Date: Sat, 4 Jul 2015 13:53:35 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101 <a4f101@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Old Shack

Greetings, dudes. Been stroking my dick to the amazing stories on Nifty
since 1999, so I figured it was about time to do my part. I've been writing
dirty family stories on my Tumblr – a4f101.tumblr.com – for a few
months now, and I'm sharing them here with you too. There's more there, too
– more stories, from me and my likeminded buds – so come check it
out. Hit the Story Time link at the top for more than 250 dirty tales, all
by me, with the pics that inspired them.

You can see this story, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/109422136604/

This story is an original work of fiction, copyright me 2015. I own it, and
all legal rights to it. If you're not of legal age in your jurisdiction to
be reading it, do us both a favor and come back to it when you are.

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*****

The boys had spent just about every summer together, and seeing them bond
so tight over the years, forming a fast, firm friendship that carried over
into the long months between trips to the beach house with phone calls and
Skype time, made the whole thing worth it.

They were born within a few months of each other, my twins and Tony's son
Leo. The timing was almost hilariously close, given that Tony and I had
decided to cool off the incredibly hot, years-long affair between us, and
make an effort to find wives and make families and do all that shit that's
expected of men. That was damn near 17 years ago, and for the first few
years, we stayed true to the paths we'd forced ourselves onto... but you
can't deny something so deep and intense and true between two men. And just
like the boys - only, not quite like the boys - the two of us kept in close
contact, with some decidedly more adult phone calls, e-mails, texts and
Skype sessions of our own. The only thing that probably kept us from
completely exploding our steady, suburban-dad lives to be together again
was the fact that we lived hundreds of miles apart. It was safer that
way. Better for everyone. Maybe not so much for me and Tony, but we had
responsibilities now.

This year, my wife didn't come. Things were weird between us, and I was
starting to wonder if we weren't just hanging onto this whole marriage
thing for the sake of the boys. Well, if that's what it took, that's how it
had to be - I'd die for these kids. I'd given up the love of my life and
chained myself to domesticity for them, and they made it all worthwhile. In
the meantime, Tony's marriage had crumbled into dust six months ago, his
wife now somebody else's fiancee, and I had to admit, he looked happier
than he'd ever been.

So it was inevitable that as soon as we got some time in the house alone,
we were tearing at each other, mouths hot and feverish, talking dirty
between spit-dripping kisses, clutching the still-firm muscles of each
other's bodies as we tumbled into bed. It was dangerous, intense, risky and
so very fucking good - the boys might have come back from the beach at any
minute, so we made every single minute count. An hour later, when they
still hadn't come back, we sparked up an illicit joint and passed it back
and forth on the deck, sinking a cold beer, feeling alive and relaxed and
happy as fuck. Shit. We were still in love, even after all this time.

It was getting late, the sun starting to set, and still no sign of the
boys. We were hungry as hell, with the munchies from the pot, the sex, and
we knew all too well the three rambunctious teens would probably stay out
until midnight if we let them.  It was a good thing this was a small beach
town, and we knew it like the backs of our hands from all the years we'd
been coming here, because we had a pretty good idea where they'd likely be.

The abandoned lifeguard station had been there since Tony and I were the
boys' age, just four brick walls and most of a roof, the floor drifted with
sand from the missing windows and doors. We called it the Old Shack, and as
we strolled up the warm sand towards it, I couldn't help but remember all
the times we'd sneaked up there for some illicit, sweaty fun together. Shot
a lot of young cum and swapped a lot of spit in the shack - and I know we
weren't the only ones - and the memories were giving me a tent in my shorts
as we walked. Tony saw it, and smirked, and we both laughed, low and easy,
remembering those amazing times.

So it shouldn't have been much of a surprise to find our sons there, doing
exactly what we'd escaped there to do all those summers. Three young,
muscular, athletic teen bodies, naked and glowing with sweat, voices deep
and husky in the throes of their beautiful, moaning sex. My twins were
wrapped around Leo, pleasuring him all over with their hands and mouths,
kissing him and each other in between sucking on his nipples, stroking his
big young cock, their own erect cocks glazing his muscled young thighs with
precum. We stared at them through the busted-out window, completely unaware
their fathers were watching them, open-mouthed, stunned, and roaringly,
drippingly hard in our shorts.

I looked at Tony, and my younger brother looked back, our expressions
comically, identically gaping. Our boys looked so happy, two brothers and
their cousin discovering the joys we'd found with each other as teenage
brothers nearly twenty years ago. I was so proud, in a way. Proud, and so
turned-on. And I could tell my brother felt just the same. Together, we
stepped into the old shack to join our sons.