Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2019 10:20:51 -0700
From: 1noblegent <1noblegent@gmail.com>
Subject: "The Night is Stifling Hot" installment 2 "The Next Morning"

Next Morning

By Fettle Pulchritude

*A work of fiction exploring extremely controversial subjects and what if
situations. They reduce the population of all species by eliminating the
males. Those that decide who to rid first look to aberrant and then to the
poor. Donate to nifty to keep this website viable.*

	Groggy, I awake with a tender erection that is pasted between my
mattress sheet and pillow case by a dried up puddle of come. I feel so
ethereal. God was that some erotic dream / nightmare. I'm horrified as I
recall my dream and dark fantasies of incestuous father and son sex.
	It was only a bizarre nocturnal dream, wasn't it? Wasn't it?
	I roll onto my back and begin thinking through my day ahead. I've
got ball practice and a free afternoon. I mean Dad has golf club. Mom will
be off to auxiliary club and surely my sister will get lost and spend the
day with her friends.
	It was hot last night and the fact I'm nude and not in my sleep
pants is nothing too odd for me. Next thing I know, however, I'm playing
with my cock. Man is it tender and sore. I begin to recall last
night. Jeremy and his Dad wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It had to be
part of my pubescent nocturnal dream.
	I lift my head and I see my binoculars out and on top of my
desk. Wow, that is weird. "Jeremy and his dad," I think to myself. "I
wonder..."
	I get up from my bed to more evidence. Last night was more than a
nocturnal dream.
	I stand over my desk and sure enough there is come all over the top
of it. And yes to my despair jism is all over my homework assignments I had
left out.
	I pick up the binoculars and focus in on Jeremy's room. Let's face
it I am sort of hoping to witness the father and son duo going at it. Nope.
	Jeremy's room seems to be in a high state of order. Jeremy is not
in his room. The bedding has been tucked tight and smooth military style
between the mattress and box springs. There is nothing there to indicate
any of the hard core sex I am certain I witnessed last night.
	I focus my binoculars on the boy's window. The glass seem clear
with out a smudge or streak. "Hum."
	The aroma of frying bacon wafts into my room. I look at my alarm
clock 6:48. I turn the alarm off. It will annoy me to hear it go off. "I've
got to get a move on," I think to myself.
	I scramble to put my room in order. Mom will be popping in soon to
make sure I'm up for the day and I just can't let her see all my come
everywhere. I gather up my homework and stash it in my pencil drawer. I
stow away my binoculars in the bottom drawer. I take the T-shirt I had
draped over my desk chair and used it to try and scrape off the dried drops
of come on the desk and floor.
	I pulled up my bed to cover the crusty jism on the sheets. I
slipped into my sleep pants not a minute too soon. "Phew."
	The alarm clock says 7:10. Like clock work Mother is rapping at my
bedroom door. The door opens and she pokes her head inside. "Good you are
up," she says. "Breakfast is ready. Quickly get yourself bathed and dressed
for ball practice. Your father has to run to his office before his golf
game so he needs to drop you at the park early. Let's get a move on." She
shut the door. I hear her walk away.

							*****

	I walk into the kitchen. Dad is in the nook thumbing through the
morning paper and sipping on a cup of coffee. I start to help myself to a
plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast that Mom has placed out on the
counter top.
	Mom walks into the room and right away begins to explain, "Your
sister has a party this evening at Jackie's so she will be shopping at the
mall until late this afternoon. Your father has his golf tournament
today. And I have auxiliary and bridge club."
	"Coach Trainer has agreed to drop you home after practice. You will
be home alone." Pointing her finger at me she continues, "You are old
enough to take care of yourself. Don't get into mischief and no
friends... I mean it."
	"OK," I shrug meekly. Just moments later Dad and I are on our way.

							*****

	As Dad and I are heading down the street towards the ball field I
notice that their are two police officers talking to Mr. Maunhore at his
front door.
	Dad is focused on driving the car and probably what he has planned
for the day.
	I rubber neck as we aproach and pass by the neighbors.
	Mr. Maunhore has posed in the door frame reeking of confidence. The
man is practically nude. He is dressed only in a little white nylon running
shorts that are split all the way up to the waist band on the side and
white Nike runners. His V-shaped, tanned, and tight muscular body fills the
entire door frame as he leans his right shoulder against the hing side of
the door jam and has casually kicked his right foot against the other side
of the jam crossing his left foot over the ankle allowing the foot to
dangle just above the porch.
	As the officers speak to the man, Mr. Maunhore scratches his hairy
chest with his right hand and runs his fingers across his big round left
nipple.
	My God the man is brazen.
	With his left hand he cups his balls, draws his hands up to his
navel and then slides his hand back down into his short and casually
scratches his balls.
	 I watch the cops take notice. I mean, My God, he's nearly naked. I
get a strong tingling in my baseball pants.
	Mr. Maunhore nods his head in an assent and invites the two
officers into his home and shuts the door. I wonder about the officers and
curious to know if they are as hard in their pants as their night clubs. I
wonder what is going on.
	Frustrated I squeeze my crotch. My cock is firm, bound up inside my
jockstrap. I look over towards Dad. My God my dad is a hunk of virile
masculinity. I don't ever recall noticing or feeling this way towards him
as I do right now. I sit and study him down from head to toe. He seems
totally oblivious and focused on the task to get me to the ball park and
staying on schedule.
	As we approached the park Dad, the interminable boss, started
giving out instructions."Be helpful to the coach and be sure to thank him
when he drops you back home," said my Dad.
	I assured him I would while stepping out of the car.
	"Hey, Don't forget your glove," he said ending with a toothy grin.
	I grab my mitt and backpack, shut the car door, and like that he
drives off. I look at my watch it's not even 8:00 and practice doesn't
start until 9:00.
	I sling the backpack over my shoulder and head into the stands to
wait for everyone to arrive.
	Sitting down I stare out into the dew coated grass of the ball
field. The sun has risen and everything is casting their long shadows into
right field. It's getting warmer. The dew won't be there much longer.
	The aluminum bench is cold to sit upon. I'm bored. I reach into my
backpack and dig deep. "Got it," I think to myself pulling out an old
"Hustler" magazine I stole awhile ago out of my father's Den.
	A Mourning Dove coos and flits from the top of the backstop to the
roof of the left field dugout. Just then two sparrows fly out from behind
me and start fucking mid air in front of me. After spinning about and
bumping into each other for a moment the two alight on the chain link of
the backstop and rest for a second only to fly off and start their mating
rituals all over again above first base.
	Smiling, I cast my eye down to the dirty magazine. I start flipping
through the pages of big busted women with large round nipples. Some of the
women are fingering themselves holding their vagina open tauntingly
awaiting for a man (me) to pounce upon her hot moist pussy.
	I flip towards the back of the magazine (my favorite part). Nude
men with huge turgid dicks surround a woman. One man lines up his cock to
the vagina. A series of photo stills follows. They illustrate the big penis
entering that females glistening twat and then withdrawing all shining,
gooey, and slick with pussy juice. I study that big dick, how it is a
darker brown than the pale white skin of the woman. The woman has shaved
all but a small rectangular patch of pubic hair (a landing strip). The mans
balls are fuzzy with dark course curly hair. His white ass is all hairy but
is framed by deep tan lines on his legs and waist. I chuckle as I think the
man to be a wild ape.
	I've seen these pictures dozens of times but still seeing that hard
cock ready to have sex gets me horny every time.
	I stand up and open my baseball trousers and push them and my
jockstrap down past my knees. My boy cock springs up and smacks my abdomen.
	I grip my boy boner and start stroking at it. I look down at the
magazine. I imagine it's me I'm getting ready to fuck the bitch like the
man.
	"Yeah I'm the man." I may have peach fuzz for whiskers, My legs are
as bare as any pre-teen, and I may not have more than a couple dozen hairs
sprouting just above my five inch dick, but... "I'm gonna fuck you so hard
bitch. Take it."
	I thrust my hips forward and stab my fist with my hard cock.

	A slight breeze picks up. It rustles and flips the pages of the
magazine. The magazine slides a couple inches down the bench. Damn this
distraction. I slam my right hand down on the magazine, snatch it up and
stuff it back in my knapsack.
	I grip my dick once more, close my eyes, and recall the images from
the magazine. I start stroking my cock violently fast and concentrate on
getting off when I hear him.
	"Boys get back here. You forgot your Uniforms and mitts."
	Stunned with the fear of getting caught with my pants down has me
tugging at my pants to pull them up. They are bunched up with my jockstrap
and won't budge. In a panic I dive down behind the bench laying supine and
still. Not a moment to soon.
	Around the corner, as fast as a person stealing second base, Rob
Cox sprints in screaming at the top of his lungs. he cuts to the right and
runs past me between the risers and the backstop.
	"I'm gonna get you. I'm gonna tag your ass bro," his twin brother
Rich cries out chasing right behind rob.
	Rob cuts left and leaps up the rungs of the bleachers on the far
left side near third base. His brother follows suit. I hear the peal from
the aluminum bench of each quick step as it is obvious that Rob followed by
Rich is fleeing and running towards me on the top tier of the bleachers.
	"Shit," although I'm panicking I have the sense of mind to
concentrate on working my pants up even if it's inch by inch. What would
happen if the boys caught me? I fear I would never live it down.

	Behind the stand I hear the car doors shut.
	Rob's steps turn and I hear him run straight down the tiers behind
the home plate. Rich is cutting corners and I sense he is catching up.
	I have untangled my jock strap from my pants and slip it up over my
"privates" and steadfastly start working on getting my trousers up which
are rolled up and giving me trouble. I feel so busted.
	Rob runs into the backstop fence with a clattering crash. Rich
leaps up from behind Rob and grabs a hold to his brother's shoulders. He
also has latched his legs around the hip of Rob causing Rob to fall into
the fence a second time.
	"Ah ha, I've tagged your ass bro. Now you are it." Giggling he
takes off running along the fence toward the right field."
	Just past me he yells out "Watch out old man."
	"Hey..." the boy's grandpa tries to interject but the boy is
already gone.
	"Excuse me grandpa," screams Rob who is hot on the tail of his
brother.
	I lay motionless (I even hold my breath). I can hear the old man
huffing as he, laden with the two boys' ball uniforms, cleats, and ball
gloves, saunters slowly toward the dugout.
	Once he has passed by me I lift my hips and slip my ball pants
up. I zip and fasten them. I clasp my belt and take in a deep breath and
give out a sigh of relief. I lift my head up and see Grandpa Cox duck into
the left field dugout. The boys are out in center field running in circles.

	"Phreet," a sharp loud whistle generated from between the old man's
buckteeth, lips, and tongue pierces the air. "Boys, get your tight asses in
here and get your uniforms on...Now."
	Rob leaps onto of his brother's back near second base knocking them
both over face first into the red clay. Leaping to his feet he swats his
brother's ass tittering. "Last one in bro. sucks dick." He goes to run in
and his brother grabs his ankle and he falls on his face.
	Rich gets up and starts sprinting towards the shelter. Right behind
him Rob has gotten up and chases his brother zig-zag into the dugout.
	I stand up adjust my uniform so it's comfortable. I sit down on the
bench and rummage through my backpack and find a bottled water at the
bottom. Just as I twist off the lid to take a sip, around the corner of the
stadium comes Coach Trainer.
	Slung over the coaches shoulder is his canvas bag that is full of
bats and baseballs.
	He walks around the backstop stopping near the home plate. He
proceeds to dump out the canvas bag tossing it aside. He straightens up,
places his left fist into the small of his back, raises his right arm high
over his head arches his back in and stretches. As he looks out across the
ball field he attempts to rub out some tension of his right shoulder with
his left hand.
	"Hey Trainer."
	"Oh, Hi Ebeneezer," acknowledging Grandpa Cox "Where are the boys?"
	As the old man approaches the coach he pumps his right thumb over
his shoulder several times to indicate the dugout behind him. "We had a
late start this morning so they're changing over there."
	"Oh, I see," The coach looks past the old man into the shadow of
the dugout.
	Coach Trainer's eye light up, and his lips open in a broad grin as
he is visually treated to the view of the boys in various states of
undress.
	 "So how's Dick?" inquired the coach feigning interest in
continuing the conversation.
	"You know," continued Grandpa Cox, "when the boys' father ain't
around the two act up terribly. I think they know that if I belt their
hides for their misdeeds, that my heart just ain't in it."
	Coach Trainer's attention fades completely as the old man prattles
on. Jacks attention has focused completely on the antics of the boys.
	"The boys just walk over me," continued Grandpa Cox. "I have such a
hard time disciplining them. When ever I bend those supple little butt
cheeks over my knee to discipline them I end up caressing them more than
spanking them."
	"Yeah. Right. I see," nods the coach disconnected from the
conversation.
	Rob darts out of the dugout. "Woo-hoo," he laughes triumphant as he
heads out into center field. He is all but naked wearing only his jockstrap
and ball cap. In his left hand he is holding up a jockstrap as if it were a
trophy or Olympic torch.
	The coach's jaw drops. He even drools a little. He wipes the
spittle from his chin with his right hand and proceeds to wipe it across
the growing bulge in his ball pants.
	Laughing Rich runs out naked. "Not cool bro. Give that back."
	The two flee and chase each other back and forth across the
outfield. A funny thing is that Rich's four inch penis is hard and slapping
back and forth across his belly as he runs after his brother.
	The coaches eyes gloss as he gropes his crotch.
	Ebeneezer Cox, realizing the coach has disengaged from conversing
with him turns to see what has taken the coaches attention.
	"You naughty imps," yells out the old man. "You boy's had better
get your little butts back in there and get dressed right now."
	 Ignoring the old man, Rob runs over to left field where he turns
and faces Rich. "You want something bro.?" he taunts holding the jockstrap
high over his head.
	 Rich approaches his brother and leaps toward the little strap.
	 His brother simply switches hands and Rich misses his target.
	 Rich turns, gathers up some muster, and like a mad bull zeroing in
on the red cape of a Toreador charges towards the jockstrap dangling from
the upraised hand of his brother. Ole.
	 Rob arches his back deep and takes off in another sprint towards
center field barely missing the concentrated attack of Richard.
	 "Come on bro. just give it to me." pleads Rich.
	 Coach reaches inside his left front pocket and adjusts himself
allowing the thick tube of man meat to be erect inside his pants.
	 "Boys get back here right this instant," orders Mr. Cox. "When we
get home I promise you both you'll be in lock down in your bedroom until
your father gets home this evening. Do you hear me?"
	  Again Rob turns and faces his brother in a taunt while holding
the strap over head. "Na, na, na, na, na, nah."
	  Rich leaps but instead of going for the jock he lunges into his
brother's gut knocking him to the ground on his back. The momentum has the
two skid across the grass a distance of at least a foot or two.
	 "Cock sucker, you should have just gave it to me. Now you can lick
my tea bags bro." Rich scoots up, grabs his brother by the hair, and pushes
his crotch into his brother's face.
	 "Get off me bro. You like weigh a ton." says Rob laughing in his
exaggeration. He bucks his hips up in an effort to throw his brother off
him. Instead the bucking makes Rich's tea bagging slam harder into Rob's
face.
	 Winded the two calm down. Rich rolls off his brother and the two
muscle themselves up to their feet.  Dirt, grass stains and bloody scrapes
cover the raw flesh of the two Cox twins.
	"Phweet," it's the coach who whistles this time. "Boys get in there
and get dressed. The rest of the team and their parents will be arriving
any moment now. Do it now."
	Grandpa Cox excuses himself to go supervise the boys.
	Coach Trainer stands there ogling the boys while his left fingers
lazily rub up and down the outline of his big cock from balls in the crotch
to the thick tip that is bulging the polyester pants at the waistline.
	Rob, still gripping his brothers jock, wraps his other hand over
his brother's shoulder. Rich reaches around his brother's waist and the two
hobble side by side toward the dugout and their perturbed Grandpa. Rich
still has an erection that points straight up towards his navel.
	Mid way there, the two turn their faces towards each other. There
is this a glint in their eyes and for a moment I am almost certain the boys
are going to kiss each other. Instead Rob takes the strap and stretches it
over his brother's head so that the the cup spread across the top of Rich's
scalp.
	Rich then salaciously slides his hand down the small of his
brother's back. He slips his middle finger into the sweaty crack of Rob's
butt cheeks and then with his index finger and thumb he gives a goose bite.
	Coach Trainer stands there ogling the nude boys in deep thought.
His right arm is across his belly, his right hand supports the elbow of his
left arm, and his left hand cups his jaw as the man nods his head back and
forth in disbelief.
	"Just wait 'till your father hears about this," warns Mr. Cox as
the boys approach the dugout.
	"Yea? What ever," Rich says.
	"Don't you sass me," barks the old man cuffing the back of Richards
head.
	The waist band of the strap slides down across the boy's eyes. Rich
grabs the strap off his head and ducks into the dugout.
	Robert titters.
	The old man turns and cuffs Robert along side his head.
	"Hey," utters the boy frowning.
	"And don't you entice him. you hear."
	The coach picks up three of his bats and does some warms up swings.
About that time everyone else begins to arrive and the rest of the practice
goes off like normal.