Date: Wed, 14 Nov 2012 09:49:30 -0800
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Big Time  Chapter 49

Welcome back. This chapter is put together a bit differently, as is
going to be the case with quite of few of the final chapters. It will start
with seventh grade, and then move to high school. But the entire
chapter is about Marty and Jeffrey and how their relationship became
the deep and full of the deepest kind of brotherly love.

All of my usual stuff applies. But I will add separately to be sure to
donate to Nifty.

Please write. I would love to know how many of you are hanging in
there with this epic as Part 2 enters its last dozen chapters.

Douglas at thehakaanen@hotmail.com



CHAPTER 49
TAMING THE HURRICANE

<Seventh Grade, Saturday, March 17, Mr. Bednarzyck's house>

Marty quietly got out of the bed, trying successfully not to awaken the
other occupant. Marty was wearing just a t-shirt, but the young boy in
the bed was naked. After tossing and turning for the last hour, Marty
had to pee. He found it ironic, in his fourteen year old way, that he
could sleep the night through without getting up to pee, but when he
had insomnia his kidneys seemed to work overtime.

Stepping over the clothes and pajamas strewn on the floor, he walked
out of the room and went across the hall into the bathroom, taking a
somewhat weak pee, making him speculate why he even bothered.
He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering what he was doing here
in this bathroom, in this house, and why he found himself spending
the night in the bed he was in. He knew the answers, he just wasn't
sure if he liked them.

He turned off the light and returned to the bed after checking the time.
It was just after midnight, still enough time to dress and ride his bike
back to his own house. Going back to his own house seemed like a
step backwards to him, however. Somehow, in ways he couldn't
comprehend, the path he was on now was the right one. He just
wasn't sure if being on the right path meant sleeping with a seven
year old boy.

He got back into the bed, which had just enough room for him and the
boy. He thought about pulling off his t-shirt and feeling the
smoothness of the young boy's skin with his entire body. He decided
he'd gone to bed with his shirt on, so he'd keep his shirt on. Once
again his thoughts made no sense to him, but as Mr. B told him often,
his thinking was still toxic, still influenced by the drugs and booze and
bad thoughts that hadn't been cleared from his brain.

Marty turned towards the boy, taking in the sweet aromas that only
the body of a young boy can give off. He didn't understand the hold
that Jeffrey had on him, but he didn't fight it. Wrapping his arm
around the boy's bare torso he let his mind wander back to the middle
of November and to the events that landed him in this bed.

He remembered the party at Randy's house where he'd sucked off
Connor, Randy, and Randy's father and finished up the night by
wetting the bed. After the party he'd gone into a deep funk, which had
him drinking daily in order to bury his bad feelings. He wanted to not
only numb the mind-set that told him what a bad person he was, he
also wanted to get rid of any thoughts that told him how good he was.
He knew he wasn't any good at all, and anybody or anything or any
thought that told him otherwise was wrong.  He wasn't any good, but
he didn't want to think about that, while at the same time he didn't
want to consider that any part of him was good either. So the only
solution for him was to keep his mind anesthetized with booze and
weed.

Marty remembered having a couple of drinks or taking some hits
before school on more than one occasioni; he remembered sneaking
in some swallows of vodka between classes or at lunch. He
remembered a meeting with the school counselor, thankful at the time
it was on a day he had run out of alcohol.

Then came Thanksgiving Day when he got sick from eating and
drinking too much, which got him in deep shit with his old man, who
hit him for the second time ever while calling him a wimp. It got worse
that Saturday when he got drunk with Connor, Crawford, and Steve at
Steve's house during the afternoon. They ended up in Steve's
bedroom, where he sucked off Connor while letting Steve fuck him—
the second time he'd ever been fucked. The first time, with Rich, it
almost felt right, but with Steve it made Marty feel dirty. He saw
himself as a worthless whore. He drank whatever Connor put in front
of him. He was passed out drunk before Steve's party even started
that night.

The humiliation continued with the day he and Connor skipped school
after lunch and went to Connor's house. Connor had lots of vodka,
along with a stash of weed. Connor decided since he wasn't drinking
beer he wasn't violating his father's beer limit and the two proceeded
to get very drunk. After finishing the vodka and smoking up most of
the weed, they staggered to the grocery store, thinking they might
steal some beers so they could get drunker. However, they ran into
Mr. B and Jeff in the parking lot.

Jeff ran up to Marty, whom he hadn't seen for awhile. The young boy
could tell immediately the condition Marty was in, which his dad had
figured out before he'd even left his car.

"Dad, look, it's drunk boy," he said, using the name he'd given to
Marty when they'd first met.

"Jeff, be civil," Mr. B said.

"Well, that's what he is," Jeff retorted with the unblemished honesty of
a seven year old and, to Marty's embarrassment, palpably hostile
derision.

"You know where to find me," was all Mr. B told Marty as he walked
away toward the store, holding the hand of his son, who did not look
toward Marty again.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" Connor asked with a touch of
anger.

"He thinks he's an asshole, and he's right," Marty slurred as he
started giggling.

The two young teens decided not to go into the store. Instead they
headed back to Connor's house, grabbing some beers out of the
refrigerator. By that time Connor didn't care about the beer limit. They
then proceeded to finish the pot and drink three more beers apiece.

"My old man is going to kill me," Connor said.

"Fuck, he'll kill me, too," Marty said. "I better go." He was so wasted
he could barely stand up.

"Let's go hide at your house," Connor said, with the illogic of a
thirteen year old that was drunk and stoned out of his mind.

Once again the boys staggered outside. It was now dark out with
sunset coming by four thirty as the winter solstice approached. They
stumbled along in the dark, laughing, giggling, and falling down. At
one point Marty said he had to pee and needed to find a bush. He
found the bush, but forgot the important undertaking of opening his
pants and pulling his dick out. It wasn't until he felt the pee running
down his leg and felt the wetness of his urine soaked boxers and
jeans that he'd realized what he'd done. He and Connor found the
entire incident to be hysterically funny, and laughed even more when
Connor did the same thing; only with him it was intentional.

Marty remembered he and Connor getting in trouble with both of their
fathers after they literally crawled into Marty's house, drunk, stoned,
their pants soaked and stinking of urine. Marty's father hit him yet
again, and Connor's father arrived soon took Connor home without a
word. Marty learned later that Connor had had his hide tanned. "It
was worth it though," Connor told him.

Then came New Year's Eve, when he snuck out of the house in the
early afternoon and headed to Steve's house where he planned to
stay for a New Year's Eve party. This time he planned on being in
control and waiting until after midnight to be drunk.
But by the time the party started he was drunk on Jack Daniels, which
he drank almost without pause. By ten o'clock he was vomiting and
shaking. He became ashen and his breathing was irregular.
Fortunately it was early enough that somewhat sober minds were
available to take control of the situation and somebody called 9-1-1.
New Year's Day found Marty in Centralia General Hospital, suffering
from alcohol poisoning.

As Marty dried out in detox, his doctor convinced Marty's father to
send him to inpatient treatment at a youth rehabilitation center in
Olympia. Marty's father said he was willing to do anything to get him
out of the house. "You can have him permanently for all I care," he
said as he signed the necessary documents. He was sending Marty
to rehab not because he wanted his son to get well, but because he
had given up on him and wanted to be rid of him.

Marty entered the center the next week, and stayed there for a month
as he went to school classes, alcohol classes, individual counseling,
group counseling, not to mention participating in recreational
programs, even when he preferred to sit on his bed and sulk.

Marty alternately liked and hated the place.  The staff people were all
nice.  Some of the other kids there were actually cool.  The food was
really good, which surprised him.  But Marty hated the way that,
during the first week, every 15 minutes a staff person would check on
him.  Even at night, when he was supposed to be sleeping, Marty
knew a staff person looked in the door to his room to make sure no
one was committing suicide. During the first week he also wasn't
allowed to have a belt, or even laces for his shoes.

One of the boys he met there was a thirteen year old named Frankie,
who started at the center the same time as Marty. The two of them
had a lot in common: they had started drinking at a young age, they
were athletes, they had fathers who were also alcoholic and who had
no patience with their sons. They bonded and did as much together
as they could.

Since they would probably never see each other again after they left
the treatment center they became willing to share secrets with each
other. The first big secret shared was that they both still used their old
teddy bears for comfort.

"I just hope my dad doesn't find where I hid Mortimer," Marty said on
the evening he became the first to reveal his fondness for his teddy
bear. "He'll burn it in the fireplace if he finds him."

"My dad wouldn't dare touch Clyde," Frankie said. One of the
differences between Frankie and Marty was that Frankie was willing
to stand up to his father. He wasn't a big kid, standing at 5'0 and
weighing in at 100 pounds, but he was feisty and tough and ready to
fight.

But maybe the biggest happening between them occurred half-way
through their last week. After a month of learning about being
rigorously honest, a month of taking a personal inventory of their
character flaws and of their good points, the two boys put that
honesty to the test. They both were supposed to reveal all they could
about themselves to somebody, preferably a counselor, but it didn't
have to be a counselor.

Marty and Frankie were sitting on Marty's bed during free time. The
rooms were tiny, with only a bed, a chair, and a small chest of
drawers. The teens made small talk before getting serious.

"This shit about being honest about ourselves...it's really dumb,"
Frankie said.

"I guess," Marty replied, wondering where Frankie was going. He
found the task of being honest about himself to be very difficult; in
fact it was downright frightening. But he didn't think of it as dumb,
especially as he started learning that he might not be the big pile of
crap he thought he was. The big thing Marty learned about his month
of hell over the holidays, was that he wanted to drink all of the time—
and what he learned at the rehab center was that he didn't have to
drink any more. So much of what he was told at the rehab center was
like what Mr. B and Donald and the people at the meetings kept
saying to him. The difference now was that he was willing to listen.

"I mean, think about it, have you told EVERYTHING about yourself
while we were here?" Frankie asked.

Marty sat in silence, knowing what his answer was.

"Well? Have you?" Marty loved Frankie's intensity. It reminded him
some of Eric, but without Eric's self-discipline. Marty also liked
looking at Frankie's long dark hair, draped over his ears and hanging
down over his eyes. Frankie was constantly pushing his hair away
from his eyes. He liked the studded earrings Frankie wore; he liked
his smooth, hairless face, without even a hint of peach fuzz. Marty
had teeny hairs growing on his cheeks and over his upper lip, hairs
that could be seen if the light hit them right. He gazed at Frankie,
wondering what he looked like naked, as he fought the thoughts that
he drank to forget, the thoughts that made him believe he was
worthless, the thoughts he knew he had never been honest about.

"No...I haven't," Marty said quietly. "There is something nobody in the
world knows...nobody." He felt tears welling up as he said that. Terry,
his counselor, told him more than once that he was always going to
be as sick as his secrets. Marty knew he didn't want to be sick any
longer. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

"What haven't you told?" Frankie asked with quiet sincerity. Marty
could see the emotion etched on his new friend's face.

Marty could now feel the tears flowing down his cheeks. He stared at
the green institutional wall in front of him. He was making up his
mind, deciding if he really wanted to say what it was that haunted him
daily, the thing tha,t until he came here, he couldn't even admit to
himself. Well, he thought, Frankie lives in Bremerton. After we leave
here I will probably never see him again. I'm as sick as my secrets,
and this is a secret I will have to tell more than one person and
Frankie is probably the best place to start. If he ends up hating me,
well, it will only be for a couple of days.

Frankie looked at Marty's tears, wondering what could have the friend
who had become special to him the last few weeks so upset. "You
can tell me," he said.

The only noise in the room was the quiet breathing of the two boys on
the bed. To Frankie, this was why the entire honesty thing was dumb.
There were simply things that nobody should ever know, that nobody
ever needed to know. Some secrets were supposed to be secrets.
Short of being an ax murderer, there was nothing Marty could tell him
about himself that was any worse than what he could tell.

Marty felt a welling of emotion building in him that he knew was going
to burst out of control. He was able to squeak out, "I'm gay," just
before the emotions burst out of him and the tears that were dripping
down his cheeks started to gush and his quiet breathing became
uncontrolled sobs of emotion. Not knowing what else to do, Marty put
his face into Frankie's shoulders and blubbered out emotions he
never knew he possessed.

As Marty soaked Frankie's t-shirt, Frankie, who understood the
courage it took for Marty to reveal his secret, said to no one in
particular, except maybe for the green wall in front of him, "So am
I...so am I...so am I." With that the young teens dropped fully onto
Marty's bed, wrapping their arms around each other and sobbing
themselves to sleep.

When they woke up just before dinner, they said nothing about what
had happened. Both of the athletic boys were embarrassed by their
emotional outbursts. They went to the bathroom to wash their tear
stained faces. It wasn't unusual for tears to be shed at the rehab
center, so they weren't too self-conscious about how they looked. It
was the baring of their souls to each other that had them feeling ill at
ease.

It wasn't until the next afternoon that they had a chance to talk about
what had happened between them. They found that to be easier than
they thought it would be. The hardest part had been the initial
confession.

"Have you like ever had sex with a guy?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah, but mostly when I was drunk. But I like had kind of a boyfriend
for awhile when I quit drinking for a couple of months. And I have
another friend I do some stuff with," he said, referring to Rich and
Eric.

"Have you gone all the way? Like up the butt?"

"Yeah."

"When you were sober?"

"Yeah, and when I was drunk."

"I haven't done anything sober. I've been too scared. But drunk, I've
done it all. And then when we all get sober we say we did it because
we were drunk and it was no big deal. Then everybody else talks
about all the girls they've fucked and I keep wishing I could fuck one
of them when I was sober."

They talked some more, both of them getting a little turned on, and
both of them knowing that their lack of privacy made it difficult to do
anything about it. Not being able to have serious sex was probably a
good thing for them right at this time in their recovery, but they
weren't mature enough to really realize that. Yet something did
happen as they found themselves attracted to each other. They
managed to kiss, allowing Frankie to kiss a boy for the first time when
he was sober.

If Frankie had had any doubts about his sexuality, the next half hour
alleviated those doubts as the thirteen year old and fourteen year old
teens kissed with the kind of ardor only genuine emotion can bring.
They were afraid to undress, but as they made out their hands found
themselves opening up the other boy's pants. They French kissed
passionately, their hands rubbing each other's boner through their
underpants and then they wandered into each other's underpants
until they were stretched across the bed, tongues battling, as they
brought each other off, filling their underpants with the hot, sweet cum
of a young teen boy.

Marty and Frankie had been honest with each other and found that
the honesty not only didn't kill them, it brought them closer together
than they ever imagined possible. On the last full day of their rehab
they each came out again, telling their counselors they were gay.
Their counselors didn't pass judgment; instead they gave the boys
resources that were available for young gay teens and praised them
for their honesty and integrity. The two boys weren't ready to come
out to their groups however. But the day when they could be totally
open would come, even if it might be a long time before it happened.

The last day of rehab brought tears and hugs. Marty and Frankie
promised to email and text each other and to become Facebook
friends, all of which they did. They also promised to work on their
sobriety one day at a time, but that story still had more left to be told.

Marty's mother picked him up on the day he was released and drove
him home. She had prayed daily that whatever her son learned at the
rehab center would stay with him. The feeling of helplessness she'd
had as she watched her son's fall into the abyss of alcoholism was
one she hoped never to experience again. She and her older son,
John, had gone to the center on the two visitor days. On the second
visit they brought a card signed by the Go to State Team, a gesture
initiated by Eric and Noah.

 Marty's mother was unhappy that her husband wouldn't go; he said
he wanted nothing to do with the loser. While John and his father got
along well, Marty's father had written off his younger son.

After returning home, Marty did what he could to avoid his father. One
of the first things he did was check his hiding place for his teddy bear,
Mortimer. He had been worried that his father might rummage
through his room, and if he found the bear he would throw it away. He
was happy to see the time worn bear where he had left it.

He reconnected with George Bednarzyck and called him daily. Their
Wednesday meetings at Mr. B's home were revived. On Saturdays
Marty went either to the afternoon or evening meeting in Centralia
with Mr. B, or to the youth meeting in Olympia with Donald.  He was
in no way ready to attend the twice weekly meeting in Mayfield. The
difference between this time and the first time he tried getting sober
was that Marty had a genuine desire to not drink again and was
willing to listen to his sponsors and to the members at the meetings.

Marty remembered returning to Jeff's bedroom to read to him. He'd
been ducking out as soon as he finished his study sessions with Mr.
B. He was fearful that if he resumed reading to Jeff he'd end up in a
sexual situation with the little boy again. Jeff was like the Sirens in the
book they were studying in literature, "The Odyssey". He seemed to
keep drawing Marty in despite the teen's best intentions.

Toward the end of February, Mr. B and Marty were just finishing
studying their books and going over a step when Jeff came into the
den. He was dressed in X-Men pajamas.

"Jeff, you know not to come in here while we're studying," his father
admonished.

"I wanted to see Marty."

"You can see him when we're finished."

"He always leaves when you're finished and I only get to see him."

"I thought that was what you wanted—to see him."

"No, that's seeing him. I want to SEE him, like see him and have him
read to me like we used to do. Then I'll hear him and feel him, which
is really seeing him."

George Bednarzyck was used to his son's twisted logic. He looked at
Marty with a smile and said, "You have been zipping out of here
rather quickly. Jeff really misses your reading him to sleep. Truth be
told, so did I. Nobody puts him to sleep better than you."

"I've had lots of homework" Marty said.

"Please, Marty. Please, just this once. I have a new picture for you if
you come up and read to me," Jeff pleaded.

"Okay. I'll come up this time, but just to read."

"Maybe."

Mr. B wasn't sure what the last part of their dialog was about, but he
had a suspicion, which he let lie dormant.

"I think we're finished," Mr. B said. "Have fun with the Hurricane." He
then looked at his son. "But, you are not to disturb us again. I'll
remind Marty to say good-bye to you before he leaves. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jeff said, looking a bit petulant. Then his face lit back up
and he tugged at Marty's arm. "Come on, let's go. I'm not allowed to
stay up late."

Marty wasn't surprised when Jeff pulled off his pajama tops before
scooting into bed. "Come on my bed and read to me," he said.

"Not this time, okay? I promise I'll read on your bed the next time I
read to you."

"Promise with peanut butter and jelly on top?"

Marty was trying to be serious around the boy in an attempt to leave
the impression that he was all business. However, he found himself
chuckling in spite of himself. He saw that Jeff had picked another
"Magic Tree House" book for him to read. Marty got as comfortable
as he could in the chair and started reading.

Soon he could see Jeff's eyes start close. He thought the boy was
falling asleep, so the sudden sound of his soprano voice jolted him. "I
can sleep now, but I have to give you something first." Jeffrey sat up
and picked up a large piece of paper from his desk. Marty flipped it
over and saw it was a picture of himself (he knew it was him because
Marty was written at the top with an arrow pointing to the boy in the
picture) sitting on a chair with a teddy bear.

"Thanks, Jeffrey. It's very pretty." It was a good picture, much better
than the normal stick figure pictures of the average seven year old.
Jeffrey had an artistic flair.

"Give me a good-night kiss."

Marty bent over Jeff and gently kissed his forehead. "No, that's a
daddy kiss. I want a real kiss." He pursed his lips to make sure Marty
knew what he was talking about. Marty fought off another chuckle as
he gave the little boy's lips a gentle kiss. Jeff flashed a big smile,
which showed how far his front teeth had grown in since Marty's last
visit to Jeff's bedroom.

"Rub me. Just a couple of times."

"I said next time."

"No, you said next time you'd read in my bed. This time you rub my
chest. Please, oh pretty please!"

Not seeing the harm in it, he reached under the blanket and rubbed
Jeff's thin body from his neck, down to the waistband of his pajama
bottoms, and then back up, giving his two nipples a little twist as a
finale.

"Thank you," Jeff whispered and then he was instantly asleep.

Marty turned out the light and went back downstairs. He was
supposed to be about rigorous honesty, and because of that he knew
he and Mr. B would need to have a talk before he read to Jeff again.

That talk came that Saturday as he and Mr. B drove back from the
evening meeting in Centralia. "My counselor at rehab and you both
told me I have to tell somebody I totally trusted all of my secrets."

"You don't have to do anything, Marty. But, if you find the right
person, it is a healthy thing to do. Why? Are you ready to do that?"

"Maybe. I think I know who I want to tell it to. I trust him and all, but
I'm not sure about doing it."

"I guess that person isn't me, then."

"No, sir." Marty had heard both Jeffrey and little Sammy call their dad
sir, so it seemed like the right thing for him to do it as well. "And it's
not that I don't trust you, because I do."

"I understand. Is it somebody closer to your own age?"

"Yes, but not Donald."

"Just remember that telling all about yourself to somebody you totally
trust isn't the same as telling about yourself to somebody who is
mature enough to understand what you're about."

"I kinda figured that out," Marty said. "That's why I'm not sure about
telling him."

"You're a perceptive young man," Mr. B told him. "But why do I have
the feeling that you do have something to tell me? That you had a
specific reason for bringing this subject up."

"You're pretty smart," Marty said, "at least for a lawyer." His injection
of humor helped lighten the atmosphere in the car.

"Tell me what's on your mind, then," Mr. B said, not missing a beat,
but Marty saw the hints of a smile flicker across his face.

Marty had confessed to two relative strangers that he was gay. Now,
for the first time, he was going to come out to somebody he knew.
"Well, you see, I'm, well, you know, I'm...well...um..."

"Come out with it Marty. I won't panic and run the car off the road, no
matter what you have to say."

"YouseeI'mgay," Marty blurted out in one run-on word.

"And as you can see, your confession did not have the effect of me
running the car off the road."

Marty's hands were shaking. It wasn't the kind of shaking he'd
endured when he had been drinking. It was the shaking that came
from extreme nervousness.

"Marty, if you're going to tell me that was why you drank, I'm going to
tell you that was just one of many reasons. If you tell me it's why you
have such a low opinion of yourself, then I'm going to say being gay
should never make you feel bad about yourself—that it makes you a
special kind of person when you can find the courage to admit it to
another human being."

Marty was worried that Mr. B would ask him if he was sure he was
gay, or would try to talk him out of saying he was gay. Instead he'd
accepted Marty's confession in the same manner he would have if
Marty had admitted to being a jaywalker.

"So I suppose you don't want me hanging around Jeffrey any more."

"And why wouldn't I?"

"Because, I'm gay and he's a little boy."

"Well, I hate to bust your balloon, but you're really still a boy, too,
albeit a big boy. Look, I know where you're coming from. Jeffrey is
quite a package, as you know. It's why we call him Hurricane Jeffrey.
He is very loving and very tactile and very bright. His mother and I
have made sure he and Sammy have learned the things about their
body that they need to know. That means things appropriate to their
age."

Marty stared out the windshield as Mr. B went on.

"One of the things we have taught them is that their bodies are their
private domain. And if anybody touches them in an inappropriate
way, they are to come to me or their mother immediately and tell us."
That comment caused Marty to break out into a sweat. He could feel
rivulets of perspiration dripping down his torso from his underarms.
There was no doubt in his mind he was in trouble now. After all, he
had touched Jeff inappropriately. Jeff must have told, although he
couldn't fathom why Mr. B hadn't said anything before. He'd even
allowed him to be alone with Jeff in his bedroom just this past
Wednesday.

"When Jeffrey was six, we had a family picnic. A nephew of mine,
who was around your age, fondled him through his shorts. It was
nothing terribly overt, it was a boy being a boy, but it was
inappropriate. Jeffrey told me about it that night. He wasn't upset or
traumatized over it; he merely said he'd been touched there when he
didn't want to be."

Marty's body was now drenched. He stared ahead, trying to keep his
face impassive, wishing he'd never brought the subject up.

"You see, Marty, we also told Jeffrey that a touch in that place could
be a good touch or a bad touch, depending who the person was and
if he wanted to be touched. We are pretty open with our kids, more so
with Jeff since Sammy is much younger. If the touch was one that he
was okay with and didn't make him feel bad, then he didn't need to
tell us. It was then his private business, because his body was his.
Over the course of time there will be more detail to all of this, of
course, but that's the crux of what we've told him so far.

"Jeff told us about a touch he didn't want. That was the only time he
ever had. If you're worried about something that happened in Jeff's
bedroom, don't be. Jeff might be seven, but I trust him to know who
he likes and doesn't like. But if Jeffrey ever says no, and you do
something he doesn't want you to do, I'll have your balls on a plate."

"Yes, sir," Marty said, confessing nothing. Mr. B didn't expect a
confession, at least not now. But the two of them had reached an
understanding about what Mr. B knew, and what he would allow.
Marty felt a huge load lift off of his shoulders.

"I have a feeling there is more to your confession than what may or
may not have happened between you and my son; that you are
indeed gay and have done things with your peers. And from what I've
learned of you, I have a feeling that if something did occur between
you and Jeffrey, my wild and crazy son may very well have been the
instigator. That said, I caution you to be careful. Not all parents raise
their kids in the same manner."

"Yes, sir."

"Jeffrey keeps telling me he wants you to spend the night with him, as
in soon. What can I tell him?"

"Tell him we can set up a date next time I come over."

"Fair enough. Thank you for being up front and honest with me. I
know that wasn't easy for you to do. You're starting to grow up some
Marty, and I'm not referring to your body."

Marty led the compliment soak in. "Oh, and Mr. B...," he started.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Thank you for everything. I'd be so lost if I didn't know
you." As far as Marty was concerned his sponsor and mentor was
becoming his father, just like young Jeffrey was becoming his little
brother. Mr. B nodded as the car entered the city limits of Mayfield.

Marty wasn't sure he understood all of what Mr. B said, but what he
did understand was that if Jeffrey was okay with what Marty was
doing than Mr. B was as well. Because of that conversation, Marty
stayed to read to Jeffrey the next Wednesday. He had planned to not
stay to read, either because Jeffrey's father was going to tell him not
to, or because of his promise to read in Jeffrey's bed, which he didn't
want to do. As far as Marty was concerned, if he didn't stay to read
then he wouldn't be breaking his promise.

Instead he lay next to Jeffrey and continued reading from "Magic Tree
House" book #3. This time Jeffrey unbuttoned his pajama top since
he wasn't wearing a pullover. Jeffrey had told Marty to remove his
shirt, so Marty was lying on the bed shirtless. Marty got the exact
message about what Jeffrey wanted as he stroked the seven year
old's chest and belly. He was pleased when the boy's little hands
moved across his own torso.

 After his third time reaching the opening in Jeffrey's waistband, the
young boy stopped Marty from rubbing back up his belly. Instead he
started pushing the teen's hand into the waistband. Marty didn't resist
and he quickly found himself with two fingers around Jeffrey's tiny two
and a half inch cocklet.

Marty quit reading and concentrated on masturbating the second
grader. This time Jeffrey knew what was going to happen—he knew
there was a goal to be reached.  Marty soon could feel the boy
tensing, then raising his narrow hips some as the feelings of orgasm
shook him for the second time in his young life, both being brought on
by Marty.

Unlike the first time Marty had gotten him off, Jeffrey quickly fell
asleep, a contented smile gracing his cherubic face. Marty unzipped,
pulled open his jeans, and jerked himself off to a messy orgasm as
he shot his cum over his chest and belly. He kissed the boy's
forehead, wiped himself off, and dressed.

Once again Mr. B thanked Marty for getting Jeffrey to sleep so
quickly. Mr. B suspected how Marty had calmed the Hurricane, but
neither felt the need to say anything about it. After all, he thought, the
amah's of India put their little charges asleep in the same manner.

Jeffrey had talked Marty into spending the night not long after and
that was how he found himself sleeping half-naked with a naked
seven year old boy who had dried cum on him. Okay, Marty thought
as he pulled off the t-shirt, I guess I will sleep naked with him. After
all, we did have sex. Marty had been surprised to get the run of the
house as the Bednarzyck's had taken Sammy with them to Seattle
where they would be staying overnight.

"This night belongs to you and Jeffrey," Mr. B told him. "Jeffrey loves
you and trusts you. Make sure you keep the trust you earned. It's
much easier to lose than it is to earn."

"I will do only what Jeffrey wants," Marty said.

Marty had let Jeffrey take the lead to start the night. Jeffrey had
insisted he bring Mortimer and Marty obliged, carrying him in a plastic
bag.

"Oh, poor bear," Jeffrey said as he rescued Mortimer from the bag.
"He needs air."

He set Marty's ragged bear next to Teddy and introduced the two to
each other. "Teddy, this is Mortimer the Teddy bear. Mortimer, this is
Teddy the Freddy bear." He placed the two bears on his desk facing
each other. "I hope you both have fun together tonight, because
Marty and I will."

And fun is what they had. From playing games, to watching a "Toy
Story-2", to eating ice cream, Marty did as Jeffrey commanded. They
had both stripped down to their underwear as soon as the
Bednarzycks had left, Jeff in Batman briefs and Marty in dark blue
boxer briefs.

When it was time for bed Jeffrey said he needed to take a bath. Marty
drew the water and the two of them bathed together, with Marty
washing the young boy very carefully and thoroughly. Both sported
boners, with Marty's over twice the size of Jeffrey's.

"Yours is so huge and you got all that hair. I can't wait to be like you,"
Jeffrey marveled.

They brushed their teeth together and Jeffrey had Marty floss his
teeth for him. He then insisted that Marty floss his own teeth as well.
"If you don't, they will all fall out. After you're done being a little kid
and your teeth fall out the tooth fairy will not give you any money for
your teeth, so you want to be sure you don't lose them."

"I will be careful," Marty told him

Neither boy bothered to dress as they sat in Jeff's room playing
Chutes and Ladders until Jeffrey pulled his pajamas from under his
bedcovers.

Marty felt a twinge of disappointment. He wanted to be naked in bed
with Jeffrey. He grabbed his boxer briefs off the floor since they were
all he had to wear except for the next day's underpants.

"Where's your PJs?" Jeffrey asked.

"I never wear them," Marty said.

"Never? You sleep in your underpants? Maybe that's why you snore
like a tornado." Jeff was referring to Marty's kidding him about how he
snored loudly.

"I like to sleep naked."

Jeffrey contemplated that for a moment and then tossed his pajamas
on to the floor. "Okay, I'll sleep nakey nakey, too." Marty had long ago
gone soft as they played games, but he was quickly sporting wood
again.

Marty joined Jeffrey under the covers, rubbing and stroking the young
boy's chest, belly, legs, before reaching for the little boy's junk,
fondling tight little ball sack and rubbing his nub of a boner. Jeffrey
was enjoying doing the same to Marty, only he was rubbing parts that
were on a larger scale.

Marty pulled back the covers, changed position slightly, and placed
Jeffrey's cocklet into his mouth. He knew it was supposed to feel
wrong to do that, but instead it felt just right. Jeffrey's little penis and
balls felt perfect in his mouth.

"You're sucking on my peenest," Jeffrey said.

"Penis," Marty said between slurps.

"It's peenest. It's a nest for pee to stay in." That was the last he said
for awhile as Marty's mouth enveloped all of his junk, sucking his little
boner and his tiny balls until the young boy shivered and shook with a
quick but intense dry orgasm.

Marty then straddled the boy's body and then rubbed his cock softly
across Jeffrey's belly and chest, his arms holding his torso above
Jeffrey's body. The young boy looked up at him with a huge grin on
his face. Marty swiftly shot ropes of cum, some of which landed in
Jeffrey's hair, on his face, with most accumulating over his chest. It
was the second time the boy had seen cum and he was fascinated by
it. He giggled and said he was a grown up with Marty's stuff all over
him. Jeff rubbed the cum across his chest. Marty put his hand on
Jeffrey's chest and rubbed the remaining cum all over his skinny
ribcage.

"Now I'm just like you," Jeffrey said.

"How are you like me?" Marty asked.

"I got your stuff on me just like you got it inside you." Marty wiped off
Jeff's face and the little boy rolled over with his back to Marty and fell
asleep. Marty had to get up to turn out the light. Before getting back
into the bed he slipped his t-shirt on. Despite what Mr. B had said, he
still had some feelings of guilt about what he had done with the seven
year old.

But now Marty was back to being naked as he cuddled up to the boy
who he knew looked up to him, although he couldn't fathom why. All
he knew was that Jeffrey was the little brother he never had and he
loved him the way he knew he would love that little brother.

Even though he somewhat understood how he loved Jeffrey, he was
still confused about the sexual part of it. He remembered his being
seduced by his coach just before he'd turned ten. Whenever he
thought of what had happened with the coach, he knew he liked most
of it. What he didn't like was that the coach had used him, never
giving him the pleasure he should have received from their sexual
contact. Marty was determined that would not happen with Jeffrey,
that Jeffrey would learn how good sex can feel and how good sex
could be.

But none of that was on Marty's mind as he enjoyed cuddling with his
little "brother". It was not only the feeling of Jeffrey's naked body that
made him feel warm inside, it was also the fact that baseball turnouts
for the Mayfield Middle School Titans started Monday after school.

The next morning, Marty had to laugh at what Jeffrey told him. "You
lied to me," Jeff said.

"I did?"

"Yep, I never heard you snore once."

++++++++++

<Senior year, Saturday, July 8>

It was date night for Marty and Jeffrey. Jeffrey knocked on Marty's
door precisely on the agreed upon time of five o'clock. Jeffrey was
smartly dressed in a blue button down shirt, a blue and red striped tie,
and freshly pressed khaki Dockers. His strawberry blond hair was
immaculately combed, in stark contrast to its usual disarray. Even his
scattered freckles seemed to be in order. To show that the Hurricane
was merely in a lull and not tamed, he had a stud earring in his right
ear with the image of Tigger. His blue eyes sparkled with life and joy,
even behind the lenses of his wire-frame glasses. Anybody glancing
at the debonair twelve year old would not have pegged him as a wild
boy, but would have noticed how full of life he was.

Marty was dressed up as well. He was wearing a dark brown button
down shirt and a necktie that had a special history, along with a pair
of tan slacks. While the original plan had been for Marty to cook
dinner for Jeffrey like he had for Eric, Marty decided to take Jeffrey
out for dinner instead. They had a six o'clock reservation at Parker's
Steak House in Centralia, which was one of the best three
restaurants in the county. The change in plans was made after a
discussion between Marty and Jeffrey's father one evening when
Marty was cooking up dinner for him.

"You know, Jeffrey worships the ground you walk on and has since
he first met you when he was a little seven year old imp," Mister
Bednarzyck said.

"The first thing he called me was `drunk boy'."

"If the shoe fits..."

"I'm pretty fond of him, too."

"I've kind of noticed that over the years. He sees you as a big brother
and I know you've had him under your wing as a little brother. He's
been looking forward to this `date' with you since you first promised it
to him. Why not make it an extra special one?"

"I thought it was going to be special," Marty said.

"I don't mean with you cooking up dinner. You've done that for him
countless times. He spends as many nights over at your section of
the estate as he does in the main house."

"I was going to make it a special dinner."

"Look, I know the owner of Parker's really well. I can get you two set
up with one of the best tables he has."

"You mean Parker's Steak House?"

"One and the same."

"Oh, wow. Parker's is a little bit out of my price range."

"It isn't now." Mr. B dropped a hundred dollar bill on the kitchen
counter.

Before they could get to Marty's car, Mr. B. insisted of taking pictures
of her two "sons" dressed up in their finery. Sammy watched the
undertaking, dressed in his usual around the house clothing—a white
t-shirt and white briefs. He was happy to be invited into the final
picture.

And so Marty and Jeffrey were now in Marty's car, heading down
Highway twelve for Centralia. Jeffrey was so excited he couldn't
contain himself.

"Sammy said since this was a date I should put on lipstick and
makeup and dress like a girl."

"That idea is a bit out of character for your little brother."

"Sammy acts really quiet, but he can get a little crazy sometimes. I
think it's because he's nine and doesn't know better. He said since
you have a boyfriend already then I have to be your girlfriend for a
date. You know what I told him?"

"What did you tell him?"

"I said I was going as your little brother, so it wasn't that kind of date. I
said, `Sammy, if I took you out on a date would you wear lipstick?' He
told me that would be yucky. I told him it was more than yucky. And if
we went out on a date it would be the same as you and me going,
since he was my little brother and I was your little brother."

As they shortened the distance to Centralia, Marty thought back to
the first time he'd spent the night with Jeffrey and he gave the seven
year old his first blow job. He remembered how that night he rubbed
his dick over Jeffrey's smooth skin and dry humped him, shooting his
wad all over him. He thought of the countless times they'd had sex
and slept together and how he eventually overcame his guilty feelings
about having corrupted the young boy. Sometimes Marty was
convinced it was more about Jeffrey having corrupted him. Jeffrey
seemed to be in his bed every night that Rich wasn't.

Marty thought about the first time Jeffrey worked up the courage to
suck him. Jeffrey had licked Marty's balls and his cock and even let
Marty insert the head of his dick into his mouth. He would scoop up
Marty's sperm and lick it and even eat it. But it wasn't until well after
his ninth birthday that he sucked Marty off all the way, letting the teen
fill his mouth with his cum. After that he couldn't get enough of his
"big brother's big cock."

But Marty had yet to figure out if Jeffrey was actually gay. The young
boy loved having sex with Marty whenever he could get it, and he
performed with unchecked abandon. He was a wild boy in bed. Yet,
he only occasionally had sex with Rich. He'd sucked Rich for the first
time when he was eleven, and did it rarely after that. He let Rich jerk
him off occasionally. But what he liked better was sitting naked on the
floor jerking himself off the times he watched Marty and Rich fuck on
the bed.

As far as Marty knew, Jeffrey rarely had sex with his peers, except for
Nicky. Those two seemed to be joined at the dick and were always
touching, kissing, or becoming involved in conversations filled with
sexual innuendo. Jeffrey told him once that he did sexual things with
other boys when Nicky was around, and that included Eric, Noah, and
Shane when he was at Nicky's house. He also included Lars's
brother Alex and his friend Stanley, although Stanley was now almost
totally into girls. Marty also knew that Jeffrey had been initiating his
little nine year old brother, Sammy, into the world of sex. Jeff said it
wasn't easy because Sammy wasn't the horn dog he'd been when he
was nine.

It was when Jeffrey turned ten that Marty spanked him for the first
time. Jeffrey had broken a glass outside on the patio. Marty helped
him clean up the mess. Marty kiddingly said Jeffrey should be
spanked for being bad. One thing led to another and soon Jeffrey
was draped over Marty's lap, his clothes scattered around the floor,
Marty giving him five whacks on his bare butt. That was the start of
the spanking tradition, with Marty giving Jeff five or six smacks, hard
enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt. For whatever reason the
spankings were a big turn-on for Jeff.

"This is really totally cool," Jeffrey said, breaking the momentary
silence. Jeff saw silence as a vacuum that had to be filled. "I wish
they had mac and cheese there. Having that with a steak would be
the best thing in the world." Marty cringed some at the thought of that
combination.

"I've got a boner," Jeffrey announced, squeezing the bulge in his
pants and rubbing it. "But not for food, for what we're gonna do after
we get back."

"Food doesn't make you hard, I guess," Marty said with a chuckle.

"A steak with mac and cheese would."

"You are one crazy dude." Marty threw a quick glance at Jeff. "You're
still sure you want to go through with it?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

When they got to the steak house they were met by a valet, who
parked their car. Parker's Steak House was the only restaurant in
Centralia with valet parking. Marty and Jeffrey were escorted to their
tables. Jeffrey and Marty had both eaten in good restaurants with
Jeffrey's parents, including Parker's, so the experience wasn't new.
What was new was Marty being the point man instead of Mr. B.

The dinner was a great success. Peter, their waiter, said he was
honored to serve the two young brothers, the sons of Mister
Bednarzyck. He had been their waiter on previous visits, including
Marty's first one there with the Bednarzyck family over four years
ago.

Peter unashamedly flirted with Marty and Jeffrey, and both boys
enjoyed the extra attention. It wasn't the first time Peter had flirted
with Marty, but it was a new experience for Jeffrey. The twelve year
old blushed when he was told what a handsome young man he was,
and was especially pleased when Peter complimented his Tigger
earring.

"I like Tigger because we both are pretty bouncy," Jeff informed
Peter.

"You seem pretty calm and well-behaved to me," Peter said. "More
than a lot of boys your age who eat here." Somehow Peter's hands
found ways of touching both boys on their backs and shoulders, and
when he placed Jeffrey's cloth napkin on his lap, the waiter could feel
the hard rod inside the preteen's pants as his hand brushed past it.

Jeffrey looked up and smiled. "That's because I am eating. You
should see me in bed." Jeff looked directly at Marty, who turned beet
red and wished he could be beamed directly out of the restaurant. He
never knew what Jeff would come up with next. Even though his
comment didn't necessarily have to be construed as sexual, Marty
was sure that was how Jeff meant it and how Peter interpreted it.
Peter simply gave them both a knowing smile and moved on to
another table

More than once Peter told Marty he liked his baseball logo tie, even
remembering that he'd seen Marty wear it years ago. That would
have been at Jeffrey's eighth birthday dinner. On one visit to the
table, Peter saw Jeffrey wrap his hand around his bulge, letting Peter
see what was hidden under the cloth, smiling coyly at the young
waiter. Marty knew exactly what Jeffrey was doing.

"You're becoming quite the flirt," he said as they studied the dessert
menu.

"You know Peter likes it," he said. "Watch this." Marty could hear
Jeffrey slowly unzip his pants and manipulate his cock. When Peter
came to take their dessert order, he managed to blush a deep red
when Jeffrey pointed down to his three-and-a-half inch erection
sticking out of the open zipper of his pants. He quickly zipped up after
Peter left, he and Marty laughing out loud as he covered his cock
back up. That is something I would have done when I was twelve,
Marty thought. No wonder I love him so much.

While Jeffrey didn't get mac and cheese with his steak, he had his
favorite meal at Parkers, spaghetti and chicken, which was pretty
close. They finished with dessert, chocolate decadence for Marty and
a chocolate Sundae for Jeffrey.

Marty left a generous tip and Jeffrey left a big hug for Peter, feeling
pleased when he received a quick grope of his junk in return. He was
indeed learning to be a flirt.

"You two have fun tonight," Peter told them with a knowing smile. The
waiter knew he was going to have to do something about his own
boner as he thought of Marty and Jeffrey naked in bed together.

On the ride home Jeffrey started babbling about what would be
coming up between them once they got home. "I can't wait to get
fucked. I've wanted it for so long. How come you'd never do me?
Everything I learned about sex I learned from you, except what I
learned from Nicky." Marty blanched at the thought of what Nicky
could have taught Jeffrey that he hadn't, outside of anal sex. He knew
that Jeffrey had fucked Nicky, which would be the only first sexual
experience of any kind he hadn't had with Marty.

"It's like this. That kind of sex is more than just playing around—it's
pretty serious stuff." Marty hoped that his lame excuses sounded
plausible, for the truth was he was a bit frightened of taking that step
with the preteen. He had some of the same feelings crop up that he'd
had back when he gave Jeffrey his first blow job five years ago. After
five years of sex with the boy he still found himself somewhat
protective of his "little brother" and sometimes feeling a little guilty
about what they did. Those feelings were rare, but they still cropped
up.

"You're worried about what dad will think, right?"

Well, that's hitting the nail on the head, Marty thought. "I guess you
could say so."

"We both know he knows we mess around. He hasn't stopped us yet.

"Yeah, I know he knows," Marty said. Hell, he all but told me he knew
back when we first started, Marty thought. Besides, what did he think
Jeff and I did all the nights he's spent in my bed at the apartment,
especially when he came across the patio wearing little more but a t-
shirt and underpants, and sometimes less "But I promised him I
would never hurt you or do anything you didn't want me to do or
anything I thought might not be right for you. So, I thought you were
too young for this last step, at least as far as doing it with me goes
and that it wasn't right for you."

Jeffrey got a little indignant as he said, "Well, I might have been too
young then, but I'm not too young now. I'm twelve years old, I'm
going into seventh grade, and I love you more than anybody in the
world, and I want you to be the first one to do it to me. You're my big
brother and you're supposed to show me, just like some day I'm
gonna show Sammy." He took a deep breath and Marty could see
that the boy was fighting tears. "I should never have gone up Nicky's
butt—you should have been my first doing that, too. Everything first
should've been with you. Stop the car, please."

The sudden request surprised Marty, but he dutifully pulled over onto
the shoulder. Jeffrey unbuckled his seatbelt, eased himself over the
console and planted a kiss on Marty's lips, his tears wetting Marty's
face. Marty had seen Jeffrey cry often, he was an emotional boy and
took things to heart. Jeffrey's tongue pushed at Marty's lips, and
Marty let it enter. Jeffrey was awkwardly mashed up against Marty.
They kissed like that for a couple of minutes until Jeffrey broke it up.

"I love you Marty. I love you and daddy and mom and Sammy and
Nicky all so much. You and daddy teach me everything I need to
know about everything and I'm sorry I did Nicky first."

Marty ruffled Jeffrey's neatly combed hair, sending it into its usual
state of disarray. "I love you, too, sport. And don't worry about what
you did with Nicky. He's your boyfriend and he should get to do
something first with you. I mean, he is your boyfriend, right?"

Jeffrey settled back into his seat. "And he's the best boyfriend in the
world."

Jeffrey's declaration said a lot to Marty. "Well, then, let's get home
and have us some fun, okay?"

Jeffrey wiped his face, bucked his seatbelt, flashed his trademark grin
at his `big brother" and yelled at the top of his voice, "LET'S GO
FUCK!"

As they pulled into the driveway of the Bednarzyck residence both
boys were almost uncontrollably horny. Jeffrey had pulled down his
pants and took his three-and-a-half inch boner out of flap in his
boxers after he kissed Marty to relieve the pressure, afraid to touch it
for fear it would spurt its clear emission over the seat of the car,
barely able to keep his fingers off if it. But now he had to touch it in
order to tuck it back into his boxers and pull up his trousers. He
quickly did so, thankful that he hadn't busted a nut on the spot. He
didn't cum wet every time, and when he did it was a couple of little
drops.  But he knew in his heart this would be the time he had his first
big emission.

They went into the main house first and said goodnight to Jeffrey's
family. Jeffrey then dashed out ahead of Marty, which gave his father
a chance for a quick word with Marty. His father saw the noticeable
bulge in Jeffrey's pants but refrained from commenting.

"He's excited about this night for reasons I can only suspect. It would
seem there is something special about it for him." He placed his hand
on Marty's shoulder. "He's a good kid, a good human being, but a
Hurricane nevertheless. You're the only person who had ever been
able to tame that Hurricane without him resenting it. He loves you.
Make sure the night is not only special for him, but is special for you,
too."

Marty and Mr. B were the same height, with Marty's athletic body
making him somewhat broader. He gave the gray-haired man a
heartfelt hug. "Thanks, Mr. B. I love you."

"I love you, too, son." Even at eighteen, Marty loved those words
every time he heard them. He could never remember hearing them
from his own father.

Marty walked across the patio to the small apartment at the far end,
thinking back to how his life had changed since he first met Mr. B. He
had come a long way from the thirteen year old who was sitting in the
park, drinking out of a paper bag, wanting only to be drunk or dead.
He was indeed blessed today. He wasn't sure what he had done to
earn the love of this amazing family, but he was grateful for it every
day. He accepted the love and returned that love and trust with all of
his heart.

Jeffrey was standing at the door as Marty entered the little apartment.
He leaped on Marty and wrapped his legs around the teen's muscular
body, and planted a big kiss on Marty's lips, pushing his tongue hard
into Marty's mouth.

"I thought you and dad were going to talk forever," Jeffrey said as he
broke the kiss. Marty wondered why the boy was still dressed. He'd
expected him to peel off his clothes as soon as he got into the
apartment.

"We only said two things and gave each other a hug," Marty said.

"Then it was the world's longest hug."

Marty lowered his impatient young friend to the ground and took his
hand, leading him into the bedroom. Jeff kicked off his shoes and
then reached for his top shirt button, but Marty stopped him. "Just
stand there and don't move. Let me look at how beautiful you are."

Jeff's shirt was untucked and his hair was askew, yet that made the
twelve year old look even sexier to Marty. Marty removed Jeff's shirt;
the two of them had removed their ties right after leaving the
restaurant. He then took off his own shirt and socks, and finally he
removed his pants. Jeff looked with adoration at Marty's muscular
body, built as the result of many hours in the exercise and weight
rooms. Marty was now wearing only a pair of Washington State
Cougar boxers, poking out from the pressure presented by his seven
inch boner.

Jeff giggled, "You're going to be a Cougar and you have a Cougar
boner."

The two of them looked at each other, with Marty at 6'2 towering over
the 4"11 boy standing in front of him. Jeff idolized his eighteen year
old "big brother" and relished every bit of attention he got from him,
whether or not it was sexual. Jeff stared at the athlete who was an
All-League football player, an All-State baseball player, a State
Champion.  He stared at the student who had graduated in the top
ten in his class.

What Jeff also saw, but was too young to really understand, was the
boy he'd first called "drunk boy" who, with the help of the many
friends who loved him, had fought off his demons and strung together
a long term of sobriety. And when Marty had slipped early in his
sobriety, it caused Jeffrey see him as human and had him wishing
hard for Marty to succeed.

Marty unbuttoned the top button of Jeff's shirt, and then slowly
opened each button down to the last one, exposing the preteen's
smooth, slender chest. Marty bent down and kissed the young boy's
smooth chest, then licked and sucked on each pink, dime-sized
nipple. His tongue traced a path down Jeff's belly, stopping to lick
around and then into his innie bellybutton. "I was hoping you'd
undress me like this," Jeffrey murmured.

Jeff bent his head back and let out low growls of pleasure as he felt
Marty's lips and tongue course along his belly and back and back up
to his chest. Marty reached up and, with a little help from Jeff,
removed the dress shirt, letting it drop to the floor. He then licked
back down until his tongue stopped at the red waistband of Jeff's
briefs, which were just sticking above the belt line of his pants.

Marty opened Jeff's belt and slowly pulled down his zipper, the sound
of the lowering zipper giving both boys a slight sexual charge.
Opening Jeff's pants exposed his blue briefs with red trim and piping.
Jeff continued his deep growl, a sound so much lower than his
soprano voice. Jeff's cock felt like it was about to explode, that it
couldn't take even a wisp of breath without his dick spewing out the
immature semen he knew had accumulated in his smooth, hairless,
balls.

Jeff felt his pants drop to the floor and he unconsciously stepped out
of them as Marty's strong hands kneaded the twin orbs of Jeff's
youthful bubble butt through the cotton of his briefs. The head of
Jeff's young cock was poking up through the waistband of his briefs,
which were pulled away from his slender waist by the incredible force
of his throbbing boner.

Still rubbing the twelve year old's butt, Marty kissed his belly button
and then sent his kisses down towards the waiting prize. Jeff felt
Marty's tongue flick against his cock through the cloth of his briefs,
and then he felt his briefs become damp with Marty's saliva as the
teen put his mouth around the bulge in the blue underpants. Jeff
growled again, his body shaking uncontrollably. He found himself
sobbing from the incredible happiness within him.

Jeff felt his underpants being pulled down to his knees, then sliding to
his ankles. He stepped out of them and kicked them away. The
preteen's hairless four inch boner was at Marty's eye level, with Marty
down on his knees. Marty took Jeff's hand and led him to the bed. He
told Jeff what to do and the boy placed himself on the bed, his face
on the bedspread, his ass stuck invitingly in the air.

Marty briefly admired the smooth, round ass. He could see the pink
hole that was his objective, and knelt behind the boy as he placed his
tongue into the crack between the orbs and licked along the crack.
Marty savored the mixed aromas of soap and young boy, along with
the hint of pubescent preteen. Marty's tongue licked the pink pucker,
sending another shiver through Jeff. His tongue pushed into the boy's
ass as Marty pressed his face into the crack.

With Marty's hands rubbing his chest, with Marty's tongue buried
inside his ass, Jeff could no longer handle the feelings surging
through his young body—his low growls rose in pitch until he
produced a high pitched soprano squeal that Marty was sure could be
heard in the main house, if not around the entire neighborhood. A
giant spasm shook Jeff's body as his cock fired out spurt after spurt
of clear boy cum; the no touch orgasm hitting him harder than
anything he had ever felt or imagined. He fell onto his belly, his torso
falling into the cum that coated the comforter. He had never, in his
life, shot out cum the way he'd just done it.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh my god, fuck, oh, oh, fuck...," was all he could say.

Marty flipped Jeff onto his back and straddled him, jerking his own
seven inch cock until, within seconds, spurts of thick teen cum shot
over Jeff's face and into his hair. Jeff felt the hot cum cover his face.
He quickly rubbed the cum around his face, until it covered him
almost like makeup.

The two boys faced each other, still breathing hard from their
incredibly intense orgasms.

"Wow," Jeff said, finally able to find his voice. "You were licking my
asshole."

"Yeah, wow would be the right word for that," Marty said. "Was that
your first time being rimmed?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Nicky's done it to me. I haven't done it to
him...yet," he said, almost like it was something he shouldn't have
done with somebody else until he and Marty had done it. "But, we
only did it a couple of times," he added, as if that made it okay.

"Hey, don't worry about it, sport. What you do with your boyfriend is
always special."

"But, I thought we were going to fuck," Jeff said, with a touch of
disappointment in his voice.

"We are. That was the preliminary game."

"We gonna do it now?" Jeff rolled onto his back to show that he had
boned up again.

"A few more minutes; it takes us old guys longer to get ready."

"You're not old. My dad is old, you're just big and strong and a stud.
I'll give you fifteen minutes, then it's time."

"We'll see. First thing I gotta do is take a pee."

When Marty got back into the bed, Jeffrey idly played with the teen's
flaccid cock. The two started kissing, first lightly and then deeply.
Marty could feel and smell and feel the cum that was drying on the
young boy's face.

This time it was Jeffrey who did the licking, as he licked Marty's hard
muscular chest, kissing, sucking, and lightly biting his nipples. His
attention kept going down, down, lower and lower, until he had the
first third of Marty's now hard cock in his mouth.

As Jeff worked with his tongue, Marty's hand found Jeff's ass, his
fingers rubbing along his boy hole. Marty tapped Jeff's head, telling
him it was time for business. He noticed there were wads of dry cum
in the boy's blond hair as well as the cum on his face. Jeff removed
Marty's cock from his mouth.

"Have you ever had something up your butt?" Marty asked. "Other
than my fingers, of course." Over the past year Marty had often put a
finger or two up the boy's butt hole when he gave him a blow job or
jerked him off.

"Your fingers. And a carrot, but it broke and I had to pull it out. That
was scary weird. Don't ever put a carrot in your butt is Jeff's rule. And
a pencil and a crayon. I've had Nicky's fingers in there, and
Sammy's."

"Sammy? You're shitting me."

"I went up his butt with a finger. He liked that. He put his finger up
mine. He said his finger was stinky. We've done it a couple of times
now."

"So you had a finger in like this," Marty said as he pushed his index
finger deep into Jeff's ass. Jeff nodded, reveling in the sensation. "Or
like this?" Marty asked as he put in a second finger and rubbed along
Jeff's sweet spot. Jeff squeaked with pleasure. "Or this?" and in went
a third finger, one more than he'd ever had in before.

"It hurts some," Jeff said.

"My dick is bigger than those three fingers," Marty told him.

"Good."

Marty manipulated Jeff's ass a bit longer then pulled out his fingers
and held them up to Jeff's nose. "Want to smell?"

Jeff took a deep whiff of Marty's fingers, taking in the fragrances of
his preteen ass. "Hmmm, smells good." He grabbed Marty's hand and
held it in front of his mouth, licking Marty's fingers. "Yum," he said, a
dreamy, sexy smile on his face.

"You are so crazy," Marty said.

"You love me when I'm crazy."

"I love you all of the time, sport." Marty reached for a tube of lube on
his nightstand. He busied himself by rubbing the lube all around and
into Jeff's ass, and then he lubed himself. Marty lay on his back and
instructed Jeff to sit on his belly. He told Jeff what he had in mind and
Jeff nodded. The boy moved over until he was sitting on Marty's belly,
looking into the eyes of the boy he so admired.

The boy raised himself off Marty, and then let the teen guide him until
his ass was above Marty's boner. With Marty's guidance, Jeff lowered
himself slowly onto the shaft beneath him. He grunted and sat lower,
and grunted more. Marty held him and allowed him to slide down at
his own pace.

For Jeffrey the sensation was one of pain and pleasure at the same
time, with the pleasure soon overriding the pain until, after what
seemed like hours, he found himself with all of Marty's seven inches
implanted in his virgin ass. "Oh, god, Jeff, you are so fucking tight."

Jeff let out a long groan, then looked at Marty with pride on his cum
covered face. "I did it. It's in me." Jeff could feel Marty's pubic hairs
tickling his butt.

"Does it hurt?"

Jeff's answer said it all. "I want to be fucked."

Without removing his cock, Marty was able to get Jeff on his back.
The boy was a mess, with dry cum still in his hair and on his face, his
body sticky with sweat. Marty loved him for it—he was indeed a
hurricane, but right now, in his bed, he had been tamed and was
about to experience his first fuck as a bottom.

Marty's thrusts were gentle to start as he tried hard not to hurt the
preteen boy. Jeff wiggled under the larger teen, whose arms held his
body over the boy as he humped the tight, hot ass of the virgin twelve
year old. The pace soon picked up as Jeff got more used to the
intrusion in his bowels. As Jeff became more acclimated to the feeling
of Marty filling his insides he begged Marty to push in deeper, and as
Marty pushed in deeper he begged him to do him harder, and as
Marty pushed in harder he begged Marty with almost
incomprehensible squeals to fuck him forever. It was almost as if Jeff
was a born bottom—he was enamored with the feel of a cock inside
of him.

The feeling of Marty's big, teen cock pounding on his sweet spot
more than made up for any feelings of pain he may have been
experiencing. Those feelings soon gave way to nothing but feelings of
intense pleasure such as he'd never felt before, even in his earlier
climax of the evening.

The grunts and groans were mutual, high and squeaky from Jeff, a
baritone low from Marty, making for an erotic duet of teen and tween
boys enjoying the pleasures of each other's bodies. Marty dripped
sweat over Jeff's face and body as he hammered at the smaller boy
under him. Jeff was frantically jerking himself off as Marty thrust
harder and harder. Jeff looked at the teen boy he worshiped, the one
who was making love to him, and he felt surges of emotion flood
through him, emotions he didn't understand, but didn't have to
understand, because they were all good and wonderful and full of
love.

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum," Jeff announced in a drawn out
squeak.

"Me too," Marty grunted as he shoved his rod as far into Jeff's hole as
he could and then fired his teen cum deep into the dark bowels of the
preteen, taking the boy's virginity in an act of pure love. At the same
time Jeff's boy cock started spewing streams of liquid boy juice over
himself. Neither boy could hear himself over the frantic grunts and
screams of his partner.

Marty collapsed on top of the smaller boy, causing Jeff to elicit a
grumble of surprise. Marty then moved off to the side, kissing the boy,
still able to smell his cum on the boy's face. The entire room reeked
of boy and of sex.

"That was so awesome," Jeff said. "It was better than I ever thought.
You had to be my first, you just had to be, and you were."

Marty couldn't help but wonder if, with all of the business about Eric
doing it to him first, Jeff hadn't somehow manipulated him into being
the first to fuck him. Marty didn't care, because he knew Jeff was
right—he had to be the boy's first. It was so obvious he was amazed
he hadn't seen it.

The big thing for Marty is that there were absolutely no guilt feelings.
His mentor, Jeff's father, had said to make the night not only special
for Jeff but for himself as well. As far as Marty was concerned the
night was special; it was one he would remember in the same way as
his night with Eric. He had given Jeff what he wanted and by doing so
had removed the last shackle of guilt he felt regarding his relationship
with the boy. This was the way it should be—everything felt right.

Across the patio, George Bednarzyck was sitting in the recliner in his
den. He was more than certain about what was going on between the
two boys across the way after hearing a high pitched scream drifting
across the patio and through the window of his den. At one time he
might have disapproved. He knew most people would disapprove
today if they knew. But George was certain his wild boy son was
probably incredibly happy, and he knew a special kind of love had
passed between the two boys he loved so much. Marty was as good
as a son to him, and was more than a big brother to Jeffrey. He was a
big brother hero, somebody his son had idolized since he'd first met
him the morning after being put to bed drunk out of his mind.

He knew that in his own way, Jeffrey had helped Marty become sober
as much as Marty had helped Jeffrey grow up and mature. There was
a six year age difference between the two boys, yet they had a love
that knew no boundaries. Far be it from George Bednarzyck to deny
that love to the two of them. Marty had had sexual relations with his
son for around five years. There is a good chance the older teen had
taken Jeffrey's virginity tonight. So be it, because over all these
years, George Bednarzyck was positive that Marty had never done
anything to hurt his son.

The next morning Jeff and Marty showered together, removing all of
the cum and sweat and smells of the night before. They then enjoyed
a pleasant sixty-nine on Marty's bed, a perfect way to end their date.

Jeff's mother had told them that she would have breakfast ready at
ten, whether the boys were ready or not. It was now nine-thirty.  Jeff
was wearing nothing but his socks and blue briefs. "No way I'm
wearing this monkey suit," he said, picking up his shoes, shirt, and
pants and heading out the door. "See ya at the breakfast table."

George watched his son come in through the door and wished him a
good morning as he noted the boy was dressed only in a pair of
briefs, but then there was nothing unusual about that.

"Morning, dad."

"Did you have a good night?"

"The best. The very best. Thank you for letting Marty live here."

"Do you think Marty had a good night?"

"He said it was special for both of us. And he wasn't lying."

George smiled as he watched his twelve year old son's pert ass
prepare to run out the door of the den and up the stairs. But before he
could say anything about slowing down, Jeffrey cut his pace in half,
and made it to the top of the stairs almost normally. He and his wife
were able to hold the Hurricane in check through parental discipline
mixed with a lot of love and the help of Marty.

Coming across the patio was the eighteen year old young man
George Bednarzyck had carried home as a drunken and broken
thirteen year old boy; a boy who had puked over his shoes in the park
before passing out. Although he didn't know it at the time, one of the
best things he'd ever done in his life was to bring the lost and lonely
stray into his house. He had brought in the person who had the love
and force of personality to tame a Hurricane.


Next: Learning Experience