Date: Fri, 05 Sep 2003 01:10:03 +0000
From: Guy Jameson <guyjameson@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Sons of JJ Jameson Chapter 14

My grandsons-the Sons of JJ, are writing the next several
chapters of this series using their journals or diaries as
the basis for what they write

JJ required the boys to keep a journal of some sort from the
time they began to write.  He believes writing is a good
educational tool and forces the boys to constantly examine
their lives.  School districts across the country teach
courses in creative writing for much the same reason.

These journals were considered the property of the boys and
could only be read by someone else with permission of the
boy who wrote it.

The standard warnings apply.

This story belongs to me and as such is copyrighted
according to the terms laid down by Nifty.

Any similarity with persons living or not is purely
coincidental.

I hope you enjoy.  Feel free to send comments to me at
guyjameson@hotmail.com

This posting is written by the youngest boy, David


                   THE SONS OF JJ JAMESON
              CHAPTER FOURTEEN: DAVE'S BIRTHDAY
                          1986-2000

     My name is Dave.  Well, actually, it's David, but
everyone calls me Dave.  Not Davey-I hate being called
Davey.  It reminds of when I was in deep trouble with my
Dad.  He'd call me Davey just to remind me that I was still
his little boy.  But I'm fourteen now and am no longer
anyone's LITTLE boy, especially after last night.
     I've been fourteen for a whole day.  Yesterday was my
birthday and I received the coolest, best present any
fourteen-year-old could get.  Some guys my age might not
think my present was so cool but it was the one thing I've
wanted for as long as I can remember.  Anyone who wouldn't
think I got a cool present just doesn't know JackShit.
     But to understand why I wanted this present for so long
and I why I think it's so cool, you have to know and
understand the story behind it.

     See, when I was born I was boy number five-I have four
older brothers, no sisters just brothers.  Maybe that was
the reason Mom did what she did or maybe there's another
reason.  No one has ever told me what happened.  I just know
it did.
     Mom left me at the hospital.  On the second day after
my arrival, Mom just walked out of the hospital and never
came back.  Some people feel real sorry for me when they
hear that story.  But I guess it doesn't really bother me.
I never knew her.  She never even gave me my first meal.
Besides I had two parents shortly after that-Dad and Guy.
     Guy, whose real name is Frank-I don't know for sure how
we came to always call him Guy; even Dad does and he knew
Frank a long time before he became Guy-was mom's step
father.  He became our second parent.  (My brother Ron says
we have two dads or maybe two moms with dicks or possibly
one of each.)  But I've never felt that I missed out by not
having a female type mom.
     Guy always took up for us when we got into bad trouble
with Dad.  He didn't interfere but a lot of times he'd help
us work out our problem with Dad.  Even at that Dad always
had the last word in our developing years.  It's just that
often it seemed his last word pretty well agreed with Guy's
first words.  Do you get the drift?
     When I was a baby I slept in a crib in Dad's room.  But
by the time I was walking and out of diapers, I moved into
the basement room with my four brothers.  It was a nice room
with its own bathroom that we shared.  Some of my earliest
memories are of seeing my older brothers coming out of the
bathroom naked.
     Actually I saw my brothers naked a lot.  Sometimes even
Dad or Guy would be in the kitchen fixing breakfast naked
except for an apron to protect them from splattering bacon.
We never were shy about being naked.
     I think the first time Dad and I had a father-son chat
was when I was about five years old and my older brothers
complained that I was always grabbing them by their cocks.
I was a little jealous because I had the smallest dick in
the house and my brothers' dicks held a lot of fascination
for me.  Dad explained to me that a boy's dick is his toy
and I shouldn't play with them just because they were there.
I think Dad intended to spank me to emphasize his point but
Guy suggested I be let go with just a warning this time.  In
fact, I think Guy thought what I did was pretty funny.  I
didn't grab my brothers anymore after that but that didn't
stop me from wanting to.
     Then the next year, life began to change for me.  Ron,
who is the third in line and four years older than I am, was
moved from the basement dormitory to the attic.  The two
older brothers made the same move a couple of years before,
but that didn't bother me.  Ron was sort of my hero.  He was
just enough older that he knew a lot of stuff I didn't know
and I counted on him to help with whatever problems a six
year old might have.  Granted those problems may not be
major ones compared to what a boy in puberty goes through
but Ron would talk to me anyway.
     Ron was also there at night.  If I had a bad dream or
couldn't sleep I knew Ron would let me get in bed with him.
He kept the dreams away and helped me relax so I could
sleep.  It was nice waking up in the morning cradled in his
arm, feeling the warmth from his body.

     Seeing the boys and men in my family naked as much as I
did, I thought by the time I was ten I had become an expert
on dicks.  I knew that mine would eventually grow just as
Rob's and Ron's had.  It was a matter of growing older.
However, I also had observed that some dicks were going to
always be bigger than others are.  Guy had the biggest cock,
but Joe's, my oldest brother, wasn't much smaller.  It was
at least as big as Dad's dick.  I also saw the difference
between Ron's cock and our other brothers, and Dad's.   All
of us except Ron and Guy had skin that covered the tip of
our cock.
     One day I asked Guy why his and Ron's penis was
different.  (When discussing anything Guy insisted we use
the correct terminology.  I knew better than to use a word
like dick or cock when penis was the correct word.)
     Guy explained to me about circumcision.  He said that
the skin on some boy's penises was removed because of
religion.  (That sure made me glad we are Episcopalians and
only have to have water poured over our heads).  I thought
it was strange that God would put that skin there and then
make some of people cut it off.  But as our priest would
say, "Who knows the mind of God?"  I decided not to let that
bother me too much.
     Guy also explained that some parents have the skin
removed because it makes the penis easier to keep clean.
That's when he had me show him my "penis" to make sure I was
doing what I needed to do keep the cheese from collecting
there.  I knew what to do.  My brothers saw to that, even if
Dad hadn't shown me, which of course he had.
     (I think Guy would have made a good schoolteacher.
When one of us asked Guy a question on almost any subject he
would give the questioner a complete answer.  You might say
he had the habit of giving more information than we really
wanted.)
     Then he told me that some parents are afraid their sons
will masturbate and that removing the skin will stop them
from doing that.
     "Do you know what masturbation is, Dave?"
     "You mean jacking off, Guy?"
     "Yes that's one term for it, Davey.  But we must learn
to use the correct terminology.  Do you know what it is?"
     (There was that hated name again.  I hate it whenever
anyone calls me Davey, but I'd never correct Guy about
something like that.  My brothers and I had too much respect
for him and loved him way too much to be critical.  If I'd
say the wrong thing to Guy, my brothers would pound me for
sure.)
      "Yes, Guy.  I know what it is.  I've heard my brothers
talk about it and lately I've seen Rob start to do it.
Sometimes I even jack off with him, but I don't get that
milk out of myself the way he does."
     "Don't worry, Davey.  Some day you'll get semen too.
But anyway some people think that having their sons
circumcised will help keep their sons from masturbating."
     "Well I know that doesn't work, Guy.  I've heard Joe,
Jason and Ron talking about jacking off, I mean
masturbating, and know Ron does it as much as the others do.
So why is Ron circumcised and the rest of us aren't?"
     "Well," Guy began, "there's a whole other reason and a
long story but let's just say your mother decided to have it
done.  When you get older we may tell you the rest of the
story."
     Man, that must be some story.  It was the first time
I'd ever asked Guy a question he hadn't answered in great
detail.  There was silence for a few minutes as I tried to
digest what Guy had told me.
     "Doesn't it hurt?"
     "Doesn't what hurt, Davey?"
     (Maybe I should have started liking being called Davey.
I like Guy and that was his favorite name for me.)
     "Getting circumcised-doesn't it hurt?"
     "I'm sure it does, Davey."
     A short period of silence.
     "Didn't Mom love Ron the same as she did the rest of
us?  Why would she want to hurt him so much and cause him to
cry?  Sometimes I think Mom was pretty mean."
     "Don't say that, Davey.  Your Mom was sometimes not
very happy and she showed her unhappiness in strange ways."
     I looked a Guy for several minutes before continuing
the conversation.  Guy may have liked to talk but he also
knew that silence is a necessary part of communication.  It
gave both parties time to think.
     "Is that why she left when I was born-because she was
unhappy?"
     "Yes, I think so, Davey."
     There was another long pause.
     "Guy, was Mom unhappy because of me?" I said with tears
starting to flow down my cheeks.  "Guy did I make Mom leave?
Did I make her unhappy?"
     "Oh, my little boy.  You didn't make anyone unhappy.
Your Mom didn't leave because she was unhappy with you.  It
was something very different."
     I'm not sure I heard Guy say that just then because I
was really crying by that point.  It wasn't until after Guy
had comforted me that his words would sink in.
     Guy and I were sitting in the living room during this
conversation and my crying attracted Ron's attention.  As I
said Ron was sort of my protector and he didn't like to see
me cry, even if Dad or Guy was comforting me.   He came over
to us and sat down beside me.  He joined Guy in taking me in
his arms and holding me.  Behind my back, Ron asked Guy what
was wrong and Guy told him that I missed my mother.
     "Geez, Guy.  How could he miss someone he never
knew-someone who obviously didn't want any of us?"
     "Quiet Ron.  Don't criticize when you don't know the
whole story."
     Guy and Ron held me between me, stroking my hair and
back, comforting me until I quit sobbing.
     Guy asked me if I'd like to help him get stuff ready
for dinner.  Of course I said I would.  I didn't want to be
alone right then.  Ron also offered to help.  The three of
us working together to prepare dinner gave me a really a
nice feeling.