The Root Beer Boys, a story of love. © 2000 by K Ration. All rights reserved.

This story is dedicated to Bill, AJ, Driver and Squirt.

The Root Beer Boys

By Dan

Chapter Four

As I turned 13 and Wayne turned 11, we continued to grow closer and closer together. Mom and dad didn't seem to mind us holding hands and sitting practically on top of each other while watching TV. But dad kept making those comments about homosexuals, and I began to feel more and more uncomfortable about it. I mean, I couldn't figure out why he hated them so much. I never saw a gay person do anything bad to him.

I remember one day he came home from work really bent out of shape. All during dinner he was complaining about the "damn queers" thinking they were just as good as everybody else, and how "those limp wristed buggers" (whatever a bugger is) made him sick to his stomach, and how he sure was glad "none of them faggots lived in our neighborhood." I wondered at the time how he knew there weren't any in our neighborhood. Wayne seemed just as embarrassed by dad's comments as I was. Neither of us looked up from our plates during dinner that night, except to look at each other.

Anyway, on a lighter note, I know I told you Wayne had a cute laugh and giggle that really made me feel so good when I heard him. But did I tell you he had a really sweet singing voice? Of course, at 11 his voice hadn't changed yet, so it was a high voice. But when he sang with us in the choir, it sounded so pretty.

One night when we were lying in our beds after mom had come in and tucked us in, I asked him if he'd ever thought of singing a solo at church. He said he'd never thought about it but figured he'd be too scared. We talked about it for awhile and I encouraged him to think about it. I even offered to play the piano for him.

For the next few weeks, any time we were home alone I'd drag Wayne into the TV room where the piano was and tease him into singing as I played. As he got accustomed to it, his confidence grew, and pretty soon he was really belting out some of the old hymns like a pro. I think that's when I started falling in love with him. His voice alone could bring tears to my eyes. Of course I couldn't let him see me crying because that would start him off and he'd have to stop singing.

After just a few sessions, I started singing along with him. My voice hadn't changed either, but it was a little lower than his so I'd do the harmony part, which I could hear in my head, probably because of all the piano lessons. We were sitting in there one day, really getting after it, when mom walked in. She had gone to town for some new shoes and heard us singing the minute she walked in the back door. When we noticed her, she was leaning against the door frame with tears in her eyes.

"How long have you guys been working on that?"

"Well.... ummm, we... uh.... we haven't really been working on anything in particular, mom. Just sort of fooling around."

"Yeah, mom. Andy talked me into it. At first he was just playing the piano, but now he's started singing with me. Do we sound really bad?"

"Well, boys, I know you're going to think this is just your mom talking, but this is true. When I walked in the back door, I thought I was hearing angels singing. Wayne, your voice is beautiful! And Andy, yours blends so well with his. I am really amazed."

"Aw, moooom!"

"You're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm not. And I'll prove it to you."


"Well, you know your dad sings in the barbershop quartet. Do you think he does a good job?"

"Yeah! He's cool!" we both answered.

"Well, let's just let him hear you guys and tell you what he thinks."

That night, dad listened to us sing. I don't think I had ever seen him look so proud.

"Why don't we call Mrs. Johnson and see if there's an opening on the church calendar? I think the boys need to share this gift of music with the rest of the congregation."

That's how we started singing duets at church. It never went beyond that. We didn't become famous or anything, but we've been singing special music ever since. When we sang together, Mrs. Johnson would play the piano. But when Wayne sang solo, I'd play. Of course I always had to memorize the music, 'cause so many times his voice and the words would make me cry and I couldn't see the music. Wayne had such a beautiful boy soprano voice, he could probably have sung in the Vienna Boy's Choir, which had always been my favorite group.

Shortly after I turned 13, I learned about masturbation. One of my friends from the neighborhood saw his brother doing it and forced him to tell him what it was all about. I was over at Joey's house when no one was at home and he talked me into doing it with him. We only did it together that one time, but it was the greatest thing I'd experienced up to that time.

From that time on, I beat off every chance I got, usually in the bathroom. Then I started playing with it at night in bed. At first I was real careful not to let Wayne catch me. But after awhile I got to thinking about Joey catching his brother and that made me hot. So I guess I began to get careless, sort of accidently on purpose.

It was summer time, and we had gone to bed with just our PJ bottoms on. We had pushed the blankets on our beds down to the floor and were lying there with just a sheet over us, Wayne in his bed, me in mine. I had just started sperming, so I had some tissues with me, lying on the bed at my side. I laid there for awhile just thinking about the time Joey & I did it together which of course made my dick get hard. Then I started rubbing it like I usually do. Of course this made the sheet bounce up and down, and I guess there was enough moonlight coming in the window for Wayne to see.

Suddenly I heard Wayne whisper.

"What are you doing Andy?"

"I'm, uh... well, I'm, uhh... what's it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're beatin' off!"

I about SHIT! I mean, here I am 13 years old, been playing with myself for maybe two or three weeks, and here's my little brother talking like he knows all about it. I mean, just the matter-of-fact tone of voice he used told me he wasn't unfamiliar with it.

"What do you know about beatin' off?" I asked in a loud whisper.

"Not much. Tommy Newberry from school told me about it. He said he does it and it feels really good."

"Have you ever done it?"

"Not really. I tried it once, but I must have been doing it wrong, 'cause I didn't get much out of it."




"Would you show me how?"

"Huh?" Boy was I eloquent at 13.

"Could I watch you do it?"

"Gosh, Wayne, I never did it in front of anybody but Joey Stevens, and that was only once."

"Well, that's not really true, ya know."

"WHAT!? What do you mean?"

"Well, a couple times when you thought I was asleep? I wasn't. I've watched you before, like tonight, but I can't see much in the dark."

I was silent. I couldn't believe my little brother had been laying there listening to me beat off and groan and moan and stuff. But I have to admit, just thinking about it was making my penis get hard again.



"My pecker's stiff. You wanna see it?"

Honest to God, I don't know what it was, but the instant he asked that question, my feelings for him started to change. I laid there for a minute or two, just thinking about what Wayne had said, and what his penis looked like soft all those times we had changed clothes or bathed together, and I suddenly knew that I wanted to see him stiff more than anything in the world.

"Yeah, Wayne." I whispered softly. "I'd really like that."

I heard him slide out of bed and step over to my bed. Even for him it was only two steps, they were that close together. I could just barely see him in the moonlight as his PJ bottoms slid to the floor. His hardon was a mere shadow in the darkness, but it was the most beautiful thing I had seen up to that point in my life.

What in the hell is going on? I thought to myself. Why do I feel the way I do right now? Why is his penis suddenly so beautiful to me?

As he stood there with his pecker bouncing in the moonlight, I pushed my pj's off, pulled them out from under the covers and dropped them beside his on the floor. Then I watched his face as I drew the covers back, exposing myself to his gaze. Since I was lying next to the window, I knew what little light there was was even brighter on me than on him. I thought I heard a little gasp as I saw him look down at my hardon sticking straight up in the air. It hadn't gotten big enough or heavy enough to lay down on my belly yet.

For some reason, just having him look at me that way made my penis feel even harder, and I know it was throbbing something fierce. He sat down on the bed right at my hips, facing me, his back to my feet.

"So. You going to show me how you do it?"

I could definitely tell he was breathing funny, and I wondered if he would do it too. But I kept my thoughts to myself. I was a little embarrassed at first, as I wrapped my hand around myself and started stroking. I just went at it kind of slowly, letting him see what I was doing in slow motion, getting used to the idea of having an audience.

The longer I stroked, the heavier our breathing became, both of us. I don't know the real reason, whether he was just getting tired sitting there, or if he wanted to get a better look, or if he was somehow drawn to be closer to what I was doing, but as I played with it, his body got lower and lower on the bed until his head was resting on my thigh just below my crotch. I could even feel his heavy warm breath on my leg. Then we started whispering again.

"Does that feel as good as it looks like it does?"

"Yeah, it feels great. The longer you do it, the better it feels."

"How long you been doing this, Andy?"

"Only about three or four weeks, I guess. Just since Joey Stevens showed me."

"I'm doing it too, but I don't think I'm doing as good a job as you are."

"You want me to show you how? On you, I mean?"

I barely got that last part out, I was breathing so hard. I was almost as scared to suggest it to him as I was to even think about it. I mean, Joey and I had only done it to ourselves. I'd never touched a boy down there this way before. Yeah, I'd washed Wayne's crotch before in the tub, but this was different. Everything about this was different.

Wayne laid back on the bed, his head at my feet, his buttcheek resting against my left hand.

"Would you do that? Nobody's ever touched me there before. 'Cept you in the tub, of course, and Dr. Abrams."

My only answer was to move my left hand over to where his penis stood upright in his lap. I really wished the light was on so I could see better, but turning it on now would have spoiled the moment. As I touched his erection for the first time, we both gasped out loud. Somehow, his felt a lot different than mine. Maybe it was just that it wasn't mine. But as I began sliding my hand loosely up and down the three inches that he had there, I forgot all about my own.

Pretty soon I rolled over onto my left side and rested my head in that hand and began stroking him with my right. I could see a little better this way, and being right handed this was more comfortable for me. Wayne didn't seem to care which hand I used. I think he was beginning to understand what beatin' off was all about. I was suddenly glad that it was me showin' him how to do it and not someone else.

After several minutes of this, he finally had his first immature climax. For eleven years old, it was pretty powerful, and by the time he had calmed down, my emotions had gotten the better of me and I was crying, just from the beauty of the moment and what I had been able to do for him. When I noticed Wayne crying too, I turned around and drew him into my arms.

"What's the Matter, Wayne?" I sniffed in his ear. "Did I hurt you?"

"Oh, my God, Andy. No you didn't hurt me," he said, also sniffling in my ear. "That's just about the best feeling I ever had in my whole life. It just felt so good, and I feel so close to you right now, I can't help myself. Are you OK?"

"Yeah, sport, I'm OK. I guess it affected me the same way. That was so beautiful I can't help crying."

We laid there a few minutes, my hardon still throbbing, resting against his hip, waiting for release.

"Can I do that for you?"

"Yeah... I guess... If you really want to, I mean."

"You bet I want to! Roll over."

So I rolled over onto my back and pulled the tissues out from under my butt. I laid them on my chest to catch the stuff I knew would be coming out.

"What're those for?"

"They're to catch the stuff that comes out when I get to where you just got."

"What stuff's that?"

"Well, when you're old enough, this white stuff called semen comes out. That's where the sperm is that makes a woman pregnant. Joey's brother calls it cum."


Then he reached out, real tentative like, and wrapped his fingers around my dick. I about died right then and there. If having his hardon in my hand felt good, having mine in his felt WONDERFUL. I never imagined that another hand could make it feel so much better.

He must have been paying more attention than I thought to what I was doing to him, because it only took a minute or so for him to get into a rhythm that made me realize I wasn't going to last long. For the most part, he just let his hand slide up and down on the skin. Once in awhile he'd increase the pressure and move the skin, too, sort of like I did.

I warned him when I was about to cum and told him to slow down a little so he didn't sling the stuff all over the place. When I came, it was the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. The first shot was so powerful it went way past the tissues and landed on my throat. I don't know which of us was more amazed, Wayne at his first sight of someone cuming or me at the intensity of it. When I finally asked him to stop, he had some of my cum on his fingers and the aroma had finally reached our nostrils.

"Yeew. This stuff is slimy. Smells funny, too."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I try to catch it in tissues. Here take this dry one and wipe your hand with it."

As he wiped his hand, I cleaned up the part that hit my throat. Then we took the tissues into the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet. Wayne washed his hands, and we went back to our bedroom. I don't think the folks heard anything. We slipped into our pj's and I crawled into bed. Wayne was still standing by my bed.


"Yeah, sport?"

"Could I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"Sure. Climb in."

He climbed in and turned his back to me, snuggling up like he did that first night. As I laid my arm over him, he grabbed my hand and pulled it tighter across his chest, my hand held firmly in his grasp just under his armpit. We awoke the next morning in the same position, our mother gazing down on us with a funny look on her face.

... to be continued

Comments are always welcome at and are usually answered. Flames are ignored for the most part. If you've sent flames before, don't waste your time. I've blocked your address.