From: Joe Jones <jonesboy@worldnet.att.net>
Subject: Thanksgiving with the Leary Men
Date: 31 Mar 1997 17:29:33 -0400

Here's the disclaimer...

Warning! The following story deals with consensual sexual
activity between two males who may or may not be related.

If such subject matter offends you, if you are under age 18, or, if 
by your local standards it is illegal for you to read this, 
STOP NOW.  Get rid of this and go watch TV.  

If you live in such circumstances, you'll just have to go write 
your own smutty stories.  Or live them.

Now on with the show.  

This story is rough and needs some polish (and some proof reading), 
but I just feel like getting it out in the world, so here it is.  It traffics 
in some of my usual themes, and a few new ones.
 
I hope you enjoy it. 

-- Joe Jones <jonesboy@worldnet.att.net>


THANKSGIVING WITH THE LEARY MEN 
by Joe Jones (author of Letters Home, The Wonder Year, Man of the House)


PART ONE

     Mike Leary was genuinely excited about Thanksgiving that year, though
it had never much mattered to him before.  Maybe it was part of getting
older - he had just turned sixteen that past summer.  Or it might have been
the company.  There would be all men in the Leary household this
Thanksgiving, and Mike looked forward to seeing them all.  Their chests,
their arms, their asses and faces.  He hadn't as much as said it out loud
to anyone yet, but he was pretty interested in men, sexually.  And there
wasn't anyone in this bunch who wasn't a pleasure to look at.


PART TWO

     The first person to arrive was Mike's brother Jeff, home from college
for Thanksgiving.  He had really matured in college, and really filled out,
which wasn't surprising given that he was the university's wrestling
champion.  His dad, Dennis, wished that he was as good a student as an
athlete.  But as long as Jeff kept his grades up, Dennis was content, and
overall he was pretty happy with how his son was turning out.  He was a
good natured young man, if a little conservative, and more interested in
music and sports than academics.  And he had a pretty girlfriend who he
seemed to genuinely like, and who was definitely a good girl.
     Mike was glad to have his brother home again, although they'd never
really been close.  He loved the sight of his compact wrestler's body, of
his beautiful deep voice, the natural copper color of his skin.  And it
made Dennis happy to have both his sons home again, and anything that made
his dad happy was alright with Mike.  After all, Dennis was the best dad
Mike could imagine --- Mike admired him for taking such good care of them
all, for making it look so effortless, and for not turning into an old guy.
He was up on current music, clothes...everything.  Even his students
thought he was a cool guy, for a professor.  The guys joked around with
him, and the girls had crushes on him.  Easy to see why --- at 46 he was
still good looking, and in great shape.  Every weekend he played rugby or
baseball with his buddies, and it showed in his well muscular frame.
     Roger, one of his sports buddies, was there for Thanksgiving too,
because he didn't have much a family of his own.  Roger couldn't have been
more different than Dennis if he'd tried --- he had never married, but had
plenty of girlfriends, and in general hung with a wild crowd.  But everyone
had to admit that Roger was a charmer.  No one disliked him, and he could
crack up his worst critics with a joke, or his handsome smile.  Half black,
Roger had beautiful caramel colored skin, thick curly dark hair, and he
wore an earring.  No one knew exactly how Dennis and Roger had gotten to be
such good friends --- they had nothing in common except sports --- but they
had been for as long as anyone could remember.
     Mike's cousin Chris showed up not much later.  Chris's father, Uncle
Hank, was Dennis' brother.  Uncle Hank and his ex wife Betty were never
very good parents to Chris, and so Chris had spent a lot of his youth in
Mike's house, almost like another brother.  Chris had spent most of his
childhood summers and holidays there, hanging out with Jeff, who was only a
few weeks older than Chris.  They played baseball together, though Chris
never seemed to much care about it, went to camp together, even shared Jeff's
bedroom.  Chris had changed in his time away at college (although it was
just a state college, and not nearly as good as Jeff's university).  He had
gotten in with a wild crowd --- he wore black all the time, and he had
three earrings in one of his ears.  His straight blonde hair hung in his
face, and he had scruffy little blonde goatee.  He had always been lanky
and slim, and still was.  In fact, he was so lean that you could see bluish
veins running up and down his arms like a road map, and even in clothes you
could see how flat and muscled his abs were.  He had a tattoo now, some
sort of Celtic knotwork pattern, wrapped around his sinewy bicep.  He was a
handsome boy, perfectly blending the blue eyes and sharp jawline of his
father's family with the slim build and blonde coloring of his mother's.
     Chris' father, Uncle Hank was late, as usual.  Uncle Hank was a nice
guy, Mike thought, but he wasn't reliable, and when he had too much to
drink, he was mean.  More than once Dennis had to throw him out, his own
brother, when he got too abusive.  Still, Mike was hoping Hank would show
up soon - he didn't much like his uncle, but he couldn't wait to catch a
look at the older man.  Hank was a construction worker, and you might think
so just to look at him.  He had massive muscles - arms the size of Mike's
thighs, a back and as broad as a table, shoulders the size of children's
heads, and big solid man-tits.  Even his good sized belly detract from his
sexiness, but somehow enhanced it, made him even more masculine. He had the
typical Leary family looks: thick dark hair, blue eyes, a square jaw and
ruddy skin.  He almost always wore a tight white t shirt and worn Levis.
The thought of seeing him again gave Mike an erection.
     While they waited for Hank to show up, Roger opened a bottle of wine
and poured everyone (except Jeff, who never drank alcohol) a glass, even
Mike.  That's what Mike had always liked about Roger - he treated him like
an adult instead of a kid.  In fact, he had a little bit of a crush on
Roger, even though Roger was twenty years older than him.  He liked Roger's
full lips and almond shaped dark eyes, the trimmed mustache that turned at
the corners of his full lips and ran down to his jawline, And he liked
Roger's body too --- nowhere near as built as his Uncle Hank, but he had
bulging biceps and a small firm ass.
     If Mike hadn't been so busy staring at Roger's body, he might have
noticed how much Roger was staring at his.  He had long ago noticed the boy
staring at his chest, his crotch, and this intrigued him.  Roger had had
sex with all sorts of women, of all colors and ages and sizes, and had even
been in a couple of orgies with men and women both.  But he had never had a
boy for himself, and Mike was as cute as they get.  He had the good looks
and brilliant blue eyes as his father Dennis, and a body just on the
precipice between being a boy and a man, with the muscle tone of a man, but
still soft and smooth as a girl.  And a high-riding ass, just begging to be
fucked.  On top of that, what really attracted Roger was, and always had
been, the forbidden.  Of all the women he had slept with over the years,
the ones that excited him most were the ones who were married or engaged,
especially if it was to someone he knew.  How much better would it be to
fuck the 16 year old ass on his best buddy's son?
     After everyone had a drink or two, Roger remembered that he had
forgotten his contribution to the dinner, his mother's famous yams cooked
with brown sugar, sitting on his kitchen counter back at home.  Everyone
said to forget it, but Roger said that if he was going to make his mother's
yams everyone was going to eat them.  Everyone laughed, and Roger said he'd
run home to get it.  He noticed that Mike was looking a little light headed
from his wine, and suggested he ride with him to get some fresh air.  Mike
agreed, and the two of them left in Roger's car.


PART THREE


     Dennis Leary sent Jeff and Chris upstairs to unpack, while he put the
finishing touches on his dinner.
     He was such a classic American guy, a man's man, and no one would
guess to look at him that that he'd have such a domestic streak.  But in
truth it was all he had ever wanted.  The opportunity to be a father was
the reason he married, and when that ended there was no way that he'd give
up his boys.  Not that their mother had contested his custody --- she'd
skipped town as soon as she could, and never looked back.  And so Dennis
had what he wanted, a family life, with no strings attached.  There were
women who went to sperm banks, had children without benefit of a husband.
Why not raise his boys without a wife?  He took a position at the
University, which gave him summers off to be with the boys.  And his nephew
Chris, who had the misfortune to be born to a bastard of a father like
Hank.
      Jeff and Chris were together again in the same room they had shared
for much of their childhood.  But they had grown far apart since then, and
felt a little awkward with each other.  To see them now, punk Chris in his
black clothes and tattoo, and Jeff the classic American collegiate, no one
would think they'd once been as close as brothers.  They didn't have much
in common now, except their past, and so that's what they talked about
mostly.  They'd joke about old times, reminding each other of past
embarrassments.  Even now they knew more about each other than anyone else,
and sometimes it took only a one word inside joke to make them both crack
up laughing.
     There was one other part of their shared history, though, which they
didn't joke about.  Didn't even speak of.  Sometime early in adolescence
they had started fooling around, jerking each other off.  Later, at Chris;
suggestion, they sucked each other off.  Chris was always so knowledgeable
about these things.  And so daring.  He also suggested that they stick
their dicks in each other's butts, to simulate fucking a girl.  Jeff
agreed, and so they did.  It was always quick --- just a quick cornholing,
while looking at a Playboy magazine.  Jeff, who had by far the bigger dick,
always wanted to do the fucking, not get fucked, but Chris insisted that
they take turns.  They kept careful track of who was ahead.  "You owe me
one," was their ongoing reminder, in those days.  (In truth, however, Jeff
had topped Chris more often than the reverse - Chris was a charity case,
when it came down to it, and so they both allowed Jeff to have his way more
often.)  Both pretended to hate getting fucked, but there was no denying
the dripping erections it gave them.
     They weren't sure at which age exactly they began their sexual
adventures.  They both remembered having to get rid of Jeff's little
brother Mikey, "the Pest", whenever they got horny enough to do it.  And it
continued, even when they started dating girls, because most girls were
unwilling to indulge the sexual appetites they aroused.
     But it had been years since their last encounter --- they were adults
now.  In fact, Jeff had a girlfriend, Sue, who he expected he'd probably
marry.  Sue, who was visiting her own parents for the holidays, was
staunchly Catholic, and didn't believe in pre-marital sex.  Although this
frustrated Jeff, he respected her for it, and thought she was probably
right.  After all, he was Catholic too.  It was just damn hard to go
without sex.  He'd been dating Sue exclusively for about a year now, and
that had been a damn long time.  So he relied on masturbation, which was
usually how he started and ended his days.  Masturbation, fantasies about
Sue, and about his pitiful few sexual encounters before her.  He could
count on one hand the number of girls he'd had.  And Chris, of course, but
that didn't count as sex.  That was just fooling around.
     Chris, on the other hand, hardly went a week without sex.  His early
activity with Jeff had been a springboard to a even more sexual
experimentation.  He had ample opportunity, because although the Leary men
were almost universally good looking, even among them Chris was a standout.
He was as pretty a man who ever walked the planet, and both men and women
fell for him.  It wasn't just his appearance.  Not just his fine platinum
blonde hair, his lean and wiry physique, the fine golden-white hair on his
chest.  It was the sexual air around him, his utter accessibility.  Women
wanted to take him home and love him.  Men wanted to service him.  He did
both, and had much more than his share of women, and a couple of guys if
they had something he wanted.  He preferred women to men by far, but was
too much of an opportunist to pass up any sexual experience.  Bondage.  Hot
candle wax.  Piercings.  Dildos.  Leather.  He had tried them all, and
more, but had not yet reached his limit.
 


PART FOUR

     Driving to his apartment, Roger eyeballed Mike, feeling desire for the
boy burning deep inside him.
     "So you still don't have a girlfriend, Mike?" He asked.
     "Nah, Roger.  Not really."
     "Good looking boy like you?  I'm surprised."
     "Yeah," Mike replied, quietly.
     "Can I ask you something personal Mikey?"
     "Yeah.  Sure. I guess so."
     "Now remember Mikey, I've known you since you were a kid - Hell, I
knew your folks before your brother Jeff was even born.  You're like family
to me, so don't be insulted or anything.  But I was wondering...are you
gay?"
     Mike froze.  He gulped hard, and said "No!  No way!  Why did you think
that?"
     "I just thought...you know, I've known a lot of gay guys.  Some of
them were good friends of mine.  Some great musicians.  I just thought you
reminded me of some of them.  Guess I was wrong."
     They ride in silence for a few minutes.  And then Mike spoke.
     "If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell my dad?"
     "Sure Mikey.  You know you can trust old Roger."
     "I think maybe I'm bisexual.  God, I can't believe I'm just saying
it."
     "Relax Mikey.  It's cool with me.  We're all bisexual, really."
     "We are?"
     "Sure Mikey.  We all have potential, you know, to love anyone.  Most
of us just deny it and pick one or the other, gay or straight.  I think
it's great you're bisexual."
     "You do?  Wow.  I didn't think hardly anyone would understand.  You
know, sometimes I just see guys, guys at school or whatever, and I
think..."
     "Whoa, Mikey," Roger interrupted, "are you sure you want to tell me
too much about that?"
     "Oh," said Mike, feeling ashamed of his forwardness.  "Sorry."
     "I'm feeling a little horny myself right now.  You tell me too much
and I might get all hot and bothered."
     "You horny?"
     "Sure thing Mikey.  What, you think I don't like sex?"
     "I don't know...I guess you do."
     "We're not all angels like your dad, Mikey.  Hell, I love pussy.  Eat
it, fuck it.  Did I ever tell you about the time I had BOTH of the Johnson
sisters?  Fuck man," Roger went on, laughing, "THAT was something!  But I
guess I didn't tell you --- of course I didn't."
     "No," Mike said, and then paused, licked his lips, and went on.  "You
could tell me now."
     So Roger told him, in excruciating detail, about his conquest of the
Johnson sisters.  How he fucked one then the other, how the next morning
they took turns straddling his cock and riding him while he sucked on their
tits.  He went on to tell about his last girlfriend and the things she
would do to make him cum.  He told about a bisexual friend he knew who told
him that he'd had sex with his own brother.  As Roger told story after
story, Mike's cock throbbed, and a damp spot of pre-cum spread across the
front of his jeans.
     Roger continued his stories all the way to his apartment building, and
all the way into his apartment.  Roger's place was nothing like Mike's
home.  It was dark, and messy.  There were albums and CDs and books
scattered all over the place.  The furniture was old and worn.  There were
paintings on all the walls, and posters, even centerfolds of nude women
with big breasts.  The kitchen was just a little open area off of the
living room.  Roger walked over to the counter, and found his tray of yams
baked in brown sugar.
     "These, Mikey, are the finest yams you'll have in your life," Roger
said, peeling back the tin foil to show Mike the food within.  "When you
have a mouthful, you'll think you're cumming.  I swear to God!"
     Roger dipped his finger into the tray, breaking the crisp surface.  He
lifted out a fingerful of sweet yam, and put it in his mouth.  He moaned
out loud, and almost shuddered with delight.
     "C'mere," he said to Mike, beckoning the boy closer.  He dipped his
finger into the tray again, and lifted a chunk of gooey yam out.  "You want
it?" he asked.  He brought the finger to Mike's lips, and the boy opened
his mouth and took the yam and finger both into his mouth.
    "You like that?" Roger asked.  Mike nodded yes, the finger still in his
mouth.  "Make sure you suck the sugar off."
     Mike sucked on Roger's big rough finger, and Roger wrapped his hand
around the boy's slim waist and pulled him closer.  He took his finger from
Mike's sweet sucking mouth, dipped it into the yams again and then back
into Mike's mouth.  Without words, they stared into each other's eyes,
currents of desire transmitting between them.
     "You want more?" Roger asked Mike, who nodded "yes", still sucking on
Roger's finger long after swallowing the last traces of yam.
     Roger took his finger out of the boy's mouth.  With his hand freed, he
pulled up the bottom of his cotton turtleneck, lifting it up over his pec
and then releasing it.  He took a finger covered with gooey yam, and rubbed
it onto his brown nipple.  Mike stared at him and swallowed hard.  Roger
gently guided the boy's head to his chest, and Mike opened his mouth over
the nipple and began to suck.
     Mike sucked on one nipple then the other, guided but never forced by
Roger's hands.  Roger took off his shirt, revealing a well developed
athlete's torso, smooth except for a few tightly wound curls of hair
springing up around his nipples.  Then he removed Mike's shirt.  He tweaked
Mike's rosy colored nipples and sucked on them both.  The boy was well on
his way to a beautiful manly body.  Roger unbuttoned Mike's jeans, and slid
them down and then the white cotton briefs beneath them.  Mike's long cock
bounced free, and Roger stroked it.  "What're you packing here?" he asked.
"Looks like a seven incher."  Mike shrugged, and then gasped as Roger took
his cock in his mouth, and slid his lips up and down over it.  He stared
down at the sight of the handsome black man mouthing his cock, and gently
ran his fingertips over the springy hair on Roger's head.
     Roger stopped, stood up, unbuckled his belt, stripped off his black
trousers and underwear, and stood there, his cock fully erect and pointing
straight at Mike.  The cock was nearly as long as Mike's, perhaps a bit
fatter, and a shade darker than the rest of Roger's caramel skin.  Roger
stroked it masterfully, and said to Mike "If you want to, go ahead."
     Clumsily, Mike got down on his knees, and took the head of Roger's
cock between his lips.  It felt strange, to have this warm hard flesh in
his mouth.  He tried to swallow some more, got a few inches in, and started
to bob his head back and forth.  "Yeah," Roger encouraged him, "that's
good."  Then Roger stopped him, and leaving Mike on his knees he crawled
down on the ground, his face between the boy's legs.  He took Mike's cock
in his mouth, and began to bob his head down on it again and again, faster
this time and swallowing even more of it, until his nose was buried in the
bush of hair around the base of Mike's cock.
     "Roger, I'm...oh my God..." Mike mumbled, "Roger...I...you'd better
stop..."
     Roger didn't stop, but instead went faster, until he felt Mike's cock
swell up even more, his hips thrust forward, and then felt a thick hot
blast of cum in his mouth.  Mike mumbled something, and shuddered, as his
balls pumped his cum out into Roger's mouth.  He trembled as Roger choked
on the hot liquid, and swallowed it.  He then released the cock from his
mouth, and rose up on his knees, wiping his sniffling nose with the back of
his hand.  He had swallowed another man's cum.  Incredible.
     "That was incredible," Mike said.  "That was...the best thing.  Ever!"
     "Good," said Roger, standing up, "I'm glad you liked it."
     He helped Mike up, and the two stood close together, Roger's fully
erect cock between them.  Tenderly he kissed Mike on the lips, then his
cheek and neck.  He kissed his shoulders and collarbone.  Licked at Mike's
nipples, his trim belly.  Lapped at the sparse curly hair under the boy's
belly button.  Licked the shaft of his flacid cock.  Sucked a last pearly
drop of cum off the head of Mike's cock.  Roger took the cock fully into
his mouth, swallowing it all, coaxing it back into a second erection.  He
turned Mike around, his jeans still chaining his ankles together, and bent
him over the back of his couch.  He spread apart the white globes of Mike's
ass, and took in the sight of his pink asshole, some dark hairs around it.
Roger sniffed it, kissed it, poked it with his tongue.  Mike stiffened up
suddenly, amazed that someone would do such a thing.  Roger poked at it
again, and licked it, pushed the tip of his tongue deep inside.  As Mike's
cock stiffened, he moaned lowly and spread his legs to accommodate Roger's
face and probing tongue.
     After loosening up Mike's asshole, Roger stood up behind the boy,
wrapped one muscular arm around him to pull him closer, kissing and biting
the back of his neck.  He slid one finger into the boy's wet ass, and then
another.  He slid his arm down and began to pump Mike's nearly erect cock,
while he punped the boy's asshole with his other hand.  Mike was lost to
the pleasure, and Roger licked his lips, wanting that ass so bad.  He took
his fingers out of Mike's bottom, then pressed the head of his rigid cock
to the hole, and began to slide in.  Mike jerked around, in a mild panic,
but Roger simply turned the boy's head so he could look in his eyes, and
his intent stare calmed Mike immediately.  Roger slid his whole cock in,
inch by inch, and Mike grunted with each.  When his whole length was
embedded in Mike's ass, Roger paused to give Mike time to grow accustomed
to the feeling.  Then he began to slide it in and out in smooth easy
strokes.  Mike's asshole was so tight, so hot, Roger knew he wouldn't last
long at all, though he wanted to fuck his best friend's son all night long.
He wrapped his big hands around Mike's slim white hips and pulled him
closer, picked up the pace, stabbing Mike's asshole over and over again.
     While he fucked Mike, Roger took in every inch of the boy's back and
head with his eyes, feeling with his fingertips the young muscles working
under his white skin.  He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back
into him, then fucking him hard, and harder still.  Mike winced with pain,
and Roger pummeled into him, his cock exploding with hot semen, coating the
inside of Mike's guts with his white jizz.  He thrust into him once, twice
and again, totally spent.
     Without withdrawing his cock, Roger pulled Mike back against him, spat
into his hand, wrapped it around Mike's dripping erection and started to
beat it furiously.  Mike thrust his hips forward, fucking Roger's wet hand,
with Roger's black cock still up his ass.
     "You'd better hurry," Roger whispered, "you father is waiting for us."
     The very mention of his father sent Mike over the edge, and for the
second time in a half hour he spurted out a stream of white cum.  His semen
splattered onto Roger's couch and then dribbling down his knuckles.


PART FIVE

     By the time that Roger and Mike finally got back home, Uncle Hank had
arrived and already had two beers.  Everyone asked where they had been for
so long, and Roger explained to them that Mike had had too much to drink,
and had gotten a little sick.  Everyone teased Mike, who blushed and
shrugged.  In addition to explaining their time away, Roger's lie explained
Mike's change of demeanor, the evident nervousness he felt in front of his
family because of what had really happened.
     During the dinner, Hank drank some more and Mike knew he'd probably
end up sleeping on their couch again.  But nothing could ruin this
Thanksgiving for him.  Even the Turkey was perfect.  He said so, and
everyone agreed that it was, and that Roger's yams were the best they'd
ever had.


PART SIX

     When Roger went home, everyone turned in for the night.  Dennis put
his drunk brother Hank on the couch to sleep, and he and the boys went
upstairs to their bedrooms.  Jeff and Chris, in the room they had shared
for so many summers as boys, tried to work out a sleeping arrangement.  But
they were both were so full of Thanksgiving dinner that neither really
wanted to spend the night in a sleeping bag on the floor, and in the end
they decided to share the bed after all.  They both stripped to their
underwear and climbed in.
     Jeff, who always jerked off before going to sleep, was feeling
restless to begin with, and the feel of a warm body in bed next to him
didn't help any.  While Jeff tried to hide his growing erection, he
examined his cousin's body.  His arms and chest were covered with tiny fine
hairs, so white as to be transparent.  He examined the tattoo on his bicep,
having never been so close to one before.  And then noticed something else.
     "What's that?" he asked, and reached out to touch Chris' pale pink
nipple, and the thin gold hoop that hung from it.
     "That?" Chris replied, lifting the tiny hoop and tugging on it
lightly.  "That's a nipple ring."
     "Well duh, Chris.  I just...when'd you get that?"
     "Last summer.  Pretty cool, huh?"
     "Pretty weird anyway," Jeff answered, not at all sure what to make of
it.
     "What, you didn't get yours pierced yet?" Chris asked, giggling.  He
turned around in the bed to face Jeff, and quickly grabbed his cousins
nipples and pinched them hard.
     "Ow!  Quit it!" Jeff shouted, giggling as he tried to cover his chest,
and then grabbing at the ring in Chris' nipple and tugging hard on it.
"There?  How do YOU like it?"
     The two squirmed and laughed, trying to tickle each other, and pinch
each other's nipples while defending their own.  As things escalated, Jeff
quickly gained the upper hand.  After all, he was a wrestling champ, and
although Chris was in great shape he couldn't match Jeff for sheer muscle
or for training.  Finally he lay on top of his cousin, holding his arms
around his chest.  Face to face, the two of them breathed heavily, their
last giggles sputtering out.
     "Okay, truce?  Okay?"  Jeff asked.
     "Okay.  Truce," Chris answered.
     "Okay then."
     As he released Chris' arms, there was a brief pause, and then Chris'
fingers dug into Jeff's sides again, tickling him like crazy, until Jeff
masterfully pinned his cousin again.
     There was something more than just tickling and wrestling holds going
on in Jeff's crotch, though.  He was fully erect, only a think layer of
cotton between it and Chris' flat abs.  There was no hiding an erection the
size of Jeff's, and Chris was aroused by the feel of the hard cock pressed
against him. But more than that, what turned Chris on the most was that he
always hated those preppie jock guys like Jeff, and it thrilled him to
think of tempting one of them to stray from the straight-and-narrow.  What
made it all the better was that Jeff was unarguably sexy, with a compact
body, muscles like steel under smooth as satin skin, full lips and thick
hair, the same dark brown color as his eyes.
     "I mean it now Chris," Jeff said, "really quit it now.  Or I'll keep
you pinned all night."
     Chris chuckled.  He struggled against his cousin, but his arms were
pinned securely.  He squirmed with all his strength, but Jeff had him down
hard.
     "Give it up, man," Jeff continued.  "there's nothing you can do."
     "Oh no?" Chris asked, smiling devilishly.
     Chris craned forward his long neck as far as he could toward Jeff's
chest.  Jeff had flat, dark rose colored nipples, each ringed by a halo of
dark hairs (about the only hair on his chest, really).  Chris wrapped his
lips around one, and sucked hard, pressing down just a little with his
teeth.
     Jeff didn't know how to respond, so he just let Chris go on doing it,
closed his eyes and groaned as he finally pressed his throbbing erection
into Chris's belly.  Chris licked Jeff's tit, chewed on his nipple and
sucked on it hungrily.  He stooped and looked up at Jeff's half closed eyes
and said "You wanna'?"
     "I don't know man," Jeff answered.  "It'd be kinda' weird, you know?"
     Chris responded by latching onto Jeff's other nipple and chewing
roughly on it.
     "Fuck," whispered Jeff.  "Okay.  But we gotta' do it quick."
      He rolled off of his cousin and sprang to his feet, stripping off
white white cotton briefs to reveal a long fat cock, bigger looking than
Chris remembered it.  Jeff's prick was thinner at the root, and grew fatter
all the way up to the head, which fit it like a smallish helmet.  Chris
slipped his briefs off too, still lying flat on his back.  Lying there,
Jeff could see that his cousin wasn't a kid any longer either, but a young
man.  He was thin, almost flat, but broad in the shoulder and slim in his
hips, sinewy.  He had a lot more body hair than Jeff, but all of it the
same pale blonde color, except for the brown bush of pubic hair at the base
of his good sized cock.  It wasn't nearly as big as Jeff's own, but it was
nothing to be ashamed of.
     Jeff gave his cock a couple of rough strokes and said to Chris "Okay,
turn over."
     "Turn over?  TURN OVER?  No way man.  It's your turn," Chris replied.
     "The hell it is, Chris.  Man, you owe ME one.  Don't you remember?"
     "I remember everything.  You're the one who forgot.  You got to go
last time."
     "Did not.  You went last time.  I swear."
     "You swear, huh?  So do I.  Well, what the fuck do we do now?"
     "Wanna' wrestle for it?"  Jeff asked, smirking.
      Chris threw a pillow at Jeff, and laughing said "Yeah, you'd like
that, wouldn't you?"
     Jeff threw the pillow down on the floor.  He answered "Wouldn't you?
Like it?"
     "Awww, fuck.  Okay," Chris said, getting up out of the bed.  "Hold
on."
     Chris rummaged around in his backpack and rummaged out a little
bottle.  He walked over to Jeff, and looked him in the eyes.  He felt like
kissing his darkly handsome cousin, but knew that Jeff wouldn't go for
that.  He got down on his hands and knees on the floor, as they always did
as teenagers because the bed was too squeaky.  He looked up to Jeff and
said "I hope you have something."
      "Something" Jeff knew, meant some kind of lubricant.  He looked
around on his dresser for something, and found a tube of tanning oil.  That
would do.
     His heart pounding hard, Jeff knelt down behind Chris.  He glanced at
his cousin's spread ass cheeks, and was simultaneously turned on and
repulsed.  He decided not to really look any more.  He poured a good amount
of tanning oil onto his hand, and rubbed it onto his cock.  It smelled
lightly of something flowery, and it felt good and slick on his cock.  He
pressed the head against Chris' hole, and tried to slide it in quickly.
     "Oww, stop..." Chris blurted out, pulling forward to keep Jeff from
getting in any deeper.  "You jerk...go slow!"
     "Shhh," said Jeff.  "Okay, but be quiet, or you'll wake the whole
house up."
     "Okay.  Just slow down, and put more of that oil on it."
     While Jeff lubed up his cock, he noticed Chris fooling around with the
brown glass vial.
     "What is that?" Jeff asked.
     "Poppers...Rush.  Whatever.  It gives you a little high when you sniff
it.  You want some?"
     "No way," Jeff answered.  Jeff's health was too important to him to do
drugs of any kind.
     He pushed his cock head into Chris' asshole again, and even that felt
so good that it was all he could do to not slam it in at once.  He inched
in slowly, guided by Chris' words, pushing when he said "okay", pausing
when he said "stop".
     When he'd gotten about two thirds of his cock in Chris, Jeff was
nearly trembling with the desire to ram it in, but Chris had said to stop,
so he did.  Then Chris opened the brown vial, held it up first to one
nostril and inhaled deeply, then the other.  After a few seconds Chris'
body seemed to relax, and he moaned out loud.  He gripped down hard on
Jeff's dick with his sphincter, and very suddenly shoved back, impaling
himself on the full length of Jeff's cock.
     "Yeah..." Chris groaned, "do it...yeah..."
     Jeff had never seen Chris like this.  There had been some good times
before, but now Chris was really getting off on being fucked.  And Jeff
obliged him, by pulling his cock back slightly and ramming it in again and
again.
     "That feels good buddy," Jeff said, driving his cock home in his
cousin's sweet ass.
     After a minute or two the effects of Chris' drug seemed to subside.
But he was still enjoying getting fucked, and worked his ass around the
pole filling it, clutching Jeff's cock with his bowel.  He let himself drop
down onto his shoulders, freeing his hands to work his own cock, leaving
his ass up in the air for Jeff to plug away at.
     After a few minutes Chris passed the vial back to Jeff.  "Try it Jeff.
Come on."
     Jeff wasn't crazy about it, but Chris was into it, and since he was,
literally, into Chris it seemed only fair.  He twisted open the top, and
held it up to one nostril.  He pinched closed the other nostril and
inhaled.  It stank, he thought, and there was a burning chemical sensation.
That was enough.  He twisted the top back on and passed it to Chris, who
then used it himself.
     He couldn't be sure when it started, but Jeff thought something was
wrong.  He felt hot, and his heart was pounding loudly in his ears like a
kettle drum.  He felt like his head was going to explode, but it didn't,
and instead he felt everything that was happening, but more intensely than
ever before.  He could hear every decibel of every groan Chris uttered,
could feel Chris milking his cock with his ass.  He was overcome, and
whispered "Oh, fuuuuuuuuucccck!" as he pummeled Chris' ass.
     For his part Chris was seeing stars, trying to stave off an imminent
orgasm as Jeff slammed into his prostate over and over again.  Normally he
would have had a hard time with Jeff's big dick, but not tonight.  In fact,
right after each hot of Rush, he found himself wishing that Jeff's cock
could get in a little deeper.
     "You almost done?"  he asked Jeff, anxious to finally cum.
     "Almost," Jeff answered.  "You?"
     "I'm there," Chris answered.  He inhaled some more Rush, and passed
the bottle back to Jeff.
     Without stopping his stroking, Jeff opened the bottle and inhaled
deeply in each nostril.  He let himself rest on top of Chris' back, his ass
the peak of a human pyramid, and drove his cock deep.  Chris barely touched
his own cock, and it spewed several streaks of white cum, each one
propelled by another jab from Jeff's cock.  Jeff could hear Chris cumming,
could hear him making a horse-like noise as his balls pumped out his semen.
The rush was kicking in, and the sounds of Chris' climax turned him on
almost as much as the hot ass he was fucking in hard fast jabs, like a dog.
     "Uh, Jeff," whispered Chris, in obvious discomfort, "I'm done,
I..uhhh...Jeff..."
     "Hold on," Jeff muttered, as his body tensed, "hold on...on...ahhh..."
     Chris yelped as Jeff's cock plunged even deeper into him, letting
loose a torrent of semen.  Jeff's weight and thrusting knocked Chris off
his knees, and they both landed on the floor below in a loud thud.  Very
slowly, Jeff withdrew his cock, and even though it was now only half erect,
Chris winced as it passed his sore asshole.
     "You okay?" Jeff asked Chris.
     "Yeah," Chris replied, turning to face the young man who had just
inseminated his ass.  "Might not walk right for awhile.  But okay.  You'd
better remember one thing, though."
     "What's that?"  Jeff asked.
     "You owe me," Chris said, and smiled wickedly.


PART SEVEN

     Mike sat on the toilet seat off the hallway between his bedroom and
his Dad's.  He woke up not long after going to sleep, and had to take a
crap.  He had to go bad earlier, right after Roger had fucked him.  When he
did that time, he made all kinds of loud wet farty noises, and he hoped
that no one heard.  This time he didn't make any weird noises, just shit
like usual.  Still, his butt felt kind of weird.  Inside.  Not bad, but
weird.  When he was done, he slowly wiped his butt with toilet paper, and
then touched his asshole lightly with a fingertip.  He just couldn't
believe he'd actually gotten fucked, actually had sex.
     He was startled by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor,
elsewhere in the house.  One of the bedrooms, he guessed.  He stood up,
flushed the toilet and washed his hands.  Just as he reached for the
doorknob to open it, the door flew open, and there stood Chris.  He was
wearing only a pair of grayed briefs, and squinting in the bright bathroom
light.
     "Oh, hey Pest," he said.
     Mike said "hey."  He never minded when Chris called him "Pest".  He
was always pretty nice to Mike, and really cute.
     Mike noticed the ring through Chris' nipple, and his mouth dropped
open.  He'd never seen anything like it before, although he knew they
existed.  He pointed at it, almost touched it.
     "It's just a ring, Mikey."
     "Wow," was all Mike could mutter.
     "Hey, Pest, you can look more tomorrow, but I really gotta' go now."
     "Oh, yeah.  Okay."
     Mike stepped out of the bathroom, and Chris jumped in and quickly shut
the door behind him.  He stood silently in the dark hallway, amazed at his
luck.  First he'd had sex with Roger, and then got to see his cute cousin
Chris in just his underwear.  God, he was cute, with the blonde fur on his
chest and legs and arms.  Not built like Jeff at all, but a great body, and
you could see all his stomach muscles.
     As Mike turned to go back to his bedroom, he heard something funny.  A
big loud razz, from the bathroom.  Chris farting.
     Wow, Mike thought, that was almost as loud as he had farted earlier,
when he took that big gooey dump in Roger's toilet after getting fucked.
He listened and heard another quack-like fart from the bathroom.  Yeah, he
thought, just like Mike sounded after Roger came in his butt.
     Funny.


PART EIGHT

     Mike awoke with a start, as he felt someone flop down in his bed
beside him.  He heard a slurred word, and sat up, to find his Uncle Hank,
in his t shirt and underwear lying almost on top of him in his bed.
     "Uncle Hank?" he whispered, poking Hank in the side.  "Uncle
Hank...get up.  You're in my bed."
     "S'nighttime," Hank mumbled, his eyes half closed already.
     "You're drunk Uncle Hank...this isn't your bed.  You have to go."
     Hank blinked, trying to make sense of his nephew, but didn't get up.
In fact he hugged the boy close to him in his big arms.
     "Sorry Mikey...'m drunk, okay?" Hank answered.  "Let yer Uncle sleep
here, okay kid?"
     "Whatever," Mike said, and lied back down.  He liked the feel of Hank
next to him, although he could smell the alcohol on his breath.  Besides,
there wasn't much he could do to move his uncle if he didn't want to go.
He must have weighed more than two hundred pounds, mostly of muscle.
     Hank wrapped himself around his nephew as if the boy were a teddy
bear.  And as he did, his cock shifted into the crack between the boy's ass
cheeks.  And that didn't feel bad at all.  He nudged his hips up and down a
bit, and felt his cock stiffen up.  And so did Mike.  Hank rubbed his
bristled face against Mike's shoulder, and it scraped Mike's skin even
through the t shirt he wore.  He kissed his nephew's shoulder, softly.
Then suddenly he bit, and when he did, he pulled his arms and legs tight
around the boy, who yelped in pain from the sharp bite of his uncle's
teeth.
     "What the hell are you doing?" Mike asked, just as Hank's hand wrapped
around his mouth, silencing him.
     "Mikey," Hank whispered, "you wanna' do your Uncle Hank a favor?  Huh?
Do you?"
     "What?" Mike asked, his voice muffled by the hand over his mouth.
     "Let me screw you, okay?  Your Uncle's feeling real horny and your
butt feels real good."
     Mike didn't answer at all.  He couldn't believe it.  His Uncle Hank,
in his bed, asking to fuck him?
     "C'mon Mikey," Hank whispered in his ear, kissing him on the cheek,
and loosening his hand from the boy's mouth.  "I'll give you
something...give you fifty dollars...no, a hundred...what do you say?"
     "Uncle Hank...I don't...come on..."
     "It'll be our secret, Mikey.  This family's full of secrets."
     Hank reached down and yanked his underwear down, to expose his thick,
bent cock.  He put his thumb to Mike's lips, and then pushed it in, between
his teeth and onto his tongue.  Mike closed his mouth around the callused
thumb, and sucked on it.  And spread his legs.
     Hank spit into his free hand, and then smeared the spit onto Mike's
asshole, which made both their cocks twitch.  He spat twice again in his
hand and smeared it onto his cock, lubing up the length of it.  Then he
parted Mike's legs like scissors, lifting one up to fully expose his pink
little hole.  He put the fat mushroom head of his cock to it, pressed hard,
and sighed as his cock began to sink into Mike's tender asshole.  Mike
whimpered a little, as his bowel began to fill with the man cock of his
Uncle Hank, and he bit into the flesh of Hank's thumb.
     "That's it," Hank whispered, as he let more of his stiff rod into the
boy.  "You suck on your Uncle's thumb like a sweet baby.  Fuck, that's
tight boy, like Chris' used to be before he got it all fucked out by your
good for nothing brother."
     The words hit Mike with an even greater impact than the prick now
stuffing his bowel.
     "You're drunk," he said to Hank, spitting the thumb out of his mouth.
     "I'm drunk, and your brother's a fucking Greek...ungh, fuck kid...damn
darkie bastard screwin' my son...I oughtta' kill em both myself..."
     Hank started plowing into Mike's ass now, his hips bucking back and
forth, his big bent cock probing deep into Mike's insides.  He reached
around Mike and pinched his nipples roughly, making the boy gasp in pain
and pleasure.  He couldn't think straight, having Hank tear into his ass
like this and tell him these weird things...that he did this with Chris?
That Jeff did?  And what did he mean "darkie"?
     "What did you call Jeff that for?"  he asked.
     "Ungh, fuck kid," Hank grunted, never stopping his thrusts, "can't you
take a fuck with your mouth shut?  I meant he's a nigger."
     A wave of pleasure rippled through Mike from deep in his bowel, his
Uncle Hank's cock poking him repeatedly something in his center, making
lights flash before his eyes.
     "He's not..." Mike said, to Hank and to himself, "that word.  He can't
be.  That's stupid."
     "Maybe not," Hank chuckled, sweating profusely now as he rammed Mike
with his cock.  "I always figured he was that nigger Roger's boy.  He had
your mother back then.  Hell, we all did."
     "Shut up," Mike whispered, turning away from Hank, clenching his ass
around Hank's cock, trying to twist away from him.  But Hank held on tight,
and pulled the boy's smooth white body back close to him.
     "Your mother was a whore, Mikey, always was.  She was a good lay
though..."
     Mike's cock throbbed now, and dripped pre-cum.  Hank had him almost on
his stomach now, and with each of Hank's thrusts, his own dick slid back
and forth on the wet sticky bed sheets.
     "You like that dick in your pussy hole, boy?" Hank asked, picking up
his pace now, prying Mike's legs apart with his free hand.  He paused
briefly and whispered "You like that?", then thrust hard, taking Mike's
breath.  "Do you?" he asked again, thrusting harder.
     "Yes..." whispered Mike, as his cockhead slid again in the slick mess
on his sheets.
     "I knew you would...'cause you're a slut boy, just like your mother,
with your little pussy hole..." Hank said, as he started to pump fast and
hard, like a piston.  His strong fingers dug hard into the soft flesh of
Mike's thigh, and he stuffed the meaty base of his thumb into the boy's
mouth to muffle the sounds he was making.
     As Hank rode him mercilessly, Mike felt a great sob rising in his
throat.  He should scream, he thought, fight Hank off.  But instead he
sucked on the salty flesh in his mouth, as his own cock twitched, swelled
and pumped his boy semen into his mattress.  He shuddered and whimpered as
his ass spasmed around Hank's cock.
     "Yeah boy," Hank grunted, feeling the tight vice of Mike's ass almost
sucking the cum out of his cock.  As it erupted, pumping his semen into his
nephew, he said "milk it, you whore...fucking whore..."  Mike convulsed as
he felt his insides pounded to jelly by Hank's jackhammer pounding, which
didn't end until Hank's balls were emptied and his cock lost its erection.
     After he slid his cock out of Mike's ass, Hank rolled over in bed.  He
closed his eyes, and fell asleep.


PART NINE

     Dennis woke up again, for the fifth time that night.  Years as a
single parent had fine tuned his hearing to night time noises, and even now
when his boys didn't need him to look after them, he woke ever time a
bedroom door opened and closed, every time the toilet flushed.  With just
himself and Mike in the house, things were pretty quiet, but tonight with
all the company it sounded like a circus out there.  The boys were goofing
around, going to the bathroom.  He was pretty sure he heard Hank lumbering
around too.
     Lying there, awake, Dennis reflected on how well things had gone.  The
holidays weren't nearly as big as they used to be when he and Hank and
their sisters were kids, before they all married and moved so far apart.
Those Leary gatherings were epic --- sometimes in the course of the day as
many as fifty people would have passed through his grandparents doors.  He
remembered the noise, more than anything, the laughing and yelling and
fighting and singing.  And the heat.  God, it was hot, with so many people
in the house, mostly wearing winter clothes.  And later, the women all in
the kitchen, cleaning dishes and putting away leftovers in different
packages for different households, while the men piled into the living
room, the air clouded with cigarette smoke, a drink in every man's hands.
     He remembered being twelve, the year after his father died in a car
crash, and not knowing quite where he belonged.  Not with the women, or the
little kids playing under the dining table, but not quite with the men
either.  His mother put he and Hank, who was thirteen, to work bringing
drinks and desserts to the men.  That kept him busy, but as the men drank
more, argued more, they became increasingly unpleasant.  They barked out
orders, made jokes that Dennis didn't understand but felt sure were at his
expense, or Hank's.
     During one of their trips to the living room, Hank fell.  Dennis
didn't see it happen, only heard the clamor as Hank went over, spilling two
cups of coffee on the floor and himself.  He stood up quickly, furiously.
His face was red, and his breathing hard.  Hank had a temper, and had been
pushed too hard.
     "Which one of you fuckers tripped me?" Hank shouted, casting his angry
glare on the room full of older Leary men.
     There was dead silence for a minute.  It was one thing for a man to
say what he would, but a boy, barely out from under his mother's apron?
Dennis could feel the heat in the room rise.  Then one man cleared his
throat, as if preparing to speak.  It was their second cousin, Father
Patrick, the Catholic priest, in his collar and a black jacket, holding a
drink in one hand and a cigar in the other.  He was a nice looking man for
a priest, with a head full of blonde curls and a pleasant smile, no older
than Dennis' mother.  Surely he would say something to make peace of this
bad situation.
     "Henry Joseph Leary," Father Patrick said, using Hank's full name,
"you know that I am a man of the church, and there is not a queer bone is
in this body of mine.  That being said, Henry Joseph Leary, let me tell you
today that you are about the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on."
     The men roared with laughter, hooting and shouting, slapping Patrick
on the back and refilling his glass.  Dennis didn't understand what it
meant, but whatever it was, it was utterly true and completely absurd,
both, to make the men laugh so much.  And whatever it meant about Hank,
Dennis knew that it could only have been safely said by Patrick, because he
was a man of the cloth.  Still, he was grateful because Father Patrick had
broken the tension, made everything okay.  Saved the day.
     Just as Dennis sighed with relief, Hank lunged at Patrick, shouting
"Fucker, you fuck..." and trying to pummel Patrick with his fists, knocking
filled glasses on the floor where they shattered and sent ice cubes sliding
across the room.  Of course every man in the room was on him in an instant,
pulling him off of the priest and restraining him until he went still.
Even the women came running in, and Dennis remembered the look of utter
mortification on his mother's face.
     Now truly angry, Patrick stood up, red faced and breathing too fast.
He unbuckled his belt and took it off.  He looked to Hank and nodded.
Everyone knew what would happen next.  Hank looked to his mother for help,
but it was too late and there was nothing she could do, and when Hank saw
that he stood up defiantly.  Without another word he walked over to the
staircase leading to the bedrooms upstairs.  No one had ever seen a will
like that on a boy of his age.  Halfway up the stairs he turned to face
Father Patrick, and said "Are you coming or not?"
     Father Patrick followed him up the stairs, and though no one else saw
the whipping that Hank got, they heard it.  Heard Patrick shouting, and
heard Hank yelping every time the belt struck his bare buttocks.  Soon the
voices died down, and all that could be heard was the rhythmic cracking of
the leather belt on Hank's flesh.  And then nothing at all.  But still they
did not emerge from the bedroom.  Patrick must be reasoning with the boy.
Or lecturing him.  Or threatening him.  A boy with no father had little
choice in who would fill that vacant role, and less choice still in the
method of discipline.
     Sometime later the bedroom door opened, and Hank walked out, followed
by Father Patrick, his belt still in hand.  They both were red faced, their
hair tossled.  But Hank had been crying, it was clear.  His eyes, even his
lips looked puffy.  And his red nose was dripping.  He winced in pain as he
took the first step down.  Then inhaled deeply, and then made his way down,
jerking himself off each step and onto the next.  Then he walked out the
front door, and climbed into his mother's car, where he waited.
     Hank and Dennis' mother made her apologies once again, put on her
coat, took Dennis by the hand and left.  In the car, no one spoke of what
had happened that day, although later that night Hank showed his brother
the ugly red welts on his white ass cheeks.
     "It looks like it hurts bad," Dennis told him.
     "It looks worse than it is," Hank answered.  "Besides, I got this."
     From his pants pocket he produced two crumpled five dollar bills.
     "Where did you get that?" asked Dennis.
     "From the priest."
     "Father Patrick?  What for?"
     "Nothing," Hank answered, folding up the bills and stuffing them under
his mattress for safekeeping.
     Hank wouldn't tell Dennis anything more than that, not that night or
ever after.  So Dennis lie awake all that night, wondering what had
happened up in that room, wondering what it had all meant, that thing that
Patrick had said about Hank being pretty, and about being queer.  He
wondered if it was true, what Father Patrick had said, and why he said so
of Hank, who was so bad, rather than Dennis, who was so good.
     These were the things Dennis still wondered now, more than thirty
years later, still awake.
     He reached down under his bed sheets, and ran his fingers up and down
his erect penis.  He jerked it gently, and ran the fingers of his other
hand over his chest, through the light hair there and over his nipples.  A
little stream of precum was dripping from his cockhead onto his belly, and
he dipped his fingers in it, and then in his mouth.  He tasted the clear
fluid, and licked his lips, running his tongue under his full mustache, now
graying like the hair on his head.  He pumped his cock faster, and spread
his legs.  He heard the toilet flush, and someone trudging downstairs.
Going downstairs as Hank had, after having his thirteen year old ass
whipped by an angry drunkard.
     "Oh fuck," Dennis whispered, "oh fucke meeee..." and felt his cock go
absolutely rigid as he came, shooting white ribbons of semen across his
belly and chest.  His body heaved once, twice, then came to rest.  He ran
his finger up the length of his cock shaft, making his dick expel the last
drops of cum.
     He wiped himself off with a t shirt, closed his eyes, and waited to
join the rest of his family in sleep.


PART TEN

     For a long time Mike had lain silent and awake, his bowel churning and
aching, from the battering it had received first from Roger and later from
Hank.  He was silent and still even after Hank had turned over and started
snoring.  Even after his ass belched, and the load of jizz that his Uncle
had put planted in him seeped out of his worn asshole and trickled down his
buttock.  And then he got up.  He put on his underwear, went to the
bathroom and washed up.  He shat out whatever of Hank's semen might be in
him, flushed the toliet and went downstairs.  In the living room he found
pillows on the couch, and sheets and a comforter.  They were there for
Hank.  But Hank was up in his bed.  So he crawled onto the couch, pulled
the comforter down and went to sleep.
     His father, Dennis, woke him up.  He was holding a cup of coffee, and
wearing sweat pants and a tank top that showed off his big shoulders, his
chest his furry dark chest hair.
     "Whatcha' doing out here?"  he asked.
     "Nothing," Mike answered.  "Uncle Hank.  He...he was drunk and..."
     "He what?  Mikey, what happened?"
     Mike wanted to cry, to fall onto his father's shoulder and tell his
father what awful lies Uncle Hank had told him.  But he couldn't.  And
didn't.
     "Nothing, Dad.  He was drunk, y'know, and he wanted to sleep in my
bedroom.  So I came down here."
     "That was nice of you, Mikey.  Nicer than he deserves."
     "He's an asshole, Dad."
     "He is," Dennis said, laughing.  "But he's family."
     Dennis hugged his son, and patted his back firmly.
     His father smelled clean, like soap, and his whiskers brushed roughly
Mike's his cheek.  The feel of his strong arms around Mike make his dick
shift in his underwear.  Without thinking, he kissed his father lightly on
the cheek.  His heart pounded hard with a sudden affection for his handsome
father.  He struggled to suppress the sob rising in his throat, pushed it
down, and then down further.  And then it was gone.
     Dennis pulled back.  He cocked his head and studied his son's face for
a clue to explain his odd behavior.  Mikey was so much like him at times
that Dennis thought he could read his mind, and then other times...like
now...he was inscrutable.
     "Mikey, is everything okay?"
     "Yeah Dad.  Everything's fine.  I'm just hungry is all."
     "Well, get up," Dennis said, rising to his feet.  "I'll fix you some
eggs."
     "Okay Dad," Mike said.  He watched his father turn away, toward the
kitchen, and added "Hey - Happy Thanksgiving.  Is it too late to say it?
Today?"
     "Today?  Today is just another day, Mikey," Dennis said, smiling at
his beautiful boy.  "But what the Hell?  Happy Thanksgiving, Mikey."


End