Jerry by Will B

Jerry

By: Will B
(© 2009 by the author)
Ably Assisted by Ed

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 25

Jerry’s Christmas

When Jerry was 16, he lived with his parents in a small town in Appalachia. Behind their house was a woods and on the other side of the woods, about three miles away, Jerry’s cousin Jeremy lived with the boys’ grandmother. Jerry and Jeremy were often mistakenly thought to be twins. They had been born two minutes apart on December 25^th, at the county hospital. As they grew up, they had the same hair coloring, the same body build and the same ‘innie’ omphalos (All right. All right! Navel to you!).

Both attended the county school. The school bus picked up Jerry, then drove around the perimeter of the woods, picking up other children and Jeremy, and took them all to the school.

The boys were best friends and inseparable companions. Their grades were a little above average, and they were pretty good at sports. Moreover, they were popular with most of their classmates.

The Lake

Ahh! Growing up was a time of discoveries. The first discovery that the cousins made, when they were six years old, was that in the middle of the woods was a lake, fed by underground springs. They never told Jerry’s parents or Jeremy’s grandmother, because they sensed that they would probably be forbidden to go to the lake.

You’d better believe that in the summer they went to the lake often and went skinny dipping. No, they didn’t bother with swim trunks. They would just strip off and plunge into the cool water. They would dog paddle and dive and splash each other and chortle with happiness.

The second discovery occurred when the boys were eight, Jeremy noticed that his cousin had an interesting appendage—the same appendage that he had, but this one was fascinating. He just liked to look at it. He didn’t know why, but it drew his eyes whenever he saw it.

Jerry noticed Jeremy’s gaze fixed on his body. To tell the truth, Jerry had been looking at Jeremy’s appendage too. One day, Jeremy said, “Can I touch your pee-pee?”

“Okay. Can I touch yours?” Jerry replied, thinking that this might be fun.

Slowly, almost shyly, the two boys approached each other. Each put out his hand to touch, to feel this wonderful piece of his best friend’s body.

As the two hands touched the other boy’s willy, something wonderful happened. The little willies seemed to expand, and… and… get hard! ‘Wow!’ thought Jerry. ‘This is way cool.’

‘Oh, golly,’ thought Jeremy. ‘This is wonderful. I just want to touch Jerry some more!’

Each time the boys met in the woods after they had gone in the water they got out onto the bank, and looked at each other and smiled. One would say, ‘Touch?’ and the other would say ‘Sure!’

As time went on the touching sessions lasted longer and longer, and as the cousins matured their peckers got longer—and harder—and stiffer too. The touching changed to rubbing, and by age ten, frankly, my friends, they were jerking each other off like pros.

At age eleven, several more discoveries were made. Jerry found he could sing and dance, and Jeremy found he had a real talent for the drums. Jeremy would go to town on the drums and Jerry would dance up a storm and sing.

At Christmas they liked to play and sing ‘The Little Drummer Boy.’

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum

A newborn King to see, pa rum pum pum pum

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum

To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,

rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,

When we come.

Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum

I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum

I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum

That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,

rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,

On my drum?

Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum

The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum

I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum

I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,

rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum

Me and my drum.

* * * * *

The two cousins made another discovery. One day at the lake, they were pulling each other’s meat, when Jeremy said, “Jerry, stop a minute. I feel strange. No… no... don’t stop. I…. ooh!....aaah!”

A stream of milky fluid erupted from Jeremy’s pecker and covered Jerry’s hand and Jeremy’s balls.

“Golly, Jeremy. I think you just shot your load,” Jerry said, as he raised his hand to his lips and gingerly tasted it with his tongue.

“Jerry, I think you might be about ready. Look at your pecker. “

Jerry looked down at his pecker and saw a drop of pearly white liquid forming at the slit. Jeremy put his hand out and said, “Can I?”

Jerry nodded, and Jeremy slowly, and then faster pumped his cousin’s pecker until Jerry also ‘shot his load,’ Jeremy didn’t waste any time. He licked what Jerry had spewed off his own hand.

From that time on, whenever they met at the lake, they would strip, enjoy the pleasure of masturbating the other, licking—and swallowing—the ejaculate. From time to time, Jerry would sleep over at Jeremy’s house, or Jeremy would spend the night at Jerry’s house.

The next summer, when both lads were twelve, they spent as much time as possible at the lake. One day, the sun was hot, Jerry was hot, and Jeremy was hot too. They had finished their mutual manipulation of the other’s man meat, but when they were done, Jerry suddenly took Jeremy by the shoulders, pulled him into a hug and kissed him on the lips. He kissed him again, and this time, Jerry’s tongue sought entrance into Jeremy’s mouth—and Jeremy let him in!

Jerry looked at Jeremy and said, “I love you, cousin.”

“And I love you, too, cousin.”

The cousins met, made love—no, it was not just having sex, they made love. They cared for each other deeply.

They continued their drumming and dancing and singing. They often performed at school concerts, and their last song was always ‘The Little Drummer Boy.’

One day, Jeremy, then fourteen years and six months old, collapsed. Frantic, his grandmother called the doctor, who ordered an ambulance, and soon Jerry, his parents and Jeremy’s grandmother were waiting in the hospital waiting room. After two hours (it seemed longer), a young man in scrubs approached them and said, “Mrs. Taylor?”

“Yes, Doctor?” Jeremy’s grandmother replied.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid Jeremy has severe leukemia. We can give him medicine for the pain, but I have to tell you, the outlook is not good.”

“Can I see my boy,” Grandmother asked?

“In a few minutes. But not for too long.”

Jerry’s grandmother looked at him, “Jerry, I know you love your cousin—yes, your parents and I both know you love him. I want you to come in with me.”

Jerry was too upset to realize at first what his grandmother had said, but he wanted to see Jeremy.

The hospital room looked just like hospital rooms look like. A bed. Chairs. Tubes. Equipment. Jeremy lay in the bed, looking very pale, but awake.

“Hi, Grandma—and Jerry.”

“How are you, Jeremy?” Grandmother asked.

“I want to go home. I don’t know what the doctors found, but—I just want to go home. “

“You will, you will. I’ll see to it,” said the boys’ grandmother. “Jerry, you visit with Jeremy while I go and find out how soon I can take Jeremy home.” She went out of the room, and Jerry approached the bed.

“Hi, Jeremy, howya feeling?”

“Like shit, man. I want to go home.”

“Jeremy….I love you, guy. I love you.”

“I know you do, Jerry, and listen if…. If…. Well, I want you to have my drums.”

“Don’t talk about ‘ifs,’ you’re gonna get well.”

“Sure I am, but I just want you to know…”

Jerry leaned over the bed and kissed Jeremy. “Shut up, dude. You’re gonna get well.”

Jeremy went home, and his grandmother took the best care of him that she could, but she knew, everybody knew, it was only a matter of time. Jerry went to see Jeremy every day. His parents had gotten him a new bike and he rode that bike through the woods, past the lake, where he and Jeremy had discovered their love, and on to grandmother’s house.

Some times Jeremy felt well enough to play the drums, and Jerry would sing. They had quite a repertoire, but they always ended with their favorite, ‘Drummer Boy.’

For eighteen months, Jeremy hung on, but he was getting weaker. Even Jerry had to admit that his cousin, his lover, was going to die.

It was Christmas Eve, and the eve of the cousin’s sixteenth birthday, and Jerry had just ridden his bike back home through the woods to his own house. His father was not home from work yet. His mother greeted her son with a hug, and said, ‘I know it’s not a happy birthday, son, but I just want you to know that your father and I love you—and Jeremy—very much.”

Sixteen-year-olds don’t cry. No, of course they don’t. They…. Do… not….cry…., but just then Jerry wasn’t feeling almost sixteen years old. He was five years old, and he’d hurt his knee and scraped his elbow, and his mommy was holding him… and….he… just let it all out.

His mother handed him a tissue, and said, “Blow!”

“Thanks, Mom!”

The phone rang, and Jerry’s mother picked it up. “Yes, he’s here. He just got home a few minutes ago. I’ll put him on.”

Jerry went to the phone. “Hello? Hello, Grandma…. What?.... No!... I’ll be right there.”

Jerry hung up the phone and looked at his mother and said, “Jeremy’s gone into a coma, and Grandma doesn’t think there’s much time. I’m going back.”

“Oh, Jerry! Don’t you want to wait until your father gets home? He’ll drive you over.”

“No, Ma, Grandma says there isn’t much time. I’ve gotta go. I’ve got a light on my bike. I’ll be all right.”

“All right, son. You go, and your father and I’ll come around as soon as he gets home. As he went out the door, Jerry looked at his watch, and noticed it was eight o’clock.

He got on his bike, and started peddling through the woods as carefully as he could. He had a good light on his bike, and he knew these woods like the back of his hand. ‘He’d be all right,’ he thought. He rode through the darkness.

‘I know I’ll be there in another half hour or so, but I gotta get there. There’s nothing to worry…..<bang!> Oof!’

Jerry fell off his bike and lay there stunned for a few minutes. When he was himself again, there was just enough moonlight that he could see that his bike had a flat tire, and his light had gone out.

‘Oh, hell! It’s eight thirty. I’m half way there, so I’ll walk the rest of the way!’ he thought to himself.

Just then, the moon went behind a cloud, and there were no stars out. Jerry could not see a thing. ‘Better take it slow,’ he thought to himself. ‘I don’t want to wander off the trail, and get into a bog-hole.’

He walked through the woods, trying to see his way. At one point he felt something warm and moist nuzzling his hand. He looked to his side and saw a lamb nuzzling him as if she were pushing him …The moon came out and he could see he had gotten off the path, and if that lamb hadn’t pushed him, he could have walked into a bog-hole.

The moon went behind a cloud again, and Jerry trudged on. Suddenly he heard a ‘whir-r-r-r-r.’ The moon came out again, and he saw in the path four feet ahead a rattlesnake. A few more steps, and he would have…..

Jerry stood there frozen, when a large ox came out of the woods and reared on its hind legs (something oxen don’t usually do!) and trampled that snake to death.

Jerry made a wide circle around the snake, and kept on going. Just before the moon went behind another cloud, Jerry looked at his watch and noticed that the time was 8:45.

Dark; it was totally dark. Just then Jerry heard another sound, but this one was different. It sounded like…. Yes….

‘Pum, pum, pa rum pa pum pum.’

‘It sounds as if Jeremy is playing—but he’s in a coma. Hum! That’s funny.”

‘Pum, pum, pa rum pa pum pum.’

Again the sound came through the woods, guiding him to his grandmother’s house, to his Jeremy.

‘Pum, pum, pa rum pa pum pum.’

It was louder now, and then Jerry saw the lights of his grandmother’s house—and the drumming stopped.

Jerry went in the door. His grandmother met him with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, Jerry…..” was all she could say.

“Is he…?”

“Yes, he’s gone Home, now truly gone Home. I was hoping you could be here in time to talk to him and maybe the sound of your voice would rouse him, and maybe he could even play for you one more time.”

“But I did hear him playing, Grandma. I did. I fell off my bike, and it was dark, and his playing guided me here. He’s been playing ever since 8:45. I heard him!”

“Jerry, I have to tell you that Jeremy went Home at 8:45. He couldn’t have been playing for you.”

“But….” Jerry was at a loss for words. He and his grandma just held each other and wondered if, no, they knew! That Jeremy was now playing for the King.