Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2022 10:26:00 -0700 From: Jay Spear Subject: Edge of Seventeen - Part 3 My stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults. This story deals with relationships among male family members. If that fantasy bothers you, stop reading. If you like this story, check out my Patreon! Lots more content there: https://www.patreon.com/jayspearstories The Nifty Archive has been a fantastic resource to all of us! Please consider supporting them with a donation: https://donate.nifty.org/. Edge of Seventeen - Part 3 By Jay Spear The next morning I awakened, knowing I had to see Brad. To try to move things forward. But how? It was daylight, Jason was up. I wasn't sure what to do. "Shit, this is gonna be a big one, dude," Jason told me. "See you in a half hour." He disappeared into the bathroom. This was my opening. I went down the hall and knocked. "Hey, um, Brad? Can I use your bathroom to grab a quick shower? Jason's taking a dump in the other one and he's taking forever." "Yeah, OK." "Thanks," I told him, stripping off my shirt. I was nervous, but now was the time to be brave. "You've got the better bathroom anyway." I saw his eyes travel across my body as I continued to undress, right there, in front of him. I was worried about popping a boner and scaring him off, but my heart was pounding with nerves and that cancelled things out. So my dick stayed in a respectable position as I shucked off my pants, underwear, everything. I just kept going. But then I couldn't just stand there naked for him (could I?), so I walked into the en suite bathroom. I left the door open, though, so he could still see. And maybe follow. I got the water running, let it warm up, and I stepped in. The water cascaded and I ran my hands up and down my body. "Hey, can I use your shampoo?" I called out. "Which one?" he asked, stepping into the bathroom. "I don't care. Any. Either." He stepped closer and reached his arm just past me to pull a brown bottle from the shower shelf. I flushed at the proximity. It was almost as if he were reaching to pull me to him. But no, he focused on the bottle. He flipped the cap open and stuck it under my nose. "Smell," he told me. I inhaled. Cedar, pine. An outdoorsy, masculine scent. "Smells good, right? Use this one." I nodded and took the bottle from him, our fingers overlapping, touching, gripping together for just a moment. I squeezed out a gob of shampoo and worked it into my hair. "Let me," he offered. And then his hands were on my head. Brad's strong fingers pulsing and squeezing, massaging my head and working up some suds. You ever been to one of those fancy salons where you sit back and they wash your hair for you? Like for 10 minutes they massage in one product, then another, all while you relax into a warm washcloth scented with rosemary or some herb. I did that once, before prom last year, and I was surprised by how good it felt. What an indulgence it was. It was a far cry from my usual $10 dry buzz on the sides and quick chop on top. This--this moment with Brad--felt as luxurious, as relaxing as that salon. But better. It was more than intimate than kissing or anything I had done before. Brad was taking the time to wash my hair. To massage my scalp. He stepped forward and I relaxed back into him. His hands continued working my scalp as he pressed his chest against my warm, wet back. "But you'll get wet!" I protested. "It's fine." We stood there for several minutes. Me inside the shower, him outside of it, his T-shirt getting soaked from my wet back and the mist swirling up around us--pressed together in an embrace that wasn't officially an embrace but somehow felt much more intimate. I reached up and grabbed his hand, moving it lower to make a soapy trail down my neck and chest. I left his hand cupping my pec, bringing his thumb up to my nipple. He froze. Then he stepped back. "No." Dammit. I had pushed him farther than he was comfortable with. But he didn't leave the room. He had only stepped back a little. He was still there. Watching. I lathered up and washed the suds across my body, reaching back to follow the curve of my butt, to work some into my crack. I heard a low grunt from Brad, so I kept going. I dug in deeper, lathering up the trench and letting a finger trace the line to my pucker. I heard a rhythmic sound behind me, same as last night. I knew Brad was touching himself, pulling on his cock as I lathered up my ass. I pulled both cheeks apart to open things up. To show him. Displaying myself. Another little grunt from him and louder jacking. I continued the soapy show, keeping my teen ass on display as I bent over to soap up my legs, working down from my thighs to my ankles. The view took care of itself. He jacked harder. "Turn around, Core," he muttered. "Or I'm gonna fucking cum right now." I turned to face him, seeing what had only been in shadows last night. Brad's kind face had turned intense and serious. His sleep shorts were pushed down around his thighs, the bushy brown pubes crowning a thick cock swollen purple with desire. That cock. Wow. Brad held out a hand to me, open palm, face up. I raised an eyebrow at him--now what? He cocked his head at the shampoo bottle. Oh. I grabbed it and squeezed a drop into his hand. He moved it up and down his shaft, working up a bunch of tiny bubbles. It was so hot watching him work his cock. The dad cock that had produced my best friend. The husband cock that fucked his hot wife for years. The stud cock that speared Grindr tricks and pounded pussy throughout their open marriage. All that experience wrapped up in one thick, powerful weapon, now aimed at me and my inexperienced desire. Desire. I desired it. Totally. I wanted my mouth on it, my hand around it, my ass sitting on it. I wanted it because it was beautiful and because it belonged to Brad, who pushed all my buttons: kind, handsome, experienced, sexy. I was mesmerized as I watched him watch me, jacking--so much so that I forgot to perform. My hands stopped soaping my body for him; the right one flew to my dick as if it was magnetic. I had to jack too. A mirrored response. "That's it," he whispered. "Let's get it all out." We locked eyes at each other and both jacked, unable to stop now--a giant stone rolling down a hill. His face reddened and his chest puffed up as he jacked faster and the orgasm built up inside. I felt a warmth rising from my pelvis up to my neck. I bit my lip and turned my head to the side. I had to look away for a minute or I'd explode right there. "Don't hold back, Corey." "You either. Let me have it." "Yeah, you want it?" I nodded solemnly. "All of it." He grunted and tugged and then grunted again three times in succession. "Uhhh, uhhhn, UNHH!" and then he was shooting. Shooting his load, spraying it right at me, all onto me. I felt his warm load hit my chest and I lost it. My load came blasting out as well. I was still jacking--probably a mistake--and the cum flew out, making splotches everywhere. Wet spots dotting his T-shirt. A shiny patch on his right forehead. Blobs of cum clinging to his leg hair. We were flushed and breathing rapidly, both of us trying to calm down. He smiled. "Wow," was all I could say. He nodded. "Just like that, Corey." I nodded back. He grabbed a hand towel and wiped the cum from his face and legs. "Finish up in there and I'll make you some pancakes for breakfast." And then he left the room.