Date: Thu, 21 Apr 2005 23:43:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Eagleson <robineagleson@yahoo.com>
Subject: Oversleeping Part Two

For the first time in recent memory, I opened my eyes on a school morning,
fully rested, several minutes before the alarm was to pervade my senses.  I
could hear my mom and dad talking in the kitchen.  Dad always left for work
at exactly seven, so I would have known how early it was even without the
benefit of the red glowing numbers beside my bed burning into my eyes.

The sun was already bright.  It had infiltrated my room, sneaking in
through that stupid crooked row in my blinds, casting my silhouette onto
the opposite wall.  There was every reason to be in a good mood this
morning.  It appeared to be the start of a beautiful spring day, it was
Friday, I got a full night's sleep, and I'd gotten my first blow job the
night before.  Granted, I never would have guessed it would be my little
brother that would suck me off for the first time, but a blow job is a blow
job.

I found myself wondering what Evan would wake up thinking about.  Although
I couldn't deny the level of enjoyment I had gotten from our lusty
encounter, a night of sleep had put some doubt into my head of how wise
messing around with a sibling could possibly be.  Horny teenager or not, I
didn't consider myself the kind of person that got it on with family
members.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself out of bed and softly opened my door.
Evan's room was right next to mine and I didn't want to alert him to my
presence.  It was only one day later, and I was already trying to avoid
him.  However, my attempt was in vain, because I immediately found myself
face to face with him as I turned to go in the bathroom the two of us
shared.  He was just leaving it, clearly having only recently woken up
himself, his always fashionable hair sticking in all directions and almost
completely hiding his sleepy eyes.  He was clad scantily in a pair of
boxers and a thin, loose fitting sleeveless shirt that was sitting askew on
his shoulders, revealing extra skin on his left shoulder.  He had changed
boxers since last night, which I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't looked
directly at them and that general area.

For what must have been all of five seconds I stared at him blankly,
completely unsure of what I could possibly say, and just as unsure of how
he felt towards me.  Finally he gave me an impish grin, smirked, and
brushed past me wordlessly, his body rubbing against mine more than it had
to in order for him to pass.  The silkiness of his skin was instantly
arousing, and by the time I had shut the door behind me in the bathroom, I
was starting to get a tent in my boxers that had been caused directly by
the contact.

The first thing I saw when I turned on the light was the pair of blue
boxers he had been wearing when he snuck into my room last night, sitting
innocently on the hamper.  Just seeing them sent a quick flashback into my
head of groping at him, our lips tangled and our legs intertwined.  I was
now completely erect.  Unable to control myself, I snatched his boxers off
the hamper and pressed the crotch to my face.  It didn't take a police dog
to pick up the scent of semen, or a magnifying glass to spot the telltale
marks.  In fact, unless Evan's cum was unique in taking several hours to
dry, he had just shot off a few minutes ago, because there was a very fresh
wet patch in the spot I was inspecting.  I dabbed at it with my tongue,
allowed myself a few seconds to sample the taste, and then, my pride having
completely abandoned me, eagerly lapped up as much of the liquid as
possible, sucking on the fabric until it tasted more like a pair of boxers
than semen.

I dropped the boxers and made for the toilet, where I pulled the seat up
and quickly squeezed an orgasm out of my raging hard on.  I leaned against
the counter afterwards, glancing up at my reflection in the mirror while
slowly coming back to my senses.  No one had ever turned me into such a
creature of inhumanity before; Evan simply filled me with an overwhelming
sense of lust and depravity, yet somehow I hadn't even noticed until less
than twenty-four hours ago.  I stared at myself for a few more minutes and
then started up the shower.  It lasted a remarkably short period of time
since I didn't spend several minutes fondling my dick as was my custom.

"You're up early," Mom noted with a slightly confused expression on her
face after I'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and trudged into the
kitchen.

"Slept well," I said truthfully, rummaging through the cabinet for a bowl
of cereal.  "Mom, can you please buy a cereal that doesn't end in an "x"
the next time you go to the grocery store?" I asked her, not especially
pleased with my options of Trix and Kix.  One was too plain, and one was
too fruity.  I was in the mood for neither.

"Sure, sweetheart," she responded in a false tone, "if you'd be so kind as
to let me know just what letters of the alphabet are acceptable on the list
you never bother to write down for me.  I guest I'm supposed to tap into
your mind at the store to figure out what you want."

I gave her a semi-agitated look, ripped open a package of cherry pop-tarts,
and sat down across from Evan, who was busy burying his face in a bowl of
Kix with at least three pounds of sugar in it.  "Those are better if you
put them in the toaster," he mumbled with a mouthful of cereal.

"Thanks for the cooking tip," I remarked snidely, proceeding to eat the
un-toasted pop-tart anyway.  He grinned and lifted the bowl so he could
drink the sugary milk leftover.  With a hearty sigh, he set the bowl down
and wiped the trail of milk that had been running down his chin with the
back of his hand.  What a slob.

"Can you take Evan to school today, Austin?" Mom asked me, snapping her
fingers and pointing towards the kitchen to remind Evan to put his dirty
bowl in the dishwasher, which he never did.  "I really don't feel like
fighting the traffic getting out of his school today.  And you can't
complain about having to pick him up yesterday, since you didn't."

"Fine," I grumbled, making a mental note never to wake up early again.  I
quickly pulled my eyes away from Evan's backside as soon as I realized I
was staring at him while he bent over to fit his bowl in the dishwasher.
He still hadn't gotten dressed; he was both a slob and a tease.

"You need to take a shower this morning, young man," Mom said, turning her
motherly attention to Evan now.  "You didn't take one yesterday morning or
the morning before."  Gross.  I hope he at least brushed his teeth at some
recent point.  I made out with him yesterday.  I swallowed the remainder of
my pop-tart loudly.  "Okay boys, I'm going to leave now and get a head
start today," she said, giving us both our morning ritual kiss on the
forehead.  "Thank you for driving Evan this morning, honey," she said to me
before leaving.

"It's too bad you already showered," Evan said from behind me as the garage
door opened and Mom backed out the driveway.  "You could take one with me."
He gave me the most flirtatious pose he could come up with, batting his
admittedly long eyelashes at me and puckering his lips to kiss the air.

"Hurry up," I responded roughly.  "If I'm hauling your ass around this
morning we have to leave soon.  One more tardy to my first class and I'm
stuck in Friday detention."  I was surprised at how similar our
interactions were today to how they'd been our whole lives.  Could it be
that even after having sex with him I still didn't like him?  Hopefully.

I gathered my things together, shoved a few loose papers into my backpack
hastily, and waited impatiently in the living room while listening to Evan
singing loudly as he showered.  After an agonizing fifteen minutes, he
finally came out dressed, his backpack in tow.  I pushed him out the door
and didn't even bother to lock it behind me.

"What are you doing tonight?" Evan asked me, rolling his window down as
soon as I had the car started and sticking his head out into the wind as he
drove down the street.  He was lucky; windblown or not, his hair would look
spectacular.

"Probably going to Kenny's house," I answered, taking my eyes off the road
to steal a glance at him while he was focused on leaning out the window.
"Why?  Since when do you need to keep tabs on me?"

He laughed and dropped back in his seat, shaking his head quickly causing
all the hair to fall exactly back into the right place.  "What do you guys
do over there anyway?  What's so great about it?"

"His parents are never home," I answered honestly.  "So we can do whatever
the hell we want.  Why?" I asked again.  Seriously, this is the most we'd
talked in months.

"I bet you guys get drunk," he boldly guessed, grinning now as he studied
his face in the rearview mirror.  And to think he always made fun of me for
that exact same thing.

"Good call, genius," I scoffed.  "Who would have ever thought a bunch of
sixteen-year-olds would get drunk under no parental supervision?"  He
ignored my scathing sarcasm and continued to stare at himself.  He was now
making faces in the mirror and seemed completely absorbed in it.  I
pretended not to notice.

"What time are you coming home?" he finally asked, hardly able to pull
himself away from his own reflection.

"My curfew is one, so probably about five minutes after that," I answered.
"Why do you want to know all this?" I asked him, more sharply this time.  I
just wasn't used to getting interrogated by my little brother.

This time he gave me his full attention, his dark green eyes burning into
me full force.  "Just wondering," he almost whispered in what was
definitely a seductive tone.  He flipped on the radio before I could take
any time to respond, found a song he recognized, and started singing along
loudly with it.  I knew my little brother was obnoxious, but this was too
much.

I reached over and turned the volume down.  "Shut up," I warned him about
the singing.  He did, and for the next several minutes he just sat there
with a smug look of arrogance on his face for no reason other than because
he was Evan, my cocky shit of a little brother.  "What are you doing
tonight?" I asked him after with a sharp emphasis to show that he wasn't
the only one who could ask nosy, unwelcome questions.

"Oh, you know," he answered casually.  "The usual.  Hang out with Mom and
Dad, watch some TV.  Nothing quite as exciting as getting drunk with my
friends."

"Maybe if you weren't such a prick you'd have friends," I shot back.

"You do have a point there," he conceded wanly, but then grinned his
trademark obnoxious grin seconds later.  "But I don't see myself changing
any.  I clash with everyone.  Society needs me; they just don't know it."
"I don't know what kind of sociological bullshit you've been hearing about
in school," I said, "but society definitely doesn't need you, or anyone
like you in general."

He smiled silently in the passenger seat and looked straight ahead.  "I do
make a lot of friends," he finally said, as if trying to earn back some
points he'd lost earlier.  "I just don't keep them very long."

"I know all about your social mishaps," I responded shortly.  "I have to
hear Mom and Dad talk about it all the time.  Nobody can stand to be around
you for than five minutes and all your teachers hate you.  You've got some
future."

"You're not that perfect either," he said, finally starting to get
defensive and fight back.  "I doubt Mom and Dad know what you do at Kenny's
every weekend, after all.  You're not exactly the prodigal son."

"Prodigal son?" I asked, bewildered.  "What the hell does that mean?  Do
you even know what you're talking about?  Look, just shut up, here's where
you get out."

He reached behind him for his backpack and slid out of his seat.  "Thanks
for the ride, mister," he said, grinning at me once again as he hoisted his
backpack on his skinny frame.  He nudged the door shut with his body and
the turned back to stick his tongue out at me.  I flipped him off.  Yep,
things definitely hadn't changed any.


All the same, I tried in vain to get Evan out of my mind all day, but
failed miserably.  I kept remembering grabbing his cock in the shower,
making out with him in my bed, feeling his smooth skin rub against mine
this morning.  As normal as our verbal interactions had been, something had
definitely gone astray physically.  My cock ached for him; it felt like
days since I'd licked the semen off his boxers and jacked off standing over
the toilet.

"Hey man," a voice said from behind me.  I was sitting outside on Kenny's
front porch, a beer clutched feebly in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
It had only been a modest showing tonight; maybe twenty people, most of
which had left after no more than an hour.  "You've been gone for fucking
ever," the voice continued, settling down beside me on the top step.
"Everyone thought you left.  Jessica was looking for you," he added.
"Maybe if you can still find her you've got a shot to get some action."  He
nudged me in the side.  I finally turned towards the voice.  It was my
friend Anthony.

"I have to make my curfew," I mumbled as an excuse not to go looking for
Jessica.  I might have pursued it on any other night.  "If I'm not home by
one I'll be in serious shit."

Anthony laughed.  "It's almost two, dude.  Are you so fucking trashed you
don't even understand the concept of time?"

"I'm not trashed," I answered, unsure of how truthful that was.  "This is
my third beer."  That was true.  The other two cans I'd brought out with me
sat empty at my feet.

"You had at least ten shots of Captain Morgan's inside," he reminded me.

"Oh yeah," I acknowledged, promptly turning my head away and vomiting into
the nearby hedges on cue.

"That's a lot of fucking puke," Anthony observed from behind me.  "And they
say is long as you get the hard stuff over with first, you're alright to
drink beer afterwards."

"That's true," I managed to get out before a second wave hit me.  "The
problem is I had five beers before I took the shots."

"Dude!" Anthony exclaimed, sounding impressed.  "That's like 18 shots then
altogether.  You can really drink for someone who weighs twelve pounds."  I
retched again, although this time not nearly as much came out.  "More like
ten pounds now," he amended his estimate thoughtfully.  "You might want to
check for organs in the hedges."  I said nothing and sucked on my cigarette
to rid myself of the taste of vomit once I remembered I still had it in my
other hand.  "I'll go tell Kenny you're spending the night.  You can bend
your curfew by twelve hours, right?"  He clapped me on the back, nearly
sending me into another vomiting spell.  "You should come inside when
you're done throwing up.  It's pretty boring, but at least you'll have
company."

I told him I would, and then as soon as I heard the door shut behind him I
stumbled towards my car and started it up, rolling down the window for one
last heave before driving home.  I considered myself a pretty good drunk
driver, and besides, it was less than ten minutes away at this time of
night.

The first thing I did was brush my teeth.  I was feeling considerably
better having thrown up what was probably half of my body weight, but the
taste in my mouth was enough to drive me insane.  I brushed my teeth twice,
threw away the toothbrush, opened up a new one, and brushed them again.
Then I swallowed half a bottle of mouth wash and swished it around for a
good minute before reluctantly spitting it out.  Satisfied, I turned to go
pass out in my bed.  And bumped into Evan.

"God damn it!" I hissed at him, trying not to be too loud and wake Mom and
Dad up; miraculously, they hadn't heard me come in.  "Will you quit fucking
sneaking up behind me all the time?" I demanded of him angrily.  I wasn't
exactly sure what other times he'd snuck up behind me lately, but bumping
into him this morning when I tried to go to the bathroom was close enough.

"You missed your curfew," he whispered to me with an evil smile.  He looked
up into my eyes and tried to make eye contact, but failed since I couldn't
focus on anything for more than three seconds.  "And you're piss drunk," he
observed.  "You definitely don't want Mom and Dad to wake up right now."

"Is that a fucking threat?" I asked, pushing him aside clumsily despite
knowing damn well he was right.

"Not really," he answered smoothly, gliding back in front of me with
extraordinary swiftness.  It didn't help that I was unable to walk straight
in the first place.  "But in exchange for my silence, I'd like you to do
something for me."

I rolled my eyes, then nearly fell over backwards and had to catch myself
against the wall.  He closed the distance between us even more to where he
was pinning me against the wall.  "For Christ's sake, Evan," I groaned,
starting to feel sick again.  "You don't have to extort me for us to have
sex again.  I'd probably rape you if you wouldn't do it voluntarily
anymore."

His eyes widened just slightly at my candidness, but he recovered quickly.
"That's flattering, but I didn't mean sex," he answered, almost blushing.
"I want to go somewhere with you tomorrow night.  So in exchange for my
silence, you have to hang out with me tomorrow.  Deal?"

"Okay," I instantly agreed.

"Good," he said softly, smiling.  "Do you need help getting to your room?"
he asked sincerely.

"I'm fine," I answered defensively, taking a step away from the wall he had
cornered me against and trying to figure out which direction my room was
in.  He took my hand anyway and gently pulled me in the exact opposite
direction I had been thinking about going.  He was able to get me a few
steps into my room before I roughly sat down on the side of my bed,
overcome by an unexpected wave of dizziness.

I looked up and got my first good view of him for the night.  He was
breath-taking once again, his hair gracefully hanging ever so slightly in
his eyes, his cute wildlife themed boxers on, and another one of his loose
fitting sleeveless shirts that wouldn't sit evenly on his shoulders.  He
was staring at me intently, biting his lower lip and appearing rather
concerned.

"Are you gonna die?" he asked, studying my slumped posture and inability to
keep my eyes trained on anything.  "In health they told us if your blood
alcohol level gets too high you can suffer from alcohol poisoning and die."

"I don't have alcohol poisoning," I muttered quickly, beginning to fall
asleep in my upright position.  "I'm just tired and drunk."

He was tugging at my feet now, and for a second I didn't know what he
wanted with them, but then when I felt my shoe come off I realized they had
still been on.  The second one followed shortly.  Then he was back on his
feet, where he nudged me backwards on my bed and somehow straightened me
out and got the sheets on me.  "Will you fucking go away?" I asked him as
he kept poking and prodding at me, trying to position me better.  "I'm
fine."

I felt his weight on top of me and his breath in my face.  "Either you got
drunk off mouth wash or you used some just now," he observed, tickling me
with his soft whispering.  He gave me a hard kiss without using his tongue,
sucking and biting at my lips until they were numb.  His dick was poking
into my stomach now, and he was humping against me through his boxers, now
kissing along my jaw line and nibbling on my earlobe.  Despite how close I
was to passing out, I could feel myself stir at this attention.  His breath
was back in my face now, and he licked my lips in a curious exploratory
way, making his breath come out in a dog-like pant.

"Fuck," he breathed into my face.  "It's like humping a corpse.  I'll just
go jack off again."  He promptly rolled off me and headed for the door.
"You better make up for it tomorrow," he whispered tauntingly, closing it
softly behind him.