Date: Fri, 4 Mar 2016 12:36:54 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The Inheritance

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/113624161209/

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

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I love hearing from you guys. a4f101@yahoo.com. Enjoy...

*****

I don't think either of us had expected it to happen again, but the
circumstances were pretty weird all around. Neither of us had expected Dad
to pass so quickly, much less to inherit the lake house between us, and the
weekend we'd intended to spend airing the place out, cleaning it up and
deciding what to do with it had turned into something quite different. A
weekend a lot like the old days, days we thought we'd left behind when we
became adults, when Mark got married, Dad remarried and I went off to
school. A space of a couple of years, when the three of us had discovered a
deeper bond as family. Revealed, shared, explored some secrets. Found
something incredible.

But all that was 15 years or more ago, ancient history, or so I thought. I
thought maybe I was the only one who still stroked his cock, remembering
the intensity of those young days. Me and Mark making out, my big football
hero brother sliding his thick young cock up inside me, into the space made
by our father, slicked up with the cum that had created us. Dad flopped
back in the chair watching us, grinning, chest heaving, as I hungrily
begged my sexy big bro to slip it deeper to me, to plunge his throbbing
thickness inside me and fuck the cum out of me. The three of us in the big
bed in the main bedroom, a seemingly endless combination of couplings,
triplings, hands and lips and tongues and cocks exploring, thrusting,
grunting, sweating, kissing hot and wet and sticky. Extraordinary times,
unforgettable for me, at least, but it had always seemed like Mark had
decisively moved on from all that. Married, with two boys of his own, just
a few years short of the age Dad was when we'd begun exploring at the
lake. Or so I thought.

We'd cracked a bottle of Beam last night as we sorted through the
accumulated old junk, which had led to a lot of reminiscing, which led to
some good, deep conversation, like we hadn't had in some time, which then
led to a slow, deep kiss on the porch overlooking the lake. And inevitably,
as the kiss deepened, as our hands found each other again after so long, to
a slow, naked dance in that big old bed, rediscovering our brotherly
passion for each other. I'd chalked it all up to the drinks, the emotion,
the understanding that Dad was gone now, we were on our own as the men of
the family. But then, while I was swimming this morning in the lake,
enjoying the quiet, late-spring serenity, I felt two big hands on my
calves, slipping up the length of my thighs, pulling me in close to a big,
strong body. I'd been startled at first, then felt the press of Mark's lips
to my shoulder, turned to him, found him smiling at me, like in the old
days, the way he'd always smiled when we fucked slow and deep together. The
way he smiled before he kissed me, really kissed me, the kind of smile that
had turned my adolescent crush on him into a full-blown infatuation for my
studly, beefy big brother.

So he pulled me in, and we kissed, in the shadow of the dock, just lips
first, then slowly deepening, his thick tongue parting my lips easily,
gliding into my mouth as his big ex-baller paws clutched the hard mounds of
my ass, as my hands found the thick swells of his chest. God, he looked
like Dad now, all big and beefy, thick, easing towards middle age amazingly
well, like some men do. Like I hoped I would. I could feel the thick club
of his cock against me, under the water, hard for me and our special
bond. It's hard to explain, but the revived intimacy between us really was
helping ease the pain of Dad's death, and I think it was helping my big
brother too. I was more than happy to do my part.

He chased me up to the house like he'd done when we were teenagers, just as
hungry and horny as ever, and we fell on each other in front of the
fireplace, on the old rug, a mass of writhing, moaning, kissing flesh
beaded with water from the lake. We shimmied out of our shorts, came
together naked again, just like last night, but more clear-eyed about it in
the sober daytime. It was somehow even hotter now, now that we knew this
was still good between us. Mark sucked my cock just as well as he'd done
back in the day, just like Dad had taught him to do - like he'd asked Dad's
permission to do to him, more than 20 years ago. His big, full lips and
talented tongue were immediately familiar as they slid down my shaft and
worked me up, worked me over, brought me right to the brink. I could taste
myself on his tongue when he slipped it into my mouth again, felt the
insistent press of that big, blunt-headed cock of his against my taint,
slow-leaking his precum into the fur there, trickling its way down to the
deeper recess that led inside of me. So many familiar, well-remembered
feelings renewed, rediscovered. It was hot, and fun, and yet poignant at
the same time. Everything up here was like that, all intertwined and
freighted with memories.

"You wanna, Mikey?" he asked real quiet, like he used to when he'd nuzzle
up against my neck, run his hands over my younger muscles.

"Fuck, bro, yes, I do," I murmured, kissing him again, feeling him throb,
wrapping my athletic thighs around his bulk, feeling his cockhead nuzzle
deeper into me. Unlike him, I'd kept on playing with men in the years
since, had come out in college, knew that the amazing feelings I'd
experienced with Mark and Dad were true, right, what I wanted. And now,
what I wanted more than anything was my big brother inside of me. I ducked
into the bathroom, found the lube in my shaving kit, and came back to find
him reclined on the rug, slow-stroking his big, thick cock, my mouth
watering at the sight as he smiled up at me.

"Just lay back and enjoy, big bro," I smiled, applying a thick coat of lube
to his big, throbbing cock and my hole, and when I slid my tail down his
length, fuck, it was a real trip down memory lane for us both. We found the
old rhythm easily, quickly, the slow thrust and grind of muscles, of bodies
working together, for each other, the intense fullness inside of me taking
me back to how it felt at 15 to ride him while Dad coached us through
it. So many incredible memories made right here. I clutched the thick,
sweaty beef of his pecs, locked eyes intently with him, and rode us both to
the first cum of the day, spraying my load across the swell of his muscled
belly, his big chest, as he flooded my guts again, moaning my name,
stroking my face, all big and tough and tender.

"That was for you, Dad," he said, looking up at the ceiling, big pecs
heaving. I felt my eyes fill with sudden tears, out of nowhere. I wiped
them away quickly, before they could overspill, and saw him do the same. We
smiled at each other, deep and connected, and then he surprised me by
scooping up my still-warm cum from his pecs and sucking it from his
fingers.

"Mmmm, still taste so good, buddy," he murmured, and we kissed once more.

We talked some more, naked, wrapped up in each other where we'd lain so
many times as young men. About Dad, about us, about his marriage, about his
big young teenage sons. How he thought of us and Dad when he looked at them
now, sometimes, and wondered. I felt bad about how my cock hardened up as
he said that, but he just chuckled, kissed my lips, slowly stroked it.

"Fuckin' perv," he said with a chuckle between kisses. But I could feel his
own big log of a cock rising slowly again, up against the muscle of my ass.

"You said it, not me," I laughed. And then he told me how he'd been
thinking of his guys lately, when he stroked his big cock, when Lindy
wouldn't put out, which was more often than not lately. How he'd wondered
if some time up here at the lake would be good for them all. Help them bond
like we had.

Talking about it had me ready to go again, him too, but he excused himself,
slipping into his discarded, still-damp shorts and stepping out onto the
patio, where he could still get a bar or two of service, to call home. The
entire time, he watched me, slowly stroking my cock, admiring the way his
damp shorts clung to his powerhouse thighs, and I watched his big shorts
bulge rise all over again, as he talked to his wife about arranging a trip
with the boys up here, as soon as he could. His boys were big like him,
good kids, getting powerful muscles like he had at their age, becoming
men. I'd tried not to think about my nephews in this particular way,
especially now they were in their mid-teens, but damn... knowing Mark,
their own father did, it was almost like permission. So I pictured them
here with us as I stroked, found myself throbbing, and before I knew it,
Mark was naked again and sliding his big, beautiful man's body over me,
finding my lips with his, slipping me that tongue again, and we were
coupling once more.

"If they want to... If you want to..." he panted as he thrust back up
inside of me, my ass lubed up with family cum, just like in the old
days. "I think it's what Dad would want too," he finished with a moan.

"Do you want it, big brother?" I panted back. "Want to be their Dad just
like ours was, big guy? Be close with your big boys? Keep the family
tradition going?"

The way he moaned, roared really, hissed out his love for me, for us all,
and shot his cum, told me his answer. And in a few weeks' time, we would
find out once and for all if our family cabin still had its unique, secret
magic.