Date: Mon, 17 Feb 2003 23:19:21 +0000
From: tommy nofeet <tommynofeet@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brothers and Lovers part 1

DISCLAIMER: the following FICTIONAL story contains vivid descriptions of
sex between young boys. If this is offensive to you, or
viewing of such material is illegal where you're at, DON'T READ IT!
Otherwise, enjoy it.
And e-mail me comments if you have anything nice to share.


The author would like to point out that this is a story of love, and the
realisation of something hidden deep within. Yes, there is sex later on, and
yes, it is between boys, but I don't think it would be the same without it.
In other words, boys are horny, and they get up to things...


Brothers and Lovers - Part 1

Chapter 1 - New houses mean new friends

Dad lost his job, and we moved. I should have been unsettled, but as a ten
year old boy I simply saw it as an adventure. I'd never had much of an
attachment to the place where I'd spent the first decade of my life, other
than the fact that the woods were good to explore. And the new place was
right on the edge of the Ashdown Forest, so who was I to argue? The house
was smaller, but older, and as a boy who lived his life as one long fantasy,
I was spellbound by the twisting little corridors in the upper story of the
building. It was apparently nearly two hundred years old, and the original
cottage had been extended into what was quite a large house. Yes, I know I
said it was smaller than our old place, but that was a bit of a mansion! I
didn't realise at the time that dad hadn't moved us for monetary reasons -
he had plenty of savings when he'd been made redundant, and the pay-off was
huge - rather he wanted to get away from his old life. He and my mum had
decided that the pressure of his accountancy job in London was far too much,
and at the age of 41 he'd gone into semi-retirement. We could comfortably
live off the returns from several smart investments, and just to keep the
money coming in he would do consultancy work from home. All this meant that
my home environment was relaxed and unstressed. My father was around for me
whenever I needed him, rather than leaving the house in the morning before I
got up and returning after my bed-time, and we started to really bond. I
loved football, and he made sure I was in the local boys team, made sure I
went to every practice, and I can honestly not remember him ever missing a
single game I played in. He would even join in and help the coaches out from
time to time, and though I thought it might be embarrassing, all the kids I
played with actually looked up to him, especially since he would give
friends of mine a lift home in his black BMW. I knew some of them were only
really friendly to me because of that, but I didn't mind - I'd always been a
bit of a loner, because I would spend all my time daydreaming, and it was
nice to finally interact with someone my own age.
But one of the friends was a true friend. Mike was my friend before he knew
my dad had a BMW. He was my friend before my parents arrived at the house
the day we moved in. He was my friend almost before I knew his name. I
probably ought to explain this - on the day we were moving in to the new
house, my parents allowed me to ride in the removals truck with the men who
had come to empty our house of the remainder of its belongings. Most of our
stuff had gone on ahead of us, but there was still the bare basics left
which needed a medium size van to move. The same men who had spent weeks
clearing our clutter into a series of trucks (I never knew it was possible
to have that much stuff in a house!) came with a van and started loading the
beds and the rest of our clothing and cooking utensils. I had become a firm
favourite of theirs - it was the summer holidays and I'd spent my days
helping them move pretty much anything I could carry. I obviously couldn't
be a huge help to them, but i was later told that my enthusiasm had
brightened up their work, so I was welcomed around them. How things change,
eh - I was recently moving into the house I am currently decorating (with
Mike, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here), and the removals men did
anything they could to stop us helping them out. Apparently we were in the
way. But getting back to the story, I was allowed to ride up front in the
van with the men, since they'd come to see me as another member of their
team. I'm sure my mum tried to persuade them that I would only get in their
way, but she was reassured that I really was welcome there.
Anyway, to cut a long story a little shorter, we arrived at the new house
before my parents came in their car, having been delayed with a flat tyre. I
was helped down out of the cab and was sitting on the grass in front of my
new home when I saw a boy my age wandering over. It was a small village, and
I was wondering whether there would actually be any kids about, considering
i'd only seen old people so far. But here was someone almost straight away
who was potential friend material. He wore a similar sort of clothes to me -
he even wore a black L.A. Raiders t-shirt, of which I owned about five. The
Raiders t-shirts were a strange phenomenon - most boys in England had never
heard of the NFL, and yet there were shirts everywhere for a team we knew
nothing about. A Raiders t-shirt was part of my uniform, along with navy or
black tracksuit bottoms and a pair of beaten-up old Clark's trainers, the
scruffier the better. And it looked like this boy had the same dress code. I
lost myself thinking about whether he even wore the same sort of y-fronts I
did, and then shook myself out of my reverie, wondering to myself why I
would consider something so strange. Physically, we weren't that different
either - his hair was lighter than mine, although it looked like that was
due to the sun more than anything else. His eyes, I noticed as he
approached, were deep hazel, not that far different to my own. Once again
shaking myself out of staring at this boy (and silently wondering why he
fascinated me so), I stood to greet him.
'Hi.'
Not the most original greeting, I'll admit. He did slightly better.
'Hi, I'm Mike. I live over there,' he said, pointing to a small cottage
situated well back from the road in amongst the trees. I had thought the
place derelict, although I managed to avoid saying so. 'Are you moving in
here?'
'Yeah. I'm Tom, by the way.'
'Cool,' he said, with a grin. I couldn't figure out why he thought it was so
cool, and he offered no explanation. 'I've got to go,' he continued, 'my mum
wants me back to help her around the house.'
'Ok. See you later.' I really wasn't doing so great here. For some reason, I
couldn't quite think straight.
'That would be cool,' he said, another grin flashing across his cute face.
Cute face? Where did that come from? But then he was gone again, and I
didn't have the chance to contemplate his looks further.
Then thoughts of Mike were gone from my mind, as my parents turned up and
started rushing around ordering the removal men, who as far as I could see
were doing a perfectly good job on their own.
It wasn't long, however, before Mike was firmly back in the forefront of my
thoughts, as he came bounding through my bedroom door. I was in the middle
of drying off after a shower later that afternoon, toweling my front with my
back turned to the door. I spun round to see a shocked look on his face,
which was quickly replaced by both a blush and a grin, before he stepped out
of my room and pulled the door shut behind him. Then I was left to
contemplate why I had a really hard willy.
When I came out of my room he was stood in the hallway, surrounded by the
packing crates which littered pretty much all of the house.
'Sorry 'bout that.' Another grin.
'That's ok. We're both boys, right?' I really hoped I sounded a lot more
confident saying that than I actually felt.
'Yeah. Want me to show you around the village?'
'Yeah, cool.'
With that we were off. Somewhere between stepping out of my room and
reaching my front door, we knew we were going to be the best of friends.
Shouting a response to my mum's usual warnings about not going too far, I
wandered out to discover my new world. Talking to Mike was easy. He had
exactly the right mix of enthusiastic chatter and the ability to listen.
Before we'd walked once around the village, I knew that he lived alone with
his mum, that he'd never known his dad, and that an older brother was off at
university, just like mine. He didn't seem bothered that his father was gone
before he was born, and my attempts to tell him how sorry I was for him were
waved off. He'd already decided, at the age of ten and three quarters  - two
months older than myself to the day - that since he never knew what he was
missing, there was nothing to miss. I wasn't so sure, but I also wasn't
about to get into a philosophical argument about it. We were ten.
There wasn't a lot to the village itself, beyond a pub and an all purpose
grocers/bakery/butchers. Most of the houses were scattered about at teh
edges of nearby farmland, or actually in Ashdown Forest itself. The place
seemed ancient to my eyes, but all the more wonderous for that. I stopped
listening to Mike talking about some random peice of history to slip into a
daydream about he and myself being guardians of the village in olden times.
I don't know what made me think about that, but as ever the fantasy was a
deeply involved affair. It was too in depth, though, for suddenly I realised
that I was walking alone, and Mike was stood still some way behind me,
waiting for an answer to a question I'd missed entirely. He was grinning.
Again.
'Sorry,' I said. 'I drifted away there. What did you say?'
he just shook his head and told me it didn't matter, he'd ask again some
time. No amount of probing on my part could worm the information out of him,
and eventually he just told me to drop the situation, in rather a sharp tone
of voice. Immediately he apologised for snapping at me, but still wouldn't
tell me what he'd asked. I felt really bad for almost messing up our
friendship on the very first day, but I was too long to stay feeling that
way for long, and soon we were laughing and playing on the grass outside his
house. We both loved football (soccer for those across the pond), and had
great fun kicking a ball backwards and forwards. Those of you obsessed with
the game will understand how much fun this simple activity can be, and it
was getting dark before we realised it. It suddenly occurred to me that my
mum hadn't come out to look for me, and then I fouynd out why - just then,
the front door to my new house opened and a woman stepped out, still
chatting to my mum as she left.
'That's my mum,' said Mike.
'Looks like my mum and her will be friends then.'
'I hope so,' said Mike. Once again there was a smile there, though this time
tinged with a slightly wistful set to his eyes. I didn't understand why he
had to hope - after all, it mattered that we were friends, not our mums.
My dad had also come out of the house, and called me over, telling me that I
ought to get in and have a bath before I went to bed. Turning to Mike, I
rolled my eyes skyward, a gesture which brought forward a riot of giggling.
God, I loved that sound, I thought. What?! I did go and hyave a bath, though
- my dad was a loving father, and really relaxed now that he was no longer
working in London, but it didn't pay to rebel, especially since he had
promised me a new bike for my birthday, and that was only five months away.
Time is different when you're ten... and seven months!


Chapter 2 - Brothers
That's virtually what we became, you know. The summer days together made
sure of that. Our parents' frindship also helped more than a littel. Just
like Mike becamse my new best friend, his mother became ny mum's new partner
in gossip. Mike's mum, Sarah, had to work to support the pair of them, and
was effusively grateful when my mother offered to look after her son during
the day for the duration of the holidays. It took the financial burden of
finding activities for Mike off Sarah's shoulders, and she became a lot less
stressed knowing that her son was in good hands. Mike and I loved it - we
were absolutely inseperable. At some point during the holidays another bed
appeared in my room - my parents reasoned that since he spent so many nights
on my fold-out sofa, rather than making the hundred metre journey home, that
he might as well have his own proper place to sleep. I wasn't about to
complain, because it meant more time spent with Mike. He even had a drawer
of clothes in my dresser and his own toothbrush in the bathroom. It might
seem a little strange that we becae so close so quickly, but there really
was the sense there that we should always have known each other. And
besides, we had very little else to do with our time during the holidays, so
spending time together was only natural.
Riding was a joint passion of ours. Both of us had mountain bikes (though
mine was already battered and needed replacing soon. I've already said that,
haven't I?), and Mike delighted in showing me all the cool trails which led
into the forest. We weren't really allowed to go too far into the trees, but
we always did, returning with the last of the sun's rays to be told off,
though not too harshly, for being out all day and being sent to take a
shower. It was after a particularly long day's riding that the events which
led to a subtle shift in our friendship happened. We were going to go out
for a meal in the evening, my family treating Sarah and her new boyfriend to
a meal, which of course meant Mike and I had to be smartly attired for the
occasion. We spent the majority of the day out on our bikes, investigating a
nearby nature reserve. This was another joint passion, and we ate lunch in
the hide watching a knigfisher get his own food from a nearby stream. We
were so engrossed, in fact, that we didn't realise the time, and when Mike
finally looked at his watch, we realised that it would be a rush to get home
and get ready in time to go out. Frantically pedalling all the way home, we
burst through the door to be greeted by my father, dressed very smartly in
one of his old work suits.
'There you are boys! Where on Earth have you been?'
'Sorry, dad. We were both out at Lockwood Park, and there was this really
cool kingfisher, and we didn't realise the time, and then we came back here
as fast as we could. Sorry!'
I was speaking double-time, as I tended to do when nervous that my father
might be angry with me. But there was no time for telling us off,
fortunately.
'Just get up into the shower. And take one together, we're in too much of a
hurry.'
Dad must have noted the shocked looks on our faces, and the fact that we
were stood stock still, because he came over to us and gently put each hand
on a shoulder, turning us around and directing us up the stairs.
'You're both boys,' he said. 'There's nothing new down there.'
Mike and i both blushed crimson, but were'nt about to argue with my dad, and
made our way upstairs to the bathroom as slowly as we could get away with.
It was the walk of condemned men. Yes, i'd seen Mike's willy before, but
only the briefest of glimpses when we were changing in the morning. I'd
never actually seen him naked before, and nor he me, if you don't count the
first day we met. We'd certainly never showered before, and when it came to
the threshold of the bathroom door, we both paused, looking at each ohter,
waiting for the other to make the first move. And the he did it - Mike
grinned, his trademark facial expression, and stepped through the doorway.
'Come on then, you wimp!' he said, starting to strip there and then. Partly
because his taunt was a direct challenge, and partly because I didn't want
my mum to come along the corridor and see him getting undreswsed, I stepped
quickly through the door and did the same. I tried not too look at his body
as the dusty clothes came off, but for some reason it was hard to resist. I
knew that he was the same as all the otyher boys I'd seen in the showers at
school, and there really was nothing exceptional about his body when you
looked at it objectively. But I was far from being objective at this point.
I was drawn to the tan-line created by the football shorts we both wore as
our only item of clothing on warmer summer days. And I was drawn bnelow that
line, to where his little penis bounced on top of a vert tight scrotum. Like
me, he was completely bare down there, which was to be expected (as I had
discovered in the book about sex my parent's had seen fit to give me
recently), and a long foreskin puckered over his head.
Suddenly, I noticed that he was watching me watching him, and when I looked
up to his face i saw a slight smirk there. And then I realised the reason
for the smirk - my willy was pointing straight at the ceiling, stiff as a
board and throbbing. I cringed inside, worried that he would think I was
queer (a word learned from the playground) for geting hard watching him. But
my fears were unfounded.
'Nice stiffie!' he said, the grin having turned devilish.
'I.. I'm sorry,' I said, my face turned downwards, ashamed to look at him
any more.
'Don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time.' With that, he stepped
into the shower. I was left there wondering at how calmly he was taking the
fact that his best friend had just got hard watching him undress, and also
wondering what I was doing reacting that way. I knew I didn't like girls,
but my dad always said that I wasn't old enough to like girls yet anyway,
and I should just enjoy being a boy for the moment, withouy bothering about
girls. I agreed to that one wholeheartedly at the time, and found myself
doing the same here.
As quickly as it had arrived, though, my tumescence was gone, and I stepped
into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind me. it was a little
cramped in there, and i got plenty of chances to see Mike's body. We even
washed each others backs, but fortunately my willy behaved itself, and
before long we were out of under the water and drying ourselves off. It was
Mike's turn to get stiff as he toweled down his front, and when he saw that
I noticed, he just shrugged with a strange smile on his face and continued
drying his legs. Before we left the bathroom, his erection had subsided,
just like mine had, and we both wrapped our towels round ourselves for the
short trip to our room. Even then, I was our room.
That night, we lay in bed chatting about the meal, both far too excited
about his mum's new boyfriend to sleep. He seemed like a really nice guy,
and worked in the same office as Mike's mum. But there was only so much we
could talk about the evening before we ran out of things to say, and the
conversation lapsed into silence. Mike seemed thoughtful, and I was about to
ask him if he felt alright when he just spoke, all in a rush.
'Why did your thing get hard earlier? I didn't mind, it's just mine gets
hard all the time and i wonder why, and then when I looked at you after the
shower it got hard, and I didn't mean to freak you out, and I'm sorry.'
All of this came out in one breath, ad Mike was left gasping for air. I knew
some of the answers, at least the mechanical reason why it got hard, but i
couldn't tell him why I got hard looking at him. Then it clicked in my mind
exactly wheat he had just said - he'd admitted his got hard because he
looked at mine after the shower, and not simply because of the friction of
his towelling. For some reason, I decided to be a lot braver than I felt.
'I know why it happens. My dad got me a book,' I said lording my superior
knowledge.
'Can you show me?' There was an excited tremor to his voice, and I felt
butterflies in my stomach as I got out of bed to retrieve the sacred tome.
Much to my embarrasment, I found yet another stiffie tenting out the crotch
of my y-fronts. Mike giggled nervously, and then pulled back the sheet
covering him to reveal that he, too, was hard. As I got the book and sat
down on the bed, my heart really started racing. I went straight to the page
full of cartoons that explained how an erection happened, and some of the
reasons why. Of course, top of the list was attraction to someone and
consequent arousal. I knew the question was coming, but that didn't make it
any easier to answer.
'is that why you got stiff looking at me?' asked Mike. I couln't think what
to say. I felt my cheeks flush hotly, and looked down at the bed between my
legs. Between my legs where, even now, my willy was betraying my excitement.
'Promise you won't hate me?' I said at last.
'Cross my heart and hope to die,' he replied.
'Well, I was looking at you, and that got me stiff. i'm sorry, Mike. I
understand if you don't want to be my friend any more. I'll leave so you can
get dressed and go home.'
I was utterly despondent, and got up to leave. I hadn't intended to tell
Mike what i had only just realised myself - that I got an erection because I
found him attractive - but he asked me directly, and I was always afraid to
lie to him. i was just taking a step away from his bed when a hot little
hand grabbed mine and turned me around. in a flash he was up on his feet,
and had leant forward and hugged me. It started off the chaste hug of
brothers, but as our arms went around one anothers' shoulders, we came
closer and closer until it was a full body experience. I didn't even
consider that he might come into contact with my willy untill his jabbed me
in the lower abdomen. We both stopped, but only for a moment before we
realised it wasn't all that bad, and just pressed into each other. He
whispered right into my ear.
'I don't mind. That's why mine got hard. That's why it's hard now.'
We separated, and I just stared into his eyes, mere inches from my own.
There was no mockery there. What he had said was totally sincere. That
feeling was backed up by the small kiss he gave me, right on the lips. Then
he just sat down on the bed and leant back on his hands. The look in his
eyes was devilish, the tent in his pants more than obvious given his
posture.
'Want to sleep here tonight?' he asked, his shaky voice betraying the calm
look that he was attempting to pull off.
'of course, I'm going to sleep here, this is my room.'
He just gave me one of those withering looks he gave when I said something
really stupid. When it suddenly occured to me what he was really asking, my
heart leapt into my throat. Of course I would sleep in his bed with him! He
lay down, and held the sheet up for me while I climbed in with him. Then we
were once again entwined, limbs all over the place as we found a comfortable
sleeping position. I wasn't in the least bit disappointed to find that the
only way we would get to sleep left his erection poking into my hip, not far
from my own.


Chapter 3 - Lovers
Waking up was a wonderful experience. There was a warm weight to my right,
with bits of it extended over my own body. I turned my head and looked
straight into the face of my best friend in the whole world. I looked at his
features, and for the first time really admitted to myself that instead of
liking girls, I fancied Mike. I never had feelings for any other boy, but
this was somehow different. I felt right.
I also felt his morning stiffie poking into the top of my leg. Not really
sure why I was did it, I reached down between us and grabbed it. That bought
Mike right into the present from whatever dream he was having. His eyes
popped wide open before he realised who had grabbed him and grinned. Turning
onto his back, he stretched languidly, reaching down and pushing down the
front of his y-fronts when he was done.
'Mm, nice,' he said sleepily, closing his eyes. The hem of his underpants
was hooked under his scrotum, his expsosed willy a clear sign that he didn't
mind if i continued. I din't know how far advanced he was, but I knew all
about wanking and how good it could feel, and so I started on him, rubbing
his foreskin up and down with my thumb and two fingers. It was a good thing
i was left handed, as my right arm still lay beneath im on the bad. He was
really getting into it, and before long was actually panting. i never made
much noise myself, but his fast breathing was turning me on like nothing i'd
ever felt. I went to work quite hard on his shaft, and beforelong he was
arching ihs back, legs squirming and toes curling as he got the feeling. I'd
only had it a few times myself, but i could tell by the ay he acted that
he'd had it. His eyes were scrunched up tight, and his mouth was open,
though no sound came out. EWventually, he subsided, and rolled into me, his
pants still down at the front, and his dick as stiff as ever.
I had an itch on my nose, and naturally brought my free left hand up to deal
with it. As I did so, I caught the fragrance of Mike's willy and balls on my
hand, and it nearly sent me over the edge. I loved the smell, and it turned
me on so much I just had to have a wank there and then. Reaching down, I
pushed off my y-fronts, arching my back and lifting my hips to get them out
of the way. Then I started to go to work. I'd only been going for a few
seconds when I felt a hand push mine out of the way and fingers grab my
willy. I'd thought Mike was asleep, but clearly he wasn't.
'Mine!' he said in a possessive, if sleepy, voice. Then he started to wank
me, and the feelings came stronger than i'd ever felt them before. I was
amazing. There was a tingling running up and down my willy, following the
path of his hand, and I could feel sweat forming all over my body. It was so
intense, much more so than when I did it for myself. Only a couple of
minutes had passed when the feeling becamse almost unbearable, and then
release came in a flood which threatened to knock me right out of bed. I
gasped, my muscles twitching, my breath ragged. Mike kept going until the
last tremors had passed, and then removed his hand. I looked up at his face,
and saw his gorgeous eyes staring back at me, a smile playing across his
face.
'Morning,' he said. Somehow, that seemed to sum things up nicely. I smiled
right back at him, before leaning into his open arms for another embrace,
and another kiss.


Thats it for now, folks. The next part will come when I have time to write
it. If you have anything you want to say to me about the story, mail me at
tommynofeet@hotmail.com. i do read all your mail, and I try to respond when
Ihave the time. Also, keep looking out for further installments in my other
series, 'Stall Story'.