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Archive name: thanks.txt (M+/b, inc)
Authors name: Joe Jones (onesboy@worldnet.att.net)
Story title : Thanksgiving with the Leary Men

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2001.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Thanksgiving with the Leary Men (M+/b, inc)
By Joe Jones (onesboy@worldnet.att.net)

***

Mike Leary was genuinely excited about Thanksgiving that 
year, though it had never much mattered to him before. 
Maybe it was part of getting older - he had just turned 
sixteen that past summer. Or it might have been the 
company. There would be all men in the Leary household 
this Thanksgiving, and Mike looked forward to seeing them 
all. Their chests, their arms, their asses and faces. He 
hadn't as much as said it out loud to anyone yet, but he 
was pretty interested in men, sexually. And there wasn't 
anyone in this bunch who wasn't a pleasure to look at.

The first person to arrive was Mike's brother Jeff, home 
from college for Thanksgiving. He had really matured in 
college, and really filled out, which wasn't surprising 
given that he was the university's wrestling champion. 
His dad, Dennis, wished that he was as good a student as 
an athlete. But as long as Jeff kept his grades up, 
Dennis was content, and overall he was pretty happy with 
how his son was turning out. He was a good natured young 
man, if a little conservative, and more interested in 
music and sports than academics. And he had a pretty 
girlfriend who he seemed to genuinely like, and who was 
definitely a good girl.

Mike was glad to have his brother home again, although 
they'd never really been close. He loved the sight of his 
compact wrestler's body, of his beautiful deep voice, the 
natural copper color of his skin. And it made Dennis 
happy to have both his sons home again, and anything that 
made his dad happy was alright with Mike. After all, 
Dennis was the best dad Mike could imagine --- Mike 
admired him for taking such good care of them all, for 
making it look so effortless, and for not turning into an 
old guy.

He was up on current music, clothes...everything. Even 
his students thought he was a cool guy, for a professor. 
The guys joked around with him, and the girls had crushes 
on him. Easy to see why --- at 46 he was still good 
looking, and in great shape. Every weekend he played 
rugby or baseball with his buddies, and it showed in his 
well muscular frame.

Roger, one of his sports buddies, was there for 
Thanksgiving too, because he didn't have much a family of 
his own. Roger couldn't have been more different than 
Dennis if he'd tried --- he had never married, but had 
plenty of girlfriends, and in general hung with a wild 
crowd. But everyone had to admit that Roger was a 
charmer. No one disliked him, and he could crack up his 
worst critics with a joke, or his handsome smile. Half 
black, Roger had beautiful caramel colored skin, thick 
curly dark hair, and he wore an earring. No one knew 
exactly how Dennis and Roger had gotten to be such good 
friends --- they had nothing in common except sports --- 
but they had been for as long as anyone could remember.

Mike's cousin Chris showed up not much later. Chris's 
father, Uncle Hank, was Dennis' brother. Uncle Hank and 
his ex wife Betty were never very good parents to Chris, 
and so Chris had spent a lot of his youth in Mike's 
house, almost like another brother. Chris had spent most 
of his childhood summers and holidays there, hanging out 
with Jeff, who was only a few weeks older than Chris.

They played baseball together, though Chris never seemed 
to much care about it, went to camp together, even shared 
Jeff's bedroom. Chris had changed in his time away at 
college (although it was just a state college, and not 
nearly as good as Jeff's university). He had gotten in 
with a wild crowd --- he wore black all the time, and he 
had three earrings in one of his ears. His straight 
blonde hair hung in his face, and he had scruffy little 
blonde goatee. He had always been lanky and slim, and 
still was.

In fact, he was so lean that you could see bluish veins 
running up and down his arms like a road map, and even in 
clothes you could see how flat and muscled his abs were. 
He had a tattoo now, some sort of Celtic knotwork 
pattern, wrapped around his sinewy bicep. He was a 
handsome boy, perfectly blending the blue eyes and sharp 
jaw line of his father's family with the slim build and 
blonde coloring of his mother's.

Chris' father, Uncle Hank was late, as usual. Uncle Hank 
was a nice guy, Mike thought, but he wasn't reliable, and 
when he had too much to drink, he was mean. More than 
once Dennis had to throw him out, his own brother, when 
he got too abusive. Still, Mike was hoping Hank would 
show up soon - he didn't much like his uncle, but he 
couldn't wait to catch a look at the older man. Hank was 
a construction worker, and you might think so just to 
look at him.

He had massive muscles - arms the size of Mike's thighs, 
a back and as broad as a table, shoulders the size of 
children's heads, and big solid man-tits. Even his good 
sized belly detracted from his sexiness, but somehow 
enhanced it, made him even more masculine. He had the 
typical Leary family looks: thick dark hair, blue eyes, a 
square jaw and ruddy skin. He almost always wore a tight 
white t shirt and worn Levis. The thought of seeing him 
again gave Mike an erection.

While they waited for Hank to show up, Roger opened a 
bottle of wine and poured everyone (except Jeff, who 
never drank alcohol) a glass, even Mike. That's what Mike 
had always liked about Roger - he treated him like an 
adult instead of a kid. In fact, he had a little bit of a 
crush on Roger, even though Roger was twenty years older 
than him. He liked Roger's full lips and almond shaped 
dark eyes, the trimmed mustache that turned at the 
corners of his full lips and ran down to his jaw line, 
And he liked Roger's body too --- nowhere near as built 
as his Uncle Hank, but he had bulging biceps and a small 
firm ass.

If Mike hadn't been so busy staring at Roger's body, he 
might have noticed how much Roger was staring at his. He 
had long ago noticed the boy staring at his chest, his 
crotch, and this intrigued him. Roger had had sex with 
all sorts of women, of all colors and ages and sizes, and 
had even been in a couple of orgies with men and women 
both. But he had never had a boy for himself, and Mike 
was as cute as they get.

He had the good looks and brilliant blue eyes as his 
father Dennis, and a body just on the precipice between 
being a boy and a man, with the muscle tone of a man, but 
still soft and smooth as a girl. And a high-riding ass, 
just begging to be fucked. On top of that, what really 
attracted Roger was, and always had been, the forbidden. 
Of all the women he had slept with over the years, the 
ones that excited him most were the ones who were married 
or engaged, especially if it was to someone he knew. How 
much better would it be to fuck the 16 year old ass on 
his best buddy's son?

After everyone had a drink or two, Roger remembered that 
he had forgotten his contribution to the dinner; his 
mother's famous yams cooked with brown sugar, sitting on 
his kitchen counter back at home. Everyone said to forget 
it, but Roger said that if he was going to make his 
mother's yams everyone was going to eat them. Everyone 
laughed, and Roger said he'd run home to get it. He 
noticed that Mike was looking a little light headed from 
his wine, and suggested he ride with him to get some 
fresh air. Mike agreed, and the two of them left in 
Roger's car.

Dennis Leary sent Jeff and Chris upstairs to unpack, 
while he put the finishing touches on his dinner.

He was such a classic American guy, a man's man, and no 
one would guess to look at him that that he'd have such a 
domestic streak. But in truth it was all he had ever 
wanted. The opportunity to be a father was the reason he 
married, and when that ended there was no way that he'd 
give up his boys. Not that their mother had contested his 
custody --- she'd skipped town as soon as she could, and 
never looked back. And so Dennis had what he wanted, a 
family life, with no strings attached. There were women, 
who went to sperm banks, had children without benefit of 
a husband. Why not raise his boys without a wife? He took 
a position at the University, which gave him summers off 
to be with the boys. And his nephew Chris, who had the 
misfortune to be born to a bastard of a father like Hank.

Jeff and Chris were together again in the same room they 
had shared for much of their childhood. But they had 
grown far apart since then, and felt a little awkward 
with each other. To see them now, punk Chris in his black 
clothes and tattoo, and Jeff the classic American 
collegiate, no one would think they'd once been as close 
as brothers. They didn't have much in common now, except 
their past, and so that's what they talked about mostly. 
They'd joke about old times, reminding each other of past 
embarrassments. Even now they knew more about each other 
than anyone else, and sometimes it took only a one word 
inside joke to make them both crack up laughing.

There was one other part of their shared history, though, 
which they didn't joke about. Didn't even speak of. 
Sometime early in adolescence they had started fooling 
around, jerking each other off. Later, at Chris; 
suggestion, they sucked each other off. Chris was always 
so knowledgeable about these things. And so daring. He 
also suggested that they stick their dicks in each 
other's butts, to simulate fucking a girl.

Jeff agreed, and so they did. It was always quick --- 
just a quick corn holing, while looking at a Playboy 
magazine. Jeff, who had by far the bigger dick, always 
wanted to do the fucking, not get fucked, but Chris 
insisted that they take turns. They kept careful track of 
who was ahead. "You owe me one," was their ongoing 
reminder, in those days. (In truth, however, Jeff had 
topped Chris more often than the reverse - Chris was a 
charity case, when it came down to it, and so they both 
allowed Jeff to have his way more often.) Both pretended 
to hate getting fucked, but there was no denying the 
dripping erections it gave them.

They weren't sure at which age exactly they began their 
sexual adventures. They both remembered having to get rid 
of Jeff's little brother Mikey, "the Pest", whenever they 
got horny enough to do it. And it continued, even when 
they started dating girls, because most girls were 
unwilling to indulge the sexual appetites they aroused.

But it had been years since their last encounter --- they 
were adults now. In fact, Jeff had a girlfriend, Sue, who 
he expected he'd probably marry. Sue, who was visiting 
her own parents for the holidays, was staunchly Catholic, 
and didn't believe in pre-marital sex. Although this 
frustrated Jeff, he respected her for it, and thought she 
was probably right. After all, he was Catholic too. It 
was just damn hard to go without sex.

He'd been dating Sue exclusively for about a year now, 
and that had been a damn long time. So he relied on 
masturbation, which was usually how he started and ended 
his days. Masturbation, fantasies about Sue, and about 
his pitiful few sexual encounters before her. He could 
count on one hand the number of girls he'd had. And 
Chris, of course, but that didn't count as sex. That was 
just fooling around.

Chris, on the other hand, hardly went a week without sex. 
His early activity with Jeff had been a springboard to a 
even more sexual experimentation. He had ample 
opportunity, because although the Leary men were almost 
universally good looking, even among them Chris was a 
standout. He was as pretty a man who ever walked the 
planet, and both men and women fell for him. It wasn't 
just his appearance. Not just his fine platinum blonde 
hair, his lean and wiry physique, the fine golden-white 
hair on his chest.

It was the sexual air around him, his utter 
accessibility. Women wanted to take him home and love 
him. Men wanted to service him. He did both, and had much 
more than his share of women, and a couple of guys if 
they had something he wanted. He preferred women to men 
by far, but was too much of an opportunist to pass up any 
sexual experience. Bondage. Hot candle wax. Piercings. 
Dildos. Leather. He had tried them all, and more, but had 
not yet reached his limit.

Driving to his apartment, Roger eyeballed Mike, feeling 
desire for the boy burning deep inside him.

"So you still don't have a girlfriend, Mike?" He asked.

"Nah, Roger. Not really."

"Good looking boy like you? I'm surprised."

"Yeah," Mike replied, quietly.

"Can I ask you something personal Mikey?"

"Yeah. Sure. I guess so."

"Now remember Mikey, I've known you since you were a kid 
- Hell, I knew your folks before your brother Jeff was 
even born. You're like family to me, so don't be insulted 
or anything. But I was wondering...are you gay?"

Mike froze. He gulped hard, and said "No! No way! Why did 
you think that?"

"I just thought...you know, I've known a lot of gay guys. 
Some of them were good friends of mine. Some great 
musicians. I just thought you reminded me of some of 
them. Guess I was wrong."

They ride in silence for a few minutes. And then Mike 
spoke.

"If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell my 
dad?"

"Sure Mikey. You know you can trust old Roger."

"I think maybe I'm bisexual. God, I can't believe I'm 
just saying it."

"Relax Mikey. It's cool with me. We're all bisexual, 
really."

"We are?"

"Sure Mikey. We all have potential, you know, to love 
anyone. Most of us just deny it and pick one or the 
other, gay or straight. I think it's great you're 
bisexual."

"You do? Wow. I didn't think hardly anyone would 
understand. You know, sometimes I just see guys, guys at 
school or whatever, and I think..."

"Whoa, Mikey," Roger interrupted, "are you sure you want 
to tell me too much about that?"

"Oh," said Mike, feeling ashamed of his forwardness. 
"Sorry."

"I'm feeling a little horny myself right now. You tell me 
too much and I might get all hot and bothered."

"You horny?"

"Sure thing Mikey. What, you think I don't like sex?"

"I don't know...I guess you do."

"We're not all angels like your dad, Mikey. Hell, I love 
pussy. Eat it, fuck it. Did I ever tell you about the 
time I had BOTH of the Johnson sisters? Fuck man," Roger 
went on, laughing, "THAT was something! But I guess I 
didn't tell you --- of course I didn't."

"No," Mike said, and then paused, licked his lips, and 
went on. "You could tell me now."

So Roger told him, in excruciating detail, about his 
conquest of the Johnson sisters. How he fucked one then 
the other, how the next morning they took turns 
straddling his cock and riding him while he sucked on 
their tits. He went on to tell about his last girlfriend 
and the things she would do to make him cum. He told 
about a bisexual friend he knew who told him that he'd 
had sex with his own brother. As Roger told story after 
story, Mike's cock throbbed, and a damp spot of pre-cum 
spread across the front of his jeans.

Roger continued his stories all the way to his apartment 
building, and all the way into his apartment. Roger's 
place was nothing like Mike's home. It was dark, and 
messy. There were albums and CDs and books scattered all 
over the place. The furniture was old and worn. There 
were paintings on all the walls, and posters, even 
centerfolds of nude women with big breasts. The kitchen 
was just a little open area off of the living room. Roger 
walked over to the counter, and found his tray of yams 
baked in brown sugar.

"These, Mikey, are the finest yams you'll have in your 
life," Roger said, peeling back the tin foil to show Mike 
the food within. "When you have a mouthful, you'll think 
you're cumming. I swear to God!"

Roger dipped his finger into the tray, breaking the crisp 
surface. He lifted out a fingerful of sweet yam, and put 
it in his mouth. He moaned out loud, and almost shuddered 
with delight.

"C'mere," he said to Mike, beckoning the boy closer. He 
dipped his finger into the tray again, and lifted a chunk 
of gooey yam out. "You want it?" he asked. He brought the 
finger to Mike's lips, and the boy opened his mouth and 
took the yam and finger both into his mouth.

"You like that?" Roger asked. Mike nodded yes, the finger 
still in his mouth. "Make sure you suck the sugar off."

Mike sucked on Roger's big rough finger, and Roger 
wrapped his hand around the boy's slim waist and pulled 
him closer. He took his finger from Mike's sweet sucking 
mouth, dipped it into the yams again and then back into 
Mike's mouth. Without words, they stared into each 
other's eyes, currents of desire transmitting between 
them.

"You want more?" Roger asked Mike, who nodded "yes", 
still sucking on Roger's finger long after swallowing the 
last traces of yam.

Roger took his finger out of the boy's mouth. With his 
hand freed, he pulled up the bottom of his cotton 
turtleneck, lifting it up over his pec and then releasing 
it. He took a finger covered with gooey yam, and rubbed 
it onto his brown nipple. Mike stared at him and 
swallowed hard. Roger gently guided the boy's head to his 
chest, and Mike opened his mouth over the nipple and 
began to suck.

Mike sucked on one nipple then the other, guided but 
never forced by Roger's hands. Roger took off his shirt, 
revealing a well developed athlete's torso, smooth except 
for a few tightly wound curls of hair springing up around 
his nipples. Then he removed Mike's shirt. He tweaked 
Mike's rosy colored nipples and sucked on them both. The 
boy was well on his way to a beautiful manly body. 

Roger unbuttoned Mike's jeans, and slid them down and 
then the white cotton briefs beneath them. Mike's long 
cock bounced free, and Roger stroked it. "What're you 
packing here?" he asked. "Looks like a seven incher." 
Mike shrugged, and then gasped as Roger took his cock in 
his mouth, and slid his lips up and down over it. He 
stared down at the sight of the handsome black man 
mouthing his cock, and gently ran his fingertips over the 
springy hair on Roger's head.

Roger stopped, stood up, unbuckled his belt, stripped off 
his black trousers and underwear, and stood there, his 
cock fully erect and pointing straight at Mike. The cock 
was nearly as long as Mike's, perhaps a bit fatter, and a 
shade darker than the rest of Roger's caramel skin. Roger 
stroked it masterfully, and said to Mike "If you want to, 
go ahead."

Clumsily, Mike got down on his knees, and took the head 
of Roger's cock between his lips. It felt strange, to 
have this warm hard flesh in his mouth. He tried to 
swallow some more, got a few inches in, and started to 
bob his head back and forth. "Yeah," Roger encouraged 
him, "that's good." Then Roger stopped him, and leaving 
Mike on his knees he crawled down on the ground, his face 
between the boy's legs. He took Mike's cock in his mouth, 
and began to bob his head down on it again and again, 
faster this time and swallowing even more of it, until 
his nose was buried in the bush of hair around the base 
of Mike's cock.

"Roger, I'm...oh my God..." Mike mumbled, "Roger... I... 
you'd better stop..."

Roger didn't stop, but instead went faster, until he felt 
Mike's cock swell up even more, his hips thrust forward, 
and then felt a thick hot blast of cum in his mouth. Mike 
mumbled something, and shuddered, as his balls pumped his 
cum out into Roger's mouth. He trembled as Roger choked 
on the hot liquid, and swallowed it. He then released the 
cock from his mouth, and rose up on his knees, wiping his 
sniffling nose with the back of his hand. He had 
swallowed another man's cum. Incredible.

"That was incredible," Mike said. "That was... the best 
thing. Ever!"

"Good," said Roger, standing up, "I'm glad you liked it."

He helped Mike up, and the two stood close together, 
Roger's fully erect cock between them. Tenderly he kissed 
Mike on the lips, then his cheek and neck. He kissed his 
shoulders and collarbone. Licked at Mike's nipples, his 
trim belly. Lapped at the sparse curly hair under the 
boy's belly button. Licked the shaft of his flacid cock. 
Sucked a last pearly drop of cum off the head of Mike's 
cock. Roger took the cock fully into his mouth, 
swallowing it all, coaxing it back into a second 
erection.

He turned Mike around, his jeans still chaining his 
ankles together, and bent him over the back of his couch. 
He spread apart the white globes of Mike's ass, and took 
in the sight of his pink asshole, some dark hairs around 
it. Roger sniffed it, kissed it, poked it with his 
tongue. Mike stiffened up suddenly, amazed that someone 
would do such a thing. Roger poked at it again, and 
licked it, pushed the tip of his tongue deep inside. As 
Mike's cock stiffened, he moaned lowly and spread his 
legs to accommodate Roger's face and probing tongue.

After loosening up Mike's asshole, Roger stood up behind 
the boy, wrapped one muscular arm around him to pull him 
closer, kissing and biting the back of his neck. He slid 
one finger into the boy's wet ass, and then another. He 
slid his arm down and began to pump Mike's nearly erect 
cock, while he punped the boy's asshole with his other 
hand. Mike was lost to the pleasure, and Roger licked his 
lips, wanting that ass so bad. He took his fingers out of 
Mike's bottom, then pressed the head of his rigid cock to 
the hole, and began to slide in.

Mike jerked around, in a mild panic, but Roger simply 
turned the boy's head so he could look in his eyes, and 
his intent stare calmed Mike immediately. Roger slid his 
whole cock in, inch by inch, and Mike grunted with each. 
When his whole length was embedded in Mike's ass, Roger 
paused to give Mike time to grow accustomed to the 
feeling. Then he began to slide it in and out in smooth 
easy strokes. Mike's asshole was so tight, so hot, Roger 
knew he wouldn't last long at all, though he wanted to 
fuck his best friend's son all night long. He wrapped his 
big hands around Mike's slim white hips and pulled him 
closer, picked up the pace, stabbing Mike's asshole over 
and over again.

While he fucked Mike, Roger took in every inch of the 
boy's back and head with his eyes, feeling with his 
fingertips the young muscles working under his white 
skin. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back 
into him, then fucking him hard, and harder still. Mike 
winced with pain, and Roger pummeled into him, his cock 
exploding with hot semen, coating the inside of Mike's 
guts with his white jizz. He thrust into him once, twice 
and again, totally spent.

Without withdrawing his cock, Roger pulled Mike back 
against him, spat into his hand, wrapped it around Mike's 
dripping erection and started to beat it furiously. Mike 
thrust his hips forward, fucking Roger's wet hand, with 
Roger's black cock still up his ass.

"You'd better hurry," Roger whispered, "you father is 
waiting for us."

The very mention of his father sent Mike over the edge, 
and for the second time in a half hour he spurted out a 
stream of white cum. His semen splattered onto Roger's 
couch and then dribbling down his knuckles.

By the time that Roger and Mike finally got back home, 
Uncle Hank had arrived and already had two beers. 
Everyone asked where they had been for so long, and Roger 
explained to them that Mike had had too much to drink, 
and had gotten a little sick. Everyone teased Mike, who 
blushed and shrugged. In addition to explaining their 
time away, Roger's lie explained Mike's change of 
demeanor, the evident nervousness he felt in front of his 
family because of what had really happened.

During the dinner, Hank drank some more and Mike knew 
he'd probably end up sleeping on their couch again. But 
nothing could ruin this Thanksgiving for him. Even the 
Turkey was perfect. He said so, and everyone agreed that 
it was, and that Roger's yams were the best they'd ever 
had.

When Roger went home, everyone turned in for the night. 
Dennis put his drunk brother Hank on the couch to sleep, 
and he and the boys went upstairs to their bedrooms. Jeff 
and Chris, in the room they had shared for so many 
summers as boys, tried to work out a sleeping 
arrangement. But they were both were so full of 
Thanksgiving dinner that neither really wanted to spend 
the night in a sleeping bag on the floor, and in the end 
they decided to share the bed after all. They both 
stripped to their underwear and climbed in.

Jeff, who always jerked off before going to sleep, was 
feeling restless to begin with, and the feel of a warm 
body in bed next to him didn't help any. While Jeff tried 
to hide his growing erection, he examined his cousin's 
body. His arms and chest were covered with tiny fine 
hairs, so white as to be transparent. He examined the 
tattoo on his bicep, having never been so close to one 
before. And then noticed something else.

"What's that?" he asked, and reached out to touch Chris' 
pale pink nipple, and the thin gold hoop that hung from 
it.

"That?" Chris replied, lifting the tiny hoop and tugging 
on it lightly. "That's a nipple ring."

"Well duh, Chris. I just...when'd you get that?"

"Last summer. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Pretty weird anyway," Jeff answered, not at all sure 
what to make of it.

"What, you didn't get yours pierced yet?" Chris asked, 
giggling. He turned around in the bed to face Jeff, and 
quickly grabbed his cousins nipples and pinched them 
hard.

"Ow! Quit it!" Jeff shouted, giggling as he tried to 
cover his chest, and then grabbing at the ring in Chris' 
nipple and tugging hard on it. "There? How do YOU like 
it?"

The two squirmed and laughed, trying to tickle each 
other, and pinch each other's nipples while defending 
their own. As things escalated, Jeff quickly gained the 
upper hand. After all, he was a wrestling champ, and 
although Chris was in great shape he couldn't match Jeff 
for sheer muscle or for training. Finally he lay on top 
of his cousin, holding his arms around his chest. Face to 
face, the two of them breathed heavily, their last 
giggles sputtering out.

"Okay, truce? Okay?" Jeff asked.

"Okay. Truce," Chris answered.

"Okay then."

As he released Chris' arms, there was a brief pause, and 
then Chris' fingers dug into Jeff's sides again, tickling 
him like crazy, until Jeff masterfully pinned his cousin 
again.

There was something more than just tickling and wrestling 
holds going on in Jeff's crotch, though. He was fully 
erect, only a think layer of cotton between it and Chris' 
flat abs. There was no hiding an erection the size of 
Jeff's, and Chris was aroused by the feel of the hard 
cock pressed against him. But more than that, what turned 
Chris on the most was that he always hated those preppie 
jock guys like Jeff, and it thrilled him to think of 
tempting one of them to stray from the straight-and-
narrow. What made it all the better was that Jeff was 
unarguably sexy, with a compact body, muscles like steel 
under smooth as satin skin, full lips and thick hair, the 
same dark brown color as his eyes.

"I mean it now Chris," Jeff said, "really quit it now. Or 
I'll keep you pinned all night."

Chris chuckled. He struggled against his cousin, but his 
arms were pinned securely. He squirmed with all his 
strength, but Jeff had him down hard.

"Give it up, man," Jeff continued. "there's nothing you 
can do."

"Oh no?" Chris asked, smiling devilishly.

Chris craned forward his long neck as far as he could 
toward Jeff's chest. Jeff had flat, dark rose colored 
nipples, each ringed by a halo of dark hairs (about the 
only hair on his chest, really). Chris wrapped his lips 
around one, and sucked hard, pressing down just a little 
with his teeth.

Jeff didn't know how to respond, so he just let Chris go 
on doing it, closed his eyes and groaned as he finally 
pressed his throbbing erection into Chris's belly. Chris 
licked Jeff's tit, chewed on his nipple and sucked on it 
hungrily. He stooped and looked up at Jeff's half closed 
eyes and said "You wanna'?"

"I don't know man," Jeff answered. "It'd be kinda' weird, 
you know?"

Chris responded by latching onto Jeff's other nipple and 
chewing roughly on it.

"Fuck," whispered Jeff. "Okay. But we gotta' do it 
quick."

He rolled off of his cousin and sprang to his feet, 
stripping off white white cotton briefs to reveal a long 
fat cock, bigger looking than Chris remembered it. Jeff's 
prick was thinner at the root, and grew fatter all the 
way up to the head, which fit it like a smallish helmet. 
Chris slipped his briefs off too, still lying flat on his 
back. Lying there, Jeff could see that his cousin wasn't 
a kid any longer either, but a young man. He was thin, 
almost flat, but broad in the shoulder and slim in his 
hips, sinewy. He had a lot more body hair than Jeff, but 
all of it the same pale blonde color, except for the 
brown bush of pubic hair at the base of his good sized 
cock. It wasn't nearly as big as Jeff's own, but it was 
nothing to be ashamed of.

Jeff gave his cock a couple of rough strokes and said to 
Chris "Okay, turn over."

"Turn over? TURN OVER? No way man. It's your turn," Chris 
replied.

"The hell it is, Chris. Man, you owe ME one. Don't you 
remember?"

"I remember everything. You're the one who forgot. You 
got to go last time."

"Did not. You went last time. I swear."

"You swear, huh? So do I. Well, what the fuck do we do 
now?"

"Wanna' wrestle for it?" Jeff asked, smirking.

Chris threw a pillow at Jeff, and laughing said "Yeah, 
you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Jeff threw the pillow down on the floor. He answered 
"Wouldn't you?
Like it?"

"Awww, fuck. Okay," Chris said, getting up out of the 
bed. "Hold on."

Chris rummaged around in his backpack and rummaged out a 
little bottle. He walked over to Jeff, and looked him in 
the eyes. He felt like kissing his darkly handsome 
cousin, but knew that Jeff wouldn't go for that. He got 
down on his hands and knees on the floor, as they always 
did as teenagers because the bed was too squeaky. He 
looked up to Jeff and said "I hope you have something."

"Something" Jeff knew, meant some kind of lubricant. He 
looked around on his dresser for something, and found a 
tube of tanning oil. That would do.

His heart pounding hard, Jeff knelt down behind Chris. He 
glanced at his cousin's spread ass cheeks, and was 
simultaneously turned on and repulsed. He decided not to 
really look any more. He poured a good amount of tanning 
oil onto his hand, and rubbed it onto his cock. It 
smelled lightly of something flowery, and it felt good 
and slick on his cock. He pressed the head against Chris' 
hole, and tried to slide it in quickly.

"Oww, stop..." Chris blurted out, pulling forward to keep 
Jeff from getting in any deeper. "You jerk...go slow!"

"Shhh," said Jeff. "Okay, but be quiet, or you'll wake 
the whole house up."

"Okay. Just slow down, and put more of that oil on it."

While Jeff lubed up his cock, he noticed Chris fooling 
around with the brown glass vial.

"What is that?" Jeff asked.

"Poppers...Rush. Whatever. It gives you a little high 
when you sniff it. You want some?"

"No way," Jeff answered. Jeff's health was too important 
to him to do drugs of any kind.

He pushed his cock head into Chris' asshole again, and 
even that felt so good that it was all he could do to not 
slam it in at once. He inched in slowly, guided by Chris' 
words, pushing when he said "okay", pausing when he said 
"stop".

When he'd gotten about two thirds of his cock in Chris, 
Jeff was nearly trembling with the desire to ram it in, 
but Chris had said to stop, so he did. Then Chris opened 
the brown vial, held it up first to one nostril and 
inhaled deeply, then the other. After a few seconds 
Chris' body seemed to relax, and he moaned out loud. He 
gripped down hard on Jeff's dick with his sphincter, and 
very suddenly shoved back, impaling himself on the full 
length of Jeff's cock.

"Yeah..." Chris groaned, "do it...yeah..."

Jeff had never seen Chris like this. There had been some 
good times before, but now Chris was really getting off 
on being fucked. And Jeff obliged him, by pulling his 
cock back slightly and ramming it in again and again.

"That feels good buddy," Jeff said, driving his cock home 
in his cousin's sweet ass.

After a minute or two the effects of Chris' drug seemed 
to subside. But he was still enjoying getting fucked, and 
worked his ass around the pole filling it, clutching 
Jeff's cock with his bowel. He let himself drop down onto 
his shoulders, freeing his hands to work his own cock, 
leaving his ass up in the air for Jeff to plug away at.

After a few minutes Chris passed the vial back to Jeff. 
"Try it Jeff.
Come on."

Jeff wasn't crazy about it, but Chris was into it, and 
since he was, literally, into Chris it seemed only fair. 
He twisted open the top, and held it up to one nostril. 
He pinched closed the other nostril and inhaled. It 
stank, he thought, and there was a burning chemical 
sensation. That was enough. He twisted the top back on 
and passed it to Chris, who then used it himself.

He couldn't be sure when it started, but Jeff thought 
something was wrong. He felt hot, and his heart was 
pounding loudly in his ears like a kettle drum. He felt 
like his head was going to explode, but it didn't, and 
instead he felt everything that was happening, but more 
intensely than ever before. He could hear every decibel 
of every groan Chris uttered, could feel Chris milking 
his cock with his ass. He was overcome, and whispered 
"Oh, fuuuuuuuuucccck!" as he pummeled Chris' ass.

For his part Chris was seeing stars, trying to stave off 
an imminent orgasm as Jeff slammed into his prostate over 
and over again. Normally he would have had a hard time 
with Jeff's big dick, but not tonight. In fact, right 
after each hot of Rush, he found himself wishing that 
Jeff's cock could get in a little deeper.

"You almost done?" he asked Jeff, anxious to finally 
cum.

"Almost," Jeff answered. "You?"

"I'm there," Chris answered. He inhaled some more Rush, 
and passed the bottle back to Jeff.

Without stopping his stroking, Jeff opened the bottle 
and inhaled deeply in each nostril. He let himself rest 
on top of Chris' back, his ass the peak of a human 
pyramid, and drove his cock deep. Chris barely touched 
his own cock, and it spewed several streaks of white cum, 
each one propelled by another jab from Jeff's cock. Jeff 
could hear Chris cumming, could hear him making a horse-
like noise as his balls pumped out his semen. The rush 
was kicking in, and the sounds of Chris' climax turned 
him on almost as much as the hot ass he was fucking in 
hard fast jabs, like a dog.

"Uh, Jeff," whispered Chris, in obvious discomfort, "I'm 
done, I. uhhh... Jeff..."

"Hold on," Jeff muttered, as his body tensed, "hold 
on...on...ahhh..."

Chris yelped as Jeff's cock plunged even deeper into 
him, letting loose a torrent of semen. Jeff's weight and 
thrusting knocked Chris off his knees, and they both 
landed on the floor below in a loud thud. Very slowly, 
Jeff withdrew his cock, and even though it was now only 
half erect, Chris winced as it passed his sore asshole.

"You okay?" Jeff asked Chris.

"Yeah," Chris replied, turning to face the young man who 
had just inseminated his ass. "Might not walk right for 
awhile. But okay. You'd better remember one thing, 
though."

"What's that?" Jeff asked.

"You owe me," Chris said, and smiled wickedly.

Mike sat on the toilet seat off the hallway between his 
bedroom and his Dad's. He woke up not long after going to 
sleep, and had to take a crap. He had to go bad earlier, 
right after Roger had fucked him. When he did that time, 
he made all kinds of loud wet farty noises, and he hoped 
that no one heard. This time he didn't make any weird 
noises, just shit like usual. Still, his butt felt kind 
of weird. Inside. Not bad, but weird. When he was done, 
he slowly wiped his butt with toilet paper, and then 
touched his asshole lightly with a fingertip. He just 
couldn't believe he'd actually gotten fucked, actually 
had sex.

He was startled by the sound of something heavy hitting 
the floor, elsewhere in the house. One of the bedrooms, 
he guessed. He stood up, flushed the toilet and washed 
his hands. Just as he reached for the doorknob to open 
it, the door flew open, and there stood Chris. He was 
wearing only a pair of grayed briefs, and squinting in 
the bright bathroom light.

"Oh, hey Pest," he said.

Mike said "hey." He never minded when Chris called him 
"Pest". He was always pretty nice to Mike, and really 
cute.

Mike noticed the ring through Chris' nipple, and his 
mouth dropped open. He'd never seen anything like it 
before, although he knew they existed. He pointed at it, 
almost touched it.

"It's just a ring, Mikey."

"Wow," was all Mike could mutter.

"Hey, Pest, you can look more tomorrow, but I really 
gotta' go now."

"Oh, yeah. Okay."

Mike stepped out of the bathroom, and Chris jumped in 
and quickly shut the door behind him. He stood silently 
in the dark hallway, amazed at his luck. First he'd had 
sex with Roger, and then got to see his cute cousin Chris 
in just his underwear. God, he was cute, with the blonde 
fur on his chest and legs and arms. Not built like Jeff 
at all, but a great body, and you could see all his 
stomach muscles.

As Mike turned to go back to his bedroom, he heard 
something funny. A big loud razz, from the bathroom. 
Chris farting.

Wow, Mike thought, that was almost as loud as he had 
farted earlier, when he took that big gooey dump in 
Roger's toilet after getting fucked. He listened and 
heard another quack-like fart from the bathroom. Yeah, he 
thought, just like Mike sounded after Roger came in his 
butt.

Funny.

Mike awoke with a start, as he felt someone flop down in 
his bed beside him. He heard a slurred word, and sat up, 
to find his Uncle Hank, in his shirt and underwear lying 
almost on top of him in his bed.

"Uncle Hank?" he whispered, poking Hank in the side. 
"Uncle Hank...get up. You're in my bed."

"S'nighttime," Hank mumbled, his eyes half closed 
already.

"You're drunk Uncle Hank...this isn't your bed. You have 
to go."

Hank blinked, trying to make sense of his nephew, but 
didn't get up.
In fact he hugged the boy close to him in his big arms.

"Sorry Mikey...'m drunk, okay?" Hank answered. "Let yer 
Uncle sleep here, okay kid?"

"Whatever," Mike said, and lied back down. He liked the 
feel of Hank next to him, although he could smell the 
alcohol on his breath. Besides, there wasn't much he 
could do to move his uncle if he didn't want to go. He 
must have weighed more than two hundred pounds, mostly of 
muscle.

Hank wrapped himself around his nephew as if the boy 
were a teddy bear. And as he did, his cock shifted into 
the crack between the boy's ass cheeks. And that didn't 
feel bad at all. He nudged his hips up and down a bit, 
and felt his cock stiffen up. And so did Mike. Hank 
rubbed his bristled face against Mike's shoulder, and it 
scraped Mike's skin even through the t shirt he wore. He 
kissed his nephew's shoulder, softly. Then suddenly he 
bit, and when he did, he pulled his arms and legs tight 
around the boy, who yelped in pain from the sharp bite of 
his uncle's teeth.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mike asked, just as Hank's
hand wrapped around his mouth, silencing him.

"Mikey," Hank whispered, "you wanna' do your Uncle Hank 
a favor? Huh?
Do you?"

"What?" Mike asked, his voice muffled by the hand over 
his mouth.

"Let me screw you, okay? Your Uncle's feeling real horny 
and your butt feels real good."

Mike didn't answer at all. He couldn't believe it. His 
Uncle Hank, in his bed, asking to fuck him?

"C'mon Mikey," Hank whispered in his ear, kissing him on 
the cheek, and loosening his hand from the boy's mouth. 
"I'll give you something...give you fifty dollars...no, a 
hundred...what do you say?"

"Uncle Hank...I don't...come on..."

"It'll be our secret, Mikey. This family's full of 
secrets."

Hank reached down and yanked his underwear down, to 
expose his thick, bent cock. He put his thumb to Mike's 
lips, and then pushed it in, between his teeth and onto 
his tongue. Mike closed his mouth around the callused 
thumb, and sucked on it. And spread his legs.

Hank spit into his free hand, and then smeared the spit 
onto Mike's asshole, which made both their cocks twitch. 
He spat twice again in his hand and smeared it onto his 
cock, lubing up the length of it. Then he parted Mike's 
legs like scissors, lifting one up to fully expose his 
pink little hole. He put the fat mushroom head of his 
cock to it, pressed hard, and sighed as his cock began to 
sink into Mike's tender asshole. Mike whimpered a little, 
as his bowel began to fill with the man cock of his Uncle 
Hank, and he bit into the flesh of Hank's thumb.

"That's it," Hank whispered, as he let more of his stiff 
rod into the boy. "You suck on your Uncle's thumb like a 
sweet baby. Fuck, that's tight boy, like Chris' used to 
be before he got it all fucked out by your good for 
nothing brother."

The words hit Mike with an even greater impact than the 
prick now stuffing his bowel.

"You're drunk," he said to Hank, spitting the thumb out 
of his mouth.

"I'm drunk, and your brother's a fucking Greek...ungh, 
fuck kid...damn darkie bastard screwin' my son...I 
oughtta' kill em both myself..."

Hank started plowing into Mike's ass now, his hips 
bucking back and forth, his big bent cock probing deep 
into Mike's insides. He reached around Mike and pinched 
his nipples roughly, making the boy gasp in pain and 
pleasure. He couldn't think straight, having Hank tear 
into his ass like this and tell him these weird 
things...that he did this with Chris? That Jeff did? And 
what did he mean "darkie"?

"What did you call Jeff that for?" he asked.

"Ungh, fuck kid," Hank grunted, never stopping his 
thrusts, "can't you take a fuck with your mouth shut? I 
meant he's a nigger."

A wave of pleasure rippled through Mike from deep in his 
bowel, his Uncle Hank's cock poking him repeatedly 
something in his center, making lights flash before his 
eyes.

"He's not..." Mike said, to Hank and to himself, "that 
word. He can't be. That's stupid."

"Maybe not," Hank chuckled, sweating profusely now as he 
rammed Mike with his cock. "I always figured he was that 
nigger Roger's boy. He had your mother back then. Hell, 
we all did."

"Shut up," Mike whispered, turning away from Hank, 
clenching his ass around Hank's cock, trying to twist 
away from him. But Hank held on tight, and pulled the 
boy's smooth white body back close to him.

"Your mother was a whore, Mikey, always was. She was a 
good lay though..."

Mike's cock throbbed now, and dripped pre-cum. Hank had 
him almost on his stomach now, and with each of Hank's 
thrusts, his own dick slid back and forth on the wet 
sticky bed sheets.

"You like that dick in your pussy hole, boy?" Hank 
asked, picking up his pace now, prying Mike's legs apart 
with his free hand. He paused briefly and whispered "You 
like that?", then thrust hard, taking Mike's breath. "Do 
you?" he asked again, thrusting harder.

"Yes..." whispered Mike, as his cockhead slid again in 
the slick mess on his sheets.

"I knew you would...'cause you're a slut boy, just like 
your mother, with your little pussy hole..." Hank said, 
as he started to pump fast and hard, like a piston. His 
strong fingers dug hard into the soft flesh of Mike's 
thigh, and he stuffed the meaty base of his thumb into 
the boy's mouth to muffle the sounds he was making.

As Hank rode him mercilessly, Mike felt a great sob 
rising in his throat. He should scream, he thought, fight 
Hank off. But instead he sucked on the salty flesh in his 
mouth, as his own cock twitched, swelled and pumped his 
boy semen into his mattress. He shuddered and whimpered 
as his ass spasmed around Hank's cock.

"Yeah boy," Hank grunted, feeling the tight vice of 
Mike's ass almost sucking the cum out of his cock. As it 
erupted, pumping his semen into his nephew, he said "milk 
it, you whore...fucking whore..." Mike convulsed as he 
felt his insides pounded to jelly by Hank's jackhammer 
pounding, which didn't end until Hank's balls were 
emptied and his cock lost its erection.

After he slid his cock out of Mike's ass, Hank rolled 
over in bed. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

*

Dennis woke up again, for the fifth time that night. 
Years as a single parent had fine tuned his hearing to 
night time noises, and even now when his boys didn't need 
him to look after them, he woke ever time a bedroom door 
opened and closed, every time the toilet flushed. With 
just himself and Mike in the house, things were pretty 
quiet, but tonight with all the company it sounded like a 
circus out there. The boys were goofing around, going to 
the bathroom. He was pretty sure he heard Hank lumbering 
around too.

Lying there, awake, Dennis reflected on how well things 
had gone. The holidays weren't nearly as big as they used 
to be when he and Hank and their sisters were kids, 
before they all married and moved so far apart. Those 
Leary gatherings were epic --- sometimes in the course of 
the day as many as fifty people would have passed through 
his grandparents doors.

He remembered the noise, more than anything, the laughing 
and yelling and fighting and singing. And the heat. God, 
it was hot, with so many people in the house, mostly 
wearing winter clothes. And later, the women all in the 
kitchen, cleaning dishes and putting away leftovers in 
different packages for different households, while the 
men piled into the living room, the air clouded with 
cigarette smoke, a drink in every man's hands.

He remembered being twelve, the year after his father 
died in a car crash, and not knowing quite where he 
belonged. Not with the women, or the little kids playing 
under the dining table, but not quite with the men 
either. His mother put he and Hank, who was thirteen, to 
work bringing drinks and desserts to the men. That kept 
him busy, but as the men drank more, argued more, they 
became increasingly unpleasant. They barked out orders, 
made jokes that Dennis didn't understand but felt sure 
were at his expense, or Hank's.

During one of their trips to the living room, Hank fell. 
Dennis didn't see it happen, only heard the clamor as 
Hank went over, spilling two cups of coffee on the floor 
and himself. He stood up quickly, furiously. His face was 
red, and his breathing hard. Hank had a temper, and had 
been pushed too hard.

"Which one of you fuckers tripped me?" Hank shouted, 
casting his angry glare on the room full of older Leary 
men.

There was dead silence for a minute. It was one thing 
for a man to say what he would, but a boy, barely out 
from under his mother's apron? Dennis could feel the heat 
in the room rise. Then one man cleared his throat, as if 
preparing to speak. It was their second cousin, Father 
Patrick, the Catholic priest, in his collar and a black 
jacket, holding a drink in one hand and a cigar in the 
other. He was a nice looking man for a priest, with a 
head full of blonde curls and a pleasant smile, no older 
than Dennis' mother. Surely he would say something to 
make peace of this bad situation.

"Henry Joseph Leary," Father Patrick said, using Hank's 
full name, "you know that I am a man of the church, and 
there is not a queer bone is in this body of mine. That 
being said, Henry Joseph Leary, let me tell you today 
that you are about the prettiest thing I have ever laid 
eyes on."

The men roared with laughter, hooting and shouting, 
slapping Patrick on the back and refilling his glass. 
Dennis didn't understand what it meant, but whatever it 
was, it was utterly true and completely absurd, both, to 
make the men laugh so much. And whatever it meant about 
Hank, Dennis knew that it could only have been safely 
said by Patrick, because he was a man of the cloth. 
Still, he was grateful because Father Patrick had broken 
the tension, made everything okay. Saved the day.

Just as Dennis sighed with relief, Hank lunged at 
Patrick, shouting "Fucker, you fuck..." and trying to 
pummel Patrick with his fists, knocking filled glasses on 
the floor where they shattered and sent ice cubes sliding 
across the room. Of course every man in the room was on 
him in an instant, pulling him off of the priest and 
restraining him until he went still. Even the women came 
running in, and Dennis remembered the look of utter 
mortification on his mother's face.

Now truly angry, Patrick stood up, red faced and 
breathing too fast.

He unbuckled his belt and took it off. He looked to Hank 
and nodded. Everyone knew what would happen next. Hank 
looked to his mother for help, but it was too late and 
there was nothing she could do, and when Hank saw that he 
stood up defiantly. Without another word he walked over 
to the staircase leading to the bedrooms upstairs. No one 
had ever seen a will like that on a boy of his age. 
Halfway up the stairs he turned to face Father Patrick, 
and said "Are you coming or not?"

Father Patrick followed him up the stairs, and though no 
one else saw the whipping that Hank got, they heard it. 
Heard Patrick shouting, and heard Hank yelping every time 
the belt struck his bare buttocks. Soon the voices died 
down, and all that could be heard was the rhythmic 
cracking of the leather belt on Hank's flesh. And then 
nothing at all. But still they did not emerge from the 
bedroom. Patrick must be reasoning with the boy. Or 
lecturing him. Or threatening him. A boy with no father 
had little choice in who would fill that vacant role, and 
less choice still in the method of discipline.

Sometime later the bedroom door opened, and Hank walked 
out, followed by Father Patrick, his belt still in hand. 
They both were red faced, their hair tossled. But Hank 
had been crying, it was clear. His eyes, even his lips 
looked puffy. And his red nose was dripping. He winced in 
pain as he took the first step down. Then inhaled deeply, 
and then made his way down, jerking himself off each step 
and onto the next. Then he walked out the front door, and 
climbed into his mother's car, where he waited.

Hank and Dennis' mother made her apologies once again, 
put on her coat, took Dennis by the hand and left. In the 
car, no one spoke of what had happened that day, although 
later that night Hank showed his brother the ugly red 
welts on his white ass cheeks.

"It looks like it hurts bad," Dennis told him.

"It looks worse than it is," Hank answered. "Besides, I 
got this."

From his pants pocket he produced two crumpled five 
dollar bills.

"Where did you get that?" asked Dennis.

"From the priest."

"Father Patrick? What for?"

"Nothing," Hank answered, folding up the bills and 
stuffing them under his mattress for safekeeping.

Hank wouldn't tell Dennis anything more than that, not 
that night or ever after. So Dennis lie awake all that 
night, wondering what had happened up in that room, 
wondering what it had all meant, that thing that Patrick 
had said about Hank being pretty, and about being queer. 
He wondered if it was true, what Father Patrick had said, 
and why he said so of Hank, who was so bad, rather than 
Dennis, who was so good.

These were the things Dennis still wondered now, more 
than thirty years later, still awake.

He reached down under his bed sheets, and ran his 
fingers up and down his erect penis. He jerked it gently, 
and ran the fingers of his other hand over his chest, 
through the light hair there and over his nipples. A 
little stream of precum was dripping from his cockhead 
onto his belly, and he dipped his fingers in it, and then 
in his mouth. He tasted the clear fluid, and licked his 
lips, running his tongue under his full mustache, now 
graying like the hair on his head. He pumped his cock 
faster, and spread his legs. He heard the toilet flush, 
and someone trudging downstairs. Going downstairs as Hank 
had, after having his thirteen year old ass whipped by an 
angry drunkard.

"Oh fuck," Dennis whispered, "oh fucke meeee..." and 
felt his cock go absolutely rigid as he came, shooting 
white ribbons of semen across his belly and chest. His 
body heaved once, twice, then came to rest. He ran his 
finger up the length of his cock shaft, making his dick 
expel the last drops of cum.

He wiped himself off with a t shirt, closed his eyes, 
and waited to join the rest of his family in sleep.
 
*

For a long time Mike had lain silent and awake, his 
bowel churning and aching, from the battering it had 
received first from Roger and later from Hank. He was 
silent and still even after Hank had turned over and 
started snoring. Even after his ass belched, and the load 
of jizz that his Uncle had put planted in him seeped out 
of his worn asshole and trickled down his buttock. And 
then he got up. He put on his underwear, went to the 
bathroom and washed up. He shat out whatever of Hank's 
semen might be in him, flushed the toliet and went 
downstairs. In the living room he found pillows on the 
couch, and sheets and a comforter. They were there for 
Hank. But Hank was up in his bed. So he crawled onto the 
couch, pulled the comforter down and went to sleep.

His father, Dennis, woke him up. He was holding a cup of 
coffee, and wearing sweat pants and a tank top that 
showed off his big shoulders, his chest his furry dark 
chest hair.

"Whatcha' doing out here?" he asked.

"Nothing," Mike answered. "Uncle Hank. He...he was drunk 
and..."

"He what? Mikey, what happened?"

Mike wanted to cry, to fall onto his father's shoulder 
and tell his father what awful lies Uncle Hank had told 
him. But he couldn't. And didn't.

"Nothing, Dad. He was drunk, y'know, and he wanted to 
sleep in my bedroom. So I came down here."

"That was nice of you, Mikey. Nicer than he deserves."

"He's an asshole, Dad."

"He is," Dennis said, laughing. "But he's family."

Dennis hugged his son, and patted his back firmly.

His father smelled clean, like soap, and his whiskers 
brushed roughly Mike's his cheek. The feel of his strong
arms around Mike make his dick shift in his underwear.
Without thinking, he kissed his father lightly on the 
cheek. His heart pounded hard with a sudden affection
for his handsome father. He struggled to suppress the
sob rising in his throat, pushed it down, and then down
further. And then it was gone.

Dennis pulled back. He cocked his head and studied his 
son's face for a clue to explain his odd behavior. Mikey 
was so much like him at times that Dennis thought he 
could read his mind, and then other times...like now...he 
was inscrutable.

"Mikey, is everything okay?"

"Yeah Dad. Everything's fine. I'm just hungry is all."

"Well, get up," Dennis said, rising to his feet. "I'll 
fix you some eggs."

"Okay Dad," Mike said. He watched his father turn away, 
toward the kitchen, and added "Hey - Happy Thanksgiving. 
Is it too late to say it? Today?"

 "Today? Today is just another day, Mikey," Dennis said, 
smiling at his beautiful boy. "But what the Hell? Happy 
Thanksgiving, Mikey."

End

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This archive does not condone child abuse, we also do
not censor authors. Anyone acting out such scenarios
in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive
years "getting it up the butt" by a fellow convict in
their local penitentiary.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 16