Date: Sun, 11 Oct 2009 03:10:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: H. Rick Cantwell <jockhunger@yahoo.com>
Subject: Halloween 16 Chapter 2

      Halloween 16
      Chapter two
      jockhunger@yahoo.com

      The usual disclaimers about illegal conduct apply.  If you are not of
legal age to read this, you know the law.  By being posted on Nifty, this
becomes copyrighted material.  Please observe all of our laws.

	My apologies about Chapter one.  THe un-edited version was uploaded
by mistake.  I hope you will find far less problems with this chapter.
--jockhunger

Chapter Two

      So at the tender age of twelve, I asked dad if I could have a privacy
screen.  He was a guy and I knew he would understand.  However, he was
preoccupied with work and I never got my screen.  I decided I had to man up
and take matters into my own hands ... and I'm not just talking about my
dick.  Instead of jacking off in the bathroom, I began leaving cum filled
tissues all over the floor next to my bed for mom to clean up in the
morning.  It took about a month for things to sink in.
      At first she thought I had a cold.  I had to convince her I didn't
have a cold.  Then, horror of horrors, one night at dinner, she discussed
the tissues with dad, in front of my little sister Caitlin, and my two
younger brothers, Caleb and Collin.
      "There's at least a dozen tissues next to the bed every morning," Mom
said.
      I thought, `And that's only about half of them.  I'm too embarrassed
to leave all of them for you to clean up.'
      "But I've been checking his temperature and everything.  He doesn't
seem to have a cold."
      "Uh huh," Dad said, distractedly.
      "Dad," I said insistently.  "This is about the screen I asked you to
buy!"
      He got a quizzical look on his face like this was the first he had
heard about it.
      "Tissues next to the bed," I said.
      "At least a dozen," mom reiterated.  "Every morning!"
      "And I don't have a cold."  I raised my eyebrows trying to remind him
of our discussion from a month earlier.
      "Oh!  Shit!  God, I'm sorry.  Didn't I do that?"
      "No," I said pleasantly.
      "What's today?"
      "Friday."
      "Tomorrow.  We'll go look for something tomorrow.  Don't let me
forget."
      "I won't," I promised.
      "My god, son, I'm so sorry."  Then he looked at me like he was seeing
me for the first time.
      And I guess he was.  He was seeing me as a maturing young man.
      "You're how old?" he asked.
      "Twelve but I'll be thirteen next month."
      "Yes, definitely thirteen."
      "What are you talking about?" Mom asked.
      "Same as Caitlin," Dad said.
      "Oh!" Mom said in that surprised tone that implied she never expected
her boys to become men even though her daughter ... younger than me ...was
already becoming a woman.
      So, the next day ... yes dad forgot ... we went shopping.  He bought
me two three-paneled room dividers that had hinges so we could close them
up when the three of us wanted to play together.  I thought, `After all, it
IS their room, too.'
      After that, I could jack off in bed whenever ... and as often as
... I wanted.  Almost.  I had to make sure the other two were out of the
room or asleep.  My early morning jack-offs were the best.  The first one
was quick and efficient.  The rest, about 45 minutes apart, were long lazy
stroke-jobs with me falling back to sleep easily after each one.
      I also began throwing all my cum filled Kleenex away myself.  I
didn't want mom to worry that I was `doing it' too often and traipse me off
to the doctor.  I would hide my paper lunch bag in my book bag, stuff my
cum-filled tissues in another lunch bag and carry it to school.  Just as
soon as I got there, I would use the little boys' room and toss them away
so they were at the bottom of the trash bag, wash my hands and throw the
towels in on top of it where no one would see it for the rest of the day.
      Of course, at home, I still jacked off in the bathroom ... sometimes
sitting on the toilet stool, sometimes in the shower.  But the bed was the
best, I think.
      Then, when Caleb turned twelve, he and I had a brother-to-brother
`promise never to tell a soul' talk.  He was embarrassed but, just like me,
he knew he had to talk to someone.
      "Connor, things are happening to my body."
      "Yeah, I know.  They happened to me too."
      "Yeah, I thought so.  That's why you got the screens a few years ago,
huh?"
      "Yeah."
      "Well, I think I got the same problem."
      "What's the problem you think you have?"
      After all, he was twelve and I was sixteen.  I didn't want to supply
him with knowledge he wasn't prepared to handle.
      "At night ... no, it's like all the time ... I ... my ..." and he
looked down at his crotch.
      "Yeah, I know.  You get a boner, a hard-on, a woodie.  Have you
started ...," I stopped before I asked too much.
      "You mean ...?" and he jacked his hand in the air.
      "Yeah."
      He blushed.  "Um ... is that okay?  I mean, I hear different things
at school."
      "Well, I've been doing it a long time and I haven't gone blind yet,"
I chuckled, remembering some of the old-wives tales I had heard from my
friends at school at his age.
      He looked visibly relieved.
      "Ummm ..." he stammered.
      "Talk ... ask ... it will never leave this room, I promise."
      "Sometimes I hear ... I mean, I think I hear you ... uh ..."
      "Yeah, I do it a lot.  I didn't know you could hear me."
      "Well, only sometimes.  I mean sometimes in here and I think
... sometimes in the bathroom."
      "So you know I do it more often than just in here.  That's what I
mean.  As far as I know, no one has ever died from doing it."
      "Well," Caleb said a little conspiratorially, "I jack off so much in
the shower, I get a hard-on when it rains."  Then he giggled.
      I knew he must be repeating what he heard one of the other boys brag
about.  I looked out the dormer window and saw it was raining.  "So what
you're sayin' is you're hard now."
      He blushed.
      "Well, go to the bathroom and take care of it.  It's not cool for
guys to do it together.  Not even brothers.  Especially not brothers."
      "K.  But you stay here.  I need to talk some more."
      While he was in the bathroom, I jacked off a quick one, too.  It was
quicker than usual, I think, because of the fear or excitement involved,
that he might come back before I finished.
      He came back, we had a long discussion about growing up but not much
more was said about sex.  I concede that jackin' off with his little friend
was okay but that he shouldn't make a habit of it.  We agreed he needed his
privacy from Collin and that since the two of us were more alike now than
the two of them, we would move the screens.  But only after he promised he
would not jack off in front of me and I would not jack off in front of him.
      So, my little brother was growing up, I was dating, my girlfriend was
letting me feel her boobs and then there was that Halloween when I turned
sixteen.  By the end of that night, I was so confused I couldn't sleep.
And I didn't sleep well for about a week until answers began to reveal
themselves.
      We were all eating dinner one night and talking about nothing in
particular.  Then Caitlin made some snide remark about Caleb.  Collin
jumped in and said something funny and then I said something to Caleb.  To
this day I can't remember what we were discussing because of what happened
next.
      Caleb said, "Kiss my ass."
      Mom said, "What have I told you boys about saying things like that
... especially at the dinner table?"
      I said, "It's okay, Mom.  I know he's saying it in a loving kind of
way."
      Then I snapped my head in his direction and the flashbulb went off.
      Caleb got wide-eyed with fear from the look on my face.
      "You, me, upstairs, right now." I demanded.
      He didn't hesitate.  He stood up.
      "Boys, you haven't finished your dinner," mom said.
      "Yes we have," I said sternly.  I never talked back to my parents.
This was another first.
      I didn't give Caleb a chance to turn and run.  I walked behind him up
the stairs, his ass just about in my face the whole way.
      When we got to our room, I ordered, "Sit."
      He sat, facing my bed, as usual.
      I paced the open space at the foot of the beds wondering how I was
going to approach this.  I hadn't had time to think.  I just knee-jerk
reacted.
      "Okay," I said.  "The truth.  No hedging ... no beating around the
bush ... no little white lies.  It's gotta be the truth.  Understand?
      "Yeah," Caleb said meekly.
      I wasn't sure I wanted to know the truth ... or even what I
`suspected' was the truth ... but I HAD to know.
      "Was it you?"
      "Yeah."
      "I mean it!  Don't lie to me!"  Then his answer registered I my
brain.  With horror, I thought, `He doesn't know what he's answering yes
to.  I've gotta ask it more plainly.  But how do I do that without
revealing what I'm thinking.'  Continuing to pace I said, "Halloween night,
um ..."
      "Yeah, it was me, Connor.  Please don't hate me.  I love you.  I love
you so much."
      I tottered to my bed and plunked down solidly.  I was totally
confused.
      "Connor, this has been making me sick.  I mean, not talking to you
about it and all.  I can't sleep, I can concentrate in school.  We gotta
talk about it.  Pleeezzzzeeee?"
      I looked at my brother dumbfounded.  I tried to recall the events of
that evening.  Then I tried even harder NOT to recall them.
      "I didn't know any other way to ... umm," he tried to explain.
      "Why?"
      He began to cry.
      I held out for as long as I could and then opened my arms ... as
usual.
      He came bounding over the short space between the beds and fell into
my arms.  I just held him while he cried.  I knew he had to cry himself
out.
      During that time, I tried to soothe him.  "I'm not mad at you," I
said.  "I know it might have sounded that way but it's only because I'm
confused."
      He sniffled and snorted in response.
      "And don't worry, I'm not gonna tell mom and dad."
      He relaxed a little, sinking more heavily into my embrace.  "I think
I jumped the gun with this little discussion.  I want to think about it and
then we'll talk again."
      Between sobs he begged, "Please don't be mad at me."
      "I told you, I'm not mad.  I just don't understand what happened
... or why.  And I don't think you know either.  I mean, how could you
know?"
      We went back downstairs and after he cleaned his face and it didn't
look all red and puffy we joined the others in the family room.
      "What was that all about?" Mom asked.
      "Just a little misunderstanding," I said.
      "Yeah," Caleb said, "Conner knows I love him."
      "You boys are so sweet.  I don't know what I did to deserve such
great kids."
      "You married Dad," Collin said, not knowing what he was talking about
but saying just the right thing, at the right time, anyway.
      Lucky for Caleb and me, Collin was the one that got the death-grip
hug and big smooch from mom.
      That night as I was trying to fall asleep I decided I had to talk to
Ryan.  He was the only one I knew who I thought would understand ... and be
able to advise me.
      The next day I went over to Tiffany's, his sister-in-laws' house
because I didn't have any other way of getting in contact with him.  She
was home and I asked her if she could have Ryan call me.  She told me he
and Brenda were on their way over and would be there in about five minutes.
They were going to swim while Tiffany and Brenda went shopping.
      "Okay if I, uh, ... can I stick around and, uh, ... maybe ask him,
uh, some questions?"
      "Sure," Tiffany said happily, "I think he'd like a little adult
distraction while he's watching the kids.
      "Thanks," I said, full of more gratitude than Tiffany could imagine.
It also made me feel good that Tiffany ... someone my own age ... thought
of me as an adult.
      Ryan seemed extremely glad to see me.  Denny was even more pleased
than his dad and the little girl, who I assumed was Paris, asked, "Who's
he, Daddy?"
      "This is Connor, a friend of mine and mommy's."
      "Hi Connor, I'm Paris.  It's nice to meet you," she said with a cute
little curtsy.  "Can we go swimming now?"
      "Did you bring a suit?" Ryan asked me, waving the kids toward the
pool.
      "Uh, no.  I didn't know you were on your way over.  I just wanted
Tiff to ask you to contact me sometime ... soon."
      "This soon enough?"
      "Yeah," I chuckled.
      "You girls got a minute while we go find Connor a swimsuit?"
      "Take your time," Miss Brenda said.  "For every minute you're gone,
it adds five minutes to our shopping time."
      "I love it when she talks `detention'," Ryan said cupping his crotch.
      He rustled through a bottom drawer in the master bedroom and handed
me a pair of swim trunks, then another pair and finally a third pair.  "Try
those on and meet me back by the pool.  The longer I'm gone, the more it's
gonna cost me ... in dollars," he said with a smile.
      The black pair was too tight.  I couldn't get them up past my thighs.
The elastic in the red briefs was so stretched out my balls kept falling
out.  I thought, "I should have worn underwear today, but I didn't know I
was going swimming.'  The white pair fit ... a little loose but okay and
because the legs had a longer cut, nothing fell out.
      "Wow!" Miss Brenda said, as I walked into the back yard.
      I blushed, not realizing I was going to have an audience.
      "Buff!" Tiffany said, like she was appraising a prize-winning bull at
the county fair.  "Definitely wasted on Heather."
      I didn't know if I should be proud of the compliment or angry about
the girlfriend comment.
      "Denny agrees," Miss Brenda said.
      I began to realize how women feel when guys talk about them like
they're not in the room.
      "And so does Ryan," Miss Brenda added.
      "That makes three of us," Tiffany said.  I wondered if that was lust
I detected in her tone.
      "Four," Miss Brenda said, including herself in my "admiration
society."
      Personally, I don't think I'm that good looking ... not buff, by any
means.  `Well, maybe a little,' I thought.
      "Okay, ladies, time to go shopping.  Let the little boys have their
little talk."
      "You two behave or I'll have to punish you," Miss Brenda said
jokingly.
      At least I think she was joking.
      "Is your discussion urgent or can we swim first?" Ryan asked.
      Looking at the kids having so much fun frolicking in the pool, I
said, "Let's join them."
      Ryan took off at top speed, sailed through the air and dived in.  He
surfaced just inches from where little Paris was trying to dunk the bigger
Denny.
      I walked to the edge and did a little off-the-edge dive ... no lift
and very little splash.  I surfaced and did a side stroke over to the other
three.  I played with Denny and Paris the same way I would with Caitlin,
Caleb and Collin and they had a lot of fun.  Then Ryan suggested we get out
and rest.  At the kids insistence ... and I think, just exactly what Ryan
wanted ... he allowed them to continue to swim.
      Not knowing how to talk to him about what happen Halloween night, I
asked, "So his name is Denver.  His grandfather's name?" I asked.
      "No, he was conceived in Denver, Colorado."
      "Honeymoon night?"
      "No that was four years later, remember?  It was a teachers'
convention."
      "Oh, yeah, I forgot."
      "And Paris was conceived in France."
      "Wow!" They had a teachers' convention in Paris?"
      "No, that was our get-away vacation.  Mom and dad watched Denny for
two weeks of Miss Brenda's summer vacation.
      "Good thing you never visited Timbuktu.  How could any kid live down
THAT name?"
      Not hearing any raucous kid noises I looked at Denny and Paris.  They
were hanging on the edge of the pool by their elbows, their heads resting
in their crossed arms?
      "What?" I asked.
      "They're admiring your package," Ryan said.
      I looked down and discovered the white swimsuit had become
transparent when it got wet and even though it was loose fitting, the water
made it cling like it was glued to my cock.
      I quickly pulled the material away but it just clung again like a
balloon attracts static electricity.  "Sorry," I apologized profusely.
      "No problem.  They know what a cock looks like.  At least they do
NOW!"
      "But."
      "No problem," he chuckled.  "Come on, let's sit down.  I think you're
embarrassed."
      "Uh, just a little."
      "With that package, you better get used to saying `just a lot'," Ryan
chuckled.
      I smiled sheepishly.  "What can I say, it's a curse."
      "A curse I wouldn't mind having," Ryan said enviously.
      "You must be doing okay," I reassured him.  "Miss Brenda hasn't cut
you from the team roster."
      "A little hard to do when the team is her own flesh and blood.  So,
what's this all about.  What can I help you with?"
      "I don't know that you CAN.  I mean, I don't know if I can tell you
about it.  And if I do ..."
      "Open and honest."
      "Yeah," I said, cupping my still-transparent crotch, "and up front
about it."
      We both chuckled.
      Ryan sat patiently while I mustered up the courage to begin.  When he
saw it was going to take a while he called out, "Denny, go get us a Pepsi,
please."
      After Denny brought the drinks and ogled my crotch again, I began.
      "I found out last night that one of the fucks the other night ..."
      "Yeah?  The one I told you about?"
      "Yeah.  Well, first, I have to tell you it wasn't a ... conventional
fuck.  I mean ... oh fuck!"
      "Just take your time."
      "Sorry about saying fuck in front of your kids.  Oh, fuck, I said it
again."
      "It's okay.  They're growing up in a free-thinking educational
environment."
      "By `not conventional,' I'm not talking about missionary position or
anything.  I mean, we did the ..." I took a deep breath and blurted out,
`Backdoor Lambada'."
      I had read that term somewhere on the Internet.  It's was some kind
of Latin dance ... the Lambada I mean.
      "Very interesting," Ryan said.  "Were all three ...?"
      "NO!" I said a little too loudly.
      "Sorry, I won't ask questions."
      "No, it's okay.  Maybe questions will help because I'm not sure how
to talk about this."
      "Just talk honestly, I would say," Ryan said.  "I'm not going to
judge you.  I'm not going to think of you any differently than I do now.
Well, I might learn to respect you more, but I certainly won't think any
less of you."
      "I'm not so sure, once you hear what happened."
      He waited patiently.
      "I got the invitation."
      "Which you so generously dumped in my lap," Ryan said, trying to
lighten the mood.
      I smiled.  "It was dark in there.  Well, light enough to see but
still kinda dark over by the furnace."
      "Yeah," Ryan said quizzically.
      I guessed he must have been mentally picturing where the furnace was
in his sister-in-law's laundry room.
      That's when I realized I had returned to the scene of the crime.  I
was less than a hundred yards from where I had fucked my brother!
      "It was a guy!" I blurted out.  I expected a lightning bolt to appear
from the sky and strike me dead, I guess, because I felt myself flinch.
      "Yeah," Ryan said casually.
      I looked at him in disbelief.
      Then, to make me feel better, I guess, he said, "You thought it was a
girl."
      "Well, YEAH!" I said.
      "Was it good?  I mean, did it feel good to you?"
      "Fuck yeah!"
      "So, you have a problem with feeling good," Ryan said kind of
blandly.
      "No.  It's just it was a guy ..."
      "A guy, a girl, a hand, sex is sex."
      Before I could stop my mouth from moving it said, "It was my
brother."
      Without so much as an extra blink of an eyelash, Ryan asked, "Which
one?"
      "Caleb," I said not believing Ryan was hearing all this without any
display of emotion.
      "He's the older one, right?"
      "Yeah."
      "Good."
      "Good!" I said.  "What's good about it?"
      "Well, I think your youngest brother is still a little too young.
But maybe not."
      "Did you hear me?  I just said I fucked my brother."
      "Yeah.  So?  The world's not going to come to an end.  You weren't
the first brother to fuck his own brother and you won't be the last.  These
things are a part of life.  They've been going on since the dawn of time."
      "You're not appalled that I fucked my brother?"  Now that I had said
it, I couldn't stop saying `fucked my brother.'  It was like if I said it
enough times it would be like it never happened or something.
      "No."
      "But I've never had a gay thought in my life!" I admitted.  "Why me?"
      "Do you mean, why did your brother pick you?"
      "Well, yeah, I guess.  Like I say, I don't know what I'm saying."
      "I think, to help clarify things, you might not have had any gay
thoughts because you didn't have an older brother you loved and admired."
      "Yeah ...," I said, praying for some sensible explanation.
      "Maybe Caleb got love and admiration confused with sex and thought
the best way to express his love for you was to have sex with you."
      "I guess I understand.  But I didn't know it was him ... until last
night."
      "Well, it might just be a phase he's going through."
      "A phase?"
      "Some guys go through a `gay' phase and then they outgrow it.  They
experiment with their best friends ... until girls begin to interest them
... and then they flip."
      "Flip?"
      "Switch to girls."
      "Oh."
      "So maybe Caleb isn't really gay?"
      "Right."
      "And Denny ..."
      "Oh no, Denny's 100 percent pure gay," Ryan chuckled.
      "Oh, sorry."
      "Nothing to be sorry about.  He is what he is.  We, as parents, have
the option to accept it or reject it.  Miss Brenda and I choose to accept
it and love him for it."
      "No, I mean, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to bring YOUR family into MY
family's problems."
      "They are only problems if you allow them to be problems."
      "I think I know what you mean."
      "Does your brother think it's a problem?"
      "I don't know."
      "You should ask him.  If he thinks it's a problem, maybe he's
reaching out to you because he wants you to help him figure it out."
      "How can I help?  I don't understand it myself."
      "Just listen.  Let him answer his own questions."
      "Am I using you to help me answer my own questions?"
      "You'll know the answer to that better, once we've finished talking."
      Just like the mention of Neptune's name could summon him from the
sea, the mention of Denny's name summoned him.  And he brought the sea with
him.  He splashed a sand bucket full of water on his father and me.  Most
of it, of course, ended up in my lap.  He stood around just long enough for
it to soak through for another glimpse of my cock and he went bounding off
again.
      I think I would have done the same thing at his age ... but without
the sexual overtones so I smiled saying "What I don't understand is how one
son can be gay and the other one not."
      "Part of it might be the older brother admiration thing.  The younger
brother usually has a chance to see his older brother mature before his eye
and he desires to be just like his brother.  But it might be hereditary or
environmental.  That controversy, it seems, will be argued forever."
      "It can't be hereditary.  Dad's not que... gay."
      "It can be a recessive gene handed down from two or three generations
before."
      "Okay, but what does global warming have to do with a guy being gay?"
      Ryan looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled.  "Environmental.
Okay.  You see, some people believe a guy `turns' gay because he lives with
certain kinds of people."
      "But Caleb doesn't live with gay people."
      "I think it was Freud who believed a domineering mother and a passive
father was the root of homosexuality.  Others argue that a boy turns gay by
being recruited."
      "You mean he turns gay so he won't have to go in the army?"
      Ryan smiled.  "No, it means one guy talks another guy into having gay
sex.  The guy wouldn't normally have gay sex but agrees to do so out of
curiosity or peer pressure.  Then he discovers he likes it and continues to
be gay.  Sometimes they revert back to being not gay.  For some reason you
never hear anything more about those guys."
      "So maybe one of Caleb's friends turned him."
      "Maybe.  That's something you can ask him ... or get him to admit to
just by being a good listener.  But sometimes guys have gay sex for the
money.  They use the money to buy their girlfriends gifts ... to reduce the
amount of guilt they feel as a result of engaging in gay sex."
      "That's whack!" I said, not understanding why a guy would do that.
      "Not for them it isn't.  They enjoy sex.  To get paid for it is even
better.  However, it's usually only men who are willing to pay for sex.
Sooooo, sex for pleasure plus the reward of money trumps the fact that it's
sex with a man."
      "Oh, I guess it's not so whack."
      "If it's whack for you, that's okay.  If it's not whack for someone
else, that's okay, too.  That's the problem with this world ... most of the
cultures in this world.  They dictate what is whack and what isn't.  The
happiest cultures, the people with the most smiles, are the ones that don't
judge other people's choices."
      "That's another question.  Is being gay a choice?"
      "I think being gay for money is a choice.  I think being recruited
into being gay is a choice.  But I believe there really are those that are
born gay.  It's like there are three genders in this world, male, female
and ... I'll just say other."
      "Like gay, lesbian, transvestite is all one gender."
      "Kinda but no they're not all the same thing.  But I'll hold that
discussion for another time.  What's more important to discuss right now is
how you feel about Caleb now that you know it was your brother that you
fucked."
      I was kind of getting use to ME saying `I fucked my brother' but to
hear someone else say `the brother that you fucked' was a shock.  "I don't
know.  I still love him.  It was a little weird going to sleep last night
with him in the next bed.  I know he thinks he's done something wrong."
      "Do YOU think he's done something wrong?"
      "Yes and no.  I know it's wrong for guys to fuck other guys."
      "You're absolutely correct.  There have been laws on the books for
thousands of years stating that it's wrong."
      "And I know it's wrong for a guy to have sex with his own family."
      "Yep.  Anti-incest laws have been around for just as many years."
      "But when he told me he did it because he loved me, I ... I ... I
don't think ... in that case ... it was wrong."
      "Did you tell him that?"
      I thought back.  "I told him I wasn't mad at him."
      "Did you tell him that what he did wasn't wrong because of the reason
he did it."
      "No, I guess not."
      Ryan waited patiently.
      "Maybe I should."
      "There's another question you need to answer before you talk to him,
though."
      "What's that?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
      "If he wants to do it again, will you allow it?"
      I closed my eyes, laid my head back and looked at the sky through my
closed eyelids, hoping the pain from the sun in my eyes would make the pain
in my chest go away.
      "I'll take that as a no."
      Letting out a weary sigh I said, "It's not a `no.'  It's ... yes, I
think I would."
      "Good for you."
      "What?" I asked opening just one eye to look in Ryan's direction.
      "It means you love your brother.  It means you're willing to help him
work his way through this.  It means ..."
      "It means I'm turning queer," I spat.
      "It means you are turning into a man.  There are a lot of things men
have to do they don't like having to do.  Women, too, for that matter.
Most men don't want to go to war and kill people.  But to do those things
we dislike ... for the right reason and for the right person ... that's
what makes a difference in a man's life.  And no, it doesn't mean you're
turning queer.  You'll endure this and then you'll decide."
      "Endure.  You make it sound like a TV reality game."
      "Well, it's not TV but let me tell you, son, it IS reality.  My wife
and I are a reality.  My son Denny is a reality.  Everything we're dealt
with in life is a reality.  It's how each of us handles it that identifies
us as compassionate or not, liberal or conservative.  But it NEVER tells us
if it's right or wrong.  Only WE can make that decision.  Why do you say
you THINK you would allow it?"
      "Because I'm not sure I could actually do it again if I knew it was a
guy I was fucking."
      "Not just a guy ... your brother."
      "Thanks for making that perfectly clear," I said a little
caustically.  Then in a more friendly tone I said, "Knowing it was my
brother would make it even harder ... I mean more difficult."  I smiled
weakly.
      "Why?"
      "I don't want to hurt him.  I don't want to contribute to his being
more gay than he already is."
      "Hurt him physically or emotionally?"
      "Both.  Hell we both know I've got a big dick."
      "He took it once.  I think he could take it again under better
circumstances and enjoy it even more."
      "And I don't want him falling in love with me.  I mean, I've got a
girlfriend.  I'm gonna get married.  Maybe not to Heathr but to someone
... some girl ... someday."
      "Okay."
      "Okay, what?  I don't want to break his heart."
      "As I mentioned before, maybe what he is calling love, is really
admiration.  You won't change his appreciation for you by having sex with
him."
      "Oh, fuck, I came over here to get some answers and now I've got a
dozen more questions to figure out."
      "Good, it means we're doing something right.  Let's go for a swim and
let all this percolate for a while."
      I got up and followed Ryan to the pool.  He put his arm around my
shoulder like a good friend and then blindsided me by pushing me over the
edge, face first into the pool.
      Coming up sputtering, I threatened, "Paybacks are hell."
      He cannon-balled in next to me.  "I'm looking forward to it."
      It was like there was no age difference between us.  We played like
mature teens allowing the younger ones in on the fun, too.  Paris was all
over her father ... which left me to deal with Denny.  Oddly enough, I
didn't object to all the manhandling he gave me.  He loved feeling my
chest, back and arm muscles.  I knew he was eventually going to work his
way down to my crotch so I said to Ryan, "Okay if he plays with my
submarine?"
      "It's okay with me if it's okay with you."  Then Ryan took Paris
toward the deep end of the pool where she would have to hold on to him and
not bother her brother.
      I thought, `I'll see what my reaction is to Denny touching my junk.
If I just can't stand it, I'll know better how to react with Caleb.'  I
winked at Denny and his hand slid beneath the waistband of my trunks.  His
hand found a very hard erection.
      "Do you masturbate?" Denny asked.
      "Yeah," I said truthfully.
      "All the time?"
      "All the time."
      He giggled.  "Me too."
      "Yeah, somehow, I figured you did."
      He giggled again.
      "You wanna feel mine?"
      "Uh, no, that's okay," I said, looking for Ryan.
      "Daddy said it would be okay."
      "Yeah, I know.  He told me."
      "Okay," Denny said, "No problem."  Then I felt him begin to float as
he started to wrap his legs around my hips.  "This feels good, too."  With
that, he released my cock and pressed it against his tight little belly.  I
grabbed his ass cheeks to help hold him up so he wouldn't drown.
      My eyes rolled involuntarily as I felt my wet cock slip and slide on
his wet belly.  "Oh, god, that feels good."
      "Thought you'd like it," he giggled.
      I shuddered because the feeling was so good.
      "So, are you gonna help your brother?"
      "Huh?"
      "I'm young but I'm not deaf.  I heard what you and Daddy were talking
about.  Daddy's a very smart man, you know."
      "Yeah, I found that out."
      "So are you?"
      "Yeah, I guess I am."
      "Then I think you should take my cock out and let me side it against
your belly, too.  It's called frottage, you know."
      "Uh ..." I stammered.
      "Okay, too soon."
      "Uh, no," I said, "It's just that I don't ever expect to touch my
brother's cock ... that's all."
      "Okay," he said, continuing to rub himself against my erection making
me quiver.
      "Uh, okay," I said.  Remembering what Ryan had said about being
prepared, I agreed that Denny was right.  Touching his cock might help me
be better prepared for anything Caleb might surprise me with.  I reached
under water to find he had already loosened his draw string.
      He loosened his leg grip and tread water long enough to strip off his
trunks.  My own trunks had slipped blow my knees so I kicked them off, too.
Without warning Denny hoisted himself back into position.  Only this time,
my cock got caught underneath him.
      His eyes widened as he felt my cock head graze his butt hole.
      "Sorry," I said as I pulled my hips back and positioned my cock
between us.  Then I found his cock and, because I couldn't bring myself to
look at it, I blindly examined it with my hand.  It felt so strange to hold
a cock other than my own in my hand.  I guess at some time in my life I had
held Caleb's cock in my hand ... and probably Collin's ... but I don't
remember it.  I must have suppressed such a memory.  `I don't know how I'll
be able to suppress THIS memory.'  Mine felt HUGE compared to his ... which
it was but HIS felt kind of big too.  I almost allowed myself to look at it
... but I didn't.
      "Small isn't it?"
      "NO, it's fine, for a guy your age."
      "That's what dad says.  So I think that's his way of saying it's
small."
      "Well, just don't go comparing yours to mine because mine is bigger
than most guys my age.  Hell, mine's bigger than most adults'."
      "Yeah, I know.  Most guys are six inches hard.  I'm four.  How long
is yours?"
      "Eight."
      "How big is Caleb's?"
      "I don't know."
      "You never saw it?"
      "No.  Not since he was a kid.  And never hard."
      "Oh," Denny said, a bit of disappointment in his tone.
      I pulled his chin around so he had to look me in the eyes and said,
"What's this?  The first rule of dating is when you're out with one girl
you don't start talking about another one.  Or in your case ... a guy."
      "We're not on a date.  We're swimming."
      "We've got our junk against each others' bellies frommaging.  I never
got that far on a date before."
      He started laughing hysterically.  Finally he said "Not frommaging.
Fromage is French for cheese.  Frottaging.  Frottage is rubbing your sex
parts against each other."
      "Whatever," I said, "I think we should stop now."
      "Why?  You about to cum?" he asked.
      I looked at him suspiciously and then remembered he was the
precocious Denny.  "Yes, very close."
      "Daddy," Denny called out, "can we watch Connor ..."
      I clasped my hand over his mouth before he could continue.  I didn't
want Paris to hear and I certainly didn't want Tiffany's neighbors to hear.
      He finished his sentence by jerking his hand up and down in the air.
      "That's up to him."
      "Where're my trunks?" I asked, hoping to put them on and leave
gracefully.
      Ryan said, "They were floating in the pool so I tossed them on the
chair to dry."
      "Oh, thanks," I said, realizing I was now going to have to get out of
the pool naked ... with a hard-on ... in front of his ten-year-old daughter
and run back into the house to get dressed.  As I looked around I
discovered Lady Luck was with me.  It looked like Paris was asleep by the
side of the pool.  Ryan was laid back in the chaise next to my trunks.
      "So will you?" Denny asked.
      "No, I don't think so."
      "So that also means you think you might," Denny countered.
      I shrugged my shoulder at Ryan.
      "I warned you he was pretty persuasive."
      "Maybe some other time," I said as I wondered when Ryan would toss me
my trunks.  I think he was enjoying watching me squirm under Denny expert
interrogation.
      "Some other time won't help your need to cum now," Denny argued.
"Come on.  Dad's seen guys jack off before.  So have I.  We can do it
together."
      "No, that's a definite no.  We're not doing anything ... together."
      "Okay then.  You jack off.  I want to see how much sperm you make."
      I looked at Ryan for help.
      "Yeah, Connor, how much sperm does that big boy make?"
      That's when I knew I would get no additional help from Ryan.
      "Okay.  One quick one ... because I can't walk all the way home with
a woodie ... and then I'm gone.  Thanks for all your help, Ryan."  It
sounded a little sarcastic but I meant it in the good way.
      I pulled myself out of the pool and laid in the chaise next to Ryan.
      "Thanks," Ryan said.  "I can use all the help I can get when it come
to Denny."
      "You're welcome, but," and I looked at Denny, "no touching.  Not
while I'm ... you know, jacking off.  Okay?"
      "K."
      I knew it wouldn't take long.  I was so horny from all the sex talk
Ryan and I had had and then the fromage ... frottage!
      I closed my eyes, envisioned what Heather would look like naked, like
I do in all my fantasy jack-offs and began to stroke.  It wasn't long and I
was making the "ungh, ungh," noises.  Then there was the most tremendous
explosion of cum to come out of cock in my life.  Over and over.  More than
six times.  More than seven times.  I didn't count them but I knew it
lasted longer than usual.
      "Quite impressive," Miss Brenda said.
      "I should say so!" Tiffany said.  "Like I said, it's a shame it's
being wasted on Heather."
      I jumped up, turned toward the voices, cock in hand, stumbled over my
own feet and fell backward into the pool.
      "That's one way to cool down," Tiffany said.
      "Be sure to use extra chemicals in the pool tonight, Tiff," Miss
Brenda said.
      I just sunk to the bottom of the deep end of the pool and stayed
there ... until I HAD to come up for air.
      Thankfully, no one was around and my trunks were lying next to the
pool.  Not wanting to get them see-through wet again I braved more
humiliation by quickly pressing myself out of the pool and slipping on the
trunks.  I left my clothes at Tiffany's and walked home as fast as I could
without attracting to much attention.
      As I walked in the door, Caleb asked, "Where've you been?"

To be continued.  Send comments, if you want, to jockhunger@yahoo.com