.  The caresses became firmer and more urgent, and
the tender kisses of love became hot, passionate kisses of desire.  They
pressed their lips together tightly and sucked in, creating a vacuum that
sealed their lips together all the tighter.  They undid belt buckles and
pulled down zippers and slipped hands inside trousers to grope and caress
each other's firm, compact buttocks and warm baskets.  They pushed down
each other's pants and unbuttoned each others shirts, slipping them off
shoulders and pulling sweaters over heads.  They kissed as they fondled
each other's nipples and caressed each other's smooth thighs.  Their
breathing became more laboured as tongues explored lovers' mouths and as
lovers sucked in the tongues of their beloveds.  Hands wandered, caressing
narrow hips and sensitive thighs, and lips skipped from soft, moist lips to
smooth, downy teenage cheeks and down smooth, firm chests to tender,
sensitive nipples.  Lips that once sucked on each other now sucked on boy
nipples and tongues that had twirled around each other now twirled around
sensitive young teats.
  Cam's dick began to swell, bulging out his black nylon thong that he'd
worn expecting that at some point in the evening at least his lover would
be seeing it.  Brett's fingers ran over his butterscotch skin and Cam's
dark brown, almond eyes looked lovingly into his lover's deep blues as he
ran his fingers through his lover's long, fine blond hair.  Brett's cock
began to swell in his underwear also, a pair of Abercrombie and Fitch boxer
briefs, as Cam caressed his thighs, the boy's brown fingers contrasting
with the teenager's pale white skin.
  Brent could not hide his arousal either, the basket of his tight white
Nordstrom briefs bulging out with cock meat.  He ran his fingers along
Billy's soft, downy cheeks and kissed him again, causing both of their
cocks to quiver with arousal.  Pressing his body against Billy's, he ran
his fingers through Billy's irregular cut white hair, a style that had
caused Brent to observe he looked like a character out of one of those
x-rated anime Japanese comic books, a hero of course.  The two boys ran
their fingers over each other's chests and played with each other's nipple
rings.  Thinking like Cam had, Billy had worn especially for the evening a
pair of tightfitting, golden- coloured silk briefs with sparkling glitter,
a Valentines gift from Brent from an on-line sex shop which he wore only on
special occasions such as this.  It was fitting considering his recently
dyed white hair, black lip gloss, nipple rings, bridge barbells, and choker
of hematite beads with a pentagram pendant, another gift from Brent last
Ostera.
  Bobby and Aaron looked particularly pure and innocent in contrast, the
two boys having no adornments and Bobby wearing his usual white Stanfields
and Aaron his usual blue Fruit of the Looms, both bulging out with their
stiff thirteen-year-old dicks as the boys French kissed.  Standing beside
the younger Brewsters' bunk bed were Benny and Justin, Benny in his copper-
tube necklace and ribbed Markey-Marks, Justin in his chain necklace and
wrist bracelet and Nordstrom briefs.  The two boys were kissing each other
hotly and slipping their tongues in each other's mouths as they cupped and
caressed each other's bulging pouches.  Laying there on the floor beside
the bunk bed, the two fifteen-year-olds twisted around in opposite
directions and began to draw down each other's underwear, releasing their
stiff wands ready to do their magic.  The two boys immediately bowed their
heads and inhaling the nutty fragrance of each other's balls, opened their
mouths and sucked gingerly on each other's sack.  The two boys loved each
other as best buddies, and they had been messing around together almost
from the day they had met, which was only shortly after the Brewsters had
moved to Crestview Heights.  Their friendship had grown into a deep and
intimate bond of comradeship since those early days of the two of them
spying on Justin's older brother and his girlfriend, and then slipping off
to wank themselves.
  Aaron and Bobby had been best buddies for almost as long.  They had
worked on science projects together, did their homework together, or more
often then not copied each other's homework minutes before class started,
had sleep overs together, and pulled pranks on their friends and classmates
together.  They had tried every form of sex together, to see what it was
like, and had found that Bobby enjoyed getting his ass fucked the most, and
Aaron enjoyed doing the fucking.  As the two boys curled up on Bobby's bed
and played with each other's stiff cock and ran their fingers up each
other's ass crack, their breathing became even more laboured and they
licked their lips in anticipation of the pleasure they were about to enjoy.
  The twins and their boyfriends were fully erect by this time.  Brent and
Billy were laying on the floor beside Benny and Justin, Brent on his back
with his legs spread and raised, Billy on his knees between the boy's
outspread legs, his stiff cock aimed for his asshole.  The two boys looked
into each other's eyes as Billy pressed forward, sinking his cock up his
beloved's hot, moist, pulsating ass.  The boys had engaged in this
expression of their love many times, and each time was just as delightful
as all of the previous.  As Billy began to ease his cock in and out of his
beloved's rectum, Brent constricted and relaxed his anal sphincter in time
with Billy's thrusts and withdrawals.  Closing their eyes with delight, the
two teenagers concentrated on the throbbing pleasure pulsing out from their
union.
  Brett and Cam had lain down in Brett's bunk, and were kissing and licking
each other's nuts and swollen cock.  They now slipped their lips over each
other's knobs and down each other's shafts.  Sucking deeply on each other's
prick, they began to work their lips up and down each other's shaft.  Their
cocks throbbed hotly with desire as they felt their teen lust well up
between their legs.  While many others considered sucking cock an insult,
the two lovers considered it a special delight, especially when they did
each other.  So did Benny and Justin, the two boys laying beside Brent and
Billy and hotly engaged in a sixty-nine themselves, the two
fifteen-year-old boys eagerly sucking on each other's cock and savouring
the delight of sucking on a hot, throbbing dick while having their own
similarly sucked.
  Bobby had meanwhile thrown his ass in the air and his legs over his head,
and Aaron had eagerly knelt behind him and shoved his slender cock up the
youngest Brewster's rectum.  Bobby quivered with delight as he felt Aaron's
cock enter his body, and he inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm himself.  If
anything could challenge his delight in being stuffed by large, swollen
cocks, it was being stuffed by a close buddy.  Like Brent, he constricted
and relaxed his sphincter in time to the thrusts and withdrawals of his
best friend.
  While others might have gone slowly and even paused on occasion to make
the pleasure last, the eight boys were too eager to get off a load, and so
they worked quickly toward that end.  Being young and naturally horny, it
was not long before each and every one of them was ready to cum.  They were
also so hot that they came within seconds of each other so that at one
point all eight were trembling with their orgasms, six wet and two dry.
Bobby and Aaron trembled violently as their orgasms hit, both boys gasping
and moaning in ecstasy and in another desperate but futile attempt to
squirt for the first time.
  Beside them Benny and Justin were filling each other's mouths with their
teenage cum, the two fifteen-year-olds relishing the thrill of ejaculation
and the thrill of having brought their best buddy off.  Their hot, solid
cocks throbbed in each other's mouth and they eagerly swallowed each
other's cum, delighting in the flavour and texture of that very special
gift to each other.  Laying on the floor beside them, Brent and Billy
clenched as Billy shot his juice deep up his beloved's rectum, and his
beloved shot his load over his heaving chest, Billy's constant stroking of
his prostate with his stiff cock bringing him off at the same time as Billy
shot his load.  The two lovers gasped and panted with the bliss of having
brought each other off and with the throbbing pleasure in their loins as
their young balls constricted and shot out their juices.
  In the lower bunk on the opposite side of the room Brett and Cam were
similarly shooting their loads down each other's throat, the two lovers
inhaling and exhaling deeply through their noses as their hot, teen cum
spurted out of their throbbing cocks and as they eagerly sucked on each
other's dick.  The room was filled with the aroma of fresh cum and sweating
boys as the eight trembled and sighed with that unique pleasure only boys
can know.
  "So," said Bobby, a short time later, "since we're celebrating two
holidays today, Thanksgiving in Canada and Columbus Day in the States, I
guess it's only right that we get off twice tonight."
  "Oh yeah," agreed Benny.  "I hardly worked off any of tonight's supper so
far."
  "From the amount I ate, I'm gonna have to get off at least half a dozen
rounds tonight," observed Brent.
  "Can we try what Grandp ah, I mean, what we learned on Grandparents Day?"
asked Bobby.
  "What do you mean?" asked Benny.
  "Double fucking."
  The boys looked at each other.
  "What's that?" Aaron asked, eager to learn anything new when it came to
sex.
  "Well, we could tell ya, or we could show ya," responded Bobby.
  "Me'n Billy can do you, and Brett and Cam can do Aaron," suggested Brent.
"What do you say?"
  "I say let's fucking do it!" announced Aaron and Bobby together.
  Laying on their backs on the floor, the twins helped the two eager
thirteen-year-olds into place, the two youngsters eagerly straddling the
two sixteen-year-olds and backing up on their stiff, slender cocks until
they had them embedded up their rectums as far as they could manage.  They
then had Billy and Cam get into position between the outspread legs of the
twins.  With a lot of KY lube, a lot of giggling and squirming and sincere
effort, the two older teens wedged their dick heads in the openings of the
two younger boys and slowly slid their cocks up along the undersides of
their lovers' cocks.
  "Oh maaaannnnn!  This is so fucking great," sighed Bobby.  "How you
feelin' Aaron?"
  "I can't believe it.  I fucking can't believe it.  I got two fucking
cocks shoved up my hole!"
  "I think you two should do the action," suggested Brent.  "That way you
can control how fast and how deep, you know?  We don't wanna hurt yas."
  "Wait a minute, before you begin" interrupted Benny.  "Com'on, Justin."
  As Benny straddled Brent, he motioned to Justin to take the same position
above Brett.  Shuffling forward, he presented his stiff cock to his kid
brother, at the same time presenting his asshole to his older brother.
Justin did the same to Aaron and Brett.  Bobby, never turning down a cock
offered, eagerly bowed his head and slipped his lips over his older
brother's knob, and then slowly raised his hips, easing his anus up along
the shafts of his oldest brother and his oldest brother's lover.  Drawing
his hips up until he felt their knobs begin to stretch open his straining
sphincter, he paused and then slowly sank back down on the two shafts, at
the same time easing his lips down the shaft of his older brother.
Watching his best buddy, Aaron followed his example, drawing his ass up and
sliding up on the two hot, slender teenage cocks shoved up his rectum, and
then slowly sinking back down on them as he eased his lips down the shaft
of the fifteen-year-old boy squatting in front of him.  At the same time
Brent began to rim his younger brother while Brett began to rim his younger
brother's best buddy.
  It was one fucking hot scene, two sets of four boys grunting and snorting
in lust and exertion as they worked toward their second climax of the
night.  Brent and Brett licked the two asscracks presented to them, and
reaching up and grasping the hips of the boys they were rimming, they
pressed their lips against their assholes and wormed their tongues up their
butts, causing the two fifteen-year-old boys to squirm and wiggle with
pleasure.  Benny was the expert when it came to rimming, but his twin
brothers were no slouches themselves.  At the same time as they were being
rimmed, the two boys were being sucked off, Benny by his thirteen-year-old
brother, and Justin by thirteen-year-old Aaron.  The two youngsters bobbed
their heads up and down, eagerly slipping their lips up and down the
perverse popsicles.
  At the same time, the two thirteen-year-olds slid their asses up and down
the two cocks lined up side by side and stuffed up their rectums.  The two
boys were used to getting their asses fucked, and were so hot and so pumped
up they had no difficulty accommodating the dual cocks up their
rectums. The twins' cocks, both now seven-and-a-half inches in length, were
lined up with the cocks of their lovers so both were being worked over at
the same time.  It was a weird feeling for the older boys, feeling their
hot, stiff cocks squeezed up against their lovers' cocks, knowing that the
hot, moist asshole enveloping their cock was also enveloping the cock of
the boy they loved, knowing that the two of them were being brought off
together.
  It was not long before the eight boys once again felt themselves
approaching their orgasms, and once again the eight boys gasped and panted
for breath as they felt the tension building in their loins.  Once again
they tensed and cried out as they felt their balls draw up under their
stiff, throbbing cocks and their bodies tremble uncontrollably with their
orgasms.  Brent and Billy grunted as their cocks, lined up one above the
other, throbbed against each other and their juices spurted out, a dual jet
of cum shooting up Brent's youngest brother's rectum.  Bobby trembled with
his own dry orgasm, the two cocks rubbing against his prostate and the
eroticism of being double fucked by his brother and his brother's lover
being enough to bring him off without needing to touch himself.  He felt
the hot cum spurting up his rectum, and as he eased back down the throbbing
cocks he trembled with delight.  Feeling their aching, throbbing cocks
slipping through their hot, slimy cum caused the two boys to tremble also.
At the same time Benny warned his brother he was going to shoot.  Bobby
drew his lips up his fifteen-year-old brother's throbbing teenage fountain
as it spurted out its second load of cum.  His ass filled by the double
fountain up his rectum and his mouth filled by the spurting cock in his
mouth, Bobby was in heaven.
  So was Aaron as Justin spurted his thick, hot cum in his mouth and Brett
and Cam spurted their loads up his rectum.  The thirteen-year-old boy had
often praised the day he'd met Bobby Brewster and the two had become best
of friends, and after introducing him to this experience of having three
hot cocks creaming inside him at the same time, he was going to worship the
ground his buddy walked on.  He eagerly swallowed the creamy, tart boy
juice that had filled his mouth and wrapped his lips about the shaft and
sucked out the remaining cream in the throbbing bone.  At the same time he
constricted his anal sphincter as he drew his ass up, squeezing out the cum
in the two stiff cocks up his ass.  Life could not be better.
  Brett and Cam would have agreed as they sighed with pleasure, their cocks
throbbing side by side, baked in the hot, moist cavity of the
thirteen-year-old boy, and being basted by a mixture of each other's cum,
lover and beloved having shot their loads into the hot, moist cavity, and
those loads now oozing over their still stiff and still pulsating cocks.
As Aaron eased his hips to and fro, their creamy load provided additional
lube so that the youngster's sphincter easily slipped up and down their
shafts, milking out the remainder of their cum with each withdrawal.
  After their wild orgy, none of the eight boys were that alert in school
the next day.  That did not stop Brent from getting into a heated debate
with Reno Matteotti when their history class got into a discussion about
Columbus Day and if they should continue to commemorate Columbus's
discovery of America.  Being of Itallian descent, Reno felt they had every
right to celebrate the day and stated that native Americans should accept
their fate as a conquered people.  Thinking of Eddie Masocol, whom he'd
gotten to know very well during their Makah Days holiday on the Washington
coast, Brent argued that today native Americans were equal citizens and
their feelings about their so-called discovery should be taken into
consideration.  That discussion lead to a debate on the right to hold
protests, and the effect of peaceful versus violent demonstrations.
  "Well, I think if you're not prepared to accept the American way of doing
things and American traditions, you should move somewhere else," observed
Reno, continuing the discussion in the cafeteria over noon.
  "You mean any native Americans who object to celebrating Columbus Day
should leave America?" asked Brent, raising his right eyebrow at such an
incredulous idea.
  "Yeah, I do.  And any other group who can't live the American way.  That
or shoot them."
  "Shoot them?"
  "Yeah, like John Walker Lindh.  There's no way they should have given him
twenty years in prison for helping that group harbour Osama bin Laden.
They should have hung him up."
  "But he is an American."
  "Huh, an American turned Muslim.  Hell, the papers called him the
American Taliban.  I say they should have hung him.  They should ship every
fucking Muslim in America back to Arabia or wherever they came from if you
ask me."
  "But some of the Muslim countries are our allies, like Jordan and
Turkey."
  "I say you can't trust any of those brown-skinned bastards.  Didn't you
hear President Bush say Saddam Hussein could be plotting to attack us with
chemical and biological weapons and to take out our allies like Jordan and
Turkey?  How long do you think they'll stay our allies when they hear shit
like that?  It was Arabs who bombed that nightclub in Bali wasn't it?"
  Two students sitting nearby who were obviously of Arab descent,
seventeen-year-old Imran Malik and his fifteen-year-old brother, Ismet,
slowly got up and headed for the door of the cafeteria.  Although they were
being quiet and trying to be unobtrusive, Jason Smyth-Jones, who believed
even more strongly in Reno's beliefs than Reno himself, noticed them.
  "Yeah, you never know what those fucking Arabs are thinking," he said
loudly.  "There could be mother-fuckers living right here in our town
planning to highjack some plane or bomb city hall or something."  Brent
knew that the comment was made specifically for the two brothers.  He could
not deny the growing fear of anyone who was from the Arabic world or one of
their descendants not just in the United States but around the world.
Right there in Crestview Heights the mosque across town had been spray
painted with anti-Muslim slogans and there was a growing concern about
violence from the Arab community.  He quickly got up, and dumping his tray
in the trash, hurried to catch up to the two boys.
  "Hey, I'm sorry about that conversation."
  "It is nothing to be sorry about," replied Imran.  His voice was soft and
monotone but you could sense the hurt and anger in it.
  "Really.  Some guys are totally insensitive.  We don't all feel like
Jason and Reno."
  "And Danny, and Conrad, and Patrick," observed Imran dryly.  "There are
enough.  Come, Ismet, we must go to classes."
  "That is sad, that there must be such anger and prejudice," observed Jan,
stepping up behind Brent and placing a hand on his shoulder.
  "Yeah, it is."
  "You did your best to assure them."
  "Not enough," Brent responded with a shrug.  The two boys were not in any
of his classes and he didn't really know them, but he felt badly just the
same, as did Jan.
  They may have been the ones to have rejected his extended hand, but Brent
felt no animosity toward them.
  Speaking of violence, the following Saturday the twins had another run-in
with Ron Dawson, who now had made their daily harassment and torment his
personal goal.  This time after a bit of a shoving match he had grabbed
Brent from behind in the parking lot and had given him a knuckle rub on the
back of his head.  When Brett came to his rescue, Ron quickly released
Brent and once again bragged how strong he was, and that his hair gave him
strength, and that the twins had better watch because someday he was going
to show up with a pair of scissors and cut off their hair.  He loved to
create anxiety in the minds of his victims even more than he loved to push
them around physically.  His sadomasochistic bent caused his cock to begin
to swell in his tattered jeans.
  At the same time as the twins were being hassled, Jung was over at the
Brewsters teaching Bobby some basic wushu moves, because it was something
Jung was interested in and good at and wanted to share, and besides, it
never hurt knowing how to defend yourself, something which he figured a boy
like Bobby would be wise to learn.  Bobby in turn showed Jung some basic
wrestling moves, not that he knew anything about wrestling or that it was
even an interest of his.  It was simply a good excuse to get physical with
his new friend and to cop a few feels of his butt and his crotch.  Jung
giggled at his new friend's brashness, and being thirteen, quickly
reciprocated.  The two boys were soon erect.
  "You are crazy, you Americans," panted Jung.
  "Yeah.  And horny."
  "Well, that is not just an American thing," Jung grinned.
  "So, you wanna do something about it?"
  "Sure, you know some girls?"
  "No," Bobby said with a smile.  "But there are other ways to get rid of
the feeling."  Jung looked at him blankly.  "Like, you know," Bobby said,
flicking his wrist.  Jung began to turn red.  "So, com'on, what do you
say?"
  Jung looked longingly at the bulge in Bobby's jeans.  Back home, in
China, boys did not behave so wantonly, nor express their lust so vulgarly,
at least not in the small town where they lived and his father practised
medicine.  Here in America it was different.  He knew not everyone was as
open and as brash as Bobby Brewster, but he also knew that far more boys
here were sexually active than back in China.  At least that was his
impression, and he suspected it was not just because they had moved to a
town six times the size of the one they'd come from.
  "Hey, that's all right," Bobby said, seeing Jung's hesitancy.  The
thirteen-year-old did not understand how anyone could hesitate doing
something that brought such pleasure, but he respected their right to do
so.
  Jung cursed himself.  Jung, whose name meant to be brave, was too
frightened to perform that well known secret act, joining, what he assumed,
was the majority of boys.  He was even too frightened and ashamed to admit
that he had often thought about it, but had never had the courage to try
it, not even once.  Oh, he had many reasons for not doing it.
  He could always claim lack of privacy with his bedroom door having no
lock, or that fear he might do something wrong and ruin his chances of ever
having children, or that it was morally wrong to do it, a sign of weakness,
and many other rationalizations, but when you came right down to it, that
was all they were, rationalizations.
  "No," he said, before he lost his courage.  "No, I want to do it."
  "Really?" Bobby said, hoping it was true, but also not wanting to force
his new friend if he did not want to do it.  Forcing someone to engage in
sex, even just jerking himself off, was wrong.  Well, it was wrong unless
the guy was a jerk, or a bully, or an arrogant snot, or was asking for it.
Jung was none of those.
  "Yes, but I have a confession," Jung said.  Having gone this far, he had
resolved to go all the way.
  "Yeah?"
  "I have never done this before."
  "Jerked in front of another guy?"
  "Jerked."
  "You've never jerked off?"
  "No."
  "Holy fuck!"
  "I suppose you think I am some sort of nerd, or a prude, or a child."
  "Fuck no. Not at all.  I'm just surprised."
  "I have been too much of a coward to try."
  "Well, it can be scarey."
  "You are being kind."
  "No honest.  But if you really want to try it, I mean right now, well,
hey, it would be wicked if I was the first to be with you."
  "I'd be honoured if you were."
  "All right!" Bobby responded with a wide grin as he pulled down his fly.
  His heart pounding in his chest and feeling more tense than he did before
writing an exam, Jung slowly pulled down his fly, and following Bobby's
lead, slipped his fingers inside and pulled out his stiff cock.  He glanced
shyly over at Bobby's and had an immediate regret he'd agreed.  He knew his
dick was small in comparison to other boys he'd seen in the locker rooms,
which he accepted being smaller in size himself, but erect the different
was obvious, Bobby's four and a half inches being an inch longer than his
own.
  "You got hairs yet?" Bobby asked.  Jung shook his head in the negative.
"Me neither."  Bobby wrapped his fingers about his dick.  "Well, there's a
lot of ways a guy can jack off," he began.  "Some guys use their whole
fist, like this," he demonstrated.  "Other guys just use their thumb and
one or two fingers, like this."  He demonstrated again, drawing his skin
back with his thumb and index finger and then pushing it back up.  "Some
guys like to put a pillow or something between their legs and hump it and
not use their hands at all.  I like to wrap my whole fist about it myself."
  Following Bobby's lead, Jung wrapped his fingers about his smooth,
slender cock and began to ease it up and down slowly, carefully pulling his
foreskin back down and stretching it along the shaft, and then slowly
pushing it back up until it covered his knob just as Bobby was doing.  He
was not accustomed to doing this repeatedly, normally only pulling back his
skin when he washed his penis, or to squeeze out the last drops of urine
when taking a leak.  It felt strange pulling it back when he was hard, and
his exposed knob felt cool and vulnerable when it was exposed to the air.
The irritation about the rim of his knob felt strange also, pleasant in a
way but painful too, not an excruciating pain but more of an irritation.
It was exciting and fun, but he was also apprehensive.  Suppose Bobby's
mother were to come in?  How would they explain sitting there tugging on
their erections?  How would they explain even sitting there on Bobby's bed
with their dicks out?  There was more of course.  How did he know what he
was doing was not harmful?  Bobby wouldn't do something that would
purposefully hurt him, but suppose he was doing it wrong, too fast, too
slow, pulling his skin back too far.  He watched Bobby and mimicked his
every movement.
  Bobby felt positively excited as he watched Jung slowly pumping his fist
up and down his slender, uncut cock.  He'd never seen a Chinese boy's cock
before and was interested in seeing how it compared to his.  It looked much
like his, even having a mushroom-shaped cap and being uncut, the only
difference being its size and colour.  He wondered if the size had anything
to do with Jung's size, or if all Chinese had smaller cocks.  Standing at
four foot seven inches and weighing seventy pounds, Jung was likely the
shortest and lightest boy in grade eight.  As for the colour, Jung's cock
was the same tawny colour as his skin, which Bobby figured made it look
sexy.  He understood now why his older brother Brett could spend hours
talking about how delightful Cam's butterscotch-coloured skin was.
  "How's it feeling?" he asked as his own cock tingled and burned with
pleasure.
  "Great."
  "You like it?"
  "Oh yeah."
  Bobby continued to pump his fist slowly up and down his cock, the
knowledge that he was doing it along with a boy who'd never done it before
resulting in him getting so hot he had to keep slowing down or he'd climax,
and he did not want to do that until Jung did.
  "After a while, the feeling will change," Bobby warned.  "Your dick will
go numb, sortta like it has gone to sleep, you know, and then you'll feel
like you got to take a piss, but of course you don't.  That's just a sign
you're about to squirt.  You know about cum and stuff?"
  "Cum?"
  "Semen."
  "Oh yeah."
  "Well, I can't make any yet," Bobby said dejectedly.  "It feels great
just the same when you have your climax, but I'd think squirting has to
feel even better yet.  My brothers can squirt.  Since you got no hairs
maybe you're like me and can't yet.  I dunno.  Maybe you should have a
handkerchief of Kleenex or something out just incase you do squirt so you
have something to squirt in."
  Having no idea if he was able to squirt or not, Jung took out his
handkerchief just in case.
  "When you feel like you gotta pee, just keeping jacking off until you
climax.  You'll know when that happens.  It's fucking awesome."
  Bobby slowed down, trying to delay his climax, but he could only hold
back so long given the circumstances.  Announcing that it was about to
happen to him, he speeded up the pounding action of his fist, his breath
growing deeper and faster until at last he reached his peak and the initial
shock of climax shot through his groin.  He gasped and groaned as his body
twitched uncontrollably, and he made no effort to restrain himself.  That
would not have made sense, the whole purpose of jacking off being that
wicked point where your body took over from your mind and went wild.  His
groin ached deep down inside and his penis opened and closed it's opening
in still another desperate attempt to come.  It felt great, and that he was
doing it in front of Jung, who'd never seen a guy climax before, made it
doubly hot.
  And then it hit Jung.  His legs jerked and spasmed uncontrollably to his
surprise and sudden apprehension.  Shocks of pleasure shot through his
irritated knob and down his shaft, the pleasure being so great it was
painful.  He trembled and gasped with an ecstasy he'd never before
imagined.  His tiny cock seemed twice the size, and it throbbed and itched
like he'd never felt it do before.  Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he stared
down at the little firecracker between his legs, unable to believe how
great and how powerful it felt when a guy had an orgasm.
  "So, did you like it?" Bobby asked as the sensation finally faded.
  "Oh yeah," sighed Jung.  "It was fucking awesome!"
  Benny and Zi were over at the Wong's in Zi's bedroom and the two boys
were in the same state as their younger brothers.  After an hour of English
lessons and science homework, Zi had continued his instruction in pinyin.
It did not take much for the two randy teenagers to get erections.
  "So, do you have a girlfriend or anything?" asked Benny.
  "Not a steady girlfriend or nothing," Zi responded.  "I am still getting
to know the girls here."
  "So, what do you do when you get feeling horny?" Benny asked with a grin.
  "Take a cold shower."
  "There are more pleasant ways to solve the problem than that."
  "Oh, and what might that be?" asked Zi with a knowing smile.
  "Pull down your pants and I'll show you."
  "I will if you will."
  Benny needed no second invite, and he quickly unbuckled his belt, pulled
down his fly, and pushed down his jeans.  Zi followed suit happily if
somewhat apprehensively.
  For boys to do this was forbidden, something naughty at the least, a
moral sin at the most.  It was certainly a secret and only done in the
utmost privacy and in the greatest of need, unless you were weak and
succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh, and even then, you only did it
with another boy if he was a very close and long friend.  He'd had such a
friend, in China, a boy he'd grown up with, laughed with, cried with,
studied with, competed with, and explored the mystery of masturbation with.
They did not do it often, for to do so would be to give in to temptation
and the pleasures of the flesh, but they did do it, and they had enjoyed it
when they had.  That was five months ago.  For five months he'd not touched
himself, and for most of that time, had not even thought about it, except
on those nights when he'd been particularly homesick and missed having a
close buddy.
  Benny pushed down his underwear and waited for Zi, noticing the boy wore
a grey- coloured boxer-brief of a brand he did not recognize and which had
no outside label.  Zi did so self-consciously, knowing that he was not as
well hung as the other boys his age, and upon seeing Benny's size, knowing
for sure he'd not compare to the dark-haired, hazel eyed American boy.
Benny was not hung up on size, and was simply glad to see Zi's cock was the
same tawny colour as the rest of his skin, and that he had a thick bush of
dark black, wiry hair.  The boy was loosely circumcised, only the top
quarter of his skin having been removed, which meant in his erect state the
remainder extended over the rim and part way up the slope.
  "You ever been rimmed?" asked Benny.
  "I do not think so," Zi replied, "at least I do not know that English
name for it."
  "Had your asshole licked."
  "No," Zi responded, his eyes growing wide with surprise.  He'd expected
Benny was going to suggest they jerk themselves off, or at the most, jerk
each other, two things he'd done with his friend in China, and a couple
times with an older cousin.
  "Then you're in for a real treat," Benny promised.  He was not boasting.
He knew he was good.  It was only an affirmation of what he knew to be
true.
  Having Zi lay on his back on his bed and then throw his legs up over his
head, Benny grabbed some pillows and folded them up to help support Zi's
back and keep his buttocks raised in the air.  He then knelt down between
his outspread legs, and grinning between them and down at Zi, he bent his
head and ran his hot, moist tongue up the crack between the boy's asscheeks
from his balls to his tailbone.  The boy's flesh was mildly salty, to
Benny's delight.  Spreading apart Zi's cheeks, Benny once again leaned in,
this time sticking out his tongue and wiggling it against the boy's
butthole.  Zi squirmed with pleasure and could not help thinking that what
Benny was doing was perverted.  Telling someone to lick your ass, or to
kiss it, was an insult in any country.  He'd never heard of anyone doing it
willingly, and enjoying it, which Benny clearly was.  From what he'd heard
about Benny, that did not come as a large surprise.  He had never met
anyone before who was as fascinated and as aggressive as Benny when it came
to seeking sexual knowledge.  What did come as a surprise was how much he
was enjoying having Benny doing it to him.
  Fastening his lips to Zi's pucker, Benny sucked on it gently and then
darted out his tongue, striking the boy's constricted sphincter repeatedly.
Zi squirmed with the unique pleasure as the American boy licked, sucked and
probed his pucker with his tongue, his lips obscenely fastened to Zi's
anus.  Pressing his tongue against the tightly closed pucker, Benny
delighted in the knowledge this was the hot Chinese boy's first and only
experience with the fine art of rimming, and that he was turning the boy
on.  It definitely was erotic, and Zi could not help his dick from jerking
with arousal, and when Benny began to dart his tongue against his opening
Zi could not keep it closely shut either.  As Benny wormed it into his
opening, the boy's cock began to leak pre-cum.  He could not believe it.
Benny was sticking his tongue up his asshole, and he was enjoying it!
  Benny's cock was throbbing with desire also, the fifteen-year-old
delighting in bringing his new friend this unique pleasure and delighted to
be able to demonstrate the skill that he was an expert at.  He licked and
probed and sucked, causing the boy to squirm with pleasure until his
cockhead was slick with pre-cum.  At four and a half inches, it was an inch
and a quarter shorter than Benny's, but then Benny had the genes of his
father and grandfathers, all of whom had huge cocks.  Benny continued to
attack Zi's pucker, now placing his lips firmly against it and sucking,
causing Zi's cock to wag with excitement like a puppy dog's tail.
  Zi could not believe how hot he was feeling.  Nor could he believe that
an American boy was kneeling behind him on his bed working his tongue up
his rectum and lapping at his asshole as if it were a piece of sugar candy.
Of course to Benny it was just that.  When Benny finally stopped tonguing
his asshole, Zi found that he was disappointed and was tempted to ask him
to continue doing what he'd been doing.  Moving up a bit and bowing his
head as he bent Zi's cock up between his upraised legs, Benny swirled his
tongue around Zi's dickhead, lapping up the boy's pre-cum.  The sight of
the handsome brunette with the twinkling hazel eyes and fresh, rosy cheeks
and lips running his tongue over his cum streaked knob caused Zi to leak
still more of the delicious clear nectar, which Benny just as eagerly
lapped up.
  Benny of course had begun to jerk himself off, going slow so he did not
come prematurely as he licked Zi's knob clean.  Slipping his mouth over the
boy's knob and sucking gently on it, he caused Zi's heart beat and
breathing to double.  Benny was rewarded in less than thirty seconds by a
violent throbbing of the boy's upright, loosely-cut cock and the shooting
of his cum into his mouth.  Having only the knob in his mouth, Benny
allowed the cum to fill his mouth and then continued to suck on the boy's
cock, drawing up the thick, creamy load that remained in his shaft.  He did
not care what others thought about the act he was performing.  It was
something he enjoyed, and something he knew made others feel good.  As he
savoured the boy's creamy load and finally swallowed it, Benny came also,
spraying the inverted boy's back and buttocks with his own semen.  His
ropes of creamy cum contrasted with Zi's tawny skin, streaks of vanilla on
amber.  As he smiled down at his newest sex partner, his lips glistening
with the boy's bitter sweet cum, the boy smiled back up at him with the
bliss of his climax in his narrow eyes and flushing his cheeks.  It was a
delightful way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
  With the escalating conflict with Iraq and the talk of going to war the
following week, and the shootings in the Washington area and the shocking
discovery there were two snipers, tensions continued to increase and more
and more people, students and adults alike, were expressing the viewpoints
held by Reno Matteotti.
  "Can you believe it, a seventeen-year-old student for fucksake!" observed
Danny Maartens, referring to one of the snipers, John Lee Malvo.  "Who
would have thought?"
  "From Jamaica," observed Reno, "and I heard was possibly an illegal
immigrant.  We gotta do something about letting shit like that into our
country."
  "The other was an American," pointed out Billy Hollis.  "A former Gulf
War vet nonetheless."
  "John Allen Muhammad!" spat Reno.  "A vet who converted to Islam and
changed his name.  Probably brainwashed by some fucking Arab."  He glanced
over at Ismet who was talking to a couple girls nearby.  "Like I've said
before, we should ship every one of those shit-skinned Muslim bastards back
where they came from," he said, raising his voice.
  "Some were born here, and their parents and maybe even their
grandparents," observed Cam, himself an immigrant and sensitive to any talk
about skin colour or immigrants.  He knew Jason had made the comment just
to get a rise out of Ismet, who had clearly heard the comment.
  "An Arab's an Arab.  It don't matter how long they been living here, they
think the same, and stink the same."
  The fifteen-year-old could take no more.  Turning abruptly, he stepped
over to the group of students.  "You saying I stink?"
  "Hear it's because you sleep with goats."
  "That was no goat, that was his sister."  A couple of the boys laughed
nervously.
  "Bastard!" cursed Ismet, taking a swing at Jason.
  Jason was prepared and ducked the swing and pushed Ismet back against the
corridor wall.  Ismet of course pushed back and the two boys grappled.
  "Teacher!"
  The boys quickly broke up.
  "What is going on here?"
  "Nothing," replied Jason.
  "Yeah, nothing," agreed Ismet as the teacher looked at him.
  "Then let's get off to class."
  The conflict between Ron Danson and the Brewster twins continued to
escalate also.  Finally that Friday, the day after Halloween, Ron made a
derogatory comment about Cam, resulting in Brett challenging Ron to a
wrestling competition to put an end to his hassling once and for all, and
Ron agreeing if he lost he'd stop harassing Brett, but if Brett lost that
he'd shave off Brett's hair.  That was followed by a comment about Brett
soon to become a gay skinhead, and a few other derogatory comments, and
finally ended up with the challenge that Ron would wrestle both Brett and
Brent with the loser having to do whatever the winner said for the next
three weeks.
  That Friday night, and all day Saturday and Sunday was spent with Robbie
teaching the twins some basic moves and positions.  The outcome of the
wrestling match was so serious that the boys actually concentrated on their
lessons instead of fulfilling their fantasies with Robbie.  Well, most of
the time anyway.  When you're grappling with a hot, muscular boy who smells
of sweat and masculinity and who has your hot sweaty body pressed against
his hot sweaty body, it is not possible to not think about having sex with
him at some time.
  After school that Monday, November fourth, with the permission of their
physical education teacher Jack Vardy, and with Robbie Ambury refereeing,
the three boys took their positions on the wrestling mats in the school
gym.  On the one side were Ron's followers and every jock and snob in
Crestview Heights that had been bested by the twins, which was an
impressive number when gathered together.  On the other side were the
Brewster brothers' friends and all those who had been bullied by Ron Danson
since his arrival, which was also an impressive number.  The deal was that
the winner would be the one who was able to pin the other down two out of
three trials to a count of three, with Ron needing to pin each of the
brothers down once, or one of them down twice, and with the brothers acting
as a tag team.  Ron, in his wrestling uniform of scarlet trunks with a
green racing strip and green sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his bulging
biceps, and the twins in their basketball strip, white T and shorts with
yellow trim and the Crestview Cheetah emblem, met in the middle of the mats
and shook hands.
  Ron of course was the anticipated winner despite the fact the twins were
skilled basketball players, and despite the fact that although they were
wrestling one on one it was still two against one.  Ron had the advantages
of height and weight, and of course being trained in the sport.  What he
did not count on was the determination of the twins, and their quick minds.
What they lacked in matching his strength, they excelled in agility and in
moves, causing Ron to tell Brett, who he was wrestling at the time, to stop
dancing and start fighting.
  "Move like a butterfly, sting like a bee," replied Brett, having been
told that was a quote from a famous boxer whose name he could not remember
and whom he didn't know anyway, not really being that interested in sports.
  To everyone's surprise, the match lasted a lot longer than anyone would
have guessed, and before long all three boys were sweating profusely, which
for some of the audience, boys and girls, was a major turn on.  Ron's T had
turned a dark green down the back and front, and the twin's T-shirts were
so damp with sweat they were clinging to the boys' trim bodies.  Although
he could have used some dirty moves on the twins, Ron did not.  He loved
his sport and hated the acting that had so often become associated with it
and the illegal moves that some of the more famous wrestlers had no qualms
about employing.  Besides, he wanted this win over the Brewsters to be on
the up and up.  He finally managed to flip Brett over on his back and to
pin him down to the count to the cheers of his supporters.
  He began the second round with optimism, but even with his strength and
stamina fighting two boys who were able to spell each other off and catch
their breath began to show.  A few of his moves were slower than they
should have been, giving the twins the chance to get out of them or to
anticipate them.  Robbie had been a good instructor, and win or loose, each
of the twins had promised to show him a special thank you even if he was
straight.  Finally, to everyone's surprise, and especially Ron's and
Brett's, Brett turned the tables on Ron and pinned him down.
  The third round was tense, and the three were cautious.  The twins had
honestly not figured they'd go three rounds and were gasping and panting
for breath despite being able to spell each other off.  Ron had not figured
on it also, and was worried, besides growing weary fighting two boys.  This
was supposed to be an easy match.  Troubled by the fact he could be beaten
by two effeminate-looking faggots, and that his long, gorgeous hair could
be in danger, took the edge off him.  Despite their motivation, the twins
were not strong nor skilled enough to take advantage of that weakness.
Despite everything, Ron was the more skilled of the three, and he finally
flipped Brent over on his back and immediately leaped on him, delighted
that the event was over.  In his eagerness, he didn't notice Brent's raised
knee, which he made contact within a most sensitive place.  Instead of
pinning the blond-haired teen down on the mat, he rolled over in agony.
Taken by surprise, his knee being raised totally unintentionally, Brent lay
there on his back for a moment as his supporters jumped up and down and
almost raced out onto the mats to drag him over to Ron who was still
writhing in pain on his back.  Finally realizing the opportunity, Brent
slammed his body against Ron's and to everyone's amazement and his delight,
he held the bully down for the count.
  "Your hair's ours," Brent panted with a grin as he held the long,
luxuriant strands in his hand.  "Not to mention your ass and every other
part of your body."  Ron looked up at the boy in dismay.  "We'll let you
know just what you're gonna have to do later, but you better enjoy your
hair while you can," he said, trying to look evil.  Brent knew the power of
a threat, and after the way Ron had treated him and his brother, causing
the bully a bit of anxiety left him with no guilt whatsoever.
  "You and your brother were fucking awesome out there," observed Cam as he
and Billy joined Brent and Brett in the gym change room.
  "Fuck yeah," agreed Billy, looking over at Brent appreciatively.  "I
didn't know you had it in you, love."  The two boys embraced and Billy
inhaled deeply, savouring the spicy fragrance of Brent's sweat as if it
were cologne.
  "I'm going to get your clothes all sweaty," Brent objected as Billy drew
his body closer and kissed him.
  "I like you getting me all sweaty," Billy said with a grin as he slipped
his hand inside Brent's basketball shorts and inside his jock.  Cupping his
beloved's hot, sweaty balls, Billy felt Brent's cock quickly beginning to
swell.  Withdrawing his hand, he sniffed his fingers and sighed.  "You
gotta bottle your ball sweat and sell it as a men's cologne, or better yet,
as an aphrodisiac.  You'd make a fortune."
  "That is restricted for your use alone, love," Brent said with a smile.
  "Billy's not the only one who likes the smell and feel of a hot sweaty
boy," observed Cam, stepping up to Brett and slipping his hand's under his
lover's T.  He ran his fingers over the teenager's smooth, sweat-slick
skin, massaging his firm back muscles.  The two boys kissed and Cam slipped
his hands down and began to push Brett's shorts down.
  "Someone might come in," Brent protested as Billy pushed up his T-shirt
and began to kiss his sweat-damp chest.
  "Not going to happen," Cam observed.
  "What do you mean?"
  "Bobby and Benny are keeping guard at the door to make sure we aren't
going to be disturbed."
  Brent and Brett glanced at each other and smiled.  "It's wicked having
such caring brothers," Brett observed.
  "What did you have to bribe them with?" asked Brent, his deep blue eyes
twinkling as Billy drew down his shorts and he stepped out of them.
  "I'm to videotape you and Billy," Cam replied with a smile, stepping over
to his backpack and taking out the cam recorder he'd brought to record the
fight.
  "And I'm to tape Cam and Brett in the showers," Billy said, admiring his
beloved standing there in just his sweaty jock and socks.
  "Well then, let's get started," Brent said with a grin as he tossed back
his long blond hair and Cam began taping as the two lovers embraced and
kissed and Brent began to unbutton Billy's shirt.
  The matter with Ron being settled, at least for the time being, the boys
were able to turn their attention to other matters.  Harry had of course
found out about his sister and had immediately set off after Troy Kholler
to cut off his nuts, after beating the crap out of him and then maybe
choking him to death on his underwear.  His friends had fortunately
intervened before the two met up.  They all agreed that doing what he
intended might make him feel good, and Troy certainly deserved it and more,
but it would only end up in Harry getting in trouble.  Considering his
sister's embarrassment over having believed Troy was in love with her and
shame of having given her virginity to him, and the years of humiliation
she was going to suffer having had that most intimate and personal event
filmed and shown to the hockey team, Troy deserved a punishment that was
far more lasting than getting the crap beat out of him, and more severe
than getting his nuts cut off, though there was not a boy who could imagine
a punishment worse than that.  Well, there was one boy, and knowing his
reputation and that of his three brothers, Harry agreed to give Brett a
chance to try his plan first, which Brett simply said would be something to
teach Troy Kholler what true love really was.
  It began with slipping Troy a cathartic in his hamburger, which
considering how he wolfed down several at one sitting and loaded them with
every condiment in the cafeteria was not that difficult.  The second part
of the plan was to slip Billy Graham a diuretic in his pop at the same
time, which also was not that difficult considering how easily distracted
he was by anything with boobs.  Even finding and mixing a drop of rose oil,
a drop of mulberry oil, and three drops of vanilla and getting a dark red
candle was not that difficult.  Getting Troy, Billy, two mixtures of the
oils, and the burning candle together at the same time was, and required
the assistance of several others.
  The moment Troy burst from the classroom and raced toward the boys can,
spies at each corridor intersection relayed the information ahead of him.
By the time he reached the can, the doors to all of the stalls were latched
except one, one that had a tall, red candle burning on the floor.
Perplexed but not overly surprised considering some of the weird things
that went on in the boys room, Troy dropped his pants and boxers and sat
down on the throne not a second too soon.  So urgent was the need that it
didn't really dawn on him that the seat was damp, though he could not help
but notice the sweet and distinct aroma of rose, mulberry and vanilla.  Nor
could he help not notice the sheet of looseleaf on the floor.
  The emergency over, Troy picked up the paper and read it.  "Mighty Eros
and Cupid, hear my plea and accept my gifts.  Send me a beloved who will
ache for me with love and with lust.  Send me a lover who will desire me
like no other.  Send me a lover who will ache to feel the heat running in
my veins, who will have uncontrollable thoughts of holding me, caressing
me, making love to me.  Send me a lover whose temperature will soar and
whose mind will fill with lustful thoughts, who will forever and constantly
think of me and lust for me.  Send me a lover who will see in me a wild,
carefree lover in return.  Fill me with lust for my lover so I will be
completely and totally in love and will think of no other.  May we lust for
each other until we cannot stand it, may we fall into the deepest love
possible the moment our eyes meet, may we strive twenty-four hours a day,
seven days a week, to fulfill each other's fantasies.  Send me such a lover
oh Gods of Love and Lust, and I will worship and serve you for eternity.
May the next person I see be the love of my life, and I will sing your
praises from the rooftops for the remainder of my life."
  Troy smiled.  So, that explained the burning candle, and the sweet aroma
that even his evacuated bowels had not been able to overpower.  Wiping his
butt and flushing the toilet, he read the spell one more time.  Billy
Hollis?  Word was that he practised witchcraft, and that he was a faggot.
Who else would work a love spell in a guy's can?  He probably meant it for
Brent Brewster.  Word was that they were an item.  Billy was stupid enough
to think such a thing would work.  Troy smirked and read the spell a third
time, wishing that there really could be such a spell, and running through
the possible candidates he'd love to cast such a spell on.
  While Troy had been so occupied, Harry and Billy Hollis had been
stationed outside the can to detour others who'd come to use it to other
cans in the building and to keep Troy in until Billy Graham arrived.  As
luck, or perhaps Eros and Cupid or any number of others with such powers
who had special reasons to look out over the Brewster brothers, would have
it, Billy had emerged from his classroom only seconds after Troy.
Intercepting him just long enough so Troy had gotten his business done, the
spies in the hallway headed back to classes, their job finished.  Pushing
open the door to the can, Billy felt the oily texture of the push plate and
smelt the strange aroma of vanilla, roses, and mulberry, but he was in too
much of a hurry to stop and think about it.  Wiping his fingertips off on
his jeans and pulling down his fly as he rushed to the urinals, he noticed
a looseleaf page taped above one of the them, and of course he stepped up
to that one to read what was written on the page as he relieved himself.
  "Mighty Eros and Cupid, hear my plea and accept my gifts.  Send me a
beloved who will ache for me with love and in lust.  Send me a lover who
will desire me like no other.  Send me a lover who will ache to feel the
heat running in my veins, who will have uncontrollable thoughts of holding
me, caressing me, making love to me. . . ."  Billy smiled.  Yeah, right.
If that could only really happen!  As he continued to read, he became aware
of the sweet, unique aroma of rose, mulberry and vanilla that he'd smelled
in the hallway, not exactly the odours one would expect in the can.
Sighing with relief as he felt the pressure in his bladder finally begin to
subside, he read the spell a second time.  Wouldn't that be something!
Shaking off his dick, he thought of the girls he'd love to have fall under
that spell as he read it a third time.  The things guys pinned up in the
can!  This was even better than the phone number of a girl rumoured to put
out or who supposedly dug sucking cock.
  In his preoccupation, Troy had not heard Billy come in, and in his hurry,
Billy had not noticed the stall doors were all latched.  Now, hearing one
of the stall doors opening behind him, Billy turned to bring the paper
above the urinal to the attention of whoever it was, his dick still between
his rose, mulberry and vanilla scented fingers.  Troy Kholler, his ass
identically scented, dropped the paper he was holding as his eyes and the
eyes of his lover met, and the two teenage boys felt a surge of desire
unlike any their adolescent hormones had ever produced in the past.  The
cams Brett had placed in strategic locations in the boys room picked up the
subsequent action as the two boys embraced in a hot, passionate clench and
their lips met.
  There were three hot topics at Crestview Heights High School that week
and the next.  One was the twins' win over Ron Danson and anticipation what
they were going to make him do.  So far it had been simple stuff, like
having to carry their books for them to classes, washing their car every
night, and most devastating for Ron, barring him from washing his hair
until they gave him permission, of course along with the reminder that they
could at any moment produce a pair of scissors and cut off those gorgeous
locks.  Considering the rough time Ron had given the twins, everyone knew
they were slowly building up to something big.
  The second was the rumour that Troy Kholler and Billy Graham were the
hottest new item at the school.  They'd supposedly been caught making out
in the boys can, of all places, and for the past week and a half one was
never seen without the other, and the two of them were constantly gazing
into each other's eyes and touching each other.  Rumours were that they'd
also been seen embracing and kissing down at Emerson Park, and had ever
been overheard expressing their love for each other under the stairwell at
school.  Their behaviour had resulted in them being nicknamed Romeo and
Juliette, with many jokes which one of them was Juliette.
  The third topic of conversation was not as pleasant nor as titillating as
the first two.  With the UN Security Council resolution on November 8 that
Iraqi President Saddam Hussein had to rid the country of all weapons of
mass destruction, and President Bush's calls for zero tolerance over any
defiance and announcement he was readying 250 000 troops on November 10,
the escalating conflict between the Arab world and the United States was on
everyone's mind.  Glances of anger and of fear between students obviously
of Arab ancestry and the rest of the student body became more and more
frequent and everyone could feel the mounting tension.
  The three topics even spread over to the junior high school where still
another plot of revenge was brewing.  Everyone was getting fed up with
Scott Hurd's bullying, the final straw being the revelation of his
extortion of lunch money from the elementary students under the threat of
getting beaten up.  Chucky had reported the problem to Bobby when Chucky's
best buddy, Teddy Johnson, had it happen to him for the third time that
month, and after a bit of checking, it was found that a number of younger
brothers of junior high students were also victims of Scott Hurd.  Those
students, lead by Bobby Brewster to nobody's surprise, and joined by Wong
Soeng- Jung, which was a surprise considering how mild-mannered and quite
he was, had decided something had to be done.  Nobody knew what exactly,
but with Bobby heading up the TTPDSHIHPC (Time To Put Dumb Scott Hurd In
His Place Committee) everyone knew it was going to be good.
  Unknown by the rest of the student body, someone else had decided he
could not take being harassed any longer also.  With the broadcasting of
the tape said to be the voice of Osama bin Laden condemning western
countries for supporting US terrorism, and the firing by Iraqi troops on
American and British jets November sixteenth, tensions were running at an
all time high.  Several homes of Muslim citizens in Crestview heights were
vandalized on the weekend, and Imran showed up at school Monday with a
shiner that he said he got bumping into a door, but which nobody believed.
  "Hey, Imran," said Brent, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder as they
headed out the school doors after school that Monday.  The boy, only
slightly taller and the same weight, spun around, a knife gleaming in his
hand.  "Whoa!" called out Brent, quickly stepping back and throwing up his
hands.  "Hey, chill out man.  What are you doing?"
  "Sorry," replied the Arab boy, his eyes still wide with fear.  "You
should not sneak up on me like that."
  "Sneak up on you?  I was simply walking behind you.  You better put that
away before someone sees you with it."
  "You should not have placed your hand on me," Imran responded, slipping
the knife back inside his shirt.
  "All right, all right.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean anything."
  "I am sorry too," the boy said, his tone suddenly changing from anger to
one of regret.  "It was wrong of me.  You have been a friend."
  "I was just going to offer to give you a lift home."
  "Thank you.  But I must wait for my two younger brothers and go home with
them.  I have promised my father."
  "Because . . .  you ran into a door?" Brent dared to ask.
  The boy stared at the ground and after a moment of hesitation, he nodded.
  "Well, we can give them a ride home too."
  "Give who a ride home?" asked Brett, joining his brother and Imran.
  "Imran and his brothers."
  "Brothers?  You have more than one?"
  "Yes.  Ismet, who I think you know, and Abdul in Grade Eight."
  "Well, it will be tight, but we can give you a ride.  You might have to
sit in Brent's lap."
  "You are very kind.  Giving us a ride that is," he suddenly added as he
realized his comment could have been referring to sitting in Brent's lap.
The boy began to blush.  "It is not necessary."
  Brent and Brett knew how to read others well, and they knew that Imran
was not telling the truth, about it not being necessary to give him and his
brothers a ride home.  They had noticed the glares of hatred and looks of
suspicion in the faces of some of their classmates, the accidental shoving
into lockers, and the hesitancy in Imran's voice despite his brave attempt
to sound convincing.  They had also noticed the brief glint in his eyes
that had said sitting in Brent's lap was not an unpleasant thought.  They
might only be high school students, but they were quickly developing that
sense that many called gaydar.  Of course with their limited experience
they could not be absolutely certain, and the look could have just as
easily been the result of a horny straight boy's momentary curiosity, but
they both knew something was there.
  Although they had seen Imran and his brother around the school and the
community, they ran with different crowds and had different interests, so
their paths seldom crossed.  Besides, Imran and his brother hung with other
students of Arab ancestry, just like other cultural groups at the school
tended to chum together out of common interests and a common bond.  Even
though they barely knew him, the twins were concerned about him, that being
their personalities.  The possibility that he just might be "family", a
term they'd recently found on a gay web site on the Internet, made them
care all the more, and that didn't have anything to do with having a sexual
interest, though now that they thought about it, that was not out of the
question.  They both had boyfriends, but it was not like they were married
or anything.  It was a tight fit with the three brothers and the four
Brewsters, but they managed, and Imran did not have to sit on Brent's lap
though Brent had considered suggesting it.
  "We'll pick you up in the morning."
  "We can catch the bus," replied Imran.
  "Hey, no problem.  Suppose we pick ."
  "We don't need protection going back and forth to school," interrupted
Ismet abruptly, clearly the most volatile of the three.
  "We weren't ."
  "We don't need it," he said with a glare and a sharpness that made Brent
think about Imran's knife.  There was no mistaking the anger in the
fifteen-year-old's voice.
  "Hey, it was just an offer."
  "We thank you for your kindness," said Imran, which could have meant
giving them a ride home, or something more.  "We're okay."  Brent and Brett
knew enough to let the subject drop, but that night they and their brothers
discussed what was happening in their school and in their community.  There
was only so much pressure anyone could take before they snapped.
  There was also only so much sex and love, though that was a concept the
four Brewster brothers found difficult if not impossible to comprehend.
For Troy and Billy Graham, it was a very real problem, one which they
discussed several times a day, in between bouts of hot passionate sex in
the back alley before arriving at school, in the can during the day, right
after supper at one or the other's house, and a long session after homework
in the evenings, which they'd begun doing together.  Finally unable to take
any more, they approached Billy Hollis during lunch at school.  He was, of
course, sitting with Brent.  Feeling awkward and embarrassed, but having
become desperate, Troy explained briefly what he and Billy had discovered
in the can, and their conclusion that it had to be a spell.
  "A spell?" he asked, trying to sound surprised and perplexed.
  "It has to be.  You know, the candle, the smells, the mention of Cupid
and, ah . . . ," said Billy, looking over at Troy.
  "Eros."
  "Yeah, Eros.  And the way the words were written."
  "Which you don't have," observed Brent skeptically.
  "Ah, yeah, well, under the circumstances, we sort of didn't think about
keeping the papers."
  "And what exactly has this spell done again?" asked Brent evilly, the
boys of course having been particularly vague on that.
  "Ah, well, you know, it makes us, well, like each other."
  "That's not bad.  Don't you like each other?"
  "Well, yeah, sure, of course.  It's not like exactly, it's, well, more."
  "Love," admitted Billy Graham.
  "Lust," added Troy.
  "Wow."
  "Twenty-four hours a day."
  "Maybe it's not a spell.  Maybe its natural," suggested Billy Hollis.
  "Natural?"
  "Yeah."
  "You mean, like, well no way!"
  "Yeah, we're not, well, that."
  "Not that there's anything wrong with that."
  "No, of course not."
  Brent and Billy could barely stop from laughing.  Troy and Billy Graham
were among the most vocal of the anti-gay crowd, but seeking help from two
boys who were known to be gay, they could not very well admit that.  It was
sweet justice just in itself.  Even better was that Harry was sitting at
the next table and witnessing their squirming.
  "So why come to me?" asked Billy.
  "Well . . . ," began Troy, "we sortta, well, you know, heard you might
know about stuff like this."
  "Yeah," supported Billy Graham quickly.
  "Why would that be?" asked Brent.
  "Well, you know, guys just say you know about, well, you know, stuff like
spells and stuff."
  This was just too hilarious.  The two suave, conceited teens were
squirming on their seats like the despicable worms that they were.  What
could be worse than having to seek help from two faggots whom you despise,
and from two practitioners of witchcraft, which you don't believe in, to
stop you from performing an act that you personally found totally repulsive
but which you could not stop doing!  "Well, let me see what I can find out
for you," replied Billy.  "It might take a few days."  The look of anguish
on the two boys' faces as they left was just too much!  Glancing at each
other, Brent, Billy Hollis, and Wally gave each other the thumbs up.
  Brett was having his own fun that lunch hour.  Having had Ron Danson
bring him his lunch, and lunch for Cam and several others of their friends,
he had told him to stick around so he could take away their empty trays
later, observing as he always did, that if Ron did a super job he might,
just might, decide not to cut off his hair.  He was getting total mileage
out of the situation.  Being ordered around by the effeminate-looking queer
was the worst humiliation Ron Danson could have imagined, next to having
his hair cut, and having to jump to Brent and Brett's bidding every day,
and being constantly reminded that they could cut off his hair if they
wanted to, irritated and worried him to no end.  There was, however,
nothing that he could do about it. He might be a bully, but he'd made a
promise, and he would keep it.  His friends might have sympathy for him,
but nobody liked a guy who welshed on a bet.  So he stood there, his
formerly gorgeous hair, once treated to a daily shampoo and brushing, now
greasy and matted and tangled.  His scalp itched terribly, and it was all
he could do to stop from reaching up and scratching.  His pride and joy was
a rat's nest, and his shoulders were flaked with dandruff.
  He glared at the blond-haired fag boy laughing with his friends and
plotted his own revenge.
  "So, later this evening you'll come over and wash and polish my car?"
  "Wash and polish?  Again?  But I just did it yesterday," Ron protested.
  "That a no I hear?"
  "No, of course not.  I'd never say no."
  "You just said no twice."
  "Not to doing what you want.  It was, well, just," sputtered the hapless
seventeen-year- old.  "What time should I come over?"
  "Oh, say eight.  Brent and I want it nice and shiny before we go out."
  "You'll be going out after I wash and polish it."
  "Sure.  Why not?"
  "Of course, why not," replied Ron haplessly.  He'd just washed and
polished the car the day before, and he'd probably have to do it tomorrow
also.  He was counting the days left in his three-week stint of hell.
  "Of course I suppose you could lend us your truck for the evening."
  Ron opened and closed his mouth.  The boys had pushed him to the point of
open rebellion several times since they'd won the bet, and this was one of
those occasions where he was tempted to say to hell with his promise and
come what may.
  "Except we're not really truck types," continued Brett to the amusement
of Cam and the others at his table.  It was great to see Ron Danson
squirming instead of themselves.  There is nothing more satisfying for
those who have been bullied than to see a bully being bullied.
  "Bring us some donuts to snack on while you polish our car," added Brett.
"Those jelly filled ones like you treated us to for lunch yesterday."  Ron
Danson waiting on the Brewster twins hand and foot.  It was hilarious.
  Next door, unaware of how the tables had turned for the high school bully
and oblivious to what was being planned for him, Scott Hurd was continuing
his harassment of the students at the elementary school and selected
victims in the junior high.  Bobby and Jung did not mind.  The more enemies
he made this week the more people they'd have who'd like to join them in
retribution, and the more people there were the better their punishment
would be.
  Mid week, Brent and Billy put the next step of Brett's plan for Troy and
Billy Graham into action.
  "You gotta be kidding."
  "Well, you asked for my advice, and that's what I found out.  If you
don't want to do it that's your decision," said Billy with a shrug.
  Billy Graham and Troy stared at him.  "We can't do that."
  "Then I guess you're stuck with the problem."
  "How do we know if it will work?"
  "You won't till you try it."
  "You're sure about this?"
  "Yeah, I asked a friend who knows a friend, you know," said Billy
evasively.
  "I don't get it.  How does that break the spell?"
  "Well, by confessing your past sins of love and lust and confessing your
present love for each other to the Gods of Love and Lust, they could look
favourably on you and grant your request and break the spell."
  "Or they might be angered and keep it, or make it worse," observed Troy,
though how anything could be worse he had no idea.  Billy Hollis and the
Brewsters brothers did, and in a few days Billy Graham and Troy Kholler
were about to find out.
                                                      "That is always
possible."
  "We need something more certainly."
  "Sorry, that's all I got."
                                                           "So why do we
have to tape it?"
  "As sincerity of your oath.  It is easy to make an oath and then after
your wish is granted to recant and claim you never made such a promise."
  "But if there are such gods, they don't need a tape to know we're
sincere."
  "If there are such gods?" asked Billy Hollis, raising a white eyebrow.
"How sincere is that?"
  The two boys did have to admit that made sense.  Despite their doubts and
their misgivings about having a tape of their confession, they were
desperate.  Rumours were so rampant that even the teachers were beginning
to give them funny looks.
                                                      "Tonight then."
  "Tonight," the boys reluctantly agreed.
  Friday, November 22, National Stop the Violence Day, finally arrived to
the dismay and anguish of some, and to the delight and eager anticipation
of others.  The teachers at the elementary, junior high, and senior high
schools could not believe how excited and enthusiastic the students were.
They would have been disappointed to have learned that the excitement and
enthusiasm had nothing to do with the events they'd planned for the day,
but rather, was due to the plans the Brewster brothers had, plans that
quite frankly would have a far greater impact than speakers, movies or
activities.
  It began with Ron Danson arriving at the boys room before classes as
instructed.  He only had two more days left, two more days of having to
obey the twins every demand, two more days likely to enjoy his head of
beautiful hair. They had told him he could finally wash it, and it felt
wonderful to once again having the soft, silky strands bouncing about his
head and hanging down his back instead of the thick, heavy greasy hair he'd
been forced to put up with.  As he entered the can, he was surprised to
find close to two dozen boys crowded into the room.
  As he slowly looked around, he slowly realized that everyone there was
someone he'd bullied.  Brett came over and looked closely at his hair.
  "You know, your hair looks a lot better, but I think it still needs one
more washing," Brett observed seriously.  Ron was about to object, but knew
there was no point.  "Sit down over here on the floor," Brett continued,
motioning to a footstool that had been placed in front of the urinals as
the boys in the room smirked.  Ron looked at him, and then at the urinals.
No way.  He could not be serious.  "Well?"
  "No way.  Not that."  That was going too far.
  "Then I guess it's the scissors."
  "Told you he wouldn't do it," said Brent with an I-told-you-so grin.
  "You're going to cut if off anyway," Ron said dejectedly.  "So go ahead,
get it over with.  I can't take any more."
  The boys in the room glanced aghast at each other.  The
five-foot-eleven-and-a-half, hundred and fifty-eight pound punk who'd been
pushing them around for almost three months could not take it any more?
Their esteem for the twins, already high, rose several more notches.
  "Never said we'd cut if off," said Brett.
  "Never said we wouldn't either," added Brent.
  Toying with the bully was delicious.
  "But if you're not willing to do as we tell you, as you said you would if
you lost the wrestling match. . . ."
  "Yeah, if you're going to welsh out on our bet in front of everyone,"
continued Brent.
   Ron sat down on the stool and as he leaned back, Brent and Brett guided
his head and raised his long, gorgeous locks and placed them in the urinal.
"Okay, Wesley drew the lucky number one, right?"  Skinny fifteen-year-old
Wesley, one of Ron's prime victims simply because he did not like the boy's
name and because he knew the boy was too weak and too timid to object,
stepped forward with a big grin and to the envy of the others.  Pulling
down his fly and pulling out his cock, he inhaled deeply as he prepared to
get his revenge.  He'd drunk a two-litre bottle of Coke the night before
and had endured the agony of a full bladder that morning to ensure his
revenge would not be brief.  With a relief that was just as much mental as
it was physical, he began to piss.
  Ron could not believe how hot a guy's urine was as he felt Wesley's urine
flow over his scalp.  Nor could he believe how long a guy could piss when
he'd built up a good head.  Wesley directed his stream across Ron's head
from right to left just above his forehead, thoroughly soaking the boy's
hair.  As soon as he was finished, David Weaver stepped up.  David's
weakness was that he was short, and Ron had taken great delight in grabbing
him by the back of the head and shoving his face in his armpit, preferably
after wrestling classes.  Those repeated embarrassments of having to smell
his hairy, sweaty pits, were now about to be revenged, and like Wesley, he
had filled his bladder ahead of time.  When he'd pulled the number two out
of the cap he'd been so excited he'd almost pissed himself.  Now, he
directed his hot, yellow stream over the sodden scarlet hair that he'd come
to hate.
  One by one the boys stepped forward.  Ron Danson's long, silky hair
plugged the holes in the urinal and the fine, scarlet strands began to
float in the growing yellow pool of fresh, pungent urine.  The heat of the
boys' piss, the nitrogenous odour, and being pissed on repeatedly were
perverse, but were also erotic.  It was the filthiest thing that Ron could
have imagined happening to him, but half sitting and half laying there with
his head in the urinal, his cock slowly began to rise in his tattered
jeans, and there was nothing he could do but hope nobody noticed.  He was
not so lucky.  Pulling down his zipper, Brent did the honours of exposing
it.  As the boys continued to step forward to piss on his hair, his cock
slowly began to rise, to the amusement of the group of boys and to his
mortification as they commented on what type of pervert got turned on by
having his head pissed on.  Finally after what seemed hours the last boy
had emptied his bladder, by which time Ron was fully erect.  His cock was
huge, appropriate for a chain-wearing, leather stud, standing just over
seven inches tall and thick with bulging veins and a bulbous knob.  It was
big, and vulnerable.  They could see his hairs were just as silky and
scarlet as the hair on his head.
  "Yeah, now that is nice and clean," observed Brett.  "Here, you can dry
it off now."  He handed Ron a wad of paper towelling.  As he sat up and
mopped up his wet, stinking strands of hair, he was conscious of the room
of boys standing there staring and leering at him.  He knew from their
looks that his ordeal was not yet over.  He also knew from their looks that
each and every one of them was thinking of the times he'd bullied them.
He'd taken a chance that submitting to this last humiliation would save his
hair if not his pride.  It was a gamble, but he had a sinking feeling that
he'd lost.
  "After a good shampoo, hair needs a conditioner, right Ron?" asked Brent.
Ron nodded slowly.  "A good conditioner has nothing but natural
ingredients, none of that artificial chemical stuff, right?"  Ron nodded
again.  "A good conditioner has a moisturizer for the skin, protein, lots
of protein, and it leaves the hair smelling great, right?"  Ron nodded
still again.  What was Brent up to?
  Grinning at each other, Brent and Brett pulled out their dicks, which
were as stiff as Ron's, and he noticed slightly longer though not as thick,
and smooth skinned rather than deeply veined as his was.  Stepping up to
him, they slowly began to stroke, drawing their foreskins back off their
mushroom-shaped knobs and then pushing the skin back up.  Ron's heart sank
lower than he'd ever felt it sink.  He was wrong about being pissed on as
being the most humiliating thing they could do to his hair.  He stared
straight ahead but he knew every boy in the can was smirking down at him,
and that every one of them was sporting a boner.  Many of them would never
have admitted to jerking off up until that morning, and there were three
who never had, but when the twins had offered them this opportunity they
could not possibly refuse.
  Although tempted to make Ron's anxiety last as long as possible, the
twins knew that they'd only be testing the patience of those waiting and
that would not be fair.  Besides classes would soon be starting.  So, they
wanked themselves straight to a conclusion and without any warning shot
their loads.  Thick ropes of cum laced the top of his head and oozed down
his long, damp strands of hair.  Streamer after streamer shot out of their
throbbing dicks, and the twins sighed with the pleasure of ejaculation, and
the added pleasure of cumming all over Ron's hair.
  They were quickly replaced by Cam and Billy, who just as eagerly pulled
out their cocks and began to wank them off.  It was not long before their
strands of cum joined the strands of their boyfriends'.  As they stepped
back, three others stepped forward to replace them, three more victims of
Ron Danson, three nerds in his eyes, three whom he did not know knew the
joys of masturbation and who had jerked and been jerked off by each other,
the three being close buddies.  They were followed by three others, and
then by Wesley and David, who had never jerked off in their lives, but now
who eagerly pumped their fists up and down their virgin cocks, delighting
in the pleasure they'd denied themselves for so long and delighting in
their role in paying Ron Danson back for his bullying.  As their thick,
creamy teen cum spurted out of their cocks and streaked Ron's scarlet hair,
they trembled with the double delight of their first orgasms and of getting
back at the bigmouthed punk.
  Ron sat there through it all, his face as red as his hair in
embarrassment, streamer after streamer of teen cum spurting over his head
and oozing down his long hair.  His beautiful, luxurious hair, his pride
and joy, his strength, was being defiled in what had to be the worse way
possible, and everyone in the can was treating it as a major joke.  Finally
two dozen loads of cum were streaking his once luxurious curls that only
this morning he'd spent hours washing and brushing and fussing over.
  "Tell you what Ron," said Brett, squatting down and looking the bully in
the face.  "Since you've been such a good sport about all this, we've
decided not to cut your hair off after all."  Ron looked at him, his heart
quickly rising with relief.  That he had not expected!  As he looked into
Brett's eyes, he knew the boy was being honest with him, but somehow he
felt he should not be feeling relieved.  "We want everyone to remember this
morning each time they see those long locks of yours.  We want everyone to
remember you with your hair in the urinal and getting it creamed on for a
long time.  I bet some of them will even get an erection every time they
see you from thinking about this morning.  How would that be?"
  Ron thought about that, about boys seeing his long, luxurious hair and
instead of being envious, getting an erection.  His face began to flush
again as he thought about it.  Every boy there in the can could just
imagine how it would feel knowing each time someone looked at your pride
and joy they got an erection.  It would be like not noticing your fly was
down and everyone smirking and laughing at you.  What could be more
embarrassing?
  "We want you to add the last dollop of conditioner yourself, and to work
it and the rest into your scalp, and then we'll all go off to class and
call your debt to us paid in full."
  It took Ron a moment to understand what Brett meant by him adding the
last dollop of conditioner.  For a moment his blood boiled and he was about
to vehemently tell the long-haired sissy boy to stuff it, but he knew it
would be just a useless rant.  He'd made a bet and was bound to pay up, no
matter what.  That was an honour code among teen boys that was so strong
even this ultimate humiliation could not be used to break it.  So, sitting
there before all the boys he'd bullied, his eyes downcast and his face
flushed so red it was as scarlet as his long locks, he jerked himself off.
His fist rose and fell up and down over the thick veins of his long shaft
and over the bulbous knob of his cut cock.  He sat there performing that
solitary act that almost every boy and man engages in at some time but most
refuse to admit and most do in secret and in privacy.  He slowly jacked off
before the can full of boys and squirted his thick, hot, creamy load into
his palm.  Filled with shame and humiliation, he raised his left hand, and
worked his cum into his scalp, blending it with the streamers of other cum
in his long, thick hair, his final act of retribution.  By the end of that
morning there would not be a student in the high school who had not sought
out Ron Danson to see if the rumour was true.
  Totally unsuspecting that his time had also come for revenge, that noon
Scott Hurd made his way over to the elementary school for his usual
lunchtime fun of extortion and gorging himself on whatever lunches his
elementary victims had.  Now thirteen years old and a hundred-and-sixty-
eight pounds, he was even fatter than ever, and even more of a bully.
Unable to find his favourite victim, ten-year-old Teddy Johnson, Chucky's
best buddy, and being told that he was hiding in the boys washroom, he
headed there like a bee drawn to honey, or like Bobby would say later, like
a fly drawn to shit.  Scott was greedy and not too bright.  Entering the
bathroom, he was surprised to find Teddy, Chucky, Bobby, Aaron Porter who
was Bobby's best friend and a frequent victim of Scott Hurd himself in
elementary school, Jung and two older brothers of a couple grade six
students who'd been his victims waiting for him.  Realizing immediately
that it was a trap, he quickly turned and headed for the door, but they
were ready and faster.
  As the two older boys grabbed the bully and held his hands behind his
back, Teddy stuffed one of his socks, which he'd told everyone he'd worn
all week in anticipation of that moment, in the bully's mouth and tied it
into place with one of his shoe laces.  Two other boys yanked down Scott's
pants and underwear and pulled them off while another two unbuttoned his
shirt and pulled it off.  Carrying him into one of the stalls and laying
him on his back, they pulled his arms above his head and up around the base
of the toilet and tied them and spread his legs and tied them to the
corners of the stall.
  While one of the boys put his hands on either side of Scott's dick and
began to roll it between them as a boy scout rolls a piece of wood in his
hands to start a fire, Bobby handed Teddy, Chucky and one of the younger
boys condoms and smiled over at Jung, whose idea this had been.  The two
grade five boys and the grade two boy, Kenny Marcus, another friend of
Chucky's, pulled down their flies and pulled out their dicks and proceeded
to fill the condoms with fresh, deep yellow piss.  As the boys pissed, the
bottom of the condoms began to stretch down and balloon out, gradually
becoming bigger and bigger much to everyone's surprise and with some worry
as it seemed the boys were never going to stop pissing.  It was if nothing
else a good demonstration on the elasticity and the strength of Trojan
rubbers.
  By the time the three boys were done, the fourth boy had started a fire
between Scott's legs, the thirteen-year-old boy now having a stiff
four-inch bone protruding above his balls.  Taking a three-quarter-inch
diameter black O ring from his pocket, Jung knelt down and forced it over
Scott's dickhead and eased it down to the base of his cock.  Teddy
meanwhile hung his piss- filled condom on a cord that had been tied across
the two walls of the stall, positioning it so it was right above Scott's
stiff dick, and Chucky and Kenny hung theirs on a second cord strung higher
up so that their condoms were positioned above Scott's nipples.  Poking a
pin prick hole in the bulb of each of the condoms, they stood back with the
others and watched as they began to drip.
  "You wanna explain to Scott what's going on?" Bobby asked, looking at
Jung.
  "Well," the boy began shyly but proudly, "this is sortta like the torture
they call Chinese water torture, except we're not aiming it at your
forehead, and we're not using water."  The boys giggled as a drop of piss
fell from the condom and splatted against Scott's blood-engorged head and
the other two condoms dripped on his nipples.  "You see, the constantly
falling water against a guy's forehead will eventually drive him crazy.  In
this case we're gonna let the piss drip on your dick head and your teats
until you promise to pay back all the money you've collected, with
interest, and promise to leave the elementary kids alone."
  "Can't we do it til he's crazy?" asked Kenny seriously.
  "Too late, he already is," responded Chucky, to everyone's amusement.
Well, everyone except Scott.
  Scott glared up at the group of boys looking down at him.  He was
embarrassed as hell laying there totally naked in front of them, and having
a boner besides, and was totally humiliated having their piss dripping on
his body, but even greater than his embarrassment and his humiliation was
his anger.  The stupid snot-noses had no idea what they'd just done.  When
he got free he'd see that each and every one of them got what he deserved,
and he knew each and every one of them in the can.  He'd bullied each of
them, some for years.  Another drop of piss struck his dickhead, landing
right on the sensitive tip and sending a tingle of pleasure through his
knob.  A second struck his right nipple and a third the left, also sending
tingles of stimulation through the pert little buds and the dime-sized
areola surrounding them.  The dumb twits.  This wasn't torture.  Being
spattered by drops of piss might be degrading, but it was stimulating.
  "We'll be back later to check out how you're doing, and if you're ready
to make some promises," said Bobby, and with wide grins, the troop of boys
headed off to classes.
  They did not have to come back to check on Scott.  What had happened to
the fat bully quickly spread across the elementary school, and the junior
and senior high, and throughout the next hour there was a steady stream of
boys in and out of the elementary washroom to see if it was true, and to
gloat over the bully.  There was also a steady stream of piss drops landing
on Scott's body, and to his dismay, he soon found that there was nothing
pleasant about it at all.  The drops of piss landing on his knob sent
tingles of arousal through the swollen flesh and it, along with the cock
ring, ensured that he'd stay erect.  The drops did not fall frequently
enough, however, to get him that aroused that he was able to come.  The
drops did, on the other hand, keep up his desire, drop after drop as
Teddy's piss dripped on his knob, ran down his shaft and between his thighs
and his balls, to collect in a growing pool under his fat buttocks.
  The dripping of Chucky's and Kenny's piss on his teats were not as
pleasant as he'd anticipated either.  Drip by drip they struck his
sensitive nips, sending ripples of pleasure through them and his breasts
and causing them to become firm and even more sensitive.  That was at
first.  As the two condoms continued to drip, sending drop by drop
spattering against his nipples, the pleasure became an irritation and the
irritation in turn became a pain.  Drip by drip by drip.  He could count
them they were so regular, and he could see each forming at the tip of the
three condoms and eventually dropping.  The anticipation of them dropping
was just as bad as actually being struck.  On top of it, there was a
constant stream of leering, joking, grinning boys coming in and out of the
stall and looking down at him, jabbing each other in the ribs as they
watched the drops of piss strike his erect cock and his stiff nipples and
run down over his fat body to collect in a yellow pool under it.  They
joked about his nakedness, and they gagged at the thought of the dirty sock
stuffed in his mouth and smirked at the sight of his fat erection.
  By recess that afternoon Scott's dickhead and nipples were burning with
irritation and the thirteen-year-old bully had never felt so tense in all
his life.  He had never wanted to come so badly in all his life, as short
as it was.  Nor had he ever been so desperate to do whatever was asked of
him.
  "So, you ready to make some promises?" asked Jung.  Scott nodded
vigorously.  "What did you say?"
  "Mmmgh," Scott replied.
  "Guess someone will have to take that dirty sock out of his mouth," Bobby
observed.  Kenny squatted down and untying the shoe lace, pulled out his
sock.
  "So, you promise not to bully any elementary student again?" asked Jung.
  "Yes, I promise," replied Scott, practically in tears.
  "And to pay them back all their money, with ten percent interest?" asked
Bobby.
  "I don't have that much money."
  "You don't have to pay it all back at once."
  "And you can do stuff for them instead of paying them money."
  "Like you can give them donuts from your parents' shop."
  "And pack their books for them."
  "And do their homework."
  "And kiss their feet."  Several boys giggled.
  "And kiss their butts."  More boys giggled.
  "And lick their armpits."  That suggestion resulted in several groans and
wrinkled noses.
  "We'll leave it up to you and them," Bobby said.  "We just got a class
change so we gotta get back to the junior high."
  As he and Jung left they could hear the babble of demands from Scott's
former victims.  They knew that Scott would be a long time paying back.
  "That was wicked," said Jung with a huge grin.
  "And it was all your idea," said Bobby.  "That took brains, and guts to
stand up to Scott Hurd."
  Jung's grin grew wider as he slipped an arm about Bobby's waist and the
two headed into the Junior High building.  Thanks to Bobby Brewster, he had
his name back, and it felt fucking good.
  While Scott was getting his just punishment at the elementary school,
students at the high school had been listening to a guest speaker on the
growing problem of teenage violence at school, at home, and in the
community and how there had to be a cooperative effort to find activities
that promoted well bodies, well minds, and well souls.  Lance Cross spoke
on the first, the twenty-nine-year-old YMCA manager announcing several new
initiatives that the YMCA was undertaking to promote being healthy
physically.  Cole Bentley, now nineteen and a seminary student, spoke on
summer camps and church programs available to youth, causing the Brewster
brothers to recall one church summer camp in particular.  They reached down
to adjust what had come up as Superintendent Albert Bell spoke on several
new programs sponsored by the Board of Education, including a gifted
program.  The last all three had spoken together had been last May at the
National Teacher Appreciation Day, and based on that experience each of the
three men could not help but think of their sexual urges on that day and a
fourth area of wellness that had not been raised, that of sexual wellness.
Of course anyone could have told them that the Brewster brothers had that
area well under control.
  In fact right after the assembly while the rest of the school stacked the
chairs to prepare for a school dance, they had arranged for a special video
screening in the communications lab for a select audience consisting of
Billy Graham's friends and the school's hockey team, with the exception of
Troy Kholler, who with Billy Graham, was engaged in another activity that
had also been arranged by the Brewster brothers.  Having simply being told
the video featured Troy, the boys, having seen only one other video
featuring Troy, made the expected assumption and had eagerly gathered
around the television monitor to see who Troy's latest conquest would be,
the identity of the person all the more mysterious with Billy Graham's
friends being invited.  In that they were, nobody was totally surprised
when the video began with Billy standing at the urinals finishing off
taking a leak.
  As the door to the middle stall opened, Billy turned, his dick still in
his hand.  Standing at the open door was Troy Kholler.  The two boys stood
there for a second, staring into each other's eyes, and then slowly stepped
toward each other.  The group of boys gathered in the communications lab
stared in shock and disbelief at the monitor as the overhead cam in the
washroom recorded the two supposedly straight and experienced studs
embracing and kissing each other hotly on the lips.  Eighteen-year-old
Billy Graham, hotshot grade twelve student who had his pick of the hottest
girls in the school to take to the Christmas dance, grasped Troy Kholler's
buns and drew him against his body, and the fifteen-year-old hockey player
and supposed womanizer threw his arms about the older boy's neck and kissed
him feverishly on the lips, cheeks and neck.  It was a torrid scene, the
two boys kissing and caressing each other in a lust-driven frenzy, the
overhead cam picking up their heavy, lustful breathing.
  Slipping off Troy's hockey jacket, Billy yanked Troy's shirt out of his
jeans and slipped his hands up under it.  His hands roughly squeezed and
massaged Troy's deltoids as Troy, his head resting on Billy's shoulders,
fumbled with the older teenager's buckle.  Undoing Billy's belt, unsnapping
the top of his jeans, and pulling down the boy's fly, Troy pushed down his
jeans, and as Billy began to quickly unbutton Troy's shirt, Troy pushed
down Billy's blue plaid boxers, revealing the boy was already well on the
way to full arousal.  As Troy slipped his hands about the growing tube of
flesh, Billy finished removing Troy's shirt, and proceeded to undo his belt
buckle, unbutton the top of his cargo pants, and pull down his fly.
Slipping his hands inside, he pushed down his pants and his underwear at
the same time.
  Standing at five-foot-eleven, four inches taller than Troy, Billy bent
over and cocked his head as he kissed Troy's neck and began to knead the
fifteen-year-old hockey player's buttocks.  He squeezed them and caressed
them as a boy might squeeze and caress a girl's breasts, and he kissed the
younger boy so hard that he left hickeys on his neck.  Troy was meanwhile
fondling the older boy's cock and balls, rolling his hairy testicles in his
hand and then tugging on his semierect dick.  The two boys were panting
like two dogs in heat.  More than just a few of the boys watching began to
get erect and they shifted uncomfortably in their seats, uncomfortable
getting an erection in front of their classmates, and even mor
uncomfortable getting aroused watching two boys getting it on.
  Laying down on the tiled bathroom floor between the stalls and the
urinals, Troy on his back and Billy straddling him in the reverse
direction, the boys were clearly aching to get their nuts off from the
looks in their eyes.  Troy raised his hips and wrapped his legs about
Billy's chest, and as Billy bowed his head and began to kiss and nibble on
his raised ass cheeks, Troy raised himself up on his elbows and began to
kiss and nibble Billy's dangling balls and cock.  Grasping Troy's buns and
pulling them apart, Billy ran his hot, moist tongue up along the crack.
The camera that had been placed at the foot of the cubicle Troy had been in
caught a closeup of the eighteen-year-old heartthrob worming his tongue up
the young hockey player's asshole, leaving no doubt that he had his tongue
actually inserted up the boy's bunghole, and from the lust in his deep
brown eyes, leaving no doubt how much he was desiring and enjoying rimming
the fifteen-year-old hockey player.  The third cam picked up a close up
Troy slipping his lips about the older boy's rapidly growing cock and
sucking on it, his long-lashes fluttering in obvious delight.
  "Oh fuck, I love the way your ass smells," Billy gasped, sniffing at
Troy's mulberry, rose, and vanilla scented backside as a dog might sniff
another.  The boys in the communications room could not help but look at
each other, their jaws dropped as they sought confirmation they had heard
right.  Billy Graham, Crestview Heights High School's heartthrob and most
sought after grade twelve male by the female student body, the macho stud
who claimed to have deflowered at least half a dozen girls, and to have
another half dozen so hot that they'd let him do anything to them he
wanted, loved how Troy Kholler's butt smelled?  "And tastes," he continued.
"It's the most perfect ass I've ever seen."
  "Fuck it," sighed Troy.  "I want you to fuck me so badly.  I want to feel
your beautiful, hot cock deep inside me.  Oh fucking God!  I love your
cock, the way it smells, like roses and vanilla, the way it feels, the way
it tastes.  Let me feel it deep inside me!"  The hockey team and Billy's
buddies could not believe their ears and eyes.
  Getting to their feet, Troy kicked off his cargo pants and boxers and
turned and faced the stall in front of him.  Billy slipped off his runners
and pulled off his jeans and boxers and eagerly stepped up behind him.
Both boys had raging boners that jutted out and up parallel to their flat
stomachs.  As Troy grasped the latched door of the stall, Billy pulled
apart his asscheeks and bending his legs, placed the tip of his stiff,
six-inch cock against the boy's asshole.  Still grasping and pulling apart
his ass cheeks, he pushed forward and up.  With the lust the two boys were
feeling for each other, Billy's spit-slick dong, the result of the sucking
Troy had been doing, and the spit Billy had left from rimming Troy's
asshole, Billy forced his stiff cock up Troy's asshole with minimal effort.
  That did not mean it was not without some difficulty, and the two
teenagers grunted and inhaled and exhaled deeply as they strained to unite,
sounding like two moose in rut.  They strained in desperation, and in
desperation they ignored the tightness of Troy's ass and the pain of
uniting for the first time without any commercial lubrication and with only
the briefest of foreplay.  The overhead cam clearly picked up the
penetration as Billy sank his cock up Troy's rectum.  Grasping the boy's
hips, he sank his cock in as far as he could, until his deep brown hairs
were pressing against the younger boy's backside, and then he slowly
withdrew until his knob began to stretch open Troy's sphincter.  As he sank
his cock up the boy's rectum again, he bent his head and kissed the nape of
his neck.
  "Oh fuck!  Oh maaaaan.  Yes!  Oh yeah, fuck me," Troy groaned.  "Oh I'm
aching for you so bad it hurts!"
  "And I you," gasped Billy.  "I've never ached for anyone so badly.  I
want to make love to you for hours!"
  "Oh yeah, I can feel the heat of your cock," sighed Troy.  "Sink it in as
deep as you can!"
  Billy did, and for the next three minutes the two boys were too filled
with lust for each other to speak.  The hockey team and Billy's closest
friends sat there in the communications room, their eyes glued to the
monitor and their lower jaws sunk to their chests.  They could not believe
it.  The two straightest boys in the school were doing the nasty with each
other, and fully enjoying it.  Troy, who had only two months ago shown them
a video of him fucking Ellen Matsu silly, was now being fucked even sillier
by Billy Graham.  Troy's spiked mullet bounced about his head as Billy
thrust his cock in and out of him, and as their breathing grew faster and
deeper, the two boys openly and unabashedly grunted with their pleasure.
Billy began to thrust to and fro so hard he was banging Troy's body against
the stall door, and Billy was grunting and panting with just as much lust
and delight.  Billy reached around and grasping the younger boy's stiff
cock, began to rapidly wank on it, causing Troy to groan all the more.
  Finally, with a groan and a shiver, the two boys popped their nuts, Billy
shooting his load deep up Troy's virgin ass, and Troy shooting his load
against the stall door.  Their cocks throbbed hotly with desire and
pleasure despite the perverse act they were engaging in, an act that both
boys in the past had jeered and expressed disgust for.  Troy shot streamer
after streamers against the bathroom stall door, and Billy trembled with
delight as he spurted up Troy's ass.
  "Oh maaaan," sighed Troy when Billy finally pulled his cock out of his
ass, "that was the best fucking sex I've ever had."
  "Me too," gasped Billy.  "But it sure the fuck isn't going to be the
last."
  "You can bet my ass on that," Troy responded, and as the two boys
embraced and kissed, their stiff, wet cocks pressed against each other as
if sealing their pact with their cum.
  The tape faded, and then refocused.  The hockey players immediately
recognized the surroundings as being Troy's bedroom, he and Billy sitting
on the very bed that Troy had taped him taking Ellen Matsu's cherry on.
The two boys were stark naked, and erect.
  "The past two weeks with you has been the best two weeks of my fucking
life," observed Troy.
  "Mine too.  I can't believe how madly in love I am with you."
  "And I with you.  I've never loved anyone more in my life."
  "What about Ellen Matsu?"
  "She was the one in love with me, not me with her."
  "I can't believe you actually taped taking her cherry, and then played it
to the hockey team."
  "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly take her cherry," the Troy on the monitor
screen said, following the script that the two boys had been given to read.
The script, combined with the skilful editing and dubbing the twins had
done with the tape of their confession when they'd met to undo the spell,
was so perfect nobody could tell the tape had been faked and largely
rehearsed.
  "What do you mean?"
  "The tape was a fake."
  "You and her didn't make love, right here on this bed, the same bed we've
been fucking like mad for the past two weeks?" Billy asked, his reading of
the script sounding a bit stilted but in the tape coming off as sounding
surprised.
  "Well, the first part was true, the kissing and embracing, and her
telling me how hot I was and hot she was for me.  But I never fucked her.
That part of the tape I dubbed over a porno movie I got from a friend.  You
know, interspersed scenes of us kissing and groping with the fuck scenes so
it looked like Ellen and me.  Besides, when you lay a bitch on her back and
put a guy between her legs the picture looks the same no matter who the
broad or the stud is."  That part of the tape had taken a lot of splicing
of snatches of phrases that had been scripted elsewhere as part of the
confession to Eros and Cupid to put the false words in Troy's mouth as the
camera focused on him from the back so the audience could not see that his
lips were not really saying what they were hearing.
  "So why did you make the tape then?"
  "Why?  So the team would think I was straight of course."
  "Guys are starting to get suspicious of us."
  "Yeah, well fuck them.  Now that I've made love with you, I swear before
Eros and Cupid I don't give a fuck if the whole world finds out I'm gay."
  "Me neither."
  "I have to say I had no idea you liked guys with all those stories about
the girls you've had over the years."
  "Yeah, well, I was just doing the same as you, making everyone think I
was a real stud while secretly I was lusting after the bodies of some of
the guys."  Billy's closest buddies stared at the floor in embarrassment
and discomfort as each of them thought back to conversations they'd had
with Billy, and how they had not noticed his fag behaviour until that
moment.
  "Tell me, that story long ago about Billy Hollis's sister, about you
knocking her up, that true?"
  "Are you kidding?  No way.  The only hole this dick has ever been in is
an asshole, a guy's asshole.  None of the rumours about her were true."
  "Speaking of assholes, it's been an hour since you were up mine."
  "Then, enough of this talking crap.  Let's have some fun."
  As the two boys turned to each other, the heavily edited video faded out.
The boys in the communication class could not believe what they'd just seen
but there it was on tape in living colour.  Having seen and heard the
evidence, each boy in the room was now recalling an incident that hinted
about the gayness of the two boys and was eager to disavow any knowledge
about the sexual preference of the two boys least they be suspected also.
It was amazing what a little suspicion could do.
  At the very moment that they'd been watching the video, Troy and Billy
had been at Billy's home watching a special video that Billy Hollis and
Brent Brewster had prepared for them.  It was supposedly a test video, one
to prove that the spell really had been broken by their lengthy and
sometimes strangely worded confession of their love for each other, and
their past sexual conquests, especially those involving Ellen Matsu and
Billy Hollis's sister.
  Of course Billy Hollis had removed the spell, it having filled its
purpose.  The video, a XXX porn movie about a cheerleader and a college
football team, had been dubbed with subliminal messages added, something
Billy Hollis and Brent were getting good at.  Each time the camera zoomed
in on the girl, something disgusting was flashed on the screen, words like
"slut", "pukey", and "cunt slime".  Each time the camera panned in on one
of the guys however, words of lust, desire and pleasure was being implanted
in the viewers' minds.  In the future, when Billy Graham and Troy Kholler
thought about sex, they were going to be in for a surprise.  The question
was how long they would try to overcome their newest problem one their own
before coming to Billy and Brent for advice!
  As the school buses pulled away from the Crestview Heights schools that
Friday afternoon, the teachers headed home to a well-deserved weekend of
rest, content that they had done their part to promote tolerance and the
end of violence in their community.  And, as the Brewster brothers piled
into the twin's new car and headed home also, they were equally content
they had done their part and were looking forward to the next holiday,
whatever that might be.