Tommy and Tanner,
Chapter I
Warning:
This story contains scenes of love and sexual interaction between males of similar age. If the reading or possessing this material is illegal in your country, state, province, county, municipality, etc., please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further. If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so. It is not my intention to offend anyone or to get you in trouble.
The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without explicit authorization from me.
This is not my first attempt at writing fiction. My longer stories on Nifty include: "Always and Forever" (March 25, 2004), "Jacob and Jacques" (May 30, 2004), "Zeke" (August 29, 2005), "Tales from Bentonville" (November 16, 2008), and "Second Chance" (September 24, 2010) under "High School" and "Someone to Watch over Me" under "Beginnings" in the gay male section. There are a few short stories also: "Brad and Alan's Canoe Trip" (April 22, 2004 under "Camping", "Of Angels and Dragons" (November 8, 2008) under "Camping", "A Christmas Tale" (December 22, 2009) under "High School", "Brazil Affair" (October 1, 2010) under "Beginnings" and "Seth's Gift" (October 10, 2010) under the Science Fiction/Fantasy category.
I am now listed on Nifty under the category of "Prolific Net Authors" which will make it easier for you to access earlier stories. Some of these stories are also posted at: www.storylover.us along with those of other writers that may interest you.
My only reward for contributing to Nifty is your emails. Please write if you like the story. Please include the name of the story in the title of your email because my email service sometimes puts them in the "spam" file.
Finally, thanks and hugs to Tom and David (boxerdude) who edit for me so that there are fewer mistakes! They not only proof-read, but make other valuable suggestions.
David (dlee169@hotmail.com)
Tommy and Tanner 1
Tommy awakened in the early dawn listening to the rhythmic breathing of his friend, John. He lay there pondering recent events – especially yesterday's. Sights and sounds from his young life flitted across the screen of his mind like scenes from a grade "B" movie. Hopes and fears were added to the mixture seemingly without rhyme or reason.
Tommy had been born more than 13 1/2 years ago as the middle son of a middle class family in a middle sized town called Middleton situated in the Midwest. He felt rather middling - like there was nothing remarkable about him except for his unfortunate name. What had possessed his mother to name him "Terrance?" She could have named him "Trey" or "Trevor" or "Travis" or some other cool name. Actually, there was nothing wrong with the name in and of itself, but combined with the surname of "Torrance," it sounded dumb to him. He guessed that she had wanted someone to nickname "Terry" since her name was "Teri." She was so into alliteration that she even called her husband by his middle name.
James Tarkington Torrance, III didn't object. He simply shortened it to "Tark" which had a masculine ring. It sounded appropriate for a guy who was an assistant coach for both football and wrestling at the high school where he taught social studies. The nickname fit the trim, muscular stud very well.
The oldest of the Torrance boys was named, Timothy. That sounded pretty good with their last name. The youngest was named, Tucker. Mom must really not have thought ahead on that one. Poor Tucker. It was okay until he hit third grade and some boys began calling him: "Tucker–Fucker." He wasn't sure what it meant, but he was sure it must be bad because of the way the kids used it, and because of which particular kids said it. Soon, he insisted on being called: "Tuck." Fortunately, most of the kids didn't shorten his nickname to "Tuck-Fuck."
Tucker might have been named, Thomas except that the nickname of "Tommy" had become firmly attached to Terrance by the time Tucker was born. His dad had found the idea of having Teri and Terry confusing and so referred to his second son as Thomas because the young boy was completely enthralled with Thomas the tank engine from the time he was 18 months old. His nickname had quickly become shortened to "Tommy" and now that was what he was known by everywhere, except on official documents.
Riding herd on a group of lively boys and a husband, who often acted like one, had always been a challenge to Teri. She found out early on that her sons were as hard to civilize as Mark Twain's "Huck Finn." It had been nearly impossible to keep any clothes on them as little ones. They seemed to be natural nudists. As they began to mature, they adapted to their mother's sense of propriety by developing a veneer which made them seem like little gentlemen in polite company. But when left to their own devices, they liked to run around like little heathens – naked and impish, but loveable.
It was a good thing that their dad understood. And why wouldn't he? They bore his genetic stamp in more ways than athletic good looks. When he took the boys primitive camping, he let them run around in the woods in about any state of dress or undress they wanted to as long as they kept on sunscreen and stayed out of the poison ivy. They always went skinny dipping if no one else was around. Tark had led the way going native in the water and the boys eagerly followed. He went naked only when it was appropriate and he never did anything that wasn't proper for a father to do with his sons.
At the age of five, Tommy was very impressed with his dad's "pee-pee" – so much so that he reached out and touched it on one of those nude swimming occasions. Tark allowed him to satisfy his curiosity, but told him that men and boys shouldn't play with each other in places their swim-suits covered. Tommy had innocently mentioned that it was okay because they weren't wearing any suits. That had gotten him a grin and a pat on his bare butt, but his father still insisted those parts were private.
"Someday, you'll share that with a girl," he laughed.
"NO!" Tommy had yelled. "No girl is ever going to touch me there!"
"Can I touch Timmy's pee-pee?" Tommy had asked a few minutes later.
"You'll have to ask his permission," Tark had told him.
"Can I?" he had said looking pleadingly into the eyes of his older brother.
Tim had shrugged and then nodded. Tommy inspected the rapidly stiffing little penis thoroughly. Then, he let go of it and gleefully called:
"Last one in is a rotten egg!"
Tim had stood there covering his hard-on in shame. His father had seen it sticking out!
Tark sensed the boy's discomfort and knelt down on the sand beside him.
"Hey Tim, what's happening to you is natural. It happens to all of us guys or we wouldn't be able to make babies. Don't ever feel embarrassed about getting an erection. That's a real beaut you've got there. Never be ashamed of it."
Tim had grinned as he ran proudly toward the lake to join his young brother with his hard little prick leading the way. He had a baby-maker that was a real beaut! His dad had said so! In his innocence, he didn't stop to wonder just how you made babies with it.
Because of the casual, non-judgmental attitude Tark had about genitals and other sexual matters, the boys would always feel free to talk to him. They would also confide in each other. They instinctively knew that some things were better left unsaid when talking to their mother.
Tommy had been pretty young when John had moved in across the street. The two were very close in age and became immediate friends. They would hike together (to the end of the block) with their canteens of water hanging from their belts. They would play superhero games together, but they never slept together (like they were now) except in separate sleeping bags in a tent in scouts.
Ralph Leads, John's father, had been adamant about what boys should and should not do. Boys picked up after themselves. Boys didn't let anyone bully them. Boys didn't sleep in bed with other boys. Boys didn't hug each other. Boys never acted like "pansies." Boys didn't cry...
The last rule had been the most difficult for John when cancer took his mother at a young age. He was barely 10 years old and was expected to take her death like a little soldier. He couldn't understand it. He had seen soldiers on TV crying for their fallen buddies. Why couldn't he do the same for his mother? She looked so pale and fragile in her coffin. It didn't seem fair that he couldn't grieve for her openly. But, he held his tears in check as his father had demanded - even when he was alone.
Ralph Leads had not shown emotion in the face of death either. His way of dealing with his wife's passing was to go out and get laid as often as he could. It was like he was punishing her for leaving him – leaving him with a child that he hadn't wanted to sire and didn't know how to rear on his own.
Like lots of the residents of this small housing development, the family had depended on two incomes to make the financial wheels go around comfortably. Jill's death left a big hole. The life insurance policy that he had carried on his wife was largely eaten up by the additional costs that medical insurance didn't cover. Cancer was an expensive disease.
To supplement their income, Ralph took on some extra jobs in the summer when he had time off from teaching. He did yard work, like trimming hedges and mowing. He also cleaned and serviced swimming pools for the few wealthier people in the community. The pools were in a pricier part of town and he was often envious of the "Hummer homes" other people could afford.
As his yard business grew, he put John to work too. He had usually taken him along to keep from having to pay a sitter, since he had no relatives to leave the boy with. Occasionally, he would send John to play with Tommy because he had a "special" job that he needed to do alone. Teri always welcomed John as another son.
Sometimes John got to wear his swimsuit under his clothes so he could enjoy the pool where his father was working. After they got the mowing and trimming done, John was allowed to swim laps while his father went inside to give the lady of the house a hand at something she needed done. John had originally thought he could help by handing his dad tools or holding the light, but Ralph had made some remark about only needing one tool for the job. John didn't question it since he loved to swim. But sometimes, he did get curious.
One day last summer he had gone into a house to check on his dad's progress when he heard moans coming from the bedroom. The lady of the house was urging his father on with language he had only heard in a locker room. In a flash everything was clear to him.
It had been only yesterday that George Sessions had returned unexpectedly early from a business trip. Not wanting to bother his wife, Jeannie, he had taken a cab home. He walked into the master bedroom to find Ralph helping his wife with one of those "special" projects. They were so occupied that they didn't hear George.
His reaction had been swift and final. He had returned from the study moments later with an old Colt 45. After making sure they were both quite dead, he sat down with a large glass of Jack Daniel's over a bit of ice. He chugged it all down before calling the police, putting the gun into his mouth, and squeezing the trigger while he had them on the line.
For whatever reason, Ralph had left John with the Torrance family that afternoon. Probably so his "work" for Mrs. Sessions could be leisurely and uninterrupted. John had not been particularly pleased at the time. He was certain by then what his father's "special projects" entailed. He knew enough not to spy on him, but he did hate to miss the chance to use the pool.
Tommy's mind-movie was interrupted by John's slight trembling as he shed silent tears. Tommy didn't know exactly what to do, but he was a compassionate kid. He reached over to draw John toward himself. John went stiff at first, but gave in as Tommy insistently pulled John's head onto his chest.
Tommy gently rubbed John's bare back exactly like his mom or dad would have done for him. He didn't know any words to say to comfort his buddy, so he just let his touch do the communicating.
He would have assumed that John had fallen back to sleep but for the silent, salty tears that were splashing on his chest. He squeezed John's shoulders firmly in response. The effect was like wringing out a dishcloth. The flow of liquid increased although no sounds were uttered.
Possibly a half hour later, the gentle rise and fall of John's chest accompanied by a slight snoring sound let Tommy know that his friend had fallen back to sleep. That was good. John needed all of the escape from reality he could get at the moment.
Poor Tommy was in a tough situation. His morning erection ached and his bladder was uncomfortably full. His left arm which was under John's head felt prickly from having its circulation diminished. He wanted, no needed, to change position and go to the bathroom, but he didn't wish to disturb his friend. Eventually, his pressing need won out and he carefully extracted himself in time to make a bee-line to the toilet.
In the small master bedroom across the hall, Teri and Tark were also awake. They hadn't slept well and were dying to have that first jolt of caffeine. They had talked late into the night and then decided to "sleep" on their decision to see how it held up in the light of day.
"I agree with you, Tark. It's the only thing to do. We may lose some state funds, but his emotional welfare is more important. I can take on extra tutoring jobs for the rest of the summer if necessary. The boys can still do some of the mowing Ralph was doing unless you think it will be too hard on John emotionally."
"No, work can be therapeutic. I think he needs to feel like he's contributing. He and Tommy can work on those jobs together. They're with each other most of the time anyway."
"I wish we had another bedroom so he could have his own space," Teri continued.
"Yeah, well we can't afford a bigger house and we can't do a lot more to this one. If we hadn't made the bedroom in the basement for Tim last year, we would be in a real bind for space..."
By the time they stumbled out to put on the coffee pot, they had decided that having one more boy in the household wouldn't put them in the poorhouse. They were both getting decent raises which would go into effect when school started again. They might have to pinch a penny or two now and again, but it wouldn't be a big hardship. Now, they had to find a way to have a family meeting to discuss it with their sons and without John's being there.
Tommy was shaking off the last drops of pee when Tuck came bounding into the main bathroom they shared. He let out a prolonged sigh of relief as his stream hit the bowl. Nearby, Tommy began brushing his teeth.
"How come you're brushing before breakfast?"
"Well, I'm sharing my room and I don't want to knock John out with my dragon breath."
"So, are you going to kiss him? Is he your girlfriend?" Tuck giggled. "You guys ARE going to bed together!"
"Tucker, if you tease us, especially John, I'll get you."
"Yeah, what are you gonna do?"
"Well, I'll start by calling you: "Tucker-Fucker."
Tuck turned toward his older brother in consternation sending the last of his yellow stream on the tile floor.
"And clean up your piss! No one wants to step in it barefoot." Tommy continued.
"I'll tell Mom," Tuck retorted as he grabbed a piece of paper towel to use as a mop.
"Go ahead. And I'll tell her you're being mean to John and me when he's really sad. Seriously, Tuck, he's hurting. You can't tease him. Please!"
"Okay, I won't. Don't get your panties in a bunch."
"Where in the world did you hear that, little bro?"
"Tim says it to Chas when he starts to spaz."
The brothers shared a laugh over Tim's best buddy, Chas the spaz, before they left the small room.
Back in his bedroom, Tommy slipped quietly into the double bed again. John roused slightly and turned on his side, instinctively spooning up against Tommy's warm back. His left arm rested on Tommy's abdomen. It felt good and cuddly to Tommy - like it was how things were supposed to be.
Tommy was drifting off again when he felt John move closer. There was no mistaking that John was sporting morning wood. Tommy sensed the stiff, warm shaft poking at his butt. He giggled inside because he could imagine how embarrassed John would be if he knew his boy-part had escaped though the slit in the old boxers he'd worn to bed.
Curiosity got the best of Tommy as he reached back to touch the intruder. He hadn't felt another boy's dick since he was little and had touched Tim's at the lake. John's cock felt hot and hard and big. But, it didn't necessarily feel bigger than his own, just different – kind of nice.
At the sound of John's contented sigh, Tommy quickly let go of the pulsing shaft. His heart was racing so hard that he figured John would awaken from hearing it thumping. John, however, remained asleep. He thrust his hips against Tommy's butt a couple of times and let loose a few squirts of warm fluid.
Tommy knew what it was. He'd had his first wet-dream a couple of months before. It might have scared him except that his dad and Tim had already explained what to expect. Yeah, the topic had been covered in the sex education class, but it made more sense hearing it from family members of whom he could ask in-depth questions without feeling self-conscious.
His dad had talked about it in clinical terms; Tim had used the vernacular.
Tommy ran his fingers over the back of his boxers. The sticky stuff felt just like his. He put his fingers to his nose. It even smelled like his. He idly wondered what cum would taste like.
The knock on his bedroom door startled Tommy out of his musing. He answered and found that it was his dad saying breakfast would be ready in a couple of minutes and the boys should get washed up before coming to the table. Tommy got up to get ready.
John stretched and yawned. In doing so, he could feel the cooling, damp evidence of his wet-dream. He would have to get out of his sticky boxers before he left the room. He was trying to decide how to deal with it, without letting Tommy see the damp spot in his shorts, when a pair of clean boxers hit him in the face.
"Put these on. You know it's what we boys wear to breakfast. Mom doesn't like it a lot, but Dad won't let her say anything. Anyway, you don't want to show up with cum on your undies."
John blushed, swallowed, and finally grinned. He was not used to such a casual attitude about sexual matters. He supposed having a couple of brothers made a difference. He could get used to this. Then the lump in his throat returned. His parents had both been orphans, so he knew of no living relative in the world. He had no idea where he would end up.
Author's notes: I appreciate hearing from readers. I try to respond quickly when at all possible. I'd like to thank all those who responded to my last story: "Someone to Watch over Me." Your encouragement keeps me going!
David