Hill Folk

HILLFOLK
Philip Williams


         Clyde was never one to openly disagree with his older brother, John, even when John said something stupid, like now.
         “I'm telling you, having an African American in the White House is going to be the end of this country.  We might just as well sign everything over to those godless Muslims, or worse, the French.”
         John never said the 'N' word, but he could make African American sound just as vile.  He didn't speak the words as much as spit them. 
         “Yeah.” Clyde said, not really paying much attention anymore.  He had learned a long time ago it was just easier to let him have his say than to argue him on it.  When John got cornered in an argument, which was easy to do, he started debating with his fists, and in that Clyde could never defeat him.  John outweighed him by twenty-five pounds and he loved to fight.  That was how Clyde lost one of his front teeth.  He suggested John might be wrong on immigration.  That maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to send anyone not born here back where they came from.  That maybe this country was founded on immigration and...POP! that was the end of the debate.
         They were sitting in Johns truck out in front of Millers General Store drinking Cokes and John was smoking a joint.  This was their Saturday afternoon ritual.  They worked half a day on Saturday cutting out whatever part of the forest they hadn't finished on Friday then treated themselves to Cokes on their way home.  Sometimes they shared a joint but Clyde wasn't really in the mood today.  Pot usually made him horny and he didn't think he would have time to sneak off to the highway rest area tonight to trade blow-jobs with a traveler. 
         He had to be careful and not let John know about it.  John hated gays more than Muslims and Immigrants.  “Those damned ho-mo-sexuals,” he would say, “are directly responsible for the moral decline of this country.” 
         John could make homosexual sound more vile than African American.  Clyde didn't know if he was a homosexual or not, he just like having sex with other men.  He had been with a woman once, but preferred the touch and smell and feel of another man.
         “You want to go to Sparky's tonight?” John asked.
         Sparky's was a roadhouse John spent most Saturday nights in.  Clyde had gone a few times but there were too many fights and he usually had to walk home after John hooked up with some woman or another. 
         “Naw.  I think I'll just stay in and watch t.v.”
         “That's all you ever do.” John said.  “You stay in every Saturday night jerking off like that, you gonna go blind.”
         “I'll just do it 'till I need glasses.”  Clyde said.
         John laughed, nearly spitting his Coke all over the dash.  “That's a good one Clydey-boy.  You a funny guy.  Do it 'till I need glasses.  I gotta use that one.”
         A car pulled up in front of the store.  It was a Lexus, black with bright shining chrome rims.  John stopped chuckling and watched the car.  He sometimes got a far away look in his eyes when he saw an expensive car like that.  A jealous look.
         A man climbed out of the car.  He was young, about Johns age, with wavy blond hair.  He was wearing shorts that showed off his golden tanned, muscular legs, and an Ambercrombie and Fitch T-shirt.  John called Ambercrombie and Fitch, Ambercrombie and Fag.  The guy in the Lexus was beautiful.  “City boy.” John grumbled. 
         Clyde noticed John's hand had fallen down between his legs and was squeezing his crotch.  “Fucking faggot city boy.”
         “Hey,” Clyde said pulling John out of his trance, “let's go home and get something to eat.  Maybe going to Sparky's will be fun tonight.”
         “You really want to go out tonight?”
         “Sure.  I can always beat off later.  I'm gonna need some of that joint though.”
         John pulled the roach from the ashtray and handed it over.  “Smoke up buddy, we gonna have fun tonight.”  He pulled the truck away from the store with a squeal of the tires, pushing a cloud of dirt behind them.  The blond turned and watched them go.  Clyde smiled at the man as they left, the man scowled back.

         When they got back to the trailer, their mother was in front of the television watching cartoons and eating a bowl of ice cream.  She was always eating something, that is why she couldn't leave home.  She hadn't been able to fit through the door since Clinton was president.  “That you boys?” she asked when the came in, turning her head as far as she could.  The rolls of fat on the back of her neck grinding against one another. 
         “It's us Mama.” Clyde said and went in to give her a kiss.  Her cheek was greasy.  She smelled of old sweat and chicken fat, just as she had always smelled.  She sniffed the air like a bloodhound.
         “You boys been smoking pot again?  I done told you that hippie weed gonna get you in trouble someday.”
         “It ain't gonna get us in no trouble.” John argued.  “If anything it's gonna keep us out of it.”
         “How you figure that?”
         “It just is.”
         John couldn't argue with their mother.  She was the only person he wouldn't fight with, even when she said something he disagreed with he always backed down and dropped the subject as soon as possible. 
         “There's last nights pizza in the oven if you boys are hungry.” Mama said.
         Clyde pulled the box from the oven, slid the pizza on a pan and set it back in.  He turned to oven to 400 degrees and set the timer for twenty-five minutes.  When the timer went off he pulled the pan from the oven and set the pizza on plates.  Two pieces for John, one for himself.  “You only having one?” John asked.
         “There's only three left.”
         John pulled a knife from the sink, rinsed it off and cut on slice in half and dropped one side on Clyde's plate.  “Eat up.  You don't want to go out drinking on an empty stomach.”
         “Thanks.” 
         They ate  with Tom and Jerry playing on the television behind them.  “This is good warmed up.  You're going to make someone a good wife one day.” John laughed and tousled Clyde's hair.
         “Funny.” 
         When the pizza was gone John went to the bathroom to take a shower.  Clyde sat with Mama listening to her breathing and watched television with her.  She held the remote control in her hand like a scepter and flipped the channels so fast he couldn't tell what he was missing.  She stopped on the Jesus channel.  A fat preacher with big hair screamed at the audience they were all going to hell if they didn't do what God commanded.  They were all sinners and damned but if they would just send him ten or twenty dollars or whatever they could afford, they might find salvation. 
         “Amen.” Mama screamed.
         John was done with his shower and had his best jeans on.  He was shirtless and Clyde admired the muscles in his brothers hairy chest.  His own chest was smooth and flat, a few stray hairs around the nipples and no muscle tone.  He wished he had a body like John's but didn't want to do the work John did to get his.  Lifting weights in the garage for two hours most evenings after work. 
         Clyde gathered his clothes together and went to the bathroom to shower and get ready to go out.  He wasn't really crazy about going to Sparky's but he had promised John he would, and he supposed it was better than sitting around watching television with Mama.  He thought about jerking off in the shower, but decided against it.  The buzz was still there in his head but it hadn't affected his dick yet.  He usually had to smoke a certain amount before he got horny and that little roach he smoked in the truck wasn't enough.
         When he was done he shaved and dressed then he and John were off to the roadhouse. 

         The place was wild tonight, but not as bad as it could be.  Clyde saw a man stabbed to death there once.  That was the last time he had gone.  The place scared him too much.  John drank whiskey most of the evening and tried to start a fight with a bunch of redneck bikers.  They wouldn't bite though, thankfully.  They might have killed him if they had of been in the fighting mood. 
         Clyde only had a few beers.  He saw the writing on the wall and knew he would have to drive home.  This is what usually happened.  He was John's designated driver.  This is why he liked Clyde to come out with him.  John was always smart enough to sleep it off in the parking lot when he was alone, but he preferred to sleep in his own bed.
         When the roadhouse closed Clyde helped John out to the truck.  He fished around in Johns pocket for the keys.  Before he found them he accidentally grabbed John's dick.  It immediately swelled up.  John pressed his mouth against Clyde's ear.  His hot breath sending shivers down Clyde's spine.  He felt his own dick jump.
         He got the truck door opened and strapped his older brother in the passenger seat then went around to the drivers side and started the engine.  When they got home Clyde had to help John to his room.  He dumped him on the bed but John wouldn't let go and pulled Clyde down with him and pinned his younger brother under him.  Clyde tried to get up but it was no use.  John was passed out and was too heavy to move.  John nuzzled Clyde's neck while he slept, his warm booze soaked breath caressing his ear and the five o'clock shadow rubbing against the side of his throat.  Clyde decided to stay where he was, to sleep here, it was just easier.  Besides, he liked this.  He liked the feel of his older brother next to him, touching him.  He could feel John's erection straining through the jeans and pressing against Clyde's hip.  He wondered what it would be like to touch it, then decided he had had too much to drink.  He had to be drunk, or a pervert, to want to touch his own brothers cock.
         John moaned and his arm came up over Clyde, his hand sliding down over Clyde's flat stomach and stopping just at the top of his jeans.  Clyde's own erection felt ready to blow.  He didn't think he would ever sleep, but eventually he did.

         It was a Tuesday morning and they were in the woods working.  John had hired two guys, Dale and Even, to help clear this section of their forest.  He wanted it done by the end of the summer and the only way it could be done was with more help.  They had just brought down an enormous oak tree and Clyde spent the morning stripping it's branches.  Evan was working with him on the branches.  He was about Clyde's age and had tight curly black hair and a lazy left eye.  When he looked at you his left eye was pointing a yard to your right.  It was a little unnerving, but Clyde tried not to notice it.
         When noon came Clyde went to John's truck and got his lunch.  He had two ham sandwiches, a liter of Coke and a big bag of tortilla chips.  He popped the tailgate down, climbed in the back and leaned against the truck bed while he ate.  Evan approached with his own lunch.  “You mind if I sit with you?” he asked.
         “Not at all, come on up.” 
         He actually wanted the company.  Usually he and John ate together but John and the new guy Dale were a mile into the woods clearing off some poplar.  They would have lunch there. 
         “So, how long you been doing this, cutting wood I mean.” Even asked.
         “Couple years, since high school.”
         “This is my first time doing this.  It's hard work, but not bad really.”
         “Yeah, you work up a sweat.” he looked at Even and noticed how really attractive the guy was.  When you couldn't see his lazy eye he was really pretty hot.  He wouldn't mind meeting up with him at the rest area, instead of the usual fat married salesmen.
         Evan ate his sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly, and stretched out his legs so they were parallel with Clyde's.  He had a hole in his jeans, down at the shin, and Clyde noticed thick black hair poking out through the hole, just above his socks.  He wondered if he was hairy everywhere like that and felt himself getting hard.  He quickly covered his lap with the bag of chips, resting it in the V of his crotch.  He wondered if Evan noticed because he began to smile at him.
         “How long we have for lunch?” Evan asked.
         “An hour.  John is pretty cool about it but we should get back to it by one.”
         Evan smiled even harder and tapped Clyde's hip with his foot.  “You ever smoke?” he asked and pinched his fingers in front of his pursed lips.
         “Pot, while working?  Sometimes.”
         “You wanna smoke one?  I got a couple of joints right here.” Evan said and pulled a hard pack of Marlboro's from his pocket.  They spun around and sat on the edge of the tailgate.  He shook out a joint, lit it and handed it over to Clyde.  They smoked it down to a roach that Evan snuffed out and dropped back in the cigarette pack.  The comforting buzz surrounded Clyde, like being buried in feathers.  It was soft and beautiful.
         “I gotta piss.” Evan said.  He slid off the tailgate and walked about twenty feet away and turned his back to Clyde.  He heard the hot wet splash against the forest floor.  It stopped and Clyde looked over at him.  Evan was shaking it off but didn't put himself back in his pants yet.  He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder at Clyde, smiling.  His cock was still out and Evan had turned enough now so Clyde could see it.  It was fat and uncircumcised.  A thick fold of skin hung over the head.  He hadn't pulled it back to piss.
         Clyde stared at it while Evan shook it in his palm.  In his pot haze Clyde didn't know if he stared at it for ten seconds or ten minutes, but knew he wanted a closer look.  He slid off the tailgate, walked over to Evan and slid his hand around the other man's cock.  It was warm and fat and growing bigger.  He pulled back the foreskin and a wave of sex and piss smell hit him.  Evan was smiling at him, that crazy eye off in the trees.  Clyde moved in and kissed him.  His mouth tasted like pot and peanut butter.  Evan hand slid down between Clyde's legs and pulled his fly open.  He pulled out Clyde's dick, which was difficult with it being so hard, and pulled on it.  Clyde slid down to his knees and pulled the piss stick in his mouth, the taste was harsh and brutal, a mornings worth of sweat trapped there under the skin, but it turned him on even more.
         “Oh.” Evan moaned.  Clyde took it all the way down, his nose buried in the thick, sweaty, black bush.  Evan began to swing his hips, the fat cock sliding deeper and deeper down Clyde's throat.  He grabbed Clyde's head and face fucked him, grinding his pelvis against Clyde's face.  In seconds he came, his entire body tensing as he shot down Clyde's throat.  He pulled out, his cock slimy with come and saliva.
         “I gotta piss.” Evan said and Clyde looked up.  They were on the back of John's truck having just smoked a joint.  Clyde hadn't sucked Evan off.  He hadn't enticed Clyde with his uncut dick.  It never happened except in Clyde's mind. 
         Evan slid off the tailgate and walked into the woods and stood behind a tree where he could piss with relative privacy.  Clyde got his chainsaw, checked the oil level in it, then filled it with gas.  They went back to work when Evan was done pissing and didn't take another break until quitting time when John and Dale came back at four o'clock.
         On the way home John asked, “What do you think of the new guys?”
         “They are okay.” Clyde said.  He couldn't stop thinking about the black hair peeking out through the hole in Evan's pantsleg.
         “Yeah.  Dale's wife works at the bank.  She's a teller or something.”
         “Oh yeah.”
         “What about Evan?  He married?”
         “I don't know.  I never asked him.”  Clyde wondered where this conversation was heading.
         “You want something at the store?” he asked as they neared Miller's.
         “Naw.  I just need a shower.”
         When they got home Mama was in the kitchen, leaning on her walker.  She was in a sleeveless dress and her enormous arms jiggled and flapped like sheets on a clothesline.  She had made a kettle of boxed macaroni and cheese with tuna and peas.  It was one of her specialties.
         Clyde showered then sat down to eat.  It was cold so he heated it up in the microwave then added pepper.  Mama didn't believe in spices so he always needed to dress up her cooking himself.
         “I'm going to Fred's.” Clyde said after washing his plate and fork in the sink then setting them in the plastic strainer to dry.  If they didn't wash their own dishes they would never get done.  Mama didn't like housework.  Fred was the man Clyde and John bought pot from.  When Clyde went there they usually smoked a couple of joints together and watched a science fiction movie.  Fred had hundreds of them on DVD.  He wasn't really going to Fred's though, he was going to the highway rest area.  The fantasy of Evan had made him horny and he needed some release. 
         He got into his car, an old blue Escort, and started it.  It coughed a couple of times but stayed running.  He didn't use the car very often, when he went most places it was with John and they always used his truck. 
         When he got to the rest area there was only one other car there.  He got out of the Escort and walked to the brick building that housed the two bathrooms.  He walked past the other vehicle.  An old man was in the drivers seat and he started the car and drove off just after Clyde passed it.  He was either nervous about Clyde or wasn't here for anything but a piss break.  Clyde walked in the mens room and stood at a urinal.  There were five of them along one wall.  He pissed then thought about jerking off, the smell of industrial cleaner and piss always made him horny, then decided against it.  He was hoping for some action and didn't want to waste a hard-on on himself.  He shook the piss from the end of his dick and started to tuck himself back in his pants when the door opened.  A tall black kid walked in and positioned himself two urinals down from Clyde.  He opened his pants and pulled his dick out.  It was long and thick and black.  The head was a lighter color than the rest of it.  The black kid looked over at Clyde and was obvious about checking him out.  He smiled a toothy grin and shook his own dick.  It was swelling up. 
         Clyde didn't need any more invitation.  He dropped to his knees right there on the bathroom floor and took the black cock in his mouth.  He worked it until it began to jump in his mouth.  The kid rubbed his hands over Clyde's head and groaned, “take that big black dick.  Take it boy.”  He pumped his hips while Clyde jerked himself off.  They came at the same time, Clyde's splattering on the floor between the black kid's sneakers and the kid's down Clyde's throat.  It tasted rancid, like potato peelings but he swallowed it anyway.  The kid stuffed himself back in his pants and walked out of the bathroom without saying another word.  No 'thank you' or anything.  Clyde stood, and walked out as well, stepping over his puddle of come when he did. 
         When Clyde walked into the trailer John was on the couch watching one of those 'reality' shows.  This one had a bunch of has-been celebrities all living in a house together.  John was wearing his favorite pair of sweat pants.  They were old an ratty and had holes all through them.  Clyde could see his underwear, white and crisp, through one of the holes.
         Mama was in bed already.  Her snoring filled the trailer like the hum of an old refrigerator. 
         John was drinking a beer.  Mama didn't allow alcohol in her house so John would have to hide the empty bottles in the back of his truck before going to bed.  “Hey man, you buzzed?” John asked, thinking Clyde really had gone to Fred's.  “You want a beer?”
         “Sure.”
         John pulled a bottle from the bag on the floor, popped the cap for him and set it on the coffee table.  Clyde took it and drank half in one gulp.  He had to wash the taste of come out of his mouth.  John watched him and scratched at his leg through the hole in the sweatpants.  His finger running just under the white underwear.  When he pulled his fingers out a thick tuft of pubic hair stuck out under the legband.  Clyde looked at it and felt himself getting horny again. 
         What was wrong with him?  Why did he get turned on by his own brother?  Was John right and all guys like him sexual deviants?  And what did he mean by 'guys like him'?  Was he really queer and only now admitting it to himself?  He didn't know the answers to any of those questions.  The only thing he really knew was that he wanted to run his tongue over the hair sticking out of his brothers underwear.
         “What's wrong man?” John asked.  “When's the last time you got laid anyway?”
         “What?” Clyde pulled himself out of his daydream.  “What do you mean?”
         “You were staring off into space.  I get like that when I haven't gotten laid in a while.  So, when's the last time you had some pussy?”
         “A while.”
         “Yeah, me too.  It's 'bout time I got my dick wet.” John said and grabbed his crotch for emphasis.  He turned back to the television where a big titted former porn star was laughing at the midget they lived with who had just fallen off the table while doing a drunken dance.  “Look at the knockers on that bitch.” John said and squeezed his crotch tighter.  “I wouldn't mind titty fucking that one.”
         “Yeah.  They are big alright.” Clyde said.  He looked down at Johns lap again.  The tuft of hair was still there and when John squeezed, the leg hole opened revealing the side of his scrotum.  The wrinkled flesh winked out at Clyde.  Jesus Christ, he wanted to touch it, to smell the funk of his brothers nut sack.  What was wrong with him anyway?
         Clyde downed the rest of the beer and set the empty bottle back on the table.  “I'm going to bed.” he announced. 
         “Okay man.  See you in the morning.” John said and squeezed Clyde's leg.  His version of a hug.
         Clyde went to his room and shut the door behind him.  He stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed.  He lay in the dark, thinking of the black kid.  He jerked off, remembering the taste of the kid's cock and when he neared the climax the kid had become Evan.  When he came in his sock, Evan was now John.  He balled up the sticky sock and dropped it on the floor next to his bed, reminding himself to throw it in the laundry in the morning.

         Saturday morning Clyde woke when his mother started screaming out in the living room.  At first he thought she was stuck in the recliner again.  When that happened a year ago John had to pry the arms off the chair to get her out, then spent two hours putting them back on again.  He ran out in just his boxers, his morning erection pointing the way, but quickly dwindling.  Mama was in the recliner but was holding onto her left shoulder.  “I think I'm having a heart attack.” she said and squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.
         Clyde found he was good in a crisis.  He calmly picked up the phone and dialed 911 and told the operator what was happening to his mother.  “You might want to bring the fire department with a chainsaw.  They will probably have to cut a hole in the side of the trailer.  Mama can't fit out door.”
         The operator told him to stay on the phone until help arrived and to give his mother an asprin immediately, it may prevent further damage if it was a heart attack.  He set the phone down and ran to the bathroom and fished a couple of from the bottle in the medicine cabinet.
         “Chew these up, Mama.” he said, handing her the pills.  She did as she was told, gagging against the taste.  When he heard the ambulance coming down the road he thanked the operator and hung up the phone then went out into the drive-way to wave them in.  The address' out here weren't always easy to see.  He didn't know they had a GPS system, but should have figured they would. 
         The fire department didn't have to cut a hole in the wall, Mama could be carried out once the door and frame was removed.  She wasn't as big as Clyde had thought. 
         John wasn't home during all this.  He had gone out to Sparky's on Friday night and hadn't come home yet.  He was probably sleeping in the parking lot or maybe he went home with some girl.  Probably Darlene, one of the waitress' he sometime fooled around with.  Clyde hoped he was sleeping in the parking lot then felt guilty about it.  Why shouldn't John have fun?  Was he hoping John would get so desperate he would actually want to fool around with Clyde?
         John made it home before the ambulance left.  He jumped from his truck, face ashen, his brows scrunched up in confusion, then when he saw Mama on the stretcher as they were loading him in he became vocal with his fear.  “Oh Jesus!  What happened?  Mama are you alright?  Mama!”
         Clyde held Johns arms down.  When John got scared he reacted with his fists and Clyde didn't need him getting arrested for punching an EMT who was just trying to help their mother.  “It's alright John.  They are taking Mama to the hospital.  They think she had a heart attack, but she is going to be okay.”  Clyde didn't really know this, but he had to calm John down and a lie now would save them all a great deal of trouble.
         The ambulance left and they followed in John's truck and ended up spending the entire day at the hospital., sitting around waiting while Mama went through a series of tests.  The cardiologist on duty, Dr. Seine, told them she was going to be alright, but would need to make some drastic lifestyle changes.  She had to lose weight, that was the biggest priority right now.  She had to get some exercise, walking was best, and eat better.  She needed to lose 200 pounds. 
         Mama was going to stay in the hospital for a few days while they monitored her heart and ran a few more tests.  When Clyde and John got home that night they were exhausted.  Sitting around all day wears you out.  Clyde was starving, having had nothing but canteen coffee all day.  He opened a can of ravioli and dumped it in a pan and turned it on low. 
         “I hope that rag-head doctor knows what he is doing.” John said, leaning on the kitchen wall while Clyde stirred the ravioli.
         “Actually I think he is Indian, not Middle Eastern.”
         “So!” John stood upright, suddenly angry.  He balled his fists at his side.  “I don't give no fuck where he's from.  He ain't American, that's all that matters.”
         “Alright.  I'm sorry.”
         John looked at the floor, suddenly sheepish.  “No, I'm sorry.  I don't mean to yell at you.  I'm just worried, that's all.”
         “I know.  I am too, but you heard what he said.  Mama is going to be okay.  We just need to get rid of this shit food around here.  Buy some fresh stuff.”
         “Oh!” John said, suddenly remembering something and ran out of the trailer to his truck.  He came back a minute later with a twenty-four pack of beer.  “Something for tonight.  We don't have to hide the bottles at least.”  He took the beer into the living room and set it on the coffee table, dug one out and cracked it open. 
         When the ravioli was done Clyde spoon it into two bowls and took them into the living room where John had the television on and his shoes off.  “Thanks little bro.” he said and dug into the food with gusto.
         They ate, drank beer and watched some crap on cable then drank more, then more.  After a few hours a good portion of the twenty-four pack was gone and Clyde's head swam.  “I think I'm going to bed.” he said and rose, unsteadily.
         “Yeah, me too.” John said and hit the power button on the remote control.  The t.v. buzzed as it went off.  Clyde stripped to his boxers and dropped into bed.  After a few minutes John shuffled into Clyde's room.
         “I thought you might want some company.  You never liked sleeping alone when Mama was gone.”
         “Sure.  I'd love it.” Clyde said and pulled the covers back.  John was the one that hated sleeping alone when he was scared, but Clyde didn't mention this.  John was in his briefs, shining white in the dark.  He slid in the bed and turned on his side so his front nestled Clyde's back.  The hard muscles of John's chest and belly massaged his back and the thick dark hair covering John felt like little fingers on his tired body.  “Um.” Clyde said and pushed himself back against John, wanting more of his brothers body against him.
         John moaned in response.  His hand dropped down over Clyde's chest, rubbing the nipples with the miniscule amount of hair around them, then down his belly, tickling the pleasure trail that led down into Clyde's underwear.  Clyde was rock hard now and he reached back and grabbed John muscular leg, pushing he crotch harder into Clyde's ass.  That was when he heard John's snore.  He was asleep.  He wasn't intentionally rubbing him, he wasn't trying to get him excited, he was doing it all involuntarily in his sleep. 
         Disappointed, Clyde allowed himself to drift off. 
         When he woke in the morning his head was on John's chest.  A thin line of drool had run down over his furry nipple and down into John's armpit.  Clyde's hand was on John's crotch, massaging the bulge covered in white cotton.  He looked down at what he was doing, and how it was affecting his brother, how his cock was stiffening from the touch.  He was getting ready to take it further, to cross a boundary  he had dreamed of, but never dared.  He slid his thumb into the waistband of John's briefs, ready to free his cock to the air, when he heard John speak.
         “You having fun down there?”
         Clyde's balls shriveled up to his chest.  Fear made his head swim and his stomach tighten.  He had been caught trying to at least get a peek at his brothers dick, which would make him queer in his brothers eyes. 
         “What?” Clyde moaned, putting on his just woken up voice.  His thumb was still in the waistband so he pulled it out, letting the elastic snap back.  He lifted his head, wiping the drool from his mouth.  He stretched, looked down at John and smiled.  “Good morning.”
         John stared at him a moment.  Clyde could almost see the wheels turning, piecing things together.  What would he decide had just happened?  Did Clyde just intentionally play with his cock, or was he really asleep?  He reached out and took Clyde's nipple in his fingers and twisted it, hard.  He jumped from the bed and slapped Clyde on the ass.  “Come on, get up.  I want to go see Mama.”
         “Can I have some coffee first?”
         “Yeah.  Make a whole pot.  We are going to need it today.”  He turned and marched out of the room, his ass muscles flexing and pumping under the briefs.
         Clyde threw on a pair of jeans and went to the kitchen to start the coffee.  He wasn't wearing a shirt.  John was at the table, still in his underwear.  He looked at Clyde, actually it was a stare.  His eyes moved down over the contours of his chest and belly, the hard muscles from working in the woods showing all over.  “You are starting to beef up.” John said.  He rose from the table, ran his fingers down Clyde's arms.  In the past few months his spindly arms had transformed to cut muscular limbs.  Clyde felt a shiver run through him.  John pushed his brothers arm up and traced the finger along the underside, stopping in the patch of underarm hair.  He sniffed his finger than ran it under Clyde's nose.  “You stink.” he laughed.