Date: Tue, 07 Jun 2005 00:50:42 -0500 From: The Jongolier Subject: Farm Boys in Arizona 1 I will dispense with the usual trite warnings usually tacked on before a story in this archive. You all know it's fake. I know it's fake. You all know it involves sex with minors, etc. etc. So why bother? I will say that the only reason I write these is to get a response out of my readers. Whether it's positive or negative, I just want a response. Please feel free, heck . . . feel driven, to email me at Jongolier@myself.com. Go ahead, even if all you want to say is that I'm a sicko. I know I'm a sicko. That's why I write these instead of seeking out my fantasies on some child who doesn't deserve it. By the way, as those of you who have read my Mountain Cabin series know, I'm not always in for the quick sex. This is a story, not a porno. Okay, it's also a porno. Rest assured I'll get to it after a bit. Enjoy. ------------------------ Tommy and I were friends from the day my mother hiked me in my diapers across the hill from our farm to "meet the neighbors" -- as she said. Oddly enough she used the term for the next handful of years to describe both meetings with new people who'd had the misfortune to move into our sad little corner of Arizona and meetings with friends we had known "since the lord painted the sand" (another of her favorite sayings that made absolutely no sense to me or anyone else). But, I digress. Back to Tommy. Tommy was a broken mirror image of me, something both sets of parents commented on ad naseum. Where I was slightly plump (more to love, my mother said), Tommy was trim to the point of skinny. He wasn't so skinny that you'd worry that his Mom couldn't feed him, just thin like so many boys back then. My hair was a tawny brown, something I despised, and his hair was dark and straight as the road between our houses. That is to say, not straight at all. That stupid road was so curled it doubled back on itself three times before it got to Tommy's house. Tommy's hair spun upon itself many more times than that, that is if he let it grow longer than the buzz cut he sported most of his life. Where I liked a good video game as well as the next kid, Tommy was always into sports and was famous for striking out Ed Morris, the star AAA player from Prescott, when he was only nine. Tommy was nine, that is, not Ed. There were many more facets of our existence that were in contrary, but one thing was shared between us. We were fast friends from the start and no one could tear us apart. Our parents used to muse that they were so lucky to have twins. Both sets were heard to say this, usually when Tommy or I was at the other's house. We were together so often people began to believe we really were twins. It was fun to see folks trying desperately to figure out which set of parents were the real parents. Tommy and I did it all together. We helped each other potty train, we helped each other learn to write, we even taught each other how to ride a two-wheel bike -- something we knew had happened but to this day can't tell you how two kids without a clue how to do it taught each other. We celebrated each other's successes and consoled each other in our failures. Everything was shared between us. The first time I noticed Tommy's penis in an other than functional way (we had peed in the bushes together so often my father once commented that he wondered if we held each other's dicks when we did it -- which elicited a smack on the head from my mom) was right after we had finally won a game in little league. Both of us were in the intermediate league and everyone on our team was having trouble getting used to hitting real pitches. We had worked for weeks on it and finally we won a game 2 to 1. Not a great lead, mind you, but enough to get us all a meal at the local Chuck-E-Cheese. We played like madmen, playing each game three times and climbing all over the playset. Our parents were so happy for us that they didn't even scold us when Tommy threw a pepperoni onto the robotic Chuck-E-Cheese's nose. It spent the rest of the evening bobbling on the end of Chuck's nose every time he sang one of the four songs they programmed into him. Needless to say, to this day Tommy and I chuckle every time we take our boys to the same restaurant. After the game and way too much playing about at the restaurant we headed home to Tommy's house. It had been prearranged that I would spend the night at Tommy's as my parents would be bringing in the winter hay the next day and didn't need me around. We ran into Tommy's house the second his dad's big creaky Ford brought us to the house, jumped into his room, and immediately began pillow fighting. "What the high heck do you little rats think you are doing?" shouted his mother, smirking. We stopped in mid swing and looked sheepishly up at her. "Shower, stinky boys, shower. Now!" Without another word we stripped off our grimy uniforms, leaving our dusty underwear on, and ran for the bathroom. "Last one there licks the other's butt!" shouted Tommy as he shoved past me out the door. "Gross, boy," came his father's voice from the kitchen. I just took off after him, hoping to slip past at the corner of the hall. I slipped in between him and the wall just at the right time and slammed him into the opposite wall. I squirted past as he swung at me and slipped into the bathroom. When he came in I was standing triumphantly in the middle of the bathroom with my hands on my hips. "Lick it, boy," I said smugly. "Screw you," he replied as he reached inside the shower to turn it on. Showering together was no big deal for us. We'd done it hundreds of times and this was no different from before. We stripped down and stepped into the enclosure one at a time. I leaned back against the cold tiles while Tommy soaped up, waiting my turn. "I can't believe we did it," I said. "Tell me about it. I'm still all wired." "I don't know how I'm going to get to sleep tonight," I said as we switched places. Tommy soaped up his hair while I let the water flow over me and wash away the sweat and dirt. We were talking big, but when I looked over at Tommy his eyes were half shut with exhaustion. I soaped up and washed my hair fast, like I always did, and looked over to tell Tommy he could have the water. It was then that my eyes fell on his crotch. I guess he was too tired to think about it or something, but one of his hands was rubbing shampoo into his buzzed hair while the other was playing with his penis. Now, Tommy and I were no strangers to each other's units. We had touched each other in second grade, just to see what they felt like, and my dad was right, we sometimes held each other's dick when we peed. That was all just little kids exploring, though. Nothing emotional had happened, just kid stuff. But somehow, watching Tommy playing with himself lit a fire in my belly (or maybe somewhere lower) that I didn't know was ready to burst into flames. His penis, unlike the rest of him, was very much like mine. Even at eleven neither of us had any hair down there yet. Both of us were circumcised and our balls were just beginning to fill out. I only remember this because I helped my Mom take care of my four-year-old cousin now and then and his balls were so tight against the bottom of his penis that I couldn't even see them the first time he and I changed into swim shorts together. Tommy was nothing like that. His wrinkled little sack had relaxed in the hot water and his balls swung gently beneath his moving hand. I stood watching Tommy for lord knows how long, the soap quickly rinsing off me and down the drain. Tommy was in some sort of a trance, his eyes half open and his jaw slack. I just stared in wonder. His disorganized fondling soon became true stroking, something I had only heard about from older boys, and his penis began to get bigger. All the boys at school had talked about hardon's and boners, but to my memory I had never seen mine hard. I had felt it get hard in class or walking down the hall before, but I was never in a position to take a look. Tommy's began to rise up from his crotch and stand at attention. I was transfixed. His eyes began to roll back in his head and I could see he was panting. I stole a peek at mine and was amazed to find it standing straight up and bouncing slightly with my heartbeat. My eyes snapped back to Tommy and what he was doing with himself. I moved in closer for a better look and Tommy's hand began to move faster. "Tom?" I asked quietly. No response. Tommy kept pumping, now quite furiously, at his little dick. It was now fully hard and about as long as my hand is wide. We went on for a bit, growing stiffer and panting harder, before I noticed my own hand reaching out for him. I put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Tom, you okay?" The split second my hand touched his shoulder he jerked upright, his eyes staying half-closed, and lurched over into my arms. There was nothing I could do but hold him up -- he was a dead weight in my arms. Slowly his arms came up around me and we just held each other. I was sure he was hypnotized or something. I hitched him up, getting my arms under his armpits, and suddenly noticed his dick rubbing against mine. It was then that he groaned and I felt his dick gush warm fluid on my stomach. His whole body was twitching in time with his dick and the look on his face was the same one he flashed when girls told him he was cute or kissed him on the cheek before retreating in fits of giggles. I just kept holding him up, waiting for his trance to break. I was pretty sure he had cum, something we had just learned about in science class that year, but why was a mystery to me. I just held him and let it happen. My own dick jounced and hopped, but nothing more happened. It wasn't until Tommy grabbed my butt that I realized he had woken up.