Date: Sun, 12 Dec 2010 17:44:11 -0800
From: webbrohmer@hotmail.com
Subject: Closer than Brothers, Part 2

This is a tale, written by an adult and intented for adult reading. If
you're not a legal adult where you live, if this subject matter is illegal,
or if you are offended by male/male sex, especially between siblingsdon't
read any further.


Incest/Urination - adult M/M sex  Copyright 2010 webbrohmer@hotmail.com


That summer I worked as a runner at Dad's dealership but only rarely saw
Damon. Then their daughter, Amanda, was born and whenever they came over,
he always had his hands full.

The last time I fucked Jason, I didn't enter slowly. Jason squirmed and
asked me to stop while I banged away in his ass. The more he begged, the
harder I fucked him. I finally shot my load and pulled out, leaving Jason
almost in tears. After that, we sucked each other off less and less
frequently, until the day Jason told me he'd been accepted into the state
university 200 miles away.

We whacked each other off one last time, and when I left I left behind more
than cum.

My own grades were good enough to get me a business scholarship at the
state university here. That was the time I came out to my family.

Mom turned red and kept swallowing hard; Dad turned purple and got mad. My
brothers and sister were on my side, especially Brooke whose husband had a
gay cousin. Even Damon looked at my parents and grumbled, "Jesus Christ,
he's happy, it's what he is, he's not sick, what's the problem?"

Before the conversation was done, Mom had come around. Her real worry was
anti-gay violence and that AIDS disease stalking the big cities. Dad,
sensing the weight of resistance, shut up about it. Within a year, both
were fine with it. I used this chance to sell them on letting me live
off-campus. Since I had a full scholarship, I argued, why not pay my rent
on my own place. I'd be safer living by myself. They agreed, and I moved
into a small studio close to campus. Ryan Ford, Brooke's gay cousin-in-law,
was a pharmacist for a local drugstore chain. He helped me to get a job as
a clerk at an outlet close to campus. This is all I wanted.

Every chance I got, I ran. After class, after work, I'd run. I ran through
campus, past the track boys bending and stretching in their shorts; I ran
through the park, past the men sunning themselves, bodies glistening with
heat; I ran through the streets, past the young daddies out with their
wives and children.

 There was a sex store on the outskirts of town with video booths where I
would suck as much of Damon's prick as I could find. The front sold toys
which I bought and learned to use.

I grew a goatee and clipped my hair short.

The city was large enough for several gay bars. I bought used leather and
wore it to the bars, passing through as silently as smoke on a mirror. When
I'd meet men we'd go home and I'd bang them until they screamed, and I'd
never see them again. Sometimes they wanted more but I didn't.

I visited the park. One night, I saw a bare-chested man standing behind a
maple, wetting his jeans. I helped, pissing on his pants before we sucked
each other off.

Afterwards, I held his face in the smelly mud and pissed on the back of his
head. He was so happy he wanted to get together and do it again. Again I
walked away.

During this time, little Amanda became sister to Brady.

Colin offered me a spot in his new dealership when I graduated. A line of
luxury cars was being introduced, and Dad's company received the local
franchise; Colin wanted me as office manager. I took a job as a management
trainee in an insurance agency. Dad, approaching retirement, was
disappointed, but I didn't care.

I dated Ryan Ford a few times. He was ten years older, dark, and hairy
enough to suit me. He was great with his hands: he loved stroking and
fondling me. I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed running my hands through his mat
of body hair. He could tease me all the way to just before orgasm and back
off. Edging he called it. We probed our asses with fingers, massaging one
side as we drooled out the other. We'd whack each other off, and when I
came, he brought me some of the best orgasms I'd had since Damon.

Finally, I convinced him to let me mount him, but I had to use a condom. He
squirmed, as they all did, and like them he complained that I was too
rough, but I didn't care. I saw me in his bedroom mirror; with him bent
across his bed, all I could see was myself. That was the last time we had
sex.

Someone told me that sex was like a knife to spread honey between two
people. All I knew was that my blade was serrated and had ripped me like
the skin of a tomato.

I'd hike the hills outside of town. Ryan would go with me sometimes. I
enjoyed his company, his gentle voice, and seeing his bare chest if it was
warm enough for us to be shirtless but we never had sex again.

Damon, Karen, and their kids would often drop by on my weekend visits with
my parents; all the kids and their families would, at least once a
month. By now Damon had started smoking and his blond hair was thinning on
top. Whenever he saw me, his eyes would light up, but not like they used
to. Something was missing in him.

One Sunday, they came over for and everything seemed the same. On the
following Wednesday, everything changed. As I undressed for bed, Damon
called.

"Wanna go out?" His voice was hushed, like he was afraid he'd be overheard.

I ignored the pounding in my heart. "Now? It's late."

"This weekend. I'm getting the weekend off, so I want to get away. Want to
come?"

A distant voice resembling mine asked, "The whole weekend? As in
overnight?"

"Overnight camping and hiking." His voice softened. "I know a great private
spot."

My dick boinged. I tried to keep my voice from trembling as I said, "Sounds
good."

"Gotta back pack? Not a day pack but a serious back pack."

"I do."

"I'll bring the tent. We'll talk more tomorrow."

I lived for that phone call and, after hanging up, I counted the hours
until I'd see him.

On Friday, I couldn't concentrate so I let my work stack up and went home
at noon. I was ready within an hour and went for a run.

Damon must have been able to get away early too, for he called shortly
after 4:00, saying he was on his way.

I was waiting outside my apartment building when Damon pulled up in his
blue sedan.

We spoke very little on the way. He drove with his left hand on the wheel,
his legs spread and his right hand on the seat between us. My left hand
slid over until we touched, knuckle to knuckle. He didn't respond, he
didn't move his hand away, and my prick stiffened. I thought I saw the
bulge of his prick ending just above the cuff of his shorts, but I wasn't
sure. He only took his hand away to place on the wheel when his left hand
flicked the ashes of his Salems out the window. Then his hand returned to
the seat. Right next to mine.

We sat that way the rest of the ride, only stopping at a convenience store
for a 12-pack of beer. From there, we drove out of the city, passing wheat
fields and cow pastures, down dirt roads. Finally, he turned onto two ruts
among wild carrots and stopped a short distance from the road before a
padlocked gate.

"This is it, bro."

I looked at him quizzically as he unlocked the gate then drove
through. After locking the gate behind him, we drove a quarter mile or so
before he finally parked. Now we unloaded and distributed everything
between us. He'd even packed a small wheelbarrow, to carry the cooler of
food and the 12-pack.

"A dozen acres. You know Joe Santora? Mechanic? Works in Alex's shop?"

I shook my head. I hadn't been around the lots since Dad bought me my
college graduation car.

"This is his property. Leaves it sitting for fishing and camping and lets
his friends use it." Damon pointed down a trail bordered by tiger lilies
and more wild carrots and curving through sycamores and mulberries. We
started off together, each of us pulling a handle on the wheelbarrow.

The trail had no sooner curved among the trees when Damon looked
behind. Now we couldn't even see the car. "I've been waiting for this." He
set down his half of the wheelbarrow, adjusted his pack around his waist,
then fumbled with his shorts. They fell to his ankles and he kicked them
off. He wore no underwear and his own handle lengthened before us. Not to
be outdone, my shorts were off about the same time, only my handle stuck up
and out since I wasn't wearing underwear either. I blushed. He laughed as
we tossed our shorts into the wheelbarrow.

We grabbed the handles and walked on, his own prick bouncing to full
erection as we walked.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," he said softly.

"I've missed you," I told him, my voice dry.

"Me too. Karen isn't...Brooke told me about you and Ryan, and when I got a
weekend off...." He stopped and swallowed.

I said nothing, listening to the scrunch of our boots, the chirp of the
birds, the rustle of the wind and the rattle of the wheelbarrow. So far,
I'd heard what I wanted to hear, but I didn't know if I really wanted to
hear more or not.

Ahead of us a brown rabbit darted out of thistles and bounced along before
us until disappearing into the grass to our left.

After another curve the trees opened onto a small meadow beside a stream;
in the middle was a large bare spot with remnants of a fireplace. Swifts
swooped at grass-top level, feeding.

"This is it. Joe loves this for fishing."

He set everything down, slid off his pack and unloaded the tent, showing me
how to pound in the stakes and erect the frame.

When we finished we peeled off our sweaty teeshirts and stood naked, both
still hard. It was the last time we wore clothes that weekend.

We laughed, my ears burning. Damon tossed his sleeping bag next to the tent
and I tossed mine beside his. His arms slid around my waist, his hands felt
up my belly and down to my prick. "You've got a lot more body hair now; I
can't believe it's been so fuckin' long since I saw you naked."

"Eight years," I said, turning around to face him. "I've learned a lot."

"Jason? Ryan? Any girlfriends?"

"I love men. . . and you."

Impulsively, I kissed him. He hesitated, brought his arms up and clenched
his fists, then lowered them and wrapped his arms around me as he slipped
his tongue into my mouth. It was the first time he'd ever kissed me.

Our hands were all over each other. I rubbed his back, stroked his chest,
reacquainting with his body and the fine blonde hairs all over it. His
asscheeks were still hard and round, his pectorals firm, his muscles
hard. He had the beginnings of flab around his belly but underneath that,
his abs were still hard.

"I'm sorry." He grabbed my ears and pulled my head to his. "I'm sorry. I
never wanted to leave you like that. It was just . . . ."

"I'm still here." My words came out hoarse. "I was always here, waiting for
you."

He said nothing more, but dropped to his knees and swallowed my prick. I
gasped, thinking I'd come right there.

He stopped just in time and stood, grinning, and now his smile wrinkled his
eyes the way they used to. I kneeled to slurp at his prick.

It tasted just as I always remembered it: soft, yet firm, dry and
salty. His familiar musky smell, trapped by his pubic hair, made my head
swim. I sucked and slobbered until, laughing, he forced me to stop.

Damon unrolled the sleeping blankets. Without a word, I lay down onto my
back. Damon lifted my legs and mounted me.

I wanted to scream from the burn and the passion as he humped my ass
slowly, in and out, before increasing his momentum. We panted and grunted
together as if we'd never been separated and his breathing came deeper and
deeper, matching his thrusts.

"Yess . . . yes . . . yes . . . " he hissed, he thrust twice more and
tossed his head back as he pumped his seed into me. He collapsed upon me,
whuffling and snorting in my ear. I ran my hands up and down his back, down
to his asscrack, then pushed. He caught his breath as he resisted for a
moment, then relaxed and my finger popped in.

He moaned softly as I entered and probed. The next finger slid in, and the
next. I massaged the hot silkiness of chute until he whimpered.

"Yes," he whispered. "Do it, bro. I want my brother's man-dick up my ass."

I'd waited years to hear that. I pulled my fingers out so quickly he gasped
and shoved them into his mouth. He licked them greedily, so intently that I
had switched places and shoved my rod up his ass before he even realized I
was there and riding him doggy style.

"Oh shit," he moaned.

"Yeah, shit," I growled. "Now you've got your baby brother's prick up your
virgin ass. And it is a virgin ass, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, between clenched teeth.

"Then shut the fuck up and enjoy it." I whacked him on the asscheeks. He
grunted but shut up. I kicked at his ankles. "Want you down lower. Spread
'em."

He did, and balancing himself with his hands while I wrapped my arms around
his waist, feeling his heat pour out of his asshole, up my pole and spread
through me like hot coffee.

"I'm gonna make your first one something you'll never forget," I said,
banging away even harder. I slapped his ass in rhythm with my strokes. He
whimpered under the onslaught.

"Quiet, pussyboi," I growled. He shut up and I smacked him harder, watching
his cheeks turn pink. "Don't move." I withdrew and dashed over to my pack.

I found exactly what I was looking for. When I returned Damon hadn't moved.

"How bad do you want this man-dick up that virgin ass? How bad do want to
feel your brother's mantool buried up that shit-filled pussy chute of
yours?"

"What the fuck're you talkin' about, Evan? You gonna fuck . . . Owww!"

I slapped his ass-hard.

"Cut that out . . . Oww!"

Another smack-harder this time-and now I snapped ankle cuffs into place.

"Evan . . . ." Before he could stand up, I cuffed his wrists and jerked on
the strap-hard. He grunted in surprise as I jerked it tighter and tighter
until I could buckle the wrist cuffs to the ankles. He slid forward, face
sideways on the sleeping bag. This was why I'd bought and played with all
those toys,

"Cut this shit out, right now."

"Shut the fuck up," I roared back. "You want my man-dick up your sorryass
pussy chute then you're gonna hafta earn it."

"Fuck you."

"No, it's fuck you; you're the one tied up."

"What the fuck's this all about?" I caught a hint of fear in his
voice. Good.

"Eight years, Damon. It's about eight fuckin' years."

I slid my paddle across his ass, still pink from the spanking. I didn't
remember the golden down now covering them, but I couldn't wait to see that
butt covered in a golden sun tan.

"Look, I said I was sorry...."

"Then ACT sorry." I swung-hard-across his asscheeks. He yelped. "Show me
how sorry you are; beg for my cock up your pussy chute cause that's the
only way you'll ever get it."

"Fuck . . . Yeoww!" he hollered against the smack of the paddle.

I whacked him again then rubbed my hand across his reddening mounds; Damon
grunted, then moaned softly as I caressed him.

"Karen never did this, did she? Played with your this ass?"

"You kidding? All she'd do was spread her legs."

"I'll do more than that, but you're gonna beg for it. Because you're my
brother, you get the flat leather one, instead of my studded one."

And I swatted again and again, Damon yelling at every swing. His yelps
became cries, then sobs while I flailed away for eight years.

Finally Damon screamed and sobbed, "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm
sorry and I want your cock up my ass . . . please."

"Please, SIR!" THWACK!

"Please, sir." It was a whimper, choked off with a sob. I dropped my paddle
and stopped long enough to wipe the sweat off my drenched body before
shoving my still-hard dick up his ass. He cried out, but choked it off.

He was hot, he was tight, he was my brother and I thought I'd blow my wad
right then, but I clamped down and rode the feeling until it rolled away.

"Karen never did this, did she-give you the fucking of your life?"

"No," he gasped.

SMACK!

"No, sir!"

"But you like having your pussy chute stuffed with man-dick, don't you?"

"Yes . . . yessir; especially yours, sir." It died out to a whisper, but
his head was up and his spine arched in ecstasy.

That was what I needed; with a yell, I increased my banging, smacking his
ass, rubbing and stroking them. His hole was mine now, and was as loose as
it was going to get. One hand snaked up his chest and found a nipple,
squeezing out a whimper. The other hand found his cock, dripping and harder
than I'd ever remembered.

"Brother likes that, doesn't he?" I grunted, and flung more sweat off my
forehead.

"Yes sir!" This time it was loud and strong. The smell of our sweat was
overpowering, as were our moans and the slap of man balls against
man-butt. My balls gathered.

"I'm gonna shoot!" My dick grew even harder. "I'm gonna fill your pussy
chute!"

Damon chanted "Yes sir, please sir" over and over while I banged and pushed
myself right to the edge.

"Yeah . . . Here it comes, fuck boi!" And I shot; I screamed, I spasmed as
my white hot lava burned through my cock. I yelled, I roared and Damon
yowled and bucked as he creamed another load on his own.

My brother-boi's knees collapsed and he rolled over, pulling me down with
him. I wrapped my arms around him and we panted while the cicadas droned,
the birds twittered and a breeze cooled our bodies. Finally, I unshackled
him.

We talked, we ate, we drank, we talked nonstop. That night, we zipped our
sleeping bags together in the tent and I slept in my brother's arms.

The next morning, I was the first one awake. I crawled out of the tent and
stirred up the fire, then walked off to piss. The early summer air was
already warm.

I was still hard and grunted my flow into a stream as I heard Damon crawl
out of the tent. He was hard too, and grinned as he walked up, put his arm
around my waist, and we peed together.

As I stopped my stream, Damon knelt and kissed away the remaining drops,
then licked my shaft. Next thing I knew he was slurping away, sucking as if
he'd never stopped.

He sucked me off expertly. I screamed and tossed my head and flailed my
arms and my knees wobbled as I shot.

When done, he stood up and put his arms around me and we held each other.

When I pissed again, I aimed my hot stream all over his prick, getting us
both hard. I licked off his dripping pole and he emptied into me, mouthfuls
of his hot liquid filling me.

The next month, we spend a naked weekend together alone in our family's
cabin, in the attic where we'd started. That first morning, we peed
together out the attic window, our fingers stuffed up the other's ass. We
were able to meet like this, sometimes at my apartment and sometimes in a
motel across town, once a month for over a year, until Damon announced he
was separating from Karen.

I moved to Denver. Two months later Damon followed me. We now live in a
house on the outskirts of town, a view of the Rockies out our bedroom
window. I work as office manager for a medical clinic. Damon works at a car
dealer and goes to night school, getting a business degree.

He grew a goatee, too, and I've grown mine into a beard. We work out,
lifting weights, and we sleep together. I'll see the two of us, cuddled
together, in our bedroom mirror, bodies and limbs entwined, fitting
together like the pieces of a puzzle.

People see us running together, shopping together, or him following me into
the bars, and ask if we're twins.

People have always thought we're twins, but we're not; we're closer than
that.