Date: Tue, 16 Feb 2010 16:26:04 -0800 From: Tom De Plume Subject: Virgil Part 1 Seriously. If you're under the legal age in your area don't read this story. If you're not sure what the legal age is don't read this story. If you don't want to read about two teenage boys - brothers - engaging in sex acts don't read this story. Seriously. I really mean it. Otherwise, please enjoy. I'd love feedback (send it to deplume84@gmail.com) and I'd love an editor. ------------------------------------------------------ Virgil wasn't quite what he appeared to be in a lot of ways. First of all he always looked dirty. His light brown hair, which came down to just below his shoulder blades, always looked stringy and greasy and dirty, even when he just came out of the shower. His face looked vaguely dirty mostly because he rarely ever shaved. For some of his friends this would have resulted what could have passed for a goatee or at least decent sideburns. But, thanks to the little bit of Native American blood he had -- which also gave him high cheek bones and a constant golden-red tan from the first sunny day of spring well into late fall -- a couple days without shaving would result in only patchy, thin tufts of hair above his lip and along his jaw. He didn't care, though. He liked his "shit `stach," and the hair on his jaw made his face look even more angular than it did naturally. Also, because of his huge frame and deep, resonant voice you would think that he was dumb and only excelled at sports. He did play a lot of basketball and football -- though never for the school team -- but more than that he loved to read. A book was almost always either in his massive hands or tucked into the back pocket of his impossibly large jeans - which were so large that even on his six foot six inch frame, they always slid down below his hips. The pair he wore most often were hand-me-downs from his uncle who was even larger and considerably heavier. They were a light blue from years of washing and wearing. But, unlike his uncle, Virgil was gangly - not bulky - which accentuated the size of his hands, feet, and head. Virgil lived with his mother and brother, Ben, in a trailer on a fairly large piece of land. When his parents had bought the wooded area it was with the idea of building a house on it. This was when Virgil was twelve and his brother was ten. Now, Virgil was eighteen and the only signs of the house were stakes in the ground that marked where a house would have been if his dad hadn't taken all of his money with him when he ran off to Canada with his now ex-wife -- "Ex 2 of 4," Virgil's mother being "Ex 1 of 4." The land now belong to Virgil's mom, who - against everyone's advice - had no intention of selling the thickly forested and remote plot. It was easily worth enough to buy a decent sized home for her and her boys. The trailer that Virgil's family lived in was always a mess. None of them minded, particularly. They were used to dirty dishes and the smell of stale cigarettes -- all of them smoked. They were used to dirty clothes and out-of-date magazines in every room. The trailer had been nice and clean and new when they moved in. It was an adventure, and a change from the spacious three-bedroom apartment they lived in before, which Ben could now only faintly remember. The trailer consisted of two bedrooms -- one shared by both Virgil and Ben -- one bathroom, a kitchen/dining area, and a living room. There were chairs on the roof where the family would sit in the Summer, though recently Virgil's mom didn't really go up there since the TV was in the living room. Two years ago Virgil graduated early from high school and all of his teachers and guidance councilors expected him to get a scholarship and head off to college. Virgil, however, had no intention of going away. His small town suited him just fine. He now worked construction when he wanted to, and when he didn't want to -- well -- he didn't. He was careful with his money so that he had enough saved up that when he wanted to take sometime off to spend his days reading or going down to the river with his friends, he could. For an example, this Summer he didn't want to do anything. It was the hottest Summer he could remember. The news said the heat wave had broken every record in Southern Virginia since 1923. It was nine in the morning, the sun wasn't quite over the trees yet, so he took his coffee and sat up on the roof to read -- today it was "Remembrance of Things Past," which he would probably finish by the end of the day. His mother was at work and would be until the afternoon and his brother hadn't come home last night from the party that the two of them, Ben's girlfriend, Becky, and their friend, Jeff, had gone to. Virgil sat on a dirty, beat-up papa-san with his long legs carelessly sprawled over a lawn chair, using it as a footstool. He was wearing his flip-flops and favorite boxers that were fraying from so much use that a hole was forming in the crotch. He didn't mind, though. No one was around, and no one could see the trailer from the road, for all the trees. Not that that would have mattered. Virgil preferred wearing as little clothing as he could and was not in the least self-conscious of his stringy body. The trees shielded him from the sun, and a light breeze filtered through, playing with his hair, which was lying on his neck and over his shoulders. He could feel the breeze tickle the hairs around his nipples -- which, apart from the trail leading from his belly button down to his drawers and the dark tufts in his arm pits, was all the hair on his torso -- and the sensation made his nipples hard. He took a sip of his coffee and placed it back on the milk crate he and Ben used as a table and he flopped his arm over his head. He could smell a slight twang from his sweat and his lips curled in a content smirk. He liked that smell. His and Ben's room was thick with it, even in the summer when their windows were always open. He chuckled to himself when he could feel the smell cause his dick to thicken. He was chuckling because he'd had sex with Becky twice last night and beat off when he got home and, still, not six hours later, was ready to go again. The breeze was going right up the leg of his boxers and through the hole in the crotch and he could feel it play with the hair on his balls. His sack tightened from this, and more blood filled his dick. He let the book lay flat, his thumb marking his page. He debated whether to have a tug. Spanking it outdoors -- on the roof, no less -- was nothing new. Once, on Ben's birthday, he had been jerking on the roof. Ben came outside and went through his normal morning routine -- open the door, step out, turn to the left, take a piss, stretch and yawn, shake, light up his first cigarette, and climb the ladder to the roof where Virgil would have a cup of coffee waiting for him. Since it was Ben's birthday, and Virgil knew he would be heavily hung over from the night before, Virgil thought it would be funny to wait until step five -- stretch and yawn -- and bust his nut right onto Ben's head. He did. And it was. If only to Virgil. Ben didn't think so, though. "What the fuck?" Ben shouted as the cum splatted right onto Ben's forehead and in his buzzed blond hair. Virgil laughed so hard he started coughing and could barely get the words "Happy Birthday, fuck-stick" out of his mouth. Ben, tall as he was at six foot three, was still shorter and there fore couldn't catch Virgil when he jumped off the other side of the trailer and ran into the woods laughing all the way. Ben vowed to take his revenge, and to this day still says "that was for my birthday, cunt biscuit," whenever he got the better of Virgil. Virgil now chuckled again as he thought of this time. Just then he could hear a car pulling off the road and down their dirt drive way. After a moment he saw Becky's blue car come into view. As it neared and he could see two shadowy figures he gave a half wave as the tent in his boxers drooped. The car came to a slow stop near the front door. Ben stepped out onto the dry clay and squinted up toward Virgil. "How the fuck did you get home?" Ben hollered up. "Walked." Virgil reached over and grabbed a cigarette from the milk crate. Becky craned her neck over the passenger seat and looked up at Virgil. "Hey Virg. I think you left your socks last night." Virgil coughed out a chuckle. "Naw. The green ones?" "Yeah." "Naw," Virgil repeated, "Those're Jeff's." Ben turned back to Becky, "See? I told ya." "Shut up," Becky squealed at Ben. "I'll see y'all tonight?" Ben grunted a "yep" as he shoved the door closed with his heel. He started to climb the ladder, and got to the third rung when Virgil called down. "I didn't get you a cup." "Why the fuck not?" Ben said, stopping mid-climb. "'Cause you weren't home, asshole. Wha'do I look like? Yer fucking maid?" "Fuck you." Ben grunted as he went back down and into the trailer. Becky turned around in what would have been, according to the stakes in the dirt, the garage and waved at Virgil and Ben as she disappeared back into the trees. Virgil opened his book again and started reading. He got about three lines in when the breeze started playing with him again. He scratched his big toe on the sole of his other foot and absently started rubbing his nipple as his dong started to creep to an upright position. He heard the door slam and then felt Ben start to climb the ladder. Ben grunted as he reached the top. Evidently he was hung over. "That cunt," Ben grunted as he lifted him self onto the roof, coffee in one hand. "I asked her a fuckin' hundred times to give me a fuckin' hummer and she says her fuckin' jaw is sore. Jeff walks up and in four seconds he's creamin' her tonsils. I swear to shit I don't know why I'm with that cunt." "Because of the times she does give you a hummer?" Virgil asked, not looking up from his book or stopping his nipple rubbing. "Oh yeah," Ben said as he lit a cigarette. Ben noticed Virgil's dick starting to pop out of the hole in his boxers. "Shit," he said as he exhaled. For being brothers Ben and Virgil had very few similarities. Where Virgil's hair was light brown and often to or past his shoulders, Ben's was blond and always buzzed. Where Virgil had tan skin and high cheekbones Ben was pale, burnt easily, covered in freckles, and had round cheeks. Where Virgil was wiry, Ben had more meat to his frame. Where Virgil was smart, Ben was... not. Where Virgil's eyes were a copper brown, Ben's were a light blue. The few similarities were their height - though Virgil was taller - their deep blue eyes, and their easy going charm, which did them both very well with the ladies. "How the fuck is it that you fucked Becky twice last night and you still got a boner today?" Ben asked. "And I spanked it when I got home, too," Virgil grinned as his hand moved from his nipple to the tip of his uncut dick that was peeking out of his boxers. "Shit," Ben repeated, as he broke into a laugh. "How the fuck do you do it?" Virgil shrugged and dog-eared the page he was on, setting the book down on the milk crate. Ben squinted into the sky as he took his light jacket off, tossing it onto the ground. "Gonna be hot as shit again. What're you up to today?" "I danno," Virgil shrugged as he rubbed his barely cover piece. "Swimmin'?" Ben removed the unbuttoned shirt he was wear revealing a dirty wife beater. He set his cigarette in the ashtray as he then pealed it off his body. Now topless his red shoulders were in stark contrast to his white chest, covered in dense, light freckles and a dusting of blond fuzz. "I'm gonna head down to the river with Will in a bit. You can come with us. Me an' him are gonna fish." "Fuck," Virgil said as his eyes followed a squirrel jumping in the trees, "I'm gonna toss off a load first. I may go back to sleep after." "How?" Ben asked, resuming his questioning. "You couldn't have anymore spunk in them nuts!" Virgil fished his halfie out of his fly with the deftness of frequent practice and gave a playful twirl of his cock in Ben's direction. "You'd think," he laughed. Ben laughed too as he kicked his shoes off, wiggling his toes in his holey and dirty socks. "I might, too. But, not before..." He stood up and walked away from Virgil to the edge of the roof. Virgil could hear him unzip and a moment later a stream of piss was flowing over the edge down to where their mother had once tried to grow roses. Once the stream stopped Ben turned around, his dick still flopping out of his camo shorts. Like Virgil, it was uncut. But unlike his brother, Ben's dick looked proportional to his frame. Big boy; big dick. But Virgil's, especially now that was growing to full length, was disproportional to his frame. Bigger boy; enormous dick. It was just shy of ten inches compared to Ben's eight and a half. "What did Becky end up doing with you?" Virgil asked as his dick moistened with precum. "I put it in her butt. Then nutted on her tits. You?" "Just cunt all night," Virgil shrugged. "No dome shots?" Ben asked. "Nope." "Cunt," Ben grunted as his shorts dropped and he stroked his wang. As usual he wasn't wearing underwear. "You're all hung up on a blow job, ain't ya?" "Fuckin' right I am," Ben said kicking his shorts at Virgil's face. Virgil swatted them away and they flew off the backside of the trailer. "Oh, you fucking faggot!" Ben yelled in mock anger. "Faggot?" Virgil said stubbing out his cigarette. "Who lost last time?" "Who lost the last four times before. One of `em had a bonus, if I remember." Ben was stepping close to Virgil, looking down at him." "Fuck you, brother man. I ain't suckin' that shit," Virgil laughed as he swatted at Ben's grown dick. "Fair is fair," Ben hissed as he flicked at the ridge of his dick with the webbing at the base of his thumb and index finger. He bit his lip and exaggeratedly bucked his hips making deep grunting groans that sent Virgil into spasms of laughter. "Just `cause Becky didn't blow you—" "She didn't blow you either," Ben interrupted. "So? I got in her guts and painted her titties. Twice. I got mine." "Pussy." "Faggot," Virgil said, standing and spreading his long arms out to either side. He looked down into Ben's eyes. His dick nudging right below Ben's belly button, leaving a tiny clear damp dot in Ben's trail. "You wanna fucking go, fag boy?" Ben said stepping in so that both his and Virgil's dicks were pressed between them. "Let's fucking go, homo." There was a silence broken only by crow in the distance and the barking of the squirrel. They stared eye to eye. Both boys could smell the pungent sweat of the other. "Loser calls it," Virgil hissed. A moment. "Ready?" Ben asked, nostrils flaring. "Yup." Ben's jaw clenched. "Odds," he said at last. Both boys quickly threw up their fists in front of the other's face. Virgil held up two fingers. Ben held up four. "Motherfucking bullshit!" Ben yelled as Virgil laughed. "Now who's a faggot?!" Virgil yelled with his arms out stretched. Ben stomped his foot as a string of profanity continued out of his mouth. "Alright, let's just fucking do this," Ben said after a couple more seconds of swearing. "What?" Virgil said, cupping his hand to his ear. "What did you say? I don't think you said what you were supposed to. What did you say?" "Fuck you." "Nope..." "Alright, already! Fuck! I'm the faggot." Ben said half-heartedly. "No, no, fuck boy. Louder." "I'm the fucking cocksucking faggot!" Ben yelled as loud as he could, letting the word "faggot" last nearly ten seconds, his voice cracking. "Better?" he asked. "Sure," Virgil said as he stuffed his hard cock into his boxers then hooked his thumbs into the waste band and let them drop to the roof. "Fuck you," Ben grumbled as he lowered himself onto his knees. "Hey, if you're gonna bitch about it we can play for bonus," Virgil said waving his dripping dick at Ben. "Huh? Lil' double or nothing?" "Fuck that shit. Last time I didn't fucking sit right for a fucking week." With that Ben wrapped one hand around the base of Virgil's cock and rubbed his nuts with other, like Virgil liked, as he licked the precum pooling in the opening of Virgil's foreskin. "Don't worry, Bucky," Virgil said, using the childhood nickname he only used when he and Ben were alone, "I've been eating a lot of fruit so my shit'll be nice and sweet." Virgil let out another chuckle as he closed his eyes and rolled his head back. The sun was just coming up over the treetops and was warming Virgil's face as Ben ran his tongue down the underside of Virgil's cock. His cock still tasted and smelled like sweat and pussy from the night before, which made losing less terrible. "It's like a fucking clit flavored popsicle," Ben snickered up to Virgil right before moistening his lips. He wiped the beads of sweat off this rough upper lip -- he hadn't shaved in a day or two -- then took as much of his brother's dick into his mouth as he could. Ben was kneading Virgil's sack gently as he pumped the thick dick in and out of his mouth. His tongue was digging under Virgil's foreskin. As much as he liked pussy and only sucked his brother off knowing that as often as not Virgil lost the numbers game, he did freely admit -- if only to Virgil -- that he really didn't mind the taste of spunk. Virgil's, his own, Jeff's when he got it from time to time. It was just the actually having a dick in his mouth he didn't care for. He really didn't like losing the game. "How much longer you gonna be?" Ben asked, taking Virgil's dick out of his mouth. "Why? You got someplace to be?" Virgil didn't even open his eyes. "You wanna hurry this along, you know what to do." Virgil rested his palms just above his butt and stretched his back a bit. Ben sighed, put Virgil's cock back in his mouth and slowly took more and more. He took the hand that had been pumping the shaft and reached between his brother's legs. He found Virgil's ass and started kneading the cheeks, which were lightly dusted with fur. "Yup," Virgil sighed, "Keep going." Ben's finger lightly traced Vigil's crack down and up and down again. Then he wiggled his finger between the sweaty cheeks until he found what he was looking for. There was the wrinkly hole that Virgil loved to have played with. He didn't really like anything in his hole, but having it pressed and tickled while he was getting a blow job always felt amazing to him and got him much closer much faster. "Fuck," Virgil gasped. "I'm going to fucking blow." Ben knew. Both brothers had lost at the game enough times in the four years that they had played to know when the other was going to cum. Ben knew from the tightening in Virgil's sack and the pulse of the twitching in his hole that Virgil would pop off in less than a minute. Ben pulled off and looked up at Virgil. "Evens," Virgil panted. Both boys held up three fingers. "Motherfucker!" Ben shouted. He put the cock back in his mouth and bobbed up and down on it. Virgil laughed and grabbed the back of Ben's head, pushing it down onto his dick. "Don't be a sore loser, fuck face." Virgil then bucked his hips hard at Ben's face and froze. Just then string after string of thick, pungent cum blasted down Ben's throat. Even after all this time Ben was terrible at keeping a load in his mouth, especially a large a one as Virgil was now pumping into him. So his lips broke their seal for just a moment and a fat glob of spunk seeped out of his mouth and made a loud splat sound of the roof as Virgil shot the last few spurts into his younger brother's mouth. There was a calm moment as Ben waited to make sure the last of the cum was shot. Then Virgil quickly yanked his dick out of his brother's mouth and with a hard "thwack" smacked him across the right cheek. "You son of a fucking bitch!" Ben screamed as he held his right cheek and stood up. Already there was a clear outline of Virgil's thick cock on the cheek, and even a couple drips of cum where splattered in Ben's ear. Virgil was laughing so hard he was turning beat red. Ben balled up his fit and punched Virgil four times hard in the arm. It was then that Virgil looked up and noticed a familiar brown car driving through the trees. "Shit," Virgil grunted, pointing toward the car. Ben froze. "Shit," he echoed his brother, "where the fuck are my fucking shorts?"