Date: Tue, 25 Oct 2011 16:32:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: Richard Small <smaller43@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Afterparty - chapter 19

Copyright Rick Small, 2011

This story depicts sexual activities between adult males.  If you are not
old enough in your jurisdiction to read material of this nature, or if it
offends you, please leave.  The characters are not based on real persons
and the scenes described are solely the product of the author's fevered
imagination.  In the real world, there are risks involved in sexual
encounters; always play safe.  This story is copyright to the author;
please be courteous and do not copy or re-post.

The Afterparty
Chapter 19

Walt was in a great mood the next morning, whistling softly as he cracked
eggs into a bowl and added buckwheat flour and buttermilk.  Sausage was
sizzling quietly in the biggest skillet, and the coffee pot sat on the back
corner of the stove, ready to pour.  A good blow job and a night with Max
always made him cheerful; add in the mountain air and the sound of the
river outside his window and he was in heaven.  He turned and grinned at
Max when he walked back in from his morning piss.

"Hope you're hungry," he said, laying on a bit of drawl.  "The cook's
whippin' up some eats.  Y'all need to set yer ass to the table and grab
some silverware, 'cuz flapjacks is comin' up right quick."

"You are such an ass sometimes," Max laughed.  He walked over to Walt and
laid a kiss on his full lips.  "And such a dick other times."  He sat down
at the table and started dealing silverware to approximate places like
cards to players.  "Such a great dick, I should say."

"You're not gonna tell me you love me for my endowment, now, are you?" Walt
teased.

"Fuck no," Max said, dropping the last knife and fork where a plate ought
to go.  "You can cook, too.  That counts for something."

"You shit.  That does it.  No flapjacks for you this morning!"

Max laughed again.  "Try and keep me away from them."

Joe appeared next, scratching his balls after he'd roughed up his hair.
There was some muttered arguing coming from one of the rooms, and after a
minute or two Cam appeared, shuffling fast, and went out the door,
grumbling.

Chad and Jake made their appearance, and then Tim, and Doug emerged about
the time Cam returned wet and irritated.

Cam was careful to seat himself between Jake and Tim.  He had thunder on
his forehead, and reached for his coffee with a frown.

"Someone not sleep well?" Max enquired mildly, spearing a couple of
sausages and a pancake for his plate.

"Oh, I slept well," Cam grumbled.  "Then dickhead there decided he had to
piss.  Up my butt."

Chad looked over at Doug.  "Dude," he said, shaking his head.

"Little fucker knows I'm not into watersports.  I told him if he wanted to
give someone a piss enema he should pay Dad a visit.  He's the one enjoys
them.  Not me."

"I just wanted to see what it felt like," Doug whined.

"And I told you, not in my ass," Cam said, glowering.  "And you did it
anyway."

"Boys, boys.  No fighting over breakfast," Max said, frowning at Doug.  "I
think your Dad and I need to devise a punishment for you, young man," he
continued.  "Don't you, Joe?"

"Yes, I do.  That was uncalled for, Doug, and you know it.  We'll deal with
you after we eat."

"I hope it involves fucking," Cam said, reaching for the platter.  "That's
the thing he's least enthusiastic about."

Max and Joe exchanged glances, and Walt looked up from his burners.  "Is
that so?" he asked, flipping pancakes.  "Maybe he just hasn't had enough
experience," he said, turning to grin at Max.  "I bet we can help him with
that."

The conversation died at that point.  All the men had breakfast to
concentrate on, and it was a long while before the forks stopped moving.

When Max and Joe finished eating, they took their plates to the sink and
went out the back door, strolling down the path toward the river with their
heads together.  Walt waited until everyone had scraped and piled their
dishes before turning to Doug.  "You're washing.  And I'm inspecting," he
said.

"Aw, gee, Uncle Walt," Doug whined.

"No 'Aw, gee' about it.  Water's hot.  Get busy."

Doug filled the dishpan and began swabbing plates, grumbling under his
breath.

Walt snorted in disgust and headed for the truck.  He was gone for a few
minutes and then re-entered through the back door, a look of satisfaction
on his face.  Gesturing to the others, he shooed them out back, grinning.

When Walt had inspected the dishes, returning several for a better
scrubbing, he collared the young scullion and guided him out the back door.
There was a heavy blue tarp laid on the south end of the porch and all the
furniture had been shoved out of the way.  "Time for you to learn a
lesson," Walt said, gesturing toward the tarp.  "Lie down."

"On that?"

"On that.  On your back.  Hands above your head – grab the bottom of the
porch rail and don't let go."

Doug lay down and raised his arms, catching the rail and grasping it
firmly.

"Okay, fellas," Max said.  "Time to teach the kid his lesson.  Who's going
to start?"

Joe stepped to one side of Doug and looked down at him.  "You're eighteen
years old," he said, "but I swear sometimes you act like a bratty twelve
year old.  Your mother's not doing her duty by you, so it's up to me."  He
took hold of his cock, lifted it clear of his balls, and began to piss,
aiming it at Doug's chin and then hosing it down his body all the way to
his ankles.

"Fuck, Dad!" Doug yelled, letting go of the porch rail and trying to sit
up.  "Gross!"

"I advise you to take hold of that porch rail, young man," Max said
gruffly.  "Unless you want your wrists tied to it."

Doug reached up and grasped the lower rail again.  Meanwhile, Walt was
whipping up a mug of shaving soap with an old-fashioned brush, producing a
fine foam and humming as he whipped.  When Joe had finished pissing on his
son, Walt knelt and began to lather him up, being careful to use quick,
short strokes to get the maximum tickle out of the shaving brush.  Doug
began to writhe and the piss puddle where he was lying started to splash.
"Hold still," Walt said gruffly.  "You're not splashing your daddy's piss
on my fine legs, squirt.  That's not a game I play.  Keep your twitching to
the minimum."

Finally Walt had Doug covered from chin to toenails in shaving foam.  He
put away the mug and brush and produced a disposable razor.  "Who wants to
begin?" he asked, holding it up.  "Cam?"

"Yeah, I'll take a few strokes," Cam said enthusiastically.  He took the
razor and squatted next to Doug's head.  "You and Ben really like your fur,
dontcha, dickhead," he said, "really get off on it, right?"  He brought the
blade to Doug's shoulder and took a long stroke down, across his pec and
into the top of his treasure trail.  When the blade was full of soap and
hair, he shook it off over the tarp, ran his finger down the blade to clear
the hair, and took another stroke, shaving out Doug's left armpit.  He
started a third stroke on Doug's hip and ran it down his thigh.

Doug started to cry silently.  Max regarded him unsympathetically, and took
the razor from Cam when the younger man turned around to see who'd shave
next.

Trading the razor around among them, the rest of the party soon had Doug
almost completely smooth.  All that was left on his front was his pubes.
Max stood contemplating the sight for a minute, looked at Joe, and decided.

"Turn it over," he ordered gruffly.  "On your belly.  Legs apart."

Doug complied, tears still rolling down his face.

This time, Cam pissed, splashing urine into Doug's hair and making sure he
hosed every bit of his brother's back and butt.

Again, Walt whipped up a mug of foam and applied it with short, swift
strokes, humming contentedly as he swiped the brush across the top of
Doug's butt and then slid it between his cheeks.  The backs of his legs
were quickly soaped, and then they all began to trade the razor around,
swiping at Doug until even his crack was clean.

The last hand was Max's.  "Spread his legs and someone spread those cheeks
for me," he said, lathering the brush.  Eager hands opened Doug up and Max
quickly lathered his crack and around his hole.  A few swift strokes and
the kid was smooth enough for a porn shoot.  Max stood admiring their
handiwork for a second before smacking Doug on the ass.  "Turn back over,"
he ordered, "and grab the rail again."

As soon as Doug took hold of the railing, Max reached down and grasped his
cock.  Quickly spreading foam around the base, he had Doug's pubes off in a
few strokes, stretched and shaved his balls, and let go of his cock, which
was beginning to harden.

He stepped back and looked Doug over carefully.  "Looks clean to me, guys,"
he said, smiling slightly.  "Who's gonna rinse him off?"

Cam stepped up and let loose, hosing a torrent of bright yellow along his
brother's body, making sure he got his crotch good and splashed off.  When
his stream tailed off, he shook his dick with a grunt of satisfaction and
stepped back.  "We through with dickhead?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Nowhere near," Joe said, moving around to stand at Doug's feet.  "Someone
lift his ankles."  Walt reached for a heel and pulled Doug's leg up while
Chad did the same for the other.

Doug was lying in a mess of piss, shaving foam, and body hair, tears
rolling down his face.  His dad looked at him for a second.  "You want to
act like a baby, you get to look like one.  You want to ignore a 'no', you
can look forward to having your own 'no' ignored."  He spat on his cock and
knelt, bringing the fat head of it toward Doug's hole.

Joe reached down and felt Doug's ass.  "Nice and smooth," he said, looking
into Doug's eyes.  "Just like a baby."  He spat into his fingers and
pressed the spit onto the hole in front of him.  "Brace yourself," he
warned, and shoved forward, jamming the head of his cock and about half the
length into Doug's ass with one push.

"Dad, no!" Doug yelled, trying to squirm away.

"Weren't you listening to me? What did I just tell you?" Joe said.  He
pushed forward again, buried his cock balls deep in Doug's ass hole, and
started to pump.  "Spread him wider," he said to Walt and Chad.  He braced
himself over Doug's torso and began slam-fucking him, powering each stroke
for maximum punch and penetration.  Doug's head was rolling from side to
side as he tried to squirm away, but Max made sure his hands stayed on the
railing and Walt and Chad had a firm hold of his heels.  Joe made fast work
of his fuck, quickly getting to the tight-balled stage and then firing a
dozen bursts of creamy heat into his younger son's ass.  When he'd fired
his last shot, he held still for a minute, breathing hard, then pulled out.

"I'm thinking he needs more fucking before we're done teaching him his
lesson," he said.  "Jake? You want to long-dick him?"

"Sure, Uncle Joe."  Jake had been standing to one side, idly stroking his
cock.  Hearing his name, he took Joe's place, knelt, spit on his cock head,
and powered into Doug's butthole in a single stroke.  When he finished
pouring his load into the kid, he stood up and took hold of the ankle Walt
had been holding.

"Your turn, Uncle Walt," he grinned.

Within a half-hour, everyone but Max had pounded a load up Doug's butt.
His cock was red and swollen, throbbing and swaying above his shaven abs,
and he was whining in frustration.  Every time he tried to reach for it and
give it a stroke, Max smacked his hand and ordered him to hold onto the
porch rail.  His skin itched, his balls hurt, his hole was stretched, and
he needed to get off.  When the last of them pulled out, with a string of
cum stretching between cock and hole, he was ready for some relief.

Max stood up.  "My turn," he said, stroking his ten inches to full
hardness.  He knelt up against Doug's ass, laid his mushroom-shaped
cockhead against it, and looked into Doug's eyes.  "You should be opened up
enough by now to take me without too much pain," he said.  Doug started to
say something, and Max shoved, forcing his entire thick cock up Doug's
chute in a single fast punch.

"Fuck!" Doug yelled.  "Nooooo!"

"Fuck, yes," Max said.  He took a couple of short strokes to make sure he
was seated properly in the tube and began to pound out a fuck, pulling out
till the corona of his cock lodged at Doug's rim and then slamming back in.
Ten minutes of ferocious fucking ensued before Max took a deep breath and
slammed forward one last time.  "Cumming!" he shouted to no one in
particular, and began to buck against Doug's ass, longdicking him time
after time in hard strokes as he fired off his load.  When he finished
cumming, he took a minute to breathe hard.  Still kneeling, he looked up at
the faces around him.

"Pissed up your ass, did he?" he asked Cam.  "After you told him no?"

"Yeah," Cam confirmed.  ""T's what he did, first thing, before I could even
get out of bed and away from him."

Max half-smiled, one corner of his mouth rising.  "Time to pay the piper,
then," he said, and grunted.

Doug's eyes widened and a look of horrified disgust spread across his face.
"You're pissing up my ass!" he accused Max.  "You're fucking pissing up my
ass?"

"Well, yeah, that's sort of the idea," Max said.

"Fuck, no," Doug yelled.

"Fuck, yes," Max replied.  He held still for a couple of minutes, spraying
hot liquid into Doug's guts, then slid back slowly, pressed his fingers
against Doug's hole, and slipped his cock out.  "You can just hold that
there for a minute or two," he said, pressing hard.  He looked around.
"Walt, I don't think this one's had enough experience to know how to keep
his asshole shut," he said.  "Why don't you go get Johnny and we can plug
him up?"

Walt smiled and went inside, reappearing in a minute with a condom-covered
eight-inch black butt plug, which Max proceeded to ram up Doug's ass.

"There," he said, dusting his hands and standing up.  "That oughta hold
things in for a minute."  He looked down at Doug.  "You can let go of the
porch rail now," he said.  "And when you stand up, I don't want you
stepping off that tarp.  You can vault over the rail if you need to use the
latrine.  When you come back, you're going to wash off the tarp and lay it
in the sun to dry.  After you've taken care of the clean-up, if you want to
go down to the river and rinse off, you may.  But not until then.  And no
whining.  Got that? You're too old to whine."  He turned and moved toward
one of the wicker chairs.  "Tim," he said, glancing at his nephew, "would
you mind bringing me a beer? I kinda worked up a thirst there."

-##-

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