Date: Mon, 09 Mar 2020 23:30:06 +0000 From: butters2020 Subject: Knot as it Seems (gay incest) The story below is 100% made up. If you like it consider dropping a couple bucks to Nifty, which relies on donations to pay the internet bills. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html If you like it enough to drop me some feedback, that would be cool too. I don't know what made me think of doing it that first time. All I know is I really liked it. But I guess I should get the introduction stuff out of the way first. My name is Drew. I'm fifteen and a half years old. I have brown hair and blue eyes. I've been trying to develop a six pack but so far not too much luck, though I am really toned. I guess you want to know about my dick too huh? When it's hard it's almost six inches long. I'm cut, which I hate. I don't know why but ever since I saw an uncut fucking this chick in a video I've wished I still had my foreskin. I just think my dick would be more sensitive it hadn't spent the last fifteen years rubbing against my underwear with nothing to protect it. When I have kids, if any of them are boys, you can bet I'm not gonna let some doctor slice off part of his dick. I have a normal amount of pubes I guess. I finally got some hair in my pits this year. I don't have as much as I'd like but it's enough that you can see them if I raise my arms. Sometimes that's what I do when I play with myself. Raise my arm and look at my pit hair. I know-weird, right? That's not the weirdest thing about me. I'm just getting started. I have a full length mirror on my bedroom door. Sometimes when I jerk off I'll lay down in front of it so I can watch myself. I like to spread my legs so I can see my balls and asshole when I stroke my dick. It's like I'm watching myself in a porn or something. I wonder how much those guys make? Can you imagine getting paid to fuck chicks? Wonder where you apply for that job! And that's STILL not the weirdest thing about me. One day when I was jerking off in front of the mirror like that I noticed that my hole kinda like winked at me. I don't know how else to describe it. It wasn't like opening and closing but-what's the word? Contracting? Anyway, I thought it was neat. Don't think I'm a freak or anything but I licked my finger and kinda rubbed it. My hole. And DAMN! It sent a shiver right up my cock! My dad never told me anything about that when he gave me the sex talk! So after a few nights of rubbing my hole while I jerked off I went a little further. I bet by now you really think I'm perv of the year. I know it's sick and all that but I put my finger inside my ass. And man, it made me sooooo fucking hard. I mean harder than I've ever been in my life. And when I like pulled the finger in and out, like I was fucking my ass with it? Holy shit! After that I didn't lay in front of the mirror so much. I liked stretching out my wank sessions when I fingered my ass and after a while the carpet itched my back, so I did it in bed instead. And then one day I wondered: if I used something even longer than my finger, would it feel even better? I admit I was nervous. I mean I didn't want to puncture my intestines or anything. How would I explain THAT to my parents? I looked around my room for something to use that was longer than my finger but not TOO long. A pen was too skinny. The highlighter I used for homework was longer than my finger and the right size around but the end was flat and hurt going in and out. It was dinner that night that I got the idea of raiding the fridge. Cucumbers? WAY too big around. Ouch! Carrots? Now we're talking! Oooh, what about the super long hotdogs? Perfect! When my mom and dad were watching TV and my little brother was in his room, I snuck one from the fridge and brought it to my room. After that I was addicted to hotdogs. There was that one time I panicked when I got too carried away and it broke in half and part of it was still up inside me but I just sat on the toilet and kinda pushed it out. Yeah, I know. Gross. I shit a hotdog. LOL. So anyhow, that's been my favorite way to jerk off for like two months now. Everything was great. And then suddenly everything was horrible. I mentioned that I have a little brother. I guess he's not really little, but he's younger than me. He's thirteen and a pain in the ass. He is NOT working on his six pack. He's working on being a lardo. He has a bit of a belly that if he's not careful is going to turn into a big belly. My chest isn't like Captain Steroid or anything, but he's got these like little girl titties. They for real poke out some. I don't know maybe that's cuz of puberty or whatever but he definitely needs to ease up on the desserts. Don't get me wrong. He's not a blimp. The girls like good enough I guess. His face is okay. He has blond hair except when he dyes it blue and except for the extra 20 pounds I guess his body is okay but I'm not a chick so I can't really say. He's also a boy scout which he thinks makes him cool. He is wrong. Putting on that gay ass uniform once a week with all the little badges sewn on it, and having his little pinewood car races, and all that shit? Jesus. Him being in scouts is part of what led to everything turning horrible. I came home from school yesterday and dropped my backpack in my room and then went to the kitchen for some OJ. Kent (my brother) and his friend Arty were there with some clothesline. "Hey Drew, give us a hand will you?" Arty said. "Sure," I said, and then clapped. "Seriously," Kent said. "We need help with knots." "Find a sailor and ask him. I know how to tie my shoes, but that's it." "We can tie them, but we have to make sure they're good and secure or we won't get the merit badge. Will you let us tie you up? If you can get loose, we're doing ti wrong." How stupid did he think I was? "Right, and if I can't get loose you'll leave me tied up the rest of the day while you two take off somewhere. Why can't you tie each other up?" Arty said, "We tried that, but since we know the knots, we know how to undo them. Come on, please?" Arty was one goofy looking kid. He was taller than me even though he was two years younger. He was a beanpole who could have used some of the extra weight that Kent carried around. He wore braces and had rust colored hair that no comb or brush had ever been able to tame. He wore these Clark Kent looking glasses with thick lenses that made his eyes look bigger than they were. When he got excited, he tended to stutter which make him hilarious to listen to on those damn pinewood derby nights that my parents forced me to go to when Kent was had a car in the race. He looked so damn pitiful begging me, that like an idiot I gave in. "Fine. I can give you thirty minutes, then I've got to do homework." If being molested by a hotdog counts as homework, then I had homework, okay? I followed them to Kent's room. It was a mess with shit strewn all over, but the bed was clear of junk at least. "Lie down there," Kent instructed, and I complied. Arty tied my wrists together and after a few seconds I worked myself free. "Dammit!" he said. "Let me try," Kent said. I put my hands next to each other while he used the same knot Arty did. This time I wasn't able to get free. "I see what you did wrong," He said to Arty as he untied me. "Do it again and I'll talk you through it." It took Arty a couple more tries but he finally had me tied up so I couldn't get loose. "Sweet!" he crowed, as he untied me. "Are we done?" I asked. "That was just the first knot," Arty said. They took turns tying me up in different ways, some more successful than others. Then Kent took two longer pieces of rope and handed one to Arty. They each grabbed one of my wrists and tied a sheep shank or granny knot or god knows what and then looped the other end of the rope through a hole in the wrought iron headboard of Kent's bed. After pulling the rope taut they each tied their end to the headboard. "Don't try to get loose yet," Kent said. Then they got two more pieces of rope and did the same thing with my ankles and the footboard. "Okay. Try to free yourself," Kent told me. Up to know it only took a few seconds to get loose when they tried a new knot for the first time, but no matter how I wriggled or manipulated my hands, I not only couldn't free myself of the clothesline, I could barely move my arms at all. I began to think I'd been setup; that their poor knot tying attempts had been put-ons for my benefit. "Congratulations. You've mastered these knots, too. Untie me so I can get to my homework," I said. Arty looked nervously at Kent who said, "Not just yet. We want to show you something first. He reached in his closet and took out a clock radio. "Does this look familiar?" It did, but I couldn't think why. He went on. "It's been on your dresser for a week. How did you not notice it?" "So?" I said. He brought the clock radio closer to me so I could see it better. "Take a closer look. It's not just a clock. It's got a hidden camera in it. I've been watching you for a week." "What?" "And recording you." He nodded at Arty who opened Kent's laptop. A video player app was open. The image was a still of me lying on my bed. Damn thing was even in HD. Arty clicked play and the three of us watched me jacking off while I shoved a hotdog in and out of my ass. I tore at my bonds with renewed energy. "Dude! What the fuck! I'm telling Mom you've been spying on me!" He laughed. "No you're not! If you do, I'll show her what I spied. I didn't know you were a faggot." I stopped struggling. "I'm not!" I said. I wasn't lying. Every time I shoved something up my ass I was thinking of girls I'd like to bone. Kent pointed to the video that was on a repeat loop. "Doesn't look straight to me." He nodded to Arty again who took his scout knife from his pocket. Kent took it from him and opened it up and ran his finger along the blade. "But today is your lucky day. You don't have to settle for a hot dog." "kent. No." He grabbed my jeans and aimed the point of the knife at them. "If you struggle, you'll get cut and I don't want to hurt you so shut up and lay still." "HELP!" I screamed. Then geeky mousy Arty slapped me in the face! "He said shut up, faggot!" I was too shocked to say anything. In fact I was starting to get scared. Arty slapped me again. "Do you understand?" I nodded. Kent used the knife to cut a slit down the right leg of my jeans, then left. He undid my belt and and my fly and cut away the front of my jeans, basically slicing them in half and taking the top half off of me. "Do his shirt, too," Arty said. I couldn't help noticing the bulge in HIS jeans. There was no question about who the fag in the room was and it wasn't me. Kent was less gentle with my shirt, tearing it off more than cutting it off. Next to go was my underwear. I was now fully exposed to my thirteen-year-old brother and his friend. "Kent, seriously man, I'm not gay. I like girls." "I don't care," he said in a husky voice. He ran his finger through my pubes. "You're not hard," he complained. "I know-know-know what makes him hard," Arty said, unzipping his jeans. "Yeah," Kent said, so softly I almost didn't hear him. "Give him YOUR hotdog." This can't be happening, I thought. I tried once more to free my hands but my only reward was another stinging slap from Arty. He pulled his jeans off. He wasn't wearing underwear. "The fuck?" I said. How does a gork like Arty get a dick like that? He was fully hard, his cock standing up at an angle. It curved to the left. It was only like five inches long, half an inch shorter than mine, but Jesus Christ! I'd heard of "beer can dicks" before but had never seen one. And he was uncut, the sonuvabitch. "You can't put that in me," I said frantically. He raised his hand again and I flinched. "Please Arty. I'll do anything." "Goddam right you will," he said. "Always be prepared," said Kent, quoting the Boy Scout motto as he handed Arty a jar of Vaseline. Arty got on the bed between my legs. He pulled his foreskin back, exposing the head of his dick. It was reddish in color, almost purple. It looked somehow slimy as if he'd already lubed it up. Even so, he smeared Vaseline on the head of that fat dick, then applied some to the shaft, and smiled at me. "You ready?" he said, obviously not giving a damn if I was ready or not. "Arty I-" that was far as I got. He pushed his cock against my hole and kept pushing. At first it didn't want to go in. For half a second I felt relieve. Of course he wasn't going to fuck me. He COULDN'T fuck me. There's no way that thing can fit inside me. Then he proved me wrong. "Oh my god you're killing me," I said as he forced more of that monster past my anal sphincter. "Shut up," he said through gritted teeth. "And take it." Like I had any choice. He kept feeding it into me. I thought he'd never stop but I finally felt his sparse pubes against my balls. Then, rather than pull it back out he just left it there, as if to let me get used to it. Or maybe he was afraid he'd cum if he moved it. Then he smiled and flexed his cock and I groaned. "You like that, bitch?" "Take it out!" I begged. "Jesus take it out" "Okay," he said, and as slowly as he pushed it, in he pulled it out, a millimeter at a time. It hurt as much leaving as it did when he put it in me. I thrashed on the bed as much as the rope would let me. "Y-y-y- yeah!" he said, obviously turned on. He finally pulled it out and I breathed hard, wondering if my hole would ever close to a normal size again. Then without warning he shoved it back in, all the way and I cried out. "FUCK!" He began fucking me in earnest, plowing me, and then something happened. My cock responded. It went from 0 to 60 in two seconds. "You were right!" Kent laughed. "All he needed was your cock up his ass to make him hard." I was more than hard. Whatever Arty was doing to my ass or my prostate or whatever was sending electricity thru my dick. "Y-y-you want me to stop?" Arty said. I shook my head. But the motherfucker stopped anyway. "Say it. T-t-tell me what you want." I was ashamed but I couldn't help it. "Fuck me," I said. He slowly pushed in and out of me, just a couple of inches. I raised my ass off the bed as much as I could, trying to force more of him in me. Goddam ropes! "Do it," I said. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" And he did. Next to the bed Kent said, "Aw shit," and took his own dick out but didn't jack off. He walked over to the bed until his cock was next to my head. He grabbed my head and turned it toward him and rubbed his cock over my lips. I kept my mouth firmly closed. Until Arty slapped me again. "Suck him, f-f-f-faggot!" he said, and without touching myself I came. As soon as I began shooting I opened my mouth and Kent shoved his dick between my lips. I wasn't giving a blow job so much as I was being mouth fucked. But by the time my dick finally stopped spurting cum I decided, fuck it. And started sucking my brother's dick. "No teeth!" he said, and I was more careful. My own dick remained rock hard. It didn't Kent long. "I'm gonna bust my nut!" he said. I jerked my head away, forcing him to finish by hand. He came all over my face, which set off Arty, who grunted and with a final push emptied his nuts inside me. When they untied me ten minutes later, Arty was back to his usual submissive, geeky self. Kent just pretended nothing happened. I was walking funny when I went back to my room. We never said anything about what happened. I made damn sure there were no clock radios in my room-or anything else that could hide a camera. But dammit, hotdogs didn't do it for me anymore. I mean they were nice enough but it took me longer and longer to cum and when I did it just wasn't as satisfying as it used to be. At dinner one night I'd had enough. "Hey Kent when's Arty coming over again? Your merit badge is over, though. You won't need any clothesline.