Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 19:58:10 -0500
From: Timothy Stillman <comewinter@earthlink.net>
Subject: G/M Y/F Graffiti, Brothers, and Wankin" = No More Guilt "Bout Sexin'

	Graffiti, Brothers, and Wankin' = No More Guilt 'Bout Sexin'

				    By

			     Timothy Stillman


"Cash, git outta heah!"

"Ah, c'mon. I seed ya prong bafore."

"Git-outa-heah!"

"I think it rit purtty. All big'n hard likes that."

Tel pulled up his jeans. Pre-cum leaking downs the inside of them.

He rolled off the bed and stood tall. The kind of tall only newly arrived at 
the provinces of the age of fifteen can. He walked to his bro.

He put his hand to his bro's face. Thus wiping off his cocky smile.

He turned Cash round and told him to "off it."

"Cash turned right round to Tel again, and said, determindly, "Ah will, if'n 
I's feels likes it."

Bloody bastard, Tel thought. He hated Cash. He hated the East Side of 
London. He hated the poverty his parents stuck him in. And then they had to 
go and adopt Cash. Some little beggar tore their hearts out on the telly a 
thon.

Barely 'nough fur us. Now this little creep-

Cash reached out to his bro's jeans and stuck his thirteen-year-old hand 
quick and small right into the still opened fly and grabbed-hard.

Tel pushed him hard enough, Cash landed on his bottom.

"Hey, c'mon. I a'seed it a'fore, ya knows."

Tel said, "sure, I seed yars too, and I don't make grabs for it. Cause you's 
a git and I isn't."

"I ain't no git," said Cash, as he pushed his hands onto the floor and 
springboarded upright again.

"You's crazy," said Tel.

"You ain't buttoned up, nether, bro. Ya wants me to sees it."

Tell looked down at his fly a bit too quickly and for show, perhaps, and 
buttoned with fingers that had a buttery fumble time of it for a moment or 
two. Just a moment or two. That was all.

"Well," said Cash, "I'm a'comin' fer ya agains," and he did and though he 
was shorter and weighed less than Tel, he knocked him over with his body 
right onto the bed ticking.

Lying on top of Tel.

Smiling down at his embarrassed brother. Who tried to push him off. Or 
pretended to.

"Hiya," said Cash.

"Git off'n me."

"Sure thing, sport," said Cash as he rolled off his brother and lay beside 
him, and unbuttoned in a flash that would have amazed The Flash and pulled 
out his willie.

It was hard. Around three or four inches. Stood up quite nicely.

The room was suddenly a lot harder for Tel. It was summer. And the fan was 
working well as it could in the dark shade lamped room, with the one window 
on the other side of the bed opened for the damp hot air. Suddenly it seemed 
like a steambox to Tel.

"Gets up, Tel." Cash said, not looking at his brother, but at the ceiling. 
"I ain't stoppin' ya." Then he said, "Bro."

And that did it.

Tell pushed up fast on the bed, the springs squeaked, and he stood in a 
hurry to look down at the boy. With the one front tooth knocked out. And the 
freckles on his nose. And his sweet smile. Which was why mum and dad adopted 
the little squeak on the telly a thon.

And Tel said, mean as a snake, 'Ya ain't my brother, you twit. Ya look like 
a goil. Get's

'way from me."

Cash still smiled. Damn. He was cute.

And Cash held his pole and said, "Goils sproutin' these thanges these days?" 
Then giggled.

Their shadows were on the wall large from the dim lamp on the table by the 
bed.

"Git out. I wuz doin' ma homewark. Do yars."

"Ya got wankin' class in your section?"

Tell put his hand on the boy's right shoulder. The shoulder felt warm. Felt 
nice and warm. Not like the awful summer heat that was turning Tel into a 
lather machine. Or was it the summer heat? But Cash felt nice and boy warm. 
Felt kind of inviting and cozy warm. And that bothered the hell out of Tel. 
He had never-he was a gal interested youn'man, and he planned to stay that 
way.

But he moved his hand as off a hot stove, from Cash's shoulder, and drew 
back a step or two. He couldn't take his eyes off Cash's cock. Cash was 
stroking it, most invitingly.

"Like to see a thang or two?" Cash asked.

"Git out. Git out."

And Tel turned to his cheap card table in the corner that he used as a study 
desk, where his books and notebooks and pens were piled in an upheaval.

"Git IT out, ya says? Okey."

And Cash turned from the boy, and heard what he knew was undressing. Buckle 
unbuckled. Shirt pulled rapidly out of jeans, shoes hitting the floor, 
unbuttoning and dropping of jeans and then the springs squeaky as Cash fell 
backward on the bed and elicited a "TA DA."

I shall not turn round, Tell told himself, head in his hands, bending over.

"Ah nekkid as ah jayboid, whatever the fuck a jayboid is, Tel oh Tel, and 
ain't got a single hair-down thar-turn round and sees whats I's doin' to 
maself." And he began bouncing up and down and sighing and groaning and 
talking big about how it felt and how nice and compact his purse was and his 
little nips hard as tiny pebbles, and woudn't you like to see how it was for 
you before you started spewing, when it was just all feeling and pow pow pow 
with no tell tale signs for Mum to find later on and you had to be so so 
careful and it killed the fun a little didn't it, well Tel, I don't have to 
be careful "a all."

Tel was furious. He turned round sharply, and began to say, "Listen up, ya 
little shi---"

But Cash was kinda nice looking. And lying there with his legs spread and 
his equipment exposed and him holding out his cock to Tel, like it itself 
was telling him, don't ya want a feel? Don't ya want to know?

He watched the younger boy for a little while. Clinically of course. Just to 
see if he was doing it like Tel did when he was a  little'un, and Tel said 
then, "Na, Na, nat loke that a'tall." Then he came to the bed and he reached 
down to the little white cock pointing straight up at him and felt faint, 
felt as if he was falling off the world's edge, and he was and he fell and 
fell and  closed his eyes hard, but it was the bed into which he fell, and 
not outer space.

And there was Cash unbuttoning Tel again and getting him hard even before he 
pulled the now fifteen and a man by god's dick out of his jeans and then all 
of a sudden, Tel felt something odd, something that was warm and moist and 
just sent Jell-O through his bones. Oh my god! He's sucking me. None of the 
girls ever would do that to him. They really would not let him do anything. 
He hadn't even been on a date really. But he was working up to asking Marcie 
out. And it would be kind of practice here-yes, that's what it was-

Now he remembered, graffiti on the inside of one of the toilet doors in the 
school lav, he had seen once and paid no attention to at the time-but now it 
came to his rescue-now it gave him not an excuse, but a very legit reason 
for this boy sucking him so velvet smooth, what did they do in that dog 
pound of an orphanage Cash had come from?, and Tel really enjoying it---

The graffiti had read-"Girls are for practice, boys are for fun." Well turn 
it round, and there was the reason and how he could have fun with Cash, with 
NO GUILT.

And he's really doing it well,  and only a second before, his hands had 
reached to pull Cash away, for Tel was just going to tell him how to wank 
better, like "bros" do, but now this, this was not after all going way 
astray, and he had his hands on Cash's head to pull it away; Cash looked up 
at him with Bambi eyes; and Tel lay back down, but he kept his hands on the 
back of Cash's going to town head, but slowing him down, getting the right 
rhythm going.

And when he was about to shoot, Tel was frightened. He had no Kleenex near 
by. But he had something far better. He shot his dick hard up to the roof of 
Cash's mouth, Cash's tongue and cheeks and teeth rocketing him in, and he 
spurted, as Cash took the prodigious amount into his mouth, still cocked, 
and Tel now on elbows watching the boy suck him dry while Cash rubbed his 
own self, and the boy's naked body was curled like a happy comma.

When all the liquid was drained, Cash looked up at Tel, wiped his lips and 
smiled a huge smile with that damned missing front tooth making him look so 
sweet and cute.

"Now," Cash said, as he laid his naked body onto his brother, both would 
agree they were brothers, from this time forward, "Ya don't havta worry bot 
na tell tale cum drops." And Tel and Cash took off Tel's clothes and Tel 
began to explore his brother and thought before the sexin' begin for Cash 
too, man, what kind of orphanage this kiddo come from?

And then thought, thank god for graffiti.

Let the slurping begin.