Date: Fri, 1 Feb 2008 12:57:18 -0800 (PST)
From: Ron W. <adman602001@yahoo.com>
Subject: THE BEACH MOUSE

I adored my big brother.  I wanted to be just like him.  We were on summer
vacation, just he and I.  He was a good bit older.  I was just ten and he
had turned twenty that August.  We had lugged the aluminum chairs and the
umbrella over to a secluded area of the beach...He was sitting in one of
the chairs and I was sitting at his feet playing in the sand.  Every now
and then, I would look up from my vantage point to admire his beautiful
furry chest and his handsome face.  He looked like an Egyptian king to me;
sitting there half naked in his sun glasses, looking out to sea.

From where I sat, I could see into the leg of his loose swim trunks.  His
genitals and the black hair above them was quite visible.  I knew very well
what they were, after all, I had a smaller version.  I couldn't resist
teasing him.

     "What's that?"  I asked, pointing.

     "What's what?" He replied, honestly curious.

     "That thing in your shorts." I said.

     "Oh that." He grinned, showing his beautiful teeth. "That's just my
pet mouse."

     "It only has one eye and looks so sad.  May I pet it?"  I asked slyly.

     "You may." He said with only a moment's hesitation.

I saw it move before I even touched it.  I reached into its shelter and
stroked its head with my finger.  It felt warm and soft and seemed to come
to life.  I looked up at my brother.  His eyes were closed and his head was
back as if he was just enjoying the sun on his face.  His hips moved only
once in the chair. The mouse began to grow as I continued to pet it.  I
expected my brother to ask me to stop, but he did not, so I continued for a
few more minutes.  A tear formed at the single eye as if the mouse was
crying.

     "Oh." I said. "I think I've made it sadder. It seems to be crying.
May I tickle it under its little chin?"  The mouse head had emerged beyond
the trunk leg.

     "Please do." My brother said through clenched teeth. "Please do."  His
voice sounded peculiar.

The flesh beneath the mouse head was wrinkled and slippery from its tears.
I massaged it with two fingers this time for several seconds.  By now, my
brother had moved his hips forward in the chair even farther.  I imagined
the mouse with ears and whiskers and giggled.  By now, it was tearing
copiously.  I placed my two fingers at the top of the mouses neck and added
my thumb.  My brother was making funny noises in his throat; his eyes
behind the sunglasses were squeezed shut and his tongue licked his lips.

Suddenly, he sucked in a ragged breath and moaned loudly.

The mouse spewed long thick white strings over my arm.

The poor thing had thrown up.