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:

An advanced notification mailing list is maintained if you wish to be notified of newly posted episodes of my stories. 



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.

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