Date: Sun, 23 Dec 2007 10:17:11 -0800 (PST)
From: Cover yer Teeth <coveryerteeth@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Hardwick Men, part 6

     That day marked the start of a turn of events in my life that I never
would have expected. The image of our Dad working that intimidating cock of
his up to that impressive explosion haunted my thoughts almost constantly.
Even though I had nutted twice that day, I jerked off again as I lay in bed
that night replaying both the scene of our whole-family circle jerk as well
as the sight of Dad's sweet, bare ass on display as he bent over before me.
The exhilaration over just how much ravenous lust welled within me as I
reflected upon my own Father's undeniable sex appeal combined with the
shame and trepidation over indulging in fantasy of such a taboo nature was
an incomparable feeling. It electrified my every muscle, sent chills
through my spine and made my limbs tremble uncontrollably. Almost as soon
as the splashes of cum hit my stomach, coaxed out by the memory of that
immense geyser of hot, white jizz Dad rubbed out for us that morning, the
blurry, lustful thoughts left my mind and I was overcome with overwhelming
regret.  Everything I ever learned about the way the world works came
rushing to the forefront of my brain, screaming at me that what I was doing
was wrong.  Sick and wrong. How could I think about my own Father that way?
What the fuck was wrong with me?

     This began a cycle that repeated regularly for me for quite some
time. I would glance at Dad, sometimes; suddenly see him in that different
light and it would make my dick twitch. Silently, I would then scold myself
and do my best to push those feelings away, only to have them erupt
furiously the next time I had my pud in my hand, refusing to be ignored.
Suddenly, all kinds of things that before were just mundane aspects of our
life took on an added excitement. Like perusing Dad's porn stash in his
room for some stroke material. That used to be no big deal. By Brad's
Freshman year of High School, the four of us shared all the porn in the
house. After seeing Dad spooge, being in his room while he was out became
more of a turn on for me than any of his pussy porn. If he or my brothers
were around, I would just quickly snag whatever looked like the stuff he
had most recently got off to and take it back to my room. When I was home
alone though, that's when Dad's room became a veritable pleasure chest.

     Sometimes, I would just lay in Dad's bed working my cock and fingering
my hole while watching whatever porno he had left in the player. If I had
the itch for a little kink, I would riffle through his hamper and find a
pair of shorts that he had worked out in or, on rare occasions, a pair of
boxers.  Dad wasn't in the habit of wearing underwear all that often. The
seam in Dad's shorts stored the most intoxicating, manly scent. All it took
was to hold them up to my nose, inhale my Father's raw, masculine aroma and
I would spring wood like you could drive a nail with. Once, after he was
out the door, I knew he would be gone for hours so I headed into his room
for a nice, long, leisurely wank. Dad has never been a cleanliness Nazi or
anything, but he did prefer to keep his things tidy. He had been unusually
busy around this time, so I understood when I found his room in slight
disarray. Bed unmade.  Clothes strewn here and there. I liked it much
better, this way. It felt more lived-in. The next best thing to having him
right there.

     I made my way around Dad's room, looking over the magazines and tapes
that lay about trying to determine which ones he had last used to get his
rocks off. As I occasionally grabbed whatever article of clothing was
within reach, searching for that certain scent that drives me crazy, I
noticed that Dad had left his closet door hanging open. Sudden curiosity
began to swell within me and I wondered why I had never thought to snoop
around for stuff Dad might keep out of reach, before. I suppose growing up
in such an open environment, as we did, is the best prevention against that
proverbial curiosity that killed the cat. I had often been in his closet,
of course, when I put away his freshly laundered clothes, but I had never
been through any of the things he kept in his closet shelves. Mostly, I
found boxes full of stuff that must have belonged to our Mom. Some boxes
with important- looking papers. Bits and bobs. When I reached up over the
top shelf to the left, my hand hit something almost cylindrical covered in
soft fabric. I gripped onto it and pulled it down. It was a very plain
looking draw-string pouch made from red felt. In a million years, I could
never have prepared myself for what I found inside.

     As soon as I loosened the draw string closure, my heart jumped up into
my throat. The felt fell away to reveal a head staring back at me. The cock
head of an enormous latex dildo! I was frozen solid in bewilderment. I
stood there for what seemed like an eternity just holding the pouch by the
base and staring, wide-eyed, at the tip of the naughty toy peeking out at
me, trying to wrap my mind around what Dad wanted with one of those
things. Did he have it so that all those women he brought home could play
with it? That seemed like the most logical explanation. However, even
though the toy was big I was certain that Dad's actual cock was still
bigger. What good would a cold, rubber dildo be to a woman who could just
as easily have a bigger, better, flesh-and-blood Hardwick cock? As I began
to recover from the shock of my discovery and regain the use of my
extremities, I remembered the orgy that my brothers and I had spied on when
we were little where we saw Dad double-fuck the same hole as that other guy
and I convinced myself that that must be what it was for - to get that
double penetration feeling without having to have another guy around.
Surely, that makes the most sense. Surely. The only other alternative was
so . . . explosive. The prospect of it was so titillating that I couldn't
even bring myself to entertain the thought. But there it sat, at the back
of my mind, niggling at me and making my own Hardwick cock strain against
my fly.

     This was the find of a lifetime; exactly what I needed to bust a
monster nutt! I reached into the pouch, grabbed the big fake dick by the
base just above the balls and removed it from the bag. I could feel from
the weight of the sack that something else remained inside. I up-ended the
pouch and little tube of K-Y fell out. That did it! I dropped the lube and
the bag right there on the floor, shucked my shirt, freed my aching cock
and fell backward into Dad's bed with his dildo. I slicked up my stroking
hand with my tongue and started pounding my pud. I closed my eyes and
focused on the feel of the firm rubber dong in my other hand. It wasn't
quite the same as a real cock, but it was still very erotic. I had sucked
off our friend Jeff, now and then, and even played with Brad and Shane's
cocks in a way, but in all those times there was something holding me
back. I never could relax completely. I never felt safe enough to let on
that beyond the bullshit line about boys being boys, or how we were all
"just horsing around," I was developing a serious fondness for rock hard
dick. But this time, there was no one around to see. I could let go
completely and just enjoy myself.

     With my eyes closed, I raised the big fake cock to my face and laid it
gently across my lips. It was slightly cool and clammy to the touch and
felt heftier than it did in my hand. The tip brushed up against my nose and
I inhaled deeply, hoping that I might be able to discern some remnant of
what Dad really did use it for. Sadly, all I could smell was something not
unlike that of balloons. Still, knowing that my Dad undoubtedly used the
stiff play- thing that was then draped over my chin for something kinky
drove me to the edge. I opened my mouth and let the tip slide through my
lips. It tasted strange, but I liked the feeling of a nice, fat cock
filling my mouth. I had never sucked on a rod that size. I wanted to fit it
all in, but the tip kept cramming against my throat and I couldn't get it
to go any deeper without gagging. The position I was laying in, hanging off
the end of Dad's bed with my feet on the floor, began to get uncomfortable
so I pushed myself up further onto his mattress.

     When I laid back closer to the head of his bed, I felt something wet
beneath me. I rolled over to find a few still moist globs of Dad's cum all
over the bed. Those same thoughts came rushing back from the day I watched
him blow. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to taste Dad's spooge so bad
that, before I knew it, I had tossed the dildo aside and was licking that
same baby-batter that brought me into this world off his sheets. It was
pungent and salty, but I couldn't get enough. A few licks in and I couldn't
hold back any longer. I rubbed out a huge load of my own cum over the same
apot, mixing it with my Dad's. After I licked up all that intermingled
Hardwick spooge, I just lay there out of breath, sweaty and panting. That
nutt was fantastic!

     My head was swimming for some time, but when it cleared there was a
harsh realization staring me right in the face. I loved the taste of our
Father's cum. I loved having his dildo in my mouth while imagining all the
places on his body it may have touched. I got off to his porn in his room
far more often than I did anywhere else. Way too often to deny that it was
the feeling of his proximity that I was getting off on. Trying to
rationalize it all away any longer would be pointless. Whether it was wrong
or not, the truth is that that my own Father got me hot. Really hot! And I
fucking loved it. Not sure exactly what that meant or where to go from
there I just put his dildo back in its pouch and set it up on the high
shelf in his closet just like I had found it, stripped the bed and took my
turn at doing the household laundry to cover my tracks.

     Some time after that, Shane, Brad and I were out at our spot in the
woods, late in the afternoon, laying across the hood of Shane's car
drinking beer and staring off into space. We could generally find some
trouble to get into, but more often than not life in a small town meant
sitting around watching the grass grow. On this day, we figured that laying
about getting drunk sounded like as good a way as any to while away a lazy
afternoon and, with each successive beer, our afternoon just kept getting
lazier and lazier.  At first it was mostly jibes and pot-shots, which gave
way to idle chit-chat and before long we were just interrupting a series of
comfortable silences with something like five words every fifteen
minutes. They say that idle hands are the Devil's playthings, but when it
comes to teenage boys with too much time on their hands it tends to be
another body part that springs to life and aims to misbehave.

     When Brad got squirmy all of a sudden, I looked over to see him
readjusting himself before he broke the silence by proclaiming, "Man, I
wish Jenny Wilson was here, right now!"

     "Are you sure you'd even know what to do with her, if she was?" You
can't honestly expect me to pass up the chance to take a swing when they go
and set themselves up like that, now can you?

     Shane chuckled in that low, rumbley way that usually means someone
just got burned so well he has to laugh, but he's trying his best not to
rub it in. To curb his minor giggle-fit he blurted out, "I . . . I don't
know.  Young Padawan over there seems to have a pretty good handle on where
everything goes. Or at least, when we tag-teamed Chrissy Beckman, he
figured out that 'Tab A' fit into 'Slot B' without having to stop and read
the directions.  That's something."

     "I'm not sure that counts." Alright, so there's no excuse for this
one.  I just felt more like teasing than playing the supportive older
brother.  "Chrissy Beckman is like that little mechanical horse in front of
the grocery store. Once you've got her going, she does all the work
herself."

     "That's no lie, but fuck you anyway, Cade! I got game that'd put yours
to shame, any day." Our kid brother really could lay pipe good as any High
School kid, but his machismo could have used a little work.

     I reached over and playfully mussed his hair when I said, "It's easy
to have game when you're bumper-bowling, Son. Don't worry, though. The next
time you and I hit the same nail, I'll show you how it's done."

     "Whatever."

     Shane had rolled off the side of the hood and was digging around in
his glove box while Brad and I were horsing around. When he shut the
passenger door and stepped back toward us, he tossed something into my lap
and said, "Check those out and tell me they don't look like I put together
one Hell of an educational experience for my Baby Brother, Asshole!"

     I looked down to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. Pictures featuring
Brad and Shane buck naked and filling out Chrissy like an application.
"Holy Shit!" leaped out of my mouth before I was even three pictures in.

     "Why haven't I seen these before?!?" Brad bellowed. He was all up on
my left side snatching pictures out of my hand as soon as I had looked them
over.

     "I was so fucking drunk, I don't even remember taking pictures," Shane
said before sucking back another swallow of beer. "I found'em in my glove
box when I swapped out the expired insurance card, the other day. Do you
remember taking those?"

     "I do now. And I'm having this one framed, by the way. Would you look
at that!"

     I leaned over to see which one he was talking about. "Yeah, that's a
good shot. Point blank. Leaves nothing to the imagination. But how can you
be sure that's your cock and not Shane's?"

     "Easy," Brad said. "By the way she's stuffed to capacity. If this had
been Shane's pencil dick, there'd be gaps on both sides."

     "You smartass little punk!" While Brad and I laughed our asses off,
Shane ran around to the driver's side of the car so he could get his hands
on Brad. "I'll show you. Keep talkin' and I'll plow your bitch-ass pussy so
hard you'll think this pencil dick is the size of a Louisville slugger!"
Shane had him in a choke hold and Brad was getting noogied pretty hard.

     He said it as a joke, but when I heard that, it got my gears to
turning.  We had been the very definition of idleness, all day. We were all
half-drunk.  Sitting around sprouting wood and talking sex had culminated
in my getting to flip through what amounts to a slide show of my two
brothers on the job.  After all that, the image Shane brought to my mind of
him teaching Brad, first hand, what damage he could do with his big
Hardwick cock made my "Devil's Plaything" twitch like crazy. Without
bothering to stop and think it through, I reached over and grabbed Brad's
jeans and started unbuttoning his fly.

     "That's right, Shane. I think this runt needs to be taught a lesson.
A lesson called, 'Respect Your Elders.'"

     "You stay outta this, Ass-Wipe!" Brad's hands that had been trying to
pry his neck free from Shane's hold on him immediately moved to swat my
hands away from his crotch. "I didn't do anything to you."

     "The mouth on this kid! If you're not careful, you won't just get a
spanking. I'll wash your mouth out, too." Nobody could pick up a cue like
Shane. He dropped the noogie bit and grabbed Brad's left arm to hold it
behind his back.

     Once I had his jeans undone, I grabbed them at his knees and yanked
them down as I slid off the front of Shane's car. I pulled his feet off of
the driver's side of the car and Shane leaned into his back so that, soon,
Brad was bent over the hood with his pants down around his knees. Brad was
on the varsity wrestling team, so he wasn't easy to get the best of. He
bucked and struggled, nearly freeing himself from Shane's hold a few times
before Shane crawled up onto the side of the car and sat on Brad's back,
straddling his shoulders between his knees. He was kicking wildly in every
direction so the only safe place for me to stand was over Brad's thighs
with my feet on either side of his knees so that his jeans kept his legs
bound where he couldn't kick me. I grabbed the waistband of his boxers and
pushed them down, as well, exposing my Baby Brother's round, muscular ass.

     "Get off of me, you sick fucks!" he yelled as he squirmed under
Shane's weight, trying to free himself.

     "This oughta teach you to shoot your mouth off," I said before I
slapped his ass hard with my right hand.

     Brad bucked even more fiercely than before, but Shane really had him
in a bind. He was getting a real kick out of all this. He said, "Give him
Hell, Cade!"

     I slapped his ass a few more times on the right, then switched to the
left. The position we were in was too awkward for me to get a real good
swing at him, so I bent down to push Brad's clothes all the way down around
the ankles of his boots to incapacitate his feet. I stepped over to the
side now that I was out of the strike zone, rared back and really smacked
his left ass cheek hard.

     My hand landed with a loud crack and Brad yelped, "Ow! Cut it out, you
cunt-rag! That one really hurt."

     The sound of that last one had Shane laughing almost louder than
Brad's begging. "Tsk. Tsk. Such language! Guess he hasn't learned his
lesson yet, Cade." Shane grabbed Brad by the hair holding his head down
against the hood of his car and then he leaned backward and twisted around
to playfully slap Brad's ass once, too. He couldn't help himself, even
though it wasn't really very smart. He was too over-extended to swat him
all that hard, plus Brad took advantage of Shane's shifted weight to break
out of his hold and send Shane falling backward off the car. Shane landed
flat on his back with a thud. "Ah! Damn, that hurt."

     Brad spun around on his heels and dove on top of Shane without even
bothering to pull up his pants. "Good! That's what you get, you sorry sack
of shit! Let's see how you like it." Shane was still reeling a little too
much from having the wind knocked out of him to put up much of a fight.
Brad had him flipped over onto his stomach in no time and started whaling
over and over on Shane's ass. "Does that feel good, Bitch? It's not so much
fun when it's your ass on fire, huh?"

     As I watched Brad's hand slam down hard against our Big Brother's
butt, again and again, I noticed something I hadn't before that really made
this a sight to behold. Almost without thinking, I took a runner toward
them and tackled Brad, mid back-swing. The two of us went rolling through
the grass until we stopped with me on my back and Brad laying on top of
me. I quickly regained my composure and hurried to hook my arms under
Brad's shoulders and raised them to pin his elbows back.

     "What the fuck, Cade?!?" he whined.

     "Sorry, man," I said as I struggled to keep him from wriggling free.
"I just wanted to make sure Shane got a chance to see that you're full of
shit."

     Shane, who had just managed to collect himself and raise to his knees,
was rubbing his aching head. "What's that?" he asked, but as soon as he
turned to look his expression changed completely. By the apparent way he
was struggling to hold back his laughter, I knew he could tell immediately
what I was talking about.

     "I think our Baby Brother enjoyed his spanking a lot more than he let
on. Wudda you think, Shane?"

     "I'm gonna enjoy getting you assholes back for this. That's what I'm
gonna enjoy!" Brad was still bucking and wiggling to get loose. I'm not
sure he even realized, himself.

     Shane waddled over closer to us on his knees as this huge, doofy grin
stretched across his face from ear to ear. "DUDE! You're hard as a rock!
What the fuck, man? Are you liking this?"

     "Fuck you, Shane! I got hard talkin' 'bout girls and looking at those
pictures."

     "I don't know," I interjected with a patronizing tone, having to fight
to get the words out with Brad's crushing weight on my chest. "That was a
while ago. You'd have to been damn horny to stay hard through all of this.
I think you getting off on wrestling with dudes makes more sense."

     "No wonder you made the varsity team."

     "Eat shit! Both of ya'," Brad hissed as he nearly managed to shake my
hold.

     Shane quickly crawled over to straddle the both of us, pinning Brad's
thighs down into mine, allowing me to regain control of his upper body.
"It's okay, man. We've all fooled around with other dudes. It's fun. And
dudes don't follow you around like a shadow, afterward. 'Member how Chrissy
went all psycho stalker, for a while?" As he was talking, Shane unzipped
his own fly and freed his rapidly hardening cock. He gripped it around the
base and began playfully slapping Brad's ballsack with the tip. "Besides,
when you're all boned up, you kinda gotta work with whatever's handy or do
without."