Date: Sat, 18 Mar 2017 16:05:57 -0400
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Karl and Greg 20

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/karl-and-greg/karl-and-greg-1) for warnings
and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between blood-related 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. Skip food-related
paragraphs with (^) at the start. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

We were sitting like that when Greg got home. Pa and I froze when we heard
another voice. A voice that was unmistakable to both me and Pa, as we heard
it at every football game where I played and he watched -- Matt Salazar,
Sasquatch, Prom King, Homecoming King, Quarterback of the football team in
his Junior year and destined for some serious scouting in his Senior
one. Pa and I looked at each other, then up at the two of them standing
there. Matt was blushing furiously and looking at anyplace but us. Greg
just smiled.

*****

Karl and Greg 20: All Tied Up

By Bear Pup

M/M; voyeur-tease; bondage; edging; denial

I could feel Pa start to growl and put my hand on his chest, shushing
him. He looked up at me with a serious frown, but he saw the calculating
look in my own face.

"Hey, Matt." I said as I stood up. My rampant cock was stretching my jock
hard and to the left; I saw Matt's eyes pop a little. I doubt he'd ever
seen me boned before. I held out my hand and gave him a bro-hug and turned
like nothing was strange at all. I'd seen Greg's smile fade a bit in
puzzlement. He knew something was up, but not what. I went into the kitchen
and hollers, "Matt? Greg? Either of you want a beer?" I came back in
holding four, handing one to Pa, one to each of them and taking one back to
my own chair.

This was sports. Matt had broken a play, but he couldn't know what
kind. He'd had a glimpse of my snuggling with Pa... or had he. I was a
defenseman, and knew he was unused to figuring out another team's offense
which had always been my gift. Moving like I did with no hint of guilt or
worry made him doubt what he had seen. I saw Greg smile wider. He
knew. Greg tugged a confused quarterback through the room and Matt murmured
a hello of sorts to Pa before they disappeared up the stairs.

Pa went to say something, looking fit to burst, but I silenced him with a
look and a hand until I heard Greg's door close. I took my beer with me and
curled back into Pa, mouth near his ear.

"This is sports, Pa. I know you love it, but I live it. Greg set rules and
he's playing by them." Pa looked grumpy and confused, but interested.

"Greg told us what would happen if we acted like dicks to each other. He
would 'go out for the evening and then sleep in his own room'. We thought
he meant alone, but he's really rubbing it in, Pa. One rumble or growl from
either of us, and he'll have us high and dry another night. It's a pretty
bold play."

"Damn it, Karl, this isn't supposed to be a game."

"I'm not sure about that, Pa. Greg even called it 'The Big Game' cuz he
said it was the only way to through to us, and you can't say he's wrong."
Pa grumbled but didn't deny it. "But he set it up as you against me. I
think that you and I need to sit down and figure out if that's the game we
want to play..."

"Youngster, I like the way you think, but that still leaves us with a
goddamned football god in *our* house fucking *our* Greg."

I sighed deep. "Yeah, but we both fucked up today. Let's take the penalty
and deal with it. I don't like this any better than you do, and to be
honest, I have a feeling he's really gonna make us pay. This is the second
time that we went off on each other, and it's pretty obvious that he's not
going to take that.

"Let's get some sleep and talk tomorrow. I'll come by your site around
lunch and we can figure out our next play."

I strong-armed Pa up for the couch and we went upstairs. We could hear a
moan from Greg's room and, hand to God, Pa's neck completely disappeared,
like a turtle with a grudge. He was PISSED. I wasn't too happy either, but
I knew I was right. Anything we did would make it worse.

Then began the Night from Hell. Sunday had been rough, listening to Pa and
Greg fucking like a couple of dogs in heat, complete with growls and the
occasional howl. Tonight, though, tonight was like fingernails on the
blackboard of my soul.

Matt's voice was as familiar to me as Greg's or Pa's. Every day at practice
and then both before and after games, it was the voice of the Team Captain
and the centre and spirit of the team as a whole. I longed to hate him as I
could hear his laughter or moans or groans of delight, but I knew this was
my fault and that of Pa, and the hand on the puppet-strings was Greg's.

You see, all of the bedroom doors were pretty solid with some sort of foam
inside. If everyone's door was closed, only the loudest and kinkiest sex
could be heard. It's why Pa near killed me when he left his open as one
door was not enough. Greg's room and mine, though, had a bathroom
connecting us. The doors on either end were the thinnest, flimsiest
wood-like substance known to man. If anything, they amplified noises. We'd
both learned early in our pubescent adventures that you either jacked off
when the other was out or you kept the noise to nothing louder than a
fapping sound.

Greg was *not* keeping it to a fapping sound. In fact, whilst he was not
goading Matt into the screams of ecstasy that Pa had enjoyed torturing me
with, or with the exultant wails of lust he teased out of me that first
night, he was anything but subtle. Damn that boy could fuck! And it sorely
rankled that neither I nor Pa were the one made to groan and whimper. I
think I got to sleep about five, and only cuz Matt peeled himself off Greg
(I could hear the cum-glue unstick as they moved and laughed), showered and
left.

I slept through breakfast and found that Greg had put a plate in the oven
for me, which was really kinda nice. He'd also left me a lunch-pail
identical to Pa's which really made me all tingly inside for reasons I
can't begin to understand. It was only around 10:00 and for my plan to
work, I needed to get busy.

I pulled out the list and played the weighting, then got to work. Clean and
defrost the freezer (inventoried it as well, even though that was not on
the list, but I wouldn't tell Greg that yet). Planed and graphited the
kitchen drawers so nothing stuck. That took me to lunch so I headed to the
construction site Pa was overseeing. We sat and ate our lunches as I
explained my plan. He found several important holes in it; we made a damned
fine team. Lunch was incredible. Piping hot soup and a sandwich that, while
cold, had the cheese melted into the meats. Yum.

A couple of last-minute arrangements then back home. Mowed the lawn,
weed-eated (weed-ate?) and replaced the head on the hose (a task that took
30 minutes and the full-sized vice; I hate rust). Noticed Greg was back and
I went in and chatted whilst I drank a couple gallons of lemonade. Asked
how Matt was doing and if Greg had left us a functional quarterback. That
got me a really interesting look; me joking and being cheerful was not the
reaction he'd planned on. Good.

A few more chores to round out the day. Pa got home just as I finished my
shower and Greg was there to undress him and send him up to his own evening
ablutions. I grabbed a couple of brews and went into the living room. Pa
joined me a few minutes later, having taken an oddly-long time at his
shower. Jock-boxers for both of us. I handed off the brew as he passed and
we sat down to watch the end of a double, Cards playing the Pirates, which
could affect just how miserably the Reds ended their season. If Pittsburgh
managed to suck enough, the Reds might come in second-to-last.

Greg came in and checked on us several times, asking Pa if he were doing
anything from the list. Pa just shrugged and said he was happy with where
he was. Greg appeared to sense something was up. After a few minutes, he
called us in to dinner. I handed him my list and he smiled as he dished out
the chow.

^ [Greg: Chow? CHOW?? A velvety-thick beef stew started from bones and
chock full of meat, tomatoes, veggies and pasta, with fresh-based
hard-rolls and a green goddess salad. Chow. God, give me strength.]

He served himself and started eating whilst reviewing my list. He'd gotten
most of the way through his bowl when his spoon stopped suddenly, halfway
to his mouth. He flipped the paper over a couple of timed, adding and
re-adding. Pa and shared a sly look and smiled as we slurped our way
through the heavenly stuff, mm'img and ah'ing at the amazing flavours Greg
had somehow pounded into the rich broth.

^ I watched out of the corner of my eye as Greg eyes got narrower and
narrower, but he said nothing and went back to his bowl. He refilled both
Pa's and mine as well, and pulled still-warm rolls from the oven when
needed. If I hadn't been chomping at the bit to see how this played out, it
might well have been one of the best meals I'd ever had... other than bad
tacos. Nothing tops bad tacos -- except cheese, lettuce, salsa... MMM. Bad
tacos.

Finally, Greg coughed; Pa and I immediately turned our attentive and polite
faces to him. "So, Karl, what sort of extras did you do?" There was a
bright but perhaps a teeny bit brittle tone in his voice.

"Nothing, Greg."

"Um, you mean just some little things like cleaning up extra or something?"

"No, Greg. Just exactly what was on the sheet. Why? Is that wrong?"

"So, um, Pa. Surely you did something on the way in?" Greg was sweating
now. I got up and shut off the oven and the burner under the pot.

"Nope, son. Worked my ass off at the site today. Why?"

I started ladling the leftover stew into a large plastic container. Greg
didn't notice. He was frantically going over and over the numbers. Just as
I got the remains of the stew into the fridge, Greg brightened. The pep in
his voice was clearly the result of frantically making shit up as he
went. "Well this is cool! We're going to have to have a tiebreaker
tonight!"

I mock-frowned and sat back down, looking at Pa but making sure I could see
Greg's reactions in the reflection off the glass. "Pa, do you recall
anything in the rules about a tiebreaker?"

"But..."

Pa put his hand to his chin and went really thoughtful. "No, Karl, I can't
say as I do."

"Well, you know; rules are..."

"So, Greg, you're saying that we tied?"

"Well, technically. But..."

"You seemed awfully intent on Sunday that the rules were the *only* rules
and there were no other ways to make or lose points, right?"

"Well, techn..."

"But not *really*, though?"

"You cheated. You colluded!"

"Pa, do you recall any thing in there about colluding? No, me neither."

"That doesn't mat..."

"So, Greg, did either of us do anything to -- what was it Pa? -- hurt you
for a loss of 20 or piss you off for a loss of 10?"

Greg jumped at it like a kid on a candy-bar. I was so, so glad I'd talked
everything through with Pa over lunch. "Yes! You did this on purpose. That
pisses me off."

"Well, I feel real bad about that, Greg."

"HA! So, Pa wi..."

"Um, sorry, Greg." Pa's deep rumbled cut across Greg. "I started Tuesday
ten points down because I pissed you off on Monday after we'd started
dinner, right? So, whichever of us you want to punish starts *tomorrow*
down on points, but it still means we're tied *tonight*, Karl and I."

"But, but, but."

"Greg, you sound like you're timing chain is off. Doesn't he sound like his
timing chain is off, Pa?"

"Surely does, Karl. What should we do about that?"

I moved quicker than Greg suspected. He was over my shoulder in a fireman's
carry before he could chuff. "I think he needs a thorough tune-up,
Pa. Since we're tied, I think we should BOTH bring our mechanic skills to
bear, don't you?"

"But, but, BUT!"

"Yes, Karl, I think we have to do something about that timing. But first, I
think the important thing is the muffler."

Pa pulled out the jock that he'd sweated into throughout the morning then
soaked with a juicy load just before I left the site. The same one I'd worn
to do the mowing and other incredibly-sweaty work during the heat of the
afternoon, then shot off in myself. It was about as ripe as a week-old
tomato, and into Greg's mouth it went. Pa even went so far as to coil one
legging back behind his head so he couldn't spit it out.

"Garage Bay 1 is your room, right Pa?"

Pa was already up the stairs and into the room. Turns out -- I was just
*shocked* let me tell you -- that Pa had a whole array of stuff lined up
next to the bet. Greg's eye did the whole cartoon-blow-up thing as his ass
bounced in the middle of the mattress. He hadn't even hit the mattress the
second time before he had a wide leather band around his right wrist which
Pa quickly secured to the headboard. Whilst Greg goggled at that, I had his
left tied down before he realised it.

"Why, Pa! I think Greg is trying to say something around his muffler. Can
you imagine what it might be?"

"No, son. Do you think we should check?" The mock sincerity in our voices
had Greg's eye darting back and forth like one of the cat-clocks.

"I think we should at least get the car prepped and safe for the tune up
first, don't you?"

"Absolutely, son. Safety first!"

Pa ribboned up Greg's nuts as I tied off his feet. Greg might have had a
slightly-worried (completely panicked) look in his eyes, but his cock was
so hard he was pouring dogwater. From here on out, there really wasn't a
script. We never thought it would go so perfectly or that Greg would play
into each line.

"So, Pa, I think we should check his starter before anything else." Pa
cocked an eyebrow. I bent down and started to suckle, nibble and gnaw the
left tit and Pa guffawed and started on the right. Greg was writhing,
trying at the same time to get more nipple into each mouth and also pull
away from the intense sensations.

Pa pulled back and both Greg's nubs were as hard and red as young
strawberries. "Karl, shouldn't we check his fluids before we talk to the
customer?" I grinned so hard I thought my face would crack. Pa pulled the
jock-gag out of Greg's mouth but, before Greg could even start a word, Pa
went in for one his amazing, soul-deep kisses and I dove onto the dogwater
faucet formerly known as Greg's Dick. When Greg had stopped trying to
holler around Pa's tongue and he'd changed with whimpers and squeals of
pleasure, we both pulled back.

"Sorry, son, did you want to say something?"

Greg's eyes were glazed and he caught his breath, but before words could
come out, Pa and I swapped. I ravaged his mouth and throat with my tongue,
my hands stroking his sides and aching nipples, teasing his pits and
pubes. Pa had him throat-deep and I was eating Greg's moans and whines. I
knew just how amazing Pa was, perhaps as good as Greg.

Greg was oh, oh soooo close. But the ribbon. Ah, that ribbon. Greg was
hopping about the bed like a carp on a boat-bottom when we pulled off
again. Greg had obviously worked hard to have at least a few brain cells
outside the lust-storm. As soon as his mouth was free, he started to
negotiate.

"Now, guys. Pa! Karl! Now you listen. Th-th-this is NOT in the
rules. Y-y-you n-need to stop. Now, let's talk this overrrrrgggg!" The
sopping jock was back in place.

"Yep, Karl, definitely muffler problems." We both started to lightly tease
Greg's skin with silk-soft touches everywhere he was sensitive. Pa ended up
at his feet and Greg went ape-shit. But when I started long,
not-quite-touching strokes from pits to flank and across to his balls and
back, over and over and over, Greg's face turned a colour I don't think
I've ever seen. A sort of purple with a pink glow.

I think the begging reached a new and impressive level when both Pa and I
stood back, leaving Greg without a single sensation at all.

"Karl, how do you think that game is going?"

"Not sure Pa. Let's go find out. We can't work on a car when the radiator
is this hot anyway."

Pa gave one of the evillest chuckles I'd ever heard and paused. "But you
know, son, we also don't want to lose the work we've done so far." He
reached down and tied a noose of ribbon around Greg's entire package and
cinched it tight. Greg couldn't cum from the one ribbon, and wouldn't go
soft until the new one was snipped. Greg's pleas and screams and curses and
pitiful moans were largely swallowed by the drenched jock strap. It was
some of the sweetest music I'd ever heard as Pa and I went back down to the
living room, clinking our beer bottles in a quick, erotic toast.

<eof>

Sorry; did you think Pa and Karl should have finished Greg in this chapter?
Well, so did Greg. Love, -Bear Pup also (according to a couple of
correspondents) known as "You Evil Fucking Bastard".

PS: I asked around chapter 10, and we've made it to 20. You guys still
reading?

*****

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Off the Magic Carpet: 4 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
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