This story is completely fictional.
The next few days after Carter gave Brett a handjob passed relatively uneventfully. Neither brother talked about the handjob and they carried on like nothing happened between them. To Brett, it was just what two hot-blooded men in their prime did—get their rocks off however they could…nothing weird about receiving a handjob.
On this evening, Carter and Brett was hanging out at the home of their buddy from high school: Preston Hale. Preston and his gay stepbrother, Zach.
Preston and Zach's parents had excellent taste in liquor and the good sense to take their vacation in Capri, which meant that for the next ten days their Hilton Head estate belonged entirely to their sons and whatever chaos they saw fit to invite into it.
Tonight, the chaos was modest. Four of them, a firepit, and a bottle of Clase Azul that Preston had located in his stepfather's liquor cabinet with the unerring instinct of someone who had been casing that cabinet for years.
The backyard was the kind made regular backyards feel like parking lots — a wide limestone patio stepping down to a manicured lawn, the firepit at its center a low, architectural thing in brushed concrete that produced a clean, smokeless flame. String lights ran the perimeter. Beyond the lawn, past the landscaping, the ocean water waves rolled gently.
Carter was in the chair to the left of the fire, legs stretched out, a glass of the tequila resting on his knee. He wore a light pink polo shirt and blue jeans. Brett was beside him, sprawled in the way so that he occupied about thirty percent more space than was strictly necessary. Brett looked sexy in a a white cuttoff tank (that intentionally showed off his perfect arms and defined lats) and grey sweats.
Across the pit, Preston Hale held court in the manner he always did: upright, confident, talking loudly. And beside Preston, in the fourth chair, was his gay stepbrother.
Zach Merritt was genuinely good-looking in a way that high school had somehow undersold. Dirty blonde hair, sharp jaw, the kind of bone structure that photographed well and looked even better in firelight. He was in dark chino shorts and a fitted sage-green henley with the sleeves pushed up, and he looked like someone had put actual thought into it, which was different from Preston, who was in a faded Clemson lacrosse t-shirt and board shorts.
Preston, who played lacrosse all this life, was broad and loud and physically present. Red-haired, rawboned, boisterous. Zach was quieter. Composed. He laughed at the right moments and contributed to the conversation in measured, well-timed ways and had the general air of someone who was comfortable enough in himself that he didn't need to perform it.
He had come out as gay the previous spring. It had been, by all accounts including his own, largely uneventful. The world had received the information and continued turning, his friendships had survived, and Zach had emerged from the other side of it with a refreshing lightness.
And on this evening, Zach was (though he managed it with considerable discipline) acutely aware of every movement Carter Hepburn made from across the firepit.
Had been, if he was being honest, for almost three years. Basically ever since he switched high schools and laid eyes on Carter for the first time.
"Stepfather's Clase Azul," Preston was saying, tilting the bottle toward the firelight to examine the level. "He won't notice. He's never once inventoried the liquor before a trip. Classic oversight."
"What if he does notice?" Carter said.
"Then I'll tell him it evaporated. Altitude."
"Dude, you're at sea level."
"Spiritual altitude." Preston poured another measure into his glass and set the bottle on the low table between the chairs. "Zach, you good?"
Zach looked at his glass. "Yeah, I'm-"
"Zach." Brett's voice, from the other chair, had the comfortable authority of someone who had never once questioned whether he was allowed to use it. He held up his glass without looking over, tilting it in the firelight. "Top me off."
There was a half-second pause, and then Zach obediently leaned forward and picked up the bottle and reached across and poured. Brett watched the flame the whole time.
"Good man," Brett said.
Zach set the bottle down and settled back into his chair and said nothing, and Carter looked at the fire pensively. He was so handsome and the fire light complimented his angular face and glowing green eyes.
Zach excused himself a few minutes later to use the bathroom, sliding the back door shut behind him, and Brett waited approximately four seconds.
"Bro, you seeing this? He's been staring at you all night," Brett whispered to Carter.
Carter didn't look up from the fire. "I know."
"Like, staring staring. Every time you talk he does this thing where…” Brett demonstrated something with his face that was an approximation of rapt, helpless attention.
"People have been saying he has a thing for me for like a year," Carter said. He said evenly, without drama, without making it mean more than it meant. "Since before he came out."
Preston, across the fire, wasn’t paying attention. He took a sip of his tequila as his eyes were glued to his phone, checking the score of the tennis match a couple of his favorite ATP pros were playing in.
Brett leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Have you seen his legs, by the way?"
Carter glanced over. "Wha??"
"He shaves them. I noticed when he was sitting across from me." Brett shook his head with the exaggerated gravity of someone delivering a verdict. "Smooth as a chick.”
"So?"
"So that's….” Brett made a gesture that was vague enough to carry multiple meanings and specific enough that its direction was clear. He wanted to call Zach a faggot, but clearly that wouldn’t be well received with this crowd.
"That's what?" Carter said.
"It's just —" Brett leaned back. He noticed Preston was off his phone and back in the convo. "I'm just saying, Preston, your stepbro's got legs like —"
"Brett." Carter's voice hadn't changed volume or temperature. It didn't need to. "Let it go."
Brett looked at him. There was a moment…. the kind that passed between them sometimes, quick and clean….and Brett settled back in his chair and dropped it. He knew Preston wasn’t fully accepting of the whole gay thing, and that Preston had a rocky relationship with Zach for many years. But the stepbros were closer now and it wouldn’t be smart for Brett to keep talking smack right now.
"Zach’s a really good guy," Carter said, after a moment. Not making a point of it. Just noting it.
A short moment later, Zach was back, carrying a couple of the beers that Brett had requested he fetch when he left to use the restroom. The evening went on and the boys got drunker and rowdier. It was a good time.
Brett, who had the tolerance of someone his size but also the enthusiasm of someone who had been drinking since seven, had crossed from loose into genuinely drunk somewhere around the third pour — talking louder, laughing easier, his stories getting longer and more elaborate in the way Brett's stories always did when he'd had enough to stop editing himself. He was currently reconstructing a game-winning moment from a Duke intramural basketball tournament with the full-body commitment of a man who had no remaining inhibitions about using his arms as visual aids. Zach, who found Brett kinda annoying at times, couldn’t resist but to admire Brett’s hairy armpits that poked through his skimpy muscle tank.
Carter was comfortably tipsy. The good kind of drunk… everything felt warm and unhurried, the edges of things softened without losing their shape. He was leaning back in his chair watching the flame and listening to Brett and feeling the specific contentment of a summer night with no worries or drama.
By eleven-thirty, Brett had used the word bro approximately forty-seven times and had made two attempts to stand up that he'd thought better of, and Carter was feeling the tequila in his shoulders and behind his eyes in the pleasant, heavy way that suggested the evening needed to wind down.
"You two should just stay," Preston said. "Guest room's made up. It's right next to Zach's room."
Brett made a grunt of agreement and gratitude.
Carter looked across the dying fire at Preston, then at Zach, who was looking at the flame with his glass resting on his knee and his expression doing the thing where it was very composed and not quite neutral.
"Yeah," Carter said. "Okay. Thanks, dude, appreciate it."
He pulled out his phone and texted his dad — staying at Preston's, we're good — and Scott's reply came back in under a minute, which was typical: Fine. Don't be idiots.
Brett saw the response over his shoulder and drunkenly laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all night.
Carter went inside last, ducking under the string lights.
The upstairs hallway was wide and softly lit, the kind of lighting that expensive houses defaulted to as if to make everything look like the last hour of golden hour. The four young men walked up slowly, ocassionally stumbling from the alcohol.
The bathroom at the end of the hall was marble, oversized, and double-sinked. All four boys brushed their teeth at the same time.
Brett had already stripped his muscle tank off somewhere between the patio and the second floor landing, because Brett's relationship with shirts deteriorated in direct proportion to his blood alcohol level, and he stood at the left sink in just his grey sweats. He was built. The months of deliberate, focused lifting were evident in the kind of way that was difficult to not register even if you were trying to be polite about it. The sexy torso and clean definition across his abdomen. Tan from the Hilton Head summer already, even this early in June.
Carter peeled his polo over his head and dropped it on the towel rack and stood at the right sink. He was leaner than Brett. Wide receiver's builds tended to be functional and athletic. Zach wasn’t even subtle when he blatantly stared at Carter yet again. He drooled at the line of Carter’s round shoulders, the perfect cut of his obliques, the flat plane of his stomach.
Zach was at the towel rack. His eyes moved across Carter's tan shoulders and down and back up, and then he was looking at the towel rack again. He swallowed. Adjusted the bulge that was his rock hard erection, twitching like it was on the verge of erupting.
Preston, beside him, was already done and halfway out the door. "Guest room's the second door," he said, to nobody in particular, and disappeared.
The guest room had a luxurious king bed, high-thread-count everything, curtains that actually blocked light.
Carter found the shelf unit near the window and deposited his folded polo on it with the neat, automatic precision. Jeans next, folded at the crease, placed on top. He was in his boxers briefs and moving toward the bed when Brett, who had been conducting a low-level investigation of the room with the thoroughness of a golden retriever in a new environment, made a sound.
The sound was specific. It was the sound of discovery.
"Carterrrrr. Oh fuck yeah."
"No."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"You don't need to." Carter pulled back the covers. "Whatever you found, leave it alone."
Brett was crouched in front of a low cabinet beside the television, which he had opened to reveal a compact minibar and refrigerator built into the cabinetry. His hand had located a bottle of Beluga Gold Line that was catching the lamplight in a way that Brett appeared to find genuinely moving.
"Carter," he said again, differently this time. Reverently.
"Brett, you're already drunk."
"I'm celebratory." Brett was already unscrewing the cap. "There's a difference."
"Dude you're gonna feel like shit tomorrow —"
Brett tipped the bottle back and took a long pull with the serene expression of a man who had made peace with his choices. Lowered it. Exhaled through his nose. Took another.
"Brett —"
"It's Beluga Gold," Brett said, in a tone that suggested this was a complete and sufficient explanation for any behavior that followed. He held the bottle out toward Carter with the generous magnanimity of the very drunk. "You wan' some?"
"I want you to put it back."
"You wan' me to —" He looked at the bottle. Looked at Carter. The sequence of this seemed to strike him as genuinely funny. "You're such a lightweight, man."
"I'm not a lightweight, I'm a person who knows when to stop."
"Those are the same thing." Brett set the bottle down on the nightstand with the drunken, careful delicacy of an impaired man. He straightened up, swayed once, found his footing, and surveyed the room.
His remaining clothes shucked off efficiently and without ceremony, the grey sweats pooling on the floor, socks somewhere in the vicinity of the foot of the bed, the whole pile accumulating in the haphazard geography of someone who had never once in his life lost sleep over a wrinkled waistband.
Brett stood there in his boxers for exactly two seconds before he decided he was done with those too, and then those joined the pile. Then Brett Hepburn got into the guest bed of Preston Hale's parents' vacation home in the manner he always slept: completely naked, unencumbered and entirely unbothered by this fact.
Carter, who was in his briefs and intended to remain in them, picked up Brett's sweatpants from the floor and folded them loosely and put them on the shelf.
"You don' have to do tha'," Brett said, from the pillow. The vowels were getting soft around the edges now, the consonants losing their grip.
"I know."
"S'not your mess."
"I know, Brett."
A silence. Carter turned off the lamp on his side and got into bed, and the room went mostly dark, just the faint ambient light coming around the curtains from the pool lighting below.
Then Brett said, from his side of the bed, with the thoughtful, unprompted energy of someone whose internal filter had fully clocked out for the evening: "Bro, you've got a great ass, by the way."
Carter stared at the ceiling.
“I’m serious,” Brett continued, "Like, genuinely. Objec — objectively." A pause while he apparently worked on that word and decided it was done. "No wonder Zach's been starin' at you all night." The laugh that followed was low and rumbling and went on slightly too long. "Poor faggot. Jus' sittin' there across the fire like —" Brett made an attempt at reconstructing Zach's expression from earlier in the evening, which landed somewhere in the range of interpretive rather than accurate. "— like tha'."
"Go to sleep, Brett."
"M'jus' sayin' thass'a good —"
"Sleep."
"— s'a very good ass —" He lost the thread of this. Picked up a different one. "Vanderbilt girls are gonna destroy you, bro. Jus'..." He exhaled slowly. "Jus' gonna wanna peg you bro."
"Goodnight, Brett."
"G'night." A long pause. Then, almost inaudible, with the dreamy non-sequitur quality of a man already halfway somewhere else: "'s good vodka though."
And then nothing.
Carter looked at the ceiling. The pool light shifted faintly beyond the curtains. He listened to his big brother’s breathing slow and deepen as he apparently drifted into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile Carter lay there wide awake. Laying there next to his naked brother, he couldn’t stop thinking about the other day. The day they watched porn together and….and…stuff happened.
The tequila sat warm in Carter’s flushed skin, but sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of that afternoon in Brett’s room played on loop…his brother’s thick cock pulsing in his fist, the salty taste of his nipple on his tongue, the deep growl of Brett’s voice as he came thinking about breeding Olivia.
Carter’s pulse kicked up. Heat pooled low in the 18-year-old stud’s stomach. He turned his head slowly on the pillow.
Brett was sprawled on his back beside him, completely naked, one arm thrown up behind his head. The position left his left armpit perfectly exposed. Even in the faint blue glow leaking around the curtains, Carter could see everything: the heavy swell of Brett’s pecs, the dark swirl of chest hair running down the center, the deep cuts of his abs, and the thick, soft cock resting against his thigh. A light sheen of sweat still clung to his skin from the humid night and the fact that neither of them had bothered to shower before collapsing into bed.
Carter’s mouth went dry.
His own cock had been half-hard since they got under the covers. Now it was fully rigid, straining painfully against the front of his boxer briefs, a wet spot of precum already soaking through the fabric. He bit his lip and glanced at Brett’s face. Eyes closed, sexy lips parted, breathing deep and even.
Carefully, so carefully, Carter hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and slid them down his legs, kicking them off under the sheets. His 6.5-inch cock sprang free, slapping lightly against his lower abs, already slick at the tip.
He wrapped his fingers around himself..barely. Just a loose, feather-light grip. He didn’t dare stroke hard. The bed was too big, but any real movement might wake his brother. Instead he let his fingertips glide slowly up and down the underside of his shaft, teasing, barely touching, spreading the precum that kept leaking out in slow, shiny beads.
His eyes traced every inch of Brett’s sleeping body. God, he was perfect.
That exposed armpit was driving him crazy. Carter shifted closer, inch by inch, until his face hovered just above it. He inhaled deeply.
The scent was amazing. Rich, masculine, slightly sharp. A full day of drinking, sweating, and moving around in that cutoff tank had left Brett’s pit with a potent, subtle musk that cut through the faded traces of his woodsy deodorant. Carter’s cock throbbed hard in his hand. He breathed in again, slower this time, letting the smell fill his lungs while his fingertips continued their torturously light dance along his leaking dick.
Carter Hepburn was so hard it hurt.
Memories flashed behind his eyes: Brett’s hand on the back of his neck while he sucked those nipples. The way Brett’s abs had clenched when he came. That filthy mouth talking about breeding their dad’s girlfriend.
Carter’s breath trembled. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose right into the warm, damp skin of Brett’s armpit, inhaling shamelessly now, tongue darting out for the faintest taste of salt.
So fucking good.
The horny jock boy was totally lost in it. Lightly brushing his cock, sniffing his own brother’s sexy smelly pit, cock dripping steadily onto his own stomach. Then, Brett suddenly shifted in his sleep.
A low grunt rumbled in Brett’s chest. Still asleep, he rolled onto his side, facing Carter, and threw one heavy, muscular arm across his little brother’s waist. The movement pulled Carter closer until his back was pressed against Brett’s broad chest, the heat of Brett’s naked body enveloping him completely. Brett’s thick, soft cock nestled right against the curve of Carter’s ass, and his face buried into the back of Carter’s neck with a sleepy sigh.
Carter froze, heart slamming against his ribs.
Brett’s arm was heavy and possessive, fingers loosely curled just below Carter’s navel. Every breath Brett took ghosted warm across his skin. That soft cock twitched once, then started to thicken slowly against Carter’s bare ass as Brett’s body reacted to the closeness even in sleep.
Carter’s own hard dick was trapped between his stomach and the sheets, aching, leaking. He didn’t dare move. He could barely breathe.
But he also couldn’t stop himself from gently rocking his hips. Just tiny, almost imperceptible movements. The slutty 18 year old rubbed his ass back against the growing weight of Brett’s cock while Brett’s arm held him close.
Carter’s heart hammered so hard he was sure Brett would feel it through his back. The heavy arm draped over his waist, the heat of Brett’s naked body pressed flush against him, and the slow, sleepy thickening of that thick cock nestled between his ass cheeks were too much. Self-control snapped like a dry twig.
Carter rolled carefully onto his side, facing away from Brett but pushing his bubble butt back deliberately until it molded perfectly against his big brother’s groin. The moment the smooth, firm curve of Carter’s ass made full contact with Brett’s cock, a shiver ran through him.
He started grinding.
Slow at first. Tiny, rolling movements of his hips that rubbed his bare ass up and down along the length of Brett’s dick. He could feel it responding immediately, twitching, swelling, growing heavier and hotter with every pass. Within a minute, Brett’s cock had hardened completely, reaching its full, obscene 7.5 inches. It throbbed insistently against him, trapped between Carter’s cheeks, the fat head nudging dangerously close to his hole with every backward roll of his hips.
Carter bit down hard on his lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezed shut as filthy fantasies flooded his brain.
He thought to himself: God, Brett… just push it in. Fuck your little brother while you’re asleep. Split me open on that big dick and breed me like you wanted to breed Olivia.
He kept grinding, faster now, shamelessly using his brother’s sleeping body. The thick shaft slid slickly between his cheeks, the head catching on his tight rim every few strokes and sending sparks up his spine. Carter’s own 6.5-inch cock was leaking like a faucet, smearing precum across his lower stomach.
Then Brett let out a deep, sleepy grunt and rolled onto his back again, arm slipping off Carter’s waist. His massive erection stood straight up now, flushed and veiny, pulsing in the faint blue light.
Carter couldn’t stop himself.
The horny teenage stud rose up on trembling knees, swung one leg over Brett’s hips, and straddled his big brother in full cowboy position. The sight beneath him was devastating. Brett’s powerful body laid out like an offering, chest rising and falling steadily, dark chest hair catching the dim light, abs carved and glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
Carter lowered himself until his tight, virgin hole pressed right against the thick, leaking head of Brett’s cock. He started rubbing…slow, filthy circles…letting the rim of his asshole kiss and glide over the swollen crown, teasing himself with the idea of sinking down and taking every inch.
His hands roamed greedily.
He slid both palms over Brett’s pecs, fingers digging into the firm muscle, thumbs brushing over those sensitive nipples he’d sucked days earlier. He traced the sexy swirl of dark hair in the center of Brett’s chest, then moved lower, worshiping every ridge of his six-pack. His fingers followed the perfect treasure trail down toward the base of that throbbing cock.
The more Carter molested his sleeping brother’s body, the hornier he got.
Carter’s own cock was rock-hard and drooling. A long, shiny string of precum dripped from his tip onto Brett’s abs, landing right on the deep cuts of his six-pack. Another drop followed, then another, pooling in the grooves of muscle before sliding into the dark treasure trail, matting the hair there with slick wetness.
“Fuck… Brett…” Carter whispered breathlessly, voice barely audible. He kept grinding his asshole against the head of his brother’s cock, rolling his hips like he was already riding him, while his hands continued their hungry exploration—squeezing thick pecs, pinching nipples, sliding through the mess of his own precum on Brett’s abs.
He was losing his mind with lust, completely drunk on the taboo of secretly using his big brother’s body in the middle of the night. His hole fluttered and clenched with every slide of that fat cockhead against it, desperate to be filled.
Brett let out a low, unconscious groan in his sleep, hips twitching upward once, pressing harder against Carter’s dripping entrance.
Carter’s breath hitched. He was so close to just sinking down… So close to impaling his sexy brother’s big dick into his virgin jock-boy hole…
Carter kept rolling his hips in slow, desperate circles, rubbing his tight, virgin hole back and forth along the thick length of Brett’s cock. His hands never stopped exploring, hungrily squeezing the firm swells of his brother’s pecs. Tugging gently at those dark nipples. Sliding down the ridges of Brett’s abs where his own precum had left shiny trails through the treasure trail.
Brett stirred beneath him.
A low, confused rumble vibrated in his chest. His heavy eyelids fluttered open, still bleary with sleep and tequila. “Bro… what the fuck is going on?” His voice was deep, raspy, confused.
He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the sight above him: his little brother straddling his waist, naked, flushed, and grinding that perfect ass all over his rock-hard dick.
Then the pleasure hit him fully.
“Oh… shit,” Brett groaned, long and low, hips twitching up instinctively. “Aghhh, that feels so fucking good…”
Carter didn’t stop. If anything, he ground down harder, letting the fat, leaking head of Brett’s 7.5-inch cock press right against his twitching, winking hole. It kissed there firmly—hot, slick, insistent—but never pushed inside. Just that delicious, torturous pressure right at his entrance.
Emboldened, Carter reached down, grabbed both of Brett’s big hands, and pulled them up to his own ass. He pressed those strong fingers into his firm, rounded cheeks.
“Squeeze it,” Carter whispered, voice shaking with need.
Brett’s hands tightened automatically, kneading the smooth, bouncy muscle like he couldn’t help himself. His thumbs spread Carter’s cheeks wider, exposing his hole even more to the thick cockhead still rubbing against it.
“Fuck, Carter…” Brett muttered, still half-groggy but fully hard. “You got such a nice juicy ass, bro. So fucking round and tight… goddamn.”
Carter moaned softly at the praise and leaned down, chest to chest, until their faces were inches apart. Brett’s blue eyes were wide with shock, still trying to process what was happening, but his hands kept greedily groping Carter’s ass, pulling him down harder against his throbbing cock.
Carter didn’t hesitate.
He pressed his mouth to Brett’s in a hungry, desperate kiss. Brett froze at first. He too stunned to respond. His lips stayed slack with surprise. Carter took full advantage, sliding his tongue inside, licking into his big brother’s mouth with filthy, eager strokes. He tasted the lingering alcohol and enjoyed warmth of Brett’s tongue as it finally started to move, slow and hesitant at first, then deeper
All the while, Carter kept grinding.
The football jock’s ass moved in filthy waves, sliding up and down the entire length of Brett’s perfect cock while the thick head stayed pressed right against his fluttering hole. Every roll of his hips made his own leaking 6.5-inch dick drag across Brett’s abs, smearing more precum through the dark treasure trail.
Brett groaned into the kiss, hands squeezing Carter’s juicy ass harder, fingers digging in possessively. His hips rolled up lazily to meet every grind, still not fully awake but completely lost in how incredible it felt.
Carter pulled back just enough to whisper against his brother’s lips, breath hot and shaky.
“You feel so good, Brett… I can’t stop…”
Brett’s only response was another deep, stunned groan as he squeezed Carter’s juicy ass even tighter and let his little brother keep using him in the dark.
Carter kept grinding, ass rolling in slow, filthy waves over Brett’s throbbing cock, the thick head kissing and nudging insistently at his twitching virgin hole with every downward stroke. Brett’s hands stayed glued to his little bro’s cheeks, squeezing and spreading them, thumbs brushing dangerously close to his entrance.
“Fuck yeah, little bro,” Brett murmured, voice still thick with sleep and tequila but growing rougher with lust. “Keep working that fat ass on my dick. Just like that… goddamn, it feels so good.”
The encouragement sent a fresh wave of heat through Carter. He was too far gone, too horny, too uninhibited from the alcohol and days of secret fantasies. Without warning, he lifted his hips, slid backward down from Brett’s body, and before his brother could fully register what was happening, Carter wrapped his lips around the fat, leaking head of Brett’s cock.
Brett’s eyes flew open wider. “Holy fuck—Bro, what the heck are you doing?”
Carter didn’t answer with words. He was already too busy sucking.
The 18 y/o virgin wasn’t experienced, not even close, but he made up for it with raw, eager energy. His mouth was hot and wet as he bobbed down on the first few inches, tongue swirling messily around the swollen head, sucking hard like he was trying to pull Brett’s soul out through his dick. He hollowed his cheeks and took more, gagging softly when the thick shaft hit the back of his throat. Carter tried to deepthroat anyway, pushing forward determinedly until his eyes watered and he choked, pulling back with a wet gasp and strings of spit connecting his lips to Brett’s cock.
“Shit… Carter…fuckin A…” Brett groaned, one hand instinctively threading into his little brother’s dark hair, not pushing, just holding on. He was still stunned, half-drunk, but his hips twitched upward helplessly. “You’re really—fuck, that’s your mouth on my cock right now…”
Carter moaned around the thick length and doubled down, sucking faster, sloppier, more enthusiastically. He used his hand on the base, stroking what he couldn’t fit, while his head bobbed with frantic need. Spit dripped down Brett’s shaft, coating his balls. Every time he pulled off to catch his breath, he licked broad stripes up the underside or kissed the leaking tip, eyes glassy with lust as he looked up at his big brother.
Brett’s head fell back against the pillow, a deep, broken moan escaping him. “Oh my god… you’re actually sucking my dick. Don’t stop, bro—shit, your mouth feels insane…”
It only took a couple of minutes. Brett was still pent-up from the long day, still extremely hazy from the alcohol, and the unexpected intensity of his little brother’s eager blowjob pushed him over the edge fast.
“Fuck—Carter—bro, I’m gonna cum,” Brett warned, voice cracking into a loud, guttural moan that filled the dark guest room. His hips jerked up as thick, hot ropes of cum erupted into Carter’s mouth. “AHHHH Fuckkkkk….yeah…oh yeah…ohhhhh…ohhhhh….ohhhh fucking hell, man…”
Carter kept sucking through it, swallowing greedily as pulse after pulse flooded his tongue. The taste was salty, musky, overwhelming, but he didn’t pull off until Brett’s cock stopped twitching and the last weak spurts had been milked out.
Even then, he stayed down, gently licking and cleaning every inch of Brett’s softening cock with soft, worshipful strokes of his tongue, making sure he got every drop.
Brett lay there panting, chest heaving, one arm slung over his eyes. “Jesus Christ…” he mumbled, still dazed. The alcohol hit him again hard now that the orgasm had crashed through him. His words slurred heavier. “That was…aww, fuck, bro…”
Before Brett could say anything more coherent, his breathing slowed and deepened. Within seconds, Brett had drifted straight back into a heavy, drunken sleep, naked and sprawled out on the bed like nothing had happened.
Carter stayed between his brother’s legs for a long moment, lips shiny, throat warm with Brett’s load, his own cock still achingly hard and untouched. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, heart racing, a strange mix of satisfaction and fresh hunger swirling in his chest as he looked at his big brother’s peaceful, powerful body.
Carter crawled back up to his side the bed slowly, careful not to wake him, and lay down beside Brett once more, the taste of his brother’s cum still lingering on his tongue. Sleep still felt miles away.
Carter collapsed onto his back beside the now-sleeping Brett, chest still heaving, the thick taste of his brother’s cum coating his tongue and throat. For a few blissful seconds, the post-orgasm haze for Brett and the raw thrill of what he’d just done kept everything else at bay.
Then reality slammed into him like a freight train.
What the fuck did I just do?
He had sucked his own brother’s cock while Brett was passed-out drunk. He had straddled him, ground his virgin hole all over that thick dick, made out with him, and then dropped to his knees like a desperate slut and swallowed every drop when Brett came down his throat.
Carter’s stomach twisted violently. His hands started to shake.
He’s going to hate me. This is going to ruin everything. We’ve been best friends our whole lives and I just sexually took advantage of him while he was too drunk to stop me. In the morning he’s either going to remember and never look at me the same… or he’ll remember and things will be weird forever.
Carter’s breathing sped up, shallow and ragged. A cold sweat broke out across his skin even though the room was warm. His mind spiraled faster: images of Brett waking up disgusted, of their easy brotherhood shattering, of having to explain any of this to their dad. Panic clawed at his chest, tightening like a vice.
Please God, let him be too drunk to remember. Let him wake up tomorrow and have no idea any of this happened.
But even as the anxiety threatened to tip over into a full panic attack, Carter’s teenage body betrayed him. His cock was still rock-hard, throbbing angrily against his stomach, untouched and leaking steadily. The shame only seemed to make it worse. The 18-year-old stud was still so fucking horny it hurt.
Jacking off. That’ll calm me down. Just get it out of my system and maybe I can sleep.
Carter rolled off the bed on shaky legs, one hand already wrapped tightly around his aching 6.5-inch cock. He didn’t even bother grabbing his briefs. He just started stroking—fast, frantic pulls—as he stumbled toward the bedroom door, completely naked, dick in hand.
He was so frazzled, so deep in his own spiraling head, that it never even occurred to him someone else might still be awake. He didn’t think about the fact that he was vigorously jerking his cock in the middle of someone else’s hallway, the wet sounds of his fist loud in the quiet house.
He pushed open the bathroom door without knocking and slipped inside, still stroking desperately, eyes half-closed in desperate need for relief.
The room was dark except for the soft moonlight filtering through the frosted window and the faint blue glow from the pool lights outside. Carter didn’t bother turning on the lights. He just leaned back against the closed door, eyes squeezing shut as his hand flew faster over his slick cock.
The the wet shlick-shlick-shlick sounds echoed off the marble walls. Carter’s free hand roamed greedily over his own athletic body. It groped up his flat, sexy stomach, squeezing his own pecs, pinching his nipples until they hardened under his fingers. He groaned softly, head tipping back against the door as he felt up every inch of his lean, toned torso.
“Fuck…” he whispered, voice shaky and needy.
Carter’s hand moved lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently while his other fist pumped his leaking cock in long, frantic strokes. Precum dripped steadily from the flushed head, coating his fingers and making everything slick and obscene. He traced the cut lines of his obliques, then slid his palm over the firm curve of his ass, squeezing one cheek hard as he imagined it was Brett’s hand again.
Zach stayed perfectly still in the warm bath, water lapping softly around his chest. His mouth was still slightly open, eyes glued to the filthy, private show happening just a few feet away. He watched Carter’s athletic body move in the dim light—the way his abs flexed with every stroke, the way his hips bucked forward into his own fist, the way his round shoulders and defined arms tensed as he molested himself. Carter’s cock looked so hard it curved upward, the head shiny and swollen, precum flying in thin strings every time his hand reached the tip.
Carter was too far gone to stop. His breathing came in short, desperate pants. He pinched his nipple harder, twisting it, while his stroking hand sped up, fist blurring over his dick. His thighs trembled, toes curling against the cool tile. He was putting on an unintentional porn show—naked, horny, and shamelessly feeling himself up in the dark, completely unaware he had an audience.
“Shit… so close…” he whimpered, voice cracking with need.
His hand left his chest and slid down to join the other on his cock for a moment—both fists twisting and pumping in tandem—before one hand returned to grope his own ass again, fingers digging into the firm muscle right as his hips jerked forward.
Zach’s breath hitched audibly in the silence. The sound finally snapped Carter out of his lust-fueled haze.
Carter’s eyes flew open.
There, in the bathtub, sat Zach—dirty-blonde hair damp, sharp jaw slack, eyes wide with stunned arousal as he stared directly at Carter’s frantically stroking cock and roaming hands.
Zach was in the oversized marble bathtub, submerged up to his chest in warm water, dirty-blonde hair damp and pushed back from his face. His sharp jaw had gone slack, mouth hanging open in pure stunned shock as he stared directly at Carter—naked, frantically jerking off in the middle of the bathroom like he owned the place.
“Holy FUCK—” Carter yelped, his hand freezing mid-stroke on his throbbing, leaking dick. He tried to cover himself, but it was useless. His cock stayed rock-hard, jutting out obscenely, a fat bead of precum dangling from the tip and stretching toward the floor.
“Zach—shit—I didn’t know you were in here!” Carter’s voice cracked with pure mortification. His face burned crimson, heart slamming against his ribs. “I—I thought the bathroom was empty—fuck, I’m so sorry.”
He stood there completely naked, one hand still loosely gripping his aching cock, the other hovering uselessly in front of his body, while Zach continued to stare from the water, the stunned silence stretching between them like a live wire.
The warm bathwater rippled gently around Zach’s chest as he finally found his voice again.
“Uh… Carter?”
Carter’s face burned crimson as panic and humiliation crashed over him in equal measure. Of all the people to walk in on him like this—Zach. The handsome gay theater kid who’d been staring at him all night by the firepit.
Carter’s voice cracked. “Zach—shit—I didn’t—fuck, I thought the bathroom was empty—”
Carter wanted the marble floor to swallow him whole. But his cock—traitorous and still painfully hard—twitched visibly in his hand, another drop of precum leaking out as the humiliation somehow only made him hornier.
Carter stood there naked in the dark bathroom, one hand still loosely gripping his throbbing, leaking cock, the other hovering uselessly in front of his body. His face burned with humiliation as the words tumbled out in a frantic, stammering rush.
“Zach—fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here. I swear I thought the bathroom was empty. I was just—shit, I didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m really, really sorry—”
His voice cracked, the panic from earlier mixing with fresh mortification until he was practically vibrating. His cock twitched traitorously in his grip, another fat bead of precum dripping from the tip and stretching toward the tile.
Zach stayed perfectly still in the warm bath for a moment longer, then let out a soft, reassuring chuckle. “Dude, it’s alright. It’s okay. Seriously, breathe.”
Carter blinked, still half-covering himself. “But I was just… jerking off right in front of you like a fucking perverted idiot.”
“Carter,” Zach said gently, his voice calm and steady.. “It’s fine. Really. You’re not the first horny guy who’s jacked off in front of me. The alcohol must’ve gotten to you, huh?”
Carter nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, it did. I got so fucking horny I couldn’t control it. I just… I needed to cum so bad and I wasn’t thinking.”
Zach’s eyes softened, drifting down to Carter’s still-hard cock before flicking back up to his face. “You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack, man. You need to calm down. Come on…join me in the bath. The water’s warm. It’ll help.”
Carter hesitated for only a second before the offer sank in. He stepped forward on shaky legs and climbed into the oversized marble tub, the warm water enveloping his body as he sank down opposite Zach. The heat immediately started to soothe his frayed nerves. He let out a long, shaky breath, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
Zach shifted closer, the water rippling gently around them. His touch was slow and deliberate…romantic, almost reverent. One hand slid up Carter’s arm, tracing the lean muscle of his shoulder, then down across his chest, fingertips brushing over his nipples. The other hand caressed his thigh under the water, then moved to his abs, stroking the defined lines with sensual care.
“Easy,” Zach murmured. “Just relax. You’re safe here.”
The gentle caresses actually worked. Carter’s breathing slowed, the tight knot in his chest loosening as Zach’s hands explored his body. Sensual strokes over his pecs, down his obliques, and along the V-cut of his hips. The panic faded into a warm, hazy arousal.
After a few minutes of this tender touching, Zach’s hand finally wrapped around Carter’s still-hard 6.5-inch cock under the water. He stroked him slowly, thumb gliding over the sensitive head.
“Sit on the edge of the tub,” Zach whispered.
Carter obeyed, lifting himself so he was perched on the wide marble rim, water dripping down his athletic body. Zach leaned forward and took Carter’s cock into his mouth without hesitation.
Zach sucked with practiced skill. His mouth was wet, warm, and enthusiastic. The handsome blonde bobbed his head while his tongue swirled around the shaft. Carter’s head fell back with a quiet moan, one hand threading into Zach’s damp dirty-blonde hair.
Zach pulled off just long enough to murmur, “Stand up.”
Carter stood on shaky legs in the tub. Zach stayed on his knees in the water and took the 6.5 inch cock back into his mouth, sucking deeper this time while one slick finger circled Carter’s tight virgin entrance. The dual sensation was overwhelming. When Zach’s finger finally slipped inside, breaching the tight virgin ring of muscle, Carter’s knees nearly buckled.
“Oh fuck—” he gasped, pleasure exploding through him.
Zach’s mouth worked his cock expertly while his finger pumped slowly in and out, curling just right to brush that sensitive spot inside. Every time Carter’s moans grew louder and his hips started to jerk, signaling he was close, Zach would slow down, easing the suction and pulling his finger back until the edge faded. He edged the sexy football jock mercilessly, bringing him right to the brink over and over, only to deny him release.
Carter was trembling, whimpering, his athletic body glistening with water and sweat. “Zach… please… I need to cum so bad…”
Zach finally pulled off with a wet pop, eyes dark with lust. “Kneel in the tub for me.”
Carter dropped to his knees in the warm water, breathing hard. Zach stood up, water cascading down his toned body, his own hard cock level with Carter’s face. Zach stroked himself quickly, hand flying over his shaft.
Within seconds, Zach groaned deeply and started cumming. Thick ropes of hot cum splattered across Carter’s face, striking his cheek, lips, and forehead, dripping down his chin.
The filthy sensation of the cum hitting his face drove Carter wild.
He wrapped his fist around his own cock and jacked himself furiously, moaning loudly and shamelessly as Zach painted his face with the last spurts of his load.
“Fuck—Zach—I’m cumming—oh my god, I’m cumming!” Carter cried out, voice breaking into desperate, slutty moans. “UGHH…shit, fuck yeah…mhhhhh….oohhh gawd….yeah…YEAH…your cum on my face—shit, it feels so damn good!”
Carter’s orgasm hit like a wave. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, splattering into the bathwater with wet plops while his body shuddered and convulsed. He kept stroking through it, milking every drop as Zach’s cum dripped from his flushed face.
When it finally subsided, Carter slumped back against the tub, chest heaving, face and body covered in a messy mix of water, sweat, and cum. Zach sank back down into the water with a satisfied smile, reaching out to gently wipe a streak of his own load from Carter’s cheek.
“Feel better?” Zach asked softly, voice warm.
Carter could only nod, dazed and spent.
The two 18-year-old boys stayed in the warm bath a little longer, the water gently lapping around them as their breathing slowed. Zach’s fingers traced lazy circles on Carter’s thigh, giving him time to come down from the intense high. Eventually, Zach stood first, water streaming down his toned body, and offered Carter a hand.
“Come on,” he said softly, voice still warm and reassuring. “Let’s get you dried off and somewhere more comfortable. You can spend the night in my room. I’ll keep you calm, okay? No more spiraling.”
Carter nodded, too drained and grateful to argue. They both stepped out of the tub, and Zach handed him a thick, plush towel from the rack. They dried off in companionable silence, the earlier panic now dulled to a distant hum thanks to the orgasm and Zach’s steady presence.
Zach led him down the hallway on quiet feet, both of them still completely naked, their damp skin cooling in the night air. His room was at the end of the hall. A bit than the guest room, with a king bed piled high with soft pillows and a big window overlooking the ocean. The string lights from the backyard cast a gentle glow through the curtains.
Once inside, Zach closed the door softly and grabbed a sleek cannabis vape from his nightstand. “Here. Just a couple puffs. It’ll help take the edge off the rest of that anxiety.”
Carter took the vape, inhaled deeply twice, holding the smooth, earthy vapor in his lungs before exhaling slowly. The effect was almost immediate. A warm, mellow relaxation spreading through his chest and limbs, softening the sharp edges of his thoughts. He handed it back with a small, grateful smile.
“Thanks, man. I… I really needed that.”
Zach smiled and set the vape aside. “No problem. Come here.”
They climbed into Zach’s bed together, the sheets cool and luxurious against their bare skin. Zach pulled Carter close, wrapping his arms around the handsome football player from behind in a loose, protective spoon. Carter settled back against Zach’s chest with a quiet sigh, the cannabis and the earlier release making his body feel heavy and pliant.
Zach’s touch was slow, sensual, and incredibly relaxing. His hands roamed over Carter’s beautiful muscles with unhurried reverence. Palms glided over the rounded caps of his shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the tight spots along his upper back, then sliding down the lean, defined lines of his lats and obliques. He caressed the firm swell of Carter’s pecs, fingers brushing lightly over his nipples until they pebbled, then traced the defined hips and the smooth curve of his bubble butt. Every stroke was soothing rather than urgent, like he was memorizing and worshiping Carter’s athletic body at the same time.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Zach murmured against the back of Carter’s neck, voice low and sleepy. “All these muscles… that tight waist… this perfect ass. Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Carter let out a soft, contented hum, eyes drifting shut as the gentle, rhythmic rubbing continued. Zach’s hands never rushed…long, sensual strokes that eased every knot of tension until Carter felt boneless, floating in a haze of warmth and safety. Their bodies pressed together perfectly, skin on skin.
Both of the handsome guys were still half-hard, their erections brushing occasionally as they shifted closer. Garter’s 6.5-inch cock rested against his own thigh, while Zach’s pressed lightly against the curve of Carter’s ass. Neither of them moved to do anything about it. The night had been intense enough.
Eventually, the slow caresses and the mellow high pulled them both under. Zach’s hand stilled on Carter’s hip, his breathing deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep. Carter followed soon after, nestled safely in Zach’s arms, their naked bodies tangled together, cocks still semi-erect and warm against each other.
They drifted off into a deep, blissful sleep. Two 18-year-old guys wrapped up in each other. The chaos of that night finally gave way to quiet, intimate peace.
Thank you all for reading, and especially to those of you (Horny Femboy, Superdoug, Deegee, and Bara Tiddies) who left comments on the previous chapter. I was originally gonna hold off for a few days before writing/publishing the next chapters but holy shit, I got so horny reading a couple of the comments. So when Horny Femboy asked to hurry up with the next chapter, I had to oblige. Y'alls fantasies about what you wanted to see go down between Scott/Carter/Brett got me so fucking horny. I literally left work a bit early to go down to my office building's gym shower and rubbed one out, fantasizing about Horny Femboy and SouperDoug's hot fantasies. I came while imagining Scott punishing Brett for fucking Olivia while Carter watched like a lil cuck in the corner.
If anyone has more comments and/or fantasies they'd like to share, please keep them coming. You guys really turn me on with your filthy minds ;) I'm actually pretty suprised how horny it gets me.
