Date: Fri, 30 Aug 2002 21:05:21 -0600 From: Dream Spinner Subject: "The Brewsters Celebrate the Ironman Canada Triathalon" (t/b t/t t/m b/m inc Caution/Welcome. This is a story involving four brothers, one twelve-year-old, one fourteen- year-old, and two sixteen-year-old twins, who as loving sons return to Penticton to support their father as he competes in that most manly of sports, the Ironman Canada Triathlon Competition, along of course, with making a few friendly bets. This story is posted at free gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only. Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those described here. This is the thirty-ninth story in the Brewster boys special events and myths series. And if you plan on engaging in that other manly sport, the Brewster brothers remind you to always use a condom if you want to engage in it another day. Praise, trophies and story ideas for 2003 can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at authorsix@hotmail.com THE BREWSTERS CELEBRATE THE IRONMAN CANADA TRIATHLON "We just about there yet?" "No, Bobby, not yet," his father, mother and three brothers chorused for what had to be the tenth time in the last hour. "We're just coming up to Okanagan Falls," advised Benny, his noise pressed against the window of their station wagon. "Can we stop and take their fruit tour?" asked Bobby. "I love fruit tours," observed Benny with an impish grin as the station wagon passed a couple darkly-tanned, sweaty boys stripped to their shorts. He and his brothers slowly turned their heads as if drawn by a magnet as they drove by. "Oh yeah, I love fruits," observed Brett as he grinned at his younger brother. "We don't have time to stop now," advised their mother. "Besides, your father is in training. He can't afford to be eating any treats for the next week." "That doesn't mean we can't, does it?" asked Brent in alarm. "Well, it wouldn't be fair to your father now, would it?" Brenda replied, knowing her husband's sweet tooth very well. "No Summerland Sweets?" "No!" "No Judy's Chocolates?" "Definitely not." "Oh fu-, fu-, fu-, fooey!" "We can have fresh fruit, can't we?" Brent asked as he spotted a fruit stand ahead. "Yes, fresh fruit is all right." "So where we staying again?" Benny asked. "WaterWorld RV and Family Camp Ground," replied their father. "With the triplets your mother needs a place where they can have their naps, and where there is a playground and laundromat." "Can we go visit your friend?" "Yes, I suppose, but I don't have much time for visiting." The boys squirmed impatiently, eager to arrive at their destination. After arriving home from Greece, the boys had helped their father train for the upcoming competition. They had been in especially good spirits on the way back from Greece and had taken a sudden interest in keeping in good physical shape themselves, not that they had ever allowed themselves to get out of shape or lazy. Barry of course assumed their interest was in support of his own efforts, and in part he was right, but an even greater influence was seeing just what beauty there was in a well- sculptured body during their excursion up Mount Olympus. In fact they were in such good spirits they didn't let the latest prank from their Boston cousins annoy them. Upon arriving home Brent and Brett found they were being swamped with junk mail addressed directly to them on feminine products, everything from antiperspirant for women to waxing their legs, and from eyeshadow products to tampons. It did not take a genius to figure out their Boston cousins had been busy sending in coupons with their name. Brenda at first had assumed their names had gotten on some junk mailing list, but as she saw a pattern, she was beginning to wonder about her two oldest sons, and to worry if they were having some type of teenage gender identity crisis. She finally mentioned it to Barry, who of course assured her that was hardly likely, but given what he knew about their sexual preference, he discretely raised the topic with them one evening. The twins shared their suspicions with him, along with the pranks their cousins had pulled on them during Uncle James's wedding, but of course there was no way to prove the culprits were TJ and Ralph Lorne. Arriving at their campground, the boys quickly stripped down to their shorts and helped their father set up the tents, one for their parents and the triplets and one for the boys, and store their things away. Barry started up the barbeque while Brenda set the table and the boys entertained the triplets. After their evening meal, Barry went biking. He was putting on a brave front in front of the boys, but he was seriously worried about disappointing them. He was under no delusion he'd even manage to be in the top half and considering the competition he was going to be up against, that did not bother him. What did worry him was that he'd be among the last to finish the race, which he knew would devastate his boys. While Brenda finished unpacking the station wagon, the boys took the triplets to the playground. "Hey Maxie, come over here!" The four boys looked over at the boy who had shouted. The tone of his voice had been that of an order, and of contempt, a tone they were familiar with and which caused the hair to rise on the backs of their neck. He looked to be about the twins' age. He was wearing shorts and an open shirt, revealing a smooth, athletic body, not muscular but not in bad shape either. He was otherwise average looking, with short straw-coloured hair, blue-green eyes and a touch of acne. His summer tan was light and uneven, indicating he didn't spend a lot of time outdoors. There were two other boys with him of the same age, one slightly heavier with a blotchy complexion and the other taller and skinnier with a beak like nose and large ears. They were chatting up three girls, and from their postures and gestures, were evidently trying to impress them. The person the boy had called, Maxie was a boy of Benny's age who had the same colour hair and eyes as the boy who had called and was clearly his brother. He was on the skinnier side and wore his hair longer and in a sweep over his forehead and had glasses. He walked over to the boys grudgingly. "Go buy us some cones, two chocolate, three strawberry, and one vanilla, and some pop, two Cokes, a Sprite, a Root Beer, and two Cream Sodas," the boy said, handing the younger boy a few bills. "Why don't you go get it yourself?" "I'm busy, can't you see?" He looked at the girls and his two friends and rolled his eyes. "Now, go get them." "How am I supposed to carry all that?" "That's not my problem. You're the brainy one. Do I have to come hold your hand?" "He'd probably like that," snickered one of the other boys. "Yeah, he would, the little fruit," agreed the boy's brother. Blushing with embarrassment and anger, the younger boy turned and headed for the campground store. "He's not really, a, well, you know, a fruit?" asked one of the girls as she watched the boy head toward the campground store. "Sure is. A regular little fem," his brother observed. "Guess God figured there was room for only one real man in the family," he added smugly as he puffed out his chest. Glancing at each other, Bobby and Benny ran off to help, leaving the twins to look after the triplets. "We'll give you a hand," offered Benny as they caught up to the boy. "Thanks, but I can manage," the boy said, blushing with embarrassment and seething with anger. "We don't mind." "Thanks." "I'm Benny, and this is Bobby. Your name is Maxie?" "Maxwell, but everyone calls me Max, except my big shot brother. At least he didn't call me Maxine like he usually does." "Why you let him push you around like that?" The boy turned redder than he already was as he considered his reply. "He caught me doing something once and keeps threatening to tell to tell my mother if I don't do as he says. He likes putting me down. Makes him feel big. He usually just does it when he's trying to impress some girl." Buying the stuff, the three boys carried it back to the waiting teens. When one of the girls thanked Max, his brother advised her not to thank him or he'd start expecting it all the time. Benny was about to comment but he kept his mouth shut. Joining the twins and triplets, the five boys took turns giving the triplets rides on the swings and the teeter-totter and talked. In the course of the conversation the Brewster boys learned that Max's brother, Patrick, had bragged to all his friends back home that this summer he and his two friends, Chris, the fatter boy, and Kevin, the skinnier boy, were going to lose their virginity that summer. They also learned that he liked making Max's life miserable, and loved nothing better than to embarrass him and call him a little fag. The only thing good so far about the summer as far as Max was concerned was that it was almost over and his brother and friends still had not scored, and it was unlikely that they were going to. What it was that his brother had caught him doing he never did reveal, nor if he really was gay as his brother had claimed, and the Brewster boys didn't ask. That night they took in the fireworks display, and the next day after Barry registered, they went down to the beach where Barry practised his swimming. They ran into Max and his brother and his friends and immediately asked Max to join them. While the Brewster boys, and Max they noticed, checked out the other boys on the beach, Patrick and his friends checked out the girls and tried to score, and when they failed, they took their frustrations out on Max, ordering him around and making insulting comments about him. They continued their harassment during the street dance, and later that night back at the campground, by which time the Brewster boys were ready to do whatever they could to help Max get back at his brother. Saturday Barry had his bike inspected and attended the pre-race meeting, which did nothing to allay his worries. That afternoon they stopped in at Phillip's Peach Park, the private nudist campground for sons and dads that they'd stayed at the previous summer. While their dad and the owner of the park, Barry's boyhood friend, visited, the boys went in search of the Brigg's brothers. As they suspected, they were at the playground strutting around like they owned the place and bragging as usual. "Well, well, well. Speaking of peaches, if it isn't the Brewster brothers," said the oldest, seventeen-year-old Wally Briggs. "When you didn't show up for the Peach Festival, we figured you weren't showing up this summer." "Yeah, we figured when you told your dad about the Ironman Triathlon he fainted and hadn't come to yet," observed his fifteen-year-old brother Michael, and the three Briggs brothers laughed and high-fived. "Oh yeah, well since we told ya we were registering our dad this year, we figured we'd better drop by and see if you even bothered to show up," observed Brett, and it was the Brewster brothers turn to laugh and high-five. "Yeah, well, this is no fem acting competition," Wally retorted, referring to the Perpendicular Pecker Hour, a tradition at the campground and over which the Brewsters had won a bet with the three Briggs brothers last summer. "Yeah? Well we beat your butts then, and our dad's going to beat your dad's butt in the triathlon," observed Bobby. "In your dreams," responded thirteen-year-old Frankie Briggs, the youngest of the three brothers. "Wanna bet?" The three brothers glanced at each other. Last summer they had come out on the losing end of the bet, Wally and Michael having to shave their arms and legs and their peach fuzz on their lips and chins, and all three bending over to get fucked by three of the Brewsters while they licked off the fourth. But this was the Ironman. They had seen Barry Brewster last summer and no matter how much he had worked out there was no way he'd come close to beating their dad, who had come in second in his age group in the Ironman two years in a row. He had just turned forty-five, placing him in the next age group, and they were sure this year he'd place first being at the youngest end of the age group. "Unless you're chicken," challenged Benny. "Yeah, right," snorted Michael. "You got your bet. Your dad is going to be eating our dad's dust." "No he won't," observed Wally to everyone's surprise. "He's gonna be so far behind Dad the dust will have settled hours ago." His two brothers laughed so hard they couldn't stand straight. "Speaking of behinds, we'll have to bet something different this year since we've had your behinds," observed Brett. "Very funny," retorted Wally, glaring at Brett and then at the boys in the playground who had been there last summer and dared to twitter. He thought for a moment. "You gonna be here on Monday, after the race?" "Yeah." "Then you gotta show up at Skaha Park at noon dressed as girls, in bikini bottoms and tops, and spend the afternoon that way." "Okay, same for you, but you're gonna have to shave your arms and legs, and your faces." Wally and Michael were both hairy, like their father, and Wally had regrown his beard, a thin growth of hair along his jaw line and chin, and Michael's moustache had grown back in. "Unless they come as butt ugly girls," giggled Bobby. "Yeah, well you fems look so much like girls you don't have to do anything." "In fact you should have to do something extra, now you mention it," Michael observed with a smirk. "If we did lose, which isn't going to happen, and have to shave, you should have to do something besides just dress up as girls." "All right, we'll spend the afternoon flirting with the guys, getting them hot and bothered," suggested Brett. His three brothers looked at him. They loved their father, but they'd seen Mister Briggs on their way to find his sons, and his muscles were bigger than last year. "Hey, whose side are you on?" whispered Benny. "Follow along with me," whispered Brett. His three brothers didn't know what he was up to, but he thought on his feet a lot faster than they did, and they had come to trust whatever he had in mind. "Yeah, that would work," agreed Wally, looking at his brothers and getting confirmation. "That would be wicked seeing you fems flirting and acting like real she-males." "Never mind just flirting with them. For our dad beating your dad I think you should go on a regular date with a couple straight guys," suggested Michael. "Yeah, get in some hugging and kissing, maybe even let them score with you," added Wally. "Why not? But when our dad beats your dad, you have to do the same," countered Benny, who, like his brothers, saw where Brett was going. "No way. We already said we'd have to shave, which you fems don't have to do." "And we said for you shaving, we'd flirt." "Hey, never mind. They'd make such butt ugly girls no guy would want to make out with them anyway," observed Brent. "Yeah, you're right," agreed Benny. "Maybe instead of bikinis we should let them wear halter tops and miniskirts to hide some of that ugliness." "Maybe you four should wear panties." "Okay, the winners get to choose what the losers wear and who they try to make out with and how, and you got a deal," announced Wally, his two brothers looking at him in surprise. "Hey, there's no way their ol'man is gonna beat ours. Dad's come in second in his age group the last two years, so to beat him means their dad's gonna have to come in first. You think that's gonna happen?" His two brothers quickly saw his point. The seven of them shook on it before either side changed its mind. "Their dad is strong," admitted Bobby as they headed back to find their father, "real strong." The four boys thought about the Briggs brothers' tall, muscular father with his bulging biceps and thighs and looked at each other. He was built like a trucker. Their dad was built like, well, like a Second Vice President who liked chocolate and desserts. "Yeah, but Dad can beat him," observed Brent, and his brothers quickly agreed. "Even if their dad did beat our dad, which he won't but if he did, we're still gonna help Max," observed Benny with a wide smile. "Way to think, Brett! We win either way." Clapping their brother on the back, the boys put all doubts out of their minds. At least they did until the parade of athletes at 4:30 that afternoon. The sight of all those jock-type men with bulging muscles bursting out their wife-beaters and others with their tanned, sinewy bodies without an ounce of fat was daunting. It was also highly erotic, and it was the latter thoughts that won over in the boys' minds. By the time the parade was over they had bulging muscles too well, one muscle in particular. Five-thirty the next morning the Brewster clan headed over to the north end of Main Street where Barry received last minute wishes of good luck from his family before entering the restricted check in area. The twins headed over to the massage tent. They had generously offered to put their boy scout first aide skills to use, and with over nineteen hundred participants, the organizers had willingly accepted their help. In that you had to be sixteen or older to help in the transition area, Benny and Bobby along with their mother offered their services at the aide station at Richter Pass where younger children were allowed if accompanied by an adult, Brenda figuring since it was close to the halfway point in the bike race it was a good place to cheer her husband on, and the boys figuring if any hot, sweaty athlete needed help, the peak of the pass would be the most likely place they could put their skills to use, boy scout and otherwise. So at seven o'clock sharp, fifteen hundred men and four-hundred-and fifty women between the ages of 18 and 74 hit the calm waters of Okanagan Lake for a 2.4 mile swim. The twins waited patiently at the entry to the massage tent, their eyes glued to the entry gate to the restricted compound. Fifty minutes and twenty-four seconds later, the first of the participants reached shore and raced to the wet suit strip area. Five minutes later, the first of Barry's age group, 45 to 49, passed through the gate. Brent and Brett were disappointed it was not their dad, but glad it was not Walter Briggs. As the men completed their swim component, they stripped out of their wet suits and if they wanted, could take a dip in the hot tub before proceeding. Otherwise they ran through the bike gear racks to pick up their gear bags on the way to the change tents, one for men and one for women, where they stripped, dried, and got into their biking strip. Figuring that was a better place to cheer on their dad, and nobody needing massage services, the twins headed to the change tent. The lake that morning was sixty-eight degrees, not that cold, but cold enough after an hour in the water to shrink those things that are important to a man. It was quite hilarious to see the big, muscular jocks strip down to reveal dicks that were smaller than Bobby's, and in some as small as the triplets! Brent and Brett knew how they could warm the men up, and as they stood there fantasizing about one or another, the shorts of the two long-haired, blond sixteen-year-olds were soon tented out, a sight that was enough to thaw some men out and then some. One hour, six minutes, and eleven seconds after the race had begun, Walter Briggs raced into the tent. Stripping off his suit, he quickly dried himself off, and the boys had to admire the bulging muscles of the six-foot tall, two-hundred-pound jock. He was all solid muscle and even hairier than their dad, and even shrivelled, his cock was bigger than many men's under normal conditions. There was no mistaking who he was with the blue eagle tattooed on each forearm, and the same dark black moustache and well-trimmed beard and short hair that he had last year, except his hair had receded even more at the temples. Slipping on a grey tank top and matching shorts, a leather sweat band and leather arm bands about his biceps, he ran out the tent to the bike lot. The boys anxiously watched the door of the tent for their father and the minutes passed by with agonizing slowness. Over eight hundred men had passed through the tent by then. They finally spotted their dad, and as he quickly changed, they flashed him big grins and gave him the thumbs up sign. After their father left, the boys headed back to the massage tent, pausing at the results tent. After watching eight hundred men strip down to their birthday suits, the novelty had worn off. At one hour, six minutes and eleven seconds Walter was the thirtieth in his age group and five-hundred-and-forty-six overall. Barry, at one hour, eleven minutes, and fifty seconds, was sixty-second, and 896 overall. The boys' hearts sank. They had no idea five-and-a-half minutes made such a difference. Overhearing that the aid station at Richter Pass had only been left half the number of nutrient bars they were supposed to have, the twins volunteered to help load the truck and go with it to make the delivery. To their disappointment, they discovered that the Briggs family had also chosen the Richter Pass station to cheer on their participant. Of course their brothers were surprised and delighted to see them, but not so happy with their news. "Shit, number 896?" asked Bobby in disbelief. "Thirty-two guys behind Mister Briggs? Oh maaaannnnn!" groaned Benny. "Well, 896 out of over nineteen thousand isn't that bad," reasoned Brent. "That's like right in the middle almost!" countered Bobby. "Half the fucking guys in the race are ahead of him, Brent!" "Lots of guys burn themselves out by starting off too fast. I heard them say in the results tent that there's guys who are in the lead after swimming who don't even get to the foot race," added Brett. "Dad's just pacing himself." "Yeah, right, Dad can do this," agreed Benny. He tried to sound confident, but it was close to two and a half hours since the bicycle race had begun and already over two hundred men had passed their aid station, including the first several of Barry's age group. If that wasn't bad enough, at that moment Walter Briggs peddled up to the station, and he looked like he was hardly sweating. Of course his sons gave him a loud cheer, and they were quick to come over to the Brewsters and ask where their father was. The boys looked desperately up the highway, hoping to see his bright orange helmet and T-shirt they'd boughten for him for the race. The minutes ticked by slowly. The truck was unloaded and the man was about to return to Penticton when ten minutes after Walter had gone by, Barry peddled past. Tossing him a Gatorade and a couple nutrient bars, the boys cheered and waved and wished him well, and watched forlornly as he flashed them a weak smile. He was drenched in sweat and looked like he was about dead. Pointing out that their father was ninth in his age group at that point, and that Barry was thirty-first, the Briggs boys suggested with wide grins the Brewsters begin picking out their bikinis and panties as they loaded into their car and headed back to Penticton to wait for their father. "Oh maaaannn, I wish we had never heard of the Ironman," groaned Bobby. "I wish we had never heard of the Briggs brothers," Benny observed. "I just wish there was someway Dad could beat Mister Briggs," Brent sighed. "Yeah," agreed his twin brother. "I wish we could help dad. We don't want him to hurt himself." "Well, which one is it? You can't have all four," observed a gruff voice behind them. The boys turned and found themselves staring at a broad, smooth chest in the open purple silk blouse. Well, being the shortest, Bobby was staring at his ribs. They slowly looked up at the dark brown, six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-fifty pound man with a huge nose, six-inch-long, curled, pencil-thin moustaches, coiled, ribbon-like goatee, large gold earrings and violet fez. "Ali!" the four shouted. "Big Al! What the fuck you doing here?" "Felt like some fresh fruit and thought I'd stop by," said Ali Rafaat Bazzir el Mohamed Farrad al-Karamah as he reached down and tousled Bobby's hair. "Oh, you're looking for Brent and Brett," observed Bobby with a huge grin, causing his twin brothers to give him the finger but unable to suppress their giggles. The six-foot-six genie chuckled also. He was not about to admit he'd taken a fondness to the boys ever since they'd found him and released him from the bottle in which he'd been trapped just over two years ago and had been periodically checking up on them to see if they needed any help, which usually they didn't. "I see you haven't changed," Ali said to Bobby. "None of you have." "Nor have you. So what have you been doing since we seen you?" "Exploring this new world of yours," he responded. "You live in a very interesting time." "We need to be heading back," interrupted the driver, looking up at the impressive and strangely garbed individual in the fez, bright green silk trousers, violet sash, and multicolored slippers with curled toes the boys were talking to. "If it is all right, I can bring the boys back with me," Ali offered. "Ah, yeah, I guess that'll be fine," the driver responded uncertainly. He felt responsible for the two boys, but Ali was not the sort of individual you argued with. "So, do you boys want to make a wish?" "Oh yeah. You bet." "And it is?" "We want Dad to finish the race, without hurting himself, or being disappointed," said Brett after having glanced at his brothers. "Is that your final answer?" asked Ali with a broad grin, copying a phrase from a very popular but short-lived television contest show. "Yeah," the boys said with a chuckle. "This is your last and final wish." "We know." "You don't want to wish something for yourselves?" The boys glanced at each other, and then turned and looking up at the genie, shook their heads. "Very well," he said. "Now, if we slip away where we can't be seen, I'll give you a lift back to Penticton," he said to the twins. "You mean?" Brent asked, glancing up at the sky. "Is there a better way to travel?" "You got a magic carpet?" "A genie can fly on his own without a carpet," Ali said, rasing an eyebrow in disdain. "Cool!" Brent and his brother exclaimed with huge grins. "So that's it? The wish is granted?" asked Bobby. "Yes. What did you expect? A flash of lightening? A clap of thunder? A hundred-voice boy's choir?" "The choir would have been nice," the four boys said together. The boys grinned and the twins followed Ali to a clump of trees on the hillside behind the aid station. "I think there's a couple men arriving who need assistance," he called to their younger brothers. Two men in the 25 to 29 age group, one blond and one brunette, both in tank tops stained dark with sweat, both handsome and with solid, bronzed bodies, panted to a stop before the aid station. Racing to their aid, the two boys wrapped their arms about them and guided them to the tent set up by the roadside. Glancing over to where Ali and their older brothers had been standing, they found only the clump of trees. High above, supported by the muscular genie's arms and one of their own arms wrapped about his neck and their legs wrapped about his waist, Brent and Brett looked down at their kid brothers as they disappeared into the tent with the two hot, sweaty men, and they wondered if the sudden appearance of the two athletes was coincidence, or if it was a little gift on behalf of their magical friend. Their hands slipped down from his neck to his butt, and as they squeezed the firm mounds, their other hands slipped down the front of his massive, smooth chest, past his sash, to the mound between his legs. "That isn't a stick shift boys," Ali observed as the mound began to swell. "You mean if we pull on it you won't go higher?" asked Brett as he and his twin brother tugged on the swelling member. In response, Ali swooped up in a steep vertical climb, to the delight of the two boys. Grasping onto the stiff member for support, they were delighted as Ali wrapped his arms about them tighter and his large, massive hands found similar handholds between their legs. The boys knew from past experience that the genie was well hung, but they had forgotten just how well as they squeezed and began to stroke his swelling cock through his silk trousers. They were soon stroking a thick eight-and-a-half inch sausage that they could feel throbbing through the fine material. They themselves had been well-hung for fourteen-year-old-boys two years ago, and they had grown some since then, to Ali's discovery. Grasping the now seven-inch bones between his thumb and first two fingers, he began to jack off the two boys through their jeans. Veering to the left, he decided to take the scenic route back to Penticton, though neither he nor the boys would be able to describe the scenery when they arrived back at the city five minutes before the driver of the truck. It was wicked flowing up in the sky and looking down at the trees and ribbon-like roads as their cocks throbbed with hot pleasure. Ali climbed up higher so that they could just barely make out the landscape below, and then he swooped down, all the while pumping his thumb and fingers up and down their tingling cocks as they each pumped a fist up and down his huge cock. All three knew how to prolong that pleasure, and all three used their skills that morning high in the sky above the Okanagan valley. It had been a long time since he'd creamed his trousers, or the boys their underwear, and it was only by magic that they didn't spin out of control with that dizzy climax above Penticton. Back in a hot, closed tent in Richter Pass a pair of men, the twelfth pair since Ali and the twins had left, were stretched out on cots, their heads spinning dizzily also as two young boys massaged and kneaded their tightened muscles, their hot little hands slipping along sweat-slick chests and under the elastic band of soaked shorts, massaging their knotted buttocks and slipping their fingers around hot, sweaty balls and hot, swelling members. The two boys trembled with ecstasy as the men, groggy with exhaustion and aching with strained muscles succumbed to the pleasure pulsating from their groins as they skirted the border of consciousness and unconsciousness, their chests rising and falling faster and faster until a numbing pleasure flooded their loins. Cupping their noses with one hand and inhaling the musky fragrance of hot, sweaty balls and fresh cum, the two masseurs vigorously pumped their own swollen dicks with their other hands. Three-and-a-half hours and three dozen men later, the boys, staring dreamily out the station wagon window, headed back to Penticton with their mother, the rush of bikers having begun to dwindle and another team having arrived to relieve them. Their arms were so weary they could barely lift them, and they leaned their heads in their cupped hands and inhaled and exhaled deeply, the delightful, heady fragrance of man sweat and perspiring balls and cum making their heads spin. Brenda glanced over at her two weary boys and smiled. They had certainly earned extra merit badges for their voluntarism and first aide work that afternoon, or at least a double scoop chocolate coated soft ice cream. Three dozen men, bewildered by wet dreams they had not experienced since their teen years and by their unusual reaction to fatigue, would have readily agreed had they known the cause of their rejuvenation as they'd gotten on their bikes and continued the race strangely refreshed, if somewhat sticky. Bobby and Benny joined their brothers outside the restricted area, Brenda having brought them treats also, and they studied the electronic results board as they attacked their ice cream cones. Reading down through the hundreds of names, they found the first man of the 45-49 age group, Klaus Brunner from Germany, had completed the bike run in five hours, fifteen minutes and four seconds, making him fifty-fifth overall. Following close at his heals was a Giacomo Veccheccio from Italy. To their dismay, Walter Briggs was listed as fifth in his group, and at 139th place overall at five hours, twenty-two minutes, and twenty-six seconds. "Hey, there's Dad's name! Holy fuck, five hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifty-eight seconds!" "Shit! That's only . . . holy shit, one minute and thirty-two seconds behind Mister Briggs!" "Way to go Dad!" "Way to go Ali!" "Yeah!" "What that T1 time?" "That's the transition time it took them to go from swimming to biking," explained Brett, having learned that at the results tent while taking a break from helping his brother massage hot sweaty bikers before sending them blissfully on their way for the last leg of the race. You got to add that to their time. "So what's that mean exactly?" "Give me a second to figure it out." "I can't wait a second," complained Bobby, jumping from one foot to the next in excitement. "We got to add the swim time, the transition time, and the bike time. Mister Briggs took two minutes and thirty-three seconds transition time." "Took less than that for a few guys I massaged between biking and running," observed Brent with a wide grin. "Dad's transition was three minutes and sixteen seconds." "So what's it mean?" asked Bobby impatiently. "Dad's eighth in his group, and in 169th place overall . . . and eight minutes and three seconds behind Mister Briggs in total time." "Not a minute and thirty-two seconds?" "No. That was just for the bike race." "That's not fair!" "We should have wished he beat Mister Briggs." The boys paused and looked at each other. "Naw," they chorused. Their father's well fair was more important. At that moment, Barry, two-and-a-half hours and eighteen miles into his 26.2 mile foot race was feeling more refreshed than he'd ever felt. Shortly after passing his boys at Richter Pass, at which time his legs had felt like two strands of wet spaghetti and he was faced with a series of roller coaster hills, just as he was about to pull over and call it quits, he caught his second wind. It wasn't the Gatorade or the nutrient bars his sons had tossed him. It had to be their cheering and their unshakable faith in him, though as he'd passed them all he could think of at the time was how disappointed they were going to be when midnight came and the road crew would have to pick him up and drive him to the finish line, or perhaps to the morgue, having found his dead body wrapped around his bicycle in the ditch like some road kill. It was only his sense of humour and his sense of duty to his boys and wife that had maintained him up until then, but suddenly the tension in his bicycle chain seemed to go slack and peddling became effortless. He actually seemed to be coasting downhill as he made the gradual climb up the last summit at Twin Lakes, to his surprise even passing bikers on the way up. As for the winding downhill ride to Highway 97 it was like going down a roller coaster at full speed. By the time he passed the aid station at the Tim Horton's back in Penticton he was feeling so good he was tempted to pull over at the restaurant for a glazed donut. As for the 26.2 mile run, which he'd been dreading more than anything the weeks leading up to the race, he was feeling no pain at all. Figuring he'd be so weary his legs would have cramped before he left the city, it seemed like he was being carried by a gust of wind. His strides just kept getting longer and longer, and though he was soaked with sweat and could feel it pouring down his sides and his legs, he felt totally refreshed if he didn't smell like it. With each runner he passed, his strides just seemed to get longer. Before he knew it he had reached the turnaround at Okanagan Falls and was headed back up the eastside road along Skaha Lake. He had no idea where he was placing. All he knew was that he was passing others, men his age, men older than he was, men younger. Then he was back in Penticton, racing up Main, turning at Westminster Avenue, Winnipeg Street, and the final stretch up and back down Lakeshore Drive. "There's Dad!" "Where?" "There!" "Where there?" "Passing that guy!" "Oh yeah!" "I didn't see Mister Briggs." "There he is over there." "Where?" "At the end of the block." "Oh fuck. Dad's ahead of him!" "By a fucking block!" The boys looked at each other, and then back at the racers disappearing into the transition area, their dad and a minute later Walter Briggs. They studied the interactive board, waiting for the electronic results. Minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. "There's Dad's number!" "Three hours and thirty-one minutes and forty-seven seconds! Wicked!" "Dad beat Mister Briggs!" "But don't forget we have to add the bike-run transition times." "Shit, I forgot. So what is it?" "I dunno." "But we gotta know!" "They add it to the bike split, remember the guy saying?" "Oh yeah. There it is. One minute and fifty-seven seconds." "Oh maaaannnn! Dad's first for his group, and seventy-sixth place overall. Ten hours, twelve minutes, and forty-eight seconds total time." "First in his group for running?" "First in his group for the whole fucking race!" "But we still don't know Mister Brigg's total time. He was faster in the swimming and biking, remember. And he didn't take so long to go from swimming to biking." "Oh maaaannnnn!" "But that don't matter. Dad got here first. So he's got to have beat him. His racing time must have made up for the time he was behind in the swimming and biking parts," observed Brett, the calmer and more methodical thinker of the four. "Oh yeah." "So he beat him!" the boys chorused, looking at each other and then jumping up and down excitedly and grabbing their mother and the triplets and swinging them around. In their excitement they didn't see until later the final results, three hours and thirty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds run time and a three minute thirty-three-second transition time, placing Walter Briggs at ten hours, thirteen minutes and fifty-five seconds second in his age group and eightieth overall. They were still dancing when Barry joined them. "Dad!" They raced over and hugged him and spun him around. "You won, you won!" "I know," he said with a wide grin, waving his finisher T-shirt and medal. The boys hugged him tighter. "I'm a bit stinky," he said apologetically. "I know I should have changed into my dry clothes and had a massage, but I had to see you guys." "You don't smell stinky a bit," objected Brent, slipping his hand up his father's still sweat- slick back. "Uh-un," agreed Brett, heading the other direction with his hand slipping over his dad's slick butt. "You smell sweet," observed Benny, snuggling in close and inhaling deeply as he groped his dad's left buttock. "For fucking sure," whispered Bobby, his hand slipping down the front of Barry's sweat- stained shorts and cupping his hot, wet balls. "We'll take you home and give you a good long personal massage," offered Benny. "And when the boys are done, they can go for a long treat with the triplets and I'll give you a massage myself," observed Brenda, and only the triplets didn't catch her meaning. "Can we stop at Tim Horton's for a donut first?" asked Barry. "A dozen donuts, cream filled and chocolate coated, just for you," promised Brenda, "and the same for my four volunteers." The crowd turned to look at the cause of the loud cheers. As Barry retrieved his bicycle and gear, his boys offered their congratulations to the Briggs brothers on their father placing second again, emphasizing "again", and as they had agreed upon, dictated their expectations regarding the three boys' attire and behaviour the next day. The three Briggs boys made no objection, wanting to just get out of there and forget the humiliation of Barry beating their father, and besides, despite their disgust and dismay upon hearing what they were going to be expected to do, being raised to be good sports, and to accept defeat with grace. "I can't believe it," Barry observed as they headed up the street. "As I was biking it was like I was being pushed by a wind." "Probably an Ali-nemo," observed Brett with a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at his brothers. "I think that's El Nino," observed Barry. "And I don't think that's a wind exactly. But really, when I was running it was like my feet weren't even touching the ground. It was as if I was being carried." The boys glanced at each other, then as one up into the sky. There, a very distinct, strangely coloured cloud in the shape of a genie was reflected in the bright sun. The boys waved as their mother wrapped an arm about her definitely rank husband and observed, "Dear, I don't think your feet have touched the ground yet." Arriving at their campground, Brenda observed that she was taking the triplets to the beach and would then swing by Boston Pizza, giving Barry two hours to unwind and the five of them time for some father-son bonding, knowing the men in her family needed time alone from time to time, and especially that day, the Ironman being primarily a male thing. As the station wagon pulled away, the boys lead their father to their parent's tent. Telling him to relax and to leave everything to him, they proceeded to remove his still damp, sweat- stained clothes. Raising the T-shirt they had especially boughten for him for the race, the front and back stained darkly with sweat, Brent and Brett pulled it up over his head, and almost fainted with the sharp, masculine odour emanating from his hairy pits. Bobby and Benny had meanwhile tackled his running shoes, and the tent was filled with the rich earthy aroma from his hot, sweaty feet as they removed his runners. As they each pulled off a sweat sock, Benny observed how it was evident where Brent inherited his big, stinky feet, causing his older brother to object that his feet were not that big, nor that stinky. Benny was quick to respond that he shouldn't complain since everyone knew the relationship between big feet and something else, to which his brothers quickly pointed out their father was a good example. Barry smiled with the good-natured give and take between his sons, and their openness about sex. Of course ever since they'd come out to him, and after their experience at Phillips Peach Park, he'd come to appreciate the special relationship he had with his sons. So, as he lay on his stomach and they massaged his aching body, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Brent and Brett massaged his tight back muscles and aching arms, kneading his biceps, triceps and deltoids and squeezing the muscles about the back of his neck. Bobby and Benny began at his feet, expertly massaging the soles and instep and pulling on his toes. As they worked up his now aching calves and thighs, their older brothers worked down their father's hairy back, the four arriving at his sweat-stained jogging shorts. Slipping their hands inside them, the four eased them down. They did not stop there, the four boys reaching up and similarly drawing down his sweat- soaked Stanford briefs. They massaged his hairy backside, kneading the mounds like they were two lumps of dough, which of course caused Barry's cock to begin to swell. Rolling him over, the boys continued their massage, the twins continuing on down Barry's legs to his feet, and Benny and Bobby continuing up over his flat stomach and his broad, muscular chest. They ran their fingers though the thick, curly mat of hair on his chest as their older brothers stroked their father's hairy calves, and they caressed and fondled his nipples as the twins massaged his feet. Barry's nipples grew hard and burned with arousal and between their stimulation and the stimulation of his feet, his cock began to rise. The boys quickly zoomed in on what had always been their ultimate goal, Brent and Brett gently caressing their father's hot, sweaty balls with the tips of their fingers while Bobby reverently stroked the shaft of his cock and Benny reached between his legs to find his father's hairy, sweaty asshole. The boys by this time were hot and sweaty from their exertion and their own arousal, besides it being a warm and sultry evening. They quickly stripped off their clothes while continuing to massage their dad, and as they pressed their hot, naked bodies against his, Barry reached down and massaged and caressed whichever body his hands came into contact with. The long, silky hair of his two oldest boys swept over his thighs as they bent over and inhaled the heady fragrance of his hot, sweaty balls, causing their buttocks to raise in the air and inviting their father's caresses. He ran his hands over the tight, firm orbs, a pair on either side of him, as the twins, facing his feet, began to lick his balls. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he caressed their buttholes with the tips of his index fingers, sending ripples of pleasure through their rosebuds. As the boys responded by opening their anuses, Barry slowly slipped a finger up the assholes of his two oldest boys. Bobby had meanwhile begun to lick his father's shaft, running his tongue from the base to glans and back down, delighting in the heady fragrance of his father's nuts and the eroticism of licking his father's cock, the thick, towering organ that had delivered the seed that had resulted in his creation. He pressed his naked body against his father and slowly gyrated his hips, rubbing his stiff cocklet against the sensitive skin along his father's sides below his pits. At the same time Benny had raised his father's hips so his legs were raised in the air above his head and his butthole was raised off the bed. As his brothers licked his father's balls and cock, he ran his tongue along his taint, the sensitive strip that extended from his balls between his legs to his anus. He ran his tongue up and down the salty, sweaty crack of his father, and wiggled it against his father's butthole as he reached down and slowly stroked his throbbing boycock. The five were soon panting and gasping with arousal, their naked bodies beaded with sweat from the stuffy air in the tent. Brett and Brent squirmed and jerked their hips as their father massaged their prostates, rhythmically working an index finger in and out of their rectums. They opened and closed their anuses in time with his pistoning fingers, and their stiff cocks throbbed with arousal. Barry glanced down between his sons' outspread legs and low hanging balls, and was impressed and proud at the sight of their huge teenage cocks jerking in the air and beginning to drip pre-cum. They had inherited the Brewster gene for cock size. So evidently had his twelve-year-old son who was madly working his hips to and fro, rubbing his stiff cock against Barry's hairy chest and his left nipple as he licked the rim of Barry's throbbing cock. Between Bobby's assault on his cock and the twin's assault on his nuts, Barry was dripping with pre-cum himself, the ability to produce a steady flow of the clear man nectar another Brewster trait. Bobby and the twins took turns lapping up the sweet juice from their father's body as Benny sucked and licked his father's dank hole, worming his tongue inside and twisting it as he closed his eyes in ecstasy, enjoying rimming his dad as much as he was enjoying wanking his stiff cock. The five forced their breathing to slow down and fought back the urge to shoot, the five wanting to enjoy and extend the foreplay, each enjoying the pleasure of his own arousal and enjoying with equal pleasure the joy of arousing another. They could not, however, wait for long. The eroticism of the race, the celebration of winning, and the opportunity to pleasure each other was just too much, even for the Brewster clan. The five of them reached their orgasms within seconds of each other. As Barry's stiff cock erupted, his four boys began to eagerly lap up the torrents of thick, white cream issuing from his throbbing, jerking fountain. The twins trembled and inhaled sharply as their own impressive cocks began to squirt, sending shot after shot of their thick, creamy teen cum over their father's heaving stomach. Benny, squatting between his father's legs as he lapped up his tart cream, shot at the same time, and with typical fourteen-year-old zeal, shot his cum in streamers up into the air, arching over his father's groin and lacing his stomach along with the streamers of cum from his two older brothers. As he lapped up his father's cum, Bobby trembled and gasped with the powerful thrills of arousal rippling through his groin, his cock burning and aching as it tried desperately to squirt but his tight, shrunken balls still empty. By the time Brenda returned with the triplets and the pizza, all meat for her husband, Greek for her boys, a preference they had acquired only this past month, and Hawaiian for herself and the triplets, the males of her family had cleaned up and were sitting with happy, satisfied smiles, her four sons snuggled up to their father like they used to as preschoolers. Brenda could not help but feel a glow of material pride and happiness as she looked at her husband and four boys. After their late evening meal and with money for pop and ice cream in their pockets, the boys took the triplets to the playground with the request not to return for an hour, which the boys promised to extend to an hour-and-a-half. On the way they stopped at the arcade in the hopes of finding Max's brother and his two friends. "So, you going to meet those three girls tomorrow?" asked Bobby, addressing his three brothers loudly. "I dunno," said Brent, wrinkling up his nose. "They're, you know, sotta. . . ." "Ugly?" asked Bobby. "Well, they aren't the hottest looking chicks in the world," agreed Brent. "But they are the hottest," observed Brett. "At least the hottest I've ever met." Patrick and his two friends suddenly became very interested in the conversation. "I thought Wilma was going to drag you into the bushes and rape you," chuckled Benny. "Well, can't blame her," observed Brent, tossing back his long curls. "I have that effect on girls." "I think anything wearing pants has that effect on those three," Brett commented, causing his brothers to laugh. "Sounds like you had an interesting experience," Wally said, his eyes narrowing and a leer crossing his face. "Real interesting," responded Brent. "Some girls came on to my brothers," explained Bobby. "Came on?" "Yeah, you know, sex stuff," Bobby replied, wrinkling up his nose. "You'll have to excuse my kid brother," Brent said. "He's not into girls yet." "We sure could have been into those three we met," chuckled Benny. "Oh yeah?" asked Chris, glancing at his two friends. "They were that hot for some action?" "Hot? They were on fire," said Benny "Oh yeah. Real sluts," Brett observed. "Really?" Patrick asked, growing still more interested. "They certainly seemed desperate to get laid," Brent continued. "But then I don't think they get much attention. Like Bobby said, they didn't exactly have the prettiest faces." "Who gives a shit what their faces look like?" asked Chris with a grin. "Yeah, it's not their face's we're interested in," added Kevin. "For sure. Throw a bag over their heads and pull down their panties and they all look the same," observed Patrick, and the boys laughed, the Brewsters doing their best to fake it. They didn't like that sort of talk about others, girls or otherwise. People were not just objects to be used. Well, except maybe for Patrick and his friends, and their Boston cousins, and well, a few others, but they all deserved it. Anyway, they all laughed along with Patrick and his two friends. Benny had always been dramatically inclined and Brent loved drama in school, Brett always could think on his feet and Bobby was a natural ham, so it wasn't that difficult. "So, what exactly happened?" asked Patrick as he and his friends drew closer. Brett, with help from his brothers, explained how these three somewhat homely but overly sexed girls had approached them while they'd been watching the Ironman competition, and had flirted with them and made suggestive comments that clearly indicated to the boys they were eager for some attention. They had left with the three girls telling them that they'd be at Skaha Lake Park at one the next afternoon. "So you really think they want to get laid?" "Definitely." "And you're not meeting them tomorrow?" asked Kevin incredulously. "Well, we got girlfriends back home, you know," explained Brent. "Yeah, but how the fuck they gonna find out," winked Patrick. "I'd just feel guilty, you know," said Brent with a shrug. "It's not as if we're not already getting any." "Oh yeah, for sure, same here," said Patrick. "But hey, a real man can't ever get enough from a woman, eh?" "Yeah, that's true. If you guys are interested, they said they'd be by the sundial. You know where that is?" "Sure," said Patrick eagerly. "You don't mind?" "Naw. We're heading home the day after tomorrow anyway, so we'll be seeing our boy ah girlfriends soon enough." "So, you think these girls will really, you know, screw?" asked Chris, unable to believe his ears. "Screw, wank, suck, take it up the ass," said Benny with a twinkle in his eyes. "They were acting like they'd take it anyway you want." "All right!" "How old are these broads anyway?" "Seventeen, fifteen, and thirteen." "Thirteen's sortta young." "You're never too young to get banged," said Chris with a leer. "Then you can have her," said Patrick. "I get the seventeen-year-old." "Who care's as long as they put out," observed Kevin. "So, how we gonna know these chicks?" "Don't worry. Just show up at the sun dial at the park and they'll find you." As they headed over to the playground, the four brothers could barely constrain themselves. Their sides were aching as they struggled to stop from laughing at least until they were out of hearing range of the arcade. "Thanks a hell of a lot," observed Max, having listened to the conversation and followed the boys from the arcade. "I thought you were my friends." "We are," observed Benny with a wide grin. "Some friends. My life is hell now, and once my brother and his friends lose their virginity they are going to be impossible to live with," Max said sourly. "Oh, I don't think so," said Benny, putting his arm around Max. "Now," he continued in a whisper, "here is what you have to do." Five minutes later boyish laugher echoed throughout the campsite, heard by everyone except for a couple in a tent celebrating having placed first in the 45-49 age group and seventy- sixth out of over nineteen hundred competitors. Barry was not just full of energy, but he had tremendous staying power, and was particularly frisky. If that was what race competitions did for her husband, Brenda was in full favour of his participation as she trembled and gasped with her second orgasm, and the promise of at least another two to come before Barry did. The boys thought one o'clock would never arrive. Nor did Barry and Brenda, who were planning on spending the afternoon doing some final souvenir and gift shopping, and possibly continuing yesterday's celebration. Arranging to pick the boys and triplets back up at four-thirty, an hour before the Globe and Mail awards banquet, they headed for the malls while the boys headed for the sundial along the board walk. There were Patrick, Chris and Kevin, trying to look casual but sexy in their swim trunks and open shirts as they struck the sorts of poses they'd seen in television commercials and Calvin Klein ads. They were so obvious at trying to look cool that the Brewster brothers could not help giggling. Walking down the board walk from the parking lot were three very noticeable teenage girls in halter tops and bikini bottoms that looked like they were about to split. Seventeen-year- old Wilma, formerly known as Wally, and fifteen-year-old Michelle, formerly known as Michael, had shaved their faces, legs, arms, and pits, and in Wilma's case, the fine hairs that had begun growing around her nipples and the V of her neck. Thirteen-year-old Francis, formerly called Frankie, had not yet needed to shave. Replacing their short cropped dirty blond hair was a long blond wig that extended over the shoulders of the stunning six-foot tall Wilma, a curly brunette wig for Michelle who was walking beside her sister like wrestler, and a cute red-haired wig for Francis who was glancing about as if having never been to the park before and fascinated by everything in sight. Their nails had been pained, red, blue and silver respectively, and rouge disguised their otherwise ruddy cheeks. Eye shadow had not helped improve their small, pig-like eyes, but like Patrick and his friends had said, it was not their faces that they were interested in. "Hi," greeted Wilma as they approached the three boys waiting at the sun dial as arranged with the Brewster brothers. She and her two sisters looked around, but the Brewsters had blended in with the extra large crowds at the park that day. "Hi," responded Patrick with a grin as he looked up at her. She was two inches taller than he was, and had to be at least twenty-five pounds heavier. Despite her size, she seemed rather flat chested much to his disappointment. "It's a hot day." "Oh yeah, real hot," Kevin said as he glanced at his two buddies. These three girls were even more ugly than he'd imagined, but at least Michelle was the cutest of the three. She actually had very shapely legs, which made up for her small boobs. They introduced themselves and engaged in small talk, where they were from, where they were staying, how they were hating summer coming to a close and school about to start, and it was clear to each of them that none of them were really that interested in the conversation. Wilma accidentally brushed her leg against Patrick's, and Michelle looked at Kevin's bulging crotch with evident interest. When Chris let his hand casually brush against Francis's thigh, she smiled at him invitingly. She was butt-ugly for a thirteen-year-old, and the makeup didn't help at all, but she evidently was cock hungry from the way she kept glancing at his crotch. Chris ran his hand along this thigh in a cool, casual way to attract her attention to the bulge beginning to develop in his swim trunks. Francis began to turn red, evidently from her dirty thoughts, and Chris licked his lips nervously. This was the closest he'd ever come to making out! They talked about how hot it was, how hot they were, and how bored. The boys became bolder and coped a feel of the girl's backsides, and the girls responded by innocently brushing the backs of their hands against the boy's thighs. The boys could not believe this. The girls suggested going for a swim, which the boys quickly agreed with, their swim trunks beginning to reveal their arousal, which they wanted the girls to see, but which was embarrassing at the same time. The boys used the cover of water to further innocently grope the backsides of the three girls, and the girls playfully teased the boys, running their hands over the boys' chests and commenting how strong they were, and playfully ducking under the water to grope the boys between the legs. That not only got the boys erect, but encouraged them to be even bolder in their comments. Unnoticed by the three girls, who were keeping an eye out for the Brewsters and surprised they were not around, was Patrick's kid brother who had taken pictures of the boys coping feels of the girls at the sun dial and now of the flirting in the water. Following Benny's directions, he'd suggested to Patrick and his friends that they needed proof that they'd lost their virginity, and that for a price, he'd discretely take some pictures for them. Having proof of their virility appealed to the boys of course, and they quickly agreed, provided if the girls were as ugly as they'd been made out to be, Max would focus on their feminine attributes and not on their faces. Max of course was in on the joke and only the thought of finally getting back at his brother stopped him from laughing out loud. Now, as he tried to find a feminine attribute as the shot their pictures, he could not stop giggling. All six youths were eager to get on with things, the Briggs sisters so they could put this humiliation behind them, and Patrick and his friends so they could lose their virginity. So, when Wilma took Patrick aside and observed how hot he looked and suggested that she knew a place where they could be alone and do something more interesting than swimming, Patrick readily agreed, and with a wink and thumbs up to his two buddies, he followed her up the beach to the parking lot. Turning and wrapping his arms about her, he kissed her. It wasn't exactly a great kiss and she didn't return it. She did massage his back, and he slipped his hands under her small boobs and squeezed them. They were disappointingly small, no bigger than large oranges, which he would have been surprised to find out was exactly what he was squeezing. Huskily observing how hot he was and how hot he was making her feel, Wilma steered Patrick over to a nearby 4 x 4 which she said belonged to her father, who was visiting with friends and would not be back for several hours. Opening the door, she literally pushed him into the back seat, and as he lay there sprawled out on his back, he could not believe it as she knelt down half in and half out of the vehicle and pulled his swim suit half way down his thighs. She was rough, which he took to be lust, and strong, which was not surprising considering her height and build. She yanked his suit down to his ankles and dropped to her knees. This was wilder than his hottest dreams and he lay there open-mouthed as she went down on him. He'd wondered what it would be like to get a blow job, and had imagined it would be hot, but what he'd imagined was nothing compared to the reality. Her mouth was hot and moist, and feeling it surrounding his cock had him erect faster than he'd ever gotten erect before. As she began to suck on it, she worked her lips up and down the length at the same time, something he'd never considered in his dreams. His cock throbbed and the knob tingled with arousal. To his delight, and embarrassment, he was shooting a load off in her mouth in barely over a minute in his excitement. To his surprise and even greater delight, she took his premature ejaculation as a sign how hot he'd found her. Returning to the beach, he didn't have to say anything for the others to know he'd scored. Without a word, Michelle and Kevin headed off for the parking lot, and upon their return ten minutes later, Chris and Francis slipped away. It was evident to the boys that the three girls had this all carefully thought out ahead of time. What they didn't know of course was that was because they'd been told what to do by the Brewster boys. Nor did Patrick and his friends know that the girls had been so aggressive because they wanted to get their payment of the bet over with as soon as possible, and they had to get it done and get changed back into their clothes before their father returned. What the Briggs sisters didn't know was that Max had discretely hidden in the parking lot before Wilma and Patrick had arrived and had taken pictures of the necking from behind a nearby car, and the back seat blow jobs from the back window of the 4 x 4. Upon the return of Francis and Chris, the girls informed the boys they were going to change out of their swim suits but would like to spend more time with them, and the boys promised they'd show them a good time. Retrieving their pants and wallets from the lockers in the men's change room, each of the boys bragged about how hot he'd gotten the girl he'd made out with, not mentioning of course that each of them had come prematurely in his excitement. Upon meeting again at the sun dial, the girls now in tight sweaters and short skirts, the boys treated the girls at the confection stand. The girls had a tremendous appetite, eagerly devouring four hot dogs apiece along with several orders of Nachos and melted cheese and finishing off with triple scoop ice-cream cones. It depleted the boys' wallets, but when the girls suggested they find someplace private they considered it money well spent. The boys suggested they might find a place along the rocky shoreline beyond the marina and the girls agreed, both groups having of course been told by the Brewster brothers that the steep shoreline and shrubs would give them the privacy they needed. Rolling up the blankets the boys had brought for the beach, and in the hope to make out on, they made their way around the marina and up the Lakeside Road to the first path that cut down toward Skaha Lake. As they had been promised, there was enough shrubbery and the area was rugged and isolated enough to give them the necessary privacy, though they'd have to share the space with each other. Performing that most intimate and private act practically within elbow distance of each other did worry the boys, especially considering it would be their first time, and especially since they'd been less than the lovers they'd thought they'd be when they'd received their first blow jobs. The Briggs sisters, on the other hand, were accustomed to group sex, and were eager to get this final payment of their bet done and over with. Spreading the three blankets out with only a couple feet between them, the three pairs lay down and once again the girls took the lead, kissing and caressing the three willing boys, and keeping the boys' hands away from their breasts and their cocks. The boys were not overly disappointed about that, being eager to get on with the act and not that interested in foreplay. The few feels they did manage to get between the girls' legs they mistook in their inexperience to be of their hot cunts, not pairs of balls. The girls soon had the boys' shirts off and their pants pushed down, and though they hadn't gotten in the girls' sweaters, the boys had gotten the girl's skirts pushed up over their hips. As Patrick inhaled deeply and nervously and slipped his hand down the back of Wilma's lacy, pink panties, she whispered in his ear how much she wanted to make love with him, but unfortunately she was menstruating. That was an immediate turn off of course, the idea of sticking his cock up her bleeding cunt not exactly what he'd had in mind, but he was horny enough and desperate enough to have done it had she not advised him that a girl just couldn't do it when she was having her period. Reaching down and squeezing the hot, hard swelling in Patrick's underwear, she did tell him he had gotten her hot, and that she was not averse to him using her other hole. Needless to say Patrick was disappointed, but a piece of ass was better than nothing at all. When Michelle and Francis told the two horny teenagers groping them that unfortunately they were not on the pill, the boys advised that it wasn't a problem in that they had come prepared. Of course they were not about to reveal that they'd spent an hour outside the first drug store they'd had an opportunity to go to on their holiday arguing who was going to go in and buy condoms, and Patrick was not about to tell them he'd boughten razor blades and deodorant in addition so it would not look so obvious, and that when he'd seen there were only women at the cash registers he'd gotten so red the clerk had suggested he buy something for his sunburn, and he actually went back and did. Francis and Michelle observed that they'd heard that condoms were not all that reliable, and while they were hot for the two boys, they were not about to risk getting pregnant. Like Wilma, they squeezed the throbbing members of the two boys and observed that a girl did have another hole, and that it would feel just as good. Besides, they added, they'd be able to do it bareback instead of having a condom separating them. Like Patrick, the two boys were disappointed, but at least comforted by the fact that none of them were going to get pussy that afternoon. Besides, they were still going to fuck a girl, and nobody needed to know which hole they'd fucked. If Max had followed them as he was supposed to have, and if he took the pictures properly, there was not going to be any way to tell. So, it was agreed. The girls rolled over on their stomachs and allowed the boys to pull down their panties and expose their backsides. The three boys were erect and wasted no time pushing down their underwear and climbing on top of their dates. Being tops, the Briggs sisters were not willing participants, but of course they did have previous experience, which was fortunate in that their "dates" were having difficulty figuring out exactly how to get into position. Eager to get this last commitment over with, they instructed the boys to kneel between their outspread legs, placing their knees approximately opposite theirs, and to then bend over them with their weight on their elbows. Reaching back, they guided the boys to their previously lubed holes and pushed out as they guided the boys in. Feeling the moist lube against the tip of their dicks, the three boys were to brag to each other later that they'd gotten the girls so hot their assholes were slick with cunt juice, and the girls could not wait to get their butts fucked. Max had followed them as he'd promised, but what none of the others knew, the four Brewster boys had positioned themselves around the perimeter of the area well before the six lovers had arrived, and while they'd waited the triplets had drifted off for their afternoon naps. Being experts at photography, they took over Max's responsibilities as the three boys began fucking, being sure to catch the looks on the faces of their girls, and being sure to get closeups as to what hole was being used. The boys were once again overly excited about having their first piece of tail, but having come not that long ago helped delay what would have been otherwise a very brief act for all three. The Brewster brothers and Max grinned at each other as Patrick, Kevin and Chris performed their first sexual pushups, rasing and lowering their hips as they eased their stiff, throbbing cocks in and out of the three hot, moist rectums. The three boys closed their eyes in ecstasy as their cocks throbbed and the knobs tingled, delighting in their very first experience of having their cocks surrounded by hot, moist flesh. As the three boys approached their peaks, the Briggs sisters could not help but respond to the massaging of their prostates, and they squirmed and began to pant as they felt themselves approaching their orgasms also, much to the delight of the Brewster brothers and Max. As their dates grasped them and began to shoot their cum up their rectums, they themselves bucked and raised themselves off the blankets in the throes of their own climaxes, giving the Brewster boys some excellent opportunities to snap some revealing pictures of the she-boys. Max was beside himself with amusement as he watched his brother and his two friends gasp and groan as they thought they were pumping their cum up the asses of three girls. The Brewster brothers and Max were so preoccupied with the scene, none of them noticed that Blaine and Blake had woken up, and were watching the same scene with wide-eyed interest. Two hours later, the Brewster boys could not resist going over to where they were sitting at the awards banquet and congratulating Mister Briggs on his second place win, and asking his three sons if they'd had a good afternoon. Wally, Michael, and Frankie only glared at the three boys and shifted uncomfortably on their sore, cum-filled backsides. As they returned to their table, the boys decided that in thanks for an entertaining afternoon, they'd send the Briggs brothers a copy of a few pictures of their performance by way of Phillip's Peach Park. It was only the right thing to do they decided as they grinned at each other and turned their attention back to the awards presentations and celebrating with their mom and dad, whom they noticed were giving each other those looks that suggested they'd had a great afternoon also. Returning to the campsite, they immediately looked up Max, who had been anxiously awaiting their return. "So, how are your brother and his buddies tonight?" asked Benny with a grin. "Oh man, they haven't shut up about this afternoon since they returned to the campground. They've been bragging to each other about how hot they'd gotten the girls, and what studs they are, and how great it is going to be when they tell everyone back home. I thought they were impossible to live with before but that was nothing compared to now. At least they're so grateful I took the pictures they're not hassling me like they usually do. Of course I know that's only because they're so full of themselves right now. By tomorrow things will be back to normal." "Until you get the pictures processed at that place I told you to send them," observed Benny, having given Max the address of a place he'd found on the Internet that processed film with no questions asked and that they'd used themselves many times. "You're sure they'll process them?" "Oh yeah, guaranteed." "I'll scan the pictures and email you jpeg copies." "Cool. And you got to tell us the reaction of your brother and his friends when you show them the pictures." "And when you tell them if they hassle you one more time you'll see a copy of them and their girls making out shows up at school," added Brent. "That'll be hilarious after they've bragged to all their friends how they lost their virginity." "Wish we could be there to see the look on their faces," Bobby giggled. "Wish you could too," observed Max. "I don't know how I can thank you enough for what you've done." "Well, you could start by kissing Benny," Bobby observed. "Bobbbyyyy!" "Well, you said how attractive he is, and how you wouldn't mind kissing him." Benny looked at his kid brother in exasperation, and then at Max with embarrassment. Before he could speak, Max put his arm around him and kissed him. It was an inexperienced, sloppy kiss, which made it all the hotter. Benny immediately felt his cock begin to swell and slipping an arm around Max's shoulders, he returned the kiss. "Wow, you're a hot kisser." "I'd be glad to teach you," Benny said with a grin and a sparkle in his hazel eyes. "How'd you like to spend the night with us at our campground?" Brent asked. Max looked from one brother to the next. They didn't have to say anything for him to know he would not be spending the night sleeping. "I . . . ah . . . well," he shrugged as he shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "I've only . . . well . . . you know . . . messed around with a buddy of mine. Nobody else. And just a bit." "We don't have to mess around if you don't want to," Benny replied. "We can just talk and stuff." "Or if you'd be more comfortable just doing stuff with Benny, the rest of us can go for a walk for a while or something." "Have all of you messed around with a guy?" "Sure. Alone. Sometimes all of us together." "Ever all of you together with just one other guy?" "Sometimes." "That'd be so far out doing something with all four of you at the same time." "Then let's go see if you can sleep over in our tent." Max being typically shy, his parents were delighted he'd made friends and they had no problem with the request if it was all right with the boys' parents, which of course it was. Despite the fact he owed his brother for taking pictures, and the Brewster brothers for supposedly matching him and his buddies up with the three hot broads, Max's brother could not help observing that it looked like he and his friends weren't the only one's who were going to score that day. Bobby opened his mouth to reply as he took a step toward him, but before he could say or do anything, his brothers dragged him away. "The smart ass will be shutting his mouth soon enough once he sees the 'girls' he and his brother lost their virginity to," observed Brent as they crawled into their tent. "I wanted to kick him in the nuts," observed Bobby. "When he sees the pictures, they'll be a kick in the nuts." "Our plan with the pictures and the Briggs's is going to be better than anything you or we could say." "Yeah, you're right," agreed Bobby. "He and his friends sure won't be making any fag comments anymore." "It'll shut them up," agreed Max. "But," he added with a sigh, "there's thousands of others who think the same way they do." "Yeah, but this time next week there'll be three less." "And that will be worth it," grinned Max. "Hey, glad to help out." "You've done this sort of thing before," Max observed. "Oh yeah. Stuff like it anyway." "That's our mission. To rid the world of fag haters." "And arrogant, pompous assholes." "And righteous snobs and bigots." "Or at least pay them back for their comments, or deflate their egos." "That's a big job." "And a dirty one, but someone's gotta do it," observed Brett, and the five boys laughed. "It makes you feel good when you know you've fought back," Brent commented seriously. "When you've taken one step to support gay rights or to put someone in their place." "It does," agreed Max, having taken his first step that afternoon. "Not to mention how good you feel when you get thanked," added Benny with a twinkle in his eyes. A guy could be serious for only so long. "Oh yeah, I didn't get around to thanking the rest of you," said Max with a grin. "Well, we got all night," said Bobby as he slipped over and laid his hand on Max's thigh. As Max kissed the third boy he'd ever kissed in his life, the third boy slipped his hot little hand up to Max's crotch and began to rub the soft bulge he found. The twins began unbuttoning his shirt, and Benny slipped down and began to untie his runners. Max immediately felt his cock beginning to swell, and by the time the five of them had stripped each other down to their underwear, his burgundy Fruit of the Loom briefs were tented out. So were Benny's navy blue briefs and Bobby's skimpy black tangas, which looked more like a jock strap than underwear and which he'd taken to wearing since their Greek holiday, and the twin's plaid Joe Boxer boxer- briefs. Piling up their pillows in the centre of the tent, the boys eased Max down on his back with his hips raised on the pillows. As Brent and Brett leaned forward, their silky, long curls brushed over his naked chest and he squirmed with arousal as two hot mouths fastened onto his until then unsucked nipples. Bobby and Benny eased off his briefs, and as Bobby's hot, moist tongue ran over Max's ball sac, Benny ran his tongue up the boy's ass crack and wiggled it against his butthole. Unable to believe the thrills rippling through his body and the pleasure of having four hot mouths assaulting him, Max reached out and caressed the backs of the twins, who immediately twisted around so that Max was able to caress Brent's nipples with one hand and to stroke Brett's impressive seven-inch erection which he'd slipped out of Brett's boxer-briefs with the other. Max was well hung himself, his cock being five and a quarter inches in length, and it was not long before it was twitching and aching for attention. His four new friends had no intention of satisfying him that quickly, and the twins continued to lick and suck his nipples until they were so aroused each time one of the twins ran his tongue over one of the hard, sensitive rosebuds Max's body jerked as if jolted with an electric shock. The same happened each time Bobby paused from sucking on his eggs and ran his hot tongue over his smooth, sensitive thigh. And when Benny began to suck on his asshole, the suction on his rectum drove Max wild. He squirmed and gasped and panted until he felt the first signs that he was about to cum. Before he did, the Brewster brothers suddenly stopped, much to his disappointment. He wanted to tell them to continue for just another thirty seconds, which was all it would have taken, but not wanting to sound ungrateful or pushy, he said nothing and just lay there and enjoyed the throbbing pleasure pulsating through his nipples, his groin, and his asshole. Just because the boys had confessed to messing around, they hadn't said they did so all the way, and figuring he might be the only one of them who was perverse enough to do it all the way to the end, he said nothing. Wondering if maybe the information he'd been told about having an inexhaustible supply of cum was wrong, he wondered if he should ask, but he was too embarrassed to do so. Five minutes later the boys shifted around. Brent and Brett began to lick the sensitive inner sides of his thighs and Bobby moved down to his feet and began to suck on his toes. Benny meanwhile lay down in the opposite direction as Max and began to lick his belly button. That of course left Benny's jewels directly in front of Max's face, and the boy eagerly twisted around and snuggled closer. Inhaling deeply out of nervousness and once again growing arousal, he was rewarded with the rich fragrance of Benny's hot, sweaty balls. His mouth drooling with expectation, Max stuck out his tongue and ran it over Benny's low-hung testicles. He soon had one and then the other in his mouth, and as he sucked on the fragrant boy eggs and snorted with ecstasy through his nose, his cock jerked and twitched more desperately than it ever had before in response to the assault on his thighs, belly button and toes and the joy of sucking another boy's balls. Once again his hosts brought him almost to that peak that up until then he and his buddy had always worked toward nonstop, and once again they stopped and gasped and panted with the painful joy of arousal seconds before erupting. He had never engaged in foreplay with a boy before, and had never used foreplay to bring himself or another boy to the brink of orgasm not just once, but twice, without even touching his cock. He could not believe how awesome he was feeling as he lay there in the now hot tent, his deep breathing matching that of the four brothers. When he got home, his best bud was going to be in for a surprise. Once again they switched around, always ensuring Max was the centre of attention. Now the twins were laying in opposite directions to Max and each took a foot and began to lick the sole and instep. Having slipped off the pillows, Max found himself flat on his back with a pair of feet on either side of his head. He had no idea which twin was which as he turned his head and tentatively ran his tongue along the underside of one of the feet. The rich, earthy fragrance of the foot added to the eroticism of his first experience with foot play, and he inhaled deeply as he wormed his tongue between the large and second toe of the foot. Brent squirmed with arousal and sucked even more vigorously on Max's foot. Bobby and Benny had meanwhile each lain down alongside their brothers, and half leaning over them and half laying on them, they were now licking the sides of Max's upper torso, slowly working their way up toward his pits. He had fine, silky pit hairs, and his pits were fragrant from the day's exercise and refreshed from the heat of his arousal. They, like Brent's feet, had an earthy smell that was just strong enough to be erotic and not so strong as to be rank. Once again Max felt himself being brought to that peak, and now expecting it, welcomed the withdrawal and the buzz that followed. This third time took a lot longer for the mad urge to shoot to subside. He welcomed the prolonged arousal, but at the same time he was aching so badly to get off a load he felt like as tense as a drum with the skin pulled too tightly over the frame. Never in his life had he felt so aroused. Even so little as a hot breath rolling over his teats or his toes or the brush of someone's hair against his skin was enough to cause him to tremble and arch with the desperate need to have the burning itch crowning his cock satisfied. Of course the Brewster boys knew that, and were feeling the same itch. Once more the boys shifted positions, and once again Max found himself on his back with his hips raised on the stacked pillows. Now long, wet tongues were attacking his stiff cock, running up and down the shaft, curling under his hairy balls and running down between his legs to his trembling butthole. With four boys laying there assaulting his crotch and anus, he had four stiff cocks of varying sizes wagging before his face. He eagerly licked and sucked on one, and as its owner shifted position to assault his body lower or higher, another cock loomed in its place beside or above his head. He knew of course that the longest two cocks belonged to the twins, though he could not tell one from the other. Having never seen twin cocks before, he took great delight in examining both in close-up detail. Of course he knew the shortest cock, an impressive four and three-quarters of an inch long, belonged to Bobby, meaning the other, which was a quarter inch longer than his own, was Benny's. Once again he felt himself approaching his climax and he squirmed with the pleasure of his approaching orgasm, and with the pleasure that comes when one knows he is pleasing another. In this case his physical pleasure was quadrupled by the knowledge he was bringing pleasure not to another boy, but four other boys as he licked and sucked first one cock and then another. All the twisted, negative comments and insinuations and all the insults he'd suffered from his brother and his two friends, and from others, friends, classmates and total strangers, were forgotten in the wild ecstasy and the knowledge of what sex with another boy can really be like. He'd thought he'd known that from the messing around, as he'd called it, that he'd done with his best buddy, but he knew now he and his buddy had much to learn. He also knew at that moment he was learning from the experts. His entire body ached, not just his loins, and his entire body throbbed, not just his erect cock. His cock had been stiff for so long it felt as long and as thick as a tree trunk, and the tension that was building in his loins was like a lit firecracker that you knew was going to explode but you just did not know when. "Oh fuck," he sighed. "Oh yeah," he gasped. "Oh I'm going to . . . I'm . . . ahhh . . . ooohh," he whimpered, too overcome with finally the arrival of that ultimate pleasure to put it into words. The four Brewster brothers knew what he meant, and how he was feeling, the four boys feeling the same themselves. With a final gasp and a shudder, Max thrust his hips in the air and his cum shot out of his burning, throbbing cock, shooting high into the air, almost hitting the tent roof Benny was to joke later, and arching back down to lace Benny's cheek. The first shot was followed by others in rapid succession, his primed nuts so tight it was as if they were being emptied down to the last sperm. His hot streamers of cum laced his thighs and his heaving stomach, Brent's face from the centre of his forehead down along the right side of his nose, Brett's neck, and Bobby's chest. At the same time the four brothers climaxed, three of them shooting their thick, teenage loads at the boy in the middle of the heap and at each other, and the fourth trembling and gasping with just as much pleasure as his dry orgasm ripped through his loins. Cum struck Max from all directions, hot streamers of creamy boy juice streaking his face, his chest, his arms, and even his pits. What did not strike the gasping, flushed fourteen-year-old struck one of the brothers, hot, throbbing cocks shooting cum at each other so that it was impossible to tell if the cum dripping from each of the tight balls belonged to those balls or the tight nuts of one of the other two boys. Though Bobby had once again failed to cum, he was dripping with the sticky, creamy shot of Max and his three brothers, and he was trembling and gasping with the same hot pleasure as they were. "That was fucking awesome," Max sighed some time later as his breathing returned to normal and his stiff cock began to droop. "Oh yeah," agreed four other voices quietly. "So, we ready to do it again?" the sole soprano voice asked as a finger slid up Max's asscrack and pressed against his hole. "Fuck yeah," sighed the voices of four boys in response to the question, and soon once again all that could be heard in the still Okanagan night was the laboured breathing from a small blue tent in the middle of the WaterWorld RV and Family Camp Ground.