Date: Thu, 29 Nov 2001 17:36:25 EST
From: GayBoi1977@aol.com
Subject: Johnny's memoirs Part I Chapter III (hs) (inc)

Johnny's Memoirs
By J. Michael Pitt
Part One - An Addict, Reborn
Chapter Three

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This work contains explicit adult material: incest, sex between minors, to
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Chapter Three

It wasn't too long after that night, that I would finally realize my
wish. It seemed that what he had been waiting so long for had finally come
to pass.

But this had gotten a little strange between us again before this was to
happen.

This could have been attributed to a lot of things, perhaps. It might have
been his altered stature in his school due to his "decision" to join the
school choir. It might have been due to the overabundance of sex I knew
that he was getting from a great collection of sources. It might have had
something to do with the fact that his friends looked down on him for
spending time with me. I honestly do not know.

My biggest fear was that it was related to the moment we had recently had
together. When he had whispered "I love you, Johnny" in my ear.

The closer I got to him, the farther away he seemed to get. It was
literally driving me insane.

I admit that I was a bit shocked at the words he had uttered. But at the
same time, I was so happy. While it was certainly not the healthiest of
relationships, and we would have a really hard time explaining our notion
of brotherly love to our parents, I was yet naive. I actually possessed a
degree of optimism that allowed me to believe that it would all turn out
for the best.

But I was twelve years old. And Preston was what I would, and will, always
consider my first love. Never mind that he had an amazing body and was a
virtual god of fleshly pleasures.

But he had many other talents as well, it turned out. The fluke decision to
join his high school choir brought out a new gift no one would have ever
suspected. He was actually a good singer. Exceptionally good. And I do not
say this out of turn.

I remember going to one of his concerts with my mother and father. They
always turned up at things of such an artistic nature, though it was
certainly not the opera. Still, I believe that even they were shocked.

The director had been the first to realize Preston's talent, and had hoped
to push this to great lengths. He had given Preston a solo bit in one of
the numbers the choir would be performing this night.

A group of Preston's friends were sitting maybe three rows in front of
us. I remember how they were laughing and carrying on, which I saw as an
insult to my brother. I had a feeling that they were laughing at his
expense, probably calling him names like pansy or queer because he had
joined such a thing as the choir. Everyone knew the choir was reputed to be
the harvester of all things queer. That and the theatre.

I wanted so badly to whatever possible projectiles lay within my immediate
surroundings. To my great chagrin, there was nothing but my mother's
purse. That would certainly not do.

So I ignored them, hoping they would simmer down before the curtains came
up.

I had hoped in vain. Their heckling only intensified as the choir took
their places.

Luckily the music had drowned them out as soon as the first chord was
struck on the baby grand piano.

Everyone waited in deep anticipation. I sat forward in my seat I think,
desperate to get the best view of my brother as I could.

And there he was, dressed in his long white gown. Such a garment that was
at once plain, and at the same time carried only the barest decoration that
would make it regally appealing. The light shown down on him from above,
flooding him with a soft radiance. He looked like an angel. My heart went
out to him.

The voices rang out, crying as if to heaven. They light on the stage could
not come close to the majesty these voices, ringing in unison, evoked. The
crowd was enraptured with the beauty.

The choir had started off very strongly. I thought that they might grow
horse one by one, if they did not lighten their tone soon. Yet, through the
entire first number, they continued with the same power and confidence.

The second number was much lighter. I had imagined that perhaps half of the
choir or more had pushed their delicate voices a bit too far. But Preston
was still going on.

It was in the third number that my breath was truly taken away.

This song had started simple enough with a few voices picking up different
octaves of notes in various cycles, every crescendo and decrescendo perfect
in its timing and pitch. Latin, I think they were singing. But of course, I
did not know at the time.

In what seemed random patterns throughout the piece, the entire choir
joined ranks, enriching the melody with a powerful exuberance that could
almost literally lift the heart.

And then, it was his turn.

All lights on the stage faded to black, with the exception of one. And it
shone on Preston, illuminating him and elevating him to an inspirational
state of grace. Completely illusory of course, but it seemed natural to
me. To see him surrounded by such light.

His voice erupted all at once. It flooded my heart with love. Love for him,
love for the music. Love for life.

I was too enthralled to have been able to view the expressions on my
parents' faces. But I imagine that they were caught by surprise.

"Fithos lusec wecos vinosec. Excitate vos e somno, liberi mei cunae sunt
non. Excitate vos e somno, liberi fatali somnus est non."

Every note was filled with such emotion and conviction. It was as if he
were the voice of god, if there was such a thing. I could feel the intense
passion for the piece emanating from the audience; I could sense their
rapture.

"Surgite! Invenite! Veni hortus veritatis, horti verna veritatis. Ardente
veritate urite mala mundi. Ardente veritate incendite tenebras mundi."

I think even the other members of the choir were having trouble
comprehending the sheer magnitude of the beautiful sound flowing around
them. It seemed as though he might drive off the devil himself, with this
configuration of notes.

I find it ironic now, being what I am, that I could love such a thing. But
then again, even a devil can fall in love with something beautiful. Though
it is in our nature to exploit this beauty and eventually corrupt it to the
point of decay, whence it is no longer worthy of our attention.

And who knew, finally, that someone who would become as my brother
eventually became, could ever create such beauty? The whole thing seems
impossible, really.

The rest of the choir finally came out of their torpor to join in the final
chorus. The strength of their voices lent even more credence to the sound
my brother Preston had already spawned.

"Valete, liberi, diebus fatalibus. Fithos lusec wecos vinosec, Fithos lusec
wecos vinosec, Fithos lusec wecos vinosec, Fithos lusec wecos vinosec."

And then, as suddenly as it had began, it was over. That was it. I do not
mean the concert was over, I mean simply that the wonder that god had
filled the hearts of the audience with during my brother's solo performance
had dissipated.

I, myself, knew that I could not take anymore. I was almost sad that it had
ended. I had only known such warmth in the arms of my brother. And even
that seemed unattainable as of late.

I had to trust that he knew what he was doing, though I admit again that I
was insanely jealous of the other boys he was allowing to experience his
love.

It just did not seem fair. After hearing that voice of his, and watching
how he had completely captivated the audience.

It had made me want him even more.

And so when the day finally came that he entered my bedroom again, I had
determined to give him everything I had, heart, body and soul.

It was the day after his 16th birthday. My parents had celebrated it early
this year, as my mother had an important hearing up in Chicago and my
father had wished to accompany her for various reasons.

I was just getting out of the shower after a good workout. Still dripping
wet from head to toe, as I recall. Drying my hair with the towel.

He was sitting on my bed, wearing his usual jeans and a tank top, with his
legs spread apart. He was wearing his hair a bit longer now a days, and it
was just slightly tussled up, possessing enough body to seem as though it
had put it self that way of its own volition. His expression was seductive,
to say the least.

My heart was beating a little fast, as I recall, and I was quickly becoming
aroused. I could have hung my towel on my cock any moment if I had opted to
do so.

"Come here little brother," he said after licking his full pink lips.

I immediately obeyed, waking slowly so as to avoid tripping over anything
in my path. My eyes were locked on his.

When I stood less than a foot away from him, he grabbed my now completely
erect dick with one hand, and clasped my ass with the other. He began
stroking my cock gently, slowly, lovingly. I merely stood there, trying to
hold on to every little sensation that I experienced in his hands.

"Don't cum yet, Johnny boy," he said. "I have something special planned for
you today."

I think my heart skipped a beat. I was hoping against hope that this would
be it. That this would be the day my brother, my Adonis, would finally make
love to me. This would be the day I had long been waiting for.

I relished the thought of him sticking his hard cock deep within me,
pounding my boy ass with every bit of strength and conviction that was his
to offer. Every inch of his manhood impaling me, draining me of the virtue
I had long grown to detest - virginity.

Little did I know, or would have cared at the time, that the discarding of
this particular virtue would be what eventually led to the tormenting of my
soul.

I gave in to his soft, yet firm grip. His meaningful caressing of my
perfectly shaped bubble butt. I let him kiss the peach fuzz that marked the
trail from my navel to my penis.

He used his other hand to softly glide the length of my ass crack, which
filled me with the desperate desire to let him embed his cock in me that
instant.

I reached down to touch his cheek and push the hair out of his devilish
blue eyes. I ran my fingers across his lips, playing with indention in his
upper lip that I had so come to love. He took my fingers into his mouth,
allowing his tongue to give me a preview of what was in store for my teen
meat.

This was nothing new. We had done this many times by now. But the blood in
my veins ebbed with passion even still.

He kissed his way down to the head of my dick and lightly touched it with
the tip of his tongue. I watched as his lips surrounded this fleshy,
mushroom-shaped head and slowly took in every inch of my shaft. It had all
but disappeared, and he was soon sniffing the short, light hair of my
crotch.

This is no easy thing to do, I've learned. Taking my entire cock in one's
mouth. Even at the age of twelve years, I was already beginning to exhibit
traits that my bloodline is inherently blessed with. My dick was no less
than a good six inches long, and perhaps as thick as my brother's.

Yet Preston managed this with ease. He was as hungry for my cock as I was
for his. There was no doubt about that now.

His tongue played the underside of my meat, licking it up and down slowly,
perhaps in hopes of getting the pre cum to flow. We produce a lot of that,
my brother and I. That, and a small amount of saliva, has at times been the
only form of lubricant we needed. But I jump ahead.

He continued this for a while, engulfing my entire rod to the base, then
coming all the way back, his teeth barely grazing the tip of my cock head,
and then going all the way down again. As much as I wanted it to go on
forever, there were other things I wanted to do as well.

I gently pushed him back onto the bed, and then moved to straddle him. I
could feel his rock-hard prick pocking my ass through his jeans. I wanted
to let it out.

My hand made its way to the fly of his jeans while my lips joined with
his. I could again taste his breath. Our tongues entwined together, dancing
amid rows of perfect white teeth. His kiss was unbearable. One could lose
them self easily to him that way. Still, I was in love, and it was as if
our two souls were the dancing things in that kiss, rather than our
tongues.

My hand was making fast progress on his jeans, and I soon found myself
pulling them off and tossing them to the floor.

His large cock was there, ready for me to worship. A massive pillar that I
would claim for my own. Perfectly smooth and thick. His low-hanging balls
neatly shaven, resting peacefully over the crevasse of his ass.

I just sat there, my face inches from this beautiful cock. There was so
much I wanted to experience with this dick. So much pleasure.

I closed the distance quickly and took the head in my mouth with the same
sense of urgency he had exhibited. He immediately let out a low moan, which
told me that I was doing the right thing.

I slowly took it in, inch by inch, massaging his balls. He placed his hand
on the back of my head and moaned even more erotically.

In my mind, there is nothing more erotic as a boy moaning in ecstasy. No
pleasure as pristine and unbridled. No music more sensual. I would have
devoured him for ages if it would keep that song playing.

I almost choked as I reached the base of his thick cock. But I was not
about to let something as paltry as a gag-reflex inhibit my craving for his
meat.

"Oh, little brother, don't stop!" he said in exasperation. "Let me taste
your cock again."

I complied, moving myself in position over his face, never once letting his
dick leave my mouth.

He took mine again, deep-throating it, perhaps to muffle his moans. I was
sad for that, but the pleasure more than made up for it. I continued to
serenade his prick with my tongue, moving up and down skillfully, taking
precious time to pay my respects to the large head that would soon be
entering me.

He was really getting off to this. He had slapped my ass a couple of times,
and was beginning to wiggle a finger in to loosen me up. There was the
usual burning sensation at first, but it was soon replaced by pure
enjoyment. My desire was escalating.

"Oh god, Preston," I gasped, "I want you inside of me."

"Soon, baby, I promise," he returned after removing my soaked dick from his
mouth, the passion in his voice evident.

He grabbed my ass in both hands and brought it down to his face. I felt his
soft, warm tongue enter me, and I had to stop what I was doing for a moment
so that I might enjoy every moment of it.

He licked my hole up and down, spreading my ass cheeks apart for maximum
penetration. He darted his tongue in and out of me, which only served to
drive me more insane.

I couldn't bear it any longer. I had to have him. I had to feel him inside
of me, thrusting with all of his boyish strength and ambition. I wanted him
to show me physically just how much he did love me. Holding me in his arms
as he stole away my innocence and filled me with his adolescent sex.

I almost came just thinking about it. But I was not that stupid.

"Ok, lil brother," he whispered, "do you think you can take it?"

"Oh god, yes!" was my reply.

He slid out from under me quickly, taking his place behind me. I sat where
I was, still on my knees. My ass was hanging there, waiting to be filled
with the combination of absolute pleasure and loving pain that I had longed
for these past long years.

He moved up behind me, gently squeezing my ass in reassurance. I had sucked
on his dick enough to where he would not be needing any extra lubricant.

I felt him massage the head of his prick against my slightly loosened hole,
and winced a little as he slowly pushed it in. It stretched me to the
limits again, and for a moment, I thought I would be unable to bear it. In
the past, he had always shoved it in fast, so if there was ever any pain,
it quickly gave way to pleasure. This time, however, he wanted it to
last. He was in no hurry.

Inch after inch, he entered me until he had no more to give. And then he
started to pull out slowly, just a bit, before thrusting back in as deep as
he could. Slow, rhythmic motions. The harder he thrusted, the shorter my
breaths became until, finally, it seemed that the two were in perfect
harmony.

How else can I say it? I was in heaven. Besides his love, he had given me
no greater gift before this. My heart was thundering as his groin slapped
against my ass; as his cock jack hammered my ass over and over again.

I could feel all seven inches gliding in and almost out. I could feel the
giant head of his cock moving deeper with each thrust. I had never imagined
that it would feel this great.

I was reaching down to start stroking my own hard dick when he slapped my
ass and started ramming into me harder, and faster.

"No Johnny boy. Not yet," he said gruffly. "I want to look into your
angelic eyes while I fuck you. I want to watch your face contort in
ecstasy."

This sort of confused me. I didn't realize what he had meant, nor had I
ever heard him talk this way. But, as I generally do with him, I went with
the flow.

He pulled out and turned me over onto my back. I watched as he got in
between my legs, lifted them up, and went to enter me again.

I gasped as he slid his meat deep into my asshole again. It took on a whole
new meaning from this angle. I looked up at his precious face to find him
staring into my eyes with a crooked smile. He leaned down to kiss me.

And what a passionate kiss it was. So full of force and vitality, and deep
as though he meant to suck the life out of me. His well-defined chest was
pressed against me in this embrace. It felt almost as if we were one
person, united. The way his cock was embedded in my ass, and his tongue had
found a new home in my mouth. I had never felt closer to anyone in my life.

"I love you Preston," I all but yelled.

"I know, Johnny," he said, and began to fuck me harder.

I could feel his body start to shake just a little bit, and I knew he would
soon cum. Strangely, it felt as though I might, too, cum soon. I hadn't
even touched my dick yet.

He rose up, grabbing my thighs in a tight grip, and started pounding my ass
with such force as I had never seen him use before. I felt myself literally
bounce with every deep thrust. This felt good. This felt really really
good. I knew that I would suffer a grand torment if I did not get to
experience this often, from this day forward. It seemed silly that I should
have to worry about it.

"I'm g-g-gonna c-c-cum!" my brother practically yelled.

And with that, he had. I felt pulse after pulse shoot from his cock into my
ass. With each fucking motion, still more shot from him. And still he
fucked me.

I felt my own cum building up to the breakage point. And as he finished
cumming, my cock erupted loads of the creamy white stuff, spraying it all
over his chest, and dripping off of my hand.

I stroked my prick to get the remaining jizz out. Preston pulled out and
collapsed beside me.

We lay there in a comfortable silence for a moment, broken only by the
sound of our own breathing. I was a complete mess, I knew. And Preston was
very simply spent for the moment.

I leaned over to offer him a kiss on the cheek. But before I had been able
to plant my lips on him, he sat up quickly and muttered something about
getting in the shower.

"You want me to go with you?" I asked.

"No, not this time, Johnny," he replied without even looking at me.

His tone was cold, and it hurt to hear him talk like this to me. I had to
wonder what I had done.

"Are you mad at me, Pres?" I asked.

"Look, I'm not mad at you. You were great. A perfect fuck. But right now, I
don't feel the need to be around anyone right now, including you."

And with that, he grabbed his clothes from the floor, and left the room. I
was nearly mortified by this behavior. I had given this boy my heart and
soul, and he had taken them both without offering anything in return. I
felt used. And angry.

Before I had even thought about doing it, I jumped out of bed and made my
way towards Preston's room, where I could hear him shuffling around,
perhaps grabbing some clean clothes to wear after his shower. But as I
reached the door, I heard something that left me both baffled and sorry.

I heard Preston crying in his room.

Johnny Baldwin
11/26/99