My Kid Brother
Copyright © 2003
By Lee Mariner
This ADULT fantasy depicts
homosexual acts and erotic situations. It is intended for adult
reading only, and should you not be of age in your locality to be
reading this material, or should you not approve of this type of
material, please leave.
The author holds exclusive copyrights to this story, and all Rights are
Reserved. It may not be copied, reproduced or archived on any web
site without the specific written consent of the author. It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives for posting in accordance with their submission
guidelines.
Editing and proofing has been done by Scottie MacGregor, and I am
grateful for his assistance.
Constructive comments are appreciated, and may be addressed to:
mariner23502@hotmail.com
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§
Chapter XLIV
The tinkling sound of breaking glass woke me, and I sat up in
bed anxiously looking around
the semi-darkened room. Dalton's side of the bed was empty, and
when I glanced toward the light streaming through the partially
closed bathroom door, I heard the muffled explicative, "Shit."
"Are you all right,
Dalton?" I called out, glancing at my watch reading 6:15 AM, as I swung
my legs out of bed and got up.
"I knocked a bottle off of the sink, Carl," he answered. "Go on
back to sleep, I'll be out as soon as I clean up the mess."
"What bot...,Dalt," I stammered, stopping in the doorway when I saw
green glass and blood on the floor and sink basin.
"Your Polo cologne bottle," he replied, squeezing his left index finger
with his right hand as he turned toward me. "Stupid accident," he said.
"I was washing my hands after taking a crap, and I
knocked the bottle off of the sink when I pulled the hand towel from
the rack. When I grabbed for the bottle, I missed and
jammed my finger into the blade of your razor. I should have just
let the damn thing fall instead of grabbing for it."
"And, I should have put it in my ditty bag yesterday when I finished
shaving," I said, while taking his hand and examining the profusely
bleeding finger.
The cut was superficial, the type that the bleeding scares more than
the actual cut; but a small bandage would be needed not a band
aid. Adjusting the water temperature, I cleaned the cut good with
anti-bacterial soap before making up a bandage. A small piece of
adhesive tape over the tip of his finger helped to pull the cut
together, and reduce the blood flow to where it was almost
unnoticeable. Dalton winced from the pressure when I squeezed his
finger, and I attempted to inject a little humor into what some would
have considered a bizarre scene of two naked men standing in front of a
bathroom sink, one fumbling with the others fingers. "One good
thing, Dalt," I said, chuckling and glancing
at him. "You didn't disable your working hand."
"My wha...,oh, yeah," he replied, grinning, his eyes twinkling
impishly. "It wouldn't really be a bother - I'm ambidextrous."
"A switch hitter," I said, chuckling as I completed an uncustomary
attempt at first aid, and gathered him in my arms. "I
never could get the hang of that, Dalt, I always missed a
stroke."
"It's exciting and fun if you use a little baby oil,'" he replied as he
slid his arms, injured
finger and all, around my neck, pressing his soft luscious lips to mine.
Moaning softly, Dalton leaned back against the sink as we kissed, our
tongues interacting lazily, and I felt his cock stirring,
swelling against mine. His eyes twinkled mischievously as our
lips parted, and he asked, "Do you want to shower or go on back to bed?"
"You do know you are a devil, don't you?" I replied, without
protesting, as I withdrew my arms
from around his chest.
"Uh huh," he replied, grinning impishly as we moved toward the shower.
* * * * * * * * * *
The water was warm, and the air
was permeated with the pine scent of Irish Spring soap. "Remember
the first time we showered, Carlie?" Dalton asked as he worked up a
fragrant lather with the washcloth.
"How could I forget," I answered, gazing into his warm dark brown
eyes. "You were like a kid being taught how to swim. You wanted to get
wet, but you weren't exactly sure how to go about doing it."
"Oh, I knew how, Big Brother, but I wasn't sure about how you would
react to having a gay kid brother," he said, vigorously scrubbing
my chest, stomach and down into
the
thick bush around the base of my stirring cock.
"You didn't hesitate once you found out," I said, spluttering and
closing my eyes as he redirected the shower spray rinsing the suds
away.
"No, I didn't," he replied, seductively as he
rolled my balls, and fondled my stiff cock with his free hand.
"I've
known what I wanted for a long time," he murmured softly, as he sank to
his knees.
"Dalton," I gasped at the exquisite feeling of my cock slipping into
his
mouth. "You don't need to do that," I protested weakly, running
my fingers through his hair, but not really
trying to restrain him.
His murmured reply, with my cock in his mouth, sent excruciating waves
of
pleasure rushing over
me. My muscles weakened as I relished the feeling of his tongue
sliding over the sensitive glands. When I felt his hands gliding
over my calves and hamstring muscles, I crouched slightly, holding his
head and slowly driving my cock into his mouth, in unison with his
sucking. We were engulfed in a euphoric aura of surreal ecstasy,
and seeing my cock sliding in and out of his mouth as he was moaning
and jerking off increased the intensity of the erotic passion
that gripped us. We surrendered to the base animal need to reach the
physically ecstatic heights of sexual copulation. I felt the
pressure to empty my nuts increasing
with each thrust of my hips, and then a brief moment of relief as my
cock exploded, Dalton's frenzied sucking
action drawing the cream from my tightening nuts. "Dalton," I
whimpered softly, the piston movement of my hips subsiding, my tight
muscles slowly relaxing as my pulsing cock emptied thick streams of
sperm into his
waiting mouth and down his gulping throat. His moans of pleasure
and excitement reverberated through the length of my spewing cock, and
glancing down I saw his cock gushing thick streams of his sweet sperm
onto the
shower floor.
It seemed ages before our intense mutual ejaculation of sperm subsided,
and a feeling of
weakness spreading over us as our cocks slowly returned to normal.
Dalton's tight lips greedily drained
the remaining driblets of my sperm before he stood, grinning
impishly. His eyes reflected the contentment he was feeling; and laying
his head on my shoulder, he leaned against me. I held him tightly as we
stood under the tepid shower water for several minutes,
enjoying the mutual after-glow of pleasure mixed with the feelings of
our love
and devotion. When our breathing and the beat of our hearts had
returned to near normal, he looked at me, and said, "I needed that,
Carlie, I needed something of you before you leave."
Reaching behind him, I increased the warmth of the water as I gazed
into his eyes. Brushing his lips with mine, I whispered softly,
lovingly, "I know, Little Brother, I know."
* * * * * * * * * *
Quickly
finishing our showers, we dried each other off. As I was drying
Dalton's hair I let my eyes rove over the magnificent golden muscles
of his healthy young body, and I said, "Dalt, don't stop working out,
but don't build up a mass of muscle either. Right now you're perfect,
at
least to me you are."
"I intend to stay just like you, Big Brother," he said, pulling the
towel from my hands as I finished. Before he could loop it over my head
and around my neck, I anticipated what he was going to do, and grabbing
his small waist with both hands I pulled him tightly against
me. Our lips met in a kiss, a kiss not totally devoid of passion
- a kiss that insured and cemented the unbreakable bond between us.
Dalton got into bed, sliding to his side, and when I lay down he put
his arm across my chest, snuggling against me as I pulled the sheet
and light blanket over us. It was only a few seconds before I
felt the pressure of his arm across my chest slacken, and his breathing
deepen as he fell asleep. The mesmerizing aroma of the sandalwood
shampoo that we had washed our hair with filled my nostrils, as
memories of when we discreetly, but no less passionately, realized that
we both were gay and had
first slept together, filled my head. The tantalizing beauty of
his magnificently developed body as he undressed, and the unhidden
swelling of his cock as he reluctantly joined me in the shower. Our
initial feeling of guilt after we had made love began to be slowly
replaced
as the bond between us grew into an inferno of suppressed desires from
early childhood. The realization of our feelings that had been
within
us, hinted at but not expressed until they no longer could be
restrained. Memories of his broadening education as to why we
felt the way we did about each other, and his long held but suppressed
desire to be with other men, finally culminating in his meeting and
enjoying the pleasure and excitement of mutually indulging those
feelings with Tip Coleman, his first encounter.
"No, Little Brother, you've always been perfect," I whispered softly,
as I joined
him in the soft mists of slumber.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Carlie," Dalton called from the bedroom while I was shaving. "Did you
say that you were going to be in Panama for two years?"
"Yeah," I answered, puzzled as to why he would ask. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I was just wondering," he replied as he came into the
bathroom in his briefs, carrying his jeans. "If, I join the
Marine Corps after graduating, you'll still be there won't you?"
"I guess so," I answered tentatively, glancing at him in the mirror,
and trying to figure where he was going.
"Well...," he started to say, hesitating as he inhaled, the chiseled
muscles of his chest hardening as his chest expanded, " if your going
to be there for that long, you won't be here for my graduation from
high
school or from the marines after boot camp."
"You've decided on joining the marines?" I asked, as I rinsed the
lather from my face.
"Pretty much, I have," he answered as he pulled his jeans on, leaving
the zipper open and then tucking the bulge of his cock inside as he
continued speaking. "I know you were hoping that I would join the
navy with you," he said softly, hesitating for a brief second.
"I'm sorry, Carlie, I just don't like the idea of being out on an
ocean with all of that water around me."
"If that is what you've decided - then go for it and do your best," I
said, as I dried my face, struggling not to display a feeling of
disappointment at his decision.
"Just like you did," he said cheerfully, finger flicking my cock as he
left.
"Ouch," I exclaimed in mock pain at his playfulness as I followed him.
"That can get you into big trouble."
"The big, I know about; and I'm pretty sure that I can handle the
trouble if it's what I think it is," he replied, a playful list in his
voice as he pulled a black short
sleeved golf style shirt over his head.
"Aren't we getting cocky!" I exclaimed, grabbing him around the waist
and pulling him to me as he struggled to get his shirt on.
"I've had a good teacher," he said as he put his arms over my shoulders
and we looked into each other's eyes. "You don't really know how much
I'm going to miss you Carlie,"
he whispered.
"I think I do, Squirt," I said, glancing away, and swallowing the huge
lump growing
in my throat. "Just do your best, and try to remember what we've
talked
about, that's all I ask - that and be careful."
"I will," he sniffed, as he removed his arms from my shoulders
and I released
my hold around his waist.
Dalton finished dressing, and without saying anything else, he carried
my sea bag upstairs. I heard Mom's muffled "Good morning, Dalton,
is Carlton behind you?" She asked, followed by his reply that I was on
my way. Double-checking the bedroom and bathroom, I hesitated
briefly, looking for the
ghosts that would linger before closing the door and joining Mom and
Dalton
in the kitchen.
Except for the usual morning greeting, and her telling me that Dad said
he would meet us at his lawyer's office, breakfast was subdued. A
few comments were made about the cottage, and my reassuring her that
Dalton would take care of the place, of which I was sure she was
not fully
convinced that he would be up to. Dalton rolled his eyes as she
continued talking, and the conversation droned on with more inane
questions about who we had seen, what had we done with whom, what was
my next duty station going to be, and I caught myself looking at the
wall-clock over the refrigerator.
Dalton caught my glance, and inhaling quickly, he exclaimed, "Jeez,
Mom, look at the time, it's getting late. We better get going
Carl, or were going
to be late."
"Oh my heavens," she replied. "Is it that time already, it seems like
you only just sat
down."
Sliding my chair back, I glanced at Dalton who was heading for the
door and then at my mother. "Gotta go, Mom, duty calls; but
I'll be back
before you know it," I said, forcing a smile and a cheerful tone to my
voice.
She stood as I moved around the table toward her. Putting her arms
around me and looking into my eyes, she hugged me tightly, and kissing
both of my cheeks, she said softly, "We love you, Carlie, very much.
Take
care of yourself, and write when you have the time."
"I will, Mom," I replied, kissing her cheek and swallowing hard.
Glancing back when I reached the doorway, I felt the tears welling up
in my eyes, and I blew her a final kiss before leaving.
Dalton had the 'Pony' running and waiting for me at the bottom of the
steps. Emotions were running high, and I was trying to suppress
the tears as I got in beside him. He glanced at me with
watery eyes as I settled into the seat, and then dropping the car
into gear, pulled away from the house.
Neither one of us said very much as Dalton drove to where we would meet
Dad at his lawyer's office. I had met Mr. Herman when Dad bought
the house; at that time, Dalton was a baby and, I only had a vague
childhood impression of what he looked like, but I doubted he would
still look the same after so many years. We saw dad's car
in the parking lot behind the building, and glancing at my watch, I
said, "He is early as usual, Dalt."
"He always is," he replied in a noncommittal off-hand tone as we
parked a short distance away. "Mom says he is always early for
everything except church."
"That's Dad, Dalt," I said, chuckling loudly as we got out of the
car.
* * * * * * * * * *
Mr. Herman's law office was
located
on the second floor of a granite and brick building that had been
originally built circa 1912, as the Hamilton County Circuit
Court. The original wooden floor reeked of linseed oil and
the granite steps between first and second floors were well worn from
over fifty years of foot traffic. There was a
directional sign lettered in gold with small arrows that indicated the
direction of various court offices on the first floor, and a matching
sign listing the offices of the lawyers on the second floor. Mr.
Herman's office was shown simply as, 201 - Herman, Samuel,
Attorney-At-Law.
The ancient dark wooden floors protested loudly as we walked toward the
gray granite
stairway. The gritty sound of our leather shoe soles on the
granite steps echoed through the hallways until we reached the second
floor. There were four
opaque skylights in the ceiling that furnished the bulk of the
illumination along with large double wall sconces located between each
of the half opaque glass and wooden doors that ran the entire length of
the second floor corridor.
Mr. Herman's office was the first door on the left, and when we
entered,
the interior decor did not change, i.e. wooden floor, uncomfortable
wooden chairs, off white walls, and wall sconces except for a single
lamp on a secretarial desk facing the entrance door. There
was a duplicate of the entrance door to the left of the desk, and as
the door closed behind us it opened revealing our father looking out at
us, and then turning to look behind him as he said, "It's the boys,
Sam."
A booming voice answered, "Great, bring them on in."
A large heavy set man about the same age as our father stepped from
behind a dark well worn wooden desk that was stacked high with file
folders and a variety of books. He was wearing an open-throated
white shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, khaki trousers
and canvas deck shoes. His bushy silver hair appeared more
brushed than combed, his dark brown eyes snapped with energy, and his
dazzling smile revealed brilliant white teeth.
"Carlton!" He exclaimed, extending his hand as he approached. "By
George, you have grown since I saw you last," he said exuberantly,
glancing at Dad while we shook hands. "What was he, Bill, five or
six years old?"
"Six, Sam," Dad answered, beaming. "They do grow you know."
"Yes, they do, Bill," Sam replied, "even with elections, and unwanted
wars, they grow," he
said. His brow furrowed as his mood darkened for a moment as if he were
remembering an unpleasant event in the past
before brightening again as he looked at Dalton, extending his hand and
saying, "It looks like you might be trying to catch up with your
brother, Dalton."
"I might have at one time, Mr. Herman, but I sort of like him the way
he is," Dalton replied, glancing at me and
grinning with a twinkle in his all to expressive eyes.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Sam responded jocularly as he returned
to the other side of his desk. "From the breadth and size of your chest
and shoulders, its obvious you've
been trying," He said admiringly, as he glanced at Dad. "What do
you think, Bill?"
"I'm proud of both of them, Sam," Dad answered diplomatically, but in a
tone that unmistakably expressed the pride and love I knew he felt for
both of us.
"You have every reason to be, Bill, every reason, and one day there
will be
grandchildren."
"Perhaps," Dad replied, without elaboration.
Waving his arm in front of him indicating we should sit down, he sat in
a well-used, black leather executive style chair. Opening a file
folder
in front of him, he said, "Now then, Carlton, your dad tells me you
want to give him a General Power-of-Attorney so he can handle some of
your affairs while you are away, right?"
"Yes, Sir," I answered.
"That's simple enough," he said, as he handed the documents in the
folder to me. "Read the conditions, while I get a couple of witnesses
to witness your signature. You do have identification with you,
don't you?
"Yes, Sir, my military identification card."
"Good," he answered bluntly as he picked up his telephone.
While I was reading the conditions set forth in the documents, two
young men dressed in smartly tailored business suits, and not
much older than myself, entered the office. Mr. Herman explained
why he wanted them, and within another ten minutes, my dad had a
complete power-of-attorney to act for me.
"Wanna-be lawyers working as law clerks for Judge Morrison," he
explained, gathering the documents in the folder after the witnesses
left. The two witnesses had signed the documents attesting to the
authenticity of my
signature and, with a nod from Mr. Herman, they left. "They'll
make it if they keep their noses to the
grindstone."
"That's what it takes, Sam; but, if you will excuse us, I have to get
back to work and Carlton has a plane to catch in Indianapolis."
"I understand, Bill," Mr. Herman replied as he stood up. "I'll
register the Power-of-Attorney with the Court Documents Office, and
then I'll send it on to
you. Unless you want me to keep the original with your other papers,
and
send you a certified copy."
"That sounds good, Sam but instead of sending one copy, send two so I
can send
one to Carlton in case he needs it," Dad asked.
"Done, and done, Bill," Mr. Herman answered as we shook hands and
slowly shuffled toward the door. "It's been good seeing you boys," he
said.
"You too, Mr. Herman," Dalton and I answered at the same moment.
* * * * * * * * * *
Saying 'good-bye' to dad did not
take very long. He was not one who enjoyed prolonging an
emotional moment, and never in my memory said 'good-bye'. We
hugged each other, shook hands, and after admonishing Dalton to be
careful on the roads, he looked at me wistfully for a moment, his eyes
searching mine before turning away, and saying, "We'll be seeing you."
"Yes, Sir," I managed to croak as he briskly walked toward his car.
We watched dad's car disappear around a corner, and then walked to
Dalton's car. The conversation was stilted at first until we were
outside of the city. I was stretched out as much as I could in a
two-seater Mustang, with my head lolling against the back of the seat
watching the seemingly endless rows of corn interspersed with huge
fields of soy beans flying by. Events of the past few days were
flashing in
my head
when Dalton interrupted my train of thought with, "Do you get the
feeling that Dad
knows we are gay, Carl?"
"Wha...what was that?" I spluttered, sitting up and turning toward him,
the shock of what he had asked not yet fully registered.
"I said, do you think Dad knows we are gay?"
"Oooooh," I stalled, breathing in deeply and reflecting on the one
question that always plagued gay and lesbian alike. The only
answer that without a confrontation with parents was speculation, and
Dalton, even though we had touched on that subject lightly, was
speculating the
same way that I had when I was his age.
"I'm not totally sure if Dad or Mom ever really think about it, Dalt,"
I said,
hesitating as I picked my words. "Mom used to ask me about girls
and getting married, but she hasn't mentioned any of that since I've
been home this time. That usually means the suspicion about me
being gay might be on her mind. Dad, on the other hand, might
think about the possibility, but I don't think he will ever come right
out and ask, unless
something or someone should intentionally or accidentally provoke
it. Something like a totally unrelated comment as to a persons
companions or acquaintances can mushroom into a nasty
rumor that for no reason other than their warped thinking, starts
people thinking and gossiping about it. It does not take much after
that, and the wheels of the rumor mills spit out the
words 'gay or faggot'. The public's appetite for smut is
insatiable, and after those words are applied, wagging tongues create a
nasty picture. That is one of the reasons
that I've been trying to impress on you to be very
careful about whom you allow or choose to be intimate with."
"Tippy is the only one, and with him living in Lake Gaston, I don't
think anyone will suspect anything," he answered, quickly glancing in
my direction.
"What about Billy What's-His-Name in school?" I asked. "You
thought he might be interested in you, and you in him."
Dalton didn't answer for a few seconds and I was about to ask another
probing question about his school friend and about Jimmy Baxter, whom I
knew he had been involved with,
when he spoke up. "Billy Edmonds is
hot but, after what you've been telling me, he would have to make the
first move, and I'd still play dumb until I was really sure about him
being gay, and then I'm not sure that I'd even let on that I know
anything about it. I told you about a couple of guys that got
really screwed that way, and that isn't going to happen to me."
"Good thinking, Squirt," I said, squeezing his shoulder gently.
"Stick with Tip. You know him, and you both like each other."
"Yeah...," Dalt sighed dreamily, letting one hand fall between his legs
while he drove with the other. "Tip is fine."
My cock hardened as I saw Dalt's zipper flap bulging from the pressure
of his impressive cock hardening inside of his tight jeans. Scooting a
little closer, Dalton's
eyes widened as I unsnapped and lowered the zipper on my fly. My
brief hidden cock filled the opening between the laid back flaps.
Slipping my hand under the band of my briefs, I pushed the elastic band
down under my balls, and with my thumb pushed down on the base of my
cock, extending it to its fullest length.
"Jesus, Carlie," Dalt hissed, breathing deeply, and glancing at the
road and then at my cock. "We can't do anything now," he complained.
"Why not," I said teasingly as I started to undo his jeans. "Remember
what you and Jimmy did in the back seat when we went to Indianapolis?"
"Yeah," he said, gasping as his cock was exposed. "But, I wasn't
driving Carl, you were," he moaned as I spit into my hand, and gently
stroked his cock.
"No problem, Little Brother, ease up on the speed," I said, ducking
under his arm and engulfing his pre-seminal oozing schlong.
I felt the cars speed drop as he moaned loudly, "Oh my, God, Carlieee!"
It was a little tight under the steering wheel, and I was sucking only
three or four inches of his cock when I felt his hips moving
slightly trying to meet each descending movement of my mouth.
Reaching
under the front seat for the towel that I had told him to keep there, I
pulled it out, and while I was fumbling to wrap it around my cock, I
felt Dalton helping until my throbbing, steel hard
cock was unexposed. An occasional car flying by in the opposite
direction or
passing us because of Dalton's slow speed, increased the excitement of
sucking my kid brother off on the highway.
When Dalton moved the seat back, and started playing with my hair, I
knew
he was really getting into it. Forcing his cock down into my
throat, I squeezed my towel wrapped cock tightly, jerking off while I
deep throated Dalt's thick cock, drawing hot sticky streams of his
bitter-sweet semen from his tightening nuts. Waves of
excitement rushed over me as my burgeoning cock exploded with almost
volcanic force, spewing gobs
of semen into the folds of the towel.
I felt the beat of his heart in the pulsating throb of his cock, each
spasm
less productive of the nectar that flowed down my throat, as it wilted
from its statuesque grandeur to the eye-catching bulge it would be when
his jeans were zipped shut.
Gripping it tightly at the base, I stripped the last driblets of cream
from it's urethra canal before reluctantly releasing it, attempting to
ignore any thoughts about when I might realize the power lurking in the
depth of his loins, ready to be released when called for. Sitting
up and inhaling deeply, I leaned back against the seat with my hand
resting on the sperm filled towel.
After a few minutes, we regained our composure, I rolled
my head sideways to look at Dalton, and when he looked at me, his eyes
glistened with excitement as he exclaimed, "Damn, Carlie, that
was almost as good as being in bed. Christ, it was better - it was
awesome."
"It was wasn't it?" I replied, smiling softly at his unabashed
excitement.
"Did you ever do it that way before?" he asked as I was cleaning the
sperm from my flaccid cock and pubic hair.
"Once with a soldier I met in Boston," I answered, thinking back to the
event when I was hitchhiking from Newport, Rhode Island to
Boston. "He wanted me to drive, giving me an excuse of being on
the road all day, and he needed a break. I was still not fully
out, and was more involved in doing what was called being 'trade'.
That's when you get some guy to suck you off; but you don't do anything
to him. Some kids and lots of older teenagers want money, but I
wasn't into that part of letting some guy suck me off. I felt
like he was sucking my cock because I liked the feeling, and he liked
sucking a guys cock. I couldn't see asking for money to let
someone do what I enjoyed, and wanted him to do.
I was nervous about it, but I was horny and, from the way he was
looking at me, I could tell what he wanted. With him driving
there was not much he could do other than just play with my cock while
he drove and I didn't want that; so, in my naiveté as to what
exactly it was that he would do, I
drove while he sucked me off. That, Little Brother, was the first
and only time that I've had a blow job
in a moving car, and you are the first for me. Putting your head
down in a strangers crotch is a little like playing a dangerous game of
Russian Roulette and, you have no way of really knowing what he is
going to do. Even though his cock is
in
your mouth and you could, in self-defense, bite
the
son-of-a-bitch or you could keep his balls in one hand just in
case, it is still dangerous. Most of the guys that you meet
are probably all right but
why take a
chance and maybe get hurt. It is a lot safer to jerk off than take the
chance some gay basher wants to fuck you up even though you suck him
off. In lots of cases, they like getting their cock sucked but, they
still might beat the crap out of you. There are those types,
Dalt, and if you think about it,
you'll understand what I'm telling you. In bed you have room to
maneuver but not in a car. If
you run across some guy that wants to give you a lift, you play it
straight and, maybe, maybe let him suck you off - but that's all.
He might try
and get rough after he stops the car but not while he is driving.
Once the car is not moving, you should be out and long gone."
"Shish, Carlie, how do you remember all of that stuff?" he asked,
grinning and giggling, his cock hardening while I was wiping the excess
saliva and some semen from its smooth satiny exterior.
"Getting older and reading reports, and listening to others -
others who have had it happen," I
answered, watching his face as I spoke, while cleaning his stiffening
cock.
"Jesus, Dalt, you are a horny imp!" I exclaimed, pulling the elastic
waistband of his briefs out and, tucking his semi-hard cock into his
jeans, and zipping the fly shut over the growing bulge.
"Well, you were sixteen once or don't you remember back that
far?" he
teased, chuckling softly, and grinning at me.
"Touché', Little Brother," I said softly, looking at him and
smiling. "You got me."
* * * * * * * * * *
When Dalton started to pull into
the airport parking lot, I told him to drop me off at the main
entrance. He protested about wanting to help me with my bags, and
waiting with me until the plane left. I exercised a big brother's
authority, and told him that two 'good-bye's' in one day was enough for
one
visit. After several whining, coquettish attempts to cajole me
into allowing him to
stick around, he finally acquiesced, and drove to the main
entrance. After unloading my bags, we stood looking at each other
for several moments with tears welling up in our eyes. Hugging
each other, we both were crying and from the way he was sobbing
I felt myself wishing I didn't have to leave.
We received several lewd stares from passerby's, but I could have cared
less what they thought. I held Dalton tightly to me until his
sobs
started to subside. When he inhaled deeply, I released my arms
from around him and placing my hands on his shoulders, I said
softly, "I know it's a silly question, Squirt, but are
you going to be all right?"
"Yeah," he croaked emotionally, swallowing before looking into my eyes,
his soft brown eyes filled with the feelings that were building inside
of me. "I hate having
you leave, that's all."
"And I hate leaving, Dalt, but look on the bright side, we've both
learned things about each other that we didn't know until a few days
ago - and I'll be back."
Breathing in deeply, and expanding his gorgeous chest until his nipples
protruded through the thin cloth of his shirt, he exhaled and said,
"That makes it a little easier, Carlie."
"Sure it does - for me to," I said as we walked around the 'Pony' to
the drivers
door. "You take care of Mom and Dad, and I'll send you my new
address as soon as I know it."
Opening the door, he gave me a mournful look and said, "You take care
of yourself Big Brother. I don't want to lose you now that we've found
each other."
"That's not going to happen," I said, closing the door behind him, and
leaning inside to give him a quick kiss.
"Carlie," he whimpered softly as I straightened up.
"Go," I replied quickly, moving back from the car and waving my arm in
the direction of the roadway leading away from the airport.
* * * * * * * * * *
I stood watching Dalton drive
away, a lump as big as a goose egg in my throat. Swallowing
several times and attempting to regain my composure, I didn't go into
the terminal until Dalton's car was out of sight.
A tingling in my flaccid cock reminded me that a drop or two of semen
was oozing from the urethra canal, and I hoped there wouldn't be a wet
spot showing as I walked inside. Checking in at the American
Airways counter, the clerk looked at me and then at my bags.
"From the size of your sea bag, sailor, it looks like you might be
pushing the weight limit a bit," the pimply-faced clerk said in an
irritating monotone.
"I hope not, I haven't added anything since I flew in that would add to
the weight," I replied, biting my tongue to avoid addressing
him as 'Sir'.
"Then there shouldn't be any problem," he responded cockily as he
released the lever on the scales.
The dead weight met the airline standard with two pounds to spare, and
I could see it aggravated the clerk enough that he emphasized his
ill suppressed irritation by
pounding the weight stamp on my ticket, and said sarcastically, "The
plane loads
at number three gate, and boards in fifteen minutes. Don't get hung up
in the terminal bar, there isn't a loudspeaker in there."
"Thanks for the warning," I replied, turning my back to him and moving
aside for the next passenger.
The pimply-faced clerk was right, they announced the loading of my
flight before I was finished relieving the pressure on my
bladder and wiping a small amount of sticky sperm from the head of my
cock. Airplane heads stink of disinfectants and are to small
for wide shouldered men. When I reached the top platform of
the passenger loading stairway, I glanced over my shoulder, glimpsing a
red vehicle and a lone figure standing at the fence waving.
Waving, I ducked through the doorway into the plane. "Welcome
aboard," a young nice
looking steward said in a smooth well modulated baritone. Looking at my
ticket and smiling, he directed me to my seat.
Unfortunately, the seat was away from the terminal, but no one was
occupying the seats opposite mine. Looking around, I moved to the
outside seat and looked out the small window. My Kid Brother was
standing at the fence, waving first one arm and then the other.
The lump returned to my throat with a vengeance, and I had to
agree with Dad, good-byes were a bitch.
* * * * * * * * * *