Date: Sat, 2 Jul 2016 19:44:10 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The Good Son Steps Up

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/123439673219/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

It's not easy being the good son. A lot of pressure, a lot of expectations,
a lot of responsibility. And then you have a little brother like mine, the
polar opposite, a little punk bitch fuckup who just makes everything that
much more difficult.

"I just don't know what to do about him anymore," Dad sighed down the
phone, a halfway-defeated tone in his deep, gruff voice. "You know how he
is. He's got your mother wrapped around his little finger, but even she's
getting tired of his shit."

For my big, tough former Marine father to sound like this, talk like this,
Joey must have really been pushing it. I'd never heard Dad sound this way,
and I'd sure never given him cause to be this disappointed. He was my idol,
big and strong and handsome, your classic squared-away Marine, a good guy,
and I strove to emulate him as much as I could. Football, wrestling,
baseball, and then the Marine Corps, the whole bit. With just one
difference - I was gay. That had been a real struggle, but I'd gone into
the Corps right after Don't Ask Don't Tell ended, and my brothers there had
supported me like I'd never expected. Made it easier for me to tell
Dad. And when I did, he'd clapped me on the back, his eyes shiny with proud
tears, and handed me a beer as he squeezed my big shoulder.

"Hell, Son - if it's fine by the Corps, it's for damn sure fine by me," he
said, and big and tough and strong like him as I was, I wanted to break
down and cry with relief. "You're a fine man, Grady, and you've always made
me proud. That ain't ever gonna change, y'hear me?"

We talked some more about it - didn't go on all night over it or anything,
neither of us was like that - and when he kind of hinted that he'd had a
few adventures on the dude side of the street back when he was my age, I
tried not to appear too interested. Tried not to feel too much like my
boyhood crush on the big man was even more justified. I felt like I'd long
ago gotten over that, and now we were moving forward, two men who
understood each other even better, and grown even closer.

So now, he was reaching out to me. Joey had always sort of looked up to me,
and used to be a pretty good kid - when Dad deployed overseas after 9/11,
he latched onto me as the man of the house, and that made us close. But
then I went into the Corps myself, right as he was hitting his teens, and
that's when he started to change, act up. Flunking classes, copping
attitude with our folks, getting busted smoking, caught fingerbanging some
girl in the back seat of her mom's BMW when he was 15. He ignored my
parents and me, lied to all of us about the shit we knew he was getting up
to, coasted by on his looks and body and charm to the rest of the world,
and acted like a spoiled, entitled little terror at home.

Because Dad needed me to, I arranged to come home for the Fourth of July
weekend, as much to see him and Mom as to try and reason with Joey. Get him
to pull his head out of his ass before his senior year. All he did was fold
his arms and make a big show of tuning me out. When our parents needed help
setting up for the big cookout they always held on the 4th, he told them he
was going to hang at the lake with his friends instead, then hopped into
the Wrangler they'd got for him - shit, I drove a little hooptie of a
Sentra when I was his age, and I'd paid for that myself - and took off for
the rest of the day.

Mom and Dad were clearly embarrassed, but truth be told, we were better off
without his stormy teenage angsty bullshit, and the cookout went real
well. Neighbors, old family friends, some of my high school buds who were
still around - it was a good time. And then, Joey came home.

"Hel-looooooo!" we heard him holler from over the side gate, then the sound
of his foot kicking at it. Dad abandoned the conversation he was having,
went over to open it, and there the little fucker was, shirtless and
grinning woozily, and bracketed by two pissed-off-looking cops.

"Fuck yeah, let's get some god damn grub up in this motherfucker!" Joey
yelled when the cops let him go so they could talk to Dad quietly.

He made a beeline for the table, started loading a plate up with burgers
and potato salad, swaying as he went, clearly drunk or high off his ass,
not even noticing the awkward silence, Mom's embarrassed blush, the stares
of the guests. When he reached into the ice chest and grabbed a beer, I'd
had enough. I stepped over and smacked the can from his hands, making him
puff his chest up with amusing anger, like he was going to square up to
me. He might have been a star wrestler and ballplayer, but I outweighed him
by an easy 30 pounds of Corps-honed muscle, and had half a foot on him in
height. I'd done three tours in Middle Eastern hellholes, and was gearing
up for a fourth - a spoiled little suburban teenage bitch boy like my
brother intimidated me about as much as a chihuahua in a tutu.

"The fuck you think you are, you big faggo-" he jeered, before I silenced
him by clamping my big hand hard over his mouth. One of the neighbor ladies
gasped, but otherwise, all I could hear was the roaring of rage in my
ears. Joey was grabbing at my forearm, all thick and corded with muscle and
mostly impervious, when Dad came over to us. He laid one easing hand on my
shoulder, the other on the back of Joey's neck, much less easily. But he
made no effort to break my grip on the kid.

"Inside, Joseph," he said, with that low, quiet, deadly voice he got when
he was Not Fucking Around Anymore. "Excuse us, everybody - we'll be back in
a minute."

And together, we marched the struggling, muffled-cursing little asshole
inside.

Dad kicked Joey's bedroom door shut so hard, one of his wrestling trophies
toppled off his bookcase. I still had a firm, steady grip over his mouth
and jaw, holding him steady as Dad stared hard at him, like a particularly
steely drill instructor, hands planted on his hips, his eyes seething
little slits, his mouth a hard line on his handsome, stubbled face. I'd
never seen him this mad. Joey's eyes were wide with fear. He gave up
struggling, and stood limp-shouldered. Good.

"It's not that you're drunk, and high," Dad said in a cold, quiet voice
that was even scarier in its utter, toneless calm. "It's not that you put
your Jeep on its side in a ditch in front of half the god damn town. It's
not even that the cops had to bring you home, or that they would have
charged you, if they didn't know me and trust me to take you in
hand. Because you will be taken in hand, Joe."

Joey made a little noise behind my hand, that might have been "Yessir."

"It's the fact that you not only embarrassed us in front of our friends,"
Dad went on. "You disrespected all of us. Especially your brother here. And
that won't stand. You won't listen to me. You used to listen to Grady. So
now... I'm going to let Grady decide what we do with you."

With that, Dad looked at me, and I tried not to look surprised. But I was a
good Marine, and a good son, and I prided myself on exceeding my commanding
officers' expectations - and Dad was the ultimate CO. He was putting this
in my hands.

"You got duct tape, Dad?" I asked. His eyebrow twitched briefly, but he
slowly grinned.

"I sure do, Son," he said, and we smiled at each other, and then at
Joey. He actually shivered a little at the look in our eyes. "I sure do."

A few minutes later, Dad came back from the kitchen with a big roll of
silver duct tape, and between us, we managed to hold Joey still long enough
to bind his wrists behind his back, then his ankles, and then the cherry on
top - sealing his fucking mouth closed. Then we picked him up and bodily
tossed him onto his bed, before returning to the cookout, where thankfully,
nobody had left yet.

"Sorry about that, everybody," Dad said with a cheerful grin. "Joey's
having a little time-out. Now let's have a drink and toast the greatest god
damn country in the world, yeah?"

Everybody cheered, there was some laughter, and when Dad handed me a beer
and we toasted each other, we tipped each other a wink.

"Hope you got your thinking cap on, Marine," he said.

"Sir, yes sir," I grinned. "It's going to be a holiday he won't forget."

                                                         *****

After all of that, it was a good party. Yeah, I got a nice solid buzz on. I
needed to unwind my temper a little anyway. But I couldn't help thinking of
Joey, restrained on his bed, that shirtless, tanned, muscled torso of his
writhing. The way he'd swaggered in here with his board shorts riding low
on his bubble ass, showing off the top of his Hanes, and the rounded cheeks
below it. That cocky little grin of his, and how we'd not just wiped it off
his face, but taped it over. And then I'd catch Dad giving me these looks,
almost with the trace of a smile on his lips, an eyebrow raised, like he
was trying to see what I was thinking. The power of sharing knowledge of
something between just the two of us. And fuck... I could feel myself
getting excited. Several times, I had to hitch at my shorts and will some
pretty damn dirty thoughts out of my mind. Little sexy muscled wrestler kid
Joey. At my and Dad's mercy. Tonight. After dark. After everyone had gone
home. Just the three of us, and I was in charge. Fuck yeah.

After we let off some fireworks, after the bourbon came out to join the
beer and the wine, after the guests all wandered home and Mom took her
tipsy self to bed - with reassurances from Dad and me that the mess would
be taken care of - we went and got Joey.

He was still on his bed, but had managed to scoot himself up onto his ass,
leaning back against his headboard in the dark, tracks of dried tears on
his cheeks. When we entered his room and flicked the lights on, his eyes
squinted and he shied away from us. I took a moment to take in the sight,
and yeah, I kind of enjoyed it. The cocksure, hard-bodied little jock stud,
reduced to a child. Scared of the men confronting him. One of which - his
own brother - he'd called a faggot. Well, we'd see about all that.

Dad and me picked him up, and he immediately began to struggle, but a firm
swat on his ass soon cured him of that, and he just hung limply between us
as we hauled him out to the garage. Dad had sort of a mancave thing set up
out there in the slot next to Mom's Mazda, one of the old couches and a
minifridge and that kind of thing. We slung Joey onto the couch and loomed
over him, staring at him like a dog that had messed on the rug. Not saying
anything, just assessing him. Two big guys, thick-chested, strong-armed,
broad-shouldered, square-jawed. A former and a current Marine. Not guys to
be fucked with.

"You know, Dad," I said, "we had this one guy in my unit, always acting up,
shirking his duties, fucking around, mouthing off about me being a fag. No
respect at all."

"That right, Son?" Dad said.

"Yep," I replied. "No matter what we tried - punishment duty, extra runs,
putting sand in his gear, nothing worked. Just made him fuck with us all
even more. Damn near got us killed a couple times, out on patrol, with his
bullshit antics. Had a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. Especially about
me."

"I knew guys like that too, bud," Dad said. "So what did you do about him?"

"Well... it was one thing that he never pulled his weight... always ran his
mouth... didn't keep his area squared away... never showed respect... but
most of all, it was all `faggot' this and `queer' that. A general lack of
brotherhood. The opposite of squared away. And since he was the one so
obsessed with fags, and me especially..."

I looked over at Dad. He had a weird gleam in his eye. I think he knew
where I was going with this. I knew he'd served with gay Marines, and
they'd had his back like he had theirs. He knew I had his back, and I knew
he had mine. I was the good son, and a good Marine, and that carried all
the weight in the world with him. Slowly, he nodded at me, that weird
little half-smile on his face. The smile of a Marine who's ready to back
his brother up in starting some shit. Shit with a purpose. I looked back
down at Joey, whose eyes were furiously flicking back and forth between us
as he cowered back on the couch. And then I undid my shorts and stepped out
of them.

Joey's eyes popped even more, as he surveyed the thick power of my calves
and thighs, the big mound of cock snuggled into my boxer briefs. And then
popped further as I peeled my T-shirt up and off, taking in the clank of
the dogtags hanging in the hair between my hefty pecs, the globe and anchor
tattoo on the hard, bulky mass of my shoulder just like the one on Dad's,
the thick cords and swells of muscle bulging in my arms. The determined
look on my face. The gleam in my eye, much like the one in Dad's.

I looked over at Dad, saw him taking in the sight of my big, powerful young
Marine body. A lot like his used to be, and really still was. I looked him
over in return, the big swell of his chest under his T-shirt, the hairy,
chunky power of his calves, the high, rounded swell of his ass. I used to
look at him like this a lot, whenever I could. Hadn't done it in years,
tried to push those thoughts out of my mind. But now they all came roaring
back as I surveyed the man who'd made me, the man I was becoming, the man
giving me the go-ahead to prove myself tonight. To take control, like a man
does.

All that made my big cock thicken inside my underwear, and Dad saw that too
as his eyes moved back up my body to meet mine. Then he gave me a slow,
impressed nod, one Marine to another, a father to his son. Man to man. I
swear, the big lump in the front of his shorts was growing, filling
out. Joey might as well not have even been here. Right now, the world had
condensed down to me nearly naked, Dad eyeing me approvingly, manfully, and
the buzz of the fluorescent light overhead.

"Well, Dad," I said, returning my attention to Joey, "since he was so
obsessed with the whole fag thing... we showed him what being a fag is all
about."

I looked back to Dad. There was only one way this was going to go. He had
to know. Some things, only men can understand. Especially Marines. And
again, slowly, he nodded. Gave me permission. I nodded back, and turned
back to Joey, and the whole time, my cock was swelling inside my underwear,
making his eyes widen even further as he saw seven thick inches of Marine
brother cock begin to stretch the front of my boxer briefs.

"You're a disrespectful, nasty, lazy, rude little shit, Joey," I said, in a
low, quiet voice a lot like Dad's Danger Voice. "And now, you've pushed it
too far. You fucked with Mom and Dad. Made them ashamed in their own
home. And then you fucked with me. So now... I'm going to fuck with you,
kid."

I reached over, grabbed hold of the duct tape covering his mouth, muffling
his pleas, and yanked it off in one loud rrrrip. He started to protest,
opening his mouth wide, and I moved real quick to flip my boxer briefs down
and my cock out, and shove it into his mouth before he could stop me.

"Taste that, Joey?" I growled. "That's no faggot cock. That's a man, kid. A
man like you'll never be, unless you shape the fuck up. So show me what a
man you can be, boy. And you so much as scrape me with those teeth of
yours, I'll knock them the fuck out of your pretty little head and you'll
be eating soup the rest of your life, you little bitch. You got me, little
bro?"

Joey's eyes filled with tears, big and blue and pleading, but we were way
beyond all that shit now. Into a whole different space. A dark one. I had
no idea where I was dredging up all this shit from, but I thought of
Jenkins and his mouth and the crap that used to spew from it, even after
I'd roundly kicked his ass a couple times, and that fired me on. There
wasn't any pleasure in this, at least not of the sexual kind. My buds
bought me a blowjob from an apparently very talented hooker in Okinawa one
time, just to see if I could get with a girl after all, and that felt about
as sexy as this did. Just pure mechanics, only this was more about power
than anything else.

Joey resisted, and choked a little, and gagged some more, and yeah, he
nicked me a couple times - but a cuff upside his pretty blond-haired head
corrected that real quick. I was thinking to myself, This is not about sex,
you're not getting head from your hot jock kid brother, this isn't about
feeling good, and then all of a sudden, Joey seemed to stop struggling and
start actually sucking my cock, and as I watched my thick piece saw wetly
in and out of his sexy little mouth, those big blue eyes staring up at me
all shiny and kind of reverently, like they used to when he was an
awestruck good little brother, the whole thing flipped. All of a sudden, it
was about sex too.

I cupped the back of his head and forced it further down my shaft, and damn
if the little fucker wasn't on the verge of deep-throating me. I looked
down his tanned, muscle-rippling young jock body, over the round curve of
his ass, an inch of his Hanes showing over his shorts, and to my surprise,
there was a growing bulge in his board shots. My balls were starting to
churn some as Joey's warm spit flowed round me and his tongue began to work
the head and the flared ridge of my cock, my precum beginning to ooze, and
then I felt Dad's big hand trail up my spine, making me shiver all over as
I smelled his deep, manly scent joining mine.

"Don't forget, Son," he said in that deep, low voice, "this is a
lesson. You'll get your pleasure. But you got to make sure you teach him
first. Show him the error of his ways. Teach him what that word `fag'
means. What it's like to be insulted, as a man."

I looked at Dad, suddenly less sure of myself, but he gave me that tight,
encouraging, let's-start-some-shit Marine's grin, reached down and gently
squeezed the big, tense muscle of my ass, and then grabbed hold of Joey's
board shorts and yanked them down. I was right - my kid bro was hard as a
rock, all bound up and sucking madly on my big-brother cock. When Dad
pressed a greasy jar of Vaseline into my hand - I guess his mancave did
double duty as his jack shack, and fuck, what a hot mental image that was -
I knew that we'd moved beyond the world of family, and into the world of
men. I looked at the Vaseline, and up at him, into those deep, blue, avid
eyes of his. Questions on my mind, my lips, but no words to speak them.

"You're a pretty big guy, Son," he murmured, and I could smell the fog of
bourbon on his breath, saw the flick of those eyes down at the length of my
cock as Joey sucked on it. A look of pride on his face. "Don't wreck
him. But make sure he feels how serious you are."

"Yes sir," I grunted, and began to pull my cock from Joey's newly eager
mouth.

We both grabbed hold of his Hanes, and with a hard flex of our biceps,
literally tore them off of him, leaving him naked but for the board shorts
bunched down around the duct tape binding his ankles. Joey had a very
decent piece on him too, a subtle curve on it, good girth, but an inch
short of me. Still as hard as me, though, and there was already a clear
bead of precum at the tip, as we grabbed hold of him and flipped him over
the armrest of the old couch. I noted that he wasn't resisting nearly as
much now, and as I ran one hand over the fine, smooth muscle of his perfect
little wrestler's ass, I could have sworn he pushed it back at me a
little. Well, if that was what he wanted...

I yanked my own boxer briefs down and off, slicked a layer of grease over
the moist, throbbing thickness of my cock, then probed one thick, rough
finger's worth of it up inside his tightness. That made his body buck and
brought a combination moan-wail that might have woken the neighbors, but we
were too deep now to care about that. Besides, Joey clearly didn't give
fuck one about the neighbors, or anybody but himself, so fuck him. And,
well, I was going to do just that. I pushed his knees as far apart as I
could with my right knee, kneeling up on the old couch behind him, and then
with one hand guiding my cock and the other holding his hip, I pressed the
spongy, greasy head of my cock against his tiny, tight hole.

"This is what it means to be a faggot, Joey," I half-spat, and then pushed
real hard, and suddenly I was inside him with almost an audible pop, and a
low wail from him as he felt the first of my seven thick inches sinking up
inside of him. "It means fucking ass. It means getting fucked. It means
liking it. You think somebody's less of a man, somebody to insult, because
he likes fucking ass? Well, you're about to find out, bro."

And find out he did. It was hard on him at first, I'm pretty sure he was
cherry, but since he seemed indifferent to the very real pain he apparently
liked causing everyone else, well, I was in no mood to be
merciful. Especially not after today. Much as I told myself, again, that
this wasn't about pleasure, well... god damn he felt good. I hadn't popped
a dude's cherry since I was in high school, and I'd forgotten just how
amazing that particular tightness, that newness can feel around your dick.

I was so into it, building up a sweat as I got more confident, more
determined, once I saw I wasn't doing him any physical damage, that I'd
half-forgotten Dad was there, observing all this. Watching his good son
assfuck his bad son, on his old sofa. Teaching him a lesson. So I was
surprised when I heard clothes rustle and hit the floor, and even more
surprised when I saw him step around in front of Joey's face, as naked as
me, big and built and hairy and thick, and just as hard as I was.

"Open up and take your medicine, you little asshole," Dad growled, cupping
his jaw, and obediently, Joey opened up - eagerly, seemed like - and
clumsily took Dad's big, thick, hard cock almost all the way down before
choking and spluttering on it. I gaped at Dad, but never dropped the
cadence of my fuck thrusts, sawing deeper into Joey's tight, clenching
guts. Dad stared evenly back at me, then cracked that smile, nodded, and I
found myself smiling back, and fucking my little bro harder.

"This is for calling me a faggot," I growled, driving up into him hard
enough to make us both grunt.

"This is for disrespecting your mother," Dad grunted, grabbing as much of
Joey's short, sweaty blond hair as he could in his fist and forcing another
inch down his throat.

"This is for disrespecting Dad," I spat, giving him another hard thrust and
drawing a bigger grin and a wink from Dad as he took his turn.

"This is for flunking Biology..."

"This is for wrecking the Wrangler..."

"This is for smarting off to your Coach..."

"This is for making the cops drag your ass home..."

"This is for embarrassing us in front of our friends..."

"This is for turning up drunk and high..."

We went on like that for a little while, fucking him for each and every
misdeed, all the ones we knew of, all the ones we'd heard rumors of, and
then Dad and me locked eyes again, and his big paw reached round the back
of my buzzcut head, tugging gently but insistently, and I found myself
leaning in instinctively, meeting his lips with mine, and then with a
hungry, lusty growl, we were devouring each other's tongues as our hips
whipsawed in and out of Joey's well-used fuck holes. The kiss was
incredible, even better than I used to imagine, jacking my young dick and
picturing me and Dad doing stuff with each other. We grunted and growled
and pushed each other's spit back and forth as we hungrily tongue-thrust
inside of each other, man to man, Marine to Marine, father to son. Then
Joey wailed and tensed and pulsed all around me, stiffening up, and I knew
he was coming, and that made me start to lock up and spurt myself, and that
in turn had Dad growling and sucking double-hard on my thick wet tongue as
he began to pump his own cum down Joey's throat. And then, just like that,
it was over.

We separated, peeling our sticky, sweaty bodies off Joey's. Dad took charge
again, yanking the duct tape off his wrists and ankles, pushing his dazed
ass out the side door, grabbing the hose and blasting the sweat and cum and
spit and mansex funk off of him with a bracing jet of cold water.

"Now get your fucking ass to bed, Joseph," he growled, as I leaned in the
door, my cock wilting, wiping the sweat off my face and trying not to
process everything just yet. "You'll be up at six AM to clean up all this
party shit, understand?"

"Yes sir," Joey said meekly, unable to look either of us in the eye as he
scurried inside. That just left me and Dad. Naked. Part of me wanted to
blush and look away, but hell - we were beyond those childish games now.

After a silent moment, Dad squeezed my shoulder and slipped into the
garage, rummaged around in his tool chest, and brought out two
cigars. Handed one to me with a smile, fished a couple beers from the
melted slush in the ice chest, tossed one to me and sat his sexy,
sweat-shiny ass down in one of the poolside chairs with a deep, satisfied
smile. After a second, I sat down beside him in a chair of my own, leaning
in for him to light us both up before we settled back.

"Hell of a fucking job in there, Son," he said, with a strong streak of
gruff, manly pride in his voice.

"Thank you, sir," I said with a half-smile. "Let's hope he learned
something from it."

"Oh, I think he did, bud," Dad chuckled around his cigar. "Think there's
more he'd like to learn, judging by how hard he came, don't you, Marine?"

"I think you might be right, Dad," I grinned, and when he leaned over to
me, in a haze of sweat and cigar smoke, I didn't hesitate to meet him, and
fed him my tongue, and let them both wrestle for a while as we grunted and
cupped the backs of each other's heads. A little slower, deeper, even
softer this time, than in the garage. And even better.

"Got a little more to learn about me and you too, huh kid?" he said, all
low and deep and warm as our foreheads rested together. "Not punishment,
though. A reward. For being a good son."

I sat back, smiling, took a big puff on my cigar, and rubbed my knee up and
down against his. The pool lights showed him the slow, thick rise of my
cock again as I reached my other hand over and rubbed it up and down the
thick, hairy beef of his muscular thigh.

"And I got a reward or two for you too, sir," I said. "For being a good
Dad."

"Sir, yes sir," he grinned, and with a deep, manly laugh, we came in tight
to swap spit again. Tomorrow, I'd send Joey into the garage to clean Dad's
couch thoroughly. But before that, me and Dad could give him even more mess
to clean up. Maybe he'd finally learn to be more like me, and be a good son
too.