Date: Sun, 14 Feb 2016 16:05:23 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: Bam-Bam and Clay

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/112891092659/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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I love hearing from you guys. a4f101@yahoo.com. Enjoy...

*****

My nickname as a kid was Bama, but Clay was the only one I let call me
Bam-Bam. It was our thing, his nickname for me, and even though other
people heard him use it, nobody else ever seemed to pick it up. They left
it for us, felt like. Part of our bond. Tight as brothers, maybe tighter
even - I don't know, I was an only child, and Clay just had sisters. But we
grew up with each other, exploring and learning and bonding, ever since we
were toddlers. Came up tight, even tighter as the years went by.

Yeah, sure, we discovered jacking off at about the same time - I was the
one who brought it up first, and somehow we weren't too weirded out to try
it together. Clay let me show him how it was done, how to keep going past
the rubbing we'd both discovered felt so good, stroking our superhard young
cocks, keep it going past that to the real good feelings. His eyes were
huge when they saw me shoot my milky young cum for him that first time, and
not long after, he was huffing and moaning and when he shot his first ever
load, the way he moaned out "Aw, Bam-Bam!" stuck with me. Kept cropping up
when I stroked my dick all by myself, the way he looked at me, moaned his
special nickname for me, and unloaded.

After that, we had a whole new favorite activity to explore together, and
we did, whenever we could. Talked about girls at school, supermodels,
Sports Illustrated swimsuit chicks, all that shit. But we watched each
other the whole time, at first shyly, kinda out the corner of our
eyes. Then one day Clay caught me looking at him, his hard, tight wrestler
kid muscles like mine, and blushed. Looked embarrassed as hell to see me
admiring him, but man... I loved the dude. There. I said it. Even
then. Loved the cute little fucker, my best buddy, my cousin who felt more
like my brother. So I smiled at him, turned a little more his way, let him
see me and my body, my cock as I stroked. He grinned back, resumed
stroking, and we watched each other real quiet-like, powering ourselves to
the hugest, hardest cums of our young lives to that point. But there was so
much more to come.

We were fooling around with one of Dad's pistols - not being stupid, we
were country kids, taught from a young age to respect the power of a gun,
and how to handle it. We were plinking cans off the old fence rail, two
15-year-old country boys killing time. Clay didn't have quite the eye I
did, so I was trying to help him improve his aim. Stepped up behind him, up
real close, my already big young pecs up against his shoulder blades, my
thick arms lined up along his outstretched ones, helping him set his
stance. The bulge in my jeans snuggled up to his high, tight, hard jock
ass. Suddenly I could smell him, smell his clean young sweat, the scent of
his bodywash, feel the heat from his tight body against mine. I think
that's when I knew, when we both knew.

"Just squeeze the trigger, real light," I murmured in his ear, my nose full
of his smell. Then, I dunno why, I was fixated on the tan smoothness of his
neck, where his blond hair ended, and I just pressed my lips to it. Total
instinct. He moaned "Aw, Bam-Bam..." again and pulled the trigger. Hit the
can dead center. Turned to me, still wrapped around him all tight and
close, and we looked at each other. Then I leaned in and kissed his soft
lips. First kiss for either of us, and we were hooked.

We found a quiet place further back on the property, one of the places we'd
always gone to play adventure games when we were little, and this time, it
was a whole new adventure. Kissing hungrily, our new favorite game
together, kissing and touching each other, really touching each other, for
the first time. Clay's hands on my bigger, thicker muscles were magic, as
magic as his lips and tongue on mine. Naked, we came together, helping each
other, kissing the whole time, three times in a row that afternoon.

So we found this new thing, a secret thing that had to stay that way. A lot
was expected of us. We kept up our jock lives, building up bigger, tighter
as we grew, killing it on the mats and in the gym. Even got girlfriends,
good little Christian girls who didn't want to fool around too much. Fine
by us. We were doing it together on the regular, almost daily, and shit,
yeah, it was love. I was in love with him. I knew he felt the same.

He nearly cried when I told him I was joining the Marines, as soon as we
were done with high school. Wanted to enlist with me, but I told him
no. Knew he'd listen, he'd always looked up to me so much. He was a smart
kid, smarter than me, all set to go to engineering school. Me, I was a big,
easygoing jock - not dumb, but not book-smart either. No scholarships for
me, and the cost of college would've killed my folks, so I enlisted
instead. And the night I told him, me and Clay finally went all the way,
two hard-bodied 17-year-old country boy cousins, spread out on a blanket
under the warm evening sky.

"I love you, Bam-Bam," he moaned as he let me inside of him for the first
time. Amazing. So tight, so hot, and he was so beautiful to me. I felt
honored that he'd let me be with him this way, and I knew I wanted to feel
the same things, feel his big teen jock cock slide up my tail. I'd do it
for him, do anything for him.

"I love you too, Clay... little bro," I moaned, and the way his eyes
widened and the noise he made, like I'd just touched something inside of
him nobody else ever had, made me fall in love with him that little bit
more.

"Oh fuck, Bam-Bam... fuck, big bro," he moaned, and that turned my
already-hard cock into stone inside of him. Shit. I thought I was the only
one who'd thought of our bond as so brotherly, so deep, but of course, that
was stupid. Of course he'd feel the same way. Of course we were brothers,
no matter the bloodlines.

I came hard inside him, super-hard, and together, we lost all of our
remaining cherries that night. As cousins, but more than that, as
brothers. As lovers. It felt real, true, and right, and I didn't know how I
was gonna handle leaving him in a few months.

Afghanistan fucking sucked, of course, but it was sort of awesome, finding
the brotherhood of the Corps. I got bigger, thicker, and while I'd always
been a kinda compact, chunky dude, I really grew into my body after basic
and that first tour. I became Bama again to my new Marine brothers, but
Clay still called me Bam-Bam, in our letters and e-mails and the few Skype
sessions we could get, and damn, it felt so right. I loved him even harder
than ever.

My first leave home, he loved the new ink on my body, and I loved the
hardness, the firmness of him, the way he'd really grown into his looks,
that cute little shitkicker country kid bro of mine becoming a man. We
drove over to New Orleans for a long weekend, and spent most of it in bed,
making love as brothers, rediscovering each other. His fingers and tongue
trailing over my tatts was amazing, another of the lifelong memories I'll
always cherish, him loving on my bod and my ink while I described what each
one meant.

The second tour was harder, dirtier, bloodier. I got a little banged up,
took a bullet to the thigh that came real close to killing me, and when
Clay saw the scar, as we were undressing each other at the airport Holiday
Inn right after I got off the plane, he looked horrified. Scared. Seeing
his face, the look in his eyes, the fact he'd nearly lost me, nearly broke
my heart. Hardened my resolve. I knew I had to make it back for him, get
through whatever it took, so i could be with my brother at the end of it
all. That was all that mattered.

The next time I came home, I had a new tattoo. His eyes widened when he saw
the illustration of a Claymore mine - yeah, Claymore was his full name, his
Dad is a pretty weird dude - and `Clay' inked under it, on the thickness of
my left pec. I saw his eyes well up, and that made mine do the same, and
there we were, two tough country boys getting all teary-eyed for each other
as we slid out of our clothes and into one another, making love again. This
time, I took his cock inside me first, opened up for him, let him slide up
inside me physically like he'd done in every other way. It wasn't our first
time, but it felt like the best time, the way our eyes locked as he rocked
up into me, the slide of his lips and tongue on mine, the things we
whispered to each other.

I told my guys I was gay when I returned. It was huge for me, but it was
time. It was right. Most of them were shocked, but they were all
cool. Telling them made me feel amazing, being able to talk about my boy
Clay incredible. Yeah, I was still a redneck shitkicker to most, a
gun-shootin', Duramax-loving country boy, but this was all a part of me,
who I was. It took nearly getting killed a couple times to realize it, but
now that I knew, everything was gonna be different.

We couldn't get married in Alabama, of course, but the feds would recognize
it, so fuck Alabama. Fuck them all. Clay was in his last semester of school
when I came home, getting ready to make his next big move, and I had to be
part of it. When he showed me his new Bam-Bam tattoo, right over his heart,
on the creamy, solid smoothness of his pec, it was my turn to nearly
cry. Instead, I dropped to one knee. Proposed to him, telling him I wanted
him to be my man, my husband, my little brother. For life. We started out
in this world joined at the hip, and I was damned if I was gonna go through
the rest of my life without that, without him.

"We're cousins, Bam-Bam," he murmured as we slowly rocked, naked, in the
hotel room bed. Sweat cooling on our skin as we took a second, slower,
sweeter turn together, my big Marine cock up inside of him, feeling my cum
still thick and warm in there. Inside my man. My little brother. "How's
that gonna work?"

"Fuck that - we're brothers, Clay," I whispered against his lips before
kissing him. "Besides... our grandparents were first cousins, remember? So
we're just keeping up a family tradition."

He laughed, kissed me back, and together, we came. Not just with each
other, like that first time when we were 13... but together. Bam-Bam and
Clay, born as cousins, coming up together as brothers. Becoming partners,
at last. As close as family can be, and all the more perfect for it.