Date: Thu, 3 Nov 2011 15:17:28 +0000 (GMT)
From: Jonas Henley <jonas_henley@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Kids of Indian Spring 25

Kids of Indian Spring
By Jonas Henley


Chapter 25
Pieces of the Day

[Author's Note: Fear not, those of you who have voiced the concern over the
plethora of characters. Most of the vignettes below are nothing more than
that -- vignettes, asides to the main story. These are not all meant to be
introductions or continuances of other storylines and characters, just a
reminder that life goes on for all the other kids in the Spring. However,
that being said, the stories aren't being told in a vacuum (particularly
the one on the Cormacks), and many do relate to the overall story. But you
don't have to keep up with the characters. Consider it a panorama of Indian
Spring before heading back to Kelley's house.

Remember that there is an Indian Spring map and a lineage chart of the
Mackey's to help with the story.]




Thursday, 21 June 1995



7 am

What the hell have I done?


It wasn't so much words, as it was a feeling, as Kelley Tucker stared up at
the ceiling of his bedroom. He had been awake for well over an hour now,
not doing much more than staring, his mind only dimly circling around the
issue at hand, albeit without any resolution. He wasn't even sure what
there was that he could resolute.

He had jumped in it; that was for sure. But why?

He woke that morning, going from sleep to stretched and fully awake within
less than 10 seconds. He had a general foreboding as the night's events
came back to him.

He had told his dad. He had told his dad everything. And worse -- he had
cut out his own escape route, turned down the lifeline from his dad, and
turned it down in such a way that it could not be thrown back out again. He
had managed not only to commit himself, but his dad as well. He had made it
a position where honor and trust would rule his adherence.

Of course he had to do that. That much was certain. It wasn't a question
that he couldn't put his dad in any other position, there was too much
riding on it. Too much for his family, too much for his community, too much
in general. No that wasn't the issue. As much as he didn't like what was
gong to happen to him, he could buck up and bear almost anything for his
family and friends. He was strong enough for that.

That wasn't the question.

The question was: why did he tell his dad? Why would he go and do that?
That was what had him staring at the ceiling. This directly wasn't it
either, but the indirect of what it caused, namely the above that he would
have to buck up and bear it. Just because he could and would do that never
meant that he had HAD to do it. He didn't have to commit himself to this
life. All it would have required was to simply not tell his dad. That
wasn't even lying.

Well . . . . ok . . . . maybe it would have been lying. Sort of.

All right, well, definitely dishonest.

But would it have hurt anybody if he hadn't? No. All he had had to do was
just wait.

Wait for Casey to go to school, finish off his remaining obligation to
Ruben, settle things with finality versus the blowjobs he did or did not
still owe Malcolm and Cole, and that was it. He was done and could go on
with his life as it had been meant to be.

At least how he meant it weeks ago when he first conceived this need to get
a job.

And he did need it -- the job, that is. He didn't question that, much as he
didn't like the outcome from trying to get it. He wasn't sure where it all
went awry, but he did need the job.

And this weekend. What was that anyway? What did it really matter? Why
couldn't he just have gone in his new White BVD's, hung out, maybe or maybe
not have had some innocent fun as was allowed the other boys in White, and,
most of all, kept an eye on Ethan? It had been so simple. He couldn't just
stick to plan and be done with it all forever?

But there was the rub. He was Kelley. He couldn't be done with something
that had so much wrong with it. He wasn't one of the other boys in White
BVD's, and he hadn't been for two weeks or more. And he never would be. He
could have gone and he could have worn them, but he wouldn't have been one
of them. He wasn't one of them.

Deeper inside, he was fairly certain he didn't want to be one of them. Oh,
he most certainly preferred White to Blue. There was no question, no
agonizing debate there. It was a certainty. But as fun as it might be, as
sexually pleasing and rewarding as the system was -- for some -- he just
wasn't a `for some' person. Regardless of his interest or needs or past
experiences (or innocence or lack thereof), he just wasn't one of them. He
didn't really have any problem, to be honest with a boy that enjoyed that
position of good fortune, and he knew in his heart that he would hold no
grudge against a boy that enjoyed that position with him, or, that is,
within him.

He understood it. He could live with the boy afterward. He could even come
to terms with congratulating the boy if he even had to go that far. He
understood how it worked and did not deny any individual the opportunity to
enjoy the system. It was the system he couldn't really abide. It was for
that by which he knew he could never really have shared in the rewards.

But why me?

Why couldn't he have just bypassed this whole thing and left it as
something for another side of Indian Spring, a side he was content to let
run parallel to his own life, as he enjoyed the life he wanted in Indian
Spring?

But that opportunity vanished the moment he said nothing in the creek and
let Casey turn him against the rock, let him lower those swimshorts beneath
the water, let him ...

A shudder went through Kelley.

It didn't seem like that had even been him. It was though. It was him. It
was his life that he was living. He hadn't been duped or tricked. He
couldn't be? Right. Well, he supposed he could easily be if he became
arrogant about his gifts. But he wasn't. It was all him.

But even that wasn't really the question. He could have let it all pass
away into forgotten history.

Why did he tell his dad?

That was the question as he stared into the whiteness of the spare ceiling
and blank ceiling above, a ceiling that before now had truly been void of
detail, aside from a fan and a light. But now, now it had cracks, spots,
shadows caused by the uneven drying of paint, undulations from years of
settling, space . . . .

Now, he was intimately acquainted with the intricate detail of his varied
and living ceiling. He had had more than an hour and half at this point to
become so. He supposed, idly, that that was the way of everything. The more
you looked, the more it changed, the more it became some new, something
personal, something alive, maybe even something claimed that before had
been existing unaware.

But why did he tell his dad?

Because, he was more than even his own ceiling. He wasn't a blank. He
couldn't eliminate what he saw in himself. He was who he was, and telling
his dad had been the thing he had needed to do, just as surely now as he
had to get up. Had to get up, get out of bed, and get on with the life he
had thrust his own self into, one that, ironically, would have others
thrusting life into him.

Kelley closed his eyes, and his ceiling became his ceiling once more,
already forgotten into the basic oneness of any structural element of the
room itself.

He got up and got dressed for the day, headed down stairs, and helped
Ashton get his favorite cereal down from the top pantry shelf, and became,
once again, Kelley Tucker, big brother, humble kid extraordinaire.






--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8 am


It was an early morning summer sound that awoke Donald Evans. It could be
spring if it was heard on a Saturday. It would be an odd day in spring, if
heard on a Sunday. But to hear it on an early Thursday morning, that could
only mean summer. Donald stretched his runner's body, waking joyously to
such a morning. It was a remarkable sound coming through his window. If
heard in winter or fall, curses might be thrown against the cause of the
sound, but an early cool summer morning seemed to call for it from time to
time.

Donald was one of those lucky few who get to manage their fortunes on a
flexible schedule. He wasn't rich, not in the way we often think of
rich. But he wasn't worried. The frugal only child of frugal only children
had allowed the wealth of the family to accumulate. The fact that a house
payment hadn't been made in more than 70 years when his great-grandfather
had paid off the house note held by Robert Mackey, Jr. had also helped
considerably in keeping Donald in a life with few financial worries.

His one monetary indulgence was poker. But sometimes that didn't always
involve money. Donald smiled, thinking of the last such game earlier in the
spring. He walked to his kitchen to get his morning coffee. It was more for
the taste; the caffeine was superfluous to his needs, but he still couldn't
abide the flavor of decaffeinated brands. He preferred his own grinding, as
well.

With coffee in hand, he walked outside to collect the morning paper and sit
on his porch and read it for the next hour or so. He bent down and picked
it up, delightedly looking forward to turning its pages leisurely on such a
lovely morning. He turned and looked toward that unique summer sound and
saw its source. Just as he thought. A fine strap of a lad. Jonah Kemp was
just one more bonus of the makings of a beautiful summer day.

The 13 year old Jonah Kemp was definitely a fine specimen of a lad. He was
growing well into his age and turned many heads with his quiet reserve and
his simply-contained handsome beauty, a reserve that was similar to that of
his younger fellow Springer currently staring at his ceiling, just down a
little used path through the woods behind the Kemp house and across an old
simple wooden bridge over the still somewhat small Crazy Indian creek. It
was several underground springs just north of Jonah's house that really fed
the creek and enlarged it into something a bit more noticeable when you
came across it in the woods.

But Jonah wasn't thinking of the other boy, or the creek, he only barely
took notice of his harmless bachelor neighbor who was now settling down
into his favorite porch chair and regarding the unfolded front page of the
paper.

Jonah was simply thinking of the chores he still needed to finish to call
it quits, get a shower and head over to the Henway's. Ryan and Kyle's Uncle
Ben was taking the boys camping, and they had invited Jonah to go
along. His dad was OK with that, but he preferred Jonah first take care of
certain chores. Jonah and Ryan had gone camping with his uncle before,
often meeting up with one or more friends of Ben's who may or may not bring
sons or nephews of their own.

There was usually some other fun component than just sleeping in a tent out
in the woods -- maybe it would be hiking, maybe water skiing or jet skiing,
maybe caving, as they had done that once also. It was usually fun. This
time he knew they might go fishing, which is something he only got to do
once before, with his dad and his dad's younger brother Uncle Tommy. That
had been a lot of fun, just the three guys. Jonah was a guy's guy, and he
thrived in the interaction that the trip provided. They were supposed to do
it again last Spring, by that was before Uncle Tommy's divorce. It took a
while for things to pick back up.

Jonah stopped and lifted up his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his
brow. His abdomen was firm, the stomach muscles rippling slightly under
their sheen of sweat as he hunched forward to wipe his face. The small
short and faint white-blond hairs that would one day become his treasure
trail glistened in the morning sun as he twisted slightly in his action.

He couldn't tell you if his older neighbor across the way was enjoying the
indelible memory of youth and the fleeting glance of summer in its
perfection through the view he was providing. His mind was only on the
upcoming trip. And once he finished mowing, he still had to power wash the
back of the house of all the remaining pollen of spring and the gunk of
winter. Then it was time to get a shower. He was supposed to clean his
shower, also, but he figured this he could do while he was IN the
shower. Afterward he would empty the dishwasher that had run overnight,
change out the clothes in the washer, and feed the dog, and he would
finally be able to go over to Ryan's house.

He dropped his shirt back down and restarted the mower to finish the
yard. It was for him always a reflective time. He had started thinking
about what it would be like to have Kyle along this time. He could get
along with the younger kid, but the 11 ½ year old, who was almost two years
below him, could sometimes be a sarcastic wiseass. Still, his Uncle Ben
could definitely keep him in line.

Jonah then began to wonder what it would be like if their 14 year old
sister Julie went with them. The daydream quickly shifted to what it would
be like if just he and Julie went camping.

He was glad he was wearing loose shorts and no-one else was with him, as he
smiled and got lost in the daydream and finished the yard.

Feeling that obvious tent in the shorts more than seeing it, Jonah Kemp
realized there was one more chore he would have to do in the shower before
going to Ryan's house.







---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

9 am


"Jessica! . . . .  Uh . . . . Hey!"

"Hey . . . . Colin."  The beautiful 13 year old girl stammered, a girl who
should have any boy stammering for her. She seemed to perennially have her
hair up in a pony tail; more often as not on these warming summer days, she
would have it protruding from the back of one of her dad's old baseball
caps. The look was so sexy to so many older boys, and she was still a bit
clueless to that. She looked like that now as she both blushed and flushed
in front of the taller strapping classmate and fellow Springer.

But he didn't notice this. All that the light-complected, auburn-haired boy
was conscious of was the growing erection in his pants that threatened to
embarrass him. And it wasn't just the memory of his hard dick pounding her
sweet, tight pussy twice, losing their virginities together double-fold in
a single day's session of lovemaking. True, that alone could do it, but he
wasn't the type of boy to dredge that up every time he saw her. It would
come up, to be sure, pun possibly intended, but he would as likely push the
memory away through a combination of guilt and manners. Instead, he was
just as likely to simply get hard from having the beautiful girl ring HIS
doorbell, of any boy's that she could so want, and just stand there,
looking hot in the sexy, borrowed ball cap and well-fitted T-shirt, forming
seductively around those breasts he had held, licked and sucked.

Oh boy!

Ah, there the memory was pushing through, in more ways than one. He felt
like the zipper on his shorts was about to obscenely rip open.

"Um," Jessica was continuing, gulping down the rising heat within her that
threatened to take her breath away, before she could even say what she came
here to say.  "We, uh . . . . . we should talk."

"Uh . . . .  .yeah . . . . .um . . . . yeah, we uh . . . . um . . . . . I
guess, uh . . . . .  . I guess we should . . . "

She nodded in agreement and just stood there while Colin stared in
amazement that this girl should be on HIS doorstep. He never realized how
intensely he would feel this about a girl, but he was definitely feeling
it. He smiled awkwardly at Jessica before suddenly coming to his senses.

"OH! Sorry . . . . come on in. Um, nobody else is home. I hope that's OK."

Dammit!

She nodded that it was, but why this even more rapid rise in heat that felt
like she was about to be carried away? She watched the muscled athletic
form of the 13-year-old boy close the door, and as he turned to face her,
she couldn't help but remember that strong chest, his abdominal muscles
leading down away from it, down to where he had a nice patch of Auburn
curls above the root of that dick, that dick that had gotten so hard and
had entered her not once, but twice, driving her to such ecstasy.

Her pussy was practically dripping as she dragged her eyes away and tried
to pull her thoughts with them. As she scanned up his body to try and meet
his eyes, he was directing her into the living room, and she caught a flash
of that inch space of short auburn hairs under his arm, and all it did was
remind her of the virility of the boy, that he was becoming a man now and
could fill her pussy with more than just dick, but his sperm as well.

Yes, yes! That was it! - her more urgent thoughts broke through. He can
fill you with sperm, and that's a bad thing! You could get pregnant! Her
subconscious was shouting at her, trying to reclaim her, trying to remind
her of the dangers of being with the nice boy that she just couldn't put
down.

Once she had taken him up inside her, she wanted to keep part of him
there. She liked the feeling of being filled by him, being held and pumped
by him, and if not to keep him wholly inside her, then at least a part, at
least a remnant. The experience of his shooting his promising sperms deep
within her had made her feel complete, and she had before loved nothing in
life more than being taken, owned and claimed in the muscled embrace of
this active yet quiet boy, perhaps all the more because it was his first
time to ever do so with anyone.

No! That's insane! - the rational part of her mind shouted out. You can't
do that! Break this OFF!!! It's what you came to do. Do it now and do it
quick! You are too weak, girl, to stay here for very long!!

And she knew that was true. She reached out to stop the boy as he guided
her into the living room. But as she touched his back and brought her hand
down, it triggered the very real memory of holding him there, hands running
along his back while he fucked her, his teenage boy/manhood guiding his
hips, the breathing and the grunts into the machined chorus of necessity to
get done what they both needed done.

It was just a quick memory, but it seemed that she no sooner felt it in
recollection than she found herself being held in reality, naked in those
same strong arms as he thrust in and fed her pussy inches, running through
the same semen he filled her with just moments before. As he ground them
through their second fuck, she realized that she was winning out over her
rational mind that had tried to block out what she had so readily pursued
once she had stopped him in the hall.

She had abandoned any more formidable purpose and gave herself over to a
mutual desire that no teenage boy can contain once let loose. Even now as
she moaned through their second fuck, as she ground down against the thick
erect flesh penetrating and forcing it's presence into her womanhood,
holding her ecstatically stretched and fully open at the very claim to her
gender, she pressed her mouth against his and sucked and savored his
tongue, rubbing her wet, slavered, and well sucked and prepped tits against
his own hardened nipples, feeling his chest bring her to undiscovered
levels of passion and pleasure as much as his dick promised to do.

Risk be damned. She couldn't pass on orgasmic heaven and melted into the
fuck, rode it out into bliss.







------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10 am


"Ethan, don't you have Jeremy or somebody that you could be hanging out
with today?"

"No, not really. Anyways, Jeremy got grounded. Something to do with
Malcolm."

Seth paused in his work, but only very briefly, before continuing on as
though the name or the event involved meant nothing to him. He was tooling
around with a twist of clean copper tubing that seemed to have developed a
kink, at least to his expert eye. He had heard about a special herb used in
some home brews farther south and was wanting to try his own specialty
batch of moonshine using the same herb. His father had just acquired some
of the leaves, but Seth was convinced that to do it right meant building a
new still, a fresh canvas as it were, from the ground up.

"What are you doing anyway?"

"Just working on a project, Ethan, same as I told you when you asked
earlier, when you just showed up here."

"Can I help?"

"No, not really. It's . . . . a personal project, Ethan -- just something
I'd rather do on my own."

"It's OK. I get it."

He didn't get it, at least not the way that Seth wanted him to get it. On
the one hand making shine was an almost Zen experience for Seth and having
a bubbly and talkative person like Ethan around distracted from that
essence. There was that and the fact that he had been instructed to keep
his distilling activities a private affair, reducing even the number of
Mackeys with whom he shared knowledge, or even experience, of the
activity. It was definitely not a good idea to involve the likes of a
non-Mackey in an activity so frowned upon -- and so illegal -- for a man to
engage in, much less a child.

Now it was true that Ethan only hardly classified as a non-Mackey given his
relationship to his dad and his older brother, Tucker, and it was also true
that he was an infectiously fun kid just to have around. Seldom, if ever,
did his vivacious attack on life and the effervescence of his simply being
become an obstacle for anyone attempting to do anything. And Seth, in all
honesty, was so technically proficient at his craft that he could have
produced a master distillation, distractions of any kind not withstanding -
such was the capacity of a young Zen, advanced-level apprentice to his own
art. But such was not the way of the Zen enjoyment of achieving that art.

He preferred to be alone in this HIS activity.

And then there was that other issue with the Tucker boys.

"Well," said Ethan, "I guess I didn't come here ONLY cause I was bored. I
tried finding Tolley, but I cant. So I thought maybe I could find you."

Seth knew where this was going. He had already been warned by Tolley's
brother Hayden, as well as Tolley himself, somewhat vaguely and guiltily by
Sheldon, and he didn't need the menacing threats of Darrell and Hiram to
know what lay within. Part of the reason he was taking up this project now,
instead of in the autumn when he would certainly enjoy it better, was his
need to have some distraction from the upcoming ceremony.

The Choosing Ceremony, where the Mackeys would pick the next Mackey and
start fucking him right then and there, before the whole groups assembled.

Yes, Seth was back on the list. Same as Tolley. Same as Sean, Kevin's
little brother. You'd think if any family got a break it would be that one,
but Sean never went skinny dipping anymore, like his two older brothers,
and he was known to house a nice round and scrumptious ass, an ass always
teasingly on display in that wet swimsuit he wore. Nobody had seen it naked
in over a year, or more, and that certainly added to Sean's value as a
bottom. So despite Kevin being chosen last year, Sean still had a good
chance of being chosen. Not that there was anything good in that.

Dean would also be there, bent over and presenting his own virgin hole,
despite his only being one week away from 13 at the time of the
ceremony. His brother Fairlane was even holding out in expectation for a
piece of that all-boy masculine, yet well formed tight ass. And there would
also be poor David, whose own brother Darrell and cousin Hiram were really
pushing to have as one of the bottoms.

Yes one of the bottoms. Because now, in addition to being back on the list,
Seth needed to put out of his mind the knowledge that there would be at
least two bottoms chosen this time. And nobody had clarified the `at least'
part.

"I know why you're here, Ethan."

There were other boys on the list, all of whom would be at the
ceremony. Actually that was something new, as well: no one was to be cut
before the actual ceremony. At least one person always got a pardon, even
if last minute. No one would this time. So that meant Chris Corbin from the
10th Kinset would be showing his nice naked behind in full display same as
Gabriel Mackey, Collin Mackey's grandson and Abner Mackey's Great-grandson.

Both families of the latter two were among those normally opposed to some
of the more questionable continuing traditions of the deeper set Mackeys,
but as of yet, there failed to be any consensus on their coming forward to
actual change things. Seth wished they could have done it before it had
become his time to offer himself along with the others. He didn't have an
older brother to protect him like Sean and Tolley had, try as Hayden might.

But it wasn't as though the proponents of the choosing were backing off any
with their own children. Last year Eli Corbin went through the ceremony
last year. He couldn't very well refuse, either, given the fact that his
brother Andrew had once sat on the Council and his dad, Bart, had lead the
council many years before. His whole family was squarely on the side of the
old traditions and behind Elijah, Duane, and Paul Mackey's push to retain
traditional Mackey domination. Eli was rumored to even be bringing a cousin
from far outside the area to participate in the line-up, a particularly
ornery offspring of Matthew Corbin, Bartholomew's next oldest brother.

The sons of Ben Corbin, older brother of Joshua Corbin, who had raped Jane
and fathered Hester, had a fairly hard-line view of the matter of
tradition.

It wasn't a view shared by Abner's boys, or by Jebediah, Ruth or
Solomon. Or by Hollis, Seth's dad. Amos and Esther were more on the fence
until push came to shove, and then they were squarely behind Jebediah. And
it wasn't just the division on traditions that was heating up again, but
also changes in the physical fabric of the Mackey lands. For the first time
Mackeys seemed to be fighting the preservation of Indian Spring. Battles
were coming and things were heating up quick.

And it wasn't just the current holders of land within Indian Spring that
were involved. The Outer Mackeys were also more on the fence than on either
side, except Chris' family, who had to be about the nicest of all Mackeys,
and not the least fitting the Corbin name that had been soiled over the
years.

Eli was about five generations removed from Chris, all the way back to the
first Christopher Corbin and his wife Katherine Mackey Corbin, the daughter
of Colton Mackey (the first Colton Mackey), who had died of Yellow Fever in
1878 in New Orleans while trying to fence the Reconstruction gold. It was
the same gold, stolen by Colton and his older brother James, Jr. that was
just over 100 years later stolen by Tabitha away from Elijah and the second
Colton Mackey, causing yet ANOTHER division among the families.

This gold, that disappeared as quickly and stealthily as Tabitha had
reappeared, never to be found in the since 15 years that it was stolen from
Elijah; this gold, associated with the deaths of so many Mackeys; it was
the same Gold that was claimed to be the rightful property of not only
Elijah, but the brothers of the 20th century Colton Mackey - Paul and Duane
Mackey, Hiram and Darrell's fathers. It was also claimed (via the first
Colton's bloodline) by Ben Mackey, Eli's grandfather and the father of his
Uncle Titus.

Titus Corbin and Colton Mackey (the second Colton to die after touching the
cursed gold) had both been killed by Tabitha, or at least Elijah claimed to
anyone who would listen, along with Ben Corbin's brother Joshua, and Ethan
Sanders. She had killed them all -- Joshua for raping her grandmother and
the others for raping her mother. And then she up and killed herself on her
front porch several years after that, before anyone could find out what she
did with the gold.

It was all this drama that served as the backbone of contention between the
two forming sides in what was surely a coming showdown over how the Mackey
lands and traditions would survive. But before that showdown would occur,
there would be at least one more Choosing on July 15th. And this one was
going to be big, and unfortunately would include Seth.

All this was running through Seth's mind as he tried to focus on what he
needed to build his new still. And he couldn't really do that while Ethan
was there, for Ethan was a special distraction. Ethan put Seth at risk of
being selected -- and Seth did NOT want his ass to be ridden for two years
by any cousin that was horny at the particular moment.

"Come on, Seth," Ethan asked again, "I just want to know why the Mackeys
are so interested in Kelley all of a sudden."

Seth finally stopped what he was doing and turned and looked at the
dirty-blond kid. He was hard to resist, but easier when your butt,
literally, was on the line.

"No Ethan, and for yours and my own good, I don't know what your talkin'
about and no idea where you coulda even got such a thought that anybody
cares anymore about Tucker than they did before."

"So you aren't gonna tell me?" Ethan smiled his puppy dog look. He had
already been told no in three different ways, but maybe one more
solicitation wouldn't hurt.

But Seth was quite serious when he leaned forward and put it this way.  "Do
you care anything at all about me or Tolley?"

"Yeah, Seth. You guys are like the nicest ones back here. You always are
treating me nice, and not just cause I'm Tucker's brother."

Actually it WAS mostly because of whose brother he was. But Seth wasn't
going to deprive the kid of a slight misconception.  "If you like us, why
do you keep doing this? You don't know anything, but if you keep asking
like this, then me and Tolley are gonna be in really, really deep shit. I
can't say why either, so don't ask. Just, please, stop."

That got Ethan's attention. He didn't need Kelley's special abilities to
see how genuine Seth was in his concern.

"Sorry, Seth," the boy's contrite and quiet answer came out.  "I don't want
anything bad to happen to you guys. There's nothing I want to ask you."

"Great."  Seth said, now smiling and patting Ethan on the back.  "Thanks
Ethan."

Seth returned to his work, now looking at three different large glass jars,
trying to decide which one was the right size and right clarity for what he
needed. He may even have to look at a few more in town.

"So what are you doing?"  Ethan asked innocently after about two minutes of
silence. He couldn't really go longer than that.

Seth sighed and put down the jar that had been in his hand.

"Don't wanna be rude, Ethan, but I do wanna work on this alone. Uh
. . . . anything I can do to get you to go somewhere else?"

Ethan smiled a devilish smile and glanced mischievously at the crotch of
those coveralls.

"I would like to see how different you taste from Tolley. . . . . . "

Seth smiled, almost laughing. OK, he could handle this pay-off, and he
jokingly said as he unsnapped the coveralls hook over his left shoulder and
more of that smooth creamy skin came into view, including the titillating
tease of the top of the curve of his lightly tanned ass, "OK, but you
better at least be as good as Alex was."

Oh.

He was soooo much better than the reluctant Alex Wood had been.








----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11 am


"Eli ! How's the jump shot?"

"It's fine. What do you guys want?"

Eli had all his life wanted to follow in his dad's and brother's footsteps
-- be on the council, uphold the traditions, maybe even lead it like his
dad had.

"Come on, Eli, is that any way to welcome your dearest cousins to your
home?"

He had hated going through the Choosing ceremony last year, hated the
humiliation of actually having some of the boys looking lustfully at his
ass and then writing their names on his back, voting for him to become the
community bottom -- the mere thought of the past possibility of it could
still send shivers down his spine -- but despite all of this, he did enjoy
the status it had given him afterward. He enjoyed Darrell and Hiram's
attention and support, even after their friend and Eli's brother, Andrew,
left for the state college.

"Yeah Darrell, it doesn't SOUND like he's very happy to see us."

Eli had been the favored cousin, especially among the Inner Mackeys, of the
two Council boys and was definitely being groomed for a spot on the Council
himself; but lately he had begun resenting more and more they way they did
things -- they way they involved him as though he were a puppet, the way
they treated him, the way they seemed to own him, all with his brother's
tacit approval.

"Hiram, I think our beloved friend's little brother would rather we weren't
here."

He hated they way they talked like that. Always to each other about the
other person. Always dropping the hinted threats, the innuendo of control,
but never being direct. Never saying what they meant, not exactly, but
never having to. And the longer his brother was away from home, the less
enamored Eli found himself being. Perhaps because he was something of a
rogue and rebellious kid. Perhaps because he was 13 and feeling his
adolescent assertions. Perhaps a little of both.

Perhaps because he was figuring out what evil really meant.

But he knew the tone in Darrell and Hiram's voices. He knew his
position. And he knew that they weren't alone in the threats they could
carry out. He had thrown his lot in with them. It wasn't for the Gold, that
was something that had always been unreal and therefore true but
non-existent to him, and it wasn't for the lack of some other group he
could be a part of, though there was that truth as well, but just from his
nature. He wasn't particularly nice. He wasn't a bully. Not in the
technical sense, but he was his father's son.

"No, it's not that . . . . I'm just . . . . . just didn't sleep well last
night. I'm tired is all. What do you guys want?"

"We don't have to just want something to come by and see you little Mackey
cousin of ours."

Oh, how he knew Darrell's words were so not true. Darrell was the more
poisonous of the two, the more likely to strike, but Hiram was more likely
to have backup.

"Cool."  Eli said, hiding his mistrust.  "You guys wanna shoot some hoops,
then?"

"Maybe some other time," Darrell said.  "But since we're here, how are
things going with Tolley?"

"You're keeping an eye on him like you're supposed to, aren't you, Eli?"

"If you do your job, the rewards are great; Remember that."

But failure brought its own `rewards.' That went without saying. Eli had no
doubt that Darrell would make sure of it. He had been tasked by the council
to keep an eye on Tolley, even Hayden knew he was doing this. But he wasn't
so sure that Hayden knew what Darrell and Hiram had in store for
Tolley. David wasn't the only one that Darrell wanted to see get porked
into submission. Watching Tolley's virgin ass get entered and plowed and
hearing the youngest of Amos Mackey's kids howl on his first time being
entered, so quickly followed by a second and third, all to be publicly
deflowered at the end of the whole tense and degrading episode; this gave
Darrell a mighty hard-on and many a satisfying orgasms in the last month of
planning.

And it wasn't just getting to see Tolley squirm, surprised on the dick that
would hoist him up and thrust in, fucking him senseless on the first of
many public and private buggerings, but to see Hayden fail. The
self-righteous, at least in Darrell's view, member of the Council, the
traitor that sold out the memory even of what was rightfully theirs by
going along with his heretic family's suggestion that none of them had any
rights to the absconded gold.

Hayden had to suffer. And seeing his brother made a bottom, ruthlessly
before the whole of the community was a great start toward doing it. But
they had to be careful. Hayden was two years younger than Hiram and
Darrell, but no fool and no weakling. He wasn't without his own support as
well. And above all, the Rules still had to be followed. It was tricky this
deception and planning of theirs, and they required a fall guy in case
things should go wrong. Andrew suggested the perfect one -- his brother
Eli. The boy's temperament was sure enough of its own to get him `in for a
pound'.

Eli didn't know he was being set up to take all the blame; he was aware
only that part of his gut said he shouldn't trust Darrell and Hiram. But
then, part of his gut said he needed to throw his lot in with them. And so
he had. If he delivered and Tolley failed anyway, talking to Tucker when he
shouldnt, then he got the boy's nice, hot, tight piece of Virgin ass, all
to be his for an entire year. He wouldn't have to share the boy until the
NEXT choosing; if he delivered on his part and Tolley did not betray them
to Tucker, then Darrell had promised to put all of his and Hiram's support
in against Tolley and get the boy selected as a Bottom, granting Eli first
dibs on pumping cum deep into the younger innocent boy.

Darrell had also been laying the groundwork for a second change in the
Rules, hoping to get support from Hayden's own supporters and provide a
surprise upset over the older boy. There was an older by-law, yet unused,
that guaranteed certain rights to the Kinset that could first claim a
boy. It relied on two things: 1] there had to be a prior claim and 2] the
boy had to be chosen. It was called the `A Priori Kinset Claim'.

This would have the effect of reducing the availability of a bottom to the
at-will ravages of boys at-large, something Hayden's camp would readily
accept. But it would also allow two other unforeseen possibilities. The
length of service could be lengthened from two years to three if a bottom
was chosen in each of the next two years, giving the Kinset more control of
the bottom, and that there could be an individual `owner' in the kinset, if
such an owner was the one to place the a priori claim. In which case, that
owner could dictate to whom the bottom had to pleasure.

The beauty of this, if they succeeded in getting Tolley selected, was that
Eli could establish the a priori claim for his kinset (the 8th Kinset)
because of the task the Council had appointed him, a task that Tolley's own
brother had agreed to, not knowing there could be dire results for his
youngest brother even if the boy behaved properly.

It was all very complicated, and to be sure, Darrell didn't come up with
this on his own. He had had a lot of help from Elijah Mackey. Elijah wasn't
after Tolley or Hayden; he didn't care about those two brats. He wanted his
brothers Jeb and Amos to both be humiliated. He got Jeb's middle son last
year, and now it was time for Amos' youngest. Jeb had betrayed him, Elijah
felt, and Amos threw his lot in with Jeb on almost every argument they had.

It was petty, but it made the bitter man happy.

As for Eli, he didn't understand it all, either. He didn't have a problem
with Mr. Amos, but he knew that if he played his cards right then he got to
sink his hard dick deep into Tolley's pussy, ride the boy and teach his
hole how to treat its master. The only thing that could get him harder
would be if he could turn that finest of asses over, the one that Kelley
Tucker was carrying, and fuck that hole into submission, grasping that boy
around his plump cheeks and making him beg for the Eli to stop. Now THAT is
what could give Eli the orgasm of his life.

But he could definitely settle for Tolley's super nice backside.

Eli smiled with this thought and changed his tone from suspicious of the
older boys to warm.  "Oh yeah, don't worry, I'm keeping my thumb on him. Of
course part of me wants him to mess up; I'm looking forward to fucking
him. You got no idea."

The two older Mackeys laughed and high-fived Eli.

"Good, good. That's what we like to hear."

"Hey, Eli, what about that cousin of yours with the mouth on him, Matty?
You still bringing him along on Choosing Day?"

"Oh yeah. He needs a good fucking, bring him down some. Too bad we cant
pick'em all."

Matthew Corbin, Jr. was the 12 ¼ year old son of Bart's next oldest
brother, Matthew Sr. Matthew, Jr., usually called Matty, though a recent
spate of cursings were generally reserved for people who still called him
by that `little kid's name He was coming along to watch, having been
invited over for that week. Eli was just going to bringa long the
belligerent boy, who would certainly not turn down the chance to see such a
belittlement of other boys his age, as a visitor. Poor Matty would have no
idea that once he was at the Choosing site, all 12-year-old Mackeys in
attendance were fair game, a by-law that, ironically, Hal Tucker long ago
had helped cement when he worked out the exclusion of all non-Mackey
12-year-olds with Bart Mackey.

Matthew could protest later to his dad, who was in the dark about such
intentions, but it would be too late by then. The boy was even more of a
bastard in the making than Eli, and he, Eli, would love to see the kid get
fucked. It was the only reason he had orchestrated the week long
invitation.

"If we could find a way to pick them all, Eli, we would. But we'll have to
be satisfied with two . . . . or three."

All the boys laughed at this. They already had the clearance for two. It
wasn't just a rumor anymore.

"Speaking of which," Hiram added, "We have to go, we promised another
prospective supplier of 12-year-old ass a meeting this afternoon. We
wouldn't want to disappoint, would we Darrell?"

"No, we wouldn't, Hiram."  Darrell turned to follow his cousin back to
their side of the Spring, but he half turned and made one last statement to
Eli, "Just be sure you're watching where you're supposed to be, Eli,
because we are."

Eli gulped. He was in a pit of vipers. He knew that.

But then, he was one, too.







---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noon.


"So what happened after?

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Well, I heard you acted like a baby out there."

"Never mind, I'll just go home."

"Don't go . . . ."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it, Scott."

"Fine, Harry, then don't talk about it. I was just wondering what
happened. We're friends; you should be able to tell me."

"Well, if we're friends then you shouldn't ask me when I said I don't want
to talk about it."

"Fine, be that way."

"Why do you even want to know?"

"I DON'T. I was just asking. Why WOULD I want to know?  It all sounds
gross. I was just wondering what they did to you for acting like that
off-court."

"I didn't `act' like anything. I wasn't sucking any boys thing and I wasn't
getting naked and there's nothing they can do to make me either."

"Then you shouldn't have made the bet."

"You want to play or not?"

"Fine."

"I don't see where it's any your business anyway."

"You did it right out in front of everybody! How's it their business and
not mine and I just live across the street from you?!"

"You don't live across the street from me!"

"Close enough."

"The Lucci's, the Gaither's and the Kirby's live between us. You're two
streets away!"

"Close enough. You don't play with any them!"

"Well . . . . maybe I don't feel like playing with you either, anymore."

"Don't be like that. Please."

"Fine. What do you want to play?"

"I don't know. . . . . Hey, Harry? I can see into Grant's window at night
across the street sometimes."

"What's he do?"

"Plays with his thing. He's got a magazine he looks at too. I use my
binoculars sometimes and watch."

"Is it big?"

"I think so. I never seen anybody else's."

"Sucks that your parents won't let you go to the creek. You can see most
everybody's down there. But Grant doesn't skinny dip."

"I woulda come to the basketball game if I had known, instead I only got to
hear about part of it."

"It wasn't that great."

"Well . . . . if you wanted to tell me about it anyway . . . . ."

"No, Scott!"

"Fine."

"Are we gonna do something?"

"Well . . . . sometimes Grant does it in the afternoon. Wanna go to my room
and see if he's doing it?"

"No . . . . I guess I seen my brother do It a few times. I don't need to
see Grant."

"Oh . . . . . OK."

"So you wanna do anything outside?"

"No . . . . . I don't guess so."

"I'm gonna go, then. Bye Scott."

"Bye. . . . . . oh, hey Harry?"

"What?"

"Uhm . . . . . . . .  . . . . . nothing, I guess. Bye."

"Bye."







--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 pm


Eric Turner and Andrea Harris had walked up to the front of Indian Spring,
side by side, but keeping at least a foot between them unto they were out
of sight of the Allen house. Once safely past, they smiled at each other
and moved closer together, their hands slowly touching, getting
progressively and unhurriedly more and more intimate, like two reticent
wild animals very cautiously coming together at the beginning of mating
season. By the time they had entered the picnic area at the front of the
park and found that they were alone, their hands were fully entwined, ready
to consummate their union.

15 year old Eric sat on the top of one of the tables and 14 year old Andrea
Harris leaned in and kissed her boyfriend on the lips, slowly, just as
their hands had gotten to know each other, and very surely bringing their
mouths, their tastes, their explorations and their attentions into a union
of complete synergy, becoming one with the intimate act of simply sharing
of themselves.

"Mmmm, that was nice," she purred, her hand softly enclosing first his face
and then running wildly in slow motion through his light brown hair.

"Yeah it was," he responded and pulled their bodies closer, he still
sitting and she standing between his parted legs.

She ran a hand down his chest to his pants and across the lap of the front
of them, feeling the growing bulge underneath.

"And did little Eric like it?"

"Oh `not-so-little' Eric likes everything about you."

She laughed and left off stroking him.  "Cant we go to your room Eric?"

"I can't risk it with Corey around. You know that. He wouldn't understand
it. And I definitely don't want him understanding it."

Corey was Eric's 13 year old brother with Down's Syndrome who functioned on
the level of a six year old.

"He must play with it, at least, by now."  Andrea said. She loved Corey; he
was the sweetest little `big' boy there was. But she couldn't help but feel
a little bit resentful from time to time at the demands his presence placed
on Eric's time and the restrictions it placed on their secret romance.

"Yeah, he plays with himself, but we redirect him when he does. But I
REALLY don't want to talk about THAT right now. At least, not about
Corey. Let's talk about `little Eric's needs at the moment."

"I thought you said he was `not-so-little Eric'?"

"Well, he will be if we can go to your house. Then he'll be really
`BIG-Eric'!!"

"Oh, I bet my mom will love that."

"Damn. Is she home?"

"Of course she is, dummy. And, even if she wasn't, Casey is. Not that he
would know what was going on."

"Wait, you don't think he's playing with it? He's not that much younger
than Corey."

"Well, of course, he's playing with it. I can hear him sometimes -- Gross
-- but he's probably thinking about green aliens with three breasts, not
regular relationships with girls."

Eric laughed.  "I don't know . . . . . three breasts . . . . . . ."

"Come on, seriously Eric. He was on the phone the other day with a friend
of his from school over in Sweetwater, and all he talked about with the
kid, for like half an hour, was whether they were or were not going to
remake the Star Wars series."

"You mean finish the series?"

"Please, not you too. I don't know, Eric. I don't care. Girls don't care
about these things. I can't see him ever having sex with anybody."

"Maybe he'll get better after going to this new school?"

"No, I don't see it."

"Maybe he's not interested in girls."

"Oh please, Eric. You boys are so narrow minded. He's not Gay. He's just a
geek. Why the hell would he have sex with a boy? I'm sure he jerks off to
something resembling a girl. He's just a geek is all. An uberGeek. That's a
word, right?"

"I don't know. You got me. Maybe we could get him and Jeremy together and
see if something happens."

"You mean besides Jeremy beating him up? Even though he's a year younger?"
Andrea laughed.  "And what makes you think that Jeremy is gay?"

"What makes you think he isn't?"

"Because," Andrea said smiling with a bit of tease in her voice, "for being
11, he has got a HOT little body. The girls are gonna really go for him one
day."

"So would you . . . . you know . . . . . do him?"  Eric asked with a cheeky
grin.

"Gross, he's 11!! I'm just saying he looks hotter at 11 than your skinny
ass did when you were 11. And I remember you then."

"Well, that still doesn't mean he isn't gay."

"Oh please, Eric, what would?"

"Well, I don't know, he seems awfully interested in Kelley Tucker's little
brother lately."

"Mmmm, Kelley Tucker. If I wasn't with you, I'd go for him in a
heartbeat. Maybe less."

"What?? He's 12!! How's he different than Jeremy?"

"Eric, they are nothing alike. Jeremy has a hot body for an 11 year old!
Kelley Tucker is just HOT. I bet he makes your mother get wet."

"OH -- now that is just WRONG!! Don't bring my mother into this! What about
your mother? How come Lorilee wouldn't jump his bone?"

"My mom?? Ugh, `Lorilee' is so out of touch with everything that if
Harrison Ford showed up at our house naked she would just ask him if he was
lost and needed directions."

"So you would have sex with Kelley if he wanted to?"

Andrea thought about it a bit before answering.  "Honestly? As long as you
and me were together, then no. But I would probably, like, rub myself silly
afterward and imagine I was having sex with him. Is that bad? Would you be
mad if I did that?"

"No. Like I said. He's only 12, and I already know how you like to ride
me."

"Mmmm, yeah you do," she said seductively and leaned in for another kiss.
"Anyway, I couldn't be Kelley's first."

"What? Why not? I would think you'd like that -- breaking in Tucker."

"I don't know. It's different with him. If I were his first, I'd almost
feel . . . . . . slutty . . . . . . . or something."

"Well how did you feel after you were my first?"

Andrea couldn't help but laugh.  "Oh I was so not your first and you know
it."

"What? You were too my first girl!"

"Oh, you were sweet and tender and all that, but I know about the Gina girl
from the church thing you did last year."

"Damn. How did you know about that?"

"And both of those girls you played spin the bottle with when you were 13."

"I only went inside one of them."

Andrea gave him a look that showed she was waiting for the truth.

"All right, fine. I only went in one of them more than once. I just
. . . . didn't want you to feel like I was a . . . . . I don't know, some
guy that couldn't be serious about you."

"I love you, Eric Turner. That's all I care about. Well, that and the fact
that when we do get to do it, you're really, really good at it."

They kissed again for a short while before breaking apart, each maintaining
that happy lover's smile.

"Well," Eric started, "You couldn't do it with Jeremy anyway; at least not
this week. He got himself grounded."

"Isn't that boy always grounded?"

"He is, a lot. This time it was a little different."

Eric went on to tell Andrea about Jeremy letting it slip one day about
Douglas Cannon telling Malcolm not to come to the 4th of July party, with
Mr. Cannon's tacit approval, and that Cal Brewer seemingly went along with
it.

"Does Mr. Brewer know about this?"

"I don't know."

"That's a horrible thing to do!!"

"It is Malcolm; I kinda find it hard to blame Douglas."

"Eric Turner! You take that back. It's a horrible thing to do, even to
Malcolm. Maybe he wouldn't be so mean if other people were actually nice to
him."

A part of her was thinking about her own little brother, knowing he might
not be spiraling inward into himself, if more people around here would
tolerate his being a little different and just be friends with him.

"Eric, I'm going to tell my mom about this, and you better do the same, if
you want anything to do with me."

She didn't really mean it that drastically, but it was a girl's best
weapon, sure to get any boy to do what she wanted whether they believed the
threat or not. But Eric just smiled. He knew good and well that she didn't
mean it. He had lucked out with Andrea. She was probably even hornier for
sex, most of the time, than he was.

"Oh, stop the drama. I already told my parents. Both of them. After Jeremy
let it slip, I made him tell the rest of the story. I didn't say I was in
favor of it. It was wrong, and I would have stopped Douglas if I could
have. I just said it's hard to blame him, not that I couldn't."

"And you told your parents! I'm so proud of you!"

"Ah gee thanks. Anyway, the first thing my mom did was call up Jeremy's mom
and your mom, so you don't need to tell her. So Mrs. Cantrell grounded
Jeremy for not saying anything to start with, and your mom is going to
invite Malcolm to go with you guys to the Lakeshore next weekend."

"Wait, the whole weekend?"  Andrea wasn't so sure about this development.

"Oh come on, Andrea," Eric started to kid her.  "You know, maybe he
wouldn't be so mean if people were actually nice to him."

"Oh shut up, I'll be nice. Anyway, maybe it will be good for my geeky
brother. But, I don't want to talk about little boys anymore . . . . . . ."
she said in a sultry voice as she began undoing her blouse. She could feel
the boy getting hard and hear his breathing start to become erratic. She
loved the power she had over him.

Eric looked around nervously as she reached behind her and unsnapped and
removed her bra. The blouse fell open and revealed those full magnets of
well developed adolescent girl breasts, plump but pert, able to hold
themselves up proud. And they weren't the only things standing proud.

"What? Out here?"  He could barely talk though and couldn't take his eyes
off her partly revealed tits.

"Shhh, it'll be fun. Now kiss me . . . . . "








----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 pm


"I don't think I want to turn 12 . . . . . "

Bo laughed. He had a nice hearty country smile that could break across his
face like sunshine out in the field. There was no question he was a country
boy. His accent, his love of life and free movement, and the easy way he
rolled with the punches and fit in the landscape. And his relative, though
slight, ill-at-ease in the city.

"Trevor, everbody's gotta turn 12. Cain't nobody not do it. So quit
bellyachin'. It ain't even gonna happen for `nother 6 months."

"Yeah, well, it's still gonna happen."

"Trevor, I'm 12, and it ain't killin' me none."

Trevor looked over his brother's body as the older boy slipped down the wet
suit. He certainly had a nice and very round butt. But Trevor knew he
wasn't as strong as Bo. He sighed and pulled off his own suit.

Trevor's accent wasn't nearly as pronounced as Bo's, but he also watched
way more TV and had a habit of imitating everything he saw. It had slowly
modified his regular accent. The two currently were in the locker room of a
Cincinnati community YMCA, stripping down their wet trunks and drying off
after swimming. They were in town for one of their city relatives'
coming-of-age ceremonies. Every Havers boy went through it when he turned
12; even Bo did.

Trevor wasn't the first Havers boy to hope that there had been the
precedent of an exception somewhere in the last 200 years. But there
wasn't. This was actually surer than death and taxes in the Havers
family. It put Mackey traditions to shame.

The Havers family had always been loosely associated with the Mackeys,
through an older association with the Corbins. They didn't really
intermarry with the Mackeys, but there was always a Havers somewhere around
the Spring, and by default of tradition they were included as Mackeys, same
as the Redds were. But the Havers had their own strange customs, ones they
didn't share with the Mackeys, though they were responsible, in part, for
the Mackey traditions of the Choosing, influencing as well as sometimes
participating.

Bo's family had lived in the west of the state, almost to the Illinois line
when they heard about the open house and the land available to any Havers
who wanted. There were three such houses that a man named Tucker was
reclaiming from state hands. The houses would need work, especially two of
them, but they were open for any one in the larger family.

And so Sampson and Catherine put in a claim and moved in at the very end of
spring, bringing their two sons with them. They spent all their free time
fixing up the house, and some of it trying to do some basic major repairs
on the other two. They wanted to see the other two homes filled with
Havers, but they were so unlivable at the moment that they weren't even on
the City map of the area.

The closest neighbors were a Corbin family -- Bart Corbin's family, to be
exact. If you went back far enough, the two families were probably related
through one or more distant ancestors. But this family's son, just a year
older than Bo, seemed to be have the beginnings of a devil in him, and the
trait looked as though it were familial. So Bo always kept his distance,
and his parents were just fine with that. They had family plenty in the
surrounds of the state that they could visit from time to time.

There were a few boys that Bo was becoming friendly with, more cursorily
than anything. Daniel Mackey was a nice kid, and Bo liked him a lot. They
would often play basketball with some of Daniel's cousins, sometimes with
the surly Malcolm, sometimes another Mackey or so would drop in. There were
also a few attempts Bo made at being friendly with the non-Mackey boys on
the Near Spring side. For example , every now and then, especially at
school right after they had moved in, when he was feeling a bit horny, this
one blond 12 year old would catch his eye.

The boy, he found out, lived just across the creek from some of the closer
Mackeys. He looked like he was gay, and maybe would even let Bo have some
fun, but the boy's best friend unnerved Bo a bit. The best friend was nice
enough, but protective. Now, Bo could hold his own in a fight, even if he
didn't like fighting. Like any good country boy, he was stronger than he
looked and twice as scrappy. But this best friend, sometimes when viewed in
the right light, just looked . . . . well, the word lethal came to mind. So
Bo kept his distance from the blond boy.

He already knew what would happen to the color of his white backside if his
dad ever caught him making out with a girl before he turned 15. That and a
near-lifetime of being grounded and working on the house. His brother was
definitely off-limits. So Bo was therefore satisfied, for the time being,
with just his hand and a good bottle of lotion. A few good bottles of
lotion.

Sometimes now, he would just go sit on Daniel's porch when the boy got home
from school (Edgecity Baptist was a year round school) and then lay back on
the porch sofa and throw a ball up in the air and catch it as Daniel did
his homework.  He liked Daniel most, because the boy was quiet and did not
come with expectations.

Now, Bo didn't mind hard work and was not, in general, a shirker; but
sometimes he needed to escape the never-ending needs of the house and all
it's work. For that he would go down to the creek, slowly starting to mix
with the other boys, explore the woods with his little brother Trevor, or
go and hang out at Daniel's.

Trevor had his towel wrapped around him and watched as Bo dried his back,
that big, FAT dick flopping around as he did so. The dick was a donkey
dick, and would have looked large on a 14 year old, much less so on Bo's 12
year old body. Bo was a husky farm boy, not fat, but filled out, so the
dick didn't look obscenely out of place -- not like Trevor's. Trevor's dick
belonged on an endowed 13 year old with hair already coming on his nuts,
not on Trevor's smaller 11 ½ year old hairless frame. It ran in the family,
though apparently on his mom's side of the family -- thank goodness,
considering what happened when you turned 12 on the dad's side.

But with Bo standing nearby, no one would notice Trevor's. And as Trevor
looked around, he could see he wasn't the only one looking at it
either. Two other boys, about 13, on the far right closest to the showers
had looked over -- one seeing it and his eyes bugging out, elbowing his
friend who muttered something under his breath. Both of those two boys
suddenly became more ashamed of their own bodies and hurriedly covered up
and dressed.

The other was a 14 year old boy who blushed when he saw the flopping fat
dick and covered up himself, but not out of shame for his relative
equipment, more out of embarrassment of his obvious reaction. This boy
actually started to get dressed more slowly, taking furtive, blushing
glances every now and then. He was a dark haired boy, quite handsome, but
the darkness went deeper than his hair.

This boy, at home, had a troubled adolescence. He couldn't decide if he
liked smaller and younger, smooth hard bodies, or larger big dicks like the
ones he could see in the guilty porn videos hidden deeply behind the junk
under his bed. It bothered him that he had this fascination for either; he
didn't understand it. But yet he couldn't deny it either. He certainly kept
it hidden from all his friends and family, though he spent more and more
time down here at the Y, always using the dressing room before and after.

And always, when there were other people in the Y change room, he would be
faced with the same dilemma, cast furtive glances at the 12 year old coming
of age guys, or the young men with the big dicks. Yet here, on this
glorious slow day, was a boy with both. A boy he had never seen
before. Colson Barrett felt his heart pumping wild, but tempered by the
same dismay that he always had, knowing that the best he could hope for
would be memories for a handjob at home.

A few minutes later, Colson and the two brothers directly across the room
were the only ones left in the change room. Trevor looked at his older
brother who wrapped his towel around himself and sat down to put on his
socks. For anyone coming into the change room, once they rounded the
barrier that blocked out the door, all they would see was a 12 year old boy
slowly putting on his socks, and his 11 year old brother already pulling up
his underwear and about to do the same with his pants.

But if you were directly across the room like Colson, who now had abandoned
all furtive pretexts and was just openly staring, even absent mindedly
squeezing his hard leaking dick through his single-ply pouch underwear,
then you would see the part in the towel that widened as Bo brought his leg
up to slip on a sock, obscenely exposing the enlarging cock and swollen
nuts, along with the small nest of light brown hairs that he was developing
above his dick.

Bo eventually sat back and squeezed his dick once. He pulled the towel
farther up his thighs and parted his legs so that the boy across the room
could look as much as he wanted. Colson at first looked nervously over at
Trevor, but the younger boy just shrugged, signaling that it was all the
same to him. Colson couldn't believe this was happening! Surely these two
boys were going to call out, beat him up, something -- treat him like the
perverted miscreation he thought he was.

But instead, Bo just looked up at the boy and smiled and nodded, indicating
all was cool. Bo very rarely got this chance, and Trevor knew it, so he
didn't say anything. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't like watching. His
only objection was just the knowledge of what was someday coming. But for
now, he was content to see where his older brother was going to let this
go.

Soon almost all pretense of a towel was abandoned as Bo lifted it further
up his leg and let his rapidly expanding dick rise up free and
uninhibited. He raised his eyebrows as if in a question to the older boy
and got a hesitant nod and smile back. Yes, he liked it very much. But he
still was afraid this would be a trap. After all, there was something wrong
with him, not these two other boys.

But then Bo did something that caused the older boy's heart to drop in his
chest and he almost fell out from the shock and uncertainty of what to
do. But he it been no mistake. He hadn't been seeing things, because in
just a few moments Bo did it again. It was subtle, very subtle, but
unmistakable.

Bo had signaled the boy to come over.

As Colson got up and hesitantly walked over in just his thin loose briefs,
one hand half covering his obscenely excited state, Bo just opened up the
towel completely, leaned back against the lockers and spread his legs
wide. Colson instinctively dropped to his knees before the well-endowed
younger boy, and reached up -- pausing for an OK nod from Bo -- and grabbed
a firm hold of the fat dick that he could only just get his hand fully
wrapped around. Bo moaned as he felt the other boy's hand, but Colson was
probably the most ecstatic.

He was ACTUALLY holding ANOTHER boy's dick!! He couldn't believe it! He
almost literally couldn't fucking believe it! How often in his secretive
and guilty dreams did he try to imagine an instance where he could see or
feel this boy's dick or that boy's dick, in the locker room, out on the
street, in the park, wherever. But he always knew in his heart of hearts
that he was a dirty, filthy boy that no one would let touch them. Not only
that, surely soon he would get caught; his secret would get out; people
would know; they would all -- rightfully -- hate him.

All of these demons daily persecuted poor Colson, to the point sometimes
where he thought he might go crazy. All he ever knew about gay people and
gay life was that they were heathens going to hell. They were completely
unreal to him, an unknown so foreign that he had never even put it together
with the feelings that he had. He was just a deviate, a mistake. Gay people
were something else all together. They were this mysterious unseen people
with an agenda, but nothing to do with him.

He never even associated the men in the two porn videos he had, videos he
had stolen from the back of a store, never once had associated them with a
life the he tried to imagine, with a sex that he wanted to enjoy. They
weren't even people really, as much as fodder for his starving sexuality.

He was just alone in all this. And the evil nature inside him tortured him
daily with this knowledge. Tortured him and was just starting in earnest to
squeeze all the hope of normal life out of him.

But now, as he held this marvelous hard flesh, this symbol of pride and
power of another actual boy, another living being that actually INVITED him
to grab a hold of this mysterious and wonderful flesh that was at once so
familiar and so foreign, this moment silenced all those demons; and for the
first moment in many, many years, he was at peace to wonder and behold.

He felt an inner desire for more though, compelled and driven onward,
though in the presence of these two accepting boys, it felt like a normal
urge, something to pursue instead of hide; and he leaned forward a bit,
just barely opening his mouth, but first looking up to get the next
approving nod from Bo. He definitely got it.

Colson leaned forward and took the head of Bo's dick in his mouth, getting
an instantaneous "oh fffuck" from the normally restrained country boy, and
the dark haired self-outcast felt the strong hands of the `normal' boy
gently wrap around his head and entwine within the still damp hair. Colson
was in heaven, not just because he was getting his heart's desire in this
impossible-to-believe reality, but that he was actually making another boy
moan. He always knew that he would, guiltily or not, derive great pleasure
from getting to play with another boy's dick, but he had never imagined
that he would cause so much pleasure for the other boy himself.

But from the moans he was generating in Bo, he knew he was doing good, and
it made him enjoy the moment even more. He found himself wanting nothing
more than to make this wonderful boy have pleasure. Fortunately Bo was more
of a show-er than a grower, and Colson was able to actually fit more of the
shaft down his mouth in his eager and joyful first sucking. He was rapidly
learning as he was going and getting better and better by the
second. Colson wasn't so taken away with the moment that he didn't know
what was coming. This boy had hair, and soon he was going to cum. The
question was where.

But it wasn't really a question for Colson. He had tried his own cum and
found it a bit icky. But this was different. This was another boy. And he
wanted his souvenir. He wanted this boy to load him. He would swallow and
love it no matter what it tasted or felt like. And within a few minutes,
that's just what he got. In no time at all he felt the boy pull his head
down a bit more on the shaft and loaded his throat with a few thick volleys
of young cream.

Colson had been ready to swallow and fortunately did not choke on his first
ever load of semen down his gullet, but he still pulled back so he could
taste the next two smaller loads as they filled his mouth and got swallowed
down as his tongue was still exciting the sensitive and spasming head and
first inch of Bo's glorious dick.

Eventually, Bo had to push the boy off his now sensitive cock and force him
to take a breather, as much as Bo was needing it. But Bo let the boy
continue playing with his cock and even feel up his balls, first the whole
nutsack, and then one, then the other. The boy didn't seem like he was
going to tire of playing with Bo's wonderful equipment, even to the point
of running his hand through the soft, now dry hairs at the base of the
re-enlarging dick.

"You're already getting hard again?"  Colson asked.

""Yeah, well, you're the one doin'it to me," Bo said with a smile and a
very friendly voice, but it still triggered some dark guilt inside Colson
that he was doing something bad -- not only that but something dirty as
well, and to a 12 year old boy at that. He should be ashamed.

Colson pulled away and gulped an embarrassed apology, about ready to beg
the boy not to say anything, but surprised when Bo reached for his hand and
put it back on his dick.

"Don't stop if ya like it," the boy said in a strong country accent,
smiling friendly and getting a comfortable laugh from his brother, "cause
yore pretty good at it."

Colson smiled and nervously asked, "Can I suck it again?"

"Hell, yeah!"

And that's how Mr. Havers found his boys, startling all three, but very
nearly literally scaring the crap out of the one that had his oldest boy's
dick deep in his mouth, slobbering down the thick sides of the round, hard
appendage.

"Dad!" Bo jumped, but more from startled, simple, naked-boy embarrassment
than anything else. His jumping up would have rammed and choked the 14 year
old still on his knees if Colson hadn't caught the presence of the man at
the same time and jumped back of his own accord.

"Don't be melodramatic, Bo Havers. I've seen you in worse, uh, positions,
than this, boy."  The man was smiling, looking more amused and than
anything else. He certainly didn't look angry.

"Dad . . . still . . . ."  Bo didn't show any signs of uncovering, as he
kept the towel held in front of him. It still didn't cover the roundness of
that ass that could just be discerned in the oblique angle he kept to both
his dad and his new friend.

"Well, I was just trying to figure out what was keeping you boys. Now I
know."

"Dad . . . ."  Bo had a look that was embarrassed and seemed to be pleading
`please, just can we not talk about this', but at the same time didn't look
as mortified as Colson figured he should. Colson, however, felt like his
life had just come to an end.

Bo's dad just waved off anything Bo was thinking or feeling and said,
"Look, there ain't nothing goin' on in the pool the next half hour but some
old ladies water aerobics class, so I figure you boys got about ten minutes
or more to finish whatever it is you were doing . . . . son, are you OK?"

This last part was direct toward Colson who was feeling anything but OK. He
shook his head and stuttered out a "n-n-n-no, s-ss-ss—ssir."

"Bo started it, dad," Trevor said.

"Did not!" It was more of an automatic reply, something that came from
years of the two of them getting into trouble out on the family lands.

"You did so!"

Bo was about to retort, but realizing that he did indeed start it, he
instead just gave an embarrassed shrug.

"What's your name, son?"

"C-C-C-Colson, s-ss-s-" He gave up trying to say the word sir, preferring
to use what remaining will power he had just not to pee himself. Or crap
himself either.

"Well, I'm gonna take a guess that there's just one Cuh in Colson," the
tall and sociable man said with an expansive smile, "relax, son. You're
gonna give me a heart attack if you end up havin' one. Bo, I'm going to
take the car up the road a piece and fill it up with gas. I'll be back to
pick you up. Should give you two boys about 15 minutes to work things
out. You want me to take Trevor with me?"

"Naw, sir, I guess he ken stay."

"All right then, just remember the rules."

"Yes, sir."

"Buck up, boy!"  Sampson Havers said loudly, giving Colson a father slap on
the back, and showing that the name Sampson was an apt one.  "Have some
fun!"

With that the boys' dad left.

"Shit."  Bo said quietly with some relief as he dropped the towel back onto
the bench. Trevor just laughed.

"Yeah, you keep laughing, see how you feel in about 6 months."

Than stifled some of it. Colson was just getting his breath back and
mumbling something about how he had to go. Oddly enough the whole encounter
had given him sufficient doubt about his earlier suppositions about
himself, enough doubt to allow him to fight off some of those demons, to
begin to maybe reject some of those ideas that the was not a worthy person
or that he was alone in his supposed perversions.

"Wait!"  Bo said, as the boy turned to go. Bo reached out and gently
grabbed a hold of the still obvious puch in those revealing Eurostyle
underpants. He pulled the waistband, such as there was one, down and tucked
it under the balls of the boy, eliciting a gasp from the now frozen and
still horny lad.

The dick was amazing, a thing of beauty and perfection -- not too thin, not
too thick, perfectly straight with a spongy head that just barely
overreached the shaft itself with a definite edge to the glans, The dick
head was not to big and not too small and leaking enough precum to make a
wet shiny trail down the front of the perfectly erect masterpiece. Bo reach
his hand under and hefted the nuts that filled his palm with the right
weight and the right tenseness in the smooth, yet crinkled sack. The black
curly pubic hairs were just starting to make their way around to the sides
of that nutsack, just as a 14 year-old's privates should be framed.

"We still gotta get yore's off."

"I'll just. . . uh . . . take care of it . . . at home."

"Shoot, I know a better way'n that! You'll be wantin more when you try it."

Bo leaned forward and smiled that conspiratorial smile only boys can master
and said in the most wonderful country accent:

"You ever hearda cornholin'?"







-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 pm

Blaine was a little disappointed that Kelley had been busy and couldn't
make it. He just said on the phone that he had something to do for his
dad. And that was it. Well, that and a `see you next week'. So apparently
the boy had something to do over the whole weekend.

Blaine was feeling a bit grumpy as his dick had already gotten hard in
anticipation of seeing Kelley in a wet swimsuit. He wasn't fully cognizant
of that fact, whether by choice or ignorance. But a fact it was.

He and Tyler had decided they needed another day of swimming, and without
Kelley on board, they weren't going to look for trouble down in the Crazy
Indian. So they needed blue water -- swimming pool water that is, something
neither Sweetwater nor Coolspring were in short supply of -- that and
plenty of boys to make use of it.

Just because Kelley couldn't join them, though, didn't mean that Nathan
couldn't, and they found the boy on his bike enroute to his home.

"Nate! Where you going?"

"Uh, home. I was spending the night at, um, Zeke Prosper's."

"Holy shit! Did he do this to you?"

By that point both Blaine and Tyler caught up with Nathan and could see the
bruises along his neck.

"Are those hickies or was he strangling you?"  Tyler said, half-jokingly,
though only half.  "Dude did he bite you, too?"

"That closet fucker beat you up, didn't he?"  Blaine said, suddenly angry,
"I think I'll just pay him a visit instead of the pool."

"NO! No, I mean, no. Don't. Please, it's really not what you think."

But they wouldn't let Nathan go until they had heard the whole
story. Nathan felt a tinge of betrayal talking about Zeke this way, but he
couldn't very well let it go as it was , what with Blaine ready to pound
the sometimes spike-haired boy. At the end of the story, which didn't
include the part about Randy, Tyler laughed, and Blaine relaxed some,
though you could tell he had mixed feelings about it.

What they couldn't tell, though, was that Blaine had mixed sexual feelings
about it, as much as mixed sociomoral feelings. Rough sex just sounded too
kinky and a bit . . . awesome . . . for him to really digest and handle at
this juncture in his life. All Nathan knew was that he, himself, was sore
and tired and was already resolving to never have rough sex again. The
consequences were too much stress. And he still had to tell his parents
what had happened.

Despite his parents' knowing about him in general, and their tacit approval
of his homosexual interests, specifically in regards to Ezekiel Prosper,
Nate wasn't prepared for the humiliation of discussing details like
this. But with the bruises and the fallout in the Prosper house, he
wouldn't have much of a choice. They would, by the point they figured
everything out, be stern and officially a bit disappointed. Once he was in
the shower and couldn't hear them, they would burst out laughing at the
situation (he would leave out the parts about Randy when he told the story;
his parents wouldn't have laughed about Randy's involvement).

There was definitely something very funny about it all. Of course the
`tragic' parts could be worked around. Their son wasn't scarred for life;
neither was Ezekiel. They would dutifully pretend to be shocked when Mimi
and Jacob had to talk with them that evening (again, Ezekiel's experiences
with Randy were not discussed).

As far as Dave and Tamara Carlin were concerned, it was just as well they
were going away for the weekend. Nathan would have a pre-arranged and
neutral reason for not seeing Ezekiel, and the trauma of the discovery
could dissipate with some time and separation. Then they would just have to
see what happened. What happened in the future in the Carlin home between
the boys, however, Jacob and Mimi Prosper need never know.

But for now, Nate was turning down the offer to go to the pool. His parents
were probably already home (as they wanted to leave first thing in the
early morning tomorrow), and he just wanted to get the impending horror of
further embarrassment and chastisement over with. Plus, there were a few
more bruises he didn't want to show in a swim suit, or have other boys
asking about the hickies. It might be especially bad for Zeke, if any of
them knew Nate had spent the night there.

So Blaine and Tyler headed over to Chase Havard's pool by themselves. They
weren't by themselves for long, though, as there were more than 10 boys and
4 girls already there when they arrived. Tyler went off to do his social
thing with the guys, and Blaine jumped in straight away, getting cooled off
and wet. He very quickly wished he hadn't, though.

Blaine didn't want to swim right away, just cool off and get some of the
pool smell and feel on him, to become one with the pool as it were, while
he hung out on the side, maybe talking to one or two of the girls. What he
didn't realize was that Bethany Lisle, Chase's next door neighbor, was one
of the girls.

Bethany Lisle was 14, just a little more than a year older than 13 yo
Blaine Hart, but two grades above him, as he had been held back. Still she
had started puberty early and already had an alluring womanly figure, the
kind that made the 13-year-olds drool yet too afraid to go near. Indeed,
the whole knot of 11, 12, and 13yo boys at the end of the pool where Tyler
was high-fiving one or two, couldn't stop staring at the girl, relaxing in
the shade under a pool umbrella, reading a novel but all out there in a
bikini that did nothing but accentuate the pert, full breasts and the
smooth lines of flesh that would descend into the barely covered pussy.

She was pretty and way out of the league any of these boys could hope to
play in. Though he was only a few months older than Blaine, Chase Havard
was only a grade below Bethany, and therefore had some access to her
company outside of just being neighbors. But even he knew he would never
quite make it to her level. She used to babysit his little brother Charlie
when she was 12 and 13, and was the prime mover in Chase's development into
a sexualized youth, as he would beat-off extra hard with an added oomph to
the orgasm every time she was over and just down the hall.

He still thought about her often, mixed in with his lustful thoughts of the
more accessible girls in his grade and a grade below him. He was hot for
her, to be sure, and she thought he was cute and sweet. That was the death
knell for any boy interested in a girl -- to be considered cute and
sweet. And so he gave up, in part, and resigned himself to being the cute
and sweet neighbor. There were advantages to that, as she would sunbathe at
his pool and pretend he wasn't there. He didn't stare, but definitely
looked.

Once, she actually unhooked her bikini top and rolled over, revealing the
naked sides of those desired mounds, barely pressed into a towel on the
reclined pool chair, where later he would press his own face in memory, and
cause himself to shoot a load in his own swim trunks.

But he was still cute and sweet Chase, no matter how tall and masculine he
was getting over the last year. Blaine on the other hand, though just as
tall as Chase, and just as tall as Bethany, was supposed to be two grades
lower. This technical difference made his strong, masculine,
full-swing-of-puberty presentation all the more forbidden and tempting. For
some reason she felt drawn to this boy today. She didn't see him as cute
and sweet, but openly smiled at him as he walked her way after getting out
of the pool.

He wasn't actually walking her way deliberately. Believe it or not, he
still hadn't noticed her. His mind was still connected to the pool, and his
body just passing through that first chill, when the summer pool breezes
hit the freshly wet skin. Blaine was wiping the excess water out of his
eyes as he was walking toward the group of girls sitting out in the sun. He
had missed the one under the umbrella. Some part of his brain always
connected the umbrella sitters as the adults, and therefore of no interest.

His suit was wet and clinging to him, showing his bigger balls and that
well-hung penis off to the side. It was why the girls were giggling, all
but one who was simply admiring, and why in a very short while he would be
wishing the suit wasn't wet; because a dry one hid a lot more.

"Hello, Blaine," came a very sultry voice from under the umbrella.

The boy stopped and took in the feminine, well-curved, and well-exposed
form before his now wide, young-adolescent eyes. And his dick began to
immediately show what it was capable of. And it was a good thing his face
was already wet, as it would hide any drool that threatened to leak out of
his mouth.

"Uh . . . .Bethany . . . . .hey . . . ."

"Well, I guess you're happy to see me . . ."

Blaine looked down at himself. Shit. That wet swimsuit literally hid
nothing. And he didn't know if he would be more embarrassed to cover up and
draw attention or not cover up and pretend he didn't notice. As he debated
this, she pointed to the empty chaise-longue next to her and told him to
have a seat.

"Why don't you keep me company for awhile, Blaine? It gets boring hanging
out here all alone with these kids."

She gave a fake pout, as he nodded absently and sat down. It was something
of a relief as his wet suit was just more and more starting to outline his
straining larger dick. He leaned forward when he sat, both to hide the
offending strain on his linerless bathing suit, and his full balls, easily
the largest of any other boy's out there. The cool pool water combined with
the fresh sexual tension had pulled them up nice and compact, such that
they formed a pouch of their own and just accentuated his rebel dick even
further.

"You look a little uncomfortable, Blaine, why don't you lay back and
relax."

"No . . .no . . . . I'm fine . . . . really . . . . just . . . [oh gahd]
. . . . fine. Really, I'm a lot more comfortable like this."

Bethany smiled a double smile, both one of assurance that she was just
happy to have the boy with her -- she was pretty sure he needed that
assurance at this point -- and also a smile of a girl that knows
better. But only half of her thought it was cute, the other half of her,
the one that had woken up inexplicably horny that morning and cursing her
boyfriend for being off on a family vacation, well that part of her thought
it was hot, just imagining what fresh, virgin meat that handsome boy was
hiding under those wet shorts and in the deeper crevice of his bent-over
position.

But she thought maybe she should cool it, for at least a few minutes,
before she started leaking herself. And she didn't have nearly as much
swimsuit to cover that!

Bethany leaned back and went back to her book, sneaking peaks at the hot
younger boy who just couldn't help his eyes from roving over that nearly
nude perfection of young womanhood that can only be seen in the mid- to
late-adolescent girl. Every now and then he would roll his eyes to himself
at whatever the hell he was thinking that this could go anywhere past a
simple nicety and at times have to close them with an almost micro seizure
to reset his mental strain from the visual acknowledgement of being this
close to barely constrained pussy and round, pert and perfect, tits -- tits
as big as the perfect squeezable large orange.

[Blaine had had an orange for breakfast that morning, which is where his
mental comparison of the two came from.]

Just the memory, however, of having peeled, sucked, and savored that orange
was about to make him blow his load right there. He needed to get back into
the pool, but his eyes were in control at the moment, and they weren't
giving up this proffered flesh feast. He saw a smile gather across her face
while she was reading, though, that told him she was very much aware of his
interest and his furtive looks.

`Oh gaahd' Blaine moaned to himself and bent forward a little bit more and
forced himself to tear his eyes away to see what Tyler and the others were
doing. They seemed to be organizing some sort of competition. No doubt
that's what it was if Tyler was involved. The other four girls in the pool
had moved over to the other side and Selene and Cassie's little brothers
got of the pool to join the other boys.

Blaine let his eyes wander over each of the other girls in turn. There was
Sherry Walther, about 12 and a half, who was OK, but Blaine was always put
off by the knowledge she had a twin, something that had always oddly
disturbed Blaine. And Sherry's twin, Shane, was a hard one to pin down, if
you were a personality collector. He was quiet, almost geekish, yet with a
surprisingly fair number of popular friends. Except no one really talked
about him.

Julie Lowry was cute and shy. She was very fair skinned, with light blond
hair and rarely out at the pool. She was also 12, but the way she smiled
and looked away all the time, she could pass for younger - though the top
of her swimsuit was beginning to say different. Her boobs were even getting
bigger than her cousin Cassie's small mounds. But Cassie was fun and
outgoing and beautiful. Plus she was the only one of the four in a bikini.

Smaller tits were easy to overlook when the girl had no fear in flashing
more of her perpetually tan skin. It was set off by that long coppery-brown
hair that seemed to be a trademark of her and her little brother Turner,
who despite being the youngest boy in the bunch inserted himself without
fear into whatever competition Tyler had started up. Cassie was like that,
too. She was always up for having fun, with an unquenchable spirit that
made her one of the most well-liked and sought-after girls in seventh grade
last year.

But it was the dark-haired beauty next her that was the real
pris-de-fete. She had a Mediterranean calmness and elegance that exceeded
her age, but not such that it set her off as pretentious or
untouchable. She just simply existed in whatever moment she found herself
and occupied it beautifully. But she didn't spend much time with boys, and
only paid real attention to even fewer. She was happy with her girl
friends. Cassie was one of those close friends, but Sadie Harrow, who
everybody called Sadie B, even though Blaine had no idea if the B was for
her middle name or what, and of course Kaylie Porter, Selene's BFF since
early childhood.

They were all very pretty girls, but Selene stood out. She was 13 and a
half, a couple months older than Blaine, but a grade higher, since Blaine
had been held back, but that wasn't what had kept him from going after
her. Selene also had a twin -- Blaine gave a bit of a shiver when he
thought about the whole twin thing -- whose name was Alexander. He was even
more quiet and reserved than Selene, certainly nothing like their younger
brother Marc, but unlike Shane, Sherry's twin, Alexander could port himself
well through any social function and maintained a regular assortment of
friends with a charisma uniquely his own.

But even that was not the major reason why Blaine wouldn't even think about
broaching access to Selene. The major reason was, ironically, the only
reason why he had access to her at all. Kelley Tucker. Tucker liked Selene
-- a lot. She was the main girl he ever talked about, and he had talked
about a few, just as Tyler and Blaine had. But he talked about her with a
different tone, more reverent, more desirous. And she was coming around to
liking Kelley. He would probably be her first boyfriend, and even she knew
what a catch he was. So Blaine respected that, and even now guiltily pulled
his eyes away.

Kelley was going to hate that he missed this opportunity. Selene very
rarely came over to Chase's.

Looking at those girls hadn't helped his main `problem' go down any at
all. He was still hard as ever, but at least he wasn't on the point of
cumming in his wet suit, as he was when he was eyeing Bethany (who he could
almost still sense the heat of the luscious, nearly-naked body so close
by). He resisted looking back at her -- though it was very, very hard to
do. But he couldn't get up and leave, because IT was very, very hard as
well, and he just couldn't go around the pool all day sticking out like
that. At least he wouldn't show a wet spot, which, as he thought about it,
was probably the only good thing about having jumped into the pool first
thing.

It looked like there was an argument and a fight that had almost broken out
among Tyler and the boys. But it appeared to be resolving, though none of
them looked particularly excited about whatever contest they were up to.

"Blaine . . . ."  came a sweet and sultry voice to his ears, and he turned
his attention rightward and his dick went a bit more skyward, and he, in
turn, leaned in slightly more to try and hide it.

"Um, yeah Bethany?"

"Are you sure you're comfortable . . . all . . . the way . . . . over
. . . . there?"

She spoke the last words slowly and with a Marilyn Monroe like lilt that
spun their lazy import into a sexual frenzy into his ears. As she did this,
she slowly drew her arms up and behind her, which brought her chest out
more, her nipples were hard and pressing into and pushing out what little
cloth could contain those pert and burgeoning breasts, and she was bringing
her right knee up, the right foot running seductively along the inner edge
of the naked left leg, an action that exposed a bit more of her crotch, and
crotch that looked hungry, as indeed it was.

"Um . . . ."  Blaine swallowed, trying to say he was fine, but he couldn't
get anything else out.

"Hey, guys, uh . . . . . ."  Chase had walked up, intending to be casual
and ask Blaine if he wanted to join the competition, but when he caught
sight of Bethany, his shorts could barely contain the erection that grew in
less than four seconds time, "Shit."

The last word was more said to himself, as he blushed and did his best to
cover up with both hands.

"Chase, watch your language," Bethany admonished her slightly younger
neighbor, as though he were as little a kid as Charlie had been when she
had first babysat his younger brother.

"Sorry, Bethany, but . . . . . well . . . . . .if you go around like that
here, none of the boys are going to be able to swim at all. Or at least not
get out of the pool."

He had never been so forward with her about the sexual tension that existed
for him when around her. But Bethany really did still see him as her sweet
little boy next door, and she gave a small laugh and jumped up out of the
Chaise-longue and bounded over to the boy and grabbed him and kissed him
tenderly on the side of his reddened face.

"You're so SWEET, my little Chasey."  Smack went the kiss.  "Why did you
really come over here?"

`I, um . . . . ."  for a moment he was stuck. His mind wouldn't turn on and
he couldn't quite remember why it was that really did come over. But then a
splash in the pool got both their attention. They looked for Blaine, but he
was gone.

It was about the point when Bethany leaned in, with that almost naked and
sumptious body so close, and kissed the boy that Blaine's tortured
near-orgasmic tightrope erupted sending every part of the boy falling
upward off the tightrope and hs dick shooting cannon volleys into his swim
trunks. He was almost near to passing out from the climax, except the
sudden flood of warm liquid filling his shorts and running over his nuts
and hips and flowing out the legs of his shorts where they weren't
plastered wetly to his skin woke him to the horror of being caught like
that, and very quickly, while the two weren't paying any attention, he
darted over to the side of the pool and jumped in.

The cool water jolted him out of most of his post-orgasmic depressed
neurons into awake again, although he could still feel the euphoric calm
storming through him. He swam deeply under water and pulled the front of
his shorts open and pushed up to get water flowing around them. He surfaced
and swam to the side, where the side of the pool itself would shield his
actions as he tried to nonchalantly clean out the remainders of his massive
cum.

"Um, anyway," a still embarrassed Chase, "I, uh, just, um, came over, uh
. . . . . to, uh . . . . . see if Blaine wanted . . . . . . to . . . . . uh
. . . . . ."

"Join you boys and dive?"  Bethany finished for him. Chase nodded, but
Bethany just continued on, "Oh, I bet that would be so much fun, but Blaine
promised me he would go inside and get me something to drink from your
house. Do you have any lemonade, Chase?"

"uh, yeah, um, Bethany . . . . . . in the refrigerator."

"Do you know where that is, Blaine?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll, uh, just go get some."  Blaine didn't offer anything of
the sort earlier, but he wasn't going to deny Bethany anything. He pulled
himself out of the pool and walked to the house. He had no idea that just
this very action was getting the horny Bethany even wetter.

"Chase," she said in a quiet reverie, "just look at the ass on that boy!"

Chase did as he was told, but then just as quickly realized what he was
doing and looked away, albeit even more embarrassed than before.

"Chase, sweetie, can I use your bathroom, the one in your room -- just for
more privacy."

"Uh, sure Bethany, No one will go up there. The guys all use the one in the
pool house."  He wondered briefly why she just didn't go home if she wanted
privacy? She just lived next door, and the gate between their backyards was
never locked. But he was going to argue the point. Truth be known, he could
use some time in his bathroom himself.

"Oh, and let Anthony play with you boys, too."

Anthony was Bethany's little brother who just turned 11 last month. He was
a little different, but was tolerated well enough by the Havard brothers.

"Honestly, Bethany, you don't want Anthony in this contest. Maybe he should
just help Charlie keep score."

"Whatever you think best. Oh you are so sweeeet!"

Bethany gave him another kiss and walked inside.

"Hey, Chase!!"  Michael Camden yelled across the pool, "Are you coming or
not?"

"Yeah, I'm definitely coming," Chase said back, more honestly than any of
them realized.  "But I, uh, gotta check on the pool pump, I'll be right
back."

"Well, hurry up!"

"Oh, it won't take me long."  He muttered and walked into the poolhouse.

It was a few minutes later when Chase rejoined the boys for the diving
competition, which the four other girls were going to judge. Mark Crane
smiled at his slightly abashed friend and joked:

"So, was the pump working OK?"

"Shut up," came a relaxed reply, such as only friends could use with each
other. And the competition started.

Inside the house, meanwhile, Blaine was busy at the kitchen counter
dropping ice cubes in a glass for Bethany, when he felt the girl walk up
behind him. His eyes bugged out when he saw her drop her bikini top on to
the counter in front of him and then stepped up behind him and pressed her
naked breasts into his back.

"Mmmm," she said as she put her nose into his wet head and rubbed her chest
some across his back. He could feel the erect tips of those unglimpsed
nipples scrape across his young and still blemish-free skin.  "I love the
smell of chlorine in a boy's clean hair."

The erotic charge of the feel of her nipples, the warmth of her naked skin
against his, and the sultry and unusual things she was whispering in his
ear -- he felt like he was going to cum again, so soon after the last time,
but he knew his dick was harder now than ever before in his life, and it
certainly couldn't get any harder.

But as she took another whiff of his hair, she ran her hands around the
front of his chest and played with his own nipples, as she ground hers into
his back. Blaine still had an ice cube in his hand, but he could no longer
feel it or remember, as his mind was being overtaken by endorphins and
other landmines he never had known were there.

Bethany kept manipulating one hard and exquisitely well-pleasured nipple
with her left hand and moved her right hand down his stomach, causing all
sorts of ragged breath changes in the boy. He was breathing beyond
erratically by the time she made it to his waistband, except she didn't
slow down and slipped right inside.

"Well, well, Blaine, more hair for me to smell, mm...mmmm; I bet I know a
fun way to smell that little patch of hair, hmmm?"

Blaine gulped at the suggestion she had made. Did he understand that
insinuation correctly? But he didn't have much time to consider whether or
not she was just playing with him, as he gasped when he felt her hand slide
along his hardened prick and grasp a firm hold of it and squeeze down with
practiced surety.

"Oh Blaine, you definitely have what I'm needing. You are so BIG for a
sixth grader . . . ." she said it in a voice that should come off a
well-made Playboy video, and not from a friend's next door neighbor. He
wanted to tell her he wasn't a sixth-grader anymore, that he was going into
7th grade, and should be in 8th, but he knew she didn't care, and quite
frankly neither did he. He was wrong about one thing, though. His dick
really could get harder.

"I know just where to put this."  She whispered in his ear, so hot and low
that his brain felt steamed and his vision was blurred. She spun him around
by his dick until he was facing her, and he couldn't help but stare at
those marvelous and cum-inspiring breasts. He had always liked looking at
the more developed girls in the class and just wondering what they did or
did not have under their shirts, behind those obtrusive bras; but here he
was face to face with perfection itself.

"Oh," She said, grasping his right hand, which had since dropped the ice
cube he had been holding.  "Your fingers are so cold. I know how to warm
them up . . ."

She took his hand and ran it down her own stomach; this certain direction
of the hand being the only thing that could possibly draw his eyes away
from the teen headlamps shining on him now. He watched as his hand was led
down to and then parted into the front of her bikini. He began to seriously
leak at this point as instinct took over and he ran through her Brazilian
cut pubic patch and between the moist, hot pussy lips. Only to run back up
and finger fuck that hole where his dick had so longed and always dreamed
of going.

It was too impossible to believe. But here he was, and this was real life,
wasn't it? Or was it? Could it be a dream? Well, it was definitely a dream,
no doubt about that and pussy was waaaaay way better than warm apple
pie. The question was really whether or not this dream was real.

But the next step was also in the impossible dream category as she led his
free hand up to cup and feel a tit and then brought his head in to lick,
kiss and suck the nipple. In his wildest dreams he always wanted to do
this; when he watched those late night Showtime cable shows that he wasn't
supposed to be watching, he would dream of this, every now and then getting
to see one where a college guy would get a look and opportunity to feel and
once even go down on a nice, beautiful breast.

But he really didn't quite imagine doing it. He imagined it of course. But
actually doing it???? This was too real to be real, and he freaking loved
it.

"Wait," he heard Bethany say, as she stretched a warm hand down his back
and into the back of his still damp bathing suit, dragging part of it down
as she went and getting a great feel of one of his naked asscheeks.  "Wait,
and lets go upstairs. We can use Chase's bed."

She pushed him away and bent down to push her bikini bottoms off. As she
did so his dick twitched, impatient for relief. He sniffed his fingers,
smiling , knowing where they had been.

"Take off your suit; its wet. Leave it down here."

He'd rather not, but there was no way he was to argue with this girl on
anything whatsoever. Even though his dick was already out and pointing
upward, out of habit of maintaining some modesty he turn around and kept
his back to her as he stepped out of his wet suit, leaving it on the stool
nearby. She watched him do this and couldn't help herself by commenting on
what a tremendously nice ass he had.

This comment, and the whole situation, really, caused him to cover up as he
turned around. She looked down at his hands covering his crotch, this boy
to whom she was about to make love for his apparently first time ever and
had to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, you are too cute; but fortunately for both of us, you're hotter than
you are cute. Now do you want to be modest, or do you want to lose your
virginity, Blaine Hart?"

To be honest, the boy was just trying not to pass out. All the same, he
took a deep breath and dropped his hands and followed the gorgeous older
girl up the flight stairs toward Chase's room where the two made obscene
and wholly divine love not once, but twice on the absent 13 year old's
sheets, leaving the remains of their session for Chase to find only much
later that night.

After they came back downstairs, Bethany grabbed her bikini and pulled his
face to hers and kissed him passionately for a full minute, before
whispering, "Don't think that's the last time we do that. You were
incredible."

She knew it was important to inflate the boy's ego to help him become a
strong and passionate lover, and she had just decided that despite Brad
coming back next week from his family vacation, she was going to keep her
new boy toy around for fun on the side. He was just too nice to let go.

She slipped into the downstairs bathroom to get redressed and then back out
and over to her own house. She left the poor boy hard again, and with the
world's biggest and most relaxed smile on his face. He slowly pulled his
drying bathing suit back onto his now christened and twice blessed nether
regions and slowly made his dazed way back outside.

"There you are," Tyler said as he saw his best friend come back out and sit
down on one of the reclining deck chairs. Tyler sat right next to him and
looked puzzled into the dopey, but fazed grin.

"Are you OK?"

"Oh yeah. I'm definitely OK."

Tyler just raised his eyebrows. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he
was going to let it pass.

"Well, did you see any of our diving competition?"

"Your what? Oh! That's what you guys were doing."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"No, I mean, I saw you were planning something; but I didn't see any of
it. I was, uh, laying down . . . sorta."

"Laying down?"

"Um . . . mostly. So, uh, did you win, Tyler?"

"Not the first competition. But that doesn't matter so much. I'm just glad
I didn't lose."  Tyler hooked his thumb to indicate the poolhouse, and
Blaine looked over just in time to see 12 ½ year old, poor Cain Whitfield
coming out wiping his mouth with the sickest and most disgusted look on his
face. He had one hand on his belly like he was going to be sick and the
other hand wiping his mouth, whereupon he would examine the hand and then
try to wipe his mouth again, as though he felt something were there that he
just couldn't get off.

Cain was greeted with hoots and clapping and other sundry boy heckles that
Blaine was still a bit too dazed to get, but it seemed to only embarrass
Cain further and push the boy deeper inside whatever illness had taken a
hold of him. He was too embarrassed to stay, certainly, but just as
embarrassed to leave. He finally opted to stay and hope that he could
retreat far enough into his own psyche that he wouldn't notice everyone
knowing just what had happened. Cain was followed shortly afterward by a
triumphant looking Jason McCoy who came out adjusting and re-tying the
strings to his swim trunks. The smile on his face wasn't just about the
victory and conquest to which all alpha-boys aspire, but it had a bit of a
dazed look of sexual fulfillment, something that Blaine understood very
well at the moment.

"Oh my g-" Blaine began to exclaim, realizing quite suddenly what the scene
before him meant. By this time Jason was giving the other boys a thumbs up,
and generating some moderate laughter and applause from the other relieved
boys.  "Did he actually---"

"Yep."  Tyler said to the unfinished question. He actually did.  "Couldn't
have been a worse pair-up if you were trying to be your meanest."

As he said this, commiserating with poor Cain, they saw Sammy Collier walk
out. The almost 13-year-old boy looked dazed and - not so much sick, as
traumatized. Despite the fact that he was wearing swim trunks and wasn't
the least bit hard, he still had his hands over his crotch and looked
thoroughly and horribly embarrassed, as he went to find the shirt and towel
he had brought with him so that he could cover up even more and contemplate
just going home in disgrace.

Frank Ziller came out shortly after him, rearranging his own swim trunks as
if he had just pulled them up to cover his body and had as yet not gotten
them just right so that the liner and the trunks fell in all the right
places. He looked quite sheepish and seemed uncertain as to whether he
should rejoin the boys and three girls at the pool, or go home with some
disgrace, as well. He certainly hadn't meant for the initially friendly
argument with Sammy to turn out this way.

"You have to quit making challenges, Tyler."  Blaine told his friend in all
sincerity.

"Well, tell me that after you look at this," Tyler said as he handed over
an envelope to Blaine.  "I didn't win or lose that first competition, but I
did fairly well in a one-on-one with Michael Camden."

Blaine opened up the envelope and read the results of the deal. Blaine was
a stickler for deals, and despite what Michael had believed, he would have
made Tyler pay up, even though he was his friend.

"Holy shit!"  Blaine's eyes went bug-eyed as he read the details of the
bet.  "You really bet this with Michael??"

"Yep, and won it. And as it says there, I can lend, sell, or give the bet
to anyone I choose, and since I don't really want it . . . . well, consider
it a very early birthday present."

"My birthday's not for another 7 months."

"You want it or not?"

Blaine looked over to where Michael was bent over, being sick in Chase's
yard. Hell yeah, he wanted this, and he said the same. This was turning out
to be the best day ever.

"I kinda thought you would like this," Tyler said, uncertain how Blaine
might take it. Tyler wasn't blind. Blaine knew this, but it didn't stop the
older boy from blushing, realizing that his best friend had seen his almost
shameless panting after Kelley's ass.

"Thanks, Tyler . . . . . but, uh . . . . . you really cut it close with
something major here. You REALLY have to quit making challenges."

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

"I think I just did."








-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4 pm

Jake Finney made another three pointer from the back of the court marked
out in Colin Gaither's drive. He wasn't sure where the boy was, just wished
he would hurry up and get back home. On the sidelines Tanya Lucci giggled
over some internal joke or notion she had. Who knew?

She had been flirting with him for the better part of 20 minutes, not
seeming to take notice of his complete lack of interest in her. They were
only a day apart in age. He knew this because he was only a day older than
Jason, and Tanya was three minutes older than her twin brother, as she
liked to point out to every one who already knew that for years and years
(and years).

And here he thought Jason Lucci could be annoying at times. Apparently
twins really do have a lot in common.

Tanya went into puberty earlier than Jason, so she, like Finn, looked about
a year older. She had a great set of boobs, that was certain, and, rumor
had it, kept her pussy shave to a single line of black hairs one inch wide
and two inches long. And she may have even been a great fuck, but until the
braces came off and the face changed . . . . . um . . . shape, and until
she, well, shut up, she was unlikely to get a serious, good boyfriend.

She certainly wasn't going to get Finn. Anyone in Indian Spring could have
told the girl that.

While he was yet again trying to politely ignore her and try for another
shot from the three-point line, Jake wondered idly if Jason had told his
cousin what had happened out on the basketball court at the Woods' house
earlier in the week. He wondered if Jason told her how he, Jake Finney, had
gone down on his knees and sucked another boy's dick right out in the open;
worse, that he had actually swallowed all of the boy's cum.

He wondered if she knew that.

He made the three point shot and then tried for another.

He wondered if deeper down he even cared if she knew. He wasn't sure he
did; but he was uncertain on that point.

He missed that three point shot and tried for another.

He wondered how much it bothered him deeper inside that so many people did
know. That so many people had seen it happen. It wasn't exactly something
he could deny. They had seen him swallow.

He missed that three point shot, as well. Third time's the charm though,
and he lined up and tried for another.

Another troubling thought was just how many people realized that he had
been fucked as well. It was sperm he swallowed, but he had had another
boy's semen shot up his ass -- after the boy finished fucking it, of
course. He just wasn't sure what was most disturbing, or even what should
be most disturbing.

Swoosh. He made the three-point shot. Nothing but net.

"Yyyaaayyy, Jacob!!"

The gipsy boy glanced over at the girl with some contempt. Only his mom
called him Jacob, and he didn't like it when she did. Where the hell was
Colin and Jason??





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 pm

"Oh, Kat, come in, come in. I'm just putting dinner on the table."

Katherine Cormack followed her sister through the laundry room and into the
warm kitchen with its rich and heavenly smells.

"Oh, I can't stay, sweetheart. Our flight leaves at 8:45. I'm just letting
you know the kids are outside. I'll send them in with their things and be
on my way."

"Well, where's Seamus?"

"Oh I left him and our oldest at Hal and Sylvie's. Seamus had something to
discuss with Hal, and Geoff wanted to see Kelley about something."  She
paused and shook her head.  "I swear, just when we thought our biggest
worries with him were going to involve girls, he drops this on us."

"It will be all, right. And you know Kelley can take care of himself."

"Oh, it wasn't that so much. I don't believe Geoff would use his gifts to
that end. But you're right, it wouldn't work on that boy. And I know that
boy could charm the pants off anyone, boy or girl, but . . . . well, I was
a bit surprised. I should have known you would have seen it coming,
though. Well, I have to go get Seamus. I think Geoff will be on his own
getting down here. If he gets down here. I swear."

"I still don't know why you two couldn't leave your car here and let
Michael drive you into the city."

"Oh posh, Elizabeth, it's only three dollars a day to park at the airport,
and it's enough trouble that we've saddled you with three extra kids. Well,
four actually. I didn't think you would mind if I brought Ashton down with
us."

"Oh of course, not."

"He so wanted to see Patrick, and he is leaving out of town tomorrow with
the little boy just down the street from you, so it made sense to me that
he should just come over here. And anyway Geoff will probably eat at
Sylvie's."

"Oh I'm sure Geoff won't get out of there without something good to fill
his stomach, but you know we always have enough for extra mouths. Ashton's
a good boy. He won't be any trouble. I'll let him and Katherine and the two
Patricks stay in the garage bedrooms tonight. It will be a nice treat for
them to be `on their own'."

"Whatever you do, Elizabeth, I know they'll have the greatest fun. Oh, one
more thing . . . . . Jack is . . . . . up to something. He's planning
something, and I . . . ."

Elizabeth Cormack held up her hand to stop her sister.  "Katherine, do not
worry. He won't interfere with the younger kids, he's too smart to try and
mess with James, and too afraid to try anything with Connor."

"I know but that still leaves . . . ."

Again Elizabeth interrupted her sister, even as she was pulling the roast
out of the oven.

"You and I both know he can't touch Duncan, although you and I are the only
ones who know why that is . . . ."

"Seamus suspects . . . ."

"Seamus can suspect whatever he wants, we both know that piddly Fir Bolg is
no match for a good Danaan amulet, especially with that last charm Duncan
added before Grandma Hannah sealed it."

"Well, it's not Duncan I'm worried about."

"Anything coming to Ian will be something deserved and overdue, I'm
sure. He'll be fine, whatever Jack has up his sleeve. I'll have Duncan and
James monitor it, and I'll step in if it gets out of control. So don't you
worry anything about that. Now you go and get yourself to that plane. All I
want you and Seamus to do is forget about the kids and enjoy yourselves,
and we'll see you Wednesday night."

Katherine O'Shaunessy Lanham gave her sister a hug and another thank before
she headed out. Jack and Ian came in at that point carrying some of the
boys' bags.

"Hi, Aunt Kat!"

"Hello, Ian, my aren't you growing! I swear you and Jack are both looking
closer to 12 years old, than 10 and 11."

"Mom, I am almost 12."

"And, I'm pretty much 11."

"Not until the first of August you two aren't."  Ian's mom interjected,
"Now both of you take all those bags upstairs."

Thanks to Ian's growth spurt over the last two months, the two boys did
look nearly the same age, though Jack was more filled out and appeared the
stronger and tougher of the two boys. In reality they were exactly one year
apart, down to the minute, both being born at the stroke of noon on the
same calendar day. It was a big day of celebration for the families, as
Geoff was born on the same day three years earlier at exactly 6 in the
morning and Patrick (the Lanham's Patrick) three years later at exactly 6
in the evening.

Jack went on upstairs with some of the bags, but Katherine stopped Ian to
get a hug from her nephew before she left out. She hugged him tight, told
him it was always good to see him and to have fun this weekend and watch
himself, but then whispered in his ear before she broke the hug and left
out. Ian stared after her, wondering why she would have said those words.

"Mind your gold."  She had whispered. It wasn't an uncommon parting
greeting in their extended family, especially among the Lanham, Byrne, and
Duffy branches; but the way she said it, it sounded more like a warning
than a simple goodbye.

"Ian," his mom called to him, breaking his reverie, "Get those bags
upstairs and get washed up for dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

The day was the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year in the
Northern Hemisphere, and even after a long dinner with much talking and
joking about by all the kids, it was still a good hour before it would get
dark, so Ian and Jack took off on their bikes up to Sweetwater.

"There's a kid I know that you might like to meet," Ian said cryptically,
and it wasn't long before they were at a nice yellow brick, 4500 sq foot
ranch-style house set off on one of the main streets and Julie Lowry was
showing the two boys back to her 11-year-old brother's room. And it wasn't
long after she left that Morgan had his lips wrapped around Ian Cormack's
cock, going up and down that growing shaft and eventually drawing out the
single small spurt of spermless semen that the convulsing boy could give
him.

"Ah, ffuu—ohhh man. I swear, Morgan, you are the absolute greatest
ever. I never had a better blow job than what you give, and I've had a
few. He's even better than you, Jack!"

Jack, who had taken out his own dick and was stroking it absently while
watching the amazing action, blushed and started to tuck himself back in
his shorts; but Ian stopped him.

"Not so fast, cousin, I have a gift for you."

"You do?"  Jack asked surprised. The whole time he had been trying to
figure out how he could set his plan for revenge in motion and make Ian do
sex stuff for him for a change, and here was Ian just offering to do it?
"You wanna suck me?"

Ian laughed, as if his cousin was just a country simpleton, "No . . . . no,
dude. I'm giving you Morgan, specifically his mouth. Jack, my gift to
you. Morgan give my cousin the best blow job of his life."

This was the part of Ian that Jack just didn't like, the way he used
others, the way he used him, specifically. It wasn't how Jack wanted to get
anything from anyone else, but Morgan looked over at Jack and regarded his
dick. It was a nice one. It was bigger than Ian's and much nicer in shape,
at least for what Morgan liked, and it caused Morgan to break out in a big
open mouth grin. Jack looked into that mouth, and what he saw made him
smile big as well. He changed his mind; he couldn't have made this more
perfect if he had tried.

"Ian, this is the best gift you could have ever possibly given me."

With that Jack laid Morgan back on his bed and very tenderly caressed his
cheek as he moved himself up on the bed and carefully placed the head of
his dick at the red lips parted and waiting. He opened those lips with his
dickhead and spread them full with his shaft as he sank his erection slowly
and almost lovingly into that amazing wet and warm seclusion that so
masterfully began to work and suck his boyhood even as the boy slowly face
fucked that treasure.

The boy was good, Jack would give him that, but what brought Jack up to his
orgasm so quickly was knowing that Ian had given something he `owned' and
that any minute he was about to flood that receptive mouth with the cum he
was just starting to develop. With a great satisfying moan, Jack Lanham
released himself into the wet, warm confines of that wonderfully enclosing
mouth, and the few sperms his nuts could produce rushed out and bathed that
singular gold tooth that he had seen in there.

"Whoa!! That was fucking GREAT!!!"  Jack exclaimed as he pushed himself off
and rolled on his back. Instead of feeling depleted, he felt a rush of
energy and vitality flowing through him. The orgasm had been the most
powerful of his short life, and he felt it invade every cell, yet bringing
life instead of depletion.  "WOW!! That's a RUSH!"

Morgan smiled. Despite the fact he was always vaguely unhappy after Ian had
him do things, and not the least bit happy with Ian's plan to `share' him
with his cousin, he nevertheless was somewhat happy that he was the reason
for the slightly older boy feeling so good. He looked over at Ian to see
his reaction to Jack's satisfaction.

"Ian, you don't look so good. What's wrong?"

"I . . . I don't know. I just . . . . . all of a sudden . . . . don't feel
so good."

"Don't throw up on my bed!"

"I'm not, Morgan, it's more like . . . . like I . . . . . just ran out of
Energy, or something."

"Uh, I don't want to get sick or nothing, too. Maybe you should just go."

Morgan had never spoken to Ian so bluntly like this before, so demanding
and disgusted. It would have been strange in itself, but Ian didn't feel
good enough to register strange situations; he was only thinking about
strange Ian feelings. So he just nodded and got up to go. Jack got up as
well, smiling broadly, and looking quite pleased. He pulled his pants and
underwear back up, noting the wistful look in Morgan's eyes, giving the
`almost-12' year old another smile to add on to the one he was feeling
ripple through him, while he watched Ian almost limp to the door.

"Why do I feel so bad?"

"You don't; it's all in your head after using Morgan like you did. You
should say you're sorry, Ian."

"Huh? Oh . . . yeah, you know, you're right. I'm sorry, Morgan."  Ian had
been feeling a little guilty of late that despite his resolve to be a
better person he had still continued to use Morgan the way he did. He had
justified it by recognizing that the kid did have a gay streak in him, but
even Ian knew that justifications did not make anything `right'. His
subconscious knew he was wrong -- even though he hadn't actually planned on
apologizing. But why did his head feel so funny?

"Thanks, Ian."  Morgan was just as surprised by the apology.

"In fact, an apology doesn't mean much without action."  Jack added, "We do
have to be going, but, uh, why don't you come over tomorrow and let Ian pay
you back, you know, let him give you a really good blow job."

Morgan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.  "Serious? You will, Ian?"

"Um, yeah, sure, Morgan," Ian was rubbing his head. Everything seemed so
cloudy, but he knew he would do that for Morgan, of course he would. It was
just . . . . something . . . . something else didn't seem right. . . .

"So what are you going to do tomorrow?"  Jack asked his cousin.

"Um, you mean, like, before or after I give Morgan a blow job?"

Jack smiled. The power was unbelievable.

"You should tell him to bring a friend." Jack had something of a brain
freeze combined with a faintness, but it passed quickly. He wondered if he
was drawing on the power wrong, or too much of it.

"Yeah, sure," Ian said, "You can bring a friend. Whoever you want. He can
watch or get one or whatever."

Morgan thought Ian had flipped. He wasn't sure if he should argue or not.

Jack guided Ian out the door and look back at Morgan one last time.  "Hey
Morgan, bring somebody who can cum -- a lot! Bring two."

Morgan smiled big. He didn't know what was happening, and he ordinarily
wouldn't have done anything of the sort, and definitely might have thought
it was a trap, but for some reason he trusted Jack, and he felt compelled
to do what he said.  "OK, Jack. Thanks! Can I do you again tomorrow?"

"Sure, Morgan, just let me know if you don't want your other friends to
know about it."  Morgan was cute, Jack thought. Maybe it wasn't so bad to
want to do stuff with boys. This was going to be a fun weekend!






----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


6 pm

"Cam, my mom's gonna be calling me down for dinner soon . . . . ."

"Just one more," Cameron Wood smiled, almost dreamily, as he ran his hand
through the soft, freshly washed blond hair. Adam Nesbitt had just
swallowed one small precious load from the boy's dick, the tenth one this
week, actually, but the smaller dick was still hard, and it's very few,
sparse hairs at the base strained to say that the boy could still make a
couple drops or more yet of his elixir of life.

It would be the eleventh such offering deposited into Adam's mouth since
Monday afternoon. Finding times and places to have Adam go down on him was
even easier than he thought, and the older boy was starting, even so soon,
to becoming quite accustomed to his expected services. And he was currently
dressed just as Cameron liked for him to be, which is to say, without a
stitch of clothes on.

Adam Nesbitt was only two weeks short of 14 and still hairless, but he was
hung with a nice dick that still plumped out into a semi or more, whenever
he was going down on the younger kid, much to his embarrassed chagrin. His
balls hung low as well, and if the lack of hair made you doubt his ability
to spew on his own, the size of his balls wouldn't. Unfortunately, unlike
Cam, Adam couldn't rely on anyone else to help him get off. If he wanted
his jollies it would only be by his own hand.

In contrast, Cameron Wood was 2 months into his 12th year and already had
those few hairs, and he hadn't jacked off in almost a week. Instead he had
that marvelous miracle deal he made with Adam, free blowjobs, whenever he
wanted them, wherever he wanted them, however he wanted them, for as long
as he wanted them, which meant years . . . . . and years. There technically
was no limit, and James Cormack agreed to hold in confidence this
downstream consequence of the general basketball bet, which meant he
expected both sides to keep to their own specifics of the deal that Adam
made in exchange for discretion. Which meant, as James was involved, both
boys were extra careful to keep to their honor on the deal.

It was hardest on Adam, as he was expected to make himself available at
Cam's request to actually suck a boy's spurting dick, virtually on
demand. Worse, he had to do it completely naked if Cam wished it, and he
could not have any hangdog or other disappointing expressions. Basically,
he had to look like he was looking forward to each time. It was a hard
requirement every time, but fortunately seemed to be getting at least a
little bit easier to handle. Although he wasn't sure just how `fortunate'
that really was.

Still, even Adam had to admit, that despite the sheer number of times this
week that Cameron had wanted him to go down on his hard little dick, he was
being very discrete. He didn't talk about it with anybody, not even with
oblique hints. Cam, though, wasn't stupid. He wasn't messing this up for
nothing. With the wording of the original deal, he could be getting these
blow jobs all the way through high school, depending on where Adam decided
to go for the first two years of college.

Adam's parents just yesterday told him that he would probably be going to
the local community college for his first two years, something that
launched a big ole smile on Cam's face. Adam didn't let his internal sigh
and grimace show. He knew he would have to come to a way in which he could
deal with this without issue. And since Cam wanted another go, he knew that
he had to turn on the false charm even now.

Adam gave as good a smile as he could.  "Seriously? Pretty horny
tonight. Well, this one's gonna be even better, so bite a pillow when you
have to scream out."

"Oh, hell yeah, go for it, Adam."

He watched as his personal blond demigod reached under and grasped those
two luscious and virgin asscheeks and pulled him closer, even as the mouth
went down and sucked in all 3+ inches of the hot boy.

And just as he had yesterday when he took the naked boy into an embrace
while working his cock with increasing talent, the disturbing thought
flashed again through Adam's subconscious, working its way up into his
conscious, where, today at least, he couldn't deny it, but breathed in and
embraced it, embraced the idea that he was beginning to fully and
completely love the feel of Cam's asscheeks in his hand, even all the while
he worked the whole of the dick deep in his mouth.

The recognition of this truth, and the slightly more than tacit acceptance
of it -- this time, at least -- drove Adam to given the best ever yet
blowjob to the young boy, and Cameron did indeed have to pull two pillows
down over his face with one arm, while he screamed out his greatest orgasm
yet, and his other hand went through that soft blond hair he loved so much
and pulled the older boy even harder down onto his dick.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

7 pm

"No, I understand. It's OK. I got stuff to do around here anyway
. . . . . bye."

Malcolm hung up after his Aunt rang off. It was the third time in a row she
had cancelled on him. He didn't really understand why, but he understood
that this was the permanent pattern. This time, unlike the last two, she
didn't even make the effort to say there would be another weekend.

His father wouldn't notice. He was drunk again. He managed to remember beer
and cheap liquors, but was always hit or miss on cereal, bread or peanut
butter. And if he did get cereal, it would be up to Malcolm to find the
leftover change and go and by the milk, riding his bike out into the
county, too ashamed to use the closer store in Sweetwater.

Right now there wasn't anything to eat. Every now and then his dad would
stay sober long enough to more or less stock the pantry with pasta, beans,
rice, other simple things that Malcolm could cook for both of them. But as
they got closer to June 28th, usually starting in May, his dad would just
get drunker and drunker. And the food would drop lower and lower.

It was a hard time for Malcolm, too. It was the day his walk out of the
house and left them. It was the day she abandoned them, to go
. . . . where? He often thought about that in his hiding places. He had
long since given up wondering why. It hurt too much to think about why. The
hunger pains, then, were often a welcome distraction. He usually wasn't in
the mood to eat during the dark days of June anyway, so it was another
reason it was good time for there to be no food, if such a time could be
said to be.

But he was hungry now, hungry and this time wanting to be filled. He wished
he could just go over to the Tuckers, or maybe the Cormacks, but they all
had plans this weekend, and he was too ashamed for them to know that his
own Aunt didn't have time for him.

And next weekend. It was worse when the Bad Day fell on a weekend. Used to,
his Aunt would try and distract him on that day, a day when his dad got so
drunk he had to be hospitalized twice. But last year she forgot. He was
pretty sure she had already forgotten this year. He had become too much of
a burden.

He was pretty sure most people around here had forgotten long ago. He had
no idea that one couple had never forgotten, but they felt powerless to do
anything. They had stayed away. It wasn't easy, but they had. They had made
the mistake in trusting that the Aunt was taking care of him. After all,
every year Jebediah sent one of his three sons over to Malcolm's house the
day before, the day of, and the day after to check and see if the boy was
around.

Every year the boy's father would drunkenly answer that Malcolm was with
his Aunt; and Jebediah would dutifully report to the unseen couple that
Malcolm was in good hands. It was a pitiful system. Even Malcolm's own dad
didn't know the boy was forgotten last year. Didn't know he would be
forgotten this year. And once again, Malcolm would be too ashamed to answer
the door when James or Kevin or Sean knocked.

Or would he?

Could he answer the door?

Would things be different this year? No one could have known Kelley would
stir the mix. But no-one else had realized just how bad things had
gotten. Everyone else had lives and families of their own to run. All the
good people, they were still good, but they had just gotten busy. Malcolm
shut the empty cabinet and went to bed earlier.

Kelley had disturbed the balance. The plans had changed.

Malcolm wasn't sure what would happen this year on the Bad Day, except for
one thing. Because of Kelley, Malcolm was still alive to live through
it. At least one more time.




---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8 pm The Jacobs' house, 10th Kinset, just outside of Indian Spring


Sandy Jacobs was already dressed for bed. He was in his most comfortable
pajamas, stretched out on the sofa after a great dinner (it was a normal
dinner, but for some reason the food just tasted so much better than
before). He didn't argue with his parents. Didn't let his little brother or
sister get to him. Took the trash out before he was even asked. And now he
was just kicked back and enjoying the evening.




Sandy Jacobs, 13 years old and full of vim, vigour, and vitality, as well
as that voraciousness that could be ascribed many an adolescent boy that
has just hit the stride of full adolescence. It was a voraciousness for
food -- that never seemed to go anywhere but into a bottomless pit, a
voraciousness for winning -- that increased male drive that starts to turn
everything into a challenge to be won, whether it be an argument with his
parents or what could otherwise be a friendly game of Mario Bros. on the
Nintendo, and a voraciousness for sex.

The last was the one that never got filled, for most kids, at least not
with any interaction with another person. It was one that typically was
only answered by a closed fist. It was a voraciousness that was becoming
more specifically defined, only certain girls in those jack-off fantasies,
more likely to look at boobs first versus ass or pussy, being choosy on
which porno mag you would like to get your hands on (or whichever hand
wasn't busy at the moment) and starting to make actual plans to try and get
to first, second, third, and home bases.

There wasn't much luck for most boys stealing to third, not unless you
seriously let down your standards -- and for a 13 year old to have to let
down his standards, that's pretty bad. It was part of the most frustrating
thing in being 13 and 14, especially in a community where everybody knew
everybody and everyone talked about everyone. Bartlett was a small `town',
if it could be even remotely called that, whose only benefit to many of the
kids was that they got to go to Coolspring schools and make friends with
the richer kids, the kids who had pools.

By the time he was 12 and getting his hair -- something his little brother
Bradley still did not have -- and gaining some fairly randy interests, he
was looking for anywhere to stick this gloriously growing appendage. He
loved feeling it soft, and he really loved feeling it hard, but where he
really wanted to feel it, especially after getting a look at Kyle Folger's
older brother's secret porn tape Sex Fifth Avenue and watching Traci Lords
get her twat stuffed by practically every guy that could want to, where he
really wanted to feel it was in pussy.

But he had, as yet, not even been able to finger one, much less get a
chance to pump one. Even in his sex and hormone, live forever, adolescent
brain that saw no bounds, some part of him realized that that wasn't likely
this year, or next. And there was the chance of not even the year after
that, although as he grew into his developing 13 year old body and would
take long looks at himself in the mirror with his good looks, dirty blond
hair, good muscle tone, and the nice patch of curls growing up around the
base and even a hair or two on that seriously enlarging and dropped
nutsack, he realized he looked good enough to get a girl by 14.

And he was right. He would. But at that time he was still frustrated. It
seemed to be no fair that the Indian Spring relatives of his got to have
that community bottom they chose every so often for an occasional pop-off
valve to relieve some of the stress in NEEDING to have sex; stress he was
feeling.

Yeah true, he would always feel the relief after jacking off, but it wasn't
satisfactory as actually getting to do it. At least, from everything his
inexperienced brain could piece together. But he wasn't allowed access to
the Mackey bottoms, one of which was Kevin Mackey, only a few weeks older
than Sandy.

Sandy had long wanted to fuck Kevin's ass; he had no problem with the fact
that Kevin was a guy, or that he was gay. Kevin could be whatever the hell
he wanted. Sandy just needed to feel what it could be like when he could
one day get his girl. Just a temporary release. Was that so much to ask?

He did ask, but not until he was 13, for good reason, and was sharply told
NO, for the same good reason. The reason being that Sandy and Kevin were
both 12 years old on July 15th of last year, but only one of the two was
actually at the choosing. Sandy so much wanted to watch it, but he was told
that if he so much as even stepped into Indian Spring on that day, then he
would be bent over in the same line as the other boys showing their asses
for the contest to be the community bottom, a contest, obviously, that no
one wanted to win.

It was a contest that Sandy did not even want to be a contestant in. And he
got out of it, mainly because of a large loophole that he had been much
inclined to utilize, and his parents were just as happy he did. They would
often talk about the Indian Spring Mackeys as backward country folk with
backward ways. It's why they said they didn't live there, even though they
still retained some rights to property that was out behind Elijah Mackey's
house.

They really didn't have a problem, per se, with the Choosing and the
community bottom, because everyone knew it was just boys being boys and
finding a way to stay out of worse trouble, but they liked to see
themselves as better than the regular Mackey. The problem was, that you
could only do this so much before word got around. And word got around to
Elijah, at a time when he was nursing an old and hateful wound.

Elijah, during his laborious property searches to find Tabitha's trail of
where she could have moved or laundered the gold she stole from him, found
a way to jeopardize Sam and Karla Jacobs' property. They could move back or
lose it. Or they could come down a few pegs and assist him as well. He had
a few ideas. And if Elijah got his way, provided the meddlesome Hal Tucker
failed to convince a sufficient portion of the Mackey lot to join him, then
the Jacobs' property would suddenly be worth a small fortune.

But Sandy wasn't aware of this either. He was only aware of the threat that
kept him unnecessarily out of Indian Spring for three more months after the
choosing when he turned 13. It was only then he went in and asked if he
could have a try at Kevin's ass, having already heard first hand from Toby
Sanders and Kelson Mackey how smooth and tight Kevin's hole was, and what a
great fuck it was. Sandy was itching for it. He went in one day with Toby
and asked Jason, Kevin's brother who was on the Council, if he could have a
go at Kevin.

"No . . . way."

"Come on Jason, please. It ain't like he's only been done by a few
guys. One more ain't gonna matter. And besides we're all Mackeys, right?"

Sandy gave his best smile at the end of his plea, but Jason's stoney face
didn't look encouraging.

"Well, if we're all Mackeys, how come your name wasn't on the list last
year? You're only a few weeks younger than Kevin. And your next door
neighbor Ronald was on the list -- and not just on the list, but in the cut
as well, and bending over with the rest of them. You were definitely
eligible, so why not, Mackey?"

"Come on," Sandy Jacobs started in, "Seriously dude, who's gonna actually
volunteer for that thing, or even say they'll be there if they don't have
to?"

"Toby did."

That was true, though Sandy never figured that one out. He looked over at
his friend Toby who just shrugged, as if to say `tough luck, there'. Now
Sandy knew that Toby had wanted to be in more with the home-based Mackey
folk, and going through a Choosing was certainly one way to guarantee that
access for life, but Toby actually had a nice ass. He could have actually
been chosen. Ronald's butt was flat and ugly, but he was the one who threw
up the most before the Choosing even started.

"Yeah, well . . . yay for Toby. Come on, Jason . . . "

"Ask again, and I will make you choose who goes up YOUR ass -- Toby, or me
and a few other boys."

Sandy gulped. At that time, it had only been ten months since Jason's
little brother was being made to bend over for every Tom and Hairy Dick in
the Tucker Wood, and Jason was still pissed about it. Mad at himself, and
not particularly happy with the whole tradition. Sandy was fairly certain
the older boy would do just what he said. And Sandy had no intention of
letting even the-Toby-of-last-year fuck him, much less this year's Toby.
He saw Toby naked just the week prior at a county public pool, and the
boy's dick was fat. At least for 13 it was.

And Sandy could only imagine, or not want to imagine, what Jason's was
like, or who these `other guys' would be. So, no thank you. He quickly shut
up about it.

But he didn't stop thinking about it. He just tried a different tack. Jason
wasn't the only boy on the Council.

"So you want a piece of ass, hunh?"  Darrell was asking Sandy just
yesterday morning prior to the day's events at the start that left him so
relaxed and happy.  "I don't know, what do you say, Hiram?"

Both older boys were resting, legs propped up, cold beer in hand, under an
outside canopy that had a few outdoor chairs and sofas gathered together
underneath.

"I say, why hasn't he gotten a girl to do it yet for him. Hell, Sandy,
aren't you almost 14? Isn't time you got a girl for stuff like that?"

Sandy blushed at the perceived attack on his incipient manhood. He was
fairly certain (though could he be??) that neither of these guys had a girl
to fuck when they were 13, but he certainly wasn't going to voice that out
loud.

"Oh come on guys, no girl's gonna let me do that yet. Maybe when I'm 14,
but I need something now."

"Hmmm, you know, Hiram, could be that he just doesn't like girls."

"Ah, now that aint true, you know I do."

Hiram, though, ignored Sandy's retort and raised his eyebrows as if the
deep thought had just occurred to him.  "You know, Darrell, I do believe
you are right. Maybe that's why he's so interested in Kevin. Everyone knows
which way Kevin swings. Maybe what he's really looking for is a boyfriend."

"Come on, guys, that aint right. This aint about all that. I just wanna a
tight hole, and Kelson Mackey fucked it and said it was tighter that
Virginia Monroe's pussy, and you know he aint gay."

"Interesting that you brought up Kelson. He was skipped over when he was
12."

"Wasn't his fault," Hiram added

"No it wasn't."  Darrell said.

 "Well, even if I wanted to, I cant go back and be 12 again, and nobody
would want to start worrying about your including 13 year olds, right?"

Sandy felt a bit nervous all of a sudden, but he held his shaky ground
while he listened to the two older boys:

"That's not what we were thinking of, Sandy."

"See, there's something else interesting about Kelson, and why he had a few
rounds with Kevin before his eligibility changed on his 16th birthday."

"Kelson had something else to contribute last year."

"Or, at least, his family did."

"Kelson, had a 12 year old brother; what was his name, Hiram?"

"Ronald."  Sandy said and gulped. He saw where this was going.

"Yes, that was flat-butt's name. Ronald."

"Yeah, I remember that kid," Hiram added, "Didn't nobody so much as write
their name on him once, and he was still throwin' up and carryin' on. Told
him before we started that nobody with a butt that ugly would get
Chosen. But that's all he thought was gonna happen."

"Yep. I know. He should've just shut up, and he wouldn't have had to suck
all those dicks, either."

"He probably wouldn't have had to even suck one."

"And that would have made him better off than anyone else."

Sandy absent-mindedly picked up on this last statement and tucked it away
for later review. Did that mean all the boys had to suck at least one dick?
Interesting. Toby would never talk about what had happened. He always said
he couldn't, that because Sandy hadn't been allowed to be there to start
with then he shouldn't know what happened. Maybe Toby had another
reason. But for right now, Sandy was just waiting for them to get their
inevitable conclusion, even though a part of him hoped that they wouldn't.

But they did.

"So Sandy, you have a little brother, don't you?"

"I believe he does, Darrell, and I also believe he's 12. Would that be
right, Sandy?







Sandy laid back on the sofa during one of the commercial breaks, wanting to
beat off -- cum again already -- to the memory of what he had gotten to do
that afternoon. He obviously could not do that right there in the living
room, but he smiled with the memory of it and readjusted himself in his
pants, almost laughing to himself when he saw his brother snake a look over
at the action.

Shortly after he made the deal with Darrell and Hiram, they sent him away
and told him to come back in the afternoon. When he returned Kevin was
there with them and the two older boys graciously took their leave.

"You can use my little brother David's bed inside, if you want Kevin,"
Darrell said in parting.

"Yeah," Hiram rejoined over his shoulder, "It probably needs to be broken
in anyway."

Their laughter receded as they headed off down the trail, and the two 13
year old boys were alone. Sandy was suddenly very nervous and unsure of
himself. What the hell was he supposed to do?

"Um . . .hey, Kevin," he said, his voice cracking halfway through the more
experienced boy's name.

"Hey, Sandy," Kevin said, with something of a relaxed smile.

There was an awkward silence there that only made Sandy more nervous on the
outside and let Kevin smile more on the inside. While Sandy was a dirty
blond boy who looked like he belonged in a country baseball commercial and
was now at the point where you could tell he had once been very cute, was
now simply good looking, and moving quite easily toward handsome, Kevin,
with his dark brown hair, as thick as you could make very slightly curly
hair yet still have it look dreamily soft, had a look of a more experienced
boy -- more predator than prey. He was realizing more and more what, and
who, he wanted sexually, as his burden as community bottom eased up in the
next month.

And right now, he wanted to try out Sandy Jacobs. He loved a virgin with no
bravado left. But he didn't show it -- no sense scaring the kid off.

"So, how do you want to do this?"  Kevin asked.

"Uh . . .wha - . . . I mean . . . .uh . . . . "

Kevin almost laughed. He was really going to enjoy this one. He had also
thought Sandy was cute, and he just got better with age.  "Well, we can do
it out here, with me bent over the picnic table, and we can do that with me
just pushing my pants down in back little, and you do me from behind so you
can watch your dick going in and out between my cheeks, most guys like
that. They aren't usually too comfortable doing it all naked. But you can
make me get completely naked, if you want. Or we can do it inside on the
bed doggy style, or me laying flat, or I can lay on my back and pull my
legs up and you can do it like you were doing a girl.  It's up to you."

Sandy thought he was cum right there just listening to Kevin describe all
the ways they could fuck. He was so hard it was unbelievable, but the first
option sounded the best.

"Um . . .first . . . uh . . . first thing . . . you said."

"Bend over the picnic table? You want me to push my jeans just down enough
so you can see my ass while you're going in and out of it?"

"Yeah," Sandy said dumbly. His mouth was hanging open and he couldn't seem
to close it. He knew he was on the point of slobbering and probably looking
like a total dolt, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the other boy's
midsection, his mind rapidly fantasizing what that ass on the backside of
the boy must look like. He got a partial answer as Kevin smiled and lead
the dazed boy over to the table.

"I'll loosen up my jeans, and when you're ready, you just push on my back
to make me bend over the table and then you pull the jeans down yourself,
take aim and start fucking. I already lubed myself up, so you don't have to
worry about it. You can just cum inside me since I still have my clothes
on. If I was naked, you could pull out and spray my back or face if you
wanted. I don't mind that. But I kinda just want you to cum inside me."

Holy shit this was blowing his mind. Sandy was long past the point of
worrying that this was actually a boy he was going to do these things
to. It still bothered him deeper inside, to be sure, but he didn't care at
this point.

"This is your first time with anybody?"  Kevin asked as he unfastened his
own pants.

"Yeah," again came the dazed response.

"Sweet," Kevin said quietly to himself and began undoing Sandy's pants,
partially startling the boy back into awareness, and then even more as he
felt the 13 year old boy reach in and cup his nuts and dick through his
underwear, giving the leaking hard-on a squeeze that almost brought him to
the point of coming.

"Oh geez..."  Sandy moaned, causing Kevin to lick his lips and smile.

"Sandy, I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna be real hard the whole time you're
doing this."

"Why??" Sandy didn't really want to hear this. He just wanted less boy and
more hole. He didn't want his memory tied up with the confusion that a boy
turned him on this bad. And a hard dick on the other boy was just such a
reminder.

"Because," Kevin started to answer and half closed his own eyes in
anticipation, before he reached into the briefs and grabbed a hold of the
pre-cum slickening dick, causing the boy ironically under his control to
moan even more.  "Because . . . you're so damn hot."

With that Kevin pushed Sandy's briefs down below the boy's nuts and went
down with them, taking in the whole of his dick and slavering it good with
spit.

"Ohhhh .. . . . f-f-fuuc-nngghkk . . . ."  The feeling of another's hot
mouth on his randy boyhood was completely unexpected and was simply
indescribable, moan and gasp though he might, no unknown language could
translate the feeling into mere grunts or speech. But Kevin was off almost
as soon as he went on. He was indeed stretching the front of his own pants
and anxious as well to get this going.

He stood back up and told Sandy to push him over the tabletop and fuck him,
and the horny boy who was torn apart with an insane need to cum -- and to
cum INSIDE a person -- needed no further encouragement. He did just that.

Sandy put his hand on Kevin's back and pushed the boy over the picnic table
so that he was bent over, but in position to be fucked and claimed. With
his other hand Sandy grabbed the waistband of both jeans and underwear on
the subordinated boy and pulled them down over those delicious rumps, which
he was thoroughly surprised that, first: he loved seeing them and second:
he enjoyed running his free hand over them and giving them a testing
squeeze.

He could have even played more with that wonderful 13 year old ass, but his
dick was wanting to move on with this, and he lined himself up and pushed
in between the billowing warm flesh at the obvious point where it had been
lubed, and entered the crack. The feeling was definitely luxuriant, if a 13
year old boy even knew such a term and he slowly ran his head through that
area until he encountered a slight wrinkling of softer skin that almost
electrified the spongy head of his penis as he found it.

He instinctively knew to push in at this area and he leaned forward
slightly until he felt a slight give and an extension of the electrical
feeling slowly opened up like a circle around the tip of his dickhead. He
shuffled forward just slightly and leaned in more and quite suddenly felt a
pressure open up and surround his dickhead, pulling it further in, followed
rapidly by a warm, smooth, massaging enveloping of his entire dickhead and
the start of his shaft, as he felt himself penetrating the asshole of the
boy below him.

Sandy again began his litany of indecipherable gasps and moans as he pushed
right on through the ring of ecstasy until he bottomed out completely and
just as instinctively pulled all the way back until the rim of his glans
tugged at Kevin's stretched anal muscle, before sinking back in
completely. Kevin hadn't expected the inexperienced boy would start
long-dicking him right from the outset, but he was fucking loving it. His
own exceedingly hard dick was still caught up in his bunched up jeans, and
the friction of that plus the anal stimulation was very rapidly bringing
him to the point of no return.

But, unfortunately for Kevin, who was thinking this was beginning to be one
of the best fucks he had ever gotten, Sandy got to the point of no return
first, and he slammed into Kevin's shock-absorbing ass and released a
torrent of urgent cum into the rectum of his distant cousin.

"No, no, too soon . . . ."  But this came from Sandy not Kevin, as he came
too quickly in the wonderfully accommodating bottom.

And he came and he came and he came, and pounded short driving thrusts with
each almost crippling release, luxuriating in not only the sexual euphoria
of the direct stimulation of his dick in boy pussy, but also in just the
knowledge that he was filling another boy's ass with his own sperm. It
surprised him, sure, but he didn't care; he loved it. He absolutely LOVED
it.

But by the time he was spent and started to pull out, he was somewhat
dejected that it was over so soon.

"It's OK, Sandy. We can go again if you want."

"Really?"

"Soon as you can get it up."

Sandy smiled and then blushed, hesitantly looking at and then timidly
reaching over and feeling the upturned ass of the boy who was still bending
over for him.  "I want you naked next time."

Kevin stood up and smiled, and just said "Cool. Well, in that case, I know
a better place we can do it. Lose the pants and follow me."

Kevin had stripped pretty quickly, leaving Sandy feeling a bit dismayed
that he was checking out the body of another boy. But Kevin was even better
looking than Sandy and had the perfect definition of a 13 year old used to
regular exercise. Sandy reluctantly shed his pants and underwear, but left
his shirt on, and followed the naked god a short ways down another path,
coming upon a small clearing. In the clearing was a bench that could sit
three or four boys comfortably and a small padded table.

"I guess you can figure out what this area is used for. I've been fucked a
lot on this table, sometimes with other boys waiting their turn, but most
times just one on one. It's a lot more comfortable than the picnic table,
but I just didn't want my first time with you to be back here. The second
time will be a lot of fun, though."

Kevin said the last part with a big smile. And his dick was giving no
illusions to what he was feeling either. It was pointing straight up and so
hard that there was barely any waver to it.

"You ready?"  Kevin asked.

Sandy looked down and was surprised to see his dick so quickly reinflating,
and rising rapidly at that.

"I got one condition for this, though," Kevin said, holding up his finger.

"Um . . .OK."  At this point Sandy was already leaking and raring to go.

"Most boys that fuck me want to pretend it's a girl that they're doing,
even if they know it's me. I understand most of the time, but sometimes it
makes me feel . . . .  used."

Sandy nodded. He understood. Of course Kevin felt used. That was the whole
point, to have someone to use. But then it clicked, and for the first time
he saw the perspective from a Bottom's point of view.

"Sorry, we don't have to . . . ."  Sandy started, despite his dick very
much wanting to go ahead.

"No, I want to, but . . . Look, Sandy, I know you're not gay, but I want to
feel nice to sometimes. I'll let you do this if you promise to look at me
and treat me like a boy the whole time. Maybe even say my name one or twice
during it. Please?"

"Ok," Sandy nodded. He was so ready to get off again, he honestly did not
care at the moment if it was a boy or a girl he was fucking. And he already
knew from his last experience (though he blushed a bit as he remembered
this) that he actually got off on knowing that it was a boy's ass he was
filling with his sperm.  "It's cool, Kevin. I can do that . . . . um
. . . . . what exactly is it you want me to do?"

Kevin turned around and bent over the low cushioned table and spread his
legs wide, enough that his lower crack parted and the still tight hole was
visible. Though smeared in grease, it still looked fairly inviolate. The
sudden view made Sandy's very dick groan. Then he looked down to see the
adolescent scrotum pulled up in a nice tight pouch just below the whole,
and there was no denying this was all-boy pussy. The weird thing was, that
for someone reason, despite his true and steadfast interest in girls
outside of this one event, the sight of those nuts and the very boyhood
recognition they commanded, turned Sandy on even more.

"I want you to look at my butt and my balls and think of me as a boy."

Sandy stepped up and started feeling those perfect cheeks again, all the
while taking in the sight of those boy parts.

"I have been, Kevin," he finally admitted.  "I like it."

Sandy gulped as he admitted it. But it was true. He still might not be
classified as `gay', but gone, for the moment, were any thoughts of
screwing girls. Right now, all he wanted to do was fuck another boy.

"Feel my nuts," Kevin said.  "And I want you to hold them for awhile."

Sandy could say he was looking all he wanted, but Kevin knew that if the
boy spent a while holding and feeling his nuts, there would be no way for
his mind to blank out it was a boy he was doing. And Kevin very much wanted
Sandy to fuck him as a boy.

But Sandy took a hold of the other boy's nutsack more in an awe of
discovery and first time bewilderment than in disgust or disdain. If he had
ever been asked or made to hold a boy's balls before, he would have
certainly been disgusted -- probably even nauseous at the idea, much less
the act. But here he was, feeling the smoothness of the wrinkled brown
skin, feeling the wonder of a whole ball (the scrotum) with two more inside
it. And he wasn't sick.

He wasn't even turned off. Something about it was quite remarkable and he
was definitely intrigued. A deeper part realized the stigma associated with
this, but instead of shame, he felt the darker side that turned his
lust. If he knew the full import of `kinky' he might use that word, but
even that wasn't it. Somehow by acknowledging the forbidden, that this was
indeed another boy, he was even more turned on and feeling the sexual
desire of dominating the boy.

He was also reflecting on the memories of his own balls, as many times as
he had felt them in his life, all the while he continued to fondle and
caress Kevin's scrotum, eliciting many quiet sighs and moans from the
boy. At this point, instead of relying upon memory, Sandy reached down and
took a hold of his own sack with his free hand.

Whoa.

As soon as he wrapped his hand around his nuts, it was almost as if an
electrical current started flowing through both boys, connecting them fully
in such a way that wasn't there before. It charged Sandy's already hard
dick even further and copious precum began leaking from its erected tip.

It would have made quite a scene had someone walked in on them. Fortunately
they were quite far away from Sandy's family and friends to avoid the worst
humiliation for the boy should that happen, but the fact that they were
doing this somewhat in the open (there was a bench there for observers
after all, made it all the more titillating.

If he kept this up much longer, Sandy quite suddenly realized that he would
cum just from rubbing both their nuts at the same time.

"Kevin, please, I gotta fuck you. . . . "

"Do it . . . . do it!!"  The boy moaned out. He wasn't thinking he might
cum just from having his nuts rubbed, but it was driving him crazy knowing
this fine boy with the great dick was standing there behind him, hard and
ready. He couldn't take much more just from the wanting of that dick inside
him.

Sandy took aim and slid it in, slowly, but in one long stroke that had both
boys moaning from pleasure. It gave a whole new definition to boys' chorus.




Sandy had to distract himself from thinking about it hours later as he lay
there on the couch, waiting for the commercials to end. Just thinking of
how that second fuck had felt, the fully naked boy below him, his hands
free to roam about that warm lightly tanned flesh, and feeling the hot
tight glove of his anal channel gripping down and massaging him. The
knowledge that he was going to fill a boy again with his young but white
seed, the moans that he couldn't tell came from whom, and the sight of his
shaft disappearing and reappearing between those billowy cheeks, timed with
the most amazing clench and release along the whole of his dick . . . . .
.

It had been incredible that he had held on as long as did then, but he
definitely didn't need to blow a load right there in the living
room. Besides, if he thought about it much more, he may just automatically
reach down inside his pajama bottoms and grab a hold and start jacking
off. The memory was just that hot, that he was certain if he didn't keep
himself distracted he would lose all control over his hands.

Fortunately after dinner, he had come back downstairs prepared, having
jacked off in the shower (although that seemed to have done no good) as
well as put on both briefs AND boxers under his pajama bottoms, as well as
an over-large T-shirt. It wasn't enough to keep Bradley from noticing. But
his thoughts were more of hurt and confusion -- and fear -- than surprise
or any temptation to perve his older brother.

Sandy still couldn't believe how easy it had been to convince his parents
to let him sign up his own little brother Bradley to be on this year's
Choosing List. And the event was barely more than three weeks away. Bradley
was blown away with how matter-of-factly that his parents had agreed to
this. He start to blow up completely, except that his parents warned him
that if he lost his anger or took anything out on his older brother, then
they wouldn't just sign him up for the competition -- they would sign him
up for the ending!

His Ending!

Of course, they were totally bluffing; they didn't even want the boy down
there, though in truth they honestly didn't think it would irreparably harm
him. They just weren't thrilled with the idea of having to accommodate sex
early into their boys' lives. At least, not at 12. But what neither boy
knew, though Hiram and Darrell did, was that Elijah had already spoken with
Sam and Karla and threw down a few barely subtle, `friendly, Mackey
ultimatums.

If they wanted to keep their property intact that was. Intact until the big
pay off came.

Sandy's trip down into Indian Spring that day just happened to be
Serendipity. They discussed it over dinner and pretended not to notice that
their youngest boy was blanched and no longer hungry. He did believe the
bluff that his parents gave him to keep some peace in the house, and that
was the only thing that kept him quiet at first; but slowly it was the
dulling shock leading into denial that kept him quiet. It was a denial
rammed up against a scary reality that he knew of all to well, having made
fun of some of the bottom Mackeys amongst his Outer Mackey distant
relatives and friends in the know.

And now they would all know he was going to be one. Or at least, he was
going to be on the list.

The only saving grace for Bradley was their parents' refusal to go along
with everything that Sandy had wanted. After hearing the good news that his
brother would indeed be in the Choosing, and that he was now clear with the
Tucker Wood Mackeys, Sandy tried the next step.

"Mom, dad, um, supposing Bradley gets Chosen . . . . ."

"I'm NOT!"  Bradley started suddenly, half in fear, half in anger.

"Well," Sandy said, but in a tone that almost cast him as the kind older
brother who was genuinely concerned about the possible outcomes, "supposed
you should, . . . then . . .you should be prepared for what might happen."

"Well, I'm not."  And Bradley said this like Sandy was mental. He was NOT
getting picked for something like that.

"OK fine, mom, dad, if someone LIKE Bradley, who was at the Choosing and
actually got picked and had to live here under your rules, would you have
him follow the Mackey Rules, you know, without interference?"

"Are you . . . ."  His mom started, looking at him with a stunned
expression.  "Are you seriously asking us if you can have unlimited access
to your brother's bottom? For you own pleasure??"

"I'm just sayin', somebody's got to be there for him, you know, to watch
out for him, and if we were gonna do this, then we should --"

"No!"  she cut him off, slightly disgusted.  "No, we are not going to have
this discussion. Absolutely not. You are not going to fuck your brother!"

Both boys were stunned to hear the F word out of their own mother's
mouth. They never heard her cuss. Of course, like most kids in that type of
small town America, they don't ever picture their parents even knowing
those words. To them the words are part of their generation. Their parents
only said `intercourse' and `copulation' if they were even non-vague at
all.

But his mother wasn't being vague right now. And she wasn't done either.

"I know those Rules. I dated two Mackey boys before your father, I'll have
you know. And the rules state that a parent can opt out brothers from
having any right of access. And that is something done
frequently. . . . . . . Well, maybe not frequently . . . . but it's been
done. I'm sure. And if you are so keen on following the `Mackey Rules' and
bring this up again, you will take your place in that bent-over line-up
along with your brother and his friends, after I make a special request of
my own. Do you understand?"

Now THAT , had been no bluff.

"Yes, ma'am."  The boy was humbled and suddenly more interested in his pie,
though he was no longer eating it, just moving it around on his plate.

Bradley would have smiled and stuck out his tongue (being 12 didn't mean
you always acted 12 toward a sibling) and gleefully rubbed his victory in
Sandy's face, except it was only a Pyrrhic one. He still had to be on the
list. And he had heard that this year, there would be no cut before the
final line-up. Everyone who had been previously cut was back on the list;
and everyone on the list would be in the line up. No exceptions.

Everyone, every 12 year old, was up for grabs. Almost literally.

So what Bradley was thinking that night, while Sandy was laying back during
the commercials, and as he looked over at the hard-on of his brother, one
that looked like it was having to put up quite a struggle to make that
tent. He was wondering why the boy was still hard, if he knew that he
wouldn't be able to do anything to him. And why was he smiling so much?

But Bradley didn't know about Sandy's time with Kevin that afternoon.

He also didn't know the second reason Sandy was hard and smiling. It wasn't
all about Kevin. Before coming into the living room, Sandy had passed his
parents' bedroom and over heard a conversation:

"You really think he could get chosen?"  Karla asked.

"Well, there hasn't been a bottom boy from the 10th Kinset in a very long
time. I think it's likely SOME boy from out here will be chosen. Probably
more than likely."

"And Bradley does have a cute little bottom," Karla mused, though almost
fretfully.  "Hmmm, do you think I was too rough on Sandy?"

"I don't know, am I going to get the same treatment if I say `yes'?"

Karla smiled and paused.  "So you think . . . . you think it would be OK if
we did let him have sex with Bradley."

"Well, it has been the normal rule of thumb to let the brothers work it out
amongst themselves. Honestly, I don't really think it would hurt either one
of them if Sandy had sexual access to Bradley for a year or so, provided
there was some way for Bradley to appeal abuse."

Karla sighed.  "I suppose you're right." But she didn't sound fully
convinced either.

"Karla, sweetie, there is one other thing to consider. Bradley will be
available to 13 year old boys from day one, and later to 14 year olds, then
15 year olds. That's the cutoff. But even some of those 13 year olds can
have impressively sized dicks. It may be better for him if he was receiving
regular and possibly more gentle attention from his brother. You know, just
to keep him loosened enough not to hurt whenever the other boys are going
to want their turn."

"Well," she sighed again, "I do suppose there will be a lot of them
. . . . . "

"Oh, I think that is a safe supposition, dear. Having Sandy allowed regular
unfettered access could keep him limber emotionally as well, always ready
for it, instead of never knowing when someone will want a piece of ass."

"Oh, don't be so vulgar, Sam . . . "

"We may have to become more acquainted with the vulgar side of life, Karla,
if Bradley does get selected as one of the Mackey Bottoms."

Karla turned away for a moment, mulling more of it over in her head, not so
much wondering if they made the right decision, but whether they made a
livable one.  "And we are only talking about IF Bradley is chosen."

"Of course, if he isn't, then so much the better. Sandy can have his boy
fun with whoever does get selected, and we've done the duty that we had
to."

"And Bradley gets his place forever amongst his cousins without anybody
ever being able to challenge him on that."

"That's true, too, Sam agreed."

Again there was a pause from Karla, and a subtle slight additional sigh.
"Sam . . . . . . do you suppose . . . . . IF, of course, . . . .Bradley DID
get selected . . . . . . and we let Sandy . . . you know . . . ."

"Yes?"

"Do you think it might serve to draw the boys closer? Maybe provide a
stabilizing influence for both boys -- give some sense of responsibility
for Sandy and a guiding hand for Bradley?"

"Well, we could certainly frame it that way and encourage it!"  Sam
said. He hadn't quite thought about it like that before, but it just may
work out that way. But the next part was what surprised Sandy, still
listening in the hallway, about to go in and watch his movie.

"Then," his mother said, with a seeming lift in her voice, "it might not be
such a bad thing if Bradley were to get chosen; and if that were the case,
then we should certainly let Sandy be the older brother, with all the
rights and privileges!"

"Sandy will love to hear that," his dad answered back, "but I don't think
we should tell him. Sometime next week we can let Bradley know what might
happen, but we should wait on telling Sandy."

"Agreed."




Later, as he stretched back on the sofa, the last commercial about to end
before the movie restarted, Sandy replayed this conversation in his
head. This was the smile Bradley saw. But like his parents, Sandy wasn't
saying anything.




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


9 pm

"Yes?"

14 year old Caleb Parker was responding to the knock at his door. It was
his dad.

Caleb hadn't been looking forward to this. There wasn't a whole lot that he
could deny. He had tried, but the guilty look on his face when his dad
asked him if he had been having sex with that 11 year old Vargas boy again
. . . . He was caught. He knew it, his dad knew.

And Rich knew it. And Rich was even angrier with his brother, as he was
also once again in trouble for lying about Joey being over here. Joey had
to go and leave his stupid hat.

At least his dad didn't know that this time around Caleb had fucked Joey --
nice and hard. Twice even. The slightest memory causing a stirring in his
dick, despite the impending doom of the trouble he was in. Right now,
though, he was presuming that his dad was under the supposition that he had
just been letting Joey fuck him again. He really wasn't sure which was
worse -- he was fucking an 11 year old boy up the ass, or he was bending
over and letting an 11 year old boy plug his hole. An 11 year old boy that
could cum no less.

It was probably best not to muddy the waters for now and let his dad assume
that it was just a one way thing at the moment. About twenty minutes ago
their dad had sent both of them to Caleb's room to wait for him.

"Caleb, Rich, I've given this a lot of thought of how to handle this. Caleb
you seem persistent in this perverted desire of your to have another boy
use your bottom for purposes for which it was most definitely not
intended. I know that seems to be a bit more accepted around this
community, but it has never been so in this house. Furthermore, you are not
aware of what kind of consequences such behaviour brings in this community,
or even the world at large.

"But yet you persist. So I feel it's my duty to enlighten you. If, after
this enlightenment, you decide this is the path you want, then I will help
make that happen for you, and you won't get in any further trouble for it."

Caleb had to digest this for a moment. It sounded like a threat, encased in
a fractured attempt at showing him what one aspect of life could be
about. He wasn't sure he wanted this `enlightenment,' though he was fairly
certain it wasn't an offer as much as a warning of what was to come.

"Well, what's this, um . . . . ."

"Enlightenment? You will be spending the weekend with your cousins, Stephen
and Andrew."

Caleb wasn't sure how he was going to become enlightened at the Corwin's
house way out in the country. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. It used to
be a lot of fun going out there. There was always kids coming around,
friends of Stephen, who was 13 now, and friends of Andrew, who had just
turned 12, as well as neighbors and other relations. It was an active
place, and his Aunt Beth was always entertaining friends of her own,
letting Uncle Roger watch over the boys. But in the last year or so, he
felt a little uncomfortable around a lot of Stephen's friends, and
especially around Andrew's, though he had always been uncertain why -- or
maybe too afraid to think of why.

"What's going on at their place?"  Caleb asked his dad.

"You will be given over to Stephen and Andrew and any of their friends that
Roger and Bathe decide can come over. They will be allowed to use your
mouth or your bottom for their fun."

"WHAT???@!!"

"It's for your own good, Caleb. You don't seem to be giving any heed to the
end point of these lies and indiscretions of yours. You need to see what it
can be like if you don't get a hold of yourself. If you love it, then I
won't stand in your way of doing the same here. If you hate it, then you'll
see why I put my foot down and do not allow it."

"Dad!! You can't-"

"It's HAPPENING, OK? It will happen. You are going this weekend, and you
are going to see what happens to a naughty boy that doesn't maintain better
control of his own body. You don't know what it is like here in this
community!"

"But dad . . ."  Caleb couldn't figure out why his dad was doing this. It
seemed crazy, and he had thislook in his eye like he was in another time
zone or another Indian Spring when he was ranting about the dangers.

"Oh for crying out loud, Caleb, Uncle Roger isn't going to let them
actually hurt you. This is a learning experience for you. Not so much
punishment."

Caleb's mind was blown away, but as much as he was hating this idea, as
much as he was fearing it, why all of a sudden had the thought popped up
from the back of his mind hoping that Andrew's friend Tyler Cross would be
there. Why on earth at this dire moment did he have that thought? What was
wrong with him? A growing knot formed in his belly as he imagined having to
suck off his cousin Stephen and his friends, all those hard dicks, all that
hair, all that cum - swallowing the semen of so many boys.

Ugh. That really wasn't what he had gone into when he had first become
enamored of Joey's beautiful body. Why did his dad have to think in such
absolutes? What actually had happened to him as a kid?? That must be it.

"Now Rich, as for you, yours really is more of a punishment -- for
lying. For lying when you knew something despicable was going on in this
house, something I had forbidden. But I'm not unaware that such things
happen even beginning at your age. I know you are only 10, but you will be
11 in just a month, and I feel it's not only imperative to impress upon you
the importance of not lying, but also allow you to experience the
humiliation I want to save you from in this community, while in the more
controlled setting at your cousins' house.

"So, you will have Friday night and all day Saturday to find a boy with
hair who can ejaculate mature sperm -- already whitened semen -- and invite
him into your bottom. Once he fills you up with his semen a couple times,
you'll be done for that night. Then you'll find a different boy to do the
same Sunday night. And hopefully when you both come back on Monday, you
will feel more like putting an end to this foolishness. Now, good night and
both of you go to bed."

The boys were agape with horror. How could this be happening?

They didn't know how close their own father had come once to being
powerless and used as a bottom boy against his own will, to have to look
forward to years of any and every boy within two years his age getting to
use his bottom for their sick pleasures.

It would never have been as bad as that, but over the years the fear
twisted Jonathan Parker's outlook on the custom and what its outcomes would
have been. He genuinely thought he was giving his boys the gentlest of
previews of what there was to come if they didn't straighten up and fly
right and protect their back holes in this community of iniquitous
possibilities.

He couldn't afford to move away. This seemed like his only option in
protecting his boys.





--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10 pm

"Would you care for some port, as well, madam?"

"Oh no, I'm driving."

"Then some tea perhaps? A stimulatory flavor? May I suggest a mint tea?"

"Yes, thank you. That sounds lovely."

"I'll have one also, waiter."

"Now why is it that the women always end up as the designated drivers,
Kay?"

"Because then we would have to trust Jonas and Jared with getting the boys
to bed. And that would never happen."

"Mom, we aren't little kids," 13 year old Stephen Upshaw smiled and said
from one table over at the restaurant, He had been allowed a very small
glass of port.  "I think we can manage to get to bed on our own."

Kay Upshaw looked over at her sole offspring and smiled and shook her head,
more in dismay at how rapidly he actually was growing up. He was getting so
tall, so handsome, and yes, even more responsible -- perhaps something to
do with being an only child. It was good that his cousins would be moving
in next week to the old Anderson house; they would supply a nice `real kid'
balance to Stephen's growing up.

The old Anderson house was next door to the `good' Andersons, as opposed to
the absentee Andersons that had held the empty house in contention for so
many years. The Upshaws finally got the property in part due to Halford
Tucker's intervention, but in truth, no other Andersons would move in there
because of the horrible tragedy that had occurred so many years ago. No one
ever mentioned Tabitha Mackey ever more, at least not on this side of the
Crazy Indian. But what that woman did -- and in front of her own son,
even. Horrible. Very few people knew why she did it. Very few. Kay Upshaw
wasn't one, but a shiver went down Kay Upshaw's back. That poor, poor
boy. She put that memory out of mind. It would be good to have that lonely
house filled again after so many years.

She was glad Jonas' brother Jared was coming home, glad that he wasn't
superstitious and didn't mind the stigma so many attached to the house. She
liked June, too, and her boys really would be good to have down the street.

"Hey mom," Stephen's cousin Glen called out, to his own mother, June
Upshaw, "Can we have some port?"

"No, because you two ARE still little kids."

"What??"  Glen said, offended but still smiling, "I'm three months older
than Stephen!"

"Well, you don't act it."  June said.

Glen's 12 year old brother Brent, pointed at him and laughed, his mouth
still full of pie.

"I'm pretty sure she means you, too, dork."  Glen retorted.

Sometimes Brent would just like an opportunity to reverse this
older-younger brother role that Glen relished most when it suited him. But
for now, he just stuck his tongue out at the boy only 14 months his
elder. Glen just subtly flipped the bird back at him.

Oh yes, Kay thought, smiling, it will definitely be more lively.



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11 pm

It was a slow lazy jack, one more for the day before sleep, though often
times nowadays it was the only one of the day. Gone were the days when he
would do it two or three times a day. Well, sometimes he still did; but
ever since turning 16 three months ago, after four years of jacking off,
and 2 and a half of those being able to make a nice mess every time,
Sheldon Redd was settling in to the mid-adolescent normal routine of once
or twice a day.

And before bed was his favorite time. He could go slower. He could go
longer. And his parents never came in to tuck him in. He never saw them
after 9 pm anyway. They were still the old-school: early to bed, early to
rise.

Actually, Sheldon was, too, most of the time. But this time he was
troubled. He had started his lazy jack off session an hour and a half
ago. It would usually go on for 10-30 minutes, depending on how often he
slowed or stopped, or changed girls or scenarios in his mind. But tonight
he had been more unfocused. He had been just letting the dreamy fantasies
take their own course.

He was think about girls in general, slowly settling on the class behind
his fourth period last year. There was only a glass partition, and the way
the chairs were arranged in his room, he could often fade out of one class
and scoop the girls in the next without seriously drawing any attention;
and there were several hot girls in that class.

Carla Jimenez with her trim body and the way she arched her side like a
coiled snaked when she was focused. He could imagine his arm going around
that body and pulling her in tight. Ginger Tawson with that Auburn hair,
what he wouldn't give to see the color and layout of her pussyscape. And
Shawna Glade, with those pert breasts that pulled whatever shirt she would
wear up into a higher rider that made you want to just run your hands along
that skin up her belly and enclose them around those perfect orbs that
floated tantalizingly underneath her beautiful face and neck.

And Deidre Parkins who always wore pink. Pink was any boy's favorite
color. Pink meant pussy, and at that moment he was imagining Deidre
spreading those legs for him, wrapping them tight around him and pulling
him in. She could kiss him on the lips and open up, pulling his tongue in
and giving it a wrestle. He knew she liked Jake Finney, so many girls
did. She could like the Finn all she wanted, but this was his dream, and
his substitute reality of the moment, and the moment was her hot tongue
over his.

He could feel the actual pressure, the push and pull even within his own
mouth as his dick was unconsciously working his own hand, even as much as
his hand was working his dick. As he neared his climax he pulled out of his
kiss and opened his eyes and looked on to the lovely face of-

Jake Finney.

WHOA!!! His hand flew off his dick before it could erupt and he literally
jumped out of bed.  What the hell was that? How did Finn get into his jack
off fantasy??

What the fuck was . . . . . .what . . . . . what ff- . . . . . . . . what
was . . . . . . . . . What the FUCK???

Sheldon was freaked out. What the fuck was that?? He walked around his
room, pacing actually, oblivious to the fact that he was naked and his semi
hard, but deflating dick, flopping about with every sudden turnabout in his
pacing.

He ran his hands over his face to check for fever. Was he sick? Was there
something wrong with him? It was definitely sick, that was for sure, what
happened. The fact that it could happen in his own jack-off fantasy was too
mind blowing. He walked around a bit more before he could sit on his own
bed without feeling like he was going to lose it.

Sure, he thought, a part of him had wanted to fuck Jake Finney the other
day, but that was just a tight hole and a physical lust; there wasn't
anything particularly special attached to Finn. Yeah, he was a good looking
guy, but Sheldon never felt butterflies or anything sick like that around
the boy. It was one thing to fuck an unfortunate hole for the taking, but
to jack off while kissing a boy. That was just fucking sick.

Sheldon felt he must be growing crazy, and he took stock of where he had
been headed over the last few weeks. He didn't particularly like Darrell
anymore, and he was starting to not like Hiram. The fact that he was
getting closer to them while the people he did actually like seemed to be
getting farther away from him, was becoming more and more stressful. He
finally realized that he was stressed. And he wasn't happy. He didn't like
where this was all headed.

Maybe that's what the horrifying jack-mare was about. It was about the
overload of stress and that it would take him into dark and unwanted
places. Like kissing a boy.

"Uuugghh" Shelton exclaimed aloud as an uncontrolled spasm of disgust
rolled through him. He made his mind up about something right then and
there. He was backing off from Darrell and Hiram and some of the other boys
that they had in their hate-filled collective. He would start by going to
see Jason and Hayden and re-establishing the connections that had fallen
away there over the last year.

And he would take his imposed responsibility over Seth more seriously. He
was supposed to be protecting the boy from the choosing; instead he was
letting that slide, almost just letting him get chosen right under his
unconcerned nose.

Well no more.

He laid back down with a deep breath of relief. That's all it had
been. Just stress, nothing more. As he relaxed, more out of habit than
anything else, his hand reached down and grabbed his resurging dick. He
pictured a smooth warm body, nothing specific, just someone nice to hold,
nice to feel, nice to kiss on the back of the neck, nice to run his hands
down the smooth skin.

He pictured his dick pressed into the back of the receptive and murmuring
beauty. He pulled away to look down the perfect back and on to the most
beautiful ass he could ever see project out and curving away out of site,
even as his now hard dick found a comfortable lay between the mouthwatering
crack. He grabbed a hold of the base and ran the upper part of his dick
between those creamy unblemished cheeks until he came to the puckering of a
hole.

It didn't matter which hole, they would both be tight, and he pressed in,
entering smoothly with a solid warm caress rolling down the length of his
impossibly hard male member as he fully embedded himself inside and began
to pump the young hard, yet soft, body, until Seth was moaning for him to
pump him deeper, to give him the living cum of his balls.

"Fill me up, Sheldon, pump me, run your dick all the way inside me, give me
all of your meat and bury yourself and give me your seed! Fill me up
Sheldon!! Explode deep inside me!!"

And explode he did. DEEP inside the warmest, tightest pussy he could ever
hope to imagine. And he wrapped his arms around Seth's taut muscular little
body and plunged his manhood even deeper with in and came harder than he
had ever done in his life.

Fountains of hot sperm shout up out of his dick and coated his headboard,
his pillow, his sheets, his naked body, and ran down his hands, all the
while in his spontaneously spurred fantasy he was filling the rectum of 12
year old Seth Mackey, and covering the back of his neck and shoulders with
kisses, and wanting nothing more, in those last few spurts and receding
orgasm, to turn the boy around and kiss him fully on those beautiful lips
and re-enter him from the front and fuck him so slow that he would be
kissing him for half the night.

Eventually Sheldon fell back to earth, and as his orgasm, truly and well
the greatest of his young life, receded to shame, he let the guilt of what
he had just done wash over him. He was so drained of energy that he could
expend no more berating himself or demanding within to know what the hell
was wrong with him.

What made it worse, was he realized just how much he really liked it.

He liked it more than anything he had ever cum with before.

Sheldon closed his eyes. He would have cried, maybe even have entertained
thoughts of cutting off his own dick, well . . . . maybe his hands -- he
could live without those -- except he was too tired for anymore thoughts of
self-loathing and very quickly fell asleep, blissfully into plain and
unrelated dreams.






----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Midnight


"Oi, Miguel . . . . ."  the whisper came through the darkness of the
bedroom.  "Duermes?"

"No."  Miguel de la Cruz whispered back. It was his older brother Vicente,
he was sure of that.  "Que quieres?"

"Y Javier, duerme?"

"Si, desde dos horas."

10 and a half year old Javier never could stay up very late, and he was
always the first one asleep. Miguel was usually the late child, reading
until all hours of the night. Fortunately the light never bothered or woke
up Javier. Miguel, having just turned 12 that month, was the closest in age
to Javier and hence ended up sharing a room. Maria and Victor at 9 and 8
years of age also shared a bedroom. Vicente was the oldest and the only one
to have his own room, but for some reason always ended up in Miguel's,
waiting first for Javier to fall asleep.

"Apaga la luz."

Miguel reached over and turned on his bedside lamp, the light that filled
the room showing 13 year old Vicente already sitting on the edge of his
brother's bed. His brown body a nice sepia contrast to the black white and
red of the darkened room as lit by a 40 watt bulb and a red lampshade.

"You're horny."  Miguel observed with a smile. It was easy to tell. The
body sitting on his bed was an even and smooth medium brown everywhere
except for the brighter white cotton briefs that showed an obvious strain
in the crotch, and a damp area where the maximal point of lift stretched
them out.

"Si . . .mucho! Quieres?"

Rather than say it, Vicente just made an in and out motion of his right
index finger through a hole made by his left finger and thumb. Miguel
thought about this a second. He wasn't sure he did; but then figured he
would come around by the time it was his turn.

"Si, pero solo si pueda hacerte tambien."

Vicente was a little dejected by the counter offer. He really just wanted
to get off inside Miguel. He didn't like returning the favor so much. It
was different when they used to suck each other's dicks. Vicente didn't
mind that so much, and he could even get Miguel sometimes to do him without
needing it back in return. But once Vicente started making cum, Miguel was
more and more reluctant to do that.

It was then that Vicente hit upon the idea of fucking his brother. And at
first Miguel preferred this and would usually just let Vicente have his way
and be done. But more lately, and especially since he turned 12, Miguel was
more reluctant to want to bend over or lay down for Vicente, and more
likely to want to do it himself. Part of this was his own developing sexual
horniness, but part was also a developing machismo that did not as easily
allow for this servicing.

The first time, when Vicente came in Miguel's ass, his little brother was
sure he could feel it shooting inside him, and it bothered him that his
older brother would put his semen and sperm up into his butt, so in effect
making him keep it up there all day, or at least until the next time he had
to take a dump.

And it bothered him all day long, as well, and also through part of the
next two days. Knowing that some boy had shot his junk up into his ass was
a lot more disturbing than just being fucked. In fact, at first, he didn't
really even care about the fucking itself. However, the very next time
Vicente came to him, he let the boy start, but while Vicente was
establishing a rhythm moving his hardened, swollen dick in and out of that
tight muscular canal, feeling that smooth wall clench and massage across
the whole of his dick as he plunged it deep and pulled back just to go in
again -- it was during this that Miguel made it clear that Vicente had to
pull out when he was about to shoot his stuff. He didn't want that stuff
inside him.

And he better shoot it somewhere else than ON him, too.

Vicente just grunted an agreement and kept the in-and-out exercise of his
dick that was bringing the boy to an incredible climax. And when the time
came, he slid his arms under his brother's warm body and held him tight as
he slammed hard into the slick but barely yielding hole and shot everything
he had deep into Miguel's rectum, telling the boy -- as his breath came
back -- that he was sorry, but their was no way he was pulling out of that
ass at the last moment considering how overwhelmingly great it felt.

Of course, all of this was said in a 13 year old boy's terms. And in
Spanish.

So the next time he wanted feel Miguel's ass warm against his body as a
slow but patient bumper for his more purposeful movements, he was told at
the beginning that he better not cum in his butt again. This time Miguel
was just bent over a tree out in the woods behind their house, and Vicente
grabbed the boy's hips and held them tight. Vicente told him straight up as
he ran his hard dick up and into the waiting offered rectum that he had no
intention of pulling out. He was shooting everything inside his little
brother.

Miguel frowned, but he made no movement or protest to stop his older
brother from using his ass for pleasure, either this time or the next; and
Vicente concentrated on the round lines of the cheeks below where he was
holding Miguel to where they curved downward and disappeared pressed
against him such that only the barest root of his dick could be seen in the
crack that spread slightly each time he pushed hard against the yielding
bumper of flesh.

He liked to keep the voluptuous ass pressed against his pubic area and set
up a slow luxurious fuck that only moved a bit of the base of his dick in
and out and let him sustain a much longer fuck without even breaking
contact with the boy's butt. He was practically drunk with the sight of
himself fucking Miguel's exposed behind, and he was hooked as he pressed
into the boy, both with their jeans and underwear around their knees and
fired several volleys of thickening cum deep inside him.

The first time that Miguel insisted that he get to do the same in return,
Vicente was very reluctant. He was the older brother after all, and the
machismo of their heritage was already manifesting itself some in his
outlook on their roles. But he let him eventually -- but only because he
was too horny to stall out anymore and was desperate for Miguel's hole.

Miguel liked it; even though he didn't want it as much as Vicente did. And
they eventually set up a pattern where Vicente began to give in more, but
also do without more often. The first time Miguel released a volley of cum
into Vicente's ass, the older boy was definitely turned off from wanting to
ever do it again. In fact it was almost a whole month until he was just too
horny to care. And the next time he even let Miguel go first and then have
another round afterward. The sweet release was just that good after three
and a half weeks of nothing but his hand. And in the last three months he
had gone back to the previous pattern of wanting it more and reluctantly
giving in to take turns more. But Miguel still didn't ask every time,
partly because he didn't `need' it as much, and partly because Vicente was
older and did carry, still, some weight and influence with his younger
brothers.

But every now and then Miguel was insistent -- sometimes for pleasure,
sometimes for pride; usually both. And Vicente would sometimes just shake
his head and go away. But tonight, after grimacing a bit, he finally said.

"OK. But we do it in your bed."

They always did it in Miguel's bed. Vicente kept his bedroom out of the sex
scene.

"Claro."  Miguel said and reached under his sheet and pulled his underwear
off. He brought it out in his hand and dropped it off the side of his
bed. He then rolled over and rested his head on his arms, waiting for
Vicente to do the rest. The 13 year old boy couldn't resist taking a look
first and pulled up the sheet to look at the prone naked brown boy
underneath and the sweet 12 year old ass waiting for him.

"Dios mio!"  Vicente said to himself and had to strongly will himself not
to grab his crotch and squeeze his dick, or he would most surely cum just
from the sight of that lovely round, unblemished ass all there for his
taking.

"Tengo que hacerte dos veces!"  Vicente said in a rush, knowing he was
going to cum just sliding it in, or at least in the first two or three
thrusts, and he wanted a longer and more in depth fuck than that.

Two times, Miguel heard. His brother said he had to do him twice. The
younger boy just sighed and shrugged and said OK. Vicente got up and went
the chair in the corner and took off the thicker pillow-cushion that was
kept there. They both hoped their mom never looked at the back side of that
pillow as many times as they both had leaked, and once or twice
accidentally shot, all over it.

Vicente brought it back -- his dick even more obscenely and tightly
stretching the now wet cotton out before him as he walked to the bed - and
put the cushion under Miguel, propping up that marvelous and unbelievable
ass. After that, he opened the dresser drawer and reached in the back and
pulled out the jar of lotion that they had hidden back there.

He slipped his underwear off, having some difficulty getting it off over
his hard dick, which slapped his belly audibly as it finally found
release. The slap caused Miguel to look back and survey the leaking
appendage that was soon going to be pressed against his pucker gate and
slid in through a canal it made as it went, until it was buried more than
four inches deep inside him. He would feel those black curly hairs that he
saw, tight above the dick and more numerous than when they had started all
this, against his naked cheeks as Vicente pumped him without really pulling
out, as he very often liked to do against the soft yielding bottom and back
of his brother.

He watched with only minimal interest as Vicente lotioned up his dick,
having to take extreme care to do so, and then slide a slick finger through
the crack that he was about to spread with his boyhood. Vicente finally
climbed between his brother's spread legs and got into position, carefully
inserting the head of his raging erection through that still unparted
crack, relishing the feel of the cheeks closing against it as it pierced
them, and stopped when he felt himself push against the tensing gate of his
treasured trove.

Before they started, Vicente reached back and flipped the sheet back over
the both of them, as they were still somewhat shy at times about the act
itself -- at least they felt there had to be some proper and mannered
notions about it. Once covered he laid down on Miguel's back, putting his
upper weight against him before flexing his hips and driving his erect dick
slowly through the tightest yet smoothest and still yielding pressure that
he could ever imagine fucking.

He wrapped his arms around his brother and brought their bodies even closer
together as he thrust once, twice, and once more before feeling the urge of
an exploding dam rip through his body and flood the valley within Miguel.

"Te amo! . . . . .Te amo!"  Vicente exclaimed harshly and warmly directly
into Miguel's ear as he thrust hard feeling the second and third wave of
cum and energy flow form one boy and into the next.

It was at these moments, when he needed to cum hard and soon, that Vicente
was his most tender in expressing how he felt about his brother. For he
truly did love his brother, and all the more so every time Miguel let him
use him for personal pleasure. For Vicente it was a deeper connection that
he greatly treasured far above the physical and sexual need that would
drive him to it. Those indeed were of themselves great and wonderful
rewards that he could relive over and over for days afterward, but the true
peak, and the one whose intensity came and went the fastest, was this
strong and abiding love for his little brother that would let him do such a
thing to start with.

It didn't make Miguel feel weird. Instead it was something of a comfort
knowing how Vicente felt about the entirety of the act that helped offset
the dread of actually having cum shot up his ass, however routine it may
have become at that point.

Vicente panted into the boy's ear as he came down from his cum, though he
was still reflexively pumping the ass slowly, building to his next step
where he might fully fuck it in earnest, sometimes even pulling the boy up
onto his knees so he could slam him hard. The moans and exclamations never
did wake his brother, and thankfully Miguel and Javier's bedroom was over
the garage and farthest from their parents' room.

And Javier was a heavy sleeper.

But tonight, Vicente was in the mood for a long slow fuck, and as he built
himself back up to a randy thirst, he settled in to his brothers back for a
long and slow and steady pumping of that plump butt. He relished the feel
of a backside that would massage along the whole of his front.

Miguel didn't quite like it when it was slow, though the furious fucking
was more degrading in one way, like he was being owned by another boy and
seriously schooled beyond his own abilities to forestall. But the slow and
steady just drug it out.

Plus, Miguel hated more and more the feeling of relaxation and enjoyment
that he had to fight as he got used to both his brother's dick and his
rhythm, and sometimes just from the skin-to-skin feel of the warm body
stretched out over him. It was mainly for this reason that Miguel liked to
go first. If he went first, then he was done, and he wouldn't have any
lingering doubts exacerbated by a confusing enjoyment of his brother's
fuck. He could just tolerate it and wait for him to be done without the
temptation of wanting it to happen.

But for Vicente, it was still as much a communion with his brother as a
physical excitation of the nerves along his dick, nerves that seemed to be
directly attached to his brain and were secondarily frayed throughout every
other region of his body. Even so, even he knew that what really drove him
to this point was horniness plain and simple. Whatever he might feel and
appreciate of his little brother during the actual act, it was only
precipitated by hormonal lust and need.

And so the two brothers continued their uneasy but sexually fulfilling
symbiosis; and at long last when Vicente was finally cumming a second time
and filling his brother with the semen and sperm of his own making, he
reached under the boy and once again pulled him closer. But this time,
instead of a frantic need to hit that incredible peak onset of lust-denied
and exploding orgasm, he was instead pulling him into a hug, almost,
feeling the warm skin in their contact along the length of their bodies,
smelling the freshly shampooed hair, and pressing his lips against the back
of the neck of the brother he would always love and watch out for, all the
while he felt spurt after spurt leave his own penis deep inside that plush
bottom to fill Miguel's rectum.

And that's exactly how Vicente wanted to leave things. That's how he always
wanted to leave things. But he had given his word. He was always
uncomfortable with Miguel taking his hole for his own turnabout
pleasure. But Miguel only gave him so long to lay on him in his post-cum,
post-euphoric blissful calm, before he said:

"OK, get off me Vicente. It's my turn."

The first time that Miguel had taken Vicente's cherry was thoroughly
degrading for the boy, and if truth be told, he still had some minor
post-traumatic stress from letting it happen. And he always cringed when
Miguel told him what position to get in; it was like being popped all over
again.

"Get on all fours, Vicente, como perro. I wanna watch my dick going in
you."

Sometimes it was because it was Vicente's butt that he was watching get
porked, and by himself no less, and sometimes it was just the feeling of
something slick, hot, and tight all along the confines of his growing penis
that got him off. Sometimes the anticipation was filling his big brother
with his own incipient sperms, and sometimes it was simply the sweet
release before sleep. With Miguel it really just depended on the mood of
the moment.

But tonight -- tonight he wanted to fuck his big brother's even tighter
ass, and know it was him filling the older boy with his own cum. That was
the big orgasm for Miguel.