Stories : D.J. and Jonathan Play

David Jr. and I loved to camp out in my pup tent behind my parent’s house, the real rugged outdoors.  We would take sodas, nabs, my Mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, a deck of cards, a small flashlight, and, of course, our sleeping bags.  I never knew what David had planned, but didn’t care as long as it involved just us.  Six months ago, when he took one of his Mom’s sewing needles, we became blood brothers.  He said that we had to make his Dad’s challenge, “official.”

Burning the end of the needle with matches sterilized it from any unwanted bacteria and offering our thumb to the other made it easier to bring a bead of blood to the skins surface.  He said mixing our blood together would make us more alike, even when people kept trying so hard to see us as totally opposites.  It was my secret desire that we would become closer.  Understanding that blood shared meant love shared to me.  Since our first close encounter, witnessed by the whole Church, with his index finger molesting the palm of my hand.  I knew without a doubt that I was different in ways that David might not want to accept.  And those ways had nothing to do with the color of our skin.  Whether we could read each other’s fortune really didn’t matter to me.  All I cared about is that it would always include D.J.

This Friday night, complete with a brisk October wind, that tried to topple over the skinny tent poles, found us playing a new kind of poker game.  We usually played something simple like War or Black Jack, but we were expanding our sinful horizons by gambling.  Money wasn’t what we wagered, though, it was our clothing.  David had learned about strip poker at a friend’s birthday party that was obviously without much parental supervision.  He said the teenagers were drinking spiked project punch and some were losing their clothes quickly, especially this healthy sister that was stacked.  She was fifteen and had a crush on David who looked older than thirteen because he was already over six feet tall.  He had gotten the tall gene from his Mom’s side, bragging about his Uncle James who was six feet eight inches and should have been playing pro basketball, if his right leg hadn’t been carrying around left-over shrapnel from Nam.

Selfishly, I was glad that during wartime, soldiers like our Pops created friendships that would probably not normally happen on this segregated, southern soil.  That’s what brought us together, me and D.J.  And why we were the only white family who had joined the Reverend’s, Missionary Baptist Church, located off Simpson Road in southwest Atlanta.  We called Reverend Jackson, the “Reverend,” because he was a small man with huge dreams, not unlike Atlanta’s most famous dreamer.  The Reverend had actually worked with Dr. King, before his assassination, as part of an ex-military group who wanted justice at home, after serving their country in such a bloody war.

Both my Dad and the Reverend spoke very little about what they did during the Vietnam War.  We knew that it was terrible though by all the sudden shocks and sweaty trimmers that broke out on their faces when a car would backfire.  Sometimes my Dad would have nightmares while napping in his recliner, shouting out weird orders that I couldn’t understand.  On one of our family fishing trips to Lake Hartwell, our Dad’s both seemed to freak out after discovering the hidden tunnel we made joining our sleeping bags together, allowing us to hide away from our parents, playing cards and wrestling around so that our makeshift tunnel knocked over our tent and rolled out at their feet.  You would have thought we had broken some ancient camping law the way our Dad’s pulled us apart and told us never to do that again.  We both could tell it was more about their war stuff than our childish game, as our Moms came to the rescue, reassuring us that everything was just fine.  Boys will be boys, by the way, they told our fathers.

My royal flushes were exchanged for heated, cheek blushes.  Feeling a bit shy about how I compared to David’s more grown up body.  Two years separated us and he had muscles beginning to show, long lanky legs and arms, an afro, which made him seem even more like a giant than he really was.  When we wrestled around in our bedrooms, he always overpowered me, picking me up and tossing me on the bed, hard.  Laughing loudly as I bounced off the mattress and hit the floor like those fake wrestlers always did on TV, throwing each other out of the ring.  I didn’t care too much, until we would be getting ready for church on Sunday mornings, running around naked, towel popping each other, until I had the red welts you could see, almost glowing.  I did enjoy sneaking glances at D.J., while he put lotion on his dark skin, amazed at how he had tight curls of hair around his dick and I still had smooth skin around mine.  Of course, his Johnson, which he liked to call it, was bigger and even had a cap of skin covering its bald head.

So, I became a card shark by necessity.  Most of my winning was due to bluffing, even though in the fading light a poker face was practically impossible to see.  Or maybe he was just folding on purpose to shed his clothes proudly.  I just hoped he wouldn’t want to go streaking around the neighborhood, like a lot of teens were doing lately.  After several hands, I still had on my t-shirt, briefs, socks, while he was wearing only one sock and boxers.  I guess I was in the lead, not quite sure if the winner was the first naked or the last one with clothes on.  He hadn’t made that clear.

It was easy falling for my new friend.  He made it so.  Reading me like a children’s book, he always knew how to put me at ease when something bad was brewing.  Whether we were having a fight with the neighborhood kids or making each other mad all by ourselves, he could fix it.  Depending on which side of town we were on, the words kids used as weapons would change.  Unfortunately, we heard all of them, “nigger, nigger lover, cracker, redneck, poor white trash, punks, pussies, perverts,” and the really outrageous ones, “clan member, traitors, and married couple,” due to our union, of sorts, at the Church altar created out of necessity by the good Reverend.

Friends we thought were our friends became little terrorists when they saw us together.  Trading their innocence and kindness for that adult-like response which tried to make us feel really small and just like outcasts.  When this would happen, David used his creative, comedy routine or freakishness as some called it, to get out of fighting.  Since our so-called street pals wanted to turn us into something we were not, he would outsmart them and give them just what they wanted.  Using bodily humor, D.J. pulled his eyelids out and up over his long eyelashes so his eyes turned ghoulish and then he would chase after the group growling as if he weren’t human.  If that didn’t work, he would grab me and place his hand between our lips and pretend to kiss me like they do in the movies.  That one never failed, as kids ran screaming and “yucking it” down the street.  Little did they know, I really enjoyed this scene from some romantic love story, created between us, to get rid of the mean spirited, “rift raft.”

Of course, if pushed to it, David was the biggest kid around and could draw first blood, taking down more than one fake Goliath with his long armed, double-fisted blows.  Harassing words ceased when bloody noses began running into the mouths of kids who thought the preacher’s son was too sweet to fight.

This sleepover was quickly turning into something more than a simple new game of strip poker.  We both felt it moving way out of our control.  I wasn’t opposed to what happened after all the cards had been dealt and we were left shivering in our nakedness.  Some of my trembling was due to nervous tension and not the cold October winds.  David felt this, even in the dark, and gave me the older outdoorsman instructions.

“In order to survive this rough weather, we will need each other’s body heat, so here, join me in my sleeping bag.”

I didn’t waste any time snuggling down beside him.  And D.J. didn’t waste any time making up a new game for us to play called flesh lighting.  I helped him make up the rules as we went along, since our own homemade games were much more fun to play than any other.  Each of us would take turns with the flashlight, pointing it to an area of our body which the other had to kiss.  Not just a simple peck, but a good tongue lashing, sucking kind of kisses.  The only two places that were off limits were our lips and assholes.  We both agreed that would be just too nasty.

We had been easing into this experimental expression for several months.  When wrestling, a slip of my hand on his inner thigh, brushing against his Johnson and D.J. grabbing my ass when he picked me up and threw me on the bed.  Even that fake kiss, which sent other kids running, left us wishing for the real thing, I hoped.  We both knew this was dangerous territory and not what the Reverend had intended for our hard work in breaking down the racial barriers, but what could we do when our hormone driven bodies lead us down a path we couldn’t steer away from.  True frontiersmen always discovered new ways to get from one place to the next.  And our generation was on the move, be it right or wrong.

The batteries soon ran down and the flashlight which was really just a prop, was no longer needed.  Careful not to scare the other, we let our growing parts move together until we oozed with satisfaction.  I was more surprised at what my sensations brought me than he was with his own.  He had more experience with these things than I had.  Older and more the wiser was D.J., so I just followed his lead and really enjoyed where this path took us both.  There were no winners or losers with this newly created game, but we did break one of the rules, by mistake.  Our lips lightly touched together in all the crazy, raucous movement inside his small sleeping bag and as a breather to this newfound exploration, we kissed with tongues going deeper than could ever be explained.  David and Jonathon sang a new song that only they could gutturally moan.  It was like the original gospel music that touched our spirits and made us dance until we passed out in blissful sleep.

I woke up dreaming and found that I was sleeping with David’s arms wrapped around me like I was his teddy bear.  In my dream we were in Sunday school class being taught about King David and Jonathon and as I dozed back to this dream I had a clearer understanding of what that scripture, in Second Samuel, meant:


I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathon: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women.



David W. Bradburn   aka dwb42461


(This chapter is from my gay novel, Past Lives, Present Woes, and it is full of boyish playing around and sexual discovery between the two main characters.  I would hope that many A4A members have stories of their own just like this to tell.  So, I am challenging the members to write their own boyhood sexual discovery stories in the comment section below my chapter and I will pick my favorite.  If you are the winner, I will send you a signed copy of my novel to enjoy reading.  It can also be found on or Barnes & Noble websites, if you rather not write but just want to read.  Remember and write and make sure I have a way to send you my free book, if you win, by private messaging me your name and mailing address.  I’m looking forward to many hot boyhood, discovery stories!!)

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  1. Bill D.

    OK, I am prepared for all of the name calling which will follow for saying this:

    The subject is well chosen and the narrative quite believable. However, there are quite a few errors in construction. I noticed several run on sentences and one misspelling. I find it difficult to see how these got past an editor.

    Yes, now I’m the dreaded grammar Nazi and “why can’t you just enjoy the story? etc.”

    It’s in the public eye, therefore, as with any work, there will be criticism.

    No, I am not submitting my own work, nor will I respond to comments left for me.

    This is good writing, for the most part. It just needs some more attention to detail in construction.

  2. einathens

    I thought before I got to the end that this read like a chapter.
    Waaaay to much backstory and not enough explicit action to be a stroke story. Nicely done.

  3. Michael

    Beach week had finally arrived. I got to spend a week with my favorite friends, doing whatever we wanted, all while being in the Outer Banks. The beat part was that it was UNSUPERVISED. When we got to the house the 6 of us split up and picked rooms. Bunk beds for two of the guys, a double for two of the girls and the other girl picked a room all by herself. Having to always take first dibs I called the upstairs master. I had the kitchen and the living room right outside my bedroom door. Total privacy at night.
    While we all ate breakfast together, hung out on the beach and took turns making dinner it was later when we could all split up and do what we wanted. My friend Gabe would come hang out with me. We would chat about the day, getting ready for college courses.
    O e night he comes in my room after I took a shower and turns out the light. I fumble my way to the edge of the bed and told him to turn the lamp on so I could get clothes back on. “Aren’t you going to bed?” He asked me. I told him I was but needed my papajama pants. He insisted I didn’t as he wasn’t wearing any. I was curious and turned on. having been my best friend for years we grew up together. The closest we had been to each others privates were telling the other about our boner stories and how many times we masturbated in a day. I climbed under the sheets and told him he needed to prove it so he grabbed my hand and put it near his inner thigh. I could feel the heat from his balls and the fuzz of pubic hair. He was a little hairier than me and I wanted to see what he would feel like in my hand so I went to reach but he pushed my hand away and rolled over to avoid my touch. I wasn’t sure if I crossed the line. He had started this little push-pull game.
    Sensing I may have gone too far I pulled away and told him I was going to bed. And he said he was going to stay for a bit…which was fine. I had to roll over to hide my raging hard on from my best friend whom I desperately wanted to explore my body and reciprocate these surpressed feelings of lust and hormones…I asked what he was still doing and my bed and his answer surprised me and turned me on, “I’m jerking off.” Sure enough there was a slight flutter of sheets moving in an even pace. I laid there listening to the fabric and the inconsistencies in his breathing as he was getting more turned on. I had to join in. I scooted closer to Gabe and carefully put my left hand on his thigh. He quivered but didn’t pull away. While I gently carressed his leg I grabbed my own throbbing and dripping cock. I needed to release the tension from the week but more to express years of build up from crushing in my hot friend. Sandy blond and naturally boyish with an athletic body from his soccer and track days he had an all american boy look. But his baseball and early development made him feel more manly than most in our graduating class. I wanted to feel him. I pushed my hand over gently until my index finger grazed the base of his cock. He was as rock hard as he described and I told him how badly I wanted to touch it and service him. He moved his stroking hand away and put it around my neck to pull me closer. I reached out and grasped the base of his me member. He wasn’t lying about his thickness or how he he didn’t need lube because there was a slight slack from his foreskin. Being cut I didn’t have any extra to play with so I needed to usually use spit or lotion. I pulled up to his head and back down so I can feel the full 7 inches he was working with. Thicker on the bottom and tapering to a nice smooth head I felt inferior as I held my 6. It was still dark but I could imagine the light pink and pale colored flesh of his groin getting ready to unload as his body began to squirm and his right arm tensed on my shoulder. I started to tighten up as my own release was impending and I yelled I was going to cum. As my sperm was spilled on my chest and stomach Gabe spasmed as spurts burst from the tip of his cock. Spilling in unison, our bodies began to calm down after such a build up…we both let out a deep sigh before I released Gabes quickly shrinking dick he reached over and grabbed mine. I moaned slightly at the new hand on my dick and I knew he was lookig at me through the shadows. He whispered something before climbing out of bed and going to the bathroom…”Next time, you should use your mouth.”

  4. David W. Bradburn

    Thanks Michael for your youthful sex story. Since you are the only one to participate in my story competition, I will send you a copy of my novel as promised. Please send me your name and address by private messaging me and I will get it in the mail to you. You can find me by my user name dwb42461. Your story reminded me of a college trip I took on Spring break which turned into much more than just the beach and drinking too much. I need to write about that sexy, long awaited vacation. David B.

  5. chris1547

    I was about 15 and my neighbor down the street was about 13 in the summer of 1997. We would hangout a lot as we got older. I was a very close friend of his family. Was best friends with his sisters. N his parents knew my aunts n grandma for years. My sister who was his age had the biggest crush on him as well as most of the girls in the neighborhood and at school. Not to mention me but obviously I could never tell him or anyone else at this time of my life. So 1 Friday after school we rode our bikes like many other times before. He said I should stay over like I have b4 too. Him and his older brother shared a room his parents made in the attic. We was playing sum super nientendo n his brother walks in n says he’s staying away for the night. Which my friend knew but hesupposedly forgot to mention it. We had dinner with his family then back

  6. chris1547

    Sorry I have to continue. Then back to his room. He said we should break night. Which is staying up all night till the next morning. So we played games watched videos n movies all night. I went to change for bed n made sure I wore my torn boxers under my shorts. When I came back he was asleep so I watched sum TV until I saw a peek of sun light. I was totally knocked out with my head under my pillow mind u in the same bed he was in. I started to feel something I never felt b4! It felt weird but fuckin awesome and wet! I peek from under my pillow to see my guy hovered over my hard morning dick! He kept spitting on it stroking it nice n slow!! Then I see him go closer to my throbbing head! I started to breath very heavily. I was sooo nervous. But i felt the heat from his warm wet mouth on my pre cummin head! It was da best feeling in da world to feel this sexi fine ass neighborhood hotty on me! Feeling him slowly slide those thick Puerto Rican lips slide n slobber all over my dick!!! He then licks my big balls sliding his balls to my tight little hairy n sweaty hole!!! I let out a loud moan! He had to keep shooshing me. He flipped me over and continued to eat me out and start to finger me! He kept breathing hard as he slowly got on top of me shoving his hard dripping dick in my ass! It hurt so bad at 1st but got better as we went along. Me squeezing n moaning into pillows. He kept moaning louder as he unloaded his morning nut in my ass! He turned me over n sucked me off again. Untill i had the biggest explosion i evwr did!!! We never said any words just hot sex! We actually had sex every year up until last year since then. Never speaking of a thing we did. Just sucking n fucking each other any n everywhere we could! From my attic to the back of old trucks with tires to several parks while “riding our bikes” lol. Hes still so fuckin hott n the 1 str8 guy dat i would fuck with!!! Such a gud 1st sex expierence! N hundreds more!!! Mmmmw

  7. David W. Bradburn

    Gracias Chris for your teen sex story. I bet it was caliente to have that surprise of your young life. If you want a copy of my novel, Past Lives, Present Woes, then private message me at dwb42461 and leave me your name and mailing address so I can send it via US Postal service. Check out my newest sex story posted today called Tennis, Tequila and Tans!! David B.

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