I never imagined a laid-back Thanksgiving weekend could turn into something so charged, so irrevocably twisted, but it unfolded step by step, each moment building on the last until there was no turning back. I’m 22, home from college, kicking back in Dad’s cozy split-level house with him and Uncle Frank—Dad’s older brother by three years.
Dad’s 46, the classic blue-collar guy: solid from warehouse shifts, with a hairy chest, a noticeable beer gut that softens his frame, and those strong, callused hands that fixed every broken thing in my life. Uncle Frank, 49, is cut from the same cloth but weathered more—a retired mechanic with gray-streaked hair, faded tattoos snaking up his arms, and a deep, rumbling voice.
They’d been my anchors growing up, stepping in after Mom split: weekend barbecues, garage tinkering, life lessons over fishing lines. But since figuring out I was gay, my mind had wandered to forbidden places—fantasizing about them naked, Dad’s thick cock hanging heavy post-shower, water tracing his veiny shaft; Uncle Frank stripping off a greasy shirt, his girthier bulge outlined in boxers. Those thoughts always hit me hard, leaving me stroking in secret, guilt mixing with the rush.
It was Saturday evening, the living room lit by the glow of an old Western on TV, the air smelling of reheated turkey and cold beer. We’d been swapping stories all afternoon, the three of us on the couch with a six-pack dwindling. Uncle Frank, always the storyteller, launched into one about their teen years. “Remember that lake trip, bro? Crammed in that shitty tent. Got bored as hell one night and ended up jerking off together—comparing dicks like it was a contest.” He laughed it off, but his tone had an edge, eyes flicking to Dad and then me.
Dad shifted, chuckling awkwardly but not shutting it down. “Yeah, dumb kid stuff. We were curious idiots back then.” No immediate reaction from him—just a nostalgic grin. But the story lit something in me, those fantasies surging: young versions of them, cocks out in the dark, stroking side by side. My own jeans felt tighter, and I crossed my legs to hide it. “You guys seriously did that?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked a bit.
Uncle Frank nodded, taking a swig. “Once. Felt wrong even then, but hey, brothers experiment.” Dad rolled his eyes. “Don’t glorify it, Frank. We shouldn’t be yapping about this now.” The room felt warmer, the air thicker with unspoken tension. I couldn’t let it drop, the curiosity burning. “So… who won? Who was bigger?”
Dad barked a laugh, puffing up. “Me, hands down. Always the bigger brother.” Uncle Frank scoffed.
“Bullshit! I had you beat—thicker and longer. Still do, probably.” They bantered back and forth, the challenge hanging like a dare. Dad stood up, stretching casually. “Prove it, old man. Let’s settle this for real—like old times, but no funny business.” Uncle Frank rose too, smirking. “You’re on. Kid can be the judge.”
My heart pounded—this was crazy, but the beer buzz and my hidden fantasies pushed me along. We headed to Dad’s bedroom for “privacy,” the door shutting softly. They unzipped first, dropping jeans and boxers matter-of-factly. Dad’s cock flopped out: seven inches soft, thick with a slight upward curve potential, veiny even flaccid, nestled in dark pubes. Uncle Frank’s was girthier, seven and a half soft, straight and heavy, balls low and fuzzy. Seeing them naked hit like a gut punch—realer than any dream, their dad bods familiar yet erotic: hairy chests, soft bellies, the musky scent of men filling the room. No one was hard, but the exposure alone stirred me.
“Your turn, nephew,” Uncle Frank said, nodding at me. I hesitated—this was family, we shouldn’t—but stripped, my cock already half-chubbed from the sight. We stood close, comparing visually at first: lengths, girths, debates over curves and veins. “See? Mine’s thicker,” Uncle Frank claimed, giving his a casual tug to “fluff” for fairness. Dad did the same, and that’s when it started—innocent adjustments turning to slow strokes as blood flowed.
“We really measuring like this?” Dad muttered, but his hand kept moving, his cock thickening, veins bulging. Uncle Frank’s swelled too, the room heating up. My own went full hard, leaking pre-cum, the air electric.
Touches came next—reaching out to “feel” for comparison, Dad’s rough palm wrapping my shaft first. “Damn, son… you’re packing nice.” The contact jolted me, hot and wrong.
I grabbed his, feeling the heat, the pulse, stroking tentatively. Uncle Frank joined, his thicker fingers on Dad’s, then mine. “This is fucked up,” Dad whispered, but pumped Uncle Frank anyway. Moans slipped out, the circle jerk building—sweaty palms gliding, pre-cum slicking things up. Guilt gnawed, but the thrill overrode it: jerking my dad and uncle, their cocks throbbing in my hands.
Uncle Frank dropped to his knees, eyeing my dick. “Let me taste… just to see.” Before I could protest, his mouth engulfed me—warm, wet suction, tongue swirling the head. “Frank, we shouldn’t—” Dad started, but watched hungrily, stroking himself. I moaned, the sensation overwhelming. Dad joined soon, kneeling beside, his beard scratching as he licked my balls. “This is wrong… but fuck, son.” They traded off sucking me, then each other—brother on brother, the sight searing: Dad deep-throating Uncle Frank, gagging softly.
From there, it snowballed. They laid me back, Uncle Frank’s fingers lubed, probing my hole. “Relax, kid.” One finger burned, then pleasured; two stretched, scissoring; three had me begging. Dad watched, jerking us both. “Shouldn’t be prepping my own boy… but you want more, don’t you?” I nodded, lost in the build.
Uncle Frank fucked me first. Dad positioned me on my back, folding my legs back to my chest, gripping them wide—opening me fully. “Gotta hold ya back so you can feel your uncles whole cock,” Dad said, voice thick, eyes fixated on the intimate view, his cock dripping at the sight of his older brother’s girth pressing in.
The entry was slow, deliberate—the blunt head breaching, stretching me wide with a sharp burn that made me gasp, tears pricking. “Easy, nephew… breathe through it,” Uncle Frank coaxed, inching deeper, his thickness forcing my walls to yield, veins dragging hotly inside like ridges of fire. Once buried, balls against my ass, he held, letting the fullness settle—a deep, throbbing pressure that bordered pain but bloomed into ecstasy as I adjusted.
He started thrusting shallow at first, the drag out leaving me empty and craving, the push back stuffing me full, his girth rubbing every nerve. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto my chest as he built rhythm—deeper now, hips snapping with wet slaps, his belly brushing mine. Each stroke hit my prostate like lightning, sparks zipping up my spine, my toes curling. “Fuck, so tight… shouldn’t feel this good,” he grunted, pace quickening, the bed creaking under us.
Dad held my legs firm, leaning close, his breath hot on my skin. “Look at you taking your uncle… pound him harder, Frank. Give my boy what he needs.” The words fueled the fire, Dad’s eyes devouring the slide—his brother’s cock pistoning in and out, slick with lube, my hole clenching around it.
They switched after minutes that felt eternal—Uncle Frank pulling out with a wet pop, leaving me gaping and needy. Dad took his place, his curved cock sliding in easier now, the angle perfect for grinding my spot. “My turn, son… we really shouldn’t, but fuck.” He thrust slow and deep at first, savoring every inch, his veiny shaft dragging exquisitely, building heat in my core. Sweat poured off him, mixing with mine, the room reeking of musk and sex. He sped up gradually, slamming harder, balls slapping my ass, his gut pressing rhythmically against me—intimate, overwhelming. “Feel Daddy owning you? So wrong… so perfect.”
I moaned incoherently, the fullness addictive, every plunge sending waves of pleasure crashing.
Dad pulled out of my gaping hole and got behind me, refolding my legs to give his brother the perfect angle. “Finish him off, bro—breed my son’s ass.”
Uncle Frank re-entered with a groan, the re-stretch intense but slicker now, thrusting with abandon—long, powerful strokes that had me seeing stars, his girth churning me open relentlessly. The pressure coiled tight in my balls, but he hit the edge first—thrusts erratic, burying balls-deep. “Oh god—cumming!”
Dad egged: “Yeah, give him your cum! Breed my son, Frank—fill him up!” The flood hit: swelling first, then scorching jets, thick and creamy, pulsing warm against my walls in wave after wave—viscous heat coating everything, soothing the sore stretch, excess leaking sticky down my crack as he rutted through it.
Uncle Frank withdrew panting, cum dribbling from my hole. Dad wasted no time, pushing my legs back wider. “Look at that creamy mess… gonna push it back in.” His cock nudged the slick entrance, thrusting in and forcing the leaked seed deeper—the sensation filthy, extra-warm slipperiness heightening every drag.
“Feel Uncle’s load slurping around Daddy’s cock? Making you all wet and bred.” He fucked with purpose now, starting slow to churn the mix, the squelch obscene and erotic, building to a punishing rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that had his curve nailing my prostate over and over, sparks exploding nonstop. Minutes dragged in blissful agony: sweat flying, his hairy chest heaving, grunts syncing with mine. He varied—slow rolls to tease, then hammering fast, the bed shaking, his balls smacking wetly. “We crossed every line… but I can’t stop, son. Your ass is mine.”
His pace faltered eventually, breaths ragged. “Fuck—gonna cum… here it comes.” He pulled out abruptly, cock gleaming with Uncle Frank’s cum—thick white strings clinging to the veins, musky and shiny. Straddling my chest swift, he tapped the head on my lips. “Open, boy—taste your uncle while I feed you my load. I wanna see your mouth full of your daddy’s cum.”
I parted in haze, the depravity peaking. His cock filled my mouth, heavy and hot—the taste slamming: Uncle’s cum salty-bitter with tangy musk from my ass. Dad thrust shallow, erupting—his load blasting ropes onto my tongue, thicker and sweet under the salt, mixing in floods that forced me to swallow. I gulped, unbelieving—devouring Dad’s essence, the man who raised me, tainted with his brother’s, flavors blending in overload, my body shuddering.
We collapsed tangled, breaths slowing, their hands gentle in afterglow. “That was… too far,” Dad murmured, but pulled me close.
Uncle Frank nodded. “Wrong as sin… but family bonds, right?” Cum leaking, tastes lingering, guilt creeping in—but the heat lingered stronger, those fantasies shattered by the raw, escalating reality.
