Date: Fri, 30 Aug 2002 21:05:21 -0600
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Brewsters Celebrate the Ironman Canada Triathalon" (t/b t/t t/m b/m inc
Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, one
twelve-year-old, one fourteen- year-old, and two sixteen-year-old twins,
who as loving sons return to Penticton to support their father as he
competes in that most manly of sports, the Ironman Canada Triathlon
Competition, along of course, with making a few friendly bets. This story
is posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only.
Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for
the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those
described here. This is the thirty-ninth story in the Brewster boys
special events and myths series. And if you plan on engaging in that other
manly sport, the Brewster brothers remind you to always use a condom if you
want to engage in it another day. Praise, trophies and story ideas for
2003 can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at authorsix@hotmail.com
THE BREWSTERS CELEBRATE THE IRONMAN CANADA TRIATHLON
"We just about there yet?"
"No, Bobby, not yet," his father, mother and three brothers
chorused for what had to be the tenth time in the last hour.
"We're just coming up to Okanagan Falls," advised Benny, his noise
pressed against the window of their station wagon.
"Can we stop and take their fruit tour?" asked Bobby.
"I love fruit tours," observed Benny with an impish grin as the
station wagon passed a couple darkly-tanned, sweaty boys stripped to their
shorts. He and his brothers slowly turned their heads as if drawn by a
magnet as they drove by.
"Oh yeah, I love fruits," observed Brett as he grinned at his
younger brother.
"We don't have time to stop now," advised their mother. "Besides,
your father is in training. He can't afford to be eating any treats for
the next week."
"That doesn't mean we can't, does it?" asked Brent in alarm.
"Well, it wouldn't be fair to your father now, would it?" Brenda
replied, knowing her husband's sweet tooth very well.
"No Summerland Sweets?"
"No!"
"No Judy's Chocolates?"
"Definitely not."
"Oh fu-, fu-, fu-, fooey!"
"We can have fresh fruit, can't we?" Brent asked as he spotted a
fruit stand ahead.
"Yes, fresh fruit is all right."
"So where we staying again?" Benny asked.
"WaterWorld RV and Family Camp Ground," replied their father.
"With the triplets your mother needs a place where they can have their
naps, and where there is a playground and laundromat."
"Can we go visit your friend?"
"Yes, I suppose, but I don't have much time for visiting."
The boys squirmed impatiently, eager to arrive at their
destination. After arriving home from Greece, the boys had helped their
father train for the upcoming competition. They had been in especially
good spirits on the way back from Greece and had taken a sudden interest in
keeping in good physical shape themselves, not that they had ever allowed
themselves to get out of shape or lazy. Barry of course assumed their
interest was in support of his own efforts, and in part he was right, but
an even greater influence was seeing just what beauty there was in a well-
sculptured body during their excursion up Mount Olympus. In fact they were
in such good spirits they didn't let the latest prank from their Boston
cousins annoy them. Upon arriving home Brent and Brett found they were
being swamped with junk mail addressed directly to them on feminine
products, everything from antiperspirant for women to waxing their legs,
and from eyeshadow products to tampons. It did not take a genius to figure
out their Boston cousins had been busy sending in coupons with their name.
Brenda at first had assumed their names had gotten on some junk mailing
list, but as she saw a pattern, she was beginning to wonder about her two
oldest sons, and to worry if they were having some type of teenage gender
identity crisis. She finally mentioned it to Barry, who of course assured
her that was hardly likely, but given what he knew about their sexual
preference, he discretely raised the topic with them one evening. The
twins shared their suspicions with him, along with the pranks their cousins
had pulled on them during Uncle James's wedding, but of course there was no
way to prove the culprits were TJ and Ralph Lorne.
Arriving at their campground, the boys quickly stripped down to
their shorts and helped their father set up the tents, one for their
parents and the triplets and one for the boys, and store their things away.
Barry started up the barbeque while Brenda set the table and the boys
entertained the triplets. After their evening meal, Barry went biking. He
was putting on a brave front in front of the boys, but he was seriously
worried about disappointing them. He was under no delusion he'd even
manage to be in the top half and considering the competition he was going
to be up against, that did not bother him. What did worry him was that
he'd be among the last to finish the race, which he knew would devastate
his boys. While Brenda finished unpacking the station wagon, the boys took
the triplets to the playground.
"Hey Maxie, come over here!"
The four boys looked over at the boy who had shouted. The tone of
his voice had been that of an order, and of contempt, a tone they were
familiar with and which caused the hair to rise on the backs of their neck.
He looked to be about the twins' age. He was wearing shorts and an open
shirt, revealing a smooth, athletic body, not muscular but not in bad shape
either. He was otherwise average looking, with short straw-coloured hair,
blue-green eyes and a touch of acne. His summer tan was light and uneven,
indicating he didn't spend a lot of time outdoors. There were two other
boys with him of the same age, one slightly heavier with a blotchy
complexion and the other taller and skinnier with a beak like nose and
large ears. They were chatting up three girls, and from their postures and
gestures, were evidently trying to impress them. The person the boy had
called, Maxie was a boy of Benny's age who had the same colour hair and
eyes as the boy who had called and was clearly his brother. He was on the
skinnier side and wore his hair longer and in a sweep over his forehead and
had glasses. He walked over to the boys grudgingly.
"Go buy us some cones, two chocolate, three strawberry, and one
vanilla, and some pop, two Cokes, a Sprite, a Root Beer, and two Cream
Sodas," the boy said, handing the younger boy a few bills.
"Why don't you go get it yourself?"
"I'm busy, can't you see?" He looked at the girls and his two
friends and rolled his eyes. "Now, go get them."
"How am I supposed to carry all that?"
"That's not my problem. You're the brainy one. Do I have to come
hold your hand?"
"He'd probably like that," snickered one of the other boys.
"Yeah, he would, the little fruit," agreed the boy's brother.
Blushing with embarrassment and anger, the younger boy turned and
headed for the campground store.
"He's not really, a, well, you know, a fruit?" asked one of the
girls as she watched the boy head toward the campground store.
"Sure is. A regular little fem," his brother observed. "Guess
God figured there was room for only one real man in the family," he added
smugly as he puffed out his chest.
Glancing at each other, Bobby and Benny ran off to help, leaving
the twins to look after the triplets.
"We'll give you a hand," offered Benny as they caught up to the
boy.
"Thanks, but I can manage," the boy said, blushing with
embarrassment and seething with anger.
"We don't mind."
"Thanks."
"I'm Benny, and this is Bobby. Your name is Maxie?"
"Maxwell, but everyone calls me Max, except my big shot brother.
At least he didn't call me Maxine like he usually does."
"Why you let him push you around like that?"
The boy turned redder than he already was as he considered his
reply. "He caught me doing something once and keeps threatening to tell to
tell my mother if I don't do as he says. He likes putting me down. Makes
him feel big. He usually just does it when he's trying to impress some
girl."
Buying the stuff, the three boys carried it back to the waiting
teens. When one of the girls thanked Max, his brother advised her not to
thank him or he'd start expecting it all the time. Benny was about to
comment but he kept his mouth shut. Joining the twins and triplets, the
five boys took turns giving the triplets rides on the swings and the
teeter-totter and talked. In the course of the conversation the Brewster
boys learned that Max's brother, Patrick, had bragged to all his friends
back home that this summer he and his two friends, Chris, the fatter boy,
and Kevin, the skinnier boy, were going to lose their virginity that
summer. They also learned that he liked making Max's life miserable, and
loved nothing better than to embarrass him and call him a little fag. The
only thing good so far about the summer as far as Max was concerned was
that it was almost over and his brother and friends still had not scored,
and it was unlikely that they were going to. What it was that his brother
had caught him doing he never did reveal, nor if he really was gay as his
brother had claimed, and the Brewster boys didn't ask.
That night they took in the fireworks display, and the next day
after Barry registered, they went down to the beach where Barry practised
his swimming. They ran into Max and his brother and his friends and
immediately asked Max to join them. While the Brewster boys, and Max they
noticed, checked out the other boys on the beach, Patrick and his friends
checked out the girls and tried to score, and when they failed, they took
their frustrations out on Max, ordering him around and making insulting
comments about him. They continued their harassment during the street
dance, and later that night back at the campground, by which time the
Brewster boys were ready to do whatever they could to help Max get back at
his brother.
Saturday Barry had his bike inspected and attended the pre-race
meeting, which did nothing to allay his worries. That afternoon they
stopped in at Phillip's Peach Park, the private nudist campground for sons
and dads that they'd stayed at the previous summer. While their dad and
the owner of the park, Barry's boyhood friend, visited, the boys went in
search of the Brigg's brothers. As they suspected, they were at the
playground strutting around like they owned the place and bragging as
usual.
"Well, well, well. Speaking of peaches, if it isn't the Brewster
brothers," said the oldest, seventeen-year-old Wally Briggs. "When you
didn't show up for the Peach Festival, we figured you weren't showing up
this summer."
"Yeah, we figured when you told your dad about the Ironman
Triathlon he fainted and hadn't come to yet," observed his fifteen-year-old
brother Michael, and the three Briggs brothers laughed and high-fived.
"Oh yeah, well since we told ya we were registering our dad this
year, we figured we'd better drop by and see if you even bothered to show
up," observed Brett, and it was the Brewster brothers turn to laugh and
high-five.
"Yeah, well, this is no fem acting competition," Wally retorted,
referring to the Perpendicular Pecker Hour, a tradition at the campground
and over which the Brewsters had won a bet with the three Briggs brothers
last summer.
"Yeah? Well we beat your butts then, and our dad's going to beat
your dad's butt in the triathlon," observed Bobby.
"In your dreams," responded thirteen-year-old Frankie Briggs, the
youngest of the three brothers.
"Wanna bet?"
The three brothers glanced at each other. Last summer they had
come out on the losing end of the bet, Wally and Michael having to shave
their arms and legs and their peach fuzz on their lips and chins, and all
three bending over to get fucked by three of the Brewsters while they
licked off the fourth. But this was the Ironman. They had seen Barry
Brewster last summer and no matter how much he had worked out there was no
way he'd come close to beating their dad, who had come in second in his age
group in the Ironman two years in a row. He had just turned forty-five,
placing him in the next age group, and they were sure this year he'd place
first being at the youngest end of the age group.
"Unless you're chicken," challenged Benny.
"Yeah, right," snorted Michael. "You got your bet. Your dad is
going to be eating our dad's dust."
"No he won't," observed Wally to everyone's surprise. "He's gonna
be so far behind Dad the dust will have settled hours ago." His two
brothers laughed so hard they couldn't stand straight.
"Speaking of behinds, we'll have to bet something different this
year since we've had your behinds," observed Brett.
"Very funny," retorted Wally, glaring at Brett and then at the boys
in the playground who had been there last summer and dared to twitter. He
thought for a moment. "You gonna be here on Monday, after the race?"
"Yeah."
"Then you gotta show up at Skaha Park at noon dressed as girls, in
bikini bottoms and tops, and spend the afternoon that way."
"Okay, same for you, but you're gonna have to shave your arms and
legs, and your faces." Wally and Michael were both hairy, like their
father, and Wally had regrown his beard, a thin growth of hair along his
jaw line and chin, and Michael's moustache had grown back in.
"Unless they come as butt ugly girls," giggled Bobby.
"Yeah, well you fems look so much like girls you don't have to do
anything."
"In fact you should have to do something extra, now you mention
it," Michael observed with a smirk. "If we did lose, which isn't going to
happen, and have to shave, you should have to do something besides just
dress up as girls."
"All right, we'll spend the afternoon flirting with the guys,
getting them hot and bothered," suggested Brett. His three brothers looked
at him. They loved their father, but they'd seen Mister Briggs on their
way to find his sons, and his muscles were bigger than last year.
"Hey, whose side are you on?" whispered Benny.
"Follow along with me," whispered Brett. His three brothers didn't
know what he was up to, but he thought on his feet a lot faster than they
did, and they had come to trust whatever he had in mind.
"Yeah, that would work," agreed Wally, looking at his brothers and
getting confirmation. "That would be wicked seeing you fems flirting and
acting like real she-males."
"Never mind just flirting with them. For our dad beating your dad
I think you should go on a regular date with a couple straight guys,"
suggested Michael.
"Yeah, get in some hugging and kissing, maybe even let them score
with you," added Wally.
"Why not? But when our dad beats your dad, you have to do the
same," countered Benny, who, like his brothers, saw where Brett was going.
"No way. We already said we'd have to shave, which you fems don't
have to do."
"And we said for you shaving, we'd flirt."
"Hey, never mind. They'd make such butt ugly girls no guy would
want to make out with them anyway," observed Brent.
"Yeah, you're right," agreed Benny. "Maybe instead of bikinis we
should let them wear halter tops and miniskirts to hide some of that
ugliness."
"Maybe you four should wear panties."
"Okay, the winners get to choose what the losers wear and who they
try to make out with and how, and you got a deal," announced Wally, his two
brothers looking at him in surprise. "Hey, there's no way their ol'man is
gonna beat ours. Dad's come in second in his age group the last two years,
so to beat him means their dad's gonna have to come in first. You think
that's gonna happen?" His two brothers quickly saw his point. The seven
of them shook on it before either side changed its mind.
"Their dad is strong," admitted Bobby as they headed back to find
their father, "real strong." The four boys thought about the Briggs
brothers' tall, muscular father with his bulging biceps and thighs and
looked at each other. He was built like a trucker. Their dad was built
like, well, like a Second Vice President who liked chocolate and desserts.
"Yeah, but Dad can beat him," observed Brent, and his brothers
quickly agreed.
"Even if their dad did beat our dad, which he won't but if he did,
we're still gonna help Max," observed Benny with a wide smile. "Way to
think, Brett! We win either way." Clapping their brother on the back, the
boys put all doubts out of their minds. At least they did until the parade
of athletes at 4:30 that afternoon. The sight of all those jock-type men
with bulging muscles bursting out their wife-beaters and others with their
tanned, sinewy bodies without an ounce of fat was daunting. It was also
highly erotic, and it was the latter thoughts that won over in the boys'
minds. By the time the parade was over they had bulging muscles too well,
one muscle in particular.
Five-thirty the next morning the Brewster clan headed over to the
north end of Main Street where Barry received last minute wishes of good
luck from his family before entering the restricted check in area. The
twins headed over to the massage tent. They had generously offered to put
their boy scout first aide skills to use, and with over nineteen hundred
participants, the organizers had willingly accepted their help. In that
you had to be sixteen or older to help in the transition area, Benny and
Bobby along with their mother offered their services at the aide station at
Richter Pass where younger children were allowed if accompanied by an
adult, Brenda figuring since it was close to the halfway point in the bike
race it was a good place to cheer her husband on, and the boys figuring if
any hot, sweaty athlete needed help, the peak of the pass would be the most
likely place they could put their skills to use, boy scout and otherwise.
So at seven o'clock sharp, fifteen hundred men and four-hundred-and
fifty women between the ages of 18 and 74 hit the calm waters of Okanagan
Lake for a 2.4 mile swim. The twins waited patiently at the entry to the
massage tent, their eyes glued to the entry gate to the restricted
compound. Fifty minutes and twenty-four seconds later, the first of the
participants reached shore and raced to the wet suit strip area. Five
minutes later, the first of Barry's age group, 45 to 49, passed through the
gate. Brent and Brett were disappointed it was not their dad, but glad it
was not Walter Briggs.
As the men completed their swim component, they stripped out of
their wet suits and if they wanted, could take a dip in the hot tub before
proceeding. Otherwise they ran through the bike gear racks to pick up
their gear bags on the way to the change tents, one for men and one for
women, where they stripped, dried, and got into their biking strip.
Figuring that was a better place to cheer on their dad, and nobody needing
massage services, the twins headed to the change tent. The lake that
morning was sixty-eight degrees, not that cold, but cold enough after an
hour in the water to shrink those things that are important to a man. It
was quite hilarious to see the big, muscular jocks strip down to reveal
dicks that were smaller than Bobby's, and in some as small as the triplets!
Brent and Brett knew how they could warm the men up, and as they stood
there fantasizing about one or another, the shorts of the two long-haired,
blond sixteen-year-olds were soon tented out, a sight that was enough to
thaw some men out and then some.
One hour, six minutes, and eleven seconds after the race had begun,
Walter Briggs raced into the tent. Stripping off his suit, he quickly
dried himself off, and the boys had to admire the bulging muscles of the
six-foot tall, two-hundred-pound jock. He was all solid muscle and even
hairier than their dad, and even shrivelled, his cock was bigger than many
men's under normal conditions. There was no mistaking who he was with the
blue eagle tattooed on each forearm, and the same dark black moustache and
well-trimmed beard and short hair that he had last year, except his hair
had receded even more at the temples. Slipping on a grey tank top and
matching shorts, a leather sweat band and leather arm bands about his
biceps, he ran out the tent to the bike lot.
The boys anxiously watched the door of the tent for their father
and the minutes passed by with agonizing slowness. Over eight hundred men
had passed through the tent by then. They finally spotted their dad, and
as he quickly changed, they flashed him big grins and gave him the thumbs
up sign. After their father left, the boys headed back to the massage
tent, pausing at the results tent. After watching eight hundred men strip
down to their birthday suits, the novelty had worn off. At one hour, six
minutes and eleven seconds Walter was the thirtieth in his age group and
five-hundred-and-forty-six overall. Barry, at one hour, eleven minutes,
and fifty seconds, was sixty-second, and 896 overall. The boys' hearts
sank. They had no idea five-and-a-half minutes made such a difference.
Overhearing that the aid station at Richter Pass had only been left
half the number of nutrient bars they were supposed to have, the twins
volunteered to help load the truck and go with it to make the delivery. To
their disappointment, they discovered that the Briggs family had also
chosen the Richter Pass station to cheer on their participant. Of course
their brothers were surprised and delighted to see them, but not so happy
with their news.
"Shit, number 896?" asked Bobby in disbelief.
"Thirty-two guys behind Mister Briggs? Oh maaaannnnn!" groaned
Benny.
"Well, 896 out of over nineteen thousand isn't that bad," reasoned
Brent.
"That's like right in the middle almost!" countered Bobby. "Half
the fucking guys in the race are ahead of him, Brent!"
"Lots of guys burn themselves out by starting off too fast. I
heard them say in the results tent that there's guys who are in the lead
after swimming who don't even get to the foot race," added Brett. "Dad's
just pacing himself."
"Yeah, right, Dad can do this," agreed Benny.
He tried to sound confident, but it was close to two and a half
hours since the bicycle race had begun and already over two hundred men had
passed their aid station, including the first several of Barry's age group.
If that wasn't bad enough, at that moment Walter Briggs peddled up to the
station, and he looked like he was hardly sweating. Of course his sons
gave him a loud cheer, and they were quick to come over to the Brewsters
and ask where their father was. The boys looked desperately up the
highway, hoping to see his bright orange helmet and T-shirt they'd boughten
for him for the race. The minutes ticked by slowly. The truck was
unloaded and the man was about to return to Penticton when ten minutes
after Walter had gone by, Barry peddled past. Tossing him a Gatorade and a
couple nutrient bars, the boys cheered and waved and wished him well, and
watched forlornly as he flashed them a weak smile. He was drenched in
sweat and looked like he was about dead. Pointing out that their father
was ninth in his age group at that point, and that Barry was thirty-first,
the Briggs boys suggested with wide grins the Brewsters begin picking out
their bikinis and panties as they loaded into their car and headed back to
Penticton to wait for their father.
"Oh maaaannn, I wish we had never heard of the Ironman," groaned
Bobby.
"I wish we had never heard of the Briggs brothers," Benny observed.
"I just wish there was someway Dad could beat Mister Briggs," Brent
sighed.
"Yeah," agreed his twin brother. "I wish we could help dad. We
don't want him to hurt himself."
"Well, which one is it? You can't have all four," observed a gruff
voice behind them.
The boys turned and found themselves staring at a broad, smooth
chest in the open purple silk blouse. Well, being the shortest, Bobby was
staring at his ribs. They slowly looked up at the dark brown,
six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-fifty pound man with a huge nose,
six-inch-long, curled, pencil-thin moustaches, coiled, ribbon-like goatee,
large gold earrings and violet fez.
"Ali!" the four shouted.
"Big Al! What the fuck you doing here?"
"Felt like some fresh fruit and thought I'd stop by," said Ali
Rafaat Bazzir el Mohamed Farrad al-Karamah as he reached down and tousled
Bobby's hair.
"Oh, you're looking for Brent and Brett," observed Bobby with a
huge grin, causing his twin brothers to give him the finger but unable to
suppress their giggles. The six-foot-six genie chuckled also. He was not
about to admit he'd taken a fondness to the boys ever since they'd found
him and released him from the bottle in which he'd been trapped just over
two years ago and had been periodically checking up on them to see if they
needed any help, which usually they didn't.
"I see you haven't changed," Ali said to Bobby. "None of you
have."
"Nor have you. So what have you been doing since we seen you?"
"Exploring this new world of yours," he responded. "You live in a
very interesting time."
"We need to be heading back," interrupted the driver, looking up at
the impressive and strangely garbed individual in the fez, bright green
silk trousers, violet sash, and multicolored slippers with curled toes the
boys were talking to.
"If it is all right, I can bring the boys back with me," Ali
offered.
"Ah, yeah, I guess that'll be fine," the driver responded
uncertainly. He felt responsible for the two boys, but Ali was not the
sort of individual you argued with.
"So, do you boys want to make a wish?"
"Oh yeah. You bet."
"And it is?"
"We want Dad to finish the race, without hurting himself, or being
disappointed," said Brett after having glanced at his brothers.
"Is that your final answer?" asked Ali with a broad grin, copying
a phrase from a very popular but short-lived television contest show.
"Yeah," the boys said with a chuckle.
"This is your last and final wish."
"We know."
"You don't want to wish something for yourselves?"
The boys glanced at each other, and then turned and looking up at
the genie, shook their heads.
"Very well," he said. "Now, if we slip away where we can't be
seen, I'll give you a lift back to Penticton," he said to the twins.
"You mean?" Brent asked, glancing up at the sky.
"Is there a better way to travel?"
"You got a magic carpet?"
"A genie can fly on his own without a carpet," Ali said, rasing an
eyebrow in disdain.
"Cool!" Brent and his brother exclaimed with huge grins.
"So that's it? The wish is granted?" asked Bobby.
"Yes. What did you expect? A flash of lightening? A clap of
thunder? A hundred-voice boy's choir?"
"The choir would have been nice," the four boys said together.
The boys grinned and the twins followed Ali to a clump of trees on
the hillside behind the aid station. "I think there's a couple men
arriving who need assistance," he called to their younger brothers. Two
men in the 25 to 29 age group, one blond and one brunette, both in tank
tops stained dark with sweat, both handsome and with solid, bronzed bodies,
panted to a stop before the aid station. Racing to their aid, the two boys
wrapped their arms about them and guided them to the tent set up by the
roadside. Glancing over to where Ali and their older brothers had been
standing, they found only the clump of trees.
High above, supported by the muscular genie's arms and one of their
own arms wrapped about his neck and their legs wrapped about his waist,
Brent and Brett looked down at their kid brothers as they disappeared into
the tent with the two hot, sweaty men, and they wondered if the sudden
appearance of the two athletes was coincidence, or if it was a little gift
on behalf of their magical friend. Their hands slipped down from his neck
to his butt, and as they squeezed the firm mounds, their other hands
slipped down the front of his massive, smooth chest, past his sash, to the
mound between his legs.
"That isn't a stick shift boys," Ali observed as the mound began to
swell.
"You mean if we pull on it you won't go higher?" asked Brett as he
and his twin brother tugged on the swelling member.
In response, Ali swooped up in a steep vertical climb, to the
delight of the two boys. Grasping onto the stiff member for support, they
were delighted as Ali wrapped his arms about them tighter and his large,
massive hands found similar handholds between their legs. The boys knew
from past experience that the genie was well hung, but they had forgotten
just how well as they squeezed and began to stroke his swelling cock
through his silk trousers. They were soon stroking a thick
eight-and-a-half inch sausage that they could feel throbbing through the
fine material. They themselves had been well-hung for
fourteen-year-old-boys two years ago, and they had grown some since then,
to Ali's discovery. Grasping the now seven-inch bones between his thumb
and first two fingers, he began to jack off the two boys through their
jeans.
Veering to the left, he decided to take the scenic route back to
Penticton, though neither he nor the boys would be able to describe the
scenery when they arrived back at the city five minutes before the driver
of the truck. It was wicked flowing up in the sky and looking down at the
trees and ribbon-like roads as their cocks throbbed with hot pleasure. Ali
climbed up higher so that they could just barely make out the landscape
below, and then he swooped down, all the while pumping his thumb and
fingers up and down their tingling cocks as they each pumped a fist up and
down his huge cock. All three knew how to prolong that pleasure, and all
three used their skills that morning high in the sky above the Okanagan
valley. It had been a long time since he'd creamed his trousers, or the
boys their underwear, and it was only by magic that they didn't spin out of
control with that dizzy climax above Penticton.
Back in a hot, closed tent in Richter Pass a pair of men, the
twelfth pair since Ali and the twins had left, were stretched out on cots,
their heads spinning dizzily also as two young boys massaged and kneaded
their tightened muscles, their hot little hands slipping along sweat-slick
chests and under the elastic band of soaked shorts, massaging their knotted
buttocks and slipping their fingers around hot, sweaty balls and hot,
swelling members. The two boys trembled with ecstasy as the men, groggy
with exhaustion and aching with strained muscles succumbed to the pleasure
pulsating from their groins as they skirted the border of consciousness and
unconsciousness, their chests rising and falling faster and faster until a
numbing pleasure flooded their loins. Cupping their noses with one hand
and inhaling the musky fragrance of hot, sweaty balls and fresh cum, the
two masseurs vigorously pumped their own swollen dicks with their other
hands.
Three-and-a-half hours and three dozen men later, the boys, staring
dreamily out the station wagon window, headed back to Penticton with their
mother, the rush of bikers having begun to dwindle and another team having
arrived to relieve them. Their arms were so weary they could barely lift
them, and they leaned their heads in their cupped hands and inhaled and
exhaled deeply, the delightful, heady fragrance of man sweat and perspiring
balls and cum making their heads spin. Brenda glanced over at her two
weary boys and smiled. They had certainly earned extra merit badges for
their voluntarism and first aide work that afternoon, or at least a double
scoop chocolate coated soft ice cream. Three dozen men, bewildered by wet
dreams they had not experienced since their teen years and by their unusual
reaction to fatigue, would have readily agreed had they known the cause of
their rejuvenation as they'd gotten on their bikes and continued the race
strangely refreshed, if somewhat sticky.
Bobby and Benny joined their brothers outside the restricted area,
Brenda having brought them treats also, and they studied the electronic
results board as they attacked their ice cream cones. Reading down through
the hundreds of names, they found the first man of the 45-49 age group,
Klaus Brunner from Germany, had completed the bike run in five hours,
fifteen minutes and four seconds, making him fifty-fifth overall.
Following close at his heals was a Giacomo Veccheccio from Italy. To their
dismay, Walter Briggs was listed as fifth in his group, and at 139th place
overall at five hours, twenty-two minutes, and twenty-six seconds.
"Hey, there's Dad's name! Holy fuck, five hours, twenty-three
minutes, and fifty-eight seconds!"
"Shit! That's only . . . holy shit, one minute and thirty-two
seconds behind Mister Briggs!"
"Way to go Dad!"
"Way to go Ali!"
"Yeah!"
"What that T1 time?"
"That's the transition time it took them to go from swimming to
biking," explained Brett, having learned that at the results tent while
taking a break from helping his brother massage hot sweaty bikers before
sending them blissfully on their way for the last leg of the race. You got
to add that to their time.
"So what's that mean exactly?"
"Give me a second to figure it out."
"I can't wait a second," complained Bobby, jumping from one foot to
the next in excitement.
"We got to add the swim time, the transition time, and the bike
time. Mister Briggs took two minutes and thirty-three seconds transition
time."
"Took less than that for a few guys I massaged between biking and
running," observed Brent with a wide grin.
"Dad's transition was three minutes and sixteen seconds."
"So what's it mean?" asked Bobby impatiently.
"Dad's eighth in his group, and in 169th place overall . . . and
eight minutes and three seconds behind Mister Briggs in total time."
"Not a minute and thirty-two seconds?"
"No. That was just for the bike race."
"That's not fair!"
"We should have wished he beat Mister Briggs."
The boys paused and looked at each other. "Naw," they chorused.
Their father's well fair was more important.
At that moment, Barry, two-and-a-half hours and eighteen miles into
his 26.2 mile foot race was feeling more refreshed than he'd ever felt.
Shortly after passing his boys at Richter Pass, at which time his legs had
felt like two strands of wet spaghetti and he was faced with a series of
roller coaster hills, just as he was about to pull over and call it quits,
he caught his second wind. It wasn't the Gatorade or the nutrient bars his
sons had tossed him. It had to be their cheering and their unshakable
faith in him, though as he'd passed them all he could think of at the time
was how disappointed they were going to be when midnight came and the road
crew would have to pick him up and drive him to the finish line, or perhaps
to the morgue, having found his dead body wrapped around his bicycle in the
ditch like some road kill.
It was only his sense of humour and his sense of duty to his boys
and wife that had maintained him up until then, but suddenly the tension in
his bicycle chain seemed to go slack and peddling became effortless. He
actually seemed to be coasting downhill as he made the gradual climb up the
last summit at Twin Lakes, to his surprise even passing bikers on the way
up. As for the winding downhill ride to Highway 97 it was like going down
a roller coaster at full speed. By the time he passed the aid station at
the Tim Horton's back in Penticton he was feeling so good he was tempted to
pull over at the restaurant for a glazed donut.
As for the 26.2 mile run, which he'd been dreading more than
anything the weeks leading up to the race, he was feeling no pain at all.
Figuring he'd be so weary his legs would have cramped before he left the
city, it seemed like he was being carried by a gust of wind. His strides
just kept getting longer and longer, and though he was soaked with sweat
and could feel it pouring down his sides and his legs, he felt totally
refreshed if he didn't smell like it. With each runner he passed, his
strides just seemed to get longer. Before he knew it he had reached the
turnaround at Okanagan Falls and was headed back up the eastside road along
Skaha Lake. He had no idea where he was placing. All he knew was that he
was passing others, men his age, men older than he was, men younger. Then
he was back in Penticton, racing up Main, turning at Westminster Avenue,
Winnipeg Street, and the final stretch up and back down Lakeshore Drive.
"There's Dad!"
"Where?"
"There!"
"Where there?"
"Passing that guy!"
"Oh yeah!"
"I didn't see Mister Briggs."
"There he is over there."
"Where?"
"At the end of the block."
"Oh fuck. Dad's ahead of him!"
"By a fucking block!"
The boys looked at each other, and then back at the racers
disappearing into the transition area, their dad and a minute later Walter
Briggs. They studied the interactive board, waiting for the electronic
results. Minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness.
"There's Dad's number!"
"Three hours and thirty-one minutes and forty-seven seconds!
Wicked!"
"Dad beat Mister Briggs!"
"But don't forget we have to add the bike-run transition times."
"Shit, I forgot. So what is it?"
"I dunno."
"But we gotta know!"
"They add it to the bike split, remember the guy saying?"
"Oh yeah. There it is. One minute and fifty-seven seconds."
"Oh maaaannnn! Dad's first for his group, and seventy-sixth place
overall. Ten hours, twelve minutes, and forty-eight seconds total time."
"First in his group for running?"
"First in his group for the whole fucking race!"
"But we still don't know Mister Brigg's total time. He was faster
in the swimming and biking, remember. And he didn't take so long to go
from swimming to biking."
"Oh maaaannnnn!"
"But that don't matter. Dad got here first. So he's got to have
beat him. His racing time must have made up for the time he was behind in
the swimming and biking parts," observed Brett, the calmer and more
methodical thinker of the four.
"Oh yeah."
"So he beat him!" the boys chorused, looking at each other and then
jumping up and down excitedly and grabbing their mother and the triplets
and swinging them around. In their excitement they didn't see until later
the final results, three hours and thirty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds
run time and a three minute thirty-three-second transition time, placing
Walter Briggs at ten hours, thirteen minutes and fifty-five seconds second
in his age group and eightieth overall. They were still dancing when Barry
joined them.
"Dad!" They raced over and hugged him and spun him around. "You
won, you won!"
"I know," he said with a wide grin, waving his finisher T-shirt and
medal. The boys hugged him tighter. "I'm a bit stinky," he said
apologetically. "I know I should have changed into my dry clothes and had
a massage, but I had to see you guys."
"You don't smell stinky a bit," objected Brent, slipping his hand
up his father's still sweat- slick back.
"Uh-un," agreed Brett, heading the other direction with his hand
slipping over his dad's slick butt.
"You smell sweet," observed Benny, snuggling in close and inhaling
deeply as he groped his dad's left buttock.
"For fucking sure," whispered Bobby, his hand slipping down the
front of Barry's sweat- stained shorts and cupping his hot, wet balls.
"We'll take you home and give you a good long personal massage,"
offered Benny.
"And when the boys are done, they can go for a long treat with the
triplets and I'll give you a massage myself," observed Brenda, and only the
triplets didn't catch her meaning.
"Can we stop at Tim Horton's for a donut first?" asked Barry.
"A dozen donuts, cream filled and chocolate coated, just for you,"
promised Brenda, "and the same for my four volunteers." The crowd turned to
look at the cause of the loud cheers.
As Barry retrieved his bicycle and gear, his boys offered their
congratulations to the Briggs brothers on their father placing second
again, emphasizing "again", and as they had agreed upon, dictated their
expectations regarding the three boys' attire and behaviour the next day.
The three Briggs boys made no objection, wanting to just get out of there
and forget the humiliation of Barry beating their father, and besides,
despite their disgust and dismay upon hearing what they were going to be
expected to do, being raised to be good sports, and to accept defeat with
grace.
"I can't believe it," Barry observed as they headed up the street.
"As I was biking it was like I was being pushed by a wind."
"Probably an Ali-nemo," observed Brett with a twinkle in his eye as
he glanced at his brothers.
"I think that's El Nino," observed Barry. "And I don't think
that's a wind exactly. But really, when I was running it was like my feet
weren't even touching the ground. It was as if I was being carried."
The boys glanced at each other, then as one up into the sky. There,
a very distinct, strangely coloured cloud in the shape of a genie was
reflected in the bright sun. The boys waved as their mother wrapped an arm
about her definitely rank husband and observed, "Dear, I don't think your
feet have touched the ground yet."
Arriving at their campground, Brenda observed that she was taking
the triplets to the beach and would then swing by Boston Pizza, giving
Barry two hours to unwind and the five of them time for some father-son
bonding, knowing the men in her family needed time alone from time to time,
and especially that day, the Ironman being primarily a male thing.
As the station wagon pulled away, the boys lead their father to
their parent's tent. Telling him to relax and to leave everything to him,
they proceeded to remove his still damp, sweat- stained clothes. Raising
the T-shirt they had especially boughten for him for the race, the front
and back stained darkly with sweat, Brent and Brett pulled it up over his
head, and almost fainted with the sharp, masculine odour emanating from his
hairy pits. Bobby and Benny had meanwhile tackled his running shoes, and
the tent was filled with the rich earthy aroma from his hot, sweaty feet as
they removed his runners. As they each pulled off a sweat sock, Benny
observed how it was evident where Brent inherited his big, stinky feet,
causing his older brother to object that his feet were not that big, nor
that stinky. Benny was quick to respond that he shouldn't complain since
everyone knew the relationship between big feet and something else, to
which his brothers quickly pointed out their father was a good example.
Barry smiled with the good-natured give and take between his sons,
and their openness about sex. Of course ever since they'd come out to him,
and after their experience at Phillips Peach Park, he'd come to appreciate
the special relationship he had with his sons. So, as he lay on his
stomach and they massaged his aching body, he closed his eyes and relaxed.
Brent and Brett massaged his tight back muscles and aching arms, kneading
his biceps, triceps and deltoids and squeezing the muscles about the back
of his neck. Bobby and Benny began at his feet, expertly massaging the
soles and instep and pulling on his toes. As they worked up his now aching
calves and thighs, their older brothers worked down their father's hairy
back, the four arriving at his sweat-stained jogging shorts. Slipping
their hands inside them, the four eased them down. They did not stop
there, the four boys reaching up and similarly drawing down his sweat-
soaked Stanford briefs. They massaged his hairy backside, kneading the
mounds like they were two lumps of dough, which of course caused Barry's
cock to begin to swell.
Rolling him over, the boys continued their massage, the twins
continuing on down Barry's legs to his feet, and Benny and Bobby continuing
up over his flat stomach and his broad, muscular chest. They ran their
fingers though the thick, curly mat of hair on his chest as their older
brothers stroked their father's hairy calves, and they caressed and fondled
his nipples as the twins massaged his feet. Barry's nipples grew hard and
burned with arousal and between their stimulation and the stimulation of
his feet, his cock began to rise. The boys quickly zoomed in on what had
always been their ultimate goal, Brent and Brett gently caressing their
father's hot, sweaty balls with the tips of their fingers while Bobby
reverently stroked the shaft of his cock and Benny reached between his legs
to find his father's hairy, sweaty asshole.
The boys by this time were hot and sweaty from their exertion and
their own arousal, besides it being a warm and sultry evening. They
quickly stripped off their clothes while continuing to massage their dad,
and as they pressed their hot, naked bodies against his, Barry reached down
and massaged and caressed whichever body his hands came into contact with.
The long, silky hair of his two oldest boys swept over his thighs as they
bent over and inhaled the heady fragrance of his hot, sweaty balls, causing
their buttocks to raise in the air and inviting their father's caresses.
He ran his hands over the tight, firm orbs, a pair on either side of him,
as the twins, facing his feet, began to lick his balls. Inhaling and
exhaling deeply, he caressed their buttholes with the tips of his index
fingers, sending ripples of pleasure through their rosebuds. As the boys
responded by opening their anuses, Barry slowly slipped a finger up the
assholes of his two oldest boys.
Bobby had meanwhile begun to lick his father's shaft, running his
tongue from the base to glans and back down, delighting in the heady
fragrance of his father's nuts and the eroticism of licking his father's
cock, the thick, towering organ that had delivered the seed that had
resulted in his creation. He pressed his naked body against his father and
slowly gyrated his hips, rubbing his stiff cocklet against the sensitive
skin along his father's sides below his pits. At the same time Benny had
raised his father's hips so his legs were raised in the air above his head
and his butthole was raised off the bed. As his brothers licked his
father's balls and cock, he ran his tongue along his taint, the sensitive
strip that extended from his balls between his legs to his anus. He ran
his tongue up and down the salty, sweaty crack of his father, and wiggled
it against his father's butthole as he reached down and slowly stroked his
throbbing boycock.
The five were soon panting and gasping with arousal, their naked
bodies beaded with sweat from the stuffy air in the tent. Brett and Brent
squirmed and jerked their hips as their father massaged their prostates,
rhythmically working an index finger in and out of their rectums. They
opened and closed their anuses in time with his pistoning fingers, and
their stiff cocks throbbed with arousal. Barry glanced down between his
sons' outspread legs and low hanging balls, and was impressed and proud at
the sight of their huge teenage cocks jerking in the air and beginning to
drip pre-cum. They had inherited the Brewster gene for cock size.
So evidently had his twelve-year-old son who was madly working his
hips to and fro, rubbing his stiff cock against Barry's hairy chest and his
left nipple as he licked the rim of Barry's throbbing cock. Between
Bobby's assault on his cock and the twin's assault on his nuts, Barry was
dripping with pre-cum himself, the ability to produce a steady flow of the
clear man nectar another Brewster trait. Bobby and the twins took turns
lapping up the sweet juice from their father's body as Benny sucked and
licked his father's dank hole, worming his tongue inside and twisting it as
he closed his eyes in ecstasy, enjoying rimming his dad as much as he was
enjoying wanking his stiff cock. The five forced their breathing to slow
down and fought back the urge to shoot, the five wanting to enjoy and
extend the foreplay, each enjoying the pleasure of his own arousal and
enjoying with equal pleasure the joy of arousing another. They could not,
however, wait for long. The eroticism of the race, the celebration of
winning, and the opportunity to pleasure each other was just too much, even
for the Brewster clan.
The five of them reached their orgasms within seconds of each
other. As Barry's stiff cock erupted, his four boys began to eagerly lap
up the torrents of thick, white cream issuing from his throbbing, jerking
fountain. The twins trembled and inhaled sharply as their own impressive
cocks began to squirt, sending shot after shot of their thick, creamy teen
cum over their father's heaving stomach. Benny, squatting between his
father's legs as he lapped up his tart cream, shot at the same time, and
with typical fourteen-year-old zeal, shot his cum in streamers up into the
air, arching over his father's groin and lacing his stomach along with the
streamers of cum from his two older brothers. As he lapped up his father's
cum, Bobby trembled and gasped with the powerful thrills of arousal
rippling through his groin, his cock burning and aching as it tried
desperately to squirt but his tight, shrunken balls still empty.
By the time Brenda returned with the triplets and the pizza, all
meat for her husband, Greek for her boys, a preference they had acquired
only this past month, and Hawaiian for herself and the triplets, the males
of her family had cleaned up and were sitting with happy, satisfied smiles,
her four sons snuggled up to their father like they used to as
preschoolers. Brenda could not help but feel a glow of material pride and
happiness as she looked at her husband and four boys. After their late
evening meal and with money for pop and ice cream in their pockets, the
boys took the triplets to the playground with the request not to return for
an hour, which the boys promised to extend to an hour-and-a-half. On the
way they stopped at the arcade in the hopes of finding Max's brother and
his two friends.
"So, you going to meet those three girls tomorrow?" asked Bobby,
addressing his three brothers loudly.
"I dunno," said Brent, wrinkling up his nose. "They're, you know,
sotta. . . ."
"Ugly?" asked Bobby.
"Well, they aren't the hottest looking chicks in the world," agreed
Brent.
"But they are the hottest," observed Brett. "At least the hottest
I've ever met."
Patrick and his two friends suddenly became very interested in the
conversation.
"I thought Wilma was going to drag you into the bushes and rape
you," chuckled Benny.
"Well, can't blame her," observed Brent, tossing back his long
curls. "I have that effect on girls."
"I think anything wearing pants has that effect on those three,"
Brett commented, causing his brothers to laugh.
"Sounds like you had an interesting experience," Wally said, his
eyes narrowing and a leer crossing his face.
"Real interesting," responded Brent.
"Some girls came on to my brothers," explained Bobby.
"Came on?"
"Yeah, you know, sex stuff," Bobby replied, wrinkling up his nose.
"You'll have to excuse my kid brother," Brent said. "He's not into
girls yet."
"We sure could have been into those three we met," chuckled Benny.
"Oh yeah?" asked Chris, glancing at his two friends. "They were
that hot for some action?"
"Hot? They were on fire," said Benny
"Oh yeah. Real sluts," Brett observed.
"Really?" Patrick asked, growing still more interested.
"They certainly seemed desperate to get laid," Brent continued.
"But then I don't think they get much attention. Like Bobby said, they
didn't exactly have the prettiest faces."
"Who gives a shit what their faces look like?" asked Chris with a
grin.
"Yeah, it's not their face's we're interested in," added Kevin.
"For sure. Throw a bag over their heads and pull down their
panties and they all look the same," observed Patrick, and the boys
laughed, the Brewsters doing their best to fake it. They didn't like that
sort of talk about others, girls or otherwise. People were not just
objects to be used. Well, except maybe for Patrick and his friends, and
their Boston cousins, and well, a few others, but they all deserved it.
Anyway, they all laughed along with Patrick and his two friends. Benny had
always been dramatically inclined and Brent loved drama in school, Brett
always could think on his feet and Bobby was a natural ham, so it wasn't
that difficult. "So, what exactly happened?" asked Patrick as he and his
friends drew closer.
Brett, with help from his brothers, explained how these three
somewhat homely but overly sexed girls had approached them while they'd
been watching the Ironman competition, and had flirted with them and made
suggestive comments that clearly indicated to the boys they were eager for
some attention. They had left with the three girls telling them that
they'd be at Skaha Lake Park at one the next afternoon.
"So you really think they want to get laid?"
"Definitely."
"And you're not meeting them tomorrow?" asked Kevin incredulously.
"Well, we got girlfriends back home, you know," explained Brent.
"Yeah, but how the fuck they gonna find out," winked Patrick.
"I'd just feel guilty, you know," said Brent with a shrug. "It's
not as if we're not already getting any."
"Oh yeah, for sure, same here," said Patrick. "But hey, a real man
can't ever get enough from a woman, eh?"
"Yeah, that's true. If you guys are interested, they said they'd
be by the sundial. You know where that is?"
"Sure," said Patrick eagerly. "You don't mind?"
"Naw. We're heading home the day after tomorrow anyway, so we'll
be seeing our boy ah girlfriends soon enough."
"So, you think these girls will really, you know, screw?" asked
Chris, unable to believe his ears.
"Screw, wank, suck, take it up the ass," said Benny with a twinkle
in his eyes. "They were acting like they'd take it anyway you want."
"All right!"
"How old are these broads anyway?"
"Seventeen, fifteen, and thirteen."
"Thirteen's sortta young."
"You're never too young to get banged," said Chris with a leer.
"Then you can have her," said Patrick. "I get the
seventeen-year-old."
"Who care's as long as they put out," observed Kevin.
"So, how we gonna know these chicks?"
"Don't worry. Just show up at the sun dial at the park and they'll
find you."
As they headed over to the playground, the four brothers could
barely constrain themselves. Their sides were aching as they struggled to
stop from laughing at least until they were out of hearing range of the
arcade.
"Thanks a hell of a lot," observed Max, having listened to the
conversation and followed the boys from the arcade. "I thought you were my
friends."
"We are," observed Benny with a wide grin.
"Some friends. My life is hell now, and once my brother and his
friends lose their virginity they are going to be impossible to live with,"
Max said sourly.
"Oh, I don't think so," said Benny, putting his arm around Max.
"Now," he continued in a whisper, "here is what you have to do."
Five minutes later boyish laugher echoed throughout the campsite,
heard by everyone except for a couple in a tent celebrating having placed
first in the 45-49 age group and seventy- sixth out of over nineteen
hundred competitors. Barry was not just full of energy, but he had
tremendous staying power, and was particularly frisky. If that was what
race competitions did for her husband, Brenda was in full favour of his
participation as she trembled and gasped with her second orgasm, and the
promise of at least another two to come before Barry did.
The boys thought one o'clock would never arrive. Nor did Barry and
Brenda, who were planning on spending the afternoon doing some final
souvenir and gift shopping, and possibly continuing yesterday's
celebration. Arranging to pick the boys and triplets back up at
four-thirty, an hour before the Globe and Mail awards banquet, they headed
for the malls while the boys headed for the sundial along the board walk.
There were Patrick, Chris and Kevin, trying to look casual but sexy in
their swim trunks and open shirts as they struck the sorts of poses they'd
seen in television commercials and Calvin Klein ads. They were so obvious
at trying to look cool that the Brewster brothers could not help giggling.
Walking down the board walk from the parking lot were three very
noticeable teenage girls in halter tops and bikini bottoms that looked like
they were about to split. Seventeen-year- old Wilma, formerly known as
Wally, and fifteen-year-old Michelle, formerly known as Michael, had shaved
their faces, legs, arms, and pits, and in Wilma's case, the fine hairs that
had begun growing around her nipples and the V of her
neck. Thirteen-year-old Francis, formerly called Frankie, had not yet
needed to shave. Replacing their short cropped dirty blond hair was a long
blond wig that extended over the shoulders of the stunning six-foot tall
Wilma, a curly brunette wig for Michelle who was walking beside her sister
like wrestler, and a cute red-haired wig for Francis who was glancing about
as if having never been to the park before and fascinated by everything in
sight. Their nails had been pained, red, blue and silver respectively, and
rouge disguised their otherwise ruddy cheeks. Eye shadow had not helped
improve their small, pig-like eyes, but like Patrick and his friends had
said, it was not their faces that they were interested in.
"Hi," greeted Wilma as they approached the three boys waiting at
the sun dial as arranged with the Brewster brothers. She and her two
sisters looked around, but the Brewsters had blended in with the extra
large crowds at the park that day.
"Hi," responded Patrick with a grin as he looked up at her. She was
two inches taller than he was, and had to be at least twenty-five pounds
heavier. Despite her size, she seemed rather flat chested much to his
disappointment.
"It's a hot day."
"Oh yeah, real hot," Kevin said as he glanced at his two buddies.
These three girls were even more ugly than he'd imagined, but at least
Michelle was the cutest of the three. She actually had very shapely legs,
which made up for her small boobs.
They introduced themselves and engaged in small talk, where they
were from, where they were staying, how they were hating summer coming to a
close and school about to start, and it was clear to each of them that none
of them were really that interested in the conversation. Wilma
accidentally brushed her leg against Patrick's, and Michelle looked at
Kevin's bulging crotch with evident interest. When Chris let his hand
casually brush against Francis's thigh, she smiled at him invitingly. She
was butt-ugly for a thirteen-year-old, and the makeup didn't help at all,
but she evidently was cock hungry from the way she kept glancing at his
crotch. Chris ran his hand along this thigh in a cool, casual way to
attract her attention to the bulge beginning to develop in his swim trunks.
Francis began to turn red, evidently from her dirty thoughts, and Chris
licked his lips nervously. This was the closest he'd ever come to making
out!
They talked about how hot it was, how hot they were, and how bored.
The boys became bolder and coped a feel of the girl's backsides, and the
girls responded by innocently brushing the backs of their hands against the
boy's thighs. The boys could not believe this. The girls suggested going
for a swim, which the boys quickly agreed with, their swim trunks beginning
to reveal their arousal, which they wanted the girls to see, but which was
embarrassing at the same time.
The boys used the cover of water to further innocently grope the
backsides of the three girls, and the girls playfully teased the boys,
running their hands over the boys' chests and commenting how strong they
were, and playfully ducking under the water to grope the boys between the
legs. That not only got the boys erect, but encouraged them to be even
bolder in their comments. Unnoticed by the three girls, who were keeping
an eye out for the Brewsters and surprised they were not around, was
Patrick's kid brother who had taken pictures of the boys coping feels of
the girls at the sun dial and now of the flirting in the water. Following
Benny's directions, he'd suggested to Patrick and his friends that they
needed proof that they'd lost their virginity, and that for a price, he'd
discretely take some pictures for them. Having proof of their virility
appealed to the boys of course, and they quickly agreed, provided if the
girls were as ugly as they'd been made out to be, Max would focus on their
feminine attributes and not on their faces. Max of course was in on the
joke and only the thought of finally getting back at his brother stopped
him from laughing out loud. Now, as he tried to find a feminine attribute
as the shot their pictures, he could not stop giggling.
All six youths were eager to get on with things, the Briggs sisters
so they could put this humiliation behind them, and Patrick and his friends
so they could lose their virginity. So, when Wilma took Patrick aside and
observed how hot he looked and suggested that she knew a place where they
could be alone and do something more interesting than swimming, Patrick
readily agreed, and with a wink and thumbs up to his two buddies, he
followed her up the beach to the parking lot. Turning and wrapping his
arms about her, he kissed her. It wasn't exactly a great kiss and she
didn't return it. She did massage his back, and he slipped his hands under
her small boobs and squeezed them. They were disappointingly small, no
bigger than large oranges, which he would have been surprised to find out
was exactly what he was squeezing.
Huskily observing how hot he was and how hot he was making her
feel, Wilma steered Patrick over to a nearby 4 x 4 which she said belonged
to her father, who was visiting with friends and would not be back for
several hours. Opening the door, she literally pushed him into the back
seat, and as he lay there sprawled out on his back, he could not believe it
as she knelt down half in and half out of the vehicle and pulled his swim
suit half way down his thighs. She was rough, which he took to be lust,
and strong, which was not surprising considering her height and build. She
yanked his suit down to his ankles and dropped to her knees. This was
wilder than his hottest dreams and he lay there open-mouthed as she went
down on him.
He'd wondered what it would be like to get a blow job, and had
imagined it would be hot, but what he'd imagined was nothing compared to
the reality. Her mouth was hot and moist, and feeling it surrounding his
cock had him erect faster than he'd ever gotten erect before. As she began
to suck on it, she worked her lips up and down the length at the same time,
something he'd never considered in his dreams. His cock throbbed and the
knob tingled with arousal. To his delight, and embarrassment, he was
shooting a load off in her mouth in barely over a minute in his excitement.
To his surprise and even greater delight, she took his premature
ejaculation as a sign how hot he'd found her.
Returning to the beach, he didn't have to say anything for the
others to know he'd scored. Without a word, Michelle and Kevin headed off
for the parking lot, and upon their return ten minutes later, Chris and
Francis slipped away. It was evident to the boys that the three girls had
this all carefully thought out ahead of time. What they didn't know of
course was that was because they'd been told what to do by the Brewster
boys. Nor did Patrick and his friends know that the girls had been so
aggressive because they wanted to get their payment of the bet over with as
soon as possible, and they had to get it done and get changed back into
their clothes before their father returned. What the Briggs sisters didn't
know was that Max had discretely hidden in the parking lot before Wilma and
Patrick had arrived and had taken pictures of the necking from behind a
nearby car, and the back seat blow jobs from the back window of the 4 x 4.
Upon the return of Francis and Chris, the girls informed the boys
they were going to change out of their swim suits but would like to spend
more time with them, and the boys promised they'd show them a good time.
Retrieving their pants and wallets from the lockers in the men's change
room, each of the boys bragged about how hot he'd gotten the girl he'd made
out with, not mentioning of course that each of them had come prematurely
in his excitement. Upon meeting again at the sun dial, the girls now in
tight sweaters and short skirts, the boys treated the girls at the
confection stand. The girls had a tremendous appetite, eagerly devouring
four hot dogs apiece along with several orders of Nachos and melted cheese
and finishing off with triple scoop ice-cream cones. It depleted the boys'
wallets, but when the girls suggested they find someplace private they
considered it money well spent.
The boys suggested they might find a place along the rocky
shoreline beyond the marina and the girls agreed, both groups having of
course been told by the Brewster brothers that the steep shoreline and
shrubs would give them the privacy they needed. Rolling up the blankets
the boys had brought for the beach, and in the hope to make out on, they
made their way around the marina and up the Lakeside Road to the first path
that cut down toward Skaha Lake. As they had been promised, there was
enough shrubbery and the area was rugged and isolated enough to give them
the necessary privacy, though they'd have to share the space with each
other. Performing that most intimate and private act practically within
elbow distance of each other did worry the boys, especially considering it
would be their first time, and especially since they'd been less than the
lovers they'd thought they'd be when they'd received their first blow jobs.
The Briggs sisters, on the other hand, were accustomed to group sex, and
were eager to get this final payment of their bet done and over with.
Spreading the three blankets out with only a couple feet between
them, the three pairs lay down and once again the girls took the lead,
kissing and caressing the three willing boys, and keeping the boys' hands
away from their breasts and their cocks. The boys were not overly
disappointed about that, being eager to get on with the act and not that
interested in foreplay. The few feels they did manage to get between the
girls' legs they mistook in their inexperience to be of their hot cunts,
not pairs of balls. The girls soon had the boys' shirts off and their
pants pushed down, and though they hadn't gotten in the girls' sweaters,
the boys had gotten the girl's skirts pushed up over their hips.
As Patrick inhaled deeply and nervously and slipped his hand down
the back of Wilma's lacy, pink panties, she whispered in his ear how much
she wanted to make love with him, but unfortunately she was menstruating.
That was an immediate turn off of course, the idea of sticking his cock up
her bleeding cunt not exactly what he'd had in mind, but he was horny
enough and desperate enough to have done it had she not advised him that a
girl just couldn't do it when she was having her period. Reaching down and
squeezing the hot, hard swelling in Patrick's underwear, she did tell him
he had gotten her hot, and that she was not averse to him using her other
hole. Needless to say Patrick was disappointed, but a piece of ass was
better than nothing at all.
When Michelle and Francis told the two horny teenagers groping them
that unfortunately they were not on the pill, the boys advised that it
wasn't a problem in that they had come prepared. Of course they were not
about to reveal that they'd spent an hour outside the first drug store
they'd had an opportunity to go to on their holiday arguing who was going
to go in and buy condoms, and Patrick was not about to tell them he'd
boughten razor blades and deodorant in addition so it would not look so
obvious, and that when he'd seen there were only women at the cash
registers he'd gotten so red the clerk had suggested he buy something for
his sunburn, and he actually went back and did.
Francis and Michelle observed that they'd heard that condoms were
not all that reliable, and while they were hot for the two boys, they were
not about to risk getting pregnant. Like Wilma, they squeezed the
throbbing members of the two boys and observed that a girl did have another
hole, and that it would feel just as good. Besides, they added, they'd be
able to do it bareback instead of having a condom separating them. Like
Patrick, the two boys were disappointed, but at least comforted by the fact
that none of them were going to get pussy that afternoon. Besides, they
were still going to fuck a girl, and nobody needed to know which hole
they'd fucked. If Max had followed them as he was supposed to have, and if
he took the pictures properly, there was not going to be any way to tell.
So, it was agreed. The girls rolled over on their stomachs and
allowed the boys to pull down their panties and expose their backsides.
The three boys were erect and wasted no time pushing down their underwear
and climbing on top of their dates. Being tops, the Briggs sisters were
not willing participants, but of course they did have previous experience,
which was fortunate in that their "dates" were having difficulty figuring
out exactly how to get into position. Eager to get this last commitment
over with, they instructed the boys to kneel between their outspread legs,
placing their knees approximately opposite theirs, and to then bend over
them with their weight on their elbows. Reaching back, they guided the
boys to their previously lubed holes and pushed out as they guided the boys
in. Feeling the moist lube against the tip of their dicks, the three boys
were to brag to each other later that they'd gotten the girls so hot their
assholes were slick with cunt juice, and the girls could not wait to get
their butts fucked.
Max had followed them as he'd promised, but what none of the others
knew, the four Brewster boys had positioned themselves around the perimeter
of the area well before the six lovers had arrived, and while they'd waited
the triplets had drifted off for their afternoon naps. Being experts at
photography, they took over Max's responsibilities as the three boys began
fucking, being sure to catch the looks on the faces of their girls, and
being sure to get closeups as to what hole was being used. The boys were
once again overly excited about having their first piece of tail, but
having come not that long ago helped delay what would have been otherwise a
very brief act for all three.
The Brewster brothers and Max grinned at each other as Patrick,
Kevin and Chris performed their first sexual pushups, rasing and lowering
their hips as they eased their stiff, throbbing cocks in and out of the
three hot, moist rectums. The three boys closed their eyes in ecstasy as
their cocks throbbed and the knobs tingled, delighting in their very first
experience of having their cocks surrounded by hot, moist flesh. As the
three boys approached their peaks, the Briggs sisters could not help but
respond to the massaging of their prostates, and they squirmed and began to
pant as they felt themselves approaching their orgasms also, much to the
delight of the Brewster brothers and Max. As their dates grasped them and
began to shoot their cum up their rectums, they themselves bucked and
raised themselves off the blankets in the throes of their own climaxes,
giving the Brewster boys some excellent opportunities to snap some
revealing pictures of the she-boys. Max was beside himself with amusement
as he watched his brother and his two friends gasp and groan as they
thought they were pumping their cum up the asses of three girls. The
Brewster brothers and Max were so preoccupied with the scene, none of them
noticed that Blaine and Blake had woken up, and were watching the same
scene with wide-eyed interest.
Two hours later, the Brewster boys could not resist going over to
where they were sitting at the awards banquet and congratulating Mister
Briggs on his second place win, and asking his three sons if they'd had a
good afternoon. Wally, Michael, and Frankie only glared at the three boys
and shifted uncomfortably on their sore, cum-filled backsides. As they
returned to their table, the boys decided that in thanks for an
entertaining afternoon, they'd send the Briggs brothers a copy of a few
pictures of their performance by way of Phillip's Peach Park. It was only
the right thing to do they decided as they grinned at each other and turned
their attention back to the awards presentations and celebrating with their
mom and dad, whom they noticed were giving each other those looks that
suggested they'd had a great afternoon also.
Returning to the campsite, they immediately looked up Max, who had
been anxiously awaiting their return.
"So, how are your brother and his buddies tonight?" asked Benny
with a grin.
"Oh man, they haven't shut up about this afternoon since they
returned to the campground. They've been bragging to each other about how
hot they'd gotten the girls, and what studs they are, and how great it is
going to be when they tell everyone back home. I thought they were
impossible to live with before but that was nothing compared to now. At
least they're so grateful I took the pictures they're not hassling me like
they usually do. Of course I know that's only because they're so full of
themselves right now. By tomorrow things will be back to normal."
"Until you get the pictures processed at that place I told you to
send them," observed Benny, having given Max the address of a place he'd
found on the Internet that processed film with no questions asked and that
they'd used themselves many times.
"You're sure they'll process them?"
"Oh yeah, guaranteed."
"I'll scan the pictures and email you jpeg copies."
"Cool. And you got to tell us the reaction of your brother and his
friends when you show them the pictures."
"And when you tell them if they hassle you one more time you'll see
a copy of them and their girls making out shows up at school," added Brent.
"That'll be hilarious after they've bragged to all their friends
how they lost their virginity."
"Wish we could be there to see the look on their faces," Bobby
giggled.
"Wish you could too," observed Max. "I don't know how I can thank
you enough for what you've done."
"Well, you could start by kissing Benny," Bobby observed.
"Bobbbyyyy!"
"Well, you said how attractive he is, and how you wouldn't mind
kissing him."
Benny looked at his kid brother in exasperation, and then at Max
with embarrassment. Before he could speak, Max put his arm around him and
kissed him. It was an inexperienced, sloppy kiss, which made it all the
hotter. Benny immediately felt his cock begin to swell and slipping an arm
around Max's shoulders, he returned the kiss.
"Wow, you're a hot kisser."
"I'd be glad to teach you," Benny said with a grin and a sparkle in
his hazel eyes.
"How'd you like to spend the night with us at our campground?"
Brent asked.
Max looked from one brother to the next. They didn't have to say
anything for him to know he would not be spending the night sleeping. "I
. . . ah . . . well," he shrugged as he shifted from one foot to the other
uncomfortably. "I've only . . . well . . . you know . . . messed around
with a buddy of mine. Nobody else. And just a bit."
"We don't have to mess around if you don't want to," Benny replied.
"We can just talk and stuff."
"Or if you'd be more comfortable just doing stuff with Benny, the
rest of us can go for a walk for a while or something."
"Have all of you messed around with a guy?"
"Sure. Alone. Sometimes all of us together."
"Ever all of you together with just one other guy?"
"Sometimes."
"That'd be so far out doing something with all four of you at the
same time."
"Then let's go see if you can sleep over in our tent."
Max being typically shy, his parents were delighted he'd made
friends and they had no problem with the request if it was all right with
the boys' parents, which of course it was. Despite the fact he owed his
brother for taking pictures, and the Brewster brothers for supposedly
matching him and his buddies up with the three hot broads, Max's brother
could not help observing that it looked like he and his friends weren't the
only one's who were going to score that day. Bobby opened his mouth to
reply as he took a step toward him, but before he could say or do anything,
his brothers dragged him away.
"The smart ass will be shutting his mouth soon enough once he sees
the 'girls' he and his brother lost their virginity to," observed Brent as
they crawled into their tent.
"I wanted to kick him in the nuts," observed Bobby.
"When he sees the pictures, they'll be a kick in the nuts."
"Our plan with the pictures and the Briggs's is going to be better
than anything you or we could say."
"Yeah, you're right," agreed Bobby. "He and his friends sure won't
be making any fag comments anymore."
"It'll shut them up," agreed Max. "But," he added with a sigh,
"there's thousands of others who think the same way they do."
"Yeah, but this time next week there'll be three less."
"And that will be worth it," grinned Max.
"Hey, glad to help out."
"You've done this sort of thing before," Max observed.
"Oh yeah. Stuff like it anyway."
"That's our mission. To rid the world of fag haters."
"And arrogant, pompous assholes."
"And righteous snobs and bigots."
"Or at least pay them back for their comments, or deflate their
egos."
"That's a big job."
"And a dirty one, but someone's gotta do it," observed Brett, and
the five boys laughed.
"It makes you feel good when you know you've fought back," Brent
commented seriously. "When you've taken one step to support gay rights or
to put someone in their place."
"It does," agreed Max, having taken his first step that afternoon.
"Not to mention how good you feel when you get thanked," added
Benny with a twinkle in his eyes. A guy could be serious for only so long.
"Oh yeah, I didn't get around to thanking the rest of you," said
Max with a grin.
"Well, we got all night," said Bobby as he slipped over and laid
his hand on Max's thigh.
As Max kissed the third boy he'd ever kissed in his life, the third
boy slipped his hot little hand up to Max's crotch and began to rub the
soft bulge he found. The twins began unbuttoning his shirt, and Benny
slipped down and began to untie his runners. Max immediately felt his cock
beginning to swell, and by the time the five of them had stripped each
other down to their underwear, his burgundy Fruit of the Loom briefs were
tented out. So were Benny's navy blue briefs and Bobby's skimpy black
tangas, which looked more like a jock strap than underwear and which he'd
taken to wearing since their Greek holiday, and the twin's plaid Joe Boxer
boxer- briefs.
Piling up their pillows in the centre of the tent, the boys eased
Max down on his back with his hips raised on the pillows. As Brent and
Brett leaned forward, their silky, long curls brushed over his naked chest
and he squirmed with arousal as two hot mouths fastened onto his until then
unsucked nipples. Bobby and Benny eased off his briefs, and as Bobby's
hot, moist tongue ran over Max's ball sac, Benny ran his tongue up the
boy's ass crack and wiggled it against his butthole. Unable to believe the
thrills rippling through his body and the pleasure of having four hot
mouths assaulting him, Max reached out and caressed the backs of the twins,
who immediately twisted around so that Max was able to caress Brent's
nipples with one hand and to stroke Brett's impressive seven-inch erection
which he'd slipped out of Brett's boxer-briefs with the other.
Max was well hung himself, his cock being five and a quarter inches
in length, and it was not long before it was twitching and aching for
attention. His four new friends had no intention of satisfying him that
quickly, and the twins continued to lick and suck his nipples until they
were so aroused each time one of the twins ran his tongue over one of the
hard, sensitive rosebuds Max's body jerked as if jolted with an electric
shock. The same happened each time Bobby paused from sucking on his eggs
and ran his hot tongue over his smooth, sensitive thigh.
And when Benny began to suck on his asshole, the suction on his rectum
drove Max wild. He squirmed and gasped and panted until he felt the first
signs that he was about to cum.
Before he did, the Brewster brothers suddenly stopped, much to his
disappointment. He wanted to tell them to continue for just another thirty
seconds, which was all it would have taken, but not wanting to sound
ungrateful or pushy, he said nothing and just lay there and enjoyed the
throbbing pleasure pulsating through his nipples, his groin, and his
asshole. Just because the boys had confessed to messing around, they
hadn't said they did so all the way, and figuring he might be the only one
of them who was perverse enough to do it all the way to the end, he said
nothing. Wondering if maybe the information he'd been told about having an
inexhaustible supply of cum was wrong, he wondered if he should ask, but he
was too embarrassed to do so.
Five minutes later the boys shifted around. Brent and Brett began
to lick the sensitive inner sides of his thighs and Bobby moved down to his
feet and began to suck on his toes. Benny meanwhile lay down in the
opposite direction as Max and began to lick his belly button. That of
course left Benny's jewels directly in front of Max's face, and the boy
eagerly twisted around and snuggled closer. Inhaling deeply out of
nervousness and once again growing arousal, he was rewarded with the rich
fragrance of Benny's hot, sweaty balls. His mouth drooling with
expectation, Max stuck out his tongue and ran it over Benny's low-hung
testicles. He soon had one and then the other in his mouth, and as he
sucked on the fragrant boy eggs and snorted with ecstasy through his nose,
his cock jerked and twitched more desperately than it ever had before in
response to the assault on his thighs, belly button and toes and the joy of
sucking another boy's balls.
Once again his hosts brought him almost to that peak that up until
then he and his buddy had always worked toward nonstop, and once again they
stopped and gasped and panted with the painful joy of arousal seconds
before erupting. He had never engaged in foreplay with a boy before, and
had never used foreplay to bring himself or another boy to the brink of
orgasm not just once, but twice, without even touching his cock. He could
not believe how awesome he was feeling as he lay there in the now hot tent,
his deep breathing matching that of the four brothers. When he got home,
his best bud was going to be in for a surprise.
Once again they switched around, always ensuring Max was the centre
of attention. Now the twins were laying in opposite directions to Max and
each took a foot and began to lick the sole and instep. Having slipped off
the pillows, Max found himself flat on his back with a pair of feet on
either side of his head. He had no idea which twin was which as he turned
his head and tentatively ran his tongue along the underside of one of the
feet. The rich, earthy fragrance of the foot added to the eroticism of his
first experience with foot play, and he inhaled deeply as he wormed his
tongue between the large and second toe of the foot. Brent squirmed with
arousal and sucked even more vigorously on Max's foot.
Bobby and Benny had meanwhile each lain down alongside their
brothers, and half leaning over them and half laying on them, they were now
licking the sides of Max's upper torso, slowly working their way up toward
his pits. He had fine, silky pit hairs, and his pits were fragrant from
the day's exercise and refreshed from the heat of his arousal. They, like
Brent's feet, had an earthy smell that was just strong enough to be erotic
and not so strong as to be rank. Once again Max felt himself being brought
to that peak, and now expecting it, welcomed the withdrawal and the buzz
that followed. This third time took a lot longer for the mad urge to shoot
to subside.
He welcomed the prolonged arousal, but at the same time he was
aching so badly to get off a load he felt like as tense as a drum with the
skin pulled too tightly over the frame. Never in his life had he felt so
aroused. Even so little as a hot breath rolling over his teats or his toes
or the brush of someone's hair against his skin was enough to cause him to
tremble and arch with the desperate need to have the burning itch crowning
his cock satisfied. Of course the Brewster boys knew that, and were
feeling the same itch.
Once more the boys shifted positions, and once again Max found
himself on his back with his hips raised on the stacked pillows. Now long,
wet tongues were attacking his stiff cock, running up and down the shaft,
curling under his hairy balls and running down between his legs to his
trembling butthole. With four boys laying there assaulting his crotch and
anus, he had four stiff cocks of varying sizes wagging before his face. He
eagerly licked and sucked on one, and as its owner shifted position to
assault his body lower or higher, another cock loomed in its place beside
or above his head. He knew of course that the longest two cocks belonged
to the twins, though he could not tell one from the other. Having never
seen twin cocks before, he took great delight in examining both in close-up
detail. Of course he knew the shortest cock, an impressive four and
three-quarters of an inch long, belonged to Bobby, meaning the other, which
was a quarter inch longer than his own, was Benny's.
Once again he felt himself approaching his climax and he squirmed
with the pleasure of his approaching orgasm, and with the pleasure that
comes when one knows he is pleasing another. In this case his physical
pleasure was quadrupled by the knowledge he was bringing pleasure not to
another boy, but four other boys as he licked and sucked first one cock and
then another. All the twisted, negative comments and insinuations and all
the insults he'd suffered from his brother and his two friends, and from
others, friends, classmates and total strangers, were forgotten in the wild
ecstasy and the knowledge of what sex with another boy can really be like.
He'd thought he'd known that from the messing around, as he'd called it,
that he'd done with his best buddy, but he knew now he and his buddy had
much to learn. He also knew at that moment he was learning from the
experts. His entire body ached, not just his loins, and his entire body
throbbed, not just his erect cock. His cock had been stiff for so long it
felt as long and as thick as a tree trunk, and the tension that was
building in his loins was like a lit firecracker that you knew was going to
explode but you just did not know when.
"Oh fuck," he sighed. "Oh yeah," he gasped. "Oh I'm going to
. . . I'm . . . ahhh . . . ooohh," he whimpered, too overcome with
finally the arrival of that ultimate pleasure to put it into words.
The four Brewster brothers knew what he meant, and how he was
feeling, the four boys feeling the same themselves. With a final gasp and
a shudder, Max thrust his hips in the air and his cum shot out of his
burning, throbbing cock, shooting high into the air, almost hitting the
tent roof Benny was to joke later, and arching back down to lace Benny's
cheek. The first shot was followed by others in rapid succession, his
primed nuts so tight it was as if they were being emptied down to the last
sperm. His hot streamers of cum laced his thighs and his heaving stomach,
Brent's face from the centre of his forehead down along the right side of
his nose, Brett's neck, and Bobby's chest.
At the same time the four brothers climaxed, three of them shooting
their thick, teenage loads at the boy in the middle of the heap and at each
other, and the fourth trembling and gasping with just as much pleasure as
his dry orgasm ripped through his loins. Cum struck Max from all
directions, hot streamers of creamy boy juice streaking his face, his
chest, his arms, and even his pits. What did not strike the gasping,
flushed fourteen-year-old struck one of the brothers, hot, throbbing cocks
shooting cum at each other so that it was impossible to tell if the cum
dripping from each of the tight balls belonged to those balls or the tight
nuts of one of the other two boys. Though Bobby had once again failed to
cum, he was dripping with the sticky, creamy shot of Max and his three
brothers, and he was trembling and gasping with the same hot pleasure as
they were.
"That was fucking awesome," Max sighed some time later as his
breathing returned to normal and his stiff cock began to droop.
"Oh yeah," agreed four other voices quietly.
"So, we ready to do it again?" the sole soprano voice asked as a
finger slid up Max's asscrack and pressed against his hole.
"Fuck yeah," sighed the voices of four boys in response to the
question, and soon once again all that could be heard in the still Okanagan
night was the laboured breathing from a small blue tent in the middle of
the WaterWorld RV and Family Camp Ground.