Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2017 17:53:06 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: Getting Lucky

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/141274931279/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2017. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
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*****

The sun on my face felt good, damn good. The rest of me didn't feel so
hot. My pulse was thudding painfully at my temples, and my mouth felt furry
and rank, like the carpet in a frathouse basement. I was definitely
starting to get too old for this shit, and that was literally a sobering
thought as I reluctantly opened my eyelids.

"The fuck am I?" I thought to myself, and then the mattress shifted and an
arm slid around my waist, the warm impression of a big, strong,
furry-chested body nestling into me.

"Mornin', bud," came the voice, deep and rusty and thick with sleep.

"Aw FUCK," I thought, clapping my hand over my eyes and grimacing. "You did
it again, you stupid asshole..."

He snuggled in a little closer, squeezing his muscle-corded forearm more
around me as he pressed his lips to my shoulder. Suddenly the soft,
stretchy jersey sheets that had felt so damn comfortable a few minutes ago
felt a little bit like a prison, now. Like I was trapped in them, trapped
underneath his big arm, trapped by the solidity of his long thigh slipping
over mine and sliding up and down casually, intimately. Trapped by the warm
heft of his big dick, half-thick with morning wood as it pressed against my
thigh.

"Uh, mornin'," I muttered back, trying to strategize a way out of his bed
and this whole situation. I groped around on the nightstand for my phone,
saw that it was after 10am, felt the muffled alarm going off way deep in
the back of my mind. Something I was supposed to do, somewhere I was
supposed to be...

"Ah shit!" I moaned. "I'm late for the final sessions..."

I'd flown down for a conference, and I guess it had been a kind of happy
accident that not only had it overlapped with St. Patrick's Day, but Tommy
lived down here now too. We hadn't seen each other in a little while, and
he was pretty psyched about it all coming together like that, insisting we
hit the town and celebrate. I guess that had turned a happy accident into
more of a car crash, as the night had gotten blurrier and blurrier, and my
grip on things had gotten progressively more slippery with each passing
Baby Guinness and Irish Car Bomb and Jamesons shot.

"Well, not your grip on *everything*, dude," my subconscious piped up with
a wink and a grin, and I mentally slapped it across its smug fucking
face. The more I tugged at that particular string, the more of last night I
remembered. Not so much the parade of bars and drinks and the blur of
partying faces, but Tommy's hot breath mingling with mine. The taste of
whiskey on his tongue. The feel of his long fingers slipping inside the fly
of my jeans, stroking my throbbing hard cock. The way he'd boozily grinned
down at me, pushed my thighs apart right here in his bed, and lined the
big, blunt head of his cock against my slicked-up hole. The sound of his
voice, all warm and deep and low, not sounding drunk at all, as he
murmured, "Fuck, I missed this, little brother," and pushed his length up
deep inside of me. Just like he always used to. Just like I loved him
doing. Just like I swore we'd never do again.

"Fuck the final sessions, nobody goes to those anyway, bro," Tommy murmured
sleepily against my shoulder, folding his steely, inked-up forearm more
tightly around me. "Stale danish, bad coffee, bunch of nerds in khakis
trading business cards that you don't wanna talk to. Might as well just
stay here."

I grunted noncommittally at that, and then his hand slid up my chest and
thumbed my nipple, strumming it a couple times until it tingled and
hardened, and I grunted again, differently this time. The fucker. He knew
what that did to me. He'd been doing it to me since we were a couple of
big, horny teenagers.

"Wouldn't you rather just stay here, little bro?" he said. I turned and
looked at him, and now his eyes were open, and he was looking at me with a
playful smile, but serious eyes. Like he was testing me. He had this
particular look, a mix of speculation and expectation, that had always done
kind of a number on me. Sure had last night, after a good couple years of
resisting him.

"I mean, I gotta check out of my hotel... gotta head to the airport," I
said, kind of weakly, because goddammit, that look was working on me all
over again. If I was going to do something, I had to do it now. Before he
pulled me back in again.

"You already pushed your flight," he said, shifting his long, strong body
up closer against me, his hand moving from my nipple back down to my
stomach, where it started a slow, circular stroke that had my insides
starting to tingle. "Did it right on the app, in the bar last night."

"I did?" I said, not remembering any of that, thumbing the Delta app open
on my phone now to make sure he wasn't bullshitting me. He wasn't.

"Uh-huh," he said, low and deep. "I bet you could call your hotel and push
your checkout time. Give us some time to... hang."

His long fingers stroked down my stomach, into the hair around my navel,
circling slowly, but intently, lower into it where it thickened. My cock
had a mind of its own, starting to get heavy and thick as it responded to
his attentions.

"So, little brother," he said, his eyes and his voice an almost hypnotic
1-2 punch. "Since you don't have anywhere you really gotta be... why not
just stay here?"

I stared hard at him, my mind racing, as my cock thickened into full
hardness and made the decision for me.

"You fucker," I growled, grabbing his handsome head and pulling it in tight
to kiss him.

"Mmmmm," he murmured approvingly as our tongues slid together, that old
familiar dance we'd been doing nearly half our lives now, two brothers who
were into each other way more than we should be. Mouths parting, tongues
meeting and meshing in a dance of spit-slicked muscle, spit starting to
flow as we grunted and growled and pulled each other even deeper into
it. Tommy had been the first person I'd ever properly kissed, and it didn't
matter how long we went between makeouts, it just got better and better
every time. It had been all I could do not to pounce on him in the Uber
back here last night and try to suck his long, agile tongue out of his
head. Yeah, a whole lot of last night was coming back to me now, the
memories surfing in on the intense physical rush the fucker always gave me.

Tommy wrapped his arm tight around my waist and pulled me over onto my
side, facing him. My legs entwined with his automatically, and he grunted
his approval again as I clapped one hand on the big, hard muscle of his ass
and pulled us tighter together, our cocks entangling like our tongues
were. We went at it like that for several long, intensely pleasurable
minutes until I finally pulled back.

"So I guess that's a `yes', huh, bro?" he grinned.

"It's not a `no'," I said, sliding out from his comfy sheets, watching his
eyes roam over my body, down to the hard arc of my cock. "Let me pop a
couple of Advil and brush my teeth, and we'll reassess."

I swished some Listerine around, staring at myself in his bathroom
mirror. I guess it wasn't a question anymore of whether I was going to do
this. It was always too damn easy to fall back into this with him, and no
matter how much my head tried to argue it, tell me it was wrong, tell me we
were too old for this shit, the rest of me was always ready to roll right
back into it. Shit, it had been a couple years now, and apart from a few
flirty texts here and there, I figured it really had been a phase, and that
we'd finally worked through it. But then, every time I thought that, I
thought about the summer he'd come home after he got out of the Army four
years ago, how he'd practically moved into my little grad school apartment
and we'd fucked each other's brains out for two solid months. It was a
sweet time, even if it had fucked with my head a little bit. Especially
afterwards, when he'd left for Texas and I was on my own again, coming home
to an empty apartment, missing his welcoming smile, the easy embrace of his
strong arm around my neck, the warm brush of his lips parting against mine
before the soft, insistent flick of his tongue. At the time it had
felt... well, it had felt a lot like love. It had taken me a long time to
get over that, if I ever really had.

That was then, though, and this was now. Now, here I was, naked in his
apartment, swigging from a bottle of water as I stood in his bedroom,
looking down at him. God damn he looked good, all handsome and confident
and perfectly at ease, his head propped on one hand, the other playing with
the rails of his headboard. I could smell him, all musky and warm and just
him, and it was an immediate hit of nostalgia and sense memory. All those
furtive afternoons up in his bedroom and mine, learning exciting new things
with his long, lean-muscled body pressed up tight to mine. The scent of him
when I peeled his uniform off piece by piece while we made out, when he
came home on leave. That intense summer playing house together. It all got
to me, and before I knew it, my cock was standing hard and proud again as I
watched him watch me, that approving smile on his face as he took in my
body, my muscles, my fur, my cock. Not the teenaged little brother he'd so
effortlessly seduced over a decade ago. A man like him, now. Just two men,
naked in a bedroom, wondering what would happen next.

"Bullshit," I thought to myself. "You know exactly what happens next,
Mike."

I looked down at the tent his hard cock was making in the clingy sheets
draped over his lower body, at the fine fan of fur across the plates of his
pecs, and yeah, I knew exactly what was going to happen. It was the only
thing that could.

"You like what you see, little bro?" he said with that cheeky, charming
grin of his. I capped the water bottle and tossed it to him, watching him
catch it effortlessly, like the baseball stud he'd been back in the day.

"It's not bad," I said, plucking at the sheet that covered him, and
chuckling to myself.

"What?"

"I just noticed the color of the sheets," I said. "Who the fuck even has
green sheets?"

"Just celebrating our heritage, bro," he grinned. "And what better way to
celebrate the luck of the Irish, than with some get-lucky sheets?"

"Should've known you'd have it all planned out," I said, rolling my eyes
good-humoredly. "Guess if it wasn't me, it'd be somebody..."

"Probably," he shrugged, sipping the water as I tried to extinguish the
weird little jealous flare-up in my gut.

"No, bro," he said, pushing himself upright, the sheet slipping down low on
his flat, rippling stomach. "Not just anybody. I was hoping for you. Nobody
else."

I could see from his face he was serious, that he meant it, and I felt
another little gut-flip. He'd been hoping for this, and damn it, I had to
admit, I had been too. So now, here we were, and the only question was...

I closed the distance between us in two seconds flat. His lips were parting
in a grin as I got close to him, but before he could wise off again or say
anything else, I was kissing him. Kissing him hard and assertively, showing
him I wasn't just a passenger on this ride. Showing him how intensely I
wanted him, no matter how wrong everyone else would think it was. Showing
him how much I'd missed everything we had between us, this special
brotherly bond of ours. He showed me right back, as our tongues engaged and
set to work on each other, his big hands on my hips, guiding me down to
straddle him, his cock a big, hard lump underneath me, all swaddled in the
soft green jersey of the sheet.

Tommy's hands slid up and down the hard flex of my quads, up to cup and
squeeze my ass, his palms settling into the deep indents. We'd both been
genetically blessed with great asses, but as good as his was, I was proud
to say mine was better. I was built a little shorter and thicker than him,
and it showed in my lower body especially. He'd run his hands and lips and
tongue covetously over my thighs and ass often enough over the years to let
me know I had something good going on, something he liked. I took hold of
the back of his head and pushed his face down to the big muscle of my thigh
now, and the way he growled and ran his tongue up the steel of my quad sent
a chill through me.

I let him explore and appreciate me the way he liked to do for a while,
before taking hold of his head and steering it to the proud, throbbing
curve of my superstiff cock. He already had me leaking, and even though he
pretended to resist, I knew he wanted to suck it as badly as I wanted him
to.

"Hmm, getting cocky, huh kid," he said with a wink. I just rolled my eyes
at the probably intended pun.

"Shut up and suck it, bro, you big stupid fuck," I growled, and pushed his
head down on it.

Jesus christ. I'd be lying if I said I'd forgotten how good he was at this,
because I thought about it entirely too goddamn much. But it was always
slightly surprising, seeing and feeling the big ex-GI stud work my cock
over like a fucking porn star. Surprising and intensely pleasurable, as he
took me on a slow, wet, deep ride down memory lane, back to being 15 and
getting a load sucked out of me for the first time ever, by him. I dimly
remembered him doing this to me on his couch last night, before we stumbled
in here to bed, but I was fully awake and mostly sober now, able to fully
enjoy every tingling, throbbing, spit-dripping sensation as he took me to
the root, over and over again.

"Fuck, quit it," I moaned when I felt my balls starting to really sing. He
didn't want to stop, I could tell from the noises he was making as I tried
to back his head up off my dick, but I pressed the issue. Fuck, he made one
hell of a sight, his lips smeared with spit, that half-wild, hungry look in
his eyes as he stared up at me, panting a little. I could taste myself on
his tongue when I pushed in to kiss him, and grunted hungrily as he pushed
a thick wad of his dick-flavored spit into my mouth for me to savor.

"Damn, I was looking forward to a nice little-bro load for breakfast," he
said with a mock frown.

"You'll get my fucking load, bro," I muttered, shuffling up to yank the
sheet from him. I murmured approvingly, nodding as I ran my hands up his
warm, hairy skin, up his long, strong thighs, over his trim hips, up to the
steely plates of his pecs, then up over the muscle-packed flesh of his
upper arms, the cream of his skin graffitied with colorful ink. He grinned
and flexed up subtly for me, knowing how much I loved to just crawl all
over him and explore.

"Oh, you got a plan, huh kid," he grinned.

"Damn right I do," I nodded, slapping his hip. "Roll over. Let's see if
that Irish ass is smiling."

"Christ, that's corny even for me, dude," he chuckled, but he rolled over
just the same, spreading his thighs and arching his back a little as he
did, knowing how it made his big, muscular glutes pop. Knowing how much I
liked to see that.

"Attaboy," I said, giving the creamy, fur-dusted flesh of his cheek a
playful smack. I leaned in close, digging my fingers deep as I took a deep
whiff. His scent hit me like a shot of poppers, all heady and sweaty and
rich with his musk. Not clean, exactly, but not dirty, either.

"You might wanna wait," he said over his shoulder, knowing exactly what I
was thinking. When it came to sex, we were incredibly in sync with each
other, and for the millionth time, I had to wonder how many other brothers
there were out there who were just like us. That just made my spitshined
cock tweak even harder. "It'll be better once I've had a shower."

"I don't wanna stop and take a shower," I said, hearing the hungry edge in
my voice.

"No, dumbass," he said, his voice dripping with big-brother impatience. "I
mean later. We'll shower later, and then..."

"Huh - sounds like I'm not the only one with a plan, bro," I growled,
leaning in to suck a hickey into the flesh of his glute.

"You pushed your flight back to Sunday," he half-moaned, pushing his ass up
again. "I can make all kinds of plans for us to fill two days."

"Yeah, I bet you can," I chuckled, sliding up the length of his body,
grinding the hardness of my cock up and down his sweaty, furry cleft as I
nuzzled the back of his neck. "Meantime... where's your lube?"

Jesus fuck, he was tight. As tight as I remembered, and the way he growled
and the big muscles in his back bunched and twisted as he grabbed at the
rails of his headboard and took the full length of me reminded me that I
was a pretty big boy. We both were, a real pair of big, handsome Irish
dicks, and he was taking mine just as well as he'd sucked it. Taking it,
but feeling it too. Making me feel like a porn star, just like him. I
slipped my arms around his tight-muscled torso, nuzzled the salt on the
side of his neck, and fed the thick length of my cock up into his deepest
depths until he started to fuck back on me.

"Yeah, you miss this dick, big brother?" I growled in his ear.

"Yes, you big-cocked little fuck," he growled back, craning his head back
to tonguefuck my mouth hungrily. We grunted into each other's mouths, and I
set to work fucking his brains out. Just like he'd taught me how to
do. Just like I'd missed doing ever since last time. Just like I'd told
myself I'd never do again, even as I was stroking my cock to yet another
intense orgasm imagining doing just that.

"Ah christ," Tommy spat. "Just like I taught you, you little stud. C'mon,
don't draw it out... just fuck me, kid. We can take our time later."

"Yeah, you want to go multiple rounds with your brother, huh bro," I
growled in his ear. "You big, hot, pervy fuck."

"Just like you, bro," he panted. "Just like you. C'mon. Fuck my ass, baby
bro."

So I did. I tried to push aside my imagination, all the possibilities of
the weekend ahead, and focused in on the connection between us right here
and now. My big, shiny cock thrusting intently up inside the tightness of
his steely-muscled ass, up inside the incredible, grippy heat of him. I
squeezed my arms around my big brother's torso and ran my hands up and down
the flexing plates of muscle beneath his skin, teasing the stiff bullets of
his tits with one hand, reaching down to his big, hard cock with my other,
and finding his hand already busy there.

"Fuckin' love this... missed this," I growled in his ear.

"Fuckin' missed it too... missed you, baby brother," he grunted back. "Love
you, Mikey. C'mon, fuck us both off, dude."

"The fuck of the Irish?" I half-growled, half-chuckled.

"Oh my god, shut up," he said, barking out a laugh, before covering my
mouth with his and feeding me his tongue, spurring me on harder, faster,
deeper with a solid smack on the meat of my ass. So I gave him the fuck
he'd been craving, that we'd both craved, and in no time flat, the heat
between us and inside of him had me right back on the brink.

"Do it, bro," he panted, reading my mind and my body again. "Cum in me,
Mikey. Cum in your bro."

"Fuck..." was all I could manage to choke out, and just like that, I was
flooding him with my cum. I know I must have cum like a fountain when he
fucked me last night, even halfway remembered it, but this load felt like
no other. Felt like I hadn't cum in years, like my balls were turning
themselves inside out as they unloaded. All I could do was hang onto
Tommy's sweaty torso and let it happen, feeling his muscles quake, hearing
his moans and the soft splat of his cum hitting his pillow and the wall
behind it.

"The fuck of the Irish," he said dubiously, shaking his head at me as we
took turns under the spray of his shower. It was a long, slow one,
showering off the effects of the drinking last night, and our adventures
with each other since then. Lots of kissing, soaping each other up, taking
our time just like our post-fuck showers when we were teenagers, before our
parents got home. Just like the ones in that sweet summer fling we'd had in
my little apartment a few years back. It felt good, so damn good, but at
the same kind of bittersweet too, since I knew it would have to end
again. But I tried to push that out of my mind, and just enjoy the
present. Enjoy being with my brother again, and our secret, deeply
satisfying bond.

"Hey, Mikey," he said almost softly, pulling me back into the moment. He
was giving me that look of his again, deep and knowing, but kind of
searching too. "Stick with me here, bro. Gonna have some fun the next
couple days, just like old times. Forget about the rest. This time is for
us. We can figure out everything else later, yeah?"

I nodded, smiled at him, and when he folded his long arms round me and
pulled me in for a deep, slow, toe-curling kiss, man, I thought I was gonna
swoon like a girl in one of those old-timey movies.

"Now let's get moving, so we can get you checked out of your hotel," he
grinned, mussing my wet hair affectionately. "St. Paddy's might be over for
everybody else, but fuck it - this is our weekend, bro. Let's get to it,
yeah?"

"Fuck yeah," I grinned back, because Tommy was nothing if not infectious.

"Play your cards right, and it'll be your Irish ass smiling, little
brother," he grinned, reaching around me to squeeze it solidly.

Well, he was too late for that. My Irish ass, and the rest of me, already
was, and just like our impromptu St. Patrick's Weekend, it was only just
beginning.