Date: Sun, 21 May 2017 16:50:32 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Culberhouse Rules 2

See original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/culberhouse-rules/) for
warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights
reserved. Includes sex between related young-adult men. Go away if any of
that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my
characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of
future stories. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html
to keep the cum coming.

*****

"You have to ask. And ask in writing. Ask nicely. Be specific on what you
want me to do or let you do. And I pick what actually happens." The glow in
his eyes matched the heat flaring in my nuts. I knew without asking that he
liked the idea, confirmed when he launched himself to the desk and shit
went flying in a fountain as he frantically found a pen and paper, and
started writing furiously. I couldn't resist. I was the English guy, after
all. "Careful! Spelling, grammar and composition count, bro."

*****

Culberhouse Rules 2: The Deal

By Bear Pup

*****

He came back in second, determination and drive and even fury etched on his
face. I thought of being his opponent on the B-Ball court and seeing that
face across from me at the Jump and shivered. I took the list he offered.

DAY-am! Oh FUCK that's hot! And that is NASTY! And that is, oh my God,
really? Huff-huff-huff! WWWWOW!  I sagged back and sat on the side of the
bed, stunned. I had fantasies, an infinite number of the them. I had
*nasty* fantasies, lots and lots. I had *nasty fucking insane*
fantasies... and I still didn't match some of what I saw on this list. Hoe
Lee Fuck. I pulled myself together and put on my no-nonsense voice.

"A lot of these are epics, dude, not stories. All those are off the list
for now. We'll work on that," a really kinky brain cell fired, "and we need
to do this double-spaced so you or I can write, 'Thank you Ryan/Taylor for
making this come true'." Ryan shivered; he was as turned on by the idea as
I was, possibly more.

"And we're not doing any of these today." His face fell and clouded like a
kid whose candy had been snatched by the seagull and I intervened before he
could whine. "All these are big things, Ryan, and I'm not ready for big
things. I want to SEE that you are not being a complete prick before I..."
I blushed hard and handed him the list, "even THINK of letting number three
happen." He got a lascivious leer on his face.

"You're not getting the big stuff today, Ryan, but you deserve something
good." And so did I, a big part of my sex-pig brain contributed. I circled
two sections of number 5. "You get that and ONLY that." Ryan was
disappointed and so hot he was about to vibrate to death. "BUT, you do it
naked and you jack off and," my own voice shuddered in lust, "you lick all
of it up, both of us, off my sweaty body after."

I've read a lot of porn, and a lot of fiction. I always wondered, what does
a starving man *really* look like when faced with a buffet?

Oh.

My.

God.

He dove into my crotch like he hadn't had water in a week and I was a
spring! I moaned loudly as he licked and slurped and snorted and made the
full panoply of piggy-noises into my balls and snatch. He treated the whole
area like it was the aforementioned buffet. I looked down between tetanic
spasms and soul-wrenching moans; his face gnawed and sucked and slurped
everything he could find. Without real warning, his hands came up, one to
my cock and the other to my balls.

Okay, so fucking sue me. I was an old fifteen and had been stoked for
hours. He started to work me and I. Fucking. Exploded. It was like a
vol-cum-o erupted. Ryan's voice got all high and, like he fucking
teleported, he was over my thighs. He tugged once, twice, thrice and BAM,
he was shooting just like I was.

The part of my mind that was not howling, screaming, praying, cumming noted
the difference between us. My first shot hit my chin. The second and third
hit the headboard and left a trail over my face. From then on, they coated
my neck and chest in ever-decreasing lengths. Ryan, though, Ryan's load was
as consistent as his free-throws. The first one hit my chin. The second the
base of my neck. Every other fucking streamer landed at the exact same
place, that little v-thing below my throat, the rest of the shot strung
down to my belly-button. I don't know how long we came, an eternity and an
instant.

Before I even recovered, there was a hoover with tongue and lips everywhere
our load blew. It started at my leaking cock and worked north. When the
giant puddle at the throat-notch was finally sucked up, he skipped my face
and cleaned my forehead and sucked the cum from my hair. At long last, he
licked his way down to my lips and trapped me in the most-intense kiss I
ever imagined. I was damned near ready to go again when he pulled back.

"Fuck, little brother, I never imagined..." Ryan moaned as he took another
long lick on a strand of my/his/our cum he'd missed on my chin.

"That was, um, intense, big brother. Lets' um, like, recover a little and,
uh, maybe have something to eat?" Our stomachs let out simultaneous rumbles
of urgency and we raced each other, still panting with sex-lust and
sex-exhaustion, to the kitchen. We worked in tandem, perhaps for the first
time in years, assembling the Dagwood. Layers of meats and cheeses on a
giant hoagie, then into the oven. We sat staring and salivating until we
both laughed at the absurdity. It would be half an hour at least!

"Um, Taylor? No, I'm not being mean or an ass or anything, but you really
fucking reek." He was right and I smiled.

"Let's do something about that..." My leer put him back to full rail in a
nanosecond. We jostled companionably (competitively) on the stairs, dead
set that the other would NOT make the shower first. For what I had in mind,
it didn't matter. He got to the tap first, but I was already pulling towels
out.

When it was to temp, he looked at me shyly, "Um, Taylor, would you like to
go first?"

"No, Ryan, neither of us is going first." He stared at my waggling eyebrows
and suddenly blushed like a supernova. I moved in and he not-quite-flinched
back. My bulk was the inescapable sheepdog corralling him in the shower. He
shivered when his back hit the warm stream and again when I reached out and
began to turn him in the spray. When he was wet, I reached over and grabbed
some shampoo and spent perhaps five minutes simply massaging his scalp and
neck as he groaned in pleasure. I rinsed his hair, making sure that enough
ran forward that he'd have to keep his eyes closed. When he reached up to
wipe the suds, I forced his arms above his head and he moaned deeply.

I turned the spray to the side so I could take my time and grabbed the Dove
Men+Care body wash. I began with his shoulders and back. His skin was so
lusciously smooth. None of the rough hairiness that coats me, just tiny,
invisible hairs to hold the suds. His armpits were so sensitive that I
spent forever, teasing out each strand of silky hair. Ryan was now leaning
forward on his elbows, hands clenched well above his head as if praying to
the God of Shower Sex.

I worked my way down his sides, marveling at the tight ropes of muscles
tensing and moving under the silky skin. I was bulky, bulging, crude,
almost barbaric. He was delicate but so completely strong and lithe. I
sighed as I worked my strong hands down the muscles along his spine,
kneading them hard as I rubbed in the soap. He moaned deep and low, telling
my how much he was loving the sensation.

Ryan froze like a marble statue, though, as my hands moved to his sides and
down to his slim hips. I let them trace forward along his Apollo's Belt,
teasing along the creases and making his breath catch and shudder. When I
pulled back behind, soaping the globes of that lily-white ass, Ryan began
to whine and whimper. His ass was so tight, so taut. I found myself
whimpering as well, just at the thought of what those glutes were
hiding... protecting.

I found my hands were literally shaking, so I stoked my nerve and let one
hand slide down that forbidden cleft. Ryan pushed all the way up on his
toes, and arches his back hard to meet my fingers. My soapy hand slid all
the way into the oven-like furnace of his ass and we both gasped and moaned
deep, almost a unified growl, as my fingers found his puckered hole. I was
shocked at how perfectly smooth and luscious it felt, so tender and
rippling with the need for my... Stop that! Make him work for that!

Ryan groaned in despair as I moved down his leg, making slow, soapy love to
the ropey muscles of his running/jumping legs. He giggled when I lifted and
washed his feet, and again held his breath as I stood. This time, I let my
massive, dripping hardon trace up the inside of his leg and poke against
the crack of his ass. I thought he might cry when I reached above him,
pushing forward but not allowing his glutes to catch my cock, unhooking the
spray-head.

I slowly, lovingly rinsed him, teasing every spot where Ryan had tensed or
shuddered or whimpered in the washing phase. He was panting hard and fast
when I finally got to his ass again, rubbing my cupped fingers up his crack
over and over and over so the water could rinse away the soap I'd used to
tease him, his deep, near-continuous moans and the back and forth shakes of
his head utterly approving of my treatment of his most-forbidden places.

I reached up and gathered his wrists in one big paw then used the other to
spin him. I kept his hands locked high as I drove him against the wall (and
up the wall, figuratively speaking) with a mouth-raping kiss that went on
and on as I felt him writhe against me. I pulled back and he mewled like a
kitten at the loss of contact. I pushed his hands, making sure he knew he
was to keep them there, high above him on the wall.

I'd never really thought of the muscles as individual things, but the pale
skin seemed to highlight every divide. I thought his back and
his... a-a-a-a-ass... were works of art. I was now blown away by the
incredible sensuous interplay of his serratus and abdominals, his flat,
tight pecs, and the small muscles that played over and around them.

I'd read porn (I was a healthy teen, duh!) so I was a little shocked at my
brother's nipples. The areoles were perhaps the size of a quarter and the
nipple itself looked more like the rounded head of a pin in the center with
no change in color at all. I rubbed them and he purred as my hands crossed
his chest, but his nipples did nothing. No deep sighs, no whimpers of need,
nothing! My own were big, meaty things that sprang up like miniature dicks
when stimulated. For Ryan, I might as well have been playing with his
fingernails!

Not so, however, when I worked my way down toward his public crest. His
lower belly was exquisitely-sensitive to every touch and he writhed and
wriggled under my soapy hands. He again froze as he sensed me approaching
his cock and his first word of this whole shower, "FUCK!!" erupted when I
moved my hands wide and touched everything else in the area.

My soap-slick paws ran teasingly right alongside and then under his balls
and Ryan again came up on tiptoe and started to whine, almost high enough
to be a whistle as I strummed and teased his taint. When done with that and
a long, slow massage of his balls and their wispy hairs, I filled both
palms with soap and ran each base to tip, twice with each tight first. Ryan
literally wailed and his eyes (unwisely) flew open as I stepped back and
began to rinse him. He was cussing like a sailor's whore both from the lack
of release and the shampoo-eyes as I got him completely lather-free.

When I was done, he was panting like he'd just run a cross-country race and
his eyes were fiery. In retrospect, it was probably extremely... unwise for
me to get him that hepped up and then just pull back, giving him
nothing. Trust me, I paid the price for that mistake!

Over the next half-hour, Ryan found g-spots I never even considered. I was
leaking enough that when soap did drip on my cock, it rinsed itself off in
moments. He found twin spots, reaching around me from behind, right where
the Apollo's Belt ends on either side of my pubic mound. He played his
fingers around and around and around until I literally screamed in
pleasure.

He was as stunned at my hypersensitive nipples as I was with his
insensitive ones. I found out later that he'd always thought the porn was
just exaggerating. He actually put his hand behind my head as he worked
them as I was unconsciously banging the back of my skull into the tiles
over and over in an overload of pleasure. I also found out that, completely
unexpected, my toes had a direct line to my cock. As he played with and
washed my feet, I found myself squeaking like a broken dog toy.

Before rinsing me, he locked me in another soul-consuming kiss and began to
hump against me. I was completely helpless to do anything but
reciprocate. I was so far beyond rational thought I couldn't see it in the
rearview mirror. I was, frankly, three things -- a cockhead and two nipples
and he was grinding all of them, the suds becoming the ultimate lube. Our
joint howl of ecstatic release shook the room as we both unloaded,
screaming and cursing and begging into each other's mouths. We sank as a
single, spent, shattered body to the warm tiles and let the warm water
cascade across us, washing away the explosion of cum we'd both unloaded.

It probably does not come (or cum) as a surprise that what brought us back
to this end of the universe was a sudden end to the hot water supply. We
tussled amusingly as we each tried to dry the other at the same time. That
just does not work, but it was fun to try.

We settled back in Ryan's bedroom. He frowned at me intently. "What?"

"Do you smell something?"

I sniffed them looked at him. Simultaneously, we both screamed, "DAGWOOD
BURNING!" As it turned out, the sandwich wasn't burnt at all. Some of the
copious cheese load had drooled down and crisped on the pan. Otherwise, the
sandwich was hot and crispy and bubbly. We had a hell of a time ungluing it
from the tin foil, then both did the steam-cooked-my-mouth dance. It was,
perhaps, the best fucking sandwich in the universe.

When we'd cleaned up and were back, again, on Ryan's bed, he looked
worried, almost fearful. "What now, Ry?"

"Well, I was just thinking." He spoke to my feet, unable to look me in the
eyes. "What if I fuck up and lose all this. I think I'd die, Ryan. I really
do. Promise me that if I do you'll give me a second chance?"

I leaned forward and pulled his face up/ I forced his light, bright,
worried eyes to focus on my own then slowly leaned forward, "Only if you
promise the same thing, big brother." We kissed for a while, not *entirely*
in a sexual way, and pulled apart breathless.

"So, Taylor, you said we needed, like, rules on how to write what I {blush}
what we want?"

I kicked my English Grammar kid into play. "Yeah. First, they have to be
single things, not twenty things all wrapped together. That way we can mix
and match and do what we're ready for, not everything at once. Second, they
have to be clear on who does what to/with/for whom. Like what we just
did. Um, let's see. '1. Taylor gives Ryan a sensuous shower to drive him
wild.' '2. Ryan gives Taylor a sex-laced shower that literally makes him
lose his mind.' '3. Ryan and Taylor hump each other until they explode in
the shower.' So we might do 1 or 2 or 3 or all of them."

"Okay, Taylor. I like that. But you have to write out ones, too. And I get
to pick which things I'll agree to as well. You don't get to pick whatever
and leave me hanging. This is not going to be a one-way street."

I rubbed my chin, recognizing Negotiation Mode. "I'll add my stuff to the
list, and you don't have to do anything you don't want, but it's my call,
not yours."

"No deal. We do that and you can keep me from cumming for the next two
years. Ain't happening. How about, if anyone gets to cum, the other has the
option?"

"And I still pick what's on the table and you can say yes or no? You don't
get to pick anything I haven't said yes to?"

"Hmm. I can live with that. But either of us can, um," nuclear blush mode
on his angelic cream skin was so fucking sexy it could kill me, "ask or
even, uh, beg?" A huge spurt of dogwater pumped from my dick so hard it
actually splashed. Ryan laughed, "Was that a 'Yes'?"

"Deal!" Holy fuck this was going to be hottest year of my life. And by God,
I was going to make damned sure it the fucking hottest that Ryan had ever
dreamed of. We separated to begin working on our lists, agreeing to
reconvene in time to build dinner and go over the {oh, god, my gut trembled
at the thought} list of upcoming events.

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 25 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 17 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 18 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Off the Magic Carpet: 12 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
Lake Desolation: 10 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/
Shark Reef: 4 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/
Culberhouse Rules: 2 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/

Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (4 installments)
.../incest/in-gods-love/