Rick Tells Pete Pt. 02

"Trust me," Rick says, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down, "after tasting this, you'll sleep like a baby . . . and so will I."

Pete slides to his knees and pulls his brother's boxer briefs down, unveiling Rick's long, thick, half-hard cock.

"I hate you, Rick."

"I swear, Pete. Do me this one favor and I'll never ask another for as long as I live."

Pete strokes the heavy erection and then gives the full rounded head a squeeze before drawing it into his mouth.

"Oh, yeeeaaah," Rick hisses, letting the sweetness of his young brother's warm mouth send liquid sensations throughout his body.

"I've gotta hand it to you, bro. You do that better than anyone."

"Liar," Pete mumbles, glancing up at his tall, handsome brother as he draws back and licks the glassy smoothness of the mushroom-shaped head.

Rick just smiles and begins stroking his young brother's mass of curly black hair. He watches in fascination as the boy gently pumps his dick, all the while sliding his tongue around the edges of the sensitive cockhead.

When he feels the cock begin to twitch, responding to the tantalizing stimulation of his tongue, Pete abruptly dives back in, swallowing the big brother dick nearly to the root. Rick reacts instantly, growling and grabbing Pete's head and jamming his rod as far down the boy's throat as it will go.

"Fuckin' shit, Pete! Dammit, boy, take my cock."

Pete holds on as long as he can. But, eventually, he must pry himself off Rick's dark sausage and come up for air. As Pete slumps to his knees gasping for breath, Rick lets our a hardy groan and runs his fingers the entire length of his tingly, spit-soaked cock.

"Awesome, bro! I swear I could feel that right down to my toes."

Pete looks up as Rick begins shedding his clothes, starting with his t-shirt. After casting that and his jeans aside, he playfully nudges his brother with his foot.

"Hey, you too, Pete. Lose the clothes."

"Jeez, Rick, come on. That'll just drag everything out. I told you I have to go. I thought all you wanted was a quick blow job."

Rick gives his younger sibling a look. "Hey, I'm not the one dragging this out by arguing, now am I? Come on, kid. You know how I like to stroke your cute little naked bod while you're giving me head."

"Fuck," Pete sputters with an air of resignation. He quickly strips off his t-shirt and shorts, and then scampers over to where his brother is waiting for him. Though he is loathe to admit it to Rick, he also prefers blowing his brother this way, the sight of Rick's finely-honed body like a knot of raw lust in the pit of his stomach.

Pete lifts Rick's tool and begins tonguing the winkled ballsac underneath. He knows how his brother loves this, and almost immediately, he can feel a low moaning growl rising out of Rick's throat.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, yeah, Pete. Fuckin' eat my balls."

Pete eagerly complies, sucking first one egg-shaped orb into his mouth and then the other, thoroughly bathing them in his wet hungry maw. As he does so, Pete buries his face in Rick's dark thicket of pubes, drinking in their full-throated funky taste and letting their steamy scent intoxicate his senses.

"Damn, you're really feeling it tonight, aren't ya, bro? Your fuckin' tongue's on fire."

As if in reply, Pete pulls away from the balls, glances up at his brother, and again glides the fat juicy cock into his mouth. And just as before, he starts deep-throating it, pulling the heavy fuck-piece deep into his throat until Rick's sweaty pubes are once more brushing up against his nose. Rick throws his head back and groans, his brother's tight throat like a velvety vise wrapping around his cock.

Rick shivers and gasps with amazement when Pete goes on holding his poker deep in his throat, even tightening and pumping it, milking it until finally it is Rick who must withdraw lest he cum to soon.

"Evil little cocksucker," Rick yelps, half-gasping and half-laughing. "How the fuck do you do that?"

Pete grins and gives his brother a look of total absorption, then reaches out and hooks his fingers around Rick's hips and pulls the dripping cock back to his lips. Rather than deep throating this time, Pete mostly concentrates on sucking the head, but then begins a vigorous pumping motion with his hand that soon has Rick once again quivering with joy. After several minutes of this delicious friction, Rick abruptly pulls his fuckrod from his brother's grasp, drops down to the floor and gives Pete a hard penetrating kiss.

Before Pete can react, Rick upends the boy and props his smooth young ass up into the air, and then lowers his mouth into the anxious crevice. The sudden shock of feeling his brother's tongue darting into his hole, plus the prick of Rick's rough stubble on his baby smooth buns, causes Pete to cry out.

"Oh, my God!"

Rick just chuckles and goes on rimming, thoroughly enjoying the squirming reactions he is eliciting from his slender brother. After the sweet young hole is good and wet, Rick draws back and lands a hard stinging smack on the soft round ass. And then he does it again. And again, causing Pete to jerk and yelp loudly.

"Ow! Rick, dammit, ow! . . . What the fuck!"

Rick grins and passes his big palm over the hot burning skin.

"Wow, Pete, you should see your ass. It's red . . . glowing . . . and hot. So fucking beautiful. Gonna fuck you now."

Rick lays his brother flat on the carpeted floor and then lifts his legs onto his shoulders. Still whimpering from the spanking Pete offers no resistance. But when he feels Rick rub his fingers over the raw edge of his blazing skin, the boy shudders and calls out.

"Ow, Rick. Dammit . . . be careful."

Rick wets his fingers and guides two of them into Pete's sensitive hole. Pete sucks air when he feels the intrusion, but makes no move to stop his brother who gently works the ass cheeks apart. But when the boy feels the massive cock begins to follow the fingers inside, Pete once again jerks and shudders.

"Easy, Rick . . . For God's sake . . . easy."

Rick leans forward and catches the chin of his brother, and then pulls the boy into a kiss. As they kiss, Rick edges his dick forward ever so slowly, and lodges the steely rod well inside the hole. Pete momentarily stiffens up, catching his breath, but soon relaxes when Rick resumes kissing him. It is as if he is being pried open at both ends. With one last hard determined thrust, Rick overcomes Pete's last bit of resistance and blasts into the soft boyhole, filling it completely. Pete gasps and collapses back onto the floor.

"Owwwwww, you speared me."

"Fuck yeah," Rick grins, hovering near Pete's face. "Just like a fish."

"I hate you."

"I know. But you love it, too."

Rick moves his cock slowly in and out, and a white-hot pain momentarily shoots through Pete's insides. The boy winces and whines, but grits his teeth and makes no effort to stop his brother. He knows that as intense as the pain may be, it will soon turn to exquisite pleasure and he will accept any price to ride that horse to paradise.

"Fuck, oh fuck, Pete," Rick groans, steadily increasing the pressure of his fuckstrokes. "Your boy-pussy feels amazing . . . like sticking my dick into a furnace."

Grimacing with every stroke, Pete can only groan in agreement. His brother's meat is like a hot iron in his guts. Nevertheless, he can already feel himself opening up to it, craving its delicious friction even as it burns him with its heat.

Rick can sense the growing hunger in his brother's hole, and so he shifts his weight forward and begins pouring ever harder and deeper strokes into the boy, making him grunt with every stroke. After several minutes of intense pounding, he pulls back a bit, just so he can clear his head of the waves of heat moving across his brow.

"Don't . . . stop . . ."

"I'm not stopping, you greedy little monkey," Rick mutters, wiping his brow. "But I gotta pace myself. Can't believe how hot I am."

Pete reaches up and tweaks his brother's nipples, then lifts up and gives them a lick and a nip. Knowing full well how much Rick likes this kind of stimuli, Pete continues to squeeze his older sibling's tits until Rick succumbs to the bait and falls back into a round of heavy fucking.

Through air grown thick with heat and sweat, Rick plows on, his body like a pistoning machine relentlessly driving its steely rod into his brother's slender frame. And though he feels as if he is being literally ripped apart by his brother's ferocious cock, Pete goes on clinging to Rick's muscular arms until finally he can hang on no longer. He falls back to the floor with a thud, and the cum comes ripping out of him like a bottle rocket.

"Aaaaaiiiiiiiiggggghhhhh!" he yells as the first hot blast shoots straight up and splatters Rick's stomach. Pete's entire body quakes as more cum shots follow, firing up and out in all directions.

"Fuckin' little monkey," Rick growls as he is shaken out of his haze by Pete's convulsions. And then just as Pete erupts again, squeezing his brother's cock with an involuntary contraction of his butt, Rick is thrown into his own orgasm.

"Fuuuuuuuuck! Oh, fuck, Pete, dammit," Rick snarls, grabbing his younger brother, and then yells out as a hot flow of cum boils out of him and into Pete's writhing body. With his own climax hardly over, Pete is tossed into another throbbing convulsion by the sudden infusion of heat.

Some minutes later Pete sits up on the floor and glares at his brother who is lying inert several feet away, his hand under his head, his eyes closed and looking quite pleased with himself.

"Jesus, that was . . ."

"You said it," Rick agrees, grinning wide. "Pretty damn good—huh?"

"I guess," Pete says, jumping to his feet and hurrying into the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later after having cleaned up and begins pulling on his clothes.

"That was pretty amazing. I don't know how you do it, Rick, but when it comes to sex, you always find a way to make it . . . intense."

"Hey, Pete," Rick says as his brother is reaching for the door.

"I really have to go, Rick."

"About Dad. You do know why I told you that story—right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Actually, he asked me not to tell you that stuff."

"But why?"

"You know Dad. He probably doesn't want us to know he actually has sex. But I figured you had a right to know, that you'd want to know."

"Yeah, I'm glad you told me."

"You remember what else I said: about how if we play our cards right, we could get our old dad back?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I really meant that, kid. Up on that mountain, Dad was like his old self. I haven't seen him that relaxed in a long time—laughing, joking, letting go of all that uptight bullshit he likes to hang onto."

"That really doesn't sound like him anymore."

"But it can, Pete. It can if we play our cards right. Take me, for instance. I know what I have to do now: I have to find ways to pull him out of his head and make him feel wild and free again—like on that trip."

Pete hesitates and looks puzzled. "But what can I do?"

"You, little brother: I think you can do a lot, maybe more than anyone else."

"Really—how?"

"Take him back in time, my man. Make him feel young again. Find a way to make him feel like he's a total fuckin' kid again."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Find a way, Pete. Get creative. I've got faith in you, boy. When it comes to making things happen, nobody's better than you."

*************

Pete hurried down the stairs of the garage apartment, across the wide yard and up to the back entrance to the house. And even as he unlocked the door and slipped inside, his head still buzzed with the searing images his older brother had planted inside him. His very own dad, of all people, a "slave" in a slave auction—OK, a mock slave auction, a willing participant in an S&M orgy, and most amazing of all, fucking around with a guy—actually, guys—on that occasion and who knows how many others in college.

"Rick may not call that gay, but it sounds pretty damn gay to me," Pete grumbles under his breath as he makes his way through the darkened kitchen. Just then the boy hears a rustling sound and jumps when the lights in the kitchen come on.

"What'd you say, son?"

"Dad! My god, where'd you come from?"

Mike rounds the corner of the kitchen and comes clearly into view. He is dressed in a loose tank top and pajama bottoms.

"I was in my study finishing up some work when I thought I heard something in here, so I thought I'd come and check it out. You're out awfully late, aren't ya, boy?"

"Dad, you're not supposed to ask me that—remember?"

"Pete, I'm not cracking down on you, believe me. I haven't forgotten our bargain. You get to set your hours and I have to respect that. But I am still allowed to express a little fatherly concern, aren't I? College is a rough haul, and you're gonna find it hard going if you start skipping sleep and staying out late partying."

"I wasn't out partying, Dad, and my grades are just fine. And just for the record, I was up in the treehouse hanging out with Rick."

Mike breathes a noticeable sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all? Why didn't you say so? I was thinking . . . Well, forget what I was thinking."

"Were you thinking that maybe I was out running the streets or maybe even hooking up with some lowlife guy?"

Mike flashes an embarrassed grin and shakes his head. "Well, that's pretty close to exactly what I was thinking. Am I that transparent?"

"No, Dad, but it wasn't hard to figure. That's pretty much what you accused me of the last time you caught me sneaking in late. Last year—remember?"

"Yeah, that. I really went overboard that night, didn't I? I don't know what came over me, Pete. It was late, I had had a long day at the office. I was feeling boxed in, out of sorts. And you came in at the tail end of a very long, very bad day. And so I let you have it with both barrels. I know I should've said this sooner, son, but better late than never. I am so sorry for blowing up at you like that. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. You've never done a single thing to give me cause to worry."

"Wow, Dad. That really means a lot. And just for the record, I was over at Rick's that night, too."

Mike comes over and plants an affectionate kiss on Pete's forehead. "And you, buddy boy, have my permission to lord that over me from now on, whenever I get out of line. I hope I haven't blown your trust in me forever."

"Nah, Dad, you're still the best. Well, see you in the morning."

Pete turns to go but his dad stops him.

"Hey, listen, I was about to turn in myself, but I thought I might grab a glass of milk first to help me unwind. How about joining me? You can spare a few minutes of your valuable time for your old dad, now that you're a college man, can't ya?"

"Sure, Dad. I'll even pour the milk."

As Pete grabs a couple of glasses from the cupboard and retrieves a carton of milk from the refrigerator, Mike parks himself on a stool at a long bar in the kitchen.

"The fact is I've been looking for a chance to talk to you, Pete. Just the two of us."

Pete pours the milk and sets a glass in front of his Dad. "Um, something wrong, Dad?"

"No, son, nothing like that. It's just that this is your first year of college. And I've wanted to take some time to spend with you, just to see how it's going. But lately work has been a mother—one project after another, taking all my time. It doesn't seem like there's not enough hours in the day. And now when I see you looking handsome and all grown up, I've begun to think I've missed an important part of your life."

Pete seats himself on a stool opposite his dad. "Really, Dad, you don't have to worry. College has been no big deal. Like I said, I'm acing all my courses—as usual."

"I don't doubt that, Pete. You're smart as a whip. I wasn't talking about your grades. I was talking about you, kiddo. Even if you're acing those courses, college can still be a big transition, even for the smartest of kids."

"Really, Dad? You know, it almost sounds like you're talking from experience."

Mike chuckles. "Well, I suppose I am. Back when I went to college, I had a hell of a transition to make, going from little ol' Mount Pleasant, Texas, to the mean streets of Dallas."

Pete takes a sip of his milk. "That does sound like a hell of a transition. Tell me about it, Dad."

"You don't want to hear about that. That was back during the Stone Age."

Pete cracks a sly grin. "Oh, that's where you're wrong, Dad. I do want to hear about it—all about it."

"I wouldn't even know where to start. OK, take my transportation, for example. My dad gave me his old used pickup truck for my eighteenth birthday, and got himself a new one. And so there I was, driving around campus in this beat-up old wreck while all the other kids were running around in sleek new sporty cars their folks had given them for graduation. And let me tell you, Pete, I just about died of embarrassment."

"So that's why you bought new cars for me, Rachel and Rick when we graduated?"

Mike stifles a little laugh. "Bingo! And now you know why I have to work all these crazy hours: just to keep you kids in new cars."

"So driving an old pickup was the biggest adjustment you had to make?"

"Well, no, I'm not saying that. My point is that adjusting to college is going to throw a whole lot of challenges your way. You have to understand, Pete, that I was this small-town kid on his own in the big city for the first time. It felt like I was always tripping over myself, embarrassing myself in one way or another."

"So you felt unsophisticated, like there was lots of stuff you didn't know."

"Exactly. Bud, it literally took me months to get my sea-legs and feel like I was part of the scene. That first year, I can hardly recall a time I didn't feel self-conscious, like I was the odd man out."

"So how'd you deal with that, Dad: go out for the football team, join a study group . . . maybe even pledge a fraternity?"

"Well, um, yeah, I guess I did try just about all those things. I had played some sports in high school so trying out for the football squad was a no-brainer. Unlike you, brainy, I needed lots of help with my coursework so I found a good study group to join—several, in fact. And yeah, I even went out for a fraternity. So what about you, bud: you thinking about doing any of those things?"

"I don't know, Dad. Maybe. Of course, I'm not an athlete like you and Rick, so the sports option is out. And I don't exactly need a study group right now. But the fraternity: That sounds really interesting. Tell me about that one."

Mike shuffles on his stool, takes a sip of his milk and stifles a nervous laugh. "Jeez, Pete, there's not much to tell. The truth is I dropped out after a year. My classwork became so demanding that I just didn't have time for that extra-curricula kind of stuff."

Pete bores in on his dad like a lawyer who has caught a witness in a lie. "Really, Dad? Because according to Rick, you had all kinds of time for that extra-curricula kind if stuff."

Mike swallows hard. "What did he tell you?"

"Not much . . . except, of course, he did mention you let them strip you bare and auction you off to the highest bidder."

Mike jumps to his feet and begins pacing about the kitchen.

"Damn that Rick!" he says fuming. "Damn him! The one time I really trust him with some really important personal stuff, and he goes and blabs it. And he wonders why I'm always on his case."

"He wouldn't have had to tell me, Dad, if you had told me. Or you had let me come along on that trip the way I wanted. I still don't see why I couldn't have come along."