A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRIES OUT

4 - CHICKEN NUGGETS

by Araddion

2015 R. Keith Peck

 

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You know that feeling when you're so fucking anxious to get something done -- because you're gonna have a fucking awesome time -- and yet it doesn't make any sense to hurry since the fun can't start until, say, four in the afternoon? Well, Dustin was trapped in a state like that, an amber-encased fly buzzing to get out. Get fucked up. Get fucked.

He had his gear strewn across his bed. What to bring? Jockstrap? Always. A few quick sniffs told him which one was ripest. Into the overnight bag it went. Shorts? Sure, his workout shorts were at the perfect degree of funkiness. And they were tight. Dustin's cock got plump, imagining anonymous hands sliding them off. Unknown fingers probing his hole. Shit! Focus, Mayes, focus. He was tempted to bring only his workout shorts. Nothing inspired him more to lift a dumbbell than the tang of old jism floating up from the cotton. Somehow he knew he might need other -- cleaner -- dryer -- clothes to wear home. In went a pair of cargo shorts so clean he could have worn them to church. But slut mode was upon him. Dustin wanted to be a puckered cunt, dripping seed. Thus inspired, he stuffed tight denim cutoffs into his bag, following them with funky gym shirts.

Shit, there wasn't anything that smelled better than a horny man.

David's big cock throbbed in Dustin's imagination, right next to a lanky teen wrestler. Dustin felt drool bubbling up in his mouth. Purely Pavlovian. The memory of the smell of his brother's crotch turned Dustin into one hot dog. One hot-assed Marine, needing cock.

Needing his brother's cock.

Dustin glanced in his mirror. No, he didn't look any different. No one could look at him and tell, yeah, that dude likes getting it on with his brother.

Nor could they imagine what scheme the two incestuous brothers had concocted.

Dustin had just found his douche kit -- the big, heavy bag with the long hose -- when his phone trembled on his bed. He grinned when he saw who'd called.

"Mac," Dustin purred. His butthole, already feeling slutty, began to pant.

"It's Friday," said Mac. "You headin' up here or what?"

"Not this weekend, man. Not this weekend." Dustin chuckled. "I got some action lined up."

"In Raleigh?" Mac sounded as if Dustin had told him about some Chupacabra that had just scampered across Mom's tree-shaded urban lawn. "Who?"

"My b--" Dustin bit off the word. He stammered a bit. "I met a dude at the gym. Black as a bowling ball. Big cock. Eighteen inches."

Mac laughed. "That ain't gonna be enough."

"Yeah, I know. Best I can do."

"Listen, motherfucker. I wanna see your ass here in DC next weekend. I wanna party. Hard. I wanna get trashed, get fucked up, just go fucking crazy."

Of course Dustin was tempted. Any man worth his flesh was always tempted by the prospect of decadent, mindless sex. But what David promised him was right at hand. Right here. Ten miles away. Two hours in the future. "Next weekend," Dustin promised. "I'll see you next weekend. I want drugs and dick. Got it?"

"Drugs and dick forever!" Mac laughed softly. "See ya then, Dustin."

Dustin slipped on a pair of briefs. His erection swelled the fabric. Shit! He felt like a kid again. Naughty. Dirty thoughts swarmed like locusts in his mind. He felt his cock leak into his briefs. He slung the douche kit over his shoulder and padded down the hall to the bathroom. He heard Mom puttering around downstairs. He strutted, swaying his hips, thrusting his bulging briefs. Look at me, Mom! I'm horny and I'm gonna get fucked up! Christ, he'd wanted to do this way back when, on those mornings when his butthole struggled to contained the cum David had injected the night before. When David was shut in his room, brooding on what he'd done to his brother's ass.

Hah! That was bullshit. David was in his room beating off, remembering how he'd screwed his younger brother's ass. How it had squeezed when Dustin seeded his sheets. How godlike it felt to be fucking his kin.

Dustin's shower was perfunctory. No soap, just a quick rinse. Don't want to spoil the funk he raised during his workout at Mike's. The douche was more thorough. Water gurgled through ten feet of his intestines. Dustin's cock continued leaking as he felt gallon after gallon of hot water gushing into his colon. He almost came when he shit it out.

Goddamn, this was gonna be one hell of a night.

Fist pump. Fuck it! It was gonna be one hell of a weekend!

Dustin had his smelly jock in place -- cockhead leaking snot into the waistband -- and was pulling his workout shorts into place when there was a short knock at the door. Immediately the door began opening.

"Mom!" Dustin yanked his shorts up.

"Settle down, Dustin, I've seen it all before. How would you like to have seafood tonight?"

He couldn't help the picture that came to his mind. Boatswain's mate. Six and a half feet tall. Black. Under the shower head. Cock stiff because no one on the goddamned assault ship had gotten anything. Dustin's ass. Sweet. Hungry. Insatiable. A hot load of cum. After him ... Jose, that mechanic's mate --

"Mom," Dustin said, "I'm gonna over to David's tonight."

She beamed. "Really? Have you two patched things up?"

"We made a start," Dustin said. Casually, he moved his palm to cover his bulging groin. He was afraid the precum would soak through. "We're, uh, gonna watch some videos. Drink a lot of beer. Catch up on the old days."

Mom patted his cheek. "Have fun. Don't get out on the road if you're going to drink." She closed the door behind her.

Later, overnight bag slung from a shoulder, Dustin pecked Mom's cheek just before heading out the back door. He was in that good a mood. "See you, Mom!"

"When?" she called.

Dustin shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe tomorrow evening. Maybe Sunday. Depends on how it goes."

"No driving," she reiterated.

"I promise." An easy promise to make, since he was a religious bottom.

Dustin tossed her a mock salute and strutted out into the back yard. The warm afternoon felt like anonymous hands trying to peel open his thighs. He felt his balls, full of sauce, swaying. His hole, swollen, anxious, empty.

Pussyboy's open for business. Wanna pound me? I can take it, motherfucker. All I want is what you got in your balls.

"Yeah, buddy," Dustin said to his butthole, "this time tomorrow, you're gonna be sore as all hell!"

His Mustang's rear wheels swung wide when he shot out of Mom's driveway. The roar of his engine could be heard for blocks.

Dustin's Mustang was barreling west on I-40 towards Cary. He called David. His brother didn't answer at the first ring. Immediately, Dustin was nervous. Motherfucker's not backing out, is he? I'll kill him! Son of a bitch, I need what he promised. What he's got between his legs!

But then:

"Yeah, Dusty?" The shouts of teenaged boys echoed behind David's voice.

"Well?"

"You're worried, aren't you?" You didn't need to see him. You could hear David's sneer in his voice. You could also imagine his bulge growing just as if you were a varsity wrestler, he was the coach, and he wanted to show you a new hold.

"Motherfucker, don't screw around with me," said Dustin. He was half-kidding. "Is he coming or not?"

"Right now, Dusty," said David, "He's wrestling this kid named Leshawn. You ought to be here. One hell of a match. They're both sweatin' and strainin' and --" David's voice dropped so that no one would hear but Dustin "-- Travis is grinding those tiny, white buttcheeks right into Leshawn's crotch. And Leshawn's hung like a Shetland pony. Heh. It's great being a coach. I mean, I get to make 'em shower."

"Did you ask him?" Should he have said them?

"Ask? Fuck that. I told him I had a present for him. He got real interested right away. Called his Mom. Asked her. They argued a bit." David fell silent.

"Is he --"

"Come on, Leshawn!" David roared. You could hear his other students join in. "Pin that motherfucker!" More quietly, to Dustin: "Yeah. Got a hardon the moment I promised him some actions. Still got it, too. You should've seen Leshawn's face when he grabbed it, trying to take him down. Heh. All his buddies're nervous. Got a line of tightly clenched buttholes round me, Dusty. They're all afraid he's gonna try and fuck them."

"Is he --" Now Dustin was sharp.

"He'll be there. Raring to go."

"All right!" Dustin hammered his steering wheel. He glanced at the speedometer. He was up to 90. Shit. Damn. Foot off the accelerator. Easy, buddy. Easy. NC isn't one of those states where the Highway Patrol buttfucks Marines alongside the road.

"The key's under the patio mat," said David. "You're a dumb Marine, so don't forget that's in the back. Check my nightstand. I put a wedding present in there for you. I'll call you when we leave school. Be ready. You know how."

"Damn right I know." Dustin ended the call.

After parking in the driveway -- let this Travis kid park his truck on the street -- Dustin trotted round to the back of David's house. Knowing his brother, he kept expecting some tease or some taunt. Like there wouldn't be a key under the mat. Maybe a dildo. Maybe an IOU written on a Postit. But there it was. The house key, gleaming on the patio's moss-stained brick.

David's bedroom ought to be a leather playroom. Sling. Rack with cuffs and chains and cat o' nine tails. But there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. A perfectly acceptable king-sized bed. A husband and wife could couple in saintly grace on it. At least David's smell permeated the room. A faint promise of depravity.

When Dustin opened the nightstand drawer, he felt like a kid at Christmas. Hot damn. The hypodermic was still sealed. The crystals in the empty medicine bottle were the biggest Dustin had ever seen. There was even a spoon and a lighter. He was tempted to slam right then and there. But a slim tendril of reason lassoed him. David and the kid were still at school. Given how motherfucking everlasting sonofabitch horny Dustin was, if he shot up right now, Dustin would lube up a doorknob and grind his butt on it till David arrived with Dustin's prize.

Wait. Plan. Think! It's gonna be hot, Dustin. It's gonna be fucking hot.

He went through David's house, making sure everything was in place. The mat was still spread in the garage. Dustin set a bottle of lube by it. He located David's bong and loaded it from his brother's pungent stash. He stood back a minute, thinking. Had he forgotten anything? Nope. All that he needed to do was strip and slam and start riding cock.

Now Dustin unabashedly spied on his brother. It was easy to find David's porn DVD's right next to the flat screen in the living room. Dustin grinned. Man, the same damn taste in porn. Treasure Island Media. Machofucker. Staxus. Pictures flooded Dustin's mind. Young Travis on that couch, legs crossed, trying to hide his giant teen boner, while men fucked raw cock into red butthole and jism spurted from holes that filled the screen. And David's wolfish grin. His inquisitive hands. Travis' thighs, parting. The kid, butt high, as David's big cock unburdens him of his virginity. The whimpering as he rides out the pain. The joy of feeling a man bursting inside.

Dustin tried David's Mac, figuring that's where the illegal stuff would be, but there was a password. Since this was real life, not Hollywood schlock, it wasn't easily guessable. The password certainly wasn't a variant on Dusty Mayes. Or I wanna fuck my kid brother.

Dustin was sniffing David's sheets -- yeah, man, right there his brother had spilled spooge, but who'd been in the bed when it had happened? Travis? Another kid? Some guy he'd picked up off Grindr? -- when his phone buzzed.

"We're leaving," David said. "Be home in twenty minutes. Be ready. You're his present. I want this to be special for him."

I'm his present? Fuck that. He's mine.

Even before Dustin pulled the needle from the vein, he knew this was the best shit he'd ever slammed. He felt like a thunderstorm. Like a nuke just after the detonator has fired and the whole assembly seethes with energy. The rushing of his blood hissed loud in his ears. He could barely think. In fact, why think? Just feel. Wallow in lust. For a few minutes he stood by David's bed while his heart ramped up into a gallop. Then he wondered why his crotch felt wet. He glanced down. His shorts were so drenched with precum it looked like he'd pissed himself.

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

Why is my butthole empty?

'Cause there isn't a stud here, Dusty.

What do I goddamn need more than anything in the fucking world?

Cock!

In the garage, kneeling on the mat and staring down at his phone, Dustin logged into his app. His hands tremble as he flagged himself as available. Let 'em wait. I got a high school wrestler to drain.

He grinned when he saw the icon to record video. What an idea. If he'd been watching himself, he'd have recognized his grin as the same feral one that so often decorated David's face. Should he? Damn right he should. Nothing could be hotter. Could he? Had to find a good spot. Yes, there on the floor under the table. He could lean the phone against the paint can, point it right there. Just have to keep all this shit in mind, so that Travis hips -- pumping like a rabbit -- stayed in frame.

"Come on!" Dustin roared. "I need a cock in my ass!"

Two vehicles pulled up. Dustin started recording and propped the phone against the paint can. He assumed the position on the mat. Doggy style. Hands and knees. Back arched. Butt in the air and pointed at his phone. Fabric stretched so taut over the globes of his ass his hungry butthole had to be visible through the cotton. Unconsciously he rocked his hips. His eyes were closed. His lips were parted. He savored the feeling of a phantom cock piercing him.

Fuck me, boy.

Dustin moaned, feeling phantom fingers exploring his moist skin.

"Quit fucking around, Travis." David's voice sounded outside the garage.

"Christ, Coach," said Travis. "I've been hard all afternoon."

Dustin's cock jumped. No voice had ever sounded as sexy as that hypercharged, frustrated, lilting teen voice.

Come on, boy. This Marine needs what you've got.

Footsteps on the porch. Dustin felt the way you do just before you step onto a roller coaster. He glanced at his phone. It hadn't fallen over. He was in the center of the frame. He let out a huge sigh when the front door opened.

Goddamn, I feel like an altar boy, waiting for a priest to start the rape!

Hot damn. Dustin was gonna get seeded. To hell with virgin birth. Spew spunk everywhere! He laughed to himself.

"Uh, Coach," Travis said just outside the garage door. "I'm still pretty sore from yesterday ..."

Dustin grinned. He could picture that tiny pucker. Bruised. Stretched by David's monster.

A meaty slapping sound. "Man up, Travis. Into the garage. Your present's waiting for you."

The lanky blond teen stood framed in the doorway. His jaw dropped.

Dustin displayed himself for the kid. He stared over his shoulder at Travis. Right at the kid's crotch. Damn right the kid was hung. That huge bulge, throbbing in the skin-tight wrestling singlet, must've terrified his buddies during wrestling practice. Kid was perfect. Sweat still darkened the school mascot and big semi-circles of it sagged under his armpits. Dustin was sure he could see tiny drops of it flecking the kid's armpit hair.

"Goddamn," Travis gulped. He clapped a hand against his forehead. "Fuck, Coach. Who's that?"

David loomed behind him, standing way closer than a high school wrestling coach should ever stand to a pupil. One hand massaged Travis' shoulders. The other cupped one of Travis' tight asscheeks. "That's your personal Marine whore. Finest ass you'll find in town, kid. Primed. Ready to go. He's hot. Tried him out myself." He nuzzled the teen's ear. "I want to watch you take him."

"Hot damn!" Travis slipped the straps from his shoulders. The singlet collapsed, revealing a finely sculpted, trim chest. Smooth as polished alabaster, decorated with a nascent six-pack and tiny nipples. Travis charged at Dustin like a stallion, puffing, cock twitching, fists bunching. His singlet slipped lower until the head of his cock peeked over the fold. A bright red juicy plum.

The plum mesmerized Dustin. Took control of him. Dustin swiveled to keep his butt pointed right at that strutting young stud.

David, following Travis, called, "How you feelin', Dusty?"

Dustin cleared his throat. "Iced up and horny, David."

David laughed. "Good shit, wasn't it?"

Dustin couldn't answer. Travis, eyes blazing, knelt between his legs. The teen's hands tentatively stroked Dustin's flanks. The touch became firmer as he realized how strongly muscled Dustin was.

Dustin shivered. He looked Travis in the eye. "You got nice meat, kid."

You couldn't miss the fierce determination in Travis' eye. But he had a hard time meeting Dustin's look. He wasn't interested in Dustin's face. His eyes kept dropping to roam the muscles of Dustin's back. Deltoids. Shoulders. The prize: hard, round buttcheeks.

Travis swallowed. "Y-- yeah, I know." he stammered. "Nice ass."

David, bong in hand and wreathed in smoke, knelt behind Travis. He'd already stripped off his shirt. His cock tented his nylon workout pants. As he passed the bong to Travis, he said, "Come on. You know dope makes it hotter."

As the teen began to suck on the bong, David slipped the singlet down. Travis stepped free, exhaling a massive cloud of smoke. He melted against his coach as David's fingers tweaked his nipples, grinding his butt against David's hardon. David pushed Travis forward.

Dustin moaned. The teen's hardon fitted perfectly into his asscrack. He slowly hunched his hips against the iron-hard meat. "Take 'em off," he growled.

Travis grunted a laugh. "Wow, man. Horny, aren't you?" He took another massive hit.

"Biggest whore you'll find outside of Lejeune," said David.

The two brothers exchanged grins.

Travis set the bong aside on the mat. He stared at the smooth skin of the male sculpture bent over in front of him. David took the bong and left the two alone as he refilled the bowl. Standing beside the table, he shifted. His foot caused Dustin's phone to fall over. David knelt, sighted through it, grinned at Dustin, then set it back into position.

Travis ran his hands down Dustin's back, assuring himself that the Marine was there. Real. Not a fantasy. A presence he could feel with his hands and fuck with his teenaged cock. Travis hooked his fingers in Dustin's shorts and drew them down.

"Hey Coach!" Travis called. "He's wearing a jockstrap!"

As Dustin moved his knees to slip out of his shorts, he said, "Don't take it off. It stays. That's the rule."

"Yeah. Sure." Travis' fingers slipped over the muscled globes. "Smooth. Wow. Nice. Fuck, Coach, he's hotter than Leshawn!"

David, exhaling a massive hit, grinned. "Yeah, but I think your ass is hotter."

Dustin ground his butt against the teen's cock. He couldn't think of anything but that hard young meat. Why would anyone think of anything other than young cock?

"Fuck me, kid." His tone was a combination of command and plea.

Dustin felt the teen's unlubed cockhead punch against his sweaty pucker. Sure. What the hell. If the kid wanted it dry, Dustin would take it dry. But it really wouldn't be dry. Travis' meat drooled precum like a dog smelling dinner. And Dustin's butthole was a sweaty swamp.

"Yeah, kid. Let's do it." Dustin breathed. He relaxed, began to push himself back --

"Nah." Planting one hand on a slender waist and the other on his brother's naked ass, David pried the teenaged wrestler and the world's greatest Marine slut apart. David knelt behind Travis. He poured a teardrop of lube onto his fingers. "Gotta slick a pussy up, buddy." He reached around Travis and pushed his fingers into Dustin's butthole. He twisted them in the tight ring. "Like that. Dusty's gonna get pounded tonight. Can't be too rough on him."

Hell yeah, thought Dustin. Bring 'em on. The thought that this was the first time that he'd ever showed off his sexual antics with his brother didn't consciously occur to him. But it lurked there, hidden in the dark waters of his mind. It manifested in the way he rolled his hips lewdly on David's fingers. In the way his eyelids fluttered.

Travis remained oblivious to the incest he was in the middle of. He shuddered as David's lube-dripping fist coated his steel-hard shaft. As Travis lined up again on Dustin's socket, he jumped a bit. David's finger had sunk to the hilt into the wrestler's succulent ass.

"You like getting' molested, don't you?" David growled in Travis' ear.

But Dustin thought David was talking to him. "Hell yeah. Fuck me!"

You don't have to force a teen into his first piece of cunt. Travis snapped his hips forward. For the first time in his life, his meat breached another guy's ring. The groan Travis emitted sounded like a prayer of thanksgiving. Somewhere, off in some sacred otherspace, Dionysus grinned approval and began frigging himself.

Schooled by David Mayes -- ponytailed soccer coach, long-haired brotherfucker -- Travis wasn't at all gentle. A swift, rapier thrust. His taut balls, barely frosted with hair, banged off Dustin's pouch. He was in. His eyes rolled up. His jaw dropped. Travis groaned. "Oh goddamn. That's --"

But then he couldn't talk any more.

Dustin had never allowed anyone to fuck him while wearing a condom. What he wanted most to feel was the sensation of a man spurting hot jism into his rectum. He craved that feeling. He'd grown so sensitive to it he could even tell how much a given stud juiced him. Little drools of cum. Brimming thimblefuls of cum. Pints of potent jizz. His rectal tissue was a finely calibrated measuring device.

Travis was a gusher.

David could almost count the bullets of teen jism streaming into his hungry rectum. Eight ... nine ... was that a double shot? ... twelve. Travis' shaft surged through Dustin's ring as it fired a fusillade into Dustin's dark vat. Sighing, Dustin milked the wrestler's cock for every drop he could get. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Yeah. He loves it. Fuck yeah. Feel it, kid? That means I want it, kid! I want every motherfucking drop you got in those hyperactive balls!

"He's cumming, isn't he, Dusty?" David's finger sawed in Travis' bruised ring. "I can feel him."

Dustin giggled. "Oh hell yeah, this kid's my babydaddy!" Yeah, this was a big load. Dustin grinned, thinking of those times he'd been sitting on a leather couch in the Minotaur Club, feeling like he was about to whelp a ten pound slime baby, the offspring of all the men who'd fucked him that night. "Keep it coming!"

The kid did his best. But all good things must come to an end. Travis, chest heaving, collapsed forward across Dustin's back. His shaft throbbed in the milky gloom of Dustin's guts, still hard and rarin' to go. An ivory pestle jammed into Dustin's insatiable mortar.

Dustin grinned. Was that cum oozing out around Travis' shaft? His guts felt like liquid sin, as this feeling harmonized with the lust stampeding through his spirit.

David bit Travis' earlobe. "Good job. Stud." He wriggled his finger against Travis' swollen prostate, making the kid's cock jump in Dustin's chute.

Travis grunted, "I ain't done, Coach!" He glanced down at Dustin. "Goddamn this motherfucking Marine's hot!"

After a minute, Travis began thrusting, spearing his shaft over Dustin's sperm-slick prostate. Travis moaned as David slipped a second finger up his tight pucker. He kicked his knees wider and bent forward, giving his coach better access. Travis' eyes shrank to slits as he sawed away at Dustin's hole. The boy had found the right kind of god.

"He doing you right, brother?" David smirked, wondering how his brother would react to that forbidden admission.

Fire coursed through Dustin's veins. "He's fucking me right, brother."

If Travis heard that exchange -- if the mention of incest, that most heinous and delicious of crimes pierced his sex and drug fogged mind -- he gave no sign. His head lolled to one side. His tongue protruded through parted lips. His hips bucked. His nipples rose like tiny towers on the smoothly sculpted plain of his chest. His fingers gripped Dustin's waist, and he drove his meat ever faster, the piston of a NASCAR engine revving up for the finish line.

"Damn, kid, fuck me!" Dustin impaled himself on Travis' strokes, swaying his ass side to side. His fingers balled up. Shit. Dustin felt like a whore, which was the only way he ever felt right. He needed this.

The teen wrestler's face screwed up as he fucked. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.

"How's that Marine pussy feel, Travis?" David grunted, his tongue slithering through Travis' ears like a hot slug.

"Fuckin' hell, Coach, fuckin' goddamned hell!" Sweat beaded Travis' face as he thrust faster and faster into Dustin's guts. Rich, pungent teen funk rose from his armpits. He stared at the butt he pierced as if he couldn't believe he finally, at last, had his ever-hard teen prong buried where the gods intended it. The sight of his own semen coating his shaft as it withdrew from Dustin's tight ring was just as hot as the porn Coach Mayes let him watch. But it was the sound -- the squelching, the gentle plops as sperm dripped from Dustin's jockpouch to the mat -- and the dizzying smell of sperm that sent him flying higher and higher.

Dustin called over his shoulder. "Hey, kid. You got a brother?" Yeah. Getting' double-teamed. Travis' cock up there. Travis' brother's cock up there. Meth made Dustin crazier than shit.

Travis' hips churned into overdrive. He galloped like a colt for the finish line, groaning and moaning.

David licked up a few drops of sweat from Travis' neck. "You thinking about Leshawn ... or this Marine?"

Travis groaned and unloaded again. The moist squelching grew louder. There was a rude farting noise. Travis glanced down. His pubic bush was drenched in the sperm that had just spurted from Dustin's cunt. He watched a fat worm of his own hot nut butter crawl from Dustin's teencock-plugged butt. It swayed, and then fell to the mat. Travis grinned. He was breeding this Marine like a stallion! Having emptied his balls twice, he still hammered away, addicted to raw sex for the rest of his life.

Dustin? He was in pig heaven. He had so much spunk and so much cock up him his colon felt bloated, an overstuffed sausage sizzling and ready to burst. The amount of jism -- had to be a pint, at least -- squishing around Travis' thrusting cock amazed even Dustin. "That Leshawn must be pretty hot, huh?"

"Jaden Smith," grunted David. "Picture Jaden Smith. Karate Kid. It's nice, Dusty. Real nice. A pair of round smooth bowling balls. Wanting cock." He snorted. "Hell, bro. It's so hot he'd make you a top." He slipped his fingers out of his student's ass and reached for the lube.

Dustin, grinding his ass on the still hard meat embedded inside, grinned. "Nothing's gonna make me into a top. I live for cock."

Travis roared on like an express train, puffing, thrusting, awash with the feeling of Marine pussy squirming on his fuckshaft. He was learning that it was one thing to be bred ... another thing to breed. The former was to receive another's energy and power, to be suffused and enlivened with it. The latter was to be a goddamned motherfucking volcanic stud-god. His cum, squelching obscenely in Dustin's rectum, was hot. Slimy. Nasty. Dirty. Deviant. Exhilarating. Sublime. All the energy of all his most sinful, lurid dreams blazed in him.

But -- Travis wished Coach would jam his fingers back up his butt.

David slicked up his shaft. His giant hardon throbbed against his belly. He puffed away on the bong, watching his student fuck his brother. He leaned forward and murmured into Travis' ear, marijuana smoke wreathing coach and student. Like any good coach, David gave Travis pointers. Angle the thrusts down. See? You're drilling his prostate. Trust me. Dusty like's his prostate abused. Feel that jockpouch? It's soaking wet. You did that, Travis. You made that Marine slut wet himself. He's gonna live for your cock, Travis. Trust me. I know.

David stood. Travis, free to move, longcocked Dustin's butt. Dustin peeked behind him. He saw David brandishing Dustin's phone. For one moment anger flashed through him. Don't stop recording, motherfucker! But of course David didn't. David pointed the phone at Travis' dimpled buttcheeks as he sauntered back towards the teen. David winked at his brother.

Travis very nearly went over the edge again when David stuffed three fingers inside him. Travis knew what was coming. Groaning from the brutal penetration, he stopped thrusting, bent forward, fully exposing his ass. He began panting when his coach scissored his fingers in his ring.

"Put it in, Coach!"

"Yeah," growled David. He sighted the phone down at his giant erection, reaching like a baby's arm for the smooth, taut, sweat-streaked teen butt in front of him. "Time for the old baseball bat, isn't it?"

Travis' socket gnawed hungrily on David's huge cockhead.

Dustin felt Travis' cock leap inside him. He didn't have to turn his head around. He knew David had lodged at least his cockhead in the kid's ring. What he didn't know until later was the perfect picture David had captured of the penetration. There was no mistaking that the giant instrument being shoved up Travis slim butt belonged to an adult male. Only adults had pubic bushes so thick, or thighs so powerful, or balls so big. And there was no mistaking that those trim buttocks belonged to a teen. Smooth and sleek, begging to be plugged. And there was no missing the sound Travis made. The chortle of delight. The prayer of a boy who's being well-pleased.

Travis gurgled, struggling as his rectum bloated once again around Coach Mayes' giant shaft. David's fat meat crushed Travis' prostate. Gurgles turned to cries as Travis jetted into Dustin's ass, drenching that hot cave with a billion unborn babies. Three nuts in rapid succession were about his limit. His cock melted from steel rod into rubbery tongue. It slipped free of Dustin's cunt. Cream chased after Travis' cock, spurting through Dustin's pucker, blasting onto Travis' thighs like hot oil.

Laughing, Dustin said, "Sorry. I'm fuckin' sloppy." He whirled and saw David had his phone aimed down at the teen's cock-plugged butt. The brothers exchanged grins. David pushed Travis forward onto his palms, powerfucking the lanky tight-assed kid.

Shit. Is that what he looked like when he molested me? Muscles rippling. Crazy eyes, man, crazy fucking eyes.

Dustin slithered on his back under them. He looked up at his brother's huge cock, thrusting like mad into Travis' tight hole. Behind the spectacle he saw his phone, and behind that, David's savage grin. Dustin's lips mirrored his brother's lusty expression.

The smell of Travis' balls -- mingled with Dustin's own ass sweat -- drew Dustin like a magnet. He slurped on them. It was a potent cocktail. The sweat of two teens -- Travis, and this unknown but hot-assed Leshawn. And Travis' jism, baked to perfection in Dustin's ass. When a worm of precum began wriggling from the kid's soft shaft Dustin went after it, slurping down the meat. He felt David shoving the phone in his hand. Dustin made a guess -- a good guess, as it turned out -- where to aim it. From below he recorded David hammering Travis. Giant cock. Bruised, overstretched ring. An ear-splitting roar from David's lung. Urethra pumping fresh jism into abused teen rectum. Not a drop escaped. Nothing could. That was one tight seal.

David tapped Dustin's shoulder as he withdrew, exposing a cream-and-cherry teen pie. Dustin read him perfectly. He pulled the teen down into a sixty nine. But Dustin released Travis' cock and went for the raw, sperm-leaking pucker. He slurped strand after strand of his brother's cream fresh from Travis' ass. His nostrils, breathing the sweaty funk of Travis' buttcrack, blazed as if he'd huffed Jungle Juice. For a few shocked moments the wrestler trembled in delight. Savoring the unnatural feeling of one brother drinking the other brother's sperm from his cunt. Suddenly, like St. Paul on the road to Damascus, Travis was struck by light. The teen grasped the gospel of a pig. He forced his head between Dustin's thighs, pried open sweaty Marine cheeks, and drank the ooze in Dustin's butt like a milkshake.

David replaced the camera against the paint can. Grinning, he tugged Travis off Dustin. The kid wiped sperm from his lips with the back of his hand, grinning down at Dustin, his eyes insane with lust. Dustin stared up. Four balls. Two cocks. Slim teen body. Muscled brother stud.

"Feel better?" David asked, clapping Travis' butt.

Dustin and Travis chorused: "Hell yeah!" Both laughed.

"Hey, Travis," said David as he moved into a squat over Dustin. "Let me show you something I just know Dustin's gonna love." David winked at Dustin. "Isn't that right, little brother?" He pointed his soft cock at Dustin's lips, moving closer.

Travis said, his cock stiffening, "Is he really your --"

The sight of David's yellow piss spattering against Dustin's lips choked off Travis question. Again his mouth gaped. His cock surged into a throbbing monument to the vitality of a horny teen. A paean to the power of piggishness

Dustin? His brother's warm urine enveloped him like a caress. For Dustin, a well-educated pig, piss was as natural as buttfucking. Piss was another of Dustin's favorite drugs.

But this? This was special. This glorious flood spurted from his brother's cock. He'd never enjoyed it before.

Urine flowed over Dustin's chest like a tide of molten gold. Dustin's shaft strained against a jockpouch that dripped his brother's urine. Thirsty and crazy, Dustin opened his lips, filled his mouth until David's pee coursed down his cheeks, then swallowed. He shot a look into Travis' unbelieving eyes. He surged forward, sucked in David's cockhead, and drank the nectar directly from its source. David's cock swiftly swelled into another hardon.

Belching, Dustin rolled over, thrust his ass in the air, and spread his legs. "Come on. Fuck me!"

David sneered. "Yeah. Fuckin' Marine whore." The coach glanced at his student, who was fiddling with his cock. Air puffed from his lungs like steam. "Now watch this, Travis. There may be a pop quiz on this."

David fastened his lips to his brother's ring and gobbled down the still-leaking teen jism. He spat a mouthful on his prick and worked it into froth. He lined up and slipped inside. He snapped his hips. Bam. Balls-to-the-wall in slimy sin.

Dustin purred. It was sublime to be fucked up on meth. He was fully aware that Travis was there. That this was the first time ever that anyone had ever watched David -- rape? no, molest -- Dustin. Dustin couldn't do anything but hunch himself back into his brother's strokes. Roll his head. Shimmy his hips. Whore himself out for the cock that had made him into what he was destined to be. A hot assed ever-horny fucked up Marine whore.

Mom? Wasn't thinking about her at all.

In fact, it felt pretty damn good that someone, at last, was witnessing this ultimate crime. It was like going on Oprah and confessing. Yeah, my brother fucks me and I like it.

Travis' jism, displaced by David's huge meat, pulsed from Dustin's hole and trickled down his thighs.

"Fuck me!" Dustin roared.

Pumping slowly, David grabbed his brother's head and guided it to Travis' crotch. "Suck him, little brother."

Dustin's eyes sighted down the teen's shaft as if it were an assault rifle.

"Uh, Coach," Travis said slyly. "I think I gotta use the restroom."

David grinned. "Well, you don't need a fuckin' hall pass here, Travis. Cut loose and drown this bitch."

Travis' cockhead pushed between Dustin's lips. Dustin pictured the teen at lunch, guzzling Coke or tea, laughing with his buddies. His warm offering was sweet. The flow was strong. The supply seemed endless. Dustin's tongue slid in lascivious circles along the teen's tap, because the wrestler needed some assistance in keeping the flood going through that hardon. Dustin lost one or two mouthfuls just for show. Good little piggy. But the majority of what came from Travis' bladder went straight into Dustin's gullet.

Pisstake transitioned into a sloppy blowjob. Testosterone permeated Travis' pubic hairs. The smell of sweat, ass, and funky hot jism burned Dustin's nostrils. Nursing that hot shaft, Dustin pictured the kid surreptitiously adjusting short-tenting boners, maybe covering his underwear when changing clothes in the locker room with his buddies. Kinship across the decades. Christ knew Dustin had to play hide-the-boner when he was in high school.

The teen's balls hammered Dustin's chin. David's balls swatted Dustin's jockpouch. Grunting filled the air. And sweat. And the stench of piss, and the spice of spunk.

Dustin pictured himself crouched under Travis desk -- wearing only this same piss-drenched jockstrap -- blowing the teen stud. Dustin pictured himself bent over, hidden in the janitor closet, while the kid hosed his guts with fresh baby sauce. Maybe Travis and his buddies. Leshawn. Sexy Leshawn. Black and teenaged. Dustin grinned. Buttfucking is nature's way of birth control, guys. Let me show you.

David pounded his brother's ass. He stared upwards, sightlessly, seeing nothing, feeling only the tight rectum squishing on his cock. His huge meat, fat and anointed with teenaged spunk, bridged him and his brother in the most forbidden of bonds. He popped Dustin's buttock. "Squeeze it! Squeeze it like I taught you!"

Dustin remembered how his butthole felt when David's cock first pierced it, and he tried to summon the same feeling from the swamps of memory. Remember how it felt when he molested you, Dusty? Grunting, he clamped down with his ring, squeezing his rectum, worshipping the slimy instrument plundering his sloppy guts.

"Where'd you find this one, Coach?" asked Travis, grasping Dustin's head, guiding the Marine's lips on his shaft. He plunged down the throat as if it was his personal Fleshlight.

"In his bed. Same way he is now. Ass in the air. Begging for it." David jabbed in to the root, grinned when he felt Dustin squirm in distress. "Beggin' for me. I taught him how much he needs it."

The question which had been tickling Travis' mind was finally articulated. "Is he ... really your brother?" Travis had been getting off on this brother thing, but he was sure it was just play. Coach Mayes liked to play all sorts of weird games that made Travis feel hot, nasty, and dirty inside.

David, grinning as he sawed away, fixed Travis with a gaze the teen knew means his smartass coach was not fucking kidding this time. Seconds ticked away while David fucked. Then David nodded.

Travis' eyes grew wider even than his stretched hole.

David laid a finger over his lips in a shushing gesture.

Travis -- poor kid, like Dustin -- had been indoctrinated that incest was evil. That incest was abuse. That sex was a dangerous act that must take place only within tightly defined, socially-sanctioned boundaries. But, young, dumb, and full of cum as he was, Travis wasn't stupid. He felt the craving in his balls for perversion, even if the do-gooders in the world had stolen from him the means to express it. He was learning, in a visceral, heart-pounding way, that abusive evil and great fun are often the same thing. What was that line from that old, shitty movie? Good is a point of view.

"Oh God," Travis groaned. And he flooded Dustin's mouth with enough cum to float an Ark.

Dustin chortled, gulping down the gravy, skewering himself on his brother's big cock, utterly oblivious to the vile sin just admitted.

Travis watched in awe as his Coach Mayes, instructor in wrestling and sex, came in his kid brother's ass. Coach's head rolled back and his muscles bled through his skin. David's mouth had fallen open but no sound came out. He was a sculpture of a man blasted into an otherspace of perfect pleasure. Even Dionysus envied him.

Dustin? He was in that otherspace where Dionysus frolicked, shuddering and gasping, feeling his brother cumming in his ass.

David dismounted. Dustin's butthole irised down to a smaller diameter, but didn't shut. Dustin's cunt was a cave gushing a stream of incestuous sperm over a piss-soaked jockpouch. Air bubbled from the gaping hole. David beckoned Travis. The teen pulled his cock out of Dustin's mouth. Damn, this boy ought to be in porn; he was still hard. Never underestimate the effect of incest on a horny teen male. Ropes of spit and sperm swayed on his cock.

"Eat it," said David. "Eat my spunk, Travis."

Travis plunged his face between Dustin's buttcheeks. He slurped the spunk on the anus itself. He laughed, knowing he was sucking one brother's sperm off another brother's asshole. The scene of the crime drew him on. His tongue probed inside, and he began gathering into himself the criminal load that David had deposited in Dustin's chute.

"Roll him over," said David. "Fuck him. He needs it."

It was hard to say who was more eager, Dustin or Travis. The moment the wrestler's hands took him by the waist, the Marine was rolling. But the teen's muscled bulged just in case this Marine -- this younger brother; fuck yeah! -- resisted. Travis, remembering how rough the Coach had been the first time with him, grabbed Dustin's thighs and shoved them back. The Marine's butthole glimmered with seed and spit. Challenge glimmered in Dustin's eyes. Travis accepted. He shoved his meat in, cum bubbling like mud around it, and rutted like a bull.

David gazed down at Dustin's face. His brother's lips were parted, his tongue flickering in and out like a snake's. David planted his feet outboard of Dustin's head. He felt the bristles of Dustin's high-and-tight scouring his insoles.

"You're crazy, aren't you?" asked David. "I'm not gonna be enough, am I? Not me. Not Travis. You need to get fucked, don't you?"

Dustin floated on the sublime bliss that only a stiff cock bestows. He nodded up at his brother. Yeah. He had to go crazy. He wanted sex. All night. All day Saturday. All Saturday night. Worship the God of Cock on Sunday morning. With his tongue he beckoned his brother down. When David squatted on his face, he slipped his tongue into his brother's asshole and munched away.

Travis tried to hold out. Tried to make it last. But, damn it, his cock was sliding in incestuous slime. That was a brother's spunk and a brother's ass. This was the pure essence of sin. Of depravity. His jism burst like a nova in Dustin's guts. It was a terrific, cataclysmic orgasm, shattering him. They probably heard his shouting over in Chapel Hill. His fists pounded the mat, splattering piss and spunk and sweat.

This one managed to drain him. Travis collapsed backwards, sitting on the wrestling mat in his coach's garage, watching his coach get his ass licked. His breathing slowed. Sweat trickled down his face.

David grinned at Travis. "Mom's calling, isn't she?"

Travis, panting, rested his forearms on his knees. "She told me I better get home in time for dinner."

David stood, his butthole departing Dustin's hungry lips with a loud sucking noise. "Well, Travis, I think you're gonna need a shower before you go. You smell like an accident in a sperm bank."

Travis sniffed his pits and laughed. "Yeah, I stink."

David hauled Dustin to his feet. "Go clean Travis off, Dusty." He began repacking the bong.

Dustin led Travis into David's bathroom. To preserve his own funk, Dustin stripped off his jockstrap before climbing into the shower with the wrestler. At first, Dustin was simply going to rinse off the glistening, sleek body, but the teen -- with a steely look in his eyes -- demanded soap. So Dustin soaped Travis up. Pits. Buttcrack. Balls. After -- looking as if he couldn't believe this was happening -- Travis guided Dustin's lips to his sausage and drained his bladder again.

I gotta have this, Dustin thought, the scent of Travis' urine boiling in his sinuses. David' isn't gonna be the gatekeeper.

Toweling Travis off, Dustin whispered in Travis ear, "What's your phone number?"

The teen gave it to him. Dustin memorized it. After slipping back into his jock, he followed Travis into David's living room. The flat screen was a festival of buttfucking. Dustin saw his phone on the coffee table. He quickly stored Travis' phone number in his contacts while Travis, after getting back into the school wrestling singlet, chugged a Coke David got him from the fridge.

Emitting a belch -- loud enough to rattle windows -- Travis said, "Hey, guys. Gotta go."

"Wanna play again?" David asked Travis. "Monday?" David raised a quizzical eyebrow at Dustin.

Travis laughed. "Shit, Coach, you know I can't play Monday. That's my birthday." He thumped his chest.

David grinned his most wicked grin. "Eighteen. You'll be a man, won't you?"

Travis said, "Coach, I've been a man ever since you fucked my butt!" He headed towards the front door. "Thanks, guys!"

Dustin stared at David until he heard Travis' Colorado roar off through the neighborhood. His brother returned the stare.

"He's seventeen?" David asked.

"Yep."

"You lied. You said --"

"Come on, Dusty. You're used to that, aren't you?" He grinned. "You like it when I lie."

Dustin's cock throbbed against his sin-soaked jockpouch. He felt the underage kid's jism trickling from his butt. Felt the weight of the seventeen year old's piss in his stomach. He stared at nothing in particular, aware he'd just committed America's gravest crime. He was a pedophile.

When David pointed at his hardon, Dustin knelt between his brother's thighs and began nursing on the giant shaft.

David folded his arms behind his head. "Yep. Chicken's the best meat."

"Child porn," Dustin muttered round David's shaft, meaning the incriminating video on his phone.

"Oh, got lots of that," said David. He picked up Dustin's phone. "Hey. You got a lot of guys wanting to fuck you. Want me to pick one for you?"

Dustin hummed with delight as he accepted his brother's cock into his throat. Whatever David wanted. That was the way it had always been.

 

continued in part 5