Dad 'n mom split up when I was 5 on account of him hitting the bottle & then hitting us.  I don't remember much of that time.  I was in school half of the day & spent lots of time at my grandparents being really bored.  My earliest clear memory is asking God to send me the best brother in the whole world so I wouldn't have to be alone any more.  We moved to a new town the next year & I spent 1st grade in a much better school.  Mom got to know the principal real well at PTA meetings & they got married that summer. 

He had been married before (red flag) & had a kid named Frankie - who we all called 'Butch'.  That was a pretty tough name to live up to for a 4½ year old ... but Butch was cute & disarming.  I was barely 6 and I totally thought Butch was waay better than my imaginary friends. 

Butch & I shared a large bedroom with 2 closets, a large toybox & lots of space for monsters to hide under the beds too.  There was a big old dead tree a ways outside our window, & when the moon was near full & the wind blowing, the limbs would cast bony, moving shadows into the room & occasionally scratch the sides of the house causing all sorts of strange noises. 

Butch was always welcome in my bed with me - because, - although I played it brave, -- the shadows & noises made me hide under the covers if I was by myself.  I only had one stuffed animal - a large brown dog that also made a great pillow so there was plenty of room.. 

There was only one rule - & that was: Nothing yucky was allowed in my bed.  Once I'd worn pajamas with jelly on them & those tiny sugar-ants had totally taken over the blankets by morning.  I never forgot that ant thing ... so the rule was that everything had to be totally clean including anyone in my bed.  I probably had the only 4 year old brother who knew how to use the shower (because if he wasn't totally clean with no dirt anywhere -- he'd have to brave the monsters, shadows & sounds by himself in his own bed). 

Butch was warm & cuddly.  He had a way that made it so I didn't ever want to pick on him.  Instead, I showed him the "big guy stuff" & made sure he was on my "team" when I'd do things with my friends.  I taught him how to do the dog paddle & dead-man's float (he thought that was a neat name) & hold his breath in general.  By the time he entered Kindergarten the next year, he knew how to count to over 100, & the alphabet, plus the difference between vowels & consonants & the sounds combinations made - so he could figure new words out.  He knew the rules to baseball & football & soccer.  Everybody thought he was so smart because he was the principal's kid.  Yeah, right....

That year, mom signed me up at the martial arts center to learn self defense.  When I came home from practice, I'd always show Butch all the moves so he could practice with me.  The next year, mom signed him up -- but sensei said he was too good for beginner's class & they ended up moving him into the same class as me.  Eventually, we were both red belts.  His speed & concentration were way above average.  We got to the point where we'd spar around the house, school, park...  People would stop what they were doing to watch the "cute little kids play kung fu".  We gave them quite a show.  I was 9 & Butch 7 when we both earned black belts.  He was way ahead in school. 

However, when night would come & the wind would blow ... that nudge would wake me up to lift the covers & let a 'totally clean' step brother in with me.  My stuffed dog would become a pillow & I'd pull Butcher in tight & scratch his head & play wrestle until we'd both fall asleep hugging.  4 more years of all night hugs & 2 black belts later slipped by as my best buddy in the whole world grew into the 'little' brother that everyone would want.  We developed some choreographed routines where we got to apply all the best moves & techniques against each other for show.  We practiced & refined them so much we could do them in our sleep if need be.  Each routine was 1-3 minutes long & astonishing to watch as we involved kicks, flips, moves & stuff totally acrobatic.  We developed moves that instantly became reversals - turning what looked like the final blow into an opening for more action.  People would offer to pay us to "watch us spar".  They thought it was on-the-fly it looked so real & unrehearsed.  To us, they were more than routines.  They made us brothers - bonded in the mind.  Like ESP, the routines made us a single dance of flying punches, kicks, blocks, dodges, & fake outs.  We learned to communicate with a code of blinks so that we could change gears in mid stream - so that we could mix sections of routines.  We even learned how to mix improvisation.  Once we had this technique down, nobody ever saw the same 'match' twice.  For two kids (11 & almost 13), it was Bruce-Lee in a can.  We had no idea what we were onto.  We just knew that it looked good!  I loved my step bro. 

One night, during a storm, a bolt of lightning hit the old dead tree.  It wouldn't have been so memorable -- except Butch & I were looking at it out the window and I told him to "watch this..." as I pointed one arm at the sky & the other at the tree & said, "I summon fire from the heavens - there..." (pointing at the base of the tree).  As if Thor had heard me, -- less than a second after making my demand on nature, the bolt hit the tree - causing the trunk to explode along the path to the ground & the tree gave way & fell over smashing the gazebo my step dad had purchased for mom shortly after their wedding.  Shocked that my goof-off had been timed so perfectly, I blew on my 'pointing hand' & said "Wow ... that really tingles."  Then I looked at Butch & told him, "Promise me you won't tell anyone about the gazebo."  Butch was stunned (Hey, 11 year olds will believe all kinds of things if the special effects are right.  At that moment, he believed that I could control lightning bolts... & I wasn't far from believing it, myself.)

Of course, he couldn't keep quiet about a demonstration of such power & told lots of our friends to "keep it a secret, but...".  At the end of the day, about 20 of them had dropped by to check out the destruction.  A few of them asked me what kind of martial arts I was "really" into.  I simply grinned.  Butch was totally convinced that I could, if I really wanted - control lightning bolts.  He'd seen it.  Who can predict such a thing?  Even though I sat him down & explained that it was really just luck -- a 1-in-a-million chance; -- He wouldn't believe me.  He accused me of trying to cover my tracks so as to not get in trouble for the gazebo.  I laughed & gave him a hug; -- And asked what kind of superhero cape I should wear.  He thought that sounded corny - because "I should keep my identity a secret".  I responded with, "Fat chance of that with you telling everyone...as if they'll keep it a secret."

The next day, when we got home from class, mom & dad2 had this really strained look on their faces & papers on the table. Butch's real mother had a court order for custody.  She had made up some story about Butch's dad & while the courts "looked into things", she got custody.  She lived in Juno, Alaska.  The paperwork gave 72 hours to get Butch a ticket to Alaska.  We were devastated.  Dad2 had been on the phone all afternoon with his lawyer, but the differences between state laws in addition to the allegations made it impossible to fight the court order on such short notice.  Whoever his mother had for a lawyer, he had used the shortfalls of the system to get his client's way.  Dad2 kept muttering that his Ex's life was such a wreck (from hitting the bottle I guess), that he never thought she try to pull something like this.  Like many drunks ... her personality was miserable when she was sober & unpredictable when she was drunk.  I guess she was on some sort of "disability" and getting free legal help because of her "disease".

In 72 hours, we had Butch's ticket - 5 days out.  He'd be leaving on a Saturday.  We slept together every night that week - as if he held onto me tight enough, he might not have to leave.  I took the time to really talk to him & let him know how much I had enjoyed having him for a brother (even if he was a 'transplant') & we'd have to get together whenever we could.  I told him to keep up with martial arts & we might get to see each other in competitions - & that I was starting weight training to move into the power branches of the art.  He said he would too.  I explained to him the long days & nights that far north & the northern lights.  I told him that when he saw them to remember they are made of electricity & think of me and that old dead tree. The stuffed brown dog soaked up a lot of tears that last 5 days.  I remember waking up at odd hours & holding Butcher's sleeping body & trying with all my might to remember his feel & clean shampoo smell & all the little blonde hairs on his head that he kept cut short because "long hair was for girls".  As the final days ticked on by, I realized more & more that I might not see Butcher again for a long, long time. 

Finally the day arrived.  Early in the AM, I put the big brown stuffed dog into a 3-ply bag & used the house intervac to suck the air out of it - crushing it down.  I packed it in the bottom of Butch's suitcase & repacked the clothes on top carefully.  We were quiet on the way to the airport.  We'd already been saying "goodbye" for 8 days.  We kept a stiff lip.  We shook hands & waved goodbye holding the lumps in our throats as the airport processed his papers & he went thru security.

I didn't say a word on the ride back home.  Getting back into our ... "my" room, I looked around & took stock of all the things he couldn't take with him because of packing restrictions: numb chucks, throwing stars, swords, knives.  Then there were things like his bike that were too big (& we hoped he'd need when he soon returned)...  He left a lot of clothes ... stuff I was a little too big to fit into.  I pressed them up against my face.  They smelled like him.  I pushed back the tears as hard as I could, but I couldn't help but cry really hard into the clothes I held so lovingly to my face.  I had this really bad feeling that he wasn't going to be back anytime soon.  I spent the rest of the day putting his stuff in plastic bags & sucking the air out where necessary.  Mom & Dad2 were really quiet that day, but that evening I could hear mom crying.  Everywhere I looked, I saw evidence that I had a brother named Butch, but there was no Butch to be found.  Is this a taste of what it feels like to lose somebody to death - I wondered to myself.  It was horrible.

11 hours later, we got a phone call from Butch's biological mother telling us he'd arrived fine & that Dad2 would be contacted by her attorney regarding support payment arrangements.  She didn't let butch on the line (bitch), but at least he landed OK.  I wrote the number down from caller ID. The khunt had to go shopping of get her meds sometime.  I'd let Butch make the 1st move.  I talked Mom & Dad2 into getting him a calling card & I'd sneak it in with some sports cards I'd mail to him:  "Butcher, You left some of your favorite sports cards.  I hope I got the ones you like packed.  Sort thru them & if I missed any, call when it most convenient for you.  Your brother & hero."

5 days later, the phone rang at 7:PM.  I answered it.  It was the Butcher!  He told me things sucked & he had a nice room & the place was cold & there were lots of black flies - but not so much the last few days, & that the nights were getting longer & that he joined the Martial Arts club at his school.  His mother was gone for about an hour this time every week so I could probably call without setting off any alarms.  Oh, and sneaking him the calling card was awesome.  And, the northern lights were awesome & Eskimo's rubbed noses.  Oh, it was snowing a little bit.  I got him to slow down some (it was a 600 minute calling card), and he began to fill in the details.  After I got done talking, mom & dad2 got on different phones so they could talk to him together.  It felt really good to hear he was OK...  He decided to call about 10-15 minutes a week unless there was an emergency.

As 1 month became 2 ... I began to adjust to being alone at night.  The evil tree was gone & I wasn't a kid anymore.  I began to spend more time down at the Martial Arts center & I got a part time job helping sensei keep things orderly & help those needing extra.  Butch began to spend more time at the center in Alaska too.  By month 4, his voice was beginning to change a little & he said he thought he might be starting his "growth spurt".  I packed all his martial arts stuff & a nice birthday card & sent it to him on his 12th.  By his 13th, his voice still hadn't changed that much & he thought he must have just been catching a cold.  His calls came less frequently, but we were in competition with each other to see who could get the highest degree belts & win the most trophies.  I was doing really well & power karate was going good.  I was in the middle of my growth spurt & hitting the gym hard 4 days a week. 

Girls began to call me to "talk".  Mom & dad2 made jokes.  I did too.  The thing was ... I wasn't interested in girls.  Some of the guys though ... I got butterflies sometimes when I was around them -- usually in the locker.  I wasn't saying anything to anyone.  I learned how the older guys talked about girls & I watched to see what they watched women do & what their responses to the watching was.  I toned it down some -- but people knew (or so they thought they 'knew') I was a "player".  I read some books & they said my feelings were a "stage" lots of people went thru.  I kept waiting for the stage to "leave Dodge".  It didn't seem in a hurry.  The "show" continued. 

By his 14th, Butcher's voice was changing.  He sounded a lot more like dad2 on the phone.  He said he was almost 6' tall.  I was 6' tall!  I asked him how many belts & trophies, but he evaded the question.  "That bad, huh...", I needle'd him.  "Maybe...", was his response.  We got a photo Christmas card from his "family" - horribly out of focus & the detail washed out from all the fake snow & flash.  He was standing in the back with a fuzzy hat on (or maybe that was just the fuzzy focus).  I told him he looked kinda skinny.  There was silence for a few seconds & then he said it was the bad picture.  The next few weeks, he didn't call as much.  He said he was at the gym more.  I suspected my "skinny" comment had made him hit the gym harder.  Man ... I'd better too.  So I did.  I had to really learn how to balance things because if I was too sore from the gym, it interfered with my movements on the mat. 

Dad got a new attorney who argued before the court that under the common law, the child's father usually had custody beyond age 11 & because dad2 had been cleared of all allegations -- casting in doubt the integrity of the "mother", -- that the court should grant custody & support payments should be made to the father.  The judge agreed.  The paperwork was in motion.  On his 15th birthday ... Butcher was coming home!  That was in 6 weeks. 

In 5 weeks, I had a 4-day competition in California at the national free-style Kwon-Do finals where innovative people would compete using free style forms not necessarily found in the traditional artform .  It was open to triple black belts & higher; -- Divisions by belt, weight & some other factors that sensei decided on.  ESPN was scheduled to cover the final matches in all divisions! It would be awesome to greet Butch when I got back - with a trophy in one hand from such a prestigious event.

The weeks dragged by, but eventually I was headed to Los Angeles.  Mom & dad2 said they'd record all the ESPN coverage.  They narrowed down the competition with standard procedures that graphed out like a tree from branches to trunk.  This was a special type of competition - so close calls allowed the judges to request rematches.  I moved thru the competition quickly.  My style had been developed from one invented by a 13 & 11 year old several years ago.  However, my competition wasn't privy to defending my attacks.  I moved into the finals.  Looking at the roster, I was up against Lee Quan Chay & if I beat him, it was against Francis Mandrake.  Wow ... same last name as my step dad - I thought to myself.  Then I froze.  Same last name as my step brother, too...  Butcher ... Butch ... Frankie ... FRANCIS!  Sholly Huck'n Fit! 

I looked around...trying to see if I could locate him.  There were too many people -- and I didn't know the specifics of his dojo.  Then the loudspeaker called the warning time to my next match.  I had to go.  All the while I was looking for a familiar face... Ok a blond haired guy who used to be shorter than me but now was my height & use to be skinnier than me but had been at the gym for over a year...that familiar face.  The crowd offered no help at all as I moved toward my next competition.  Lee Quan was a top rated competitor& I was a little bit distracted.  The guy in the Ninja suit seemed out of place too.  ESPN was on the air & I needed to focus or risk getting my arse kicked so close to my trophy.  That ninja dude was directly behind Lee Quan - at a distance.  Didn't he know it was unconventional to be masked while in the crowd. 

"Go!" - went the ref.  I'd never seen anything like Lee Quan Chay.  His movements combined forms of the art in ways that were more like ballet than fighting.  As I turned away from a frontal punch, the face of that Ninja blinked 2 short & then squinted once with the right eye.  I had seen that combination at least one million times when sparring with Butcher ... but this Ninja was 6' tall & had black hair that crept thru the hood over his eyes.  As Quan Chay prepared to assault again, the Ninja blinked 2 shorts & a right squint.  Code for a kicking shin splinter (trademarked by the Butcher & me).  Chay lunged.  I hopped rolled & put the move on him.  Down he went.  Point!  Man ... I was showing the deep secrets.  Did I want to do that?  Suddenly it dawned on me: Duh! I was a finalist in a national championship.  I needed to use all Jedi mind tricks!  Quan Chay was stunned - visibly shaken.  His next maneuver left his head exposed to a flip-kick (trademarked by the Butcher & me).  I did the move.  The crowd went wild & Chay dropped like a rag doll.  Point! Winner!  The Ninja was gone.  Where did he go?  It would be 30 minutes & then the final match.  ESPN moved more camera men in.  The crowd began to swell to standing room only. 

All the big corporations were there.  Hollywood had a multi-studio kiosk & talk of talent scouts was constant.  A talent scout for Nike gave me her card, and then one for Fuji Industries.  I could make out Steven Segal & Chuck Norris in the crowd - & they were looking in my direction.  However, my eyes scanned for one Ninja.  Nothing.  I slowly searched the crowd, making sure to stretch as I moved.  The minutes ticked by.  Soon the time warning was announced.  5 minutes.  I returned to my station.  1 minute before the match was scheduled, a Ninja appeared & took the opposite station.  Removing the traditional Ninja garb revealed a custom ghee made from an Alaskan flag with the northern lights colors on one side & a lightning bolt against blackness on the other.  I felt underdressed.  Removing his mask, my heart jumped - almost stopping.  It was Butch - with dark accents in his slightly longer hair.  The muscles rippled under his exposed skin & a look of confidence crossed his face with a smile that caused camera flashes all over to go off.  Up until this moment - he had been masked in all competitions.  There was no rule against it!  I stood there open jawed.  This was my "little brother"!?

15 seconds.  The Ninja took a deep breath & squinted with his left eye momentarily while flailing his nostrils.  Message received.  I flailed my nostrils & grinned: CONFIRMED.  We were going to give them a SHOW.  "Go!";  And time opened a hole to the past - in another place.  And I was in both places - in the now & in the then -- as was the Ninja.  I was on the playground with my brother, Butch.  We had a large group of students around us in a very large circle as we demonstrated things with martial arts that sent cheers & yells across the playground - & caused more people to push into the circle's perimeter to watch "the fight".  We had a code -- subtle blinks & facial expressions that we used to set up for each round of sparring.  Like a buffet, we mixed and matched moves, weapons & styles.  We even had codes that allowed improvisation without the flow breaking down or the vision appearing staged.  For 90 seconds, I was just barely 13 again with my 11 year old brother doing what we loved & telling pro wrestling to kiss our butts!. 

"TIE!" went the judges.  Another round in 5 minutes.  The crowd was wild.  Camera flashes were nonstop.  Video cameras panned over our images as instant replay put moves on the giant screen that caused people who had gasped the first time to gasp a second.  And for the first time in my life, I got to see what the stage set years ago by an 11 & 13 year old looked like to the uninformed.  On camera, our facial codes looked like natural reactions to whatever might be in the fight causing them.  Our movements - staged years ago - looked unrehearsed - dangerous.  We were brothers in heart, but we shared no common DNA.  The crowd saw strangers names listed on the itinerary - as being from different parts of the country!  Nobody made a logical connection.  Executives were on their cell phones.  The Hollywood kiosk was closed & the reps manning it were now talking to camera men who wore tags I didn't recognize.  In all this mental noise -- my attention went back to the Ninja.  He sat there ... smiling a cocky smile that made butterflies hammer my stomach.  I don't recall ever seeing anyone so young - be so handsome & hunky.  I smiled back the cockiest grin I could.  I pulled off the shirt from under my robe.  He continued to grin, but swallowed.  He did the same.  Cameras zoomed in.  Announcers discussed 'posturing psychology' & 'male aggression'.  Interviews with regulars revealed that nobody had ever seen this level of skill demonstrated in the past with two competitors who seems so well matched while out performing all others - hands down. 

15 seconds....went the announcer.  The Ninja flexed & tightened his jaw line twice. Message received.  I flailed my nostrils & grinned: CONFIRMED.  WEAPONS.  The Ninja chose chucks.  I chose a staff.  The crowd chose to go absolutely nuts with cheers, screams, roars & non-stop camera flashes.  When we pulled our first reversal - where a series of moves completely swapped the weapons & we continued on fighting as skilled with the second weapon as with the first; - The crowd's roar was almost deafening.   To us ... it was a walk down memory lane.  It was a welcome reminiscence with a long absent comrade.  We saw the world in slow motion.  Blink.  Posture.  Punch.  Dodge. Counter.  Flip.  Blink.  Kick.  Etc.            

"TIE!" went the judges.  Another round in 5 minutes.  The crowd was more wild than before.  Kids who were with their parents began to duplicate moves they'd just seen.  ESPN was catching the action from 6 camera angles.  Announcers grasped for words to use to name moves they'd never seen before.  The instant replay showed the reversal in slow motion.  I held my breath as I watched it.  Flawless ... totally flawless.  I grinned at the Ninja.  He grinned back.  I wanted to run & hug him so badly.  But, another time...

15 seconds....went the announcer.  The Ninja flexed & tightened the right side of his face. Message received.  I flailed my nostrils & grinned: CONFIRMED.  FINALE'.   This was designed to be a 3 minute routine.  The judges would let it go until they decided who was better.  "Go!"; -- And time opened another doorway to the past & to that playground.  The finale used more gymnastics than anything else we'd ever put together.  My strength made it easy as I executed the move progressions like a computer executes instructions.  With full flips, punches turned into rolls, twirls, partial-flips, kicks & - finally staffs.  We reached the end of the routine without a call from the judges.  But we stopped ... face to face: Bowed & shook hands.  The crowd was delirious.  The judges talked for a few moments between themselves.   "We have no choice, but to declare this match a draw among equally astonishing opponents.   Ladies & gentlemen: Your Champions..." 

There was only one super trophy.  We had our photo taken together each with an arm around the back of the other & each holding the trophy up with the other hand.  When ESPN asked us how we'd split the trophy, we simply said we'd figure the details out later - but probably wouldn't actually damage it in any way.

As I shook Butcher's hand for the camera, I slipped a duplicate hotel key card into it.  He grinned.  After a day of madness, job offers, advertising contract offers & several offers to help train the actors in an upcoming movie that was going to be filmed in Australia called "Matrix something" ... I ended up back at my hotel.  Upon entering my room, there was a bottle of chilled wine & a card.  I looked at the bottle & spoke out loud.  I wonder how he pulled that off.  Opening the card, it read: "I have connections. - Butch"  I laughed.  It was blush wine.  It's OK, but makes the glands under my ears smart some.  I decided to wait.  I took a quick shower and about 15 minutes later, the door opened & a Ninja whom I'd been waiting for stepped in.  I winked.  He laughed & we wrapped each other up in a lung crunching hug.  He was still in his custom ghee. 

"Didn't have any time to change.  Came right over after getting sensei to talk with the folks.  He knows I'm with my 'nemesis' getting pointers."

"Hit the shower if you want bro.  I'm just chill'n the wine.  Tell your connections, 'thanks'."

"Will do ... good idea ... and I will", Butch stammered as he bounced into the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, the door opened letting a burst of steam into the main room.  Butch walked out still rubbing his head with the towel. His hair was more blond now - but still darker than I recalled.  He sat down beside me - watching the TV as ESPN showed highlights of the day's events.  There we were.  I casually took the towel from him & began to dry his back & the areas he missed.  "I think we're gonna be famous, bro...", Butch suggested.

"Long as I've got you...", I replied pulling him toward me & giving him a kiss on the cheek.  He grinned.  I let him sit up & poured us each a glass of wine.  "To us...", I said - holding the glass up.  He met my toast & we each downed the entire glass in one gulp.  Small glasses.  Filling them again, we toasted to "lightning on cue".  Then to monsters under the bed (or in the closet).  Then to professional wrestling.  Then to prohibition.  (Because the wine was gone).

We watched TV for a while & then each decided that blush wine was almost stronger than Nyquil.  I turned the lights off & in the dimness, I pulled back the covers on the sole bed in the room.  I dropped my robe & slid in.

"I'm in the raw under this robe, bro...", Butch slurred slightly. 

"Better be... because I plan on making up on a few years of lost hugs & kisses all over ya...", I answered.

Butch dropped his robe & slid in beside me.  I gently wrapped my arms around his muscular torso & began to slowly & lightly kiss a random spot on his upper body - once every 10-15 seconds or so.  After a few kisses, Butch began to return them.  "Hey ... do you love me in all the ways I love you?", I asked him - sliding my semi up beside his package. 

"Yeah...", he whispered - repositioning himself so that I could feel his hardness beside my own.  A quick, hard throb in his groin made him groan a little. 

"I sooo want to be luv'n with you, bro...", I whispered - giving his neck a slow smootch.  My hands found their way slowly along the muscles on his back - down onto his hard globes & then back up to his neck & head.  Butch just groaned how it all felt so good & how he'd missed me so much.  I slowly got Butch more evenly positioned face down on top of me as I noticed a mirror on the ceiling - just hinting at the motion of the dim silhouettes below it.  His back was sexy & well built - like the rest of him.  We cuddled without trying to make a lot of motion, but the occasional throb from his inflated cock caused his entire body to gently stiffen & slowly writhe involuntarily in my embrace.  After what seemed 15 minutes or so, he began to quietly whisper, "Oh, man ... I'm gonna...gonna..", as his back arched & his inexperienced orgasm came in powerful spurts between our heaving abs that made his gasp & grit his teeth in pleasure as his young nutts got to empty their product is a fulfilling series of fluid-laden shots from his virile loins.   Feeling his penis pounding out hot luv syrup against mine made mine do the same as I slowly used my shooting dick to milk him of milt. 

We just cuddled into all those warm emotions after - overwhelmed that we could feel so good in each other's hug.  "Puberty has it's benefits...", I commented.  Butch kissed my neck & groaned.   

"I wish I'd known about this years ago", he added.  "I might have to plant another big dead tree in place of that one you killed with lightning...", he joked.

"I'll help ya!", I whispered in a half laugh.

"I wonder what the folks would think if they knew our plan.", he thought out loud.

"Which one ... replanting the tree; -- or cock-jack'n each other nightly?", I grinned.  He laughed.  We cuddled.  "I think I'm the luckiest dude on the planet."

"Why?", Butcher prompted.

"Because when I first met my 'new little brother', I loved him from day 1, & couldn't cuddle up enough with him when we'd sleep together.  Now, after being separated for a few years - I've met him again & discovered that all that love as kids has reached from my head & heart - all the way to my cock'n-balls; & it's more intense than it's ever been.  And the best part is, he feels the same way...", I answered - giving Butcher a kiss on the right cheek.  "Plus, he's become a total stud...", I grinned.

"I'm a stud?", Butcher asked incredulously.  "You're the Stud!", he argued cuddling up tighter to me.

"It's your age, Butch.", I explained. "I've never met a guy with your development at your age. I mean, what is this - 8 o'clock shadow?" I rubbed my face with his to feel the razor stubble on his jawline.  "Quite sexy too ... but my point is - I wasn't at where you are - at your age.  It means that, everything considered -- you're the bigger stud, Bro...which is OK, because you're MY Bro..." 

"Hey, which one of us is better do you think?", Butcher asked in a more serious tone.  "We tied in the competition."

"Well, I think it's obvious.  Even though we are almost the same size - you've picked up all that skill in a shorter lifetime, -- so I think it's you who's better.", I replied in a whisper.

Butch softly replied, "You're ready to concede - just like that?"

"Either way, I've got bragg'n rights.", I answered.  "I can always point at you & smugly say to everyone around: 'That's my Bro!'..."  Butch's eyes began to leak some as he planted a soft kiss just above my lower lip & then pressed his handsome face to mine.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't even be involved in martial arts if it wasn't for you.", he softly argued.

"I guess you're right.  I guess I am better ... Well, I'm glad we figured that out.  You can have the boasting rights I guess...", I softly smirked back to him.  Butcher put his face into the crevice between my shoulder & chin - blowing lots of air - making a really gross phart-sound.  We laughed.  "The only trophy I won today that I care about is right here with me...", I commented - hugging Butcher tightly.  He let out a "Mmmmmmm".

"You're coming back with me, right?", I asked him.  "Tell me you're not going to Alaska First."

"Yeah ... Got it worked out when the court said I was Dad's again.  Your ticket can be upgraded.  That means you can stay here for another few days ... with me ... in this hotel room ... in bed.", he whispered - in a tone where I knew he was grinning.

"Take a shower with me...", I suggested...

"Yeah .. I guess we could use another one..." 

Butcher & I took a slow warm shower & soaped each other down well.  Getting out of the stall, we dried each other off. 

"I left my robe out there...", Butch commented. 

"It'll be there.  Besides, I wanna take some time & check out that bod of yours & see what the gym & nature has done to it.", I remarked in a friendly tone - jostling his hair.

"Diddo Bro.  I just wanted to be with you all week once I saw how much you'd grown.  I kept thinking ... 'Man, I use to snuggle with that dude.', and I came so close to letting the cat out of the bag in order to be with you again.".  We walked to the bed & Butch laid down on his back - facing the feet side.  "Start at my face & work your way down, bro.", he suggested.  So I did. 

"Your face is more mature", I commented as I slowly kissed my way down over it.  Getting to his neck, I smootched his Adam's apple & mentioned what a stud neck he had.  "I'm gonna have to kiss on this jaw & neck for a while, Bro...".  Getting to his pecs, I mentioned that I'd never seen a dude his age with such good, kissable chest development - as I kissed the developments slowly over a few minutes.  I let him know his 8-pack abs were amazing as I slowly kissed southward over them.  Getting to his engorged penis, I planted a small kiss on the midline making Butcher groan - & I added, "Yup ... no longer my little brother...", putting word emphasis on little.  At the same time, I slid my upper body up over him - kneeling but leaning off to one side.  My erection was hanging close to his face - because I could feel his breathing on it.  Then, his warm kiss near the tip turned into a warm, wet tongue sliding around it when finally, his mouth welcomed it in.  I gasped as my dick hard-throbbed in his mouth.  Lightly grasping his by its base, I raised it to my lips & began to slide down on it's hardening length.  I could feel it stiffen & throb as Butch moaned.  Very slowly - back & forth up & down the shaft I went - driving him closer to the brink.  His balls were pulled up tight to it.  The hard throbs made his tummy tighten & caused both of his legs to lift some - showing off the strong muscles there - especially on the insides.  He responded by applying more tongue  action on my shaft as it slowly became more intensely charged with sex response. 

Gradually, the stiffening between his legs became more frequent & his groans, sighs & gasps almost constant punctuating every other second or so with soft seducing vocalizations.  His circumcised penis was about 8 inches long & well over an inch thick.  His fuzzy nuts & pleasure trail spoke of his sexual maturity.  I had never taken the time or had the opportunity to carefully look over the details of the male penis this close up before - to feel the curves & veins - or that muscled, hollow column that ran it's length & delivered it's payload to the outside.  The hard pre-twitches came from the base of his balls.  At that moment I didn't know why so many people are ashamed of it.  It's a beautiful work of engineering that can give a guy so much pleasure if tendered right.  As I slowly slid my tongue along it, Butch began to whimper mixed with groaning.  In my mouth, I could feel his shaft harden beyond where it had been yet.  Butcher swallowed more of my length & began to apply more suction.  The sensation was amazing.  His whimpering became very intense as his velvety rock hardness began to rhythmically throb in my mouth.  His muscles were straining all over his body as I glanced his bare feet point toward the far wall & his toes curled away, -- then a few moments later, his upper legs spread some as his sexy toes pointed back up at me & spread apart some.  His warm emission filled my mouth & between suction pulses, I was letting it spill out through the corners of my lips where it lubed his shaft for the slow motion of my mouth along it.  Experiencing this with Butcher - sent me into mine - where the tender prodding of his mouth kept it firing long after any solo session I'd done ever had.  Finally we stopped shooting ... but what a ride. 

"That was amazing, Bro", Butch said - turning around on the bed. "I finally get that joke..."

"What joke?", I prodded.

"Why do dogs lick their balls?", he asked.

"Because they can..", I replied - knowing the punch line.  We laughed.  I added, "Bro, I'm gonna have to have 3-5 servings of you every day or be suffr'n all the time." 

"Bro, I was thinking how awesome it's gonna be - snuggled up in bed like we did a million times before - but being able to do this stuff to each other now.  And the best part is - that it's with you - someone I already love with all my heart."

"I'm with ya there.", I agreed.  We slowly sank into a deep sleep from the day's exhaustion, the effects of the wine & comfort of the cuddling.

I gradually awoke at about 10AM with the ever increasing realization that I had a muscular hunky guy in my embrace.  As my memories resurfaced of the reality of it all, I opened my eyes & in the streamers of sunlight that lit the bed from the partially closed shades in the eastern window, I took some time to look over my newly rediscovered "brother".  My gaze fell on a face that looked familiar to one I'd always seen -- but with some remarkable differences.  All hints of baby-looks were gone.  His high cheekbones & strong square jaw framed a wide, perfect nose over a big guy mouth - just barely open.  His perfect dental line was just barely visible through his soft, narrow lips.  He had a morning shadow - over his whole beard line - remarkable for his age.  His straight blond hair neatly flopped down over his forehead - just above the bushy brows of his closed eyes.  Looking down, he had the 3P's of adulthood: Hair on Pits, Pleasure-trail & Pubes.  I backed off about a foot & carefully pulled the sheets back some.  His naked legs were totally muscular with those big inner thigh muscles & 8 pack abs framing a pair of large, fuzzy, relaxed balls beneath a cock with beginning signs of morning wood.  His knees were strong bones with many large muscles visibly connected to the perimeter.  His strong shins were framed in the large calf muscles from behind them & they led to size 10½, wide sexy guy feet that had some hair that ran down onto the tops of them & gradually thinned until it was short stubble on his perfectly symmetrical & tapered toes. 

I gently gripped his morning wood tool & began to lightly run my fingers up & down it's length.  Butcher let out a sleeping sigh of pleasure as it began to immediately inflate in my loose grasp.  As he approached his 8" of pleasure, his manhood occasionally twitched - giving Butcher a nice little feeling to squeeze into a dream.  It wasn't even 3 minutes when his perfect belly tightened & his penis became steel beneath his soft stud-skin.  In the morning light I watched as the base of it rhythmically squeezed hard about once a second as the wave was transmitted along the length of the shaft shooting a respectable amount of stud-sauce onto his abs & then my hand as the volume of each pulse gradually lessoned.

As the last few cock-throbs happened, - those beautiful green eyes opened & a perfect smile crossed his face causing a seducing wave of love to roll over me - more than even before.  "Man ... that was a nice dream to wake up from...", he groggily commented.  "You know ... if someone was to make an alarm clock that could wake a guy like that ... I think it might outsell aftershave at Christmas time."

I grinned as the concept registered in my mind.  "The Alarm Clock:  Hmmm.  Sounds like a 'RonCo thing'.  Just 'set it & forget it'.  Talk about not needing a snooze button..."

Butcher began to laugh in hard, deep sensual tones; -- & slid his arms around me as he did - pulling me to him.  His laughing got more intense as it awoke him with the mental images my comment provoked.  I was totally in love with the guy I'd loved since I was 7 -- but now in a new way.  This was beyond awesome...

The telephone rang.  It was the studio that does the choreography for Mighty Morphing Rangers.  They wanted to know if the 'Ninja' & me would be interested in a 3 season contract to help the actors with new moves.  We'd have to agree to occasionally costume up & do the stunts if they were too much for the actors.  I told them to put the offer in writing & e-mail it to me; -- & I'd be sure to get a copy to the Ninja-guy ... What was his name again?  ;-)

I called the front desk & told them not to forward any more calls up.  Since mom & dad2 had the direct number, I thought that would be a tension reducing move.  Besides -- we'd have to get their signature on any contracts we wanted to go for anyhow. 

I began to get up, but the butcher flipped me onto my back & then proceeded to slow cuddle the cum out of my helpless dick with his amorous bod & tender kisses.  He had power over me in new ways.  I just hoped my power over him was as intense.  We'd have to experiment with that - I silently thought as I grinned.

We eventually got up & went over to the Butcher's hotel room.  I caught another quick shower & since he had a fridge in his room, I helped myself to the leftover rice & beans he had in there. 

"No wonder you keep this on the bottom shelf.  You wouldn't want someone to accidentally mistake it as food.", I joked.

"Gotta eat right for competition.", he insisted.

"Well, I'm gonna have to agree that you know what you're talk'n about -- considering... But don't get to accustomed to me just giving in all the time...", I said sarcastically.

Butcher aimed a camera at me & clicked the button before I knew what he was doing. "There ... the photo of another satisfied diner to add to 'The Butcher's Cookbook for Health Nuts'", he joked.

"Oh swell, - I'm the poster-boy for the spokesman of:  Beans & bottled water ... the breakfast of embarrassed champions...", I smirked.

"Hey ... if you keep look'n that good & have'n an attitude that cocky ... you might not get to eat that fine cuisine with me gett'n all physical with ya...", Butcher grinned.

"I dunno ...", I began.  "Constant sexual activity without food seems to border on 'crack-whorish' ... if you know what I mean..."

Butcher busted out laughing.  As I stood & scooped the Rice&Beans 'gruel' into a glass bowl & microwaved them, he followed me around - occasionally wrapping his arms around me & scratching my upper back with his unshaven stubble - between light kisses.  I added lots of salt & pepper to it & a pat of butter I found in the fridge door.  I shared spoonfuls with Butcher because I really wasn't into the taste & he seemed eager to have me put the spoon into his mouth & share my meal.  The warm feelings of total luv I had redeveloped for my little-bro made the experience of eating gruel not so grueling.

Not even 1 minute after shoveling down a half pound of his leftovers, there was a knock at the door.  He got up & answered it.  He came back into the room with a large pizza.  "Want dessert?", he asked with the biggest wise-arse smirk I'd ever seen on his face.  "I ordered it while you were in the shower."  His eyes were bright green - which is the color they turned when he did something that he felt really got my goat - & waited for retaliation.

I looked down at the empty gruel bowl. "I am sooo gonna get you back little bro...", I promised.  Butcher just busted out laughing.  The pizza was good - even though I could only eat 3 slices.

After, we relaxed on his bed side by side with an arm around each other.

"Bro ... when did you first realize you liked the male body for more than just pro wrestling poses?", Butcher asked in a low, serious tone.

"I was 14 I think - almost 15 when I found myself checking out one of the seniors at school.  He was a football player & seemed to really like me.  We were on the bus on the way back from an away game & sitting in the back.  It was dark & at one point - along a stretch of road that had no lights - his arm slid off the back of the seat & went around my back.  He was in a sleeveless tank top & I realized as he pulled me close to him that the size of his muscles & the way they all went together on his body was way better looking to me than the female body.  I tried to push the feelings down - so they wouldn't get me in trouble, and I learned to 'talk the talk'."

Butcher thought for a few moments.  "I think I knew when I was 12.  I was really homesick - way more than I told anyone.  Anyway, I began to have dreams that I was in bed with you & that tree was scratching the outside of the house.  Well, those dreams began to change a little bit -- as in -- we were both naked together & cuddling face to face.  I'd get the most awesome feelings & wake up with sticky shorts.  It really played with my mind at first.  Then I began to notice how pictures of buff guys affected me at about 13.  Then I knew.  But, I don't feel "gay" ... ya know?"

"I know exactly what you're saying.  I even checked out some gay porn to see what it was 'all about'.  what I saw those guys do -- I'd never do to that football player friend of mine or anyone else.  I watched about 10 of them & it was all the same stuff.  Whatever I was ... I knew it wasn't a fag.  At graduation, my football player friend went to some other school's prom - with a guy.  People began to say he was 'gay' - but I saw him tell a guy off once at a filling station that if he used that word again, - he'd be missing teeth.  I caught up with him outside & told him what I'd heard about the prom & what he'd just said & asked what the truth was."  Butch rolled toward me - putting his other arm around me - all ears.  "He told me that he'd discovered that it was totally normal for guys to love guys - but not everybody knew that.  As a result, lots of guys swallowed a lie that they were part of a minority - a 'gay' thing.  Lots of those 'gay' guys had 'issues' that went way beyond who they loved.  He said that the whole gay thing was sick in the head with a preoccupation with drag, disease & dung."

"Really?"  Butch asked - in emotional shock. "A guy who openly had a boyfriend said that?"

"Yeah.  He said that 'normal guys' like him who had the balls to admit what they really felt often got labeled with the 'gay' thing.  He said it probably wouldn't have been such a problem -- but people began to insinuate that his 'lifestyle' was unhealthy & dangerous -- because the gay word carried the stigmas of promiscuity & arse-sex.  It was bad enough having the religious right spread that - but when the stigma comes from the gay community itself - who in their right mind wants to have anything to do with a group represented largely by self-deprecating queen mouthpieces.  He said that people putting the 'gay' label on him would be like someone trying to stick the 'Democrat" political party label on him simply because he likes guys -- despite the fact that he's totally opposed to abortion & some other planks.  He found the 'gay' label actually had less to do with who he was in the big picture, -- & to accept that label would be diminishing his core ideals -- just because he happened to dig guys."

Butch asked, "So I can luv on you like I luv'd on you - & not be a fag?".  His question's tone & facial expression had a sense of urgency to it.

"Exactly.  The 'gay' community has decided via it's spokespersons & publications that it includes lots of characteristics that are way beyond who luv's who.  Everyone who watches them & their self-appointed talking heads  knows that.  Being the case -- if you don't fit into their psychology -- then you don't.  They'll try to trick you by insisting that if it's homo-sex, then it's 'gay'.  Like -- if you share one trait, then you need to buy into the whole package.  That's bullshit - obviously.  Billy Chan from Jr. High had Chinese-American parents.  He didn't speak Chinese or like rice, & he wasn't a communist flag waiver.  But - to listen to insanity like what comes out of the gay community: Because he had 'Chinese eyes', they'd want him to associate himself with mainland China & her predominate beliefs!"

"That's exactly what I've been feeling!  Every-time I looked at some 'gay' thing in the media or even porn, -- I always got the impression that I was watching a bunch of guys who really didn't believe they were men at their core.  It was like watching some freak-show where the message being broadcast was that I was supposed to accept their redefinition of human behavior - based on their ideals of what they wanted men to become...like WOmen.".  Butch was beginning to get watery-eyed.

"Just imagine how many of 'them' would love to stick you & me into the 'gay-propaganda-bin', simply because we luv each other like we do!  My reaction to that kind of thinking is simply: 'No thanks.  I have no inclination to give it to my bro up the butt & make him a proxy-khunt; -- And because the gay-community accepts butt-phucking behavior as NORMAL & PART OF THEMSELVES ... I REJECT THEM.'!".  I took a breath. "So, if we choose to be discrete - because we don't want ignorant people trying to pin the gay-label on us -- they'll call us 'homo-phobic' - once again, trying to sell their entire package with one part of it.  I'm arse-phucker-freak phobic.  And I'm not sure if 'phobic' fits the context of the disdain I feel for their 'Do what thou wilt' philosophy."

Butcher buried his face in my neck & whispered, "I'm not gay ... not a fag...", as tears ran down into my collar.

"You're just a normal guy who prefers dudes - all around, and like me - you're about respect - not arse-phuck'n or play'n da bitch! 
What I found out really makes the point: About 3000 years ago, - we could have lived openly & comfortably in Greece as a couple; -- But most of what the current 'gay-community' embraces as its acceptable-practices, would be ridiculed & even outlawed in that very same culture!  What we are - I call M2M.  Maybe there are other names for it.  If the guy is look'n to get his hole plowed - or do the plow'n: He's GAY.  If he's interested in a handshake & a long, naked hug w. respect ... then it's M2M.  I wish there was another word..."

Butch looked at me with relief in my eyes because he knew I didn't often use vulgar language unless I was really trying to drive a point home in the most basic of terms. He could feel that I felt strongly about what I was saying & because I was his 'big bro', - able to throw lightning bolts, - he trusted me.

Butcher & I are still together.  We ended up signing a contract as consultants for a production studio.  I banked (mutual funds) almost everything I earned & Butch followed my lead.  After 3 years & several other contracts - we're technically 'retired' - living off the interest of what we banked & because we have our time, -- we're able to do the things that matter to us personally & live a life that most people never realize.  "Retirement" doesn't mean "stagnant".  Retirement done right means free time without losing income.  It is the single most valuable commodity that people strive for - often working a lifetime to arrive there. 

Butch & I are still young enough to turn heads at the beach.  Every day, I thank God for pairing me with my life's love from such an early age.  We've been critical of the "gay" community our entire lives & our life has made an impact on lots of other guys who have realized in the watching -- that the 'gay' media is mentally numb with drugs & bad sex.  I can't begin to tell you the number of guys who've met us & have been astonished that:

• We're a 'couple'.
• We're not into anal-fetishes & other forms of degrading filth (openly opposed to it).

It's not enough to be 'passive'. Most guys are actually relieved to learn that 'not everything goes'.  Many find a sense of moral right-standing knowing that the attraction to another like themselves is not wrong...but certain behaviors - like anal sex - have been considered degrading & immoral (or less than masculine for the guy-bitch) by virtually all civilized cultures throughout time.  Why? Because most men:

• Have some instinctive attractions to certain other men that they have been told to feel shame about.
• Instinctively know not to play in the arses of others.

It takes the counsel of bad company to overturn good instincts.  AIDS was originally called GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency) for a reason - and it was spread via anal sex.  No anal ... no AIDS (& you're off their statistical GRID). 

So, pay no attention to the guy with the dildo up his arse - selling you on how "ok" he is.  He's a sick phuck - as are the guys who want to be where the dildo is.  Butcher & I know that male-attraction has absolutely nothing to do with arse-phucking.  We've separated Attraction from Disfunctional-Action.  The two are not connected no matter how loudly the gay community hisses to the contrary.  Civilized men don't arse-phuck each other.  If that's your posturing too -- then you are N0T part of the 'gay' community no matter how many boys you've kissed.  Proving this is easy enough & the gay community itself will tell you how 'not' a part of them you are: Walk into a 'gay bar' (if you can get past security) wearing a T-Shirt that reads something like:  "ANAL-SEX IS IMMORAL".  Not only will the patrons of the establishment take your shirt's message personally ... but you'll probably not get any applause either.  Make sure your car is parked out of sight so that your tires don't get slashed & don't order anything to eat or drink.  The gay community will take your shirt's message to mean that THEY are IMMORAL.  Why would that be?  After all -- you wear the shirt to tell HETEROsexual couples not to engage in the act ;-)
Now, if you really want to fry some neurons (other people's that is) ... walk around the church district on Sunday Morning at about 9:AM - hand in hand, or arm in arm - with your Bo - each wearing a shirt with this same message.  Honestly - this blows people minds ... seeing two guys being affectionate & wearing a shirt with a message against Anal sex.  The smell of smoldering brain tissue is almost a given.  Rabid fundamentalists will conclude that it's a couple of 'fags flaunting their sin". 
It's an amazing test in psychology actually; -- Because neither the gay community - nor the religious right  will not be able to even conceptualize the possibility of men who love (eros) each other N0T engaging in that act. Oh - there will be a handful of people from each group who will want to know the answer to the 'enigma'.  This is an excellent opportunity to set them on the "straight & narrow path".   I double dare you to try this experiment.  (Like I said ... now that we're 'retired', we have time to 'play').

After a too long a time of standing almost alone -- Butcher & I have finally found a word to describe 'us'.  Thanks for making this g0y thing happen.