My Kid Brother

Copyright © 2003

By Lee Mariner

The author's copyright, dated June 2003, and all provisions of the original disclaimer remains in force.  All Rights are Reserved.

This story depicts homosexual acts and it is intended for ADULT READERS ONLY.  If you are not of legal age in your locality or should you not approve of such material, please leave.

As always, I appreciate the assistance of my friend, Dean and his editing skills. 

All of my stories can be found in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Author's using this link:


Any reader wishing to be notified of future episodes to this or other stories, please contact me at:

Chapter XXVII

It was surprising to hear the familiar strains of Glenn Miller's arrangement of  "Little Brown Jug" drifting from inside the pavilion as we walked around to the entrance.   The music didn't have the quality and depth of tone of Glenn Miller's orchestra; but the five musicians, elevated on a plain unadorned band stand abutting the dance floor at the far end of the pavilion, were doing a credible job with their rendition of his famous piece. 

There were several middle aged couples dancing in the area closer to the small band, and I was surprised to see several pairs of younger people at the opposite end of the large dance floor engaged in doing what they considered to be more modern dance steps that didn't involve close contact.  My expertise in dancing did not extend much beyond the waltz or fox-trot; and, from what I could see, the younger dancers' knowledge probably didn't either.

The girls and Dalton had stopped just inside the doorway, and I edged closer to him and, nodding in the direction of the younger kids,  whispered, "Have you ever tried doing what they are doing?" 

"Me?"  he answered in surprise; a decible or two louder than the music. " You've got to be kidding.  Mom tried to teach me once, but she gave up.   She said that I had two left feet."

"I can teach you, Dalton," Tracey said, leaning over and looking at us.

Dalton was flustered for a moment before he replied, "Thanks, Tracy, but I'll just watch for now, maybe later."

Tracey looked at me; and, before she could say anything, I threw my hands up in the air in a mock defensive position, protesting, "Oh, no, not me.  I'm not about to make a fool of myself trying to do what those kids are doing.   Any dancing I do will be with the older generation."

"We can do that too," Carla chimed in with an impish, almost evil grin, her eyes twinkling.

"Maybe later, Carla," I said, wishing I could bite my tongue off for directing my answer to her.  In an attempt to avoid the direction the conversation seemed to be heading, I continued before she could reply and get me in any deeper.   "Right now, how about something cold to drink?  Do they serve beer?"

"They only serve soft drinks, Carlton," Tracey answered.  "There are too many minors for anything else except maybe coffee.  The canteen is over this way."

"I'd like a Pepsi," Dalton chimed in as we followed the girls.


The canteen was off to the left and behind the bandstand.  As we approached it, I could see two elderly, but not old, ladies behind the counter and a young boy, maybe ten or twelve years old, re-filling potato chip racks.   While one lady was giving instructions to the young boy, the other moved closer to the rough plank counter asking, "May I help you young people?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Tracey said.  "We would like two Barqe's Root Beers, one Pepsi and, oh, wait a minute.  What do you want, Carl?"

"A Pepsi."

"Make that two Pepsis, Ma'am,"  Tracey said, correcting the order.

The canteen was not fancy and had a menu limited to cold drinks, candy bars and a variety of chips.   The counters were made of unpainted twelve inch wide wooden planks, and the drinks were kept cold in large coolers.  A double tube florescent light running the width of the small room provided the lighting.  On the back wall over a small hand sink, there was a large sign that read, "Lake Gaston Methodist Church Ladies Auxiliary."

"Tracey," I said, leaning toward her. "Have they ever thought about adding hot dogs and hamburgers to their menu?"

"The've thought about it," she said, turning around and handing me my drink.  "The kids would like it, but the village council voted it down as being too expensive.  Right now, the village donates the space to the church; but, if they had to upgrade the electricity and install a sprinkler system, they would want rent."

"That's understandable, Tracey, since they probably would have had to increase their fire insurance coverage as well after electric or gas grills and refrigeraton was installed," I said, taking a sip from my bottle as we walked to a narrow counter that had been built between three of the rough log supports.

"Yeah, Daddy handles that for the village. He said they would have to increase the liability and fire insurance coverage by at least a half a million to be safe," She answered before slipping her straw between her lips.

"Isn't the village self insured?" I asked as we reached the counter.

"Yes;  but, from what Daddy told me, they would have to either increase the surety bond that's posted with the state insurance commision or insure with a private company.  To do that taxes would have to be increased, so the council decided to leave things the way they are," Tracey said, turning to set her drink on the counter.

"Politics and politicians," I thought, cynically wondering if there were more to it than not wanting to increase taxes.


Carla and Dalton joined us, and we watched the dancers and others who were mingling around the outer perimeter of the pavilion dance floor.  There were maybe six young couples dancing while groups of girls and boys stood together talking and laughing.  Both groups looked like tanned and healthy teenagers on vacation.  There were a few better than average looking boys who didn't look like teenagers; and, from their stature,I guessed that they probably were lifeguards.  The cat and mouse game that all of them were playing was amusing.  Every now and then a boy would cut in on one of the couples, and his rival would give him a dirty look before reluctantly relinquishing his young lady.

I was watching one particularly good looking young man when the band started playing Hogey Carmichael's "Stardust."  Dalton leaning closer asked,"  Are you going ot ask one of the girls for a dance?"

"Yeah, Carl, when are you?" Tracey said, reaching for my hand. "This is slow."

I gave Dalton a dirty look and said, "You might regret it, Tracey, or your toes will.  It's been a long time since I've danced."

"I'll take that chance," she said smiling and pulling me onto the dance floor.

After a few tentative movements and racking my brain to remember the steps while Tracey led, I started feeling comfortable enough to assume the role as leader.  She reversed her position and followed smoothly.  The fine sand that had been carried in from the lake's beach rasped under the soles of our shoes, adding a soft hissing  accompaniment to the music.  "See, " she said as we moved easily around the floor, "It's like riding a bicycle.  Once you learn, you never forget."

"That depends on how long you rode the bicycle," I answered.

"You must have ridden it long enough, Carl.  You're really doing quite well," she replied.

"It took a few minutes of trying to remember the dance steps I had learned in a YMCA where I was stationed with the navy." I replied.

"Daddy told me you were in the navy; are you on a vacation or something like that?"

" 'Something like that' covers it Tracey.  Actually it's called being on leave while enroute to another duty station."

"Where's that?" she asked, leaning her head back and looking at me innocently.

"My new assignment is in Panama, but I have to report to the Brooklyn Naval Station for transportation.  I'll be down there for two years."

"Two years!!" She said hesitating a moment before continuing to dance.  "You are going to be living on that little strip of land in Central America where the canal is?  That sounds awful."

"It may be, Tracey.  A friend told me it gets awfully hot, humid and rainy," I responded, Joe Woodard's handsome face flashing through my mind.

"I bet you won't like it," she said as we twirled to a stop and applauded the musicians. 

"What's Dalton going to do with you gone for the next two years or whatever?  You and he look to be pretty close to each other."  She continued as we walked toward where Carla and Dalton were waiting.

"He'll finish high school, I hope, and then maybe join the marine corp," I answered, concerned over her mentioning our closeness to each other,and wondering whether how we felt about each other was that obvious.

"Or the navy," she said, grinning and giving me a quick look and a wink before skipping away and re-joining, Carla.

"Hey, Bro.  You guys looked great out there," Dalton said exuberantly.  "Almost as good," he stammered trying to think when Carla said, "Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers."

"Yeah, yeah, that's whom I was trying to think of," Dalton replied, beaming at Carla and Tracey.

"We weren't quite that good, Dalton. But, Carl is a better dancer then he lets on. He could probably teach you a few steps," Tracey said, looking at me, her eyes twinkling as she said it.

The last few comments that, Tracey had made, inadvertently or not, had me perplexed and a little concerned that there was a hidden meaning or that, for some unknown reason, she was probing.  I couldn't think of anything we had said or done that would lead her to conclude that there was more than just a brotherly relationship between us.  The concern must have shown; and, when I heard Dalton ask quietly, "Are you okay, Carl?" it startled me.

"Yes, sure, I'm okay.  I was just thinking, that's all," I answered.  "How about another drink, mine has gotten warm?"

"Not for us," Carla said.  "We girls need to visit the little girl's room.  You go ahead though, if you want."

"Me too," Dalton said looking at me; but I shook my head negatively even though I needed to relieve myself. 

I was still puzzling over what I thought were hints made by Tracey when Dalton returned.

"The girls aren't back yet?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder in the directon that Carla and Tracey had gone.

"Not yet, Dalt.  You know how girls are; they take forever in a bathroom.  Especially if there are mirrors."

"Yeah, I guess so. Do you still want another drink?" he asked.

"Yes, but ease up on the potato chips, will you?" I said as I took a five-dollar bill out of my wallet.  "You keep stuffing yourself with calories, and you'll be fat where you don't want to be."

His eyes twinkled as he took the money and said, 'You'll help me stay trim, won't you?"

"Go!!" I said smiling as he left, laughing.

Leaning against the railing, I felt a tingling in my groin as I admired the smooth athletic way he strode unhurriedly to the canteen.  His back muscles rippled under the tight knit cloth of his shirt, and the low rise jeans he was wearing clung to his hips accenting the tantalizing rising and falling of his beautifully rounded ass cheeks.   "Yeah," I thought.  "Tracey might suspect that he means more to me than just being my kid brother; but, if she does, she doesn't know how much."

I closed my eyes trying to think of other things to suppress the growing hardon in my crotch when, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Hey, Dude, you looked pretty cool out there dancing with Tracey," Lyle said as he joined me on the railing.

"Yeah, you sure did.  She's one hot chick," his brother Tip chimed in as he leaned against the upright roof support.

"Thanks for the compliment, but I'm afraid it was more she than I. I don't really dance very well," I said, glancing in their direction trying, without being obvious, to make a cursory inspection of them in their different dress from what they had been wearing earlier.

"I don't know, Carl, you seemed to be doing pretty good; all snuggled up to her like you were," Lyle said suggestively.

They both had changed into bleached blue jeans and white sleeveless muscle shirts that were tucked into their waist bands.  Dressed in baggy clothes their physiques weren't as discernible, only giving a suggestive hint as to what lay hidden.  Both of them were well developed with Lyle's being a little heavier than Tip.  Lyle's shoulders were a little wider than Tip's, and they both had defined pectoral chest muscles and flat stomachs. Their shirts were tucked in tight enough to stretch the cotton cloth; revealing the imprint of their nipples.  Their sleeveless shirts were meant to show off their well developed biceps and forearms.  More than likely, their physical development was a result of high school athletics and hard work.  There were faded areas to the left of their flies showing the impressive bulge of their cocks.  Lyle's seemed to be a little larger than his brother's, but not by very much, and I felt the tingling sensation in my groin in anticipation of what was obviously being displayed even though hidden.

"Snuggling as you call it, Lyle, is the way two people do a slow dance.  It is infinitely better than what the kids are doing if you call what they are doing dancing,"  I said looking into his eyes, noticing the golden sparks glinting in their hazel depths.

"I guess it depends on what you like, Carl," he said almost impudently, letting his hand brush suggestively over the bulge in his crotch.

"Perhaps it is," I replied, smiling and turning to look in Dalton's direction as he spoke to Tip who was standing beside him.

"Hey, Bo, why don't you catch up with Dalton and get us a couple of drinks?" Lyle said, stretching his legs out and shoving his hand into his pocket pulling out a couple of dollar bills.

"Sure," Tip answered, taking the money and almost running toward where Dalton was waiting in line behind several other youngsters.

Lye didn't pull his legs up; and, out of the corner of my eye,  I noticed he had left one hand cupped over the bulge in his crotch and supported himself with his other hand on the railing.  Still trying not to be obvious even though my "gaydar" had kicked in as I was trying to discern whether Lye was playing a game or being subtly antagonistic, I nodded in Tip's direction.

"Does Tip always do what you tell him, Lyle?" I asked matter-of-factly without looking at him.

"He usually does," he answered as he pulled his legs up, and turning toward me, hitched his hips up on the railing before completing what he was saying.  "Sometimes he gets mad at me; but all kid brother do; don't they, get mad at their older brother when they think you're trying to boss them around?  Doesn't, Dalton get mad at you?" He finished as he clasped both hands in his crotch.

"No, he doesn't, Lye.  I've never, as you say, bossed him around," I said, turning to look at his face before saying slowly, "We have a better relationship than that." 

"There," I thought to myself, watching for his reaction. "let's see if he picks up on that."

"I bet you do," he answered, looking unflinchingly into my eyes before turning to rearrange his position on the railing as Dalton and Tip approached with Dalton saying, "What are you two talking about so intently?"

"Nothing important, we were wondering what is keeping Carla and Tracy, that's all," I answered conversationally, noticing Lyle drop his head grinning as I said it.

Tip handed Lyle his drink and Dalton said, "I guess it's like you said, Carl.  Girls, bathrooms and mirrors.  You don't think they might have left without telling us, do you?" 

"Not likely, here they come now," Tip said, turning and looking at Carla and Tracey walking across the floor toward us.

"They don't look any different from how they did when they left," Dalton observed, bending close and whispering in my ear.

"Most girls don't, Dalt," I said quietly, pushing myself up from the railing and partially facing him.   "Usually going to the girl's room is a smokescreen to figure out how to dump someone they don't want or make plans for someone they do."

"Which do you think it is?" he asked anxiously.

"We don't know them well enough to know that; but, I'm not concerned with it," I said as I turned toward the girls smiling and saying,  "We were thinking that we were going to have to send a St. Bernard in case you needed help."

The both laughed; and then Carla looked at me, glancing at Lyle as she answered, "A cask of rum might have been okay, Carl, but I don't care for dogs," she almost purred and continuing said, "Hello, Lyle.  Long time no see, where did you come from?"

"Home," He answered bluntly.  "We came up just as you and Tracey were going to the rest room," he said, coolly.

I heard a hidden note of dislike when she spoke to Lyle, and an almost opaque veil seemed to drop over her beautiful almond eyes as Lyle spoke.  Listening, I glanced from her to him, and I saw a look of dislike in his eyes.  My head was spinning trying to put two and two together when Tracey moved closer saying cheerfully,  "We saw Lyle and Tip coming down the pathway as we went to the bathroom, Carla, remember?

"That's right, we did.  Sorry, I forgot," She answered not taking her eyes off of Lyle, her tone flat and not melodious as it had been earlier. 

Her eyes, still veiled, hid anything she might have been thinking.  From the blunt coolness of Lyle's answer and Carla's tone of voice,  I could feel the animosity between them.  Tracey's attempt at cheerfulness was sounding less spontaneous the more I thought about the sudden turn of events.

"Tracey," Dalton said, breaking the silence that had developed in the group,  "Do you and Carla want fresh drinks?  Yours must be hot by now."

"Yeah, we can go get them," Tip said jumping up from where he had been sitting next to, Lyle.   "Mine is almost empty, and I surely could use another one."

Tracey started to speak, but she looked at Carla before she did.  Carla didn't say anything, and Tracey turned her head, looking at Tip.  "Thanks, Tip.  I appreciate the offer, but we are going to run over to Perryville and catch the late movie.  Daddy said Carlton and Dalton were going to be here,so we just stopped by to see if we could talk them into a dance.  I only managed to get Carl on the floor," she said, laughing nervously.

"You, and Carla should like it, Tracey,"  Lyle said, almost in a monotone.  "The Amazons of The Congo" is playing,"  he said grinning, his eyes gleaming malevolently.

"Lyle Coleman, you are hateful. We didn't need you telling us that; we know what the movie is," she answered angrily.

"Hey," he replied, shrugging his shoulders, his eyes shining evily.  "I was only trying to be helpful."

"We can do without your help," she replied.  "Come on, Carla, lets go," Tracey said, flashing him a hurt look as they turned away and left.


I couldn't help but feel a little compassion for Tracey and Carla even though we didn't know them very well.  I was still confused at the obvious dislike between Carla and Lyle; but, the reason escaped me until he made his comments about the movie and what was playing. The word "lesbians" crept reluctantly into my thoughts, and Lyle confirmed what he thought of them as he spat the word out.

"Fucking lesbians, they deserve each other."

"Lyle...," Tip said shakily, looking around anxiously to be sure no one was close enough to hear.   "You don't know that for sure, you only suspect it."

"Suspect, shit!" he answered vehemently.  "What do you call that bitch leading me on, getting me all hot and horny out behind the boat storage shed and then walking away and leaving me with the worst blue balls I've ever had.  Huh, what the fuck do you call that?  Normal girls don't come onto to a guy, get him all worked up thinking he's going to score and then drop him. Lesbians do that; they like playing with a guy; it makes them feel superior."

"I don't know anything about that except what you told me, Lyle; but Tracey is always nice to us."  Tip answered timidly, glancing at Dalt and  me.

"She is whenever her girlfriend is not around, but when they are together they ignore everyone else.  Hell, Carl," he said, stopping to catch his breath before turning to me. "Tonight's the first time I've seen Tracey dancing with a boy when she and Carla are together.  She always dances with that bitch, Carla; and, it really surprised the hell out of me when I saw you on the floor with her."

"You and Tip know more about it than Dalt and I do, Lyle.  We haven't known Tracey long, and we just met Carla tonight, so we can't say one way or the other." I said cautiously, hoping Lyle's anger would cool.

"You stick around long enough, Carl;  and you might find out," Lyle said flatly.   "I'm not sure that Tracey would do it; but you can bet if Carla thinks she can get to you and Dalton's not around you're in for trouble.  Christ, she might even try Dalton; he's a hot looking dude."

Blushing, Dalton glanced at me and said, snickering, "I don't think  I need to worry about that, Lyle."

"Neither one of us do," I said in support of Dalton. 

""She's never tried anything with me,"  Tip said, joining in.

"Christ, Tip.  You're just a kid," Lyle snorted laughing.

A kid, my ass," Tip exclaimed indignantly, grabbing his crotch and glaring at his brother.  "I can get a boner almost as big as yours and shoot just as heavy a load."

Dalton looked at me with a surprised, wide eyed look on his face.  I reached over and touching Tip's arm as I looked around, said quietly, "Easy, Tip. not so loud or you'll have every girl in the pavilion over here."

"Yeah, and maybe a couple of boys as well; right little brother,"  Lyle said, grinning at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Lyle...," Tip exclaimed, blushing.

"Yeah, yeah, I know; but, what the hell, having a big dong is nothing to be ashamed of," Lyle said, smiling and running the tip of his tongue over his lips as he glanced at Dalton and me.

I had my suspicions about Lyle from the way he had looked back at Dalton and me when they had left us earlier in the evening. But, from what had happened with the girls after they had joined us and from what was said since, I couldn't really tell whether Lyle was still playing a game or whether Lyle and Tip or whether Lyle and the girls were.  For a moment the thought crossed my mind that Lyle had deliberately provoked Carla and then Tracey, and that was the game he was playing.  Get rid of the girls; and then make it obvious as to what they really wanted, me and Dalton.  Looking at Dalton, I could see that he was listening intently; and I was thankful he hadn't said anything that would have been sexual revealing. 

Running my fingers through my hair and breathing in deeply, I commented on Lyle's statement.  "You may be right about some people, Lyle; but, it's really not something you want to make a public announcement about.  At least, I don't think it should be."

"A picture is as good as a thousand words, Carl; that's why they make tight jeans." He said, stretching and delibertly running his hands over his thighs and down into his crotch.

"Hey, guys," Dalton said from behind me. "How about another drink?  Tip and I will go."

Taking advantage of the sudden change in the direction the conversation was heading, I stood up saying, "Maybe Lyle and Tip want one, Dalt; but we had better be going. We've got groceries in the trunk, and we'd better get them to the cottage before some of them spoil."

Lyle started to open his mouth to say something; but Dalton, catching my hint, cut him off saying, "Oh, yeah.  I'd forgotten about that."

Moving closer to Dalton, I glanced at Lyle still sitting on the railing.  He had removed his hands, showing the outline of an impressive elongated bulge stretching down the inside of his left thigh; but, he wasn't grinning or smiling.  For the moment, he had a stupefied look on his face; but then he recovered and said, "If you're leaving, how about a lift to our house?  We live just up the road from the Anderson cottage."

"But... we rode our bikes, Ly....," Tip started to say, but an angry look from Lyle stopped him.

"We can get those later," he said,continuing in an attempt at explaining Tip's unfinished comment.   "There's no need to pump up that hill if you guys will take us home."


When we reached the car, Dalton got behind the wheel; and I pulled the seat back forward so our impromptu passengers could get in the back.  Lyle sat quietly as we rode, but Dalton and Tip kept up a continuous flow of questions and answers between them.  The upshot was a swimming "date" the following day.  Lyle's brief sullen response when asked if he wanted to join them, was "Can't, I got work to do."  I was just as glad that they had not included me. Tracey had been on my mind, and I was thinking about seeing her and apologizing even though Dalton and I had not been involved in the nastiness that Lyle had provoked.

Their house was about a quarter of a mile up the road past the Anderson cottage.   When I got out of the car and pulled the seat back, Tip leaned over tapping Dalton's shoulder and said "Thanks for the lift, I'll see you tomorrow morning."  Lyle got out without saying anything, and Tip looked at his brother and then at me, shrugging his shoulders before following him in the direction of a house not much different from the one we were renting.

"Carlie," Dalton said as he pulled out onto the road.  "I'm sorry about asking Tip to go swimming without asking you."

"That's okay, Dalt," I answered, turning my head to look at him.  "Tip's your age, and the two of you should have fun.  Just remember what I've been telling you about using you head, and being careful."

He didn't say anything for the few minutes it took before we were pulling into our driveway.  When we were on the porch and I was fumbling in my pocket for the door key, he took my arm and gently spun me around.  Sliding his arms around my waist and pressing his hard body to mine, our lips met in a long lingering kiss, tongues playing gently in familiar surroundings.  I don't know whether it was the events of the evening or not, but in any event my cock hardened instantly, and I felt his hardon pressing into my pelvis.

"Jesus, Dalt," I said, gasping for breath.  "What was that for?"

"To let you know how much I love you," he answered softly, rotating his hips and rolling his hard cock over mine, our bodies pressed tightly together, almost as one.

Moving my hips in sync with his, I placed my hands on either side of his head and looked deep into his gleaming dark brown eyes.  I felt the special passion between us building; and, brushing his lips lightly with mine, I whispered, "Why don't you show me inside instead of out here on the porch?"

"It might be more fun outside," he replied, pressing his granite hard cock tightly against mine.

"Making love with you is never just fun, Little Brother, it's exhilarating," I whispered trying to get the door key out of my pocket.