Date: Thu, 19 Jan 2017 21:39:16 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Karl & Greg Chapter 11

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/karl-and-greg/karl-and-greg-1) for warnings
and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between blood-related men. Go away if any of that is against your local
rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Skip food-related
paragraphs with (^) at the start. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

What did break through was a husky voice that was certainly NOT that of pa,
coming from the doorway. Pa still locked my knees behind his elbows, but I
could look down my chest and past my leaking cock and throbbing nads. What
I saw sent me into incandescent rage. "Well, fuck, Pa! You weren't
kidding!" Karl was in the doorway, pants down and rock-hard prick jutting
up past the elastic bands of his jock and boxers. I was about to get what I
had always wanted, to lose my cherry to my personal God and Pa, and that
fucker popped up to ruin it!

*****
Karl & Greg 11: Betrayal
M/M/M; intense incest; anal (cherry); oral; submission

"What a view, Pa!" Karl's greasy work-shirt shirt was open and it was
obvious that he was a younger, slightly taller version of my personal
God. The muscles. The build. The fur. But the perpetual smirk on his face
and that grating, dismissive voice that I so loathed ruined any erotic
effect. I was finally about to get what I'd dreamed of, Pa taking my cherry
and fulfilling what I had wanted for my entire life, and Karl was here to
ruin even that. I called on every force in the universe to descend upon him
in flames and vaporise the very atoms that made up his body, but it didn't
really work too well. "You weren't kidding! That is one hell of a fine ass,
Pa!

"Welcome home, son. Happy Birthday. But take a closer look."

Karl looked past my ass and the bright red bow and positively beamed. His
eyes roving my toned body and tight legs until they reached my face. His
eyes bugged out as if on stalks. "Holy fuck, Pa! Holy shit that's Greg!
That is Way Sick! You promised me a virgin hole, but fuck, Pa, this is
better than anything you could ever have come up with!
Best. Birthday. EVER!" His obnoxious cackle and Pa's deep laugh melted
together.

It took a moment. Remember, I was so high on Pa's scent and my own lust
that thought was a distant concept at best. But I caught up eventually. My
heart went from the insistent thumping beat of lust unleased
to... silence. My breath froze. My mind didn't go blank, it
simply... stopped.

"Welcome Home...."  "Fine ass..."  "Happy Birthday..."  "Promised me a
virgin..."  "Take a closer look..."  "That's Greg..."  "Ready to lose your
cherry..."  "Best..."  "Birthday..."  "Ever..."

Time, breath, heartbeat and thought crashed back into existence along with
the realisation. Everything. Everything since that first baseball
game. Every caress. Every warm word. It was a setup. I had finally gotten
Pa's attention, something he'd lavished on Karl and denied me. Something
I'd craved my entire life. I'd finally done it. I'd done it right and won
Pa's attention and even affection. But I didn't. None of this had been
about Greg. Greg was just a commodity. Pa had 'got me' as a, a present. A
fucking BIRTHDAY present. For the person I hated most.

"NOOOO!" A long, ululating wail. The eternal 'Nay!' I erupted in sobs and
cries as my world crashed around me in waves. My soul ripped with
alternating tides of betrayal, adoration, humiliation, desire,
loathing/self-loathing, need, envy, lust and loss.

"Is he always this loud, Pa?" That sneer, that voice, only drove me deeper
into despair and hatred.

"Actually, yeah, but usually a lot more begging and less complaining. So,
you did what I told ya? You ready, sport?"

"Yeah, Pa. I haven't cum since Wednesday and I been edging since I left
Indy. Nearly got meself killed twice when I got too close to cumming and
too close to the median at the same time, but I'm here and ready.  FUCK,
Pa! This is too much."

"Get over here. But don't 'unwrap' it yet. That's for later." Pa's chuckle
sliced through me like an icy knife. The bow on the ribbon. Pa had not only
set me up as my hated brother's birthday present, he'd wrapped me. With a
BOW! A red ribbon and fucking BOW!

I started to wail and cry again and Pa silenced me in the most efficient
way possible, by thrusting his cock deep into my throat. I thirsted to bite
him, to rip his dick off and laugh as he bled to death. But deeper than
that, I still wanted him, and his dick, more than any other thing on
Earth. I hated and worshiped him equally, and could no sooner have refused
to suck him than I could have chewed off a limb. My bile rose with my lust
NO! rage, but I forced my sobs and shudders to add pleasure to the man who
had done this for me.... TO me *TO*me!

I felt Karl's hands on me and shivered in lus... NO! NO! with revulsion. I
could feel the heat of him and was shocked and elated when Pa's stern voice
rang out, "STOP!"

That elation was painfully short-lived. "What is the first rule, son? You
forget EVERYTHING I've taught you in a few weeks at the Brickyard?"

I felt Karl drop to his knees and his hands returned to my thighs, then my
ass as he firmly spread my cheeks and began to eat my boy-hole. I felt that
I might vomit at his touch, and a wave of lustful NO! revolted shudders
washed through me. But I also realised that one part of me was, well, not
quite as upset as the rest. My ass lips writhed in pleasure as Karl's
tongue, obviously coached at length by Pa, expertly caressed, teased and
aroused each fold and contour. Okay, TWO parts weren't repulsed. My
traitorous prick gushed forth a new spurt of juice and, if anything, was
harder than when Pa had done the same procedure on my hole. Fine, fucking
fine! FOUR parts as each ball churned and writhed in pleasure.

Pa for his part was crooning to me, using my name in the same soft purr
that had entranced me the previous night. His arms locked my legs in place
and his weight prevented my torso from moving to free my arms, but his
hands roved me, soothing and caressing me. Petting me. Praising
me. Confusing me to the point of incognisance.

I slowly subsumed into a world of pure sensation and, I'll admit, pleasure
until I heard that vile voice, "Pa, can I fuck him, please! I can't take
much more, Pa!"

"Yep, but like we talked about, sport." Karl groaned. "No, Karl, if you
can't do what I told you, gahn and I'll take care of it myself." Another
deep groan, this with a petulant whine beneath it. "Just the tip, Karl. Any
more and I will blister you, birthday or no birthday. Just the tip.

"I'll make it easier." I heard Pa manipulate something and felt a soft,
slick, rubbery touch. Realisation dawned alongside horror. "This is his own
dogwater." Karl whimpered with lust and panted loudly. "I'll slick you up
so you can fuck him with his own juice."

I heard Karl huff and curse and draw deep, shuddering gasps as Pa evidently
coated his prick with my own dick-slime. Karl whined and whimpered, so
close to orgasm that he was drunk with it. Tears were streaming from me and
I could no longer breathe through my nose as the mucous flowed freely, but
I never let up in sucking Pa.

"Go slow, Karl, and -- Just. The. Tip!"

My ass felt the heat of the approaching invader and I decided to bear down,
prevent his entry, deny his violation of my self and my
soul. Unfortunately, my asshole has completely different priorities. I
could feel it traitorously kiss outward to welcome Karl's dick and I felt
the head, certainly not as wide as Pa's but equally not a minor missile,
touch it. I choked and sobbed on Pa's prick, but was utterly powerless to
change the course the night was taking.

One short, insistent thrust and Karl's glans speared me. Pain ripped me
apart... okay, honesty: more through my soul than body to be fair, but
there was some physical pain that accompanied my violation in spite of the
long and intense foreplay that had opened me up like a blossom. I screamed
along Pa's dick and felt his member pulse and flood me with a surge of pre
as the sight, sound and sensation of his younger son claiming the ass of
his oldest coursed through his veins and into his prick.

I felt one of Pa's hand leave me and heard the smack of it, apparently
against the mon pubis of Karl to prevent any further movement, a guess
confirmed by the whinging mewl of my utterly-frustrated and
completely-desperate brother.

"No, Karl." The head of Karl's dick was lodged between the outer and inner
rings of my ass, stretching both and pressing against the
amazingly-sensitive anal sheath within. It was as if I was reading Karl's
dick prick-head by anal braille; shape, texture, bumps, flare of the
flange, angle of the meatus, everything in sharp relief. I found myself in
a sort of modified version of the state Pa had me in last night; every bit
of me seemed focused on that one ring of flesh and the nerves within as I
locked the head of the spear inside me, the muscles trembling and moving,
caressing the hated intruder like a lover might; my own asshole, betraying
me.

I certainly felt the sudden and subtle motion as Pa or Karl -- no, it was
Pa, his rhythm and pace were unmistakeable -- began to masturbate the shaft
below the embedded glans. Karl began to pant, to whine, to moan and Pa
said, "One shot in, then I'm pulling you back and the rest goes on and
around. You get me, sport? You even conscious, Karl?"

Karl could only grunt what Pa chuckled at and assumed it to be affirmation
as he increased the pace. Karl's dick pressed against the inner ring and
the flange tugged against the outer, but Pa expertly kept it from going
anywhere. Pa pulled his prick from my mouth and I immediately began to beg,
"Pa, please don't do this. Oh, God I need it, Pa. Don't let him. Don't make
me. Don't stop, Pa. Don't let him, Pa, please don't," and on and on in that
confused and utterly-vain vein. Pa ignored me and continued to frig the
increasingly-frantic Karl.

Suddenly, Karl began to chuff is short, fierce snorts. In a neck-back
stance eerily similar to Pa's, Karl let out a howl worthy of any movie
werewolf and I could feel Pa's fist clench to prevent Karl from thrusting
deep within me.

In spite of his own instruction, Pa held Karl there for two explosive
eruptions that I felt paint the inner walls of my rectum before pulling him
back that crucial inch, so only the tip and piss-slit were still in
me. Karl's eruptive chuffs were matched with stream after stream that
flooded around his cock head, into me but mostly forced out around the cock
to coat the walls of my ass and crack. My own prick, traitor that it was,
begged for release and my balls churned in the ribbon prison. I moaned and
whimpered, lost in the lust NO! shame. Whilst I would have given my soul
for it to be Pa between my cheeks, I'd happily have traded a limb just to
be able to join the epic cum that Karl blasted into and onto my needy ass.

I sobbed with both abject humiliation and relief that the ordeal was over
(and, to my shame, with a renewed need to get even more of my brother's
dick). Pa had moved to one side and I could look up at Karl's
sweat-drenched hair and face, tilted back in the last throes of orgasm. Pa
continued to stroke the shaft, avoiding the sensitive head of Karl's
instrument of invasion. When Karl had finally regained his normal breathing
and looked down, Pa looked into his glassy eyes.

"You ready, now?" Karl just blinked and tried to focus. Pa reached down and
thumped Karl's left ball, hard! With a yelp, Karl's eyes returned to
sentience and he shook himself. "I asked, are you ready now, Karl?"

Karl looked down at me and the most predatory and carnal look I'd ever
imagined claimed his face. He literally growled, "Yes! Yes, Pa!"

"Then let's bust this cherry!"

Pa guided Karl's dick back to my ass and I screamed as he buried the first
couple of inches into my ass. I was on fire. I was ripped in two. Not just
my ass was shredded by Karl's pole, my mind and soul were in as much or
more pain. I felt my hole desperately try to simultaneously welcome and
reject the invasion, and eventually relax.

Pa had Karl's dick and balls in a death grip that prevented him from the
wholesale assault he so obviously desired. When I was tense, one hand acted
as a buffer whilst the other kept Karl's balls locked back so that any
forward movement was screamingly-painful, and I heard Karl's screams to
prove it. When Pa felt me relax, he let Karl drive another inch in, a
process repeated until Karl's pubes brillo'ed my taint. Pa then reversed
his grip and pulled Karl's nuts forward all the way to my ass. All Karl
could do was squeak and gasp as his body tried to launch into a full-scale
fuck without also ripping his nuts off; the upshot was a prolonged series
of tiny, circular thrusts that opened me further and started to spread a
warm, lusty glow out from my ass and into my mind.

Finally, Pa released Karl and he sighed, deep in the lungs and out in a
stream. "Slow, Karl, just like we talked about. Do this right, and this is
a present that you'll enjoy for a long, long time."

Karl slowly stroked out, nearly to the point of escape before moving
forward with equal control. Pa moved back to my head and rested his crotch
at my face. His cock was engorged but not rigid as he watched one son
plunder the other. Pa's musk, however, overwhelmed me. His scent ripped
across my senses like a saw blade. Karl's slow, steady thrusts, pulling my
anal sheath out and then inexorably diving it home washed over me. I
nestled my nose into the crook of Pa's sac and groin, snuffling to get more
and more of his crotch-rot into my system.

Both Karl and Pa noticed. Karl gave a cruel laugh but Pa began to croon to
me, that basso growl, that deep-cave purr, again ensnaring my mind. I don't
know what he said. I didn't and still don't care. It was approval, praise,
acceptance; it moulded, caressed, validated me. At the same time, Karl had
shifted position and his prick scraped across my prostate with every
thrust. In and the meatus rubbed it; out and the flange tugged it back. I
moaned in horrified ecstasy.

"He likes that."

"Yes, son, he surely does. Use it."

Karl changed his tempo and the angle. Now, some thrusts missed my love-nut
entirely and others speared it. Unnoticed by me, my moans and yelps guided
him. I began to gyrate, trying to catch extra stimulation with each
stroke. Trying, often with success, to anticipate his moves and maximise my
own pleasure.

"Yes. Oh, god yes! Like that. Like that. NO! Oh! Yes, there. No, no, back
the other... mmmmm." It took me perhaps ten minutes to realise the voice
was mine and not Karl's. I was mortified that I was instructing my hated
brother in my own deflowering. Some part of me -- some shameful,
carefully-caged but ever-growing part -- craved each thrust. Regardless of
which part was in ascendance, I was helpless to stop, or to stop the
building desperation to be used in just this way. Pa's deep-throated purrs
of encouragement and praise invaded my mind far more effectively than my
brother invaded my ass.

Suddenly, Karl found a pattern and rhythm of plundering my ass that sent me
into orbit. Inbound, he would pummel then -- snap -- stroke across my
launch button. Outbound, he would snare it with the ridge of his glans then
drag roughly -- snap -- across it. I began to plead and praise, cry and
moan. My balls were in agony, ready to explode and prevented by the tiniest
strip of silk. My prick was gushing with lube for a phantom hole it would
never enter. I thrashed and moaned and began to... to beg.

"Please. Oh, please. Please. Please, Karl. Please, Pa. Please." Karl let me
go on in this vein for a couple of minutes as my pitch rose and his pace
increased.

"Please what, big brother? Please WHAT?" He was sneering and leering, voice
heavy with lust that rumbled out, so much like Pa but slightly faster in
pace and higher in pitch.

The tatters of my self-respect put up a rear-guard action, and collapsed
beneath the desperate longing that ignited my mind.

"Please f, f, f, fuck, me Karl. Please fuck me."

"But I'm already doing that, Greg," he purred like a cat with cream. Karl
punctuated that with a particularly on-target push. "What do you want,
Greg. What do you need?" In retrospect, Pa had coached him brilliantly and
this was Karl's own final exam. He pushed every physical and emotional
button I had, playing me like and accordion.

"Tell me, big brother. Tell me and maybe, just maybe, I can make your
dreams come true."

Pa had pulled back and I locked eyes with my hated/loved/desired
brother. His face streamed sweat as much as my own. I could tell from his
trembling lip that the was close as well.

"Please, Karl, fuck me deeper, harder. Please. You, You n, need this too!
And. And. AND! Let me cum, Karl. Oh, GOD, Karl, let me cum with you inside
me!"

"Why would I do that, Greg?" The pace of his ravishment never
varied. "You've always lorded your 'superior intellect' over me and sniffed
at the physical stuff I achieved like it was beneath your notice. I've
lived in your shadow for years. Why should *I* let *YOU* cum? What do I
get?"

"AGH! Oh, God, Karl. Whatever you want. Just pleeeeeeease," elicited by a
particularly-brutal assault on my prostate, "let me cum, Karl."

"No, I really don't think so. I'll be cumming eventually, but I don't see
any reason I should let you. Unless..."

"Oh, FUCK! Unless WHAT, Karl?!?"

"Well, if you want to be my personal bitch, Greg, it might be arranged. You
could have as much of my dick as you wanted, everything you dreamed,
everything you want. Whenever and however *I* want. Just say you want to be
my bitch."

Three creatures battled in my mind then. First was a flaming dragon of
revulsion of giving in to, much less serving, my hated brother. Second was
the rutting and snorting bull of my lust and its increasingly-desperate
need to cum. Lastly was subtler: a phoenix burning with the fact that Pa,
my personal god, has set this up. He wanted this. PA wanted it for ME. PA
wanted ME to do this thing. He may have set me up, betrayed me, humiliated
me, given me away as a fucking birthday present, but at some level *PA* was
thinking about *ME*. Last night, he's made me realise and own 'what I
was'. I knew it last night. I suddenly knew it *now*.

Abruptly, Pa's basso siren song and Karl's thrusts and last night's
training clicked and I went into the head space that Pa had introduced me
to the night before. I *was* my love nut, looking out at the universe. And
what I saw was a smiling Pa, my personal deity, approving and proud. And a
hated brother who really did desperately want this of and FOR me, not just
himself. He wanted US, not just him to cum. Pa wanted OUR, not just Karl's
fulfilment.

"I want to be your bitch," I almost whispered.

"What, Greg?" The voice was Pa's, simultaneously shocked and encouraging.

"I'll be your bitch, Karl. Just let me cum."

"Um, yeah, not good enough," punctuated by another particularly-effective
assault on my launch button. "Greg, I'm not sure you understand. I want you
to be my," --slam! -- "bitch. I want you to be my," -- wham! -- "pussy. Do
you WANT to be my" -- punch! -- "pussy, cuz I can keep this up for," --
PUNCH! -- "hours, bro."

I groaned in need and frustration. At this point, it wasn't just my balls
and cock demanding release. My brain was flooded with angry telegrams from
my prostate, ass-lips, nipples and toes. My eyes were fluttering and my
chest was heaving. All of it wanted to CUM, NOW.

"NO! I'll be your bitch, Karl! I'll be your pussy! I AM your pussy! MAKE me
your pussy, Karl!" He kept the steady, deep pace, driving my love-nut to
fits as my balls fought to overcome to ribbon that kept them from their
explosive goal.

Karl increased the tempo and my voice rose in pitch to match. I was out of
my mind and, frankly, I was okay with that. My mind was not a really nice
place to be with conflicting demands from my (nearly defeated) pride and my
carnal body. My voice spewed fragments of 'Karl', 'bitch', 'pussy',
'yours', 'god' and 'Pa' strung together in syntax alien to all known
languages but unsurpassed in urgency and fervour.

Finally, Karl paused.

"Say it, Greg. Say, 'I am Karl's bitch'."

"I am Karl's bitch! Ple..."

"Say, 'I am Karl's pussy'."

"AGH! I am [huff] Karl's [gasp] PUSSY!"

"This is forever"

"Yes, Karl, Yes! I am your pussy FOREVER! PLEASE, Karl, PLEASE!"

"Pa, will you do the honours?"

Karl had thrust deep and hard, then held stock-still. I felt Pa's
blunt-nosed scissors insinuate between the hated ribbon and my balls. Then
pause.

"You sure, son? You ain't going back."

"FUCK, PA, YES. I am Karl's pussy! I'm his pussy! Pussy! Karl's pussy!
Forever! Pussy! Karl's pussy!"

"Okay then."

I felt the blessed SNIP and cried out in ecstasy.

An ecstasy that never came. Karl's prick was jammed against my prostate,
the rock hardness of his cock and the pressure of his thrust was enough to
prevent my orgasm. I began to cry and whine and rant incoherently.

"I'm your pussy, Karl! I'll always be your pussy! Pussy! PLEASE, Karl!
Karl's pussy! PLEASE! OH God! Pa, Please! Make him take me! Make Karl make
me his pussy! Karl's pussy! Karl, Pa, Karl, PLEASE!"

"Good enough for me." With that, Karl plunged past my love-nut and into my
gut. I exploded, whimpering, screaming, shuddering, shrieking, dying,
cumming. Over the past weeks, Pa had taken me to what I thought was the
furthest edge of orgasm; this was a whole new vista. My balls crawled into
the fold of skin next to my cock, temporarily making me look like a court
eunuch. My prostate clamped and released with such power that my ejaculate
painted the room, long and violent streams gushing in random directions by
Karl's increasingly-powerful and increasingly-erratic thrusts.

As I came down from my shatteringly-orgasmic high, I realised that Karl was
not done with me. My ass felt raw without the sexual tension that had kept
me focused. His plunder of my ass scraped his pubes across my tender taint
and his prick kept pummelling the prostate so recently desperate for such
attention. I was sore, I was exhausted, and my mind was slowly shaping
itself around the things that I had said, my horror mounting with as each
phrase rang back to me.

"I am Karl's bitch..."  "Forever..."  "I am Karl's pussy..."  "Forever..."
     "You ain't going back..."
     "FUCK, PA, YES. I am Karl's pussy..."  "Forever..."
     "Forever..."  "Forever..."

Like a Raggedy Andy, I was tossed from side to side with Karl's
exuberance. He used me. He fucked me. He plundered me. Within three
minutes, he finally came. Extensively. Prolongedly. Thoroughly. He took my
ass, conquered my ass, claimed my ass, marked my ass with pulse after pulse
of seed that sought out and penetrated every crevice of my body... and my
soul. My ass was his. I was his. I was his pussy. It was who I was. What I
was. Why I was. All I could do was weep in shame, in disgust and (truth be
told) in utter fulfilment.

"Damn, Karl, it's great to have you back."

Karl had pulled out of my no-longer-virgin asshole and stepped aside. From
the corner of my eye, I could see Pa supporting him after the amazing fuck
he'd just thrown me. He wobbled and lurched. I rolled to my side and curled
into a foetal ball. Nothing that could happen could hurt me anymore. Pa had
deceived and enticed and abandoned me. Karl had conquered, pillaged and
acquired me. I had... let them. A traitorous thought: I had, perhaps,
welcomed them?

"After that show, I'm horny as hell. I want a piece of your pussy. You up
for it?"

As much as I wanted Pa to be the first, the only man to take me like that,
I was immensely relieved that Pa was going to fuck Karl instead of me. My
ass ached from the abuse and I felt bruised in places that I didn't even
know bruises were possible. My colon. My prostate. My soul.

"I've wanted this for a long time, Pa. Do it!"

I suddenly felt Pa's gentle hands on my ass cheek. In my huddled position,
my foetal form, my raw and puffy ass was certainly exposed. I jumped. "No,
Pa! You said KARL's pussy! You said HIM, not me. Please Pa! Please!"

"Shh, Greg. Shh. Hush, son. Yes, I asked Karl and I asked for 'his
pussy'. But you just told me, told the world, that you ARE Karl's
pussy. I'm sorry, but you are and I had to ask permission. And I have been
waiting SOOOOOO long for a taste of this." The lust growled through his
voice.

Pa dropped down and, with me still curled on my side, began to eat my
ravaged ass. No matter how raw, his tongue felt amazing. That only added to
my humiliation and shame. The sensation, physical and mental, of Pa eating
Karl's cum out of my ass was... transcendent.

When he decided that I was ready, he adjusted me, still on my side, into a
leg-up position and entered me. The pain was intolerable, even though my
ass felt nothing but a warm and pleasant tingle. Karl had nearly ripped my
body in half. Pa, though, shredded my soul; that was the pain of this
second fuck. Any remnant of my self-esteem or self-worth crumbled to ash. I
retreated to the place that Pa had created for me. My ass. My mind basked
in his desire. I... became what I was always supposed to be.

Pa fucked me, but he also made a strange sort of love as well. His voice
crooned to me, a siren song that stitched together my soul only to rend it
again when I recalled the end of my first fuck. As far as I was aware of
anything, I knew that Pa was a considerate and skilful lover, finding every
pleasure point with either his dick, his tongue or his fingers as he slowly
brought me back to the brink of orgasm. To be clear, *I* was not
approaching orgasm; Pa was *taking me* there. I was a participant, but an
inert and passive one. As far as I actually existed... I'm not entirely
sure. For that 20 minutes, I am not sure that "Greg" was even there as a
motive force.

Pa's orgasm and my own were powerful, prolonged and LOUD. I begged and
whimpered shouted with need and shame and pleasure. Pa bellowed and roared
with release so long anticipated and so long denied. My ass was so full
that I could feel some spurts leak past Pa's rampant and still-plunging
cock.

We finished and both Karl and Pa manipulated me through the rituals of
washing and drying. I was a rag doll, nearly insensate but at least able to
stand and move on my own.

^ We went down to the kitchen. The automaton former known as Greg pumped
the heat of the stove, uncovered the lasagne and put in the bread. Both
crisped admirably. We ate. Pa moaned. Karl exclaimed. All of use ate. In a
daze, I cleared and cleaned and we all retired. It wasn't for several hours
that I realised the sleeping arrangements were not what I had ever
expected.

I awoke in the depth of the night and luxuriated in the warm embrace of
Pa's fur. I felt his ample cock hard between my cheeks and adored the rasp
of his chest hair. He was half-sleeping, but began to hunch into my slick,
abused but still-needy ass. We both came more fully awake and he rolled
fully onto me, his virile warmth encasing me and his dick claiming me.

"Fuck, bro, I never imagined you be this great of a lay," my lover
grunted. "I am never gonna be without this
again. Best. Birth. Day. EV. ER." Each punctuated with a deep thrust that,
in spite of myself, wrenched a moan from my throat. All of the shame and
horror flooded back into me and I felt myself start to quietly weep. Karl
either didn't notice or didn't care, and his pace increased. My eyes were
not the only thing weeping; my cock was leaking like a faucet and, as Karl
reached his peak, I was mortified to find my own cum flooding the sheet
beneath me. Karl slid to the side and his prick left my ass with an audible
"Plop!" as he returned to sleep.

<eof>

Author's note: So, loyal reader, was it what YOU expected? Shane rather
shockingly sussed out this destination after reading chapter 2! [PS to
Shane - notice some of what you fantasised in this chapter?] Other
(including several Davids) guessed more recently. Is this where Greg
belongs? Is Pa an asshole or angel? Is Karl a victor or victim or just a
horny-as-fuck-teen? Who loves whom? We are about to transition from Greg's
POV to... someone else's. What should happen next to Karl and Greg, Pa and
Greg and Pa and Karl?

If you really like this, please do two things: Tell me what you like, what
you didn't like and what YOU want to happen; second, DONATE TO NIFTY. I
write because I have a place to post. That's it. If Nifty goes away, we are
all left with nothing more than the fantasies already written. Nuff said.