Date: Tue, 12 Mar 2002 09:49:10 -0800
From: Andrew Cee <andrewslife@37.com>
Subject: Andrews Life 1

Andrew's Life:  Andrew and the Prince
By Andrew C.
andrewslife@37.com


Author's Prologue

Andrew is a fictional character, and his story begins here today. At least
I thought so before. The "his" part, I mean. Words of experience from a
friend of mine reminded me that I should forget about it being his story,
because it's not. Well, it's Andrew's story all right, but maybe it's mine,
it's my friend's, it's yours, or it's someone else's that you know. Maybe
someone who doesn't know there's a place for stories like this. My friend
said that when we do it, when we think about it and write it down, it
begins to make more sense. And we'll be stronger than someone who won't
admit that he has a story, or won't admit that it needs to be told. Don't
get the wrong idea. I don't want you to think that I'm making too many
assumptions about you, or about someone else that you know. But something
pretty much like this may have happened to you or to a million other
someone else's. Over a hundred million guys live in this country alone. So
when you consider those kinds of numbers and statistics being what they
are, it becomes a lot less unusual than you'd think.

Here's what to expect. I'm going to tell you a story about when Andrew grew
up and learned about the person he was becoming. Like I said before, it's
fiction. But now and then some personal experiences are tossed in for
mental health reasons. So if any of my friends are reading this and
recognize themselves, no real names, places or dates are used here, or not
enough of them at least to give them away completely. Some of you may write
to tell me if you liked Andrew's story or not. I've done it myself on
occasion. After all, that's how I got here, and I'll try to remember that.
I know a lot more about Andrew and can tell you more of his story if you
want to hear it. And I'll stop if it's not working anymore, so don't be
afraid to let me know. When it's over, the answers probably won't all be
there. Not a surprise, but maybe you'll know something about how it went
for Andrew and for some of his friends. And if you want to tell me about
it, I'll know for sure that something like this didn't just happen to
Andrew, or to me, or to someone else you already know.


Warning

Some of the events described in this story are sexually-explicit. You
shouldn't read any further if this will offend you, or if it causes you to
break the laws of your village, town, city, county, province, state, or
country. If it does, you should please leave now. By reading further, you
implicitly declare and affirm, under penalties of perjury, that you are not
a minor or in the company of a minor. You also declare and affirm that you
are entitled to have access to material intended for mature, responsible
members of society, capable of making decisions about the content of
documents they wish to read. Reading further is the result of explicit
action upon your part, and you are reading this of your own free
volition. You have been warned.


Note from Andrew

My name is Andrew. Due to some weird thing left over from my grandparents'
time, no nicknames were ever used at home. This is a story about when I was
growing up and began to realize that I was attracted to boys. It happened
so gradually that I never became concerned about it. And I never thought
about it as being bad or even avoidable. But once I was pretty much fully
aware of it, it developed so quickly that it often confused me about what I
should do when I felt these new feelings. This story describes an incident
with my older cousin Dennis when I was ten years old and he was about
thirteen. He was more knowledgeable about these things than I was at this
age, but only acted on them, as far as I know, this one time. I have a lot
of these stories buried inside, from my early years like this one, all the
way through college and after. Due to encouragement from my friend Rick, I
decided to write about some of them for you. So thanks, Rick. Hope you're
doing okay today.


Andrew and the Prince

Growing up in Connecticut was great. If you were white, connected, and had
money that is. My family defined great in its own way, and so it was pretty
great as far as I knew. Let me explain. First off, I'm third generation
Italian-American, and I browned up like crazy in the summer back then. But
at least in the winter months anyway I could pass for white. Second, the
connections my family had were either related by blood, went to the same
church, or had last names ending in a, i, or o. We went to school with
them, worked with them, and did business with them, and only with them.
Third, my folks each worked full time, so we had the money for two cars and
too much food. Unlike most of the other kids in our neighborhood (the
Plot), I didn't go to public school. I wore a button down white shirt, a
necktie, dress pants, and lace up shoes from grades one through eight. This
made me one of those 'good' kids in our neighborhood. Of course hearing
this made my folks delirious. It also guaranteed that I never became part
of the neighborhood kids' pack (mom called them the hoodlums) or learned
any of their best secrets. And it seemed like plenty went on that they
weren't telling.

My folks had gotten around some before they had us. They still went to New
York or Boston for special weekends, and knew something about life outside
the Plot. If I was going to become more than a stock boy at the Stop & Shop
alongside the hoodlums, I had to get all A's in school. I got my butt beat
if I didn't, or if I rattled my little sister up too much. Between the ages
of five and ten my whole life was school, street baseball with the
hoodlums, going to the beach in the summer, and screwing around in the
woods the rest of the time. Add to that the scattered poundings from
Dennis, my older cousin by about four years, first grandson and the family
prince. Mostly, the prince told me, because I was such a little shit, or
if anyone made him take me with him when he held court for his friends. The
difference in our ages plus his own special form of discipline kept me
pretty well in line with the prince. And then there was this recent
fascination of mine with Dennis' friends that I didn't want to mess up. I
wasn't sure what that was all about yet exactly.

Dennis' parents didn't get along, and when they split up, took off, and
dumped him, something that was never spoken about in our family, he became
ours. In these early years the prince and I shared a small bedroom with a
regular double bed. Meaning we dressed, undressed, woke, and slept in
pretty close quarters. At one of the undressing times when I was ten, I had
just turned to pay my final respects to the prince for the day. As soon as
I did I spied this major object filling up the whole front pocket of his
under shorts. At first I thought he had something buried in there right
next to his thing. I was such a dork that I didn't know what else to call
it back then. I thought it must be something pretty important if he's
stuffing it there for safekeeping. So before I knew it I asked him,
"Dennis, what is that stuck there in your shorts?"

Whack! Dennis smacked me hard. "What do you think you're looking at, you
little shit?" Whack two. Then he grabs hold of that item stuffed in there
and said, "Don't you know anything yet? This here, shit-head," (shit-head?
I hadn't heard that one before) "is what happens when you're a man." Whack
three. "Which you obviously are not." Whack four.

By now the smacking was really taking its effect, so I said, "Dennis, cut
it out you big piece of dirt. I swear I'll tell dad if you freaking touch
me again. And I'll tell him you're hiding something there in your shorts."
That hit a nerve.

"Ah, just shut up and get into bed. You're wasting my time."

I understood how bad it could get if I kept at him, but the curiosity was
killing me and I could still scream for dad if I had to. "I'm sorry,
Dennis," I said, knowing the wonders that sorrow and concern could work
with the prince, "but I figured if you forgot to take out what you got
hidden in there, you might hurt your thing real bad when you went to
sleep."

This broke him up some. "Yeah, I sure was planning on taking this thing out
before then. And I didn't expect it to be hurting me any too much at all."

The concern thing seemed to be getting somewhere, so I risked it. "What do
you mean, Dennis, what is that in there anyway?"

"You don't know? Are all of your little friends idiots too? Look over
here," Dennis said.

Okay, I thought, some of my friends were real idiots, so what, this was
working. Then Dennis dug down deep into his shorts and dragged the buried
treasure right out the front panel. Only it was just his thing. But not the
one that I was used to seeing on him, although it had been awhile since I
got a real good look at it. This one was about twice as long, twice as fat,
dark reddish looking, and pointing straight up instead of down. There was
something seriously different going on there, and I couldn't take my eyes
off it.

The whole business got my pulse going faster and started those little
butterflies flying around in my stomach and up almost into my throat. And
besides, I was making real progress on this, which I wasn't accustomed to
with the prince, so I pushed it. "Dennis, what's going on there with your
thing?"

He laughed and said, "This, you little cretin, is a chub. Isn't yours ever
hard like this when you first wake up and need to take a whiz real bad?"

I thought back over it to myself, yeah there has been some action down
there lately, but nothing compared to what he's got going on. And he said
something else about when you're a man. What, is it always going to be like
that when I grew up? Why hadn't I noticed chubs on any of the big kids or
adults before? Anyway, I didn't really know how to answer his question, so
instead I asked, "What do mean, you were going to take it out and it not
hurting you any?"

I wasn't sure if Dennis heard me or not, because he kept his eyes focused
right on his big chub. He sure seemed to like the look of that thing
too. He looked over at me with a kind of grin and biting some on his lower
lip. In a way I think he liked this. I mean, having his hard thing shoved
out and all, sure, but also all this attention on it from me too. I got a
little nervous at this point not knowing how to interpret his mood, so I
looked back down at his chub, which right away recaptured my undivided
attention. Like I said, he seemed real proud of his property, so he just
left it right out there, all big and hard, pointing right at his stomach
and throbbing away. Then he said in this kind of hoarse and whispery voice,
"Okay Andrew, time to pay attention, school is now in session."

Then he got this death grip like on it with both hands, right at the base
near the opening of his shorts, and started to run his fist up and down
over it a few times. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open a little,
and his lower lip began quivering away. By this time, I really had to see
what that fat thing of his felt like. Before I knew it my own hand was
drifting up towards it, I just needed to touch it so bad all of a sudden.

Dennis was kind of breathing in jagged little gasps as his fist continued
to move up and down on his chub. I was having some trouble breathing too,
because of all the fluttering going on around my insides. My hand sort of
trembled as it approached its goal, but I knew I had to do it. Once I did
grab a hold of it I was captivated by how hard and how hot it felt to my
hand. I don't think Dennis had any more of an idea that I would do this
than I did, and his eyes shot right open when I got hold of it.

He gulped fast and looked sort of guilty like when he saw my hand around
it. Then he closed his eyes again and let me continue my work. Both our
hands were on it then, his with the up and down pumping motion, and mine
sort of piggybacked on top of it. We went at it like that for a few minutes
while I got real used to the feel of his chub. I was pretty sure at this
point that he liked me holding onto it.

He kind of leaned toward me, put both his hands on my shoulders for
support, and let me have it all to myself. I saw a drop of something
white-like that leaked from the hole on the top of his chub, and I cupped
my hand over it to get a good feel of that too. This brought him back out
of his trance. He moved his hand back so that it was on top of mine this
time. He pushed both of our hands down his chub, dragging some of this
white stuff with it.

We kept at it like this for maybe another three minutes or so, while more
of that white, hot liquid just oozed and oozed from the hole. My little
hand and his hard chub were both getting drenched with the
stuff. Everything had gotten all foamy and slippery, but it made our up and
down movements a lot smoother and quicker.

My own thing was now harder than I ever remembered it being. It felt like a
burning hot spike in my shorts, and was just jumping around and throbbing.
I wanted to get mine out in the open too, but couldn't tear my hand away
from its current work. This business of touching Dennis' chub and smearing
his juices all around on it was more exciting than anything that I ever did
or even knew about before. And I really liked having my own chub so stiff
and alive.

I don't think the prince had my thing on his mind much when he sort of fell
over on top of me and clamped both our hands down real tight on his chub.
He was half gasping and half grunting over and over as his thing got harder
and fatter than ever. Then all of a sudden our hands and his shorts and
about everything else close by was just dripping with much more of his
white stuff, only this time the liquid was a lot hotter and thicker and
much stickier than before.

I continued to hold on to his chub, I didn't want to let it go. What had
just happened there with the juices and all wasn't really clear to me at
the time. I guessed it was pretty good, though, since Dennis looked so
content and almost asleep like. After about another minute he pushed my
hand away. His thing was back to a state that was more familiar, but much
less interesting to me now. My hand was still soaked and I noticed that his
juice had this feel and smell that was gross and fascinating at the same
time. I wiped it onto my tee shirt and found that a lot more of it had
soaked in there already.

I wanted to ask him about the white stuff, but in a rare moment of
restraint decided that this wasn't the best time. I couldn't sleep all
drenched like this though, so I took my shirt off and tossed it onto the
floor. This whole while, Dennis was incredibly quiet and ignored me like I
wasn't there at all. Then he stuffed his softened thing back into his
shorts and faced away from me in bed. My own chub continued to pulse and
stay rock hard.

Then Dennis spoke up, still looking away, "You can forget about what just
happened if you want, I don't give a shit. But you better make sure it
stays between just you and me. And I mean it."

Dennis was serious about this and I knew it. I really wanted to get a hold
on his thing again, more than I ever imagined possible. But now it seemed
like he could take it or leave it, and it was going to be this one time
deal. I felt awful and confused. "But ...".

"No Andrew, no buts. We're not discussing it. You tell anyone else, and you
know I'll find out."

This was getting a little weird. I mean, what we just did was incredibly
exciting. It was a little messy maybe, but no major damage. Just a few
minutes before this, it was like he couldn't stop, and now it was all
over. But even I knew when it was really time to back off with the prince.
So I just shut up, closed my eyes for a minute, and tried to settle down.

Then I heard him say, "Andy, look at me." (Andy? Mom's going to kill him if
she hears that, I thought.) Then I opened my eyes. Dennis had quietly
rolled back around toward me, and was acting real solemn and adult like,
and much too serious.

"I'm not sure we should've done what we just did. I'm sorry," he said.
"You're just a kid. I was real horny and I guess I got carried away. But I
just don't want to talk about it anymore tonight. You still have questions,
we'll see about them maybe tomorrow. But listen to me. Don't go staring
like an idiot or even think about touching anyone else down there, because
I'll find out about that too. I'm telling you this because you're just like
my little brother. I can be a real asshole at times, but you know that I
love you. Anyone else could beat the living shit right out of you if you
tried to do it with them. Now go to sleep and try to grow up some more."

"Can we do it again sometime?" I asked. I had to know.

"Come on, Andy, give me a break. Can't you just shut up about it now? I'm
still a kid too and I don't understand all of it myself. Seriously, just
forget about it all for tonight and get some sleep, okay?"

I didn't forget about it though, and I stayed up half the night trying to
figure out what Dennis meant about love. We talked some more the next
day. He explained what he knew about guys, erections and the white stuff
that came out. About the feelings you got before and after it happened.
About what happened when you did it with girls. He explained about guys who
did this and even more stuff with other guys. He didn't go into any details
about them or the other stuff no matter how hard I pressed it. And you can
imagine how relentless I was.

He told me about how people sometimes made fun of guys who did these things
with other guys and about people who hurt them for doing it. He said what
we did wasn't wrong, but it wasn't completely right either, and not
everybody would understand it if they knew. And he said we wouldn't do it
again. Then he asked me to tell him how I felt about it all. I said I was
confused, but that I really liked what we did a lot. He told me not to
worry about it for now, but to watch out for those feelings. They might
change or might not as I grew up some more. But he'd be there for me
forever whichever way it went.

After this I began to listen and watch more carefully for things I didn't
understand much of before, and not too much better even yet. I knew I was
still just a little kid and it was all pretty mysterious. But I wanted to
grow up now much more than ever. Dennis and I were like brothers for sure,
and he knew that I loved him too. I guess I just didn't know how much I
loved him before then. I didn't think at the time that it was because of
what we did together that night, and I don't think so today. But it means
something altogether different to me now when I think of him as the prince.

Write me with your comments at: andrewslife@37.com