The next morning Jacob didn’t bother knocking. He shoved my door open while I was still half-asleep, the hinges creaking hard. He stood there in the same dirty jeans and black cowboy hat from the night before, shirt already half-unbuttoned, looking down at me like I was late for something.
“Get up. Go take a shower, clean your hole and meet me at noon.”
I sat up too fast. My throat still felt scraped raw from the night before. I could still feel him at the back of my tongue if I swallowed the wrong way. He didn’t wait for me to answer. He just turned and walked out, boots heavy on the floorboards, expecting me to obey him. And of course I did it… I took a long shower and clean my hole inside. I knew he wanted to fuck my hole, that’s the expected since I agreed to be his slut for the summer.
I pulled on an old t-shirt and the same shorts from last night and hurried to have breakfast. My mum was supper happy to have both sons at the table and talked about something I didn’t listen. I can’t believe I was at the same table that my mother and my older brother that just fucked my throat like a savage last night!
At noon I followed him down the hall and out the back door.
We didn’t go toward the main barn or the stables. He led me past the pens, past the chicken coops, down a narrow dirt path that cut through the trees until the house disappeared completely behind us. The air was already thick and hot. Wild birds screamed from every direction. After maybe ten or twelve minutes we reached a cleared patch of land where a messy pile of thick logs waited and a heavy, well-used axe leaned against a wide stump.
Jacob stopped, spat to the side, and started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt without a word. He pulled it off and tossed it onto a nearby log. The hot sun hit his bare torso immediately, broad chest, dark hair spread across his pecs, the thick trail running straight down the center of his stomach and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans. His arms looked even thicker without the sleeves. He settled the cowboy hat lower over his eyes, grabbed the axe with one hand, and walked over to the first log like I wasn’t even there.
“Sit your ass on that stump and watch,” he said, nodding toward a smaller stump a few feet away. “And keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to open it.”
I sat. He started swinging. Every strike of the axe was clean and brutal. The muscles across his back and shoulders flexed hard with each swing, standing out under the tanned skin. Sweat appeared almost immediately, first a shine across his chest, then actual drops that ran down between his pecs, collected in the hollow of his throat, and slid along the lines of his abs. After only a few minutes his entire upper body was glistening. Tiny rivulets of sweat traced the ridges of muscle, darkened the hair on his chest, and soaked into the waistband of his jeans. The smell of him started to fill the clearing, pure heat, salt, and hard work.
He didn’t look at me once. He just kept chopping, grunting low with the heavier swings, the axe biting deep into the wood with a sharp crack every time. Sweat ran down the valley of his spine. His arms shone. Every time he lifted the axe high above his head, the thick veins in his forearms stood out hard under the skin.
I couldn’t look away. My mouth was dry. My cock was already half-hard in my shorts just from watching him work. After a long stretch of continuous chopping he finally stopped, planted the axe deep in a stump with one hard swing, and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. Sweat dripped from his chin onto his chest. Then he looked at me.
“Come here.”
I stood on unsteady legs and walked over. The dirt was already sticking to the soles of my shoes.
Jacob pointed at his chest with two thick fingers.
“Lick it clean. All of it. Chest, pits, stomach. Don’t leave a drop of that sweat on me, little brother.”
I hesitated for half a second too long.
His hand shot out, grabbed the back of my neck hard, and yanked my face straight into the center of his chest. The heat of his skin hit me first. Then the smell… strong, salty, pure Jacob after real macho work.
“I said lick,” he growled, voice low and mean right above my head. “Are you deaf?”
I opened my mouth and dragged my tongue through the coarse, wet hair. The taste was sharp and heavy, pure salt and heat and man. He kept his big hand locked on the back of my neck, forcing me to take long, slow strokes across his pecs, over his nipples, down the middle of his stomach where the sweat had collected thickest. When he lifted one arm I had no choice but to press my face into the damp, hairy hollow of his armpit and lick there too. The smell was almost overwhelming up close, stronger, muskier. He made me take long passes with my tongue until the pit was wet from my mouth instead of just sweat. Then he switched arms and shoved my face into the other one the same way. I was inebriated.
“Lower,” he muttered.
I followed the dark trail of hair down his stomach, tasting the salt that had gathered along the hard lines of his abs, until my tongue reached the waistband of his jeans. A few drops of sweat had already soaked into the denim. He was breathing a little harder now, but his face stayed hard and unreadable under the brim of the hat.
When he finally pulled me off by the hair, my lips and chin were shiny with his sweat and my own spit. My knees felt weak.
“Good enough,” he said. “Now get on your knees facing that log. Ass up.”
He pointed at a thick, freshly cut trunk lying horizontal a few feet away, the cut end still pale and raw.
I dropped down into the dirt and leaned forward, bracing both hands on the rough bark. The wood scraped my palms. Jacob stepped behind me. I heard the familiar metallic clink of his belt buckle, then the slow sound of his zipper. He shoved my shorts and underwear down to mid-thigh in one rough motion. The sun hit my bare ass for only a second before I felt the thick, spit-slick head of his cock press hard against my hole.
He didn’t ease in. He pushed forward with one long, brutal thrust, forcing the full length of himself inside me until his hips slammed against my ass. The pain was so sharp I cried out against the wood. Jacob only grunted low and started fucking me immediately — deep, powerful strokes that drove me forward into the log with every single movement.
“Fuck… your pussy is tight as hell. Better than the sluts from the town bar.” He muttered, gripping my hips.
He set a rough, relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of his cock slamming into me mixed with the distant birds. Sweat from his chest dripped onto my back in warm drops. I felt the heavy weight of him all the way inside, stretching me open around the thick base. His jeans stayed on, only shoved down just enough to free his cock and balls. The big gold buckle occasionally slapped against my skin like a whip, with a dull metallic sound.
“This is what you’re actually good for out here,” he said, voice low and rough between thrusts. “Not chopping wood. Not riding horses. Not doing a goddamn useful thing on this farm. Just taking your big brother’s cock like a proper little whore.”
He fucked me harder. The log scraped my palms and forearms raw. I could hear how wet I already was for him… the loud, obscene sound of it every time he drove in. Jacob reached forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back hard while he kept pounding into me, forcing my back to arch.
“You like this, don’t you?” he growled right against the side of my head. “Getting railed out in the open where anyone could walk up and see your own brother breeding you against a fucking log. Look at you. Ass up, drooling on the wood, taking it like you were born for it.”
I could only moan brokenly in answer. The position left me completely open and helpless. Every thrust forced another desperate sound out of my throat. More of his sweat dripped onto my back and ran down my sides. The smell of him filled my nose every time he leaned over me.
“I bet you’re hard while your big brother ruins this hole,” he muttered, almost laughing. “Fucking pathetic. And perfect.”
He fucked me even harder after that, short brutal strokes that made the log creak under my hands. His breathing turned harsh and uneven. I could feel how close he was getting to climax in the way his cock swelled thicker inside me and his grip on my hip tightened until it hurt.
“Take it,” he growled, voice almost a snarl now. “Take your brother’s load. Every fucking drop.”
He slammed in one final time, buried himself to the hilt, and came hard with a deep, animal sound that vibrated through my whole body. I felt every thick, hot pulse flooding me, rope after rope of it forced deep while he kept grinding against my ass like he was trying to push it even further in. The sensation was too much.
For several long seconds he stayed locked inside me, chest pressed to my back, both of us breathing hard, the axe still stuck in the stump a few feet away. Sweat from his body mixed with mine. Then he pulled out slowly. I felt the immediate relief, he was thick.
Jacob tucked himself back into his jeans, zipped up, and fastened the gold buckle with the same calm efficiency he used for everything else. He picked up the axe again like nothing had happened.
“Pull your shorts up,” he said without looking at me. His voice was already flat again. “You’re staying out here until I finish this whole pile. And if that load starts running down your leg, you better catch it with your fingers and push it back in. I don’t want a single drop of my cum wasted on the dirt. Understand? I’m your breeding bull from now on.”
“Yes, Jacob,” I whispered, still shaking.
He went straight back to chopping wood as if he hadn’t just fucked his little brother bare and raw against a log in the middle of the clearing. Cowboy hat still tilted low over his eyes. Axe rising and falling in steady, powerful arcs while he whistle some country song.
My Cowboy big brother is now my breeder. A true stallion.
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