My Sister’s Boyfriend Joey, Part II

By Natty Soltesz

I was trying to be good, I really truly was.  Then Joey walked up to me in the gas station wearing a black ribbed shirt tight enough to show the hard, nubby nipples on his pecs.

“Hey Nate,” he said.  What was I supposed to do?  I said “hey” back.  “Long time no see,” he said, getting really close to me so our conversation wouldn’t carry into the store.  The place was bustling, as usual – the Sheetz on Market Street is sort of the hub of my small town.  “What have you been up to?”

Since…, I thought.  Since the night I’d trashed my relationship with my sister, probably for good, by sleeping with him.  “I’ve been alright,” I said.  “How about you?”

“Good,” he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his track pants, inching the waist of them low enough so that his taut, white stomach showed.  “I thought maybe you’d went back to the city.”

“Nah,” I said.  “Still here.”  Of course I’d known that Joey was still around.  About a month ago my mom had mentioned, casually, that my sister was seeing “that construction worker again, that Joey.”  She was mercifully in the dark about me and my sister’s falling out, and I sure as shit didn’t see a reason to go into specifics.

“I got a job up at the hospital,” I said.  “Just admissions, paperwork and stuff.  It’s good.”

“Cool.  So where do you live?”

“I was staying with my parents but I just got a place, right down the street from here, actually, in the old opera house building.”

“Cool,” Joey said.  He looked around then back at me.  “So, like, what are you doing later?”

It was the moment I’d both anticipated and feared.  Despite the guilt that had sometimes made me physically ill over the past four months, I still wanted him.  Dreamt about him.  Jacked off thinking about him.  And yeah, I’d even driven past his parents’ trailer more than a few times, just to make sure he was still around.

“Nothing,” I said.

“I’m supposed to go to this party, but if you –”

“Joey – you comin?” called a voice from across the store.  Joey looked back toward the door and I followed his gaze to Roger Eli, a guy who’d been a couple years ahead of me in school.  Joey turned back to me.

“I want to stop by later tonight,” he said.  “What apartment?”

I found myself saying “Four-oh-two.”  Joey nodded and turned and strode to the door where Roger waited, holding open the door.  They walked out together, and I put my pint of Ben & Jerry’s back in the freezer and headed home to wait.


What I came to realize in the next few weeks was that Joey was an insatiable sex hound who seemed attracted to me possibly for the sole reason that I was willing to get it on as often as he was.

He showed up at my door a little after midnight, that first night, looking drunk and half horny, half apprehensive.  But it was less than a minute before we were full-on making out.  He fucked me against the kitchen counter, pounding my ass with an intensity I’d forgotten from our last encounter.  We hardly talked, just boned away until we both blew, he in the condom up my ass and me all over the cookie sheet I’d used to make garlic bread earlier that evening.

And later, after I’d reheated the rest of that bread and we’d eaten it with some leftover pasta and a generous amount of cheap wine, he fucked me again – this time in the shower, and bareback, and we came together as he held me fully aloft, my legs wrapped around his waist and his arms under my thighs, hoisting me up as he plowed his dick into me.

And the next morning (I’d made him sleep on the couch) he woke me up by coming into my room with a big old boner in his boxer briefs, which he stuffed in my ass for the third time in six hours.

So I filed my guilt away to the back cabinets of my mind and got it on with him, the best lay of my life.  We fucked at least once a day.  I gave him a key to my place.  Sometimes I’d come home to find him naked in my bed, boner ready and waiting.  I’d hop on and ride him before I even ate dinner.

Then one Friday when he’d come over with a case of beer and the intention of fucking me all night, he told me “Your sister’s been wondering where I am all the time.”

We’d just had a shower and were sitting on the couch watching TV, passing a joint.

“What did you tell her?” I said.

“Well she knows my mom is sick.  I tell her I’m over there helping them out, but she must know something’s up cause my mom said she saw Trish’s car going past a couple times when I was over here.”

“Fuck,” I said, blowing out a hit. “You don’t think she suspects anything, do you?”

“No way,” Joey said.  He set the roach on the coffee table.  “She – she never talks about that night.  Even though I apologized for it and all.  She’s caught me cheating on her before with Jen Ericksen.  I think she thinks I’m with her.”

“Fuck,” I said again.

“I’m careful.  I always park in back when I come here.”

“I know.  Still.”  I was stoned and the full gravity of my situation was hitting me way too hard.  I must have been sitting there lost in my own thoughts for a good while, cause Joey finally called over to me.

“Hey,” he said.  I looked at him, laid back on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, his hard cock tenting up the crotch.  I reached over, and pulled down the waistband.  Joey’s breathing got faster.  So did mine.  I got between his legs so his cock was in front of my face.

“Does Trish suck your cock?” I said.

“Sometimes,” Joey said.

“Does she suck it as good as me?”

“No way,” Joey said.  I went down on him, a few passes, sucking just as well as I could – no teeth, deep throat, tongue sliding hard against the underside.

“Tell me more about what she’s like,” I said when I came up for air.  My cock was hard and I humped it against the couch cushion as Joey talked.

“I have to beg her for it.  She doesn’t swallow.  And she goes too fast, like she’s trying to get it over with.  Not like you.”

“Does she play with your ass?”

“No way,” Joey said.  “She would never go back there.  She won’t even let me do that stuff to her, she thinks it’s dirty.”

I rubbed my finger along the slot of Joey’s asshole.  He quivered, his nuts tightened up into his body.

“Do you eat her pussy?”

“Yeah,” Joey said breathlessly.  I had his slick cock in one hand and my other hand was under his nuts, my index finger pressed against his tight hole.

“Does she like it?”

“Yeah.  But she doesn’t get the way you do when I eat you out.”

“What about when you fuck her?”

“It’s not like it is with you.”

“How so?”

“She doesn’t give it back to me as good.  Sometimes she just kinda lays there.”  I pressed my finger tighter to his hole.  His cock was harder than hard.

I said the words I’d thought a million times before but hadn’t had the gall to say. “I want you to fuck me like you fuck my sister.”

“Yeah,” Joey said, rising from the couch to kiss me.  He threw me on my back, hard, then grabbed my ankles and yanked my legs up and over my head, spreading my ass wide.  He went down on me, voraciously eating me out, until I was wet enough and he could slide a finger inside.

“Am I tighter than her?”

“So much, man.  Her pussy doesn’t even compare to your ass, it’s so fucking tight.”  Joey fingered me slowly, steadily.  He bent down and took my cock in his mouth, making a couple of breathless passes before coming back up.

“Do you ever think of me when you’re fucking her?”

“Sometimes,” Joey said.  “Once I fucked you right after I fucked her.  You sucked my cock right after it’d been in her pussy.”

“Oh fuck,” I said, my dick pulsing and my ass clenching down on Joey’s insistent finger.

“You like that I fucked her right before I fucked you?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I drop more loads in you than I ever do in her,” Joey said.  “Cause I know I can do anything with you, cause you’re as dirty as I am.”

Joey took out his finger.  He positioned himself, his cock to my hole, and slowly he slid it home.  We fucked so slow, cause we were both so close.  He fucked me slow and deep and we kept a steady stream of filthy talk between us, all of it about my sister.

Later, I had him on his stomach, on the bed, and I was eating him out – his favorite post-sex, pre-second-round activity.  Sometimes I’d eat him out for an hour, just burying my tongue in his hairy butt while he ground his cock against the bed.

“You like my tongue in your ass?” I said.

“Yeah,” Joey said.

“You want more?”

“I dunno…”  To that point I’d never done anything with his ass other than finger it while I sucked and rimmed him.  But that night he was ready for the whole nine yards.

I grabbed his hips and pulled his hips back so that he was on his knees, his ass raised up.  I knelt behind him and put my cock against his crack, pressing against it.  Joey moaned.

“I want to fuck you,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Fuck me.”  I lubed up.  I took my time.  I loved that, even after all we’d done together, even after all he’d done with other girls his whole life, I was taking his virginity.  When I was in the whole way I gave him time to adjust.  I reached underneath him – his cock was rock hard.

“You like it?”

“I do,” Joey said.  “I like you in my ass.”  I slowly slid out, then back in.  Joey groaned.  “Fuck me,” he said, so I grabbed hold of his hips and had my way.

“You can’t get this from Trish,” I said.

“Fuck no,” Joey said.  A few more pumps inside him and I had him screaming “Fuck me!” at the top of his lungs, which I did, until I blew what felt like the biggest load of my life, up inside the ass of my sister’s boyfriend.


They continued, our epic all-night suck-and-fuck fests, for another week.  And then it happened.  I ran into my sister at the supermarket.  And Joey was with her, manning the shopping cart.  I tried to turn around but it was too late.  I pushed my cart down the aisle, hoping I could pass them by with a minimum of drama.

She saw me then.  She was shocked.

“Hi,” I said.

“How dare you even talk to me,” she said, “after what you did.” 

She continued in that vein, admonishing me, her younger brother, in a way that, despite its intensity, was familiar.  This time I was a seducer, the violator of her innocent boyfriend.  I stood there, half-listening, suddenly seeing it for the self-protecting fiction that it was.

Because there was Joey, beside her.  He was stooped low, hanging on to the cart for dear life.  Yeah, I’d fucked up.  I was quite probably deranged, and a pervert.  But if I was ever going to figure anything out it wasn’t going to be there, in the cleaning products aisle.

So I walked away, her sneering judgments fading until I was around the corner and out of site.  I’d abandoned my cart, left it sitting right next to them, and I wondered if Joey would do something with it or just leave it where it was.