Accepting the Petey Within

By ten.emohtfos@ecifetra

Published on Nov 25, 2020

Gay

Disclaimers

This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of sexual contact between males. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if you find this subject offensive, please leave and do not read on. Safer sex techniques (i.e., use of condoms, etc.) have not been included for the sake of storytelling technique. Real life, however, is not storytelling; and condoms should be used without fail during anal intercourse and other high-risk activities (even you boys on PrEP and you undetectable guys).

All rights reserved. This story is copyrighted by the author and commercial use is prohibited without the express permission of the author. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

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The author would appreciate any comments or questions you might have about the story. Constructive criticism preferred. Please contact artefice@softhome.net.

Accepting the Petey within, part four – home life, addicted to cum, 2 of 2

I close my door and walk over toward him. I see him notice my tent.

"Kneel in front of me," still with that friendly voice.

I stand between his legs, my feet against his pj bottoms and drop to my knees. He takes his hand off his dick and tells me to hold it with both my hands. I wrap my small hands around his dick, one at the base, the other just above it. It feels like a rock covered in satin. With my hands around it, there are still a couple inches of the head and shaft exposed, making him about 7 inches long. It gently slopes toward me. My fingers are not able to touch, making him about 2 inches wide. There is some sort of lubricant on it, so his prick glides up and down within my fists as he slowly pumps his pelvis up and down. With each pump down, as his dick disappears into my fists, the head of his dick disappears into a hood of excess skin. With each pump up, his dick reappears, and the head of his prick first peaks out of the hood, then comes completely out.

I am afraid to look directly at him, so I focus on his penis instead. In my peripheral vision, I can see that he has rested his head back again. His pelvic thrusting becomes less and I compensate by starting to move my hands up and down. With each pull up, his ball sac rises and I can see the patch of skin between it and his asshole. Finally, he stops moving completely and I am doing all the work.

"Twist your hands," he whispers (I don't think I had ever heard him whisper before). As I move my small hands up and down his shaft, I start to rotate them. He moans, which I find to be an incredibly stimulating positive reinforcement both to my mind and to my penis. I don't know what we are doing, but I have never felt this close to one of my brothers before and the feeling is electric. I will do anything for this sort of closeness.

He whispers, "Squeeze harder."

I do as he asks while continuing to move my hands up, down and in rotation. Drops of sweat form in the middle of his chest. His abdominal muscles tighten. His muscles tighten, all over. His ball sac starts to rise. His dick seems to swell even bigger. He slowly pumps his hips forward, pushing the base of his cock into my bottom fist. He pulls back. Then a quick pump forward. His penis starts to spurt a milky white fluid. It looks to have the consistency of uncooked egg white, but the color of cooked egg white. The first gob lands on his chest between his nipples (which I hadn't even noticed are about twice the size of mine and swollen).

I have no idea what is happening. I freeze. Suddenly (I don't even remember seeing his hands move), he grabs my wrists and continues to pump his dick with my fists. Each time he pushes my fists down into the base of his cock, another spurt of liquid shoots from his dick. The next several shots are less voluminous and travel progressively less far and with far less accuracy. The final globs are everywhere – on his thighs, some on his balls, one burst lands on the floor. The final fluid just oozes out of his foreskin and dribbles down over my hands. I am afraid to move. I don't know what has just happened. Charles lets go of my wrists, opens his eyes, raises his head and looks directly at me, but he doesn't say anything.

I finally looked up at him and ask, "Are you okay?"

I think he laughs ever so softly and says, equally softly, "I'm just fine."

Emboldened by his soft tone, I ask, "What is that?' – looking at the liquid covering his torso.

After a moment's thought, he replies, "That's a treat that I made especially for you."

And then, the question, "Do you want to taste it?", followed by my big brother's opinion, "It's the best taste ever."

This is completely uncharted territory, but I am not going to miss an opportunity to please Charles, so I hurriedly say, "Yes, please."

He scoops up a glob with his left index finger and holds it out to me.

Talk about a defining moment. I stick my tongue out and he lets the glob drip onto it. I close my mouth and savor the taste. I swallow. It is warm and a little salty and a little sweet. I would not have called it "the best taste ever"; but, if Charles says it is, then it is. And so is born my craving for cum.

He asks if I like it and, eager to please, I enthusiastically say, "Yes."

He tells me I can lick the rest of it off his chest. I reluctantly let go of his penis, which is now soft and about half the size. As I get up and move to his side, I lick off the cum that has dribbled onto my fingers. Charles smiles. I bend over and lap up every drop of cum from his chest and stomach. The cum taste is mixed with the taste of his sweat. He is right. It is the best taste ever.

I gaze down at the cum oozing out of his foreskin.

I turn my head to look at him. I may have licked my lips, but the look in my eyes is an unmistakable "Please?".

Again, he smiles, then says, "Someday. When you've earned it."

I stand upright and wait. Charles doesn't move. He doesn't try to cover up or anything. I boldly look him up and down, stopping longer than I should staring at his amazing crotch, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Finally, he says, "You know, this is something buddies do, but they never talk about. So, let's keep this our secret, okay?"

A secret between me and my "buddy" Charles! I am elated. (I also now adore it when he called me "buddy" around the house.)

"Of course, Charles. I will never tell anyone," I answer – truthfully.

"I notice your little dicklet has been hard since the moment you walked in the room." Then, Charles winks at me.

He knows me, better than I know myself.

Back in my room. I know I will not be able to fall asleep until I go back into the bathroom and lick that glob of cum off the floor with my tongue.

Which. Of course. I do.

Author's note: Again, thanks for reading to the end. And, so, my story really begins.

Next: Chapter 5


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