My Life in Stages, Part 5

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction, a protected form of expression. Any similarity to real people or events, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

As well, this story deals with both romantic and sexual situations between males, both adult and minor. If you object to this type of content, are under the age of majority in your jurisdiction, or it is illegal in jurisdiction to view such content, please leave this page. By continuing to read, you acknowledge that you are of legal age to view this material and wish to do so. The author of this piece, and its hosting site, take no responsibility for any damages which occur from your decision to read this material.

Additionally, this story takes place in a fictional world where sexually transmitted diseases do not exist and sexual activity among minors and between minors and adults is both common and accepted. In real life, please protect yourself and your sexual partners. Always practice safe sex with the consenting adult of your choice. The author does not advocate nor condone unsafe sex or sexual activity with minors.

Finally, this story is just one part of a multi-part series which examines love, relationships, personal growth, and sexuality. While sexuality will feature prominently in the story, not every chapter will have graphic sexual elements.

 

It was difficult to sit there with Isaac and his sons, all of us as nude as the day we were born. While I did enjoy seeing Isaac again, seeing how he had grown (in more ways than one), I also found that I was spending an inordinate amount of time glancing over at Jack's young body. His legs were spread wide, his sizable and youthful package exposed before me. He played idly on his iPhone, for the most part ignoring me and his father. However, whenever his hand would venture south to scratch or rearrange his cock, I noticed he would give it a couple of slow and meaningful strokes while staring right at me.

Is this boy trying to seduce me? I began to wonder. Then again, it was just as likely he was just being a boy, playing with his dick because it was there (like all boys do), all the while making sure that Isaac wasn't getting upset by it. The old "watch the adults' reaction to see if you're in trouble" bit.

Boys. No matter how much I think back on my own childhood, or how much time I spend with boys today, I will never fully be able to predict what they are thinking. Then again, I don't think there is a soul alive who can. Even when I was a boy I understood that boys are enigmatic beings. They live in a world governed by a primal part of the brain; an animal instinct buried deep within all of us held over from our earliest ancestors' time swinging in the trees. It is a portion of the brain that is concerned with two things and two things only: survival and pleasure.

The survival part comes in various forms. Like all humans, young boys will protect themselves as best they can from outside threats of physical violence. They will fight, tooth and nail, to keep themselves from coming to any harm. However, unlike adults, young boys (and, to an extent, I would imagine this applies to young girls as well) will lie, cheat, steal, and manipulate to keep themselves from coming to mental, emotional, or social harm, be it real or imagined. Just look at how easily young kids lie to keep from getting in even a modicum of trouble. Broke a plate while cleaning the kitchen? To an adult, it was an accident and should be cleaned up. It's done and over, no sense worrying about it. To a boy, however, the looming shadow of mom and dad's authority, disapproval, or anger is something to be avoided at all costs. They will concoct elaborate scenarios to alleviate themselves of all responsibility; scenarios which, to their hormone-addled and immature brains, sound completely plausible while being utterly ludicrous to adults.

"No, Dad, it wasn't me who broke the plate," they will proffer, standing over the shattered remains of bargain-store ceramic which mom and dad don't care about. "You see, I was putting the plate away properly, and three masked intruders ran in to the house. They stood in the kitchen, holding a gun at my head, and told me not to make a sound. One of them...I'll bet he was a gang member...grabbed the plate out of my hand and smashed it on the floor. The three of them then jumped out the kitchen window and ran off in to the night. So, you see, it wasn't my fault."

"But, son," you'll say, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the tale, "we don't have a window in the kitchen."

"I know!" he'll respond back, quickly trying to get himself back to some semblance of credibility, "so imagine my surprise when they jumped out of it!"

"Just clean it up," you'll say, and pour yourself a glass of whiskey while wondering if you were that stupid when you were your son's age.

Yes. Yes, you were.

Now, the pleasure part is a bit easier to understand. From the moment we are able to make conscious decisions for ourselves, we seek out pleasure. At very early ages, we lunge after soft and colorful toys. We giggle when the stuffed bear we just squeezed lights up and plays music. We revel in the sights, sounds, and smells of the world around us as we learn who and what we are.

As adults, our pleasures are a bit more refined. Some pursue hobbies with abandon, building model WWII-era planes or collecting rare coins. Others take up a sport, spending hours on the basketball court or golf course. We seek out stimulating intellectual conversations, fulfilling jobs, engrossing books and, yes, erotic sexual partners. But, more or less, we balance our pursuits in order to lead a fulfilling life.

But, to teenage boys, pleasure comes in very limited forms. They seek out entertainment such as television, movies, and video games; and they seek out sex. Oh, boy, do they seek out sex. Testosterone is a hell of a drug, and when it starts to flow every part of them seems to shut off except their desire to get someone to touch their perpetually-hard cock. They think with their dick. As the old joke goes, "God gave men a penis and a brain, but only enough blood to operate one at a time." Nowhere is that more true than with teenage boys.

And so it was at the moment with Jack. He was finding himself in an obvious conflict between his survival instinct and his desire for pleasure. He was getting turned on knowing that I was looking at his smooth young body. He was, it was becoming painfully obvious, a sexual exhibitionist. Jack enjoyed showing off, being looked at, turning guys on.

He was making sure his cock stayed at least semi-erect the entire time, stroking it every few moments to ensure that it was as enticing as possible. This boy knew what he was doing, that was for sure.

But, on the other hand, he was attempting to hide his activities from his father, lest he get in trouble for being too overtly sexual. Each time Isaac would glance his direction, Jack would close his legs a bit to hide his at least semi-erect boyhood. The boy would suddenly become very interested in his phone, pretending as if he was completely ignoring me, his father, and his two naked brothers.

This boy, I mused internally, is good.

*****

Dad piloted his SUV down the highway in stoic contemplation as Isaac cried silently in to my lap. His naked body shuddered with emotional pain, tears staining his cheeks and soaking in to my jeans. So complete was his emotional breakdown after the actions of his father that he hadn't even cared about being naked in front of me, Dad, and my brother, Ryan.

Sure, I had seen him naked a million times, so it was natural he wouldn't care about it around me. Dad had even seen him naked half a dozen times as he drew the water in to the whirlpool bath for us or when he tucked us in (Isaac and I had taken to occasionally sleeping naked, especially if it was a warm night). But, Ryan had never seen Isaac in anything less than a t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts. At the moment, though, Isaac couldn't have cared less.

For nearly 45 minutes, the massive vehicle soared down the asphalt, passed other motorists, and stayed as quiet as possible to give Isaac a chance to recover. It wasn't until Isaac finally had stopped crying and pulled his head out of my lap that someone finally said something.

"Dad," Ryan began softly from the front passenger seat, "I need to pee. Can we stop at a rest stop somewhere...and maybe let Isaac get dressed, too?" With the last line, he turned in his seat and put his hand back on Isaac's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

That was one of the things I liked about Ryan. So many boys in my class talked about how horrible and mean their older brothers were. Stories of wedgies and pummeling and bullying at the hands of older brothers made me thankful, every day, that I had such a great one. Ryan was kind, sweat, and gentle. He looked out for me from day one, always making sure that I was safe. It seemed, at the moment, that he was doing the same for Isaac.

"That's a good idea, Ryan," Dad said, a sort of forced brightness permeating his words. He was trying to be happy, brave, and calm in order to reassure Isaac that everything would be okay.

A few minutes later, Dad pulled the SUV in to a highway truck stop. Slipping the car in to park, he turned so he could see Ryan in the passenger seat and me directly behind him.

"Boys, why don't the two of you go use the restroom then get us all some snacks and drinks for the road," Dad said, the tone of voice indicating that this was not a request to be argued with. "I want to talk to Isaac alone for a bit."

He handed Ryan a twenty and told him to get whatever it was we wanted and just pick something out for him and Isaac. We silently nodded, slipped out of the truck, and closed the doors behind us.

"What do you think Dad wants to talk to Isaac about?" Ryan asked as we made our way in to the truck stop.

"About what happened, I guess," I said quietly, shrugging my shoulders.

"And what did happen, Eli? All I saw what Isaac being drug naked through the parking lot by his dad, you and your P.E. teacher chasing after him shirtless and wet, and then Dad punch Isaac's dad."

I didn't respond. I trusted Ryan, sure. After all, he was the kid who protected me from bullies, held me when I cried, and even (when I went through a period of having night terrors in elementary school) let me curl up in bed with him. He would hold me all night so that I never felt anything but the warmth of his body behind me as he kept me safe from the demons in my mind.

This was different, though. I had never been in any sort of sexual situation with Ryan, and I didn't know how he'd react. We stopped being naked around each other when he started seventh grade, two and a half years ago. So, how would he respond to "his dad caught him stroking Coach Anderson's hard cock while we all stood around with throbbing boners?"

Yeah. I couldn't tell him.

"Just...stuff. I don't want to talk about it," came my meager and dismissive reply.

"Oh, come on, Eli! Something happened!" He was impatient. That was one of Ryan's undesirable traits. He was a good brother, but when it came to something he wanted to know, he had little patience for secrecy.

"I...look, it's not my place to tell you. It happened to Isaac, not me," I snapped, a little more forcefully than I intended.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Ryan asked softly,

I didn't respond. Instead, I pulled open the door the truck stop and walked in with Ryan on my heels. Thankfully, he let the subject drop as we headed back to the restrooms and took a much-needed piss.

With Dad's twenty in his hand, Ryan grabbed bottles of soda, three bags of chips, a handful of beef jerky, and two packages of chocolate chip cookies. He intended to use every dime he could to stock up on snacks for the long drive ahead. As well, I think he was stalling so as to give Dad and Isaac a bit more time.

After about ten minutes, we headed back out to the SUV with our bags of goodies to share. I pulled open the back door and found Isaac in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt, looking much better than he had when we had left him a bit ago. Whatever Dad had said to him had obviously worked miracles. He wasn't the same boy he had been, and for that I was so thankful to my father. Dad and Isaac made their own quick run in to piss, then we were on the road once more.

The next several hours went by quickly and happily. The four of us talked, told jokes, ate our snacks, and had a great time. We were boys, being boys, and it felt so freeing to be away from any scolding maternal glances that happened when someone would fart, burp, or make a joke about dicks.

Unfortunately, what should have been a four-hour drive turned in to a six-hour drive as construction on the highway forced us on to poorly-labeled detours through back country roads. This meant that, by the time we pulled in to Eagle Canyon, it was pitch-black. The front gate staff; a nice college-aged guy sporting a ponytail, three-day beard, and a Nirvana t-shirt, gave us directions back to our site. He told us that we'd have to drop our stuff off and set the tent up by flashlight, since cars were only permitted at the campsites for loading and unloading.

After unloading the tent, coolers, folding chairs, firewood, and numerous bags of clothes, games, and books, Dad drove the SUV back to the parking lot while Ryan, Isaac, and I started to unfold the tent via the small lantern we had brought with us for midnight trips to the bathroom.

Dad rejoined us and, after more than an hour of struggling in the dark, we managed to get the tent up and our air mattresses inflated. Dad had brought two Queen-sized air mattresses; one for him and Ryan, and one for me and Isaac. We laid down our sleeping bags, and with nothing better to do for the night, climbed in to our beds.

Isaac snuggled up next to me, his arm draped across my chest and his face right next to mine. He lay there cuddled up to me in silence for a long time, his breath warm on my neck and his body warming me from the inside out.

"Eli?" he asked quietly after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for trying so hard to protect me."

"You're welcome," I said quietly, my hand coming down to rest on his and or fingers intertwining. "I'll always protect you. I love you, Isaac." The last words came out of me before I knew what I had said.

"I love you too," he said, leaning forward and gently placing his lips on mine.