Date: Wed, 28 Dec 2011 11:52:08 -0800 (PST)
From: Julian Otero <ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com>
Subject: First Summer Camp Adventure,  part 4

Part 4: Boy and Brother


     About five days later I got an urgent text from Jamal asking we meet
at the mall's food court. He was sitting by himself far apart from others
when I arrived.
    Right away I could tell something was wrong. He looked small and scared
and--unlike him--looked like he was trying to hide. Seated across from him
I could see why: bruises on his face, a cut near his eye, a larger cut on
his neck, and band-aids on three fingers. There were body bruises around
his ribs. Quite an inventory. In a shaky voice the boy gave me the
details. His father again.
    "Look Jamal, I think you're in danger. Is there a friend whose house
you can stay at, at least for awhile?" You know, a person could--I
could--make an anonymous report of child abuse and they...
    "No man...no to that! You don't know my father! If they arrest him for
sure he'll kill me...cut my throat like he said he would. You don't
know...his rage...he might kill my mother too."
    "Maybe they would just place you into another home..."
    "Shit on that! ... I know someone at school who was put in a foster
home. He ran away. He hung himself. No! Don't do that. No. Never. They'll
put me... I'd rather get knocked around a few times at home instead getting
hit in a stranger's house, or gang raped in a group home."
    "Are you sure?  Look, Jamal, this is serious. I'm a father. If you were
my son I'd want protection for you." Tears started to fill his eyes. His
lower lip quivered. He was like a scared puppy. I drove him to the bus
stop.  As he walked away I watched the swing of his ass. I felt I just
couldn't let him go like that, couldn't let him go back to that father.

    I mused on this latest development and made a decision right then,
though I didn't tell him right away. My design business was going well
despite the economy. I didn't want to take on any more liability, but this
was different. I would hire him part time off the books and though he was
underage I could pass him off for sixteen to my other employees. I could
find simple tasks for him to do. A few hours after school and a few on
Saturday at double the minimum wage. I would also consult my lawyer on a
few other matters that might arise in the future.
    Jamal was eager to work and thought it might help. Arrangements were
made He started the following Saturday when, as usual, I was the only one
in the studio. I put him to work re-filing and organizing client materials
while I did paper work. Later I ordered in coffee and snacks and we took a
break around noon.
    We made love, as I knew we would. We made love, not sex. I cared for
him, that was obvious, and with my arms around him I felt his warmth and
deepening trust toward me. I wanted his body to heal, his heart to be
happy, his soul to be peaceful. Yes, I offered him some protection (maybe
not as much as he needed) and yes sex was involved, so my motives were not
snow white pure, but I accepted the situation as it had developed. I was
too enchanted with him to even think of renouncing the sex. We met by way
of sex, but now that's not all there was.
    The work arrangement still left him at home. Things were quiet there
for a few weeks until an explosion. His father was arrested for attacking
his mother and she was fearful for her life and her son's. She fled to
relatives in Boston and wanted to take Jamal, but he asked to stay with me
so he could finish the school year. It was arranged.
    Betty my wife was charmed with Jamal as soon as they met. Her motherly
instincts took over, as well as some other instincts, and my son Luke liked
him just as much. Our family circle opened in embrace and I was happy to
have him under our roof, proud of the way we accepted him.
    Having Jamal near me every day was very tempting, especially tempting
at night. To wait for our private time on Saturdays was not easy for me. At
the dinner table while he and Luke bantered about computers, games, and
music I caught myself staring at his lips, his eyes, his delicate fingers,
watched his gestures. Luke was adopting Jamal as a big brother and it
pleased me. But what about Betty?
    In bed one night my wife asked me some questions as she fondled my
growing prick.
    "You love him don't you?"
    "Who?"
    "Jamal of course. ...I know you love your son."
    "Yeah, I do."
    "He's cute isn't he? I see the way you look at him." I guess I was too
obvious.
    As I fumbled for an innocent answer she moved down the bed and took my
cock into her mouth. She sucked. Well, well, look at this... the idea of
the two of us gets her? Does the kid make her warm too?
    Her head lifted off my cock. "Do you have sex with him?" Betty is
nothing if not direct. "What do the two of you do on Saturdays? You never
needed weekend help before now." Her wifely instinct was pretty good.
     I told her the whole story from the beginning, being certain to
describe in detail my lovemaking with the boy, his sweet mouth on my cock,
his pretty cock in my ass, the way we kissed. Betty wanted to hear it all,
demanded it all. She sucked me harder and harder, put her finger in my ass
until, on the verge of orgasm, I had to rush the last few sentences. I came
in large spurts down her throat pretending her finger was the boy's dick.
    Betty and Jamal. My mind tried to process this new realization. Betty
and Jamal. Why not? My wife still has a very attractive body, a body that
looked great on the beach and attracted men, and I hadn't lost
interest. Still as sexually adventurous as she was at college Betty liked
pornography and was willing to try many things that pleased both of us. Now
Jamal, his teenage beauty and energy were working on her, too. She cuddled
up against me and whispered, "You know he's underage...you know what that
could mean..." Yes, I know.
    "...he's sexy, Dylan...he arouses me, a kid only 15, can you believe
it? I'm hot for his body! I'm always looking at his crotch. I can see how
he'd make a guy, you, queer for him.... He likes us.... Luke and he get
along beautifully. ... I want to fuck him too! Does he have a nice cock?
I've been dreaming about it. Dreaming, and rubbing off!"
    To have an appealing boy so close to her was an opportunity she was not
willing to pass up. But what if the boy was not...what if he rejected her
or was freaked out by her? I told her to cool down a while and let me
think.

    The next development came as a bit of a shock.
    Sunday morning: We all sleep late on Sundays.
    Early, around seven, Betty woke up. Her motherly intuition was buzzing;
it told her something was different in the house, some vague something made
her awaken and she went to investigate. Luke's bed was empty. Jamal wasn't
in the guest room. The kitchen was empty too. But not the media
room. That's were they were. She came back and made a report.
    "Dylan!" she whispered "...it's Luke and Jamal in the media
room...they're having sex. ...Jamal is sucking your son's cock!"
    "You sure you're not dreaming, hon?"
    "No way, I know what I saw, and I'm wet has hell. Luke's slowly pushing
his thing in and out of Jamal's mouth. Jamal's hands are wrapped around
Luke's little ass.  No...baby...I'm not dreaming at all, and it looked so
fucking hot...!"
    "Shit."
    "Dylan...I never thought two boys...jesus...watching two boys like that
...so beautiful and hot. I understand more now." I got up and slipped into
pajama bottoms. "Don't let them see you... be quiet. We should have had
another kid," I hear her say to my back as I left.

    My wife certainly wasn't dreaming. Jamal was on his knees with his face
between my son's widespread legs, his eleven year old body slumped back on
the couch. Luke's feet were on their tiptoes while his pelvis made gentle
little thrusts into Jamal's mouth. Little grunts and curses floated to my
ears across the large room. My kid's pajama pants were flung over the back
of the couch and Jamal's briefs were cast to the floor. The large potted
lemon tree by the media room entrance hid me well enough as I watched the
action.
    I felt angry and my hands rolled into fists: I clearly told the kid to
stay away from my son. Through the screen of leaves I saw Luke grasp
Jamal's head and sink his fingers into the lush black hair. What right does
he have to mess with my son? Ok, ok, I know, I'm messing with someone's son
myself, no? And you're supposed to be all cool about sex, no? Didn't
Derrick take you at about the same age and he did you no harm, no harm at
all, right?
    They stopped and were whispering to each other. They kissed, then
rearranged themselves so Luke could place his ass up high by bending over
the arm of the couch. More whispering. My son reached behind himself and
spread his cheeks. The light was dim so I could not see his little puckered
anus but it was clear as day what he wanted. Jamal got on his knees behind
him and applied his face to the open spot.
    The anger I felt passed. Why had I told Jamal to stay away from Luke
anyway? What was I afraid of? I wasn't afraid of a damn thing; I was
jealous. Of course I was. I wanted to be in Jamal's place.
    I felt Betty come up behind me silently. Her sharp intake of breath
revealed her astonishment. Together, father and mother were watching their
pre-teen son get fucked by a nice sized teenage cock. The gleam on it as
Jamal applied some lubricant made my mouth water. He moved it up against my
son's ass.
    "Is it safe?" Betty asked, "can he get it inside?...it looks so big!"
Her voice was heavy and very aroused.
    "I did it ... I was a bit older...yes...just watch." In all decency we
should have left in respect for their privacy but we couldn't tear
ourselves away. The tips of Betty's fingers lightly caressed my ass and her
breathing was short.
    "...at summer camp." we heard Luke softly say.
    "I told you he had sex at camp. They fucked."
    Luke gasped when Jamal pushed. He whimpered and sobbed while the older
boy rotated his hips in order to gain better entry. We saw Jamal's tight
round ass clench with the effort. Luke groaned. "I should show them how to
do it," I told Betty.
    "Don't you dare." She reached around the front of me and clasped hot
fingers on my ramrod hard cock. I stifled a groan. I found her pussy with
my middle finger and rubbed up and down her hot wet crack. How perverted
can this be I wondered, spying on our son, spying on Jamal, so turned on by
what we were watching and us playing with each other?
    "What a fuckin' body that kid has...nice cock...I can see why you
wanted his nice young ass. I want to watch you screw him, Dylan." You will,
honey. You bet you'll watch us!
    By now enough of Jamal's dick was in our son so that the familiar
rhythm started. Fucking was beautiful I thought, no matter who or how it's
done, as natural and beautiful as rivers and trees and sunsets. It didn't
take long for the finish to come. Jamal pushed fast and hard just like
Derrick did to me that first time in the cabin. In my ass I could feel
exactly what my son was feeling as my memory of those days
reawakened. Jamal went stiff as he came in Luke and Betty let out a long
whispered curse. We left before they could become aware they had an
audience.
    In our bed we rushed at each other, our mouths and fingers were all
over each other fast and hot and more aroused since our first few fucks as
teens. Into a hot 69 we fell, reminding each other of the scene we had
witnessed:
    "Luke got fucked..."  "He's so pretty looking when he cums... he held
his head while he sucked his dick...just like you do to me..."  "Jamal's
ass gets me so frigging hot..." And then we progressed to "Dylan, I want to
see you and our son together..."  "What do you want to see us do?"  "Luke
on your beautiful dick, his pretty lips around it, sucking you off." "You
want me to fuck him?" "Oh, christ...oh jesus... dirty pervert."
    We kept our faces between each other's legs until we came.

    Near noon I awakened and headed for the bathroom. Jamal was there
combing his hair.
    "You fucked my son," I said casually as I aimed my piss into the
bowl. Instantly Jamal froze like a statue. "We both saw it. I want to
talk. Come to our bedroom Jamal, now." He followed me without a word and
looked as if ready to piss his pajamas.
    "Look who I brought" I told Betty.
    "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I won't do it again...Luke asked me..." his
voice was pleading and he seemed terrified. Betty threw back the covers and
told him to lie next to her, and I climbed in next to the boy. He was
scared, but looked very pretty.
    "You like fucking our son?" Betty asked after she turned toward Jamal
and placed her arm around him. "You like putting your hard dick up my son's
ass? He's only eleven." Before Jamal could answer she kissed him
passionately. I went for his neck, planting little wet kisses there, and
nibbled on his ear. At first he remained stiff with fear, not sure what we
were going to do with him. Our kisses and our gentle fondling of that fine
slim body slowly began to reassure him. Eventually his terror melted away
and he became warm and pliant between us. We made a boy sandwich of him and
both of us praised his sexiness, his eyes, his mouth, his fingers and
smooth tawny skin. Between the checks of his ass my middle finger probed
for that very hot portal I had invaded and enjoyed several times
already. The sweet boy lifted a leg for me, and for Betty too, because I
could feel her busy fingers brush against me there as they grasped his
balls. How incredibly
 thrilling this was, all three of us in the bed, touching kissing rubbing,
appreciating each other physically, loving the animal contact. How more
ramified this was than simple one-on-one screwing: whether me and the boy,
or me and my wife--and my wife a hot and eager participant!
    Luke was up and couldn't find anyone anywhere in the house until, a
little rattled, he knocked on our bedroom door.  My wife and I made an
instant decision and told him to enter. A few steps into the room he
stopped. How adorable he looked there in his nylon bikini underwear with
bed hair and sleepy eyes and a nice package pushing out between his
legs. His mouth fell open and was speechless.
    "It's ok Luke," I said with emotion. "We saw you and Jamal downstairs
earlier and it's ok, it was so beautiful."
    "Come in bed with us honey lamb," said his mother in soothing and
caressing tones. I made room so that he and Jamal were between Betty and
I. We covered ourselves with a blanket and resumed our rubbing and kissing
and caressing, this time more vigorous than before.
    Finally, finally I had what I wanted: I had my naked son next to my
naked body and I knew it wasn't going to end there. Only eleven, but facts
were facts: he was no virgin. Why shouldn't he join us? I was going to fuck
him. I fondled his dick which of course was hard and gave rise in me to the
most contented feeling imaginable. We were spooned together with my wet
erection in the cleft of his ass tempting me to the full degree of its
sexiness. He moved a little so his daddy's hot cock was more firmly
placed. No wonder he fucked so readily at camp. No wonder Jamal took his
little boy pussy this morning. How many times had they done it? We'd have
to talk later.
    Meanwhile, my wife and Jamal were busy with their own
arrangements. They were spooned toward us and Betty had a hand around his
dick slowly jerking it, feeling its size and hardness and remarking on its
loveliness. How smart it was of us to have chosen a king sized bed years
ago! Luke joined in the caressing of Jamal's rod and there was enough room
for his hand and his mother's
    Betty asked her son, "Did you ever suck his cock, Luke? I saw him
sucking you. Suck him now so I can watch!" Without a word Luke turned head
to toe with Jamal and touched his lips to that attractive flesh. Like a
little red serpent Luke's tongue emerged and made Jamal sigh. Betty held
the teen's cock for her son. The rocking on the bed was Luke's head moving
back and forth. Jamal and Betty both started to coo and moan in their
sexual ecstasy. "Suck his, Jamal," she said, and he did.
    Now, with a little adjustment on my part I had Luke's little tight ass
in my face to appreciate. I traced my fingers lightly over the cheeks of my
son's ass, moving slowly so as not to disturb his connect with the
boy. Betty's arousal in this little perverted game was plain to hear by the
squeals she made. We four remained so joined for what seemed like a long
time and I asked Jamal if he was holding back. All I heard was a growl.
    "Betty, use your finger on his ass, get it wet and fuck him like it's a
cock."
    Instead, she got up and retrieved something from her bureau. In a flash
she strapped it on and got back in bed. A little gel on the end helped it
slide into Jamal.
    "It's cold," he said, giving a little jerk of his body.
    "You'll warm it up my sexy little boy!" She shoved, and he gasped. My
wife's dildo in his ass: I wouldn't have dared to suggest it, but in her
lustful state there was no telling what she'd do.
    I could no longer wait to pay homage to my son's ass. My hot breath had
been on his butt since he'd turned to blow Jamal. As round as those cheeks
were that's how firm and muscular they were, but they yielded easily when
my fingers drew them open exposing the secret spot they guarded.  My son
was not tense when I did that; he was never tense about having his body
touched. He knew who was behind him and what was going to happen.
    My tongue performed the first stage of my lovemaking. He had washed and
I smelled the soap, but also a bit of musk, the pre-teen variety. This was
my very first sexual contact with my son, my tongue on his asshole. He
squeezed and spread and I knew he was ok with it. My little darling must
have taken it in the ass at summer camp because that zone was very
receptive to all I did with my fingers and tongue. He keep pushing back
toward me and lifting his leg.
    "Lick his ass, Dylan...fuck... get him...ready....  your Daddy's
gonna... cock...  you...to fuck... you son" from Betty's throat these
jumble of words leapt as she thrust the rubber dick she wore into Jamal's
pussy. I needed no encouragement from anyone to keep at Luke's butt. I was
content to do my son's ass with my tongue for hours.
    The sky had clouded up and a light, lazy rain was now falling, the
drops making a soft background sound to our lovemaking. I sensed in all
four of us a need, a desire, to go slow, to make our joined and loving
bodies feel and feast on one other's warmth for as long as possible as
though, united like this, we were protected and protecting each other from
the sharp and harsh world outside. To each other we were surrendered and
completely open and trusting in our shelter. At least that's how it felt to
me.
    Jamal, he was the first: with his dick in my son's mouth he was nearing
the point of ecstatic release. If I could have thought calmly about what
was happening it was like through her dildo and Jamal's teenage cock she
was man-fucking her son, and Jamal's sperm was her sperm in substitute. I
realized this in my gut, and I maneuvered my cock against Luke's ready ass
and pushed. Then I heard the sweetest word I ever heard from my son's lips:
in a languid, strange voice he said, "yes... daddy........yes,
please.....yes.....oh yes......daddy."
    My penetration of him progressed steadily and slowly until I felt him
do it!  He did exactly what Derrick had taught me to do twenty-four years
ago! He squeezed me, then let go, squeezed again and relaxed, and though it
hurt him it wasn't for long because the natural tight grip of his asshole
let go and I slipped half way in. "Oh," he cried like a girl.
    "What is it honey?" asked Betty, but she knew damn well. She lifted to
look over Jamal's back.
    "Daddy's doing it to me."
    Those words made Betty cum off with her own fingers.
    I needed him. Holding Luke's small body against me made realize how
much I needed to do this to him, that my love for him had to include sex,
that by sex my love for him was complete. Despite any prohibition my love
for my son could never be fully expressed otherwise.
    When in him fully the grip he had on me was strong, but then
softened. Then it got strong again. Then relaxed. I felt this at the base
of my dick. He was massaging my rod deliberately. Oh, what a talented boy I
had! He could bring me off that way without any need to slide in and
out. So I let him work like that a little longer and felt my sperm start to
move up. The end was arriving sooner than I wished but I was helpless to
stop it. The slightest movement on my part would cause me to gush. I simply
closed my eyes and pictured Derrick, all those years ago, beautiful
17-year-old Derrick, fucking me with tenderness. Luke tugged two three
times and I simply could not hold on anymore. The vision in my mind
shifted: it was not me but Luke who was under Derrick, it was my son that
Derrick was screwing as he had screwed me so many years ago. I gave a small
involuntary jerk in my son's ass and erupted with all I had.
    "Daddy," he said softly, but in the most loving and contented way
imaginable.
    And so it was over.


Postscript
    And so we started over with a new family. Jamal stayed with us until he
finished the school term, and did well. He joined his mother in Boston but
came back to us in just a few weeks. His mother's relatives froze him out
since half the blood in his veins was his father's, whom they always hated,
and they humiliated the boy about his sexuality every chance they got. By
now he was 16 and I arranged with my lawyer to obtain a court order making
him an emancipated minor, no longer subject to his parents and responsible
only to himself. He continued to work for me, adding hours as he was able
and I footed the bill for professional level design courses. He and Luke
got along very well, my son so happy to suddenly have such a cool older
"brother." They continued to have sex together but we never again spied on
them.
    In his last year of high school Jamal began to draw away from us. He
started to pick up men again though he didn't need the money. The
attraction was not the money but the thrill of cruising, the danger it
could pose, the men he met who had odd sexual requests. He started living
with one of them and stopped working for me, and then we lost touch. Last
time I saw him he told me he had a gun. As time passed and my business
picked up he receded from my conscious thoughts more each day. Only Luke
continued to mention him.
    A few years later I opened the newspaper one day and there he was,
Jamal's high school yearbook picture. I wasn't prepared for the story. He
had killed his father and shot and killed himself with the gun. That spring
morning I sat in my office stunned and motionless for a very long time. I
cried for him, and was at him angry. I was sorry I let him loose touch. I
wondered if I could have helped him more, or if I had been part of the
problem.
    Luke was 16 by then, a beautiful 16 year old. We were lying under the
covers in his bed that Sunday morning, naked. We did this sometimes just to
feel each other's animal warmth, not always expecting it to lead to sex.
    "Luke, you ever think about Jamal?" I asked as I played with a lock of
his hair and kissed his lips. He took his time with an answer.
    "I know what happened, Dad."
    "You didn't say anything."
    "You didn't either."
    "I loved him, you know."
    "Yes."
    Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.
    "I loved him too."
    "Luke, remember that day you came home from your first summer camp;
remember that talk we had in the car?"
    "Sure I do." I could see his eyes were getting glassy.
    "I told you love is the best thing in the world, remember? Well, what I
didn't tell you, son is the other part... oh Luke!" I tried not to weep
uncontrollably, "oh Luke, ...the other part is, love can hurt, hurt a whole
lot."
    He wrapped his arms around me and we stayed that way for a long time.


end



I always welcome notes from readers so I can know how well I've done my
job. I always answer and like to play and speculate too.

Julian, ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com