Date: Thu, 1 Jun 2006 19:30:15 -0500
From: jockhunger@yahoo.com
Subject: Sharin Part Chapter Two - Brothers Bond

	Eleven-year-old Randy had on several occasions over the past
year and a half come to his older brother for education of a sexual
nature.  It started innocently enough with questions about jacking
off but eventually it escalated to a hands-on demonstration.  Normal
teenage angst bothered sixteen-year-old Lance but apparently not his
younger brother who--maybe--didn't know about angst, yet.
	Over the next few months the brothers' strained relationship
--due to their age difference--became less tense.  They even started
joking back and forth, calling each other jerk-offs and other
assorted, although inappropriate, names--in private, of course.
Lance turned seventeen and Randy turned twelve or "almost thirteen,"
as he liked to put it.
	Lance had been dating in earnest for over a year and found a
couple of girls who considered themselves as `dates with perks.'  That
meant they gave hand jobs or blowjobs but drew the line at intercourse.
The girls didn't consider it "having sex" unless they lost their
virginity.  That was fine with Lance.  At age fifteen it had been
restricted to hand jobs.  It wasn't until after he turned sixteen that
he had graduated to getting blowjobs.
	After his first blowjob, he started strutting around the house,
hips thrust forward and his knees slightly bent.  More often than not,
he'd have a thumb stuck in the corner of his pocket or under his
belt-less waistband.  The smirk on his face was the universal sign to a
father that his son had begun dipping his wick.  It also meant he had
to investigate.
	One quiet Sunday afternoon between games on TV, Geoff asked
casually, "Are you using condoms?"
	"Of course!" Lance said before he realized he'd been blind-sided
into revealing his recently acquired non-virginal status.  According to
all the guys Lance knew, a blowjob meant a guy was no longer a virgin.
	"Good."  For Geoff, that was enough of a discussion.  They
watched the game in silence, except to roar at a score.  It wasn't
until the second set of commercials--the long series--that Lance said,
"They're pretty hard to come by ... uh, you wouldn't happen to have
any, would you?"
	"Nope," Geoff said.  The game resumed but during one of the recap
segments, Geoff said, "Starting tomorrow, they'll be in the hall closet
under the good towels."
	Lance knew the good towels were only taken out of the closet when
they had overnight guests--or twice a year for "freshening up," as the
case might be.  It took until the end of the game before Lance got up
to leave but before going up to study, turned to Geoff and said,
"Thanks, Dad."
	That was the way they got things done most efficiently--and
painlessly.
	Randy and Tommy, "best of friends for life," had the usual
boyhood tiffs and scuffles but they maintained their friendship
throughout it all.  They never stayed mad at each other for more than
two days--at the most.  It was usually Randy who patched things up
because he missed his friend's enthusiastic attitude--with a definite,
devilish twist--toward life.
	Since Lance had his driver's license, Geoff and Anita were
sending Lance to the store for things more often.  One day, when Anita
asked Lance to go get milk for dinner, Randy begged to go along for the
ride.
	"Lance?  Okay if Randy rides with you?" Anita asked.
	With a furrowed-brow look at Randy, he said, "Sure, c'mon,
Squirt."
	Once they were out of the driveway, Randy twisted sideways in his
seatbelt to look at Lance.  "Can your little angel ask you a question?
It's really, really important."
	Lance flinched and almost jerked his foot to the brake pedal but
calmed down before he wrecked the car.  Just the use of the word
`angel' told him it was something sexual, but he knew, too, that Randy
wouldn't have used the term if it weren't really important.
	"You're gonna have to ask Dad, Squirt.  I'm just not grown up
enough to handle this.  And if you repeat that to anyone, I'll pummel
you to death with my own fists."
	"I can't ask Dad about it.  He'd think I was a pussy."
	"Where'd you learn to talk like that?"
	"Around," Randy said, thinking, `Tommy.'
	Lance drove to the convenience store and went inside--taking the
car keys with him.  Randy stayed in the car, not saying anything more.
They rode home in silence.  Randy was civil but not overly talkative at
dinner.  They all watched TV--for the most part, in silence, until
Anita said, "Time for bed, Randy."
	Standing, without an argument, Randy pecked Anita on the lips and
said, "G'night."  Then he crossed over to his dad, pecked at him with
an air kiss and said, "'night, Dad," and went to bed.
	About ten minutes into the next show, Lance groused, "This show
is lame, so I'm gonna go to bed."
	"'night, hon," Anita said, leaning forward for her obligatory
kiss.
	"'night, Sport." Geoff said, without looking away from the TV.
	Lance swaggered out of the family room but his shoulders slumped
as he reached the foot of the stairs.  Shaking his head, he trudged
heavy-footed up to his room.  The door was mostly closed, so he stood
outside to listen long enough to know Randy wasn't "preoccupied."
	Quietly, he pushed the door open, turned to press it closed and,
at the last minute, turned the knob so he could close it completely
without the deafening "click."  He slunk over to his bed and sat down
heavily, not bothering to get undressed.  After sitting there for about
five years--or five minutes, whichever was less--he twisted around to
stretch out, looking toward the ceiling that he couldn't see in the
darkness.
	`I know I'm gonna regret this,' Lance admonished himself
silently.  "What?" he asked brusquely.
	"I made cum but it was as clear as bath water," Randy said
dispiritedly.
	Lance could hear the tears in his brother's voice.
	"Come here," Lance said--half-command, half-plea.
	Randy bounded over to the bed.
	Moving over, Lance patted the bed and said, "Lie down."
	As Randy laid back, he felt his brother's arm under his neck as
his hand cupped his shoulder.
	"Randy ... Angel," Lance said as he continued to blindly stare at
the ceiling, "you gotta stop taking things so seriously.  Your body's
like ... uh, a factory.  No, not like a factory.  More like a garden
hose.  Your dick's like a garden hose.  You know how, when a hose lays
out in the sun, you have to let it run to get the warm water out before
you can drink the cold water?"
	"Yeah," Randy said, wondering where all this was going.  All he
wanted was to be reassured that it was normal--or warned that it wasn't.
	"Well, your ... reproductive system ... you know what that is?"
	"Yeah, my wiener and balls and sperm and stuff."
	"Okay.  Well, it's kinda like the hose that's been left out in
the sun.  You have to get the thin stuff out of the way before it
produces the good stuff."
	"I understand that," Randy said.  "I got the warm water out of
the hose but then it was like somebody turned off the faucet.  No sperm
came out."
	"Your body is just learning what it is that it's supposed to be
doing.  As soon as you're up to speed, you'll start makin' sperm.
Trust me.  It's not a process you have any control over.  You couldn't
stop it if you tried."  He hugged his brother closer to comfort him.
	"I don't want to stop it, I want to speed it up."
	Chuckling, Lance said, "I know you do.  But for now, you'll just
have to wait for your body to kick into gear."
	"There's no way to jumpstart it?"
	"Nope."
	"Pills?  Diet?  Exercise?"
	"That seems to be the answer to everything nowadays but nope,
just time."
	"Fuck!" Randy spat.
	"Angels don't talk like that," Lance admonished.
	"Middle-aged prepubescent angels do," Randy said petulantly.
	"Middle-aged what?"
	"I've been going through all these changes, like forever.  I feel
like a middle-aged man who hasn't reached maturity yet.  I know all the
things I want to do ... sexually ... but my body's like ... holding me
back.  It's like ... a cruel joke!"
	"It's only been a couple of months, Ran ... Angel."
	"Well, a couple of months is a lifetime to a teenager!"
	"How would you know?  You're not a teen yet."
	"I'm twelve and twelve is two more than ten and ten is the root
word of teen, so I'm a teenager."
	"A teenager is a person who has `teen' behind their integer.
Ten, eleven and twelve do not have `teen' behind them.  You're a
`tween.'  You're between being a little boy and a young teen."
	"It still sucks!"
	"So, you okay with this?"
	"Yeah, I guess so," Randy said, starting to get up.
	Lance held him down.  "I'm sorry for being such a dumb fuck,
earlier. I want you to know, uh ... from now on, you can come to me.
But if I don't feel I can handle it ... you'll have to talk to Dad,
okay?"
	"That's like talking to a box of rocks," Randy said derisively.
	"You need to exercise patience with Dad.  Ask your question.
He'll process it for a while and give you an answer.  Depending on how
tough the answer is, it might take a few minutes ... maybe a day or two
... but he'll answer you, I promise."
	"Okay," Randy said, sullenly.
	Then, in a mock gruff tone, Lance said, "Now, do you think you
could move over to your own bed so I can get some sleep?"
	Getting up, Randy said, "Thanks, Archangel."
	"'night." Lance said, smiling as he thought; `Now that wasn't so
hard!'
	Although he had promised himself he'd never get naked in front of
Randy again, he decided to reconsider.  He felt it would send the wrong
message to his little brother--that being naked in a casual setting was
wrong.  That was not how he wanted his brother to view nudity--like some
repressed, clueless, right wing conservative.  So, that night he reneged
on his promise to himself.  He turned on his desk lamp and began, again,
--every once in a while--getting naked in front of Randy before going to
bed.
	Summer arrived and Lance, again, worked as a lifeguard at the
neighborhood pool but this year he offered to pull double duty.  He
offered to brother-sit if his mom would agree to let Randy be a beach
bum for the summer.  After Anita agreed and the boys were alone in
their room, Lance made Randy promise to behave or he'd rescind the
offer.
	Lance thought Randy would lose interest within a week and start
acting up but he didn't.  He was a model pool guest AND little brother.
He even helped keep the bigger kids from picking on the smaller ones
and kept the younger ones entertained by simply paying attention to
them occasionally.
	Lance was enjoying being a big brother to a kid who was so
helpful.  They even indulged in silent eye-speak when a girl to their
mutual liking showed up.
	Randy was like the proverbial kid in the candy store.  Depending
on his mood, he could play keep-away with the older swimmers or sit
underwater on the pool steps and push the rubber ducks and plastic
boats around to entertain the younger crowd.
	He noticed the girls in one-piece suits tended to be heavier but
shapely nonetheless.  The really heavy girls wore suits with a skirt
attached.  The girls in bikinis were too thin and bony for Randy's
taste.  He watched as they kept tugging their bra cups up all the time
or tugging the strings on each hip higher.
	He delighted, equally, in watching the girls in their bikinis and
the guys in their Speedos.  He observed how the guys in board shorts or
boxer style swimsuits always pulled the fabric away from their package
as soon as they got out of the water.  The guys in Speedos never
appeared to be self-conscious even if they DIDN'T show a big bulge.
	By the end of summer, both boys were bronzed Adonis'.  Lance's
now 17-year-old torso was ripped.  Randy's began to show definition as
he lost his baby fat from all the swimming and diving.  His arms gained
a moderate definition when he began helping Lance carry the lifeguard
equipment to and from the locker room each morning and evening.
	School started way too early as far as both of them were
concerned.  Randy started junior high while Lance attended the senior
high school several blocks away.  Lance was expected to drop Randy off
and pick him up--the pitfalls of being the "designated" driver.  By the
end of September, Lance had found a girl he really liked and they
became exclusive.  Randy, however, was still adjusting to the newness
of junior high life, so he couldn't worry about dating.  In grade
school, he sat in one room with one teacher all boring day.  Now he was
expected to change rooms every hour, be taught by different teachers in
different subjects, change and shower during gym class and remember the
combination to his locker--something that caused him to have
nightmares.
	He thought he would be okay with changing and showering during
gym class because Lance had already mentioned to him that they did that
in junior high.  He thought his summer at the pool would have prepared
him for it, too but, if his insecurities were any indication, he wasn't
prepared.  When he saw the different shapes and sizes of the boys, the
baby fat on some of them and the muscles on the others, he began to
worry that he wasn't as ready to get naked as he thought--but he had to
anyway.  Each day, he would choose a different guy to scope out, to
measure himself against--without being obvious, of course.  Height,
weight, waist size, hips and butts all became areas of concern and by
the end of September, the nightmares began.
	In his dreams, he would see himself walking down the hall to his
locker.  Like a specter leaning over his own shoulder, he would watch
as he fumbled with the locker's dial.  He could feel the anxiety rise
as he tried to remember his forgotten combination.  Then the laughter
began.  Looking over his shoulder, he would see his classmates--but
only the ones he wanted to impress the most--laughing and pointing.  It
was mortifying to forget ones combination, he thought in his dream.
Then, the specter stepped back and Randy, in his out-of-body
experience, saw that he was standing at his locker, fiddling with the
combination while he was totally naked!  Then he would wake up short of
breath and his heart pounding.
	Other than that, junior high was going well.  His grades were A's
and B's, he excelled in sports, and he got along with his classmates
and teachers.  And so far, he hadn't forgotten his combination.  Lance
had, just before going to bed one Tuesday night, confided in Randy that
he had been seeing a special girl--Sharon--for three months but for him
not to tell the folks.  They both agreed their parents would screw
things up by wanting to have her over and "fawn all over her and
stuff."  He explained he wanted to be sure she was "the one," first.
	It took until Friday for Lance's revelation to sink into Randy's
already overtaxed mind.  So, when Randy hopped in the car after school,
he said, "You don't have to pick me up right away, you know."
	"What?" Lance asked as his brother startled him by beginning a
conversation in the middle of some internal dialogue he had going on.
	"I can wait.  I can even study while I'm waiting."
	"Wait for what?"
	"For you to ... uh ... hook up or whatever."
	"Hook up with what?"
	"Who, doofus!  Your girl ... Sharon.  I mean, I know guys have
needs and ... well, Mom and Dad won't let you go out on school nights,
so I thought ... if you wanted to ... you know ... do the Taurus Tango,
the Malibu Mambo, the Denali Disco, the Lincoln Lambada ..."
	"I get it!" Lance shouted over Randy's interminable list.  "And
thanks but no thanks."
	"Why not?  I don't want you to hate me because I'm some kind of
burden you can't dump because Mom and Dad are forcing you to pick me up."
	"Oh, jeeze, Randy," Lance groaned as he pulled out of the parking
lot.  "You always overreact.  You're not a burden."
	"Talk's cheap," Randy said.  "Actions speak louder than words.
I'll bet you've got a boner right now, just thinkin' about her."
	"You're stepping over the line, Squirt."
	"You do, dontcha?"
	They rode in silence.  They ate dinner in silence.  They did
their homework and watched TV in silence.  At nine, Randy said
stubbornly, "I'm going to bed."
	"Me, too," Lance said.  "I've got a world history test first
period.  That's even more confusing than world geography was last year!"
	Randy stripped to his boxers and crawled into bed.  Lance
stripped naked, displaying a boner and turned out the light.
	"Told ya," Randy said sullenly.
	"Close your ears and go to sleep," Lance commanded.  "I'm gonna
jack off and then I'm gonna go to sleep."  It wasn't something Lance
would usually do but these weren't usual times.  He had a major test in
the morning and needed to get to sleep.  He had a major bone-on that he
had to take care of because his brother had brought it on with all his
car-sex talk.  So, Lance's helmet-headed brain won the toss up.  His
brother would just have to suffer, as far as Lance was concerned.
	Randy heard the slippery slapping sound and popped a boner, too.
He joined his brother in a mutual--although room-darkened--jack off.
He held off as long as he could but he still came before Lance did but
only by seconds.  The ensuing silence was conducive to just falling to
sleep.
	Nothing was said in the morning until the two of them were in the
car on their way to school.
	"Told ya," Randy said with an impish grin.
	"Okay!  You were right!" Lance yelled in mock anger but his smile
betrayed his true emotion.
	"You know," Randy said thoughtfully.
	"Oh god, you're not thinking again, are you?" Lance said playfully.
	"Only about how I can help you," Randy said.  "If you want, you
can pick me up and then you can meet your girlfriend and ... you know,
do the deed.  I promise, I'll just sit up here and not say a word.  I
won't even turn around and look.  You can put tape on the mirrors if
you want."
	"God, I'd almost forgotten how much my cock used to rule my
life," Lance groaned.  `Except last night,' he thought.  "Trust me,
Squirt, it's not that bad anymore.  I've learned to control it.  That's
what separates humans from animals, you know."
	"What?"
	"Self control."
	"Like the way we were controlling ourselves last night?"
	"Don't make me pull this car over to tan your hide," Lance said,
trying to sound like his dad.  The rest of the trip to school was
uneventful but Lance felt strangely calmer with their new relationship.
Mulling it over in his mind, Lance deduced, `Maybe part of sexual
maturity involves becoming friends with your brother who's also
becoming sexually aware.'
	Lance was maturing into a proper young gentleman, learning when
to be playful and when to be serious with his younger brother.  He was
learning he could voice opinions or offer suggestions to his folks and
not have them met with total resistance.  He discovered he could answer
questions in school incorrectly and not suffer the indignation of
having his teachers or classmates make fun of his ignorance.  And he
began to wonder how he could impart this understanding of life to his
little brother.
	As the school year continued, Randy, on the other hand,
discovered girls were as interested in him as he was in them.  The only
major obstacle he found was that the girl he liked most wasn't
interested in him.  It didn't occur to him that there was a girl he was
overlooking--one that was interested in him, who was too shy to
approach him.
	Randy finally turned thirteen in November, qualifying him as a
bona fide "Teen."  Lance turned eighteen in December.  It was in early
December when Lance picked up Randy with Sharon sitting in the front
seat--Randy's seat.  He had only met her a couple of times, so he
recognized her but didn't know her all that well.  He knew she was fun,
not a princess but that was about all--and that she seemed to like him,
not just tolerate him.
	"Hop in back, Squirt.  I told Mom we were going to the mall to do
some Christmas shopping."
	"K," Randy said.  Strapping on his seat belt, he said, "Hi,
Sharon."
	"Hi, Randy," she said in a singsong tone that was unusual for
her.
	Later, as they neared the mall, Randy said sullenly, "If I'd
known, I'd have brought my Christmas money."
	"Get what you want.  I'll pay for it.  Then you can pay me back
when we get home," Lance said.
	"All right!" Randy shouted, more enthused because he wasn't
feeling so left out.
	As soon as they got in the mall, Sharon pulled Randy aside.
"You're coming with me, okay?"
	"Huh?  I thought ..."
	"Lance wants me to watch you while he buys my Christmas present.
So I thought you could help me pick out something special for him."
	"Oh," Randy said, but thought, `So when do I get to shop?'
	"So what do you think he'd like for Christmas?"
	"A big screen high-def plasma TV," Randy said seriously.
	"Something I can afford."
	"Well, you could give it to both of us and that would be like
cutting the cost in half," Randy giggled.
	"Lance said you'd be like this."
	"Like what?"
	"Full of wise cracks and jokes."
	"Who's joking?  We both want the TV," Randy said trying to
suppress his impish smile.
	As they strolled along, admiring the decorations, Sharon said, "I
want his gift to be personal.  Not something just anyone would buy him."
	"Something he'll have to open in private?"
	"Well, not that personal ... oh, and clothes are out."
	"Too bad," Randy said.  "This place has a lot of clothes he'd
like."
	Sharon looked to where Randy was pointing and blushed.
"Victoria's Secret is definitely out of the question!"
	"Bummer," Randy said.  "So how much you plan to spend?"
	"Anything within reason.  You don't happen to know--more or
less--how much he's planning to spend on me, do you?  I wouldn't want
to spend more on him than he did on me because he might feel bad about
it."
	"Nope."
	"Damn!"  Then, embarrassed, she said, "Sorry."
	"That's okay.  I've heard worse."
	"Does he like jewelry?"
	"So long as it's not a wedding band."  Then realizing his
mistake, he said, "That's one of those jokes Lance warned you about.
He says most of what comes out of my mouth is either inappropriate or
vulgar.  I guess that was both."
	"Well, just so you know, marriage isn't on my agenda right now,
either.  I've got college to get through first."
	"What about books, movies, music?" Randy asked, relieved that
Sharon wasn't offended.
	"Not personal enough."
	"How about your cherry?" Randy said before he could stop himself.
	"TOO, personal."
	"Yeah, I thought so," Randy sighed, pretending it was another
joke but glad--again--that Sharon didn't take offense.
	As they passed the candle shop, Randy said, "You could give him a
bust."
	"You mean a statue?  Of whom?"
	"No, a bust imprint.  You know, your boobs in wax."
	Sharon's eyes widened in surprise.
	"I'll take that as a `no.'" Randy said.  "It looks like sexy
stuff is out, so that just leaves us with sports equipment.  The only
problem is, he watches more than he participates."
	"No, nothing sports oriented," Sharon said dismissively.
	Passing the food court, Randy said, "I know!  You could get him
gift certificates to twelve different restaurants.  Then he'd be
obligated to take you out to dinner."
	"I don't want him obligated to me," Sharon said.  "But why twelve?"
	"One for each month."  Then, thinking quickly, he added, "... and
you could give him one each day of the Twelve Days of Christmas."
	"Inventive but not quite what I had in mind."
	Ronald McDonald was promoting the opening of a new store in the
mall and was passing out free food.  He held a giant plastic hamburger
in one hand and a tray of samples in the other.  He had apparently been
there a while because there wasn't a crowd of kids around him and the
samples were beginning to look a little plastic, too.
	Randy looked him in the eyes, looked down at his big red shoes
with their yellow shoelaces, then over at the eighteen-inch wide,
nine-inch tall, plastic hamburger and asked, "Is the new McDonald's
slogan `Big feet, big meat'?"
	"Randy," Sharon warned but giggled nevertheless.
	"Like I've never heard that one before," Ronald said.  "No, the
slogan is still, `I'm lovin' it.'"
	"If you ask me," Randy giggled, "they're one in the same."
	Gabbing Randy's arm, Sharon tugged him along before they got
themselves in real trouble.  They made a complete circular pass through
the mall and they still hadn't come up with anything.
	"You sure clothes are out of the question?" Randy asked, looking
in the Victoria's Secret window again.  "I mean, I know he likes boxers
over briefs."
	"He what?" Sharon said with a playful smile, "You mean he wears
briefs under his boxers?  Why?"
	"No," Randy said confused, "I didn't say that."
	"You said he likes boxers over briefs.  So he puts his boxers on
over his briefs."
	Rolling his eyes, knowing he'd been zinged by his own mischievous
wordplay game, he said, "Good one."  Then, to clarify for Sharon's
sake, even though he knew he didn't have to, he said, "Lance prefers
boxers rather than briefs."
	"Just kidding with ya," Sharon said.
	"What I was thinking is," Randy said, "if you bought him
something you'd like to wear, he'd get a clue to the kind of girl you
are."
	"He knows what kind of girl I am."
	"How could he, if ..."
	"The same way I know he likes boxers."
	"Because I told you?" Randy asked puzzled.
	"The same way I know he likes red plaid boxers," Sharon said,
making a subtle distinction.
	Wide-eyed, Randy said, "Oh.  That way!"
	"Hi.  All done!" Lance said.  "Ready to go?"
	"Sure," Sharon said eagerly.
	"But ..." Randy started to say but Sharon stopped him with eye
daggers.
	"But what?" Lance asked.
	Thinking quickly and, in a tone that implied it was something
he'd rather die than endure, Randy said "We were just going inside so
Sharon could try on girl stuff."
	"Really!  Hey, sweet!  Let's do it," Lance said.  As he stepped
forward, he said, "Jeeze, Squirt, I've been trying to talk her into
this for months.  How'd you get her to change her mind?"
	Looking over his shoulder at Sharon with an impish grin, he said,
"She offered."
	Following them in--since Lance was driving--she decided she liked
Lance's little brother.  Like a girl, he got his way without being
pushy ... or whiny ... or what she hated most, crying.  As she
pretended to browse the racks, she listened to their conversation.
	"This way, you'll know what size she wears," Randy said, "so if
you wanted to buy her something nice, you know, for her to wear when
you take her out for dinner ..."
	Lance processed that.
	"And if you wanted to buy her some crotch-less panties, you know,
for a quickie in the hallway between classes ..."
	"You're gonna walk home if you keep talking like that."
	"Yeah, I guess you're right.  From what I can tell, she's tight."
	"You better mean she's a terrific girl ... not ..."
	"She's a keeper, Lance.  I'd suggest you return whatever it is
you bought her and get her something better."
	"You don't even know what I bought."
	"But I know she's worth something better."
	"You came to this conclusion after spending one hour with her at
the mall?  What the hell did you two talk about?"
	"I know she's only gonna get you the best Christmas present
ever."
	"How do you know?"
	"'Cuz of all the things she didn't want to get you."
	"So you don't know what it is?"
	"She hasn't bought it yet.  She doesn't even know what it is yet.
But she's cool.  She'll figure it out."
	Blushing from eavesdropping, Sharon picked up the first skimpy
outfit she could find in her size and asked, "Whaddya think?  Is this
me?"
	"Try it on," Randy urged.
	"You're walking," Lance warned.
	"Okay," Sharon said in a festive spirit.  Also, by agreeing to
model it, she hoped Randy wouldn't get his ass chewed while she was
changing.  When she stepped out of the dressing room, both Lance and
Randy gawked, slack-jawed.  Her bosom almost spilled over the top of
the black leather bra cups.  Her furry crotch was barely contained in
the severe V-shaped panties.  And the chrome chain links connecting the
bottom of the bra to the top of the panties screamed `lavender grade'
S&M.
	All three were surprised to hear a mortified, "Oh my god!"
Turning in the direction of the woman gasping for air, Randy said,
"Hey, Sis, I think you found the right one."
	The old woman gurgled.
	"Mom will love wearing that to the Christmas party."
	The woman turned purple, like she was afflicted with apoplexy.
	"Do they have it in red?" Lance asked, joining in the charade.
"Mom really likes to wear red for Christmas."
	The woman staggered out of the store muttering, "Isn't he too
young to be in here?"
	"Sharon, would you try this on?" Randy asked, handing her a red
one-piece bathing suit.
	"Anything for you, my sweet little devil.  That was the most fun
I've had in ages."
	Lance and Randy exchanged surprised-eyebrow glances as she
returned to the changing area.  `One guy's angel is another guy's--or
girl's--devil,' Lance thought with a smile.
	A few minutes after entering the changing room, Sharon called out
hesitantly, "Uh, sorry, Randy.  No can do."
	"Wrong size?"
	"Wrong material."
	"Nuh uh.  I picked it out special for YOU."
	"Is that old lady out there?"
	"No," Lance said, looking around.
	"Is ANYone out there besides you two?"
	"Nope," Randy said, with an excited grin at Lance.
	"Lance?"
	"No one."
	"Fuck!" they both whispered when she stepped out.  The bodice
cupped the bottom half of her breasts, lifted, separated and pointed
her rosy nipples straight forward.  Her high beams were on, probably
from excitement because it was warm in the store.  The red material was
stretched so tight and so thin it was transformed into pink see-through
and her pubic bush proved she was a true blond.
	"Definitely a keeper," Randy said.
	"Definitely," Lance said.
	As she turned to leave, her butt didn't even jiggle because the
material was so tight.
	"Fuck!" Randy said.  Then, with a devious look on his face, he
said, "Uh, by the way, getting Sharon to model that outfit for you is
my Christmas present to you.  Merry Christmas!"
	"That's my little angel," Lance said, "always thinking of others."
	When Sharon returned--in her street clothes--she asked, "Whaddya
think?"
	Randy pulled on the seam of his right pant leg and said, "What do
YOU think?"
	His boner was outlined almost as clearly as Sharon's nipples had
been.
	When she looked at Lance, he put his hands in his pockets and
pulled backward.  The material showed his hard-on was angled up and
toward the left--ending almost at his hip.
	"I like boys who don't keep a girl waiting," Sharon said
seductively, then giggled.  "Come on, let's get out of here before one
of you has an accident."
	Lance dropped Sharon off at her house and then Randy got in the
front seat.  "I'm serious, bro, Sharon's a keeper.  She's fun to be
with but she puts limits and restrictions on what you can and can't get
away with ... but she's not pushy about it."
	"I know," Lance said absentmindedly groping his crotch momentarily.
	To Randy, it looked like his brother was just checking to make
sure it was still there.  It wasn't anything sexual.  He had seen Lance
do it before, so after that, Randy began watching other guys and
noticed they did it, too.  Standing in line in the cafeteria, talking
on the phone between classes, everywhere.  But it was just a quick
touch ... a friendly pat ... like a reassurance that it was still
there.
	"So what did ya buy me?" Randy asked.
	"Already got yours in the works," Lance said cryptically.
	"More boxers?"
	"Better." Lance said.
	Randy knew better than to try to get a secret out of Lance, so he
gave up.  "What did you get Sharon?"
	Lance remained silent.
	Randy knew, of course, that his brother was aware of his
inability to keep a secret.  `Except my very personal one,' Randy
thought.  `The one I'll never tell anyone!'
	The two weeks leading up to Christmas were frantic with activity,
so Lance and Randy didn't see much of each other.  When Randy
complained, Lance promised to spend more time with him during the
winter break.  Lance took Randy to the mall to buy gifts and stayed
inside while Randy put Lance's present in the trunk.
	`The poor kid just gets tight with me and then shit happens and I
have so many things going on, we can't hang.  He must think no one
cares about him.  I know I felt that way occasionally when I was his
age,' Lance thought while he waited.
	The day before Christmas Eve, school let out at noon.  Lance
picked Randy up and dropped him off at the house.  With a promise to be
back in a few minutes and a warning not to burn down the house while he
was gone, Lance rushed out.
	Randy was in the middle of changing out of his school clothes
when Sharon phoned a few minutes later.  "Hi, Squirt, put Lance on for
me, would you?"
	"He's not here."
	"Really!" Sharon said in a panic.  "He shouldn't have left you
alone like that!  I'll be right over!"
	"No! He said he'd be right back," Randy said but he heard the
phone disconnect in mid sentence.
	Looking around the house, he made sure there weren't any dirty
socks lying around and the sofa pillows were straight.  He was still
wearing his button down shirt but even in his panic, he remembered to
slip on a pair of basketball shorts--the flimsy Durasheen kind.  Randy
thought, `I hope Lance gets here soon.'  Then, as if on cue, Randy's
boner decided to make itself obvious.  `Oh, fuck!  I'm a dead man!'
Sharon had seen his hard-on in Victoria's Secret but that was in public
and he was wearing chinos.  Now, he was wearing baggy nylon shorts.
But it never occurred to him to go change before she got there.
Instead, he spent the time agonizing about whether to jack off to make
it go away or whether he'd be right in the middle of it when she
arrived.
	As the doorbell rang, Randy picked up a Christmas present and,
holding it at waist level, answered the door.
	"Hi," Sharon said.  Then, looking down, she added, "Nice package."
	Blushing, because Randy knew guy's junk was referred to as `a
package,' he stammered, "Uh, thanks."  Then, looking at the gift tag,
he said, "It's for Dad from Grandma."  `I wonder if Sharon has X-ray
vision and can see my wiener,' he thought in a panicked afterthought.
	"Hey, Squirt!" Sharon asked, reminding him he was forgetting his
manners, "can I come in?"
	"Uh, sure.  Uh, have a seat ... on the sofa ... if you want."
	Stepping out of the way, he used his elbow to close the door.  He
walked over, put the present under the tree and sat on the floor cross-
legged, hoping to hide his erection.
	As Sharon removed her coat and laid it on the floor at the end of
the sofa, she asked politely, "You wouldn't have anything to drink,
would you?"
	`Oh fuck!'  "Uh, sure.  Pepsi okay?"
	"Fine."
	"Can or glass?" Randy asked, stalling for `deflation' time.
	"A glass would be nice."
	"Oh, yeah, guys ... uh ... girls ... well, anyway, uh ..." he
said, still stalling ... "ice?"
	"Sure."
	"Cubes or crushed?"
	"Surprise me."
	`If I stand up, you're gonna get a surprise.'  Standing and
turning simultaneously, Randy headed for the kitchen.  `Please go down
before I finish getting her a drink,' Randy prayed.  When he opened the
kitchen door, he pressed it back until it stayed fully open.  After
fixing the drink, he stood at the open doorway a moment longer, trying
to figure how to serve the drink and not show her his hard-on.  It
miraculously went down.
	Wasting no time, Randy rushed in, handed Sharon the drink and sat
in the chair next to the Christmas tree.
	"Thanks, Squirt.  So when's Lance gonna get back?"
	"Any minute," Randy said convincingly, "so you don't have to
stay.  I'll be okay."
	"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Sharon asked coyly.
	"Uh ... no."
	"... 'cuz I could have sworn you were pretty happy to see me when
I showed up."
	"Whaddya mean?  I mean, of course I was but, uh ..."
	"That boner you had gave you away, Squirt."
	To Sharon, it looked like Randy was about to cry.
	"You sure know how to compliment a girl," Sharon said
comfortingly.
	All Randy could do was stare in disbelief.
	"Mind if I take my sweater off?  It's warm in here."
	"Yes.  No.  I mean ... it's okay.  Yeah, go ahead."
	To Randy's surprise, Sharon wasn't wearing a blouse, only a bra,
under the sweater.  Wide-eyed, all he could do was stare.
	"We'll hear your folks if they drive in, right?"
	Randy nodded his head, slack-jawed.
	"What are you gawking at?  You've seen these before.  In fact,
they were almost naked, as I recall, because some little devil tricked
me into wearing some see-through lingerie."
	All Randy could do was gulp as he worried about throwing another
boner and about being caught by his brother staring at his girlfriend's
boobs.  "Sorry."
	"But that old lady was hysterical, wasn't she?" Sharon giggled.
	"Yeah, she was," Randy said a little more comfortable.
	Sharon stood up, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, sliding them
down to her ankles as she sat down again.  "Could you pull these off
for me?"
	Twisting nervously in his chair, Randy said, "Uh ... you
shouldn't be ... uh ..."
	"Oh come on.  Don't be a prude.  You've seen my pussy, too.
Remember?"
	`Oh fuck!' Randy thought as his stomach crunched involuntarily.
`Another boner!'
	"But ... I ..."
	"I know," Sharon said, "You're boning up again, huh?"
	"Well."
	"Girls are supposed to have that effect on guys.  Don't worry
about it."
	"But Lance ..."
	"Isn't here.  You are.  So help me off with these."
	Crouching as he got close enough to pull on the pant cuffs, Randy
tugged.
	"Like what you see?" Sharon asked, looking down at her cotton
panties.
	"Fuck yeah!  What's not to like?  But ..."
	"So let me see yours."
	"Huh?"
	"Let me see your underpants."
	"Oh!" Randy said relieved, thinking she was talking about his
pecker.  "Uh ... well, it's ..."
	"I know.  Your peter's hard.  So what?  Unless, of course, you're
wearing dirty underwear."
	"No!  I change every day.  They're numbered and everything!"
Immediately he cringed inwardly.  `She doesn't need to know my
underpants are numbered like some grade-schooler going to camp.'
	"That's cool." Sharon said, "I've got some with the days of the
week embroidered on 'em."  Then pointing to within an inch of her
barely concealed pussy lips, she said, "Right here."
	Without thinking, Randy looked to where she was pointing and his
boner shot an ache into his groin.  Even so, to appear more grown up
than he really felt at the moment, he shucked his Durasheen shorts.
	"The shirt, too," Sharon said.
	Turning it inside out without unbuttoning it, Randy tossed it
aside.  His right knee trembled uncontrollably, like the time he
thought he was going to get in a fight with the class bully, but it
didn't happen.  The school nurse said it was excess adrenalin coursing
through his system--whatever that meant--but not to worry about it.
Then his right hand felt tingly.  He had heard people's hands got
tingly just before they had a heart attack.  He knew that was something
to worry about.
	"Sweet body!" Sharon said.  "You're a good looking boy ... young
man, really.  How old are you?"
	"Thirteen," Randy gasped dry-mouthed, "almost fourteen."
	Sharon knew he'd had a birthday less than two months earlier but
she also knew how important that magical word `almost' was to a kid
Randy's age.  "I guess you've got a lot of girls after you, huh?"
	Blushing, Randy said, "Not too many," as he thought, `None, right
at the moment.'
	"So, whaddya do to please 'em?"
	`Fuck!  I'm trapped.  All I've ever done is kiss 'em before
spurtin' off in my pants.  Well, I did grope that one girl's boobs ...'
	When Randy didn't answer, Sharon said, "Let me get a good look."
	Instinctively, Randy turned slowly.  `Like a broiling chicken on
a spit' he thought.
	As he completed the turn to the front, she said, "Raise your arms
up like you're gonna dive into a pool."
	It was too late to do anything about it when the movement made
his pecker poke out of the fly front--unassisted.
	"Oh my," Sharon said surprised.  "Uh, gee, I guess since you
showed me yours, I should show you mine.  Would you like to see my
cunny?"
	Randy's dick bobbed its head affirmatively.  In school, he had
heard it referred to as a pussy and a cunt, but when Sharon referred to
it like it was a house pet, a tingle shot from his brain straight down
to his balls.
	Wiggling out of her panties, Sharon said, "You can touch mine if
I can touch yours."
	"Fuck yeah!" Randy said, flipping his boxers off.  He knew he
shouldn't ... because Sharon was his brother's girlfriend ... but he
couldn't convince himself not to ... because he really, really wanted
to touch a girl `there!'
	Sharon reached behind her back and unclasped her bra.  "You've
got your top off, I guess I should, too."
	Looking at the front door, Randy hesitated for a nanosecond
before he stepped closer.  "Lance'll kill me."
	"Does he need to know?" Sharon asked demurely.
	"No.  Yes, he should be told.  I mean, I'm his brother and you're
his girlfriend ... but I can keep a secret," Randy said encouragingly
as he thought, `Now I've got two secrets to keep.  Three if you include
Lance's jack-off instructions.'  Reaching out, Randy slowly moved his
hand closer to Sharon's pussy.
	"Go ahead.  No matter what your friends at school say, it doesn't
have teeth."
	Using a feather-light touch, he felt the tuft of hair and the
dual mounds of her pussy.  `She's got more hair down there than Lance!'
Randy thought.  `But hers feels so fine and silky.'
	"Put your thumb near the top and find my clit," Sharon said, as
she spread her legs wider apart.
	"What's it feel ... it that it?"
	As Sharon jumped from his touch, she said with a smile, "You
found it!  Now, rub it like you're trying to erase a wrong answer on a
math test."
	As he rubbed it, Randy marveled at the twin fin-like flaps of
skin surrounding it, protecting it.  `From what?' he wondered.  The
more he rubbed the area, he noticed the fins began poking out of her
pussy mounds, just slightly, near the top of her slit.  Later, in
senior high anatomy class, he'd learn they were her labia minor.  For
now, they were a fascinating pubescent discovery--like the spiders,
worms and tadpoles of his boyhood.
	He wasn't expecting Sharon to touch him until he was done
exploring so, as her hand brushed tightly over the head of his dick, he
started spurting all over her tits.  He tried to pull away but she
tightened up her grip so she could aim it at her face.
	"Keep playing with my clit," Sharon urged huskily, as her body
trembled in excitement.
	"Unngh, unngh," Randy groaned as his dick kept shooting cum all
over Sharon while his thumb kept up a steady thrumming on her clit.
	"Jeeze!  You cum as much as your brother, don't you?"  Her eyes
began to roll back as she succumbed to the paroxysm of orgasm.
	"Yeah, I guess.  I mean, you think so?"  Randy asked proudly.
	"You ever have a blowjob, Squirt?"
	"A ... huh?"
	Pulling him closer, she said, "Rub your jism all over my tits
while I suck your cock."
	With trembling hands and weak knees, Randy leaned in to get
double handfuls of her boobs.
	Feeling her mouth engulf his still-hard erection, he thought he
would start shooting again immediately but his body refused to obey his
brain's command--so he just enjoyed the awesome feeling.
	"Oh fuck!  That's better'n a fist any day!"
	"Merry Christmas, little bro." Lance said, striding in from the
kitchen.
	Randy jumped, like he had been struck by lightning and turned
pale.  "Lance!"  He tried pushing Sharon's head off his cock but she
refused to budge--even though he was going soft from fright.  His whole
body began to tremble, partly from fear, partly from pent up sexual
energy.
	"It's okay, Angel," Lance said calmly.  "It's my Christmas
present to you."
	"Nuh uh!" Randy groaned in shocked disbelief.
	"Actually, it was Sharon's idea.  I told her I wanted to get you
the best Christmas present ever and she ..."
	"Lance told me ... without actually using all the right words ...
that you were the most special person in the world to him," Sharon
said, letting Randy's cock plop out of her mouth.
	"Except you, Sharon," Lance argued.
	"He explained to me that he was trying to help you ... learn
about sex and sexual things but that he felt uncomfortable, you know,
being a guy and all, talking to you about ... or showing you certain
things."
	Randy glanced at Lance, wondering if he had told her about their
jack-off session.  `He said it was to be a secret.'
	"He said, you two had talked about jacking off and several months
later you had talked about cumming and stuff but he was afraid you'd be
coming home any day now asking him about blowjobs and he said he wasn't
comfortable talking to you about that."
	`Or demonstrating it,' Randy thought.
	"So I thought I'd recruit some help," Lance smiled.
	Calming down, Randy felt his cock begin to inflate as Sharon
began sucking him again.
	An appreciative moan from Sharon informed Lance that his brother
was boning up again.  `After all,' Lance thought, `I've heard that
sound of approval escape her throat many times when I'd bone up in her
mouth.'
	"You did this for me?" Randy asked as he started pumping in and
out of Sharon's mouth.
	"No!  Sharon did this for you ... so I wouldn't have to."
	"You're so queer," Randy chided.
	"She gives great head, doesn't she?"
	"The best."
	"How would you know?  You've never had your dick sucked before,"
Lance said, pawing his own growing erection.  "Jesus that's hot!
Watching you suck Squirt is better'n a porno flick, Sharon."
	"Speaking of Squirt ... did you see that cum load?  Jeeze, I
thought he was trying to float the Queen Mary with that ocean of cum!
>From now on, when we call you Squirt," Sharon said lasciviously, "it'll
have a whole new meaning."
	"Saw it all," Lance said.
	"What!" Randy shouted.
	"Been hiding behind the kitchen door ever since Sharon rang the
doorbell."
	"Nuh uh," Randy argued in disbelief.
	"I saw you grab grandma's present and I saw you crouching around
trying to hide your boner.  I thought you were gonna break my nose with
the door when you walked in the kitchen to get her a drink.
	"You did see it all!" Randy shouted.  Then, angrily, he groaned,
"That's not nice.  What if I'd done something stupid?  You'd make fun of
me the rest of my life."
	"Something stupid?  Like putting the moves on my girl?" Lance
said, rubbing Randy's shoulders to let him know he was only joking.
	"Yeah," Randy said a little less angry, "like that."
	Looking at Sharon, Lance asked, "What was the big idea of asking
for something to drink?  You knew I was hiding in the kitchen!"
	"Hey!  A girl's gotta have some fun, too, ya know," Ashley said
with an evil smile.
	"But you know" Randy said, "watching like that makes you a perv."
	"Yeah, you're right," Sharon said.  "So I guess we'll have to let
you watch Lance and me some time to make up for it.  But for right
now," she said, motioning to Lance, "bring that monster over here and
let me blow you both at the same time."
	"I'll wait," Lance said, rubbing his crotch.  "I don't care to
perform in public."
	"On the front sidewalk would be public," Sharon said.
	"It just doesn't seem right to do it in front of my little
brother."
	"Take another look.  He's not so little anymore."
	"C'mon, Lance.  I did it in front of you ... even if I didn't
know I was doin' it.  If you do it, too, then I can see what a porno's
like."
	Lance unzipped and began to haul out his cock--his helmet head
winning out over discretion.
	"Strip naked, Lance.  Just like us," Sharon ordered.
	"Do I have to?" Lance whined in the peevish voice little boys use
as he eagerly pulled off his shirt and pants.
	"The socks, too." Sharon said.
	"No!" Randy shouted.  Then, apologetically, "I mean, I think he
looks hot ... all naked with just his socks on."
	Sharon shrugged her shoulders in agreement as she reached for
Lance's cock.  Pulling him closer, she sucked his leaking hard-on into
her mouth.  As she went further down, she tugged on his balls, making
him move even closer, until the brothers were hip to hip.
	Something like an electrical shock passed between the two boys.
They both thought of it, at the same time, as a special kind of
brotherly bond.
	"Ummm," Sharon said before she switched to Randy's cock.  "Ummm,"
She said again as she enjoyed the smaller cock gently nudging the back
of her throat.
	"This is the most awesome present ever, Lance.  Thanks," Randy
said, wrapping his left arm around his brother's waist for support as
his knees weakened again.  "But how come you planned it for today?  Why
not wait two more days ... till Christmas?"
	Thinking his brother was hugging him out of appreciation for his
gift, Lance wrapped his right arm around Randy's shoulders in a
brotherly hug.  "Yeah, like Mom and Dad would sit back with a glass of
eggnog and allow this to happen under the tree on Christmas morning."
	Sharon giggled at the thought as she switched brothers.
	"Oh yeah," Randy said, bashfully.
	"God you suck cock like a whore," Lance said with a whimper.  "I
mean that as a compliment.  Like ... you could be a professor who
teaches prostitutes how to suck cock."
	"So which is it, a whore or a prostitute?" Sharon asked, taking
no offense in his amended comment as she switched back to sucking
Randy's cock.
	"What's the difference?" Randy asked.
	Both boys waited patiently for the answer while Sharon continued
to polish Randy's knob vigorously.  She had his nuts stretched down
tight in his ball sack to keep him from cumming too soon.  She knew how
quick on the trigger young guys were--even after spurting on her tits
less than a half hour earlier.
	Sharon had discovered cock sucking was the best way to remain a
virgin and still date guys whose IQ's were higher than the
circumference of their dicks.  There had been six or seven guys before
Lance--all with hair triggers.  When she started dating Lance, she
stopped seeing other guys.  It had been seven months and she was
beginning to feel the need to suck some fresh meat when Lance
approached her with his dilemma.  After dodging the issue most of the
night, Lance asked her if she would be willing to help him teach Randy
all about blowjobs.  She pretended it would be `all wrong' because she
was a `one-guy' girl and that Randy was `too young.'  But she secretly
creamed her panties thinking about it--more than once over the past few
weeks while she anticipated the incident.
	Breaking off for air, she said, "Whores give it away, prostitutes
sell it."  Then she deep-throated Randy again.  Even while she was
bobbing her head along Randy's turgid length, she thought, `I was his
age when I first started blowing guys, so this is like old-home week.
Except, now that he's cum once, I can enjoy a long satisfying suck.'
	While his girlfriend was blowing his brother, Lance had a chance
to think--with his bigheaded brain.  He remembered the only way he
could convince the reluctant Sharon to blow his brother was to promise
her he'd muff dive her--something he knew she loved and couldn't get
enough of.  In the back of his mind at the time, he hoped Randy would
want to learn, too.
	"Sharon," Lance said, "Sit on the arm of the sofa.  Time to teach
young grasshopper how to reciprocate."
	Torn between her love for cocksucking and being eaten out, she
reluctantly released Randy's cock from her mouth.  "If he's half as
good as you, he'll do fine."
	"I'm gonna tell you how to do it," Lance said.
	"Me!" Randy said, his balls aching and his cock twitching.
	"It's part of your Christmas present, bro.  If you don't do this,
it's like getting a toy without the batteries.  You gotta learn how to
keep your cocksucker energized."
	"But ..."
	"Get on your knees," Lance insisted.  "Now, crawl between her
legs."
	Sharon sat with the cheeks of her ass as far forward on the arm
as she could without slipping off.  She watched as Randy nervously
knee-walked toward her, his eyes darting between her pussy and Lance's
crotch--since it was at eye-level with his head, too.  His lips were
dry and he licked them as he inched forward--one knee at a time.
	"Lean in and sniff it," Lance said.  "Sharon stays clean for me
but some girls don't."  Then he quickly added, "At least, that's what
I've heard."
	"Unless you get off on crotch stink," Sharon said, "Some guys
like the sweaty smell of day-old pussy."
	Randy took a small sniff, then a medium-sized one.
	"If it smells okay, you can dig in," Lance said.  "Stick your
tongue in there and explore.  It ain't gonna break."
	Randy touched the tip of his tongue to Sharon's outer pussy lips
--a little hair included.
	"It's a lot like French kissing," Lance said.
	"Except you won't find a tongue in there," Sharon chuckled.  "And
if you do, spit it out 'cuz it's your brother's."
	"Get closer.  It ain't gonna bite you."
	Randy hesitated.
	"Oh, I get it," Lance said, "you think I'm playin' a prank ...
like guys don't really do this kinda thing.  I'll show you."  Lance
knelt beside his brother and squeezed his head in next to Randy's.
"Watch."
	There was hardly enough room between Sharon's legs for the two of
them, so Randy turned his upper torso at the waist to make room.  He
watched in fascination as Lance's tongue was swallowed up by Sharon's
cunt lips.  He noticed Lance's nose was rubbing vigorously at the top
of the slit like he had an itch that needed to be scratched.
	Sharon almost fell over backwards from the oral stimulation.  "Oh
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Sharon shouted.  "Oh my god!  You're like a
demon possessed.  Oh, Lance, oh yeah, eat me!"
	Wide-eyed, Randy watched and listened as he thought, `It's true.
I thought Lance was tryin' to punk me but he's actually doin' it.'  As
Lance got more and more into pleasing Sharon, Randy felt his brother's
shoulder rubbing his chest ... and his left nipple.  It sent shocks of
excitement straight down to Randy's groin.
	"Now you," Lance said encouragingly.  "We'll tag team her, dude."
	As Randy leaned forward, his upper torso shifted and it was
Lance's turn to twist out of the way.  For a split second, their chests
were nipple to nipple and Randy felt like he was gonna cum.
Instinctively, he gripped his cock to stop the pleasure from spurting
out.  In the process, he accidentally brushed the back of his hand
against the head of his brother's cock.  It was slimy with pre-cum.
	"Get in there, bro.  Show her how talented you are."
	It's not anything he'd thought about doing before and his best
friend forever, Tommy, had never mentioned it.  But he did it because
Lance appeared to be proud of him for doing it.  He explored the inside,
the outside, searched for her clit and even nose-rubbed it like Lance
had done.  Sharon's squeals of excitement encouraged him.  `Face first,
hands free, all-you-can-eat buffet,' Randy thought as he began to devour
Sharon's pussy.
	"My turn," Lance said, barely giving Randy time to move his head.
Their cheeks brushed lightly and Randy felt the mature stubble of his
brother's five-o'clock shadow.
	`It's like everything that touches me is sexually stimulating--no
matter who's doing the touching--Lance or Sharon.'  Then, as all young
adult males do, Randy thought, `I'll be glad when I have a beard to
shave.'  As he twisted out of the way, he ran the back of his hand
lightly across Lance's right pectoral muscle and nipple to see if Lance
flinched from sexual stimulation, too.  He watched as the muscles under
Lance's nipple quivered.
	Although screaming through an orgasm, Sharon was keeping a close
eye on both of her muff divers.  She saw the way Randy twitched every
time he came in contact with Lance.  `His nerve endings are so sensitive
right now, he's vibrating.  He's so turned on he's ready to pop!'
	"Stand up and let me suck you," Sharon said, pulling Randy's
hair, while holding Lance down between her pussy lips.
	"I'll cum," Randy mewled as he stood.
	"I want it," Sharon said.  "Cum in my mouth."
	"Really?" Randy asked.
	Sharon leaned forward so Randy could guide his love muscle into
her cum-sucking cavern.  She knew if she touched it with her hand, he
would erupt.
	"Awh Fuck!" Randy howled as her mouth made contact and he started
spewing teen cum into her willing, suctioning mouth.  "Oh God!  Awwwh!"
	Without releasing his lip lock on Sharon's pussy, Lance turned to
face upward for a better view.  His nose brushed across his brother's
balls and he backed away but not before he got a strong sniff of the
scent of raw, unbridled male sex.  It was like an aphrodisiac and he
stood up suddenly.  "Me too! Right now!  Gonna cum," Lance panted out.
	Sharon opened her mouth and Randy fell backward.  She turned just
fast enough to catch Lance's first spurt in mid air before engulfing
his much larger cock.  She knew he was going to shove it in to the hilt
so she relaxed her throat.  She knew, too, that once the first few
spurts were spent, he'd back out a little and she'd be able to savor
the flavor.
	Randy watched in awe as Sharon easily accommodated Lance's much
longer cock down her throat.  He marveled at how effortlessly she did
it.  He recalled the time he'd gagged while sucking on a Popsicle and
he knew Lance's boner was longer than that.  `I'd never be able to do
it,' he thought resolutely.  Then in horror, he added, `... not that
I'd ever want to.  That'd be queer.'
	Pulling out of Sharon's mouth, Lance staggered over to fall on
the sofa behind her.  "Hey, bro, you wanna get Sharon off?" he gasped.
"The newest member of the team has to do the clean-up duty."
	"I thought she cummed while I was spurtin' in her mouth."
	"Girls can have back to back orgasms, dude.  Get down and make my
girl happy."
	After that last disturbing thought about sucking cock, he thought
he'd better do it without arguing about "always being picked on."
	"If you do a good job, Sharon might let you join us again
sometime," Lance said, recovering somewhat from what he realized was
his most explosive cum ever.
	Leaning back and twisting slightly, Sharon was able to fall into
Lance's arms to kiss him just as Randy started sucking on her cunt.  A
tremor went all the way from her clit to her tongue tip as she thought,
`Getting eaten out is fun.  Sixty-nine is fine!  But this is glorious.
Kissing my boyfriend while his younger brother eats me ... Wow!'  All
that mental and physical stimulus was enough to force another orgasm.
	"Mmumph!" Randy mumbled, backing off startled.
	"It's okay," Lance said, "it's not poisonous.  Suck it up!"
	Trusting his brother, Randy went back to clean up Sharon's orgasm
juice.  He wondered if it tasted like cum.  `Not that I've tasted cum,'
he thought.  `Well, there was that one drop of Lance's that got on my
arm but, I mean, I wonder if what I'm tasting is anything like what
Sharon tastes when she sucks us.'
	"Squirt, get up here and kiss me.  I wanna taste my juices,"
Sharon said.
	Randy's flaccid cock twitched at the thought of kissing his
brother's girlfriend ... right in front of him ... with cunt juice in
his mouth.
	Sensing Randy's reluctance, Lance said, "Hey, bro, we're a team
now.  It's okay.  What one does, the other does.  I just don't want to
find you two together without me.  Deal?"
	"Deal," Randy said, feeling the most grown up he'd ever felt in
his life.
	"Deal," Sharon said, pulling Randy up between her legs to lie on
top of her so she could kiss him.
	His whole body slid up along hers as his lips searched for hers.
Her tits caressed his chest, her belly thumped with each breath.  Her
pussy hair tickled his pecker as she wrapped her thighs around his hips
to hold him in place.
	"But she's a virgin, bro, so no fuckin'.  I haven't even tapped
that well, yet."
	Randy's rising cock deflated immediately even though Sharon's
tongue was insisting she wanted more action.
	Breaking their kiss and looking over Randy's shoulder, she said,
"Damn, Lance, I think he's got a better butt than you do!"
	Lance looked, torn between admiration and jealousy.
	"But he's got a bigger dick," Randy said, "and that's more
important than some ol' butt."
	"Don't sell yourself short, Squirt," Sharon said.  "You're doin'
fine in the dick department."
	"Yeah, bro," Lance said.  "There was a time when I thought you
were ... uh, underdeveloped."
	"Well, he isn't now," Sharon said, reaching between the two of
them to pull Randy's cock into a straight up position along their
bellies.  Keeping a firm grip on it, she blindly groped for Lance's
pecker with her other hand.  Finding it, she squeezed.  "I'm the
luckiest fuckin' girl in the world."
	"Uh ..." Lance said, "luckiest `sucking' girl maybe."
	"Yeah," Randy giggled at his brother's comment.  "You're savin'
the fuckin' for Mr. Right, remember?"
	"Speaking of which," Sharon said, squeezing both cocks again
playfully, "when will your dad be home?"
	"Hey!" Lance groused.
	"Eewh," Randy groaned.
	Gently pushing Randy off, Sharon stood up.  "What?  Your dad's
hot!"
	"Not!" both boys said simultaneously.
	"Way hot!" Sharon teased.  "I'd suck him."
	"He's old!" Randy groaned.
	"He's a dork," Lance accused.
	"No, MY dad's a dork," Sharon argued.
	"Your dad's a gem compared to mine," Lance said.  "At least he
plays sports."
	"Your dad loves sports!" Sharon said.
	"He watches sports.  He doesn't participate in them--unless
gambling counts as a sport."
	"Guys," Randy interrupted, "we better get dressed.  Dad's gonna
be here any minute."
	As if on cue, they heard the car door slam shut in the driveway.

	To be continued.
	If you like the story and would like to comment, email me at:
jockhunger@yahoo.com  I also have a gay saga titled, "Rascal," in the
Gay Adult/Youth and Incest categories.  Disregard any references to my
old zestful email address.