Date: Wed, 18 Nov 2020 01:39:20 -0800 From: Jim Selfie Subject: Lockdown with Str8 Big Bro - Part 2 of 4 Lockdown with Straight Big Bro Ñ Part 2 By Jim Selfie © 2020. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or repost without consent of author. ****** Hey boys. Here's a new chapter in my ongoing adventures. Drop me a line at thejimselfie@gmail.com if you enjoy it. Don't forget to donate to Nifty. Help keep these sexy stories alive at donate.nifty.org. Support my work and show me some love by buying my book "Stepdad Becomes Real Dad" at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07T2TD4NG Enjoy. ÑJim ****** Things started changing after I made my brother cum that first time. I noticed the change in Vinnie's demeanor right away, and so did everyone else in the house. He was back to playing with the kids and being the patient teacher and babysitter they needed. He was pawing at his wife again, making Angie giggle whenever they shared a rare moment alone. And he was pretty much the same with me: giving me shit constantly but still happy enough to have me around. All in all, a big improvement over his pent-up asshole behavior the week before. So basically, me swallowing my brother's nut was like a public service. The guy just wasn't himself unless he got off in a warm hole regularly. And with Angie's pregnant belly growing by the day, I knew she wasn't about to let my brother stick her with his fat Italian sausage anytime soon. His usual housewife side pieces were quarantined at home, so I was pretty much the only option Vinnie had. I figured if I just bided my time the opportunity would present itself eventually. I was determined to make my brother cum again, but after last time I didn't want to push too hard too soon. I mean, he was the straightest guy I knew. Getting him to do gay shit with his own kid brother was a tall order. But I knew I was on the right track when his wardrobe abruptly changed. About a week after I sucked him off, Vinnie ditched the raggedy gray sweatpants he'd been living in since lockdown. Well, he didn't ditch them entirelyÑ he just radically altered how much of his body they covered. One day as I sat at the dining room table, helping a nephew with a math problem, my brother sauntered into the room in a pair of cut-off shorts. My jaw fell open as I took in his thick legs covered in dark curly hair. The makeshift hem fell just a few inches below his swinging bulge, clearly unrestrained by underwear. Only when I saw his meaty package did I realize that these were the same old gray sweatpants, now repurposed as straight guy short-shorts. "Nice, dude," I whistled at him. "You should do that to all your pants." Vinnie shrugged. "Less to wash," he said, absentmindedly scratching his flopping junk as he passed. My nephew leapt up from the table and followed his dad, begging for a snack. I almost did the same, except my snack was swinging between my big brother's legs. Less to wash, my ass. As if he had ever touched a load of laundry in his life. For the next few days I casually ogled my brother's meaty, hairy legs in his latest fashion faux-pas. His thighs were thickly muscled with just the right amount of surface jiggle, just like his juicy ass. I couldn't help but picture my face buried between those thighs, licking every sweaty, furry inch. Even his calves were hot, corded with veins and whorled with the same thick, curly dark hair. I memorized every detail of this newly-revealed flesh, from the patch of fur on the top of each toe to the scar on his knee from the bike accident when he was a teen. Though I teased him mercilessly about his "short-shorts," I couldn't be happier to see my brother's legs out and exposed, growing steadily tan in the summer sun. But I had to wonder: where did this new exhibitionism come from? Vinnie was usually so reserved when it came to showing off his body. He even wore his t-shirt into the pool, which I found to be both cruel and unusual. And I wasn't aloneÑ Angie constantly griped about "Grandpa Vinnie's modesty" as she paraded around the pool in her two-piece, even at six months pregnant. And yet now here he was, meaty gams out on display, strutting around all day in shorts that would get me kicked out of the gay gym back in LA. I swear, if he wasn't the manliest guy I knew, I'd say he was a big ol' queen looking to ride some dick. And then I started to notice the best part. Anytime Vinnie sat down, reached for a high shelf, bent overÑ pretty much any action other than standing uprightÑ his testicles made a brief cameo. It was only a peek, a quick flash of wiry black fur over soft pink skin. His nuts were the most frequent guest stars but every so often the head of his dick would poke out of the ragged hem, just a brief peek-a-boo before my brother shifted his weight or surreptitiously tucked himself back in. He never acknowledged it, the kids didn't seem to notice, and poor preoccupied Angie was too consumed in the daily domestic chaos to care. It was just for me. Vinnie was flashing me, showing me his junk in the most noncommittal wayÑ a series of accidental slips, too brief and casual to merit comment. He had to know I was watching, waiting, wanting what he had packed into those flimsy shorts. It was his passive-aggressive way of inviting me without inviting me. Some part of him wanted to be serviced and he knew I was game. Why else would he wear those terrible cut-offs every day? And when in the hell would we get a moment alone for me to do something about it? It was nearing the end of a particularly frustrating dayÑ I'd counted nine ball-slips since breakfastÑ when the opportunity presented itself in the most unexpected way. The kids were on a tear that day, a combination of too much sugar and being cooped up in the house for days on end. I was sprawled on the couch, already over it, watching Vinnie play monster with them. I took it as an opportunity to check out his monster, flopping heavily beneath the worn-out gray fabric. He roared, they screamed, I leered at my brother's junk. This went on for a good twenty minutes before Vinnie finally declared defeat and offered to put on a movie to distract them. Without fail, they all squealed out the title of that big popular cartoon musicalÑ you know, the one with the ice and the singing and the usual bullshit. I groaned loudly in complaint and two of the kids turned on me immediately, attacking me as if a switch had been flipped in their tiny sugar-addled brains. Jesus, they really needed to cut back on the candy in this house. In unison they pummeled me with throw pillows, ordering me to watch the stupid movie yet again. "Okay, okay!" I assented reluctantly. We'd been forced to sit through this movie dozens of times over the past few months and I wasn't sure how long my sanity would hold. But it was always easier to just let the kids have their way than to try to fight them. They had us outnumbered and they never got tired... it just wasn't worth the struggle. "Sorry, bud," Vinnie said to me with a shrug. "Majority rules." The kids roared in triumph as Vinnie fired up the TV and clicked through the streaming menus. Half the kids assumed their usual TV-watching places, splayed out on the living room floor with various stuffed animals and blankies, eyes glued to the tube. But unfortunately, I had been targeted by the other half of Vinnie's brood. My nieces continued to pummel me with maniacal glee like a couple of evil gremlins. My brother, happy for the momentary reprieve, didn't lift a finger to stop his two tiny daughters from assaulting me with couch pillows. "Get off me, you little brats!" I growled, raising my arms feebly to stop them. "If you don't quit it, I'm out of here!" They responded as one, moving as if they had planned it. My two impish nieces stopped whapping me with pillows and began to stack them atop me in an apparent attempt to bury me alive. "So you don't try to leave," one of them said matter-of-factly as she heaved a seat cushion onto my lap. Again, it was easier to let them think they'd won. I didn't fight them as they stacked me ever higher with pillows, blankets, and stray stuffed animals. The familiar opening notes of the film blared out over the surround sound. Vinnie turned back to the couch, caught sight of me, and burst out laughing. By that point only my head was visible, the rest of my body obscured beneath a mountain of cushions. "What the hell are you laughing at?" I asked dryly. "You're next." One niece was already pulling him toward the couch, the other one clearing a space for him. "Sit down, Daddy," the closer girl intoned mischievously. Vinnie strolled to the couch with the air of a man on death row. His daughters hurried him along until he finally plopped down, exhausted and beaten, right next to me. They adjusted the pile of pillows, redistributing and adding even more, until we were both covered up to our necks. The only cushions left on the sectional were the ones beneath us. Everything else was carefully, if haphazardly, stacked and piled to our chins. Satisfied with their work, my nieces joined their siblings on the floor in front of us and settled in to watch their favorite movie. I slowly swiveled my head to look at my brother, his face just a couple feet away. "So. Come here often?" Vinnie chuckled lightly. "Yeah. Too fucking often." The first song droned on and Vinnie crowed along with it, purposefully slurring the words and singing in his monster voice. It infuriated the kids but it was pretty fucking funny. My brother always could make me laugh. "Shut up, Daddy!" my niece screamed back at us. "Hey! Don't you talk to your father like that!" my brother barked back at her, his Italian coming out in a flare of righteous anger. "Then don't mess with the songs!" she fired back without missing a beat. She was a chip off the old block, alright. Vinnie grumbled a reply and the standoff ended. The animated princess or whoever-the-fuck finished her solo without Vinnie's help and the two of us settled back in, resigned to our fate. "Why do your kids love to torture us with this movie?" I asked after a particularly bad joke on screen. "I don't fucking know," he replied. "But I wish I'd grabbed a sixer before they buried me. I could use a beer." "Dude, you'll be asleep in two minutes and I'll be forced to finish this shit by myself... again." "God willing," he scoffed. I shook my head ruefully and endured the next few minutes in zoned-out silence. Only when I heard his gentle snore did I realize that this was it... this was the moment. My brother's cock was finally within my reach. Here we were, albeit in plain sight, but completely obscured beneath this mountain of throw pillows and cushions. The kids couldn't be bothered to turn around and even if they did, they wouldn't see a thing. Neither would Angie, if she should happen to stroll in, but she was too busy cooking and cleaning and enjoying her time without kids all over her... odds are we wouldn't see her until dinnertime. It certainly wasn't an ideal situation, but it was the closest I'd gotten to a moment alone with Vinnie in weeks. Suddenly, all I could think about was how close it really was. My hand began to travel even before I willed it to, snaking through the cushions toward Vinnie's dozing form. My fingers burrowed along the fabric until they landed on warm, hairy fleshÑ the top of my brother's right thigh. Vinnie sniffed, turned his head a bit to the side, but otherwise did not stir. Nonetheless, I left my hand there a moment, resting on his mid-thigh, enjoying the contact. His skin was so warm and the hair crunched beneath my fingers as I ever so gently caressed him. I bit my lip, relishing this moment, searching his face for signs of waking. Not that it would stop me. I had already decided what was going to happen, and I was done waiting. Slowly I drew my hand up, up up along Vinnie's meaty leg. The cushions between us shifted slightly with the movement of my arm but did not otherwise budge. We were buried deep and this moment was just for us. Just in case, I glanced over at the kids. The ballroom scene was in full swing onscreenÉ we might as well be on another planet for all they cared. It was time. The temperature grew as my hand shifted to Vinnie's inner thigh and drew up close to his crotch. The flesh was humid here, growing noticeably dewy as I reached the hem of his cut-offs. His crotch was pulsing with virility, his overcharged hormones making the air beneath the covers tropical. I fingered the ragged, scissor-cut hem of his shorts for just a moment before I sent my digits further. They sunk into the thick, curled hairs that ensconced Vinnie's manhood and my own cock lurched in my pants. Fuck... he really didn't wear underwear. It was pretty obvious but still slightly shocking to feel my brother's privatesÑ his junk, his genitals, the part of him no one got to seeÑ just one thin layer of cloth away from the world. And here were my fingers, relentless and greedy, determined to feel that secret place once again. Only when I made contact with the sensitive skin of his nutsac did his eyes flutter open. He sniffed again and blinked away his catnap, then met my gaze. He must have registered the hunger in my eyes right around the time he realized those were my fingers caressing his scrotum beneath his shorts. "What the fuck?" he whispered hoarsely. I answered by plunging my hand In further, working my fingers from the loose skin of his balls to the fleshy tube of his awakening cock. It was hot and damp and the long, unkempt hairs curled around my groping fingers. "Fuck you, bro," Vinnie rasped urgently. "My kids are here." His eyes darted to his gaggle of offspring and I humored him with a glance their way. The little brats were transfixed on the screen, hypnotized by their favorite plucky characters and stale plot. "They could give a fuck," I whispered back. "Just shut up, bro." I worked my way along his cock, marveling at the thickness as I wrapped him in my grip. He was a fistful and then some; I still hadn't felt the head yet, and he wasn't even fully hard. "You're fucking sick, bro," Vinnie whined. His helpless tone of voice told me everything I needed to know. But he certainly wasn't going to give in without his usual bitching. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Grabbing your own brother's dick?" This last word he said almost inaudibly, as if the kids might suddenly take an interest and hear us over the din of the surround sound. "What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?" I retorted with a cocky grin. "You're the one who's getting hard." It was true. Already the column of flesh in my hand had become turgid, pumping to life along with his pulse. My fingers stuck to its surface as it grew hard and sweaty, begging for release. "Fuck you," he lobbed back. "You know I haven't gotten to... ahh, fuck!" I interrupted his ineffectual tirade by sliding my hand up his shaft and engulfing the head of his penis in my palm. The friction sent his eyes rolling back in his head as whatever straight-guy defense he was about to offer melted away into the ether. I was delighted to feel a slick of wetness ooze into my palm and used it to coat his sensitive head in his own juices. Vinnie's eyelids fluttered and his breathing grew stilted. When I gripped his shaft again it was like a steel rod, hard and hot to the touch. His gaze met mine again and I saw a hunger that matched my own. "What if Angie comes in?" he asked helplessly. "She won't see," I cooed, my hand stroking along his length. My fingers journeyed down to his balls and found them drawn up tight into his taint. Fuck, he was pent-up. I twined through his pubic hair for a moment before I resumed my grip and slid my hand all the way back to his head. Vinnie gasped. His eyes shot to his kids, to the doorway, and then back to me. "This is so fucked up," he muttered. His eyes plead for me to stop, or to go on, I couldn't tell which. It didn't matter. He wasn't stopping me, and I had come too far to stop myself. "It's okay, bro," I encouraged him with a whisper. "I got you." His penis pulsed as I stroked him to his root, then slowly dragged my hand all the way back to encircle his head. Another emission leaked into my palm. Fuck he was getting close. A guttural groan caught in Vinnie's throat. His eyes settled on mine and it was like he suddenly let go. I felt his sexual heat like a laser, focused on me with almost overwhelming intensity. He was going to cum and he knew it. He wanted it. His cock pulsed in answer as I stroked him faster and faster. "That's it, bro," I said with a nod. "That's it. Let it go." As if on cue, the fucking song started. You know the one. I would have laughed if it wasn't so fucked up. I had my own brother's cock in my hand, the manly root of my own flesh and blood wrapped tightly in my grasp. The cock that had penetrated Angie and so many other women. The cock that had shot out all five of those kids down there, and the sixth on the way. The cock that had ejaculated into my hungry mouth over a week ago. I stroked it faster and faster, the shaft now wet and slippery with his pre-ejaculate. Vinnie was leaking like a sieve and his face was starting to scrunch up in intense concentration. The familiar notes of the song filled the room and covered his whimpers. The couch squeaked beneath us, along with the muffled squelching of my handjob. If not for the pillows piled between us I would have buried my head in my brother's crotch and taken his cock right down my throat. But there was also something so hot about the barrier, the fact that neither of us could see what was happening but only feel it. Something about the danger and the brazenness of it all urged us along. Vinnie never tore his eyes away from mine. My own raging hard-on rubbed against the cushions, urged on by the friction but begging for more. I ignored it and focused myself fully on Vinnie's pleasure. I stroked his eight thick inches relentlessly, from balls to leaking slit, increasing my grip and speed as I went. Vinnie's jaw suddenly dropped open and desperation invaded his gaze. "Fuck." "That's it." "Aw fuck." "That's it bro." We whispered back and forth to each other, so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. A fine sheen of sweat coated both our faces as the temperature increased beneath the pillows. Vinnie's cock expanded until my thumb could no longer reach my fingers. The desperation grew on his face. "Bro, fuck," he begged. "I got you. Let it go." The words repeated onscreen, growing louder as the song reached its crescendo. I stroked him harder. Slick fluid poured between my knuckles. On the downstroke I felt his nuts draw up tight. On the upstroke his head bulged. Vinnie stared right into my soul as it started, a mixture of shock and horror and unadulterated pleasure on his sweat-dappled face. She hit the high note and so did he: "Uuuuuunnngh ahhhhh!" I watched the orgasm play out on my brother's face and felt it happen in my hand. Suddenly the tunnel of fabric around his cock became thick with semen, spurting from Vinnie's cockhead into the confines of the cushions. Warm, wet, and gushy cum flooded the cramped space and squelched around my stroking hand. I couldn't believe how much there was. Soon the entire length of his throbbing penis was coated in clumpy, sperm-laden fluid. His impassioned cry lasted about as long as the big note in the movie and elicited another cry of complaint from the kids. "Mom! Dad's singing again!" Oh, if she only knew. I watched her father's eyes flutter, his pupils lost in the recesses of his skull as I milked out his pent-up load. This was a few days' worth of jizz for sure, extra thick from staying cooped up in his plum-sized balls for too long. It felt like I was rubbing maple syrup along his twitching length, thick and sticky and undoubtedly sweet. Again I felt the urge to throw aside our obscuring pillows and sample this load straight from its source. But then I just marveled at the tactile sensation, grateful for the chance to experience the earth-shattering orgasm of this powerful, beautiful man. The fact that he was my big brother only made it hotterÑ and more fucked up, and hotter because of it. By the time he blinked away the final throes of his climax Vinnie's jizz was already cooling along his member. My stroking slowed and I rested my hand along his drawn-up balls. I could feel rivulets of dad cum pouring down over his nuts and absorbing into the fabric of his cut-offs. Boy, I didn't envy the clean-up he was about to endure. I could tell that things were going to get awkward even before Vinnie's expression changed. One moment he was lost in clouds of pleasure, hearing the trumpets of angels as he fulfilled his manly duty and sprayed his copious seed... and the next moment he was a straight father of five with his still-hard cock in his own little brother's hand, coated in cooling jizz, mere steps away from his unsuspecting kids. His lip curled in revulsion as the realization dawned on him and his eyes shifted guiltily toward the TV. So I decided that a clean getaway would be best. The song finished, Vinnie finished, and I was finished, too. I used my other hand to lift the wall of cushions slightly and withdrew my cum-covered hand reluctantly from my brother's cock. I caressed his nuts one last time as I snaked my hand back through the open space, careful not to lose any of the ejaculate coating my skin. When my hand finally freed itself of the pillow-pile it was clumped with my brother's cum. We both stared at it for a moment, marveling at the strings of viscous pearlescent fluid clinging to my palm, circling each of my fingers like white jelly. Vinnie's gaze followed my hand all the way to my mouth. His eyes bulged as I sunk three fingers between my lips and noisily slurped off his emission, staring right at him all the while. And then I was out. I tossed aside an avalanche of pillows and jumped up from the couch, careful to keep my other hand clutched over the raging boner in my shorts. The kids didn't even notice me leave. Angie never heard or saw, wherever the hell she was. Only Vinnie and I knew what had happened. I greedily licked the rest of his sperm off my hand as I sauntered out of the room, leaving my dumbstruck big brother to figure out his own sticky mess beneath the pillows. Back in the RV, after I pumped out my own fountain of pent-up cum, I determined that next time we'd go even further. After all, once was a fluke... twice was something else entirely. And now that I knew how easy it could be, I was determined to be my big brother's cum-dump for as long as this lockdown lasted. ****** Thanks for reading. Support my work by purchasing my book "Stepdad Becomes Real Dad" at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07T2TD4NG Tell me what you think at thejimselfie@gmail.com.