Finding Jonathan

This is as true of a story as I can remember. It happened years ago and so the facts may be a little embellished but the essence of what happened will be forever engrained in my heart and in my mind.

Just a little history about who I am. My father died when I was eight years old leaving my mother alone to raise six young children. There were three boys and three girls, and I was stuck right in the middle, I wasn’t the oldest and relied on to take-charge, nor was I the youngest and looked after as the baby. I was just there in the middle and somewhat forgotten.

My mother tried (on her own) for a few years to raise us and as far as I was concerned, she did a pretty good job. But my mom thought there was something missing.

My mother felt there needed to be a man in the family and so after joining an organization called Parents without Partners, she met my stepfather, and they were married. Now my stepfather had recently gone through a bitter divorce and had custody of his three sons. So, as I said, with a simple “I do” at the justice of the peace, I gained three stepbrothers and my world was instantly thrown through the gates of hell.

Our house didn’t have enough bedrooms and so we had to share. Trying to make two families one: my mother decided to room me with one of my stepbrothers. I was now twelve and Eugene was fourteen.

The first few weeks went well, and we got along. I was very naïve, and my brother was very street smart. I wanted to be Like Eugene and tried to tag along with him and his friends. At first it was OK because my mother would intervene and tell Eugene If he wanted to go places, he needed to take me along as well.

I remember things changed one Friday night when Eugene wanted to go for a bike ride out into the Arizona desert with his friends and without me. My mom for the first time told my stepbrother it was his choice, and I immediately began begging. Eugene wouldn’t give in,and I went to bed thinking my plans were dashed to go with him.

While we were in our twin beds I happen to look over and my brother was naked, laying on top of his covers. He was already developed allot more than me with a patch of hair around his rock-hard cock that was easily six or seven inches long.

“Hey!” Eugene whispered. “You want to come with me tomorrow?”

“You know I do.” I replied.

“Then come over here and stroke my dick.” He chuckled.

I wanted to belong so badly that I didn’t think. I just slithered out of my bed and into his. I remember reaching over and feeling his warm firm prick as I wrapped my hand around the base. Slowly I slid my hand up and as my thumb explored the tip of his mushroom head, I could feel the hot sticky pre-cum already oozing out.

Neither of us said a word as I stroked his member. Before long I could hear his breath becoming shallower and more intense. He began rocking his hips up to meet each one of my downward strokes. I don’t know why but I was getting just as excited, and my breathing soon matched his.

Then without warning he began grunting and grabbed my arm. His now rock-hard cock pulsed and quivered as it shot ribbon after ribbon of hot gooey semen high into the air. I was amazed at the load he delivered, because as of yet when I pleasured myself, I produced very little or no semen at all.

When he had finished, he shoved me out of the bed and rolled over. The next morning, he announced to my mother that he guessed I could tag along.

This became a ritual with my brother and me. If I wanted to go along with him, I had to pay the price. On one such outing there was only Eugene, myself and one other of his friends. We had ridden our bikes out into the desert in search of rattle snakes, scorpions or whatever else we could find. Once we were away from any civilization my stepbrother’s friend said, “So this is the little fag? You gonna make him jerk me off like you promised?”

Before I knew what was happening, I was told if I didn’t jerk both my stepbrother and his friend off at the same time, they were going to leaving me in the desert.