Date: Sun, 9 Sep 2007 16:31:10 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: "Joysticks" story

				 JOYSTICKS
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

"When am I going to get to play?" I whined to George and Trevor.

"When we finish our game, Fred." George never even turned his eyes my way.

"But you're taking all day!" I whimpered like any eight year old boy being
denied the use of the video game player by his older brother and brother's
friend. George (my brother) and Trevor had been whaling away at
"Worldstomper" for the past three hours. And they were still stuck on the
final level. On the final level, you have to destroy the Worldstomper, who
is there in the middle of the level. Trouble is, George and Trevor had
thrown everything they had at the Worldstomper and hadn't even fazed the
thing. It just kept standing there unfazed and not moving much (I kept
wondering when it was going to get around to stomping the world, like it
was supposed to, as opposed to just standing there and growling and waiting
for George and Trevor to come try again with it)

"We'll get him sooner or later." Trevor said, also not taking his eyes off
the screen. "We just have to find the right tool to use against him."

"Let's go back to the Icelands and check again." George said.

"Aw, come on!" I griped. "I want to play."

"You can play when we're finished." George said again.

"Awwww!" I whined and went over to the chair next to the couch and plonked
down, looked at them.

Both my brother and his buddy were thirteen years old, and both were
showing the indisputable spurt of growth that meant that soon my brother
George would be like my other and even older brothers, Josh and Todd. They
had blown up into teenagers like George was doing, and from that point on,
they only thought about, talked about and went out with, girls, girls and
more girls. Yuck!

It was like something happened to their brains! So there wasn't a lot more
time I'd have with George, with my only brother who wasn't out there with
girls. I wanted to play the video game with him. I wanted to do everything
with him! Anything with him!

And here he was, with Trevor instead of me, and playing that same dumb
game, on and on and on. They'd been at it for over six hours now, they'd
started this morning, and here it was mid-afternoon, and they were still
playing, still on the final level, still trying to destroy the
Worldstomper, and George was paying no attention to me at all!

I wanted to play!

They were back at the Worldstomper again, both of them throwing all sorts
of odd things they'd picked up at the Worldstomper, trying to get anything
to work on him any way at all. Their eyes were intently on the screen. With
nothing better to do, I got up (I couldn't see the screen from where I was
sitting) and I went over and, with no other place to sit, ended up right
between the two of them on the couch. It wasn't a big couch, the three of
us were crowded there. Looked up at George from there. At only thirteen, he
was nearly six foot tall and had dark brown hair like my mother (I'd gotten
my own blond hair from my father), with sparkling blue eyes and a broad
nose that fit his face in a way a narrower one wouldn't, his smile was soft
and supple when he smiled. Right now, his eyebrows were furrowed in
concentration, his eyes weren't sparkling at all, they were dull with his
intensity, his smile was gone, morphed into a taut line as his fingers
played over the buttons on his controller.

George didn't look like George at all.

Trevor was the same way, he was too intent on the game to look like Trevor,
the black-haired fun-loving guy who had been so much fun when he and George
would come over years ago. Back then, we would play games and such until
Mom would come in and make us go to bed, and heck, that was the best time
of all! The three of us would get into bed (George and I shared a bed back
then, because Josh and Todd were in the other two bedrooms), and we would
play a game of grab-the-wienie and get to whacking away! God, that was so
much fun. We had done it every time we got together, and George and I did
it every other night as well...and then Josh had gone away to college and
George had gotten to move into his room. Over a year now, and I was stuck
in our old room, all those memories, and a brother who figured that we were
over "all that kid stuff!" Well, I wasn't! I never wanted to be over it!

My hands had been in my lap, so as though I didn't mean to, I let my hands
fall over onto George's and Trevor's laps. George grunted, I don't think
Trevor noticed it.

>From there, I turned my hands over so that I was now cupping their
baskets.

"Hey, cut it out, doofus." George said.

"Yeah, we're trying to play this game." Trevor said.

But neither of them stopped playing their game. My hands were still on
their baskets.

So I gave them a squeeze or two and started feeling out their cocks
inside. God, it had been so long since I had put my hands on soft dicks
inside briefs in the bed. They were still just like I remembered. Maybe a
little bigger now.

"What do you think you're doing?" George demanded. But his eyes were still
on the screen. On the ninth level, you didn't dare look away for a second,
the pause button didn't even work on level nine, neither did the save
feature, and all previous saves were deleted when you entered the final
level. At ninth level, you either won, or you died and had to start from
scratch.

'Playing with your dicks." I said.

"So cut it out." Trevor said. "You'll spoil our game."

"You'll make us lose the game." George added.

"So the game will be over then, and I can play." I added cunningly.

"Cut out playing with us." Trevor said.

"So make me." I said.

A silence prevailed. "We're nearly there." Trevor said to George.

"I got the game figured. You pull the squirt off of us and I'll finish the
Worldstomper."

"Forget you." Trevor said. "You do it and I'll finish the Worldstomper." If
a fellow fighter died, you could work over to where he'd died and access
all his stuff.

I smiled. "So neither one of you is going to stop me from playing with your
dicks." I considered this. "Cool."

With both boys at my unfettered mercy, I turned attention first to George,
he was wearing a pair of loose jogging shorts. It was the work of a moment
to slide my hand up one leg, and into his briefs inside, fish out his dong
and slide it down and out the leg. George groaned in his frustration, but
didn't stop. "You rotten little pervert." he breathed at me.

"Yeah, I know." I giggled.

Trevor's shorts were loose, too, only a tie at the waist kept them up
there. Easy enough to untie them and reach in the top of them. Trevor kind
of grunted, too, when I got hold of him, but he was rock hard when I
did. "You can't do this to us!" he protested.

"Sure I can." I said. "Easy enough to stop me. Just stop playing the game
long enough to whip my butt."

"I'm sure going to whip your ass when I'm done here." Trevor moaned as my
fingers began to work his pud. For a guy who was getting his own growth
spurt late (he was about my size, though five years older), Trevor had a
pretty big dick! Bigger than George's, and a lot bigger than my own little
willy.

Not that I could pull mine out and compare here, I was busy with a pair of
thirteen-year-old cocks. George's pud had firmed up nicely though the leg
of his shorts was trying to cover him up.

But I had both guys going.

"Guh, this is driving me crazy." George grunted.

"Hang in there, man." Trevor urged him. "We've got that Worldstomper now,
he's weakening now, finally weakening."

"We've found the key." George agreed. "Only...Uhhhh!"

"Fred, God, please stop this." Trevor said. "You're going to make us lose
the game here, and we're about to win! We're about to...win!"

"I don't care." I chided them. "I'm play-ing with your di-icks!" I chanted,
mocking them.

"Oh, shit!" George groaned. "I haven't let Fred play with my dick since I
got my own room."

"I haven't had it in longer than that." Trevor moaned. "It's so much better
when someone else is whacking it! Isn't it?"

"A hell of a lot better than whomping it alone!" George agreed. "I should
have kept this squirt in my bed, let him keep me satisfied."

"And me, too, if I come sleep over like I used to." Trevor whimpered.

"Keep your eye on the Worldstomper!" George cautioned. "He's moving now,
moving!"

"Oh, God, and I'm getting ready to come!"

"I'll keep your back while you squirt if you'll do it for me!" George
offered.

"Oh, no, you won't!" I said and I sped up my pumping of George's cock.

"Oh, shit, you little turd, don't speed up, you'll make us both come at
once."

"I can't...keep...the Worldstomper...busy." Trevor
grunted. "I'm...missing...my shots!"

"Me, too!"

"Oh, shit, I'm coming!" Trevor gasped out. "Fred's making me come!"

"Oh, God, oh, God, OH, OH, OH!"

"AAH, AHH, AHH!"

"OH, A-A-A-AH, UH-GUHHHHH!" George's dick squirted his jizz right at me,
hot white splats of jizz hit my forearm, not a lot of it, but definitely
grown-up spooge!

"UH, GUH, HANHHHH-HUHHHHNNN!" Trevor squirted too, but his spunk was
clearer, only a bit of white in it here and there. It landed on his t-shirt
and glistened there like so many clear stars.

"Oh, God, oh, oh, SHIT!" George moaned. "I'm dead!"

"Ah-huh, ah-huh! Oh, God!" Trevor was working his controls, dodging the
shots of the Worldstomper while he fought for his breath. But it was no
good, he ran out of room to run and the Worldstomper's bombs got him, too,
and on the screen the Worldstomper laughed evilly, and the words in red
appeared: "GAME OVER."

"Shit, we lost!" George moaned.

"Have to start all over again!" Trevor mourned.

"And it's all your fault, you rotten brat!" George threatened me.

I didn't care. I'd played with George's and Trevor's dicks again after such
a long time.

"I get to play now." I declared.

"No way." George countered. "You made us lose, you lose your turn at the
game."

"I'll tell Mom when she gets back."

"Go ahead." George said. "That'll be tonight some time."

"We'll be back up to Level Nine in an hour or so." Trevor said.

"Now we know how to whip him." George agreed.

I went to get a snack from the fridge and wait my time. Another hour until
Level Nine. Another hour, and I could again play the game I liked, with a
pair of hot joysticks I never tired of playing with!

				  THE END
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		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
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