The Grunt brothers

Not many guys used the decrepit wooden outhouse by the swamp at the far end of the summer camp at Dark Lake. It looked rotten as the fallen tree trunks submerged in the murky swamp water, the ones fungi grew on and turtles crowded to bask in the sun. The outhouse had four holes but two lacked seats and were split and seemed like they were ready to cave in. Dan, blond and muscular, green-eyed and long-limbed and horny, felt the slight urge to move his bowels and the pressing one to jack off. In the cool stinking interior, he could do both.

Pulling open the wobbly door and stepping into the gloom, he all but jumped when he saw that one seat was occupied--by another tall, 18-year-old counselor, Kyle Daggett.

“Sorry!”

“Hey.”

Kyle was one of the hottest guys at camp, six feet tall, a couple of inches beyond Dan, with coal-black hair, close-set cobalt-blue eyes, and an arrogant jawline. Lean and lithe, he’d been a prep school track star, hard-bodied, with a thick, kielbasa of a cock and an ass so perfect Dan couldn’t imagine it cutting a fart , let alone dropping a log.

“I can go.”

“No way, man. Stay. Have a seat.”

Kyle indicated the one next to him, inches away from his bare thigh. Kyle was wearing a red St. Tropez T-shirt, and his Madras shorts and boxers were pushed to his ankles. He squeezed his legs together, censoring his privates, but his bush was exposed in all its glory, as were his barbell-hard calves. Kyle grinned. “Really.” Maybe the dingy light would camouflage Dan’s blushing. Unbuckling his belt, he yanked down his dungarees and white cotton briefs in one quick gesture. As he did, he realized Kyle would have a close-up view of his bare bottom and deep crack, both dusted with wiry, golden hair. Dan settled on the toilet seat, accidentally brushing his right knee against Kyle’s left. He drew it away quickly.

“Close quarters.”

“It’s kind of peaceful.”

It reeked, but the loose boards in the walls and roof allowed fresh air and sunlight to enter the structure. Kyle pulled on one buttock, as if to open his crack wider. His face turning red, he cut a dry, windy fart. “Sorry...” Then he laughed. “Your turn, bro.” Dan didn’t dare glance at Kyle, too afraid he’d fixate on his cock. He himself was hunching over, hiding his own rapidly bobbing hard-on. “Let’s hear it, Dan.” Truthfully, camp had constipated Dan: the gross food, the new schedule, and yeah, the lack of privacy. He hadn’t had a BM in two miserable days. He grunted, his face hot with embarrassment.

“Nothing?”

“I’m trying, hey.”

“Shitting a brick?”

“A fucking brick wall.”

Dan snickered. Kyle shifted, so that he inched closer to Dan and the hairs on their thighs touched. “I gotta let one.” Kyle pushed, and pushed his thigh directly against Dan’s, all the while staring at Dan with his cobalt-blue eyes.

“Man. It’s coming.” Kyle cut a loud, wet series of farts and then a heavy turd smacked onto the oozy pile of toilet paper and worse below.

“Ten pounds lighter!” Dan dared say it. “Congratulations.”

He clapped Kyle on his track-hard shoulder, then, with even more daring, left his hand, warm and trembling, on the shoulder a moment too long. Kyle stood, exposing his amazing bare bottom, square, hard, with a tight crack. Kyle peered into the hole, where both boys saw the massive coil of Kyle’s soft grunt. “You’re next.” Kyle’s cock dangled, low but semi-erect, interested. Dan was sporting a full-fledged hard-on. “I’m…bound up.”

“Come on, we had beans for lunch.”

Kyle re-claimed his seat, closer to Dan’s, so that their bare bottoms pressed together. Kyle circled his muscular arm around Dan’s shoulder. “You can do it, brother.” He cupped his hand around Dan’s knee. Dan was leaking pre-cum the way the antique camp pump leaked water. “Do grunts. Come on, gassyboy.” Dan obeyed his bro. He strained, staring into Kyle’s teasing eyes. He pushed, and a cannonball of a turd popped out.

“I want a log. I want a fucking redwood.”

Dan could smell Kyle’s turd and sweat and the spearmint gum he chewed to disguise his smoking.

“Do grunts.”

Slowly, inch-by-inch, a cement-like turd, a regular pylon, came out, out, out. “Fuck…”

“Later,” Kyle said. “When the coast is clear. Dirty bums.”

At last, the grunt hit the expanse of slop. Dan almost cried but sighed and gasped instead.

“Let me see.” Gently, Kyle lifted Dan off the toilet seat and the boys inspected Dan’s huge log of a BM. “Fucking world record.” Kyle took Dan’s hips in his strong hands, grinding their boners together, before they even wiped their cracks. Dan never knew which boy came first; they both erupted, soaking their cocks, balls, bushes, and thighs in a streaming flood of stickiness.

Kyle knelt, picked Dan up in his arms. “Hey. Grunt-brother.” Snickering, he bit at his neck. Dan could have come all over again. Wow, it was incredible, all-out amazing. It was like their assholes were married.

END