Rick Tells Pete Pt. 02

"You're out of your mind, Rick."

"OK, if it's motivation you want, think of Dad. Uptight, closed up, he's totally fucking miserable the way he is. You know it's true. And if you could—y' know—loosen him up a bit and pull him out of his funk, you'd be totally doing him a huge favor—not to mention yourself since this is something you've totally wanted for a hell of a long time."

"Would you please stop saying that, Rick."

"OK, but we both know it's true."

"I . . . don't know anything of the sort"

"OK, fine. So say it. Say you don't want to jump Dad's bones."

Pete glares at his brother and hesitates a long minute before speaking up. Meanwhile, Rick continues munching on the pie.

"Tell me the truth, Rick. Do you really think it would be good for him?"

"Absolutely."

"No—really?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"OK . . . I'll do it."

Rick breaks out in a beaming smile, then puts the pie aside and gives his brother a big smooch on the lips.

"Say, do you need some coaching?" Rick asks. "I could give you some pointers."

"Nope, I think I can handle it."

"Wow, look at you, bro. Confident. Assertive. No more little kid. I'm proud of you, and I've gotta say I'm finding this new grown-up Petey boy mighty sexy."

He leans in and kisses the boy again, this time slower, deeper and much more sensually.

"Jesus, Rick, knock it off," Pete says, pulling away from him. "You can't be serious with this stuff. Dad is going to be here any minute."

Rick lets out a big laugh.

"Say, Pete, can you imagine the look on his face if he were to come through that door and catch you and me in flagrante-"

"That's not funny, Rick."

"I know, but can you image it? I think his head would like totally fucking . . . exploooode! Ka-boom!" Rick sweeps his hands out, making an exploding motion.

"Which is why it's not going to happen, Rick. Knock it off."

"Look, when Dad gets here, I'll clear out and give you two some quality alone time—which was my real reason for taking off anyway. But tomorrow, I'm gonna need a full blow-by-blow description of everything that happens here tonight."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe nothing is going to happen? Maybe Dad won't want to do that because, um, well, I am his son, y'know."

Rick shrugs. "Maybe not—but my money's on you, kid. You weren't there in the cabin when he started opening up about all those wild college experiences he had. A dreamy, sorta faraway look came over him: I think if he had been my type, I might have jumped his bones right there myself. I'm telling you he's ready for this, Pete, and I'm betting you're just the one to bring him out."

He slips his arms around his younger brother and pulls the boy close. He nuzzles Pete and breathes in his ear.

"I wasn't kidding about how good you look, bro. I keep telling you, there's something about keeping it in the family that just makes sex hotter. One of these days you're gonna figure that out for yourself."

Pete sighs. "I already have, Rick. That's how I got myself into this pickle. I just hope you're right about Dad."

"When it comes to sex I'm always right," Rick says, lifting Pete's chin up and covering the boy's mouth with his own. The kiss lingers for a while and this time Pete responds.

"I wasn't kidding, Pete. Just thinking of you and Dad is making me so hot."

"It is?" says Pete, returning the kiss and pulling Rick to him. "I guess maybe it would be pretty hot."

Rick slips his hands under Pete's t-shirt and slides his palms up along the boy's back.

"How about a quickie before Dad gets here? Nothing fancy, just a quick hump so I can get my rocks off before I have to take off. You know how sex talk always gets me horny. And unless I miss my guess, you're getting' a little hard up too."

Rick pulls off Pete's t-shirt and then slips off his own. He reaches down, undoes Pete's shorts and pushes them down while Pete unbuttons his and does the same. In a matter of seconds they are both naked and facing each other, and both sporting a rigid hard-on. Rick drops to his knees and fondles his little brother's cock and then takes it into his mouth. Just as Pete begins to moan, his eyes suddenly pop open and he races to the door and locks it.

"Damn," he groans, a look of alarm on his face, "you had me so fucking distracted I nearly forgot about Dad. If he had walked in just now—"

"For all you know he might have liked what he saw and joined in. Quit fretting over every little thing, Pete. You'll live longer."

Pete shoots a look of utter frustration at his brother, but his expression quickly softens when he sees Rick suggestively stroking his thick cock and flashing a wide mischievous smile. Unable to resist, Pete goes over, drops to his knees and takes the juicy-looking rod into his mouth.

"God, how I hate you," Pete mumbles while slurping on his brother's tasty meat. Rick chuckles and begins stroking Pete's hair.

"Seems to me you said that exact same thing the last time you were here. Is it my fault you can't resist this big tasty sausage?"

Though he wishes it wasn't so, Pete knows that his big brother is absolutely right: He really does love to suck Rick's huge cock. Already he can feel himself being sucked in by its sultry thickness, the feel of the bulging veins on his tongue, and the steamy male heat soaking his nose and intoxicating his senses. As the first stream of precum begins to fill his mouth, Pete lets out a deep sigh and grabs his own hard member and begins pumping it.

Rick watches him with a look of utter satisfaction, crooning his approval.

"Fuck yeah, little bro, take me deep. Make my cock feel good. Yeah, just like that . . ."

Pete hooks his fingers around Rick's muscular thighs and pulls his big brother even closer. The trickle of sweet and salty juices from Rick's rod becomes fuller, heavier. As it thickens, the flow grows more tasty too, intense with the heady male flavor of his brother. Pete begins to purr with contentment.

But if Pete is feeling content, Rick is feeling something hotter, more urgent. Watching his smooth, naked little brother eagerly blowing him is making him hunger for the feel of Pete's slick, hot young asshole. Knowing that time is short, he abruptly pulls away from Pete's mouth.

"Why'd you stop?" a disappointed Pete says, looking up at his brother.

"Come over here," Rick urges in a husky voice as he lifts Pete to his feet and drags the boy over to the bed at the back of the long room.

"Hey, wait, no," Pete protests when he realizes what Rick is up to. "We can't, Rick. There's no time."

Rick shrugs as and gives him a quick kiss. "Who says so? Dad is always running late these days, you know that. If we lean into it and stop wasting time, we could knock one out in five minutes . . . if you'd stop squirming around."

"Rick, I don't know . . ."

But Rick roughly bends the boy over the bed, spits into his palm, and begins pushing his wet fingers into Pete's twitchy hole. Pete jerks with the roughness of his brother's insertion.

"Ow, dammit, be careful!"

"You need to relax, my man. You're as tense as a tight fist."

"Well, it feels like you're shoving your fist up my ass! Take it easy, dammit!"

Rick leans across his brother's back, caressing him and licking his neck. Pete can't help but respond to the warmth and sweet feel of his brother. He sighs and sinks into the covers. Rick pulls back, gives the boy another quick reaming, and then starts to press his anxious dick into the narrow opening. Meeting little resistance, he lets out a low moan when his prodigious dick slides fully into the moist, tender crack.

Groaning audibly, Rick wastes little time getting into the rhythm of deep fucking. He is pleased to see Pete moaning too, clutching the sheets and pushing back against his brother's tool.

"Oh, fuck yeah, little bro. Feel my cock reaming you out? Sometimes the best sex is hot quick sex."

Pete shudders as Rick begins to pound him hard, lifting his slender hips high off the bed and slamming his swollen mancock down deep into the hungry crevice. Rick can feel his brother gasping and grunting underneath him, twisting in the grasp of his own growing lust, opening up and welcoming each penetrating stroke, shaking with the raw power of it, and silently begging for more.

Rick can also feel the pounding in his chest matching the pounding of his hips. He surrenders to the fury of his body as it claims what it desires in the warm sweet depths of his brother. His own gasping begins to merge with the hoary sounds rising from the boy. They begin rising and falling in unison on the bed, the movements blending into a solid wave of motion as the rising tide of sex claims them both.

His head awash in the fever pitch of pleasure, Rick shivers as the first waves of orgasm begin to lap at his feet.

"Owwwww, fuck, bro! So good! Get ready. I'm about to blow!"

"No!" Pete yells, and with all his might pushes himself up and bucks his powerful brother off his back. Rick rolls to the side, then abruptly jumps up and grabs his little brother.

"What the fuck, Pete!"

But Pete wrenches free, and then drops to his knees and sucks his brother's looming cock into his mouth.

"Damn slick little monkey!" Rick snarls, staring down at Pete who shoots an equally intense look up at him. But then Rick shudders all over as he feels his overheated poker being swallowed all the way down Pete's velvety throat. Instantaneously, he throws his head back and explodes a furious wad of cum right down into his brother's stomach. He locks his grip on the boy and quickly shoots another huge wad followed by another, shaking as each shot blows through his body. Finally, gasping, breathless, he lets his brother go and Pete stumbles back, also gasping and struggling to catch his breath.

Suddenly they hear a loud pounding on the door.

"Hey, boys! . . . You in there?"

Pete jumps to his feet and shoots a panicked glance at the door.

"Oh, damn! It's Dad!"

"Hey, guys, come on . . . open up!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Pete mumbles as he grabs his underwear and desperately pulls them on. He glances over at Rick who is still perched on the edge of the bed, shaking his head and chuckling.

"Get dressed, you idiot!" Pete barks at his brother as he slips on his shorts and looks around for his t-shirt. Finally, lazily, Rick gets to his feet.

"Jesus H. Christ," he mumbles, still giggling as he looks around for his own underwear. "Dad's timing is un-fucking-believable."

Now dressed, Pete quickly smooths his hair and hurries to the door. Just before opening it, he grabs the remote and turns on the TV. He unlatches the door just as his Dad is about to pound on it again.

"Hey, bud, what gives?" Mike says, stepping into the room and looking around. "I've been out there for a while. I was beginning to think you two had died in here."

"You could say that," Rick jokes from the back of the room. He is only just pulling on his underwear.

"Sorry, Dad," Pete interjects after shooting a look of death at his brother. "We were, uh, watching some sports on the tube and got so engrossed we didn't even hear you knocking."

Mike glances at the TV and sees a basketball game in progress and then over at Rick who is just pulling on a shirt.

"Don't tell me you're just now getting dressed," he says to his oldest son. "I swear, Rick, you'd go without clothes if it wasn't illegal."

"That's what I always say," Pete adds.

"Jeez, gimme a break, Dad, will ya?" Rick snorts as he finishes buttoning up his shirt and then moves over to his closet to find a pair of jeans.

"Actually, he's not getting dressed, Dad," Pete says. "He's changing his clothes. Rick's made other plans tonight."

"Other plans?"

"Yep, afraid so, Dad," Rick explains. "I'm not gonna be able to stay for good ol' Movie Night. I promised some of my buds I'd meet them downtown. We're gonna check out this hot new bar that's just opened up."

Mike walks over and gives Rick a stern look. "And you can't skip the bar scene for one night? It'll be there tomorrow night. Tonight is family night. I want you to call up your friends, tell them you've got plans and you'll meet them some other time."

"Um, Dad, he can't do that," Pete interjects, giving his dad an anxious look.

"Why not?" Mike says turning to him.

"Yeah, Petey boy, why not?" Rick says, giving his brother an amused look.

"Because, well, it was all his idea, Dad. He's the one who set the whole thing up, called his friends, and told them to meet him there. How would it look if they all showed up and he didn't?"

"Yeah, Dad, you wouldn't want me to that," Rick adds.

"Huh, sounds like something you would do. But no, I suppose I wouldn't want you to stand up your friends if you're the one that called it. But this isn't good, Rick. Pete made a lot of effort to arrange this gettogether, and Alice spent hours in the kitchen whipping up all that stuff you see there on the table."

"Yeah, and it's really good too, Dad," Rick grins. "I haven't been able to keep my hands off of it."

"That's true, Dad," nods Pete. "He's been nibbling on that food for the last half hour."

"Well then you deserve to miss out," Mike declares. "While you're out roaming the streets, we're gonna chow down on this food and have a great time watching a great old movie."

Rick goes into to kitchen, grabs a paper towel and then moves on to the table, eyeing the sandwiches.

"I think I'm gonna have to wrap up one of these babies up and take it with me," he says, rolling one of the sandwiches up in the towel. "Just talking about this food is making me hungry again."

Pete grimaces. "You were born hungry."

"So what's the movie for tonight, Dad?" Rick inquires, noticing the DVD case in Mike's hand.

"A real classic: The African Queen. Humphrey Bogart. Katharine Hepburn. John Huston directing. It doesn't get any better than this."

Rick snickers and rolls his eyes. "The African Queen . . .Now see, Dad, that sounds a little queer for me, but I bet you and Pete'll love it. I like a little action in my movies. Some adventure. A little shoot-em-up. The African Queen—that's not for me."

"You raving idiot," Mike snarls, "this is an adventure movie. Bogie has to go into the jungle to rescue Kate from the Germans. It's got bombs and explosions—the whole nine yards."

"Sorry, Dad. My bad. Look, I'll make sure to catch the next Movie Night."

He heads toward the door. "Make sure to thank Alice for all the great food. On second thought, don't. The next time we go cycling, I'll give her my personal thanks."

"Well, make sure you do."

"Oh, you can bet on it. And Pete, good save back there. I meant it when I said you really have become a chip off the old block. I'm proud of you, boy. Enjoy your movie."

And then just as he is about to close the door behind him, he flashes a wicked grin at his father. "Oh, yeah, Dad, one more thing I was supposed to tell you: Love ya, big guy!"

Mike glares at him. "Always with the wisecracks. Just go—who needs you?"

Still chuckling, Rick exits.

Mike shakes his head. "I'm never going to understand that boy. Everything's a joke with him. I don't know where he gets it."

"Well, Dad, I think he kinda gets it from you. You were always joking like that back in the day."

"I don't know what you're talking about. By the way, what was that 'good save' crack about?"

"Who knows, Dad—it's Rick."

Just then, Pete lets loose with a big sigh, rushes into his Dad's arms and attempts to kiss him. But Mike holds the boy at arms' length.

"What's wrong, Dad? I've been waiting all week for a chance to do that again."

Mike doesn't answer, but instead gives his son a grave look and then takes a step back from him, Pete becomes very worried.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Pete, you didn't. I'm the one who did something wrong. When things started to get out of hand last weekend, I should've put a stop to it right away."

"So you're feeling guilty."

"You'd better believe I'm feeling guilty. The next day when I woke up, I never felt so much damn guilt in my entire life. I still don't know how it happened, but I know one thing for sure: It won't happen again."

"Don't I get to have a say in it?"

"Not this time, bud. I know you don't get it, but I'm doing this more for you than me. When you're young, you don't want to think about consequences. You just wanna go with what feels good. But when you add a few years, you'll realize that you can't always get what we want. Now I don't know about you, but I can't wait to sample some of this great food."

Mike strolls over to the table and gives the offerings a good once-over. He takes a cookie and starts munching on it.

"It's all so good, I don't know where to start."

"You could start by explaining why what we did was so wrong."

"Oh, come on, bud. Don't do that."

"I know it isn't for everybody, Dad, but we're not everybody. Knowing what you went through in college and knowing you've had some of the very same feelings I've had, I've never felt closer to you."

"I'll tell you what, Pete. If you're not ready for the food, that's OK. Why don't we get the get the movie started and eat later? How's that sound?"

Pete's posture slumps and he gives his dad a very dejected look. "Sure, Dad, whatever you say."

Despite his mood, Pete is soon caught up in the excitement of the movie, as is his dad, and they quickly find themselves cheering, jeering and yelling at the screen as the action unfolds. The film proves so enthralling that when it finally does end nearly two hours later in a volley of explosions, Pete, who has spent the entire time perched on the edge of the sofa, jumps to his feet, punches the air in exhilaration, and then falls back onto the sofa exhausted.

"Dad, like wow! That was the best movie ever!"

"Thought you would like it," Mike says beaming.

"Like it? I loved it! Rose and Charlie, fighting one obstacle after another—they didn't know how to give up. Rick doesn't know what he's missing."

"Damn straight. But let's face it, we'll never get him into old movies like we are."

Still crumpled on the sofa, Pete looks over at his dad.

"So I guess there really are things we share just between us—huh, Dad?'

Mike leans back on the sofa and gives his son a confident look. "You bet."

"Hey, why don't I get us a beer?" Pete says, jumping up. He doesn't wait for an answer, but hurries to the fridge and soon returns with a couple of bottles, one of which he sets down in front of his dad. Mike notices that the boy has also gotten one for himself.

"Didn't realize you drank, bud," Mike says ruefully.

"Only now and then. Mostly when I'm up here in the treehouse. Does it bother you, Dad?"

"Hey, it's not for me to judge. I haven't forgotten our agreement, Pete: As long as you act responsibly, I won't interfere. Besides, I trust you not to overdo, unlike that crazy brother of yours. So here's to you, bud—cheers!" Mike clinks bottles with his son as they take a swig of their beers.

"Dad, you're forty-six. That's not old."

"Maybe not, but it can sure feel like it sometimes. It feels like the world is passing me by."

"Rick says that you're way too caught in your job and making money and stuff."

Mike grimaces, snorts, and takes another swig of his beer. "Rick's a cocky son-of-a-bitch who doesn't know how the world works."

"I don't think he meant anything by it, Dad. I think he worries about you like all of us do."

Mike sighs and slumps back onto the sofa. "Yeah, I know you do, and that's my fault for letting myself become too caught up in my work. I promise you, Pete, going forward I'm gonna do better. Already, I've cleared my schedule so that Friday nights like this will be free to spend with the family."