Date: Mon, 27 Aug 2012 05:03:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: monstermuscle212@yahoo.com
Subject: Brother's Biceps

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locations is entirely coincidental. This story contains sexual
activity between males and incest. By continuing on to the story you affirm
that you are of legal age to read this material and that this material is
legal at your present location.

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"Come on, Tim," I shouted through the door.

"This is my bedroom now," my little brother shouted back. He had now
officially crossed the line to become the worst houseguest ever.

"Cut it out. You're taking this too far," I pounded my fists on the door as
hard as I could.

"No, " he responded, "you're taking it too far by not listening!"

It was true that the sofa I had offered Tim was not an ideal bed for his
6'4" frame. But I was tired of hearing him tell me that he was now the big
brother.  "I'm a man," he had explained upon seeing the sofa. "I need a
man-sized bed." He stepped closer to me to emphasize the new difference in
our frames, and I swear I felt the weight of his shadow fall onto me.

"Why don't you sleep on the sofa?" He asked, looking down at me with
disdain.  "You're a dainty little thing."

Where did an 18 year old get that attitude? From the moment he'd shown up
at my front door he had acted like a different person than the brother I
remembered. He looked different, too: The tattered remains of a t-shirt
hung from his pecs in clingy folds. Nipples stretched parts of the fabric
so tightly I thought they might break through completely. The threads
spread around Tim's chest were the thinnest, most having lost their lives
in a hopeless battle to contain the boundaries of Tim's silhouette.

Where his sleeves ended, waves of muscle fibers danced with the slightest
motion of his arms and I found it impossible to divert my eyes from
them. Every time I tried to meet Tim's gaze, his cannonballs would command
my attention and my eyes dutifully obeyed.

I kept rapping on the door and reminding him that he was in my apartment
and he should stop being such a dick.

"I told you this is my bedroom," He shouted through the door. "I'm marking
it as mine!"

"What does that mean? You're peeing in my bed?"

He laughed. "What? No!"

"Are you jerking off?!"

No response.

"Jesus, Tim! Are you fucking kidding me?" BANG BANG BANG BANG I pounded my
fists.

"Shhh! You're breaking my concentration!" He sounded genuinely annoyed.

I stopped pounding and listened, pressing my ear to the door and closing my
eyes. No discernible noise for a while. Then I heard Tim's heavy footfalls
crossing the floor, sending out low vibrations I felt in my bones. The door
unlocked and I stepped back just as it opened. He stood before me naked,
scratching his head, as if confused by this odd person trying to get back
into his own bedroom. This pose pushed his bicep into an intimidating peak,
straining the confines of his skin like a water balloon ready to burst.

Leaves outside the window filtered moonlight across his body in gentle,
lapping tongues that caressed every detail of his torso. His bicep twitched
and mocked me as he scratched his head. Below, a dense pack of muscles
wrapped around from either side of his back and stretched all the way down
his waist, following an irresistible path to his erection - also inhumanly
large, also also inhumanly hard, also pulsing and mocking me -- a
glistening liquid pearl poised at its tip; the remnant of his deed.

His hand barely fit around the shaft, giving the impression that Tim's cock
wasn't a part of him but rather a junkyard dog he had unleashed; one with
strength and appetites he didn't control. He stroked it slowly in long,
deliberate motions, as if calming the beast for my protection.

Although I had previously noticed his package, I had still vainly hoped
that endowment would be the one area in which my brother would compare
himself to me and declare me the victor. In sexual liaisons I was usually
proven to be the bigger boy once the clothes came off. Seeing him now in
all his glory, though, I felt foolish for daring to hope I could beat him
at anything. Since his arrival, hadn't he repeatedly demonstrated that he
could beat me at everything? Why did I refuse to learn this lesson?

I stood before him, transfixed. My heart pounded so hard I feared he could
hear it. I felt him: I felt him like an earthquake or a bolt of lightening.
Staring at him matter-of-factly staking his claim to my bedroom -- his
towering frame, his mountainous bicep, his attack dog dick -- There was
no denying my feelings, and they could not merely be defined as lust. The
hunger for my baby brother went beyond that: What I felt was nothing short
of obedience. His utter magnificence demanded my total submission, and I
ached to give it to him.

The look on my face removed any pretense of resistance on my part. Tim saw
that I finally understood. His face spread into a triumphant grin. He took
his left hand from behind his head and squeezed it into a fist, showing me
the full potential of his bicep proportions. My jaw dropped at this display
of muscle and raw sexuality.

He laughed at my reaction. "HOLY FUCK, Mike! I'm your brother!"

He pulled down on his cock like a catapult and then let go so it smacked
his anvil belly with a loud THWACK, splattering drops of cum on his chest.
He winked and blew me a kiss. Then he turned around to grab a crumpled
designer t-shirt off the bed. It was my best t-shirt. Judging from its
condition, he had worn it today while I was at work. He smashed it against
his body, wiping the spunk off his chest and dick.

"You don't get into the bedroom yet," he said. "Sorry, Mikey. Not tonight.
But here's something to make sleeping on the sofa a little warmer." He
tossed the shirt at me and closed the door. He didn't lock it this time. He
didn't need to. He had made his point.

I raised the shirt to my face and inhaled deeply. It smelled of old musk
and fresh cum. I rubbed it all over my face until his wetness crossed my
lips. Using the shirt to muffle my voice, I exhaled a long, mournful wail,
shoulders shaking, tears streaming, and cock standing fully erect.

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