Brotha-in-Law

Michelle wasn’t really my sister. She was just part of the all-expense package deal my dad signed up for when she agreed to marry my then-girlfriend’s mother back when we were teenagers. So, when Michelle came strolling through the door at the end of her sophomore year at FAMU with an engagement ring courtesy of her newly signed pro-football playing boyfriend, Chauncey, our newly formed family wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Michelle was the head cheerleader at our high school. So, it was only befitting she was on the arm of the star quarterback. At the time, the title was held by me with my wide-eyed dreams of making it big in the NFL before my do-good school put my dreams on ice. No big deal, I reasoned when they slapped me with a half a season suspension after I violated my academic probation. It wasn’t as if I was one of those dumb jocks who couldn’t read or write like some of my other teammates. I was probably one of the smartest people in my class. It was just that after I got my nose open for the very first time by my substitute teacher, I figured the warm flesh of a pair of soft butt cheeks felt far better in my hands than some old sissy schoolbooks. Besides, I was more than confident my simpleton high school wasn’t really dumb enough to completely ice my football playing career with as many record-shattering stats I had collected for them. Well, I guess I was wrong about that. Even with all the fair warnings I got, I was still flabbergasted when the axe came down, pulling the plug on my football career indefinitely. And with that, I went from being the star of the show to a super huge zero with the universe kicking me in the nuts again turning my best girl into my stepsister. But in the end though, it turned out to be a totally good thing. It forced me to straighten out my grades, and I started to do my thing on the wrestling mat bringing home a few all-state titles. Best of all, my third-tier road dawg Chauncey came up in the ranks. Got a taste of the spotlight and went on to do bigger and better things.

Chauncey was seven years into his football career, happily married to my stepsister and was continuously showering our blended family with cash and luxury gifts when he got bowled over with a career-ending injury. I think it was well understood the good times we had grown to know had come to an end. No longer were we going to spend the holidays down in Jamaica or Barbados. No more vacations in St. Tropez partying it up with the faux-trendy celebrities. We simply chucked everything up as being good while it lasted. It was a ride. Now, don’t get me wrong. Just because his career was over with out on the field it didn’t mean his livelihood in the game was. Thanks to a great publicist, his sparkling good looks and smooth sexy pseudo-educated voice, he was a shoe in for one of those flashy television jobs for one of the sport shows. So, even though his days of spoiling us silly had ended, we weren’t worried about him not finding his sea legs during this difficult transition.

What we did not know at the time was that without that big payday old boy didn’t have a pot to piss in. He was so sure he was going to get back on the gridiron he wasted his money on the most expensive specialist and physical therapist to tell him what everybody else already knew what was going to happen. As a result, he hired more people to confirm the very thing the first group told him to begin with. Soon, the bank foreclosed on his larger-than-baller mansion and repossessed his unreal custom-made cars. He spent so much money flossin’ and glossin’ the little he was smart enough to save went into a couple of failing business that needed more money he didn’t have to keep them afloat. And as for those promising job interviews, he didn’t even have the money for airfare to fly out there and meet his prospective new employers.

Without question, Michelle, who had made a career out of being an arrogant bitch (thank God I dodged that bullet), was livid when she had to climb off her high horse and beg our parents to come back home. I had already been back weeks earlier when my baby momma kicked me out for the umpteenth time after she found out I was moonlighting as a wrestler with hopes of making it into the WWE.

For the first couple of months, the three of us stayed clear of each other given my work and wrestling schedules along with training whenever I could squeeze it in. But after Michelle got laid off from her job, she was eager to greet me with her newfound frigidness every time I stepped through the door, trying to put me down about my life even though mine was floating a smidge higher than hers in that cesspool. As soon as Chauncey got a whiff of his wife’s misdirected wrath, he tried making a concerted effort to apologize for her behavior. It was sweet of him, but I often joked it off saying regardless of who she would’ve ended up with, it was obvious her destiny was to come back home.

Chauncey had to laugh at that. Afterwards, we quickly became friends.

When Michelle was off looking for a job and I had some time off, Chauncey and I hung out in the sitting room playing video games. He still had a nice little penny to his name to lounge around the house debating what his next move was going to be. Michelle wanted him to look at going back to school to get his master’s degree. But with me talking about my love for my job as a satellite installer, he romanticized about working with his hands again, wanting to go back to school to become an electrician. Of course, that meant that his stuck-up wife could no longer bank on a life in the lap of luxury again. He kept his hands busy on the game controllers as I steadily kicked his butt in any game he threw in my face.

The tide of our budding friendship changed one morning when I was getting ready to go to work. Michelle was already gone. Chauncey was knocked out asleep in his bed with his hard muscled ass up in the air passing some loud gas. I thought the shit was funny and was about to make my way down the stairs when I decided to rescue my laptop Chauncey held hostage the night before. Since he was the one who bought it for me in his pecuniary heyday, it was no big deal I let him borrow it for his internet searches. I crept on in there, grabbed the laptop, and headed downstairs. I wouldn’t have never even thought about it if it wasn’t for this wrestling website I stumbled upon right before he asked to borrow it. I couldn’t remember the address, and when I pulled down the little scroll thing most of the websites I was used to browsing were cleared. I was just about to go upstairs and cuss his ass out when I remembered I could go back into the history. Thus, I did when I started to come across these websites I’d never heard of much less seen. I came across this one site I thought looked familiar by name, only for this naked black dude side-fucking this light-skinned Brazilian dude I seen around the way before on various other websites. And as I clicked onto more websites to find more man-on-man scenes like this, I walked away knowing that my brother-in-law Chauncey was a freak.

I was tempted to laugh it up in his face when he came downstairs and joined me for breakfast. But before I could question him on his viewing pleasures, he asked me if he could join me on my truck for the day. He said he was getting a real bad case of cabin fever and needed a break from the house. Since the company I worked for really didn’t give a shit just as long as he didn’t touch or damage anything, didn’t ask to be compensated for his time, and could fit into our one-size-fits-all uniformed coveralls, he was good to ride shotgun in the van.

We made a few house calls. He talked a bunch of shit as I installed the satellites and got the customers to sign off on the order forms.

And as I’m driving about town, I can’t help but look over at Chauncey from time to time. Chauncey was just too good-looking of a dude to be fucking around with those kinds of websites. Brotha-in-law was six-four, two hundred and forty solid, muscled up, golden brown and clean-shaven except for this thick-ass chin badger he insisted on keeping. I say all this to say that all he had to do was step outside, take off his shirt, and flash his million-dollar smile of his. He could have had anybody on the block at the mere flex of his heavenly pecs. And that was beside the fact he was starting to look like some bodybuilder that fell slightly off point. Don’t get me wrong, brotha-in-law was still fine. But knowing where he was when was playing ball to where he was slipping to be was slightly annoying at most. But, still.

It wasn’t like I didn’t get around, too. There was always some queer fiendish for this cherry-brown black Haitian pipe. I may not have been blessed with the heavy accent, but I know how to fake it for the right folks, especially when I know I can give my balls some much needed relief when they become a bit too cum-swollen. I wasn’t even above blackening out a few brown eyes when I was going through a serious booty drought. However, I didn’t fuck around with those websites like I got off on that shit nor was I planning on fucking some man-ass on the regular since I wasn’t ugly nor desperate.

While I was pondering what made Chauncey willing to get off that way other than his wife being a professional bitch, I wasn’t paying attention in the least of the ritzy million-dollar neighborhood I was driving into. Had I known it was Chauncey’s old gated community, I would have skipped out on the call altogether or rescheduled for another time. Chauncey was good at being accepting of everything, his new station in life except giving up his house. The six-bedroom, eight-and-a-half-bathroom home was his pride and joy. And being the call house was directly behind it, where he could see the top of his old roof crystal clear over the tree line, even brought a teardrop to my eyes, and I had no hope of ever living that large.

I was tempted to make a quick turnaround out there, but the owner was already outside waving away the moving truck and guiding us in. I went to work feeling bad I had to leave him in the van to stare at his old house just a few feet away. As I’m steadily trying to get the nameless fuck to sign off on my work order, desperately trying to get my boy out of there, I find Chauncey passing me by ringing the doorbell about to ask the homeowner if he could take a piss. I was about to tell him to hold on a minute, let me take him to the gas station down the street, but the homeowner gladly let him in before I could open my mouth to the contrary.

I went back to the van. I waited and waited and waited some more. I soon got this sinking feeling Chauncey wasn’t coming back out anytime soon.

“Please don’t tell me this dude is taking a dump inside this man’s house!” I mouthed annoyed under my breath, wondering what kind of complaint this customer was going to level on me to my supervisor.

Eventually, I got up the never to go back up to the door. I didn’t know what I was planning on doing, but I had to do or say something. I was tempted to ring the doorbell, though I thought better to turn the knob, knowing from previous experience that people who lived in gated communities often had a nasty habit of leaving their doors unlocked like country bumpkins thinking they were immune to crime.

Just like I suspected, the door was unlocked. What I wasn’t expecting was to find was my brotha-in-law shoving his dick through the homeowner’s mouth in the middle of the living room pit.

“You like having some big dick down your throat, don’t you?” Chauncey announced with the homeowner sucking so loudly as if he was getting the last bit of a runny slushy out of the cone on a hot summer’s day. “Shit, breathe through your mouth. I don’t want to hear all that fucking gurgling…just straw-slurping.”

I always knew Chauncey was working with a nice piece the way he used to bounce around the house in his briefs. But the length was come out of the poor homeowner’s mouth was just unreal. It was like Chauncey’s dick kept growing and growing and growing. Where his mouth was at the hilt to where it ended up at the tip, the homeowner gave a new definition to deep throat. One would assume if Michelle had something like that inside of her for the past six years, she might’ve been a lot more relax about life. Then, again, that was to assume he gave her a stroke of it every now and again.

The homeowner was too busy doing his thing bobbing up and down to even notice my presence in the large sunken great room. I thought Chauncey was too busy gripping the homeowner’s head, feeding him his snipped dick as he silently waved me over.

“You want a dick in your mouth and a dick up your ass, don’t you punk?” Chauncey asked the homeowner slowly face-fucking him, slapping his low-hanging balls underneath his wide rounded chin.

The homeowner agreed a muffled groaned.

“What’re you doing?” I asked nervously.

“What does it look like motherfucker? I’m getting my dick sucked. I’m about to tag this ass while my boy takes care of you with this decent throat.”

“Man, I don’t get down like that.” I stated trying to sound disgusted with my dick throbbing inside my coveralls at the sight. The only thing I can say was that my mind reverted to my high school days, and I was deathly afraid he could tell my dad about this shit.

“Get your ass over here!” Chauncey demanded. “I know you’re the one that ran a man-train on Toilet Mike.”

I laughed nervously. I had totally forgotten about that! Back in the day, me and my crew took turns dog-fucking this whining little sissy over the toilet when his voluptuous sister with the ridiculous booty wouldn’t give any of us the time of day. What can I say? Being the star athlete came with its privileges.

“Three-way, man? I won’t lie. It sounds kind of hot. But I don’t want 5-0 chasing me because he screamed rape.”

“Please, this is his ultimate fuck fantasy: Two well-built black men accosting him in the middle of the afternoon to be their fat fair-skinned bitch while his wife is away!” Chauncey laughed.

I looked over at the blissful cocksucker, pulling his pants down below his fat-haired bubble butt cheeks trying to show me he was down.

I unzipped my fly, letting some of the must and sweat from the day dissipate from my hot coveralls as I slowly made my way over to where the two of them were. Even from way off, the way the natural sunlight was coming into the room, I could spot the long dick dripping with spit dribbling over his hairy balls. As I got behind the cocksucker, Chauncey pulled his dick out and started slapping the guy across his face with it. The outside of his mouth was covered in his thick saliva, looking like he had been eating some sort of clear barbecue sauce. It was obvious he was loving every hard thump and crackling thud.

“You got some equipment, man?” Chauncey asked.

I somehow knew what he meant as I often kept condoms and lube on my person just in case I saw somebody I wanted to fuck while I was out and about.

I handed him a couple of each.

“You see what I see?” Chauncey asked, nodding over to the low-lying white leather sofa.

I could just see the white Latino chub kneeing the sofa with some dick in his mouth and some dick up his ass.

It took less than a minute to get the homeowner into position plugging his mouth with my dick while Chauncey grabbed him by his waist and was teasing the lube butthole with his sheathed dick. Now I will admit I wasn’t blessed with Chauncey’s length, but I held my own in being extremely thick and uncut. I got the kind of dick that needs a before and after shot as I work over a tight hole and stretching it out to look like a bottomless abyss.

“Lick my balls, punk,” I commanded in a loud whisper.

The homeowner got right to it, lapping up my balls with his long licks before popping them in his mouth one by one in the same spirit he was sucking my brotha-in-law off just moments earlier.

I was feeling it. The way he was licking and sucking and then followed by the coolness that seemed to breeze over my sensitive balls was like being in paradise. It felt so good I thought I was going to give him my nutt just like that.

“You need to get back to the head game, son.” I mouthed, letting the homeowner cocksucker lick my dick all the way up before coming back down with an open mouth. “Watch your teeth, motherfucker. You got it, boy…just keep your mouth open like that. Oh fuck, your mouth feels like some pussy. Damn, you know how to smoke the pipe, don’t you?”

I was riding his mouth without a care in the world, letting him use his tongue like he was going in on an ice cream cone. It felt like I could have ridden his mouth like that forever. But as I looked across the cocksucker’s pale back, I saw Chauncey was tired of teasing that hole was ready to get down to it.

“Suck my dick, my bitch,” I said forcing my dick down his mouth. “Get under that fucking foreskin.”

Chauncey took his cue and stuffed his long, beautiful dick into that waiting ass. The homeowner spasm through the roughness of its all and let his screams vibrate through my dick. Either the cocksucker was just that good or I was just that easy, but I was about ten seconds from unloading in his mouth before Chauncey hit his rock bottom and the homeowner stopped using his wonderful mouth so diligently.

If he could have, he would have clenched his teeth, obvious from the pain swelling in his eyes. But just so he didn’t forget, I made sure he saw my closed fist if he ever forgot.

It took us a minute or so, but eventually we got into this sick rhythm where Chauncey was pounding him hard and smacking his rounded booty as I grabbed his ear and made good use of that homeowner’s mouth as he yelped between breaths.

“Starting to put some of those ass muscles back to work I see?” Chauncey growled with sweat pouring off his head, killing that hole.

The homeowner let out a few exhausted groans that vibrated back on my dick again before brazenly throwing his ass back on Chauncey like he was mad at him or something. It was as if the homeowner had gotten his second wind and was meeting Chauncey stroke for stroke.

“Damn, you’re going to make me break a nutt off in this ass, punk!” Oh damn…shit…ah shit! Yeahhhh!!!” Chauncey hissed, pulling out of the weathered asshole, snatching off the condom, and sprayed his long shot lot across the wide pasty back in front of him.

This sent me into overdrive as I felt an uncontrollable throb build in my hefty dick.

“I can’t hold it in, damn. I’m about to bust this nutt in your mouth!” I said grabbing the back of his head, holding it steady, getting my aim solid.

I let loose one of those forever groaning, ball-draining nutts that started off shooting down his throat with just enough to squirt a healthy bit across his oval mustached face.

It took me and Chauncey about a good five minutes after that to catch out breaths before we straightened up and heading out, leaving the homeowner to whack himself off to a satisfying conclusion with the curded dick milk we left splattered on his face and back.

“So, you get down.” I laughed aloud, closing the front door shortly after we made our way back to our empty house for the day.

I thought it was the best I broke the ice seeing that neither one of us said a thing about fucking that dude after we left him on the sofa.

“Yeah,” Chauncey smiled cupping his dick. “I started back in college. Whenever me and my teammates or frat brothers couldn’t snatch up some pussy or either found some bitch on her period, we’d get a couple of flamers from up the road that would always be ready to suck and fuck at the sight of a stiff black pipe.”

“I imagine you got some action on the road, too.”

“Shit, you ain’t never lied, man! Thank God for an entourage! They can scoop up some dude for one-on-one or some straight-up homie fun!”

“Gangbang?” I questioned, getting hard at the thought of some gaping hole being used by my dick in company with several others.

Chauncey nodded. “If you thought folks would do some shit for a Klondike bar, you ain’t seen what they’ll do just to get their crack stretched out. What about you? When did you start to get down?”

“Probably about the fourth or fifth time out,” I said confidently, give or take a couple of more numbers. “For every phyne fire-cracking cock-teasing bitch there’s always a willing brother or cousin nearby that’ll get down to it.”

“Like Toilet Mike?” Chauncey asked.

“Yeah,” I laughed again. “He was just hungry. You hungry?”

“Yeah,” Chauncey said coyly, meeting my eyes.

“I was talking about making a sandwich,” I said throwing my thumb back in the direction of the kitchen. I was already done with my statement when I saw the glint in his eye, he thought I was offering him something more.

“Oh,” Chauncey said with his face cracked.

“But if you’re hungry like that, then that’s cool with me.” I said licking my lips and pulling him in for a kiss.

Even though Chauncey was the pro-football player with the well-worked out body, his stature paled in comparison to mine in my arms. I felt like the quarterback again, and he somehow morphed into this male cheerleader who was more than glad to be of personal service and would do anything to make sure I was good for the next game. I kissed him again, only this time he kissed back. I might say quite clumsily for a man that was married and had a multitude of girlfriends in his past.

“Shit, I’ve wanted you since high school, man.” Chauncey blubbered between gasps, letting me know I was hitting some of his hidden hotspots.

“You can have me now, son…damn,” I said, reacting to my dick full force.

The rush of ecstasy catapulted us upstairs and, in my bedroom, which was situated a good way off from the rest of the house. In short, meaning nobody was bound to walk in on us without some timely notice.

I barely had the door locked when I found Chauncey already sprawled across my bed shucking off his clothes. I was still coming out of my coveralls when he went for the dick like he had papers on it. I thought the homeowner we had left had some serious head game. He had nothing on my boy. It was like he unhinged his jaw to get me in his mouth. He took me down to the hilt several times in the row without setting off his gag reflex. I was tempted to bust another on in his mouth and work him up to inviting me up in his hole some other day. But with the house usually being quite busy, this was our one and only shot of doing something major before everyone came back home, so I decided to join him in bed.

He was still nursing my dick as I got between his legs and started fingering his asshole. That shit was tight, yet it felt tender just like some regular pussy and even got wet like it, too.

“Man, this shit is soft like Charmin!” I mouthed getting in a couple of tongue strokes and tasting the saltiness of his twitching hole. “If I known about this back then, I would’ve got your ass in the back of the locker room after every game and then some.”

He agreed mumbling over a mouthful of dick.

“But right now, I’m going to give you the pipe that was the first to stretch out your wife’s smart aleck cunt.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’ve been getting sloppy seconds all these years,” I laughed. “But that’s okay, the first will be last and the last will be first this time.” I said mumbling off some shit I thought would sound cool.

“Go on ahead and do what you have to do, Daddy.” Chauncey said freely.

I knew he wasn’t a virgin by the way he sucked dick, and I knew he wasn’t a virgin on the backside either by the ease he allowed me to play with his ass, but the way he said it was like I pounded him out like every other day.

“Cool,” I said reaching into my nightstand for this slick cream I concocted for smooth stroking and chicken choking.

I got back into the bed, back into position, going back and forth palming the buttery stuff on my dick and fingering his hole before posting up behind him. I swore up and down my brotha-in-law was going to nutt all over the place the way my dick thumped loudly against his sensitive crack. But I won’t even lie, though, I was about to lose my own nutt just getting past his ultra-tight opening. The friction—even with the incredible working lubricant—had us both moaning and groaning up a firestorm. Right up to the point I was balls deep inside of him and was slowly stretching him out smooth.

“Damn, baby boy! I knew you were a tight end, but this shit is ridiculous!” I said between clenched teeth, panting, clawing his thirty-inch waist and spanking his rock-hard ass, trying not to put my babies up in him out so soon.

And so, not to do so, we went from going at it doggie-style to putting him on his back and then rolling him onto his side. By then, I had stretched him out good, and he was letting me do my job blowing his back out.

“That’s it, baby boy. Take that dick!” I shouted within reason, tearing him a new asshole. “Let brotha-in-law up in this slick-ass bitch! There you go, partna. There you go!”

“Get it in, Daddy! Flood me out!”

It wasn’t what he said. It was the masculine way he said it that sent me running towards the proverbial edge. It wasn’t like I was about to bust a nutt as much it was I was about to give birth to my brain through my urethra and swamp his bitch-ass out. So I fucked harder, ramming my hips against his ass, and as if something beyond me kicked out of my body and filled up his. I was so lost in a daze I wasn’t even aware that he had spewed a pool of cum on my mattress.

Michelle wasn’t my sister. There was no way I should feel bad about fucking her man the way I did. If anything, she should consider this payback for leaving me when I was down—but don’t worry—while we’re under the same roof her man can get it every time I get it up!