Date: Sun, 26 Oct 2003 04:51:44 +0000 From: Brewster Hardy Subject: Ballard Boys Part 7 Ballard Boys Part 7 By Brewster Hardy The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is meant to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior. *Chapter 18* "Here, Dad -- taste it..." As he recovered from the fleetingly shocking sensation of having Ian's probing finger exploring his virgin asshole -- brief though the invasion was -- the heady scent of his son's semen overwhelmed Jerry's senses. The thick, shimmering fluid overflowed from the boy's extended fingertips, mere inches from Jerry's lips, as the young father stared, fascinated. Turning his gaze upwards -- from his prone position on the warm beach towel -- toward the devilishly handsome face of this sexually insatiable man-child, Jerry finally parted his lips to accept the illicit offering. As the warm fingers entered his open mouth, Jerry instinctively began to suck and lick at the potent, youthful man-juice, eyes closing as he savored the fullness of the taste and texture. He moaned quietly as a sense of completeness and comfort gradually filled his being. In his 37 years, he had never tasted another man's ejaculate. Now, suddenly, it was all he desired. Ian, perceiving his father's need, reached down with his other hand to gather more of the semen from where it coated Jerry's abdomen. Jerry looked up again and stared deeply into 16-year-old's flashing blue eyes as the boy continued to feed him the life-creating fluid. All these years, he had sensed he was missing something -- and now, he suddenly knew he had discovered the truth of the secret longing. Of course, it was ironic and probably dangerous that his guide to the discovery happened to be his own young son -- the fruit of his loins. Oh, well -- there would be plenty of time to sort that out later, Jerry thought, as the boy brought the final traces of the addictive cum to his lips. "I think that's all there is, Dad," Ian said, his deep voice reduced to a hushed whisper. "Oh, wait a minute -- I still have some more here..." With that, the boy inched forward on his knees -- straddling Jerry's broad chest -- and directed the dripping, cum-coated head of his still semi-erect cock toward his father's face. Jerry simply looked at the thick, heavy organ for a long moment. It was so very like his own, he thought -- markedly oversized, yet perfectly proportioned; the lack of foreskin was the only obvious difference. Fully aware that he was about to cross yet another boundary -- and strongly suspecting there might be no turning back -- he raised his head slightly from the ground, and slid his tongue against the flared underside of his son's cock-head. Groaning helplessly, he gave himself over completely to his deepest urges -- licking the rich semen directly from the satiny surface of Ian's penis. Wanting, needing more, he greedily engulfed the entire head with his full, wet lips, and began to suck -- delirious as the newly familiar flavor of boy-sperm melded with the fullness, heat and ineffable essence of teenaged cock-flesh. "Oh, Dad -- oh, yeah -- fuck..." Incredibly, the boy's cock was hardening once again. Jerry began to stroke the thickening length of it with his trembling right hand, while his tongue and lips continued their sweet torture of the broadening, leaking head. "Oh, oh, oh god..." Ian was whimpering, almost crying, as his powerful, slim pelvis began to pump, forcing the solid, throbbing limb deeper into Jerry's mouth. Jerry grasped his son's firm butt with his left hand, signaling the boy to thrust harder. His mouth now overflowing with the blend of saliva and fresh pre-cum, Jerry willed his inexperienced throat to open up and accept his son's youthfully insistent manhood. As he felt Ian's fully erect cock shoving deeper into his yielding throat, Jerry reached down to grasp his own shaft -- suddenly returned to thunderous hardness. "O-h-h-h-h-h fuck..." Ian cried, as he fell forward, arms outstretched, hands splayed out on the warm earth, hips thrusting as his cock pitilessly assaulted his father's throat. Jerry -- blinded by tears of ecstasy, tears of exquisite agony -- beat his own raging shaft ruthlessly with a muscular fist, as he suffered the wondrous torment of Ian's burning, steely rod violating the tissue of his virgin esophagus. He wanted, he needed, and he craved the viscous texture of his son's maleness. He longed to be the recipient of the physicality of that ultimate release. "Oh, fuck...Dad...I'M COMING...F-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-CK!" Jerry moved his head back slightly, so that the boy-cock no longer hammered deep within his throat, but, rather, throbbing, filled his mouth with its impassioned flesh as Ian began to shoot wave after wave of the seemingly endless ejaculate. As the taste and scent of his son's abundant fluid overwhelmed Jerry's senses -- the excess of it pushing past the boundaries of his lips and moving on to coat his chin and jaw-line and neck -- he barely heard his own muffled cries. He started shaking violently as his cock began to shoot its burning cream repeatedly against the velvety surface of Ian's upturned, flawless ass-cheeks. It was as if the rest of the world had faded into vague memory, and all that really mattered was the beauty and strength of this boy -- and the wonder of his sexuality, his taste, his smell, his cock. As Jerry's orgasm gradually subsided, he continued sucking the generous cock-head, not wanting to miss even a single drop of his son's semen. Finally, however, he realized that Ian was no longer thrusting and shooting. It was over. Swallowing a final mouthful of cum, he reluctantly released the boy's organ. Ian turned slightly, and then collapsed onto the ground beside his father. As they lay side by side, shoulders touching, they both stared wordlessly up into the star-filled sky. The sounds of their ragged breathing, gasping, filled the air. Jerry shuddered, as a residual orgasmic tremor shot through his body. Ian turned toward his father and draped an arm across the great, heaving chest, squeezing a muscled shoulder, feeling the heat and the barely perceptible shaking. "Ian..." "Yeah?" "Ian, I'm going to have to do some serious thinking here..." Jerry tried to choose his words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might damage the boy, "I want you to promise me that you won't say anything to your mother about any of this." "Of course not, Dad..." Ian hugged his father tighter, and Jerry moved a hand to caress the boy's muscular arm where it lay across his chest. They continued to lay there in silence, listening to each other's breathing as the sounds of rushing water and rustling leaves played in the distance. "I love you, Dad." "I love you too, Ian." Jerry whispered the words, suddenly very unsure of himself as the cloak of reality began its unavoidable descent, darkening his thoughts and emotions. ************ "Huh?" As Bob's eyes fluttered open in the darkness of the little riverbank clearing, he felt a brief moment of bewilderment. Then -- raising himself on his elbows, feeling the coolness of green grass against his warm skin -- he saw Carlo. His breathing stopped for just a beat, as the dark, sensual beauty of the other boy swept through his heart. Carlo, fully dressed, was crouching down on the ground several feet away, writing on a small piece of paper. He looked up, smiling, as he noticed Bob's waking movement. "You were sleeping very deeply; I didn't want to wake you." "What time is it?" "It's very late," Carlo said quietly, "and I have to leave you here, unfortunately -- wet clothing and all..." Bob -- suddenly feeling very vulnerable in his nakedness -- sat up, wrapping his arms around his bent legs. "Yeah, I guess your girlfriend is probably wondering where you are..." Carlo cocked his head quizzically. "Girlfriend? Oh!" His face broke into a broad smile. "You mean Elena." Carlo stood and moved toward the handsome Ballard boy -- then knelt on the ground behind him, wrapping his arms around Bob's muscular torso and resting his head against the back of Bob's neck. "Somehow, Bob, you are even more beautiful right now, in this moment. Now I will explain something I should have shared with you hours ago -- Elena is my sister." Bob -- feeling Carlo's warm breath against his back -- ran his fingers softly across the arms that encircled him, and began to laugh. "That's good news for me, I guess..." "Oh, no..." Carlo was suddenly leaning backward, inspecting Bob's back. "What?" "I'm afraid I have marred your perfection." Bob's back was marked with bloody welts where Carlo had scraped and clawed at the skin during the zenith of their passionate lovemaking. Carlo bent his head down and tenderly kissed the ravaged flesh. "This will heal, but perhaps it will help you remember me -- for at least a few days..." "Oh, don't worry. I don't think there's much chance that I'll be forgetting about you anytime in the near future," Bob said, as he felt an unexpected wave of melancholy sweep over him. "Here." Carlo handed him the folded paper. "This is my address in Rio de Janeiro. I will try to pass through here again on my way back from Boston, but if I am not able to do that, please write to me and let me know how to reach you -- please. I will want to see you again, Bob Ballard." "Thanks..." Bob, in his growing desolateness, could hardly look at Carlo now. Carlo placed his hands lovingly on the sides Bob's face -- cradling the strong jaw, the burning cheeks -- and leaned in for the most tender of kisses. "Don't forget me, Bob..." he whispered. "Never, Carlo, never..." Bob watched as his new friend gathered up the guitar and knapsack, and then began to walk away. Beset with an immeasurable weight of sadness, confusion and longing, Bob lay face down in the soft grass and slowly drifted back to sleep. ************ It was very early on Sunday morning when Jerry pulled into the driveway of the Ballard home. Both he and Ian had been virtually silent during the ride back from Fraser Falls, each lost in his own thoughts. Now, Ian -- stimulated as always by sitting in a moving vehicle - - was contending with another raging hard-on. As he helped his father unload the vehicle, he caught surreptitious glimpses of Jerry's butt and crotch; the man's tight, worn denims did little to disguise their contents. Now Ian knew exactly what was in there, and he knew he wanted more. There was no way, however, that his father would allow him access to any of that at this point. He could still taste Jerry's cum, and he briefly toyed with the idea of never brushing his teeth again -- just to try to keep the heady scent and flavor on his tongue. Yesterday morning, he had been able to taste the semen he had more or less stolen from his sleeping brother's cock the night before. This was a completely new, secret world he was discovering -- and he liked it. Bob had an awesome cock -- so did Jerry. They both came in great abundance when they ejaculated. They both tasted amazing. Jerry's sperm was, maybe, a bit richer -- Bob's a bit sweeter. The big difference was that Jerry had been an active, if initially reluctant, participant. Bob, on the other hand, apparently had no clue. He had shared some pre-cum with Ian on Thursday night, but -- compared with subsequent events -- Ian didn't really think that counted for much. Besides, things had been strange between the brothers ever since that brief encounter. Right now, however, he just wanted to jerk off to relieve his aching balls and cock. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, the morning sun streaming through the window over the sink, he watched as his father disappeared into the den -- en route to the master bedroom, undoubtedly. Ian was about to head upstairs to the bedroom he shared with his brother, when he remembered that this was Sunday morning. Bob was probably still in bed -- maybe asleep, maybe not. There was potential there for weirdness, and he didn't feel like dealing with that right now. He considered the bathroom as an option, but decided the house was just too quiet for that right now. Groaning a bit in frustration, he grabbed his balls through the fabric of his skintight denim cutoffs, and squeezed them hard. While dressing, earlier that morning, he had decided against wearing his jockeys. It felt a little dangerous and sexy, and he had contemplated the idea of letting his cock "accidentally" slip out against his thigh during the ride home. Jerry had seemed so lost in thought, however, that Ian ultimately decided not to push his luck any further. Now, he lifted his long T-shirt and slipped a finger under the low waistband of the shorts, sliding it along his blood-engorged cock- head and gathering up a bit of pre-cum. Bringing it to his lips, he savored the wonder of his own man-essence. Mmmmm... OK, now he was just making himself crazy -- and there was only one sensible solution to the situation. As quietly as possible, he let himself out the back door, and began to make his way down to his secret place by the river. He decided not to hurry. Instead, he focused on the sensations created by the texture of the denim fabric as it rubbed back and forth against his throbbing cock. Ian loved his big cock. He loved the feeling of the fabric becoming wet and sticky from the steady flow of pre-cum. As he crossed the field, he reached into his shorts and scooped up some more of the fluid directly from his sensitive piss- hole. Oh, god, that was good. He was half-tempted to jerk-off right now, but decided again to hold off until he reached his spot -- where he would really be able to relax and give himself a good work-over. By the time he reached the riverbank, he thought his cock might just explode. He was breathing heavily, and realized that he was perilously close to orgasm. Hold on, he thought to himself, we're almost there. Wait a minute -- something was wrong. Ian stopped just outside his secret wooded clearing and looked down at the ground where he stood. It looked like it had been recently trampled on -- or something. Hmmm... Silently taking a step forward, he poked his head through the opening and looked to his left. There, on the grass at the base of the largest tree, was what looked like the remains of a joint. OK, somebody else had obviously discovered this excellent hideaway. That really sucked. He looked upward, and saw a pair of jeans and a shirt hanging off some branches. What the fuck...? Then his gaze wandered to the right, and his heart stopped cold. There, in the shadows, was some big guy lying face down in the grass -- naked. Naked, and with a fucking awesome bubble butt too -- he couldn't help noticing. As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness over in that area, he saw that the guy's back was covered in red welts, as if he had been whipped or scratched or something. Now -- hard-on briefly forgotten and mind racing with curiosity - - he cautiously tiptoed towards the body. Was the guy dead or something? Fuck... Then he saw the tousled, shaggy blond hair -- and subsequently recognized the unmistakable musculature. Jesus H. Christ... Falling quietly to his hands and knees, he crept closer still -- and saw that Bob was breathing. Phew... Now he was relieved, puzzled, and damn curious. What the fuck was going on here? How did Bob end up here at all -- never mind naked and all scratched up? Besides that, what the hell was going on with his big brother these days, anyway? On Friday night, he had arrived home blind drunk, and subsequently had passed out -- not that Ian didn't benefit from that, but never mind. Now, there was this very weird situation... Ian just sat and stared at his brother for a long time. Even in this odd scenario -- face down in the grass, arms wrapped around his head, legs spread wide -- Bob was undeniably a breathtaking beauty. Ian reached out and gingerly ran a fingertip along one of the red scrapes on his brother's back. He decided that, whatever the source, the damage was not permanent. The boy's body would return to its usual flawlessness in no time -- damn him. Unthinking, he leaned forward and kissed the broad back. All of a sudden, his hard-on was reasserting itself. Did he dare mess with Bob again? There was no telltale smell of alcohol in the air, so Ian could only assume that his brother was simply asleep -- not in a semi-comatose state like the other night. Ian crept around -- positioning himself between Bob's spread legs. The curve of his brother's firm, creamy butt was luscious. Ian could almost see right into the crack. He leaned forward, and placed a hand on either cheek, carefully separating them. Leaning forward yet again, he lightly nuzzled his nose and lips along this secret, hidden flesh. Remembering the brief encounter -- unexpectedly gratifying -- with his father's asshole on the previous evening, Ian began to lick the soft skin, gradually working his way toward the softly pink rosebud at the center. The warm, rich smells only made his cock throb harder. When his tongue finally reached his brother's asshole, Ian lost whatever little control he had managed to maintain. Abandoning all caution, he buried his tongue in the delicious opening, trying to dig in deep, deeper, now sucking hungrily at the sweet, pungent flesh as well. Oh, fuck, this was amazing... "Hhhhhhnnnggguuuuhh...whhhaaaAAAAAA!" Suddenly wide-awake, Bob swung around, his beefy thigh knocking Ian hard over onto his back on the ground. "OW!" "WHAT THE FUCK!?!" "Shit, that hurt..." "IAN! What the fuck are you doing?" "Man, you don't know your own strength..." "What are you doing here?" Bob stood up -- gradually reorienting himself -- rubbed his eyes, trying to remember where he had left his clothes. "Never mind -- what are YOU doing here, naked and all beat up, or whatever..." "Huh?" "Man, you are totally losing it these days..." "Wait a minute -- what the fuck were you doing just before I woke up?" Ian -- still sitting on the ground -- considered the situation for a moment, and decided that he currently had the upper hand. Thus emboldened, he said, "Licking your sweet asshole." "You fucking little creep..." "Well," said Ian, pointing up at Bob's impressively raging erection, "It doesn't look like you were minding it a whole lot..." Bob stood openmouthed and speechless for a moment. What had gotten into his brother? As memories of the previous evening with Carlo came rushing back, he shook his head, trying to clear the mad swirl of confusing thoughts and images from his mind. His frustration turned to fury, however, as he gradually came to a more lucid understanding of exactly what Ian had been up to. "Plus," Ian continued, oblivious to Bob's anger and emboldened now in what he perceived as a power position, "Isn't that dried cum all over your chest and neck and FACE for fuck's sake? What's THAT all about?" Bob looked down and saw that the boy was right. Shiny patches of the stuff covered his body -- just like yesterday morning, except this time he knew from where it had come; Carlo's thick rod had blasted him repeatedly while Bob brutally fucked the young musician's angel ass. Suddenly, he was fully aware of his exposed, rigid cock, standing at attention in the morning air. Ian was not even making an effort to PRETEND not to stare at it. Wait a minute -- dried cum, hard-on, Ian -- a brief flash of an image flew through his head. He willed it to return, focusing as hard as he could. Yes -- he saw it clearly now -- Ian had been sucking his cock -- when? Did it really happen, or was it a dream? Holy shit...Friday night...when he got home after seeing Annette...he had passed out... "YOU FUCKING LITTLE ASSHOLE!" he roared, and lunged at the younger boy, tackling him and pinning him to the ground. "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?" "OW! THAT HURTS! FUCK OFF!" "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" "FUCK YOU!" Ian somehow managed to flip Bob over, and now the younger brother was on top -- struggling hard to stay there, but on top nonetheless. As the two strapping teens wrestled and thrashed about in the little clearing, Bob finally was able to assert his superior strength. Flipping Ian over onto his stomach, Bob pressed a knee into the small of his back and roughly pinned the younger boy's hands together within his own large fists. "OK, that REALLY hurts," said Ian, panting. Bob was breathless as well. "Why the fuck did you come down here this morning?" Ian paused for a moment, then -- deciding things couldn't get much worse -- opted for the bald truth. "Aw, fuck -- I just wanted to jerk-off in peace." After a moment of stunned silence, Bob began to chuckle. Then, as if all the events and tension of the recent days were coming to some sort of ridiculous head, his chuckle turned to a throaty laugh. The laughing grew and took over his entire body, and he had to release his brother -- falling to the ground as he began to shake and convulse with something approaching hysteria. "What?" Ian was very confused. Now Bob was literally screaming with laughter. "WHAT'S SO GODDAM FUNNY?" Ian moved to attack his brother once more, and this time Bob was powerless to resist. Straddling Bob's heaving chest, Ian grabbed the older boy's thick biceps, and held them to the ground. Bob just kept laughing -- tears were actually rolling down his face, for fuck's sake. Remembering that Bob was a little ticklish, Ian leaned down and blew softly against the side of his neck. "AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH..." Bob screamed helplessly, squirming under Ian's weight. Ian started to laugh quietly himself, as he stuck out his tongue and ran the flat, wet surface of it along the side of Bob's neck, up to the earlobe. Bob was beyond hysteria now -- he almost sounded as if he were sobbing, while Ian began to suck gently on the soft lobe. Then the laughter -- or sobbing, whatever it was -- grew even more intense, as Ian's lips moved away from the earlobe back to the strong neck. Tenderly, he began to chew and suck at his brother's flesh, licking up bits of the dried semen -- Bob tasted so amazing -- salty, a bit musky -- oh, it was good... Still gripping Bob's biceps tightly, Ian slid his butt down until he was sitting squarely on his brother's massively hard cock. Even through the fabric of his denim shorts, Ian could feel the flesh-weapon pulsing and jumping. Leaning forward again, he teased his tongue upward along the sensitive skin covering Bob's ribcage, more of the salty, dried semen assaulting his taste buds with a fullness of flavor, his warm saliva seemingly reactivating it, renewing its viscous quality. By the time Ian reached the nerve-rich sumptuousness of the armpit, Bob was literally gasping for air, weakening further with each new assault. Ian reveled in his newfound power as he dug his cum-coated tongue deeply into the heady paradise of sweat and hair. "IAN -- O-h-h-h-h-h my GOD - STOP -- PLE-E-E-E-EASE..." Ian raised his head, and looked into his brother's half-crazed eyes. He wasn't sure exactly what he was seeing, but he was certain that he had reduced Bob to a relatively malleable state. "You want me to stop?" "God -- yes -- please," Bob barely sounded like himself, his voice breaking, even raspier and rougher than usual. Sweat was pouring down his face, and his lower lip was quivering as though he was about to completely break down. "What are you gonna do if I let you go?" "Anything you want -- just please stop it..." Bob was actually pleading now, clearly not even aware of what he was saying. Ian continued staring into the astonishingly green eyes that he knew so well. He wondered just how far he could push this moment. "OK," he said, "Here's the deal. Before I let you go, you have to do one thing for me." "What?" "Never mind 'What' -- do you agree to do whatever I tell you to?" Now Bob was staring just as intently into Ian's eyes. Aside from his still-heavy breathing, he became very, very quiet -- an almost eerie calm seemed to envelope him. "Alright, Ian," he said in a hushed tone, "Whatever you want." Ian squinted a bit as he contemplated his next move, further studying the surreal perfection of the face and body that was temporarily within his control -- his idol and his nemesis -- and then he suddenly knew what he wanted. "Kiss me," he whispered. "Huh?" However, Ian was already there, nose to nose with his brother. His long, dark, lustrous hair hung like a screen surrounding their faces, their heads, creating a secret place within a secret place -- separating the two boys from the rest of the world. Their eyes were so close together, it was as though they could see into each other's souls. In later years, when reliving the moment, they would both swear that sparks had flown. "Kiss me," he whispered again -- and as his lips formed the words, they brushed against the softly parted lips of his brother. "Kiss me," he whispered a third time -- and it began, not tentatively, but as if by divine design. Their mouths joined, the full lips, the searching tongues, and it was as though they were melding into one perfect being. Ian released Bob's arms from his brutal grip, and as he moved to lie on his side in the grass, his brother followed, the kiss continuing all the while. Their mouths parted only for a moment, to allow Bob to pull Ian's T-shirt over his head -- but even as he was tossing the garment aside, they had hungrily returned to each other's lips. Ian shivered with unreserved desire as he felt his brother's hands skimming smoothly over the surface of the skin on his back, caressing, exploring the hills and valleys of youthfully defined musculature. "Mmmmmmmppphhhhh..." Ian moaned into the wet warmth of Bob's acquiescent mouth when he felt his brother's fingers slip down to the waistband of his denim cut- offs, unbuttoning, now unzipping. Suddenly, warm, strong hands were making love to his sensually arching buttocks, the kiss never ending. His achingly erect cock and overripe testicles finally sprang free from their confining restraints, slapping resonantly against Bob's hot, iron shaft. As he kicked the shorts off his feet, Ian had a moment when he was fully aware that the balance of power had shifted once again -- Bob was running the show -- but he didn't care. This was better than any fantasy... "Oh -- mmmmmmm..." Bob pressed Ian's head to one of his large nipples, and Ian chewed and sucked on that tender man-meat as he felt the tissue becoming firmly erect. Then Bob moved him to the other nipple, and Ian attacked that with his teeth and lips as well, roughly manipulating the flesh until it was almost raw, causing Bob to cry out. "AGGGGH!" With both hands, Bob pulled Ian's head away from his chest, and guided it down to his pre-cum streaming cock. "This is what you really want, isn't it?" he asked, a little gruffly. "Oh, yes..." "Yes what?" Ian looked up, puzzled for a moment, and then he got it. "Yes -- PLEASE -- sir." "Not yet," Bob said, smirking, clearly beginning to enjoy the game. "Not until you lick me clean." Not needing to be asked twice, Ian buried his face and tongue in Bob's chest -- determined to swallow every trace of the crystallized, caked sperm. He licked every square inch of his brother's golden torso, cleaning out the concave navel, redefining the clearly delineated abdominal muscles with his searching tongue. He mouth-scrubbed the broad, warm pectoral muscles and moved back up to his brother's thick neck. As his mouth filled and his senses whirled with the ambrosial qualities of the semen, it occurred to him -- for the first time -- that this was not Bob's cum. As his lips swept the last traces of the stuff away from his brother's handsome face -- kissing and sucking at the soft, fragrant skin -- Ian wondered whose man-seed it might be. Finally, he returned to Bob's parted lips -- and as his tongue entered his brother's mouth with its offering of thickened, concentrated fluids, as his brother in turn attempted to absorb and consume the abundant flow, he was suddenly certain that they were sharing another man's life-essence. "Bob..." "Shhhhhhhh..." "Who...?" "Shhhh...later..." Bob's tongue was deeply penetrating every crevice of Ian's cum- coated mouth, as if searching for something. Ian happily opened himself to his brother's attentions. This moment was already far beyond anything he had ever dared hope for. Bob pulled back, staring deep into Ian's eyes. Returning the intense look, Ian saw something that he didn't recognize -- a haunted quality, perhaps, or some deep pain. Wow -- maybe something really was fucking up his brother... "OK, Ian -- do it now..." With that, Bob grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders -- moving him into position -- and Ian was suddenly inches away from the longed-for shaft, close enough to smell it, close enough to taste it, close enough to worship its magnificence. Without thinking, Ian gripped the powerful tool with both hands, and guided it into his mouth, whimpering weakly in absolute ecstasy. As his mouth filled with the engorged flesh and steadily flowing pre-cum, he said a silent prayer of thanks. Bob's cock tasted even better than he had remembered from the other night. He sucked and slurped sloppily as he felt the hot blood coursing through the massive column. He felt Bob's eyes on him, as he blissfully serviced his brother's manhood. Suddenly, Bob was pushing him away. "That's enough of that." "NO!" Ian flailed his hands wildly, as he tried to regain the prize. It WAS NOT enough; he needed more -- much more. "Please, Bob..." Now Ian was kneeling naked in the grass -- his own huge, painfully aching erection silently screaming for release -- pleading with his brother, who stood tall before him. Bob's cock, slick and gleaming with spit and pre-cum, was still only inches away from his face, but Ian didn't dare touch it without his brother's permission. Instead, he just knelt there and stared at it, mesmerized, as it pulsed and throbbed, tremulous with hot, pumping blood, reaching skyward, rock-hard and iconic in its perfect symmetry. "Please, Bob," he begged, "please -- sir..." "Get on your hands and knees." Ian moved his long-limbed, sinewy frame into position swiftly -- desperate to please his brother, longing to feel the heat and power of the great shaft once more. Awaiting further instruction, he bowed his head downward in obeisance, his mane of shining, silken hair almost completely obscuring his face. As Bob moved around behind him, Ian held his breath -- wondering what his brother was thinking. Then, he felt hands parting the mounds of his firm, young buttocks, and the slight breeze as it cooled his newly exposed, virgin asshole. Then, it was flesh against flesh, as he felt the sweetness of his brother's wet tongue begin to circle the tiny hole. A tremor of complete pleasure flowed through his body, and he allowed his upper torso to simply collapse to the ground, face in grass, arms and hands and fingers entwined in the tangled curtain of hair. He instinctively arched his butt upward, encouraging his brother's exploration, wordlessly offering up complete access to his inner being. Bob's tongue was suddenly inside the secret opening, washing the satin inner walls with saliva. Ian felt, rather than heard, his brother's guttural moaning. Now, gentle fingertips were pressing the muscled hole to open wider -- as the tongue sought even deeper entry. The liquid massage was sending ripples of untold pleasure throughout Ian's young body. He gasped as he felt a thick finger slipping in, next to the tongue. "Aaaaaaaaw -- fuuuuuuuuuck -- yessssss..." Then the tongue was gone, only to be replaced by another finger - - or was it two? He felt his asshole being gradually stretched -- it felt like nothing he had ever known -- magical, amazing -- he had to remind himself to keep breathing. He heard his brother spit loudly, and then four of Bob's saliva-soaked fingers were inside him, moving slowly in, slowly out, in, out, deeper each time, as if they were reaching into his very core. "Oh, Bob -- oh my god -- oh -- Bob -- oh..." Wordlessly, Bob slipped his thumb in amongst the fingers -- turning his hand -- ever so slightly -- clockwise. With his other hand, he reached underneath his brother and gathered a fistful of pre-cum from Ian's pulsating, streaming shaft. "Oh, oh, oh fuck..." Ignoring his brother's cries, Bob spread the abundant fluid over the remaining exposed flesh of his fist. With his hand now glistening and slick, Bob began to push inward again, deeper... "JESUS -- FUCK -- O-H-H-H-H-H-H-H FUUUUUUUCK..." Ian bit into the flesh of his own hand to keep from screaming, as the shock of this fresh invasion thrust him onto a new plateau of physical sensation. He wasn't even sure whether it was pleasure or pain -- he only knew that it was extreme. For a moment, he thought he might blackout, but he willed himself back. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh..." The fist was slowly withdrawing -- very slowly. Ian knew his tender opening had been stretched unnaturally far beyond its normal capacity. He didn't care. He wanted more. "More..." he said, voice broken and raw, "more..." Regardless, the fist continued its withdrawal -- until, finally, only three fingers remained inside him. Then they were gone "More..." he said, pleading now, reaching back with his own hands to spread his flawless, 16-year-old butt-cheeks wide, needing to feel the fullness again, "more -- please, Bob..." "Here, Ian -- here it is. Can you feel it?" Bob finally spoke again, as he forced the fluid-drenched, blood-engorged head of his cock into Ian's newly ravaged asshole. "Oh, god -- yes -- oh, god -- yes -- more -- please..." Ian pushed back hard, forcing his brother's shaft to slip further inside him. "OK, Ian, if that's the way you want it..." and Bob pulled back slightly, then -- with all his considerable power -- drove his brutally erect man-rod fully into his brother's fragile, liquid-velvet channel... "GGGGHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!" Ian's agonized scream filled the morning air. Bob instantly clamped his fist over the boy's mouth to muffle the cry. "Gggggggmmmmmppphhhhhhhh!!!" Ian was stunned. Nothing had prepared him for the sheer force of this invasion. The mass of his brother's cock was too much. "More? You want more?" Bob was whispering into his ear now, as he withdrew his cock almost completely, and then drove it back in with full force. "Bbbbbmmmmmmmmppphhhhhhhhmmnnngggggg!!!" The terror and the pain were all encompassing. Oh, god, he thought, I don't want to die - don't let Bob kill me... "More?" Mercilessly pile driving his murderously thick shaft into Ian's tender young flesh, Bob was fucking his brother without thought or care. "Shhhhhfffmmmmmmmmmmmnnnnngggggggpppphhhhh!!!" Ian bit hard into the flesh of his brother's hand. He bit down so hard that he broke the skin, and tasted the blood as it spurted into his mouth. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIGH!!!" Unexpected agony seared through Bob's awareness, just as the first volleys of hot cum blasted out from his bludgeoning cock-head, further ruining his brother's innocence. Ian sucked ravenously at the flowing blood, as his own burning torture suddenly diminished -- in its place, there was a mounting flame of unimagined ecstasy. Suddenly, he was deriving only a bottomless pleasure from every inch of his brother's plundering sex-weapon. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK MEEEEEEE!" he bellowed, the moment Bob tore his hand away. As Bob repeatedly slammed his pelvis against Ian's supple butt, seemingly driving his cock ever deeper, shooting his burning semen again and again, the younger boy visualized his insides filling up with the copious fluid. "HARDER!" he roared, his head swimming in a sea of oversaturated scents and sounds and tastes. His molten insides were now craving the assault, even as he wondered if the viciously hammering, shooting rod might split him in two -- he almost wished it would. "Hugnh..." he heard Bob grunt, and there was a final thrust, and then the great body collapsed, knocking them both to the ground -- Ian flat on his face, Bob still on top. Ian felt the still-hard cock -- still buried deep within him. He felt Bob's hands, as they gently stroked the sides of his torso, moving into a tender embrace. He felt his brother's still-unsteady breathing against the back of his neck. "You bit me." Bob stated, matter-of-factly. "Oh, yeah? Well, you FUCKED me." "Hmmm -- point taken." "I wanted it, you know." "What?" "Your cum -- I wanted to taste it -- in my mouth." "Oops -- sorry." "Yeah, well, I guess you're probably feeling pretty bad right about now." "Well, you should have said something." Ian twisted his head around and, one elegant eyebrow arched, looked at his brother askance. "Right, OK, sorry again..." Ian wasn't really complaining at that moment. The sensations derived from the positioning of Bob's cock -- still buried deep within him -- were intensely pleasurable and, having not yet cum himself, he was thrilling to every slight nuance of movement. "I've got an idea," Bob said, and he carefully began to withdraw his still fully erect shaft. "Hey! Don't do that! I like it in there!" "Trust me. You're gonna like this -- don't move..." Once he was completely out of his brother's moist, rosy asshole, Bob moved around until he was sitting on his haunches -- directly in front of Ian's face. "Oh, yeah..." Ian reached out and pulled the cum-covered shaft to his lips. "Oh, yeah..." Ian rapturously licked and slurped his way along the full length and breadth of the organ, deeply inhaling the astonishing blend of smells -- his brother's semen and his own ass. He wrapped his lips and tongue around the full head and sucked -- gently, but deeply - - until he knew he had swallowed every bit of it. "Oh, yeah -- thanks, bro..." "You want more?" "Huh? What do you mean? I mean, yeah! How?" "Don't move." Bob moved back around behind Ian, between his long, strongly muscled legs. Bending forward, he placed his hands on each exquisite globe of the boy's buttocks -- lovingly separating them, exposing the pink rosebud once more. As he had suspected, his warm semen had begun seeping out of the tiny hole, making a creamy little river as it flowed down to Ian's tightly contracted balls -- hmmm, little bro is ready to blow, he thought. Bob's own cock was still ragingly hard, and the thought of what he was about to do turned him on immensely. Leaning in, he began gathering up the treasure with his tongue, being extra careful not to swallow. Once he had collected all the visible fluid, he moved to the source -- pressing with his tongue until the little pink hole opened up, releasing more of the fresh sperm. The taste of his own cum and bittersweet essence of his brother's asshole caused his balls to tighten and his shaft to start throbbing once again. He could hear Ian moaning as his tongue worked its way inward, until it could reach no further. Mouth full of cum and ass-juice, Bob moved to Ian's side and grabbed his shoulder -- flipping the boy over onto his back. Ian looked up at his big brother questioningly, while Bob lowered himself until their two torsos were joined -- chest-to-chest, nipple- to-nipple, ribcage-to-ribcage, pelvis-to-pelvis, cock-to-cock. Ian could barely breathe as Bob's lips moved toward his. His cock began thrusting wildly against Bob's -- he had held his orgasm at bay for so long now. His mouth reached for Bob's, and -- as the older boy's lips parted -- the rush of fluids blended with tongues and lips, finally driving Ian over the edge. It was almost painful, the feeling of his excessively distended, frustrated cock finally discharging its pent-up fluid. As he savored and swallowed his brother's mind-spinning offering, his body convulsed, bucking and jerking wildly. Somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness, he was aware that Bob's cock was exploding too. The bodies of the two young brothers, joined at the mouth, thrashed together violently in a wildly abandoned dance of mutual orgasm, thumping, banging, bruising each other mindlessly. When it was over and little remained but two shuddering, gasping, semen-covered bodies, Ian slipped a finger between their torsos -- scooping up a bit of cum. His? His brother's? At this moment in time, that question seemed inconsequential. His eyes twinkled as he brought his finger to the older boy's lips. "Here, Bob -- taste it." Raising himself on his elbows, Bob looked down at his brother, and -- crookedly smiling -- shook his head at the sheer nerve of the crazy kid. Then, he parted his luxuriantly full lips -- and welcomed the gift. ...to be continued. Thank you all for waiting so patiently. Thank you, also, to the many of you who have sent the great messages of appreciation. Your thoughts and feedback are important to me. All the best, Brewster Hardy brewsterhardy@hotmail.com ************