My Big Brother and My Sweet Sweet Cherry

Although this story can be read as a standalone, it pulls its understructure from my original tale “The Old Man and My Sweet Cherry.” By reading the first story, it’ll enrich you into the world of these fictional characters. As the title of the story suggests, it might be an acquired taste due to the significant age gap of the two leads that isn’t so significant in this other taboo tale. 

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Storming the hill of the fucking church cemetery like a bat out of hell must look odd to you. No, I’m not fucking crazy, you fucking retard! I’m not on any fucking drugs either. Check the fucking urine! I know, I know. I look like I’m fresh out of a probation hearing looking like a tall skinny redneck with a fresh haircut in this gray penguin suit. I just left court—as the plaintiff—and I fucking lost! It isn’t fair! I’m so fucking tired of being fucked over like this, like I asked for this big penis in the sky to come fuck me raw! Man! Shit! I can’t even hit back! I got the height over the fucking bastard, but I got these useless sticks for arms and legs. The judge sat there like a fucking idiot and told me there wasn’t shit he could do for me. He may can’t do shit, but I can do something! What a better way than to get some of this post-court aggression out than to stomp over to the final resting place of my family members and gift each of those worthless motherfuckers two rapid-fire middle fingers!

My family tree is a little complicated. Not by much, just vastly unorthodox from yours, if you’re game to follow along.

Turns out everything was one big fucking lie!

Turns out that after all these years of believing my late great sperm donor was the G.O.A.T. (Greatest of All Times), owning outright the fifteen acres of land that my childhood home sat on, that he was nothing more than a big old scraped-knee creampuff that turned to the profession of trucking just so he could guzzle more trucker loads during his downtime. Obviously, I wouldn’t be here if the bastard didn’t get some pussy. According to local legend, he was quite the pussyhound. He hooked up with this skeezer of a waitress more than half his age that served him up in more ways than one. And when her daughter started to work as a lot lizard behind the diner, he started digging that out, too, before settling down with the old skeezer waitress, my grandmother, while continuing to score the daughter, my mother.

If it wasn’t crazy enough for mother and daughter to tag team the same fucking cock I shot out of, I just found out that he added the skeezer waitress’s grandson, my big brother Brody, to the sordid harem. The old cocksucker even went so far as to buy this other cocksucker a car for his seventeenth birthday, and the three lived happily ever after under one roof with the old cock-sucking rooster screwing all three of them.

The story goes that my dad Roger had a heart attack and died right there at the kitchen table when my mom, thirty-seven, announced that she was pregnant with me and that he was the father.

With no dad around, I had to blindly feel my way around into manhood. It wasn’t easy. I grew up in a small farming community where everybody knew everybody and everybody’s business. And with my mom and my grandma and my late great grandma being the town’s bicycles, it was something I was constantly ragged about.

Brody started off filling in the gaps, tossing the ball around with me and taking me out on the water to fish whenever he had some time. But eventually, he got on with his own life, after completing his plumber’s apprenticeship. He might’ve stayed an extra day after his annual Thanksgiving visit to get in on the Black Friday deals out at the outlet mall, buying me some new school clothes and gifting me a few extra bucks to get whatever else we didn’t get that day.

When I turned sixteen, Brody stopped coming around. When I told him I needed some new shit for school, he barked at me and told me I was old enough to get a fucking job. I was pissed. Brody didn’t start working until after he graduated trade school. And even then, he didn’t start trade school until after he turned twenty-one.

I pushed the rotten bastard far out of my mind and went about my life finding creative ways to earn some money.

Approximately four years after that, Mom was found slumped over in the diner’s bathroom stall. It could’ve been an overdose or a heart attack, either way she took her last breath and dump in there. After fifty-five years as a waitress at the diner, Grandma quit her job due to grief and quietly passed away in her sleep a couple of weeks after my mother’s funeral.

Since the land was paid for, it was just the matter of keeping up the property taxes. And since our manufactured home didn’t sit on a foundation, like a house, even though it looked like one in every way possible from the main route, it was the extra expense of getting the yearly tag for the trailer plate.

I took care of both along with the utilities and anything else to keep the house afloat being that I was the only one living in it. I did good the first three years after Mom and Grandma went onto glory. Then this past year, I ran a little short. Months prior, I had moved in my girlfriend, and I trusted her to handle the bills since she wanted to play house so badly. Well, if I’d grown up with a man around, I probably would’ve learned that when some women get their hands on some money, they spend it the way they see fit. And I learned the hard way some womenfolk ain’t fit to see after a dollar.

I thought I had a few more weeks to set things right, but after my girlfriend ran around town telling everyone that her hand-to-mouth boyfriend knocked her up before she told me, one of the clerks down at the tax office made a call to the only family I had left in this world.

I pulled up in my car late one afternoon to find my short hairy fireplug of a brother standing there on the side porch with his arms folded.

“Brody,” I spat bitterly at the graying, forty-five-year-old. I was still massively pissed he skipped both sets of maternal funerals from thirty miles afar and shafted me with the bills.

He spat back indifferent. “Cody.”

I already knew by the tone that this conversation wasn’t going to be a good one given his cold demeanor. I braced myself for a long lecture about manhood and personal responsibility, like last time, and what I got was something I wasn’t prepared to come out of his mouth.

He handed me an envelope. In it were copies of some official-looking papers with one document verifying the other document branded in a series of signatures and notary stamps for pages on in. All in all, it showed that Brody owned the land and the home. My father died with a will, leaving him the land with the condition that my grandmother lived out the rest of her days in the house. Brody was to do what he pleased with the structure after she was gone. My grandma, too, left a will. Assuming that my mother was going to outlive her, she left everything in the house to my brother, pretty much disowning my mother and me.   

“What, Brody? You’re here to bulldoze the place over?”

“I thought about it, but I figured better to charge you rent.”

“For this shithole? No way! I’m already strapped with a girl and a kid on the way.”

“Congrats, little bro.” Brody slow-clapped. “You just fucked yourself over for life, like Grandma and Ma in this little hellhole!”

“C’mon, man.” I towered over him at six-one.

“C’mon, man,” he parroted. “I didn’t give a shit about what you did with the place as long as I was left out of it.”

“Look, man,” I pleaded, figuring he’d already paid the taxes online for him to show up on my doorstep in this grandstand fashion. “I can pay you back what I owe you. Just give me a little more time to get the money up.”

“Nope! I can’t accept money for what’s my bill, but I can accept rent for this fine ‘shithole,’ as you like to call it.”

It took a couple of hours, but eventually I agreed at the insistence of my pregnant girlfriend.

Brody came back the next day with a lease from the hardware store raising the rent a couple of hundred dollars more than what we agreed to.

I fucking lost it!

Even after finding out that with the price increase, he was still giving me a deal, I gassed myself up and came up with just enough money for the paralegal to file papers against him. Surely, being my late father’s son living on his land and in his house had to mean something!

“He wasn’t even your father!” I vented to him in frustration on the side porch after he chuckled villainously in my face after being served.

“Who said he wasn’t, Little Bro?”

Huh? Mom said….

“The whore made a big boo-boo. The man I thought was my dad all those years asked for a blood test after he was pressed by the courts for back child support after I’d turned twenty. We went on TV and everything, and it was proven that I wasn’t his. Since Mom started tricking right before I was born, I took a gamble and asked Roger for a DNA sample. He laughed it off, but guess what the test revealed?”

Brody spilled the beans about their sickened relationship and poured into his suspicions after he found out that the man he thought was his father really wasn’t his father. “I always found it quite peculiar that I was so drawn to Roger like I was, like I was under some sort of heavy spell. I thought it was because he was the only strong male figure I had around here, behind Old Al, the old owner of the diner. Playing with the other boys my age in the back of the woods and the lot behind the diner being ripe with so many horny truckers, why was I always so damn hung up on this old, ugly son of a bitch?”

Brody blew pass me to move deeper into the house; down the hallway, pulled the string down from the ceiling, and crawled up the attic to retrieve a small portable chest.  

“Except for me being a couple of inches taller than him, I was pretty much looking at a younger him every time I got in the mirror.” Brody handed me a picture. It was my late father and my brother standing next to each other, looking like a mirror of young and old, with my brother’s features being just a smidge less rigid. “We were just too close to see it, much less considered the possibility with Mom being such a whore. And wait, there’s more!”

“No!” I screeched hovering over my big brother looking over at the papers he handed back to me. Reading them repeatedly, hoping that I wasn’t reading what I read.

Brody burst out laughing. “Kind of cool we didn’t all come out looking like circus freaks, huh?”

The paperwork showed that not only was my brother my brother by way of our mother, but also by way of our father, too. In a separate file, it confirmed through testing that my mom was our sister and so was our grandmother.

“No! This can’t be! This is sick and evil!”

“Sure, it can!” He chuckles at the stack of mental dominoes falling over in my head. “It’s quite humorous if you strip away the severity of it all. As soon as a needy cocksucker hops out of his first big rig, he scores his first piece of snatch with a lot lizard and finds out he really digs pussy, too. That same lot lizard travels five states over with their unborn daughter, and that daughter becomes a waitress and a part-time lot lizard herself. That daughter unsuspectingly gives it up to her unknowing father and births another lot lizard of her own by him. And when that lot lizard fucks with that same old dad and granddad, she unknowingly births him a son, his great grandson, and her brother all rolled into one! Don’t look so stunned, Little Bro. It wasn’t like Roger was some diabolical cult leader or anything. Sometimes shit happens…and that squirrely cock of his bore out a whole shitstorm!”

Brody absorbed my dismay, and soon persisted. “And you know what’s more jacked up than that? They only reason why he chose to settle down with Grandma in the first place was because he thought he was sterile and wanted to be a part of a family. The look on his face when he found out that he was far more attached to this family than he planned! The news about you just rolled him out of here!”

“Wait one goddamn minute! He accidentally married his own daughter?!”

“Not exactly. They had a ceremony in the backyard, before the trailer was put up, but never made it official. See, Roger wasn’t going to let some fucking whore—not even his own daughter—get him for half his stuff. So, he just let the folks around here think he’d made an honest woman out of her, and in exchange, Grandma kept her mouth shut to her ‘husband’ fucking her daughter, and later, to him fucking me.”

Brody and I went to court a few days later. I had a lot on my mind with all this, but eventually because our father’s will run its course through probate court, acknowledging him as his only son and sole heir, my then-pregnant mom should’ve gone about contesting it back then for the rightful share of my inheritance.

Brody smirked. His words replaying in my mind. We thought we could just sweep everything under the rug since we’d spent so many years fucking him anyway. But our druggy sister-mom decided she was going to get knocked up one more time before her eggs cracked. I was already grown, but she knew if she had another kid by the old man, she was guaranteed to collect a Social Security check for you for the next eighteen years.

When I got back home from the cemetery after court, I was furious to find Brody standing there once again on the side porch with a shit-eating grin plastered across that ugly mug of his, doing his victory dance over my failed lawsuit.

“I’m tired of you fucking me over, Big Bro!” I unleashed, ready to attack.

Brody laughed some more. Do you know what the bastard said to me next? Do you have any fucking clue?

He hitched up his jeans, front to back, like in a proud, after-fuck way, and then preceded to pad the old picnic table next to him. “Get up here, then, Little Bro. Bend right on over here and let’s see how tuckered out you get of me after fucking you over!”

I stopped in my tracks. The way he said it wasn’t a play on my words, and his rising bulge confirmed it. He wanted to bend me over the picnic table and fuck me.

“W-what?” I stammered at his sick suggestion.

“It kind of occurred to me after I let the cat out of the bag that while the whore made damn sure that you got the Wynkoop name, to get her hands on your check, you never got the Wynkoop family treatment like the rest of us. Since Roger would’ve been as old as dirt by now, if he’d lived, that’d just left me to give it to you good and hard right up the old chocolate factory chute anyhow.”

I may not have been a fighter, but those were fighting words. I stormed up the side porch like I stormed the cemetery just a little while ago, sure to give him more than a vulgar gesture.

Brody didn’t flinch. His arrogance became brassy and his laughter more villainous the closer I moved in on him. He just calmly whipped out his phone and pressed play to display a video I was sure would never come back to haunt me.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one getting fucked over by secrets.”

Remember how I said Brody said “fuck you” after I got old enough to work? Remember when I said I found some creative ways to earn some money?

I quickly learned I needed more than spot money to get by in the world. So, I created a lucrative hustle assembling furniture for other people. Well, one day after graduation, I was hired by this fruit to put a set of furniture together. There was one catch: He had white shagged carpet. That meant taking off my dirty boots to put the stuff together. Because I never owned a pair of socks that couldn’t be bought for ten cents on the dollar, I chucked those raggedy things into my kickers and worked on the furniture barefooted.

The way the guy looked down at my bare feet, I braced for a conniption if I refused to put back on my holey socks. Alternately, he didn’t say anything. He let me work, but he kept on hovering over me, always vying for the best angle as I scooched across the carpet putting things together. When I looked back, he kept on swallowing spit. As I said, I knew he was a fruit. I was mostly sitting on my haunches, so it wasn’t like he was admiring my cock. And it wasn’t like I had anything that resembled an admirable ass. After he spent thirty minutes gulping spit, he asked if I was willing to do another job for him after I finished that one. “If you’re paying, I’m staying,” I told him innocent and oblivious to his fetish. “Of course,” he agreed, ready to part with a new hundred-dollar bill. The other job consisted of him sniffing and licking my sweaty feet. I agreed, after I shot down his first proposal of wanting to put me in restraints while he tickled my soles. He wasn’t disappointed long, inhaling and kissing my feet to his heart’s content. He invited me back the following week, playing with my feet while I jacked off. And after I rubbed my jissom on my toes for him to lick clean, he then offered me a few extra dollars to take some feet pics.

Right after he took the feet pictures, I got the bright idea to hop online to see if there were any weird shit I could get paid to do without doing much and without crossing over into fairyland. At the time, there were all these guys looking for guys to spank with no sex involved. Being a pain slut with a butt that can glow like Rudolph’s nose, I became the go-to guy for any spanker with some extra dough that also made my travel expenses worthwhile.

I made some incredibly decent bread doing this, still do. But when my folks died back-to-back, I kind of went into panic mode. Even though I’ve never done any gay shit before, I was no stranger to having things shoved up my rear for sport. Of course, whenever guys like me say this, the first thing people want to instantly jump to is some fag shit. Let me set you straight. Growing up, way out in the country, with miles and miles of nothingness to look at, there’s not many pastimes out here outside of football, and the football players are the first in need to let off some steam. What a better way than to see who can shove what up their ass on some yokel shit and live to brag about it? Around these parts, it’s less about having something shoved back there to get off (though it can happen) than it is to see what can fit back there beyond the scope of measure. It’s one thing to pluck a zucchini straight from Mrs. Yancy’s garden to test out and not break. It is another to be able to use your butt muscles to clench the handle of a flashlight for forty-five minutes straight and carry on about your day like it’s any other day of the week.

Now that I know about my brother and my dad along with three generations of whores to boot, I understand now why my chute was the toast of the county!

Thanks to this weird network of sex workers, I connected with this big black guy out of Pike that specialized in making small batches of custom dildos as a hobby.

He paid me well to make countless videos of him lubing me up and bending me over a rise, like the back of a chair or sofa, to use his latest phallic creation on me.

He never showed my face, per agreed, but when your big brother knows about the weird Continental USA-shaped birthmark on the back of your right knee, it is hard to play dumb.

“I’ll forgive this whole court fiasco,” Brody began after the video ended of me droning over a rainbow-colored dildo on top of an ottoman. “You were running hot. I get it. I’ll even toss aside asking for rent on this place. You just keep up the utilities and keep the place in decent order for your new family, and I’ll cover the property taxes again for one more year.”

“For what? For a chance to fuck my ass?”

“A chance? You’re fucking kidding me, right?! The way I’ve found you taking various dildoes up your chute on that website, I’m quite sure that if your teen years was anything like mine and Roger’s, everybody around here has had a chance!”

“What do you want?”

“I guess with all that inbreeding that Roger’s blood runs deep through me. I want to take a shot in that ass, of course. But I also got an appetency for that cute mousy-face thing’s sweet preggo pussy in there?”

“What?!”

“You heard me right. I want her to milk this big fat cock throughout all her trimesters. And I want you to take a nice deep nosedive in it after me every time. Get used to the feeling of my seed slime bathing your cock before it takes up permanent residency in your ass. I promise you I’ll work you over better than any dildo can.”

My mind raced. I may not have been anything close to a fighter, but I was sure I could hold a shotgun long enough to shoot and kill this fucking bastard!

“We better take the deal, Cody,” my girlfriend suddenly imparted from behind the screen door. “Mama said I couldn’t come back home with your bastard baby. And I’m not living out on the streets like a beggar with you and I’m not gonna support myself and this baby fucking random truckers in a parking lot behind the diner like your whore mama.”

“Bitch, don’t talk about my fucking mama!”

“Don’t call me a bitch, you fucking son of a whore. I ain’t a bitch, but your mama cum guzzled truckers for a living, didn’t she?! Anyway, it ain’t like this son of a bitch is a fucking toad-wart or can get me pregnant while I’m pregnant. And around these parts, it ain’t nothing for one brother to fuck another. My brothers ream each other silly all the time. Hell, my pa still gets it hard in the back of the barn by his older brothers on the regular, and he’s the fucking fire chief!”

That wasn’t so bad now, was it?

 

Dispirited that I roared inside my new bride and my jissom spasmed unchaperoned, I was rattled by the absence of my big brother’s hot breath rolling over my ear whispering his barbaric sweet nothings.

There was no way I was planning on marrying my wife so soon, but the extortion at play ultimately hinged on me saying ‘I do.’ Brody vowed to leave me alone with the house as soon as he got what he wanted. My then-girlfriend wasn’t going to greenlight him that much free pussy unless she got a marriage proposal with a diamond ring, ensuring she kept a roof over her head for her troubles. I had no money because she mismanaged it, buying me a Get Out of Jail Free card—or so I thought. Brody, the rich plumber, stepped in, and drove the three of us down to the local Walmart. There, he let her pick out her diamond ring along with a wedding ring set. He bought them both for me to give to her after they were fitted, and I softly proposed to her in the new McDonald’s next to the truck stop over a Quarter Pounder with Cheese combo meal. I still wasn’t sold on marrying her. My plan was that if I went through the motion, she’d stall at the planning of a wedding and a reception, which I still had no money to contribute to. And, if her folks flipped the bill, like tradition dictated, she’d be a big watermelon by the time those hicks pulled it off. “Mama gives a shit about all that other dumb shit. It was always stupid to me how a bride’s family is supposed to just pay people to sit around and watch her for a few hours and then pay for their meals out of courtesy. The rings are just the starters. The license being filed is the finisher. All the extra money Brody is gonna save us can go to the baby.”

Good grief! Out of all the women in the world to impregnate, I found the only one content with just the barebones for matrimony while going ham with my money at the Dollar General on everyday stuff.

Many times, many ways I tried to stall talk of the inevitable. Then one foggy morning, she woke up and dragged me down to the courthouse to get our marriage license. I didn’t fret. I was given a heads up that there was a large window to use it, even if you got it. But when we got down there and the lady asked if we wanted to get married right now, I said no, and she said yes. Her yes won out after she pulled me aside and fast-forwarded through a private client video of me engaging in the trifecta: feet, spanking, and a dildo being shoved where the sun doesn’t shine. “You’re telling me you can do all this on here for perfect strangers for a few dollars, but I got you standing here kicking and screaming to marry me while I stand here pregnant with your child?”

Our brief ceremony in front of the judge in the courtroom was more transactional than anything, looking back on it. We both were rather uninterested going through the motion, and parting company soon after for work.

As the day moved on, I warmed up to the idea of being a husband, and she, being my wife, and that we had a kid on the way.

When I arrived home to bed my new bride, my big brother was stretched out on the couch watching TV. “I wasn’t going to do a damn thing until you showed up,” Brody smirked, throwing his hairy gorilla arm over my shoulders leading me to my bedroom. “I wasn’t kidding about you following my lead, and I couldn’t risk you lying to yourself until next time.”

I was confused, but I was quickly enlightened as my wedding night was soon marred by my big brother vigorously mounting my new bride in our marital bed. I tried to peel away, but he forced me to stay and watch him dump a fierce load to her pleasure.

“Your turn.” He puffed drenched in sweat pushing off her.

My bride tried to hide her delight, but her pussy softly throbbed otherwise.

His eyes burned laser beams and then overjoyed, scarring me as I reluctantly soiled my cock in the creampie he left behind. Mentally, I was disturbed by this, though it was her already clammy body that made it feel weird.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Brody whirred in my ear. I came as quick as I could, impatient to scrub any trace of him off me. But he was right behind me, thumbing my asshole to push my spent cock deeper into her. “Get all the way up in there, Cody. Swim around in Big Brother Brody’s sweet hot spunk while in your trembling new bride. The only thing that would’ve made this hotter and sweeter is if we were living in Medieval times and this was a droit du seigneur!”

 

When he finally unlocked his thumbprint from my prostate, I peeled to the bathroom. I went in there with the goal to wash every inch of his violating touch off me. I barely closed the door before I balled out silently next to the vanity, swallowing hard that my life went to shit in just five short weeks after he showed up on my doorstep.

Brody plowed her again a few times that night, rubbing salt on the wound as my failure as a new husband and provider, and it left me extremely worried that my poor unborn baby was somehow subjected to this cruelty.

The feeling didn’t last long. I might’ve continued to feel bad about the whole arrangement if my wife didn’t force my hand in this marriage. She could’ve said no, I reasoned in the sobering days after becoming a cuckold. And finding them sated with one another during a hot passionate session also removed another layer of guilt from my conscience. Though, that didn’t mean I wasn’t slightly hurt by the sparkle in her eyes whenever he frequently came around looking for his turn.

As the weeks churned on, I grew less disgusted by my cock sloshing around in my big brother’s last deposit. Strangely, I started to enjoy his load lubing me up. Brody was here, I thought to myself, whenever I felt a little extra warm and creamy inside of my beautiful bride without warning.

And the way she got off so quickly, I soon started to breathe. Not because of that, but because I finally figured out, the more he was inside of her the less he was interested in riding my ass. Something he only brought up once, maybe twice since that day.

“Once this kid drops, we can move on with our lives! Live happily ever after as husband and wife…no Brody!” My very pregnant wife worded unconvincingly.

I found it strange she would say this from time-to-time. Sometimes out the pure blue sky. It came to me one day that this was her way of shedding guilt of her own whenever it weighed on her mind that she was sleeping with both her husband and his brother, stripped of all the thrills and shrills of the bedroom fun. Often, I think, when she accidentally mistook Brody for me as her man whenever he took her to the store or out to eat afterwards.

Out of respect for me, she tried to hide her hots for Brody by sometimes convincing herself aloud that she was screwing him for her family’s welfare. When I tried to free her from those chains, accepting that he was going to be an unending fixture in our lives from here on out, she’d fall into this trance and go about frantically cleaning up our home repeating her mantra.

Then the day came. Two days of labor and she bore our son Dylan in the wee hours of an unusual hot fall morning.

I hung around the hospital most of the day after she gave birth. Eventually, she sent me home right before nightfall to get some rest. When I got home, rest was the last thing I was able to do. I ran around the house like a chicken with its head cut off making sure everything was in order. Even running out to my car—more times than I could count—to make sure the car seat was put in properly when I brought them home in a couple of days. 

The wave of adrenaline I’d been riding waned around ten o’clock that night. I was good and tired and ready to head to bed when I saw the bright headlights of a van come up the driveway and flood the trailer. I didn’t pay it much mind. Brody sometimes drove his work van over his truck. He probably came looking for us earlier and couldn’t find us.

It was rare. The local hospital was about five minutes away, but the “good” hospital was a few hours away and it wasn’t strange for us to spend the whole day waiting to see the doctor and then the whole day waiting for the prescription to be filled, which had us spending a couple of nights in a motel with an extra day to cover the uncertainty of other tests and delays.

He shut off the van. I stepped out on the side porch under the full supermoon and twinkling stars with two beers in hand.

“Here to congratulate me, you piece of shit?”

“For what?” Brody snatched the can out of my hand. “For having shit for brains?”

“I’m a Pa now. I’m a Pa now…to my…son. Just my son, I guess.” I tripped over my thoughts.

Stumbling upon all this inbreeding in our family tree suddenly rushed into mind. It felt like “son” was too simplistic of a relation after discovering that my mother and my grandma were my sisters, that my grandma was also my aunt, and my brother was my uncle and that my father also doubled as my grandpa and great grandpa.

Brody popped the tab off his can and toasted me. “Congrats to Dylan for having a pa for a shit-brain! It’s more than either of us had!”

We stood out on the side porch leaning against the rickety rails looking up at the beautiful cloudless sky shooting the breeze. We’d never done that before, but in some weird way it felt strangely familiar with this second wind breathed in me as we freely talked about everything deep into the night.

“I guess you’ll have to stalk for your next pregnant bitch to get off in now that my wife’s no longer preggos.”

“Oh,” he smirked smugly. “Where do you think I’ve been the past couple of days? I already got one lined up and getting her fitted on this cock. Mark Elway’s trampy daughter is back in the family way again.”

“What’s up with you and pregnant bitches, anyway? You like fat chicks without them being fat or something?” I guzzled down another beer.

“The first piece of trim I ever got belonged to a girl named Sammy Aldridge, the expecting baby mama of one of my foes. She was out for revenge after he’d left her six months pregnant because she started to ‘get fat’, so she let me slide right on in and I was hooked! If you noticed, it feels totally different because of the rush of hormones down there.”

“I wouldn’t really know for sure. I was always beaten to the punch by my son of a bitch big brother for my wife’s pussy.”

“Sorry, not sorry, as the kids like to say,” he sipped from his fourth beer can. “And after a couple of pregnancy scares, it’s nice to know that I can go raw without worrying about ever impregnating the bitch.”

We conversed some more about other things, noting that for all the darkness in the sky we had more night behind us than in front of us.

“I feel like sort of a butt, now,” Brody scratched the back of his head after I eased into the threat of him wanting to fuck me months earlier.

“What?! An empty threat?”

“No,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’d just come over for the sole purpose of fucking you tonight. I’d planned on fucking you the night your son was born, that way your whore ass would remember our first time in the tally.”

I wanted to laugh, but I ventured into his big brown saucers and saw that he was dead serious.

“And now?”

“I just want my little bro to enjoy his special ‘Dad’ moment. I’ll plow that ass ‘til the cows come home some other night. Maybe one day while your wife tends to your young’un, and I tend to you. See who’s the bigger crybaby between you bastards!”

I steeped in his words, etching slowly back to the screen door as we changed the subject and got back to talking about normal brotherly things. When he thought I was going back in the house for another beer, his face said it all when I returned with a jar of Vaseline I’d plunked down on the old picnic table.

“Might as well get this over with.” I stated plainly.

“Well, if that ain’t a fucking invitation!” He woofed disappointedly, despite the new raging hard-on tucked behind his jeans.

“What? You want me to bat my eyes and shoot you a come-hither look, Brody Pritchett? You want me to seduce you with a belly of baby with a hormonal round pussy to match?" I joked playing with an imaginary pregnancy.

“Yeah,” he said half-heartedly. “It’d be nice.”

“C’mon, man,” I nervously chuckled at his weird reaction.

“What? I think it would be hot to be wanted by my little perverted freak of a brother. I mean, I work hard to get like this,” he flexed his muscly biceps. “I’m a sexy hairy bastard! It wasn’t like we grew up together and shared the same room. It wasn’t like you could check me out after a sweaty ball game like any other curious brat or I could stuff my jockstrap in your face to put you in your place.”

“Seems like you’ve given this some thought?” 

“Kind of! Aside from being your big brother and uncle, I’m also old enough to be your sexy dad, if I wanted anything to do with Mom’s used cunt. From any angle, I should’ve trained you up to be my personal cumdump, have you salivating like Pavlov’s dog just being in the vicinity of my cock.”

“Well, I’m no romantic, you needy gray-haired freak. I’m just saying that with as many times as my wife has helped you in your condition, it’d be rude of me not to do the same.” I smirked. He liked that for some reason, with his cock pulsed even more in his jeans.

“You’re sure?” Brody gulped.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I said undoing my belt, pushing down my jeans, and leaving on my underwear. Not out of laziness for the latter. I just thought it would be a nice gesture to let him unwrap his long-awaited present.

He walked behind me and started feeling on the cotton covering my thin ass. I inched forward across the picnic table before a whiff of sobriety reminded me that I was five inches taller than him. I had to get back up and move over to the side of the table and sit on my shins on the old bench to bend over to compensate for the height difference.

As soon as everything lined up comfortably, he ripped my briefs down the middle like The Hulk, which wasn’t hard to do since my underwear was just as bare thread and holey as my socks. And then, with his big hairy hands, one on my shoulder and one on my waist, he started to hum, putting his own spin to the Kissing song. “Brody in Cody, tossing in some cock, p-u-m-p-i-n-g-ing in a shot!”

He rammed his greased cock into my hole at the last word in one hasty unforgiveable swoop. I felt insufferable pain in its girthy length. I saw colors shoot out of my eyes and stars dance over my head along with hula-hoops melded like atom structures spinning in random formations. If I could’ve screamed, I gladly would’ve for the world to hear and hopefully to help me out of this predicament!

I was stunned! With as many dildoes and other crazy objects I’ve stuffed up my butt over the years, not a single one of them carried the ferocious heat and the meaty feel of the cock that suddenly invaded me, even with it being smaller in circumference and not as rigid.  

“Fuck!” I squealed after my throat called up my larynx after a few seconds of him jackhammering me.

“Yeah, Cody! Let me pound this ass!”

I didn’t want him to pound my ass. This shit hurts! But I couldn’t scream out loud, but I could yelp, and I tried yelping loudly in code with rushing saltwater blinding me.

“C’mon, Little Bro,” he snarled. “Give me that sweet fucking hole! I know you’ve enjoyed every minute of watching me pumping your new bride. I bet you never thought you’d ever get the same sweet treatment!”

He yanked his cock out.

“Nooo!” I shouted out to the highway out front, finding a word again before he savagely dug back into me. After he plugged back in, he viciously smacked my bony hip with that gorilla paw of his that subsequently forced a small spill out of my bladder. I tried to form a sentence through the renewed pain and added embarrassment, but I pushed out every word I could think to say as he sawed into me again. “Fuck! Fuck…Brody! I’ve…never…been…fucked…before!

“What’d you say, Little Bro? You’ve never been fucked like this before? Aren’t you in for a delicious treat!”

If he wasn’t rough enough before, he found this new overdrive that I was sure to rip out my asshole.

“No! You fucking piece of shit! I’ve never been fucked before! Fucking goddamn, fuck!”

Brody stopped dead in his tracks. His cock soon retreated like a snake slithering away. “You’re pulling my leg, right? Right?”

“No, I’m not,” I finally confessed, catching my breath after I pushed the last of him out of me. “I used to stuff things up my butt all the time. The thing that never went up this butt is an actual cock…and I thought that…that was…I thought that shit was gay as fuck!”

“Well, aren’t you?” He inquired, sure that with all the dildoes shoved in my ass playing in the back of his mind.

“I dunno. I mean, I like guys like I like girls, like you, but I never wanted to get with a guy. I mean, I did, but I didn’t want to be picked on like a sissy like George McGeever.”

“Who?”

“My old best friend. He was a flaming sissy that finally professed his love for me. I guess I liked him, too, but I pushed him away after he gave me a blowjob fearing that people might think I was a sissy just like him. It sounds like shit, I know. I was already a punk that couldn’t fight, and I was deep on this manhood kick while trying my damnedest to separate myself from Mom and Grandma’s reputations, too.”

“Shit! I didn’t know.” Brody said dismally and then started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“If George only knew that both your dad and your brother were cocksuckers, he probably would’ve felt right at home if you’d ever brought him home for dinner. Man, I thought with you doing what you did with that black guy that you’d be open wide like the field. I guess I just added that he fucked you, too, along with the multitude around here. Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

“And risk you thinking you were the one that snag my cherry on top of being the first to plow my wife after our nuptials? Nah,” I exhaled. “But given everything else my bum could handle I thought a mere cock would be a cinch!”

He came around in front of me in my paralyzed state. My dried tear-stained face read everything my tone didn’t say.

“Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, man. God, I’ve already fucked your bitch for months now. And after obliterating your hole like a wrecking ball, we can call it even. Work something else out…that doesn’t involve this lethal weapon.”

I felt the tears in his soul, sorry that he’d really hurt me.

“It’s cool, bro.” I sorely straightened up and got to my feet. “Nothing to cry about. I just can’t take it like I can take a spanking or dildo play, strangely. Not yet at least. I’d be kind of righteous if my sexy big brother trained me step by step.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, you kind of raped the shit out of me already so it can only get better from here, don’t you think?”

“Can it really be called rape when you’re the one who whipped out the Vaseline and bent over on the table?” He teased trying to lighten the mood of his sincere regret. “Want to go inside?”

“I kind of like it out here.” I said looking out at the stars dimming from our corner of the universe.

Brody pulled some of the bedding out of the spare bedroom and made a makeshift bed on top of the picnic table. “If I’d known you wanted to be outside your first time I would’ve swung back home and got the pickup truck.”

“Why? Did Dad nail you in the back of a pickup truck your first time or something?” I asked getting on my back on top of the table looking out at the sky lightening before daybreak.

“Don’t be so stupid, Little Bro. He greatly respected me and my virginal ass. He took me to a motel like any unsuspecting father would take his teenage son. If he’d known back then that we were related, I probably would’ve just gotten nailed on the bed in the back bedroom like Mom or at the diner like Grandma…or on the side of a big rig like her mom.” He crawled between my legs lifting them up over his shoulders. “I just always thought the back of a pickup was a cool place to lose it, you know? Roger was more of a van guy whenever he wasn’t in a rig. I guess the inside of a starred-ceiling van would’ve been cool, too.”

The head of his cock rubbed against my opening. Because I was opened the way I was, it wasn’t like it was clenched with half the head easily siding into the abyss.

“The non-cherry cherry, I suppose.” Brody pulled back whenever it felt like he was being sucked in. “Ready to lose your virginity?”

“It’s already gone.”

“We’ll scratch that from the record. Write this one in as the do-over. ‘There, my big, sexy older brother Brody was saddled on top of me, looking down at me, inserting his big, gigantic cock in me under the fading stars….’”

He slowly pushed in.

“Ohhh!” I murmured, feeling the renewed sensation of his warm cockhead buried inside my bowels, and gently chuckled, in disbelief that this sweet thing was the same monster that had vowed to rip me to shreds just minutes earlier.

Brody waited gentlemanly for my chute to invite him in, in which it did on its own, slowly, an inch at a time. When he was finally all in, I let out a sigh of relief. The back of my knees fell to the crook of his arms. He leaned in for a kiss. I expected a peck. What I got was passion and reverence like I never experienced before, not even with my bride and mother of my child.

“Keep that up, Big Bro, and I’m gonna have to leave my woman for you.” I ribbed naturally thumbing his nipples.

“Please,” he said cockily. “Don’t be so easy. That bitch will kill you over this fucking dick!”

He lifted. His cock stabbed my prostate.

“Oh, Brody,” I sobbed. “Brody!”

Brody smiled down at me. “I was just going to ask you how you were doing up there, Little Bro, but I see your sailing off into the heavens right now. Glad I can be the pilot of your maiden flight.”

Brody kept his thrusts light and steady as the day began to crack the horizon. If I’d been watching him fuck me, I probably would’ve been bored and found another clip to jack off to. But really being on this end of his cock, his subtle thrust was just what the doctor ordered after the initial ravishment.

“What’re you thinking up there?”

“If I knew cock felt this good, I would’ve accepted Billy Ellington’s invitation for it a long time ago.”

“And miss out on Big Bro giving it to you?”

“You would’ve still got it, you big baby. You’d just got his sloppy seconds, like I got yours.”

The sun had begun to kiss the top of the trees and kiss us. Even with it being fall and not being as hot as the days prior, we’d built up some sweat with some dewy beads clinging onto the end of his strands.

“Ready, Cody?”

I nodded, knowing our time had come to an end.

A little while later, Brody pumped with a slight urgency and shuddered and came in a poignant groan that sounded more like he was pushing out a good shit than unloading his cock.

“Permanent residency up in there, Little Bro. My little soldiers are swimming up in your guts on their way to impregnate your brain. That way you’ll always have me in your head.”

He stayed in me a long while, occasionally thrusting his limpening cock inside me and using his big hands to stroke my sides in the direction his little swimmers were supposed to be going in. It didn’t feel like he shot a lot in me when he came, but it felt like a deluge rush out when he finally retreated.

He extended his hand after he got to his feet. I took it in mine.

“Thanks,” I said in more ways than one, sitting up and swinging my feet onto the bench below tired and incredibly sore.

Brody rested his hand on my knee and looked deep into my eyes. There were times I thought he wanted to say something. Then there were times I was sure he was going to kiss me again.

And then, he stroked my cock hard and push the bench under the table dropping to his knees in front of my cock.

“What’re you doing?”

“Showing you the family way, Little Bro” he licked his lips. “Maybe if you’d known this before just maybe you would’ve appreciated the gift Georgie McGeever was giving you.”

I moaned softly as he pulled my cock into my mouth and quickly popped it out.

“You like?”

I nodded.

“I hadn’t even gotten started yet! But I guess that’s why Roger nicknamed me the Throat King.”

Brody fisted my cock and swallowed me again. He moved his hand away briefly to take it all in, and then held it as he kissed it and jacked me off. He washed the head and then the shaft. He swallowed again and kissed along the sides.

I gasped. “Oh fuck!”

Maybe it was because of the drastic swing in my first fuck or that I’d never been fucked before that day, but this right here also felt like a new beginning. Aside from George, who I was tense with the whole time, I’d pretty much had to beg for any knob-gob that I got. But here I was with my big brother washing my cock with his tongue, incessantly sucking it without ask.

Even though Brody had everything under control, I wanted to reach for the back of his head to make sure this was real. I sucked my teeth to hold back. A few minutes later, I did the same thing, only to turn around and do it again seconds and milliseconds later.

“God! I’m gonna cum!” I warned.

I expected Brody to pull off me and let my load go elsewhere. Out of the few girls that took me in their mouth, they always spit me out later complaining about the taste making me feel self-conscious about it.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!!”

Brody didn’t flinch. I had to stop myself from grabbing his head, but his mouth birthed into a powerful vacuum, and I came…and I came…and I came into his quaff mouth, panting like a dog after running miles.

“Stop!” I pleaded pushing his shoulders, drained.

He stopped, just enough to dig his tongue into my slit and then whirled the shaft before popping off my cock.

“Fuck!” I said instead of the ‘Thank You’ I was going for.

He smirked satisfied. “Consider that a gift from Roger from beyond the grave. I’m great, but Roger—Dad—was the fucking best, man! His mouth was like a machine. He’d drain you fuck dry when he was mad at you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I sat up tired, but with a burst of energy.

“Not when it came to him. For most guys, it’s just an expression, but for him, it was the gospel. He could really drain your cock so badly that it would take days for another erection to sprout.”

I saw that Brody was hard again. I wasn’t sure if I should return the favor or let him dump another load in my ass.

“Don’t worry about that thing there.” He read my thoughts. “I got to save something for the trampy preggos bitch down the road.”

I frowned. He put his clothes back on.

“Don’t look so sad, Little Bro. Cocks like mine aren’t meant to be loyal. And besides, you need to hit the hay after being up the past few days. Fatherhood awaits you when you wake up.”

I moved back into the house disappointed. But then I thought about my wife and their connection, and I understood that this thing between Brody and I was far from a one-time thing as well.