Date: Wed, 01 Jul 2009 11:33:58 -0400
From: myob@brucebramson.com
Subject: Nature Boy III

                     NATURE BOY - III

                There was a boy
                A very strange enchanted boy...

                And then one day
                A magic day he passed my way...

                 And this he had to say:
                "The greatest thing you'll ever learn
                Is just to love and be loved in return"

                                   Eden Ahbez,1947

Just a few hours later, I awoke to a grey dawn, snuggled against Charlie
spoon-fashion. His left arm was under my neck, and his right fist
clutched my morning piss-hard. My thoughts flashed back to the
incredible night of sex too soon over, and my mind wandered. I re-wrote
the title of another song popular at the time: Waking Up is Hard to Do.
I felt Charlie's morning wood poking between my cheeks. "Hello, lover,"
he sounded groggy: "what time is it?"

"Can't see the clock. Ya gotta let me up.  "Release me, Oh my Darling,"
I sang out another popular tune.

"I'll never, never let you go," Charlie crooned back. But he relaxed his
fist, and I was able to rise and see the clock on his desk. "Eight-thirty."

"Time we got up."

"We are up!"

"We're always up! I wouldn't have it any other way. But if I don't pee,
I'm gonna burst."

As usual, we raced to the bathroom. As our hard-ons drooped and urine
flowed, Bobby, nude like ourselves, came in and joined us: his flow hit
the water hardest and froth piled up in the bowl. I had forgotten all
about my brother even being in the house with us.

"Hi, Bobby," Charlie said brightly.

"Jeez: thought I wasn't gonna make it! Hi, Charlie; hi Jimmy."

"Did you get a good night's sleep?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, doggone it! Tom and Charlie put me between them in that huge
bed of theirs, and then they fell asleep. 'Cept for almost being crushed
to death, nothing happened, 'cept I stayed hard all night. Now I'm so
horny I can taste it." He sounded disappointed the older guys had left
him alone: I recalled Charlie had mentioned they never touched him, either.

Our bladders emptied, we scampered back to Charlie's room and jumped
into bed. Charlie started tickling Bobby, which got us going: we tussled,
explored, kissed and groped. We were soon all horny, despite Charlie
and me having had glorious sex just a few hours earlier. Our capacity for
sex seemed unlimited. Before long we had arranged ourselves in a
triangle on the bed: Charlie sucked Bobby's dick as Bobby sucked mine
and I sucked Charlie. Three pairs of hands and arms assisted in every
way possible. Not surprisingly, Bobby came first: he let go of me and
moaned loudly as he flooded Charlie with the load he'd stored all night.

"Dang! Oh, gosh, that felt so good! You guys really know how to get a
guy going!"

"Mmmngh."

"Mmmngh."

I kept sucking Charlie, and soon recognized the familiar signs:  he was
enjoying it and getting the feeling. We rearranged ourselves:  Bobby
stretched across the bed this time, put his head on Charlie's shapely
thigh and sucked two succulent balls into his mouth.

"Ooooh, look out lover, I'm gonna shoot!"

"Mmmngh."

"Oh, darn it, Jimmy, you ... are ... such ... a ... good ... sucker! ...
Here it comes!"

"Mmmngh."

Charlie's sperm sprayed my tonsils: he seemed to have an endless supply
of jizz, the volume of which seemed no less than the load he'd given me
in the wee small hours. ...nine, ten, eleven: I always counted Charlie's
contractions: the highest count I ever got was thirteen, his age at the
time. I swallowed his wonderful juice, released his prick, milked the
last few drops from it by hand and lapped up the result.

"Your turn!" Charlie sang out; "stretch out: let Bobby and me work on
you."

Charlie straddled my chest facing my raging hard-on: his still-dripping
cock dangled in my face as he bent over and pulled my hardness deep
into his mouth. Bobby squatted between my legs and ran his hands up
and down my thighs, up under my balls and tweaked my pubic hair.
There was no way I could hold back, but why should I? My lover and my
brother both knew exactly what turned me on and both were intent on
making me cum , so cum I did! "Holy christ, guys," I shouted as I
erupted in my lover's throat, "have mercy!" It was yet another glorious
orgasm, only the second in which my brother had played a part. Where
does all that stuff come from, I wondered yet again as Charlie released
my dick which flopped on my stomach and dribbled another pool. Will
we ever run out of it? We collapsed, exhausted and panting on the bed.

"Bravo, boys! Bravo!"  Tom and Harley stood in the doorway arm-in-
arm and hard-in-hard. "You three put on a great show!  But now, it's
time for breakfast! Get yourselves cleaned up. We eat in fifteen
minutes."

We cleaned up together in the bathroom, wiping blotches of drying cum
from each other and ourselves. I marveled at Bobby's prick, which
seemed to be still growing even though he was the youngest of us. Of
course, Charlie and I were growing as well, but were together so much
we failed  to notice. Bobby and I had developed healthy pubic bushes:
Charlie still shaved his, though once a week sufficed. His hair was so
fine and fair that even had he let it grow out, it would probably not
have shown. But he loved the silky feel of his smooth crotch, and so
did I! I dared not help him shave, except to hold things out of the way
now and then to improve his access to some tight spots: I didn't want
to hurt my Charlie in any way. The ritual was inevitably a prelude to
another sexual romp.

After a fine breakfast, we all dressed, ready to go home. Bobby wouldn't
go with Charlie and me through the forest: "too wet and cold," he said.
But Charlie and I loved the forest, probably in part because that was
where we met, and we still returned to it as often as possible. Yes, it
was wet and cold, but we loved it, sloshing along in the soggy leaves,
hand-in-hand. The trees were bare and the animals were hibernating. Even
the few birds wintering-over were quiet.

"I wish I could hibernate," I told Charlie, "s'long as I could be curled
up in a den with you."

"What? Sleep the whole winter? Miss all those super nights of sex, all
those jack-off sessions? You're crazy!"

"Crazy for you, Charlie."

"Good! I'm crazy about you, too!" He favored me with a long, wet kiss
as we hugged in a long embrace. The world was good!

But when we got to our fence, the special boards would not budge. I
quickly discovered that my dad had nailed them securely in place.

"Doggone! Now, why would he do that?"

"Perhaps he just found them loose and did what anyone else would do:
he fixed 'em."  Charlie always saw the reasonable side of things.

"Don't think so. He never wanted me to go into the forest: said it was
'dangerous'. Like, the most dangerous thing I ever found out here was
you! Well, we gotta go back through your place and the street."

"So long as we're together, I have no problem with it," Charlie said as
we started back.

"Say! I wonder if dad's figured us out?" I wondered aloud, after we'd
walked a while.

"I doubt it. Your dad's an engineer: that's how an engineer thinks. If
it's broken, fix it!"

I wasn't convinced, but the exchange revealed one difference between
us: Charlie looked on the bright side when I saw things more darkly. I
never forgave dad for cutting off my escape-hatch.

                       ***************

Before long it was Thanksgiving break, and a month after that came
Christmas. I agonized many long hours, wondering what to get my lover
for Christmas, and finally settled on a high-quality fountain-pen. I
saved up allowance money to buy it. Charlie had the most lovely
penmanship, utterly unlike my hen-scratch, and I knew he loved to
write. He shared some of the pages in his diary with me, but only a
few. At least what he wrote about me was complimentary! Even as a
youngster, though, I disliked the commercialism of Christmas: the
day itself was "just another day", except it was one of the many
magical ones I could spend with Charlie. Once school commenced again,
we'd be seeing less of each other for a while.

Returning to Wilson after the break, we learned some changes had taken
place. We had a new Principal, who introduced us to some new policies
at an all-class convocation in the auditorium. He was a tall, direct
man with a commanding voice. Among the changes he described was a dress-
code: not a uniform, but the requirement that we were to be "neat and
presentable" whenever we were on the campus, his term for what we had
always called the school-grounds. Somehow, it sounded more grown-up.
After he announced a few other rules, he dangled a carrot before us: if
we behaved ourselves for the rest of the year, we could have the first-
ever eighth-grade graduation dance. "Not a prom," he said; "that's for
your high-school graduation. Just an old fashioned dance." It gave us
something to look forward to.

I continued to pee in the bushes, even when it was beastly and cold
outside: I was afraid to use the boys' room, despite the more genteel
appearance of the bullies around school: looks can be deceiving, I
thought, better not to take any chances. But I did consult with Tom and
Harley, who gave me some pointers on how I might handle a
confrontation.

That came the day when I simply had to pee, and there was no time to
find a bush. I went into the nearest boys' room: there was a bunch of
fellows I recognized lounging there. One of them approached: "Hey, kid,
ya wanna suck my pee-pee?"

It was now or never: "I told you before: it's too small and too dirty!"
I said as I dropped my fly and stepped to the urinal: his friends howled
with laughter.

"Why, you little twirp..." I heard his foot-fall coming towards me. I
pinched the head of my prick, whirled around and cut loose, aimed for
his face and connected! His hands flew up to his stinging eyes and I
emptied my bladder all over him, flinging my last drops defiantly into
the puddle forming at his feet. His friends had fallen silent.

"...and when yer friends ask you who did this to you, tell 'em a queer
did it!" I shouted as I zipped up and strutted out.

I was never molested again, though I continued to use the bushes most of
the time. No point taking unnecessary chances.

One of my assignments in English 2 was to write an essay on  "any topic
of our choice". I don't know why I wrote what I did: I certainly didn't
think through the possible consequences. Here is what I wrote:

                   CHARLIE: MY BOYFRIEND -- MY LOVER

   I want to tell you about Charlie. He is the most wonderful boy
   I have ever known. We met one day last summer in the forest behind
   our house, and we knew right away we liked each other. We both
   loved the forest, with its many wonderful things all boys like.
   But more than that, we loved each other almost at once.

   Charlie grew up in foster homes and had a rough time. But he never
   complains. He doesn't talk much about those bad days, but I know
   they were tough on him. Luckily, his body survived without injuries,
   and he has shared that body with me unselfishly. Charlie still lives
   in a kind of foster care situation, though he has been adopted,
   and his parents have been wonderful to him and to me.

   When I look at Charlie, my spirits rise. (Another part of me rises,
   too, but I can't write about that.) He is so beautiful! He has long
   hair that cascades around his shoulders and blows around in the
   slightest wind. Sometimes he ties it in a knot so he has a pony-tail
   that follows him around as any tail does.

   Charlie and I sleep together a lot. There's nothing I like better
   than to hold him next to me and feel the warmth of him and hear
   his heart beating and feel the rhythm of his breathing. If I were a
   bear, I would hibernate, but only if I could take Charlie into my
   den with me. We would sleep curled up tightly for three months
   before waking up and finding us still together. Waking up to Charlie
   in the morning is a wonderful experience and I do it as often as I can.

   Charlie and I are lovers, and I hope we always will be. ---Jimmy Simmons

It was an incredibly cheeky little essay! I turned it in, but wasn't
surprised when not asked to read it aloud for the critique session.
My classmates apparently didn't notice.

A few days later at the breakfast table after dad had departed, mom dropped
her little bomb. "Jimmy, your English teacher sent me a copy of your
essay." *Jeezus!* She sighed deeply, and went on: "Mothers know these
things, of course: I've known about you and Charlie.  I haven't wanted to
know, but there's no way around it now. I have a gay son, and I have to
live with that. So long as you are happy, and I know how happy Charlie
makes you, then it's alright with me."

I had never wanted to hug my mother as much as I did at that moment. Tears
filled my eyes. This has to be what mothers are for! I thought. We held the
hug for the longest time.

"But, we won't tell your father," mom said, blowing her nose vigorously,
"he'd never understand."

                             ***************

Charlie's birthday was in February. I wanted to get him something really
nice; a ring, something to remind him of me. Mom found a hundred dollars
(probably stole it from dad's wallet: he'd never notice). The next morning
I took the bus into town and found a jewelry store. An older woman
approached me as I gazed at a huge array of glitter inside a glass case.

"Good morning, young man, can I help you with something?"

"I want to buy a ring for my friend."

"I see: is she about your age?"

"My *boy*friend."

"Oh. ... I think you need a different sales-person." She snapped her
fingers at a young man lounging nearby. "Bart, here, may be able to assist
you." She disappeared: I was glad.

"I underssstand you want to buy a ring."

"Yes. For my boyfriend."

"Ooooh, how nice! How old isss he?"

"He'll be fourteen next week: that's why I want to get him a ring."

"Oooooooo, even nicer! Aquarian, how nice. You'll want a birth-ssstone,
then.  Let me sssee, I think that would be an amethyssst. Yesss, an
amethyssst."  I'd never heard the word, and thought he was lisping.

"I guess."

"Well, here's what we have to choose from.  Let me sssee, here's a nice
amethyssst. The stone is cut into a heart shape. Verrrrry romantic."  He
winked at me. The ring looked cheap.

"Naw, maybe one like that?" I pointed to a nice cabochon.

"Oh, yes! Ssso much more masssculine. Yesss, very nice. And only three
hundred dollars!"  *Shit!*

"Rats! Anything for a hundred dollars?"

He rummaged around among the trays. "I'm afraid not, sssweetie: you have
expensssive taste!"

"Sorry."  I felt his eyes follow me as I wandered out of the store,
dejected, and ambled along looking in shop windows, wondering what I might
get for my hundred bucks. Suddenly, amid a jumble of stuff in a window, I
saw what looked like the perfect ring! I went into the store. A portly gent
sat on a stool behind a cluttered counter: he had glasses perched across
the top of his bald head.

"Can I see those rings in the window?" I asked politely.

"Sure thing, kiddo!" He reached a hairy paw into the window and retrieved
the tray.

"How much is that one? I pointed at the nice amethyst in a massive gold
setting.

"How much ya got ta spend?"

"A hundred dollars."

By frowning, he caused his glasses to fall back in front of his eyes: he
took up the ring and squinted at a tiny tag attached to it. Then he held it
for me to try on: it slipped on my ring-finger as if made for it: I knew it
would fit Charlie, too.

"Perfect fit, kiddo!" He squinted at the little tag again. "Tell ya what,
kiddo, I can make it ninety dollahs and tax: that'll shoot a big hole in
yer hunnert."

"Deal!" He put the ring in a little box, took my bills and dropped some
change in my hand. I went home elated. Alone in my room, I saw the little
tag was still attached to the ring. Before cutting it off, I noticed it was
marked, "$25".  *Shit!* I threw the tag away and never told a soul I'd been
cheated; I never again went near a pawn-shop.

Charlie loved the ring. "Should I wear it right or left?" he asked as we
opened presents at his birthday party. "On the right, Charlie," Tom
explained. "On the left means it's a wedding ring, and you boys aren't
married yet!"

"They oughta be," Bobby chimed in.

Once again, the party was a small affair: just Charlie, me and Bobby, Tom
and Harley.  I told them about the plan for a grad-night dance at the
school.  At that very moment an idea popped into my head and I blurted it
out: "I'm gonna take Charlie as my date!"

"Oh, jeezus!" Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Jimmy! Don't be silly!" Charlie exclaimed.

"There is a way it could be done," Tom ruminated. "We could easily turn
Charlie into a girl just for one night, couldn't we, Harley?"

"Why sure. You and I know the best make-up artists in the country, I know a
dyke that makes fabulous dresses, and we know all the best hair-dressers in
town! We could turn Charlie into Charleen in a heart-beat!"

"You'll hafta learn to dance. Standing up, I mean," Bobby sneered.

"You're just jealous," I retorted. Maybe we should turn you into
Bobbie-Jo!"

"Ain't gonna happen!"

"Now, boys! Tom and I can teach you two to dance--standing up--easily.
There's really nothing to it. It will be fun! And we'll take care of
turning Charlie into Charleen: just for one night, mind you, we like him as
a boy too much."

"Me, too," I chimed in. "Charleen for a night: kinda like queen for a day!"

"So right!" Harley and Tom exploded with laughter.

It was settled. Over the next five months we learned to dance to records.
Nothing fancy, slow-dances mostly; waltzing was as fast as we got. Neither
of us had ever been to a dance, and neither had any notion of what to
expect, except for how our bodies reacted to close dancing: it kept us hard
for hours, and led to many nights of fun in bed.

Meanwhile, Tom and Harley outfitted us with appropriate clothes. For me
they found a fancy powder-blue suit that clung to me like glue. The fabric
was smooth, slippery and kinda stretchy. It wasn't a tuxedo and the coat
had no tails, but it did have a satin strip down the outside of each
pant-leg. I wore spit-polished black pumps and a stiff white shirt. There
were several trial fittings there in the living-room of Charlie's daddies:
the tailors worked their magic to show off my budding muscularity the best
they could short of being lewd, and succeeded admirably.

Charlie's transmogrification was a little more difficult! Harley's friend
knew just what to do. She fabricated a lovely gown and knew how to sew
falsies into the bodice with perfect realism, how to drape the dress so it
let his legs show just now and then so no one would notice the slight
excess of muscles. On the day of the dance, a whole team of make-up artists
and hair-dressers showed up and turned my Charlie into Charleen: it took
most of the afternoon, but when it was done, he was perfect.

Charlie's makeup was almost imperceptible: a hint of eye-shadow, a trace of
color here and there, the perfect shade of lip-stick, subtle nail-polish!
His hair was gathered up over a rat and held in place with a armamentarium
of pins and a whole can of hair-spray, but it transformed him! Everyone was
amazed how his natural beauty shone through. He wore high-heeled shoes like
a pro (he had practiced!) and he picked up just enough feminine mannerisms
from the gaggle of queens who turned him out: he was stunning, and he was
mine! We both wore jock-straps, hoping to keep our respective penises in
check.

An orchid corsage materialized, with a white boutonniere for me, and off we
went! Tom and Harley accompanied us inside, intending to stay for just a
while. The gymnasium had been turned into a dance hall, with a handsome
high-school boy as disk-jockey. The lighting was low. There were many kids
already there I didn't recognize. If anyone caught on to Charleen's
identity, no one said so: he was a stranger to everyone. We danced a few
slow dances, and went for refreshments. Charleen got a lot of furtive
glances from fellows with their own dates on their arm! Even I got a few
appreciative nods. I caught sight of some bulging pants when partners broke
up: not all the fellows had remembered to wear jock-straps.  Slowly, we
relaxed and began to enjoy ourselves.

Suddenly, my heart sank: there were my parents, standing right next to Tom
and Harley! My mother had on a dress I'd never seen, rather long and full
with a curious chain across it, and she'd fixed up her face a bit. Still,
she looked ill at ease; she knew no one there.  Dad looked distant and
bored, as always.

There was nothing for it: there were introductions that had to be made, and
we walked hand-in-hand off the dance floor to where the four of them were
standing.

"Hi, mom," I said, "we weren't expecting you."

"One of the chaperones got sick: the school called on us."

"Well, mom, it's time for you to meet Tom and Harley." I took a deep
breath: "they are Charlie's daddies."

"Um hmmm, that's nice, dear." I stifled a guffaw as I recalled Charlie
mimicking my mother back at my birthday party: he had put those very words
in her mouth. The conversation lagged.

The D-J put on a lively big-band record and turned up the volume.

"Mrs. Simmons, may I have this dance?" Tom grasped my mother's hand.

"Why, ... why, ... how nice of you to ask! Yes, yes you may! Excuse us,
George."

They sashayed out to the dance-floor and began to cut a rug! We stood, jaws
agape, as twenty years fell away from my mom. She and Tom jitterbugged like
professionals! They were a perfect match, Tom leading and mom following
without missing a step even in high-heels. Her dress billowed out, she
showed some leg, her heels clattered on the hardwood floor. There were
whistles and catcalls as the students fell back in a big circle to
watch. Someone turned on the spots, and the D-J cranked up the volume.  I
pulled Charleen to my side.

"I never knew she knows how to dance," he whispered.

"Me neither! But she sure as heck can!" It was a fantastic show: they knew
the moves.

The music and the dance team both ended with a flourish: Mom curtsied
gracefully, and Tom bowed. The kids went wild: they knew they'd been
out-shone, but had witnessed perfection. The D-J started the same record
over again, and the kids flocked out, trying to emulate what they'd just
seen.

"Thank you, Mrs. Simmons: you are a wonderful dancer," Tom exclaimed as
they arrived where we were standing.

"Thank you, Mr.  ..."

"Tom, Ma'am, just call me Tom."

"Thank you Tom. You're not bad yourself! And I'm grateful to all you have
done for Jimmy."

"Couldn't do it without my husband," Tom said as he pulled Harley into a
clinch: they kissed each other passionately. Mom accepted it smoothly. Dad
was ogling a nearby student's bosom and didn't even notice. No one saw that
Charleen and I were greedily "sucking face".

It was a night to remember, too soon over. As we all walked out to the
parking lot around mid- night, my dad suddenly came to life: "Say, who is
that cute young lady on Jimmy's arm?" We all burst out laughing.
Unfortunately, we were laughing at my dad, not with him. He'd been all but
cuckolded before his very eyes without even realizing it!

"How on earth did you know my mom can dance?" I asked Tom when we got to
their car.

"It was her dress. An old cut, quality, weighted. The chain was a
dead-giveaway: it was a dress made for jitterbugging. I took a chance, but
I was right! I think she had fun."

Fun was not exactly what awaited us back at Charlie's place: taking off
make-up, nail-polish, and getting the crap out of his beautiful hair was
likely to take nearly as long as it did to put it all on. Charlie, very
tired, wanted to wait. "I want you to fuck me while I'm still a girl," he
said to me.

"Oh, no! I don't really like you as a girl! I don't think I could keep it
up with you looking like a girl," I explained.

"Let me try?" Right there, he dropped to his knees and opened the fly of my
fancy trousers. He forced aside the rubbery fabric of my jock-strap and
slurped my flaccid penis into his face. He tried his best, but looking down
at his bouffant hair-do kept me soft.

"It's no use, Charlie: I can't work it up when you look like a girl. You
gotta get all that stuff off and become my lover-boy again. And I gotta get
outa this suit before it gets ruined."

Reluctantly, Charlie agreed. Tom and Harley seemed to have an endless
supply of Crisco, which took off his make-up quickly. The nail-polish
yielded to some stinky stuff on rags, and his hair fell stiffly when the
rat and pins were taken out. Removal of a few key fasteners allowed his
dress to fall away. Even with only a slip and panties on, he looked too
girlish for me. Meanwhile, I kicked off the pumps, hung the coat, and
slithered out of my tight pants and shirt. We were quickly down to our
jock-straps, and headed for the big tub to wash up.

Several shampoo sessions later Charlie's beautiful hair was back to normal:
soap got us clean and horny! We washed each other tenderly, admiring each
other the way lovers do. In bed that night I had no problem staying hard
and screwed him successfully before we fall asleep in each other's arms yet
again.

			      ***************

Graduation was mostly boring, but strangely upsetting. Harley was off
making "feelthy peectures" somewhere, and Dad stayed away as expected.  Tom
brought Charlie, and sat with mom in the very front row. From my place in
the bleachers I could see that next to Charlie was a tall, lanky boy I
didn't know. But Charlie knew him: they maintained an animated conversation
until the speeches began. More upsetting was how the boy pawed at my lover
any chance he got: he'd grown horns a foot long by the time the ceremony
finally ended. The PTA had organized a barbeque, which is where I caught up
with my family, such as it was. The first thing I noticed was that Charlie
was not wearing his ring! *Jeezus!*

The Devil hung back briefly while Mom and Tom congratulated me; Charlie
even gave me a polite kiss on my cheek! "Who's that guy?" I asked him,
darkly.

"His name is Richard, but he goes by 'Dick'," Charlie explained brightly as
he grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him into our group, "and he's got a
big one!" he whispered to me.

Dick extended his hand to me: "Nice work, man. Must be good to have it
behind you."

I guess he was referring to school, but at the moment, the only thing I
felt was behind me was my entire life as I'd known it, especially as it
related to Charlie, who still held Dick's hand in his own, devoid of the
famous ring. I blatantly ignored Dick.

"Gotta turn in this cap and gown shit," I said, and stalked away, fuming.

As if this were not enough for one day, that night at dinner mom explained
why dad was elsewhere: dad would be 'elsewhere' permanently! She had filed
for divorce. "You boys need a stronger father-figure," she explained, and I
need a real husband. George and I have not been lovers for most of our
married life: seeing how happy Charlie has made you, Jimmy, has made me
hope for something better for myself."

Cruel irony! I was so upset yes, so intensely jealous of Charlie, whose
behavior earlier that day had been so scandalous in my view I was ready to
'divorce' him, and here was mom citing us as a reason for jettisoning
dad. Even though dad had been a cipher, the events of the day were too
much: to avoid having Bobby see me cry, I ran from the room to my own,
flopped on the bed and bawled like a baby. All I could see in my mind was
Dick fondling my Charlie: my precious Charlie. My lover, getting it on with
another guy! My life was falling apart! Right at the beginning of summer,
which I thought Charlie and I would make even more idyllic than the
last. *Shit, damn, fuck, crap!* "...and he's got a big one ...:" how would
Charlie know that, if they hadn't had sex? *Unfaithful bitch!*

I carried on, alone, for an hour or more. Mom finally came in to console
me, thinking I was taking her divorce badly, perhaps even missing dad. But,
I was unconsolable! At that moment, I couldn't give a flying fig about her
problems: I was dealing with things utterly new to me. Rejection!
Indifference! Fickleness! What the heck was going on?  Who the heck was
this Dick fellow? Where had he come from so suddenly? Did he really have a
big cock? Did I care? Why had Charlie made a point of it? I could not stop
crying, so mom finally left me alone. Eventually, I fell asleep.

Nightmares! Holy cow, I'd never ever had one, but that night I had them in
spades.  I tossed and turned: every time I closed my eyes, images of
Charlie and Dick doing the things we usually did infested my mind. Dick had
a big one, alright, a foot-long dong that grew out like a tail and wrapped
around my Charlie's nude body ... I awoke in a sweat.  *Jeezus!* Every time
I dozed off, there they were, except at some point I switched places with
Charlie, and Dick's huge phallus got rammed up my ass. Charlie was fucking
me over, alright, and using Dick's dick to do it.

I awoke very late to a bright sunny day that was the opposite of my mood: I
was in a deep funk. The whole summer lay ahead, but I had nothing to do.
Daunting! Mom was gone.  Bobby, too, probably swimming. The phone rang:
should I answer? If it was Charlie, what on earth could I say? I let it
ring a while, then picked up the receiver and listened.

It was Frankie!  In the whirlwind months getting ready for the dance and
graduation, my trysts with him had dwindled to once-a-month or less.
Frankie, who always objected to sex, but did it anyway, whose lovely body I
always admired but whose mind was messed- up and who, in any case, I never
thought of as a lover. Frankie was a trick. Period.

"Hey, Jimmy, haven't seen ya in a while: Why don't ya come over?"

"Be right there!" I exclaimed, desperately needing a diversion. I was out
of the house moments later.

Why did the idea of Charlie having sex with Dick upset me so, especially
when here I was eagerly walking to a date with Frankie? As I saw it, the
fact Charlie and I were lovers made all the difference. ... Maybe Charlie
didn't think of me exactly the way I thought of him? I couldn't deal with
this concept and rejected it out of hand.

When I got to Frankie's place he was not alone: he introduced me to his
cousin Joey, who I guessed was not much over twelve. He was a cute little
guy, though, friendly and open. Frankie led us up to the attic right
away. There seemed little question that we were going to do 'what we
shouldn't': we'd never done anything else up there. After a lot of
desultory conversation, I finally got the picture: Frankie could not
overtly aggress upon his cousin, because of course "he shouldn't do it".  I
had been invited so I could aggress upon Joey, and Frankie would
'reluctantly' join in! It would be up to me to "break the ice".

It was getting warm up in the attic: we soon shed our shirts. Frankie's
torso was filling out, getting a bit more muscular: he was still the lovely
shade of brown I found so alluring. Joey, however, was almost snowy white,
yet his musculature rivaled Frankie's.

"You're nicely set up, Joey," I said, blatantly tweaking one of his
nipples.

"We live on a farm." Apparently, that explained everything.

"Do farm boys have big dicks?" I asked as I groped his crotch: Joey didn't
flinch.  There was unquestionably something there, rising fast. I kneaded
it shamelessly.  Frankie's hand went into his own pants. I knew what he
had, of course, but what I felt in Joey's crotch was something new, and
responding quickly.

"Too hot for pants now," I said, ripping open my jeans and pushing them
down. My tented shorts gained Joey's immediate attention.

"Neat-o!"

I attacked Joey's pants. His belt had a strange clasp; he had to assist me
to get it undone, after which I could easily open his fly. Joey cooperated
as I pulled his trousers out from under him and pushed them to his ankles.
He was not wearing shorts, so his hard-on popped up and stood at
attention. I was sure he was no stranger to having his pants pulled down.
He squirmed against the worn bed-spread and laid back to allow us to
gawk. He was very admirable! Not only was his chest well set up: his legs,
though short, were sturdy, muscular, and hairless. His prick had a rather
wicked curvature to his right, with an unusually large (for the rest of
him) head on it. Frankie and I feasted our eyes on this lovely youngster.

"C'mon, Frankie: get yer pants off!" I ordered.

"We shouldn't be doing this, you know," Frankie whined as he toyed with his
belt buckle.

"Why the fuck not?" It was Joey.

"It isn't right..."

"Aw, you dumb city-slickers." He turned to me: "suck it!" No nonsense kind
of guy! I obliged, and found the position impossible: I needed to approach
from the other side, to accommodate his curvature.

We shifted around, and I went for his prick again with greater success. His
bent dick actually fit my throat quite well, and (no stranger to sex, this
kid!) he grabbed my head and established a rhythm he liked. "Oh, yeah!
you're a good cocksucker!"

"Mmmngh."

The rattle of a belt-buckle told me Frankie had overcome what little
reticence he had and was getting ready to join the fray. "Man, Frankie, you
got a nice dick!" Joey exclaimed as he maintained his regular application
of my face to his crotch.

"You're cute, Joey. Real cute, ain't he Jimmy."

"Mmmngh."

Frankie reached beneath me and stroked my rigidness. By now, he was
familiar with what I liked to do, even if "we shouldn't". In all our
sessions, I sucked him off, then jacked off and sprayed my jizz on his leg,
just as I had on day one. Given the mood I was in, I decided it was time to
change the scene. I pulled myself up off Joey reluctantly.  "He's got a
very suckable cock, Frankie, have a go at it," I said with my hand on his
back pushing rather firmly.

"I can't. I shouldn't," he whined, but his resistence to my pushing
diminished as he leaned out over Joey's supine body: his legs lost their
stiffness and he knelt down, bracing himself on Joey's tight thighs. In
slow-motion, he aimed for the prize as I guided his head down. "I really
shouldn't be doing ..." he moaned, as Joey grasped his head and shoved his
meat home. Joey resumed his systematic pumping: Frankie's lack of
experience showed in a lot of noisy slurping and slobbering, but he
remained at the task willingly. I took a perverse pleasure in seeing
Frankie doing what he had never done before, and decided even more
perversely that he had something else to learn: Joey seemed the perfect
vehicle. After a while Joey let go of Frankie's head: there was no change
of pace; his hands free, Joey reached out and got my prick in his hand.  It
was an experienced hand: none of this was new. His fist got my juices
flowing: my hard-on dripped long strings of pre-cum down Frankie's
beautiful back as I watched his head bob up and down.

Joey was beginning to breathe rapidly: "Don't cum yet, Joey: there's more
fun to be had," I said.

He pushed Frankie away. "Like?" I leaned far over to whisper in his ear:
"yer gonna screw yer cousin."

"Cool!"

Frankie was wiping a lot of saliva off his face: he seemed to be in a
stupor. No doubt, the realization that sucking a hard cock was fun (even
though he shouldn't) was beginning to sink in. I pushed him down onto the
bed, prone; before he had any time to object, Joey rolled over on top of
him: he was heavy enough that Frankie was trapped. Joey knew exactly what
to do! I guess those farm-boys had a lot of time on their hands. I reached
around Joey's shapely butt and pulled Frankie's cheeks apart: Joey hawked a
wad of saliva into his hand, raised himself up far enough to deposit it
where it was needed, then sank down and pushed his young manhood into
Frankie's hole. Frankie wailed as if he'd been stabbed: which he had!

I watched the muscles of Joey's butt bunch up, the backs of his legs grow
taut as everything worked harmoniously to force his car into Frankie's
garage. After his initial howl of pain, Frankie grew quiet. "Man, you got a
tight ass!" Joey exclaimed, possibly unaware he was taking Frankie's
cherry. "Tight, just the way I likes 'em!" He fucked Frankie mercilessly,
and I was sure he would explode quickly. He buried his head alongside
Frankie's neck and sucked at the skin there. I watched, mesmerized by the
display: contract - relax; contract - relax.  As he ploughed into Frankie
with gusto, I dribbled all over the backs of Joey's legs and paced myself.

Joey left a huge hickey as he released Frankie's neck, arched his back,
forced himself as deeply into Frankie as he could and went over the
edge. "Holy shit, Frankie, you're a really good fuck!" he shouted as his
load flooded Frankie's colon.

I came with him. "Fuck you, Frankie!" I shouted as I spewed my essence far
out over Joey's back and into his hair. "Enough with this 'shouldn't do it'
crap! You love it, and you know it!" I shouted as I shot over and over. My
frustration with him--with life in general, and with Charlie
especially--blasted out of my dick, and I collapsed on top of Joey
exhausted. Poor Frankie, on the bottom, could scarcely breathe. He
struggled, and we piled off him. Wordlessly, he stood up, magnificent as
always, and jacked himself to an amazing climax, shooting white jets of
jizz all over Joey, me, himself and the bed.

"Yes ... I ... enjoyed ... that," he said between breaths as he collapsed
beside us.

                                ***************

By the time I got home, the funk had returned. Getting it on with Frankie
and Joey had been fun, but lacked the deep satisfaction I always felt after
a session with Charlie.  I recalled what he had once told me: "I know how
alluring a hard cock can be. I know how easy it is to get into guys' pants:
get 'em horny, and they'll drop their trousers in a heart-beat. All they
want is to get off. Wham bam, thank you ma'am. Drop a load 'n go.  What you
and I have is something different: we love each other. When we have sex, it
goes on for hours and it gets better and better because we use it to
express how we feel for each other." But what happens if you fall *out* of
love? I wondered. Dick, I thought, was the answer.

I sat dejectedly on the couch, my head in my hands, about to cry again. At
that critical moment Bobby walked in, clad only in his bathing-suit. He sat
down beside me and put his arm around me: it was too much, and I wept.

"What's wrong, big brother; what's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I ... think... Charlie ... has a ... new friend!" I sobbed uncontrollably.

"I know: mom told me about the graduation scene.  ...  Life's a bitch,
Jimmy. People do ya wrong. But ya gotta go with the flow."  Bobby was
little comfort, but I appreciated his attempt to console me.

			      ***************

Both Bobby and mom did their very best, but I was devastated. I frittered
away the summer, accomplished nothing. I got together with Frankie a few
times, never saw Joey again. It didn't help when Bobby took up with Janice,
a girl he'd known for a long time. He told me she eventually let him "put
it in", and he found it far better than any sex he'd had with me or
Charlie. It turned out mom had been grooming a move-in replacement for dad
for some time: he was OK, but I remained steeped in self pity.

As for Charlie, he never called. The "true love forever" scenario I had
been imagining slowly evaporated as I realized Charlie had moved on to
someone else.  The nightmares gradually faded away, and the natural
resilience of youth worked its magic. By the time High School started, I
had come around to this:

                         "The greatest thing you'll ever learn
                          Is just to love and have been loved in return,"

... even if for only a year.

I never went back to the forest again.


			      ***************

Copyright BRUCE BRAMSON 2009


My apologies to the "happily ever after" crowd, but I am a realist, and I've
neen jilted too many times.  BB


This story, formattted, is available as a .pdf file: send me a note at
MYOB@brucebramson.com for the link.