Date: Thu, 06 Mar 2003 14:14:18 +0000
From: tommy nofeet <tommynofeet@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brothers and Lovers - Part 5

DISCLAIMER: the following FICTIONAL story may contain vivid descriptions of
sex between young boys. If this is offensive to you, or viewing of such
material is illegal where you're at, you know where the 'back' button is.
Otherwise, enjoy it. It's a love story, and I hope you have the patience to
read it all the way through.


Brothers and Lovers -- Part 5


Chapter 11 -- The Smell of New Paint

It was hot. Not hot outside, just warm, but the sun beating down on the roof
of our house turned Mike's room into something akin to an oven. The mixture
of stuffy heat and paint fumes from the redecorating that had transformed
the shell into a haven transported our eleven year old minds somewhere else
entirely. We weren't exactly tripping, but the slightest movement required
an effort of Herculean proportions, and we lolled around like cats in the
sun, stretching now and then. It was the weekend after the resolution of our
fight and we had very little to do.
It was amazing how quickly things reverted to a normal state between us, as
if nothing had ever happened. Well, nearly normal, at least. The
relationship had crossed some sort of undefined barrier, ad we both now
accepted the need to be different people, to spend time alone. We hadn't
gone back to sleeping in the same room, mostly from fear of a repeat of our
fight, and we'd both started to learn the signs that lovers silently send to
each other announcing when they need a bit of room. I could sense it so
subtly in Mike that I would walk away and find something to do even before
he realised that he was going to get bugged by my presence. But it worked,
in a strange kinds of way, and for all the separation, we actually became
closer. School changed somewhat, too. I spent a little time away from Mike,
and was shocked to find that I did actually have some friends beyond those I
attracted for being Mike's best friend (and boyfriend, but we weren't
exactly shouting about that in the playground). Several girls seemed to find
my company pleasant, and a couple of the less outgoing boys who might have
got teased in larger company. Mike was always one of the louder kids when he
was around his friends, which I realise now was a defence mechanism born out
of extreme shyness. But I was quiet whether I was around Mike or around
twenty class-mates, and I seemed to be a nucleus for those kids who didn't
want to be loud and brash, the kind interested in nature, the artists. You
know the kind -- the ones you grow up and look back on in envy for having
been so individual while you just towed the line. So, my group of quiet
friends and I would sit around in occasional conversation, avoiding the
fights and the games, talking about things that would have caused names to
be thrown at us were we in the company of the louder kids. The acceptance
was like a blanket around me, and I almost felt at times that I could reveal
my love for Mike and they might just be happy for me rather than treating me
like a freak. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here. We were meant to be
talking about a sunny spring day in rural England...
Mike rolled onto his side, facing me. He looked gorgeous, the sunlight
falling over his delicate features, and I just stared at him.
`Tom, did I ever tell you I love you?'
I didn't quite know what to say. I'd always been taught that love was a big
thing, and I probably would not know it for a long time. I wasn't exactly
sure at the time what love was, but at the same time I could sense that this
might well be it.
`No, you never said,' I replied. `You know I love you, right?'
`Yeah, I knew,' he said with a slightly nervous smile. `Just wanted to make
sure.'
With that, he shifted closer and draped an arm over my chest, his head
resting on my shoulder. His nose nuzzled into my neck, and I could feel him
planting lots of little kisses all over my neck and shoulder. We were both
topless in the heat, and he continued to kiss me, working his way down to my
nipples. He licked and sucked one and then the other, a practise we had only
recently discovered could be incredibly pleasurable. From that position, his
hand crept down to the waistband of my shorts, thrown on in haste over my
boxers after my morning shower. Slipping inside, his fingers curled around
my now very hard shaft, squeezing and rolling it, feeling the head moving
under my foreskin. I was powerless to do anything in return given my prone
position and his weight upon me, so I just let Mike go to work. He was a
master at this by now, and had me writhing and moaning within a couple of
minutes, my hot three inches ending up in his equally warm mouth. We both
enjoyed humping into each other's mouth, but this time Mike held me down as
he sucked me, not allowing my instinctual movements. He liked to be in
control of our lovemaking, and I wasn't about to complain with the treatment
I was receiving. I came very close several times, and each time Mike sensed
it and backed off. I was in a complete frenzy when I noticed that Mike had
stopped and moved on top of me, his shorts and boxers having disappeared
somewhere along the way. He sat on my lower stomach, the head of my dick
held against my stomach by the top of his ass crack. He just watched me for
a second or two, before that slightly nervous demeanour came over him, the
side of him that only showed itself around me.
`Tom, if I ask you a question, will you promise you won't get angry with
me?'
`Depends on the question, I suppose,' I said, not wanting to make things too
easy for him.
`Just promise, ok?'
`Alright, alright, I promise.' I caved. He'd turned on the puppy-dog eyes,
knowing full well I couldn't refuse a thing he asked me when he looked that
damn cute.
`You really mean that, or are you just saying it?'
`I mean it! I promise, ok?'
`ok...'
He was quiet for a few seconds, looking around the room, at the furniture,
at the huge picture of the pair of us which stared down from the far wall,
at the door. Slowly, he got up and moved to the door, making absolutely sure
that it was locked. I wondered to myself what had him so nervous, but I
didn't get much of a chance to ponder as he turned back to me, this time
smiling, a little more confident than he had been.
`You remember the film we saw in Crete?'
I knew exactly which film he was referring to -- the gay porno that we'd
`accidentally' discovered was playing for free in the hotel system by
mistake. I nodded.
`Well, remember the thing we said we wouldn't do?'
I knew the answer to this one, too. I nodded, more slowly this time. Mike's
nervousness came back, at about the same time my heart started racing. He
was talking about the scene where one of the guys in the film had fucked one
of the others. It had been a massive turn-on at the time, but we both agreed
that it had been a bit sick (how things change, eh? -- Mike). I knew what was
coming, but I wanted Mike to say it. I wanted him to want it as much as I
did. And so I let him ask.
`Want to try it?'
My fierce nodding was fast enough to make me bounce my head off the wall. It
sounded a lot worse than it was, but within a heartbeat Mike was knelt on
the bed, cradling my head in his arms, making sure I was alright. It always
shocked me that the brash kid who ruled the school playground could show
such caring for me when we were alone. I protested weakly that I was fine,
but let him mother me for a few moments. We both needed it. Eventually,
though, we could not put off what we had just decided.
`What way round do you want to do it then?' I asked.
`Um, I don't mind if you do me first,' Mike said in barely more than a
whisper.
`Are you sure?'
Mike just nodded. We'd seen enough of the film's gory details to know that
preparation was needed. Mike scrambled off me and went into his bathroom,
returning with a nearly empty bottle of hand lotion and a towel. It was the
moisturiser my mum used, and when I looked questioningly at Mike he
explained,
`Your mum threw it out when it wasn't quite empty, and I thought it might be
useful, so I took it.' He looked nervous, as if he was worried he might have
done something wrong, so I reassured him with a warm smile.
I won't go into the really thorough details, other than to say it was every
bit as painful as we suspected, and then some. But it felt nice to be that
intimately connected, and so we persevered. Then it got really good. I mean,
amazing. So we continued, and continued, both getting into it. I don't
really know if we came at the same time or not, because I'm sure I orgasmed
more than once, and they all melted into one long climax. Mike said
afterwards that he had felt the same, and that it was nothing like wanking
or sucking. He said it felt really weird to cum without touching your dick,
or someone else touching it, and so I had to try it. Once we'd recovered,
that was...


Chapter 12 -- There's a First Time for Everything
You might be wondering what there is possibly left to tell, and if you are,
I'd like to remind you of one little word -- puberty...
We didn't realise, of course, that our ridiculous horniness was not only
borne out of our love for each other, but also from new hormones surging
around our bodies. Though nothing showed externally, inside our bodies
things were getting very interesting. Well, I say nothing showed externally
-- that's only really true if you discount or perpetual boners.
The school curriculum had just been changed in England to include sex
education for children in our year, and so the school was forced to teach
us. I don't know who was more embarrassed, the teachers or us kids. Of
course, most of the boys made crude jokes to hide the fact that they really
were interested in what was being said, and several had to be sent out of
the room to calm down. The girls just tittered quietly behind their hands,
and blushed furiously now and then.
Inevitably, after the class, talk among the boys in the playground turned to
which girl they'd like `to sex'. We really struggled with the terminology
for a while back then. I didn't really join I the conversation, because the
only person I wanted to do all these things with was standing opposite me,
and `she' was most definitely a HE. I knew -- I measured it every night.
Mike, on the other hand, joined in gleefully, pointing out this girl and
that, though I noticed that he tactfully avoided talking dirty about any of
the girls I had made friends with. I knew he was only upholding his image,
and appreciated the subtle nod to the fact that he didn't want to hurt my
feelings. But Mike still needed to make sure that night that everything was
ok.
`You know I didn't mean what I said about the girls today, right?' he asked,
that endearing nervousness edging into the tone.
`Yeah, I know. It's ok, Mike, I know you have to keep the image going. It's
alright, 'cause I can always just think about what we get up to alone.'
At that he grinned broadly and leaned in for a brief, but passionate, kiss.
`Thanks for understanding, Tom.'
He was silent for a minute, but I could tell that he wanted to say more, so
I stayed silent, giving him time to arrange his thoughts. Finally, he came
out with it.
`When do you reckon we'll get hair and stuff, Tom?'
`Dunno. They said about eleven or twelve, didn't they? Well, we're already
eleven, so it should be soon.'
`Could you check me, and I'll check you?'
`Sure,' I answered, never one to pass up an opportunity to look at Mike's
equipment. I had to bend his always rigid penis out of the way to look, and
when I did, I was in for a real shock. There, nestling in the crevice formed
at the junction of his dick and his body were two tiny, almost invisible
hairs, just darker than the surrounding peach fuzz.
`Oh my God! You've got hairs!' I said, perhaps a little too loudly. But I
was too carried away with excitement to care if my parents heard.
`Where? Where?' asked Mike, bending forward to look. `I can't see anything.'
`Hang on,' I said, `I'll get the camera.'
Mike's Polaroid camera was one of the best thing we owned (`we' -- I love
using that word about me and Mike). My parents had given it to him for
Christmas, and though I'm sure they suspected exactly what it was used for,
they never said anything, and I don't think they ever found the pictures. We
were good at hiding things back then. Anyway, I digress. Grabbing the camera
from under Mike's bed, I focussed and fired off a quick shot of his groin.
It was an anxious few moments while the photograph developed, but when the
colour had come through, there were two (count `em!) hairs clearly visible
on the picture. We grinned and hugged each other, and then quickly wrote the
details on the back of the picture, ringing the hairs for future reference.
Then it was my turn to be checked out. I was sorely disappointed to find
that Mike found nothing but smooth skin down there, and demanded a second
opinion. This seemed to upset Mike a little, and I finally managed to weed
out the fact that he was a little upset I wanted someone else to look at me
down there. I couldn't help but smile that he was so possessive of me. I
loved it. And so I accepted his professional opinion that I was not yet a
hairy person. We took a Polaroid for the records anyway, and then settled
down for the night. Oh yeah, I should probably say that by now we had
decided that we could just about survive sleeping in the same bed most
nights, and since my dad had thoughtfully put a double bed in Mike's room,
we took full advantage of the facilities.


Chapter 13 -- It Wasn't Meant to be This Way Round
I think my dad realised all along that I would be jealous of the fact that
Mike had a new room, despite the fact that I spent almost as much time in it
as in my own room. It wasn't long, therefore, before he came to me with a
proposition I could not refuse. We were sat around the breakfast table on a
wet spring morning during half term. Mike and I had a week of sitting around
doing nothing, the weather choosing this week to turn bad. Typical. Anyway,
we were all hunched over mugs of our respective favourite hot beverages --
chocolate in the case of Mike and myself, and extremely strong, sugary black
coffee for my dad -- when he suggested that since Mike had a new room to live
in, perhaps I might like to do something similar. I'd always had my eyes on
the guest bedroom -- I'd chosen wrong when we moved in, and had regretted it
almost immediately, but my mum could not be talked into moving things
around. But now, it seems, she had been persuaded that it might not be too
bad after all, and had relented. I was to be allowed to move rooms if I
wanted.
Mike and I were uncontrollable. We started planning right there and then,
writing down more and more outrageous lists of things we wanted in my new
room, only to have most of them vetoed by my dad. By the time we were done,
there was a pretty clear pattern to the design -- it was going to be a games
room. Of course, there would still be a bed, and all my stuff would go into
the huge built-in wardrobe that ran along one wall, but there would also be
a big sofa and the old TV which was sitting in the garage doing nothing for
the time being, and a table I could build my models on. I think my dad
realised the significance of the design -- he knew that Mike and I spent most
nights in Mike's bed, and whether or not he was entirely happy with the
situation, he accepted our relationship. And so I was to get my new room.
The rest of the week was a lot more interesting than the first half had
been. The rain relented, and there were even a couple of sunny days, but we
were all too busy to notice. The move was a lot more hassle than any of us
had suspected, especially since we had to move all the furniture out of my
new room and repaint it before anything else could happen. And then we had
to move all my stuff in, and find places for it all to go, fitting around
the new table and new sofa my dad had bought. Fortunately we didn't have to
fit the bed in too, since my dad had got me one of those fold out sofa-bed
things. He really must have realised how little time I would spend sleeping
in it. Of course, it wasn't all fun -- my mum decided that it was the perfect
opportunity to get the perfect guest room, and so we had to redecorate that
to her specifications. I didn't mind one bit, to be truthful, since she had
given me a new room, and enthusiastically set to painting and fixing picture
hooks and all sorts of things that mums think are great.
We were done by Saturday morning, which was handy since my parents were
going out on Saturday afternoon to a friend's party, and would be gone until
Sunday evening. For some bizarre reason, they trusted us to look after the
house while they were gone, without the supervision of a babysitter. My dad
even gave me a huge wink as they left, which confused me for long enough for
him to exit the house before I ran after him to protest at the cheekiness.
Mike and I cooked frozen pizzas for dinner (yeah, gourmet chefs at the age
of eleven, who'd have thought it...), and sat in my room on the comfy sofa
watching bad Saturday evening TV, curled up together under a blanket. It
didn't take long for us to get distracted by our hormones, and I found
Mile's hand slowly fiddling with my dick under the blanket. We weren't
really going for it passionately -- it was more of a comfort thing, almost as
if we were reassuring each other. But it was still fooling around, and
sooner or later it was bound to happen -- I came. Big time. We'd been
spending so much time getting the new room finished that we'd been too tired
in the evenings to mess around for a few days, and the tension had really
built up. Mike quickly pulled his hand out with a disgusted look on his
face.
`You pissed on my hand!'
I looked at his hand, and indeed it was slightly wet. Pulling back the
sheet, I looked at my belly, and there was a single drop sitting there,
along with a smear where the other had been wiped off by Mike's hand. Then I
noticed the colour -- slightly milky. Mike and I both realised at the same
time that it most certainly wasn't piss, and just looked at each other in
shock.
`But you haven't even got hair yet!' he said, staring in wonder at the
wetness on his hand. `It's not meant to happen that way round!'
This was definitely a Polaroid moment, and I sat there praying Mike would
get back soon with the camera, before the little drop dried. Fortunately he
did, and we took a picture of the momentous occasion, before wiping it of
with a tissue and flushing the evidence. Of course, we had to check whether
Mike had started too, but his orgasm remained dry, and his dick hard. We
tried again...


That's part 5. Big thanks to all of you who've written to encourage me,
especially ants, who gets this one dedicated to him. It'll be ok, mate.
Part 6 on the way when I can actually think of something to write about. Any
ideas? ;)