Best-Friend Fantasy Comes True

[gaytxn09]

Hehe. I enjoyed that update. I'm guessing the NEXT one will be more than slightly sexual. ;-)

 

[tocarter]

Still Writing A Fantastic Story, Thanks So Much. Keep It Up Please!!!!

 

[Bodhi1]

Wow! Twins!!! A sexual fantasy, although I have made out with 2 sets of identical twins, all of whom were gay ... They used to switch boyfriends without telling ... With the first set when I was 21, I had them both long before I realized they were twins ... The second set, in my 50's, they loved to play together ... Thank you for this last chapter, although I would like to put your bare buns over my lap & administer an erotic spanking for keeping on the edge of a cliff again ...

 

[sfcfml]

OK, here's the latest. It's, ah, different. And no, I don't use drugs.




Part XXV

I met Jay's identical twin on the night before we were due to leave for Chicago.

It was in a dream. And what a dream it was.

On that night at least, Justin was just like Jay, Actually, more so. Justin was even cuter, his eyes were even browner, his teeth even whiter, his body more jock-like.

And yes, his dick was even bigger.

As I met Justin for the first time, on a busy Chicago street, I learned that his sport was wrestling and not baseball? Why you ask? Well ...

When I first met Justin in my dream, he was dressed in a one-piece wrestling singlet. It was light blue. He was sucking a banana popsicle and walking a pig on a leash. I kid you not. That was my dream. And if you think that's bizarre ...

Justin's pecs bulged and the veins in his biceps visually throbbed, alternating left and then right, as Bobby McFerrin sang that annoying song "Don't Worry, Be Happy" on the street next to us. Bobby stopped long enough to ask Justin why he was walking a pig. Justin said he had to get it to market.

Made sense to Bobby.

When I asked about the popsicle, Justin said he was getting ready for the wrestling locker room.

Made sense to me.

There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of people on the street, but I seemed to be the only one noticing the 18-year-old in the powder blue wrestling suit. Justin's abs bulged through the tight fabric, and the nub of his penis was no mere nub given the way it was positioned over what appeared to be an extremely sizable sac of balls. There seemed to be balls three in all, though I could not be sure.

Justin got the pig safely into a cab and then asked if I could help him "with something sort of embarrassing that I heard you're an expert in." By then Jay, his dad, and little brother had appeared, all three of them with black ice cream cones in their hands. Jay was in jeans, and his brother in a three-piece suit. Their dad, meanwhile, was wearing a speedo.

I said sure and we left Justin's family members behind.

The wrestler's cheeks moved to and fro as I followed him and his singlet around the corner and into -- surprise! -- Wrigley Field. The fabled stadium wasn't at all what I had imagined. It looked like the Metrodome outside, but once inside we had to paw our way through clumps of ivy to reach the Chicago Cubs' training room where it smelled like hot dogs, leather, and grass.

Justin sat his cheeks on a training table and explained his problem. He said he had signed a contract to be a professional wrestler but first had to have a physical from somebody named Dr. Fitzgerald, and he had heard stuff about her from Jay and was "sorta worried."

Justin dangled his legs nervously as I told him that I understood and that he had come to the right place.

The athlete's voice quivered as he said his first question was whether he should wear the wrestling suit to the exam. I said that probably was a good idea, since wrestling was his sport, and Dr. Fitzgerald would have to make sure it was a good fit all over.

He asked if I could check.

"Check what?"

"The fit."

I said I could, and ordered the athlete to stand. I began the exam by running my hands over Justin's sides and declared that the suit was not quite tight enough up top. Justin's eyes sparkled upon hearing I had to check "down there," and he gigggled like a schoolgirl as I tried to cup his crotch through the tight garment. There was no way it all could fit in my hand, and I gave him the bad news that he probably needed a "custom-made" wrestling suit that was "smaller up top but bigger down there."

"You sure?"

"Not yet. Bend over, Jay."

"I'm Justin."

"I know."

I placed two fingers into Justin's butt crack and pressed moderately hard. "Have you been experimenting back here?"

"Only on Tuesdays."

"Good. Make sure you use hand lotion. Dr. Fitzgerald requires it."

"She does?"

"Absolutely."

Next I slid down my fingers until they bumped into the beginning of Justin's scrotum. I told the teen to bend over a little more and to spread his legs so I could "check the fit." The brown-eyed twin complied and I stepped back to visually examine the mound of an 18-year-old penis and scrotum dangling against the tight confines of a wrestling suit.

I cupped the package with my right hand, expecting to find three balls. Thankfully, there were just two. They were just big.

"Well, Jay, that confirms it. You need a special suit."

"I'm Justin."

"I know."

Justin asked where he could get a special suit. I said they made them in Russia, but he had to become a Communist before being approved. Justin agreed to think about it.

"You said the wrestling suit was your first question. What's the second?"

"Well ..."

Justin was blushing. He folded his arms and blinked his brown eyes fast and said he had a friend named Andy who had gotten hard at the doctor, and he was worrying that he'd do the same.

"Andy? Hockey player? In Minnesota?"

"You know him?"

"You could say that. Have you met his cousin Kirk?"

"No."

"Good. Stay away from him. He's mine."

I told Justin the best way to deal with the potential for an erection was to "go through the motions" and practice a little. He said he had practiced before, but had always "lost the bet."

"What bet?"

"With Jay?"

"Huh?"

"When we used to play doctor. We'd see who could go the longest without getting hard, and I always lost the bet."

"What did you have to do because you lost?"

"Watch him at his baseball game."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"And then eat his banana popsicle in the car afterward, after he had been sucking on it."

"That doesn't sound so bad either."

"Well, it's sort of sweaty."

"What?"

"Jay's popsicle."

"I see."

Justin asked whether we could "go through the motions. " I nodded, motioned for the wrestler to sit back on the table, and peeled the top of the wrestling singlet from his shoulders. Justin jiggled his chest back and forth to help me lower the tight garment to his waist. I examined his nipples first. They were hard and surprisingly large. I asked whether he was "practicing safe sex" when he was sucking his girlfriend's nipples, and he said he didn't have a girlfriend and preferred banana popsicles instead.

At that point, Harry Caray, the Cubs' play-by-play announcer, appeared over my left shoulder, sucking a carrot. Harry told Justin that he didn't have a girlfriend either, and thought he'd like to know.

Thankfully Harry disappeared and I turned my attention to Justin's seven-pack. As I finished probing his abs, I could see that the head of the 18-year-old's cut penis was hardening in the tight wrestling suit and that the organ was snaking toward his left thigh.

"Just like your brother, I see."

"What's that?"

"To the left. You swing to the left."

I ordered Justin to stand so I could complete the exam. He peeled himself from the table and stood with his arms at his side to let me do what I needed to do.

Then over my right shoulder appeared Dr. Fitzgerald, the sexy female physician who had examined Jay and me in each other's presence -- experiences that had led each of us to blow seed on the doctor's exam table, but for different reasons. Accompanying her, improbably, was Dana, the girl in three of my classes who had caught my eye and who was studying to follow in her father's footsteps to be a doctor. Dana was eating a Polish sausage and white mustard but with no bun.

Dr. Fitzgerald asked if I was OK, if I knew what I was doing. I told her I had learned from the best, and that Dana and I had been practicing on Terry, the swimmer from Dana's hometown.

Dr. Fitzgerald smiled, patted my shoulder, cupped Justin's bulging crotch, and told me "we'd" have our hands full.

Dana took that as a message to stay in the training room as I ordered Justin to stand. She was the one who delivered the bad news.

"OK, it's time, Justin."

All he said was that he figured as much.

Justin wasn't moving a muscle, so Dana and I glanced at each other and stood on either side of the athlete. Justin wriggled his hips but it wasn't enough to get the one-piece wrestling suit over the hardening mound of his crotch.

"You want to do it, or should I?"

"Go ahead, Stu."

Justin was thoroughly embarrassed as I pulled the singlet away from his waist. I peered down but it was too dark to see, so I manually investigated until my right hand came in contact with something the size, shape, and -- what's this? -- temperature of a banana popsicle. Thankfully, it turned into a Polish sausage as I held it against the teen's groin as Dana pushed the wrestling suit down to just past his testicles.

As I licked white mustard from my forearm, Dana and I repositioned ourselves in front of the wrestler and breathed sighs of relief to confirm that Justin did in fact have a penis, not a popsicle nor a sausage, and that it was pointing straight out. Pretty much.

"A little curve to the left, I see."

"Yes, Dana. Just like his brother."

"He has a brother?"

"Yes, a twin. Jay. Maybe you've seen him around campus. Baseball player, looks just like Justin."

"Hmm. I'll keep my eyes open."

Then Dana turned her attention back to the 18-year-old patient. "Justin." She was getting annoyed for some reason. "You need to take off the wrestling suit the rest of the way."

"I'm not sure I can."

As I watched Dana kneel to take matters into her own hands, Justin's erection bounced against her blond hair as he danced his body out of the singlet. Finally, Justin was naked, visibly shaking, and, true to form, erect.

I stood to Justin's side and placed his left ball between my fingers. Dana did the same on and to his right.

"Rotate."

Dana and I changed positions. As I reached across Justin's crotch, the underside of the 18-year-old's erection pressed into the underside of my wrist as Dana's hand pressed into the top side of my hand.

"Left is larger. You concur?"

"Yes, Stu. Left is larger. I'll make a note of it."

"Just like his brother."

"I see. Maybe I'll be the judge of that, someday."

"Maybe."

Justin apologized for the state of his erection. Dana said she understood and that there was only one way for him to get over the possibility that it would happen again.

"OK, what do I have to do? I'll do anything, except become a Communist."

"Lay on the table."

Justin complied and Dana took charge by forcefully moving the wrestler into position, making sure his feet were flat on the table and his arms behind his head. I stood slightly to the side and watched the wrestler's balls sag toward the training table's black vinyl.

"Move down."

Dana was stern, and Justin was careful not to cross her. He quickly complied and put his feet at the very end of the table as Dana positioned her head at the bottom of Justin's crotch and began bouncing the wrestler's dangling balls with her tongue.

"Oh my God! I'm not sure I can --"

"Stay still."

Dana bounced them perhaps 20 more times before ordering the teen to put his legs back down. Then Dana turned to me, put her face to mine, and stuck her surprisingly long tongue down my throat. I held her ass as I did the same with my tongue before proclaiming that was the best kiss I'd ever had.

"It wasn't a kiss."

"It wasn't?"

"I was checking."

"For what?"

"Open up."

"What?"

"Your mouth."

Next thing I knew, I had a ruler down my throat, and 20 seconds later the ruler was against Justin's erection. Then Dana checked her own mouth and confirmed that it would be a tight fit, but that I would have to complete the rest of the examination.

Justin was trembling as I stood at his side and placed his erection in both hands.

"What was it, Dana?"

"Eight inches. A little less."

The wrestler tasted like banana at first, but then like grass, and then weight-room sweat. The jock wiggled and squirmed, so Dana found need to hold his shoulders in place. Then the wrestler craned his neck to see what was happening, and at the moment his penis hit the back of my throat, Jay's identical twin opened his brown eyes wide, then closed them tight, sighed, and dropped his head to the vinyl with a thwack.

I held my head more or less still as the perfectly proportioned Iowa athlete bucked his hips up and down. The tube of hard skin barely could snake its way through my teeth, but oddly, surprisingly, somehow I was able to take the entire eight inches down my throat. By then, somehow, Dana was naked, and she stood at the head of the table and massaged her breasts as she watched me do my work. Twenty seconds later she was on her knees on the table with Justin's almost shockingly long tongue up her crotch.

Somehow, someway, I ended up naked on the table too. I kissed Dana even deeper than before as she bobbed her butt up and down on Justin's tongue. I massaged her shoulders as she grabbed my dick and started jerking it hard.

And then, as I moved closer to Dana, I felt it. At the entry. Of my ass. Dana moved her butt away.

"Stu, look here."

"Where?"

"At his face."

I looked down.

"Hey, man."

It was Jay! Justin had turned into Jay! And the shortstop's steamy dick was positioned at my anus!

Jay's brown eyes got wide. "Ready for some experimentation, Stuie?"

"Fuck yeah!"

"Got the hand lotion?"

"It's already up there!"

As I felt Jay's hard dick slide between my cheeks, I kissed Dana as I had never kissed anyone before. I was shocked how easily it slid right in. I bobbed up and down on the baseball player's crotch with my eyes closed, but then looked down and saw that I now had a completely hairless crotch that was, in fact, that of Ezekiel, Jay's massively large roommate. Over my moans I could vaguely hear Jay say something about "holy fuck," and "lookie there," and that there was "no need to hide in the closet anymore.

Somehow, someway, on that night, in my dream, Dana got her mouth around Ezekiel's throbbing erection. Well, my throbbing erection. Jay, for his part, plowed harder and harder. I felt like I was about to take the longest shit of my life, and Jay's dick seemed to be coming out my belly button as he continued to thrust upward and I continued to bob downward.

I dug my fingernails into Dana's back, which was warm and sticky. She was humming that Bobby McFerrin song.

Suddenly, Harry Caray appeared and said two words:

"Holy cow!"

And then, magically, with Harry and Bobby watching, my insides got warm and sticky. Dana's mouth stayed where it was, and I filled her beautiful mouth with Stu seed. Jay continued to bounce, and I continued to cum, and Dana continued to sweat and --

Fuuuuuuuck!

I was awake.

What the -- Oh my God!

I was a mess, and so were the sheets. That hadn't happened to me since I was thirteen.

I was panting like a horse and sweating like a pig.

A pig? On a leash? Really?

And Harry Caray? And a wrestling suit? And banana popsicles?

And Justin? Just like Jay?

And Jay? He was, um ...

Up my ass?

I rubbed my hands through my sticky torso and then rubbed some semen into my face.

Surely it was just a dream, a fantasy.

Would it continue to be?

 

[arito10]

incredible dream... I really am enjoying this story.

 

[DonQuixote]

If you're going to have a wet dream at 19 or 30, THAT's the one to have!

NICE chapter, yes, indeed.

Thanks for keeping the troops entertained.
We appreciate it - a lot.

 

[Craiger]

Now that was some dream, sfcfml. I wonder how much will come true when Stu meets Justin....lol It made me hungry for a banana Popsicle...

Craiger

 

[gaytxn09]

Great update as always!! Thanks!

 

[Undisclosed]

Uh?! A fantastic chapter just hit me on the head....

YUM!

 

[hardreader]

Farther and farther behind I fall. Not from lack of interest or appreciation, but just so damn busy. Finally read Chapter 21. I must say I had anticipated the twist at the end, but it doesn't make it any less fascinating. Maybe it's my infatuation for our young hard shortstop that made me wish the ending you gave us. But as soon as I can I'll wish for more. Better the young hero end up with a shortstop than the blond. Please!

 

[pe_gay89]

Wow, what a dream!

 

[sfcfml]

Part XXVI

As Jay and I set sail for Chicago, we weren't in the car 10 minutes before I steered the conversation toward his twin brother, Justin.

"Is he a wrestler by chance?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Nope not a wrestler."

"What sports did he play in high school?"

"None, really."

"None?" I shot Jay a look of shock. "Really?"

"Well, golf, but that doesn't count. I mean, as a kid, before high school, he did Little League, flag football, wrestling ..."

"Aha! Wresting! I wasn't dreaming!"

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"Anyway, once we were in high school, I don't think he set foot in the locker room. He was sort of a nerd, actually."

I glanced at Jay and tried to look as cute as possible. "So you are identical twins then."

Again, two dimples appeared below Jay's brown eyes.

"Fuck you, Stuie."

"If you insist."

Jay chortled and shook his head in faked disbelief as the sexual tension between us increased another tiny notch. We had experienced a lot together in the space of just a couple weeks -- the trip to Dr. Fitzgerald, Jay's stunt hiding in the closet, Jay confronting me about looking at his crotch from the first day I met him, Jay confessing to at least some sexual attraction toward guys at least when they're hard, me confessing to a bit more than that.

I relished in the moment of silence and glanced to my right and marveled at how Jay's jaw line, ear, short brown hair, and the barely-visible results of a two-day break from shaving all worked together in a way that, mysteriously, made me want to suck his dick.

As I felt my cock stir and refocused my eyes to the road, I pondered the possibilities what was ahead, and specifically what Justin might be like. As the ride continued, I got more than just a hint.

"So did your mom dress you guys alike?"

"Yeah. I hated that. Justin did, too."

"Till you were how old?"

"Into junior high, actually. Then the kids started teasing us, and mom got wise and let us pick out our own clothes."

"So Justin wore red baseball jerseys and you wore blue ones?"

"Ha ha, Stu. No, like I said, you might be surprised about Justin."

"Why?"

"He really doesn't look a lot like me now. Or I suppose he'd say I don't look a lot like him."

"Really?"

"I didn't mention the deal, did I?"

"The deal?"

"Justin won't be with us in the hotel the first night."

My heart sank. "Will he the second night?"

"Yes, that's the plan."

"Well, that's good. I'm looking forward to meeting him."

"He's a Freshmen at the University of Chicago, on three-quarters scholarship."

"No shit?"

"He's a smartypants, Stu. Like I said, he's a nerd."

"But a nice-looking nerd, I'm sure."

"You might not recognize him, actually. Sort of a greaseball, in a way. Wears these little wire-rimmed glasses, his hair is a lot longer than mine, pierced ears, a tattoo."

"Where?"

"His ankle, I guess. He just got it. Mom's not very happy, but we are 18, so there's not a lot she can do about it."

"Huh. But I'm sorry, Mr. All Sports Come Naturally To Me, I can't believe your identical twin is a nerd."

"Well, not so much a nerd as a non-athlete. He could've been one if he wanted to. He's got the body for it."

I liked where this was going.

"What do you mean?"

Jay rubbed his left bicep with his right hand. "He's sort of a natural, the little prick. Pisses me off. He's able to stay in shape without doing much of anything."

"Well, like you said, you guys are 18, and at that age it's not that hard."

"OK, not just stay in shape, but actually look sort of buff."

"Lucky him."

"Yeah, so we're at the gym this summer, a few weeks before college started. It was a fricking hot day. He wanted to sit by the air conditioning at home and read, but I talked him into lifting some weights with me, down at the high school. I lent him some workout clothes, and after we got changed, there at the high school, we headed into the weights. And after just an hour in there he was almost as pumped as I was."

I lightly punched Jay's left bicep. "Sorry, Jay, I wouldn't call you pumped."

"Whatever, Stu."

"But in the weight room, it was obvious how alike you two were?"

"Well, I didn't notice it till we were in the shower afterward, actually."

I VERY MUCH liked where this was going.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I hadn't seen him, you know, naked for years, probably since fourth grade when we shared a room, before my parents built a new house. And we looked identical then, same bodies, same everything."

"Everything?"

"Pretty much."

"And not now?"

"I'm getting to that. So we're there in the locker room, getting ready to shower, and I hand him something I always eat after I'm done with a workout."

"What's that?"

"A banana."

"I guessed as much."

"What makes you say that?"

"Never mind."

"Anyway, I slip off my shirt and start flexing my abs in the mirror, you know. See my results."

"Sure."

"He slips off his shirt, well my shirt, and in the space of an hour he already had the beginnings of six-pack, the little prick."

"Lucky him."

"And then he's teasing me and shit, saying 'See, bro', this isn't so hard.' Man he pisses me off! If Justin knows one thing, it's how to push my buttons. I hate that. So anyway, we slip out of our gym shorts and we're standing there virtually naked, and he just keeps going, pushing my buttons, no regard for human decency, the little fuck wad. So I started walking toward him, making it look like I was going to weigh myself on the scale, but then I showed him who's boss."

"How?"

"I clocked him."

"You punched your twin brother in the locker room?"

"Not at first. I charged him and got him down on the ground. It was tough at first. We were just wearing that athletic boxer-brief underwear stuff. So it's just bare skin, and we're all sweaty ..."

"Sure."

"So it was a struggle for me to get control, since basically we were naked."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, and then the little prick gets his knee in my crotch. That DEFINITELY hurt. It's like he instinctively knew where to go, which I guess makes sense since his crotch is basically my crotch."

"M-hm."

"But what comes around goes around, and let's just say I knew where his balls were too, and I got my hand on his goods and strangled his little nuts till he took his knee off of mine."

"Yikes! But I doubt they're little."

"Well you're right there. Anyway, then I pinned the sucker down by the shoulders and rubbed my knuckle into the little prick's bare chest. Of course, I knew right where to press, 'cuz his chest is basically mine."

"Huh. I suppose."

"Then he cried uncle."

Jay slapped his upper thighs to signal he was done with the story.

"And that's it? That's the story?"

"Yep."

I stayed silent hoping Jay would realize he promised more of a story than that. But he didn't.

"What about the shower? You were talking about the shower."

"Oh yeah, right. Well, the little brainiac, he always has a way of saying the right thing, saying stuff to -- what's the word -- deflate the situation?"

"Defuse? Defuse the situation?"

"Yeah, that's it. I mean, he says the stuff even when he doesn't mean it. Knows exactly what to say. He'll be a good lawyer someday. Been doing it for years, with mom. She's such a pushover."

"Anyway, you were saying, about the shower ..."

"Yeah, so, well, Justin's hair was pretty long our senior year of high school, and we dressed so differently by then, you know. He was just growing out of that Goth stuff, I think, and I was, well, pretty much like I am now. Jerseys and jeans and shit. So in the school hallways, we really didn't look much like identical twins."

"But in the shower you did?"

"Yeah, I'm getting there. Geez, Stu, you sure are interested in this."

"I think twins are interesting. I always wanted one of my very own."

"Well, be careful what you wish for. Anyway, we strip down and head into the shower. Of course, he forgot a towel, so he has to use mine. He's always been mooching off me. So he's completely naked, heading to the shower. And as I'm following his naked little ass down the hall, it starts to dawn on me, wow, do I have a little hair right there, on my ass, like he does?"

"Sure."

"And where it really hit me was in the shower, after we got the water going. He's showering right next to me, because he needed to mooch my shampoo. And when he's washing his hair, I just sort of take him all in -- his body and his hour's worth of six-pack, his chest and shoulders, hips, the whole bit. He really did look just like me, standing there, completely naked, without his baggy black pants and rock-band t-shirts, with his hair wetted down."

"Wow."

Jay paused in a way that again signaled the conversation was over. But I, of course, had one more thought on my mind. Amazingly Jay volunteered it and I went on to learn some things absolutely intriguing in light of our weekend trip to Chicago.

"Even down there, Stu."

"Down there?"

"In the crotch department."

I didn't know what to say, so Jay filled in the blanks.

"Stu, I know you were wondering."

"Shut up."


"But I'm right, aren't I?"

"So?"

"So what?"

"So, um, you two are the same, down to the last inch?"

"Appeared to be. And it was news to me. Hadn't really thought about it before. I mean, he wasn't a jock, and we had enough bathrooms in the house that I just didn't have a chance to see him in the shower at home. So apart from the occasional public bathroom and all, I just didn't get much of a look."

"Sure."

"And of course since he never got sports physicals, he never needed a chaperone. In hindsight, I probably would have gone."

I laughed as the Sexual Tension O' Meter went up yet another notch. Then I couldn't resist. I landed a blow below the belt.

"Guess you didn't hide in his closet, either, eh?"

"Fuck you Stu."

"OK, here? Should I stop the car?"

"Oh cripes, just drive."

"So you want to screw me while I'm driving?"

"In your dreams, dude."

"Wet dreams maybe."

"Wet dreams, shit. Just not in bed next to me in the hotel, 'K Stu?"

"I'll try to control myself. Maybe Justin'll be game."

Jay and I just shared a glance that can't really be described with words. Let's just say the Sexual Tension O' Meter went up several more notches.

"So, Minnesota Twin, you were sayin'?""

"Don't insult me that way."

"The shower?"

"God, you won't let it rest, will ya Stu? OK, anyway, Justin's got his face in the spray, and I couldn't resist. I just had to look."

"Look where?"

"You know, Stu."

"Tell me."

"And see, see if he's like me."

"Like you, naked?"

"Yes Stu, naked. Our dicks. And balls. There, I said it."

"And was he?"

"Yeah. Right down to the brothers."

"Brothers?"

"Our balls. Left one bigger, hanging lower. You know."

"Wow, sounds like you did get a good look."

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time, and maybe my last chance, you know, ever."

"Maybe not."

"It was just weird to look see, I guess, my flesh and blood, naked, right there. To think that's what others see -- OK, Stu, what you see -- when you see me. And it -- well, I -- was right before my eyes. Face, chest, abs, dick, balls, everything. It's weird."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, and not to be mushy, but I did sort of feel the love with my bro' there in the shower, you know? Don't tell him that, OK? But I did. And not in THAT way, mind you."

"Yeah."

"But it is pretty cool, to have a twin. So I don't know ... And I have no idea why I'm telling you this."

"You can tell me anything."

"But that day, something came over me."

"How so?"

"Well, Stu, it's weird. I don't know. I wanted him to have the same experience."

"What are you talking about?"

"I just, geez. I just wanted him to get a good look at me."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I put more shampoo in my hair, and lathered it up really good, and then put my head under the spray, and left it there a long time, with my eyes closed, knowing what he'd do."

"What did he do?"

"Got sorta hard."

"Sorta?"

"It was weird. Really weird. I mean, I just never thought of my brother in that way -- as a person who would, you know, have a hard dick, a dick he'd have sex with. It's sort of like your dad, seeing your dad hard. Well, ah -- Sorry, Stu, not your dad ..."

"It's cool Jay."

"Anyway, thanks. For listening I guess."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"More personal than what we're talking about?"

"Probably not. Do you think your brother, your twin, shares your interest in, you know, hard dicks and handjob mags and stuff?"

"That is a personal question, Stuie."

"But it's a question about him, not necessarily about you."

"I guess. But why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious. I find it all pretty interesting. Twins, turn-ons, stuff that runs in the family."

I had hit a nerve. Jay turned to the right and looked at the cornfields whizzing past. I knew him well enough to know that whenever he looked out the passenger-side window, he was struggling with something. Then he turned to look straight again and tapped the dashboard lightly as he explained.

"See, Stu, that's the problem."

There had been a catch in Jay's voice when he reached the word "problem."

"What's the problem?"

"You can't tell a soul, OK?"

"All right."

"OK, here goes. About a year ago, maybe a little less, I found a magazine in Justin's backpack."

"What kind of magazine?"

"Playgirl."

"Playgirl?"

"Yeah, you know, guys, naked guys?"

"Yes, I know."

"Anyway, I was shocked. I mean, last couple years, he's been sort of swishy. You'll see. So I always wondered. And the little glasses and pierced ears don't help. But he's had a girlfriend ..."

"Sure."

"But it just sort of hit me, in his backpack, when I went in his backpack. My brother, my twin brother, is gay?"

"Is he?"

"I don't know."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing at first. I let a couple days pass, and then I couldn't stand it anymore. So I asked him about it."

"No shit?"

"At first, he was super pissed that I had gone into his backpack. But I frankly did it by mistake. He had left it in the car, and I thought it was mine. So anyway, we're alone in the house, thank God. And he calms down, and says to follow him, that there was something he had discovered that I probably should know, but that Jeremy was too young to know."

"Where did you go?"

"My dad's home office."

"What was there?"

"A file cabinet."

"OK ..."

"I can't believe I'm telling you this. I mean, you're going to meet the guy in about two hours."

"I thought you said Justin's not joining us till tomorrow."

"No, my dad. You're going to meet my dad in a couple hours."

"I already met him, in your dorm room."

"That's right. And based on that meeting, would you have guessed?"

"Guessed what?"

"Where Justin got the Playgirls?"

"He got them from your dad?"

"Yep."

 

[DonQuixote]

Dear SFCFML,
I'm glad I was still online when you posted tonight.
A great continuation to the saga.
A lot of soul searching and family "secret" spilling between our boys "on the road" to Chicago.
This could prove to be an even more interesting weekend in the Windy City than Stu could have imagined!
HR may want to come join the boys!

Thanks for the intense work and effort you put into your stories.

 

[Undisclosed]

Thanks for another great chapter SFCFML.

... cant wait to know what happens at the Porn Parade... I mean Place... I mean Palace.

 

[Craiger]

This is getting hot! Stu has a great weekend ahead of him, that's for sure. Jay will as well, particularly since Stu and he will be stopping at the "porno" store before meeting the family. Maybe that's where the dad got his Playgirl mag...lol Now how is all this going to play out with the dad and the twins. Can't wait for the next installment.

Craiger

 

[gaytxn09]

How intriguing!! Keep up the good work!

 

[pe_gay89]

Interesting. I'm intrigued to see where this goes now. Is Justin gay, or just curious? Will the three of them try anything? What about his dad? All very interesting.

 

[drdivo]

This is one of the best erotic stories EVER! It makes me laugh, it makes me think, worry, and .. horny!

 

[sfcfml]

All right, some of you are going to kill me for this. So an explanation is in order:

My first draft of this part had Jay and Stu just making a quick trip to the Porn Palace and then heading onto Chicago and their shared bed on Lakeshore Drive. But after getting some feedback that guys were looking forward to what happened at the porn store, Stu remembered some stuff that he had, let's just say, forgotten. So, um ...

The good news is that the next part is basically written. I'll try to post it tomorrow if all goes well.

I know. I'm mean.




Part XXVII

As the brown-eyed ballplayer and I barreled toward the Porn Palace at the Iowa-Illinois border, I pondered the possibilities of the weekend ahead and yearned for some further illumination about the 18-year-old whom I was getting to know better and better.

Jay liked dicks, hard ones at least. His decision to hide in the closet to watch his roommate, Ezekiel, jack off proved that point. And it was becoming clear that Jay's identical twin, Justin, had a thing for the male body too, judging by the Playgirls that Jay had found in his brother's backpack. And clearly Jay had been struggling with the source of the magazine. The source was their dad, Barry, who would be leading the charge into our weekend at Wrigley Field in Chicago.

I had only met Jay's dad once, when he was helping his son move into the dorms. I had promised Barry to get his forgetful jock of a son to a sports physical, a promise I fulfilled in a way that let me chaperone the shortstop's remarkably intrusive exam from start to finish.

I was 19 and therefore a bad judge of middle-aged guys' ages. Barry seemed to be 40 to 50, probably right in between. From what I remembered, Jay seemed to be a chip off the old block, minus maybe 20 pounds and the salt-and-pepper hair. Otherwise their smiles, jock-like bodies, and cocky confidences seemed to be the same.

As for their cocks? Of course I was thinking about it. But more than anything I was thinking about Barry and what sexuality bucket he had to go in, where he'd be on the 1-to-7 scale. Obviously Barry had a thing for guys, as did I. But Barry also liked women, as did I. I mean, otherwise, Jay, Justin and their little brother wouldn't be on the planet. Right?

My deep thinking was interrupted by a chuckle through the nose and an 18-year-old's glance toward his crotch.

"What's so funny down there?"

"I think I better take this off?"

"Your jeans?"

"The jersey. My high school jersey."

"Oh, yeah. Probably."

"I just think it's funny, that I'm sitting here, right here, wearing it."

I didn't see what was so funny. I thought Jay looked cute there, right there, wearing it.

"What? Why?"

"Don't you remember the story, about the jersey, and when I was in the passenger seat?"

Of course I remembered the story. How could I forget it? But I lied.

"N-no."

The shortstop curled under his seat belt in disbelief. "C'mon Stu. You were about ready to blow me at the time. So was she, actually."

"Huh?"

"My girlfriend?"

"Oh yeah. Remind me. Let's hear it again."

"How she had her hands all over me, in her parents' car, after the baseball game where I had done so great but really stunk like a pig."

"And then, ah --?"

"And she, you know, gave me a handjob for the first time, and I was soooo horny and charged up, and it had been a few days since I had, you know ..."

"Jacked off?"

"Yeah. And how we're there, in broad daylight for crying out loud. And how my baseball pants and jock were down, and how she jerked me, and I pumped my jizz all over these very black numbers. Most of it riiiight here."

Jay was running his index finger lengthwise down the number 1. I about drove off the road as I envisioned a rope of the 18-year-old's white cum running the length of the tall and slender black digit on that very jersey, which his mother ended up washing after finding it wadded up in his duffel bag. I wanted to sniff the shirt, see if any remnants remained.

"Yeah, that must've been something Jay."

"Would've been funny if I had walked into the house like that."

"That would've been hilarious."

"My dumb mom, she probably would've said ..." Jay switched to a cracky-voiced falsetto to drive the point home. "... "Oh, cute! You two went out for ice cream after the game! But Jay, honey, you have to be careful, because you spilled quite a bit on your jersey. Look, it's all ... over ... the ... numbers."

I shook my head in disbelief but pushed the conversation with my own falsetto.

"But honey, Jay, it's still wet I see. So if you get it into the wash right away, it won't stain."

Jay was silent. Had I gone too far? Then he snickered.

"That's gross, Stu."

"But funny."

"Should've made her lick it, like ice cream."

"Your mom?"

"Ugh! No Stu, ick! My girlfriend. Maybe she would've, you know, swallowed, the next time we were in the car. I told you about that, right?"

Of course he had.

"I think so."

"The blowjob? But she wouldn't swallow, and it sorta bummed me out when she, you know, spit it back all over my stomach?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Didn't like the taste, I guess, of me. Maybe she wouldn't have done that if she had, you know, gotten a hint of what it would've been like ..."

I wanted to hear Jay's blow-by-blow of the blowjob story. Something just turned me on about hearing Jay's straight escapades, about hearing about Jay angle toward trying to do what God seemed to intend: for men and women to make babies. But we were at the Porn Palace, and it was already 5:30, and we had to meet Barry and Jeremy at 6. So ...

Jay entered the store wearing a tight white t-shirt tucked into 501s. I looked like a prep in my purple untucked polo shirt and Dockers shorts. We didn't get carded, but we most certainly turned heads.

I wasn't as interested in the porn as I was in Jay's interest in porn. It didn't surprise me when the athlete headed for the straight stuff, but my heart sank when he perused a mag featuring two girls. Then my spirits brightened when the athletic stud fixated on a magazine featuring one girl with one guy.

I had a beautiful side view of Jay's slender body. I focused on the 18-year-old's face as his brown eyes fixated on the glossy pages. When he reached the middle, he bit his lower lip and crossed and uncrossed his legs before tucking the magazine and one other one under his arm before ambling toward what I knew was the gay section of the store.

I held my breath. Upon learning about the featured content, would Jay hurry past? Or would he do what I had done my first time there: take a peek? Or did he have what I did not: courage to actually buy some?

My heart thumped as the 18-year-old gingerly picked up a magazine as if it was fine china. It featured young men whom I would later learn to define as "twinks." Jay glanced around to see if anybody, specifically I, was watching. I was, but Jay couldn't see me, so he paged through the magazine swiftly before giving me the greatest insights into Jay's sexuality so far.

The ballplayer sandwiched the gay porn between his other two purchases and quickly headed for the the rack of Playboys and Penthouses across the aisle.

I had to take this to the next level. The lower level. Where it was dark, but where I thought the chance was good that I could get some serious illumination of what made the student-athlete tick.

First I had to make some quick purchase selections of my own. The one titled "Blowjobs!" was an easy choice. Another magazine with three guys and one girl looked hot. I tried with all my might to head into the gay section, but Jay was watching, and for some reason -- maybe because I did not want to ruin the weekend ahead and the possibility I could end up in the same bed as him -- I just couldn't go there.

But then I stumbled into a section of the store I had not seen before: one featuring erotic fiction in general and gay fiction in particular. I had never heard of such a thing, and a title there caught my eye and ended up changing my life.

"Brian's Trip to the Doctor."

My eyes burned a hole in the book as I read the first page, which began:

Brian Jenkins had to leave his summer job a little early to get to the doctor in time for his physical. He was going to be a Freshmen at the local university, and needed to have a complete exam before beginning his studies. Doctor Johnson specialized in these sorts of exams, but Brian was late, and he worried the doctor would be unhappy. ...

I did the only thing I could do. I tucked the book between my straight-porn purchases and led Jay to the pay-per-view booths downstairs.

Near the row of booths was a little table where we were to leave our purchases. After we did, I asked Jay if he wanted to "double up" in a booth to save some dough. He said no, so I went to Plan B: Conserving my money and hoping Jay was so horny that he'd have to join me with my quarters.

I let Jay choose a booth first and then selected one across from him, dropped in three quarters, and took a trip through the channels to make sure gay porn was available. It was, of course. After the time expired, I peered through the swinging doors and watched the light from the video monitor dance off the black vinyl surrounding Jay's white athletic shoes. I hoped Jay had found some hard cocks, on the screen and in his pants.

After about 20 minutes, Jay emerged, his shirt untucked, his face somewhat flushed, and his pockets out of money.

"Shit, that's amazing! Wish I had enough dough to buy one."

"But you don't have a VCR."

"You do, in your room."

"True. Um say, I still got some quarters left. Wanna watch?"

"How do you still have quarters left."

"I had to take a break, you know."

Jay blinked fast as he tried to decipher what I had meant by taking a break, but then he shrugged and agreed to join me in my booth. I let Jay stand closer to the TV so I could hover over his right shoulder.

"You were watchin' this, Stu?"

"I was just flipping through the channels when the time expired." That was a lie. "I can change it if you want." That was a lie, too.

"N-no. If you want to, ah ..."

Jay's voice trailed off as he began watching the video of military-type guys getting their rocks off. The new featured attraction was a shirtless, tanned, nicely toned young man with a blond crew cut. He was much better looking than the previous guy on the video, whose cumshot I obviously missed. This guy was younger, about our age, 19 maybe 20. As we joined the show already in progress, the slender but muscled soldier began sliding his black boxers down away from his slight treasure trail to reveal an average-sized flaccid penis that did not stay flaccid for long.

Jay was silent as we endured cheesy music to watch the masturbator begin his tour of duty. My heart thumped as the video monitor flickered in Jay's eyes and off his face. As the seconds ticked past, as the white glare danced off the ballplayer and his white t-shirt, I was starting to get what I needed at that point: illumination.

With the teen soldier about three-quarters hard, the screen went blank. Jay fidgeted with himself until I put in more quarters.

"Want me to change it, to some stuff with girls in it?"

"After this, yeah. But let's just see what happens. Maybe a girl will come in."

"Maybe."

By the time the screen had come back to life, the soldier had made himself fully hard and was slowly jerking his erection while kneeling in front of the black boxers he had laid out on the floor. I felt my face flush as my booth mate adjusted himself, and the blood rushed to my crotch as I realized that I had firsthand knowledge that Jay's dick -- his hard dick, which I had seen! -- was even bigger and better than the one on the great looking guy we were watching. And that I would be spending two nights -- two whole nights, probably in the same bed! -- with the owner of the beautiful cock. And that I'd spend one night in the same room with his 18-year-old brother, his genetically identical twin brother!

The camera shots alternated between the military twink's face and his pleasing crotch. Then a wide-angle view allowed us appreciate the way the young star's tanned torso moved in coordinated fashion with each stroke of his penis. Jay's mouth was half-open and he was practically drooling. I wanted to put my palm on the back of Jay's jeans, maybe let my finger intrude to his butt crack where I knew Jay liked to have it, his own finger at least. But I thought it best to not touch the student-athlete until I had further illumination about where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do.

As I leaned toward the TV to put in the remainder of my quarters, I caught a quick glimpse of the lump that was tenting even through the student-athlete's thick denim.

"That's all the quarters I got, Jay."

"Damn! Stu, sorry, we might not get to, ah, the other stuff. Maybe a girl will, ah, show up."

At that moment I didn't care about girls or the the other stuff. I just hoped I had put in enough money to see Jay's reaction when the little soldier make his little soldier do what it had to do, what all guys have to do.

Suddenly Jay and I had a view of the military stud from the rear. The V of the young man's back seemed to glisten as the other camera featured his lightly haired ass. Then the camera fixated on an angle looking down from the stud's shoulder, from the angle that he would've seen as he masturbated himself. His erection curved slightly to the left and seemed thicker than what I saw on myself from that vantage point. The soldier continued to run his palm over his erection that he had positioned in a strategic position over the black boxers. The video seemed even brighter than before. I could see that Jay was cupping his crotch, and squeezing it ever so slightly, as baseball players have a tendency to do from time to time.

I wanted Jay to spit, as ballplayers do. But oddly, I wanted Jay to spit in my mouth. I had never had that feeling before, and I shook my head in disbelief of it.

The camera seemed to follow the young man's head as he bent over and positioned his left palm flat on the floor. The screen was illuminating Jay like never before. The Freshmen who just a couple weeks ago had warned that he "didn't need no fucking fags around him" was intense, so much so that he did not really notice when I leaned over to confirm that the college Freshmen was now squeezing the tube of his erection through the tight denim of his button-fly jeans.

Time was running short. I had no more quarters, and it must've been getting close to 6.

I did all I could do.

I prayed.

It worked.

The military stud must've been saving it up for a week because the first two splashes landed where I am sure the video producer wished they hadn't: several inches past the black boxers he had laid out on the floor. But numerous still-sizable cumshots then made a milky-white mess of the undergarment in no time. I massaged my own hard-rock erection as the video did a slow-mo replay of the ejaculation, and I about came in my Dockers when I realized that this is pretty much what Jay's girlfriend saw as she scrutinized the steamy, gooey results of the daylight handjob she had given to the stinky shortstop in the passenger seat of her parents' car.

Something about Jay having sex, straight sex, in his baseball uniform, just absolutely intrigued me.

And then, just like that, darkness. The booth was silent, except for Jay's shallow breaths, my beating heart, and the grunts and groans from the audio in another booth. They were of a woman, probably getting fucked. I wondered what sounds would come from whoever Jay fucked. Whether a girl. Or a guy.

It was almost pitch-black, but Jay remained illuminated in my eyes. I knew. I knew what I needed to know. I wanted more than anything to turn the shortstop by the shoulders, run my hands up his moist torso, whisper that enough was enough, that it was time, that it was his dorm-floor mate Rudolf whom I had sucked.

I wanted more than anything to gently open Jay's 501s, button by button button.

I wanted more than anything to put my thumbs on either side of his jeans and white briefs, to hear him chuckle through his nose as I struggled to get them over his 7-inch erection and past his knees, and to kneel as he placed his hands on my head and begin playing with my curls.

I wanted more than anything to sniff Jay's balls, so musky and dangling freely from a hot day in the car, to pretend they had been but constrained by a jockstrap in baseball pants.

I wanted more than anything to tease Jay's delicious balls with my lips as I relished the feel of pubic hair in my mouth and then teasingly tugged on the wrinkly skin of his scrotum with my teeth.

I wanted more than anything to pause right then, right there, just for a moment, to relish in the fact that the young man over whom I had literally lusted for weeks was to be mine. All mine.

I wanted more than anything to feel the ballplayer's erection slide against the outside of my cheek as I tasted the musky sweatiness at the base of his hard dick, squeezed his ass with my hands, and chuckled at the feeling of precum just starting to dry on the side of my face.

I wanted more than anything to place the head of the 18-year-old's erect penis in my mouth for the first time, to feel his salty precum on my tongue, to open wide as I guided the underside of the brown-eyed shortstop's hard-yet-soft penis along my tongue and to the back of my throat.

I wanted more than anything to be a participant but also a victim -- a victim of Jay's aggressive, athletic energy as the young man who was born to compete realized that I had what he needed at that moment in time: a moist, hot, willing mouth. And that just to be sure, he had to compete with me to get it.

I wanted more than anything to glance up and see Jay's pecs, still pumped up from the day he spent in the weight room, heaving and flexing with each of his thrusts, as whisps of dark hair peeked out from armpits that no longer smelled like a boy but rather like a young man.

I wanted more than anything to sense with my mouth when it was time, when it was time for Jay to do what Jay needed to do.

I wanted more than anything to do what Jay's girlfriend would not, to drink his every drop of semen knowingly, willingly, carefully, lovingly. The ejaculation had to be hard, and the ejaculate really hot and wet. He had saved it up, for me. It would be sweet but also salty, as it had been in the Kleenexes he left behind in my dorm room. It would be slippery but also sticky, gooey but oh so wet. Just like the strands in the Kleenexes.

I wanted more than anything for Jay to moan with intense pleasure as he blasted his rope of cum not onto a black jersey number, or a female physician's exam table, or onto his six-pack while reclined on my dorm-room bed. But into me, against the back of my throat, down into my stomach, where I could digest him.

I wanted more than anything for Jay to sigh heavily when he was done convulsing, to put his left hand behind his head as he revealed his armpit, to let me smell him as I stood, and then to put his mouth in front of mine and to actually touch it with his, knowing full well what it contained.

That's what I wanted, more than anything.

I about melted upon hearing Jay's soft voice.

"Stu?"

Jay had what I needed.

"Yeah, Jay?"

He is who I wanted.

"What time is it?"

He gave me what I needed and wanted.

"Three minutes to six."

During that very trip.

"Fuck."

But not there in the porn shop.

"We gotta meet my dad, and Jeremy."

Not there.

"Damn."

Not just yet.

 

[Bodhi1]

This is so hot!!! Love it! Can't wait for the twins & Daddy to enter the scene ... Yum!