Date: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 09:12:56 -0700 From: Macout Mann Subject: To Be a Brother 3 This story involves explicit homosexual activity. If such offends you, or if you are underage, please read no further. The story is completely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Reference to actual locations is made only to make the story seem more real. I welcome your reactions to the story. It means a lot to know that I am being read and appreciated or not. And I do appreciate it when readers catch me in errors. With comments pro or con please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. nifty.org also welcomes your donations. Only through them can these stories continue to be brought to you without charge. Please give what you can. If you are interested in reading my other stories, the easiest way to access them in by checking Macout Mann under "Prolific Authors." Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. TO BE A BROTHER by Macout Mann Chapter III Convocation When Jim awoke, his bod was pressed against Tom's backside. He panicked. What if Tom were to wake up and find him like this? It was so embarrassing. He rushed to the bathroom and jumped into the shower. The hot water was soothing, and he jacked off for a second time to relieve morning wood. He quickly shaved and returned to the room draped in his towel. He found Tom sitting on the side of the bed fingering his dick. Jim's entrance didn't cause him to stop. He just said, "Morning, bro. Sleep good?" "Yeah. Sure did. I did have to get up to piss once. You were gone." "Yeah...eh...I...woke up and remembered. I'd forgotten to tell Reg something. I knew he was a night owl...so I took the chance he was still up. He was. "You must've gone right back to sleep. When I got back, I don't think I could have waked you up with a cannon volley." They both laughed. "Well, I need to get a shower," Tom continued, and he headed to the bath room. Jim started to get dressed. He noticed a stain on the sheet. Leakage from Tom's ass. "Damn," he thought, "Tom must've jacked off." He also noticed that Tom's clothes seemed to be exactly where he'd taken them off last night. "He couldn't have gone out bare-assed," Jim thought. When he put on his jeans and t shirt, he did decide to go commando today. Jim had thought breakfast maybe would be a buffet. But no. They arrived to see the same thirty places set, just like last night. Promptly at nine the same crew laid out coffee and orange juice followed by buttered waffles with a choice of syrups and a choice of bacon or link sausage. There were maybe nineteen diners. Jim thought maybe the others had had too much to drink. Anyway, if they weren't there at nine, they missed breakfast. Jim and Tom continued to savor their coffee after breakfast was finished. Tom told Jim that the speaker at ten, Brother Chris, was a Rhodes Scholar and was on the White House Staff. "He might tell us something it'd be good to know," he said. A couple of other guys joined the group for the lecture, a couple left. The bar opened at ten, and some of the brothers brought bloody marys or mimosas to the lecture. "Where're they going?" Jim asked. "Probably to the pool," Tom answered. "We can take a swim later." The lecture dealt with the takeover of the Crimea by Russia. Chris Abramson did give out some information that had not been on television, and he ended with an unexpected comment. "I think," he said, "that if we took more into consideration the Russian attitude toward the West's reaching into the traditional Russian sphere of influence, we'd be a lot further ahead toward reaching the administration's goals. That's on deep background of course." "What does that `deep background' thing mean?" Jim asked as they returned to their room. "One of the brothers who's a lawyer explained it to me," Tom replied. "'On background' means you can't say that he said it. `Deep background' means you shouldn't say that it was said. But you can, and they can't do anything about it." "Damn," Jim responded, "I'm into some big time shit." "Shit, anyway," Tom laughed. Let's go down for a swim." Back in the days when the Olympic was the number one hotel for a hundred miles around, the elevator system's installation had been very sophisticated. Even now special settings could be used. During the convocation if you pushed "B" on the twelfth floor, the elevator would bypass all other calls and descend to the basement. In the basement if you pushed "12" it would immediately go to the top floor. The hotel wouldn't prohibit other guests from using the pool, but they were happy to facilitate its use by the brothers. Tom and Jim in their swimming gear found several brothers frolicking in the pool. There was a lot more grabassing than Jim would have expected from a bunch of dudes in their twenties. But what did he know? Once they were in the pool Tom paddled over to be with his brothers. No other guests were in the pool. Victor paddled over and challenged Jim to a race, two lengths of the pool. They were evenly matched, and when Victor swam up to touch the edge of the pool, he "accidentally" also touched Jim's privates. "Sorry, dude. I didn't realize you were that close," Victor chuckled. Of course, the encounter gave Jim an immediate and embarrassing erection, but Victor didn't seem to notice, and no one else was close enough to see. After an hour of play, Tom and Jim returned to the top of the hotel, dressed and headed for the bar. They both ordered Scotch. Lunch would be at 12:30. Reg's father, Craig, had arrived, and Tom introduced Jim. Craig was in his late fifties but was trim and still good-looking. He had greying temples and a salt and pepper moustache, but otherwise could have passed for forty. He greeted Jim very warmly and said he'd like to get to know him later. After lunch Reg did tell Jim that his dad wanted to talk to him. He was in room 1219. Tom said he'd be back at the lounge. Craig Pirie was waiting when Jim knocked at his door. He asked the young man to sit and began by saying, "This time I can be here only a few hours, but I did want to get to know you, Jim. Since I got here this morning, I've heard nothing but good things about you." The questions Mr. Pirie asked were very much like those asked by all the brothers, and Jim's recital of the answers were by now rote. Then the subject changed. "What are your plans after high school?" Jim was asked. "I'll probably be going to Seabury. It's a good school, and I can commute," he answered. "Oh?" Pirie responded. "I understand Tom Parrish, your sponsor, is attending Midwestern. Had you considered it?" "Yes, I applied. Was accepted. But the folks say they can't afford the tab. Seabury's a lot less pricey and I can live at home." "Have you notified Midwestern you're not going?" "No. I keep hoping the folks might change their mind. It would mean a lot to be at school with Tom. He was a year ahead, but we went all through public school together." "Keep them hanging," Pirie counseled. "My son, Reginald, is very impressed with you, young man. I am involved with an organization called `Benefactors' Scholarship Trust.' It may be able to offer some help. Let me see what we can do." Jim was on Cloud Nine, when he left Mr. Pirie. They had been talking for over an hour. As he walked toward the elevator, Tom came out of one of the rooms. He was totally disheveled. Tousled hair. Rumpled jeans. "Hi, bro," Tom said. "Have a good meeting with Craig?" "Yeah. Great," Jim answered. "He's going to see about getting me some scholarship help so I can go to Midwestern. "I thought you were going to be up in the lounge." "Oh...uh...Chris Abramson wanted to show me something else about the Crimea." They stopped by their room to freshen up. Then headed back to the penthouse, where the center of attention was now Reg's older brother, Malcolm. Tom introduced himself and Jim. Malcolm said Reg had told him about Jim, and he was looking forward to getting with Tom. He said he was sorry, but that he hadn't seen his dad in several months. Craig was about to leave and he needed to go down and see his dad. Victor was putting together a poker game. "You play, Jim?" he asked. "Dad has some guys that come over to play poker about once a month. They've let me kibitz sometimes, but they play five card stud. You probably play that Texas game." Wilson Carrington interjected. "Texas Fold-em is pussy poker. We play dealer's choice, but the choice has got to be five or seven card stud or draw." "Let me watch," Jim said. "Maybe I'll get in later." "Well we're not out to make you a pauper," Victor said. "A buck's the maximum ante and raise." Tom joined the game and Jim stood over his shoulder. A half hour later Malcolm returned. "Hate to interrupt," he said, "but I need to get with Tom." "Sure you do," Victor laughed. "Jim, take my hand," Tom said. "You'll be on my dime." "Hey, you can't turn that down," Wilson shouted. Actually Jim did very well. He was thirty dollars ahead, when Tom and Malcolm showed up again. "Hey, Tom," Victor called out, "Your boy is doing so well, you don' want to screw with his luck. Here. Take my hand." "The guy that was hot to get the game started is running away," Bryan Compton giggled. "That's all right. We need to encourage the younger boys to play more mature organs." Again there was laughter, and again Jim didn't understand the joke. Tom did rejoin the game and between them, he and Jim were the big winners. At four o'clock the brothers gathered for their "business meeting." Tom led Jim down to their room, where the tv was turned on for the first time since they had arrived. "They're going to discuss your nomination," Tom explained. "You couldn't be there any way, and they don't want me to hear what somebody might say about you. No need to be concerned. I haven't heard anybody say anything but good stuff about you." "I don't know why," Jim responded, "I'm not in the same class with any of these guys." "Don't sell yourself short," Tom said. The banquet was to be at seven, so Tom and Jim dressed before returning to the penthouse. Tom said that Jim ought to have his first Martini. "But be careful. Drink slowly and carefully." All the brothers assembled. They were dressed as fashionably as they were handsome. Really elegant suits, beautiful silk ties. Jim felt really out of place, but everyone was especially cordial. "Looks like you passed the first test," Tom whispered. At seven they filed into the dining room. The meal was like nothing Jim had ever seen. French Onion Soup topped with grated Gruyere and Toast so crisp it refused to get soggy. A Green Salad dressed with an Herb-infused French Dressing. Filet Mignon topped with a huge Mushroom and Bernaise Sauce. A Strawberry Bavarian Cream topped with Whipped Cream flavored with Bacardi Rum. Three different Wines. It was unbelievable. "I hope all of you have had some time—maybe in private—with my big brother, Malcolm," Reg began. There was laughter all around. "But I'd like him to stand and be recognized anyway. He is the first Elder Brother. And the possessor of the biggest asset we've ever had." There was big applause and much laughter. "Tomorrow at ten, as is our custom on Sunday, we will have a lecture on a religious topic. Jack Southerland will tackle a difficult topic. Some theologians have questioned Saint Paul's sexual orientation, and Jack will review some of their arguments. Maybe we'll have better attendance than we usually do." Still more laughter. "Lunch will mark the close of our official meeting, but as you know you are welcome to remain overnight. We have the rooms until checkout time on Monday." The sexy bartenders were back in the lounge after the banquet. Tom and Jim again enjoyed brandies, and they again retired before most of the others went down to the twelfth floor.