Date: Sun, 12 Nov 2000 07:37:57 GMT
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "A Brewster Veteran's Day" (t/b, m/b, m/t, incest)
Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, one preteen, one
recently turned thirteen-year-old and two fourteen-year-old twins three
weeks away from their fifteenth birthday, a cub den, a community hall, a
scout pack, a few packs of viagra, a pack of itching powder, a keg, a
collection of veterans, and a few hypocrites, a bigot and a couple
righteous do-gooders. If you believe every cub, scout and scout leader is
straight or has no sexual desires and that the elderly are dead from the
waist down, this story will surprise you. If you've read the first
eighteen stories in this series, nothing will surprise you. This story is
posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only.
Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for
the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those
described here. This is the nineteenth of the Brewster Boys special events
and myths series. Readers are welcome to send the author, J.O. Dickingson,
comments and story suggestions at authorsix@hotmail.com The Brewster's
advice for today for all you scouts and veterans: be prepared carry a six
pack of condoms wherever you go.
A Brewster Veteran's Day
"Oh maaaaan, isn't this going to be great?" twelve-year-old Benny
asked his brothers, the ninety-four pound, four-foot-ten youngster bouncing
in his seat with excitement.
"Oh yeah!" replied his older brother, fourteen-year-old Brent, his
deep blue eyes sparkling. "This is so wicked!"
"I just can't wait to tell everyone at school tomorrow," Benny said,
shifting about in the plastic chair in the hallway as if he had to go to
the bathroom.
"Yeah, we're so lucky to have parents like ours," said Brent's twin
brother Brett as he brushed his long, blond hair from his eyes and looked
down the hall at his mother and father talking to the doctor. Brenda
Brewster's pregnancy had become very evident over the past month, and as
her sons looked at her they all thought back to last Mother's day and
Bobby's special gift to their mother. Speaking of which, they all looked
at their kid brother who had been uncharacteristically silent during the
drive to the hospital and while they were waiting for the doctor.
"You okay, Bobby?" asked Brett.
Bobby stared down at the floor blankly.
"Bobby?"
"Huh?" Bobby responded, looking up blankly at his older brother.
"You okay? You've been awful quiet."
"Yeah, I'm okay," Bobby replied in a flat monotone.
"You sure the fuck don't sound it," observed Benny.
"Yeah. What's up little bro?"
"You guys really okay with this?" the boy asked, looking up at his
three brothers with his big, hazel eyes. He'd just turned eleven three
weeks ago, on the second of the month, and thought he was pretty
sophisticated, but this was a shock to the normally outgoing and
unflappable preteen.
"With what?"
"You know. With Mom showing us her baby."
"Sure," replied Benny with a shrug.
"Yeah, this is going to be so wicked," repeated Brent. "Bet not every
guy gets to see his new brother while he's still in his mom's tummy."
The boys were certain the newest addition to their family was going to
be another boy.
"That's just it," said Bobby. "Don't you feel weird about to look up
Mom's cunt?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, watching her and dad screwing was one thing, and looking at
Suzie's and Cheryl's things was interesting and stuff," the youngster
observed with a shrug. "And exposing Miss Depree last month and messing
around with her pussy while she was asleep was wicked, but this is our
Mom's cunt for fucksake."
"What are you going on about?" asked Brent, knitting his brow in
perplexity.
"That's our kid brother," observed his twin. "His mind is all messed
up from too much wanking."
"I'm serious, guys."
"You're serious?" chorused his brothers in mock surprise.
"His mind really is messed up."
"And so young too," said Brett sadly and his brothers giggled.
"So, you guys don't feel the slightest bit strange squatting down
between Mom's legs and looking up her cunt."
Bobby's three brothers glanced at each other. "Is that what you think
we're gonna do?" asked Benny.
"Well, aren't we?"
"Fuck no. That's not how you look at a baby," said Benny, the
authority on anything sexual. "They got this machine, an ultrasound
transducer. It's sort of like a flashlight connected to a cable, and it
sends soundwaves that can penetrate the body because the doctor puts this
gel stuff on the mother's tummy first, see. The waves bounce off the baby
because of course he got no gel stuff, and are turned into a picture by
this transducer machine, sort of like how a computer changes digital
signals into a jpeg, and the picture of the baby shows up on a TV monitor."
Not just Bobby looked at Benny in surprise. When it came to sexual
facts, Benny was a walking encyclopaedia. Of course the twins knew better
than to think they were going to look up their mother's cunt, but even they
didn't know anything about gels or transducers. Once again their younger
brother had impressed them with his vast knowledge. If they ever had a
game of sexual trivia, something the boys had actually considered
developing and marketing, there was no question they'd want to be on his
team.
"Sheesh, Bobby, did you really think Mom was going to spread apart her
legs and her cunt lips and we were going to look up her pussy?" Benny
continued, raising his right eyebrow just like his dad and looking at his
younger brother incredulously.
"Well hey, how am I supposed to know? I'm the cute brother, not the
smart one."
His three brothers looked at each other, and then at him. "You are?"
they said together in mock surprise. "Too much wanking," they chorused as
they nodded seriously, and the three burst into laughter.
"Well, you boys are in good spirits," observed Barry Brewster as he
rejoined his sons.
"Oh yeah," agreed Brett. "So when we gonna get to see the baby."
"In a few minutes," Barry said.
Ten minutes later the Brewster men were ushered into a small room.
Brenda was laying on her back on the table, which made her stomach seem
even more monstrous than it was. On a cart beside her was the ultrasound
machine, which to the boys looked like a large computer keyboard and
monitor. It was connected to a second monitor suspended from the ceiling
so that they and their mom could watch during the examination. The
Brewster men crowded together at the head of the bed and looked up at the
monitor as the nurse, the sonographer, passed the transducer, which to the
boys looked more like a microphone than a flashlight, back and forth over
their mother's bloated stomach.
"Mmmm," she said. "Looks like our suspicious were right." The boys
looked at her curiously, and then at their parents, who were beaming at
each other like two Cheshire cats. "I'm going to turn on the TV monitor
now."
As she adjusted the equipment, the boys thought back to Mother's Day
five months ago and the fun they'd had with their "maid" for the day, and
the fun their dad had had humping their mom like a randy young man of
eighteen again, thanks to a bit of assistance from his sons. Little did he
know at the time that the condoms he'd been using had been punctured by his
youngest son. Nor did he know the four boys had taken several
opportunities that day to watch their two parents satisfy their lust. The
boys turned their attention to the TV monitor as the image cleared,
thankful for the distraction before their crotches revealed the nature of
their thoughts.
"Wicked!" exclaimed Brett, his deep blue eyes growing wide as he
stared at the image.
"Holy sh-, sh-, shoot," stumbled Benny. "He's got two heads?"
"Two babies!" exclaimed Brent, his one arm wrapped about his twin
brother as he leaned forward to look at the blurry image closer.
"Another pair of twins," Barry confirmed, something the doctor had
suspected last month from the weight Brenda had put on.
"Fu-, fu-, fu-, for crying out loud!" sputtered Bobby.
Brenda frowned. When school had resumed, she had insisted Bobby be
tested by the speech pathologist and they had started him on remedial
lessons. She knew it had only been four weeks, but she was hoping to see
some improvement in his stuttering. What she did not know was that the
therapy lessons were during music class, a subject Bobby hated, and that a
hot looking high school student by the name of Zac Williams was earning
work experience credits by helping the elementary students with their
speech drills. Bobby had decided he was going to have a stuttering problem
for the year, or until he got in Zac's pants anyway.
"Way to go Mom," said Benny.
"Oh yeah. And you too Dad," said Brent, punching his dad in the arm.
"Yeah. Wow. A double shot!" exclaimed Brett, slapping his dad on the
back.
"Fu-, fu-, fu-, for crying out loud," repeated Bobby as he stared at
the two little images snuggled up to each other.
"Have you picked out their names yet?"
"How about Love and Wrestling?" suggested Bobby, thinking of their two
Pilgrim ancestors.
"Or Lust and Screwing," mouthed Brent behind the back of his hand,
causing Bobby and Brett to giggle.
"Actually, we were thinking of Blaine and Blake," their father said.
"Which one's which?"
"Well, we haven't decided that. We weren't really sure there were
twins until now."
"Hi there!" called out Bobby. "Hi little Blaine and little Blakey!"
"Hi!" chorused the twins.
"I think the one on the left should be Blake," announced Bobby.
"Why?"
"He just looks like a Blake is all. Look, he even turned and looked
at me when I said his name, see!"
"I don't think so, Bobby," his mother advised with a smile.
"Benny?" Barry asked, noticing his middle son was markedly silent.
"Hmmm."
"You okay?"
The twelve-year-old ran his hands through his gelled, dark brown hair,
and glanced at his brothers, and then at his father. "Well. . . ."
"What is it?"
"Am I the only one who's noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"Well, the one on the left, Blake, he's, well, he's sort of developed
funny."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, his legs are little and stubby, and well, well he's got three
of them."
"Oh," said the sonographer with a smile. "That's the normal size for
a fetus's leg this stage of the second trimester, and," she said with a bit
of hesitation, "the one in the middle isn't his leg."
"It isn't?" Benny asked, looking back at the screen. His eyes
gradually widened as he slowly realized what the sonographer meant. He
looked back up at his Dad. "You mean. . . ?"
Barry nodded proudly.
"Hey, way to go little Blakey!" called Bobby.
"Except little Blakey ain't so little," observed Brent.
"A real Brewster," said Brett.
"Oh yes," observed Brenda as she looked up at her husband adoringly.
"Actually," the sonographer said with blush, "it's not normally that
large, but it seems, well, at the moment, it's extended with blood."
"That okay?" asked Brent, suddenly worried about his little baby
brother's health.
"Extended with blood, get it," whispered Brett as he gave his brother
a nudge.
"Oh!" Brent said, his big blue eyes growing even wider.
The boys glanced at each other and slowly their lips curled into wide
grins. "A real Brewster!" they chorused.
"Oh yes," Brenda repeated, her eyes still on her husband. She and
Barry had been thinking of the day the new set of twins had been conceived
and really had not been paying attention to the boys' conversation.
Blake turned around and snuggled up behind Blaine. Benny nudged Brent
and the four boys giggled.
"Just like you were always trying to do me when we was in Mom," Brent
whispered to his twin brother.
"Couldn't help it, you had such a cute ass," Brett whispered back.
"Now," said the sonographer, taking the boys' restlessness as a sign
they'd lost interest, "I need to do some measurements and take a finer
look, if you've seen enough."
"Sure," Barry said. "While you finish with the ultrasound and
checkup, I'll go down to see ol'Mister Burns," he advised his wife.
"That's fine dear. Give him my regards."
"Wow, twins!" Brent said excitedly as they waited for the elevator.
"Yeah, just imagine, another pair of twins!"
"Fu-, fu-, fu-, futastic!" agreed Bobby.
"Futastic?" giggled his brothers as the elevator doors opened and they
crowded into the elevator.
"And he had a little erection!" observed Benny, and they all giggled
even louder as the other adults on the elevator either gave them and their
father disapproving looks, or stared up at the floor numbers and pretended
they hadn't heard the boys. Barry didn't know how to respond it wasn't as
if the boys had been vulgar, and they were right. The little squirt had
had an erection!
Alex Burns was an elderly gentleman who lived down the street from the
Brewsters. Normally spry and cheerful, he'd been having difficulty mending
ever since breaking his hip over the summer, resulting in him having
developed a depressed, fatalistic attitude. Barry stopped in to try to
cheer him up as often as he could and was saddened to see the once lively
senior so thin and weak.
"So, how is the missus today?" the elderly man asked as he struggled
to sit up.
"Just fine," Barry replied as he helped him. "Mom and babies."
"Babies?"
"Twins," Barry beamed. "Just confirmed. We just took the boys for
their first look."
"Well, so what do you think of your old dad, twins none the less!" the
elderly man chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Oh yeah, wicked!" said Brett.
"Wicked?" asked the old gentleman, looking up at Barry.
"The cat's whiskers," said Barry with a grin, and the old man broke
into a toothless smile, the first in many weeks.
"So these days it's wicked. Youngsters have always had a language of
their own," he chuckled. He thought for a moment, reflecting on his own
youth. "Must be great to know you still have it in you," he observed,
looking up at Barry.
"Actually," whispered Benny to his brothers, "he had it in Mom."
"It was great to have yours in me last night," whispered Bobby.
"And bet you wish it still was," added Brett.
"Boys."
"Sorry, Dad," the boys replied automatically, even Brent although he
hadn't been whispering.
"Do you have any kids, Mister Burns?" asked Brett to distract his dad.
"Oh yes, seven."
"Wow, seven. You had it in you too," observed Brett to his father's
surprise. Figuring his son had to be parroting the old timer, there being
no way that he could know what that phrase meant, Barry made a note that he
really should sit down and have a talk with his boys about the facts of
life.
"Yes, a long time ago," Alex Burns said with a sigh, interrupting
Barry's thoughts. "Now I can't even sit up on my own, never mind get that
up."
"I'm sure the doctors will have you up and about in no time."
"Well, maybe up out of bed, but not up," the man said wistfully.
"Haven't been up for twenty years, and with the missus gone, not much point
in it happening anyway. No woman could ever replace Mary."
Barry didn't know how to respond to that, especially with his four
sons there beside him. He again wondered just how much of the conversation
they were understanding.
"Would be nice to be a teenager again," Alex said, looking at the four
boys standing respectfully beside their dad, each one shocked speechless by
the elderly gentleman's previous statement. What had left them speechless
wasn't the fact that he'd said it in front of them, but what he had said.
That the old gentleman hadn't had an erection for twenty years, and had no
desire to have one, was unfathomable to the four very healthy and prurient
boys. They could not possibly imagine a day going by without having at
least four or five erections, and they could not imagine anyone not wanting
to have one. "Bet you boys are up from the moment you wake until you go to
bed," Alex cackled. The boys glanced at each other and flushed as they
wondered how he knew, and Barry fidgeted. He was glad the elderly man was
in an unusually chipper mood, but he was embarrassed also. It had been
many years since the old man's children had been the age of his boys, and
he evidently had forgotten how careful an adult had to speak around
impressionable young minds. "I know. I remember what it was like," he
continued, a twinkle in his otherwise dulled eyes. "Ah, what I'd give to
be a teenager for even just a day." He glanced across the room, lost in
his dreams. "You have fine-looking boys, Barry," he observed finally.
"And I bet they're smart as whips too."
"Yes, they're doing well in school. Bobby's in grade six and Benny in
grade eight and both are getting good marks. Brent and Brett are in high
school now, and have made the high school basketball team," replied Barry,
glad the conversation had turned to a more comfortable topic.
"Well, haven't made all of them," mouthed Benny behind his hand,
causing the four boys to giggle.
"Not yet," whispered Brett, causing the four of them to giggle even
more.
"And full of piss and vinegar, I see," observed Alex.
The boys had no idea what that meant, but the way he said it and the
way their dad smiled, it was evidently something good to be full of. They
were not accustomed to an adult swearing in front of them, or making sexual
innuendos, both of which had endeared the old man to them. As for Barry,
it was the best mood he'd seen the senior in for weeks so he was not about
to object to his R-rated conversation. It was far better than sitting
there seeing him in pain and hearing him wish he was dead.
"They are full of life," Barry agreed with a proud smile. There was
no question that they were all boy.
"Yes," observed the elderly man. "I used to hear about them now and
then when I was able to get around."
"I'm sure you'll be out of here soon," Barry said encouragingly,
hoping to steer the topic away from his boys' shenanigans.
"Well, I'll be out of here for November thirteenth," he observed.
"I'll not be celebrating Veteran's day in the hospital. After that, well
. . . ," he said with a shrug.
As the conversation drifted off to Veteran's Day and the war, the
boys' minds wandered. When they joined their mother in the lobby, their
dad was deep in thought also.
"You're awful quiet, dear," Brenda observed as they headed for home.
"Hmmm? Oh. Yeah. Was thinking."
"About?"
"Old Alex Burns. He's so down. Seeing the boys and talking bout the
babies cheered him up, but it was only for the moment. I'm afraid he's
just hanging in for Veteran's Day, and after that, well. . . ."
"Oh no!"
"Afraid so. He just doesn't seem to have the will to live anymore."
"That's sad. He used to be so cheerful. It's too bad things have to
change."
"Yes. And speaking of change, that was the other thing I was thinking
about, the meeting coming up, the one James Forsythe has called about the
Scouts." The boys' ears perked up. "He's insisting on pushing his idea of
screening all the boys in the program, and all the leaders, and anyone new
in the future."
"What in heaven's name for?"
"Well, you know Forsythe," Barry sighed. "The national headquarters
has clearly announced they are not going to make any effort to discover a
person's orientation, but Forsythe doesn't think that goes far enough.
Ever since the Supreme Court ruled at the end of June in favour of the BSA
expelling that assistant troop leader in New Jersey for being gay, he's
been ranting and raving about morals and ethics and how the BSA is one of
the last true American traditions, and of course he has quite a crowd
following him, and quite a crowd against him. It is really threatening to
split the scouting parents, and the community."
Just how split the community was became clear at the meeting in the
Community Hall the following week. As the CEO of Forsythe Enterprises,
James Forsythe was one of the two major financial backers of the local boy
scout troop and cub pack and a very influential individual. He argued that
the Scout Oath to keep oneself "physically strong, mentally awake, and
morally straight" meant being heterosexual, and he used every argument the
BSA lawyers had used against the gay leader, James Dale. Reverend Bentley,
whose church was sponsoring the troop and whose son Cole was an Eagle Scout
and the assistant troop leader, added that under no circumstances did the
church condone homosexuality, and reminded everyone that a scout swore to
do his duty to God. Lining up on their side was Anthony Maartens, the
town's major, whose two sons were active leaders in the scouts,
thirteen-year-old Eric having reached the rank of first class, and
sixteen-year-old Danny the rank of star scout. Of course everyone knew the
mayor took whichever side he figured was to his political advantage, which
in this case was the side for family values and American morals, but still,
he was an important figure to have on their side.
Martha Richards was not a surprise either even though her children and
grandchildren had never even been in the scout movement. The matronly
grandmother had taken it upon herself to watch over the morals of the youth
of the town many years ago, and so far had successfully campaigned for a
curfew and the closure of the only bar to offer lap dancing, and was
constantly reviewing the books in the local library and the magazine stores
for porn even though she had no legal authority to do so.
Nor was anyone surprised to hear Wilson Carter stand up and speak
against having gay men and youth in the scouts. Wilson had also spoken
against blacks being in scouts when the first black family had moved into
town since he didn't think it would be fair for them to try to meet the
scout's standards considering their mental and genetic inferiority, and
although he had no problem with the Gonzalez family starting up a
landscaping business in town, he wasn't sure if Juan's children would be
capable of upholding the Scout Law, particularly being trustworthy,
obedient, and clean, being Mexican and all.
Speaking on the for side was Henry Farnsworth, the president of Wecare
Pet Supplies Limited and the other major financial backer. He had been a
scout himself, and so had his sons and so were his grandsons at the moment.
A forward thinking man, he believed that when the scout law said a scout
was to respect those with ideas and customs other than his own and was to
respect and defend the rights of all people, that extended to those who
were gay. As the president of a company with international markets, he
travelled around the world, and like most people who travel, he had a much
broader outlook on things. Of course many locals had never been out of the
state, and to them anyone who travelled wasn't really a local.
Barry supported Farnsworth's views, not just because he was third
vice-president in the company, but because he truly believed that being gay
was not contrary to the scouting movement, nor to the American dream, and
those views had nothing to do with the sexual orientation of his brother
James. The Brewsters were known to be strong community supporters and
dedicated volunteers for a number of major charities, and to be a solid,
churchgoing family. Of course their four sons were a mite too lively for
some of the neighbours and the immediate suspects if there was any mischief
about, and the strictness of their parents, or rather the lack of it, was a
frequent dinner time topic in the Crestview neighbourhood. Still, the
Brewster family was a highly respected family, and they were, after all,
direct descendants from the Mayflower Pilgrims.
Supporting them was Harold Bingham, a prominent lawyer and highly
respected citizen, whose son Wally was a scout, and who unbeknown to anyone
had recently come out to him. Of course a select group of high school
students knew that the one-time bully and fine featured grade eleven
student was not just gay, but a mincing queen and a sure bet if you weren't
scoring and needed a blow job. Ibrahim Nejrue, one of the few black men in
town knew about bullies and prejudice, and he knew his son Solomon's
antagonistic attitude was in part because of that. He also knew being in
the scouts was helping his boy cope with being different.
So, he spoke for the for side, not because of any support for
homosexuals, but because he was against discrimination of any kind.
Daring to put his position on the line was Mark Alden, grade four
teacher and cubmaster in charge of the cub den. Mark was a happily married
man with a sixteen-year-old son in grade eleven who was a life scout, but
he'd messed around with guys in his youth, and he knew many boys messed
around sexually, including some of those in his cub pack. To him, that was
a natural part of being a boy, and he knew all this talk about
homosexuality was creating some very heavy guilt feelings for some of his
cubs. That he felt was wrong, and he felt strongly enough about it to
speak out.
It was an emotional meeting that degenerated into a shouting match and
accusations by both sides, and ended with the decision to put the issue
aside while they prepared for Veteran's Day, and to take a vote on
Forsythe's motion later in November. That had been old Ty Cobb's
suggestion. Ty was seventy-five and had been scoutmaster for at least
three generations of boys. He had not declared a side despite bullying
attempts by Forsythe to make him do so. He knew that no matter which side
he took, it would alienate half of his financial supporters and probably
half of his longtime friends, and he was more concerned about whether they
would be able to continue the scout troop if one of the backers pulled out
than he was about the issue of homosexuality. As far as he was concerned,
that was a big city issue, not one that they needed to concern themselves
with. There wasn't a homosexual for a hundred miles around to his
knowledge.
The meeting generated a lot of talk in the households about town the
rest of the week, including at the supper table at the Brewsters, and in
the boys' bedroom afterward.
"Well, I think Forsythe's motion is totally dumb," announced Brett as
he flopped down on his bed.
"Yeah, me too," agreed Brent, hopping up on the top bunk above his
brother and sitting on the edge with his feet hanging over. "Who you have
sex with got nothing to do with the Scout Oath or the Scout Law or
nothing."
"Yeah," agreed Benny. "So what if a guy likes another guy?"
"Fuckin' right," observed Bobby.
"A scout is a friend to all. He is a brother to other Scouts. He
seeks to understand others. He respects those with ideas and customs other
than his own," the four boys chorused, having leaped to their feet and
given the scout salute as they recited the fourth Scout Law.
"Forsythe just respects those with ideas like his," Brent observed,
straddling his chair backwards and resting his chin on the back.
"Those whose ideas go back to when dinosaurs roamed the land,"
observed Brett, leaning against one of the double bunks.
"And those that suck up to him," added Bobby.
"Fuckin' right," Benny agreed.
"Why don't they see it's a bunch of crock?" observed Brett, who was
the one who most often thought things through of the four brothers.
"American morals and decency and yadda yadda yadda. He don't really
believe in all that, he's just trying to be a big shot pretending to be so
upright and decent and everything. It's so fucking evident that he's just
doing it because he thinks it makes him look like a hero, and because he
thinks it will be good for his business."
"Adults are so dumb sometimes," observed Brent, the quietest and most
serious, and most sensitive, of the four brothers.
"Yeah," the others agreed.
"So what we gonna do about it?"
"We just got until the meeting after Veteran's Day."
"Hey, speaking of Veteran's Day I wonder if old Mister Burns will be
there."
"I hope he is. He's sortta cool."
"Yeah. Did you see the twinkle in his eyes when he said that Dad
still had it in him?" asked Brent.
"Yeah," his brothers observed.
"Can you imagine not having a boner for twenty years?" asked Benny,
wrinkling up his nose.
"Ewwww," the boys responded, and the four shuddered as a chill passed
up their spines with the thought.
"Did he really mean there wasn't any point of being able to get a
woodie anyway?" asked Bobby.
"Well, his wife is dead."
"So he can still jerk off," suggested Bobby. "Guys that age can still
come, can't they?"
The three brothers all looked at Benny. "Sure, I once read in an
advice column that they can, if they are healthy and everything," the
twelve-year-old advised.
"He could mess with other old guys whose wives are dead too,"
suggested Brent.
"I wish we could do something to help him," observed Benny.
They all agreed and sat there staring off into space, deep in thought.
They were silent for an exceptionally long time, at least two or three
minutes, which for the hyper Brewster boys, was a record.
"Maybe we can help him, and other old guys like him, and fix it so
that they never vote on that dumb motion at the same time," said Brett
seriously.
"How?"
"I got an idea."
The boys leaned in closer to listen to Brett's plan. Being the
logical thinker of the four, they were not surprised he had an idea, and
when he was finished, they all agreed it was awesome. That settled, they
decided to play a game of crotchya. It was three weeks yet before
Veteran's Day way too far ahead to think about it.
Eight o'clock Monday morning, November 13th, three days after Benny's
thirteenth birthday, the four Brewsters, bright eyed and bushy tailed as
their grandfather would say, headed over to the community hall in their
scouting uniforms to join the other scouts in hanging up the flags and
banners of the various groups who were going to be taking part in the
ceremonies, and to set up the rows upon rows of chairs.
"I need someone to help me bring in the cross, and the stands for the
wreaths and some other stuff," announced Cole Bentley. "James, Danny."
The two sixteen-year-olds, working on their final requirements to become
Life Scouts, readily joined the assistant leader.
"We'll help too," called Brent and he and Brett joined their school
mates, James Forsythe and Danny Maartens. Ever since the Bastille Day
parade, the two older boys had been waiting for an opportunity to get their
revenge on the twins. It would be a small thing, but for starters they'd
make sure the two boys carried the heaviest objects into the community
hall.
"Hey, Solomon, come give us a hand," Brett said as they met the black
youth at the door. The black teenager had also had thoughts of getting
revenge on the Brewster brothers, in his case ever since Thanksgiving a
year ago.
"Hesperth and Clothe, spinners of dreams," began Brett, rasing his
right hand and beginning to perform a series of gestures with his fingers
as the six of them stepped up to the Bentley's van.
"Brewster, what the heck you doing now?" asked James Forsythe.
Sometimes Brett and his brothers acted so strange.
Brett continued with his gestures and a moment later the four boys
slumped on the ground unconscious, the result of the spell he'd recited
from the wizard's spell book he'd gotten just over a year ago when he and
his brothers had been attacked by four very evil beings, who'd also been on
a mission of revenge for perceived wrongs the brothers had done to one of
their own. Over the years a diverse group of humans and nonhumans was
forming that did not appreciate the efforts of the four brothers to expand
their sexual horizons.
"Wicked spell," said Brent with a wide grin.
"Sure is," agreed Brett. "We better hurry before someone comes."
"Huh?"
"We better ," began Brett, and then reaching over, plucked the cotton
from his twin's right ear. As the caster of the spell he hadn't had to
worry, but his brother had had to block his ears or he'd have been
stretched out on the ground with the other four. "We better hurry before
someone comes."
"Right," Brent agreed, taking a narrow six-inch long hose and a packet
out of the inside pocket of his scout jacket as Brett quickly pulled down
the pants and underwear of the four boys. Opening the packet and pinching
the hose closed an inch from the end, he sprinkled some of the powder in
the pinched end. Then, while his brother pulled apart Cole's butt cheeks,
he carefully stuck that end in and then eased the hose up the
eighteen-year-old's rectum as far as he could. Placing his mouth at the
other end of the hose, he blew into it several times. Removing it, he
quickly reached for more powder.
"Better make sure you put the powder in the same end as the first time
or you're going to have a surprise when you blow it up the next guy's
asshole," observed Brett with a grin.
"Ewww," responded his brother as he wrinkled up his nose, and they
giggled as he inserted the hose up Danny's rectum, and with a couple strong
puffs, blew the powder up his rectum.
After doing James and Solomon, they pulled up the boys' underwear and
trousers. "Now hear my words," Brett said, addressing the four spellbound
boys. "For the next eight hours, each time you hear the word 'free' you'll
want to get off a load worst than you've ever felt in your life, and the
more often you hear it, the hornier you'll get." He looked at Brent and
the two brothers high-fived before he brought their victims out of their
spell.
"Sheesh, that was something," he said as the four boys on the ground
looked at each other in a daze, and them about them.
"What the heck happened?" asked Cole as he sat up.
"James slipped, and Solomon tripped over him, and then Danny fell over
them and knocked you to the ground. You all musta hit your heads or
something."
The four looked at each other, and then at the twins as they got to
their feet. They were not believing that for one moment, not after their
past encounters with the two blond, blue-eyed demons, but they had no
alternative explanations. Their suspicions grew even stronger as a few
minutes later they felt an itch developing deep in their bowels, the result
of the itching powder Brett had blown up their rectums. Opening and
closing their assholes as they packed in the supplies, they gritted their
teeth and tried to ignore the prickling deep in their bowels.
They had no sooner set up the podium and the cross and the wreath
stands than people began to arrive for the services along with the high
school band, who set up in the front of the hall and began playing military
marches while the people filed in and took their seats. The front rows
were reserved for the speakers and dignitaries and of course the veterans,
cubs, scouts and army cadets taking part in the services. The boys were
pleased to see old Alex Burns slowly walk up to the front row with his
walker, dressed in his World War II khaki's and with his medals all
polished and hanging from his chest. As Cam Souyong stepped forward and
played a solo on his trumpet, the attention of all four turned to him and
Brent remarked that the handsome sixteen-year-old Thai youth could blow his
horn anytime, a sentiment that his three brothers all readily agreed with.
The ceremony began promptly at ten-thirty with the posting of the
Nation's colours. The National, State, BSA and Seventy-third Army Cadet
Corps flags were trooped in and placed in their stands, and two members of
the Army Cadet Corps marched to the front of the hall and took their places
on either side of the cross with their rifles pointed to the ground and
their heads bowed. Despite the solemnity of the occasion, the four
Brewster brothers could not help but fantasize about Neil Jasperson as he
stood there in his Cadet uniform. Their fifteen-year-old classmate looked
so hot in his military uniform and beret. The band began to play, and
everyone stood to sing the National Anthem.
"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"
The Brewster brothers glanced at each other and smiled knowingly while
farther along the row four boys wiggled uncomfortably as they felt a surge
of desire in their loins and the itch up their rectums grew worse. By the
time several hundred voices had called out the last line of the anthem for
the third time, all four were embarrassingly erect.
"Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand," continued the crowd.
Four of the freemen were more than just standing by then, they were
throbbing with desire.
Following the Pledge of Allegiance, the speeches began, starting with
Mayor Maartens. "When Francis Scott Key wrote the 'Star Spangled Banner'
almost two hundred years ago, he called American 'the land of the free and
the home of the brave'," he began, and his son's cock ached so badly with
desire the sixteen-year-old was afraid it would rip through his scout
trousers. "Those words are as true today as they were then. Throughout
this Nation's history, America's soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines and
coastguardsmen have bravely answered the call to defend our freedom."
Danny, James, Solomon and Cole could barely keep still the desire in their
loins was so bad. Beaming out at the crowd, Mayor Maartens had no idea
what he was doing to his teenage son.
The President of the American Legion was next, beginning his speech
with reference to that year's poster, entitled "Freedom Is Not Free", much
to the amusement of the four Brewster brothers. That was followed by
prayers and blessings by the United Church minister, the priest from the
Catholic church, and Reverend Bentley, representing the Evangelical
churches. Following the minute of silence at eleven and the playing of
taps, the representatives of the different groups came forward to lay their
wreaths. One by one the Air Force Association, American Legion, American
War Mothers, AMVETS, Disabled American Veterans, Korean War Veterans,
Vietnam Veteran's Institute, WAVES, cubs, scouts, army cadets and scores of
individuals added their wreaths below the cross and Cole, James, Danny and
Solomon discretely slipped a hand behind them to jab at their anuses or
cupped their hands before them and squeezed their crotches, the itching so
bad they could not think of anything else.
With the retiring of the colours, all four teenagers were thinking
about heading to the washroom, hoping a crap would relieve the itch deep up
their bowels, and while they wouldn't dare jerk off, hoping a discrete
squeeze and a few seconds of rapid rubbing would satisfy the urge in their
loins until they got home and could satisfy the need in private. Before
they could seek relief, however, they had to help move the chairs and bring
out some tables for the tea arranged afterwards. The ladies of the various
service clubs in town had prepared sandwiches, vegetable plates and
pastries, and urns of coffee and pitchers of juice ahead of time.
In the kitchen a large bowl of punch had been set aside for the cubs,
scouts and cadets who were responsible for serving the veterans, and a keg
had been chilled specifically for the veterans' use.
What nobody knew was that the Brewster brothers had discretely spiked
the punch with several packets of Spanish Fly, which they had ordered
through the net and paid for with their fake money courtesy of the warlock
spell book. Those whose duty it was to serve were going to find it a very
uplifting experience. The Brewster boys had similarly dissolved seven
dozen Viagra tablets they'd also purchased off the net in the keg for the
veterans. When they'd asked their father, he had anticipated at least two
dozen veterans would be present, and figuring if they were all like old
Mister Burns they'd need all the help they could get, the boys had decided
on three tablets for each veteran and had thrown in another dozen for good
measure.
Solomon Nejrue, the thirteen-year-old second class scout who had
immigrated from Sudan a year and a half ago, finally could take it no
longer. With memories of the night of the Thanksgiving play when the
Brewster boys had tied him up and stuffed his rectum, he took the longest
carrot stick he could find and discretely slipped away to the first meeting
room that was open in the hall to satisfy the itch up his asshole. Of
course the Brewster boys had been watching and waiting, and when one of the
veterans, from the Korean War by his medals and badges and who was either
exceptionally well hung or feeling the effects of the beer and Viagra,
headed for the washroom, Brett sprang into action. Covering up the
washroom sign, the helpful first class scout directed the elderly veteran
to the conference room where Solomon had headed.
Discovering the good-looking, horny, black teenager standing there
with his red and yellow scout tie askew, his trousers and jockey briefs
about his ankles, his legs spread, working a carrot stick in and out of his
rectum, the exceedingly horny seventy-five year old veteran and widowed
grandfather did exactly what Brett had figured he would do, he unzipped his
trousers and pulled out his throbbing erection. By that time Solomon was
so horny and his bowels itching so badly, he eagerly withdrew the carrot
stick and bent over, figuring the man's six inches would do a much better
job of satisfying his itch. Besides, thanks to the Brewster brothers, it
would not be the first time he'd had a cock up his ass, and also thanks to
the Brewsters although he did not know it, he was feeling randy as all
fuck.
A minute later Danny Maartens headed down the hall, having decided to
slip into one of the meeting rooms himself to have a quick jerk to at least
satisfy one of his itches. Walking in on Solomon and the vet who were so
intent on their fucking they did not notice him enter the room, the horny
sixteen-year-old was surprised and almost backed out, but the desire in his
loins won out over the logic of his mind. Pulling down his fly and
extracting his stiff, aching cock, the star scout began to slowly stroke
himself. He'd had no idea Solomon was gay, or that guys that were even
older than his grandfather still had sexual urges, and as he mulled over
his new information and watched the two he picked up the tempo.
The horny teenager did not have any idea that at that very moment
Brent was directing one of the second world war veterans to the meeting
room. Needless to say, seeing one scout bent over and being furiously
buggered and a second, a handsome five-foot-ten sixteen-year-old star scout
with blond, spiked hair, long fine eyelashes and dark black eyebrows
jerking off, the horny eighty-five year old vet, fired up by several pints
of Viagra-laced beer, pulled out his cock and approached the horny Danish
boy. Knowing what it was like to have a cock up his ass, thanks to the
Brewster boys, and considering the itch deep up his rectum, unbeknownst to
him but also thanks to the Brewsters, Danny more than willingly stepped out
of his scout trousers and his boxers and assumed the same position as
Solomon.
Meanwhile, Wally Bingham, the sixteen-year-old who had switched from
being the school bully to the school queen after Benny had scratched him
with the tip of one of Cupid's arrows back when he was fourteen, was
feeling the effects of the Spanish Fly laced punch and was looking around
for someone he might satisfy his lust with. Brent moved over near the life
scout, pretending to be refilling the glass of one of the veterans while
Wally passed around the plate of cheese and crackers, and Brett stepped up
and whispered in his brother's ear, loud enough for Wally to hear, that he
had seen Danny Maartens getting screwed by one of the vets in meeting room
number three. Of course Wally immediately slipped away to check it out,
followed by one of the Vietnam War vets who had also heard the convenient
whisper and was, to his surprise, feeling even randier than he'd felt as a
young man in the war. Needless to say, upon seeing the two couples rutting
as if their lives depended upon it, Wally willingly dropped to his knees
and took out the vet's rapidly swelling sausage, and the vet willingly let
the good-looking young scout service him.
Unable to stand the itch up his rectum any longer, James Forsythe was
the next to slip away with the longest carrot stick he could find hidden
inside his scout jacket, hoping to do the same as Solomon had planned.
Cole Bentley had seen the handsome, dark-haired and dark-eyed youth
discretely fiddling with himself, and hoping to catch him in the act so he
could use that as leverage to get the boy to do something with him, he gave
the younger teen a minute to slip out of the room and then followed, just
in time to see him enter the meeting room instead of the washroom.
The two boys were still standing there in the room staring in
disbelief at the scene in front of them when they were joined by two more
veterans who had been seeking the solitary of the washroom to satisfy a
most unexpected but welcome development. Having been unable to find the
washroom, they had been directed to the meeting room by a most helpful
young Tenderfoot scout, Bobby Brewster. Thanks again to the Brewsters,
James was not new to the concept of getting his ass ploughed, and
eighteen-year-old Cole, also thanks to the Brewsters at a much earlier
date, had discovered gay sex, and had over the subsequent months, begun
cruising the park for men. Both horny scouts readily stepped out of their
trousers and bent over to accommodate the two vets, neither of whom were
gay, but both horny enough that they readily accepted the alternative of a
hot, moist asshole to their fists.
By this time, the Brewster brothers had decided it was time for a full
scale attack. Calling over Charles Elwood, their eight-year-old neighbour
and hero worshipper, and a few of the other cubs who they knew were close
friends of Charles, they told the boys to check out what was happening in
meeting room three and to report back to them. The six young seven to
eleven- year-olds were horny before they headed to the meeting room thanks
to the spiked punch, and their cub uniforms were all tented out with little
erections by the time they returned. Following Bobby's suggestion, they
spread out, and each picking a vet, they took the unsuspecting adult down
to the meeting room for an unexpected award. One cub who was totally
innocent and two who knew the pleasure of fiddling with themselves were
soon engaged in mutual jerk sessions with the veterans they had chosen.
Two of the more daring cubs were prepared to do a good deed by blowing the
vets they had picked out. Charles, knowing much more about the ways of men
thanks to his neighbours and heros, was prepared to offer more than the
warmth of his heart to the portly President of the local American Legion,
and the portly president was more than willing to sink his aching stiff
cock up the ass of the eight-year-old bear cub.
After waiting a few minutes, the brothers, along with their closest
friends, fifteen-year-old first class scout Billy Hollis, thirteen-year-old
second class scout Justin Fording, and Aaron Porter, an eleven-year-old
Tenderfoot like Bobby, selected a few veterans themselves, and joined the
now frenzied activities in the meeting room. Having picked a grey-haired
air force vet from the second world war who unlike many of the vets had
kept his trim figure, the twins soon had his trousers and underwear off and
the man on his hands and knees. While Brent slipped under him and began to
lick his thick, cut cock, the randy teenager offered up his uncut erection.
The man eagerly went down on him as Brett slipped up behind him and pushed
his own erection, slick with KY, up the man's butt.
In an identical position beside them, Benny was furiously fucking the
backside of a slightly plumb gay vet from the second world war by the name
of Mike Wolenski while the man happily engaged in a hot sixty-nine with
young Bobby who was eagerly sucking the man's long, fat sausage. Word soon
spread among the other veterans and the cubs, scouts and cadets as the
first to leave returned to the hall, and soon there was a steady stream of
elderly men and young boys heading to the room with bulging trousers, and
returning with large smiles. Vets matched up with the young, randy scouts
and cadets, vets matched up with other vets, and horny cubs eagerly plunged
their tiny pricklets up the backsides of their equally horny older
brothers. The meeting room was soon rank with the odour of hot, sweating
balls and fresh cum.
After several hours, as the crowd began to thin but before the coming
and going of the vets and the extended absence of certain cubs and scouts
began to be noticed, the Brewster brothers figured it was time to put the
last part of their plan into action.
Deciding to start with the most vocal and most insistent of the anti-gay
side, Brent and Brett casually paused near where James Forsythe and his
wife were sitting and talking to the Catholic priest.
"I can't believe what's going on in meeting room three," whispered
Brent.
"Nor can I," Brett replied. "Isn't it supposed to be a sin or
something for guys to have sex with guys?"
"Well if it is, there's going to be a lot of guys going to hell."
As the twins moved off, James Forsythe and the Catholic priest
immediately headed for room three. Slowly opening the door and peering
inside, they were shocked to find a dozen young scouts and cubs and an
equal number of vets engaged in a variety of perverted acts. One chubby
Viet Nam war vet of at least sixty was perspiring profusely as he fucked a
young first class scout, his medals bouncing on the chest of his blue
blazer as he furiously worked his cock in and out of the boy's backside.
Two vets over eighty-years-old were engaged in a passionate sixty- nine in
the far corner, and two ten-year-old Webelos Scouts were sitting side by
side and wanking each other's little, reddened erections as they approached
their third orgasm of the afternoon while they watched the two elderly men.
"Oh yeah, shove it in all the way," gasped a familiar voice on the
other side of the room. "Right up as far as you can. Oh fuck, that feels
so good!"
"Oh yeah," grunted the man ploughing the star scout's ass. "I'm going
to fill your fucking little fag ass with the biggest load of your young fag
life."
The senior James Forsythe stared at his sixteen-year-old son, naked
from the waist down and bent over and grasping the back of a chair, his
yellow and red Scout tie swaying in time to the humping of the
forty-three-year-old Gulf War vet fucking his ass. Totally in shock and
not noticing Father O'Rilley enter the room and head toward a very cute,
solitary six-year-old Tiger Cub who'd been in the cubs for only two months
and was pinching his stiff little cocklet through the cloth of his uniform,
the senior James Forsythe headed outside. He was standing there in the
parking lot still in shock when he was joined ten minutes later by the
muscular Gulf War army vet who'd stepped outside to have a cigarette.
"What the hell type of man are you?" he asked, glaring at the man with
hatred.
"What are you
talking about?"
"I saw you, you pervert. I saw what you were doing to my son in
there!"
"That . . . that was your son?" the man asked, momentarily taken
aback. The senior James Forsythe simply glared at him, unable to speak.
"Well, hey, before you start with the accusations, your son was more than
willing."
"My son? My son is only sixteen, you sick pervert! I don't know what
the hell is going on, but someone has evidently drugged my boy, and the
rest of those young boys in there. I don't know who the hell you are, but
know this, I'm contacting the police and having you arrested for molesting
my boy! You'll be in jail for the rest of your sick perverted life."
"Well, I know who you are," the man responded, "and that you've been
making weekly visits to a certain two-story house over in the northeast
part of town. You know the one, the one with the pealing brown paint over
on Marlborough Drive. So, I've just fucked the ass of the son of the rich
and famous James Forsythe. Well, you hypocrite, I'm sure your wife would
be interested in the fact you've been paying visits to a brothel, and
according to one of young ladies you and I have both been balling, that you
also have a mistress you've been seeing on the side. You report me and
I'll make sure the whole town knows your secret. I wonder how your wife'll
take that, along with the discovery she has a little faggot son."
James Forsythe said nothing as the man headed across the lot and got
in his car. After all these years of being discrete, in a matter of a
couple minutes his secret was now dependant on him keeping the secret of
this filthy pedo. His marriage would be over, and he wouldn't be able to
look his business associates in the eye if the word got out about his side
interests. It would be even worse if word got out about his son being gay.
As the CEO of Forsythe Enterprises headed back into the community hall, he
suddenly had a lot to think about.
So did Reverent Bentley, who at that very moment was sitting off in a
corner by himself, unable to get the image of his naked eighteen-year-old
son out of his mind. The boy had rolled up his jacket with his Eagle Scout
insignia and twenty-three merit badges lovingly sewn on by his mother to
use as a pillow, and was laying there on the floor of meeting room three,
his hips and legs in the air while fat Charlie Winsloe, President of the
American Legion, fucked his ass, his red Legion cap askew and the ribbons
pinned on his blue blazer fluttering as the old pervert worked his cock in
and out of his boy's ass, the two surrounded by a dozen other perverts in a
frenzy of homosexual perversity. It was a hellish image he would never
forget.
Nearby was mayor Anthony Maartens sitting in equal shock at the sight
of his son in the middle of the room on all fours being banged doggy style
by a hairy ex Marine. When he'd overheard the youngest Brewster boy
talking about the orgy down the hall, he'd had no idea his son would be
right in the middle of it. The sight was bad enough, but hearing his young
son telling the man his asshole was burning deep inside and begging the man
to shove his cock in farther and farther was too much for any father to
hear.
Speaking of fathers, Martha Richards and Wilson Carter were standing
at the door of the meeting room that very instant being totally ignored by
those inside. One of those in the room was Martha's eighty-year-old father
who's unbuttoned blazer and shirt were flapping against his naked hips and
whose thin, grey-haired chest was heaving as the old man furiously thrust
his cock in and out of the smooth backside of a cute eight-year-old bear
cub with light brown hair and dark brown eyes standing up on a chair to
accommodate the old man. Laying on the floor near them was. Wilson's nude
seventy-six year old father engaged in a hot foursome, the elderly man and
a now naked thirteen-year-old black boy engaged in a sixty-nine while a
horny eleven-year-old tenderfoot scout with swarthy skin and straight black
hair, one of the Gonzalez boys, buggered the old man while a
fifty-five-year-old Vietnam vet was furiously fucking the backside of the
black boy.
Wanting to be sure there was no way they were going to be blamed for
what had happened, the Brewster boys were back in the main hall helping to
put away the chairs and making sure everyone knew they were there. There
was another reason they were in the main hall Neil Jasperson. Plying the
handsome army cadet with the last of the punch, the twins convinced him to
come home with them with the promise they'd take care of his horniness.
After the unexpected fun in the videocommunictions course several weeks
earlier, the randy cadet was more than ready to join the two good-looking
blond teenagers. He had decided over the past couple weeks that he liked
both boys and girls, and that being bi really let him have the best of both
worlds.
The Brewster brothers were quite happy being gay themselves. As they
headed home a bit later, Neil squeezed in between Brent and Brett in the
last seat, it was all the twins could do to stop from reaching over and
fondling the handsome cadet, and their two younger brothers had to sit on
their hands to keep them off each other. Arriving home, the boys took Neil
directly to their bedroom.
"Ah, shouldn't your brothers go watch TV or something?" he asked as
the twins stepped up beside him and Brett ran his hands up the teenager's
right thigh as Brent caressed his butt.
"And miss having some hot sex?" asked Bobby. "No fucking way."
"You don't mind if we make it a fivesome, do you?" asked Brett softly
as he squeezed the boy's swelling flesh.
"Ah, no," he replied, glancing at the two younger Brewsters. They
were hot looking actually, in a different sort of way than their twin
brothers, and the novel thought of the five of them getting it off was so
erotic it caused his cock to throb with excitement.
"Good," said Benny as he dropped and began to unlace the boy's army
boot. "Cuz in this family we believe in doing things together."
"Fucking right," said Bobby as he dropped and began to unlace the
other boot.
"Isn't this supposed to be against the Scout oath or something?" Neil
asked, glancing at the four boy scouts as Brent and Brett unbuttoned his
khaki tunic and slipped it off.
"Well, let's see," Brett purred in his right ear as he loosened the
boy's tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt so he could
slip his hand inside to caress his chest. "We told you if you came home
with us we'd show you a good time. Now that was the truth, and we keep our
promises, because a scout is trustworthy." He ran his fingertips over the
boy's smooth chest, and finding the boy's teat, he began to fiddle with it.
"And loyal," added Brent as he cupped the boy's warm, rapidly swelling
crotch outside his heavy woollen pants. "Which means we're true to our
friends." He unbuttoned the boy's fly and slipped his hand inside the
opening. "You do want to be friends, don't you?" he asked as his fingers
cupped the boy's warm jewels.
"Oh yeah," Neil sighed deeply.
"And a scout is helpful," observed Benny as he and Bobby pulled off
the boy's army boots and then his grey, woollen socks. "We do things
willingly for others, and without pay." The two youngest Brewsters stood
and slipped the boy's suspenders off his shoulders.
"And a boy scout is friendly," said Brett, having finished unbuttoning
the boy's shirt and having removed his tie. Wrapping his arm about him and
drawing the slightly taller boy down to his level, he bent his head forward
and kissed the boy firmly on the lips. As they kissed a second time, Neil
felt his trousers and his Joe Boxers being drawn down. Brett pressed his
lips tighter against the boy's and slipped his tongue in his mouth. "Was
that friendly enough?" he asked when their lips finally parted, his hot,
sweet breath blowing in Neil's face.
"Mmmm," was all the boy could say as Brent slipped his hand down
behind him and caressed his naked butt.
"And courteous. Would you lift your right foot please so I can get
your pants and boxers off?" the horny eleven-year-old asked, his hazel eyes
sparkling as he looked up at the teenager with an impish smile. Needless
to say Neil readily complied.
"And a scout is kind," said Benny as the boys eased Neil to the
carpeted floor and lay him on his back. The recently-turned
thirteen-year-old began to massage Neil's right foot as he'd been taught by
Ali, the genie. "He treats others as he wants to be treated." His stiff
four-and-a- half inches were tenting out his scout pants and ached for
satisfaction.
"And he is obedient," said Bobby. "You just say what you want us to
do and we'll do it." Neil could not speak as the eleven-year-old ran his
hand up the army cadet's naked thigh, causing his stiff cock to jerk
excitedly.
"And cheerful," continued Brent as he pushed down his scout pants and
his black, cotton knit Calvin Klein boxer briefs. His own stiff cock
sprang to attention. "He tries to make others happy, and goes about his
tasks cheerfully," he continued, untying his red and yellow scout tie and
beginning to unbutton his shirt.
"And thrifty," said Brett. "He uses his time carefully. And as we
promised, we are going to show you a good time" He had not yet begun to
undress, and as Neil looked over at the fourteen-year-old first class
scout, his long blond hair cascading down over the shoulders of his scout
jacket, the sleeves emblazoned with badges for first aide, citizenship in
the community, climbing, computers, family life, hiking, personal fitness,
personal management, camping, and swimming, his cock twitched and he felt
the first drop of pre-cum ooze out. This was so fucking hot.
"And a scout is brave," said Benny, having totally chucked his pants.
"He has the courage to stand up for what he thinks is right." At the
moment the four-foot-ten, ninety-four-pound scout's four-and-a-half inch
cock was standing straight up, and he brushed it against Neil's butt cheek.
"I'm standing up for what I think is right," he said with an impish grin,
his hazel eyes twinkling.
"And he is clean," said Bobby as he took the boy's throbbing
five-and-a-half inch uncut cock in his hand and slowly drew back his skin.
The eleven-year-old had chucked all his clothes and now squatted down and
examined the teenager's cock closely. "Glad to see you're clean too," he
said, his hot boy breath blowing against the teenager's cock and causing a
second drop of pre-cum to ooze out of the slit. "But a bit leaky," the
youngster said with a giggle.
"And a boy scout is reverent," concluded Brett as his brothers spread
the blanket from Bobby's bed on the floor and tossed the pillows on it.
"We respect your beliefs, whatever they might be," he continued as the five
of them gathered on the blanket.
Brent and Bobby were already naked and their cocks were standing up
stiff and ready. Benny quickly removed his tie and shirt, and Brett
quickly stripped off his clothes and tossed them aside while Brent raised
Neil's legs and hips and their two younger brothers piled up their pillows
under his rump. Taking the tube of KY out of the drawer where Bobby kept
his bug collection and where they knew their mother would never go, Brett
greased up his stiff cock, now almost five-and-three-quarter inches, and
knelt behind Neil. Between the Spanish fly and being disrobed and caressed
by the four Brewster boys, Neil had never felt so horny and the young cadet
readily spread his legs. Besides, after the episode at school with Conrad
and Jason, he was curious if having his ass fucked would be as great as
fucking their asses had been.
Feeling Brett's greased knob pressing against his butthole, he inhaled
deeply in anticipation, and after Brett's prompting, he contracted his
stomach muscles and pushed out while Brett pushed forward. Brett's dick
seemed to be growing in length daily, but it was still narrow, and between
the KY and the enthusiasm of the two boys, he managed to insert the knob on
the fourth attempt. He paused for a moment, knowing the shock that was to
someone who'd never been fucked before, and then he slowly pressed his hips
forward, sinking his stiff cock up Neil's virgin chute. Neil trembled with
the unique sensation of a stiff rod slowly sliding into him.
Waiting until Brett had eased his stiff cock up the boy's asshole,
Brent straddled Neil's chest and grinning down at him, slipped his hand
down his stomach and through his blond curls. Pressing down on the base of
his cock, identical in shape, length and diameter to his twin's, so that it
was pointed at Neil's face, the horny, blond fourteen-year-old licked his
lips seductively. By this time Neil had decided to go all out while he had
the opportunity, and he readily opened his mouth even though he'd never
sucked a boy's cock in his life. Brent eased forward slowly and paused
frequently, allowing the virgin boy to get used to having a dick in his
mouth. He slipped first just the top half of his cockhead between the
parted lips, and then three-quarters, and finally the entire knob. He
waited for a bit before slowly easing his cock further in.
Neil could not believe how hot this was, to have a cock up his ass and
another in his mouth, and it being the cocks of identical twins was even
hotter. Brent's cock did not taste anywhere near what he'd feared it
might, and, in fact, it was rather enticing. He sucked on it tentatively,
and just the thought caused his dick to ooze out a droplet of pre-cum. He
was sucking a guy's cock! He was a cocksucker! Another droplet of pre-cum
oozed out of his dick and he eased his lips father down the slender teen
cock.
Having waited for Neil to get used to the two cocks inside him, Benny
and Bobby finally lay down on either side of him in the opposite direction
and began to lick and nibble on his cock and balls, causing still more
pre-cum to ooze out. Neil reached out and ran his hands up along their
slender, smooth legs until he found their genitals. He rolled and caressed
their young, hairless balls and then brought his fingertips to his nose
just as he often did to himself when he jerked off. Their sweaty nuts
smelled much as his did, yet each was slightly different, each unique. He
reached back over, running his fingertips along their smooth skin, up their
legs and over their hips, across Bobby's hairless pubes and through the
fine, curly hairs that Benny only recently had begun to sprout. Their
dicks were hard and curving up parallel to their stomachs. He wrapped his
fingers about the young, slender tubes and slowly began to wank them.
There on the carpet under the poster Freedom is Not Free and the
pennant from the last boy scout jamboree that the four brothers had gone
to, the four scouts and the army cadet forgot about wars and killing and
debates over orientation and American values and enjoyed being boys and
being horny. Most of all they enjoyed the freedom and the openness of
their youth to follow their hearts and to give free reign to their
hormones. They were boys above all else, exemplified by the moth on the
pinning board on Bobby's desk, the half-made jet fighter model on Benny's,
and Brett's science fair trophy along side Brent's trophy for the school
debate competition. The tube of KY on the floor beside them, the mementoes
of past sexual escapades hidden away in drawers, the pack of condoms in the
twin's wallets, and the growing number of gay sites bookmarked on the
Brewster computer reflected another very real part of their boyhood.
Neil was experiencing a very new aspect of being a boy. He opened and
closed his anus as Brett eased his cock in and out of his rectum. Quivers
of a new and unique pleasure ripped through his lower torso as he
concentrated on the long, hard organ easing in and out of his asshole. He
eagerly sucked on the hot cock easing back and forth between his lips and
swallowed his cock-flavoured saliva as Brent rocked back and forth on his
chest. The thought of what he was doing caused his heart to speed up and
another type of pleasure to flow across his upper torso. Still another
pleasure rippled through his groin as he wanked the two small cocks of the
younger brothers while they licked and nibbled on his cock and his balls.
He oozed out a seemingly endless stream of pre-cum which was immediately
lapped up by one or the other young boy's tongue.
Being the centre of attention, it was no surprise that Neil was the
first of the boys to cum, his wagging boner suddenly erupting with rapid
shots of his creamy teenage cum. It shot across his body to splatter
against Brent's back and run down over the fourteen-year-old's buttocks,
and it landed in thick puddles on Neil's stomach. Seconds later Benny also
shot off, his young, thin cum lacing Neil's heaving chest and stomach.
Brett was next, grasping the panting teenager's hips tightly as he filled
his rectum with his hot, thick load. Almost instantaneously Brent reached
his climax, filling the army cadet's mouth with his creamy cum. Neil
swallowed the sweet, thick load, and as he opened his mouth it oozed out
around the corners of his lips and around his chin. Bobby was the last to
climax, grunting and gasping with his dry orgasm as his slender dick, now
three-and-a-half inches long, throbbed just as violently and as pleasantly
as his older brothers'.
The boys disentangled and lay there on the carpet, chests heaving as
they savoured the unique pleasure of ejaculation, all five of them with a
trace of creamy boy cum on their fingers or spattered somewhere on their
naked bodies. It had been fantastic, as it always was, but Neil had drunk
a dozen glasses of punch, and the Brewster brothers were especially randy.
It was not long before the five had formed a new combination there in the
boys' bedroom and were going at it again.
Several days later Barry informed his family over the supper table
that on the way home he'd seen old Alex Burns and another elderly man on
his front porch putting up Christmas lights and he'd pulled over to see how
the old man was doing. It seemed that not only had his hip healed, but
he'd had a change in attitude and was his old chipper self. It seemed to
have something to do with the other old man, a Mike Wolenski, moving in
with him.
Old Alex wouldn't say how that had happened, but only observed with a
twinkle in his eye that he'd developed a sudden taste for Polish sausage on
Veteran's day. Mike responded that Alex might have snow on the roof, but
there was still a fire in his furnace, and the two men looked at each other
and laughed like young boys.
Barry had other good news to share. James Forsythe had announced he
was withdrawing his motion, and it seemed the rest of the opposing side was
not going to push the issue either. In fact there was a rumour that
Charlie Winsloe, President of the American Legion, was spearheading a
fledging movement to start up a gay youth support group in town, and there
was even talk of joining the Scouting For All movement that had been
launched almost three years ago by an eagle scout by the name of Steven
Cozza to end discrimination against gay youth by the BSA.
"Now, I wonder what brought that change about," mused Brenda as she
caressed her swollen tummy.
Her four sons glanced at each other and smiled knowingly. It was a
tough war that they were in and had officially declared on November 13th,
but they had at least won this battle, and who knows, maybe by the time
little Blaine and little Blakey were in the scouting movement, your sexual
orientation wouldn't be an issue. If it was, it would not be through any
fault of the boys. Glancing back at their mother, they felt particularly
good being in the land of the free and the home of the brave.
"Anyone want a second piece of apple pie?" she asked.
"Fu-, fu-, fu-, for goodness sake sure," said Bobby, and his three
brothers and his father all quickly agreed.
As Brenda cut six more slices of pie, and took out a dill pickle to
have with hers, she wondered how Bobby would feel if she approached the
school about increasing his speech therapy time.