Date: Wed, 27 Apr 2016 11:19:07 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: Giving Them A Show

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/116078398364/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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survive. It changed my life, and maybe it's changed yours too. Please help
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I love hearing from you guys. a4f101@yahoo.com. Enjoy...

*****

"Dude, you're shitting me!" I said. He just grinned, shrugged his
shoulders.

"No lie, dude," he said. "I cleared about two grand last month, give or
take."

"Fuck, man," I said. Despite myself, I was kind of intrigued. And two grand
was a nice chunk of change, for what amounted to a few hours' work a
week. More than I made in two months serving up lattes at the little
Starbucks down at the Student Center food court. Cole was a little sheepish
at first about the whole webcam thing, but once he saw I wasn't all freaked
out about it, he got more enthusiastic.

"I'm telling you, bro," he said, taking a big hit on the joint we were
passing back and forth, "you could do it, man. You got a great build,
you're not that much smaller than me. All you gotta do is wear some good
underwear, flex up a bit, maybe show a little of the goods..."

"Oh, that's all, huh?" I grinned, taking a hit myself. "And these horny
pervs will shell out just for that, huh bro?"

"Well..." he said with a sheepish grin, "if you want to make the real
bucks, of course, you gotta give `em a bit more of a show."

"So jack off, basically," I laughed, and he grinned back, nodded.

"Yeah man, they love that shit. Especially if you really draw it out. You
can hustle `em for some serious coin if you hold off shooting, tease `em a
little."

"Fuck, I can't believe you actually do that, man," I said. Cole had always
been an enterprising dude, always able to find money-making
opportunities. He took another big hit, fixed me with an assessing kind of
look, then smiled.

"Tell you what, little bro," he said, voice husky with the smoke. "Why
don't you check it out for yourself?"

I stared at him as he fired up his Macbook, logged onto the cam site,
fussed with the lighting a little.

"Get the blinds for me, will ya bro?" he said with a crooked grin, and I
found myself closing them tight as he ducked into his bedroom. Curious
about what was about to happen. He came back out a minute later, wearing
his old high school football T-shirt and a pair of Under Armour athletic
shorts. He got down on the floor, knocked out a rapid-fire set of push-ups,
then squats, then crunches, getting his already big, thick muscles
primed. Then he plopped down in his desk chair, pulled a fresh joint from
the stashbox sitting beside his Mac, and shot me a grin.

"You ready, little brother?" he said. It was showtime.

I watched quietly as Cole - excuse me, "420jockbro" - went to work. He kept
the camera carefully angled so nothing above his strong, square jaw showed,
maybe the occasional glimpse of his full, lazily smiling lips from time to
time. He started out lazily rubbing his big hand over the meat of his pecs,
straining beneath the tightness of that years-old shirt of his. Flexing his
big, thick, powerful arms slowly for the admirers. Teasingly rubbing his
abs, exposing just the lower third of them. Then standing up to flex some
more, showing off the big, round muscled mounds showcased perfectly in his
athletic shorts. Every so often, he'd mute the mic, tell me what they were
asking to do, giving me a running tally of the `tips' he was getting.

"And now," he said in a mock announcer's voice, "we come to the more naked
part of the program." And then slowly, teasingly proceeded to peel his old
shirt up, crunching his abs tight as he did, flexing up his pecs. After
that, he slid his shorts down a little, showing off the waistband of his
designer briefs, playing with the skin below his bellybutton, the thick
mass of muscle of his abdomen. Turning around to show off the tops of his
big muscular cheeks in back, and then arching his back a little, making
that thick, powerful ass of his pop, before he slowly skinned the shorts
down his big thighs. I swallowed hard. He was really good at this. He
looked amazing.

"Check this out, this shit drives `em nuts," he chuckled, and then slowly
pushed the waistband down, showing off the upper part of his neatly trimmed
bush. His cock was lazily thick in his briefs, a nice solid tube that grew
a little as he began teasing his hand over it, while flexing up his thick
quads. I swallowed some more, took a sip of water. Despite myself, I was
kind of transfixed. I was watching my hunky big brother strip off for an
audience of random, anonymous strangers on the internet, live in person. It
couldn't get much weirder. And then, he slipped his hand inside his briefs,
and looked over at me. Slowly smiled.

"This is the part where it gets... lucrative," he said with an easy, stoned
smile. His eyes flicked down to my crotch, and we both saw that I was
throbbing inside my cargo shorts. I swallowed hard. He winked. Then he
returned his attention to the show, and hauled his cock out.

Fuck, he was big. Big and thick, perfectly proportioned to his big, thickly
muscled college-senior body. I watched him slowly, proudly, teasingly play
with himself for a good solid 15 minutes.

"They want me to shoot for `em, little bro," he said, and the casual ease
of that sentence, the way he looked over at me, made me shiver. Made me
throb. I was in alien territory, but I wasn't the least bit afraid. I was
intrigued. Compelled.

"I have a better idea, though," he grinned, and turned the mic back
on. "You guys want to see me and my bud?"

"Dude, what..." I started, but he motioned me to be quiet. Smiled, nodded
as he read the scrolling text filling the chat window.

"You want to make some money, little brother? I'll cut you in for 50% of
what I make today." He stared at me, smiling that maddening, easy smile, a
gently encouraging look in his eyes. The fucker could get me to do nearly
anything with that look, that sense of big-brotherly encouragement. I found
myself slowly nodding, and his smile widened.

"Good. Lose your shirt, and look in the second drawer in my room. There's a
couple of those Mexican wrestler masks. Bring `em back here, and let's make
some fucking cash, little bro."

I stripped my T-shirt off in his room, checked myself out. I'd worked out
this morning, but I pushed out a quick set of push-ups anyway. I was
tighter, leaner than Cole, my muscles more clearly defined. I looked pretty
good. I found the two masks - black, tight-fitting, brightly colored around
the eye and mouth openings - and brought them back out to the living room,
where Cole was lazily stroking his big, hard, shiny cock. He grinned at me,
stood up, and put the mask on me. It was immediately hot, a little itchy,
but something about it - the anonymity, I dunno - was weirdly compelling. I
felt... different. Bolder. More excited. Cole donned his luchador mask,
then stuck the remains of his second joint in my mouth. I hit it, hard, and
then he reached down, tugged the waist of my cargo shorts a little lower to
show off my underwear waistband - "Dude, Under Armour, they'll fuckin' love
that," he grinned - slipped his arm around my neck and pulled me in front
of his camera.

Cole's cock went back into his briefs for the time being, and I followed
his lead. We flexed up, showed off, apparently driving the audience crazy
with anticipation. And then my big bro started to touch me as I flexed,
caressing my muscles, showing me off to the cam, drawing thick fingers
slowly along the definition of my 19-year-old body.

"Yeah, br... bud, show these guys how hot you are, studbro," he said, and I
had to stifle a stoned giggle, but I leaned in and flexed my tight bicep up
hard. And for the first time, saw the chat window. Saw what they wanted us
to do. Fuck, I don't know why I hadn't expected these kinds of demands, but
I was shocked anyway. I'd made out with a guy, sure. I'd jacked off with a
couple buds back in high school, me and my baseball teammates. But to do
that with my brother...

"Hmmm," Cole said, leaning in to see what I was reading. He fished a fresh
joint out, sparked it up, and spoke to them.

"You want to see us swap tongues, dudes? See us jockbros make out?
Well... like the old saying goes, guys - show me the money."

I watched the tally mount, real quick, gasping quietly. And then Cole
looked at me. Smiled through the red-lined hole in his luchador mask. His
big blue eyes were giving me that encouraging, playful look again. He took
a long hit on the blunt, then exhaled a stream of funky smoke against my
lips. I found myself parting them, accepting the smoke, and before I could
say anything, he leaned in and kissed me. Slow, gentle at first. Lips
moving mine open more, allowing space for his tongue to slip in. And then I
moaned, surrendered to it, my cock raging in my shorts, as my big brother
kissed me like a lover. Expert, deep, wet, hungry. We must have spent five
minutes doing that, as I got into it, kissed him back, relishing his
surprised, pleased grunt as I fed him my tongue, felt his body press to
mine, his big hand reaching down to rub my overstuffed crotch. Slowly
undoing my shorts, revealing the big bulge in my white UA boxer
briefs. Then the slow, skilled, rhythmic rub of his palm against my big
bulge, as I moaned into his mouth and leaked into my shorts, lost in his
expert makeout.

I panted as we came up for air, the two of us staring at each other as his
hand slowly slid up off my throbbing bulge. I was already on the verge of
cumming. He leaned in, and ran the width of his warm, wet tongue up from
the center of my chest, up my throat to the base of the tight, hot mask I
was wearing, as I clutched the big bulge of his biceps, shivered and moaned
aloud.

"We're gonna take a little break, guys," he said, and I suddenly remembered
that we'd had an audience for all that. He hit a button on the Macbook, and
the little red tally light by the camera lens went off.

"Dude, that was..." he started.

"Intense," I panted, finishing. He grinned, nodded, as he peeled his mask
off. His short hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead. His handsome face
grinning at me. I found myself grinning back as I pulled my mask off. Then
he pulled me back into him and kissed me again, slower and sweeter this
time, his big hands roving over my body more tenderly. No paying audience
now - just us. My head was spinning.

"How much money did we just make?" I said when that kiss ended. He checked
the little tally window, nodded with an impressed smile.

"About $500, more or less," He said. Looked at me with that assessing look
of his again. I swallowed nervously.

"You know... I bet we could make a lot more than that. Like... a lot more,
little bro. I have an idea..."

We cam as "420realjockbrothers" now. Cole just bought a new F-150, and my
six-month-old GTI is halfway paid off already. And two, three times a week,
if you log onto a particular cam site, you can watch me and Cole fuck,
bare, live, for real. Cole's big ex-jock cock sliding up my tail, before
spraying his big, thick load over my muscles. My cock parting his muscular
glutes and fucking the cum out of him. The two of us slowly sucking each
other off simultaneously... and for the right amount of tips, slowly
swapping loads in a deep, wet, tongue-dripping kiss afterwards. The
luchador masks have kind of become our signature. A big porn producer out
in San Diego just offered us a seriously lucrative deal to make videos for
a new site. Cole wants to buy a house, and I want to travel Europe this
upcoming summer break. I think we're gonna go for it. I dunno... what do
you guys think?