THE BROTHERHOOD REDUX: by Mobius
Necessary Disclaimers: * This story is fiction; none of characters represent any persons in real life and none of the events described actually happened, at least to my direct knowledge. * This fictional story depicts sexual activity between youths under the age of 18. Do not read if this matter offends you, or if because of your age or region of residence, it is illegal for you to do so. * Nifty preserved my original story for over two decades, so their service is more than worth your donation to keep the archive running. Please donate at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html * (c)1997,2021 Mobius Loop w/ permission for Nifty Archive Alliance.
Chapter 4 -- TODD'S SECRET
<Ding - Dong>
It was the doorbell. I had just finished reading about how one of the members of the Brotherhood had lost his virginity during summer camp, and the doorbell woke me right out of the Brotherhood Journal from the summer of 1982.
I put down the black and white composition notebook and went over to the door, fishing my wallet out of my pocket. I opened the door and a familiar-looking young man was there.
"You order a pizza, sir?"
"Yes, indeed," I smiled. He handed me the hot box with the Dominos logo on it, "That will be seven-fifty."
I pulled out nine dollars and handed them to him, "Keep the...." but I cut short my sentence because as I put the bills in his hand, I noticed a ring on his ring finger which looked exactly like the ring I had noticed on Jason's hand that day in my office about a half a year ago. I looked up at him.
He accepted my money with a smile, "Thank you." He suddenly noticed I was staring at him.
"Do I know you from Riverview High?" I asked. He nodded his head.
"Yeah, I'm a senior this year," he replied. I wanted to tell him that his name was Scott Reardon, and that he began realizing his gay impulses one dark night, age 11, behind a pile of fallen trees at the hands of an anxious but tender 15-year-old. I almost had to bite my tongue.
"Aren't you in the theater program?" I asked, trying to lighten up my look. He nodded again, even more enthusiastically.
"Yeah, I've been doing theater there for a few years," he said. "Have you seen me?"
"I think I have," I said. "You have some talent, young man Especially last year for Midsummers Night Dream."
"Thank you," he beamed. "Well, I have to deliver these other pizzas, but it's really nice to meet someone who remembers my stage work."
I admired his work, alright, but it wasn't all in the theater, either. He left as I waved and then closed the door behind him. Oh God, what an incredible coincidence. Not completely unreasonable-- high school kid making money doing his job-- but it was still spooky. Considering I just heard his first-time story in graphic detail, I felt like I knew him intimately.
I went back into the living room with my pizza. I grabbed a soda going through the kitchen-- I hadn't been able to drink beer for about a year because of the drinking problem I nursed all the way through college. I settled myself back into my chair, opened the box, and gouged out an incredibly hot slice of extra-cheese and green peppers.
It tasted like heaven. I held the slice in one hand as I popped open the can of ginger ale with the other. I took a sip, placed the can down, and opened the notebook up again to pick up where I left off.
We all just looked at Scott and his smile. He really enjoyed his first time, and we could hardly believe that story. But, why lie about something like that? And why lie to us?
"Holy shit, man," Kyle said. "That's a great story. Is it true?"
"I can use the old camp directory and look him up for you if you want," he offered. All of us shook our heads.
Jason tightened his embrace on Scott, "Our little Scotty, broken in by the hands of an older man. But now you are with us, Brother. So, tell me, who was better? Us or him?"
Scott just shrugged and said, "That's not really fair, it was one of his against your four. Not much of a handicap, is it?"
We laughed. I got up off of Kyle's back, "I can't take this anymore. You aren't loosening up... I give up."
He sat up and put his arms on my shoulders, pulling me into a kiss. "Thank you for trying anyway. Why don't I return the favor?"
I loved the idea. I laid down in his place and he straddled me, his strong legs bracing me firmly against the bed. Suddenly, I felt the cold of the lotion being dropped onto my back, and I gasped in discomfort. He chuckled, and then pressed his hands against me. Soon, his strong hands and arms were working their way around my shoulders and back. I was putty in his hands.
"I'll go next," I offered.
"For what?" I heard Jason ask.
"For our first times," I replied. "I figured it was only fair, and I really want to know how you guys lost your cherries to another guy."
"Hey," Scott said, "Go for it."
I paused for a moment as I felt Kyle's softened hands running over my skin, working on my muscles.
"For me, it all started at Hoover Middle School," I began.
"No shit, really?" Kyle immediately asked. I felt the vibrations as Jason slapped Kyle's leg.
"Don't interrupt. It's rude."
I was twelve. I guess I was a slow starter, because I really hadn't started to notice girls yet. But, everyone in the boy's locker room were at the age when things start to grow and hair starts to come in, and everybody is seeing just where they stand in comparison to everybody else. Now, I wasn't embarrassed or anything. In fact, part of me even liked the voyeurism. Besides, I like to look at them, too. I guess I felt my impulses young.
Now, I was on the junior basketball league, which was run out of the school on intramural budget. It was a night in January when we were coming back from an away game and the bus broke down. Here we were waiting for another bus to take us the rest of the way home for two whole hours. My change of clothes were really light, so the cold started to bother me right away.
Finally, the bus came and brought us back to the school. Most of the parents were waiting for their kids, but because I told them I'd call when I got back to the school, my folks weren't there. As I went for the phone down in the boy's locker room, I couldn't shake the freezing feeling that was running through my body. So, I decided that before I would call to have them pick me up, I would take a hot shower and warm up. Then, get dressed, call folks, and get picked up.
I undressed and went into the shower. I didn't use soap or shampoo because I was clean, I just needed to warm up. The hot water was relaxing and I thought I was melting into it. I think I must have stood under the shower for ten minutes until I heard the locker room door open.
"Goddamn, bastard!!" I heard a really angry voice curse. I heard the sounds of a couple of lockers getting punched and the huffing sound of someone who was really pissed off. Or upset. I learned really early on that boys don't feel sad when sad things happen, they get angry.
I stepped out of the shower room, rubbing a towel in my hair, and looked around. There was Anthony Messier sitting at the end of one of the benches, his face buried in his hands, his sandy hair tousled through his fingers. He was a few months older than me at thirteen. He was breathing heavily, and I knew something was wrong.
"Anthony?" I asked, walking over to him. He looked up and saw it was me. His eyes widened for a second when he realized I was completely naked, but then just put his head back in his hands.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"My goddamn sonofabitch father!" he cursed through his hands. "First, he blows off the game when he promised he'd be there, then he doesn't show up to pick me up. I call... he's drunk and can't get me. It's too late now, because coach and everyone is gone. How the hell am I supposed to get home, Todd?"
I sat down next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Look, it's no problem if my folks drop you home tonight when they pick me up. So, try to relax... this is not the end of the world."
He started to breathe easier and lifted his head up. I could tell he was trying to not cry in his anger and disappointment, but his eyes still looked red.
"Thanks, man," he said quietly. "You're cool for doing that."
Then he looks at me up and down and says, "Dude, you're naked."
"Yeah, I just showered to warm up after that two-hour wait for a ride," I said. He seemed to smile.
"That was a bitch, wasn't it?" he laughed. He suddenly stopped and looked really serious. He seemed like he was looking through the floor, at some distant spot deep under the earth.
"Why does my father hate me, Todd?" he asked. I shook my head.
"Look, he probably doesn't hate you," I tried to assure him. "He's probably just screwed up like a lot of other parents."
"He never comes to my games, he never noticed how well I do in school, he never takes the time to do anything with me," he continued, the water in his eyes starting to brim again, "Do you know how embarrassing it is not being able to bring my friends to my house? Shit. Ever since my mom died two years ago, he's been useless. Drunk every night. Passed out every morning. It's like I'm living by myself."
I could see that he was really bugging out. The tears were running, but you couldn't hear any quivering in his voice as he went on.
"Do you know that he forgot my birthday this year? I got a card five days later and some cheesy gift certificate. I mean.... what is that? What did I do... to deserve this? My mom dies, and now my father hates me. Why am I alive?"
He slumped forward again, covering his face in his hands. I really didn't know what to do. I had never seen him like this. Yeah, I knew things had been hard, but I thought he was handling it okay. I guess I really didn't know how bad it was.
I instinctively sat behind him and started rubbing his shoulders... to try and relax him.
"Relax, man. I know it sucks now, but this is going to be okay," I tried to calm him.
I could his ragged breathing, his face still in his hands. Suddenly, he took a breath and spoke again.
"Do you like me, Todd?"
I really didn't know how to answer, "Sure. You're cool. And you're a good defensive blocker, too."
"I remember that he used to tell me how much he was proud of me, and how much he loved me. Does your father tell you he love you?" he said, half muffled from behind his hands.
I had to be honest, "Yeah, he'll say it now and again."
"I never used to doubt that I had people who loved me," he said, looking back at me. "Now, I don't know anymore."
I held his shoulders firmly, "Look, lots of people love you. Don't let your asshole father make you not believe that."
"I guess," he half-heartedly agreed. Then he looked at me, "You're cool for talking to me like this. Maybe I'm just tired."
"Look, my parents won't be here till I call. Why don't you go take a hot shower and relax?" I suggested. He shrugged his shoulders in agreement, then started to take his clothes off. I went back into the shower and continued to warm up. I just loved the feel of the hot water as it moved down my skin.
Anthony was suddenly there in the shower room. He walked over to me and from behind, wrapped his arms around me.
"You're so cool, Todd," he whispered, "No one else has, you know, noticed how bad I feel. That's why you're cool, you know about people's feelings."
Standing under the jet of hot water, I was feeling a little awkward. Anthony was hugging me from behind and I could feel his lengthening dick growing up between the cheeks of my ass. In return, that feeling was quickly giving me a little stiffie.
"It's okay, Anthony," I said reaching back and patting him on the shoulder, hoping he'd let me go. But he didn't, he just kept holding me. He kind of slumped on me, nuzzling his head in at the back of my neck. All the while, his rigid six-inch thirteen-year-old cock is pressed up against my back, the hot water rolling all around us.
Suddenly, he starts slipping one of his hands down from my chest, down my stomach, and finally slips its fingers around my hard dick.
I gasped. "Anthony!"
"Sssh," he whispered, starting to rock back and forth, "I want to do this for you."
"But you don't have to. I don't want to...." but I had to stop in mid-sentence because I noticed he was moving himself back and forth, causing his plump cock to rub up and down between the two globes of my ass. It was starting to feel good.
I felt incredibly torn. I had never thought of doing anything gay, and I certainly didn't think enough about Anthony to do gay things with him. But there I was, with Anthony's dick rubbing up the crack of my ass and his hand gently wrapped around my hard cock. My head told me to leave, but my 12-year-old arousal forced me to stay.
Then, unwittingly, I began to oblige him by moving my hips front and back. This not only helped rub his dick harder against my ass, but started a jerking motion for my cock in his hand. Thus, we started slowly moving in a weird unison, rubbing up against each other. We began to move quicker, our skin rubbing together, his hardened dick working against my butt and his jerking hand clasped around my cock.
"Do you like this?" he asked quietly. I nodded, replying with a little moan. We continued it longer, until I suddenly noticed that Anthony was slipping down onto the floor until he was kneeling in a pool of water. He hand was still up and around my cock, but his dick was no longer rubbing into me. I felt disappointed.
Just when I was about to ask if something was wrong, I felt his hot, squirming tongue starting to work its way into my ass. I gasped loudly. First, he circled the tight lips of my ass, making it slick with his spit. Then he started pushing into it. My puckered hole surrendered to his efforts and soon he had half of his tongue slithering around inside of me, sending flashes of pleasure over me.
Half of me was very confused. Anthony shouldn't be doing this. He is only thirteen, so where'd he learn about sticking your tongue up another person's ass? I should have said something, but I was too enthralled with the feeling of his tongue in my rear, coinciding with the slurping sounds he was making.
Suddenly, he stopped. I turned and looked at him, and as I did he grabbed my hand and led me out of the shower room. He sat me down on a bench, completely wet from the shower, and forced me to lie back. He pushed my body further up the bench until there was room for him to lie down, too, and then he did. Lying on his stomach, he opened his mouth and slipped it around my penis.
His mouth was unbelievable. Half of me was gone... lost in a haze of feeling. Because this was too incredible, to unbelievable to be real. I had always been kind to people, but now somehow it earned me this sexual play. I felt it as Anthony had taken his lips, curled round his teeth, and started bobbing up and down on my dick, his tongue flicking itself against my cockhead with every stroke. Then, he would alternate and lick all the way up the shaft, tickling the tip with his tongue, and then licking all the way down again. Then he would put his mouth against my scrotum and gently nuzzle my tightening nuts. He would suckle them gently, his lips wrapped around my sack, and then start bobbing up and down on my dick again.
In my head, I remembered every tongue-stroke and every caress of his lips. Suddenly, in the middle of this routine, he started to slowly press one of his fingers against my anus. It slipped it, greased by his own saliva, and he started pumping it in and out.
He was building me up slowly, like a master that had been doing this for years. I needed to know. In my haze of blissful delirium, I asked him.
"Where did you learn all of this, Anthony?"
His mouth released my cock long enough to say, "From my dad."
It was like someone hit me across the face with a frying pan, and I felt my stomach drop like I was on a roller-coaster. I couldn't believe he and his father were doing these things! Earlier, he had thought he father hated him. Perhaps it was Anthony hating Anthony for being this and hating his father for making him into this. Perhaps his father turned to Anthony in drunken grief one night when he realized his wife was no longer available for his release.
But Anthony's skill was much greater than my shock and disgust, because he had me cumming in the next moment. I looked up and as I felt my whole crotch quivering with my ejaculation, I saw Anthony gulping down my semen. You could hear him gulping, it was so weird. I hadn't heard that noise since Kenny had come in from track and attached himself to the bubbler after doing the 20-meter race.
Slowly, he removed his finger and pulled his mouth off of my cock. I looked up as he sat up, turned, and started to get his stuff.
"Anthony...." I said, but at a loss for words to complete that sentence.
"I wanted to give you something back for making me feel better," he said, turning away from me. "Please don't hate me."
I stood up off the bench and walked up behind him, "I don't hate you. I'm a little confused right now, but I don't hate you. Anthony.... has anyone ever done that to you?"
He shook his head, "No. I usually just.... and then he goes to sleep."
"Fuck," I moaned. This poor boy, manipulated and abused by his neglectful father, had never even had the experience of reciprocation. I felt so incredibly bad for him that I put my own shame about what had just happened away. I turned him around, and smiled at him.
"What?" he asked. He honestly did not expect there to be anything more. I leaned toward him, not knowing really what to do, puckered my lips and began to suckle his nipple.
He gasped loudly, completely with surprise. "What are you doing, Todd?"
But I didn't answer. I figured he would get a clue soon enough. I let my tongue roll its way around his tiny, rubbery nipple, flicking the tiny hardened nut. After a long kiss, I moved to the other one. I could feel it getting hard it my mouth, the skin contracting against my lips and tongue. I could feel him shiver.
I slowly kissed down his chest and across his flat stomach until I reached his belly button. I began to tongue it slowly, pursing my lips and nuzzling on it. It was hard to concentrate, as I could feel his stiff cock against my chin. But I continued to slowly explore his stomach with my tongue, tasting his wet skin from the shower. I had never put my mouth on another person before, and it was incredibly exciting.
Suddenly, his breathing began to get really ragged. As I worked on him, moving my lips into his dark curls of pubic hair, his cock pressing against my cheek, he started to fall down. I instinctively reached out and grabbed him, helping to steady his balance. Apparently, he became weak in the knees from my attentions, and had started to fall back. He was breathing really heavily.
"Come here," I whispered, motioning to the bench he had just laid me on. Trembling, I could see him hesitate before I took his hand and pulled him onto the bench. He sat down, relieved. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I laid him back gently.
"This shouldn't happen this way...." he said.
"But it can, Anthony." With that, I knelt at the edge of the bench between his open legs and leaned forward. With my right hand, I gently eased back his foreskin, I extended my tongue and let the tip come in contact with his glans. He sighed with anticipation.
I moved my tongue around his cock. It was clean from the shower, but still had a taste that I have come to love. The head of his dick, now exposed from its skin sheath, was thick and purple, hot and throbbing with blood. I let my tongue dance around it, greasing it with my saliva. He was breathing really fast, and was making little whimpering sounds.
I started to close my lips around his cockhead, sucking it gently as I pulled back. When the head popped from my mouth, I would lean in and close my lips around it again. I did this a few times and he began to move his hips to my rhythm. Suddenly, I remember how fantastic his blow-job had been, and I tried to repeat it. Covering my teeth with my lips, I started taking in the whole length of his dick. It filled my mouth with warmth as I flicked my eager tongue around his shaft and glans. Then I released him, allowing my tongue to lap at the underside from the base to the tip.
I could feel a shiver shoot through his body, and a moan escaped his lips. I took that as a sign to continue. I waggled my tongue over his cockhead for a few moments. As I did, I could taste this thick salty fluid from his slit. I had guessed it was precum. I had learned about it in health class. Then my tongue went all the way down again.
At the base of his shaft, I nuzzled my mouth into his reddened scrotum, feeling the hair against my lips. As I ran my tongue along it, I noticed it felt wrinkled and tight, his testes being pulled higher into him. I cupped one of the firm bulges in his sack with my mouth and sucked on it gently. Then, I noticed a small puckered hole below his nuts hidden in shadow and a patch of hair. Taking from his example, I pressed my face into his crotch, forcing my mouth up to his anus. I extended my tongue and let the tip slide around the small lips of his hole.
The idea I was licking somebody's ass was really bittersweet. Occasionally, I would taste something which I didn't know was his musk or something else. It was the something else that I couldn't think about. So I had to do it carefully and mindlessly, two things hard to do at the same time, so I didn't induce myself into sickness.
He moaned in pleasure, lifting his hips slightly to allow me better access. He even tried rocking his hips, slipping his moistened anus against my mouth, but I pulled back. Enough of my saliva was there to meet my needs. As I slipped my mouth back up to engulf his cock, I began to work my pinky finger into the slickened hole. As it began to ease into his anus, I heard him gasp quickly, then hold his breath.
Slowly, I worked the entire finger inside. Once there, I began pulling it out, then quickly pushing it back in again. My eyes closed, lips locked around his cock and my finger pumping in and out of his ass, I could feel him begin to tense up. For my part, I was still not believing that I was doing this to some kid that I hardly knew. The only way I could understand it was to rationalize it: I am doing this because I like it.
He inhaled quickly. His sphincter clamped down around my finger and my mouth was suddenly filled with him. Spurt after spurt rolled down my tongue into my throat. I reflexively swallowed his semen, not really being able to taste it well. Finally, though, his penis stopped its anxious quivering and began to go soft. I pulled my lips off and slipped my finger gently from his ass.
I looked up at him. He lay there completely still and I had feared that I had killed him. I could imagine the strange headlines. But he moved his head and looked at me. I couldn't understand the look in his eyes.
"Todd?" he asked me. I stood up before him at the end of the bench.
"Yeah?"
"Can I go home now?"
There was nothing else to do but call my parents and get dressed. They had been worried, but I explained that it was because of the bus breaking down and the "three hour wait". They sounded relieved and said they'd be there in fifteen minutes. I told them about Anthony, and they agreed to drop him off.
It was ten thirty when they showed up. Anthony hadn't said a word, but I could see the confusion and pain in his eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have moved him beyond the anger. Anger was useful for him. What we had done, what I had shown him about sex, made him vulnerable. When we dropped him off, he went up to the run-down one-story house and unlocked the door. There were no lights, no signs of life. And into that darkness he disappeared.
When I was going to bed that night, I had a lot to think about. I had done a lot of things not many people got to do, and a lot of it would be embarrassing if it got out. I was half afraid that Anthony would turn on me, call me queer in school, and tell people that I did things to him. I fell asleep to that fear.
But I never saw Anthony again. A week after that incident, before we were going to have a home game, the Department of Social Services yanked Anthony out of the school. Somehow, they had found out that his father was abusing him, and placed him with relatives in Albany, New York. His father was arrested.
As for me, it took me a long time to understand that night, both for Anthony and myself. I was too young to understand his pain, and I approached it the only way I knew: I thought giving to him would be a kindness, a relief. For myself, it was a long and difficult process of learning that I liked having sex with boys. Two years later, I was comfortable with myself again, and didn't look back on that night with doubt or guilt. But I will always remember Anthony, and I pray he is well.
mobius2021@protonmail.com
Other Nifty stories by Mobius: The Brothers Next Door - https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-brothers-next-door