Date: Mon, 18 May 2015 00:14:02 +0000 (UTC)
From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Insatiable" for Gay Male, Incest

INSATIABLE


by Kevin Donovan


What follows is a work of gay erotic fiction, intended exclusively for an
adult audience interested in homoerotica, and for whom such reading
material is not illegal.  If that does not describe you, hit delete now.

All characters are imaginary, and all are willing adult participants.

All rights reserved to the author.  Your comments are welcome at
letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com


Please do your part to keep this site hard and dripping by sending your
contribution to Nifty right away.


CHAPTER ONE


	"I've fucked you three times.  Tonight.  And one this morning."

	"It's not like you're saving it up or anything.  Who else's ass do
you need cum for?  You know, they say it's good to empty the tank
regularly, it helps prompt your nuts to make more, and it keeps it fresh.
You want to give me fresh jizz, don't you?

	"How could it be anything but fresh?  I don't store it more than
half an hour."

	"OK, you're starting to whine now.  So--you want me to date other
men, is that what you're saying? Step one of letting me down easy, in your
mind."

	"That's not what I said.  I said I think WE should date some other
men.  Both of us.  Audition them.  First, it gives us--you AND me--another
sexual outlet on the night of the date itself.  Second, eventually, I hope
we'll find another guy who is compatible with both of us, that we both
like.  Someone we could even both love.  Someone who could become our third
partner, a second husband to each of us.

	"No wonder straight people never really accept gay marriage.  Right
away you go making it kinky and weird."

	"Polygamy is not that weird.  It is commonly practiced throughout
the world."

	"Customarily, with two females, i. e. bottoms, for one male, not
with two males to one female."

	"Yes, it takes two females, or more, to satisfy one lusty male.  It
would for me, too.  But when the bottom is a male--such as yourself-- look
out. I'm not sure adding just one more top will be sufficient.  Also, you
are mistaken: there is a form of group marriage with multiple males, one
female, or bottom--it's called polyandry.  And in this case, we may need
three or four tops to satisfy the Insatiable.'

	"We'll need a bigger bed."

	"Yeah, well one thing at a time.  What I want to know is, do you
have your eye on anyone who would make a good date prospect?  Who turns you
on that you haven't told me about?"

	"I always tell you who turns me on."

	"I mean, restricting yourself to living men over the age of
eighteen who live in our city or are willing to relocate.  Ones you see on
TV don't count, especially super-heroes in tights, or sports figures."

	"Well.  That rules out some of the best ones, right off the bat.
Speaking of bats, man, that third baseman for the...."

	"Seriously."

	"I was just going to say, he swings a mean bat.  You can see it,
even with his cup in."

	"An athlete is fine, in fact he'd better be to keep up with you.
He just needs to live in our state."

	"Then...I got nothin'."

	"Why does that not surprise me.  I expected as much.  Well,
fortunately, I came to this conversation fully prepared with a first
nominee."

	"Oh?  Who?"

	Drew moved over to his partner's right nipple before responding.

	"Shayne Withrow."

	Brandon actually sputtered.

	"Aw, come on.  You can't mean it.  I mean, he's a nice
guy... handsome... hung...a sex fiend...real hot ass, not as nice as mine,
but...well, and hung, did I say 'hung'?  BUT, and this is a huge BUTT, he's
already living with that awful prick Pierre.  Oh, God.  What a diva.  Which
shows Shayne has no taste in men, whatsoever, so why would he go for me?
Us?"

	"First, you know very well he goes for 'us,' meaning YOU, from that
weekend he spent with us at Uncle Joe's cabin...."

	"When Pee-Aire faked a migraine and kept him in their room the
whole fuckin' weekend, and ruined it for everyone..."

	"Yeah, for both you and Shayne, because he would otherwise have
pounded your ass into the next Saturday..."

	"And there's no way, no way, I'm putting up with that bitch
Pee-Aire again for ten minutes.  I'd beat the crap out of him, and you know
how little prone to violence I am..."

	"Ah, but you won't have to, my sweet.  Shayne ditched the bitch a
couple of weeks ago.  After one week of moping, he now admits he had shit
for brains when he let the selfish prick move in with him in the first
place, and he is much better off without him.  I give him credit for trying
as hard as he did to make it work, after they moved in together.  He's not
a quitter, I'll say that, not an easy one, anyway.  But now, he's starting
to cast his eyes about for a hot prospect, being a horny bastard..."

	"Like you..."

	"Like us...and I thought we should ask him out again, just him this
time, before he hooks up with another prima donna you--we--can't stand and
ruins the whole deal."

	"A weekend date?  That has big possibilities of disaster if it
doesn't go well."

	"Big possibilities of very good things if it does.  If it doesn't,
what the fuck, it's one weekend."

	"One whole weekend."

	"Of you getting fucked hour after hour..."

	"Keep talking, it's starting to sound better...."

	"Look, do this for me, and I'll buy a strap-on for when you wear my
dick out but aren't ready to give it up."

	"A huge strap-on?"

	"Ten inches, at least."

	"Hmmm. I'm thinking..."

	"Shayne is not far from ten, himself, remember?  Not far at all.
Lift your feet up."

	Brandon's sexy feet rose above Drew's firm, rounded buttocks, and
Drew, erection now restored, slid his cock smoothly up his partner's
fuck-chute.

	"Did the inventor of Viagra get a Nobel prize?"

	Brandon smiled.

	"No, just a gazillion dollars. Is that what it took to get you hard
again, Romeo?"

	"No.  You."

	"Don't shit me."

	"And thinking about Shayne fucking both of us with that big dick of
his."

	"I see.  Well, I guess we both could use a bit more anal
penetration now and again.  We're free the next couple of weekends, how
about Joe's cabin?  How about Shayne and his Cock of Doom?"

	"Cabin free, I've checked.  Shayne, I'll ask tomorrow.  Thanks.  I
love you."

	"Keep fucking.  I love you, too, but keep fucking."

	Drew fucked until, a sweat-soaked, panting pile of exhausted
twenty-eight-year-old stud man, he managed to ejaculate a few more drops of
his semen into his husband's well-worn colon.  Brandon sighed, content at
last, for a few minutes at least.

	"I do love you," he whispered.


* * * * *




	At the dinner table, Drew glanced coyly at Brandon, more than once.
Brandon ignored the first couple of overtures, enjoying his salmon with
couscous and haricot verte, and sipping his Chablis.  Both men were nude,
having removed their work clothes immediately upon arrival.  Brandon had
arrived first, as usual, and had prepared the dinner, an easy and quick
menu.  He did wonder what Drew was so eager to share with him, but for the
life of him, could not figure out what it might be.  On the third smug
smile, he caved.

	"O.K., what is it?  What are you so hot to tell me?  Who is
sleeping around on whom?  What office drama brightened your day today?"

	Drew shot him a slightly offended look, but immediately brightened
into a smile again.

	"It's our coming weekend at the cabin.  I have news.  Very
surprising, interesting news.  Jaw-dropping news, if you care to hear it."

	"Spill."

	"I did talk with Shayne today, as planned.  I asked him down to
coffee at morning break, alone--so he knew something was up, possibly
sexual.  He seemed eager to talk, too.  Then, he blew my plan out of the
water."

	"Fuck, Drew.  But wait, it couldn't be that bad, or you would not
be smiling.  So what--he crawled under the table and sucked your dick?"

	"No, better. Seems he had as much to tell me as I had for him.  In
summary, our buddy Shayne, who I've known for four or five years, mostly at
work, but occasionally in bed, as you know, who we both consider to be
quite handsome and sexy, and who has the second or third biggest dick we've
ever personally experienced..."

	"Oh, for Chrissakes, Drew, summarize!"

	"That same Shayne Whitmore --is a TWIN!"

	"Cri-kee.  No shit. Fraternal or identical?"

	"Eye-fuckin'-dentical.  His twin's name is Layne, fifteen minutes
older.  They grew up in Colorado, and both had a hard time accepting their
sexuality.  Layne met a hot blonde, a woman, in Cancun, just after college,
and he ran off to San Diego to be with her.  Even though Shayne had ample
reason to believe Layne was also gay. ..."

	"Ample reason?"

	"Exactly.  The very reason you are thinking.  But he tried hard to
go straight with this woman, and mostly pulled it off for almost six years.
Then, last month, she came home early and caught him fucking a surfer he'd
picked up at Black's Beach.  Chased the kid out into the back yard naked
and locked the door behind him.  But meanwhile, Layne seized his
opportunity and ran out the front door, equally naked, but carrying his
wallet, car key, his own boxers, and the kid's board shorts.  He got into
the car and made his escape--luckily, his blonde was not as quick on her
feet as Tiger Woods' wife--he saw her come out of the house with a fire
poker, but he'd already made his turn."

	"What happened to the kid?"

	"Picked him up on the other side of the block, just walking down
the sidewalk naked, looking around for a ride."

	"Fuck.  How hot!  How did this end?"

	"Hasn't totally.  Divorce in the works, not final.  The surfer dude
won't speak to Layne again. he's pissed.  But Shayne sent Layne a plane
ticket to come here, and he arrived Thursday.  He's interviewing for a job
with our company, in another division.  Staying with Shayne...."

	"So, I guess Shayne is not available for the weekend, then--or for
married life with us...."

	"I didn't say that.  He can join us next weekend, looking forward
to it.  IF he can bring Layne with him."

	"Holy fuck.  Are those two a couple now?  How hot is that!"

	"Very.  Or it would be.  They were once very, very close, and
Shayne is overjoyed to have his twin back again.  But both of them are,
like, 90% top, or more."

	"Like you."

	"Or even more than me.  That's how Layne planned to make it as a
straight man, he thought he could fuck anything."

	"Little knowing, he'd need to fuck some of everything."

	"Yeah.  Layne's only been here a week, and in that time, they've
bedded one another, but it's been kind of tentative so far.  Shayne feels
like Layne is holding something back.  They haven't had the big
heart-to-heart Shayne thinks they need to have.  But when he finally let me
get around to explaining our little dilemma, Shayne's face lit up like
Times Square.  Seems the twins are neither one too excited about taking it
up the bum to satisfy one another, especially since both of them are randy
fuckers, needing a lot of penetration and release.  They've actually joked
about taking on a bottom guy to service them both, but they don't know who.
Has to be someone they'd both be compatible with, and neither of them is
the bar-hopping or Craig's List type.  Shayne called his brother right then
and there, and Layne can't wait to meet you.  And me.  They both want this
weekend rather than next, because it's sooner.  Layne even asked, why not
both?"

	"Why, not, indeed?  Next weekend is Memorial Day, and we could have
an extra day then.  If he looks like Shayne, and if he's equipped like
Shayne...is there such a thing as an emperor-size bed?"

	"No, but--shit, I don't want to get too far ahead of this thing,
and that's exactly what I feel like I'm doing.

	"First, though--yes, he does look exactly like Shayne.  I mean
exactly, I saw a full-length photo.  Naked.  Hard.  On Shayne's phone, but
even so, Layne has the full package, just like Shayne, he could change a
tire with that thing.

	"Second, here's where we apply the brakes a bit.  Six years is a
long time they've been apart, hardly seen one another because the bitch did
not like Layne's brother, because he was gay.  She said, rather screamed,
that she always knew Layne "had it," too. the gay gene.  So Shayne is
nervous about them coming back together.  He thinks they need to
concentrate on their relationship first, figure out what that is going to
be, before they start thinking about sharing someone else.  Layne might not
be up for a four-way, not on a permanent basis, and Shane wants not to
scare him off.  So it could wind up being just the three of us, and Layne
on an occasional basis, who knows.  Still, even if this arrangement does
not pan out, another one could soon--I was thinking we all might want to
buy a bigger house, together.  Maybe remodel to make a bedroom big enough
for two king-size.  What do you think?"

	"I think we have a lot riding on this weekend."

	"I think someone is going to do a lot of riding."

* * * * *


	Friday came quickly, and Drew and Brandon rode out to Uncle Joe's
cabin in Drew's F 150 after sneaking off from work early, in mid-afternoon.
They stopped at a supermarket on the way out for supplies, keeping things
simple and mostly grillable.  This was going to be a man's outing, with
little cooking and even less dish-washing.  Both men got naked as soon as
the truck hit the highway--it was the dress code of the cabin, as well as
their own home, and both liked traveling nude, anyway, whenever they could
swing it.  In the high vehicle, only truckers could see in at seat level,
and there were few of them on this particular rural roadway.  Upon turning
into the gravel driveway marked "Cock o' the Wood," they proceeded up and
over a hill, a quarter of a mile through woodland, to the house itself,
nestled comfortably above a shallow "river" (only because it was long
enough to graduate from "creek.")  Drew parked beside the long front porch,
and the two unloaded their sparse luggage and supplies in a few trips,
selecting one of the two ground-level bedrooms on the back of the log home
as their own space.  The cabin was rustic, not primitive.  It was
attractively appointed, its kitchen well equipped, and its furniture
comfortable and on the new side.  Both men had always liked coming out, and
they did so several weekends and usually a whole summer week each year.


	"You know," Brandon began, looking around the large, open room,
"you've never actually told me your Uncle Joe plays for our team.  Why is
that?"

	"So, who says he does?" was Drew's cryptic response.

	"Oh, come on.  Look at this place.  Well decorated, kitchen full of
cooking equipment, no sign of a woman in his life.  The man's a fuckin'
landscape designer...."

	"Well, dude, it's his fuckin' business.  He knows I'm gay, and he
hasn't said anything.  So it's his move, right?  Meanwhile, I get to be his
favorite nephew, gay or not."

	"Wait.  Aren't you Joe's ONLY nephew?"

	"Yep.  Reducing the risk of rejection considerably.  And he said
last week we should come out here more often, since he doesn't get to all
that much, he's so busy.  No vacation for the business owner, I guess. And
summer, the best season to be here, is his busiest time."

	By this time, the truck was unloaded and the supplies put away.
Steaks were marinating, potatoes scrubbed, oiled, and seasoned,
salad-making underway.  Brandon was setting the table out on the back deck
as the guests drove up in Shayne's Cherokee.  As Brandon returned to the
kitchen for wine glasses, Shayne entered, naked but for flip-flops and a
mischievous grin, carrying a box of additional items he'd offered to bring.
He set them on the countertop, gave Drew a quick, but friendly kiss, and
approached Brandon, still grinning.  The man was hot, no doubt about
it--even better than at the last visit, having lost and redistributed a few
pounds since ditching Pierre, as Drew had previously reported.  His flaccid
dick was everything Brandon remembered it to be, and more--the pube trim
job even neater.

	"What?" asked Bran suspiciously.

	Shayne just took the man into his beefy arms and drew Bran's body
up to his own.  He laid a deep, passionate kiss on his surprised host,
lingering to savor it.  As taken aback as Brandon was, he wasn't about to
break a suction like that!  He slid his tongue right in to fill the vacancy
left by Shayne's own, and the two men enjoyed familiarizing themselves anew
with one another's oral cavities.  Drew looking on amusedly, they made out
for a full minute, before Shayne broke the kiss and took a step back.  His
smile was back.

	"What the fuck?"

	"Good to meet you," he said.  He turned and exited, leaving
Brandon's jaw sort of flapping.

	"What the fuck's with him?  What the fuck did that mean?" Bran
repeated, bewildered.

	"Um.  Sweetheart.  That was not Shayne."

	"Oh, shit!  Fuck!  Then that was...you mean...that dick...that
body.  He kisses like...Oh, fuck!...How do you know?"

	"Aside from what he said, he has a cute little yin-yang tattoo on
his right buttock.  Shayne's is on the left."

	"Damn.  I never was all that observant of details.  I just saw a
fuckin' gorgeous piece of butt-meat with a USDA inspection stamp on
it...Fuck.  He washed the top layer off my tonsils, man.  I think he could
give you a run for your money as a make-out artist."

	"Well, I'd say we're off to a good start, then"

	Just then, the figure entered the screen door again, this time
bearing two small sports bags.

	"Hope the dress code hasn't changed out here.  We didn't bring much
for clothes."

	"Whatever you brought, you won't need it," responded Drew.

	The man set down the bags and went to Drew.

	"Long time, Dude.  Since, what, eleven o'clock?"  He kissed Drew on
the mouth.  Then, he turned to Brandon, and laughed.

	"Fuck, look at your face!  We haven't done that shit since high
school!  Used to swap dates sometimes, and the girls never knew it!  I
fucked Layne's ex-wife twice, back in Cancun that time, and she STILL
doesn't know!"

	A duplicate of the speaker entered, also laughing, bearing a full
ice chest.

	"Yeah, and it would cost me plenty at this point if she found out,
so shut your cock-suckin' mouth."

	The first man approached Brandon and put his arms around his waist
to kiss him.  Brandon pulled back suspiciously and bent to look at the
man's butt.  There was a Yin-Yang on the left buttock.  Brandon's arms went
around him, and the two kissed as deeply and erotically as the earlier
example.

	"Hmmm.  We may have to have a kiss-off around here later.  It is a
very close race among the three finalists, which one has the edge at
tonsil-washing.

	"Make it a cock-sucking final, and I'm in.  I'm pretty sure I can
take these two dudes in that one."

	"Based on what evidence," asked Layne, of the right-inked buttock.

	"Based on the mediocre blow you gave me last night."

	"You ass-hole!  That wasn't what you said last night, while you
were pumping you vile breed-seed down my pipe!"

	"Well, I was trying to encourage you.  We'll let these two judge
between us tonight.  And you're goin' down, I'll tell you that!"

	"Yeah, you're both goin' down.  But that's after dinner.  We have
some wine for the steaks, but for now, who wants a beer?"  Drew pulled a
pair of Black and Tans out of the cooler and uncapped them for the guests,
then returned for another pair for Brandon and himself.  The nude quartet
took long, satisfying draws from their bottles and looked one another over
appraisingly.

	"Gorgeous views here, man," commented Layne appreciatively.
"Thanks for including me."

	"Yeah, my uncle chose a great, scenic site for this place."

	"Oh, you mean outside?  I was talkin' about the views right here in
the kitchen."

	Among similar repartee, the men strolled out to the deck to sip
their beers and enjoy the interplay of light and shadow across the valley
spreading below.  Soon, Drew brought out another eight beers, and led them
down from the deck and around a rocky outcrop, where Uncle Joe had
installed a hot tub, brilliantly designed to imitate a natural hot spring .

	"Damn, this is so great, just like a real..." Layne was saying,
then, "whoops, I never saw a natural spring with jets of water quite like
that one.  Fuck, I better watch where I sit...don't want to go full colonic
on you guys, if you know what I mean...."

	Shayne laughed, "No, not without a hose to carry the shit away,
man."

	Drew leaned over the side of the spa and pulled up a length of
garden hose.

	"I don't know how to put this delicately.  It's, ah, to take care
of any detritus that might be, you know, the skunk at the garden party.
Here, hang over the edge there, and stick this up your butt.  I'll turn it
on slow."

	Layne looked both amused and disconcerted.  "Fuck, man, I didn't
know I was going to be the floor show.  What the fuck."  He followed
instructions, and had a notably easy time inserting the business end of the
hosepipe into his rectum.

	"Uh huh, we see you are not the restored virgin you claimed to be
the other night," his brother remarked.

	"Yeah, well...."

	Drew gave the spigot a quarter turn, and Layne's eyebrows shot up.

	"Cold!"

	"You want more?"

	"Fuck, no.  Just be patient."  With a look of concentration, Layne
experienced the filling of his colon with cold water from the spigot.
After an interval, he pulled the hose out.

	"Now what?"

	"Expel over the edge.  Expel, don't fall."  It was a forty-foot
drop to the next grassy ledge.

	"My, this is glamorous," declared Shayne, as Layne cut loose with a
strong burst of water from his bum.

	"Shut up.  You've done worse and seen me do worse, too."

	"Yeah, like when your buddy Ronnie...."

	"One more word, and I shit all over you."

	"OK, Bro, but that was funny."

	Layne applied the hose to his hole again, and expelled again.  He
must have filled fuller this time, and pushed harder, because this burst
went outward six feet at least, before dropping as spray into the abyss.

	"'Guys, this is every bit as much fun as it looks."

	"That's OK, we're all about to experience it.  There are six
ass-opening jets in all in this thing."

	Layne passed off the hose to his brother and sat on the one he had
discovered.

	"Hot damn.  Fuck.  Opens you right up, man, and that hot water is
great after that fuckin' hose-pipe.  Fuck, I could fit Shayne's cock up
there now, or Drew's."

	"You already could, you pussy."

	"Yeah, well I mean easy, with no screaming, now."

	"We'll see...."

	"Beyond recreational screaming...."

	Shayne's ass was full of cold water, and he emptied it with a
similar blast into the mountainside.

	"You mentioned that Uncle Joe designed and built this thing?"
Brandon asked suggestively.

	"Yeah, yeah.  I know.  I was just fucking with you earlier.  You're
right, Uncle Joe is queer.  And don't ask--yes, we've gotten it on.  Years
ago, I came out to him first, for practice.  He taught me a few cool moves.
But not for a long time, if that's what you're thinking about next."

	"Drew, far be it from me...Fuck, Hon, I think the man is hot.
Those graying temples.  He's like your dad's side, tall and lean, just
enough hair."

	"Hush, now, Mom's side is hot, too.  And that's where the bumper
butt and an extra inch of dick come from."

	"You got an extra inch of dick from your mom?"  That was Layne,
cleansed and seated firmly atop an anal nozzle.

	"Yes, asshole, from her gene pool.  I've seen her brother Mike in
the changing room.  But Joe has enough for all natural purposes."

	"True.  But it's those UN-natural purposes I so enjoy, Babe."

	Shayne completed his third bowel blast and handed the hose to
Brandon.

	"Considering my plans for the evening, I think I'll take four of
these."

	"Another couple in two or three hours might be a good idea, too,"
said Drew.

	A round of beers later, the four men were fully cleansed, seated
atop ass expanding geysers of hot water, and very comfortable with one
another.

* * * * *

	Dinner consumed, wine bottles (2) drained, the men pushed back
slightly from the table.  The DST sun had not yet set, but the sky was
beginning to redden.

	"So...what did we bring for dessert?" hazzarded Brandon.

	Three pairs of eyes swiveled toward his, and three pairs of
eyebrows rose satirically.

	"Um...well, that's not so much a 'what' as it is a 'who,' Hon,"
said Drew.

	"I was thinking of something sweet...maybe a bit tangy...."

	"Yeah...."  Three handsome faces grinned.

	"Oh.  Well, where would you like this dessert served, then,
Milord?"

	"How 'bout we start in the Prince of Wales Parlor, then maybe move
to the Marlboro Bedroom?"

	"More beers?  Cooler's handy.  I didn't bring brandy," said Shayne.

	"Tool kit's in the Great Room, I mean Prince's Parlor, already, on
the hearth."

	"Tool kit?" from Brandon.

	"Necessaries.  Lube, poppers, pre-rolled joints, few anal toys, tit
clamps, that sort of thing."

	"Dayum."


	The four dick-drooling dudes rose, gathered empties, the butler and
staff being off for the evening, and adjourned to the cabin's only living
room area.


To be continued...