Brother Cucks Brother: Or Does He?

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scouries
scouries
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We ended up in my bed twenty minutes later. And I quickly learned that I hadn't forgotten what to do during my fourteen month lay-off. In fact, my cock, pussy-less for so long, seemed ready to try to make up for it all in one night.

I'd never been in love before. I'd never had sex like this before. Not like this. I didn't understand any of the words she yelled out as my cock hammered away inside her. As it pumped out a year's worth of sperm.

Marisa made love in Spanish! Noisy, athletic sex. And when I'd finished that first time, after I'd pulled my still hard cock slowly from her still pulsing cunt, she leaned over and taken me between her lips. The she made love to my cock with her mouth in a way I'd never experienced before. I was a whimpering, groaning wreck, my hips arching upward as her head bobbed downwards, when my penis finally spurted a second time. And this from a nineteen year old!

We made love most of the night. I was seemingly tireless. She met every single one of my thrusts with her teenage need. It was brutal, needy, urgent lovemaking. On both our parts.

Marisa Sanchez had not grown up in an American suburb. She hadn't gone to university. She did not think like anyone I'd ever encountered before.

She'd been born in Cuba. Her father, a soldier in the Cuban army, had died fighting in Africa when she'd been five. She'd been raped by two boys when she'd been twelve.

Her little brother had died on the raft she and he had been travelling to America on. She was fourteen at the time. She'd gotten places on the raft for the two of them by sleeping with a sixty-two year old neighbor.

She should have ended up a broken, discarded vessel. A person dead inside. Yet somehow she hadn't.

What allows certain people to overcome every obstacle placed in their way?

It wasn't religious faith that had allowed her to survive. Nor the aunt and uncle and the extended family in America who'd welcomed and embraced her. All that had helped but the main ingredient had been instead a simple, deep, strong ingrained strength and love of life she'd been born with. A love of life she unashamedly welcomed me into. And why me? What did I have that had ignited her love?

I didn't go to work on Thursday morning. Nor did I let Marisa leave. "I'm late, I have to go to work," she insisted after we'd just finished making love at eight-thirty in the morning. I pulled her back down into my arms.

Mike called at eleven, wondering where I was. "I'm in love," I answered. Marisa was sitting astride me, riding me, as I talked to my partner.

"You're with a girl?" Mike was incredulous. "Wait til Angie hears this, she's convinced your gay," my partner answered with a laugh, referring to his girlfriend.

****

"You've lived in Miami for more than a year and you don't speak one word of Spanish?" She asked me over lunch that day. We were naked. In bed. Munching on pizza.

"Hola?" I said with an embarrassed grin. Can love really happen this quickly and be this simple I wondered as I lost myself in her dark, flashing eyes. I hadn't thought once of Caitlyn or what I'd done to her since I'd met my Cuban beauty.

"If you don't learn some very, very quickly you're not going to marry me," she threatened.

Marriage? We'd just met. I learned twenty Spanish words that afternoon. Mind you most of them weren't the type of words you'd use in polite company! For four days we didn't leave each other's side. We fucked. And ate. And showered together. And talked. And made love...

We learned bits and pieces of each other's prior life even as we planned our future. It was that simple. Like we'd been hit by lightning.

Marisa loved sex. Loved fucking. Loved talking about it. Graphically. You'd think a girl who'd been raped at such a young age would have forever been turned against it. She hadn't been. She loved it. And wasn't shy about letting me know it. And surprisingly, when she told me stories of the men and boys she'd been with, I wasn't jealous. That was then. Before me. I had absolutely no doubt about the now. Neither of us did. It would have been impossible for either of us to hide from the other how we felt about each other.

Love. A simple four letter word. Even in Spanish. Amor. Enamorarse. Estar enamorado. El amor de mi vida. Te quiero. I did love her.

Ten days later she took me to meet her extended family. Her 'abuela' she'd called her, the grandmotherly figure who was the center of the Sanchez family.

"Speak only in Spanish to him, he has to learn," she ordered her family. Of course they spoke English to me. In fact I was questioned closely. Again and again. By family member after family member. Two things became obvious very, very quickly. One, Marisa was beloved by her friends and family. And two, any man, and especially a non Latino man, was going to be examined very closely by every single member of the family before he would be accepted by the clan.

I left that day knowing it would take more than one afternoon to win over her family. I started Spanish lessons the next day.

Febuary 15th 2009

Dad of course wasn't convinced when he met Marisa for the first time. He and mom had just arrived in Miami for their seven week long winter vacation. He didn't say anything but I saw it in his eyes. 'What the hell's he doing with a Cuban'? Marisa had been with me when I'd met them at the airport.

But Mom was delighted.

"She's just perfect," she gushed when I took my parents out to lunch at an outdoor bistro on Lincoln Road the next day.

"Well--" dad started to grumble but mom cut him off.

"Finally a girl who isn't a pale imitation of Caitlyn."

"What?" dad muttered.

"What?" I echoed.

"David, every girl you've gone out with over the last five years has looked like Caitlyn. Vanessa..." she left the thought hanging.

"They have?" from dad.

"You didn't like Vanessa?" I asked.

"Finally a girl with some spunk, some life, someone who'll give your dad and I grandchildren," mom answered.

Dad, uncomfortable, clearly wasn't sold on the idea. "He just met the girl for crying out loud," he complained. I was smiling in thanks to my mother.

By the time my parents left Florida in early April to go home my father was completely sold on Florida. The man who'd often said he'd never retire was making plans for a longer visit the next year before he even left. The golf, the boating, the fishing had convinced him. He'd turned sixty-three that year and had finally realized that there were other things he wanted to do in life while he still had the chance.

Of course mom's constant gushing about how much she loved Florida echoing around him for the seven weeks hadn't hurt. Although they hadn't bought anything, mom had even got dad out to go out and look at a couple of condos on the beach during their trip.

And my father had also fallen for my girlfriend and the idea that Marisa Sanchez would be the perfect mother for his grandkids. How could he not? She was perfect. Although he never actually told me that before he left. Mom did though.

Mom's last words before they left were that she and dad "we're planning on spending a lot longer down in Florida next year".

"We are?" my old man replied.

"Of course we might also have to come down this summer," mom added.

"This summer?"

"Well, if there's a wedding," mom said to her husband.

"Wedding? Who's getting married?"

Adam of course also met Marisa that winter. In fact, when he'd been down in Miami in late February, and only twenty minutes after meeting her, he'd pulled me aside and said, "If you don't marry that girl you're not smart enough to be my brother."

And Marisa had instantly taken to him. "He's great," she'd enthused later that night as we lay entwined in a post coital embrace.

"Of course he's not as good looking as I am," I answered.

"He dresses better," my future wife threw back.

"My penis is bigger," I countered.

"Pig," she answered as she pushed me onto my back. "And yours doesn't look that big right now," she challenged as her hand slid down onto my sticky, just drained cock. However it didn't take long for it to grow back to a very, very respectable length. Which I then pushed deep inside her.

"He said the whole family might move down to Florida, that your mom really wants to," she said, continuing our conversation after we'd finished.

"I think dad will be a tough sell."

"Your dad's an old softie," Marisa replied. My dad's an old softie?

"What's Adam's wife like?"

"Caitlyn? She's nice," I answered tentatively. Then I leaned over and kissed her, I wasn't any way near ready to discuss my sister-in-law with my future bride. In fact it was the one dark cloud that still hovered over my life.

And after we'd finished a second time, as we lay on our backs, panting and sticky, she returned to my family, "So how big is his penis anyway?"

"Little Cuban slut," I answered as I rolled back on top of her.

August 2009

"Have you bought mom a birthday present yet?"That's what I asked my dad when he picked up the phone.

"Is that you David?"

"If you haven't got her anything yet I've got a pretty good idea for you."

"You do? What is it?" Dad had always agonized over buying mom presents and had always sought his son's opinions on the subject. Even mine.

"You'll have to fly down here."

"To Miami? To buy your mother a present? Are you nuts?"

"They're into interleague play now. We'll catch a ballgame or two. The Red Sox are here this weekend." The old James Montgomery, the tough businessman and father, would never have hopped on a plane on a whim. This new one, this father now actually looking forward to retirement after claiming for years he'd die in the saddle, did. Besides, I'd known the lure of watching the Red Sox would be impossible for him to resist.

I picked him up at Miami International two days later at noon. "Those bloody robbers charged me six hundred and fifty for a god dammed return ticket, can you believe it?" were his first words on seeing me.

"Yeah but you charged the ticket to the company and your room is free ... and I got us box seats for all three games," I answered with a smile. My father loved baseball. We didn't hug though, that wasn't something in dad's repertoire.

South Florida, and Miami in particular, had seen a housing boom over the preceding ten years. Twenty, twenty-five per cent increases had been racked up in housing prices year after year after year. It had ended that year! Big time. Crashed. Of course everybody knows the story now. Our brilliant bankers!

"So, where's this present? And where are we?" he finally asked after we'd run out of small talk. We'd just crossed the Julia Tuttle Causeway on our way in from the airport.

"I want you to help me check out something first." I delayed for a sec and then added, "Some property."

"Property?"

"A house. I'm thinking of putting an offer on one this week. I was hoping you'd give me your advice. I need your expertise. That's one of the reasons I hoped you'd come down."

"In this market?" He looked at me as if I was crazy.

"I didn't want to do anything until I got your opinion. I'm going to need a home if I'm going to have a family."

"A family? You're not even married." Dad had his priorities straight.

"Not yet."

"She's not pregnant is she?"

"We're working on it ... she might be," I said as I pulled up to the curb.

"Have you asked her to marry you?"

"Uh huh." I answered but I didn't add anything else. Just waited.

"And--" he finally encouraged.

"Maybe we should check out the house first," I said as I moved to open my door.

"DAVID!" he ordered.

I smiled, then jumped out of the car. "She said she'd consider it."

"She'd consider it?"

"She said her family would never let her marry someone who didn't even own a house," I answered. Not exactly true but I had to get dad on the right page.

"Her family?" Dad asked as he stepped out of the car. His tone clearly indicated that he didn't think any Cuban family should be questioning a Montgomery.

"Look," I quickly interjected pointing towards the house. I didn't want to get dad to get sidetracked on the subject of Cuban immigration.

"It's on the water?" he asked when he finally turned his attention to the house.

"On the bay. That's downtown, American Airlines Arena," I said pointing through the gap between two houses towards the Miami skyline on the other side of the bay.

"It'll be expensive," dad answered as his eyes flicked over the house in front of him. I couldn't miss the interest that had suddenly appeared in them. Dad had always been a businessman on the lookout for the next great deal.

"It's got a boat dock ... can take up to an eighty footer," I said as we walked up the path towards the front door.

"So you're a sailor all of a sudden," he grumbled as we walked inside. But he couldn't hold back the, "Jesus!" when he was faced by the view he'd walked into. You could see right through the house, through the high ceiling living room, through the massive picture windows, to the pool deck and bay beyond.

"It sold for one point two mill eighteen months ago. To an Argentine banker."

"What? You can't afford half that."

"My real estate guy thinks I can get it for three fifty if you can believe it. Sometimes you can see schools of dolphins right off the dock," I added as I pointed out towards the bay waters.

"Three hundred and fifty grand?" I heard the surprise and the rise of interest in dad's voice.

"The mortgage holders are running for the fucking hills. The Argentine guy was apparently arrested six months ago. No one is buying. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

We spent the next thirty minutes walking around the house and property. He'd been sold after about two minutes but businessman dad had a hundred questions for me.

"The only problem with this whole set up is that," he finally said as he pointed to the construction site on the lots just north of the one we'd been looking at. Two lots on the water. The yards weren't landscaped.

"They're about ninety-five percent finished. I checked them out too. They're pretty nice. The developer's fucked. He built those two on spec and he's got another twelve under construction over on one of the bay islands. Apparently every buyer of the twelve has walked away. My guy says the banks would foreclose in a second if there was any chance to sell any of them."

My father had already started to walk towards the two houses. "Have they stopped work on them?"

"Last week. They pulled the crew. No money. Bank doesn't know what the heck to do." I paused as we walked through the front door of the closest one.

"My guy thinks they'd jump at a half mill for the two, maybe even four fifty."

"Really? That low?" Dad couldn't hide his interest.

"Probably take a hundred each to finish them though. Six-fifty, seven hundred total for both to see them finished. They'll be worth three times that in five years," I predicted.

"You know, they said they wanted four fifty for that condo your mother liked on South Beach," dad mused as we walked through the house.

"C'mon dad, a condo's no good for mom, you know she loves her gardening." As soon as I finished the sentence I saw the lights go on, saw dad's face change as he realized what was going on.

"Do you think I'm going to buy your mother a house for her birthday?" I just smiled.

"I certainly don't need two houses," dad complained. But he'd already made up his mind. And he knew who'd be living in the second house. And he knew he wasn't fooling me.

"Think you're smart don't you?"

"It would certainly be nice if Marisa and my baby child had a grandfather and grandmother around to baby sit once in a while. And if little Sophie and her parents also just happened to live next door to mom."

****

Dad stayed for a week. We saw three Red Sox games. Dad bought two houses. In fact he paid for three. "Do you think I'd buy a house for your brother and not you?" he'd asked during the ninth inning of the Saturday night game.

I was put in charge of getting them finished in time for their planned February arrival.

And he and Adam started coming down, alternating every second week or so. Supervising the work they said. But also scouting out locations for the company move that I knew was coming. They stayed at my house when they visited. Adam and Marisa became great friends.

Mom also made a couple of flying visits down to oversee the decorating of the two houses. Caitlyn didn't come though...

September 2009

"We want another one."

"Another what?" I was sitting with my brother watching a mid September Marlins game. The Mets were in town. I hadn't really been paying attention to what he'd been saying. He'd flown down on business and stayed over.

"A baby. What do you think I've been talking about for the last ten minutes?"

I said nothing.

"We want you to be the father again."

"No." I said it softly but forcefully.

"We've talked about it a lot. The pros and cons. I thought maybe she'd prefer to adopt this time, not go through all that again."

"No Adam I'm not doing it."

"Because of Marisa?"

We talked around the issue until he left thirty-six hours later. I didn't agree to anything.

"Just think about it David, that's all we ask," were my brothers parting words.

I still hadn't said a word to Marisa about Sophie's inception.

But deep down, as soon as he'd suggested it, I knew that I wanted to father another baby with Caitlyn. Even after what I'd done the first time. Knew that the only baby that I wanted to grow in my sister-in-laws stomach was one of mine.

And I don't know why I did. I was truly happy for the first time in my life. In love with a woman who'd agreed to be my wife. Who was going to bear my children. But I still wanted to put another baby in Caitlyn. How fucked up was that?

Caitlyn called a week later.

"I don't think it's a good idea," I told her after she'd spent five minutes outlining why, in spite of everything, that we should go ahead.

"It's you or a Chinese one." She threw it out flippantly but there was an icy edge in her voice.

"I'm getting married."

"You owe me. I'm not taking no for an answer." I capitulated. And afterwards, after I'd hung up the phone, I sat at my desk smiling out at the world. I was elated.

Halloween 2009 Baby Making

"You haven't told her?"

"No." Caitlyn had arrived that afternoon and we'd just finished an early dinner at a Cuban restaurant on Calle Ocho with my fiancé. Then we'd driven Marisa to the airport. She was off to Tampa for a long planned trip to see her aunt. I'd scheduled it purposely that way. I'd also insisted that we do the 'artificial insemination' in Miami. And I'd picked a weekend that I knew my brother was due to attend a business convention that he couldn't miss. So it'd be just the two of us.

They'd argued but finally agreed. So here she was down in Miami. To go to a clinic I'd supposedly arranged, a clinic where some of my sperm would be put in a plunger and injected between her legs. It was exactly two years to the day since the night I'd raped her.

She must have known. She was too smart not to have. She just must have known that any Montgomery sperm that was going to go into her was going to be delivered the old fashioned way.

"Are you going to tell her?" The two of us were sitting in my living room. I'd just given her a tour of her new house, one still being worked on but getting close to completion.

"Eventually."

"Is that why you chose this weekend? Because she wasn't going to be here?"

"Partly."

"She's going to be your wife. You have to tell her."

"I know."

"She's nice, I really liked her," my sister-in-law said.

"I was lucky," I answered. But I wasn't thinking of Marisa as I talked, instead I was thinking of how my cock was soon going to be pumping sperm inside my brother's wife.

scouries
scouries
10,424 Followers