tagGay MaleTaken Before My Fiancée's Eyes

Taken Before My Fiancée's Eyes

byCoxswain©

Dedicated to twerpedbyjulie


My parents grew up in the Sixties, and though I was born in 1972, I felt as if I grew up in the Sixties, too. Every time I did something bad, Mama told me I was "screwing up my karma." I knew "peace & love" long before I knew "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America..."

I was an only child, but I had a sibling. On a tour of Africa, my parents adopted Carvel from an orphanage in Ivory Coast (or Côte D'Ivoire, as that government insisted). He was four years younger than I, so although we were friends, he was never a confidante or one of my "buddies." Too young. He was more the little guy I looked out for. "Sans toi, les tyrans me blesseraient" (Without you, the bullies would hurt me). Carvel grew up speaking French, and until he lived in America for quite a while, we had to learn French.

I don't know how old I was when I finally found out from a neighborhood bully that Carvel wasn't "like us." I always thought his black skin was no big deal--like some people have freckles or red hair.

When I started college in 1994, Carvel was starting high school. When I graduated in 1998 and Carvel got out of high school, he joined the Army. I hired on as a supervisor in a construction company, and then our contacts became only occasional letters. I saw him once in a while--at Christmas, sometimes at Thanksgiving, or when he was passing through on his way somewhere else. Once I stopped in to visit him at Fort Bragg when I was in North Carolina.

In 2000, at age 28, I still lived at home. I had plans to get out, though. My girlfriend Samantha and I were engaged, and I had applied for a transfer to Southern California.

One day that year, we got a surprise visit from Carvel--another of his "passings through." Said he was on his way to report to a fort in Arizona to conduct training for some of the troops there. Carvel had become a Green Beret, an expert in explosives and demolition--and sabotage.

I hadn't seen him in a long time and had forgotten how big he was. Wasn't hard to see how he got to be a Special Forces trooper. Although he'd always been tall, he seemed to have gotten even taller. The Army training had made him even bigger. More muscular.

And something else: something irregular, something unfamiliar, unexpected. Couldn't put my finger on it. Something different about him. Like an attitude of command. A military mindset.

We were always raised not to be "ashamed of your body," so bathrooms, bedrooms, and closets were always pretty casual. I never grew up thinking nudity was bad. I'd seen my parents naked. So what? So it was no big deal when I got a glimpse of Carvel when he took a shower. I happened to walk in to take a leak, and I noticed him.

And I took a closer look.

The little boy from the orphanage had flowered out into a man, but the Carvel I saw through the wet glass was an African demi-god! Hadn't seen him naked in years. His ass was so muscled, it was erotic! Perfectly matched to the broad, glistening-black contours of his back and shoulders.

I gaped. At age 24, Carvel was a Roman gladiator statue in gleaming ebony.

I saw the scar on his right thigh where he had suffered a wound in a knife-fight with Cuban soldiers in Grenada. Hard, muscular legs. Long. Sinewy.

Then he turned around. Damn. When did he get so tough? Merciless shoulders like tank turrets. His pecs were like mountaintops, and his belly looked like a street paved with black lava bricks. His chest would give a three-hour hardon to a gay. My own dick was stiffening up, and I wasn't even queer!

And his cock. Stunning. I hadn't seen it since both of us were just little boys, but at 24, Carvel had a plow that could plant a palm tree.

Huge thing. Huge! It pyramided out from a pink, pointed cockhead to an organ thicker--I swear to god--than my forearm at the base. Twice as thick at the base as the cockhead. I felt sorry for his dates--whoever had to stretch out over that thing would be walking gingerly the next day.

Carvel's cock hung enshrouded in a kinky black thatch of jungle that narrowed out into a trail up through the hard plains of his Serengeti to the powerful black Atlas mountains at his north end. Carvel's body was a masterpiece.

I lingered in the bathroom, puttering with a toothbrush, while he got out and dried himself. I looked back as he pulled on his jockstrap. And his cock was a god-piece.

I gaped, hypnotized. Something like that could sure turbocharge my courtship. Samantha, my fiancée, had a very healthy sex drive.

Carvel gave me a little smile, packed himself into a pair of Levi's, and left the bathroom. I'm not queer or anything, but just out of sheer horniness, I unzipped myself and jacked off. At the pinnacle, as I spurted my pearly jism down into the toilet, Carvel's huge cock was the image powering my orgasm. I shouldn't be thinking this. I'm not gay, and he's my own brother, for god's sake!

That night, when I got home from a date with Samantha--and nicely satisfied after a good sex session--I saw Carvel asleep in his old bed across the room from mine. Without turning on the light, I undressed and dropped into bed.

As I did, I heard his voice. "Good date?"

"Yeah. We saw Gladiator. Fabulous movie. Russel Crowe is really something."

Carvel chuckled. "I've been in a lot of gladiator encounters myself."

"Wow, man. What's it like?"

In the light of the full moon, I saw Carvel sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed, and pull back the blanket. He was naked.

My eyes dropped to his cock. I could see it clearly in the moonlight. I blinked. He was hard. His cock had gone beyond huge to gigantic!

"When you meet your opponent, half the battle's won if you can convince him you're the alpha wolf." Carvel's voice was like a lion purring. "You've gotta dominate him."

He couldn't see where my eyes were focused, so I kept looking at his cock. Damn, that thing is big! What's he got a hardon for?

"Come on over and feel it, Benny."

What? What did he say?? I choked out "Wh-What?"

"Can't get it out of your mind, can you, Benny? Come on over and feel it. It's okay. You know you want to."

I gulped. "N-Naw, I'm--okay."

"Come over here, Benny." A command. The lion voice had a growling edge.

Not really wanting to, I got up and walked over. Couldn't stop myself. I reached out and grasped it. Damn, I can't get my hand around it! The contact of my hand to his cock was like grabbing a high-voltage cable--shuddering jolts shot through me! Hell, how long is this fucking thing? It feels like a yard!!

The lion's voice: "Got that ol' feeling deep in your belly, don't you?"

"W-What--you mean??"

The deep purring again. "Can't get my big rod out of your mind, can you?" By then I was stroking it--as if obeying a command it had transmitted through my arm. "Go ahead, kiss it, brother."

"N-no! I don't w-want to!"

The lion growled. "Get on your knees!"

This can't be happening! I was the goddamned college quarterback! I run a construction team! I'm about to be married! But my knees bent, my legs lowered me, and with a bump, my knees hit the carpet. Heart pounding, breathing hard, I knelt there, frozen.

Carvel moved closer. He was inches away--I could feel the heat from his body on my face. I realized my eyes were clenched shut, and I opened them and raised my head. There it was. His balls were in my court.

I looked up at him, desperate, pleading for mercy, but my hand didn't stop stroking his huge cock. Carvel looked down into my eyes, and with that eagle glare, he commanded me.

I bent my head and kissed the throbbing head, brushing it lightly with my lips, touching it gently. No, I can't do this!! I can't kiss my own brother's--but he pushed the huge thing against my mouth, parting my lips, and once my mouth opened, he rammed it in, jamming it down my throat!

I gagged, and he pulled back--but he grabbed sides of my head and held me still. The big flare of his cockhead filled my mouth, and my brain buzzed 100 miles an hour! He was strong--stronger! I was overwhelmed.

He pushed that thick shaft down my throat again. Once more I gagged, and he pulled out. But when it rammed back in a third time, I strained, breathing through my nose, and fought back the gag reflex He pushed it in farther--but nowhere near the root. Halfway down his shaft, my jaws were stretched so wide, another inch and I would be scraping his cock with my teeth.

Jesus god, I'm deep-throating my brother, the big, black bastard!

Then he went wild. Suce mon bite, frère! (Suck my cock, brother). His huge cockhead was a shovel down my gullet--I'll have a sore throat from this. But in spite of that--and I couldn't believe it--choking on Carvel's gros bite (his big cock) was a major turn-on. I did want it. God forgive me, I wanted it.

Then he let out a deep growl, and suddenly I was drowning in gushes of hot slime, and the instant I tasted it, I myself went nuts. My own dick exploded in my pants! Fabulous!

As my orgasm faded, I gulped and sucked at his cock, nursing the last drops. What the fuck. I've already sucked him--might as well enjoy it.

When he finished with me, he pulled his cock back, then shoved me, pushing me off-balance, and I fell back onto the carpet. But he was not finished. He grabbed my legs and pulled them apart.

I was in an eerie state--hating what was happening to me but panting and eager for whatever came next. Oh, god, is he going to suck my cock now?

In my confusion, as Carvel tugged at my tighty-whities, I didn't fight him. In fact, I raised my ass so he could get them off more easily. Everything was spinning, nothing made sense, nothing was familiar. Once he bared my cock, he smiled--it drooled precum in a sticky stream. I couldn't deny it--I was hot for him.

Expecting a blowjob, I was surprised when he pushed my knees back to my chest, but when his head ducked down, I figured I would feel his mouth on my cock.

Wrong. To my roaring, insane astonishment, his tongue stabbed at my asshole! Incredible! The sensation was overwhelming! A new area of thrills! Never felt anything like it from there!

"Carvel! What are--" I could hardly talk! Lightning bolts were shooting up from my writhing asshole! What is he doing?? I'd never felt anything like that in my life!

As his tongue circled and diddled on my rectum, jolts of stimulation I could barely stand zapped through me, focusing into my cock and hardening it into an iron stake so hard it was painful! I couldn't imagine what he was doing, but I loved it! In only a few seconds, Carvel had me so horny, I was insane with lust!

And he had me right where he wanted me: I was a sweating, panting, hot-to-trot sex maniac. Carvel pushed my legs even harder onto my chest, and with my feet up in the air, completely vulnerable, he moved into my crotch and centered his giant cock like an artillery cannon.

Ohmigod, NO! Before he mounted, he swiped my ass a couple of times with something greasy--I saw him toss the small tube aside. Then he entered me.

Pushed it in like we were old friends--fast, hard, no apologies. And oh, god, it was a bazooka! An explosion of pain shot through me! My ass-ring was on fire. god, a terrible mistake! "Carvel! Stop!" He hugged me tighter. "god, oh, god, Carvel! STOP!"

But he didn't. His huge, black tree gouged in to my lungs! Breathing hard, he gasped, "Gets--better," and he pushed even deeper. His huge testicles bumped against my ass. Ohmigod! Stretched to the max around his cock! My asshole is bigger around than my arm!

Tears ran down my cheeks, and I prayed it would be over soon. What is happening inside? I groaned. When he pulls out, he'll gut me. Pull my insides out. I gritted my teeth. Would my brother then call an ambulance before I bled to death? At least then it will be over. I bent my head down, trying to endure.

He began thrusting, and unlike what Samantha's cunt did around my cock--stretch out to one diameter and then hold it as I fucked--Carvels lunges into me were repeated agonizing rectum-reams from shut to wide, wide open, bringing a scream from me each time!

But as I crouched there, servicing my own brother, something happened. Slowly, very slowly, the big dong hurt less. Less and less. Oh, god, don't tell me!

I dropped my head and looked back down my chest and between my legs. Carvel was a stud. His black balls swung back and forth with every lunge. And with every slap of his balls, a new feeling grew stronger--It feels--Oh, god, can this be true-- good!

Carvel somehow knew. "Yeah! Like it--now--Don't you--Benny?"

I closed my eyes. It did feel good. Finally. In fact, I gradually began to get The Feeling. I don't believe it! I'm going to cum??

But it was true. Carvel's lusty lunges pumped me into a growing frenzy to the point I was an apple on a stick roasting over a fire, never burning, never splitting open, just cooking to a madness of pleasure. "Damn, Carvel! What are--doing--to me??"

The apple was starting to burn--my whole body felt fiery, and I knew I was submitting. Plowing me deeply, my brother growled, "Yeah!--My--bitch now--right, Benny?"

The words were like electric shocks, lightning inside me, connecting my cock to my brain. Carvel's words were damnation, words a man doesn't want to hear, but I couldn't deny it: I would do anything to keep him fucking me. The veins and textures of his cock rubbing over my straining, stretched asshole felt like he was fucking me with his M-16--every lever, trigger-guard, and gunsight--every bump and vein sent skyrockets of pleasure through me. It was true. I wanted him to take me like a dog. I was his bitch.

"Almost--there--Benny!" His voice was hoarse. "Gonna--breed ya!"

He sealed my bitchhood with six or eight more thrusts--I could almost feel his spurts conquering my soul. My whole body lurched with the slams of his hips, and in an orgasm of my own, sputtering my own jism in a sympathetic climax, I knew it: I was his. His bitch.

When he finished with me and pulled out, I was barely conscious. I fell over, drools of his cum slithering from my ass. He stood over me. "Well, you did good, brother."

How had I let things get so out of control? In the cinnamon feelings of afterglow, I still purred in contentment. But when this ecstasy ends, how in hell am I going to relate to him?

In case I was thinking it would lead to a closer, deeper friendship, more intimate and affectionate, Carvel showed me the truth: he fell onto his bed, pulled the blanket over him, and rolled over to sleep.

There it is: I'm just a piece of ass to him.

That should have pissed me off. I know it should've, but instead the idea that I was just a hole in a piece of meat to him made me so horny I got a hardon again.

Humiliated but still aroused, hard again, I crawled back into my own bed and beat off. Silently, holding the covers in an arch over my pistoning hand, forcing myself to breathe quietly, I let go with another load, my mind ablaze with a vision of Carvel's big dong stretching me into a new universe.

It took a long time to fall asleep. I had never had such a tumultuous, mind-blowing sex session. And I was the passive partner! I got fucked!!

I woke early the next morning. I looked over at Carvel's bed. He was awake, looking at me. "Morning, Benny."

"Good morning, Carvel." Damn, what can I say?

He said it. "Why don't you come over here and settle that tight ass over this morning woodie?"

I should've been pissed. I should've been outraged that he would take me for granted as his cum-bucket. But I got out of bed and moved quickly over to him. He had pulled away his blanket and lay back, his giant organ jutting up to the sky. I crawled over him, straddling his hips.

"C'mon, Benny, get me off."

I squatted over him, lowering myself. Carvel lay back, his hands behind his head, smiling as his bitch serviced him. god, how humiliating. This is my little brother! But I was past that. New pages were being written.

As his big cockhead touched my--had to admit it, eager--asshole, my buzzing brain settled into straight-line concentration: lust. My toes curled, and my crotch was on fire again. The impossible, mind-boggling stretch began again.

Like a trained military weapon, Carvel's bayonet entered me straight and true, and he chuckled, looking up at me with that smile. I was humiliated, but I couldn't stop. Gritting my teeth and tensing my muscles with the increasing pain, I finally settled my full weight on him, and my poor, tortured asshole once again strained to adjust.

He did none of the work. I lifted. I lunged back. I lifted. I lunged back. "You're good, Benny. Better than a lot of girls I know."

I shut my eyes in shame. But in ecstasy. My ass was responding to the training--the pain faded a lot sooner, and a motherfucker of an orgasm was building in my balls. I felt his balls sliding out of my way on each wide-stretch full squat on him. Damn, his balls are big as apples!

I couldn't raise and lower myself as fast as he could've fucked me "normally," so the build-up and the session were longer, slower, and more maddening. I was close, damned close, but I couldn't force my aching muscles to move any faster. All I could do was watch, desperate, as my orgasm approached like a camel caravan moving slowly over the desert. Ravel's "Bolero" played in my mind. Ah, shit, I'm almost there! Slowly, like lava from Kilauea, the fiery consummation appeared on the horizon, and, dripping with sweat, I worked like a madman to bring it closer.

I gave up trying to clench my ass-cheeks to tighten the friction over Carvel's thrill-per-inch cock. Couldn't stand it. With all my ass muscles trying to shut my hole over him, the violent yank-back as all my weight skewered me over his giant base was a pain so strong it made me light-headed. Like impaling myself onto the big end of a baseball bat.

But my cock was smoking. On its way. Just a few more lunges!

I looked down at him. What a man. The fucking alpha-male! He looked back with arrogance. Like he would look at a dildo. And I realized it: The more he treats me like shit, the more it turns me on!

My motherfucker-orgasm finally arrived, and my cock blew up like the Hindenburg. Feverish red, it pumped my cum out in frenzied jackrabbit spurts, splattering it all over Carvel's chest. And again the sneering smile. He knew "property" when he saw it.

I was too far gone, though. My eyes rolled back in my head, and it was all I could do to keep from passing out. The skittish jets of my sperm accented my debauchery, burning away every male pride, welding me into bitch-service. Anytime he wanted.

When I finally came to, he looked up at me. "Well?" He hadn't cum yet. That was my duty. Wishing could just roll off him and slump to the floor, still I started lurching my hips again, dragging him to his orgasm. By the time he finally reached it, I was sore and panting with exhaustion, but a wonderful, soul-satisfying glow swept over me as his seed spurted up inside me.

When he was finished, he pushed me off him, rolling me to the side, and I fell onto the floor like a cum-rag he had just wiped himself with. Carvel got up, pulled on his Army jockstrap, and went out to the bathroom.

I crawled onto my bed and lay there for a while, reveling in the facing afterglow. Finally I fell asleep.

When I awoke, Carvel had gone. I got up and sat drank a cup of coffee with my mother. While my world had not exactly come crashing down around me, the floor had collapsed under me, and I had crashed into a new basement, a place I didn't imagine could exist.

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