Mark's Revenge

Chapter 1

What a great feeling. School’s out for the summer! This is the first morning I’ve been able to stay in bed late in weeks. However, the damn sun is coming through the window and I just can’t go back to sleep. I should have taken my sister’s room when we moved in here six years ago. Her window is on the west side of the house. Mine is on the east. I always get the morning sun.

I might as well get up anyways. No rest for the weary I guess. My mom is making me work this summer. Not a real job. I do yard work for my neighbors. They’ve been relying on me for about three years. I’ve been doing this since I was twelve. Now I’m fifteen and I’m still doing it. I don’t mind. It puts money in my pocket. My mother gives my sister and me an allowance, but it’s never enough.

Mom laughs and tells us to get used it. We’ll never have enough money the rest of our lives. She says you work hard all your life and never have anything to show for it. She’s a good example. She’s a receptionist in a dentist’s office during the day. At night she waits tables at a restaurant. It’s a pretty classy place, so she makes good money in tips.

She makes my sister and I work too. My sister, Amy, is thirteen and she baby sits for our neighbors. Since most of them are working families, she’s usually at someone’s house. I get jealous because most weeks she makes more money than me. My work depends on the season. I mow yards in the summer, rake leaves in the fall and shovel snow in the winter. I hardly make any money in the winter because we’ve gone the past two years with very little snow.

I can’t wait until I turn sixteen next year so I can get a real job. Mom already said I could. I’ve managed to save a little money for a car. I’m having a hard time convincing her to let me get one, though. Every time I ask her about it, her usual response is, “We’ll see.” My experience tells me that usually means, ‘No.’

“Mark!  Get out of bed,” my mother yelled from the kitchen. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep late if I wanted. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Nature called.

“Mark!” she yelled a little louder.

“I’m up, Mom.” I opened the door and shouted down the hall. I tried to piss and realized I was up in more ways than one. It was a little difficult because all guys know you can’t piss with a morning woody. After standing at the toilet for a few minutes, I was finally able to get a decent flow going.

“You’re going to go blind, you know!” my sister shouted as she banged on the door. “Stop playing with yourself and get out. I need in there.” 

I don’t know where she learned about all this stuff. She’s only thirteen, but she’s a slut. My mother would kill her if she ever saw here making out with a boy on the couch when she’s at work. I’ve walked in on her and a boyfriend several times. I don’t think she’s actually gone all the way yet, but I once saw her jacking off her boyfriend, Josh, last month. They didn’t know I was watching from the hallway. He had his hand under her blouse and was rubbing her tit. I was rapidly rubbing myself when she made him cum all over his stomach. I shot a load in my pants. I had to take a second shower for the day. I had made a mess all over myself.

I would tell on her. She is my sister and I feel an obligation to protect her, but I can’t. She’d tell Mom on me. Last year she came bursting in my room late one night and caught me masturbating at my computer desk. It wasn’t the fact I was jacking off. All guys do that. It was what I was looking at on my computer. I had found a really neat website with young boys. There was this particular blonde that I had fallen in love with. I used to jack off and pretend he was in the room with me sucking his cock.

I was really into it and was about to cum when Amy threw open my door and stormed in. She was mad because I had taken one of her cd’s without asking. Anyways, she walked in just as I was shooting all over my stomach. There was absolutely nothing I could do. She stood there and looked wide-eyed at me, and then she looked at the picture on the computer monitor. I was busted.

“I’m going to tell Mom!” she screamed and headed out the bedroom door. Thankfully my mother was at work and wouldn’t be home for several more hours. After cleaning myself up I went to her bedroom door and knocked. I needed to talk to her.

“Go away, fag!” she shouted.

“I need to talk to you. Please?” I shouted back, still pounding on her door.

After another minute, the door slowly opened. She walked back to her bed and sat down. I hesitantly sat beside her. What do you say to your sister when she just discovered you were gay? I was her big brother and she had always looked up to me.

“Amy, listen,” I begged.

“You’re a queer,” she spat out angrily. I could see the hatred in her eyes. “Kids at school don’t like queers.” What did she know? She was twelve then. All she’d ever heard was what other kids had said about gay people.

“I’m your brother. Do you hate me?” She looked at me and studied me for a minute. Then I saw her eyes soften.

“No, Mark. I could never hate you,” she told me.

“Good. Cause you’re my sis. I wouldn’t want you to hate me.” I was glad she was beginning to accept me. It could have made my life hell if she didn’t. Besides, I had to convince her not to tell Mom.

“Any one butt fucked you yet?” I started to choke. I hadn’t expected her to ask me that.

“Why would you say that?” I asked astonished.

“That’s what the boys say at school. Fags like to get fucked in the butt.” She sounded like she was an expert on gay sex.

“No, Amy. I haven’t done anything with anyone. What you saw me doing is all I‘ve ever done,” I bashfully admitted to her. “And the next time you come in my room, knock first,” I said harshly.

“Next time, lock your door,” she retaliated with a laugh. “Besides, you got a small weinie. I didn’t see much.” She started laughing while I turned a beet red.

We talked for the next half hour. She asked me a lot of stupid questions. Most of them I couldn’t answer because I’d never been with a guy. I had read a few stories on the internet and had jacked off to some pictures, but that was all.

I also found out that I had a very evil sister that day. She blackmailed me! She threatened to tell my mother that I was gay unless I gave her $5 a week. So for the past two years, I’ve been paying her to stay quiet.

I’m going to get even with her though. Now that I know she isn’t Mom’s perfect little angel, I’m going to videotape her the next time she gives her boyfriend a hand job. If I’m lucky, I may be able to catch her doing more. I’m not sure which would make my mother madder- me being gay or my sister being a slut. Talk about your dysfunctional family.

I left the bathroom and went back into my bedroom to dress. I posed in front of my full-sized mirror. In it I saw a gangly kid, quickly changing from boyhood to manhood. I took off my underwear and look at myself naked. I looked over to make sure that my door is locked. I don’t want Amy barging in on me again.

I’m not much to look at. I know I’m not one of the good-looking guys that all the girls giggled at when they went walking by. No one will ever get lost in my gray eyes or swoon because of my sexy voice. I’ve gone through puberty so I don’t have to worry about my voice cracking when I speak any more.

I am ordinary. What do you call the male version of a Plain Jane? Plain John? That would be me. I am 5’8” tall and weigh about 135. I’m not graced with a tight six pack stomach. I have a little fat, but nothing really noticeable. My hair is slightly curly and a mousy brown color. I wish I was one of those blonde surfer boys all the girls follow around.

I have a light dusting of hair on my legs. I keep hoping I’ll develop some hair on my stomach that would travel down to my cock. I think that’s really sexy on a guy. I have the same curly, brown hair surrounding my cock. I wish I could say I was hung like a horse, but a pony would be more accurate. It serves my purpose; but if I ever meet a guy who wants to take me to bed, I hope he isn’t disappointed.

I look in the mirror and wonder if I was another guy would I be interested in me?  Probably not. In high school looks is everything. Most kids usually don’t even know I’m around. Even teachers have trouble remembering my name. I’m not the smart kid that all teachers are glad to have in class. At the same time, I’m not the troublemaker they dread.

 I fall in that middle group- the forgotten group. I’ve seen teachers that I’ve had a few years ago and they can’t even remember my name. You’d think after I sat in their class for a year, they’d remember who I was.

So I’m just your average fifteen year old boy. You know the kind- the ones you pass by and don’t even notice when you walk through the mall on Saturday afternoon. Girls don’t giggle when they see me. Guys don’t give me a second glance; most of the time they don’t give me a first glance.

I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact. I’m happy with myself. I learned a long time ago that I won’t fit into the ‘in’ crowd. It doesn’t bother me. Sometimes I watch the drama that the ‘beautiful’ people go through day after day, and I’m glad I was born an average person. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some ugly Quaisimoto. I learned about him in my literature class last year. I’m not some hunchback who sickens people with my hideous looks.

“Mark. Breakfast is ready.” I heard my mother shout down the hallway, causing me to jump. I took one last look at myself before I put on my clothes- bikini underwear, shorts and a tee shirt. After putting on my shoes and socks, I ruffled my hair into place. No use spending hours looking good when no one will notice anyways.

On the way out of my room I ran into my sister. “Watch out, fag,” she muttered as pushed me against the wall.

“Whore,” I replied. I can’t wait until we grow up so we can quit playing these childish games. Maybe then she’ll call me by my name.

“Good morning, Honey,” my mother sang cheerfully as she tried to kiss me on my cheek. I moved away just in time. I’m fifteen years old. I don’t need my mother kissing me like I’m some child.

“Did you remember you have to clean out Mr. Olsteen’s garage this morning?” she asked me as she put a plate of eggs, sausage and toast in front of me.

“No, Mom. I didn’t forget. I’m not a moron. Give me some credit.” I replied angrily. She treats me like a child sometimes. I’m fifteen. I’ll be sixteen in a few months. She acts like I’m six.

“Yeah. You better get out and make some money.” My sister threw me a knowing look. “You owe someone.” I looked over at her and then at my mother.

“Who, Mark?” she asked.

“No one. Amy’s just messing with me. Right Amy?” I looked over at my sister with pleading eyes. She held up ten fingers. She wanted $10 this week. I was screwed. I nodded my head. She gave me a snide smile. I couldn’t wait to get even with her. Once I got my proof, she was going to pay dearly.

“Are you babysitting the Donovon’s child today?” she asked Amy.

“Yes, Mom. I have to be there in fifteen minutes. Can you drop me off on your way to work?” she asked. My sister can be so gross sometimes. She was intentionally eating with her mouth full and showing me its contents. I pushed some of my food out of my mouth and acted like I was going to spit it at her.

“Mom! Mark’s being nasty!” she shouted.

“Stop it Mark!” my mother hollered. She always took my sister’s side in anything. It wouldn’t do any good to say anything. She wouldn’t believe me anyways. Amy looked over at me and grinned. I stuck out my tongue and crossed my eyes. She started giggling.

“Grow up, Mark,” my mother admonished me after noticing the face I made at Amy. I just sighed. Sometimes I wish I was an only child. My life would be so much simpler.

“I heard his nephew is staying with him and Emily this summer. Have you met him yet?”  she asked. This was news to me. Mr. Olsteen didn’t mention it the last time I mowed his yard. If he had his nephew to help him, then why did he need me?

“No, Mom. This is the first I’ve heard about it. I guess I’ll meet him this morning,” I told her.

“Maybe he’ll let you suck his dick,” my sister whispered in my ear. I swear to God I’m going to kill her before she reaches eighteen.

“Shut up, Amy,” I whispered back. She gave me a nasty smirk.

“You’d better be careful or I’m going to want five more dollars,” she warned me.

“Someday I’m going to tell Mom myself. That way I won’t have to give you anymore money,” I told her.

“You don’t have the balls,” she smiled back.

“Watch me,” I warned her.

“Mom, Mark has something he wants to tell you.” She looked over at me and smiled. I started choking on my milk.

“What is it, Honey?” she asked with interest.

“Nothing, Mom,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Amy’s being a jerk again.” My face was beginning to turn red.

“I told you. You don’t have the balls.” She’d won this battle. She knew I couldn’t come out to my mother and was enjoying watching me squirm at the table.

“I gotta go.” I grabbed my ball cap and headed out the door. “See you around noon.” 

“Have fun,” my sister said as she sucked on her middle finger. I noticed that my mother’s back was to us, so I gave her the finger and walked out of the kitchen.

Mr. Olsteen’s home was on the next block. We lived in an area of homes that was built in the 60’s. Most were three bedroom brick homes. The yards weren’t very large, so it didn’t take me long to mow them. Some had carports, but most had one car garages. Mr. Olsteen had bought a new car and wanted to clean out his garage so he could park it there.

The garage door was open when I walked up the driveway. I entered and looked around. At first I didn’t see anyone, and then I noticed a pair of tanned legs standing on a ladder in the corner. The person appeared to looking into an attic area above the garage.

I stood and looked at the image before me. This must be Mr. Olsteen’s nephew. From the back he looked to be about my age. He was tall and muscular. He was wearing a pair of shorts that showed off his strong legs. He looked like he might be a runner. He had on a white wife beater and his long blonde hair flowed down to cover his neck. He was standing tip-toed on the ladder trying to reach something.

“Uncle Roger. Can you help me?” He sounded sexy. I loved the sound of his voice.

“He’s not here. I’ll help,” I said as I approached the ladder. Without looking, he reached into the attic and pulled out a small box and handed it to me. He then came down off the ladder and faced me.

“Thanks. I’m Scott.” He extended his hand for me to shake. I stood before him staring into his dark brown eyes. He was Cute, with a capital C. He broke my stare when he waved his hand at me. I took it and shook it. His grip was firm. I gripped his tightly so he wouldn’t think I was some kind of wimp. “And you are?” he asked with a grin.

“Um, I’m, um, Mark.” I couldn’t even remember my own name. This boy had completely taken my breath away. I couldn’t ever remember acting this way around anyone before. He probably thought I was some kind of idiot. With his looks, though, I’m sure he was used to girls reacting to him this way. I’m not so sure he had experienced it from another guy.

“Good. I see you’ve met my nephew, Scott,” Mr. Olsteen said as he emerged from the kitchen door leading to the garage. “He’s spending the summer here.” 

“Yeah. I’ve met Um Mark.” He smiled at me and started laughing. I began to blush. Mr. Olsteen saved me when he walked over and picked up a box.

“One of you boys climb that ladder and jump into the attic. The other stand on it and hand boxes up to the other as I bring them over. It shouldn’t take us long to get this place cleaned out,” he said.

Scott climbed the ladder as I stood beneath watching him. I could see up his tight shorts. He was wearing white briefs. It was probably my wild imagination, but it looked like he had a nice cock and balls tucked away inside. I felt my own cock begin to harden. This is great. All I need to do is pop a boner while I’m standing on the lower rung of the ladder. It’d be poking Mr. Olsteen right in the eyes! I quickly adjusted myself before anyone could notice. I looked up and saw Scott watching me. He gave me a broad smile. All I could do was look away and blush.

We worked for the next hour cleaning out the garage. Anything worth saving was handed up to Scott to stow away in the attic. Trash was put along side the garage. Mr. Olsteen was going to call and have someone haul it away. When we were done there was enough room for him to park his new car. He stood back and beamed at the clean garage.

“I think this deserves some ice cream. Go wash up boys and I’ll take you to Ben and Jerry’s for a treat.” I followed Scott into the house and down the hallway to the bathroom. Once there, I stopped outside the door.

“You go ahead. I’ll wait until you’re through,” I told him.

“That’s alright. We can both wash up together. I go to school at an all-boys academy. I’m used to it.” He pushed me gently into the small bathroom. I felt uncomfortable being in such a tight space with someone as cute as Scott. He’d appeared to have been flirting with me all morning. This was something I had never been accustomed to. I didn’t know how I would react if he tried something. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was having trouble catching my breath.

“You alright.” He could see how nervous I was.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” I said nervously. Just then he walked over to the toilet and unzipped his pants and pulled out a very nice cock and began pissing. I looked down and couldn’t remove my eyes. I’d seen a lot of dicks on the internet, but this was the first one I’d seen up close. He looked over at me and smiled. He finished and shook it several times. It began to harden in his hand. He watched my reaction the entire time.

“Like what you see?” he asked me while stroking his cock to a full erection. It was a nice six inches long and thick. I just stood there and watched him rub it.

“Well do you?” he asked a little more forcefully.

“Yes.” I nodded my head, still watching him slowing stroke his cock.

“You want to suck it?” he asked lustily. I still didn’t answer. I couldn’t believe I was in the bathroom with a cute guy and he was asking me to suck his dick.

“Do you?” he again asked forcefully, bringing me out of my trance.

“Yes.” I looked into his face and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Just what I thought. You’re a fucking fag,” he spat as he put his cock back into his pants and zipped them up. He gave me a scornful look and walked out of the bathroom.