Pride of the O'Reillys


By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM


Illustration for Pride of the O'Reillys

"All right, wipe your face, you blubbering baby." my cousin Sean muttered to me as we rode the wagon out of sight of our families. Given it was the last time I'd be seeing my mother, father, brother, sister, for many years, I didn't feel too bad about crying at our parting. But I'd been told to obey Sean so I wiped my face with my kerchief and stuffed it back into my pocket.

But still I thought about them; Mom, Dad, brother James standing proudly on his crutch, and little Mary. My family, and I was leaving them behind in Ireland, going with my older cousin to America. It would be a long time before we'd all meet again. Oh, we'd write letters, and I would send them what money I could, Sean and I would both work hard as we could and live as simply as we could, so we could send for both our families.

When my grandfather died, both my father and my Uncle Sean had inherited his farm, land heavily encumbered by debt and unpaid taxes. After much discussion, they'd decided to sell the farm and use the money leftover to each send one of their sons to America. These sons would work and save, and send for the others, which would get the O'Reillys out of the mines and back onto land which wasn't impoverished and taxed by the English until it would bear no more.

Sean, my cousin, and my older brother James were to be the ones to go. But a week before the trip, there had been an explosion in the mines, which had caught Sean and James both. Sean had escaped with only bruises, but James' leg had been caught by a rock and there'd been no choice but to amputate it. He'd really been too ill still from the operation to be standing there, but the pride that had held our family strong for centuries of English rule, had caused him to be carried by wagon out to the embarkation point, and he had stood then to say his farewells to me, leaving me with a last look at him standing tall, standing proud, standing like an O'Reilly ought to!.

Sean and Uncle Sean had argued against me going in James' place. I was only fourteen years old, after all. Uncle Sean had wanted to send his second son Seamus instead (Seamus was sixteen). But my Dad had pointed out that the money was his and it should be his own son who was sent, to be sure at least one of his children made it safely to America come what may, and so I was given my packing orders, kissed by my mother, told to be a good boy and do what Sean told me, and was now off to America.

Now that we were on our way to Cork to catch the ship to America, it was obvious to me that Sean intended to make full use of his liberties as my keeper. First, he intended to tell me exactly what he thought of me.

"Why would your father be sending a lad like you off to America, then?" he said scornfully. "You can't be working a full wage like my brother Seamus."

"I can find work!" I protested. "I'll sell newspapers or run errands or deliver groceries or...or such." I said. Remember that I'd only had a few days to get used to the idea of even going, I hadn't thought yet about what I'd do when I got there! "There's lots of work in America." I said finally.

"Well, you'll be eating and sleeping and wearing clothes enough for a man, anyway." he said. "Don't expect me to nip into my tucker for anything."

"I won't." I said. "And if you don't want me staying with you, just turn over the money my father gave you to keep for me and we don't have to ever be talking again."

That took him aback some, he and James had planned to share a room both aboard ship and when we got to New York City. But he and James had been friends, whereas I was just James' snot-nosed little brother.

"Well..." he finally gave in that smallest amount that was all an O'Reilly ever gave in. "We'll share the room and board then, but I'll expect you to pay your share of it all."

"Sure." I said. "I wouldn't do it any other way."

"You're not going to be giving me the lip all the way to America, will you?" he asked me.

"I'd say that depends on what lip you give to me." I shot back.

That made the other passengers on the wagon chuckle, and one of the men said, "Better chuck him out when you get down the road."

"He won't do that." I said confidently.

"Why not?" the man was truly puzzled.

"Because he's my cousin and we're both O'Reillys." I said. "And when it comes down to it, we O'Reillys stick together." I looked over at Sean. "Isn't that right?"

He flicked back the brim of his cap with one finger and smiled at the befuddled man. The face revealed was strong, slim-jawed, steel-eyed and lordly. "Sure and my cousin Patrick is right." he said. "We're the O'Reillys, and the O'Reillys stand together, proud and tall, like an O'Reilly should."

I thought of James standing on one leg and a crutch and I agreed. "Proud and tall. We always have." I agreed. And we always will." I knew my cousin too well to think all the arguments were over, but at least we knew where each other stood now and that he couldn't browbeat me.

From our village to Cork was a full day's ride, and the wagon was crowded with passengers by the mid-afternoon. Rough, cramped, uncomfortable, loaded with men who were loaded with dreams, all of us bound for America.

It was near dark by the time we arrived in Cork, and well after dark by the time we found a lodging house. We'd carried our own food, bread and cold baked potatoes mostly, and while our stomachs were full, I was looking forward to a hot breakfast on the morrow and said something of that to Sean.

"And why should we be spending our money on a breakfast, when the ship leaves at ten o'clock?" Sean pointed out. "Better to eat the last of the bread, there'll be food aboard the ship hot enough for us."

I came close to pouting. "But I've never eaten at an inn." I said. "I wondered what it would be like, is all, and I want to find out, I do."

"What it's like is the food is worse than your mother would make, but the same for the resemblance." Sean said. "An egg is an egg, not that we could afford eggs, so it'd be hot mash for us. It's why I said we should be eating the bread we brought with us."

"But couldn't we find a place that does serve good food?" I said rather petulantly. "I mean, it's our last day in Ireland."

"When you get to America and get a job and get your own money," Sean said. "You can be spending what you would of it on yourself. But don't expect me to send for your mother and father and James and Mary if you're playing the part of a playboy of the western world on me."

"I guess you're right." I said. I know I sounded disappointed, I was.

"Of course I'm right." Sean said. "It's years of hard work and little joy for you and me, it is. But at the end of it, your family will be with you and it'll all be worth it."

"Yeah." I said. My entire family, and they'd owe it to me for bringing them over to America. Of course, it was their money that carried me there. I had to revise my own fledgling dreams then, but as I'd said, they hadn't been blooming long enough to tear my heart at losing them.

And maybe, now and then, I could take a half-dollar of my wages and have a good meal in New York City, after all. I'm sure my mother wouldn't fault me for that.

Or I could get a job as a waiter in New York City. Then my food would come to me for free! Now there was a dream worth holding onto! Something to keep me warm during the days and years of deprivation and self-denial.

I watched as Sean rolled out the small mattress he had brought for us to sleep on. The room we were put into was only a room, four walls around us, a roof over us, and a candle to light us was all it held. One part of self-denial was a bed of my own and the mattress itself was a luxury, I had been ready to sleep on the bare floor. This was hardly a terrible burden in the summer though in winter there is little less miserable than cold stone and all the clothes you put under you isn't enough.

But this was summer and the problem for now was staying cool. I wondered if Sean would do the sensible thing, strip naked. I determined to keep as much clothing on as he did, so when he reached down to undo his boots, I did the same with my shoes, watched him shuck his socks in my bare feet (I wasn't wearing socks).

As he shucked his shirt, so did I. He looked at me watching him and smiled. "Been a few years since we shared a bed, isn't it?" He said casually.

"Yeah." I agreed. Our houses were close together, there had been no need, no visits, that made me give up the bed I'd shared with James. "I guess the last time we went fishing, must be four or five years."

"Then you'll be remembering that I snore." he said.

"Yeah. But so does James." I said. "If I can put up with him, I can put up with you. And I probably do a bit of snoring of my own."

He snorted. "You do and I'll kick you like I do Seamus." He had shared a bed with Seamus all his own life. He pulled off his undershirt and I saw that, like James, he had the strong body that comes from digging coal, wielding the pick hour after hour, day after day.

"And if you do, I'll poke you in the ribs like I do James when he gets too loud." I returned.

He reached for his pants and so did I, and he noticed it. "Why are you watching me undress?"

I shrugged. "Not sure how you're used to sleeping." I said. "So I'm watching to see what you do."

"And you do the same, then?"

"Sure." I said like it was obvious.

He shuffled down his pants and I did likewise. Under it were a pair of very worn undershorts. I was wearing the same so we were similarly matched. His legs were hairy and strong, built from the long hours of labor he'd put in.

"Is this where we should stop?" He asked me. "On a night like this, I usually take it all off."

I reached for the waist of my shorts and undid the tie. "So that's how we'll do it." I said. "We'll be sharing a bed from now on, might as well be comfortable."

"That we should." Sean agreed. He let me get the shorts all the way down to my ankles before he reached for his own.

"And now you're seeing all of me." he said when he stepped out of the shorts now puddled on the floor. "And the family jewels are something I didn't expect to be showing any but my brother until my wedding day."

"I'm family. As for your wedding, that day will be a long time coming." I said. "We're going to be saving all our money to buy passage for the family back home, except what we just have to keep to live. And what woman will marry a man just to live in a cheap room?"

"Who said anything about marrying them?" Sean cocked an eyebrow at me. "Many a lass is sending her own money home from America, and she'll be not wanting to give up her job because she took a husband."

He got down onto the mattress and lay out on it, taking up over two-thirds of the space on it.

"You'll be expected to sleep elsewhere on nights I bring a lass home with me." Sean went on.

"Nu-uh!" I said. "If I pay half the rent, I stay right where I am." I thought of something. "That is, unless you go sleep elsewhere on nights I bring a girl home."

Sean barked in laughter. "And what girl is going to want to come home to the likes of you?" he said. "You're a scrawny little thing, it'll be years before you're ready for a woman."

"If I'm going to work like a man, then I'll play like a man." I said firmly.

"Not while I'm taking care of you, you won't." Sean said.

"Then I won't go sleep anywhere." I said. "You throw me out and I'll stand outside the door and shout the entire night."

Sean looked at me, and again, he gave ground barely. "Well, we'll wait and see what's what." He said. "I won't toss you out into the rain and snow, and that's a promise."

"Good." I said, mollified and I got into bed. "Scoot over a little, huh?"

He did. "After all, you're right. No lass is going to give a second look to a man without money to spend on her, and we'll be keeping all our money to bring our folks over. So it's not likely either of us are going to be enjoying the ladies for many a year."

"I guess you're right." I said. At fourteen, a year is a lot longer than when you're older, the sentence I had imposed upon me by virtue of being sent first to America was just sinking in. I'd be in my thirties before I could raise enough money for my family to come over, double my current lifespan.

"We'll work hard." I said earnestly to Sean. "We'll be careful and get the money together before you know it. We're a team."

"Yes, that we are." Sean said and his hand came up and rumpled my hair. "The O'Reillys stick together, thick and thin, good and bad. It's how we survived the potato famine, and it's how we'll survive moving to America."

"We're together." I agreed.

"Right under each other's armpits together." Sean said. He was right, I was under his arm, resting my head on one big bicep. "I'm thinking it's a shame we didn't get along better before this, if we're going to be on top of each other every night from now on."

"I can handle your snoring." I said.

"Not the snoring I was thinking of." Sean said. "It's the needs a man has I'm thinking of. You're a bit young, but the kettle's got to be starting to boil on you."

I didn't need him to explain what he meant. "You're right, Sean." I said. "It's been simmering for the past year or more for me."

"How did you and James handle things?" Sean asked me.

I shrugged. "We didn't talk about it. He'd turn onto his side away from me and I'd feel the bed shuddering. Sometimes it'd take him a long time, but usually, a few moments and he'd be done." I remembered those nights, the bed shaking as James pleasured himself. As my own body grew toward manhood, I would seize those moments to work my own pud, sharing quietly the moment of passion. James would give those muffled grunts and I'd smell that pungent salty smell of his passion, and it would let me squirt my own seed into our bedsheet. I think James knew I was doing it, but we never talked about it. "What about you and Seamus?"

He smiled. "We talked about it." he said. "In fact, we'd watch each other on moonlit nights. Sometimes we'd take over for each other, even."

The thought of Sean and Seamus in that bed, their hands on each other, like I'd like to have done for James, gave me an erection. I panted heavily, managed to stutter out, "I would have liked that with James." I said. "But he never looked at me."

Sean smiled. "I'm looking at you." he said.

I looked right into his eyes, and then, almost without my will, my eyes slid down his body, that big chest, that flat stomach, to see his manhood standing thick and tall above his body. It seemed to almost dance in the candlelight as shadows moved, the light of the candle being pushed by the slight wind coming into the room.

"Turn onto your back, Patrick." Sean said softly. "Let me see yours as well."

I did and was glad that my own cock, smaller than his, wasn't so much smaller as to embarrass me. Sean's gaze on it was a palpable presence, I could feel his eyes caressing it.

"We have ourselves a proud pair, don't we?" Sean said.

"Yeah." I agreed, then I giggled. "We O'Reillys stand together."

"Tall and proud." he agreed. "Tall and proud."

And I reached down and took his pud in my hand. Sean let out a low groan when I clutched it, and another when I pulled up on the turgid flesh, feeling the heat of it rippling in my hand. "Ah, yeah, lad, that's the way." Sean said. "A little help from you, and I won't be needing to bring those lasses home, after all."

"Yeah." I agreed. Sean's hand gripped my own cock, and I felt the horned hand, calloused and strong, felt the tenderness with which he wielded it, and he pumped me gently with a strength tamed and controlled, and my dick pulsed with the delight of this moment. The long period of punishment, of living and making a good wage, only to save it, only to hold it, wasn't such a taste of purgatory as I had thought it would be. Not if Sean and I could turn our nights from deprivation to delight!

"Ah, Patrick, your hand is as sweet as I'd always imagined a lass' could be." Sean sighed. "Now help your older cousin and put some slickness onto it for me, let me feel it warm and wet."

I licked my hand the way I'd seen James do when he was about to masturbate, and put the wet palm onto his cock and he gasped again. "Ah, that's the way, Patrick, now let me feel it squelch and squish like I was pumping it into a woman's opening."

I jerked his pud again, and he was still giving out little grunts of pleasure. His own hand was giving me a steady pull, as well, and I was ready to keep this up the rest of the night and every night after.

"Ah, Patrick." Sean sighed again. "Your hand is blissful, but it's still not that of a lass. We'll share our bed for years, my best years, Patrick, I'm twenty and it'll be near forty before I can take a wife, it's too long for any man to bear, Patrick, can you help me?"

"How?" I asked him.

"You know I'm wanting to share our pleasure, don't you Patrick?"

"Yes." I said.

"You know I wouldn't really do anything to hurt you, don't you, Patrick?"

"What do you have in mind?" I said.

"There's a way that we can do it." Sean panted. "A way that you can take the place of a lass in my bed, but you have to be willing, lad. Are you willing?"

I looked down at him. This strong young man, my cousin, the one I'd be living with and sleeping with. My passions were young within me but I already felt their power, knew how much harder it must be for him, everyone said that it was in a man's twenties that he was most powerful in bed. And Sean would have nobody but me for his twenties.

"I'll do it." I said. "Just show me what to do."

"First." he panted. "We have to get me slicked up, I mean really slicked up, it's got to be wet as you can get it, lad. Can you put your tongue onto it for me, to get it as wet as it's got to be?"

I gulped. "I guess so."

"Go to it, Patrick, be my cousin, be my best friend." Sean moaned. "I'll take care of you, I will, we'll put all our money into one pot and share it out to bring our families, all together, lad, that's better than you can do on your own and you know it. But be my best friend, put your tongue to work on my pipe, I need your tongue, lad, all of it."

Together. Sean was really talking about us being together. One thing about America that scared me was that I wouldn't know anybody. I needed Sean, and if he needed me in return, then I should give it to him. I decided then to do exactly what he asked of me if I possibly could. And putting my tongue to his manhood was certainly something I could do, in fact the thought of it made me feel kind of warm in my stomach, a nice feeling.

So I got up onto my knees and then leaned back over, and I began to lap that huge tool of Sean's, tasting the raw masculinity of his massive dong. I was surprised how good it tasted, the closest I could describe it was on those special days when Mother would kill a chicken and roast it over the fire, and I would reach out a surreptitious hand when her back was turned and stroke my finger over the roasting bird and bring it away heavy with the fat that had cooked out of the chicken and lift it to my lips, suck on my finger. Mom would have rubbed salt and spices onto it, what she had, and that taste of warm chicken fat, redolent with dissolved salt and the meat of the bird, that was what Sean's cock tasted like.

Like my finger, I took the entire thick tool into my mouth and sucked on it, and Sean's groans of joy rose up like angels on wings when I did that, he was groaning, muttering about how well we'd be getting along now, how we'd be together in America, together as one, working together to bring our families over to join us, years together, just the two of us.

So with the soft meaty flavor of Sean's dong and the reassurance of his loyal utterances, I sucked blissfully on his cock, wringing every iota of juice from the enraged flesh, it was so warm, so rich!

"Ah, ah, that's enough of it, lad." Sean said after a time, his voice thick and husky. I was surprised, I expected him to rise all the way to climax. My mouth had detected some moisture oozing from his cock, but it wasn't enough to have meant he had reached climax...was it?

"Now, lad." Sean continued. "I'll have to hurt you a little. But I'll be gentle as I know how, and I'm told there's pleasure in it for you when you're over the pain."

Wide-eyed at this revelation, I let him roll me onto my back, lift my legs up high and wide, and I saw his dong, all wet and sticky with my saliva, saw him aiming it for my body and, "Oh, God!" I gasped out when I saw what he intended to do. "I can't, Sean, I can't! It's too big!"

"I'll be gentle as I can." Sean promised me avidly, his face flush, his eyes blazing, his lips moist with his rapture. He shuddered. "The beast is upon me, I can barely hold myself back, but I will, Patrick, I promise I will, I'll take you slow and gentle as I can."

I gulped again, hard, and I said, "All right, then. Since you promise, I believe you."

His glans pressed against my anus and it answered with a bright scream of pain. I winced, bit back my cry. He'd warned me there'd be pain. I hadn't expected this much pain, but he'd promised, and I'd agreed.

He did, he pushed in a little at a time, though I saw how high the price he paid for this delay. He was groaning in his need, shivering like a man with the fever, his body indeed shone with his sweat, giving his body a golden glow in the light of the burning candlelight. My ass was a wide oval of pain, it felt like it was as wide as my body, wider, but I'd promised, I'd promised!

My only salvation was looking into his eyes, seeing that he was keeping his promise to be gentle as he could. When my pain grew too great he would stop, give me a moment, more than a moment, and then he'd push into me again, and he'd groan with the raw frustration of it, but he'd kept his promise and was keeping it still.

Into the night that cock bored into me, opening me. Once the glans was fully inside of me, the pain shifted its focus, now it was deeper within me and the pain was different somehow. More like I had been caught by someone in an armlock and they were twisting my arm, that sort of pain, it's strong...but it's not the pain you have when your skin is cut, and that was the pain I'd had before. That pain, the skin-cut pain, was gone, and my body endured the arm-twisting pain, endured it, shifted with it, overcame it.

As the pain diminished, as my body grew used to this plump cousin's cock inside of me, I looked up into Sean's eyes and I saw us like this for years to come. It was like we formed a new bond at that moment and he felt it too, for he looked at me and his bestial need seemed to die, and it was replaced by something else, just as passionate, but more human.

"Ah, Patrick!" he sighed. "Now I can share my bed with you for a decade or more, long as I can do this with you." He gave a slow movement to his hips and I felt his cock slip out of me and then back in. That hurt a little, but not much, I gasped, but the gasp was pleasure more than pain.

"How are you doing?" Sean asked me.

"I'm all right." I gasped out as he began to move now, slowly, gently...considerately. "This isn't so bad. Feels kind of good."

He relaxed, I knew then he didn't want to hurt me. His movements became more confident, more direct and masterful.

"Now I'm fucking you, Patrick." Sean informed me. "This is what it's like to be fucked by a man. This is what I'll be doing to you from now on."

"Feels good." I said as he moved faster. "Really good! Ooh!" It did feel good, there was this sensation coming from my bowels that I had never experienced before, it was like my body was loving Sean's cock, loving that he was fucking me. I moaned and I reached up and held onto Sean's arms with my hands, and his hips sent his cock plunging in and out of me now, he was moving without any hindrance, our bodies attuned to each other, in synchronous joy, the two of us in one delight, the two of us...together.

For some unknown time, Sean fucked me like that, moving his body with delight and joy, and my body responding, with delight and joy. Then he began to falter, his motions became less smooth, more tortured, he was losing that rhythm that had sent me into such unadulterated joy.

He was tired. That long ride, it was such a strain on the body, being jolted about for those endless hours. When I realized that, I said, "Sean? Let me get on top of you."

"You want to fuck me?" he asked.

"No." I said. "I want to fuck myself on you. So let me get on top of you."

He tried to move us together, but fell out of me in the tumble onto his back, and I saw how red and powerful it was, and I sat myself down on top of it, and guided it with my hand back inside of me. Sean groaned, and so did I, and his hand came up and gripped my cock and as I pumped myself on him, he pumped my prick to return the favor.

There was a separate joy in doing this, in being the one moving myself on this strong body and Sean was moaning under me, his body was giving little spastic movements, and I knew that he was being wracked with his pleasure, the pleasure he had delayed to spare me pain, and now it was revenging itself on him, and I grew resolved by seeing this, and I moved myself upon him, sending that hard pud inside of me hard and fast, my body dancing on top of him, and Sean growled, grunted, then he roared and as he roared, I saw his entire body tense up and he was squirting up into me.

I felt the hot seed burning in my bowels and I gasped, flushed with the victory of this, I had made my cousin come, I was taking his load into my body, it wasn't being wasted on the sheets like so much before, I was taking it into me, Sean and I were together now, truly together, and I groaned with the joy of that thought, and joy begot joy, and I fell onto that still-hard prick, impaling myself on the organ pulsing with the last beats of spent delight, and with Sean fully imbedded and still hard inside of me, I shot my own wads up to fly about, to land on me, and to land on Sean, soiling our legs and further binding us together fully.

Done, panting, I gently disengaged myself and crawled back into my space under Sean's arm. He was sweaty, smelly and his body still shivered with the last dregs of his passion, but when he felt me next to him, he turned and pulled me up onto him and our lips met in a kiss that was not the kiss of kin, not the kiss of cousins, but a full kiss of a lifelong bond.

Sean again ran his fingers through my hair, not to rumple it as a child's, but to stroke it as a lover's. "Now this is the way for the two of us to share a room and a bed." he declared.

"For now and for every night until we bring our families to America with us." I said.

"And we haven't even made it off of Ireland yet." Sean pointed out. "There's still the boat ride to take, and that will be weeks and weeks and little to do."

"I know what we can do." I said.

"There'll be plenty of that aboard ship." Sean agreed. "And beyond it, in New York City."

"You and me." I agreed. "The O'Reillys stick together."

"That's right." Sean said. "Now let's stick together and sleep."

Proud and tall, I thought as I went to sleep, buried against Sean's strong body. It was how we'd survived before, and how we'd survive the long years until we were all together once again, the pride of the O'Reillys, together in America.

THE END

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