Stories > The Boy Batter > part 1

The Boy Batter

Randy was all too aware that having a kid brother half his age could be a pain. But when Dad had gotten on his case about Chris, it had been from an unexpected angle.

“You’re not doing him any favors Randy,” Dad had said. “I’m glad you two get along, but you’re smothering him, keeping him in your shadow, letting him follow you round the whole time! It’s unhealthy — the boy needs a bit of space! Let him grow up and stand on his own feet!

So Randy had done his best, spending more time at the library, and other times just driving around the neighborhood, or out to Broadview or Wayport enjoying the new freedom his driver’s license allowed. To help his Law studies, Dad fixed up for him to go to a work-experience-cum study camp just outside Lafayette, and he’d restricted himself to just three letters home all summer.

Randy hadn’t expected to miss home so much. Now as he pulled into the shabby driveway, just the sight of that cheaply built, aluminum sided house was enough to lift his heart.

He didn’t care that the walls were thin and the bedrooms were cramped; he blessed Mom and Dad once again for moving their bedroom downstairs so he didn’t have to share with a hyper kid anymore. It didn’t matter the street door entered directly to the living room, and the open archway to the kitchen let noise and the smells of cooking through. It was home.

Not that Mom did so much cooking; except for holidays and special occaisions, she was queen of the Lean Cuisine.

Randy popped the door and got out, but he had barely time to open the trunk before he heard the front door crash open.

Suddenly he was fighting off an affectionate little octopus squealing in his ear: “Ran-dee! You’re home! You’re home!”

“Sure I am, Chrissie!” Randy prised away the skinny arms wrapped round his neck and turned to look at his little brother.

He had to smile. Evidently little Chris’s summer campaign to be allowed a “cooler” haircut had met serious Mom resistance: he still had the hated “little kid” bowl-cut. Personally Randy thought it suited his little bro’s pale, freckled little pixy face — besides, somehow Chrissie wouldn’t be Chrissie if he wasn’t continually brushing those long brown bangs out of his eyes.

His little bro’ did look different: a little taller and kid-skinny. Over the summer he’d lost the little bit of puppy fat he’d been carrying.

Chris was jumping up and down, excited. “Please come to my baseball game tomorrow, Randy? I want you to see me, Ran-deee! Pleeease!” He stared at Randy hopefully, begging with his beautiful hazel eyes that always melted Randy’s resolve.

Randy smiled, pleased that one of Chris’s ambitions had succeeded. “You made the team, huh?”

Dad spoke from behind them. “Only the practise squad,” he said.

“It’s the after-season game,” Chris said, defensively. “Everybody’s on the team for that game. Will you come, Randy? Please! I want to show you something: it’s important.”

Randy grabbed his bags out of the trunk. “Sure,” he said, as he stood up. “I’d like to see you play, Chris.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” his father grunted.

Randy turned to look at his father. Dad just seemed so angry all the time, lately. He could remember a time when they’d been buddies, almost. Then Dad had taken to working all hours: weekends and evenings. He was still big-built and strong from all his years working construction, but the extra office hours had added a belly and faded his outdoor tan. His short-cut hair had a lot of gray in it, and Randy suddenly noticed how tired he looked.

“Are you working tomorrow, sir?” Randy had meant it as an invitation, but Dad glared at him.

“Someone’s got to pay your summer-camp bills!” he snapped.

“Yeah, I guess.” Randy shifted uncomfortably, knowing how tight the family finances were. “Sorry. Is Mom home?” he asked, trying to fill the sudden, awkward silence.

Chris nodded eagerly. “She’s got the afternoon off, special! She’s done a pot-roast!”

“Really? I hadn’t realized my home-coming was such an event.” Randy looked over his father’s shoulder and saw his mother, beaming and freshly peroxided, hurrying down the path to join them. He shifted his bag and held out his hand to his father. “I’m glad to be home, sir.”

His Dad shook it. It seemed to be a truce, of sorts.


Randy suppressed a sigh as he turned off the ignition. Just ten weeks of the peace and quiet at study camp had apparently made him totally forget just how much noise one single nine-year-old could make. He’d hardly set the parking brake before Chris was jiggling the door lock, still chattering non-stop from his celebratory post-game sugar high.

“Coach Pederson was real impressed! I can be on the team! Well, sort of — but he said maybe! Maybe even permanent! Oh darn it!” Chris frowned at the lock, rattling the handle. “Why won’t this darned thing open?”

“Hey, easy on the fittings, kid!” Randy reached past him and pulled up the locking button. “There you go.”

Chris flung the door open and bounded out like a gangly jack-in-the-box.

”-and did you see how I hit that ball? VwooosHH! It was the best evahh!” Chris whirled round and round on the scrubby lawn, his heavy, chestnut-colored hair flapping, miming his home-run shot for at least the twenty-fifth time. His borrowed little-league uniform hugged his slender figure, and Randy paused uncomfortably to shift his hard-on to a less obvious position before he got out the car.

Chattering non-stop on the way back from the game, Chris had told him how the junior baseball team was now sponsored by the local ice-cream parlor: Hank’s Total Tootie Peach Melba Brainfreeze Emporium. The parlor was a landmark in the town; everybody gave directions referencing it because the huge, gaudy, illuminated plastic sundae atop the store and the flashing tag-line, “Good enough to eat!” were so hard to miss.

Chris had told him how, after a slew of crazy team-name suggestions (for a brief while the team were the “Tutti Fruttis”, before some wiseacre called them the “Tooting Fruits”) Hank had put forward his suggestion. Sponsors being sponsors, they were now the “Little Peaches,” the name emblazoned on each boy’s back above Hank’s trademark tag-line.

The new uniforms were as gaudy as the store: the team jackets were pastel blueberry blue; the lettering – of course – in peach. Their pants were mint-green Spandex and their knee-socks were coconut white.

The first sight of those perfectly packaged Little-League peaches as they ran out onto the field in their cute little uniforms had nearly given Randy a coronary. Oh sure – like a kid in a candy factory, he’d scoped them all out, but after twenty-something pulse-hammering seconds it had been his little brother’s skin-tight pants he’d spent the match trying to burn a hole in by eye-contact. He couldn’t say exactly how it had happened, but somehow he’d gone off to summer Law camp leaving an affectionately-remembered nuisance behind him and returned to find a dazzling, slender boy-god.

Never before had he paid such total attention and seen so little of a game.

Randy thunked the car door shut. Chrissie skipped round the hood of the car and continued his monologue:

”-and coach Pederson said it was a record high-hitter for the whole season, maybe the whole of Little League, but I reckon it was the best just because you were there to SEE it!” His little, pointy face seemed eaten up by the huge grin splitting it in half.

“Aww,” Randy said, uncomfortably. “Don’t do that guilt thing, Chrissie! You know I had to go to study camp.”

Chris looked stubborn. “Yeah, well. It’s just not the same without you there! I know I don’t run as fast or catch as good. I would’ve made the team by now if you’d been there, I would! Then this would be my uniform, not just a loaner! I had to beg them and beg them!”

“Yeah.” Randy looked appreciatively at his little brother’s figure as he ran about on the lawn, miming hits. “That uniform sure is a beauty. I wish it was yours, too.”

The end-of-season team party in Hank’s ice-cream parlor had been memorable. In fact, Randy was sure his ears were still ringing. Overexcited kids loaded to bursting point with sugar and caffeine had turned the place into a war zone. It had left Chris too buzzed for any sort of quiet pursuits; right now the kid was running round and round in circles on their scrubby front lawn as though demented.

Randy opened the front door and a yelling, Spandex-clad tornado raced past him, throwing his glove and practise bat clattering down by the couch as he passed. Randy sighed. So much for his study plans.

“Hey Chrissie,” Randy said, eyeing the way his little brother filled out those tight pants, “wanna rassle?”

Chris paused to stare, wide eyed. “Wearing this?” He gestured at his borrowed uniform. “I’ve got to give it back like new, you know.”

“Oh. Yeah. Tag then?” Anything to wear the kid out.

“Tag’s for babies.” Chris wrinkled his freckled nose adorably.

“Okay — strip tag! Dare you!” The words just seemed to jump out of Randy’s mouth.

“Dare taken! Tag!” the little imp tapped his arm and then cackled as he skipped out of arm’s reach. “Got you!”

“Done!” Randy threw his jacket on the couch.

“Hey! No fair! You were only carrying it!” Chris dodged sideways round the couch, heading for the archway to the kitchen.

“O-kay.” Randy caught him in two long strides. “Tag!”

Chris scowled, but removed his jacket and folded it neatly, putting it on the kitchen table.

Randy found himself admiring his little bro’s smooth, boy-muscled arms. “Hey,” he said. “All that net practice is really paying off. You look good in that tank-top.”

“Yeah, but I mean – orange sorbet? Gross.” Chris stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes, extending his arms dramatically like a catwalk model.

“Tag!” he yelled suddenly, leaping forward and slapping an artfully extended hand across Randy’s wrist. “Too slow!”

“Smarty-pants!” Randy unbuttoned his sports shirt and dragged it over his head as fast as he could, hearing Chris rattle the lock on the yard door as he did so. He tossed his shirt aside just in time to see Chris fling the door open, crashing it against the kitchen countertop. He gave chase as Chris ran out into the yard, the boy screaming with excitement.

Chris was quick, but tactically the open expanse of the rough-cut grass was a mistake, allowing Randy’s longer legs and reach to tell. “Tag!” he yelled, slapping a fleeing, green-Spandex asscheek.

“Hey! Mind the merchandise!” Chris giggled. “Back to the kitchen — table’s pax, okay?”

“Sure!” Randy would have followed those hot little cool-mint peaches anyhow.

As he reached the doorway, he saw Chris reach up to begin pulling his tank-top off.

“Hey – not like that!” Randy exclaimed. “You’ll stretch it all out of shape.”

Chris paused in mid-pull. “It’s the only way I know to take it off.”

“Look,” Randy said, “if I help you out of it, you can’t tag me straight away after, right?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Whatever, mister rules-lawyer. But no fair the yard, okay?”

“Sure.” Randy stepped close. “Look, do it like this. You get the hem, see, and roll it.”

The horny teenager couldn’t help himself, stealing a touch here, a stroke of smooth skin there, making the boy giggle as he rolled the orange material up his little brother’s lean belly. His heart beating loud in his chest, Randy risked more touching and bolder, undeniable stroking as he held each overlarge arm-hole and helped Chris fold his slender arm through.

“Okay, Sport,” Randy said as he lifted the vest over Chris’s head. “Pax,’till you got it folded on the table, okay?”

Chris flipped his head, shaking his hair back into place. “Deal.” The watermelon grin flashed on again. Chris watched him, head on one side, his hazel eyes wide.

Sure enough, Randy had barely turned and taken a pace before he heard a whipcrack sound and then -

“Tag!” Chris slapped him firmly on the buttock.

“Hey!” Randy spun round. The unrolled vest lay folded – some would say thrown – on the table.

Chris shrugged theatrically, hands at shoulder level. “Did I hear neat?”

Randy was startled. Did that pose scream “fruit,” or what? “Uh -” He lost his train of thought. “Okay – got me.” He toed off his penny loafers and began to unbuckle his belt, glad he’d decided on tight, jersey-knit undershorts that morning. He’d sure lucked out with that choice given the hard-on he’d been sporting all the match.

He saw Chris start to edge toward the open yard door and then stop, staring and stretching his eyes. Randy figured the kid had plenty to stare at. He could feel his dick was swollen iron-hard, stretching diagonally across to his hip, the head pushing at the elasticated waistband.

“You got a stiffie!” Chris giggled, pointing.

“Yeah, you’re real smart, spotting that.” Randy indicated Chris’s groin as he shucked his pants down. ”’Course, your little dink’s so small I couldn’t tell if yours was hard anyway.”

“Is not!” Chris yelled.

Randy chuckled. “Isn’t what? Small, or hard?” Hearing no reply, he looked up from folding his pants.

Chris was red-faced and he looked upset, like he was holding back tears.

“Hey, Chrissie, I was just messing with ya, okay?”

“It’s not small! It’s growing!”

“Sure it is.” Randy made a calming gesture with his free hand. “Look, you want to quit this?”

“I’m not quitting!” Chris immediately looked stubborn, and Randy knew he’d made a mistake putting it that way. His little bro’ was competitive to the brink of crazy – and beyond.

“Okay then.” Randy hung his pants neatly on the chair. “I think we agreed: no yard?” He stretched his arms wide, demonstrating how he could easily reach to either side of the table between them. “Shall we just say, tag?”

“Maaan!” Chris complained. “You rules-lawyer!”

Randy couldn’t help it. He could feel the huge, shit-eating grin bending his own face. That was his little Chrissie: maybe not a winner every time, but a competitor. For a heartwarming, competitive brotherly moment, Chris stood there, looking genuinely ticked off. Then

“O-kay.” The boy turned his back, his shoulders in a strangely dejected slump. For a flicker of a moment Randy came alert, sure his little brother was up to something, but then Chris knelt down to untie his sneakers.

The green Spandex stretched tight around the boy’s trim ass, dimpling in between his slim cheeks. There the moss green shadow seemed transparent, as though Randy could see right through the shiny material to the boy’s tightly puckered ring beneath.

Was Chris wiggling his ass? Of course: taking off his sneaker. Still, it looked very erotic. Randy felt suddenly light-headed; he guessed it must be all the blood draining to his crotch. He felt his cock twitch as Chris switched to the other foot: he was sure he could hear the slip and slide of material over the boy’s taut little rear and he flashed on the conjunction of green material and the boy’s pale, milky smooth skin.

Still crouching, Chris lifted both hands to the hem of his pants and began rolling the material down, trying to avoid stretching it.

This time Randy couldn’t suppress a gasp as a broad moss-green waistband appeared, encircling the boy’s slender hips. There was something odd about the jockstrap though; instead of straps curving down diagonally over each asscheek, a single padded string laid in the delightful, shadowed valley between them. Drawing his eye down, it rested perfectly across the rosy, tight-folded center of his brother’s little ass.

Randy heard himself groan. He had to clench his hands tightly behind his back, so badly did he want to touch his throbbing, leaking dick.

At the sound, Chris half-stood, pushing the material down his legs with sudden haste. He swung round, hopping on one leg. “What?”

“Nothing,” Randy answered. “Only I’ve never seen a jock like that.” The pouch was dark green too, cupping Chrissie’s neat little package. He could just see the outline of the boy’s soft little dick. “Want to call this a draw?”

“Oh no.” Chris shook his head, his hair flying out side to side as he finished pulling his pants off. “I won ‘cos I can keep my undies on, but,” He pointed dramatically at Randy’s bulging crotch, ”-you messed yours so you gotta take ‘em off, so you’re bare first! Loser! Loo-oo-ser!”

Randy snorted laughter. “Hey! I thought I was the rules-lawyer!”

“Undies off!” Chris crowed, hopping from foot to foot like a little cheerleader. “Off! Off! Off!”

“Okay, okay, pipe down!” Randy hooked his thumbs into the waistband and shucked them down, glad to get the gooey things off his body.

Chris jumped up and down, his hair flopping, clapping his hands. “I won! I won! I won a prize! I want a soda!”

“No more sugar! Jeez! I’d have to scrape you off the ceiling.” Randy crossed to the fridge and opened it, glad to have a distraction from his nakedness. It had never been a big deal before, but now his hardon just would not quit. He felt the cool air wash down over his stomach and hard dick. “Looks like OJ or milk.” He took out the carton of juice, but it felt too light. He shook it next his ear. “Nope. Just milk, then.”

“Aww.” Chris came up and stood right next to him, so close that Randy could feel the heat from his sexy little brother’s bare skin. “Milk’s not a prize. I want a proper drink.”

“No booze,” Randy said. “Mom’s never let me hear the last of letting you have that sip of beer. “Hey,” he said, trying for a distraction, “You’ve been growing again, Chrissie. Look, your head comes nearly up to my tit, now.”

Chris frowned up at him. “Well if you hadn’t gone off all summer you would have seen before!”

“All right, Chris! That’s enough!” Randy shut the fridge and returned the boy’s frown. “I get the message!”

“Sorry,” Chris said sullenly. He folded his slender arms across his chest and stared at the floor, sulking.

“Yeah. And any more of that attitude mister, and I’ll send you to your room!”

Chris sniffed loudly, his shoulders sagging.

“Aww,” Randy said. “Don’t do that. Look, d’you just want to sit on the couch and watch cartoons, like we used to?” He ruffled his brother’s heavy, dark hair and stroked the silky back of his neck. “We used to have milk and cookies, remember?”

”’Course I remember!” Chris’s voice sounded choked and thick. “It’s you who forgot!”

“I’m sorry, Chrissie.” Impulsively Randy put his arm round the boy’s narrow shoulders and pulled him close. At once Chris wrapped both skinny arms around his waist and hung on tight, crying hot tears against his skin. “What is it, Chrissie? What?”

“I thought you didn’t luh-love me any more!” the boy sobbed. “You didn’t want to play, an’ I tuh-tried and tried but you juh-just shouted.” He hiccoughed and sniffed, wetly. “Before you went, you wouldn’t even let me suh-sit quiet with you.”

Yeah, well. A nine year-old’s idea of “sitting quietly” was several ball-parks away from his own definition of it. Still, there was no getting around it: that whole “giving him space” thing had meant his little bro’ had been hurting a lot more than he’d thought.

Randy squatted down so he could look at Chris eye-to-eye. The boy’s face was streaked with tears. His lower lip jutted stubbornly, but his little chin was trembling.

“I’m really sorry,” Randy said. “I never guessed you’d think that.” He leaned close and kissed Chris softly on his pouting, soft lips. “Don’t ever think I don’t love you again, okay?”

“No, Randy,” Chris said in his high, child’s voice. “I won’t. I’m suh-sorry.”

“I know.” Randy leaned close and kissed him again. Somehow it was partly like kissing a stranger: the suddenly slender boy his little brother had become. “Kiss me back, Chrissie,” Randy whispered, sliding his arms round the boy’s back and spreading his knees so that he could hug him close. “Come on.”

Chris evidently didn’t know about opening his mouth, but Randy let the boy wrap his skinny arms round his neck and hug him tight, bussing him enthusiastically. The boy pressed his warm, firm little body against his big brother and sighed.

“Open your mouth, Chrissie,” Randy said, nudging the boy’s chin with his thumb. “Come on.” When the boy obeyed, Randy leaned his head down and kissed him again, licking his soft lips and stroking his silky neck.

Randy felt Chris jump when he first put his tongue in the boy’s warm little mouth, but he murmured reassurance, licking his smooth teeth and then stroking his little boy-tongue with his own. They tongue wrestled for a little while, Chris growing steadily bolder and more adventurous until he was happily poking his tongue into Randy’s mouth, who sucked on it.

“There,” Randy said, breaking the wet kiss at last. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

Chris looked dazed, but nodded obediently, blinking. His eyes seemed all dark pupils, the green and brown flecks crowded into narrow multicolored rings around the black. His lips glistened red as berry-juice and he breathed like he’d been running the outfield.

Randy patted his little brother’s face. “Who’d have thought it, huh?” he said, smiling a little. “The first person I got to first-base with, would be you.”

Chris blinked, and looked puzzled. “First base? Like in baseball?”

“Yeah,” Randy said. “Couch baseball. You know, boys going out with girls? For fun? They call kissing like that “first base.” There’s other bases too.” He felt his cock twitch at the thought.

Chris’s expression brightened. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Randy. I was scared you were bored of me.”

“Come on, Chrissie — we’ve said all that. I’m not bored with you.” Randy stroked his thumb back and forth across Chris’s cheek, teasing a smile out of him.

“Okay. You want to play more?” Chris asked, looking hopeful. “Only I don’t know these bases. Not for couch baseball, anyway.”

“I’ll teach you. Come on: let’s sit on the couch.” Randy slipped his arm beneath his brother’s little butt and stood, lifting the boy up. He staggered.

“Lord, you’re heavy! You sure have grown!” Randy said. “The last time I did this you were eye level with me when I carried you.” All he could see now was the boy’s chest.

Chris giggled, looking down at him. “That was ever so long ago. You said I was heavy then, too.”

“I did?” Randy had to lean his head sideways to look around the boy as he carried him out of the kitchen.

“Uh-huh. You said I had a fat butt.”

“Yeah?” Only two more steps to the couch, thank god. “Well, I’ll check your butt for fatness later, ‘K?” He turned his head and kissed one of the boy’s nipples.

Chris squeaked in surprise. “What was that for?”

“Just to get your attention,” Randy lied. “I’m going to drop you onto the couch, okay? Don’t want to mess my back up.”

”’Kay.” Randy saw Chris twist his head around to look behind himself, and patted the boy’s back.

“Not like that, you might hurt yourself. Look at me, Chrissie.”

When the boy looked back at him, Randy leaned forward slightly and let go.

“Wheee!” Chris exclaimed, sounding like a three-year-old. He landed flat on his back on their old brown velour couch, bounced once and lay there, spreadeagled.

“You’d better take your jock off,” Randy said, pointing.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well, it’s a loaner too, isn’t it? Besides, being green like that it makes you look like Mowgli. You know?” Randy added as Chris creased his brows in puzzlement, “from the Jungle book?” He laughed. “Though I guess that makes me Baloo. Too bad.”

“Oh, no!” Chris shook his head. “You’re not heavy like Baloo.” He paused, fiddling with the waist-band and looking thoughtfully up and down Randy’s body like he was seeing it for the first time.

“So who am I then?” Randy could feel his dick stirring again and hastily sat down on the couch near the boy’s feet.

“Don’t know.” Chris broke his gaze and looked away. “Somebody nice,” he mumbled. “Bagheera, maybe.”

“Not the monkey king?” Randy sat up and flexed his muscles, posing. “C’mon,” he said, reaching for the boy’s jock-strap. “I wanna see all of you-hoo-hoo!” He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband and pulled.

Chris grabbed too late and missed: with only a string in back and no material for Chris’s ass to trap against the couch, the jock slid easily down the boy’s slim legs. He hunched, cupping both his hands protectively over his groin.

“Hey, what’s this about?” Randy asked.

“I don’t want you to see!” Chris squeaked, embarrassed. He pressed his knees together and hunched up further, both hands hiding his little jewels.

“Hell, you can see mine,” Randy said. “What’s the big deal?” But Chris shook his head stubbornly.

“Come on, Chrissie: don’t be silly.” Randy reached out and stroked his little brother’s arm. “Come on. It’s nothing dirty.”

“No! I don’t care!” Chris turned his face into the cushions. “I just don’t want to!” he said, his voice muffled and a little hoarse.

Randy gripped both the boy’s thin wrists and pulled his hands away from his groin by main force.

“Stop it!” Chris shouted, his face red. “I don’t want you to look!”

“I’ll stop it if you stop it, Chrissie!” Randy said. “Now stop that crying and tell me what’s going on. I keep telling you it’s not a big—”

“Stop saying that! Stop saying that! I know, okay?” Chris yelled. “It’s not big! It’s a teeny-tiny baby dick, and I know!”

Randy looked down. His little brother’s soft dick looked perfectly normal to him, if more beautiful than he remembered; lying there curled over those little grape-sized boy-balls. “It’s bigger than it was,” he said. “You’re probably just a “grower,” not a “shower” like me.”

“Wuh — sniff — what’s that?” Chris looked up at him, wet eyed.

“You probably get a lot bigger when you get stiff,” Randy translated. He let go of Chris’s wrists. “Have you had a stiffie yet?”

“Sometimes,” Chris mumbled, his cheeks flushing. “In the mornings. But I don’t get big like you! Even when you’re soft you’re bigger than me!”

Randy sighed and patted the boy’s smooth thigh. “I’m nearly ten years older than you, remember? Look, do you want to get it hard, and then I’ll tell you — honestly tell you — if it’s normal sized? I won’t laugh at you, Chrissie, honest.”

Chris looked at him dubiously. “Make it hard? I thought it just did that by itself.”

“Well sure. But you can make it get hard yourself, if you want. You’ve never done that?”

Chris shook his head, no. His expression was one of deep suspicion.

“Well, you can. Just a minute.” Randy stood up from the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

Randy looked back over his shoulder at the sexy boy spreadeagled naked on the dark couch. “I’ll be back real quick, don’t worry!” he said. He hurried over to the sink, grabbed his mother’s strawberry hand lotion and headed back to the sitting room, his hard, throbbing dick bouncing as he ran.

“You’re all big again,” Chris said, scowling at him and looking down meaningfully at Randy’s crotch. “I don’t like it when you’re big.”

“W-what?” Randy stared at him. “Why not?”

“My friend Denny says when guys get big, it’s ‘cos they’re thinking about girls. It’s not fair!” Chris said, hotly. “I’ve been with you all afternoon, and the whole time you’ve been thinking about girls!”

“Yeah?” Randy said, amused.

“Yeah! Denny knows all about girls, he’s seen ‘em in the shower.”

Randy couldn’t believe it. “You mean he peeks — at school?” Lurid fantasies of small boys perched on trashcans, peeking in through ventilation grilles danced through his brain.

“’Course not!” Chris was scornful. “At home! Anyway, I don’t want you thinking about girls when you’re with me: it’s not fair!”

“No?” Randy sat down on the couch again, feeling the laughter tugging at him. His little bro’ was just too cute. “Exactly how isn’t it fair?” he asked, gravely.

“It isn’t, that’s all.” Chris sat up, looking tense and upset. “I’ve missed you all summer and the first time you’re home you’re only thinking about other people instead of me!”

“Oh, right.” Randy tried to think of ways to explain that the situation was in fact the exact opposite and gave up. “How about we do a little more first-base instead, huh?”

“Yeah!” Chris leaned forward, pursing his lips.

“Not like that,” Randy said, slipping his arm around the boy’s slim shoulders and stroking down his back. “That’s just ordinary kissing. Mouth open, remember?” He nudged his brother’s chin with the back of his index finger, and obediently Chris parted his red lips.

The boy’s mouth still tasted sweet: of the candy Chris had eaten at the season-end feast. Randy slid his hand up behind his little brother’s neck as they kissed. Chris had a better idea what to do this time, and eagerly licked and sucked at Randy’s tongue, wriggling with excitement. Randy pressed him back into the couch, stroking his smooth body, rubbing his thumbs across Chris’s little nipples. Chris hummed his pleasure, arching his small hot body against his big brother as Randy’s hands strayed, stroking the boy’s ribs, his waist.

Randy licked at Chris’s lips as he squirted lotion onto his fingertips and then slipped hia hand between them, stroking the sweet-smelling pink liquid over Chris’s little dick.

“Hey, Randy?” Chris broke off the kiss, startled. “What-?”

“Shush.” Randy murmured, sliding his fingers over his brother’s little boyhood. “Kiss me some more while I stroke you, okay?”

“It’s cold,” Chris complained, trying to peer down between their bodies. “And it feels funny.”

“Stop being a baby, I’m not hurting you.” Randy tickled the boy’s little balls and then returned his attentions to his already stiffening dickie.

Chris looked uncertain, but allowed himself to be kissed again and soon seemed to relax, wrapping his arms around Randy’s neck and enthusiastically wrestling his tongue once more. Randy paid careful attention to both kissing and fondling and when he broke the kiss a few minutes later the boy was excited and humping his little hips into Randy’s hand.

“See?” Randy said, fondling his brother’s hard fingerlength of boy-flesh. “I told you there were ways to get your dickie stiff.”

Chris looked from Randy’s face down to what he was fondling and back again, his expression nervous. “And—”

“It’s lovely,” Randy said, stroking the slick, silky length. Reluctantly Randy let it slip from his fingers, and at once Chris’s dick sprang up until it almost pressed against his stomach. The bare head came a scant couple of fingerwidths below the boy’s belly button. “You’re about as big as my finger, see?” Randy said, holding his finger alongside for comparison.

“It’s only little-” Chris began, but Randy interrupted.

“It’s exactly right for you,” Randy said, firmly. “You’re a boy, so you’ve got a boy-dick. When you’re like me, and you’ve got hair, it’ll have grown to be bigger, don’t worry.” He smiled. “It looks just like mine did, when I was your age.”

“Yeah?” Chris looked from his own dick to Randy’s. “Cool!” He reached out to Randy’s dick and then hesitated.

“It’s okay,” Randy said. “You can touch it if you want.” He shuddered at the first butterfly-delicate touch of Chris’s small fingers on his cock. “That’s nice,” he said, gently stroking the boy’s little length. “I like your dick.”

“You do?” Chris brushed aside his bangs and looked up at Randy earnestly. “You really like it?”

“Sure I do,” Randy said, putting his arm around Chris’s shoulders and squeezing. “You’ve got a big brother with a big cock, and I’ve got a little brother with a little one. You like my cock?”

“Uhuh.” Shyly, Chris reached out and wrapped his little hand around his big brother’s cock, trying to copy what Randy was doing to him.

“That’s nice,” Randy said. “Still mad at me because my dick’s all big?”

Chris flashed him a puzzled look.

“Still think I’m thinking about girls?” Randy prompted. “Or you think I’m thinking about you?”

Chris looked from Randy to the big hard cock he was rubbing and back again. “I think,” he said, coloring a little, “maybe Denny doesn’t know so much. Just ‘cos I didn’t like how his sister all shook about!”

Randy smiled. “She was real heavy, you mean?”

“No, I mean up here-” with his free hand, Chris cupped a large imaginary boob at chest level. “And her ass, too. Not fat really, just, you know, big. Denny went on and on about it. It was soooo boring!” Chris rolled his eyes. “And then he wanted us both to rub our dicks, but all I could think of was all that jiggling, and I didn’t want to.” He looked down, uncomfortable.

“And it stayed small because you didn’t want to,” Randy finished for him, squeezing Chris’s shoulder companionably.

“He said it was a baby weiner! And I was a baby!” Randy could hear the hurt betrayal in Chris’s voice.

“Hey!” Randy said, stroking his brother’s cheek with his thumb, feeling wetness. “I think you can forget about that baby stuff, right now, huh? You’ve got a proper boy-dick — and a real pretty one too.” But he could tell his little bro’ was still upset, remembering.

“Hey, Chrissie,” Randy said, tickling gently beneath his brother’s balls and making his little wood bob to and fro. “You want me to show you something nice? Something I bet Denny doesn’t know.”

Chris pushed his hair aside, peeping out from behind his bangs.

Randy slid down from the couch, so that he was sitting on the floor. “Come here,” he said patting the cushion. “One leg this side of me, one leg that side. Come on Chrissie – you’ll like this, I promise.”

Chris half sat up. “You promise?”

“I promise. Any time if you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” Randy patted the couch again right next to his face. “Come on. Park your cute little butt right here.”

Chris giggled as he shuffled into position. “You think my butt’s cute too?”

“I think all of you got cute somehow, while I wasn’t looking.” Randy leaned forward and kissed the boy’s left knee, which happened to be closest.

Chris laughed out loud. “You think my knees are cute?” he squealed, “You’re crazy! I’m dialing 911!”

“Not before I’ve kissed all of you!” Randy knelt up and kissed Chris, right over his breastbone. Then he moved a little lower and blew a raspberry on his stomach.

“Hey!” Chris protested, laughing. “No fair! You only said kissing!”

“Rules lawyer!” Randy laughed. “Okay, only kissing.” He leaned forward again, and kissed the boy’s warm, firm stomach. He wanted, —oh, he so wanted! — to touch his tongue to that little oval innie, but he figured it would freak Chris out. He kissed a little lower, and Chris quietened down some. He stroked his brother’s smooth, lean thighs, slowly and gently, like you would some frightened little animal.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he bent down, smelling the sweet, artificial scent of strawberries. Softly he kissed the red tip of Chris’s little boy-dick.

“You kissed my weiner?” Chris didn’t sound freaked, or disgusted, just like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Sure. I said ‘all of you,’ didn’t I?” Randy looked up at his brother’s incredulous expression. “And it’s your dick,” Randy corrected him. “You haven’t got a little baby’s weiner, remember?”

“Oh,” Chris said, softly. “Yeah.”

Randy smiled wickedly. “Want me to kiss it again? How about if I did one of those special kisses — you know? First base? You think that would feel nice?”

“On my dick? You want to?” Chris was wide eyed with curiosity.

“Sure I want to.” Randy said.

“Why?” Chris said, directly.

Randy looked his brother straight in his lovely hazel eyes. “You know why.”

Randy never thought anybody could blush so beautifully. The red washed upward from Chris’s chest, flushed his slender neck and blossomed in his cheeks.

Chris looked down. “Yeah,” he mumbled, awkwardly. After a moment, never a quitter, he looked up again. “I really um, like you, too,” he said, clearly.

Randy patted the boy’s leg. It took him a moment to find his voice again. “So how about it? You want to? I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

Chris nodded, suddenly shy. “I know I’ll like it if you say so, Randy. I want to!”

“That’s my little ace batter!” Randy laughed as Chris sat up, straight and proud, his cheeks flushed almost as bright as his sparkling eyes.

“Your little bat’s hard and ready, isn’t he?” Randy was smiling so much his face hurt and his chest felt full; for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah.” Chris ran his finger down over his lean little belly, following the faint hint of his muscle-line, down to his dick and along it. “I’m glad you like my little bat.”

Randy just couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and gently, ever so gently took the smooth little head into his mouth. The lotion wasn’t flavored, but it wasn’t unpleasant, either. He didn’t suck, not yet, nor move his tongue. He felt Chris jerk, heard him gasp, felt his hard little boy dick twitch in his mouth.

“Ohhh, Randeee.” Chris’s voice was high and trembling.

Randy closed his lips more firmly around his brother’s little shaft, moved them gently down to the base, then up again. When Chris’s dick was fully inside his mouth, the tip just reached the soft back of his mouth. Gently Randy repeated the process, enjoying the feeling of the boy’s hard bone sliding past his lips. Gently he added a little bit of suction.

Chris gasped again when Randy transferred his attentions to the smooth, red little crown, then groaned when Randy used his tongue for the first time.

“Ohh,” he moaned. “Randy, I like it – ohh!” Chris shifted to and fro, excited, and Randy had to hold the boy’s hips to keep him still enough to continue.

Randy mouthed his brother’s stiff little bone harder, enjoying the boy’s excitement as much as the sweet little dick in his mouth. He felt happy, certain that Chrissie liked what he was feeling; the boy was urging him on, asking for more with every excited squeak, twitch and breathy little moan.

He felt Chris put his hands on his shoulders. The boy’s jittery attempts at stroking told Randy more clearly than words how intense the feelings were little brother was having. He wasn’t surprised when he felt the boy begin to tremble.

“Randy,” Chris sounded worried. “I feel funny!”

Randy let the hard little prick flick out of his mouth and looked up. “In your dick?” he asked, “is that where you feel it?”

Chris nodded. “Like I want to pee, sort of.” His eyes were huge and anxious. “I don’t want to pee in you, Randy.”

“It’s okay, you won’t,” Randy said. “This isn’t peeing, it just feels like it, a bit. It gets much nicer, later. Unless you want me to stop?” He patted Chris’s leg, reassuring him. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“It’s not peeing?” Chris cocked his head, looking at Randy seriously. “I, I’ll try it a bit more, if you’re sure it’s okay, and not peeing.”

“It’s okay. It sometimes gets really intense, but it’s okay – your dick’s meant to do it, it’s not broken or anything.” Randy spoke softly, reassuring Chris with the sound of his voice. “Any time it gets too much, you just squeeze my shoulder, got it? I’ll wait a little.” He stroked the boy’s smooth thigh. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to hurt me, or do anything bad.” Randy smiled. “I’m looking forward to showing you this.”

Randy leaned down and kissed the tip of Chris’s dick. When he heard no protest, he kissed it again and let it slide back into his mouth. The sound of Chris’s moan seemed to shiver through him too.

“Ahhhh, Randy, it’s just— ooohhh!”

Chris’s clear boy’s voice cooed a note of pure pleasure as Randy gently suckled him, sliding his mouth easily up and down that sexy, bone-hard boy-dick from root to tip. Randy licked it, kissed it and teased it, listening to his little brother moan his pleasure.

“Oooh! I can feel it!” Chris squeaked, excited. Randy felt the boy’s hard little nail twitch in his mouth, and he ran his lips and tongue up and down that hardness, treasuring every lovely smooth bump.

“Oooh! Randy, it’s – oooh! Oooh!” Chris wriggled, and Randy speeded up his sucking, licking and slurping on the little pole. He let the sensitive tip brush across the roof of his mouth, and then swirled his tongue beneath the boy’s red little berry.

“Oooh! Oooh! Oohh” Chris jiggled his little hips. “Randee – eee!”

Randy could feel Chris’s hands on the back of his head as the boy humped up into his mouth. He did his best to keep sucking as his brother squeaked and twitched, whimpering as he see-sawed his little dick faster and faster in and out of Randy’s mouth, bashing his bare little mound against Randy’s lips, humping his little butt right off the couch.

“Eeee – eee!” Chris squeaked. “I – eee!” He pressed himself against Randy, trembling.

Randy could feel Chris’s warm, smooth stomach fluttering against his face as the boy half crouched, half leaned over his back. He could feel his little dink twitching in his mouth, bouncing against the length of his tongue. He reached up and stroked Chris’s back, letting him know it was all okay, smoothing his hands over the boy’s trembling skin, simply holding his little dick in his mouth; not stimulating it any further.

“Ahh — ahhhhh.”

Randy felt Chris sag and let him slump back onto the couch. Suddenly Randy’s mouth felt very empty.

Randy chuckled, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Liked that, huh?”

There was no answer. Chris lay spreadeagled on the couch limp as a doll, a beatific smile on his face. His long bangs had flopped in his eyes, and he was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes blank with bliss, panting like a bellows.

Randy moved up onto the couch, but didn’t touch him, not wanting to call him back from boy-heaven. He was content to look, for a while.

“So,” Randy said when Chris finally rolled his head to look at him. “How did you like second base?”

“Wow.” Chris still looked a little dopey. “That was neat!” He blinked again and a little animation seemed to come back into his small frame. “Can we do that again?”

“Sure. You like couch baseball, huh?” Randy grinned and settled himself back more comfortably on the couch. His dick felt like an iron bar.

“Yeah!” Chris nodded definitely. “It’s cool.”

“So,” Randy said. “You want to try out for the team, Ace?” He tensed his muscles to make his thick dick lift off his belly and bob in the air.

Chris eyed it nervously. “I don’t know, Randy. It’s awful big.”

“Oh well.” Randy shrugged. “If you don’t want to play properly—”

“I do!” Chris protested. “Only it’s too big!”

“You only have to do as much as you can,” Randy said, feeling the excitement flutter along his nerves and his cock throb in response. “Come on, Chrissie — don’t you want to make me feel good?”

Chris hesitated, looking from Randy’s face to his cock, and back again. “What if I do it wrong?” he asked, worried.

“It’s okay. You’re not going to hurt me, Chrissie,” Randy said, stroking his brother’s arm. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do, and we’ll go as slow as you like.”

“Will I like it?”

“Sure, when you’ve learned how. It’s not like being sucked, but it’s still fun. I liked sucking you,” Randy said, reminding him.

Chris blushed. “You’re nice, Randy. Okay, I’ll do my turn.” He made as if to get down from the couch, but Randy stopped him.

“Look,” Randy said, slipping his arm around Chris and pulling him close. “Why don’t you just play with my dick first, huh? Just so you get used to it.”

Chris looked up at him, sideways, out of the corner of his eye. “I got to?”

”’Course not.” Randy put his finger to Chris’s chin and tilted his head up. “I just thought if you tried sucking right away, you might get scared.” He smiled, and got a little smile in return. “Don’t you like my dick?”

“Sure I like it.” Chris reached out and touched Randy’s cock about half way down. “I hope mine grows this big.”

“Just enjoy what you’ve got,” Randy told him, stroking the boy’s side. “I like how yours is so slim and neat.”

“Yeah?” Chris looked up from walking his fingertips along Randy’s hard length. “Well yours is neat, too.” He grinned, “and I get more bat to play with than you!” He wrapped his hand around it as much as he could, and rubbed gently up and down. “Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s lovely,” Randy said, relaxing against the cushions. “You’ve got to be gentle though; remember there’s no lotion on it, so it’s dry.”

“Oh.” Chris looked nervous. “Should I put some on?”

“You don’t have to,” Randy said, “and I wouldn’t want the taste to gross you out, later. There’s a different way to get it wet.”

Chris grinned impishly. “I bet I can guess!” He stuck out his little pink tongue and wiggled it at his brother. “I guess it’s kind of stealing a base,” he giggled.

Randy chuckled and patted his brother’s neat little bubble butt. “Smarty pants,” he said. “Go on, then.”

Chris wriggled closer, so that his hip was next to Randy’s waist, and then leaned down over his groin. Even his back was beautiful, Randy thought. He resisted the urge to reach out and trace the angular outline of Chris’s shoulderblades, not wanting to distract him. The boy’s hair hung down for a moment, obscuring the view, but a heartbeat later Randy felt his brother’s soft lips touch his cock, kissing it, and then he felt wetness as the boy licked him.

“Start near my balls, and work up,” Randy instructed.

“Huh?” Chris looked up, hooking his hair back. His other hand was lightly curled round Randy’s hard meat.

“Lick the head last, just before you’re going to start sucking, okay? You remember when I did it to you?”

“Oh, sure.” Randy felt Chris shiver with the memory. “Don’t I have to get down for sucking though? On the carpet, like you did for me?”

“Sure, later.” Randy ran his hand along Chris’s back, enjoying the feeling of his smooth skin. “This is just practice, remember? Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what to do.”

“Yes, Randy.” Chris nodded submissively and went back to licking his big brother’s cock.

With his hair hooked back out of the way, Randy could now see as Chris gave his cock a thorough tongue-bath. The boy licked along it from base to tip, the pink point of his tongue tracing sexy patterns over Randy’s sensitive skin. Randy couldn’t remember ever being this hard, for this long. His whole cock ached, and his balls too.

“Mmmm,” he murmured, “That’s nice, Chrissie. Keep doing that.”

“It’s nice?” Chis said, looking up and licking his lips. “I’m doing it right?”, he asked, hopefully.

“You’re doing great, little team-mate,” Randy said. “Handling that big bat real well: your lips are lovely and soft. Come here a minute.” He beckoned, leaning up. “Let’s kiss a while, huh?” He grinned as Chrissy scrambled up his body, eager for more kissing.

“Mmmm,” he said, tasting his brother’s soft lips, excited by the knowledge that the last thing they’d touched had been his cock. Chris pushed his tongue in, excited, and Randy slid his hand up the soft nape of Chris’s neck, feeling his little brother get more excited still as they kissed, deeply, wriggling his small, smooth, hot body against him and panting into his mouth. His little hand squeezed and rubbed at Randy’s aching cock; they both moaned in excitement together.

Randy arched his hips up off the couch as Chris squeezed and rubbed him, moaning into his brother’s warm little mouth, pushing his tongue into that hot little cave, excited beyond endurance as the boy sucked on it, he couldn’t help it—

“Uhh!” He tried to give his little bro’ warning, but his cock pulsed and squirted. “Cmmmng!” he grunted, moments before he felt warm spots land on his arm and shoulder. “Unnnh!” He felt Chris flinch, but all he could do was hug his brother hard as his cock bucked and spurted again.

”’S okay, ’s okay!” Randy gasped. Spasming, he came again, hugging the boy tight; it was all he could do; he kissed Chris’s cheek as he subsided onto the couch, half blind; his cock pulsing and twitching into quietness.

“Randy!” Chris was wide eyed and scared, “You okay, are you sick?” he panted. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, wriggling up in Randy’s arms and leaning over him.

”’S okay! I’m fine.” Randy reached up and patted his little brother’s cheek. “It’s just — hah — you remember yours, at the end?”

“Yeah?” The boy’s expression brightened. “I did it?”

“You did fine! Best ever!” Randy gasped, reaching up and hugging him again.

He’d never seen a grin that big on a boy’s face; Chrissie glowed. “Was I really the best ever?” he asked as he settled down next to Randy again, leaning on his chest.

“Yeah.” Randy ran his knuckle down Chrissie’s flushed cheek. “The best ever.”

“But—” Chrissie turned his head to look down at Randy’s stomach and what felt to be a positive lake of cum.

“Yeah, sorry. I should’ve warned you,” Randy said, rubbing Chris’s arm. “It’s just cum, don’t worry. I was going to tell you, only it got a bit sudden, because you’re so good.”

“Yeah, I got a bit sudden, too, at the end.” Chris said, remembering.

Randy looked down and saw the boy had a line of cum over his forearm. God! He could feel splashes as high as his shoulders! His dick still ached from the force of cumming that hard. He reached out and wiped the splash off Chris’s arm.

“Lord,” he said, grinning up at his little brother, “you must have my cum all up your back!”

“Yeah, feels like.” Chris squirmed and Randy saw him look at the splash of cum on his shoulder. “It’s cum? Like sperms?”

“Sperm, that’s right.” Randy agreed, still gently stroking his brother’s arm with his thumb.

“Oh.” Chris moved a little, and Randy relaxed his arm, thinking the boy wanted to get up, but he didn’t, he just settled comfortably again, leaning against Randy’s chest, looking thoughtful.

“Randy,” he said. “Would you have done that-” Chris paused uncomfortably, looking worried. “You know: sperms, in my mouth?”

Randy swallowed: his throat felt dry. “Not without telling you first, and not if you didn’t want to.” He knew he’d been lucky, and blessed whichever love-god had prompted that kiss.

Chris stared at him, wrinkling his brows in astonishment. “You thought I might want to?”

Randy tried his best, but couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s horrified expression. “I take it that’s a ‘No’ then,” he chuckled. “Honestly though, Chrissie; cum’s nothing bad, and it doesn’t taste, hardly at all. Look.” He wiped the splash off his shoulder and licked it off his finger. “See?”

The boy was bug-eyed. “You swallowed it?”

“Sure.” Randy shrugged. “It’s all me; don’t be grossed out.”

Chris still looked unconvinced. “I don’t know,” he said uneasily. “It’s from where you pee out of.”

“Well?” Randy reached up and cupped Chris’s cheek, stroking his thumb across the boy’s lips. “Kissing’s from where you spit up from, isn’t it? Or are you giving up kissing too?” Randy felt breathless as Chris looked at him so thoughtfully.

“I could never stop kissing you, Randy,” Chris said, pressing his cheek against the palm of Randy’s hand. He looked down at Randy’s sticky chest, breaking the moment. “And you said you liked all of me, so-” He looked up at Randy and then down again.

Randy waited. After a moment, Chris sat up a little more, and Randy let his hand fall back to his side. Chris fidgeted, and turned a little, and for the first time Randy could see the boy’s back clearly.

“Wow,” Randy said. He’d blasted at least two good ropes across his little brother’s back. The glossy white streaks and blobs of his cum glistened in the afternoon light, spraying from the boy’s hip up as far as his shoulder-blades. “Man, did I cum hard! You’re just too good!”

“Yeah, I could feel it splashing.” Chris shivered. “I thought you were peeing on me!”

“Well, I wasn’t, I told you. It’s because I like you so much.” Lazily, Randy curled his arm around Chris’s hips and patted the smooth globe of one little asscheek, enjoying the feeling of his little brother’s warm body pressed against him.

“Here. Let me clean you up a bit.” Casually, Randy scooped some of his ball-juice off the boy’s back and ate it.

Chris watched him as Randy sucked his finger clean. “That stuff really means you like me?” he asked.

“Uhuh,” Randy wiped more of his spooge of Chris’s slender back. “You don’t make it yet, so I guess I’ll have to take your word for it that you like me,” he said as he licked it off his finger.

“Of course I do, Randy!” Chris hesitated. “You want me to clean you?”

“Sure,” Randy said. He expected — and his dick tingled from just the possiblity — that Chris was going to feed him his cum. But the boy scooped up a little load and after examining it minutely, slipped his glistening finger between his own beautiful lips and sucked it clean.

Randy felt the tingling in his cock intensify as Chris tasted his cum and swallowed, his little face thoughtful.

“Doesn’t taste of anything, really,” was the boy’s verdict. “Just kind of gloopy. But I don’t mind, now I know what it means.” He leaned comfortably across Randy’s hips, facing him, then wiped up another fingerful and sucked it off. “Hey! Your dick just poked me!”

“Hey, yourself!” Randy stroked his hand down over Chris’s waist and the boy shifted his little butt and spread his legs comfortably, allowing him access.

“I see your little guy isn’t exactly sitting this out on the bleachers, either,” Randy said as he ran a teasing finger down the join of Chris’s thigh toward his cute little balls, carefully avoiding contact with his hard, jutting boyflesh.

“You want to try something a little different?” Randy asked as he tickled Chris’s balls.

“What, sucking?” Chris looked interested.

“If you like,” Randy said, feigning indifference. “Though I was thinking a bit more first-base, just for some fun.”

“First-base, huh?” Chris shifted as though something had poked him. “I gotta say though, I think your dick’s thinking more second-base. Ow!” he added, grinning.

“Well, it’s up to you. Are you okay with sucking, now you know about me cumming?”

Chris looked a little cautious. “Do you have to? I mean, in my mouth?”

“I can warn you, just before. You might get a little in your mouth, but that’s okay, isn’t it? I thought you didn’t mind, now you know what it means.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just, just there was such a lot!” Chris looked worried. “I was thinking maybe it’d be like when I bet you I could drink that whole Big Slurpee — you remember?”

Randy laughed, then sobered up when he saw Chris’s hurt expression. “Oh, little dude,” he said, rubbing Chris’s shoulder. “Guys’ balls don’t make that much. It just looks like a lot because I sprayed it all over. The most a guy makes, ever, is like a sixth of a juice-glass. But I don’t mind: you can spit my juice out, if you want.”

Chris nodded, looking happier, and Randy pulled his face closer and kissed him. “I don’t think I could ever stop kissing you, either,” he said. “You ready to taste my ball-juice again, now?”

“Uhuh!” Chris murmured, in between kisses. “Only I wish I could do your dick and be up here kissing you too!” He climbed astride Randy. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “stop poking me with that!”

“It’s your own fault.” Randy pulled the boy down to lie on top of him, stroking his back. He groaned as he felt Chris’s hot little dick pressing against his stomach. “Mmmm, you’re so lovely.”

“You too. I can feel the tip of your dick nudging my balls, sort of.” He smiled shyly. “I’m getting a little bit of that peeing feeling, just from wriggling about on you. You’re nice, Randy.”

Randy stroked Chris’s back, from his shoulders down to his little, curved butt and back again. “Well you can wriggle about, if you want,” he said, “but you’d better move your little balls off my dick or there’s gonna be another accident.”

“Yeah? You like my balls on — ooo!” Chris was suddenly round eyed. “You do!” He shifted his hips forward and Randy felt his cock spring up, released.

“You want me to help you with your tingling?” Randy asked, though his throbbing, hard cock already ached for release again.

Chris looked down at him, shrewdly. “Yeah, but I reckon I’d end up with more of you all over my back, like last time.” He sat up, and Randy’s gaze was immediately drawn to the boy’s hard little cock, twitching against his stomach.

“I’ll tell you what,” Randy said, “how about I show you how to make your dick feel nice, and then you can do that while you suck me?”

“Neat!” Chris wiggled his hips in excitement, squeezing Randy’s chest between his knees.

“Come on, then.” Randy patted the boy’s ass, and with only a little more kissing and touching, Chris got off him and then climbed down onto the floor.

“Now, hold out your hand,” Randy told him. “You need a little bit of lotion. That’s it.” He squirted a small dollop of the strawberry hand cream onto the boy’s fingertips. “Now just spread that over your dick and make it slippery.” He couldn’t help but sigh as he watched Chris’s fingers smooth up and down his boy stalk. He’d hoped that this little pause would give his own dick time to calm down some, but he was finding his little bro’ more and more sexy.

He smiled as Chris looked up, catching him watching him, and grinned as Chris’s gaze cut right, checking out his dick. “Still there,” he said.

“And real big, too.” Chris looked back at him. “I guess I better not touch, huh?”

“Better not. You don’t mind it being big now, eh?” Randy said, his voice teasing.

“Not now I know it’s me.” Chris’s brows shot up. “Hey, was it me all the time?”

“Sure it was.”

“Wow. Even in the car?” Chris kneeled up in his excitement. “You’ve really only been thinking about me all day, Randy?”

“Yeah.” Randy reached down and stroked his brother’s slick little bone. “Only you.” He leaned forward for a kiss, but Chris pushed him back.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “It’s your turn now.” He stroked down Randy’s arm and squeezed his hand, moving it off his slender boy-dick. “We can do me later.”

Randy shifted himself until he was perched right on the edge of the couch, and Chris settled himself between his brother’s spread legs.

“Wow,” Chris said. “Awesome.” He looked up. “Do I suck it right away?”

“Well, lick it and get it wet again first, but pretty soon, unless you want more mess, yeah.”

“Okay.” Chris knelt up, nerving himself, licking his lips. “Can I lick your balls?” He shifted, nervous and shy. “Because they’ve been making your juice,” he explained, “all the time you’ve been thinking about me.”

Randy felt his dick throb. “Sure you can.” He smiled as Chris leaned down and got to work.

This was not going to be a long suck, Randy already knew that. The feel of Chris’s little tongue teasing his balls was exciting enough, but the sight of his hard meat laying right across the boy’s upturned face and the feeling of his soft cheek and brow brushing against his cock as the boy moved, licking first one of his nuts and then the other; it was so hot, he just had to look away and think about something else or spray jizz into Chrissie’s hair.

“Is it nice, Randy?” Chris asked, his voice slightly muffled.

“Sure,” Randy replied, desperately trying to recall the capitals of Europe. He looked back. “I told you, you’re really good.”

Chris nodded, then sat up and took hold of Randy’s cock. “And you’re really nice, Randy,” he said. He licked the swollen veins on the stalk, just below the head, nuzzling the big cock with his soft little lips. Randy saw the boy work his lips one over the other, making both wet, and then he opened his mouth wide.

Randy had a glimpse of tongue and teeth before Chris took him into his wet little mouth.

“Oh, that’s good,” Randy said. “Careful of your teeth okay, little dude?” He stroked the boy’s shoulder. “That’s it. Suck on it a little, and make more spit, okay? Ooh, yes,” he added as he felt his little brother’s tongue squirm against the underside of his cock-head. “That’s good, but can you lick a bit lower?”

“Oh, yes!” Randy said as the boy leaned closer, taking a bit more cock into his hot little mouth. “That’s good. I know you’re having to stretch your mouth wide, Chrissie, but you’re doing good. Slide up and down on it now, and suck it, like a popsicle.”

Chris was now taking maybe a fourth of Randy’s cock into his mouth, bobbing his head slowly, his dark hair swinging back and forth, brushing against his cheeks. He was stretching his little mouth as wide around Randy’s fat cock as he could, wrinkling his freckled little nose and grunting with the effort. Saliva pushed, glistening, out of the seal the boy’s pink lips made around his big brother’s swollen, veiny cock, trickling down its hard length.

“That’s good,” Randy murmured, captivated by the sight of his throbbing meat sliding in and out of the boy’s stretched mouth. “Can you get more in, Chris?” he brushed the boy’s bangs back out of his eyes, and Chris looked up at him, questioning. “Not all of it, maybe half, huh?” He slipped his hand down to rest on Chris’s shoulder, stroking his neck with his fingertips, and smiled as his little bro’ pushed down.

Randy groaned aloud at the sensations. Chris sure had a hot, slippery little mouth! He felt more of his cock engulfed in that tight wetness, until the tip of his cock pushed against the back of the boy’s mouth.

“Mww?” Chris mumbled a query, and Randy smiled.

“Well, if you like, but I reckon you’re pretty full up, huh?”

“Mm!” Chris was definite.

“Okay then. Just suck and lick like you were before, then. Ohh,” he groaned as Chris began again. “That’s right, little buddy — uh! Just like that.”

Chris wrapped both his hands round the base of his big brother’s cock, cradling his balls, and began sucking with steady, even strokes. Now he was taking more of Randy’s thick cock than before, maybe a bit less than half, sliding the hard teen meat in and out past his lips, almost down to the wetness that marked his best effort.

“Mmmmnnn, that’s nice,” Randy groaned, feeling the back of the boy’s mouth bumping against his cock-head. “Moan if you’re having fun too, huh? So I know.”

Chris hummed, bobbing his head up and down on Randy’s glistening cock like a little yo-yo, his hair flopping, sucking hard.

“Mmm, that’s nice. You like sucking on my big dick, huh?” He smiled as Chris hummed assent. “I’m glad you like it. Think about it now, all hard in your mouth, and try to tell me how you like it, huh? Like cuddling it with your tongue?”

“Ohhh yeah!” Randy felt the difference immediately as Chris got the idea, squirming and rubbing his firm little muscle against Randy’s hard cock, and using the roof of his mouth, too.

“Mmmmm!” Chris moaned, a deep, guttural groan that throbbed along Randy’s cock and made him groan too. The boy slurped and licked, and Randy caught his breath, gasping from the intensity of the sensations as his little brother teased his captive, aching cock.

Randy felt a stirring of need. It wouldn’t be long, now, and he managed a warning: “Gonna cum!” he gasped as Chris groaned again, licking and slurping up and down his glistening pole.

He tapped Chris’s shoulder, urgently. “Dude!” he gasped, feeling his balls tightening. “Look out!”

His brother’s slippery mouth was still wrapped hot around his meat as he felt his cock swell, and then—

“AaaaAAAhhh!” Randy yelled as his cock erupted in Chris’s mouth, spurting cum.

“Jeezus! Urrgh!” His hips jerked as he felt the boy swallow.

Chris coughed at the second spray of cum, his cheeks bulging and his face reddening. White leaked past his lips and then he let the pulsing big cock go, spurting ball-juice across his pretty face before he could grab it again and shove the broad head past his red, cum-smeared lips.

“Uhhh!” Randy grunted, his fingers digging into the cushion as he spurted again into his little brother’s mouth, and again, shaking as his orgasm tailed off in weaker dribbles and squirts. “Uhh! Mannn!” He flopped back onto the couch, breathing heavily.

He just about had the strength to smile as Chris climbed back onto the couch beside him, grinning like he’d won a medal, his face still decorated with his brother’s cum.

“I did good, yeah?” The boy’s eyes sparkled; he already knew the answer. “Did you like it? Huh? Tell me, Ran-dee!”

Randy reached out and squeezed Chris’s knee. “Yeah. You know I did, Chrissie. How, how about you?”

“Yeah! It was neat!” the boy squeaked, grinning, bouncing on the cushion. “Can we do it again?”

Randy groaned. “In a while, maybe,” he said. “But first we’d better clean ourselves up some. I feel stickier than an all-day sucker.”

“Yeah.” Chris wrinkled his face up, nodding. “And we better clean the couch, too.” He pointed.

Randy twisted his head to look up at the couch back and saw the spots and streaks against the dark velour. “Man! I did cum hard that first time, no wonder you were scared about swallowing!”

Chris giggled. “Yeah. I would’ve got it all this time though, if you hadn’t poked me.”

“Sorry about that.” Wearily, Randy pushed himself up off the couch. “Come on,” he said, extending his hand. “We’ll go shower, then clean up, okay?”


The microwave bleeped, and Mom smiled as she lifted the ready meal out. “Well, it certainly was a nice surprise,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Randy said, leaning aside to let her place the plastic tray on the plate in front of him. “Chris did a lot of the cleaning too.” He looked across the table to where his little brother sat, scarfing spaghetti Os like they were going out of fashion.

“Good to see him eating again,” she said, turning back to the counter and stabbing the plastic foil over her own portion. “He must have really worked up an appetite. I mean, even cleaning the couch!”

“Oh we had to!” Chris said, grinning, his lips smeared with spaghetti sauce. “Randy spilled his juice all over it.” He widened his eyes mock-innocently as Randy choked on a bite of lasagna.

End of part one.

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