Date: Thu, 21 Apr 2005 23:43:19 -0700 (PDT) From: Robin Eagleson Subject: Oversleeping Part Two For the first time in recent memory, I opened my eyes on a school morning, fully rested, several minutes before the alarm was to pervade my senses. I could hear my mom and dad talking in the kitchen. Dad always left for work at exactly seven, so I would have known how early it was even without the benefit of the red glowing numbers beside my bed burning into my eyes. The sun was already bright. It had infiltrated my room, sneaking in through that stupid crooked row in my blinds, casting my silhouette onto the opposite wall. There was every reason to be in a good mood this morning. It appeared to be the start of a beautiful spring day, it was Friday, I got a full night's sleep, and I'd gotten my first blow job the night before. Granted, I never would have guessed it would be my little brother that would suck me off for the first time, but a blow job is a blow job. I found myself wondering what Evan would wake up thinking about. Although I couldn't deny the level of enjoyment I had gotten from our lusty encounter, a night of sleep had put some doubt into my head of how wise messing around with a sibling could possibly be. Horny teenager or not, I didn't consider myself the kind of person that got it on with family members. With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself out of bed and softly opened my door. Evan's room was right next to mine and I didn't want to alert him to my presence. It was only one day later, and I was already trying to avoid him. However, my attempt was in vain, because I immediately found myself face to face with him as I turned to go in the bathroom the two of us shared. He was just leaving it, clearly having only recently woken up himself, his always fashionable hair sticking in all directions and almost completely hiding his sleepy eyes. He was clad scantily in a pair of boxers and a thin, loose fitting sleeveless shirt that was sitting askew on his shoulders, revealing extra skin on his left shoulder. He had changed boxers since last night, which I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't looked directly at them and that general area. For what must have been all of five seconds I stared at him blankly, completely unsure of what I could possibly say, and just as unsure of how he felt towards me. Finally he gave me an impish grin, smirked, and brushed past me wordlessly, his body rubbing against mine more than it had to in order for him to pass. The silkiness of his skin was instantly arousing, and by the time I had shut the door behind me in the bathroom, I was starting to get a tent in my boxers that had been caused directly by the contact. The first thing I saw when I turned on the light was the pair of blue boxers he had been wearing when he snuck into my room last night, sitting innocently on the hamper. Just seeing them sent a quick flashback into my head of groping at him, our lips tangled and our legs intertwined. I was now completely erect. Unable to control myself, I snatched his boxers off the hamper and pressed the crotch to my face. It didn't take a police dog to pick up the scent of semen, or a magnifying glass to spot the telltale marks. In fact, unless Evan's cum was unique in taking several hours to dry, he had just shot off a few minutes ago, because there was a very fresh wet patch in the spot I was inspecting. I dabbed at it with my tongue, allowed myself a few seconds to sample the taste, and then, my pride having completely abandoned me, eagerly lapped up as much of the liquid as possible, sucking on the fabric until it tasted more like a pair of boxers than semen. I dropped the boxers and made for the toilet, where I pulled the seat up and quickly squeezed an orgasm out of my raging hard on. I leaned against the counter afterwards, glancing up at my reflection in the mirror while slowly coming back to my senses. No one had ever turned me into such a creature of inhumanity before; Evan simply filled me with an overwhelming sense of lust and depravity, yet somehow I hadn't even noticed until less than twenty-four hours ago. I stared at myself for a few more minutes and then started up the shower. It lasted a remarkably short period of time since I didn't spend several minutes fondling my dick as was my custom. "You're up early," Mom noted with a slightly confused expression on her face after I'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and trudged into the kitchen. "Slept well," I said truthfully, rummaging through the cabinet for a bowl of cereal. "Mom, can you please buy a cereal that doesn't end in an "x" the next time you go to the grocery store?" I asked her, not especially pleased with my options of Trix and Kix. One was too plain, and one was too fruity. I was in the mood for neither. "Sure, sweetheart," she responded in a false tone, "if you'd be so kind as to let me know just what letters of the alphabet are acceptable on the list you never bother to write down for me. I guest I'm supposed to tap into your mind at the store to figure out what you want." I gave her a semi-agitated look, ripped open a package of cherry pop-tarts, and sat down across from Evan, who was busy burying his face in a bowl of Kix with at least three pounds of sugar in it. "Those are better if you put them in the toaster," he mumbled with a mouthful of cereal. "Thanks for the cooking tip," I remarked snidely, proceeding to eat the un-toasted pop-tart anyway. He grinned and lifted the bowl so he could drink the sugary milk leftover. With a hearty sigh, he set the bowl down and wiped the trail of milk that had been running down his chin with the back of his hand. What a slob. "Can you take Evan to school today, Austin?" Mom asked me, snapping her fingers and pointing towards the kitchen to remind Evan to put his dirty bowl in the dishwasher, which he never did. "I really don't feel like fighting the traffic getting out of his school today. And you can't complain about having to pick him up yesterday, since you didn't." "Fine," I grumbled, making a mental note never to wake up early again. I quickly pulled my eyes away from Evan's backside as soon as I realized I was staring at him while he bent over to fit his bowl in the dishwasher. He still hadn't gotten dressed; he was both a slob and a tease. "You need to take a shower this morning, young man," Mom said, turning her motherly attention to Evan now. "You didn't take one yesterday morning or the morning before." Gross. I hope he at least brushed his teeth at some recent point. I made out with him yesterday. I swallowed the remainder of my pop-tart loudly. "Okay boys, I'm going to leave now and get a head start today," she said, giving us both our morning ritual kiss on the forehead. "Thank you for driving Evan this morning, honey," she said to me before leaving. "It's too bad you already showered," Evan said from behind me as the garage door opened and Mom backed out the driveway. "You could take one with me." He gave me the most flirtatious pose he could come up with, batting his admittedly long eyelashes at me and puckering his lips to kiss the air. "Hurry up," I responded roughly. "If I'm hauling your ass around this morning we have to leave soon. One more tardy to my first class and I'm stuck in Friday detention." I was surprised at how similar our interactions were today to how they'd been our whole lives. Could it be that even after having sex with him I still didn't like him? Hopefully. I gathered my things together, shoved a few loose papers into my backpack hastily, and waited impatiently in the living room while listening to Evan singing loudly as he showered. After an agonizing fifteen minutes, he finally came out dressed, his backpack in tow. I pushed him out the door and didn't even bother to lock it behind me. "What are you doing tonight?" Evan asked me, rolling his window down as soon as I had the car started and sticking his head out into the wind as he drove down the street. He was lucky; windblown or not, his hair would look spectacular. "Probably going to Kenny's house," I answered, taking my eyes off the road to steal a glance at him while he was focused on leaning out the window. "Why? Since when do you need to keep tabs on me?" He laughed and dropped back in his seat, shaking his head quickly causing all the hair to fall exactly back into the right place. "What do you guys do over there anyway? What's so great about it?" "His parents are never home," I answered honestly. "So we can do whatever the hell we want. Why?" I asked again. Seriously, this is the most we'd talked in months. "I bet you guys get drunk," he boldly guessed, grinning now as he studied his face in the rearview mirror. And to think he always made fun of me for that exact same thing. "Good call, genius," I scoffed. "Who would have ever thought a bunch of sixteen-year-olds would get drunk under no parental supervision?" He ignored my scathing sarcasm and continued to stare at himself. He was now making faces in the mirror and seemed completely absorbed in it. I pretended not to notice. "What time are you coming home?" he finally asked, hardly able to pull himself away from his own reflection. "My curfew is one, so probably about five minutes after that," I answered. "Why do you want to know all this?" I asked him, more sharply this time. I just wasn't used to getting interrogated by my little brother. This time he gave me his full attention, his dark green eyes burning into me full force. "Just wondering," he almost whispered in what was definitely a seductive tone. He flipped on the radio before I could take any time to respond, found a song he recognized, and started singing along loudly with it. I knew my little brother was obnoxious, but this was too much. I reached over and turned the volume down. "Shut up," I warned him about the singing. He did, and for the next several minutes he just sat there with a smug look of arrogance on his face for no reason other than because he was Evan, my cocky shit of a little brother. "What are you doing tonight?" I asked him after with a sharp emphasis to show that he wasn't the only one who could ask nosy, unwelcome questions. "Oh, you know," he answered casually. "The usual. Hang out with Mom and Dad, watch some TV. Nothing quite as exciting as getting drunk with my friends." "Maybe if you weren't such a prick you'd have friends," I shot back. "You do have a point there," he conceded wanly, but then grinned his trademark obnoxious grin seconds later. "But I don't see myself changing any. I clash with everyone. Society needs me; they just don't know it." "I don't know what kind of sociological bullshit you've been hearing about in school," I said, "but society definitely doesn't need you, or anyone like you in general." He smiled silently in the passenger seat and looked straight ahead. "I do make a lot of friends," he finally said, as if trying to earn back some points he'd lost earlier. "I just don't keep them very long." "I know all about your social mishaps," I responded shortly. "I have to hear Mom and Dad talk about it all the time. Nobody can stand to be around you for than five minutes and all your teachers hate you. You've got some future." "You're not that perfect either," he said, finally starting to get defensive and fight back. "I doubt Mom and Dad know what you do at Kenny's every weekend, after all. You're not exactly the prodigal son." "Prodigal son?" I asked, bewildered. "What the hell does that mean? Do you even know what you're talking about? Look, just shut up, here's where you get out." He reached behind him for his backpack and slid out of his seat. "Thanks for the ride, mister," he said, grinning at me once again as he hoisted his backpack on his skinny frame. He nudged the door shut with his body and the turned back to stick his tongue out at me. I flipped him off. Yep, things definitely hadn't changed any. All the same, I tried in vain to get Evan out of my mind all day, but failed miserably. I kept remembering grabbing his cock in the shower, making out with him in my bed, feeling his smooth skin rub against mine this morning. As normal as our verbal interactions had been, something had definitely gone astray physically. My cock ached for him; it felt like days since I'd licked the semen off his boxers and jacked off standing over the toilet. "Hey man," a voice said from behind me. I was sitting outside on Kenny's front porch, a beer clutched feebly in one hand, a cigarette in the other. It had only been a modest showing tonight; maybe twenty people, most of which had left after no more than an hour. "You've been gone for fucking ever," the voice continued, settling down beside me on the top step. "Everyone thought you left. Jessica was looking for you," he added. "Maybe if you can still find her you've got a shot to get some action." He nudged me in the side. I finally turned towards the voice. It was my friend Anthony. "I have to make my curfew," I mumbled as an excuse not to go looking for Jessica. I might have pursued it on any other night. "If I'm not home by one I'll be in serious shit." Anthony laughed. "It's almost two, dude. Are you so fucking trashed you don't even understand the concept of time?" "I'm not trashed," I answered, unsure of how truthful that was. "This is my third beer." That was true. The other two cans I'd brought out with me sat empty at my feet. "You had at least ten shots of Captain Morgan's inside," he reminded me. "Oh yeah," I acknowledged, promptly turning my head away and vomiting into the nearby hedges on cue. "That's a lot of fucking puke," Anthony observed from behind me. "And they say is long as you get the hard stuff over with first, you're alright to drink beer afterwards." "That's true," I managed to get out before a second wave hit me. "The problem is I had five beers before I took the shots." "Dude!" Anthony exclaimed, sounding impressed. "That's like 18 shots then altogether. You can really drink for someone who weighs twelve pounds." I retched again, although this time not nearly as much came out. "More like ten pounds now," he amended his estimate thoughtfully. "You might want to check for organs in the hedges." I said nothing and sucked on my cigarette to rid myself of the taste of vomit once I remembered I still had it in my other hand. "I'll go tell Kenny you're spending the night. You can bend your curfew by twelve hours, right?" He clapped me on the back, nearly sending me into another vomiting spell. "You should come inside when you're done throwing up. It's pretty boring, but at least you'll have company." I told him I would, and then as soon as I heard the door shut behind him I stumbled towards my car and started it up, rolling down the window for one last heave before driving home. I considered myself a pretty good drunk driver, and besides, it was less than ten minutes away at this time of night. The first thing I did was brush my teeth. I was feeling considerably better having thrown up what was probably half of my body weight, but the taste in my mouth was enough to drive me insane. I brushed my teeth twice, threw away the toothbrush, opened up a new one, and brushed them again. Then I swallowed half a bottle of mouth wash and swished it around for a good minute before reluctantly spitting it out. Satisfied, I turned to go pass out in my bed. And bumped into Evan. "God damn it!" I hissed at him, trying not to be too loud and wake Mom and Dad up; miraculously, they hadn't heard me come in. "Will you quit fucking sneaking up behind me all the time?" I demanded of him angrily. I wasn't exactly sure what other times he'd snuck up behind me lately, but bumping into him this morning when I tried to go to the bathroom was close enough. "You missed your curfew," he whispered to me with an evil smile. He looked up into my eyes and tried to make eye contact, but failed since I couldn't focus on anything for more than three seconds. "And you're piss drunk," he observed. "You definitely don't want Mom and Dad to wake up right now." "Is that a fucking threat?" I asked, pushing him aside clumsily despite knowing damn well he was right. "Not really," he answered smoothly, gliding back in front of me with extraordinary swiftness. It didn't help that I was unable to walk straight in the first place. "But in exchange for my silence, I'd like you to do something for me." I rolled my eyes, then nearly fell over backwards and had to catch myself against the wall. He closed the distance between us even more to where he was pinning me against the wall. "For Christ's sake, Evan," I groaned, starting to feel sick again. "You don't have to extort me for us to have sex again. I'd probably rape you if you wouldn't do it voluntarily anymore." His eyes widened just slightly at my candidness, but he recovered quickly. "That's flattering, but I didn't mean sex," he answered, almost blushing. "I want to go somewhere with you tomorrow night. So in exchange for my silence, you have to hang out with me tomorrow. Deal?" "Okay," I instantly agreed. "Good," he said softly, smiling. "Do you need help getting to your room?" he asked sincerely. "I'm fine," I answered defensively, taking a step away from the wall he had cornered me against and trying to figure out which direction my room was in. He took my hand anyway and gently pulled me in the exact opposite direction I had been thinking about going. He was able to get me a few steps into my room before I roughly sat down on the side of my bed, overcome by an unexpected wave of dizziness. I looked up and got my first good view of him for the night. He was breath-taking once again, his hair gracefully hanging ever so slightly in his eyes, his cute wildlife themed boxers on, and another one of his loose fitting sleeveless shirts that wouldn't sit evenly on his shoulders. He was staring at me intently, biting his lower lip and appearing rather concerned. "Are you gonna die?" he asked, studying my slumped posture and inability to keep my eyes trained on anything. "In health they told us if your blood alcohol level gets too high you can suffer from alcohol poisoning and die." "I don't have alcohol poisoning," I muttered quickly, beginning to fall asleep in my upright position. "I'm just tired and drunk." He was tugging at my feet now, and for a second I didn't know what he wanted with them, but then when I felt my shoe come off I realized they had still been on. The second one followed shortly. Then he was back on his feet, where he nudged me backwards on my bed and somehow straightened me out and got the sheets on me. "Will you fucking go away?" I asked him as he kept poking and prodding at me, trying to position me better. "I'm fine." I felt his weight on top of me and his breath in my face. "Either you got drunk off mouth wash or you used some just now," he observed, tickling me with his soft whispering. He gave me a hard kiss without using his tongue, sucking and biting at my lips until they were numb. His dick was poking into my stomach now, and he was humping against me through his boxers, now kissing along my jaw line and nibbling on my earlobe. Despite how close I was to passing out, I could feel myself stir at this attention. His breath was back in my face now, and he licked my lips in a curious exploratory way, making his breath come out in a dog-like pant. "Fuck," he breathed into my face. "It's like humping a corpse. I'll just go jack off again." He promptly rolled off me and headed for the door. "You better make up for it tomorrow," he whispered tauntingly, closing it softly behind him.