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Brother's Keeper
by Tami
Jackson Hole, Illinois, Summer 1986
Thirteen-year-old Lincoln and nine-year-old Michael were on a camping trip with their mother. It was an annual vacation since their dad left. The boys forgot about all their worries and chased each other around the campsite.
Their mother needed a break from their constant playful badgering and told them to go find something to do somewhere else. Lincoln went off on a mini-adventure with Michael tagging along. They found a fallen log big enough to climb on or use as a fort. Lincoln, being the older brother, wanted to show off how fearless he was and climbed on top of the log. He walked across it easily and jumped down.
Small for his age, Michael still refused to be outdone. He wasn’t a sissy no matter what the other kids thought of his LLI condition. He wasn’t about to look weak in front of his big brother. Michael climbed up on the log with a little more effort than it took for Lincoln and started across the log.
“I can do it too!”
Lincoln looked up to watch his brother’s progress. He’d spent his whole life looking after Michael. It was he who changed diapers and fed Michael when their mother worked late. He was the one that put Michael to bed and walked with him the four blocks to school. He was one who intimidated would-be bullies into leaving his brother alone. Now, he watched as Michael tried to maneuver around a knot in the log while attempting to remain balanced. Michael’s brow furrowed in concentration as he calculated the parameters in his head.
“Mikey, just hop over it,” Lincoln suggested impatiently.
In his less-than-infinite wisdom, Michael took Lincoln’s advice. He hopped over it and thought he landed safely, but the log wobbled and his foot slipped. His small body wasn’t enough to counter the balance and he fell over the other side of the log.
“MIKEY!”
Lincoln clambered over the log to see his brother flat on his back on the grass, the fall having knocked the breath out of him. He climbed down on the other side and ran to his brother, skidding to his knees next to Michael.
“Are you alive? Can you breathe?”
Michael struggled to suck in air, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen, his back hurting like hell.
Lincoln waved his hand in front Michael’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two,” Michael wheezed.
“Stay here, I’ll go get mom,” Lincoln said anxiously.
He scrambled back over the log and disappeared. Michael was left alone to stare up at the blue sky through the trees. He watched as a couple birds flew through the high, crisp air. They were just black specks from his vantage point. When he could breathe normally, he sat up and leaned back against the log. He caught sight of a caterpillar inching its way through the grass and studied it, so engrossed in the fuzzy insect’s progress that he didn’t hear Lincoln returning with their mother on his heels.
“Michael! Michael!” their mom yelled frantically as she and Lincoln got closer.
Lincoln bounded over the log to see his brother sitting up. Their mother peered over it, relieved to see that her son seemed to be okay.
“Lincoln, help your brother over the log and hand him over to me,” she instructed.
Michael winced in pain as Lincoln helped him up on his feet and assisted him in crawling back over the log to his mother’s waiting arms. Lincoln followed close behind. He trailed behind them wondering how much trouble he was in for letting Michael get hurt.
As soon as they got back to the campsite, their mother rounded on Lincoln. “How could you be so careless?”
“Momma, it’s not his fault,” Michael tried to explain. He watched as Lincoln just stood there and hung his head.
“He could have been seriously injured. What were you thinking, taking him there? You know he mimics your every move!” she scolded.
“I’m sorry,” Lincoln said in a small voice.
“You go into your tent and think about what you did,” their mother said with a gesture towards the tent he shared with Michael.
Lincoln shuffled into the tent and zipped it closed behind him. Michael watched him disappear and then looked at his mother who went back to reading the book she was reading before his accident. He sat on a tree stump with his elbows propped on his knees and his chin in his hands, staring at the closed tent.
He didn’t mean to get Lincoln into trouble. He should have crawled over the knot in the log, but he was trying to impress his big brother. With his condition, his mother’s irritation at Lincoln for his actions was palpable. It was like there was something more going on, but Michael couldn’t put his finger on it. What upset him more was that Lincoln was in their tent, sulking over something that wasn’t his fault.
Michael hopped off the tree stump and went over to the tent. He unzipped it and cautiously crawled inside, unsure of Lincoln’s mood. He turned around and zipped the tent closed then he silently went over to sit beside Lincoln. His brother sat on his sleeping bag and toyed with a shoestring.
“I’m sorry I got you into trouble, Linc. I didn’t mean to,” Michael quietly apologized. Lincoln remained silent. Michael’s back still ached from the fall. “My back still hurts.”
“I told you I was sorry,” Lincoln finally spoke.
“I didn’t mean that,” Michael said.
One minute he was aching, the next he felt warm all over. Lincoln’s hand rubbed up and down his back over his shirt. Something else was getting warm too. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach that seemed to go straight to his groin.
“Come here, Mikey.”
It was a soft-spoken command, but the velvety tone of his brother’s voice caused Michael to comply without question. He sat between Lincoln’s spread legs. Lincoln raised up his shirt to look at the damage. The smaller boy’s back was already showing signs of bruising. Michael winced and tried to stifle a moan at the same time when Lincoln ran his fingertips along the bruise.
Lincoln heard the moan. “Are you in pain, Mikey?”
“No. It’s just that my back aches and it hurts when you touch the bruises,” Michael said.
Lincoln happened to glance over Michael’s shoulder and saw the small erection in his brother’s shorts. “Oh.”
Michael became so embarrassed that his ears turned bright red. He scurried away from Lincoln and lay on his own sleeping bag with his back turned to Lincoln.
“Michael, it’s perfectly normal,” Lincoln tried to reassure him.
“How can it be normal?” Michael was sure that his reaction to his brother was far from normal.
“I get them all the time. It just means you’re growing up,” Lincoln said, thinking Michael was just embarrassed by his first hard-on. When Michael ignored him, he got up and went over to sit next to Michael’s sleeping bag. “Mikey, look at me.” Michael rolled over enough to look at Lincoln over his shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. God, I wish Dad was still around to explain this stuff to you. He’d probably be better at it than I am.”
“What do I do with this? What will make it go away?” Michael asked.
“Well, uh, think of something that disgusts you I guess. In a couple of years when you start puberty and you can actually cum like, real cum, we’ll talk about it again,” Lincoln explained. Now, he was the one feeling embarrassed about the direction of this conversation with his nine-year-old brother.
“What’s that?”
Lincoln rolled his eyes and fell back on the sleeping bag next to Michael. How did he get himself into these situations? “It’s a long story, Mikey.” One I hope you’ll figure out on your own before the next time you ask me.
Michael flipped over on his back and looked at Lincoln. His older brother was staring at the peak of the tent. It looked like Lincoln was preoccupied, so Michael stole glances at his brother’s body. Lincoln was starting to develop some muscle and, from the pictures Michael had seen of their dad, he knew Lincoln would probably get taller. That thought alone caused his anatomy to respond which brought his earlier predicament to the forefront. He glanced down Lincoln’s body and saw the telltale outline of the shorts.
“Hey, Linc?”
“Yeah, Mikey?”
“Can I see what mine will look like in a few years?”
“Your what?”
Michael sucked in a breath for courage and reached out to grab the cylindrical shape in Lincoln’s shorts. Not expecting his little brother’s forwardness, Lincoln nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Michael’s hand on his dick.
“Jeez, Mikey! Don’t grab me like that!” Lincoln hissed as he batted Michael’s hand away. “I probably lost ten years off my life.”
“So, can I?” Michael pestered.
“Just look at yours and imagine it twice as big,” Lincoln replied, hoping that Michael would drop the subject soon.
He never thought of Michael being this much of a troublesome brother before. Even when he started seeing Veronica regularly and had her over to the house or went to visit her, Michael was never difficult when he tagged along. Only recently, in the last month or so, did Michael start with the annoying questions. And with Michael’s condition, he stayed fixated on them until he got a satisfactory answer.
Lincoln sighed irritably. “Mikey, why do you want to use me as your guinea pig?”
Michael shrugged. “It's not like I can go out and ask Mom.”
“Fine! Fine! You win!” Lincoln grumbled, throwing his hands in the air. He got to his feet, looked to make sure the tent was zipped closed and pulled down his shorts. His 13-year-old dick stood straight out. “Can I get dressed now before it shrivels up and dies?”
Michael’s eyes were as huge saucers when he saw the jutting appendage. “It’s nice, Linc. Will mine get that big?”
“Sure, I guess,” Lincoln said uncertainly. He was starting to get suspicious of his brother’s fascination with his body.
“So, how do you make it go down?” Michael asked.
Lincoln sighed. “This is the kind of conversation I was hoping to avoid for at least another three years.” He glanced at Michael and saw the pout on his brother’s face and the concentrated look as if he were studying Lincoln for a test he’d have later.
Lincoln lay down beside Michael again. His shorts were down around his thighs. Michael mimicked him and lay down to watch him. This was so nerve-wracking. He hadn’t even done anything sexual yet himself, and Michael wanted him to teach him about masturbation.
“Okay, Mikey. You wrap your fingers around it and then start stroking up and down, squeezing as soft or hard as you like until it starts to feel good,” Lincoln said as he proceeded to demonstrate.
Michael watched his brother stroke himself and then blushed a deep red when he heard Lincoln moan softly as he stroked himself faster. “How will I know when that happens?”
“Believe me, Mikey, you’ll know,” Lincoln gasped.
Michael stroked himself with a keen eye on his older brother’s movements. He became focused on watching Lincoln’s hand move up and down. When Lincoln shuddered a few minutes later, Michael felt a thrill go through him. Nothing else happened to him, but Lincoln’s dick was leaking a milky substance.
“Lincoln? Michael? Are you okay in there?” their mother called out.
“Shit,” Lincoln hissed and hurried to pull his shorts up over his sticky semi-erection. Michael followed suit in righting his clothing as Lincoln yelled back, “We’re fine, Mom.”
Michael had a wistful smile on his face as he rolled over on his stomach next to Lincoln in the motel bed. His arm was flung across Lincoln’s stomach as he rubbed himself against the mattress in his sleep.
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