Date: Sat, 26 May 2001 06:23:03
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Shavuot With the Brewsters" (t/t, t/b, incest)

Caution/Welcome.  This is a story involving four brothers, one preteen, one
thirteen-year-old and two fifteen-year-old twins who in doing their part to
fight anti-Semitism in their town, participate in their first Shavuot, a
Jewish holiday celebrating the harvest in Israel and commemorating the
receipt of the ten commandments, and for two Jewish boys, from henceforth
commemorating the loss of their innocence.  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 twenty-fifth story in the Brewster Boys special events and myths
series.  No irreverence is meant to the Jewish faith in the telling of the
events in this story, and every attempt has been made to make the events as
accurate as possible not withstanding the presence of the Brewster
brothers.
  Special thanks to Jeff and Peter for their advice.  Whether you are
celebrating Shavuot or Pentecost or the loss of your own innocence,
remember the Brewsters' eleventh commandment: thou shalt wear a rubber if
thou doth covet thy neighbor's ass.  Hot little cheder-boys, praise, and
story ideas for 2002 can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at
authorsix@hotmail.com

                   SHAVUOT WITH THE BREWSTERS

  When you are young and full of piss and vinegar with hormones flowing
through your veins and a mind filled with wild and wonderful ideas, nothing
is impossible, and every day is a great day.  That was how the Brewster
brothers approached each morning.  Of course Friday was an extra great day,
being the last day of school, not that the boys had anything against going
to school.  On the contrary, it was at school that they had some of their
wickedest times, both with their fellow students and with the teachers and
school staff.  The reason the boys looked forward to Friday morning
especially was because it was a school day, and because it was the last day
before the weekend.
  The day typically began waking up with a woodie and taking a moment to
enjoy it before crawling out of bed with your three brothers, whose pajamas
were also tented out, and heading for the bathroom for a group shower.
Showering as a foursome saved water, and therefore money, and it saved
time, all of which their parents greatly appreciated.  It also provided an
opportunity for a group wank, the very first orgasm of the day, which was a
great way to begin any day as far as the four Brewster brothers were
concerned.
  Checking out the twins' armpits and Bobby's pubes for hairs, they
proceeded to blow dry each other's hair, pits, groin, butthole and nips
before dashing starkers back to their room to put on clean underwear and
get dressed for school.  Breakfast usually consisted of pancakes with
Canadian back bacon and maple syrup from eastern Canada, a result of their
Canadian origins, or eggs with crisps, fried tomato and bangers, the result
of their father's ancestry which they'd traced back to the Pilgrim fathers,
and on cold days a big bowl of porridge with brown sugar, the result of
their mother's Scottish ancestry.
  Then it was off to the bus stop to greet their friends and sometimes copy
homework assignments if one of them had had a, well, busy evening.  They
always greeted their bus driver with happy grins and some comment to show
they were interested in him as a person and not just as their chauffer,
Bobby often asking him how it was hanging, looking down when he asked so
the obese driver could not tell if he was referring to his dick or his
protruding stomach, Benny telling him that Old Froghorn had been asking
about his health, reminding Blackburn of an incident between himself and
the school teacher one Valentine's Day courtesy of the Brewster brothers
and Cupid, and Brent or Brett asking him if he hadn't gotten any last night
(if he was frowning, which was usually the case) or observing that he must
have (if he was smiling, which was rare), insinuating they were talking
about sex from the expression on their faces but always following the
comment with a burp, which could imply something totally different.
  Bobby had Language the first period, a subject he was great at when it
came to reading and writing, especially fantasies, but which he hated when
it came to grammar and spelling.  That was followed by mathematics, and
excelling in that subject also he was able to spend a lot of time sharing
dirty jokes with his closest neighbours with the intent of getting them
horny and hopefully give them woodies.  Nothing was more hilarious than
seeing one of the guys trying to walk and act normal as he went up to the
board to work on an exercise with his pants bulging out or a big tube down
his leg.  Science was a subject he was especially good at and he wished
they would spend more time on it.  Recess and lunch periods were the second
and third things they could double in length as far as the eleven-year-old
was concerned.  In grade six social they were taking Greek history, which
set his mind wandering and imagining what it would have been like to live
back then, and especially to practice sports in the nude.  He and his
brothers had also read on the net that many of the ancient Greeks practised
boy love, something else he and his brothers were not averse to.
  Speaking of sports, Bobby was no great athlete, but he was skilled enough
that he enjoyed physical education, which was fortunate because it was one
of the few opportunities he had to cop some good feels.  He could not wait
until next year when they had to change into gym strip for each class.  Art
was a subject that he'd recently had a reason to take an interest in, and
in the hopes of being able to impress Aaron, he tried extra hard and paid
attention to everything the teacher said, something which he didn't always
do since his mind wandered easily, and besides, he was bright enough that
he'd usually figure things out without the teacher's help.  Music was one
subject he was not keen about, though his latest interest in joining the
Catholic choir had made the period more interesting recently.
  Anyway, that was the period he was assigned to get extra tutoring from
Zac Williams from the high school.  Now that he looked forward to most of
all!  Sitting there side by side, rubbing his leg up against the
teenager's, leaning over to look at the exercise and casually placing his
hand on his thigh, or higher, inhaling his aftershave, it was small wonder
he had difficulty concentrating on the lesson.  Besides, Zac was a hunk.
The eleven-year-old never left a speech lesson without a boner, something
he did not try to hide from his young tutor.
  Making out with Zac had been one of his all-time favourite fantasies over
the past year, though since Beltane there were several others that had
become very popular and were equal when it came to rising power.  Even so,
it was usually Zac that was on his mind as he drifted off to sleep each
night, his hand fiddling with his stiff dick or rolling his hairless balls.
When he woke up the next morning with a woodie he wondered if his dick had
stayed hard all night, and he wished he could have stayed awake all night
to have enjoyed it.
  Having lost interest in Saturday morning cartoons some time ago, the
twins had gotten into the habit of sleeping in, and Benny was starting to
also.  Bobby, however, had things to do and places to go.  He was often up
even before his mom and dad, especially now since with three babies in the
house his parents grabbed their sleep when they could.  If the triplets
were awake, he usually spent some time playing with them, but at three
months there wasn't much you could do other than tickle them under the chin
and shake a rattle above them.  Stuffing a handful of sugar pops or
whatever sugar-coated cereal he could find in his mouth and grabbing a
second handful for on the way, he jumped on his bike and headed over to
Aaron's.
  Their Saturdays together depended a lot on the weather, and if Aaron's
parents were home.  If they were, and it was raining or cold out, they
spent the bulk of the day with Aaron's Play Station, playing cards or board
games, and drawing.  If Aaron's parents were out, they spent the day
playing with each other's dick, surfing the net for sex sites, and drawing.
If it was a nice day, they usually went biking for a while, and maybe
tossed a frisbee around at the park.  Of course they explored the area of
Murray park known to be a popular gay cruising area, not sure what they
were looking for, but checking it out anyway.  They eventually found
themselves at the abandoned house a few blocks from where they lived.  The
place was old and in disrepair and long ago someone had loosened the board
over one of the broken basement windows, something that seemed to have gone
unnoticed by the adults but was known by every kid for blocks around.  It
was a place a lot of kids frequented, playing haunted house or knights and
castle, and for many their first game of "I'll show you mine if you show me
yours."  Having broken the ice on President's Day, Aaron and Bobby now
enacted fantasies of a far more mature nature.
  "Remember the day Randy brought one of his dad's Playboy magazines?"
Aaron asked as the two boys sat down beside the boarded up window in one of
the small rooms on the second floor where the sun could penetrate through
the slats and permit a little light into the room.
  "Oh yeah.  Everyone got so horny they couldn't walk," Bobby replied with
a giggle.  Back then he'd been interested in any type of sex, with girls or
guys, though even then he'd have chosen guys if he'd had the chance.
  "And the time Marcia wanted to play house but nobody wanted to play the
dad?" Aaron asked.
  "Yeah," Bobby responded, thinking back.  If she'd asked a few years later
there were a few guys who would have willingly played the dad, if they'd
been allowed some private time with her.
  "You ever wonder about kissing?"
  "What do ya mean?"
  "What it would be like to kiss."
  "Geez, if ya want me to kiss ya, why don't ya just say so?" Bobby asked
with a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes.
  Before Aaron could respond Bobby leaned over in front of him and lowered
his head.  As their lips met, he slipped his arm around this best buddy and
sucked in.  The eleven-year-old was well qualified to introduce Aaron to
the pleasure, having had plenty of practice with his three brothers.  Aaron
inhaled in surprise as their lips parted, and before he could speak Bobby
kissed him on the lips again.  Bobby's lips felt so smooth, and doing it
with him felt sexy in a strange way.  As he sucked in also, to Aaron's
surprise, he felt his little dick begin to stiffen.  Of course he had been
thinking of boy-girl kissing, not this, but he was not about to object to
anything that made his dick get hard.  The next kiss the slender,
freckle-faced boy took the initiative and kissed Bobby.
  After several more kisses, Bobby moved on to his buddy's freckled cheek,
and then his neck, causing Aaron to squirm with the erotic pleasure now
rippling through his body.  Small for his age, although he was almost
twelve, his birthday being two months before Bobby's, he was only
seventy-five pounds and four-foot-six, two pounds lighter and an inch
shorter than Bobby, who himself was small for his age.  Unbuttoning Aaron's
shirt, Bobby kissed him below the shoulder bone, and then brushed his lips
down over his chest to his nipples.
  Fastening his lips about the eleven-year-old's little, sensitive bud,
Bobby sucked on it, and then struck it with his tongue.  The
freckle-cheeked redhead squirmed and groaned with the sensation causing his
quickly swelling bud to itch like a mosquito bite.
  "Fuck, you're getting my dick hard," he gasped.
  "That's the idea," Bobby said with a grin as he reached down and groped
his buddy between the legs.
  As he licked his buddy's sensitive teat and made him squirm with that
strange combination of pleasure and pain, Bobby delighted feeling it and
his buddy's dick both grow hard.  He had a raging boner himself and was
anxious to satisfy the desire that had swollen up between his legs.
Slipping Aaron's shirt off, Bobby unzipped his buddy's pants and unsnapped
the clasp of his blue jeans while Aaron did the same.  The two boys pushed
each other's pants down, and eagerly reaching back up, Aaron pulled down
Bobby's cotton Gap briefs as Bobby pulled down Aaron's white Calvin Kleins,
freeing their little, stiff pricklets which jutted up in the air eager for
attention.  As Bobby's fingers wrapped about Aaron's tiny, hairless nuts
and fondled them and then his stiff cock and Aaron similarly fiddled with
Bobby's genitals, the two boys kissed again, this time hotly and eagerly,
sucking on each other's lips in response to the tingling sensation between
their legs.  At eleven years of age, the sensation was still relatively new
and a source of wonder.
  Laying back on the floor, Bobby drew Aaron down on top of him, spreading
his legs so that Aaron was laying between them.  Running his hands up and
down Aaron's back, Bobby raised his legs and wrapped them about Aaron's
thin waist.  Guiding his novice buddy, the randy eleven-year-old squirmed
into position and pressed on his buddy's backside.  In his innocence, Aaron
had never even once thought about what he and Bobby were about to do, so it
was with a mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and intrigue that upon finding
the tip of his dick pressing against Bobby's bumhole that he hesitantly
pressed forward.  It was with even greater surprise, uncertainty, and
intrigue that he slowly slipped his slender, rock-hard cock into Bobby's
rectum.  Bobby, of course, was no virgin, and he easily accepted and
eagerly welcomed this newest cock into his hot, moist chamber, and as soon
as he felt his buddy's loins pressing against his, he clamped his anus
shut.
  Although he'd never thought about fucking someone up the ass before,
Aaron knew what was expected of him, and as he slowly drew back and sunk in
again, the ripples of pleasure causing his stiff cocklet to throb like it
had never throbbed before left no doubt that what he was doing was right.
Closing his eyes and balancing himself on his knees and elbows, he was soon
rhythmically pumping his hips to and fro, and the pleasure between his legs
caused him to gasp and grunt in ecstasy.  He was fucking!  For the first
time in his life he was fucking someone, and although he'd always assumed
his first time would be with a girl, that it was with a boy did not bother
him.  In fact, that it was with his best buddy made it even better than
doing it with a girl.  As he worked his throbbing cocklet in and out of
Bobby's asshole, Aaron concluded that this was even more awesome than
having Bobby wanking him, and was something he hoped Bobby would do with
him again.
  Aaron, of course, had no reason to worry about that.  Bobby was gasping
and grunting too as the ripples of pleasure shooting up his butthole were
matched by the ripples of pleasure shooting down his stiff cock.  The
eleven-year-old had had plenty of cocks up his asshole, and much larger
ones, but none felt as good as the slender, three-and-a-half inch dicklet
of his best buddy.  For one, this was his best buddy with whom he was
enjoying this unique pleasure, and for another, this was his buddy's very
first fuck ever!  Now that was awesome!  He was glad things had turned out
so he was laying on his back and they were facing each other.
  The look of ultimate pleasure on Aaron's face as he humped his hips back
and forth gave Bobby as much pleasure as did Aaron's smooth stomach rubbing
back and forth over the knob of his throbbing cock.
  The breathing of the two boys grew deeper and faster as they approached
their orgasms, until at last the two youngsters exhaled with a shudder and
their bodies trembled violently with their dry climaxes.  They gasped for
breath and groaned with the acute pleasure rippling through their loins
openly and without embarrassment, enjoying the physical stimulation of
their madly itching dickheads and the strange release of tension in their
loins.  Overriding that pleasure was the knowledge that this was Aaron's
first fuck, making the experience all the more awesome.  They blew their
hot breaths out through their nostrils, snorting and grunting like two
naked little pigs in rut as they trembled uncontrollably, their young
bodies raked with the unique pleasure that only boys can know.  Aaron
finally opened his eyes and stared down at Bobby, and Bobby grinned as he
looked up into his buddy's sparkling, lust-filled green eyes.  Aaron had
just lost his virginity, and it was wonderful to be eleven and a boy.
  "I just can't believe it," said Barry Brewster at the supper table on
Monday.
  "Can't believe what, Dad?" Brent asked as they all looked across the
table at their dad.
  "The vandalism last weekend," he said.  "Everyone was talking about it at
the office."
  "Oh.  They were talking about it at school too," observed Brett.
  "Painting the swastikas and death threats on the Jewish Community Centre
and their synagogue was bad enough," observed Brenda Brewster, the boys'
mother, "but why did they have to push over the headstones in the cemetery
and paint swastikas on those they left standing?  And those poor people who
had crosses stolen.  Who knows what the vandals have done with them!"
  "There are a lot of ignorant people out there," her husband observed
sadly.
  "Yeah, there sure are," agreed Benny.
  "Fu-, fu-, fu-, fusure," stuttered Bobby.
  Brenda sighed as she looked at who not long ago used to be her youngest.
"I'm afraid those lessons with Zac Williams just are not working."
  "Oh, I'm going to break through ah, I mean, I'm going to have a
breakthrough any session now," Bobby observed as his three brothers
twittered.  "I can feel it in my bone," he added impishly, causing his
three brothers to crack up.
  "I can feel it in my bones," his mother corrected.
  "You too, huh?" Bobby said with a grin, and his three brothers chortled
with amusement.
  "Well, I'm certainly not seeing any improvement," she said
disappointedly, ignoring Bobby's comment.
  "We haven't seen any improvement in Bobby for years," Benny said with a
twinkle in his hazel eyes.
  "Fuck you," Bobby whispered.  Benny gave him the finger in response, to
which Bobby responded by wiggling in his seat and nodding his head eagerly.
  "Boys," warned Barry.
  "Sorry, Dad," the four replied, even though the twins had not had a part
in what was going on.  Barry raised an eyebrow as he looked over at them.
  "Just getting one ahead of you, Dad," Brett said, and the family laughed.
  "Well, it is no laughing matter what is happening to the Jewish members
of our community," Brenda observed as she got up and returned with a fresh
apple pie she'd been keeping warm in the oven.
  "Yeah, we should do something to help them," observed Brent.
  "Well, that's a wonderful thought," Brenda said, glancing over at her
husband and then beaming at her four boys.  The were wonderful, kind,
considerate children, and she wasn't saying that just because they were her
children.  "Perhaps we could have some kind of fundraiser to help them
repair the damages at the graveyard."
  "Oh yeah, fundraisers are fun," responded Brent, thinking of some of the
hot times they'd had during past fundraisers, like on Boxing Day and on
Bastille Day.
  "Why don't we organize a work bee in the community to help them put the
headstones back up and to clean the graffiti off their church and community
hall?"  suggested Brett.
  "Wonderful idea," observed Barry proudly.
  "Hey, Benny's piece is bigger than mine," observed Bobby.
  "Well that's because I'm bigger than you," Benny replied.
  "Everyone's bigger than Bobby," Brent observed, and his three brothers
knew he wasn't referring to Bobby's height or weight.
  "Fuck you," responded Bobby behind his hand, his standard response.
  "After," Brent mouthed, his deep blue eyes sparkling.
  "Boys, what is the rule about whisp ."
  "Sorry, Dad," the four boys chorused.
  Bobby knew his older brother wasn't joking.  Even though ever since he'd
started to see Billy Hollis on a regular basis his ass was getting a lot of
attention, it hadn't interfered with their night time exercises.  Brent
loved getting his ass fucked more than anything else, and there were some
things that a guy just never got enough of.  Considering the hot time he
and Aaron had had on the weekend, Bobby knew what he was talking about.
  The boys stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the table
while their mother tended to the triplets and then got ready to go to the
Home and School meeting with them.  As soon as they were done with the
dishes, Brett and Brent got ready for basketball practice and Benny got
ready to go over to Justin's so that Bobby would have the house alone with
his speech tutor, Zac Williams.  Bobby had purposefully worn his khaki
zipoffs that day, and now converted them to shorts.  The legs were wide and
the zipper made them stay open so that if he drew his leg up a person could
look right up the leg and see his underwear.  He planned on doing that a
lot that evening.
  The hunky sixteen-year-old arrived right on time, just minutes after the
family had left.  Sitting down on the sofa in the living room, where Bobby
had claimed he could concentrate the best, he spread out the evening's work
on the coffee table.  He'd been helping the eleven-year-old at school for
eight months now, and for the past five months every Monday evening
besides, and although it was always enjoyable though somewhat challenging,
especially the evening sessions, he was becoming discouraged also.  Bobby
just was not making any progress, and they only had three lessons left.
  Bobby, of course, thought he was making great progress, though he was not
thinking about his speech lessons.  Over the past five months he'd managed
to swing the conversation more and more to the topic of sex, and over the
past five months he'd dared to be bolder and bolder until now he sat down
and snuggled up to the hunky high school student on the sofa and placed his
hand on his thigh the moment he sat down without the slightest hesitation.
He'd noticed that over the past month, he'd been getting his tutor so hot
with his questions about sex and by his supposedly innocent touches that
he'd been getting an erection in just a matter of minutes and keeping it
for the entire two-hour session.
  "Is it true that the more often you shave, the stiffer your beard
becomes?" Bobby asked, looking up into the nut-brown eyes of his tutor with
evident adoration.  Zac had dark brown hair so that by evening he had a
definite shadow along his jaw line and his upper lip, which Bobby thought
was very sexy.  It was his fourth attempt to stray off task since they'd
begun half an hour ago.
  Zac noted that at least this time the topic had nothing to do with sex,
unlike the previous three attempts to get them off topic.  "No," the
sixteen-year-old responded with a smile.  Bobby had to be the most
difficult student he had ever worked with to keep on task, but he was so
polite and so full of life he could not get angry with him, especially when
it was so evident that the grade six student worshipped him.
  "Is it true the more often you have sex the thicker your dick hair?"
  "No.  The frequency of having sex has nothing to do with hair density,"
Zac responded, knowing Bobby could not stay away from talking about sex for
long.  He felt his dick twitch and he debated as he had for the last half
dozen lessons if he should tell the youngster that guys did not place their
hands on each other's thighs.  As he had each time before, he decided it
was not his place to destroy the youngster's innocence.
  "What does it feel like to have hair on your pubes?"
  "A guy really doesn't even notice it," Zac responded as his dick began to
swell.  "Now, lets get back to the exercise."
  "I can't wait to get hairs.  I look every day.  It's sort of hard to see
yourself though.  Would you like to check for me?" Bobby asked hopefully.
  "I don't think so," Zac responded with a chuckle.  Of all the students
he'd ever worked with, sixteen-year-old Zac could honestly say Bobby also
came up with the damnedest suggestions.
  "It true that a guy can't cum until he gets hairs?"
  "Making sperm and getting pubic hair is all a part of puberty, so they
usually happen together.  But this is a speech lesson, remember, not a sex
lesson," Zac reminded, reaching over and ruffling Bobby's thick, dark brown
thatch of hair.  It was almost as dark as his own.  Up until recently the
eleven-year-old had been wearing it gelled and spiked, but for the past two
weeks he hadn't been putting anything in it.  He claimed to be washing it
in dew, and had become quite fanatic about organic farming, only eating
things that didn't have preservatives except for broccoli, which he said he
wouldn't eat under any circumstances, and living how nature intended people
on living, whatever that meant.  Zac had to wonder where the
eleven-year-old got some of his ideas.
  The grade eleven student liked working with kids, and was thinking of
becoming a teacher.  This assignment working with Bobby had certainly
encouraged him to continue with that plan.  Bobby was a typical grade six
student, full of enthusiasm and a zeal for life, and he certainly was a
charmer.  The boy had an outgoing personality that made it impossible for
you not to like him and big hazel eyes and a smile that made a person putty
in his hands.
  "Yeah, but sex is a lot more interesting," Bobby responded honestly.  He
pressed his leg innocently against the sixteen-year-old boy's, and slipped
his hot palm up to the top of his thigh and over to his crotch.  Zac was
not a jock, but he had the build to be one.
  The five-foot-eleven student weighted a hundred-and-forty pounds, and all
of it was solid muscle.
  Bobby was sure it would take four of his hand-widths to encircle his
upper thigh.  Glancing at the boy's crotch, he was sure he was getting a
woodie and he wished he could just reach up and take it out of his pants.
  "I notice that when we talk about sex, your stuttering problem
disappears."
  "Yeah?  Fu-, fu-, fu-, fucrying out loud, I wonder why!" Bobby responded,
stuttering on purpose.
  "Uh, remember, the minute you begin to stutter what are you supposed to
do?"
  "Stop and take a deep breath."
  "Right.  Remember, when you get excited you start breathing too fast, and
when you breathe too fast, the words can't come out and you start to
stutter."
  "Oh yeah."  Bobby inhaled and exhaled deeply and loudly.  "I practice my
deep breathing every night, and sometimes a couple times each night.  Just
ask my mom."
  "I'm sure you're practising hard."
  "Oh yeah," Bobby giggled.  "Real hard."  Once he started giggling, he
could not stop.
  "Okay, back to this exercise."
  "She sells sea sh , sh-, sh-. shells ."
  "Remember."
  "Oh yeah," Bobby said, panting very loudly and shoving his stomach out
and sucking it in exaggeratedly.  "She s-, s-, s ."
  "Each time you begin to stutter what do you have to do?"
  "Breathe deeply and slowly."
  "And?"
  "Start again."
  "Right."
  "I'm never going to get this," Bobby said dejectedly.
  "Too bad we don't have an ocean nearby."
  "Huh?"
  "Legend says that Demosthenes overcame his problem by shouting above the
roar of the ocean."
  "Who's Demosthenes?"
  "A famous Greek orator."
  "He was famous for rowing a boat?" Bobby asked, his eyes widening with
surprise.
  "No, orator, as in famous speaker," Zac explained, trying not to smile.
"He had weak lungs and physical disabilities, and stuttered too, but he
overcame his problems to become one of the best orators in ancient Greece.
Another legend says that he used to practice speaking by putting stones in
his mouth."
  "Stones?" asked Bobby, his eyes growing still wider, however this time
not with surprise, and with a glimmer reflecting an awesome idea that had
just come to him..
  "Yes."
  "Awesome.  Let's try that."  Quickly reaching over, he pulled down Zac's
fly before the boy had even realized his intention.
  "Hey!"  By the time Zac reached down to stop him, Bobby already had his
hand in the fly of his pants and was searching for the fly in his boxers.
Already partially aroused from their sex talk, having someone's hand in his
fly caused his dick to swell even further.  Flustered, the sixteen-year-old
hesitated a moment as he tried to decide if he should clamp his hand over
his dick so Bobby couldn't get at it, or if he should grab Bobby's arm.  By
the time he decided and finally wrapped his fingers about Bobby's wrist,
Bobby had found the fly of his boxers and slipped his fingers inside.  As
Zac began to pull the eleven-year-old's hand away, Bobby grasped his
testicles.
  "Hey, careful there!" Zac warned as he felt Bobby's grasp tighten, and as
the boy paused, Bobby got a still firmer grip on his eggs.  "Bobby, stop
that."
  Bobby withdrew his hand on his own, pulling Zac's large balls out through
the fly of his boxers and the fly of his jeans.  The eleven-year-old
immediately swooped down and slipped his lips over the exposed and trapped
testicles.
  "Hey!" Zac protested, grasping the youngster by the side of the head and
pushing him back.  "Just what the heck do you think you're doing?"
  "Putting your stones in my mouth."
  Zac looked at him in surprise.  How did an eleven-year-old know that
stones was another name for testicles?  Mind you, coming from Bobby that
was not a big surprise.  Over the year he'd been giving the grade six
student lessons, if he'd learned anything about the boy, it was that he was
precocious to the extreme.
  "That's not the stones I meant."
  "No?"
  "Demosthenes used pebbles, little rocks."
  "Ewwww," responded Bobby, wrinkling up his nose.  "He put dirty rocks in
his mouth?"
  "Well, he lived by the ocean so I imagine they were off the beach, and if
they weren't clean, I'm sure he washed them first."
  "I think my idea is a lot better," Bobby observed, looking down at the
sixteen-year-old's large, hairy balls.  They were much bigger than his
older brothers', and almost as huge as his dad's.  They were totally
awesome, even better than he'd hoped.  Swooping down again, he slipped his
lips over them and wrapped his arms about the boy's upper legs tightly.
"Heh ells e ells ah aw e hore."  The boy's hot breath blowing against his
testicles as he spoke caused Zac's eggs to roll and swell in their sack.
The teenager tried to pull the boy's head away, but Bobby had set his neck
and was holding onto his legs for dear life.  "Heh ells e ells ah aw e
hore," he repeated.
  Bobby paused and inhaled and exhaled deeply several times, keeping his
mouth about Zac's balls and licking them with his hot little tongue.  To
his delight and to Zac's embarrassment, Zac's eggs rolled in their loose
sack and his cock began to swell even faster.  Bobby inhaled once more.  He
loved the smell of the teenager's American Crew aftershave and cologne, and
his Thermasilk styling cream, but he decided most of all, he loved the
smell of his hot, musky teenage balls.
  "Maybe it would be better if we took your pants and underwear down so I
could get more of your stones in my mouth," he suggested perkily.  He
reached up and unbuckled Zac's belt.
  "No, Bobby, stop," the boy protested, reaching down and pushing the boy's
hands away.  "You should not be doing this."
  "But your dick likes it," Bobby protested, placing a hot hand above the
swelling that had developed along Zac's stomach.
  Zac could not deny that as he reached down to remove Bobby's hand.  Bobby
used the distraction to reach up and unsnap the boy's trousers.  Pushing
the older boy down on the sofa, Bobby began to yank down his trousers, and
along with them the boy's Joe Boxer print underwear.  Zac tried to stop
him, but Bobby was highly motivated, and experienced.  When Zac pushed his
hands away, he simply reached behind and hooked his fingers about the
elastic band at his back, and when Zac reached behind and pried his hands
off his boxers, Bobby reached in front and grabbed the fly front and pulled
down on it.
  Managing to pull his boxers down to mid-thigh, Bobby swooped in once
again.  Pushing his head between the sixteen-year-old's legs and opening
his mouth wide like a killer shark, he slipped his lips over the boy's low
hanging balls.  He sucked them to the back of his mouth and he worked his
cheeks, causing the boy's eggs to roll in their loose sack and press
against each other.  Zac's dick immediately began to rise and Bobby
suddenly slipped his lips off the boy's balls and slipped them around his
knob.  The boy was uncut but when he got hard the skin slipped back off his
knob, and Zac Williams was well on his way to having a boner.
  The eleven-year-old laying between his legs swirled his tongue along the
exposed ridge of his glans, causing him to squirm and groan with the
pleasure.  Having the boy's hot, moist mouth enveloping his knob and his
tongue lapping at the sensitive edge had the boy completely hard in
seconds.  He'd done a lot of necking with girls, and he jerked off
regularly, but he'd never gotten so hard so fast.  Nor had he ever had a
blow job before, and he could not believe how hot it felt to have someone's
mouth enveloping the head of your cock, even if that someone was an eleven-
year-old boy.  That pleasure was just as much a shock to him as had been
Bobby's actions.
  Keeping the teenager's cock in his mouth, Bobby unsnapped the snap of his
khaki shorts and pulled down his fly.  He pushed them down as far as he
could, and then slipping his hands under the elastic band of his Gap logo
briefs, he pushed them down also.  He was not wearing any shoes, and he
quickly doubled up and slipped off his shorts and underwear.  Leapfrogging
over Zac's hips, Bobby straddled his waist, and still facing the teenager
flat on his back on the sofa, he reached behind and grasped the boy's stiff
cock at the base as he began to sit back.
  "No," responded Zac.  "No, Bobby, don't!"  He could not believe the kid
had chucked his cutoffs and underwear and was now grasping his stiff cock
with his tiny, hot hand.  Even harder to believe was that the
eleven-year-old was planning on sitting on it!
  Bobby was no novice, and he had imagined doing what he was doing at that
very moment hundreds of times in his solitary jerk sessions over the past
five months.  Placing the tip of the teenager's hot, hard rod against his
pucker, he opened wide and began to sit back.  As he felt the boy's hard,
hot dickhead press against his asshole, he pushed out and continued to sit.
Ever so slowly the slopeheaded dick forced open his anal sphincter, which
he'd generously lubed with KY before Zac had arrived in anticipation of
achieving his goal that night.
  The firmness of the teenager's cock, the KY combined with his spittle,
and his eagerness to accept the boy into his rectum all made the union
comparatively easy even though it was Zac's first time, but then he had an
expert and experienced partner despite the fact the boy was five years
younger than he was.  Bobby grunted and sighed as he paused for breath,
perched on the end of Zac's huge, thick dick like a marshmallow at the end
of a willow stick and with his anal sphincter tightly clamped below Zac's
glans.
  Assuming that was as far as the boy was going to go, Zac stopped
squirming and protesting.  It felt so strange to have his knob surrounded
by the boy's hot, moist rectum.  Physically it felt great, but like many
men he'd been conditioned to think having one's cock up an asshole was
something filthy.  He'd also been conditioned to think that sex between
guys was perverted, and to have sex with a boy the age of Bobby was morally
and legally wrong.  So, while one small part of him wished that Bobby would
continue to sink his body down on his swollen member, the rest of him was
relieved the boy had stopped and was anxious for him to lift back up off
his swollen cock.
  When Bobby began to descend once again, a mixture of thoughts and
emotions swept through the poor sixteen-year-old.  Physical delight,
dismay, eager anticipation, guilt, wonder, and fear competed for his
attention.  Bobby sank all the way down until he was sitting in the boy's
lap, the boy's hard, throbbing cock deep up his bowels and his hairs
tickling his smooth backside.  Zac lay there too stunned to react.
  Bobby was anything but stunned.  He was ecstatic!  The eleven-year-old
paused again to catch his breath, and, mainly, to relish the moment.  He
had fucking done it!  He not only had taken out Zac's cock, but he was
sitting on the hunky teenager's monster!  If was even more fucking awesome
than he had imagined it would be.  The boy's cock was huge.  It was
beautiful.  And it was fucking buried up his asshole!
  Close to two minutes went by before Bobby slowly began to raise his body.
Flexing his thigh muscles and slowly rising up along his tutor's stiff
pole, he continued upward until his anal sphincter was at the base of the
boy's knob, and then he slowly began to sink back down.  With the taste of
the boy's balls still in his mouth, Bobby closed his eyes and slowly and
rhythmically rode his cock.  He sank down until the boy's hot, hard cock
was buried up his rectum as far as it could reach, more than twice as far
as Aaron had been able to reach on the weekend.  At just over seven inches
long and with the thickness of a slender banana, it was wonderful.  Bobby
contracted his sphincter as he slowly rose upward, and he dilated his
sphincter as he sank back down on the boy's shaft.  Up and down he worked
his young body, and the pleasure of having a hard, hot stiff up his hole
rippled through his rectum, through his loins, and through his mind.  It
was totally wicked.
  Zac lay there in a semi-state of shock and pleasure.  Up until that
moment his sexual experiences had been some hot necking sessions with a few
of his classmates, having gotten as far as having kissed and sucked their
boobs and some heavy petting outside of their panties while they'd slipped
their hands in his pants and groped him outside his underwear.  Of course
he jacked off regularly, and he and a couple buddies had even jacked off in
front of each other, but they had been extremely horny and it hadn't meant
anything.  He was a hundred percent straight.  He was no queer, and he
certainly was no pedophile.
  So why was he was laying there on the sofa of the Brewster living room
with his pants and underwear about his thighs while their eleven-year-old
kid rode his stiff cock?  More important, why was it feeling so great?  He
could not believe what was happening, and he could believe even less how he
was feeling.  It was unreal.  An eleven-year-old boy was riding his cock,
and it felt just as wonderful as he'd imagined fucking a girl would feel.
It certainly felt a lot better than wanking oneself off.  Having his cock
totally surrounded by a hot, moist asshole was awesome, and his cock and
the kid's asshole throbbed in unison as if the two had been meant to be
joined.
  Maybe they were.  He immediately rejected that thought, but it returned.
The kid was flexing his thighs and rising up on his cock, and then relaxing
his muscles and slipping back down as if it was the most natural thing in
the world.  Zac suspected for Bobby it quite likely was, and he had to
wonder where the eleven-year-old had gotten his experience.  He'd heard the
rumours that the boy's twin brothers were gay, but given their effeminate
looks and long hair if was only natural for such a rumour to be circulating
and he really hadn't given the rumour any serious thought.  He certainly
had not considered that Bobby might be interested in having sex with guys,
or with him.  Sure, he'd noticed the boy's hero worship attitude over the
past five months particularly, but he had attributed it to the fact he was
in high school and nothing more.  Now he did not know what to think, except
that he had never felt such pleasure as he was at that moment.
  Of course, Zac rationalized, at Bobby's age, having sex with other guys
was not something that uncommon, and at his age, had more to do with sexual
curiosity and exploration than being gay.  He himself had engaged in plenty
of comparing sessions at that age.  He had not, however, ever engaged in
anything like this.  Staring down at his stiff cock disappearing up Bobby's
ass and then reemerging as Bobby lifted his body up, Zac could not help but
notice the eleven-year-old's little cocklet was stiff.  It was a nice size
for someone Bobby's age.  Zac tried to recall if he'd begun getting boners
yet at that age but he wasn't sure.
  One thing he did know was that at the age of eleven he certainly had not
gotten his ass fucked.  He slowly looked up at the boy's face.  His eyes
were closed but from his flushed cheeks and the curl of his rosy lips it
was clear that the boy was enjoying this.  The boy's breathing was becoming
more laboured, whether from the exertion or the pleasure Zac had no idea.
The youngster began riding his cock faster, almost desperately, and as Zac
felt the familiar tension developing in his loins, he didn't know if he was
supposed to warn the boy what was about to happen or not, or if at his age
the eleven-year-old even knew what the consequences of his actions would
be.
  Before he could decide what to do, Zac felt his nuts contract and his
stuff begin rising up the core of his cock and it was too late.  He
shivered and thrust his hips up, raising the boy up like he was riding a
bucking bronc.  He closed his eyes and shuddered with the pleasure as his
cum shot out of his throbbing cock.  It was totally awesome.  He shot more
violently than he'd ever shot before, and it seemed like his cum was never
going to stop.  He gasped and grunted with the ecstasy of his orgasm, his
chest rising and falling and the blood pounding in his ears.
  Bobby had quivered and groaned too as Zac's hard, hot cock had begun
throbbing out his juice.  The sexy sixteen-year-old hunk was filling his
butthole with his stuff.  The teenager was fucking coming, and he was
fucking coming up his ass!  Having someone shoot his load up his rectum was
hardly anything new for the randy eleven-year-old, but for it to be the boy
he'd been fantasizing about for the past year and actively pursuing for the
past five months made it special.  Bobby reached down and grabbing his tiny
erection, he tugged on it furiously.  In a matter of seconds his body
jerked uncontrollably as his dry orgasm sent him into the throes of ecstasy
and his young boy's voice cried out with the ultimate pleasure.  Perched
there in Zac's lap and empaled on his cock, the boy trembled violently.
  "That was fucking wicked," he finally gasped, collapsing on Zac's heaving
body as his tremors finally began to subside and as the sixteen-year-old's
cum finally stopped squirting out his cock.
  "You can say that again," the boy responded in a daze, his cock still
stiff and still up the young boy's body.
  "That was fucking wicked," Bobby said with a mischievous grin as he
lifted himself up and looked down into his tutor's deep brown eyes.
  "You managed to say the f word twice without stuttering."
  "Don't think I'll be stuttering no more," Bobby said with a wide grin.
"Suggesting I put your stones in my mouth was a great idea."
  "That wasn't exactly what I said," Zac replied with a smile.
  "You have to go to university to be a speech therapist?"
  "I imagine so."
  "You should become a speech therapist and specialize in curing
stuttering," Bobby suggested.  "Especially stuttering in boys.  You could
even write a book on how to do it and you can quote me as to how you cured
me.  Bet you'd make millions."
  "I don't think so," Zac said with a smile, looking up at the beaming boy.
He was a study in contrasts.  On the one hand he had a sexual knowledge and
sophistication way beyond his years, and on the other he had the innocence
and naivety of a child.  As he looked up at the youngster, Zac realized
that it was that combination that made the boy so damn seductive.
"Besides, I'm guessing any quote from you would have to be censored."
  "You got that fucking right," Bobby said with an impish grin.
  He lay back down on top of the muscular teenager, his slight body rising
and falling slowly as the boy inhaled and exhaled.  He unbuttoned the
middle two buttons on the boy's shirt and slipped his fingers in the
opening.  The boy had chest hair.  He slowly entwined the fine hairs about
his fingers and closed his eyes in contentment.  Zac reached up
absentmindedly and slipping his fingers under the boy's shirt, he massaged
his smooth, warm back.  The teenager's dick finally softened and slipped
out of Bobby's ass.
  The youngster slid off the older boy and the two lay there snuggled
together on the sofa and enjoyed the bliss that follows a climax.  Bobby
finished unbuttoning Zac's shirt and ran his fingers through the fine, dark
brown hairs that only recently had begun to grow on the boy's broad chest.
As he began to massage the boy's chest as he'd often massaged the twins,
the teenager unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders.  He
massaged the boy's smooth, slender back, and Bobby pushed Zac's trousers
and boxers down with his stockinged feet and wedged his smooth, slender
legs between the boy's hairy thighs.  Feeling the teenager's hairy legs
wrap about his was awesome.
  With his head resting on Zac's chest, Bobby reached down and began to
fondle the teenager's large, damp balls, and his limp, sticky dick.  Zac
responded by reaching around and taking the boy's little limp wiener
between his large, thick thumb and fingers beginning to fiddle with it.  A
fleeting moment of guilt and uncertainty was quickly brushed aside by the
memory of the awesome fuck they'd engaged in only half an hour earlier, and
by the growing pleasure and need between the randy teenager's legs once
again.  It had felt wonderful, and Bobby was more than eager to be a
partner, so it was foolish to feel guilty about having sex with him.  The
law that restricted sex to adults was ridiculous.  So the boy decided at
that moment as the youngster stroked his thick, swelling sausage and he
felt the boy's pricklet swelling between his fingers.
  The two were soon hard and once again Zac lay on his back and Bobby sat
on the sixteen- year-old stud's thick, aching member.  Once again Zac
marvelled at the awesome pleasure of having his cock surrounded by hot,
moist, pulsating flesh, and once again Bobby quivered with the joy of
having a stiff, thick cock up his rectum.  The two of them closed their
eyes and concentrated on the physical and mental pleasures pulsating
through their bodies and their minds.  This time Zac fiddled with Bobby's
stiff little cocklet and tiny, hairless balls as the eleven-year-old rode
his cock, and this time, the two were stark naked.  Of course Zac still had
the fleeting nagging doubt about whether or not he should be doing this
with his young charge, the result of deeply ingrained beliefs, but it was
even weaker than before.
  Doing it a second time so soon after the first, it took Zac much longer
to shoot his load, something which neither one of them had a problem with.
They grunted and sighed with the building pleasure in their groins, and
when the two of them came, it was so powerful they both could not hold back
their whimpers of ecstasy.
  "So, how was the lesson tonight?" Barry asked when he arrived home half
an hour later with his twin sons.
  "Totally awesome," announced Bobby with wide-eyed delight and a broad
grin, and his brothers knew their kid brother had finally achieved his
goal.
  "It was that," Zac agreed, the reality of what he'd done with his young
student setting in with the arrival of the youngster's father.  He began to
turn red as he thought about what Barry Brewster would say if he found out
what had happened.  Brent and Brett glanced at each other knowingly and
exchanged grins.
  "We'll see you next Monday," Bobby said, his eyes sparkling as he looked
up at his tutor.
  "Ah, yeah, right, of course," Zac said.  Everything had happened so fast,
he hadn't had time to think about what teaching Bobby in the future would
be like.  Their relationship had changed drastically this night, and when
he showed up at the house next Monday there was no way he'd be able to sit
on the sofa and not think about what they'd done, and he suspected nor
would Bobby.  The youngster had always looked forward to their sessions, as
had he, and from the expression on Bobby's face when he'd mentioned next
Monday, he was clearly looking forward to it with even greater anticipation
than usual.  As he headed down the sidewalk, Zac had to admit much to his
surprise that he was also.  The high school student had a lot to think
about over the next week.
  When Bobby headed off to school the next morning, he was still grinning,
and he had no idea what they took the first half of the morning, his mind
being on the previous night.  Once again he concluded that it was truly
great being eleven and being a boy.
  "You hear about Jerry Goldstein?" Aaron asked at recess.
  "Jerry?  No, what happened?"
  "Some of the guys from junior high were hanging at the tennis courts on
the weekend, and Jerry was there.  Anyway they started talking about girls
and sex and stuff and being horny, and one of the guys cracked the joke
about how you get hair between your fingers if you wank.  Well, guess who
they caught spreading apart his fingers and looking?"
  "No!"
  "Wish I'd been there.  I bet it was hilarious."
  "Let's go find him," Bobby suggested, and the two boys headed across the
playground in search of their classmate.
  He was standing over in the corner alone as usual.  Jerry did not have
many friends, and those he did have were not close.  He was a short, skinny
boy with thick black hair which he wore short and plain, thick eyeglasses
and a slender, hooked nose.  He was not a particularly attractive boy, and
he had a huge ego and defensive attitude that did not endear him to his
classmates.  Besides, he was the serious, studious type, which further
limited his circle of friends.
  "Hey, Jerry," Bobby greeted as he and Aaron approached him.  "Been doing
any wrist exercises lately?"
  "Very funny," the boy retorted.  He'd been getting teased all morning.
  "I heard about what happened to your church and cemetery," Bobby
responded.  "I'm really sorry about that."
  "It's a synagogue, not a church," Jerry responded with a tone and look
that clearly reflected what he thought of their intelligence.  Seeing the
look in the eyes of the two boys he wished he hadn't retorted so quickly
and so sharply.  At least they had come over to express their sympathy,
unlike the rest of his classmates.  "But thanks."
  "I mean it.  Nobody got no right to do those sorts of things."
  "Yeah," agreed Aaron, "it's wrong."  Of course at the moment no matter
what Bobby said he'd have agreed with him, even if he'd claimed he had it
on good authority that the culprits were little green men from Mars.
  "Wrong shmong, being Jewish, it you learn to expect, being a victim,"
Jerry responded dryly, repeating what he'd heard at home.  Being teased
constantly because of his thick glasses, his appearance, his lack of any
athletic ability, or his faith, he'd become defensive and bitter despite
his young age.  Had it not been for his family upbringing, he could easily
be one of those boys who could someday snap and bring a weapon to school.
  "My mom was talking about starting some sort of fundraiser to help raise
some money to repair the damages."
  "That would be great.  But what we really need is some understanding and
tolerance."  Of course the vandalism had been a major topic at his house,
and he could not keep the anger out of his voice, nor help repeating what
he'd heard his parents and aunts and uncles say.
  "Well, Brent and Brett suggested that we could organize a work bee to
help."
  "They did?"
  "Sure," Bobby responded as the recess bell rang.
  Somehow the word spread around the community that night that the Brewster
boys were organizing a community work bee.  Several teachers offered their
assistance the next day, and other community members began phoning the
Brewster household.  By the weekend a work bee had been organized.  The
community was out in full force to help at the graveyard and at the
synagogue that Saturday.
  "How grateful we are, I cannot express," said Rabbi Zimmerman for the
tenth time that afternoon.
  "Hey, it's nothing," observed Brett, for the tenth time also.  Actually,
several of the high school boys had shown up to help scrub the paint off
the synagogue, and tackling their job with enthusiasm, plus the fact it was
the last weekend of May and a beautiful, hot afternoon, they had worked up
a sweat.  Brett and Brent could not help but notice, and were undecided who
looked the sexiest, those who had removed their shirts and whose naked
torso's were streaked with sweat, or those who had kept their T's on and
had large dark stains down the middle of their backs and down the front.
  "So many different people," observed the rabbi, "and of so many different
beliefs that have come to help."
  He was looking over at Billy Hollis and his goth friend from across town
whom the boys knew as Mordock, and the twins had a good idea what the rabbi
was thinking.  The two looked more the type who'd be writing the graffiti,
not helping clean it up.
  "What I'd like to know is what sort of moron would do such a thing,"
Benny said as the boys took a break.
  "Well?" Brett asked, looking at Billy and then at Mordock.
  "What?" the two boys snapped.
  "I saw the look you gave each other."
  "What look?"
  "Com'on, don't play innocent."
  The look Mordock gave Brett in response made all of them uneasy, but
Brett stood his ground and stared back at him, though not with the same
certainty.
  "All right, we know who did it," Billy finally responded in the awkward
silence.
  "Yeah?  What are their names?"
  "We don't know their names, just that they did it."
  "Who?"
  "Three skinheads."
  "Didn't know there were any skinheads in our town."
  "They're from upstate."
  "Yeah?  How you know they're the ones who done it?"
  "They were bragging," Mordock said when Billy glanced over at him, "about
how they showed the Jews they weren't welcome in these parts, and they were
asking if we had any gay bars or if anyone knew where the fags hung out so
they could show them next."
  "Yeah?  You tell the police?"
  "I look like someone who goes snitching to the cops?"
  Mordock did have a point there, and the Brewster boys suspected even if
he did go to the police, their response would likely be the same as the
rabbi's.  "But what they did was wrong," observed Benny.
  "Sure.  But what proof have I got that they are the ones what done it?"
  "Well, they should be reported anyway."
  "What good would it do?" Mordock snorted.
  "Yeah," agreed Billy.  "Even if they were found out to be the ones, what
would the courts do?  Fine them?  Throw them in jail for a month?  Courts
don't do nothing these days.  Besides, punishing them would just make them
hate Jews all the more."
  "Still something should be done," persisted Benny.
  "They still in town?" asked Brett.
  "As far as I know," replied Mordock.
  "Then maybe something can be done.  Something that would teach them a
lesson, and make sure they never do anything like this again, at least in
our town."
  "Like what?" snorted Mordock skeptically, not noticing the look on
Brett's brothers' faces or the look on Billy's.  If he'd known Brett
better, he'd have known the teenager was already well on the way to forming
a plan in his head.
  "They hate fags," observed Brett.
  "Yeah."
  "Well," the fifteen-year-old said as a smile slowly curled his lips,
confirming the suspicion of his three brothers.  That was what they loved
about their brother, always thinking on his feet.  Well, that and the fact
that he gave awesome blow jobs, and, well, a lot of other reasons.  Brett
was just about to reveal his plan when the Brewster boys noticed Jerry and
his parents heading their way with their mother and father.  Mordock
slipped away unnoticed, and Billy decided to join him.  Helping out was one
thing, but talking to adults was something quite different.
  "Boys," said Barry as he and the others joined his sons, "Mister and Mrs.
Goldstein and your mom and I have been talking about how we can foster
better relationships between the Jewish and non-Jewish segments of our
community."
  "Yeah?" Brett responded, and he, like his brothers, knew that his dad was
leading up to something that was going to involve them.
  "An invite to you boys to join our Jerome and to celebrate the first
night of Shavuot with us, we would like to make," announced Jerry's father.
  The boys glanced at their parents for some sort of clue as to how to
respond.  "We said it would be fine with us, if it is with you," Barry
responded.
  "We figured it would be a way for you to understand us better," said Mrs.
Goldstein.
  "Well, sure, I guess," said Brett with a shrug as he glanced at his
brothers.  He was frequently the spokesperson for the four boys.  Spending
even just a night with an arrogant snot like Jerome was not something he
was looking forward to, but under the circumstances, he was willing to make
the sacrifice, and he knew so were his brothers.  "When is it?"
  "And what is it?" asked Brent.
  "Shavuot is the most obscure of our Shlosh Regalim," Hiram Goldstein
began, and immediately saw the blank looks on the boys' faces.  "The Shlosh
Regalim are our three pilgrimage festivals," he explained.  "Shavuot, the
Feast of the Weeks, is the Jewish holiday celebrating the harvest season in
Israel.  Shavuot, which means "weeks", refers to the timing of the festival
which is held exactly seven weeks after Passover.  Shavuot also
commemorates the anniversary of the giving of the Ten Commandments to Moses
and the Israelites at Mount Sinai.  To tell you the truth, Shavuot is
little known even by our own people, and of the three festivals, the least
observed it is.  As a result, how it is observed varies greatly from one
household to another.  We," he said, indicating his family, "celebrate it
from the evening of May 27 to the evening of May 29, but in Israel it is
only celebrated until the evening of May 28.  We would not ask you to spend
the whole holiday with us, but even for just the first night would tell you
much about us and our beliefs."
  Brett looked at his three brothers for confirmation.  "That would be all
right with us," he announced.
  "Splendid.  Such wonderful bakhurim you have," Hiram Goldstein said as he
looked at the four boys, and Brenda and Barry beamed at their sons.
  "Oh yes!" agreed his wife.  "If like them only all boychicks could be."
She looked at them with such admiration that the four boys looked down at
their feet and scuffed their runners in the dirt with embarrassment.
"Wonderful it will be having you over tomorrow evening."
  The boys watched Jerry and the adults head back to the others.  "Now,
let's hear your plan," Bobby said as soon as they were out of hearing
range.  "Just how the fuck are we going to teach those fucking skinheads a
lesson?"  The four boychicks huddled.
  Sunday afternoon the twins were at the rendezvous point in Murray Park
well ahead of time.  Spotting Mordock heading their way with the three
skinheads, they had a sudden panic attack and for the first time in their
lives wondered if maybe they had gotten in over their heads.  It was an
awesome plan, and the two pranksters had their parts well rehearsed, but
the sight of the three toughs would have caused even the most confident to
have doubts, never mind two fifteen- year-olds still wet behind the ears as
their grandfather put it.  The youngest skinhead was in his late teens,
eighteen or nineteen, and the other two were in their early twenties.  They
were dressed identically with baggy camouflage cargo pants, olive tank tops
and big army boots.  They were six feet tall or slightly taller, and close
to two hundred pounds, all of it solid muscular.  They swaggered as they
walked and they looked mean as hell.  They could have easily posed for an
ad to join the marines, or some mercenary army.
  "I thought we were going to be meeting two boys," the oldest and
obviously the leader of the three said, looking at Brent and Brett with
obvious contempt.  "Not two fucking girls."
  Brett glanced at Mordock, and then looked up at the boy who'd spoken.  At
five-foot-four and a hundred and eighteen pounds, he was acutely aware of
his vulnerable position.  "We're the ones who invited you here, skindome,"
he said slowly and measuredly as he stared at the boy towering almost a
foot above him.  "We can uninvite you just as quick."  He'd spoken slowly
for the plain and simple reason that it was taking all his effort to stop
his voice from quivering, but the resulting tone gave the appearance that
he was straining to keep his anger in check.  If it didn't impress the
three skinheads, it certainly impressed and encouraged his twin brother,
who was about to crap his pants.  Brett sent off a quick prayer of thanks
that his voice had not cracked.
  "Well, I'll leave you five to get acquainted," said Mordock as he stepped
back.  He did not wait to hear if anyone had an objection.
  The youngest looking skinhead stepped to the right of the twins and the
second stepped to the left while the one who'd spoken stood in front of
them.  "You don't look like any white supremacists I've ever met," the
fellow standing in front of them observed in an accusatory tone.
  "Of course we don't," Brett said, he and his brother having anticipated
the comment.  "How long do you think we'd be able to operate in this town
if we looked like the three of you?"
  "So it true what your goth friend tells us that you actually have a group
advocating White supremacy in this dorky town?" the leader sneered, making
no effort to hide his doubt.
  "We do," Brett replied.  It was the truth.  The group was newly formed
and at the moment consisted of himself and his three brothers.
  "Who you affiliated with?"
  "The Silent Brotherhood."
  "Huh," the leader snorted as he looked at his companions with amusement.
"What do you take us for, idiots?"
  Brent was tempted to answer in the affirmative, as was his brother, but
neither was that foolish.
  "Or maybe they're the idiots," observed one of the others.  "Don't even
know The Order was disbanded in the eighties."
  "Or maybe you don't have the right connections to know that it's been
resurrected," observed Brett, and from the look on the faces of the three,
he could tell they were uncertain.  He and his brothers had done their
research.  The number of fractions and their tenacious existence, along
with the loose organization of the white supremacist movement, was to their
advantage as they suspected it would be.  "What about you, what group are
you affiliated with?" Brett asked, his confidence growing with the success
of their bluff.
  "The Aryan Nations," the leader said proudly.  "Isn't it obvious?" he
asked, nodding to the swastika and White Power tattoos he and the other two
were sporting on their arms.
  "So it true you're the ones responsible for the recent vandalism?" Brett
asked.
  "We don't consider it vandalism," the leader said, and his companions
smirked as he glanced at them.
  "Nor do we," Brett said, glancing at his brother.  "But what proof do we
have that you're the ones who did it?"
  "What proof do we have you are who you claim to be?  If you ask me, you
look like a couple wannabes."
  "Yeah," agreed his partner.  "Where are these fags and this Jew scum your
friend claimed you have tied up?"
  "All right, we'll prove that we're more than just talk," Brett said,
implying that the three skinheads were.  He no longer had any doubt he and
Brent could handle the three. After all, they were Brewsters, and compared
to the four demons from hell they had overpowered two Halloween's ago,
these skinheads were pussycats.  Leading them into the woods, the two
brothers took their unsuspecting victims to a clearing where they'd tied up
Benny, Bobby and Jerry before heading to the rendezvous point.
  "Didn't think they'd be so young," the leader observed in surprise.
  "That a problem?"
  "Of course not.  A stinking fag is a stinking fag, no matter what age,"
the leader said looking down at the two younger Brewsters with disgust.
The two boys having their father's dark looks, he had no reason to suspect
they were related to the blond-haired twins.
  "And a Jew a Jew," added the older of the other two as he stepped up to
Jerry.  "And there's no mistaking with those shifty eyes and beak that's
what we got here."  His lips curling into a smug grin, he hacked up a gob
of spit and spat at the bound boy.  The spittle struck his temple and
slowly oozed down his cheek and along his jaw bone.  Jerry paled as he
looked up at the thug through his thick glasses.  Brett's plan had sounded
great yesterday, but yesterday he was angry and among friends.  Today he
was tied up, and three very ferocious skinheads were glaring at him with
pure hatred.  The three knew the look in the boy's eyes, and they knew it
was genuine.
   "Now where is your proof?"  Brett asked.
  "You know the vacant building over in the industrial park, Werner
Trucking?"
  Brett shook his head in the negative.
  "Well, that's where we've ditched the spray paint for another job, and
the stolen grave markers.  We can take you there if you don't believe us."
  "Naw, we believe you.  Besides, I've waited long enough to have some fun
with these three," Brett said with a leer as he glanced at their supposed
captives.  He hoped his look was as convincing as the one he'd practised in
the mirror.
  "Oh yeah," replied the leader, a wicked smile curling his lips.  "And we
do thank you for inviting us to your party."
  "Well, us straight white boys have to stick together," Brett said.  "And
you know what they say, the more the merrier."
  "Unless we're talking about Jew dogs and fag perverts," observed the
second oldest of the skinheads, the hate in his voice causing the hair to
stand up on the back of the necks of the three captives and the twins.
  "Enough talking.  Let's get started," Brent said, taking out an old,
worn, leather-bound book.  He was anxious to begin before something went
wrong with their plan.
  "What is that?"
  "We always like to begin with a few inspirational words," Brent said
nervously.  "Don't you?"
  "You know, like something from the Little White Book, or the daily
affirmations of the Faith of the Creators," added Brett, hoping their
research had been accurate.
  "You members of the World Church of the Creator?" the leader asked with
surprise.
  "We belong to a lot of groups," Brent said honestly as he lit a tall,
white candle and held it before him.  That those groups included the Boy
Scouts of America, the YMCA, the Crestview Heights Junior High Chess Club
for Benny, the Crestview Heights High School Basketball team for the twins,
the Hanson Brothers Fan club for Bobby, and a newly formed teen Wiccan
coven for himself, the three skinheads did not have to know.  "Behold the
white candle," he said softy, "symbol of what we believe in, symbol of the
power of the goddess."  The three skinheads exchanged suspicious glances
having never heard of anything involving a white candle or a goddess.
Brent continued hurriedly, "we believe in the eternal laws of nature as
revealed through science, history, logic and common sense."  Recognizing
the first of the affirmations of the WCOC, the three supremacists turned
their attention back to Brent.  Not having the greatest of memories, nor
being avid readers, they didn't follow the doctrines of the movement to the
letter themselves.
  "Concentrate on the flame, symbol of purity," Brent continued.  "Relax
and listen to my words, listen and believe for I speak of the highest law
of nature.  Breathe deep and relax," he intoned softly.  Mixing phrases
from the eighteen affirmations from one of the supremacists' holy books,
the Little White Book, with phrases from the spell in the wizard's book
before him, plus what he'd learned of craft ways so far from Billy's
parents, and throwing in some gestures and phrases from a hypnotist he'd
seen on a television show several months ago, he cast his own special Brent
Brewster spell.
  "What you have heard me say is far more logical, consistent,
comprehensive, meaningful and inspiring than you have ever heard before.
When I extinguish the candle, what I have said you will believe, you will
desire, and you will do," he concluded.  As he snuffed the candle, the
three boys standing before him slowly came out of their trance.  "How do
you feel?"
  "Wonderful," the leader said, his voice reflecting his surprise.  "I've
never felt so invigorated, so full of energy."  He'd heard some powerful
messages from some eloquent White Power speakers, but none had made him
feel quite like he did at that moment.
  "Oh yeah," agreed his companion.  "I've never felt so pumped up."  That
was the truth, but there was something else he and his two companions were
feeling.
  "But?"
  "Well," the youngest of the three began hesitantly as he glanced over at
his two companions, "this is going to sound strange but, well, my clothes
seem so heavy, so . . .  unnatural."
  "Confining," the leader of the three observed, much to the relief of the
younger boy.
  "Well, if you're uncomfortable wearing them, take them off," advised
Brett.  "You're white men.  You can do what you want."
  "Right on," the three responded.
  They had been espousing that they had every right to do what they wanted
as the white and superior race for years, and they felt even more strongly
about having the right to pursue their beliefs after Brent's little speech,
although now try as hard as they could, they could not really remember much
of what he'd said.  They did have an irresistible desire to remove their
clothes, and the more they thought about it the more uncomfortable they
felt, as if their clothes were weighing them down and restricting their
freedom.  Kicking off their heavy boots brought such a tremendous feeling
of relief, they quickly pulled off their socks.  Wiggling and spreading
their toes like little kids, they pulled off their tank tops and without a
moment of hesitation stepped out of their pants.
  It was only then, standing there before the five boys with the slight
late afternoon breeze blowing up the legs of their plaid and print Joe
Boxers, that they heard a nagging objection buried deep in their minds
telling them that stripping down to their underwear in a public park was
immoral.  On the other hand, it felt good, and another voice was telling
them to go the last step.  Their moral upbringing and ingrained taboo about
nudity wrestled with the desire and the belief Brent had freshly planted in
their minds that going skyclad was perfectly natural.  The newer finally
won out over the older.  The Brewster brothers and Jerry exchanged grins as
the three boys pushed down their boxers and stepped out of them, clearly
confused by the mixed feelings of total freedom and shamefulness.  They
knew something was wrong here, but it felt so right.
  Glancing at each other covertly out of the corner of their eyes, they
noticed the familiar markings on their friends had undergone a change, and
to their bewilderment, so had theirs.  While they had been under Brent's
trance, Mordock had re-emerged from the bushes where he'd been watching
with his little leather case and the fourteen-year-old had done some hasty
alterations and additions.  In place of the fist surrounded by the words
"White Power" on their right forearms was the lambda symbol around which
was written "Gay Pride" The swastika on their other forearm had been
changed into a rainbow coloured floral emblem.
  On the leader's right breast had been added with a permanent marker
"Shane loves Michael" within a heart, and around the heart, the words "True
Love".  On Michael's breast in an identical design was "Michael loves
Thomas", and on Thomas's breast, "Thomas Loves Shane."  As the three
astonished boys looked at each, a new desire, one that had been implanted
by Brent and triggered by the sight of the declarations on their breasts
surfaced.  Their faces reddened as they fought the new and filthy feelings
welling up in their hearts and in their loins.  They were comrades united
in a common cause and sharing common beliefs about the white race.  That
bond Brent had strengthened in their minds, but he had also capitalized on
it and extended it.  The new bond was just as noble, but not in their
minds.  In their minds it was disgusting.  It was filthy.  It was the type
of love they'd been brought up to hate.
  The urge to strip naked had been surprising and discomforting, but that
had been nothing compared to the urge they were now fighting.  They looked
at the twins in confusion, afraid to dare look at each other.  They noticed
for the first time the three captives had been untied.
  "What is this?" the leader asked, glaring at Brent.
  "What do you mean?"
  "What have you done?"  He wanted to reach down and pick up his clothes,
but his feeling of shame was not strong enough to counter the feeling of
naturalness.  It was as if he'd been drugged, something he and his
companions had had no reservation about doing to their own victims in the
past.
  "I've opened your eyes."
  "We've been tricked," Shane observed, daring to look at his two
companions.  "I don't know how . . .  and I don't understand this . . . ,"
he continued, looking back at Brent.
  "It's no trick.  I've just helped you get in touch with yourselves,"
Brent said, reciting the response he'd memorized in anticipation of their
objection.  "You're men.  Aren't you proud of that?"
  "Of course."
  "You're not ashamed of your cocks are you?"
  "Ashamed," the three snorted.  "We got nothing to be ashamed of."
  "You don't," agreed Brent.  "You should be proud of what you got.  You
should be able to flaunt it.  It's women with all their modesty and
daintiness that have made us feel guilty about expressing our masculinity."
  "We completely and categorically reject the
judeo-christian-democratic-marxist-liberal- feminist values of today, and
supplant them with new and basic values," Shane pronounced, reciting the
tenth affirmation of the WCOC.
  "Right on," said Brent.  "This is a man's world.  If a man is feeling
horny and wants sex why should he have to have it with a woman?  Reject the
Judeo-Christian value that says it is wrong for men to have sexual feelings
for each other.  Embrace the new values of today and express what is in
your hearts."
  "Go ahead," said Bobby with a wide grin.  "Don't let us stop you from
showing each other how you feel."
  Not exactly the clearest thinkers at the best of times, and accustomed to
having others tell them what to do and what is right, the three young men
stood there in confusion as the old values of brotherhood and comradeship
and the ingrained macho image of the sexually aggressive male competed with
the new feelings of lust for each other and concepts about the natural
order of the universe.  Their new knowledge made sense but was contrary to
the old.  Slowly subconscious urges planted in their minds by Brent
overpowered those earlier prejudices.
  "Com'on, let's have a group hug," urged Brent.
  Moving stiffly like marionettes and clearly fighting muscles that seemed
no longer to be under their control, the three boys slowly turned and began
to approach each other.  They reached out and embraced, their faces
contorted as they strained to stop themselves.
  Upon Brent's prompting Shane kissed Michael, Michael kissed Thomas, and
Thomas kissed Shane.  Their faces reflected their bewilderment at the
mixture of pleasure and disgust they felt.  The pleasure being more
powerful than the disgust, they kissed again, and a third time, and with
each kiss their revulsion decreased.  The audience of four boys shifted and
restrained their giggles at the sight of the three naked skinheads
smooching like new lovers.
  Thomas, being the youngest and having the weakest will, was the first to
slowly drop his hand and slip his fingers about Shane's low hung, hairy
balls.  Shane slipped one hand behind Shane and stroked his butt while he
fondled Michael's limp cock with the other.  It was as if someone else's
mind was in his head, directing actions that his mind fought to stop.
Michael kissed Thomas now with a surprising passion and began to tug on his
uncut cock.  The three boys stiffened quickly, the result of Brent's spell
as much as the result of their fondling.  Giving in to those desires Brent
had planted in their minds, they lay down on the grass and forming a daisy
chain, took each other's dick and began sucking.  They were as hungry for
cock as they were for cunt twenty-four hours ago.  They were also ashamed
of their desire, much as a young boy craves jacking off but because of the
guilt trip laid on him feels shame along with his pleasure.
  The Brewster brothers glanced at each other and grinned, their trousers
bulged out and their own dicks itching for attention.  Jerry was watching
the three skinheads with such wide-eyed shock he did not notice what had
happened to his four companions.  He was just as bewildered as the three
boys now eagerly sucking each other off.  Prior to their arrival Benny and
Bobby had handed him cotton and had instructed him to stuff his ears just
as they were doing, and he'd noticed when Brent had taken out the book,
Brett had slipped cotton in his ears also.  He could see Brent's lips
moving, so it evidently had something to do with preventing them from
hearing what he was saying, and what he had said was evidently the cause of
the strange behaviour of the three supremacists.  That, to him, smacked of
devil worship, which bothered him greatly, though seeing the result was
satisfying if these were in fact the vandals the police were searching for.
The poor boy did not know what to think as he stared at the three naked men
performing the lewd act that boys at school told others to do as the most
vulgar of insults.
  The three out-of-town young men were just as bewildered as they bobbed
their shaved heads up and down methodically, acting out of pure
spell-generated lust.  The hot, moist friction of their companion's mouth
and their spell-enhanced desire quickened the response of their young,
virile bodies.  Michael was the first to begin squirming and pumping his
hips in response to the growing need in his loins rather than the spell
Brent has placed on him, and the first to suddenly gasp and thrust his hips
forward in orgasm.  As he filled Shane's mouth with his cum, Shane
exploded, filling Thomas's mouth, and Thomas in turn began to shoot his
load into Michael's.  The three skinheads shuddered and swallowed rapidly
to prevent from choking as the thick, hot cocks in their mouths throbbed
out squirt after squirt of the man juice.  Inexperienced, Thomas gagged and
spewed a mixture of his spittle and Shane's cum over Shane's crotch.
Michael drew off Thomas's cock before he similarly gagged and his comrade's
jerking bone laced his face with the last two ropes of his cum.  A dribble
of cum meanwhile oozed out from the corners of Shane's mouth as he
triumphantly swallowed Michael's load.
  Panting with exertion and their ejaculations, the three boys lay there on
their sides, the bitter taste of cum in their mouths as they stared at the
cocks they had just sucked with a combination of disbelief, dismay, and
desire.  Having never had a blow job, and certainly having never given one
before, they marvelled at how erotic it had been getting sucked off, but at
the same time were aghast at having performed such a filthy, disgusting
act, an act that they'd previously condemned and that was performed by what
they'd considered the lowest perverts on the face of the earth.
  "Okay, you boys stay here while we go find you some playmates," advised
Brett, and the boys looked up at him blankly.  Although deep down inside
they wanted to dress and get the hell out of there, their duty to obey the
fifteen-year-old blond youth they had just met overpowered all other
thoughts.  Conditioned to mindlessly obey those in authority, they had
fallen under Brent's spell almost instantly.
  The five boys spread out, the twins heading one way, Jerry and Bobby
another, and Benny scouting on his own.  Spotting men who were cruising,
the pairs of boys chatted to each about the naked skinheads looking for a
good time up the path as they walked by.  Benny, meanwhile, played his good
Samaritan role and warned those whom he was certain would do just the
opposite not to continue up the path because of the disgusting perverts he
had seen.
  After an hour of rounding up partners for the three skinheads, the five
boys circled back and snuck up to the clearing through the bushes.  The
tangle of brush was particularly thick around the clearing they'd chosen,
which was the main reason they'd selected the spot besides the fact it was
out of the way and yet close to the gay cruising area of the park.
  "You're really into this, aren't you?" asked the muscular, tattooed
trucker as he hefted his particularly long, thick sausage and wagged it
before Shane's face.  The man had to be twice the youth's age.
  "Yes," Shane replied although his mind was screaming no.
  "Tell me how much you want it," the man ordered.
  "Please," begged Shane on his knees, "I want you to fuck my ass.  I love
having a real man's cock plowing me more than anything in the world."
  Those were not his words, but it was his voice, and he could no more stop
himself from saying them than he could stop his heart from beating.  He'd
already had three men up his ass, and he could not explain it any more than
he could explain why he was saying the words he was saying, but he had
enjoyed it.  As the man slipped the lubed condom over his thick piece of
meat and stepped up behind him, Shane strained to open his asshole with
eager anticipation.  As he felt the long, thick sausage stretch open his
sphincter, it was pleasure that he felt, not pain.  As he felt it slowly
ease up his rectum, he signed with ecstasy.  He also turned red with shame.
He was being fucked.  He was being used like a woman.  Actually, he'd
fucked women up the ass rather than the cunt on purpose to show them their
place.  Now he was on his hands and knees being plowed.  Not only that, he
was enjoying it, as if he was some filthy perverted fag.  He had heard of a
drug you could give a person that immobilized them but kept them conscious
so you could do whatever perverted thing you wanted to them and they could
do nothing about it.  That was exactly how he felt, but he'd taken no
drugs.  He wished he had.  At least then he'd have an explanation for his
behaviour.
  Michael was wishing the same thing.  He was kneeling there in the opening
sucking on his third cock of the evening, but it was not just any cock.
The man standing before him was black, as black as the darkest night.  It
should have been the other way around.  It should have been the worthless,
stinking coloured man sucking him.  But it was not.  It was he who was
doing the sucking, and the man's thick, black cock was as delicious as
licorice.  It did not make any sense.  Nor did it make any sense that
Thomas was kneeling behind the black bastard and was tonguing his black
butt.
  Thomas had stopped thinking.  The moment the black man had told him to
rim his asshole and he'd knelt behind him like some ignorant slave boy and
begun to do him he'd stopped trying to figure out what was going on.  He
stopped trying to fight because he knew it was useless.  He wormed his
tongue into the black man's shithole like a little boy licking a bowl of
chocolate pudding clean, and he was enjoying it just as much.  As some
stranger stepped up behind him and began to finger fuck his asshole he
didn't even think to object.  From the number of used condoms littering the
clearing, the stranger would not be the first up Thomas's ass, and from the
way word was spreading through the park, he would be far from the last.
Feeling like a slut and blushing with shame, Thomas fastened his lips to
the black man's anus and sucked.
  The Brewster brothers glanced at each other and grinned with delight at
the success of their plan.  Under Brent's hypnotic spell the three boys
were powerless, just as countless victims of the three skinheads had been
powerless.  They had to fulfil the new urges that had been implanted in
their minds, just as their victims had been forced to submit to their
whims.  Under Brent's spell while Mordock had been applying their new
tattoos, the three skinheads had bragged not just about the recent
vandalism, but to past acts of destruction elsewhere, and to beating and
humiliating a string of gays, blacks and Jews throughout the state over the
past several years.
  Brent, like his brothers, believed in retribution, and despite the
mischievous bent of the four boys, they had a strong moral sense of what
was right and what was wrong, the result of a good upbringing by their
parents.  Persecution and violence against others because of their
religion, sexual orientation or race was wrong.  They themselves had sought
revenge against the snobs, bigots and bullies of their world not because of
their beliefs, but because of their wrongful behaviour toward others.  So,
when the fifteen-year-old had implanted the insatiable lust for cock in the
minds of the three skinheads, but had not blocked out their prejudice
against Jews, gays and coloured races, he'd had no qualms about doing it,
and nor had his three brothers.  Actually, none of them had realized just
how strong Brent's spell was going to be.  Things had turned out even
better than they had hoped, and this was only the beginning.  The sun had
not even begun to set.
  Jerry Goldstein, on the other hand, was struggling with his own
conflicting beliefs and values.  The things he was watching the men do in
the clearing were the most disgusting, filthiest acts imaginable, and many
of the acts the poor boy had never even imagined before.  At the same time
the filth, the shmutzig, he was watching them perform was the most erotic
thing he'd ever seen.  Of course the conflict between what was taboo and
what was pleasurable was not new to him, nor unique to an eleven-year-old
Jewish boy, although for Jerry, the extremes between the two were probably
more severe than for most boys.  His hatred for the three supremacists,
especially after hearing them bragging, told him that what he was seeing
was justified, but his upbringing and religious beliefs also told him
violence against others was not the way to end violence against those of
his faith.  His mind jumped from one thought to the next as his attention
jumped from one pair to the other.
  Even more confusing was the reaction of the three skinheads.  How could
they be saying what they were saying, and doing what they were doing?  And,
how could they be so desirous and yet look so ashamed?  He knew it had
something to do with what Brent had said while their ears had been plugged
with cotton.  He found himself both revering and fearing the boy.  It was
not unlike his feelings toward his own father.  Still another surprise for
the young, innocent boy was the number of men who were eager to participate
in the lewdness in the clearing, and the variety in ages and in walks of
life.  They were not under Brent's influence, and that was also
troublesome.  With so many men wanting sex with other men, how could it be
wrong?  And, if it was so sinful, why was his own dick erect and why did
the knob feel like it was about to explode in his pants?
  It was with those bewildering thoughts and questions that he headed over
to the Brewsters and waited for the boys to change into their good clothes,
white shirts for all four boys, white dress slacks for the twins, white Gap
jeans for Benny, and white cargo pants for Bobby, their parents having been
told that wearing white was traditional for many of the Jewish faith on
Shavuot.  Giving them a bottle of wine as a gift for the Goldsteins, Brenda
and Barry watched proudly as the boys headed down the walk of their little
suburban bungalow.
  Jerry's parents met them at the door, Mister Goldstein wearing a white
suit with a white skullcap and his wife wearing a white dress with a floral
design, and showed them into the living room.  Uncertain what was going to
happen and what was going to be expected of them, the four brothers glanced
about nervously as they waited for Jerry to change.  The Goldstein's home
reminded the boys a lot of their grandparent Brewster's home, filled with
knick knacks, with fancy doilies and lace everywhere you looked, and family
pictures covering the walls and squeezed in amongst the clutter on the
shelves and cabinets.  They were afraid to move least they knock something
over or break something.
  Shortly after Jerry rejoined them, wearing a white shirt and slacks and a
tie, his aunt and uncle and fourteen-year-old cousin from the Habad
community in Brooklyn, New York, arrived.  Jerry later explained that they
were members of the Chasidim, which was Hebrew for "the pious ones", which
was the reason they were dressed all in black and why his uncle and nephew
had long, curly sidelocks.  They sat down around the large oak dining room
table which had been elaborately set out with the Goldstein's best china
with Mister Goldstein at the head of the table, which was no different from
the Brewster household.  Jerry's father, uncle and cousin were all wearing
shawls about their shoulders.
  "With Kiddush let us begin," Hiram Goldstein said pouring wine into the
cup before him, and as the families bowed their heads the Brewster boys
bowed theirs and said their own prayers as Mister Goldstein spoke in
Hebrew.  "For our gentile friends, we will say the blessing in English," he
observed.  "Blessed are You, God, King of the Universe, who creates the
fruit of the trees."  So saying he lifted the basket of fruit, and passed
it around.  "With fruit rather than breaking bread we begin, because this
is the last day of Pesah.  It is the destination of the Passover, the
arrival at Mount Sinai and the receipt of the Torah.  Jerome, the Ma
Nishtana will you say?"
  "Why is this night different from all other nights?" Jerry began.  "On
all other nights we eat all types of food; tonight we eat milk and honey.
On all other nights, we eat any fruits and vegetables; tonight we eat first
fruits.  On all other nights, we who are not of the Chasidim wear any
colour; to night we wear white.  On all other nights, we go to sleep when
we're tired, tonight we stay up as late as we can to study the Torah."
  "Shavuot is one of the three festivals the Torah commands us to keep, but
in the Diaspora for many it has fallen into obscurity," Jerry's father
explained to the Brewster brothers.
  "As I am sure in the Christian community there are many of the old ways
which are no longer followed," interrupted Jerry's uncle as he looked
across at the four brothers pointedly.  His long, dark beard, black
clothes, and stern looks caused them to shift uncomfortably.
  "I meant no disrespect," observed Jerry's father.  "A fact I am only
stating."
  "As am I," Jerry's uncle responded.
  "The main event, the tikkun leil shavuot, staying up all night studying
the Torah, is a community event, which requires good teachers and plenty of
discussion if one is to stay awake to dawn services.  I am sure that is one
reason many families, especially those with children, do not celebrate
Shavuot.  It is why in this household we celebrate by inviting family, and
inviting friends, to our home, for guests are needed for a celebration to
occur, and guests ensure there will be eating and discussion and new
ideas."  He paused to take a plum from the basket, which by then had made
its way around the room, and then looked down the table at Jerry's mother.
"Khane, the items on our Seder plate will you explain?"
  "We have a bowl of yogurt, and a bowl of date honey, which eaten together
reminds us that we were lead out of Egypt to the land of milk and honey,"
she explained.  "We have peaches and apricots, the first fruits of the
season that we have not yet eaten this year, for Shavuot is also known as
Yom Habikkurim, or "the Day of the First Fruits", because it was the time
the farmers of Israel would bring their first harvest to Jerusalem as a
token of thanksgiving.  As each fruit ripened, the first of each type would
not be eaten but instead a ribbon around the branch the farmer would
tie. This ribbon signified that these fruits were Bikkurim, or the first
fruits.  At Shavuot the farmers would gather the Bikkurim into baskets and
bring them to the city of Jerusalem where in the holy city they would be
eaten.  We have barley, because in ancient times Shavuot also marked the
end of the barley harvest, and we have a cup of water, a symbol of the
Torah."
  "The Hamotzi," announced Jerry's father, and they bowed their heads again
as he blessed the bread in Hebrew.  "Now, eat," he announced.
  Watching the others, the boys noticed they began with the yoghurt and
honey so they did likewise.  It was a delicious way to begin the meal as
far as the boys were concerned.
  "We are commanded in the Bible, thou shalt tell thy sons," Jerry's father
observed.  "On this day especially we encourage discussion and questions,
especially from our young people and their guests."
  Bobby looked out of the corner of his eye at his brothers.  "Well," he
began, never one to be shy.
  "Yes, go on," Jerry's father observed.
  "Well, I was wondering, well, why you wear your hair like that," he
commented, looking at Jerry's uncle and cousin.
  "You mean our payos, our sidelocks," Jerry's uncle responded.  "It comes
from Leviticus 19:27, 'You shall not round the corners of your heads, nor
mar the edges of your beards.'  It is one of the things that distinguish us
from others, as is the style of the hat we choose to wear, and our dark
clothes, though not all Hasidim wear black, nor are black clothes limited
to the Hasidim."
  "They look cool, your payos that is."
  "They are not meant to look cool," the older man said flatly.  There was
a long, silent pause during which everyone looked awkwardly at their
plates.  "Cool means you find them acceptable," he finally said.
  "Well, yeah," Bobby said hesitantly.  "They look . . .  well . . .
good."
  "Then a bad thing that is not," Jerry's uncle said with what the boys
accepted as a smile though the corners of his lips barely moved.  "There
are many who ridicule us because of them.  In the war the Nazi's cut them
off and ground them in the ground and mocked those of our faith."
  "Yeah, we know of guys like that," observed Brent, and Jerry and the four
brothers thought of the skinheads they'd left in Murray Park.
  "Try a little hilbeh with your felafel," suggested Jerry's father,
nodding to a bowl of red relish, in part because he wanted the boys to
sample their traditional food, and in part to interrupt a conversation that
could become negative.
  Taking a fork full on his plate, Benny dipped the deep-fried, spiced
chickpea and wheat ball in the relish and popped the golden brown appetizer
in his mouth before Jerry's father could stop him.  He immediately gasped
for breath and doused the fire in his mouth with the remainder of his milk.
  "I said try a little," Jerry's father said with a grin, and the others
laughed.
  The ice broken, the boys opened up with a flood of questions.  Over what
Jerry's mother called marak perot kar, a cold fresh fruit soup consisting
of pureed cantaloupe, strawberries, grapes, and apples in orange juice,
they learned that the woolen shawl the men and Jerry's cousin were wearing
was called a tallith, and was worn during prayer by any males over
thirteen, and that the tassels of entwined cord called tzitzit on the four
corners were reminders of the commandments.
  They sampled the braided white bread called challah, and blintze, a
rolled pancake filled with cheese, which they learned could also be filled
with fruit or jam.  As they sampled the sweet tortelli, half circle disks
of dough filled with ricotta cheese, candied citron, and pine nuts Jerry's
father told them about kosher food and the Jewish prohibition of eating
meat with milk products, and explained that the dishes they were using had
a hole in them to distinguish them from dishes to be used only for eating
meat.
  "Legends say that before the visit from God, Jews did not follow the
Kashrut, the dietary laws we follow today," explained Jerry's uncle.  "So
on the first Shavuot, they found they had only nonkosher utensils, and no
kosher meats.  So, only milk products they could eat.  It is also a way for
us to commemorate arriving in the new land, for as Khane has said, in the
Torah it says, 'And He gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and
honey'."
  "The Israelites found Mount Sinai lush with greenery and flowers, and so
on Shavuot we decorate our home and the synagogue with tree branches and
flowers," explained Jerry's mother as she passed the boys the onion and
cheese quiche and the apricot kugel, a baked noodle dish with dried
apricots and a topping of crushed corn flakes, brown sugar and cinnamon
"Shavuot is also known as Zeman Matan Toratenu, the Season of the Giving of
Our Law, which commemorates the receiving of the Ten Commandments at Mount
Sinai."
  "On this day we affirm the acceptance of our religious obligations and
reaffirm our covenant with God," Jerry's uncle explained.  Over the course
of the meal the boys learned that the Hasid placed a high emphasis on
emotional piety and on a loving relationship with God.  As Jerry's uncle
explained, "God is everywhere, even in evil, and one must strive to turn
evil into goodness.  Prayer, study, contemplation, and good deeds lead to
an understanding of the divine.  We act out of love for God and for
humanity, praying for all creation."
  The Brewster brothers nodded.  As far as they were concerned, what they'd
done to punish the skinhead supremacists that afternoon could be considered
a good deed and done out of the love for humanity.  By this time the women
had cleared off the table, and brought out the cheesecake and date squares.
Unable to decide between the blueberry and the peach cheesecake, the boys
tried both upon the urging of Jerry's mother.  The meal finally ended with
the Birchat HaMazon, the grace after the meal, and reciting the ten
commandments.
  "According to tradition the Israelites actually overslept on the morning
of God's visit," Jerry's father observed as the dishes were once more
cleared away.  "To compensate for this negligence, we are told the early
Jews held a vigil on the eve of Shavuot.  Today many of us continue that
practice, staying awake from dusk to dawn, keeping ourselves busy with the
readings of the Torah and the Talmud.  But that is very much an adult
event.
  So we adjourn now to study, and to discuss amongst ourselves.  You
children are excused," he announced, and then added with a smile, "and I
know you too will stay up long into the night.  I hope some of that
discussion will be about the significance of Shavuot."
  "Of course, Father," replied Jerry.
  "It is through remembering the toil and suffering of our ancestors that
we find strength to withstand the persecution of today," observed his
cousin solemnly.
  "We've sure learned a lot we can talk about and think about tonight,"
observed Brett, in part seriously, and in part because he knew it would
make a good impression.
  He was fifteen after all.
  "Oh yeah," agreed his twin brother, "a lot."
  "Fu-, fu-, fusure," agreed Bobby.
  "And that was an awesome meal," commented Benny, rubbing his stomach.
"Thanks for inviting us over."
  "Oh yeah, I'm stuffed," observed Bobby with a sigh.
  The twins quickly echoed the comments of their two younger brothers, and
for two growing teens who seemed to have hollow legs, that was something.
As the adults retired to the living room for their contemplation, the boys
headed up to Jerry's room.  For the next hour they talked about the things
all boys talk about when they get together whether it be with friends or
with boys they've just met, school, teachers, the upcoming summer holidays,
and the sports and hobbies they enjoyed.  Of course the conversation was
interspersed with more questions about Jews and their faith, the trek
across the desert, and their different customs.
  "So you guys keep your heads covered all the time?" asked Benny.
  "Yes," replied Doniel, Jerry's cousin.  "Anyone over thirteen is expected
to wear a yarmulke, a skullcap, or a broad-brimmed hat.  That is the
commandment for all Jews, not just the Hasidim.  Married women must also
cover their hair, usually with a kerchief."
  "And you have to wear those sidelocks."
  "Yes."
  "Well, I still think they look cool," commented Bobby.
  "My father was not upset with your comment," Doniel said earnestly, not
wanting there to be hard feelings, but also not wanting to speak against
his father.  "My father is just, well, stern in his ways."
  "Hey, that's okay."
  "Yeah, we understand," agreed Bobby's brothers.
  "You ever think about wearing your hair some other way?"
  "That would never be allowed."
  "Well, yeah, but you ever think about it?" Bobby asked with an impish
grin.
  "Well, yeah, sometimes," Doniel said with a conspiratorial grin.
  "Yeah?  Like what?"
  "Well . . .  like yours," he said, indicating Benny's spiked hair.
  "Wanna try it?"
  "You got styling gel in your overnight bag?" asked Brent.
  "Of course."
  "Ah, no, I don't think so," said Doniel with a chuckle as Benny took the
tube of gel out of his bag.
  "Ah, com'on.  Just see what you look like."
  "We'll just do it lightly, and you can easily wash it out," urged Benny.

"Com'on, try it," urged Jerry.
  "Sure.  It's just us that'll know."
  "If Jerry tries it too."
  "All right," Jerry agreed with a grin.  The few friends he had would
never suggest anything so daring.
  For the next half hour the boys amused themselves with various styles,
trying more and more outrageous ones until they were giggling
uncontrollably.  Suddenly there was a knock on the door.  The boys looked
at each other in wide-eyed panic, especially Jerry and Doniel who were
sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Thinking quickly as usual, Brett yanked
the blanket off Jerry's bed and threw it over the two boys, along with
Bobby who happened to be in the middle.
  "Some snacks and something to drink, I brought you boys," Mrs. Goldstein
said as she entered the room with a large plate of jam blintzes, cheese
slices, boiled eggs and banana cheesecake and a jug of fruit punch.  "Oy
vey!  What are you up to?" she asked, a hint of dismay at the sight of the
rumpled bed and the blanket on the floor.
  "Pretending we are in a tent," said Brett hurriedly.
  "In the desert, like the Israelites on their trek to Mount Sinai," added
Brent.
  "I see," she said with a smile.  Bringing gentiles in to celebrate the
holiday evidently was a very good idea if six young boys were enacting
their history.
  "That was a lie," observed Doniel, clearly distressed as he emerged from
the blankets as soon as his aunt left.
  "Well, we couldn't tell her you were hiding because we'd spiked your
hair."
  "We are taught that to lie is a sin," he observed.  "And to lie to a
parent is the worst sin of all."
  "Well, it wasn't you who lied," observed Brett.
  "And Jerry's mom's not Brent's mom," added Benny.
  "And we did wonder what it was like to tent across the desert," added
Brent.  That had been one of many topics they'd talked about that night.
  "'Sides, all we was doin' was keeping your parents from getting upset.
That's not a bad thing," observed Bobby.
  "Yes, that is true," agreed Doniel.  The Brewster brothers were experts
at turning things around to prove their point.
  "Just like that's why Brent hasn't told our mom about his nipple ring
yet," continued Bobby, not having learned yet when you could stop.
  "You have a nipple ring?" asked Jerry, his eyes growing wide.
  "Yeah," Brent replied, nodding self-consciously with a bashful smile.
  "You got it in right now?" asked Doniel.
  Again Brent nodded in the affirmative.
  "Can we see it?" asked Jerry eagerly.
  Brent hesitated and then opened his shirt with a combination of shyness
and pride.  Jerry and Doniel examined the piercing closely and expressed
their reference for his daring, and with a hint of regret, observed that
they would never be so daring as to do such a thing.
  "You got hairs yet?" Bobby asked, looking at Doniel.
  "Bobby, you don't ask a guy that!" admonished Brent.
  "I do."
  "That's true, he does," agreed Brent.
  "That's our kid brother," added Brett, rolling his eyes in exaggeration.
  "Well, in answer to your question, yes I do," said Doniel.  "Jewish boys
are no different from gentiles in that regard."
  "You wear your hairs in ringlets like your side locks?"
  "Bobby!"
  The eleven-year-old looked at the others impishly and the six boys
giggled as they tried to imagine what that would look like to have long
curls on either side of their balls.
  "Since this is a night for asking questions, and you have asked several,
perhaps I can ask one," observed Doniel cautiously.
  "Sure."
  The boy hesitated for a long time.  "Well . . .  you ever think about .
. .  well . . .  me'onen," he said in a whisper, steeling a glance at
Jerry.
  "Masturbating," Jerry translated, and considering his secret pastime
since Boxing Day, he was just as eager to hear their answer.
  "Sure," the four brothers chorused without a moment's hesitation.
  "Except we usually call it jacking off," responded Benny.
  "Ose bayad," translated Jerry into Hebrew, glancing at his cousin.  It is
a word he'd looked up in his father's huge English-Hebrew dictionary
shortly after he'd begun doing it.
  "You . . .  well . . .  you ever try it?" Doniel dared to ask, his heart
suspended in his chest as if he expected to be struck by lightening.
  "Sure," the brothers chorused once again.
  "I have also," Jerry admitted, though not as enthusiastically as his
guests had.  As the boys looked at Doniel he became suddenly fascinated
with the design of the floor carpet as he confessed he'd tried it, but not
all the way.
  "You can come and haven't tried it?" Benny asked incredulously.
  Doniel nodded, still studying the carpet.
  "Hey, let's compare cocks," Bobby suggested, which came as no surprise to
his brothers, and before anyone could respond to the idea, he had unzipped
his jeans and pulled them and his Gap briefs down.  That did not surprise
his brothers either.
  Jerry and Doniel glanced at each other, and then at Bobby's brothers, and
when the rest of the Brewsters said it was all right with them, the two
boys self-consciously pulled down their trousers and underwear along with
the rest of the Brewsters.
  "Geez, you got no skins at all," observed Bobby, coming directly to the
point.
  "Jewish boys are circumcised at the age of eight days," observed Jerry.
  "It is called the bris," added Doniel
  "Yeah?" asked Bobby, his eyes growing wide.
  "It is our covenant with God."
  "Covenant?" asked Bobby.
  "In the agreement between God and Abraham, Abraham cut off his foreskin
for God, and so it has been ever since that time, that those of the Jewish
faith have their foreskins removed for God on their eighth day."
  "Geez, and they accuse me of having some weird collections," the
eleven-year-old observed
  He said it so seriously his three brothers and even the two Jewish boys
had to laugh.  "So, you want to compare them hard now?" Bobby asked.
  The six boys sat there staring down at their laps and carefully stole
glances at each other as they tugged and shook their dicks.  Bobby grabbed
his knob with all four fingers and his thumb and rubbed it vigorously as
was his custom.  The twins slowly tugged on their limp tubes with their
entire fist, and Benny used an underhanded grasp, the three of them going
at it much more slowly.  Jerry used his first two fingers and his thumb and
stroked the entire length, having never considered there might be another
way to do it, whereas Doniel stimulated his glans by holding it with just
his thumb and index finger and twisting them.  The differences in
techniques did not go unnoticed by Benny.
  "You guys ever go to www.jackinworld.com?" he asked.
  Jerry and Doniel shook their heads in the negative.
  "Oh man, you got to check it out," he observed with a huge grin.  "It's
one of my fav sites."
  Being young and in high spirits, it did not take long for all six boys to
become erect.  Jerry produced a ruler and after some discussion if their
dicks should be measured from the top or the underside and some challenges
to the reliability of the measurements when they each did their own, Jerry
was appointed the official measurer.  As he approached Bobby and nervously
held the ruler under his stiff cocklet, his own jerked with excitement.
He'd never had so much fun at a sleepover in his life.
  At just over three inches Jerry was the shortest, followed by Bobby at
three-and-a-half inches, Benny at four-and-three-quarters, Doniel who was
just a fraction longer although a year older, and the twins who were now
just under six inches.  The two Jewish boys were impressed by the size of
the four brothers, and took advantage of the opportunity to have a good
look at a boy who still had his skin.  Of course the four brothers were
eager to show and tell, and to check out the two cut boys.
  "So honestly, you've never gone all the way?" confirmed Brent.
  "No."
  "Why not?"
  "It is considered a sin in the Torah to spill one's seed."
  "Does it actually say that?"
  "So Father has told me."
  "Your father talked to you about jerking?"
  "Yes.  Though he did not call it that of course.  It was part of my
preparation for my bar mitzvah."
  "Your what?"
  "Bar mitzvah.  That is a Jewish ceremony where a boy is declared having
reached the age of religious duty and responsibility, where he is declared
a man.  All boys undergo the ceremony when they reach the age of thirteen."
  "You're considered a man?" asked Bobby in surprise.
  "Yes," Doniel replied with a hint of pride.
  Bobby said nothing.  Noodles with apricots and cinnamon, sidelocks,
cheesecake, becoming a man at age thirteen Judaism was becoming more and
more fascinating with each revelation.
  "Well, I guess I've sinned a couple thousand times by now," observed
Benny.
  "You have?" Doniel asked with surprise.
  "Since Benny started coming, he can't keep his hand off his dick,"
observed Brent.
  "Bobby can't keep his hands off Benny's dick either," Brett commented,
causing Brent and Benny to chuckle.
  "Really?" asked Doniel.  "You would touch your brother there?"
  "Sure," replied Bobby.
  "So, should we form a jerk circle to see who can get off the fastest?"
  "Or shoot the farthest?"
  "Or the most?"
  "Or hold back the longest?"
  "Why not all four?" asked Bobby.  "We got all night.  I get first nibs on
Jerry's."  He immediately reached over and wrapped his fingers about
Jerry's tiny, stiff dick.
  "And I get first on Doniel's," said Benny as he reached for the Hasidic
boy's crotch.
  Before the boys had time to object they found themselves in their first
jerk circle with a Brewster on either side of them.  As Bobby began to tug
on Jerry's stiff cock just as he did his own, and as Benny did the same to
Doniel, Brett reached over and began to wank off his kid brother while
Brent began to pump Benny's stiff cock.  Jerry hesitated and then slowly
reached over and slipped his fingers about Brent's stiff bone, marvelling
at how huge it felt compared to his own, and how strange it was to hold a
cock that was uncut.  Doniel similarly reached over and took Brett's knob
in his thumb and first finger.
  For the two Jewish boys it was the first time anyone had ever touched
their privates before, and the first time they'd ever held another boy's
erection.  Waves of excitement, pleasure, and guilt passed over them as
they felt strange fingers begin to beat their cocks, and as they hesitantly
and gingerly began to slowly stroke the stiff cocks in their hands.  Using
the same techniques as they used on their own, they glanced
self-consciously at the laps of the others to see how the others were doing
it.  Jerking off was still something new, forbidden, and secret for Jerry
and Doniel.
  To be doing someone else's cock, and having someone do them, was a
totally new and totally unexpected experience, one which was resulting in
mixed emotions.  Of course it was exciting, and being forbidden and secret
made it all the more so, and it felt great, especially being so new to
them.  Accustomed to only their own hand and style, they were surprised how
different it felt having someone doing them, and accustomed to the size of
their own dicks, they were surprised how different it felt having their
fingers wrapped about someone else's.
  "So, what did you call this again?" asked Benny, always eager to add to
his store of sexual knowledge.
  "The proper term is me'onen," replied Doniel, "but like you, among boys
it is more commonly called by its street name, ose bayad."
  "So, you all right with this?" asked Brent, looking at Jerry.
  "Yeah," the eleven-year-old dared to reply.  "It is so different though.
The movement of my hand doesn't match the feeling in my dick."
  "Oh yeah," agreed Bobby.  "I found it weird my first time too."
  Despite the number of times and the number of partners the four brothers
had had, doing it with the two Jewish boys, and knowing how new it was for
both of them, made it a new experience for them too.  Being horny, it was
not long before all six were breathing deeply and squirming as ripples of
pleasure flowed through their stiff boy cocks and their loins.  Glancing at
the foreign hand stroking his now tingling cock and glancing about at the
other five cocks being stroked magnified the lust each of the boys was
feeling.
  "I have never done it this long," observed Doniel, his voice strained.
  "You're going to be in for a big surprise," Benny said with a broad grin
as he felt himself approaching his climax.
  "You are sure this is all right to do?"
  "Sure, we been doing it for years and it hasn't affected us," Brent
observed, crossing his eyes and dropping his jaw.
  "Except Benny has to shave between his fingers," chuckled Brett.
  "And the doctor says Brett and Brent will be blind any day now," added
Bobby.
  "And Bobby's a little psycho."
  "Of course Bobby's always been a little psycho, so we can't tell if it's
from jerking," Benny said with a grin.
  "Fuck you."
  Spiking his hair, playing with someone's privates and allowing someone to
play with his, and now cursing, this was a night beyond Doniel's wildest
imagination.  "My penis has gone all funny," he observed.
  "Like what?"
  "Sort of like it's gone to sleep.  All tingly and numb."
  "It's going to happen any time now."
  "Uh-oh, anyone got some tissue, or a handkerchief or something?" asked
Brent.
  "Better hurry, I'm gonna cum."
  "You'd better stop," said Doniel to Benny excitedly.  "I think I'm going
to pee."
  "Grab Bobby's underwear!"
  "Really, I am," gasped Doniel. "You'd better I oh . . .  aaahhhha . . .
ooonnnhhhhh!"  He shuddered as he released his breath and his loins went
weak.  He fought desperately to hold back, clamping the sphincter of his
penis shut and straining with all his will, but it was impossible.  To his
shock and dismay he felt it gush up the core of his cock and shoot out the
opening and he felt as if he would die of embarrassment pissing
uncontrollably like a little toddler.  He stared with shock, and then
relief that it was not what he'd thought it was, and then with
embarrassment and guilt when he realized what it was, and finally with
delight as his cock burned with his very first ejaculation.
  Even though he was fourteen and knew about semen, he had never considered
what ejaculation might feel like, nor that it might be similar to
urination.  Shot after shot erupted out of the burning tip of his penis to
fly through the air and land in Bobby's underwear, which Benny had thrown
in the middle of the circle.  He stared at the sight of his seed, a mixture
of a creamy white swirl in a watery translucent fluid.  Slack-jawed, he sat
there with Brett's throbbing dick in his hand and he shivered with the most
exquisite and most frightening pleasure he had ever felt.  Admonishments
about spilling his seed caused a welling up of guilt, but the awe and
delight of his orgasm welled up even stronger.  He stared at the puddle of
semen as the force subsided and the last shot of semen hung in a long,
slender strand from the tip of his swollen cock.
  Doniel's first ever ejaculation and the look of awe and ecstasy on his
face triggered the others.  Benny was next, shooting his load into Bobby's
underwear with a grunt of familiar ecstasy as he threw back his head, and
he was quickly followed by the twins who added their contribution with just
as much open pleasure.  Jerry trembled and began jerking his hips
uncontrollably as his dry orgasm hit.  It was not his first experience, but
it was still new enough to be mysterious and awesome.  With flushed cheeks
and glazed eyes, he whimpered with the strange sensation ripping through
his cock that was both pain and pleasure.  Seconds later Bobby was soon
doing the same, and even though he'd experienced the sensation a thousand
times, it was still as powerful and as pleasurable as it was for Jerry.
  The room was filled with the laboured breathing of the six boys as they
sucked in the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.  It was a familiar
aroma for the four Brewster boys, but for Doniel and Jerry it was new and
heady.  It was a scent that they would forever associate with this most
unusual and most delightful night.  The two boys were sitting motionlessly
except for their heaving chests.  A warm flush flowed over them, rising up
from their loins and ever so slowly their breathing began to return to
normal.  Brent and Brett stole a quick peek at Doniel's still swollen cock
and the pendant of cum still hanging from the tip, and the two boys
exchanged quick glances.  A knowing smile slowly curled their lips, the
last of their own cum having oozed out of their irritated peeholes, down
the groove on the underside of their knobs, and over the tightly clenched
fingers of the two Jewish boys.
  "Oh maaaaaan!" sighed Bobby finally, "that was fucking great."
  "Sure was," agreed Benny.
  "You bet.  The greatest," the twins chorused.
  "Oh yeah," agreed Jerry with a deep sigh.
  "Yeah," Doniel sighed absent mindedly, staring at the puddle of cum
beginning to soak into Bobby's underwear.
  One by one the six boys lay back on the floor.  The four Brewster
brothers stared up at the ceiling dreamily.  Jerry and Doniel glanced at
the still hot streamers of cum lacing the backs of their fingers.
Delighting in the flush that follows ejaculation, the six boys lay there,
each in his own world.  The Brewster brothers thought back to countless
past experiences, and marvelled at how each time they did it, it seemed
just as great as the first time.  Certainly doing it with someone new
always was a delight, and doing it with someone for whom this was their
very first experience was particularly special.  Jerry was thinking how
much greater it felt doing it to someone else, and having someone doing
his, but at the same time, he was bothered by the fact he'd enjoyed having
a boy performing that most intimate act on him and that he'd enjoyed doing
it to another boy.  Did that make him a . . .  a feygeleh?  This being
Doniel's first time, he had nothing to compare his experience with.  Like
Jerry, however, his pleasure was shadowed by feelings of guilt he had just
sinned.
  Bobby was the first to break the silence.  "So, did you really enjoy it?"
he asked Jerry.
  "Yeah," he replied, which was partly true.
  Bobby and his brothers noted his hesitation, but they just took it as
being Jerry's nature.  Besides, they did not really know each other that
well.  The five boys turned as one and looked at Doniel.
  "That was . . .  so . . .  so . . .  awesome," the fourteen-year-old boy
replied.  That was the truth.
  "Yeah, I remember the first time I came," responded Benny, as if it had
happened long ago.
  For the next half hour the boys talked about their feelings, and how
absurd it was that something that was so great to do was shrouded in such
secrecy and mystery, the four Brewster brothers taking the lead of course.
Jerry and Doniel clung onto every statement their new friends made, eager
to find some justification for the way they felt and some rationale for
what they had done.  Being sexual advocates, Benny, Bobby, Brent and Brett
did a good job of convincing them without even knowing that was what they
were doing.  Sprawled out there on the floor with their pants and underwear
about their knees and talking about sex had the obvious result.  They were
after all, healthy, red-blooded boys.  It was not long before the six began
feeling the initial stages of arousal once more.
  "So, what do you call your thing in your language?" asked Benny, eager to
add to his treasure of sexual knowledge, besides just being boyishly
curious.
  Doniel and Jerry glanced at each other.  "Well, the doctor would call it
your pin," said Doniel.
  "Bobby's is the size of a pin," teased Benny.
  "Fuck you."
  "Pin is Yiddish for penis," explained Doniel.  "Or he could refer to it
as your evar min, your sex organ."
  "Okay, that's what a doctor would say, but how do you say cock?"
  "In Hebrew, it would be zain, or zayin.  In Yiddish it would be
schwantz."
  "Or schmuck," added Jerry.
  "Which can also be used to call a person," Doniel said with a leer.
  "Just like telling someone he is a prick," observed Benny.
  "Yes."
  "Well, I bet your schmuck would be fun to suck," Bobby observed looking
at Doniel with a twinkle in his eyes before looking down at his limp cock.
  "You think his schwantz, wants?" rhymed Benny in amusement and the six
boys giggled.
  "You'd really put a guy's penis in your mouth?"
  "Sure.  Sucking is fucking awesome.  Even better than . . .  ah . . .
ose bayad"
  "You've done it?"
  "Sure.  Hundreds of times."
  "Hundreds?"
  "Sure."
  "Let's form a daisy chain!" suggested Benny.
  Before the two Jewish boys could ask what a daisy chain was, they found
themselves in the middle of a circle once again, with of course the
Brewsters once again taking the lead.  Pulling the trousers and underwear
of the two Jewish boys down further, they decided to remove them
completely, along with their own.  Picking up Doniel's limp dick, Bobby
stuck out his tongue and ran it over the boy's exposed knob like it was an
ice cream cone.  Brett, eager to try a different cock, dropped to his knees
and sucked Jerry's soft cocklet and little nuts into his mouth.  Jerry,
certain there was no way he could take any of the bigger cocks in his
mouth, and knowing he was going to be expected to suck someone's, twisted
around and reached for Bobby's before someone else did.  Thinking the same,
Doniel took Benny's swelling member and swallowing hard, wondered if he
could really put a boy's schwantz in his mouth.  Benny slipped his lips
over Brent's cock, and Brent reached for his twin brother's, completing the
circle.
  While the four Brewster brothers immediately went down, Jerry and Doniel
stared at the dicks they'd chosen, hesitant to perform what they'd been
conditioned to believe was a filthy act and certain they would gag if they
tried.  As much as they were proud to be boys, they'd been taught from
youth that a boy's penis was dirty, and as they grew older, a boy who would
suck another boy was the dirtiest form of life.  However, having his dick
actually engulfed by a hot, eager mouth and feeling desire welling up in
his loins once more, Jerry felt he had to at least give it a try, and so
did Doniel.
  So, mainly out of a sense of obligation, and to a lesser extent out of
curiosity, they slowly and cautiously slipped their lips over the dickheads
of the two Brewster brothers.  Pausing and finding their dickheads actually
had little taste, they were encouraged to slip their lips farther down.
Finding the same, they dared to gently suck on the solid tube of flesh, and
finally to work their lips up and down the hard, hot cock in their mouth as
was being done to them.  As Bobby and Brett expertly gave the two boys
their first blow jobs and the two boys got used to sucking Bobby and Benny,
obligation and curiosity were replaced by lust and the desire to give as
much pleasure as they were receiving.
  There was no question they were receiving pleasure, pleasure like they
had never before imagined.  Their cocks seemed even stiffer than when
they'd jacked off, and they throbbed so hotly they seemed to be pulsing in
time with their hearts.  As the itch around the rim of their glans grew
they squirmed and clenched the sphincter muscle in their dicks with
arousal.  At the same time they sucked and bobbed their heads up and down
Benny's and Bobby's stiff dicks with even greater gusto.  They were new,
and they were naive, but they were, above all else, boys.
  Once again the six youngsters felt themselves approaching their peaks,
and once again Jerry and Doniel approached that point of no return with a
mixture of anxiety and desire.  In Doniel's case, he knew that his approach
meant that Benny would be reaching his, and as he wondered just what he was
supposed to do and if he was supposed to warn Bobby when he was going to
cum, or if he was supposed to pull his dick out, he feared and desired what
Benny would do.  On the one hand the thought of Benny squirting his semen
into his mouth was perverse, but on the other it was the most erotic
thought that had ever crossed his mind.
  As when they'd jerked off, he did not have time to make any decisions
when the time came, and again the six of them exploded within seconds of
each other.  Once again Bobby and Jerry closed their eyes and trembled with
their dry orgasms while the older boys moaned in ecstasy and jerked
spasmodically with the release of their loads.  Bobby, Benny and Brent
savoured and eagerly swallowed the fresh teen cum shooting into their
mouths.  Doniel, so caught up in shooting his load into another boy's
mouth, and having a boy shoot his stuff into his, gulped down Benny's thick
creamy load just as eagerly as the three Brewsters.  For the second time
that night the nutty aroma of fresh cum filled the room.
  "Oh man, that was wild," Doniel observed in a daze of ecstasy as he sat
up and looked at Benny's now limp and wet dick.  A thin film of cum coated
the boy's rosy lips.  Although the joy of giving and receiving blow jobs
was nothing new for the Brewster brothers, they readily agreed, and as they
licked the cum from the roof of their mouths and from their gums, Bobby,
Benny and Brent closed their eyes and sighed with their own pleasure.
  "Well, I don't know about you guys, but all this sex has made me hungry,"
observed Brent as he reached for a jam blintze.
  "Me too," observed Jerry as he reached for a blintz also.  "But I guess
we've sort of broken tradition this night."
  "How so?" asked Doniel, his voice and his eyes revealing his concern.  He
was already doubly damned for having jerked off, and then for engaging in
the gross homosexual act.
  "We're only supposed to have milk products on this night, and we've just
had a wiener," he said with a smile.
  "On the other hand, you could say you just ate a banana," Brett responded
with a twinkle in his eye as he took a slice of banana cheesecake.
  "With banana cream," Benny added, looking at Doniel meaningfully.
  The boys laughed as they helped themselves to the fruit punch.  With the
rich food and all the sugar, besides the taboo things they'd dared to do,
all six boys were feeling hyper.  They polished off the food in no time.
  "Oh maaaaan," Bobby groaned as he lay back and rubbed his stomach.  "I'm
stuffed."
  Benny burped and they all laughed.
  "Speaking of stuffed," Brett said, reaching over and stroking his kid
brother's exposed butt, "a hot piece of ass would feel great right now."
  "Oh yeah," agreed Benny, looking over at Jerry.
  "Don't suppose anyone thought to bring a tube of KY with them," said
Brent.
  "Wanna bet?" Bobby asked with a grin as he got to his feet.
  "You would really stick your schlong up a guy's tukhis . . .  up his
ass?" asked Doniel, surprised despite what the Brewster brothers had
already suggested.
  "Sure," responded Brett.
  "Ven der putzshteht, ligt der sechel in drerd," Doniel observed as he
shook his head, and then with a grin, translated, "When the prick stands up
the brains get buried in the ground."
  The boys laughed and asked him to repeat the phrase so they could learn
it.
  "So which word is prick?"
  "Putz."
  "And, tukhis.  That means ass?" asked Benny.
  "Yes."
  "It's a dirty word?"
  "It is."
  "Well, I don't know about burying your brains, but you can bury your
schlong up my tukhis any time," Bobby said, looking at his older brother as
he removed his shirt and dropping to his hands and knees.  "How do you say
come fuck my tukhis?"
  "Well, fuck, is shtup.  The verb to fuck, is shtuppen," instructed Jerry,
putting his research to use for the first time.  "In Yiddish you have to
conjugate the verb according to first, second or third person."
  "You mean each time a person says fuck the verb changes?" asked Bobby in
bewilderment.
  Jerry and Doniel glanced at each other and giggled.  "It's like ikh
shtup, du shtupst, er shtupt, I fuck, you fuck, he fucks," explained Jerry.
  "Mir shtupn, ir shtupt, zey shtupn, we fuck, you fuck, they fuck,"
continued Doniel.
  "Hey, cool!" observed Bobby, and the four brothers practised their new
knowledge with a lot of giggling.
  "So, anyone else wanna shtup?" Brett asked as chucked his shirt and
reached for the tube of KY.
  "You wanna try it?" Benny asked, looking at Jerry.
  Having never been so included in things before, the boy readily slipped
off his shirt.  This was, beyond all doubt, the best night of his life.
  "Wanna?" Brent asked, looking over at Doniel.
  By this time the fourteen-year-old had lost all inhibitions and he
unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off, leaving him in only his socks,
yarmulke and arba kanfoth, a traditional undergarment with a hole for the
head and fringes on the four corners.  "I must be a meshuguna," he observed
as he knelt on one side of Bobby and Jerry knelt on the other.
  "A meshuguna?" asked Brent as he took a dollop of KY and began applying
it to his knob.
  "A crazy person."
  "Comes from too much wanking," Bobby observed.
  "Bobby should know, the little putz," observed Benny, causing all of them
to laugh.
  Despite the humour and joking, Jerry and Doniel were nervous and waited
with some apprehension as Benny and Brent lubed up their cocks. Even in
their heightened state of arousal, they were not sure they really wanted to
have their asses fucked.  They inhaled and held their breaths as they felt
the two brothers place the greased tip of their fingers against their
sphincters, but they soon released their breaths as the boys massaged their
tight rosebuds and sent tingles of pleasure rippling through them.
  They suddenly inhaled sharply as the two brothers slipped a well-greased
finger up the two virgin holes.  The Brewsters took their time, knowing
they had to be careful and gentle, and that going slow made it feel all the
better.  Of course what was slow for three horny teenagers was far shorter
than what adults would have considered.  Once again the two Jewish boys
tensed, this time as they felt a firm, greased dickhead pressing against
the buttholes.  Once again they inhaled sharply as for the first time in
their lives they felt a hard, hot cock slipping up their rectums.  Bobby,
of course, knew well what to expect, but having a virgin on each side of
him did not slip past him, and the thought of them having the first fuck of
their lives made the horny eleven-year-old even hornier.
  It was, needless to say, an awesome experience, and it was not that long
before Jerry and Doniel were squirming and grunting with the same delight
as Bobby.  Their assholes throbbed and burned with a pleasure that was both
physical and mental, a pleasure that defied description.  And, as their
assholes throbbed with pleasure, they slowly became erect once again.  As
for the three Brewsters working their stiff cocks in and out of the hot,
moist assholes of their partners, they closed their eyes and threw back
their heads in ecstasy.  Having their aching schlongs engulfed in hot,
moist flesh brought them unbelievable delight.  Being young and on a sugar
high, it was not that long before the three teens were pumping out their
third load of the evening.
  Driven by lust, the three boys who had just been fucked lubed up their
stiff cocks and took their turns, Jerry poking Brent with his slender boy
cock, Bobby fucking his brother Benny, and Doniel slipping his stiff teen
dick up Brett's hot, moist rectum.  The two novices thrust their hips back
and forth in wanton abandon, matching Bobby thrust for thrust, and the
three boys on their knees eagerly clenched and relaxed their sphincters as
the three hot cocks withdrew and then plunged back up their rectums.  It
was a hot, wild night.  All too soon Bobby and Jerry were trembling with
their dry orgasms and Doniel was shooting the third load of his life.
  Laying down on the air mattresses the Goldsteins had brought up to
Jerry's room for the sleepover and pulling the blankets over themselves,
the six boys snuggled up together and talked quietly.  After their
strenuous day and their sexual acrobatics, it was not long before they
drifted off to sleep.
  The sky was just beginning to brighten when Brett awoke.  As he pushed
himself up on his elbows, Bobby felt him stirring and rolled over and
glanced over at him with one open eye.
  "Horny or hungry?" Bobby asked with a whisper.
  "Neither," Brett whispered back.  "I just remembered we left those dumb
skinheads in Murray Park."
  "Oh fuck.  I forgot all about those assholes."
  "I wonder if we should wake Brent and go remove their spell."
  The two boys thought for no more than three seconds.  "Naw," they said
together as they looked at each other and shook their heads.  Laying back
down, they quickly drifted off back to sleep.
  It was only a few minutes later that Hiram Goldstein and his
brother-in-law slowly opened the door to Jerry's room and peeked in.  They
smiled at the sight of the tangle of six boys sprawled out in every
direction on the floor, arms and legs entwined with a bare calf and
stockinged foot stuck out here and there and happy, innocent smiles on
their faces.  Quietly closing the door, the two men slipped back down
stairs.
  "Having the gentiles over for Shavuot was a good idea, Hiram," observed
Doniel's father.
  "It is a beginning," he agreed.  "I'm sure the boys have formed a better
understanding of each other."
  "Kedey lehavin gever, ata tsarikh lehargish et halev shelo po'em.  To
understand a man, you must feel the beating of his heart," agreed the older
man.
  Joining their wives, they prepared for morning prayers.  Up in Jerry's
room, Doniel, still wearing his skullcap and arba kanfoth, rolled over, and
bumping up against a warm, naked body, he snuggled closer to it.  In
response Brett wrapped an arm about the fourteen-year-old boy and in his
sleep, the younger boy slipped a hand long the older boy's thigh and cupped
his warm, damp balls.  Jerry sighed as someone rolled over and draped a
naked arm across his waist and someone else snuggled up behind him and
their warm member pressed between his ass cheeks.  Somewhere in the tangle
of boys and blankets lay Bobby's cum-soaked briefs.
  Had the boys heard Doniel's father, they would have agreed with his
statement, except they would have chosen the beating of a different organ.
Jewish or non-Jewish, it was delighting in the pleasure that organ brought,
and sharing that pleasure, that formed a universal bond amongst all boys
all over the world.  As the six naked boychicks snuggled closer together,
just how well they had come to know and understand each other Hiram
Goldstein and his brother-in- law would never know.