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Subject: Rebuilding the Bond Chapter 11 Chapter 11 Mike gave the spray can one last shake before completing the bottom of the `E’. He stuffed the can into his backpack while stepping back to join Ben to admire their work. The new 17th street bridge had just been finished, and it’s large concrete support structure was the perfect canvas for them to tag with `Fuck the Police’. The brothers looked at each other then busted out laughing while giving each other a high five. “Come on man, let’s get out of here before the cops show up,” said Ben grabbing his backpack. They tossed their bags into the bed of Mike’s truck as they jumped in and sped away. Ben pulled a flask of whisky out of the glove compartment, took a swig and handed it to Mike, who did the same. “I hear there’s a party this weekend,” Ben said, screwing the lid back on the flask, “we should crash it.” “No way man, it’s a high school party, I’m above that now.” “Fuck man, it’s not like you graduated or anything, you just stopped going.” “What were those old cows going to teach me anyway?” Mike stopped at a red light and punched his brother in the arm, “besides, it’s not like you’re learning much there yourself. What was it? Solid F’s last semester?” “Yeah well, if I drop out, what am I going to do with all my free time?” The brothers laughed as the light turned green and Mike gunned it, squealing the tires. “Bet your girlfriend will wanna go?” “She ain’t my girlfriend,” Mike snapped back, “and if she wants to go, she can, what do I care.” “Oh? She ain’t your girlfriend huh? Just the girl you been fucking?” “Fucking really good” Mike said with a laugh while thrusting his hips. The truck rattled as they drove over the train tracks. A few moments later they had pulled up in front of a dark old ranch style house. Ben started to get out, then noticed Mike wasn’t moving. “What’s up man?” Ben asked, looking at his brother. “You go on, I’m going to drive a little more.” Ben looked at his watch, “it’s really late dude, you sure about that? You don’t want another spanking from the old man do you?” “I’m 17. If that fucker thinks he can spank me, I’ll just spank him right back.” Ben shook his head, “whatever dude.” He got out, closed the door quietly and said through the open window, “see ya later then.” “Later,” Mike said. Normally he would have squealed the tires, but he knew the old man wouldn’t appreciate that at this hour, and he didn’t want to get his little bro in trouble. Spanking? Mike thought as he drove through the dark streets. I can’t believe we still call it that. Most other kids istanbul travesti get the belt when they misbehave, but our father, fuck. That drunk bastard thought we needed something a little harsher. Mike’s asshole twinged with the thought of it. `Drop your drawers and bend over boy, you gonna get what’s coming to you’ was their Dad’s signal that you gone and fucked up and were about to get a different kind of pounding. What kind of fucker treats a kid like that? Mike thought taking a corner way too fast. How old was I the first time? 8? 9? That’s fucked up. He drove down the deserted Main street. What the hell am I still doing here anyway? I’m 17, I got this truck, I could get out of this dead end town. Maybe head off to California, yeah that would be the life. Ben would be 17 soon, then maybe we could both take off. Mike pulled into a parking lot, reached over to grab the flask out of the glove compartment, took a breath and drained it. He wiped off his lips and he got out of the truck, pulling his backpack with him. He followed the sidewalk from the parking lot into the deserted city park. The park was dark, mostly because he and Ben, as well as some other boys, had already broken out several of the street lights. He knew what he was going to do, but didn’t want to think about it. Slowly appearing out of the darkness came the new public bathroom. He glanced around, then walked in. With one fluid motion he grabbed the spray paint can from his bag, and started tagging the calan wooden stall walls. When the can finally ran out of paint, he tossed it on the ground, and entered the last stall. “Fuck me,” he said out loud noticing the large piece of plywood attached to the stall wall. They covered it up already? He sat on the toilet and fished a pocket knife out of his jeans and started prying it loose. Eventually it popped off revealing a freshly carved hole. Mike chuckled, looking at his own handy work. He had come a few weeks ago to actually use the toilet. While carving his name into the stall wall, he noticed how easy it was to cut right through it. Now, his gloryhole sat, ready to be used. Mike had been surprised at how many men seemed to be attracted to this new little feature. He figured there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to get your dick wet in this small, midwestern town. He felt the sharp edges, put the pocket knife away and grabbed some duct tape from his bag. It wasn’t a moment later he heard someone enter the bathroom. He just sat there in silence. The man entered the stall next to him. Soon, a flaccid cock was pressed through the kadıköy travesti hole. Mike took a couple of deep breaths, he didn’t like this, but at the same time, he did. Without touching it, he took the cock into his mount, and started sucking. It quickly grew to a length that he had to bob up and down to encompass the entire thing in his mouth. It wasn’t till now that he realized the spray paint fumes had gone to his head a little, but he wasn’t about to stop this rhythmic motion. Mike began to lose himself in the sensation. His tongue played with the cock, getting it all nice and wet. He reached up with one hand, and started to stroke it too, while his other hand traveled down, undid his jeans and started rubbing his own, swelling member. This was only the third or fourth cock he had sucked. He couldn’t explain why, but he loved it. Out of the blue, the thought of Dads ‘spanking’ came back to mind. He couldn’t explain what he did next, but with one last spit on this hard dick, he stood up, dropped his jeans, bent over, and guided the spit-covered dick into his ass. This dick was smaller than his old man’s, but as the man started thrusting through the hole, all the familiar sensations came back to him. Mike was breathing hard now, one leg propped up on the toilet, while both hands were supporting himself on the opposite wall. “Oh fuck yeah,” Mike whispered, pushing back on the cock, “fuck me man.” It wasn’t long before the man in the other booth let out a groan of pleasure. Mike could feel the cock throbbing as his ass was filled with the familiar sensation of warm cum. With a pop, the guy pulled out, and quickly disappeared from the bathroom. Mike quickly sat down, and started to squeeze the anonymous load out of his ass. “Fuck,” he said shaking his head, “what’s wrong with me? He waited a moment to be sure the guy was gone, before hightailing it back to his truck. I’m not gay, he told himself as he sat at the wheel. That’s fag shit, and I ain’t no fag. Why the fuck do I do that? I like girls, I’ve gotten a ton of blowjobs. Fuck, I even fucked one, right here in this cab. Didn’t that prove he was straight? He didn’t even like her that much, but she was willing to put out. Who would turn that down? Not a straight man, that’s for damn sure. He started up the truck and pulled away. “I ain’t queer.” *** Mike peered through the front window of the house to see if the coast was clear? Sure enough, the static on the TV illuminated his old man, passed out drunk in his chair. Mike rolled his eyes and entered, he had nothing to worry about bakırköy travesti tonight. He saw just what he expected as he entered his room. There was Ben, lying naked on the farthest twin bed, stroking his dick with one hand, while holding up a Playboy with the other. “Where did you go?” Ben asked, as Mike kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt. “Just for a drive. Is that new?” “Yeah, just delivered today, Dad hasn’t noticed it yet so I snatched it.” “Nice.” Mike dropped his pants, feeling the freedom of being nude waft over him, “let me see.” Ben tossed the magazine over to him as Mike lay down on the closer twin bed. The boys lay in silence, each jacking their uncut cocks while passing the magazine back and forth between each other. While Ben was distracted by the luscious women, Mike got a good look at his little brother’s body. He wasn’t that little, only a year younger than him, but he seemed to be more muscular. He was also putting on body hair at a faster rate than his older brother, and not just on his chest, his shoulders and arms too. He was going to be a hairy man. Their dicks, however, were the same, large and uncut, and both boys sure knew how to work them. Finally, looking at the blond centerfold, sprawled out on a white fur rug, Ben couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Fuck” he said, arching his back and busting his nut all over his harry belly. This wasn’t the first time he had watched his brother cum, but it was still all Mike needed, a second later, he, too, shot his load, the sticky cream filling his fist and belly button.. Ben tossed the magazine on the floor, and reached for a tissue to clean up. Mike just wiped himself off on his sheets. “By the way,” Ben said, tossing the cum soaked tissues into the trash like a basketball, “your girlfriend called.” “She ain’t my girlfriend.” “Yeah, well whatever she is, she wants you to call her asap. It sounded like she was crying.” Mike groaned, “Women. Fine, I’ll call her tomorrow.” With a click of a switch, the room was plunged into darkness, as the brothers rolled over and fell asleep. Little did Mike know, the call to his, `not-girlfriend’ in the morning would change his life. Any plans for running away to California were dashed when she told him that she was pregnant. However, it would only be seven months later that a little baby boy would not only change his life, but his world. The disappointment, anger and resentment he felt by being trapped in a marriage he didn’t want, while not going away completely, was replaced by the most wonderful feeling of unconditional love for his son. As he held his son, he thought about the punishments his father used to dole out to him and Ben. How could anyone treat their child like that? Now that he was a father, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the drunk bastard that his father had been to him.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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