Date: Wed, 20 Sep 2006 10:16:50 +1000 (EST)
From: Zac Grech <zaccooee@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: Tom and Mick and Me

	Last summer my nephew Tom came over from the West to stay with me
while he was looking for a job.  Eighteen, easy-going, a bit puppyish, but
square-jawed with a nice five o'clock shadow.  After a week or two my
brother Mick got him a job as a storeman at his depot, but he didn't seem
to be in any hurry to move out.
	You could tell straight away that he was one of our boys - the same
unruly black hair, smooth torso and long, hairy legs.  Probably the same as
us inside his pants as well, but I was left guessing.  I was on my best
behaviour.
	Tom knew I was gay, and I knew he knew, but nothing was said.  When
the weather warmed up, he worked on his motorbike in the back-yard in just
a pair of greasy shorts, slung low to show off his thick treasure trail
(which he scratched at sometimes to make sure I hadn't missed it), and
watching TV he used to sprawl on the couch sometimes with his long, slim
legs spread wide so I could hardly miss the outline of his balls and
half-hard cock in his jeans or shorts ... but I wouldn't say he ever came
on to me.  Just a frisky eighteen-year-old letting his uncle know he was
all man.  And once or twice I thought he took his time towelling himself
down after his shower with the door open, making sure I got a look at his
at his lanky, naked frame as I passed ... big, brown nipples, tangled, wet
bush, tight buns, but he always kept his cock out of sight.  Never
mentioned girls, kept off the subject of sex altogether, really, apart from
a few of the usual kind of remarks any young guy might make about the
soapie stars on TV.
	He'd seen the brass ring on my knob once, too. when we'd been
pissing at a urinal down at the beach and asked me what it was for - all
the boys in our family have long, thin cocks with thick, flared heads, just
right for rings - but there'd been nothing pervy about it, he'd just
grinned and said: 'What's the ring for, Zac?' So I told him (more or less).
OK, I'd have liked to say: why don't you turn round, Tom, spread those long
legs of yours really wide and back up on it - you'll soon find out what
it's for ... but I didn't.
	Sure, sometimes the smell of dried jizz and sweat when he stood
close to me, the curly hair disappearing down into those low-slung shorts
of his, and the way he scratched at his nipples and hooked one furry leg
over the edge of the couch when he was relaxing, almost begging me to slide
a hand up into his crotch and coax his cock to uncoil down his thigh -
yeah, it was a turn-on sometimes, I admit it, but I don't think he did it
on purpose.  I didn't lay a hand on him, not to mention my dick.  I figured
it was better that way.
	So when I came in from my jog to find my brother Micky ball-deep up
his fuck-chute on the couch - and he was liking it, believe me, his cock
was rock-hard against his stomach, he was yelping with pleasure at every
jab, head thrown back, eyes closed - I got really mad.  I'd practically
been living like a monk since he'd moved in, I hadn't brought a single guy
home from the club to play with, I'd even looked the other way when he'd
come into the kitchen every morning, hair tousled, bare chested, pyjama
flies gaping, smelling of cum ... all that time I could've been fucking the
ball-juice out of him twice a day.  Well, not really - but I was heavily
pissed off to find out that Micky had got there first.
	'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' I said and gave Micky a
punch in the shoulder.  He fell sideways, but his cock was buried so deeply
inside Tom's hole that it still didn't plop out.
	'Fuck off, Zac - what's it to you?'
	'Are you crazy?  Get the fuck off him.'  And I punched him again,
harder.  This time he pulled out.  His long, greasy cock snapped back
against his stomach and he leapt off the couch.  'What's the matter with
you?  Do you want some?  Is that it?'  And he pushed me in the chest,
coming at me.  Tom just sat up, looking a bit scared.  'The boy wanted cock
- so I gave it to him.  OK?'  By this time he had me backed up against the
wall.  I kneed him in the balls.  Big mistake.  No guy likes getting kneed
in the balls when his cock's at full mast.
	He doubled over for a second, took a deep breath, then went for me,
socking me hard in the nuts and, when I toppled to the floor, he pulled one
arm up behind my back.  'You're going to pay for that, little brother,' he
muttered in my ear.  I knew instantly what the fucker was going to do to
me.  It's what he always did to me when we fought and he won.
	He'd first done it to me when I was fifteen and he was seventeen
and over twenty years later he was going to do it to me again.  When he
beat a guy in a fight - any guy, me included - he fucked him.  (But apart
from the odd occasion when he laid into me and then raped me, we didn't get
off together.  Well, maybe a bit of ball work and a jerk-off now and again
watching a video - and Micky loved heavy ball work, and having his bush
licked, too, other guys didn't do that, it sent him over the moon, and I
like nothing better than getting my nose and tongue into a guy's smelly
bush - but that was all.) With one hard yank he had my jogging shorts
halfway down my thighs.  'You know what's coming, don't you, Zac?  Are you
ready for it?  Is that hairy fuck-hole of yours ready for my cock?' Then he
just rammed it in and started slam-fucking me.  I could feel his wiry pubes
scraping against my arse as he forced my legs further and further apart
with his thighs.  I winced with the pain, but kept my mouth closed.  Then,
bit by bit, as that mushroom head of his scraped against my pleasure
button, I felt my own cock harden underneath me.  Damn!  'Can you feel
that, boy?  Can you feel your big brother's fuck-stick tearing into you?
You're fucked, Zac.'  Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my
head back to make my butt stick up more and started jack-hammering me.  He
was too juiced up to last long, so in a minute or two I felt his cock
thicken and he started to shudder.  'Here it comes, boy - take my hot load,
take it, Zac ... yeah, fuck you!'  And bolt after bolt of his fuck-juice
shot up into my gut.  He bucked and swore and then fell still between my
legs.
	'You bastard, Mick,' was all I could say.  He rolled off me and lay
breathing heavily beside me, his cock still stretched out, covered in cum
and grease, across his hairy abdomen, loose balls churning.  Tom was still
on the couch watching.  He had his hand on his pole, jerking off.  He'd
fucking enjoyed it.
	I got to my feet, pulled up my shorts and left the room.  Shit, I
was sore!  The worst part of it, though, was that both of them had watched
me pack my cock into my shorts and it had been standing straight up.
	I didn't hear Micky leave, but when I went back into the room after
taking a shower he'd gone.  I could hear Tom talking softly on his mobile
in his bedroom.  I'd deal with him later.  I went out for a while to think
things through.  *
	When I went into his room about nine o'clock he was lying on his
bed in the dark.  While I fumbled for the light-switch I heard him grab
some bedclothes to cover himself - not that it did much good.  He'd
obviously been lying there naked on his back jacking off - the bedclothes
hardly covered his crotch.
	'We need to talk, Tom,' I said, pulling up a chair.
	'You want me to move out.'  His voice was husky and low.  He now
had his hands behind his head on the pillow, showing off his slim, smooth
chest (just a bit of fuzz between his pecs) and tapered waist.
	'I need to know what's going on, mate.'  He didn't say anything.
'Was that the first time?'
	'Not really.'  He sort of grinned sheepishly and dropped on hand
down under the covers.
	'So when did it start?'
	'A few weeks ago.'  So more or less ever since he'd moved in.  More
or less from the start my brother had been feeding my nephew cock.  I'd
been eyeing that mouth-watering treasure trail snaking down into his pants
all that time, imagining the shaggy crotch at the end of it, and meanwhile
my brother had had his face in it, chewing on those bursting balls, taking
that long, springy cock down his throat - and probably slurping on his
hairy young hole, too, spreading it wide open before he fucked it.
	'How?  How did it start?'  My throat was dry.  He began to stroke
his tool under the bedclothes while he was answering me.
	'It just happened ... you know ... the guys at work fool around
sometimes in the storeroom, nothing too heavy, just a bit of ball-grabbing,
just boys-being-boys sort of stuff ...'
	'And?'
	'I could tell from things Uncle Micky said sometimes when they were
horsing around that he'd ... you know ... fucked guys ... he'd say what
he'd like to do to them ... I mean, it was just guys fooling around, it was
just in fun, guys say that sort of thing.  But it kind of got me horny.
And then one day when he drove me home and you were out, he said he was
going to take a few of your porno videos home with him, he said he needed
to jerk off and you had some really hot ones.  And he put a couple of them
on to see which ones he wanted.  And ... well ...'  Yeah, I got the
picture.  They'd sat down on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, Micky had
eventually stuck a hand down his shorts and started strokiing himself, then
pulled his shorts down so Tom could get an eyeful of his cock ... and
meanwhile Tom was practically squirting on the spot as he watched his uncle
working on his long, hairy stalk, one hand cupping his balls ... Micky
probably pulled his t-shirt off, too, at some stage, to get more
comfortable ... tight, muscly torso, pecs standing out as he worked on his
cock ... then Micky would've flashed him a grin and said 'Go for it, boy',
nodding at his crotch, 'we're both grown men'.  Then - well, we all know
what happens next.  First you pull each other off, then the sucking starts,
and then eventually one of you ends up on his back with his legs in the air
and a cock rammed up his arse - although Tom, as I knew all too well,
preferred his men on all fours, low down, legs splayed, hole well lubed and
stretched.
	'So do you do it at the depot or where?'
	'Sometimes.  Or in the back of the car.  This was the first time
here - honest.'  As he worked on his tool, the sheets were slipping down.
I could see his thick bush, sticky with dried cum, and the hilt of his
cock.  He saw where I was looking and let the sheet fall back further.
Yep, he had the family cock alright.  Long and thin with a fat mushroom
head.  He licked his fingers and kept stroking.
	'Does ever he let you give him one?'  That would be a turn-up for
the books - Tom taking cock.
	'Nah.  I've tried a few times, but he fights me off.  I've
finger-fucked him, though, and he got off on that alright, but he won't
take cock.'
	Now he lifted one knee up from under the sheets, which slipped back
even further so I could see his low-hanging balls.  And the little fucker
knew what he was doing, too.  With his eyes on my face, he brought up the
other leg so I could even see his wet, open bud, clenching and unclenching
in his furry crevice.  What the fuck was going on?  Was he offering me his
hole?  Was this some sort of peace-offering?  Or was his hole just still
aching for cock?  Did he just need to be finished off?  He watched me
staring at what he knew I was nearly going crazy to have.  No more games -
I was going to fuck him.
	'Roll onto your side,' I said softly.  With one leg still drawn up
to his chest, he rolled onto his side, exposing his hot, greasy crack to my
hungry gaze.  I caught the whiff of freshly fucked arse.  Without saying
another word, I leant across and buried my face in the crack I was about to
ravage, pulling at the hairs with my teeth, licking the rough walls and
jabbing at the silky hole with my tongue.  It tasted and smelt of
well-fucked man.  It needed more raw cock.  Tom was groaning and squirming,
but it wasn't enough for him.  'Just do it, Zac,' he said hoarsely, 'just
fuck me.'  You've got it, boy.
	I rammed my knob past his ring easily enough and then slid my cock
straight up, right to the hilt.  He was skewered.  He flinched and gasped,
but took it. Then I just went for it - banged him hard, grinding my pubes
against his arse, and reaching round to roll and smack his balls as I
fucked.  He knew how to milk a man's cock, too - Mick had obviously taught
him a thing or two fast - and so, far too soon, I found myself digging as
far up into his gut as I could, my knob burning like crazy, and shooting
load after load of my juice into his hot, gooey gut.  Damn!  I still hadn't
finished him off.  My cum started trickling down my cock and out onto his
thigh.  I eased myself out.  He rolled onto his back and grinned at me.
	What a mess.  What was I going to do?  How could I have him stay
now we'd done this together? Fucking a guy you spend time with changes
things, you can't go back, once you've got inside each other like that
nothing's the same.  But I certainly didn't want to share that arse with
Micky, I didn't even want to think of Micky ramming that long, greedy boner
of his up Tom's fuck-chute, I didn't want to think of him even kissing the
guy ... pubic hairs on his tongue, spitting arse juices into his mouth
... I mean, Micky and I had had threesomes occasionally down at the club,
we'd both find ourselves eyeing off the same ballsy young punk in ripped
jeans, say, nudge each other, start circling him and when we got him on his
back take turns at fucking the fight out of him ... but that was different.
That was just play-time.  We didn't share guys.
	Tom rolled over on his side and gently started to suck on my left
nipple.  I felt my cock stir.  Then he reached down as he sucked and
started fondling my balls.  I groaned.  Then, when I raised one knee, he
felt in behind my balls, working his way towards my hole.  I knew what he
was doing.  Slowly, like an expert, he inched his way through the hair
until he reached my bruised pucker.  He started to push in.  He didn't say
anything, but I knew what he wanted.  He just kept sucking on my nipple and
pushing in towards my buzz-button.  Gently.  Rubbing softly with the end of
his finger at my prostate, searching for the spot.  Fuck, he was making me
hungry for it.
	'No, Tom, not tonight ... it's not that I don't want it, it's just
...'
	'What?  What is it?'
	'I'm too knocked around tonight, mate ... and too confused.'  I
pulled off his finger and got to my feet.  'Tonight I wouldn't enjoy it.
If we're going to do that, I want to enjoy it.  Another time.'  Maybe.
	'Yeah?'
	I reached over and took his long, smooth cock in my hand.  I
squeezed it, and ran one finger around the flared edge of his knob. 'Yeah.'
	'Cool.  I'll see you at breakfast.'
	Yeah, sure.  But then what?  He sank back on the bed, looking at
me, one hand on his mushroom-headed stalk.  He needed to blow.  But I
couldn't do it.
	'The ring felt great, by the way ...'  He gave me one of his boyish
smiles.  It was a killer.  I nearly weakened.
	'See you at breakfast, Tom.'  Sure thing.  But then what?

Comments welcome.  Tell Zac on zaccooee@yahoo.com.au