Date: Thu, 05 Aug 2004 04:56:47 -0700
From: Mike <thornado5@netscape.net>
Subject: A Thousand Rainbows 01

I have written radio commercials for years. The ability to sell something
with a limited number of words in a limited amount of time might be
considered an art-form in itself.  Even so, I have never considered myself
an author of serious literature.  So this is my first attempt at writing a
story for publication. It is a work of fiction; the people and most of the
places exist only in my own mind. Some of the people and some of the events
are based on actual people and events from my own past. I have tried to
surround these characters and events with enough camouflage that their true
identities remain secret.

I owe a great debt of gratitude to the many authors who post their works
here on the Nifty archive. I suppose I was inspired by their hard work and
determination to create something of my own, something which may never
rival their stories, but which ...  I hope ... will bring some measure of
enjoyment to the reader.

Mike Williams
The Oregon Coast
August 2004

-0-

This story deals with adult themes, primarily same-gender sexual relations.
Such relations have their basis in love and commitment, rather than sex for
the sake of sex alone. In some cases they will use protection; at other
times they will not. You and I should always use protection because we do
not live in the world of fiction.

If you are offended the idea of homosexuality or if you are under the age
of consent or if you reside in an area where such things are considered
illegal or immoral, then you should seek entertainment elsewhere.

Comments may be directed to the author at thornado5@netscape.net

This story is copyright 2004 by Mike Williams. All rights reserved. Thou
shalt not steal.

-0-

A Thousand Rainbows
by Mike Williams

- 1 -

It seemed there were more bicycles than cars in town of Bridgewater,
Oregon. Even though it was early November, the mid-afternoon sun was warm
as he pedaled along Pioneer Trail, the network of bike-paths that wound
along the Willamette River and through the heart of the town. Just one more
half-mile, and he would be home.

Brian Connor was 38, just a little above average in height, with green eyes
and sandy brown hair that just reached his shoulders. Through his helmet,
he could feel the wind rushing through his hair. The walkers and joggers
along the trail created a maze that he navigated with ease.

Pulling off the trail, he turned his bike into the suburban street that
would lead him home.  His well-maintained bicycle glided almost
effortlessly into the driveway of 2410 West Brunswick Road, the home he
shared with his partner and their twin boys.  He dismounted and walked the
bike around the house to the backyard.

Born on the same day at the same Hartford hospital, their paths and those
of their families had somehow never crossed until a fortunate stroke of
fate assigned them to share a dorm room at a boys prep school in
Connecticut. From that moment on, Brian Connor and Bjorn Larkin were
inseparable. They both attended the University of the Cascades following
high school, and they had chosen to settle in Bridgewater, where they
opened a photo studio and gallery.

He hung his bicycle in the garage and entered the house where he was
greeted with music. Brian realized that 14-year-old Jason and Josh were
already home from school, hanging out in their bedroom. He thought it odd
that they would not be outside tossing a football or kicking a soccer ball
on such a beautiful afternoon. He kicked off his shoes by the backdoor and
padded through the kitchen and up the spiral staircase in the center of the
house to the second floor.

At the top of the landing Brian recognized the music as one of the boys'
own compositions, one they had been crafting for nearly a month. What did
they call this one ... "A Thousand Rainbows"? It was part of a CD of
original pieces they would submit for a class project.

Brian paused to admire the melody and noticed the addition of a horn
section. "Nice touch," he thought. There were times when Brian could swear
that a symphony orchestra had taken up residence in their home. But it was
only a good computer with some composition software, which he and Bjorn had
given the boys the previous Christmas.

He let the music totally surround him as he wandered down the hall toward
the twins' bedroom. The door was about halfway open, and Brian was about
poke his head in, to compliment the boys on their accomplishment. But what
he saw caused his jaw to drop, if only for a moment.

There, on one of the beds, Jason and Josh lay on their sides, naked, in the
classic 69 position. In less than a heartbeat Brian realized what was
happening, and he quickly and quietly withdrew to his own bedroom, leaving
the twins to finish pleasuring each other.

From across the hall he could hear the telltale sounds ... the ragged
breathing, the whimpers and moans ... that signaled an impending orgasm,
two impending orgasms, as Josh and Jason blew their loads together.

Brian remained silent, out of sight, in the master bedroom as the boys
finished their business and left the house for a game of one-on-one soccer
in the backyard. He knew the boys were close; as twins, it would have been
difficult to have it any other way. But he was beginning to realize just
how close they were. Brian had never done anything like that with his own
brother. But, then, they had never really been close.

He and Bjorn would have to speak to boys, but ... how to approach the
subject? Was it just two boys experimenting, exploring their bodies, or
something more?  Brian let his memories take over, as he recalled the first
time he and Bjorn expressed their feelings for each other.

-0-

to be continued in Chapter 2