Date: Thu, 19 Jun 2003 22:39:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dscreet Dude <ihaveaview@yahoo.com>
Subject: Jake's Story Chap-1

Copyright 2003 by Jacob Pritchard. All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without
written permission from the Author. Jacob Pritchard is a pseudonym for the
actual author who wishes to remain undisclosed. He may be contacted by
emailing ihaveaview@yahoo.com

This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If
this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This
material is intended for mature adult audiences.  Names, characters,
locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination
or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


~ Prologue ~

  I'm not sure when or how I first became aware of sexuality in my
life. Time for me before I was ten years old is only recollected in bits
and pieces of flashbacks that have vague meaning. I suppose it was because
I was a naive little boy, only interested in those things that were
immediate in my life. I lived in a small circle of life and only those
things that fed that life were acknowledged. There were but few items that
kept my interest and I lived moment by moment, not looking forward nor
living in the past.  I suppose that is typical. Until the spring that I was
twelve years old.  Things changed for me then, and have never been the same
since.

 My name's Jacob and I'd like to try and bring forth a part of the story of
my life.  Or, to be a little more specific, my sexual life, and maybe the
beginning of awareness for me; the situations I was involved in that may
explain how I came to have the sexual desires that I possess today.  There
is definitely a sequence of happenings that brought me "enlightenment", but
I feel there also exists a certain nature to a person that they tend to
succumb to and is difficult to deny. That nature is part of everyone's
continual existence and is manifest in his or her ability to survive, or
not. Not just a physical survival, but an ability to overcome the mental
obstacles that lead us to the different types of destruction that we are
capable of within ourselves.

 This story is essentially true, to the best of my memory and how well I
recall the events that happened, especially from the onset of discovery.
Certain events remain vivid in my mind because of their significance at an
impressionable time in my life. Others are somewhat less clear because of
other "items" I was involved with, and shaped my life at any particular
tie. But the essence and results are still there. I believe some of it has
also become exaggerated with the passing of time and my replaying the event
in my mind. I may have flavored it somewhat as my tastes became more
specific and my desires and passions evolved.

 Curious as to varied aspects of my sexuality I've read quite a number of
similar stories that have been posted in online Internet archives, my only
anonymous source for this type of behavior. There, a number of like-minded
individuals have described their fantasies and quirks, and I have come to
discover that I am not alone in how I feel and act, in my thoughts and in
the varied things I do. It seems that the world is truly made up of many
kinds of people, and with them, many variations of sexual desires, most of
it hidden away from a disapproving world.  Maybe I'm normal after all.  Or,
just maybe I'm not as abnormal as society would want me to believe.

   I will no doubt regress here and there, branching out to different
aspects of my youth and my relationships. The time period that I am
starting in is etched in my mind because of the certain events that took
place and the certain things individuals did, or that I did. Separately
they may have not meant much, but collectively they combined to bring about
the person I have evolved to. So bear with me and hopefully I won't get too
far off track to confuse ya.

   Like I said, my name is Jacob. I was named after my grandfather who wore
many different hats in his lifetime. From a butcher and farmer, to a road
construction foreman. And lastly an owner of a surface coal mining
operation. I admired my grandfather, though I wasn't very much like him. He
was a grand old guy and much loved by us all.

   I'm currently forty-seven years old, have a wife and two kids, hold a
respectable job and am involved in the community in various volunteer
roles.  Quite normal, by all appearance. I'm your neighbor, I'm the guy
next to you in line at the movies, his kids screaming for popcorn.  I'm the
guy that was running your scout troop last year and this year I took two of
your kids to my private camp with me. But they were okay. I behaved myself.
That time.

~ Chapter One ~
   I grew up in a little town in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia
where coal ruled and, as the old adage goes, "men were men and women were
damn glad of it."  My father was a coal miner, worked long hard hours and
was for all intents and purposes a dedicated family man. At least in
regards to where we lived and how real men were expected to act.

   There were six children in my family. I had 4 brothers and one sister,
with me being the second eldest. I should also mention that I was a twin;
not identical but fraternal. That in itself had a bit of a role to play in
shaping who I was to become. We were all pretty typical as far as kids for
that time and place would go. We played hard, fought with each other and
often ratted the other out when it was to our advantage. We loved each
other, as children do, and knew it to be no other way. We all had chores in
our own time, were expected to get good grades, show proper manners and
were told often to respect our elders.  I think that sounds fairly typical
for a rural, small town family of the time period.  I was born in the
latter part of 1956 and my youngest brother was born seven years later on
my birthday in 1963.  So we were all fairly close in age. I wonder
sometimes how my mother kept her sanity.

   My parents were from a traditional school of thought for the time
period. Our father worked long hours to bring home the bacon, did the
"mans" chores around the house and was the authority figure where, "the
buck stopped here", when it came to the more extreme discipline that might
need rendered. He was the Ozzie in our little "Father knows best"
household.  My Mother worked very hard at keeping house, holding reign on
her boys and trying to give us all a decent "fetchin' up" and was a unique
version of Harriet in her own right. All in all we weren't rich, but we
were well fed, had a good roof over our heads, had discipline in our lives
and were loved. It was our world and we each had our own vision of our
place within it.

   We were a Catholic family in a Methodist community, the only Catholics
along with my Uncle's family and my grandparents. They had moved there in
1959 from a neighboring state when William, my older brother, was only one
year old. There was a fair share of prejudice towards us because of our
religion, but there were also some very good-hearted people with true love
and compassion, that welcomed us and brought us into their lives. But,
that's another story.

   My twin brother, Jimmy, and I slept together in a double bed in a room
that was shared with my older brother, William, or Willy as I had always
called him.  I had, for as long as I remember, slept in my BVD's, clean
white cotton briefs, as did my other brothers, except for Pat, fourth
eldest, who seemed to be a clean freak. He always slept in a pair of
two-piece pajamas. When I was eleven William was twelve and would turn
thirteen later this month. On a cool evening in the latter part of spring
that year, shortly before this important birthday, it had gotten late, and
we had just gone to bed. There were two double beds in this upstairs room
of our large house. The windows were open, as it had been warm that day. My
twin brother had quickly fallen asleep and had cuddled next to me as he
often did. I had my arm slung behind me lying on his hip. I enjoyed the
closeness we shared in this way. His body was warm, and we fit so well
together.  "Spooning", we called it. I suppose now that this snuggling was
from sharing our mothers' womb together and it felt very natural, and
comforting to me. I never really thought about it, and it wasn't something
we did elsewhere other than at this time of sleeping. There is truly a
mystical bond between brothers that are brought into this world on the same
bus.

   I was a little restless and rolled over to lay on my back and listen to
the night sounds coming in the open window, feeling the cool breeze across
my bare skin. As usual I had many thoughts racing across my mind. It was
wandering, re- enacting one of the typical scenes from a TV show we had
watched together that evening. Fantasy was a favorite past-time of mine and
the many comic books I owned was a testimony to that. Cable in those days
was what you used to yank your car out of the mud and had nothing to do
with the modern miracle of today that brings the world into your home.

   William slept alone in the double bed on the opposite side of the room,
not five feet from us, next to a set of windows that gave a view of the
street. To describe my oldest siblings' personality at this time period I
feel I would need to separate my feelings, as a sibling from what would, in
my recollection, be reality. He was typical of an eldest child;
authoritative over us, inquisitive, knew everything, exceptionally bright,
and got away with murder.

  He was almost thirteen and I reckon of average size for this age; blonde
hair, big grin, typical kids' physique. He enjoyed sports, was well liked
and was a bit of a roughhouse with the other kids in the neighborhood. For
a big brother he was okay to me, though he did have his moments when he
could be a bit of a prick. There wasn't too much that we shared in common
as far as interests go.  He seemed to be more interested in social stature
among his peer's and that stuff really didn't matter to me at the time. So
a lot of his time was spent running with his gang and little brothers
weren't usually part of that crowd.  Unless of course ya needed and extra
blocker or tackle for his ragtag football games.

   He hung out with the other "older" kids in the neighborhood and didn't
always have time to hang us with us "stupid lil shitkids".  "Willy" could
cuss admirably and when he was with his buddies they all used words that
gave me a feeling of being let in on something mystical, and special.  It
was like I was hearing a secret language no one else was supposed to know
about. Well, if my Mom had ever heard him saying the things he did he'd
have my Father's belt on his butt wearing blisters. But somehow they always
knew when to use the lingo and as far as I knew he never got caught.

   He loved sports and was quite good at baseball and basketball. There
always seemed to be a pick up game going on somewhere in our small town and
kids from all over would gather at the sports field to play their games.
Us "stupid lil shit" kids always got invited to play since you really can't
play a good game of baseball or football without the right amount of
players. Those were some of the best times for me since there was always a
coupla of the older kids that stuck up for me and encouraged me to
play. Willy even liked me to play baseball with them since I seemed to be
an exceptional hitter and fairly decent catcher for my age. I sucked
royally at football and basketball though.

   In just about everything he did he wanted to be in the middle of the
action.  His friends were important to him, as was his ranking among
them. He was witty and able to hold his own so his friends had quite a bit
of fondness and respect for him. Even the older kids didn't mind him
hanging around them since he acted more mature, or older than other kids
did his age. I think he just felt older because of his role within our
family that then carried into his social life. He was a laid back kinda kid
and still is to this day.

    Running through my mind that evening as I lay on my bed, and my twin
brother was snuggled up next to me, I was Opey Taylor of Mayberry, RFD.
The show had been on that evening and it was one of my favorites. I was
pondering what I would have done if my father, Sheriff Andy Taylor, of
Mayberry (RFD) had accused me of something I hadn't done, and how I would
feel about it. This same thing had happened to me in maybe the last week,
so I knew where poor little Opey was coming from. I could relate to him.

   Gradually I became aware of a different kind of noise coming from my
elder brothers' part of the room, not five feet away. It was a sound as if
he was having trouble breathing, like he was panting or even wheezing.  It
was unlike the little moans he would make when he was dreaming, and not
like any of the muted snores that I knew he made. No, this was similar to
the sound which he, and myself, would make as we lay across our Mothers lap
while she would lightly run her fingers over our shirtless backs, tickling
us and making chilly bumps, only a little more intense. These were sounds
of pleasure. I was looking at the ceiling as these sounds came to me and I
just slowly rolled my head towards him.  Not slyly like you would when you
were trying to catch someone do wrong, but deliberately with what I'm sure
was a quizzical look on my face, my eyes squinting to see better.  What the
hell was going on?!


   Soft light was coming in through the double windows, broadcast from the
streetlamp across from our home. I was quite awake and could see Willy
lying there on his bed, the dark-colored sheet pulled down below his waist
and his underwear was down. And he was doing something to, what we called,
his wiener.  Now what was he doing over there, I thought? Maybe he had an
itch like Jimmy had gotten when he'd been bitten all over by the dog's
fleas. It didn't seem like he was itching though, and I wasn't sure he was
scratching. No, it looked like he was playing with his thing, his
penis. The light coming through the windows dimly lit his prone body in an
eerie glow, the white of his body contrasting boldly with the dark colored
sheets. He was using his right hand, which allowed me to see clearly that
he had a boner!

   Now, let me tell you that at this time in my life, being na^Ėve as I
said before, I had hardly a clue as to what was going on. I knew right off
that this had something to do with sex; I'd heard the older boys talk about
it. But I really didn't have a clue what this sex thing was all about. Nor
did I give it much thought or associate it with my penis and getting
boners, or the feelings I had when I was erect.  I had gotten erections a
lot and had even rubbed myself down there with no idea of what I was doing,
other than it felt good. Of course I had also seen my brother naked many
times and had even seen him with a boner once in awhile.  But nothing
seemed out of place and again, I never gave it much thought.

   That evening, as I listened a little more intently to what was happening
just a short distance away I noticed that the sounds he made were getting a
little louder, and that the bed was shaking somewhat. In a sneaky little
brother sort of way I knew something was going on that I wasn't supposed to
know about, but I had no idea what it could be about. Was he sleeping or
maybe having some weird dream?

   My Mother used the word "nebbing" for when someone was sticking his or
her nose into other peoples business.  And so, I was nebbing into what
William was doing, although I guess it could be closer to simple curiosity
along with the innocence of my youth. And somehow I knew it had something
to do with that stuff "sex" that him and his buddies would talk about when
they thought they were being so cool around us kids.

   But maybe I was wrong.  Maybe there was something really seriously wrong
going on here. Maybe he was sick or having one of those fits that Bobby Joe
Plumber had in school all the time. Just the day before in my elementary
class I'd heard one of the girls' shriek behind me in the back of the
classroom. I yanked my head around I saw old Bobby Joe laying on the floor
between the desks, his mouth a' foaming like the raccoon my father shot out
in our garden last spring. Everyone knows how dangerous rabies is and that
ya stay the hell away from that crap! I saw how he was kicking his legs and
flailing his arms around just like all of Satan's devils had possessed him.


   Well, I just got right up on the seat of my desk and flailing my arms
above my head I screamed loud enough for the Governor down in Charleston to
hear, "Get the hell away from him! Bobby Joe's done got rabies!!  Save
yerself! Save yerself!"  And with that I jumped down from my desk and lit
out for the door to the hallway and sure freedom from this scourge of all
good and fine raccoons. I got in a hell of a lot of trouble for that.

   As I lay quietly, trying to figure out what was going on in my brothers
bed, surrounded by one of my mothers hand made quilts, I saw my brother's
body go rigid, heard him catch his breath, gasp and moan.  Well, I knew
what had happened right there and then; my brother had done had a heart
attack like the one that my Uncle Jules had and we'd be carrying him down
the stairs in a little bit wrapped in an old blanket with everyone bawling
their eyes out and someone telling everyone ta shut up and to quit making
such a scene 'cause he was deader'n a doornail! His tongue'd be hanging
outta his head, his eyes would be rolled back in his head and before ya
knew it there'd be a priest coming in throwing holy water all over the
place. I know my eyes were bugging outta my head, my heart did a flip flop
and I just blurted out in a loud whisper, "William! You dead over there or
what?!" And there I was, peering through the dimness of the street glow
trying to see if the corpse was gonna move or not.  And he did, thank
God. Not only that, he spoke to me, "Will you shut the hell up! Ya wanna
wake everyone in the house up or what?!"

   "I thought you were dying over there or maybe having some sort of
conniption fit or sumpthin'! I thought you done died.  What's going on over
there?  You all right or what?!", I whispered back.

   "Well, jus' shut the hell up and quit makin' so much noise and I'll tell
ya about it tomorrow, sheez!  Can't a guy have some privacy?" He said.

    I loved it when he said hell. It wasn't the way the priest said it when
he was talking 'bout where we were going 'cause we were sinners and the
only salvation was through our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen.  William would give
a little bit of a rasp to the "H" and cut short the "ell" part.  It was
almost like he really didn't wanna say it 'cause he knew the priest was
right.  And the way he said it that night I could tell he wasn't too happy.
When he wasn't too happy with me it usually meant I'd get a bop on the head
or a knuckle in the arm, neither of which I really wanted. As I look back
on that now I remember cringing, just like the dog would do when my Grandma
took after it with the broom after it shit on the kitchen floor.

    So, I jus' gave a quiet "OK", shut the hell up and kinda hunkered down
in my bed, cuddled in next to my twin. I wasn't about to go to sleep
though.  In fact I was wide-awake, my heart was still pumping and I think
my eyes were still bugged out, though I kept them kinda squinty. And boy
was I wondering just what the heck was going on. Like I said, I think I
knew this had something to do with sex, and I couldn't figure out what
would cause ya to act like you were having a conniption and shake and groan
and moan like that.  Yep, I was pretty naive and pretty clueless. No
idea.

    I could still see Willy in the glow from the street, just lying
there. It looked like his eyes were closed and he was breathing easier.
Maybe he didn't realize it, or maybe he didn't care, but I was able to see
that the covers were still down past his waist and that he still had his
wiener in his hand. But he for sure wasn't dead. And he didn't have a boner
no more. Funny though, I had one and my hand found its way to it, though I
never fully realized it until a little while later.

   After a minute or two Willy reached under the covers and pulled out a
sock he'd had there and was rubbing his wiener with it, like he was wiping
it off.  'What in the heck was he doing now?'  I thought. He only did that
for a minute, folded it somewhat and threw it off the side of his
bed. 'This is really weird' I remember thinking.

    With that he pulled up his underwear, glanced over my way, pulled the
covers up to his chin and just lay there looking my way. I could see the
soft glow of his blondish hair and the glint of light from his eyes. My own
eyes were squinting, as I wanted him to think I was asleep.

   "Hey shithead, you ain't fooling no one over there pretending to be
sleeping." He said, not with malice but with some bit of amusement. "So
what do ya think ya saw me doing over here?"

   "Don't really know," I whispered back. "I thought you were having a
conniption fit or sumpthin'. I know you were doin' sumpthin' with yer
wiener like ya had a flea itch. But what was you moaning about?" It was an
innocent conversation, at least to me; the kind of things brothers would
talk about when no adults were around.

   "It's something really good, but probably something you can't do yet,"
he said. "It's called whacking off.  Greg showed me how to do it this
week."

   Greg, hmmm, figures. If there was anything new going on Greg seemed to
be the one to know about it.  He had an older brother who seemed to know
everything and was more than glad to tell it all to his ever eager younger
brother. He was also the one who liked to talk about the ghosts in their
basement.  I never did figure out if that one was true, and I was scared ta
hell to go down there by myself at that age.

    I asked Willy, "Why were you moaning then?  Did it hurt you?" And I
could hear him chuckle.

   "Tell ya what squirt," he said, "I'll tell ya all about it tomorrow and
maybe even show ya.  Right now I'm beat and we've got school tomorrow.
Let's get some sleep."  And with that he rolled over and that was that.  I
was left with questions running through my mind, Opey's dilemma had been
forgotten, and now I was wondering what new thing Greg had come up. Willy
had always called me "Squirt" and I liked it from him. It was a way I felt
endeared to him I reckon and I knew it was meant in a mean way.

   Jimmy shifted behind me swinging his leg over mine, his arm wrapping
around me. I could hear music passing by from a cars open window, a dog
barked in the distance warning the nighttime bogey man, and the smell of
milk cows wafted on the night air from the dairy farm on the hill.  And, I
had no way of knowing at the time, but I had just gotten a glimpse of
something that would obsess me for the rest of my life. My boner and I fell
asleep and dreamed of Opey in his blue denim jeans not knowing what
tomorrow was to bring.