Dad's Piss Fag, Part 4

Disclaimer: the events depicted here bear no resemblance to the life experiences of the author, nor to those of anyone he knows. This story deals in a frank and explicit way with incest, watersports, and scat. If you are not eighteen years of age, or if such material offends you, please read no further.

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I looked at my desk calendar. Wednesday. It was the last day of school. Just two more finals and I would be through with high school. Since I was a senior, I was getting out earlier than all the underclassmen in school. The whole summer stretched out tantalizingly before me.

That morning, Dad popped his head into my room. I was almost naked, standing there, pulling my briefs over my (ok, I admit it) hot boybutt. Even though Dad saw me like this, I was well past the point of modesty or embarrassment. That I had a hard on didn't trouble me either. Dad and I were always very free with each other, and frequently went around naked, or nearly so. But it was getting late: he had to get to work, and I to school. It wasn't sex he wanted... at least not yet.

"Your brother will be home from college in two weeks," he stated flatly. I wondered how this would effect our routine, our sessions of father/son mansex. My uncertainty must have shown on my face, because he quickly added:

"You know that your brother has a lot of dates. With his looks, how could he not? I'm sure you and I will get some time together."

"I hope so, Dad. I'd hate to have to stop having sex altogether," I nearly groaned.

Dad smiled, sexily. "Besides, your brother is over twenty-one now. I think I'll be a little more lenient on the curfew this summer. As long as I know where he is, he can pretty much come and go as he pleases."

"Well, that hardly seems fair! I mean, what if I'd like to stay out?" I said petulantly.

"Well, you're not yet twenty-one. And besides, if he does find some bitch he wants to spend the night with, that'll give me and you an evening together."

The penny dropped. I suddenly understood, and a smile of recognition spread across my face.

"Goddamn, I know what that smile means, bitch!" Dad walked over to me as he was talking and laid his hand down hard on my ass. "You fucking tease! I've got to go to work, and you've got two more finals to take!"

"Oh, Dad, I could do these in my sleep! They're my two easiest finals!" I don't know why I was arguing.

"I know. It's a good thing you're such a good student. If your finals exhausted you, just imagine how tired you'd be after I'd fucked your faggot ass tonight!"

I began, involuntarily, to blush. Why was I blushing?

Dad added: "Well, you can be sure, when I finally take a dump today, I'm not going to wipe my ass. I want to give my bitch a treat when I come home. Or maybe I won't even shit at all. Just hold it in and save it for my faggot . I know how hungry you get for my shit!"

I smiled again, and my cock began to twitch. "Not yet," I told myself. "Concentrate on your finals, then think about sex."

As Dad turned to leave, he said over his shoulder, "You do your best on those finals, bitch, and I'm sure you'll do great. Then, when you're all done, get your faggot ass ready for your fucking Daddy."

"Yes, SIR!" I said enthusiastically.

The two weeks until my brother arrival were wonderful. (And I did great on my finals.) I laid by the pool all day, or mowed the lawn, then laid by the pool. I still kept the house clean, made sure the groceries were stocked, prepared dinner, and sucked my father's cock on demand. I was in heaven. Although I wanted to see my brother, I dreaded his coming home a little. Dreaded it because I knew it was going to restrict our sex life.

It was more than brotherly affection that made me want to see my brother, though. He was almost too beautiful. Whereas Dad and I were dark-haired, Chris took after Mom: golden blond hair that got even lighter in the summer, a square jaw, gorgeous skin, and penetrating green eyes. He was on the rowing team for his university (he didn't go to the local college because he couldn't row there), and his back was awesome. Broad shoulders, tapering down to a narrow waist, with more muscles and sinews on it than I'd ever seen on anyone else's back, Dad's included. But, unlike some of the other guys on the team (who he frequently poked fun at), he was determined not to be unbalanced, so he worked his chest when he worked out, almost obsessively. And his ass ... well, his ass defies description.

His chest work seems skimpy compared to the number of squats he does per day. His ass is full, round, plump, and unbelievably sexy. It's almost out of proportion to his body, like a Tom of Finland ass; not that I mind. When he wears his pants, those magnificent buttcheeks stretch those back seams to their limit. To get a pair of pants that didn't fit so tight, he'd have to wear them too big in the waist. But Chris doesn't. I noticed several times how much he enjoys the reaction of girls at the mall.

[I think the attraction to muscular asses is Darwinian. It comes from the urge to reproduce with the candidate most likely to drive the cum home. "With that ass," the genes seem to say, "he could fuck me right in half." Or maybe it was just my genes that screamed that to me whenever I eyed those gorgeous mounds of ass-flesh. Which was as often as possible.]

On the night Chris got home, he ate and went almost straight to bed. He had lots of dirty laundry, so after he'd gone to bed, I began washing it for him. Not out of brotherly kindness, but out of sheer lust. I wanted to smell his dirty underwear, and sniff the pits of his t-shirts, the ones he went running in. While the washer was filling up, I had a pair of his briefs, skid marks in the back, stuck almost all the way up my nose when Dad walked by. He laughed softly.

"You like smelling your brother's nasty briefs, huh, faggot?" He began to massage his bulging crotch at the sight of me with his other son's nasty underwear under my nose.

I sniffed again before answering, "Yes, SIR."

"Lemme see those shorts, bitch," he said, quietly. I don't know how he made his voice sound so full of authority speaking at half-volume like that, but there was no mistaking that he was in charge. He didn't need to yell to be commandeering. I held out the briefs.

Dad whistled. Then he whispered, "Looks like your brother doesn't wipe very well. Maybe he just needs his faggot brother to lick his asshole clean. You'd like to do that wouldn't you, shit-eater? You'd like to clean your brother's nasty ass."

"Oh, yes, SIR! I would love to stick my tongue up and taste Chris's nasty hole."

"I want you to suck on the seat of that underwear, boy! Suck on those skid marks! Get a good taste of your brother's ass funk!"

I put the brown part of the briefs into my eager mouth, standing right there in front of the washing machine. I began to slurp and suck at the stains and was rewarded with the spicy flavor of my brother's shit traces. I moaned, I guess a little too loudly.

"Shut up!" Dad hissed at me. "Don't fucking wake him up! Just suck on them. I know you like it! I know you like sucking on those nasty, shit-smeared briefs!"

I began to stroke my cock through my shorts. I wasn't sure if Dad would want to have sex with my brother in the house, but I was at least going to put out all the signals. Who cared if Chris found out? "Fuck him," I thought, then added: "Ooo yeah, fuck him hard..." I giggled at the thought.

Dad smirked at me. "Looks like one pair of his underwear is going to get cleaned by your faggot mouth instead of the washer. Why don't you take that pair to your room with you. You can lick those shit stains while you beat off tonight."

Dad tousled my hair, then said: "Well, I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late. You never know. Chris might have a date tomorrow night. You'll need your strength if he does."

Dad pinched my ass and went upstairs to bed. I finished Chris's laundry (except for the dirty pair that I had plans for), folded it but left it on the table in the dining room so as not to disturb him (though I longed to disturb him) by putting it in his room, and went to bed myself. I fell asleep while licking the fabric that had been so close to my brother's ass.

The next morning, I woke up and Chris had already gone jogging. And Dad was long gone to work. Dad usually let me sleep in, since I didn't have to be up for school. Of course, sleeping in for Dad was sleeping until 8 o'clock. Dad would have killed me for staying in bed all day. Not that I wanted to. I had stuff I needed to do in the house, and I wanted to squeeze in a workout and some sun time, to work on my tan.

My brother had already come in from his morning run by the time I was making myself breakfast, so I offered to make him an some eggs or whatever he might want. He happily accepted my offer, so we sat at the dining room table, eating breakfast, me in my underwear, he in his sweaty running clothes. We talked about school and what we were going to do during summer break. He couldn't see my hard-on, raging under the table. Occasionally, I would reach under the table to "scratch" and give my cock a couple of clandestine tugs. My cock was drooling onto my shorts.

After eating, Chris bounded upstairs for a shower. After I heard the water running, I went up to his room to see... yes! There on the bed, with his sweaty short and tee-shirt, was his jockstrap. He'd been running in it that morning. I felt the rough fabric of the pouch; it was soaking wet. I had thought it would be, since it was already 85 degrees outside. Summer was here, and that meant sweaty bodies. Summer is my favorite season!

I picked up the jockstrap. I wanted to sniff it so badly. I felt the dampness of my brothers crotch sweat, which had soaked the fabric through. I couldn't get too carried away, because I thought he might finish in the shower soon. But since the water was still running, I figured I was safe. I brought the sweaty jockstrap up to my nose, ready for some stinky crotch smell. I took a deep breath in through my nose, pressing the moist pouch to my nose, taking the smell of his cock and balls into my lungs. I let out a soft moan. Such a manly smell. My cock began to get hard. I inhaled again. My cock was tenting my shorts, so I pulled it out, toyed with the head, then turned my attention again to the stinky pouch whose scent was assaulting my nose.

Then, from behind me, I heard:

"What the fuck? What the hell are you doing in here? Is that my jock strap?" The voice was harsh with disgust. It was Chris.

I whipped around to face him before I remembered my hard cock was hanging out. I was at a loss for words. The shower was still running.

"I, um... I, I, I thought you were in the shower," I managed weakly.

"Well, that's fucking obvious. What isn't so obvious is what the hell you're doing with my jock strap up your nose and a big ol' hardon."

I flushed deeply. Eventually I said: "Well, I think it's pretty obvious..."

"Oh, you like that, huh? You like the smell of sweaty crotches?"

"Yeah, Chris, I do." I had regained a little of my composure. Enough at least to be honest with him. I wasn't worried about him telling Dad, after all.

"Yeah, but that's not pussy smell, that's dick smell, little bro. You like smelling dicks?" His tone of anger was slightly gone from his voice. Not that it was any less hard. He sounded a bit like Dad when he talks dirty to me. Like he was taunting me with my own desires.

"Yeah, Chris, I love the smell of a man's sweaty crotch. I didn't think you'd find out I was doing this. I was going to put it back. But you caught me. I'm sorry."

"Ok, but that's not just any jockstrap there; your smelling your own brother's crotch. Isn't that a little twisted?"

"Well, maybe. But I just use what's close at hand, you know?"

Chris stopped to think. With a growing smirk, he seemed to be weighing what I just said against a whole lot of new options. I could see the ideas come into his head; they were reflected in his clear green eyes. He ran his thick fingers through his silky blond hair, giving me a tantalizing view of his arm pit, nestled under the musculature of his arm.

"Close at hand, huh? Well, this crotch is pretty close at hand." He put his hand on his crotch. In my panic, I had neglected to notice he was wearing only a towel. " I haven't taken a shower yet, so it's still all smelly. But if you use my crotch to sniff, it's going to cost you."

"Yeah? What'll it cost?" I asked, with mounting excitement.

"Well, I like this idea of using what's close at hand. That was your idea, right? Well, if my little brother's a faggot, why shouldn't I use what's most convenient? No need to get all cleaned up to go get my cock sucked. I can do that right here, in my own house, and I don't even have to shower. I'd call that pretty fucking convenient. So if you want to sniff my cock, you can. But you're going to have to service this dick too. You'd like that wouldn't you, homo?"

I eyed his muscled, tanned body. The towel he was wearing hung low on his hips, exposing his lower abdomen and the hair that trailed down to what I knew hung beneath. The towel was beginning to tent, and he squeezed the growing bulge.

"Yes, I'd like that a lot, Chris,"

"Ok, then, fag! You'll get this cock, then. But since you like to smell me so much, why don't you lick off my sweat first. Taste my body. Give me a fucking tongue bath."

I took a step towards him.

"No, you need to crawl over here, faggot!"

I got onto my hands and knees, my cock so hard I thought the skin would tear. I crawled, subservient, to my brother and knelt at his feet.

"Start with my feet, fag."

Chris lifted his foot, calloused and smelly, for me to begin on. I looked at the long toes, each with a tiny nest of white-blond hairs on the top, the second toe, longer than the big toe, jutting out. I stuck out my tongue and took the big toe into my mouth.

"Ahhhhhhhhh! Yeah, that's it, faggot. Clean off those feet. Feels fucking great. Better than a fucking shower. Get all the sweat off those fucking feet!"

The residue of his sweat tasted salty. I took my mouth off the big toe and began to lick the rest of them, in succession. Then I proceeded to the tops of his feet, and was happily running my tongue up the sloping foot toward the ankle when he lifted the front of his foot, showing me the underside.

"Lick the bottoms, man. Clean the fucking sweat off that!"

I licked the soles of his feet, savoring the sweaty taste. I moaned with pleasure.

"Yeah, fucking faggot slave! Clean me up, fucker! Do it! Now do the other foot!"

I cleaned his other foot, while he hurled abuse at me. Then I worked my way up his taught, muscular thighs. When I got to his crotch, he stopped me.

"I don't think so, faggot! Let's save the best for last. Lick my buttcheeks now. Not the crack, just the cheeks."

I did as I was told, licking off the tart sweat from his white muscular butt cheeks, then working, at his bidding, up his well-defined back, then around to his chest. My tongue reveled in the funk as I licked all around his sloping pectorals, his erect nipples, his washboard abs, and his pits, still damp with funky sweat from his run.

"Oh, yeah, faggot! Taste my sweat! Lick my jock sweat from my hairy fucking pits, man!"

My head was swimming as I inhaled the stink from his armpits. My tongue coaxed the sweat into my mouth, filling it with the salty taste of my brother's natural odor. He placed his hand on the back of my head and pushed it more firmly into his armpit.

"C'mon, you faggot! Get a good taste of it! Lick off my sweat! Fuck yeah, little faggot brother! This is what you like!"

He may look like Mom, but he was talking just like Dad. This was too good to be true. I would be fuck toy for both my brother and my father. My cock jumped at that thought as I continued to lap up Chris's funky sweat. I was drooling thinking about getting on his cock.

"That's it! Keep it up, faggot! You're gonna love the stink of my sweaty cock! I can tell from the way you're moaning that you get off on that man-stench. Don't ya?"

I stopped tonguing his ripe pits long enough to say, "Yes, I love your stink!"

With that said, he put his hands on the top of my head and pushed me onto my knees.

"Then get the fuck on my stinking cock, faggot!"

I gladly complied, getting into my naturally subservient position. I looked up at him; he was smirking down at me. His eyes twinkled with mischief. It looked like he was a natural at this.

"Suck my dick, faggot!" he commanded.

I opened my mouth and he shoved his rock hard cock into my waiting mouth.

"Yeah, suck that cock good, fag! Take it to my pubes, fucking punk! You love it! You love to suck that cock! Open up that throat while I fuck your face!"

He began to piston his rod in and out of my mouth at top speed. My throat widened to accommodate the size of his cock, not quite as big as Dad's, but nice and thick, with heavy, sweaty balls. I was in cocksucker heaven.

"C'mon, queerboy, milk my fucking dick with your mouth! Lemme feel you squeeze it! Do it! Aw, yeah, fucking suck my cock! Do it! Yeah, suck your brother's nice fat cock, faggot!"

All this nasty talk was turning me on even more than before. I hoped he would suggest something a little raunchier, but I thought he might balk if I brought it up. I guessed there was time to work up to that later on. I decided to venture just a little.

"Hey, Chris, I licked your cheeks, but I didn't lick what's between them. You want me to lick your asshole too?"

He looked dubious, then seemed to warm to the idea.

"You want to tongue my asshole?"

"Yes, I do," I answered.

"Well, get to it then!" He turned around, put his hands on the dresser, spread his feet a little. I stared at the muscular white cheeks, with their downy covering of light blond hair.

"C'mon! You asked for it! Suck my hole, faggot!"

I approached his asshole with anticipation, eager to get a taste of that ripe hole.I got onto my knees, and scooted along the floor until I could press my nose against the puckered surface. I took a deep whiff of his crack. It smelled musty from his run. I inhaled again, savoring the hot masculine smell.

"Yeah, faggot, sniff that hole! You know you dig it. Get off on that ass smell!"

I took another appreciative lungfull of air in, allowing myself to be intoxicated by the smell. I'd smelled it in his underwear, but how much better to smell the real thing.

"C'mon, man, get to it. Don't stand there smelling it all day. Stick your tongue up there. My buddies told me that getting your salad tossed was hot. I just never find a chick who was nasty enough to do it. Now I've got my little brother, who just loves to lick assholes. So eat up , faggot!"

I gave him a few gentle kisses on the asslips, tender and lingering kisses. Then I began to lick the wrinkled surface, teasing it open with my tongue.

"Oh, fuck, man. That's fucking intense! Keep licking my butthole, punk! Sick bitch, fucking shove that tongue up there! Getting my cock ready to shoot, man. Keep that tongue up my ass!"

I shoved my tongue deeper into that funky channel, my cock doing a dance in my lap. I knew that somehow I would have to eat his shit soon, just like I regularly ate Dad's, but I didn't think he was quite ready for the suggestion, so I decided that since we'd done this, we'd be doing it again, and we'd work towards that goal.

I began lapping vigorously at the opening to his shit chute. He responded by reaching down to stroke his long thick cock.

"That's it, faggot. Suck on that hole! Do it! Stick your tongue back in there! C'mon! fucking hot!"

I stuck my tongue in to the hilt and he began to grunt. As I worked my tongue deeper he jacked his cock more furiously. Faster and faster as I poked and prodded his hole until he said:

"Fucker! I'm gonna shoot! Lemme turn around so you can drink my cumload! Fuck yeah, get that faggot mouth ready for my hot cum!"

He turned around and stuck his gorgeous, smooth cock right into my open mouth and said:

"Drink up, bitch! Take that fucking load! Eat my cum, cocksucker!"

My mouth was flooded with tangy cum from my own brother's cock. The taste was sharp and pungent. He moved his cock in and out of my mouth as he shot, muttering obscenities.

"Fuck yeah, fucking faggot cocksucker! Eat it. Take that load! Fucking fag! Swallow that cum! Get a good taste!"

I savored every drop. When he had finished shooting, he backed away a little.

"Thanks, man., That was hot. Hey, I have a date tonight. If she won't put out, I'm coming to your room to use your mouth again. Maybe even your ass. And if you tell dad, I'll say you're a fucking liar."

With that he smirked at me, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Through the door, he said, "And get the fuck out of my room!"

I smiled as I went downstairs. I couldn't wait to tell Dad when he got home!

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To be continued. Comments appreciated.
marcmth@netscape.com