Old high school buddies meet up and reminisce about the good-ole-dick-sucking-days. An excerpt from my 2017 novel My Sister’s Boyfriend.
“It’s not like we only do it when we’re drunk anymore. It’s all the time, and I’m sick of pretending like it isn’t.”
Kevin and Toby had discussed it earlier – the donuts were so fat and puffy that they barely had holes in the middle. If they were going to get them on, their cocks were going to have to be hard.
“Yo – Jason? Bro? You home?” said a voice downstairs. It was Nick, his older brother. We scrambled to put our pants on.
The briefs were stretched taut to accommodate the loaves of his butt, protruding like a shelf from his arched back. This was nothing like that manipulative box photo, so eager to turn you on but not wanting to offend. This was the real deal.
He’s half-naked, his impossibly flawless and muscled torso swaying as he walks past me. He wears a pair of black nylon shorts, the mounds of his plump butt practically bouncing as he walks. He must have just finished running.
My mom always said that Uncle Barry refused to grow up. From what I gathered, listening to my parents talk about my father’s youngest sibling, he was a roustabout and a bit of a free spirit.
A young man is lazily seduced by his aunt’s hot, good-for-nothing husband.
A second-hand story of brotherly incest.
He had a big ass. I pulled his cheeks apart. His hole was pink and clean. I poured a little honey down his crack and it drizzled over his hole.