Date: Wed, 10 Mar 2004 03:36:03 -0500
From: Mark Hobbes <mhobbes@mail.com>
Subject: Vacation

This story is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents,
dialogue, and plot are the products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely
coincidental.

Modern Tales of Incest III
Vacation

	The two boys were clearly brothers; they looked almost identical.
Publicly they resented it when comments were made regarding this subject,
but privately neither really took much of an issue with it.  They were
quite young looking for their age.  Although Max was sixteen and Reed was
fifteen, both could have easily passed for two years their junior.
	The boys were on vacation in Jamaica.  It was Spring Break, and
their father had brought them, along with his girlfriend, on a week long
trip.  They were sitting on their hotel balcony, each enjoying a cigarette.
Their father was out with Melody; he had been making a habit of getting
back at anywhere from midnight to two in the morning.  It was only ten
currently.  Freedom was theirs for at least a few more hours.
	Max's dark, straight hair blew slightly in the breeze as he inhaled
the last few drags of his cigarette.  Despite being younger, Reed had a
good six months experience on him in smoking cigarettes.  They'd already
polished off half of a fifth of vodka and smoked a bowl together.  They
were taking a break from the hardcore activities to enjoy a harmless
cigarette.  Tonight was the last of the vacation.  The alcohol and weed had
been saved for this night, but the cigarettes had been a nightly thing.
	Both boys were quite thin, and thus were feeling the effects of the
alcohol pretty hard already.  Max leaned over the balcony and spit off it.
He couldn't stand to take more than two drags without spitting.  "I'm
pretty fucked up, dude," Max observed with a smile at his younger brother.
	"Me, too," Reed admitted, staring blankly into the blackened
distance.  "Think Dad will be able to smell the weed?" he asked, only
slightly concerned in his altered state.
	"Not if we're not wearing these clothes," Max said, throwing his
cigarette off the balcony.  "We did it outside, so I don't see how he'd
notice."  Reed nodded in silence and finished his cigarette, throwing it
off the balcony as well.  "Let's go back in," Max said, removing his shirt.
"Leave your shirt out here so the smell doesn't spread inside," he
instructed his younger brother, then leading the way back to their hotel
room.
	The boys settled onto their bed and grabbed the vodka, keeping the
TV on for background noise.  Max took a swig from the bottle, grimaced at
the disagreeable taste and sting afterwards, and handed the bottle to Reed
with a scrunched up nose.  "I'm about done with that shit," he choked out,
falling back into a lying position on the bed.
	"Not me," Reed grinned, taking a larger swig and making an equally
disgusted face afterwards.
	"You're going to throw up," Max sighed.  "And if you do, you sure
as hell better do it in the bathroom or outside.  I'm not covering for your
ass if dad finds you passed out in your own puke."  Reed giggled and lied
down next to his brother.  Max had his eyes closed and a hand inside his
pants; he often had a hand or two in his pants whenever his mind wandered
off.  It was a childhood habit he hadn't let go of.  Reed laughed.  "Do you
still do that in class?" he asked, amused at his older brother's evil
habit.
	"What?" Max asked, opening his eyes and looking over at his
brother.  "Oh," he said, realizing the nature of Reed's question.  He
cracked an impish smile.  "No, I stopped that last year.  I only do it in
private now."
	Reed took another swig of the vodka, nearly gagging this time at
the taste.  "Your turn," he grunted, holding the bottle out to Max.  Max
pushed it away.
	"No, dude.  My head is spinning.  If I drink anymore I'll throw
up."
	"Shut up, pussy," Reed laughed.  "I've had more than you have."
Max said nothing, keeping his eyes closed and his hand in his pants.  He
rested his other hand on his forehead, palm facing out: the classic drunken
headache position, minus the hand in pants.  "Please?"  Reed asked,
switching tactics.  "I'll blow you."
	Max opened his eyes and observed his little brother's smiling face.
"Go to hell," he muttered, closing his eyes again.  Reed scooted closer to
his brother.
	"If you pass out I'll rape you," he giggled in Max's ear.  "I've
been taken advantage of after passing out once," he added.  "I wasn't too
passed out to wake up with my dick in someone's mouth, though."  Max's eyes
popped open again.
	"What the hell are you talking about?" he said.  "Someone blew you
in your sleep?"
	Reed nodded.  "Finished what they started, too.  I woke up about
halfway through it, and my dick was already hard.  I opened my eyes just
enough to see who it was, and then I pretended to be asleep the rest of the
time."
	Max was captivated by his little brother's story.  "So who was it?"
he asked.
	"Kyle," Reed said smugly.  Kyle was Max's best friend.
	"Bullshit," Max responded, closing his eyes again.  "Kyle's not
gay.  I've known him all my life and he's never done one gay thing."
	"He did that night," Reed laughed.  "He was pretty wasted, though.
Maybe he only gets gay when he's wasted."
	"I've seen him wasted a hundred times, Reed," Max answered
impatiently.  "What the hell do you make up a weird story like that for?"
	"It's true," Reed said, taking another swig of the vodka from his
lying position and spilling some on the bed.  Max, with his eyes closed,
didn't notice.
	"If it is true, then why are you sitting there laughing about it?"
Max asked, feeling suddenly much more sober than he had felt previously.
Reed, on the other hand, was starting to seem very much so gone.  His eyes
were glassy and his words were giggly and unclear.
	"Because it felt good," Reed answered, putting a hand on Max's
thigh.  Max quickly swatted his hand away, rising to a sitting position.
	"Give me that," he snapped, reaching for the vodka.  Reed, with a
surprising amount of swiftness, pulled the bottle away, not spilling any in
the process.  He smiled, proud of himself.  "I'm serious.  You're acting
really weird, and I think you've drank enough for tonight."
	"It's not that bad," Reed giggled, taking another big swig.  Max
finally reached over far enough and took it from him.  "There's still a lot
left," Reed said in hopes his brother would drink more, and then fell off
the bed with a loud thump.
	"Shit," Max muttered, setting the three-quarters empty bottle on
the floor and getting out of the bed to check on his brother.  "Reed, get
back in bed," he shouted.  It appeared he was passed out.  "Come on, you
can't sleep on the floor.  Dad will know something's weird."
	"Help me up," Reed mumbled into the carpet.  He picked himself up
just enough to extend an arm up towards Max.  Sighing, Max grabbed it and
pulled him towards the bed.  After a few pulls, Reed was halfway in the bed
again.  He was breathing very deeply and seemed to already be out.  Max
slapped his cheeks.
	"You're almost there," he shouted into his brother's ear.  "Just
bring your feet up."  Reed's breathing didn't change, and his eyelids
didn't flutter.  "Son of a bitch," Max said under his breath, and then
lifted his little brother's lower body onto the bed.  Feeling satisfied
that he was fully in it now, he returned to his side of the bed and removed
his khaki shorts.  The night had come to an abrupt end for Reed, and he
wasn't sure there was much left to do but sleep.  He slid the fifth under
the bed; he would dispose of it in the morning.  He turned off the TV with
the remote and flicked off the bedside lamp.  The lights were out, the room
was quiet, and Max slid under the covers.
	"Hey, Reed," he whispered, leaning over and tapping his brother on
the shoulder.  No response.  "I have something to tell you," he continued
anyway.  "That wasn't Kyle blowing you that night," he finished, settling
on top of his brother and undoing the button and zipper on his shorts.
	He had them down in a second and kissed his brother's silky
abdomen, flicking his tongue out and pushing it into his belly button.  His
hands lightly dug into the skin of his torso, and he peeled the boxers
down.  He began kneading his penis, inhaling the fragrance, kissing the tip
and licking the shaft.  His brother made the faintest of stirring noises,
but otherwise showed no sign of consciousness.  Just like last time, his
dick slowly rose at the contact, and Max slipped it into his mouth,
hungrily consuming its length.  It was so velvety, and such a perfect fit.
He was going to make this last a while.
	With his eyes closed, Reed allowed himself a smile as he laid back
and let his brother work.

Thanks for reading.  Send any comments to:  mhobbes@mail.com
Check out Modern Tales of Incest I and II:
I -- Bedtime (Bisexual Incest)
II -- Seth (Gay Incest)


Copyright 2004 Mark Hobbes