Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2017 11:09:00 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Culberhouse Rules 6

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.

*****

I laid back, sobbing with release and felt my brother's soft hands release
the tourniquet that had turned my orgasm into some sort of existential
experience. As he did, the timer dinged. All that in thirty minutes? Fuck,
this was going to be a long, long night! I had just caught my breath when a
shotgun blast rang out. We both leapt like we were the ones shot and
scrambled for clothes. We could hear something massive moving on the porch
and the whole cabin shook as it lurched against the door with a loud CHUFF
noise, then fled to the side. Another blast followed it. We stared at each
other with wide, terrified eyes. Apparently, I hadn't been the 'bear'
people had heard earlier!

*****

Culberhouse Rules 6: Define Success

By Bear Pup

*****

"No, I'm not opening the door! We're not stupid; there's a bear out there!"
and it smells like a fucking whorehouse in here, I added silently. "But
yes, we're fine, thanks. Well, other than being scared half to death, first
by the bear then the shotgun. We'll be fine, though." My voice rang with
sincerity and fear, but not from the bear or the blast. I was terrified
that the old coot would come in anyways.

As the man finally walked away, I looked at my brother and an old phrase
came immediately to mind, 'Rode hard and put away wet'. I knew I had to
look just as bad or worse. But he smelled like sex, distilled and
purified. I started to shake with need. Yes, I'd just had an orgasm for the
ages, but I still needed more. I watched his face and chest flush; he was
thinking the same thing.

"T-Taylor, I, we, I gotta have more. But first, first, uh, ah, whichever
one of us is awake last HAS to open all the windows a few inches. This room
smells vile; I mean really, really nasty."

I nodded fiercely, feeling the heat in my own eyes. I launched into him,
kissing him deeply and shredding his clothes to get rid of them as quickly
as possible. His hands were doing the same for me. I pulled my tongue
slowly out of his throat and growled. "Big Brother, I didn't give a fuck
what the number it is, but I know what we need.  It's one of yours. 69
until we both run out of cum."

His eyes shot wide and he dove into another kiss, this one with him
tongue-raping my mouth instead. He pulled back, "Th-th-th-thirty s-seven."
Suddenly, I was airborne as he tossed my bulk onto the bed. His cock
appeared in my face and he started to fellate me wildly. We both let out
all the stops, writhing and moaning. Without any real warning or plan, a
feedback loop erupted.

I groaned from deep in my belly around Ryan's cock and his body shook. The
sensation caused him to groan as well. I'd never felt anything like
that. It's like my rigid rod was *inside* a vibrator -- a wet, licking,
sucking, blow-my-fucking-mind vibrator. I groaned again, stronger. Ryan
groaned even more urgently. This escalated, deeper and louder sounds,
desperately trying to get more and more cock in our mouths.

My brother froze and went rigid then began to unload in my throat. I pulled
back, choking a bit, determined to get every drop. That small motion sent
Ryan into a keening squeal around my dick. The unexpected shift from the
deep, rumbling groan to the high-pitched vibration was too much and I
exploded, loving the sensation of him swallowing my sperm.

I released my brother's hips when he started to squirm uncomfortably and
his cock popped out of my mouth. The exultant joy of my own orgasm switched
to intense overstimulation and I reached down and coaxed Ryan's head up and
off. He rolled to his back and we laid panting. I turned to my side and
just stared at the sexiest body I ever imagined.

I used to hate the fact that Ryan had everything I lacked. The tall, pale,
golden beauty. The killer smile. The grace and poise. Right then, though,
everything swapped. I thanked God that my brother was so painfully
beautiful. I hoped to hell he was recovered, because I couldn't wait any
longer. I pulled his hip so he was facing me and went down on that slim,
perfect dick. He moaned piteously but I felt him return to full-hard. He
went back to work on me.

We didn't cum simultaneously again that night, but Ryan shot four times and
I dropped three incredible loads as well. Ryan was the last man
'standing'. He made it clear that he couldn't cum again and sleepily
crawled to the three windows and opened each a few inches; enough for a
breeze but not a bear. I was completely asleep before he got back to the
bed.

I awoke with light streaming into the room and to Ryan's groan. His voice
was strange, "Dude, I can varely moo my jaw!"

"What?" came out as a hoarse, painful croak. My throat felt like I'd
gargled sandpaper. We looked at each other and burst out laughing, quickly
changing to moans of pain. I watched as that amazing, perfect, taut ass
jiggled its way into the bathroom and I stiffy started to collect the
clothes. We each had one pair of unworn shorts (no undies were left for
either of us) and a fresh shirt. I laid out Ryan's on one side of the bed
and mine on the other.

When Ryan finally stumbled out, drying his hair, I took his place in the
cramped shower and got my thick, hairy, brutish body as clean as I
could. It takes forever for me to dry off; my fur sucks up water like you
wouldn't believe. I decided to air dry a little. I walked out and saw Ryan,
dressed and ready, staring wistfully at my mutilated jock strap.

"I was gonna ask you to wear it for me," he held it up. There was a massive
rip in the pouch where he'd chewed through, and apparently I had
contributed a near bite-through of one of the straps when he brought me
off. "but I don't think that will work. But, um," he blushed adorably, "can
I keep it?"

I laughed and croaked a yes, then moved to the sink. I gargled repeatedly
with salt water, nearly choking to death the first time when the brine hit
my raw throat. Eventually, I felt like I could swallow without crying and
turned to find Ryan staring at my ass. "Dude, you're staring at my hairy
ass."

"Yeah. God, you're so fucking sexy." His voice had an almost dreamlike
quality. "I always wanted to be, you know, manly like that. You got like
every man-gene there is. You've got hair in places where I don't even have
*places* and I can even grow a fucking soul patch."

I sat heavily on the bed, bouncing slightly. "Why would you want hair
covering you up? You're beautiful." I was a little shocked to hear myself
say that.

"I'd trade pretty for handsome any day, baby brother." He sighed. "You dry
enough to get dressed? I've been thinking."

"Oh, fuck, that can't be good."

"No, just logistics. There is no fucking way we can take those clothes
home, for instance. We'll have to stop at a coin laundry on the way, and
that will take at least an hour and a half. We got plenty of sun playing on
the lake yesterday, so that works. We've also got to have a convincing set
of activates that we did -- CYO-compatible ones."

"Now that one I already thought about. We started out with a nerf-sword
battle. Supposed to get out aggression and we beat the fuck out of each
other. It's why your jaw hurts." He smiled slyly at that, nodding. "Bible
readings about brothers. We can wing that cuz we'd never remember what it
was anyway. Then flag football, older versus younger of all the
brother-sets, then volleyball where each set of brothers was a team. That
way we fight it out as opponents then have to work together. Youngers won
the football and you and I came in second on the volleyball."

Ryan's eyes were wide. "Damn, you really have put thought into this! I
assume campfire singing come in someplace?"

"Yep, right after fishing and eating what we caught. We each came back with
two and were able to give some to the guys who came up empty. Next came the
freakiest Storytime ever. All the guys had to tell about a time when his
brother pissed him off so bad he wanted to kill the other, then the group
as a whole picked the story apart from the other-brother's viewpoint."

"Oh, damn, that is really smart! You know what you'll pick?"

"Easy. The thing that set me to ransacking your room so I could squish you
like a bug. You getting to go to the Student Congress and leaving me high
and dry."

"Shit, really? You *wanted* to go? I just did it to impress mom and dad and
cuz they said it would look good on my transcript." He sighed, deeply and
sadly. "Taylor, of all the times I was actually trying to be a prick and
put you down, the one that got to you, well, I couldn't even have cared
about. I wish we'd been talking all along."

"I do, too. So what story did you tell?"

"Easy. No question. Sally Linfield."

"Sally... Linfield? Um... OH! The chick in our Freshman year. Yeah, I kinda
remember her. Why?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? I tried for the whole semester to get her to
go out with me and she spreads her legs for my football star brother? I
really did consider murdering you! I was, like, in love and you sorta
walked up after a game and WHAM you got laid so hard that your nuts were
sore!"

I howled with laughter and got a scowl. "Dude, you seriously can NOT listen
to locker room shit. Yeah, I *said* I banged her after the Walnut Ridge
game, and I did actually have sore nuts -- that part wasn't a lie -- but it
was because she kicked me in them hard enough I couldn't breathe! And just
for putting my hand on her ass!"

We laughed together for a long while, chatting back and forth about all the
injustices, some real and many more imagined, in our shared history. I
finally got dressed and we policed the room thoroughly. We took a run to
loosen up and get the blood flowing, then came back. Part of the reason was
to assess the smell. Yeah, it stunk. But it smelled more like a hotel room
after an away-game's overnight, farts and crotch-rot, not non-stop sex. We
closed up the windows and headed down to the office/store.

The coot was missing, replaced by the woman we assumed was his wife. She
smiled at us, which took us both a little off-guard. Ryan, always the
charmer, gave her a blinding smile in return and I thanked her for a great
stay. "By the way, any word on the bear?"

"Arthur chased him off. Best guess is he could smell where you cooked the
fish, or maybe cleaned it. You did a fine job cleaning it up, but something
made the old thing think there might be a few scraps you missed. We called
G&F (Arkansas Game & Fish) when they opened and they're sending somebody
over from Paragould this week to give the old guy a new home that ain't on
our resort! So don't hesitate to come back!"

"Oh, don't worry, ma'am. We will sure be back. The fishing was great and
that cabin was just the best. I don't think I've ever slept so hard." Ryan
swallowed laugh at my phrasing and we waved ourselves out and piled our
stuff into the car. We grabbed rods and reels and decide to fish for a
while off the dock. We caught three reasonable-sized bass. I grudgingly
paid the extortionate resort rate for ice from the office/store and we
packed them in the cooler.

We stopped in Horseshoe Bend to wash the clothes and have lunch. Ryan,
always smarter than me, pulled off Peace Valley Road between there and Ash
Flat in a wood and had us strip out of the clothes we put on in the morning
and put on freshly-washed duds. "You think Mom's not gonna notice we come
home from a fishing trip with no dirty clothes?" The earlier run and
fish-wrangling had left a distinct aroma on the ones that went back in the
bag. I smiled, marveling as this changeling who used to be my nemesis and
was now my idol.

We got home around 2:00 to find both rents gone with a note: 'If you
haven't eaten, there's fixins in the fridge. We're out to the
Hummocks'. Back around 4.' The Hummocks were a slightly-older couple who
had twin daughters who just graduated from college. We dumped our junk like
normal and set about cleaning the fish; well, I cleaned them and Pretty Boy
made it 'worth my while' by licking my balls, dick and belly until I was
moaning. My balls were so sore form overuse that I just barely boned, but
fuck if it didn't feel amazing!

We went up and shared a real (and erotic) shower. Even though he said it
couldn't happen, I was able to drag another load out of Big Brother. We
were sitting playing Xbox when the rents got back, yoo-hooing to us from
the hall. "We're up here!" I bellowed to get a shouted response to not
shout in the house. Ryan and I shared a bemused look. Mom came up and
knocked on the doorframe, so we paused the game and looked up.

"So, um, how was the revival?"

"Fine." We said in unison.

"Did you have fun?"

"I guess." Again in unison.

Dad frowned from behind her. "We want more than one-word answers, young
men. Down to the living room not so we can talk properly."

Again as if we'd rehearsed, the deep, groaning sigh of the repressed and
put-upon teendom burst out as we struggled to our feet. "None of that
now. We want to hear about this thing," Mom wheedled.

So the nerf battle and Ryan's slightly-indignant complaint about his jaw
was wonderfully received, with a glare for me from Dad and cooing from
mom. Both rocked back when Ryan defended me, "We were *supposed* to hit
each other, Mom."

Mom tsk'ed over the news that we had no clue about the bible readings other
than my contribution that "Joseph and the coat were in there someplace and,
um, Peter and, um, I think he had a brother?"

A long-suffering sigh escaped Mom. "Andrew. Peter and *Andrew* the fishers
of men. For heaven's sake, it's your middle name! I do despair."

"Well, then, since we were talking about the fishermen and you 'do
despair', I guess that means you don't want the fish we brought back?"

"Oh, honeys!" Mom had the fridge open and was looking into the the long,
flat Tupperware thing where I'd put the bass on ice and paper
towels. "They're lovely! You probably had fish last night, but would you
mind having it again? I'll make something special!" We, of course, would
never turn down any time Mom wanted to make something special

We described the four we caught the previous day and sharing them out for
dinner, which got Ryan (not me) an approving nod from Dad. We got to the
sing-song and shrugged over the details, then the Storytime. Ryan took this
part.

"Well, every guy had to tell of a time his brother did something that
really set him off, you know. Made him want to go all Cain and Abel. And
then we talked through it as a group."

"And what memory did you, use, Ryan?"

He looked at Dad a long time which surprised our parents completely. "A,
um, a misunderstanding. Both of us. We talked a lot afterwards late in the
night and, well, we were both kinda surprised how many of our worst moments
were that, just misunderstanding each other. Thinking the other was trying
to get to us when he, you know, was just living his life."  He turned and
we grinned at each other. Mom looked about to cry and Dad had a
'brick-to-the-forehead' expression.

Mom, predictably, asked if we brought home a missalette (what Ryan and I
called a 'receipt for Mass'). I rolled my eyes, "Mom, it was a fish
camp. They don't have missals and newsletters in a fish camp."

"Don't use that tone with your mother, young man."

"Well, Dad, he's kinda right. It's not like they trucked us off to
church. Father said mass, though. All about the bread and body of
Christ. Moses out of Egypt, then a really, really short one about partaking
from one loaf. Then the Gospel was Christ basically saying that his flesh
and blood were the new manna."

Thank God for the internet. I piped up, "And the sermon was off the short
reading, that we, as brothers, eat from the same loaf and drink from the
same chalice and need to act like it. Luckily it was short so we could get
some more fishing in."

"Taylor Andrew Culberhouse! Don't you dare say something like that again."
She had trouble with the righteous indignation since both Ryan and Dad were
desperately trying to stifle their snickering. "Daniel Ryan Culberhouse!
Don't you encourage them! Shame on all of you."

Dad sputtered to a halt, knowing the whole three-name thing meant
danger. "S-Sorry dear-ear-ear-ear--" and he was off to mirthville
again. Mom just let her lips become a hard line, but we could see she was
trying not to grin herself.

"Ahem, so we checked out, fished for a while and brought you the result."

"Fine. Go on now; git. I want a *word*," the last came out with a very
distinct 'DA' at the end; Dad was toast, "with your father." Ryan and I
fled the battlefield before we got splattered with stray gunfire.

We decided not to fool around that night as it would be pushing it. The
next morning though, we swapped up our normal routine. On almost every
school day Ryan would shower first then pound on the door and I'd step in
to the already-running water. From that day on, we showered together,
usually with explosively-wonderful results, pounding on the wall halfway
through. Another Ryan genius move.

Everyone, and I mean *everyone*, noticed how we interacted the next day. We
weren't best buds, but we did act like actual brothers, which got a lot of
comment. I begrudgingly admitted to my pack that Ryan might not be as total
a prick as I'd thought, and Ryan told his that I was, 'maybe just a normal
jerk, not an absolute fuckwad jerk.' Since both statements were equivalent
to Peace in the Middle East, there were a lot of cocked eyebrows.

We got home pretty pleased with ourselves and the evening was really calm
and smooth. Dad still frowned suspiciously sometimes, but Mom was over the
moon. She actually baked dessert, a rare and special treat.

The next day was when things began to... unravel. Several folks from our
various circles came up and asked questions about the revival. Ryan and I
gave good if vague answers, just different enough that someone comparing
notes would see normal differences. We got home to, well, a seriously
fucked up world.

Mom was out and Dad wasn't home from work yet so I sat down and booted
up. I frowned at a message window telling me I had Gmail. I scowled and
checked my account. Nothing, since I watched it at school all day when
teachers weren't looking. It kept flashing and I got a very cold, sinking
feeling. I pulled up the throw-away CYO Sibling Revival account and found,
I gulped, six new mails.

"Ryan! Get your ass in here! Now!"

He rounded the corner at speed with a worried look. "What the hell? You
scared me to death!"

I pointed mutely at the screen. His eyes got wide then nearly popped out
when a new DING announced a seventh message's arrival. He whispered, "Oh,
fuck!" just as we heard Mom's excited voice from the kitchen then coming up
the stairs

"Ryan, Taylor! You won't BELIEVE how interested folks are in the retreat
you did! Everyone is all abuzz. Some of the kids actually told their
parents about it. I am just so, SO proud of you both." She waltzed through
the door and began kissing us. "Everyone is just amazed at the difference a
weekend can make. I'm so thrilled with you two, not just the change in
attitude but the willingness to share with others. Father Sean is just
delighted that you took last week's sermon so much to heart and have the
will to be open and honest about your faith, and how good CYO can be." Ryan
and I stared at each other in horror and you didn't have to be an expert
lip-reader to see us each mouth, 'Holy fuck!'

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
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Beaux Thibodaux: 21 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 22 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Lake Desolation: 15 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Shark Reef: 8 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/
Culberhouse Rules: 6 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/
Raven's Claw: 4 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/

Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (5 installments)
.../incest/in-gods-love/