Wednesday Night – Confessions
Michael waited until the last truck had driven away.
Jack was still lying in the middle of the living room floor, a broken, cum-drenched mess. Thick ropes of semen continued to slowly leak from his gaping hole onto the carpet.
“Get up,” Michael said, voice tight. “Shower. Now. Put on real clothes. Your brother is coming over.”
Jack looked up at him with those big, exhausted blue puppy-dog eyes, but obeyed without argument. He showered slowly, wincing as the hot water hit his swollen hole. When he came back downstairs twenty minutes later, he looked like the old Jack again: soft buzzed blond hair, innocent face, wearing a simple white t-shirt and loose gray sweatpants. He looked sweet, demure, almost angelic.
The house, however, told the truth. The stench of fifty-eight men’s cum, sweat, and piss still hung heavy in the air. The couch was ruined. Dried loads streaked the walls and floor.
Headlights swept across the front window. Ryan had arrived.
Michael opened the door. Ryan stepped inside in civilian clothes, looking every bit the disciplined Marine---tall, strong, clean-cut. His eyes widened as the smell hit him.
“Dad… holy shit! What the fuck happened here?”
Michael’s voice was strained. “Your brother has been letting the entire construction crew use him. For days. I need you to talk to him. Make him understand how wrong this is. I have an early meeting tomorrow, so I’m leaving you two alone. Talk some sense into him.”
Michael gave Jack one last disappointed look, then grabbed his keys and left.
The house fell silent. Just the two brothers.
Ryan stood in the middle of the destroyed living room, staring at his little brother---who now looked exactly like the sweet, innocent puppy-dog boy he had always known.
“Jack…” Ryan’s voice was low, almost disbelieving. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”
Jack sat down on the edge of the cum-stained couch, looking up at his big brother with soft, open eyes.
Ryan started asking questions. And Jack answered every single one with shameless, graphic detail.
“How many guys fucked you today?” Ryan asked, voice tight.
“Nearly sixty,” Jack said softly, almost proudly. “They just kept coming. Some of them twice.”
Ryan swallowed hard. “What did it feel like?”
Jack thought for a moment, then answered honestly. “At first it burned because I was already so sore from Sunday… but after the first fifteen or so, it just felt warm and full. Every time a new cock pushed in, I could feel all the previous loads squelching around inside me. Some of them were really thick. When they pulled out, it would fall out of me in big wet globs.”
Ryan’s breathing grew heavier. He sat down across from Jack, unable to look away.
“What about their cum? What did it taste like?”
“Different for every man,” Jack replied, voice gentle. “Some was thick and creamy and really bitter. The older guys usually had heavier loads that stuck to my tongue. I swallowed so much today my stomach felt bloated. A couple of them tasted almost sweet, but most were salty and pungent. I liked the ones that had been marinating in their balls all day.”
Ryan’s hand unconsciously adjusted his growing bulge.
“Jesus Christ, Jack… you let them piss on you?”
Jack nodded, eyes wide and wondrous. “Yeah. Some of them aimed right in my mouth. It was hot and sharp. I swallowed what I could. The rest ran down my chest and mixed with all the cum.”
Ryan leaned forward, voice trembling. “And you… you liked it?”
Jack smiled softly, almost shyly. “I loved it, Ryan. I know I’m supposed to be the good brother…but I’m not. I’m just a cumdump. My hole feels empty now that they’re gone.”
The questions kept coming for nearly two hours. Ryan asked for every filthy detail---how many loads in his ass, how many on his face, how it felt when they double-penetrated him, what it was like when fathers and sons fucked him together. Jack answered every question in excruciating, shameless detail, describing textures, smells, tastes, and sensations with that same sweet, innocent voice.
By the end, Ryan was rock hard, visibly struggling.
He finally spoke, voice hoarse.
“I’m staying the night. Dad wants me to watch over you.”
Jack looked at his big brother with soft, hopeful eyes.
“Okay,” he whispered. “You can sleep in my room if you want.”
Ryan stared at him for a long moment, throat working.
“Yeah… sure,” he said, voice trembling. “I can do that.”
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