Date: Wed, 28 Dec 2011 11:52:08 -0800 (PST) From: Julian Otero Subject: First Summer Camp Adventure, part 4 Part 4: Boy and Brother About five days later I got an urgent text from Jamal asking we meet at the mall's food court. He was sitting by himself far apart from others when I arrived. Right away I could tell something was wrong. He looked small and scared and--unlike him--looked like he was trying to hide. Seated across from him I could see why: bruises on his face, a cut near his eye, a larger cut on his neck, and band-aids on three fingers. There were body bruises around his ribs. Quite an inventory. In a shaky voice the boy gave me the details. His father again. "Look Jamal, I think you're in danger. Is there a friend whose house you can stay at, at least for awhile?" You know, a person could--I could--make an anonymous report of child abuse and they... "No man...no to that! You don't know my father! If they arrest him for sure he'll kill me...cut my throat like he said he would. You don't know...his rage...he might kill my mother too." "Maybe they would just place you into another home..." "Shit on that! ... I know someone at school who was put in a foster home. He ran away. He hung himself. No! Don't do that. No. Never. They'll put me... I'd rather get knocked around a few times at home instead getting hit in a stranger's house, or gang raped in a group home." "Are you sure? Look, Jamal, this is serious. I'm a father. If you were my son I'd want protection for you." Tears started to fill his eyes. His lower lip quivered. He was like a scared puppy. I drove him to the bus stop. As he walked away I watched the swing of his ass. I felt I just couldn't let him go like that, couldn't let him go back to that father. I mused on this latest development and made a decision right then, though I didn't tell him right away. My design business was going well despite the economy. I didn't want to take on any more liability, but this was different. I would hire him part time off the books and though he was underage I could pass him off for sixteen to my other employees. I could find simple tasks for him to do. A few hours after school and a few on Saturday at double the minimum wage. I would also consult my lawyer on a few other matters that might arise in the future. Jamal was eager to work and thought it might help. Arrangements were made He started the following Saturday when, as usual, I was the only one in the studio. I put him to work re-filing and organizing client materials while I did paper work. Later I ordered in coffee and snacks and we took a break around noon. We made love, as I knew we would. We made love, not sex. I cared for him, that was obvious, and with my arms around him I felt his warmth and deepening trust toward me. I wanted his body to heal, his heart to be happy, his soul to be peaceful. Yes, I offered him some protection (maybe not as much as he needed) and yes sex was involved, so my motives were not snow white pure, but I accepted the situation as it had developed. I was too enchanted with him to even think of renouncing the sex. We met by way of sex, but now that's not all there was. The work arrangement still left him at home. Things were quiet there for a few weeks until an explosion. His father was arrested for attacking his mother and she was fearful for her life and her son's. She fled to relatives in Boston and wanted to take Jamal, but he asked to stay with me so he could finish the school year. It was arranged. Betty my wife was charmed with Jamal as soon as they met. Her motherly instincts took over, as well as some other instincts, and my son Luke liked him just as much. Our family circle opened in embrace and I was happy to have him under our roof, proud of the way we accepted him. Having Jamal near me every day was very tempting, especially tempting at night. To wait for our private time on Saturdays was not easy for me. At the dinner table while he and Luke bantered about computers, games, and music I caught myself staring at his lips, his eyes, his delicate fingers, watched his gestures. Luke was adopting Jamal as a big brother and it pleased me. But what about Betty? In bed one night my wife asked me some questions as she fondled my growing prick. "You love him don't you?" "Who?" "Jamal of course. ...I know you love your son." "Yeah, I do." "He's cute isn't he? I see the way you look at him." I guess I was too obvious. As I fumbled for an innocent answer she moved down the bed and took my cock into her mouth. She sucked. Well, well, look at this... the idea of the two of us gets her? Does the kid make her warm too? Her head lifted off my cock. "Do you have sex with him?" Betty is nothing if not direct. "What do the two of you do on Saturdays? You never needed weekend help before now." Her wifely instinct was pretty good. I told her the whole story from the beginning, being certain to describe in detail my lovemaking with the boy, his sweet mouth on my cock, his pretty cock in my ass, the way we kissed. Betty wanted to hear it all, demanded it all. She sucked me harder and harder, put her finger in my ass until, on the verge of orgasm, I had to rush the last few sentences. I came in large spurts down her throat pretending her finger was the boy's dick. Betty and Jamal. My mind tried to process this new realization. Betty and Jamal. Why not? My wife still has a very attractive body, a body that looked great on the beach and attracted men, and I hadn't lost interest. Still as sexually adventurous as she was at college Betty liked pornography and was willing to try many things that pleased both of us. Now Jamal, his teenage beauty and energy were working on her, too. She cuddled up against me and whispered, "You know he's underage...you know what that could mean..." Yes, I know. "...he's sexy, Dylan...he arouses me, a kid only 15, can you believe it? I'm hot for his body! I'm always looking at his crotch. I can see how he'd make a guy, you, queer for him.... He likes us.... Luke and he get along beautifully. ... I want to fuck him too! Does he have a nice cock? I've been dreaming about it. Dreaming, and rubbing off!" To have an appealing boy so close to her was an opportunity she was not willing to pass up. But what if the boy was not...what if he rejected her or was freaked out by her? I told her to cool down a while and let me think. The next development came as a bit of a shock. Sunday morning: We all sleep late on Sundays. Early, around seven, Betty woke up. Her motherly intuition was buzzing; it told her something was different in the house, some vague something made her awaken and she went to investigate. Luke's bed was empty. Jamal wasn't in the guest room. The kitchen was empty too. But not the media room. That's were they were. She came back and made a report. "Dylan!" she whispered "...it's Luke and Jamal in the media room...they're having sex. ...Jamal is sucking your son's cock!" "You sure you're not dreaming, hon?" "No way, I know what I saw, and I'm wet has hell. Luke's slowly pushing his thing in and out of Jamal's mouth. Jamal's hands are wrapped around Luke's little ass. No...baby...I'm not dreaming at all, and it looked so fucking hot...!" "Shit." "Dylan...I never thought two boys...jesus...watching two boys like that ...so beautiful and hot. I understand more now." I got up and slipped into pajama bottoms. "Don't let them see you... be quiet. We should have had another kid," I hear her say to my back as I left. My wife certainly wasn't dreaming. Jamal was on his knees with his face between my son's widespread legs, his eleven year old body slumped back on the couch. Luke's feet were on their tiptoes while his pelvis made gentle little thrusts into Jamal's mouth. Little grunts and curses floated to my ears across the large room. My kid's pajama pants were flung over the back of the couch and Jamal's briefs were cast to the floor. The large potted lemon tree by the media room entrance hid me well enough as I watched the action. I felt angry and my hands rolled into fists: I clearly told the kid to stay away from my son. Through the screen of leaves I saw Luke grasp Jamal's head and sink his fingers into the lush black hair. What right does he have to mess with my son? Ok, ok, I know, I'm messing with someone's son myself, no? And you're supposed to be all cool about sex, no? Didn't Derrick take you at about the same age and he did you no harm, no harm at all, right? They stopped and were whispering to each other. They kissed, then rearranged themselves so Luke could place his ass up high by bending over the arm of the couch. More whispering. My son reached behind himself and spread his cheeks. The light was dim so I could not see his little puckered anus but it was clear as day what he wanted. Jamal got on his knees behind him and applied his face to the open spot. The anger I felt passed. Why had I told Jamal to stay away from Luke anyway? What was I afraid of? I wasn't afraid of a damn thing; I was jealous. Of course I was. I wanted to be in Jamal's place. I felt Betty come up behind me silently. Her sharp intake of breath revealed her astonishment. Together, father and mother were watching their pre-teen son get fucked by a nice sized teenage cock. The gleam on it as Jamal applied some lubricant made my mouth water. He moved it up against my son's ass. "Is it safe?" Betty asked, "can he get it inside?...it looks so big!" Her voice was heavy and very aroused. "I did it ... I was a bit older...yes...just watch." In all decency we should have left in respect for their privacy but we couldn't tear ourselves away. The tips of Betty's fingers lightly caressed my ass and her breathing was short. "...at summer camp." we heard Luke softly say. "I told you he had sex at camp. They fucked." Luke gasped when Jamal pushed. He whimpered and sobbed while the older boy rotated his hips in order to gain better entry. We saw Jamal's tight round ass clench with the effort. Luke groaned. "I should show them how to do it," I told Betty. "Don't you dare." She reached around the front of me and clasped hot fingers on my ramrod hard cock. I stifled a groan. I found her pussy with my middle finger and rubbed up and down her hot wet crack. How perverted can this be I wondered, spying on our son, spying on Jamal, so turned on by what we were watching and us playing with each other? "What a fuckin' body that kid has...nice cock...I can see why you wanted his nice young ass. I want to watch you screw him, Dylan." You will, honey. You bet you'll watch us! By now enough of Jamal's dick was in our son so that the familiar rhythm started. Fucking was beautiful I thought, no matter who or how it's done, as natural and beautiful as rivers and trees and sunsets. It didn't take long for the finish to come. Jamal pushed fast and hard just like Derrick did to me that first time in the cabin. In my ass I could feel exactly what my son was feeling as my memory of those days reawakened. Jamal went stiff as he came in Luke and Betty let out a long whispered curse. We left before they could become aware they had an audience. In our bed we rushed at each other, our mouths and fingers were all over each other fast and hot and more aroused since our first few fucks as teens. Into a hot 69 we fell, reminding each other of the scene we had witnessed: "Luke got fucked..." "He's so pretty looking when he cums... he held his head while he sucked his dick...just like you do to me..." "Jamal's ass gets me so frigging hot..." And then we progressed to "Dylan, I want to see you and our son together..." "What do you want to see us do?" "Luke on your beautiful dick, his pretty lips around it, sucking you off." "You want me to fuck him?" "Oh, christ...oh jesus... dirty pervert." We kept our faces between each other's legs until we came. Near noon I awakened and headed for the bathroom. Jamal was there combing his hair. "You fucked my son," I said casually as I aimed my piss into the bowl. Instantly Jamal froze like a statue. "We both saw it. I want to talk. Come to our bedroom Jamal, now." He followed me without a word and looked as if ready to piss his pajamas. "Look who I brought" I told Betty. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I won't do it again...Luke asked me..." his voice was pleading and he seemed terrified. Betty threw back the covers and told him to lie next to her, and I climbed in next to the boy. He was scared, but looked very pretty. "You like fucking our son?" Betty asked after she turned toward Jamal and placed her arm around him. "You like putting your hard dick up my son's ass? He's only eleven." Before Jamal could answer she kissed him passionately. I went for his neck, planting little wet kisses there, and nibbled on his ear. At first he remained stiff with fear, not sure what we were going to do with him. Our kisses and our gentle fondling of that fine slim body slowly began to reassure him. Eventually his terror melted away and he became warm and pliant between us. We made a boy sandwich of him and both of us praised his sexiness, his eyes, his mouth, his fingers and smooth tawny skin. Between the checks of his ass my middle finger probed for that very hot portal I had invaded and enjoyed several times already. The sweet boy lifted a leg for me, and for Betty too, because I could feel her busy fingers brush against me there as they grasped his balls. How incredibly thrilling this was, all three of us in the bed, touching kissing rubbing, appreciating each other physically, loving the animal contact. How more ramified this was than simple one-on-one screwing: whether me and the boy, or me and my wife--and my wife a hot and eager participant! Luke was up and couldn't find anyone anywhere in the house until, a little rattled, he knocked on our bedroom door. My wife and I made an instant decision and told him to enter. A few steps into the room he stopped. How adorable he looked there in his nylon bikini underwear with bed hair and sleepy eyes and a nice package pushing out between his legs. His mouth fell open and was speechless. "It's ok Luke," I said with emotion. "We saw you and Jamal downstairs earlier and it's ok, it was so beautiful." "Come in bed with us honey lamb," said his mother in soothing and caressing tones. I made room so that he and Jamal were between Betty and I. We covered ourselves with a blanket and resumed our rubbing and kissing and caressing, this time more vigorous than before. Finally, finally I had what I wanted: I had my naked son next to my naked body and I knew it wasn't going to end there. Only eleven, but facts were facts: he was no virgin. Why shouldn't he join us? I was going to fuck him. I fondled his dick which of course was hard and gave rise in me to the most contented feeling imaginable. We were spooned together with my wet erection in the cleft of his ass tempting me to the full degree of its sexiness. He moved a little so his daddy's hot cock was more firmly placed. No wonder he fucked so readily at camp. No wonder Jamal took his little boy pussy this morning. How many times had they done it? We'd have to talk later. Meanwhile, my wife and Jamal were busy with their own arrangements. They were spooned toward us and Betty had a hand around his dick slowly jerking it, feeling its size and hardness and remarking on its loveliness. How smart it was of us to have chosen a king sized bed years ago! Luke joined in the caressing of Jamal's rod and there was enough room for his hand and his mother's Betty asked her son, "Did you ever suck his cock, Luke? I saw him sucking you. Suck him now so I can watch!" Without a word Luke turned head to toe with Jamal and touched his lips to that attractive flesh. Like a little red serpent Luke's tongue emerged and made Jamal sigh. Betty held the teen's cock for her son. The rocking on the bed was Luke's head moving back and forth. Jamal and Betty both started to coo and moan in their sexual ecstasy. "Suck his, Jamal," she said, and he did. Now, with a little adjustment on my part I had Luke's little tight ass in my face to appreciate. I traced my fingers lightly over the cheeks of my son's ass, moving slowly so as not to disturb his connect with the boy. Betty's arousal in this little perverted game was plain to hear by the squeals she made. We four remained so joined for what seemed like a long time and I asked Jamal if he was holding back. All I heard was a growl. "Betty, use your finger on his ass, get it wet and fuck him like it's a cock." Instead, she got up and retrieved something from her bureau. In a flash she strapped it on and got back in bed. A little gel on the end helped it slide into Jamal. "It's cold," he said, giving a little jerk of his body. "You'll warm it up my sexy little boy!" She shoved, and he gasped. My wife's dildo in his ass: I wouldn't have dared to suggest it, but in her lustful state there was no telling what she'd do. I could no longer wait to pay homage to my son's ass. My hot breath had been on his butt since he'd turned to blow Jamal. As round as those cheeks were that's how firm and muscular they were, but they yielded easily when my fingers drew them open exposing the secret spot they guarded. My son was not tense when I did that; he was never tense about having his body touched. He knew who was behind him and what was going to happen. My tongue performed the first stage of my lovemaking. He had washed and I smelled the soap, but also a bit of musk, the pre-teen variety. This was my very first sexual contact with my son, my tongue on his asshole. He squeezed and spread and I knew he was ok with it. My little darling must have taken it in the ass at summer camp because that zone was very receptive to all I did with my fingers and tongue. He keep pushing back toward me and lifting his leg. "Lick his ass, Dylan...fuck... get him...ready.... your Daddy's gonna... cock... you...to fuck... you son" from Betty's throat these jumble of words leapt as she thrust the rubber dick she wore into Jamal's pussy. I needed no encouragement from anyone to keep at Luke's butt. I was content to do my son's ass with my tongue for hours. The sky had clouded up and a light, lazy rain was now falling, the drops making a soft background sound to our lovemaking. I sensed in all four of us a need, a desire, to go slow, to make our joined and loving bodies feel and feast on one other's warmth for as long as possible as though, united like this, we were protected and protecting each other from the sharp and harsh world outside. To each other we were surrendered and completely open and trusting in our shelter. At least that's how it felt to me. Jamal, he was the first: with his dick in my son's mouth he was nearing the point of ecstatic release. If I could have thought calmly about what was happening it was like through her dildo and Jamal's teenage cock she was man-fucking her son, and Jamal's sperm was her sperm in substitute. I realized this in my gut, and I maneuvered my cock against Luke's ready ass and pushed. Then I heard the sweetest word I ever heard from my son's lips: in a languid, strange voice he said, "yes... daddy........yes, please.....yes.....oh yes......daddy." My penetration of him progressed steadily and slowly until I felt him do it! He did exactly what Derrick had taught me to do twenty-four years ago! He squeezed me, then let go, squeezed again and relaxed, and though it hurt him it wasn't for long because the natural tight grip of his asshole let go and I slipped half way in. "Oh," he cried like a girl. "What is it honey?" asked Betty, but she knew damn well. She lifted to look over Jamal's back. "Daddy's doing it to me." Those words made Betty cum off with her own fingers. I needed him. Holding Luke's small body against me made realize how much I needed to do this to him, that my love for him had to include sex, that by sex my love for him was complete. Despite any prohibition my love for my son could never be fully expressed otherwise. When in him fully the grip he had on me was strong, but then softened. Then it got strong again. Then relaxed. I felt this at the base of my dick. He was massaging my rod deliberately. Oh, what a talented boy I had! He could bring me off that way without any need to slide in and out. So I let him work like that a little longer and felt my sperm start to move up. The end was arriving sooner than I wished but I was helpless to stop it. The slightest movement on my part would cause me to gush. I simply closed my eyes and pictured Derrick, all those years ago, beautiful 17-year-old Derrick, fucking me with tenderness. Luke tugged two three times and I simply could not hold on anymore. The vision in my mind shifted: it was not me but Luke who was under Derrick, it was my son that Derrick was screwing as he had screwed me so many years ago. I gave a small involuntary jerk in my son's ass and erupted with all I had. "Daddy," he said softly, but in the most loving and contented way imaginable. And so it was over. Postscript And so we started over with a new family. Jamal stayed with us until he finished the school term, and did well. He joined his mother in Boston but came back to us in just a few weeks. His mother's relatives froze him out since half the blood in his veins was his father's, whom they always hated, and they humiliated the boy about his sexuality every chance they got. By now he was 16 and I arranged with my lawyer to obtain a court order making him an emancipated minor, no longer subject to his parents and responsible only to himself. He continued to work for me, adding hours as he was able and I footed the bill for professional level design courses. He and Luke got along very well, my son so happy to suddenly have such a cool older "brother." They continued to have sex together but we never again spied on them. In his last year of high school Jamal began to draw away from us. He started to pick up men again though he didn't need the money. The attraction was not the money but the thrill of cruising, the danger it could pose, the men he met who had odd sexual requests. He started living with one of them and stopped working for me, and then we lost touch. Last time I saw him he told me he had a gun. As time passed and my business picked up he receded from my conscious thoughts more each day. Only Luke continued to mention him. A few years later I opened the newspaper one day and there he was, Jamal's high school yearbook picture. I wasn't prepared for the story. He had killed his father and shot and killed himself with the gun. That spring morning I sat in my office stunned and motionless for a very long time. I cried for him, and was at him angry. I was sorry I let him loose touch. I wondered if I could have helped him more, or if I had been part of the problem. Luke was 16 by then, a beautiful 16 year old. We were lying under the covers in his bed that Sunday morning, naked. We did this sometimes just to feel each other's animal warmth, not always expecting it to lead to sex. "Luke, you ever think about Jamal?" I asked as I played with a lock of his hair and kissed his lips. He took his time with an answer. "I know what happened, Dad." "You didn't say anything." "You didn't either." "I loved him, you know." "Yes." Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. "I loved him too." "Luke, remember that day you came home from your first summer camp; remember that talk we had in the car?" "Sure I do." I could see his eyes were getting glassy. "I told you love is the best thing in the world, remember? Well, what I didn't tell you, son is the other part... oh Luke!" I tried not to weep uncontrollably, "oh Luke, ...the other part is, love can hurt, hurt a whole lot." He wrapped his arms around me and we stayed that way for a long time. end I always welcome notes from readers so I can know how well I've done my job. I always answer and like to play and speculate too. Julian, ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com