Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2000 22:27:46 -0500 (EST)
From: David Lemmaire <lemmaire@email.com>
Subject: "Loving Andy More" (3/4) (t/b, inc, anal)

LOVING ANDY MORE (3/4) (t/b, inc, anal)
by Lemmaire

"Well, now.  Don't you two look cozy."

I lifted my head from the haze of sleep, not knowing what time it was, not
quite sure if I'd actually heard the words or not.  Beside me, naked under
the covers, Andy stirred, too.

"Huh?" he mumbled...a half yawn...waking up.

I opened my eyes, horrified to discover it was bright daylight, and the
voice that woke me belonged to my mom.

She was standing in my doorway, looking at the two of us nestled together
in my small single bed.  My arm was draped over Andy's chest.  I quickly
removed it.

"Hi, Mom," I managed to sputter, trying desperately to convey innocence,
even though I felt myself blushing deep red.

"Hi, Mom," Andy echoed, his voice frail and frightened.

She didn't say anything for a moment.  Just studied the two of us lying
there.  Luckily, the covers were pulled up close to our necks.  I don't
think she realized we were naked underneath them.  Or maybe that was
wishful thinking, since our clothes were scattered all over my bedroom
floor.

We'd slept too late.  Our parents were home.  And Mom was taking in the
unexpected site of her 16 and 12-year-old sons in bed together.  I could
see a million different expressions fighting for prominence on her face.
Confusion.  Anger.  Amusement. Fear. Nausea.  As she looked at us, her
face shifted from one to the other, lightning fast.  She didn't know what
was going on and she didn't know how to react.

"Well," she said finally.  "We're home.  Breakfast is ready upstairs."

And with that, she turned and closed my door.  Her footsteps faded back
upstairs to the kitchen.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Andy whispered. He was pure panic.

Pressed next to me under the covers, I felt his heart pounding.  His face
was as red as mine.  I could see the cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Just relax," I said nervously.  "She didn't see anything.  We can talk
our way out of it."

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he repeated, jumping out of bed and rushing
to put his clothes on.

"Just don't say anything," I said, doing the same.  "Just let me do the
talking, okay?"

His face was ashen.  I could see his hands shaking as he struggled to zip
up his jeans.

I walked over to him and hugged him tightly.

"It's okay, Squirt," I whispered.  "I promise...it's okay."

"Oh, Mikey," he whispered fearfully.  "We're really in trouble, aren't
we?"
___________________________________________________

We ate our breakfast in a cloud of dark silence.

I had to force myself to swallow.

Every bite was torture.  I felt like throwing up all over my plate.

Dad was already gone.  He had to get back to work.  Mom was at the sink,
doing dishes, rattling pans.  I don't think she looked at us once.

She wiped her forehead with the dish towel that was draped over her
shoulder.

"Andy," she said gently, turning to us.  "Could you go upstairs to your
room for a minute?  I need to talk to Michael."

Michael.

Shit.

Whenever she said "Michael" instead of "Mike," I had a pretty good idea
the conversation wasn't going to be casual.  The shit, if you'll pardon
the cliche, was about to hit forty-five fans.

Andy got up meekly...timidly...and leaving his untouched plate, we watched
him go.  He didn't even make eye contact with me before he left.  Guilty
and scared, he didn't dare.

Mom finished the dishes...dried a few glasses and put them in the
cupboard.

Silent, face reddening again, I tried to keep eating.  It was no use.
Finally, I pushed the plate aside.  I sat there waiting.  It was the
longest two minutes of my life.

She sighed.  She put her dishtowel down on the counter.

She sat down at the table, nervously fished her cigarettes out of her
purse, and lit one with shaky hands.  She took a deep drag, exhaled, and
looked me in the eyes.

"Do you want to tell me about anything, Michael?"

She took another drag.  Tapped her ashes nervously on the floor.  I slid
the ashtray closer to her.  I don't think she even saw it.

"Anything about what?" I replied nervously.

She stared down at the table, not even able to face me.

"About why you're sleeping naked with your little brother," she said
quietly, with obvious difficulty.

"We weren't naked!" I lied quickly...hoping she'd hear the false
astonishment in my voice.  "We had our sweats on!  Seriously!"

"Oh, Mikey," she said softly, looking up with fear at who I had
become...with pure terror at what I'd done to her baby.  "You must know
how that looked.  How completely..."

She searched for the word.

"...Wrong," she said simply.

"Mom...I swear..." I sputtered...feeling like an asshole, but lying for
all I was worth.  "It was nothing like that.  Andy had a bad dream last
night, that's all..."

Her gaze grew quizzical.  Partially relieved.

"He woke me up.  He asked if he could sleep with me.  What was I supposed
to say?"

I heard her sigh.  It was audible relief.  She wanted to believe me.

"It just looked so....intimate," she struggled.

"Mom!" I cried, feigning horror...surprised at how easily the lies flowed
out of my mouth. "That's gross!  That's sick!  I would never do anything
like that to Andy!"

"He's just a baby..." she cried softly.  "When I saw the two of you
together like that, I just..."

She couldn't finish.

She took another deep drag on her cigarette and snubbed it out in the
ashtray.  Her fingers flexed nervously, subconsciously.

"Please promise me you're not doing anything with him."

"Mom..." I began, still faking pure astonishment.  Inside, I felt sick.
Tortured.  How could anything this right suddenly go so terribly wrong?  I
just wanted to disappear.  To vanish from the spot.  To turn into nothing
and fade away.

"Promise," she repeated.

"I swear, Mom.  I promise."

She stood up.  Pushed her chair back under the table.

"I have to go downtown for a while," she said quietly.  "I'll be back at
two."

"Okay," I said quietly.  "It's okay, Mom.  I swear.  I would never, ever
hurt Andy."

She looked at me.  Tried to force a smile.  It wavered on her lips and
turned into tears.  She brushed them away quickly with the back of her
hand.

"Later," she said, in a defeated, half-worn voice.  "We'll talk more
later.  I just have to..."

Again, she struggled for the words.

"I just have to leave for a little while."
_____________________________________________________

"Oh, shit," Andy whispered quietly after Mom had gone and I'd relayed our
conversation to him.

He sat cross-legged on his bed, rocking back and forth, half scared, half
sick, the same as me.

"I threw up," he said softly.  "As soon as she made me come up here,
Mikey.  I threw up."

My heart was breaking.  He looked completely lost.  Terrified.  The sweat
from his neck had soaked into his t-shirt collar, leaving a dark ring that
spread down to his small, boyish chest.

"Oh, Andy..." I said, reaching up to stroke his hair.  He jerked back,
afraid of my touch.

"Don't!" he yelled.  "Just...don't...don't touch me now."

He started to cry.

He cried, and rocked and squeezed his small fists together.  Like me, he
didn't have a clue what to do.

"I'm so sorry, Squirt.  I'm so, so, sorry."

My words sounded meaningless.  It was all my fault.  I never should have
let any of this happen.  I never should have let myself get caught up in a
weekend of such pure, uncontrolled physical activity.  I was supposed to
be his big brother.  For Christ's sake, I was supposed to know right from
wrong.  And what had I done?  I'd done everything I shouldn't have.

"She doesn't know," I told him softly...once again lying...once again
hoping to make the whole world right again with my false words.  "I told
her you had a bad dream.  I told her we had our sweats on."

"Yeah, right," he laughed, between sobs.  "She's the most stupid person in
the world, Mikey.  I'm sure she believed every word."

He cried harder.  Flopped down on his bed and buried his sweet, sad face
in his pillow.

I sat down next to him and stroked his head.  He tensed when my hand
touched his neck.

"Just go away," he whispered.  "Please, Mikey?  Just go away for a while."

With tears of my own softly falling down my face, I got up and left him.
I walked out of his room and closed the door.

"Andy," I whispered to an empty hallway.  "I'm so sorry."
____________________________________________________

The weeks that followed were difficult for us.

Mom came back and tried to pretend.

Don't ask, don't tell became the motto of our house.

As far as I know, she didn't say anything to Dad, because he didn't seem
to treat us any differently, or suspect that anything was amiss.  Caught
up in his work like he always was, he was only a face at the dinner table
and in front of the TV.  Even on his best days, he barely existed in our
lives.

But Mom treated us differently.  Although the "later" conversation never
took place, it hovered in the air, unspoken.  She watched us like hawks.
Followed us with her eyes.  If we were too quiet, she came to check on us.
She tapped on our doors constantly.  She looked in our rooms at night.
Pretending to be sleeping, I'd watch with a half-opened eye as she'd look
in on me every night.

We were suspects.

Sixteen and twelve...and we were criminals in our own home.

That's what love gets you, I thought cynically.  The most wonderful thing
in the world, and it gets you nothing but contempt, fear and
misunderstanding.

Something that feels so right.  Seen by the whole world as something so
wrong.

After she'd close my door, her inspection complete, I'd lie in the dark
and cry at the injustice of it.
___________________________________________________

It was Andy who broke the imprisonment.

Two weeks later, on a Tuesday night, I woke to find him standing next to
my bed, naked, silhouetted in the moonlight.

I sat bolt upright...started to speak...

"Shhh," he pantomimed, putting a finger to his lips.

He got into bed with me and kissed me with passion.

"I can't help it, Mikey," he whispered hungrily.  "I don't care if we get
caught.  I have to be here."

I kissed him back, greedily swallowing his mouth, his lips, his tongue.  I
moaned.  Kissing him felt so good, I moaned quietly in spite of myself.

"Andy...we can't," I whispered huskily.  "Mom looks in on us every night."

"We'll be fast," he whispered urgently...his hands running down to free my
straining dick from the elastic of my underwear.  "I can't stand it
anymore, Mikey.  I need to do it again."

"Oh, Andy," I moaned.  "She'll catch us...she'll..."

He covered my mouth with his, and drowned out my protests with hungry
kisses.

I was beyond arguing...beyond control.  I didn't care what happened.  I
didn't care if we did get caught.  At this point, all I wanted was to feel
him again.  It had been so long.  It had been so hard without him.  My
heart sang out, just feeling his touch again.

His mouth tasted sweet.  His tongue pushed painfully against mine.  There
was nothing soft or relaxed about our kissing.  We were hungry.  Like
animals, out of control.

I grabbed him fiercely and pulled him to my stomach.  His naked skin felt
hot against mine.  His heart pounded madly in his chest.  I reached down
and grabbed for his penis.  It was already hard.  Hot.  Burning.

I left his mouth and kissed his neck.  Hard.  I pressed hard.

My arm reached up to stroke his chest.

He grabbed my hand, brought it to his lips.  Sucked my middle finger
quickly.  Coated it with saliva.

He shoved it down and pushed it to his butt crack.  Urgently.
Demandingly.  He spread his legs to allow me easier access.

As I ran my fingertips across his heat, he shuddered and pushed up against
me.  He winced in pain as I invaded him with my slickened finger, but he
didn't stop.  He just pushed against me harder, begging me to give him
more.  There was no time to be gentle.  We had to be quick.

Still kissing him with a hunger that shamed me, I sat up in bed and
flipped him on his back.

Spitting on my dick and lifting his legs, I lined myself up and pushed
forward greedily.

"Oh!" he yelped, surprised at the thrust.  "Oh God!  Oh God!"

His little hands grabbed my shoulders painfully...grabbing skin...pinching
me...pulling me into him.

"Yes...yes!" he whispered.  "Hard!"

I was consumed with lust.  I had promised myself I'd always be gentle with
him, but two weeks without him had turned me into something I did not
recognize.  I didn't like it. I hated myself.  But I couldn't stop.

He stroked his little penis furiously as I started to pump myself in and
out of his tight, hot channel.

I couldn't have given him ten strokes before he clenched and spasmed and
bit his lower lip, shooting thin globs of cum onto his own tiny stomach.

The sight of Andy cumming on himself, lit by the moon, sent me over the
edge.  Gritting my teeth together so I wouldn't cry out, I rammed myself
into him full length, and shuddered and gasped as I felt my thick jet of
pent-up semen shooting deep into his bowels.

"Oh God, Oh God," he whispered.  "So good. So good."

We laid like that for thirty seconds, as long as we dared...then I pulled
myself from him and collapsed down at his side.

"I have to go," he whispered quietly.

My heart sank.

"We'll figure this out, Mikey," he said before he left.

Feeling sick and ashamed at my own animal lust, I watched him steal out of
my room, closing the door behind him.

My dick was still hard, coated with my own cum, the sweet smell of Andy
rising like heat from under my covers.

I cried.

I laid in my bed, hands over my crotch, and cried.  Like a baby.  Like a
freak. Like the animal I had finally become.  The pain was burning me
alive.  And I cried.

We'd have to work this out.  I couldn't stand this stupid, awful shame
anymore!

Somehow...no matter what the consequences...I had to tell my mom.

It had gone too far.

I simply had to tell her.
___________________________________________________

END OF PART 3
TO BE CONTINUED