I wake up, as usual, with a boner, needing to piss. I love laying in bed, half asleep, the rich, ripe smell of my body in the sheets, my cock straining in my briefs, my bladder full. It feels so fine to touch my body. My fingers play over my chest, my nipples. I moan softly as I move my other hand down to the bulge of my crotch, gently gripping, pressing, stroking through the fabric of my briefs. I bring the hand that has been stroking my cock and balls to my face. I have not changed my underwear for three days and I can smell the musk of sweat and piss and cum on my palm.
I pull down the sheets so I can see my boner outlined in the stained fabric of my cks. I can't keep my hands away and as I slowly stroke with my left hand, my right massages my balls and moves below them so that my middle finger presses into my crack, up against the ring of my hole, wet with morning sweat and ass raunch. I push in and moan again, wanting to feel that wetness through the fabric. I bring the finger to my nose and inhale the sharp sweet odor then push it into my mouth, tasting the hint of raunch. My left hand continues to stroke my cock as my back arches up and I moan in desire.
I need to piss badly and I want to feel the piss in my briefs. I fantasize about just letting the piss come as I lay there, streaming into my briefs. But some corner of my rational mind prevents me, dreading the cleanup. I climb out of my bed and head for the bathroom with its mirrors and tiled floor where I have spent so many hours lost in the ecstasy of wet, raunchy sex with myself. It is Saturday morning. I don't have to be anywhere. My whole body has a sweet ache of anticipation.
On the way to the bathroom I stop at my dresser. Under a pile of my clean briefs I find the pair of dirty jockeys I swiped from my little brother when I went home for dinner two nights ago. They are already crusted with three loads of my own cum.
I shot the first load in the parking lot of a playground near my folks house on the way home from dinner. My brother had gotten so cute and he had been almost flirty with me that night. I saw the briefs in a laundry pile in his room. I saw his stains and didn't even think about it. I grabbed them and stuffed them down my pants. I had never done anything like that before and the intoxication of the act was a little frightening. Having his briefs stuffed into my own already made something of a bulge, even though I was wearing baggy khakis. And then just feeling them there gave me a total boner which I tried to adjust in the bathroom before I left but if anyone looked down there they could tell, I was sure.
I hurried out to the car; I am sure they must have wondered at how strangely I was acting. I pulled out Robbie's briefs as I started driving down the street and held them to my nose. I knew I couldn't make it home without jacking off. I pulled into the far corner of the neighborhood playground, ripped open my pants and stroked furiously as I breathed in my little brother's raunch. It did not take long to climax. I just touched my tongue to his stained crotch, tasting some musky combination of piss and boycum, and exploded. I used the briefs to wipe up what I could see in the dark light and when I got home and saw my cum still wet on his briefs, saw in bright light the outlines of his yellow piss, the slightly hardened sheen of his cum, and finally his surprisingly thick skid marks, my bone was raging once again. I stripped down to my own briefs with the huge wet stain of fresh cum spreading over the crotch and began rubbing Robbie's jockeys over my face and chest, my whole body. I wanted his smell, his funk, his raunch all over me. And inside me: I sucked greedily on the dirty crotch, savoring the taste of my little brother's piss, imagining him standing in front of the toilet in these briefs, with a morning hardon, pulling them down, waiting for his bone to subside a little, for the strong yellow stream of his morning piss. I saw him stuff his cock back in those briefs and saw the yellow stain of the piss he had not squeezed out spreading in his crotch.
Licking the sharp, sweet crusts of his cum I imagined him turning from the toilet to the mirror, admiring the beauty of his smooth, slim body, and watching as his cock swelled full again in his briefs. I imagined him pulling his briefs down below his balls, his eyes riveted on himself in the mirror, one hand stroking his large, thick boycock, while the other probed beneath his balls to his butthole. It was then that I pressed his ass stains to my nose and breathed deep. The smell of Robbie's butt raunch sent a deep quiver through my body. I moaned his name as I pushed the fabric inside my mouth so I could taste my brother's shit stains. Realizing how much I wanted him, how much I craved the taste of his raunch, I nearly screamed his name in pure lust as I shot load after load of cum, wiping it quickly with his briefs so I could suck it back out while the tremors of desire still pulsed through me.
I was a bit shaken by what I had learned about what I wanted. It was impossible. I had always loved my brother and he had always loved me but it was the love of brothers. Though we had joked around about sex and though it was sometimes like we were flirting with each other I had never faced up to what that flirting had meant to me.
I began to write in my journal, to try and sort things out. I had to admit to myself that tonight had not been the first time I had jacked off thinking about Robbie. He had grown up in the last year. He was not longer a scrawny little kid. He was a beautiful teenaged boy. He had a sexiness I hadn't noticed before. He smelled differently.
As I wrote I remembered that last summer at the beach I had stared at him, tanned, smooth, lanky, long sun bleached hair, and--as he lay on his back after a swim--I saw where his suit clung to the bulge of his cock and balls. I was surprised at how big they were and had to turn onto my stomach so he wouldn't see my boner. As he drifted off to sleep I had gone into a toilet stall off the changing rooms to jack off thinking about him.
Why had I forgotten that?
And it wasn't the only time. How many times had I started jacking looking at studs in boy magazines but ended thinking about Robbie? I had started going home more often. My parents were pleased but I realized that it was not to see them but to see Robbie.
And now I had made it real. I could no longer pretend that it wasn't happening. His dirty briefs, wet now with two loads of my cum, were material proof of how much I craved my brother. I hesitated, then wrote the word "incest." But in place of the terror or sadness I thought such an admission would evoke, I felt only another swelling in my crotch. I brought his briefs again to my face. I ached to masturbate one more time that night. And this time, mixed with the moaning hunger to smell and suck on my brother's raunch stains were such feeling of tenderness.
"I love you Robbie," I moaned as I rubbed his briefs over my face and body, kissing them deeply as if I could feel him underneath them." God I love you so much!"
I stripped out of my own briefs and put his on: to have my cock where Robbie's had been, to push the fabric of his briefs into my own ass crack, to mix my shit stains with his... I pushed my body up against the full-length mirror, making out with my own image, pushing my crotch up against the glass, thinking of Robbie, his body, his briefs, our cocks as one. Over and over again I moaned "I love you little brother!" as I shot my spunk load in Robbie's briefs for the third time that evening.
I have not cum since that night, still somewhat shaken by the power of my desires. But holding Robbie's briefs again all doubts disappear. My aching morning boner throbs with lust. I push Robbie's briefs into my face. I want to taste and feel his raunch as much as I want my own.
From my underwear drawer I pull out my dildo (made from one of those kits where you make a mold of your own cock), my tube of lube, and bottle of poppers. I am almost trembling with desire as I make my way into the bathroom. I lay the briefs, dildo, lube, and poppers on the counter and stand in front of the mirror and stare at my body. I am in love with myself in a way that occasionally scares me. It's not like I am overly vain. I mean, I don't spend a lot of time primping before I go out or anything. I mean, I care what other people think I look like. But not that much, really.
Objectively I am good looking but not like a Greek god or anything. My nose is a bit sharp and doesn't totally fit with my lips which are thick and soft. My hair is neither blonde nor richly brunette but more what people call dishwater and it is always kind of out of control. My eyes are so blue that people talk about them a lot but they are also maybe just a bit too big. My teeth are real white but not entirely straight. My body, while not at all scrawny is hardly the gym-buffed ideal. I am in good shape but "slim," maybe to some eyes even a bit skinny. I do have a great cock, though, thick and long like Robbie's. Anyway, I think I am completely beautiful and I get into this thing that maybe is crazy or perverted but which I love which is making out with myself in the mirror.
First I look at myself. usually I start with a big boner in briefs and I love the way that looks. Then I move closer the mirror, my hands running over my body, maybe kissing my hands, licking under my arms, saying out loud things like "I love you Mark, like I am someone else who wants to make love to me.
I am sure it doesn't sound too erotic to kiss cold glass but I get past that really quickly and just think about kissing myself. I realize this morning, as I begin to make out with my image, how much my attraction to Robbie has to do with his resemblance to me. I also realize that I love that he is just a boy and that he is my brother. These are taboos that make my desire for him even stronger.
The bathroom holds so many erotic memories for me. It is where I have let myself go, exploring the outer limits of my cravings for raunch. I want to go there this morning.
I cannot hold my piss any longer. As I kiss my image in the mirror and alternately moan my and Robbie's name I think about, ache for the feeling of morning piss to flow from my cock into my briefs onto the floor. I stand back from the mirror and gaze on my body, breathing deep to relax my cock so the piss can flow. It does not take much since I am so full. I see and feel the dark yellow stain starting at my cockhead, spreading rapidly as the pulse of my morning piss fills my already raunchy briefs.
The crotch of my briefs get drenched and I feel the warm morning stream flow down my legs onto the floor. I don't want to waste any so I grab the glass by the sink , pull my briefs down and aim my swollen cockhead so that the piss stream fills it. I push my cock deep into the glass so I can feel the heat of the liquid surrounding my shaft as the glass fills. I pull my cock out before I overflow the glass and stop the stream for a moment. I am still full of piss and don't want to waste it.
I grab Robbie's briefs and find the raunchiest crotch stains, yellow with his piss, and stuff them in my mouth. I lay back on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, as I have done so many times before. I sit up and grab the lube, the dildo, and the poppers, knowing things could get crazy now. I want my piss. In my face. My mouth. My hair, On the floor around me. I want to see my hot piss streaming out f my cock. I want to drench Robbie's briefs with my piss.
I scootch up against the mirror so that with my legs up against the glass I can see the spread and raunch of my asshole at the same time that my dick is aimed straight for my mouth. The cold tile is hard against my spine but I love seeing my cock aimed directly at my face. I want to feel my hot piss. As I suck on the piss stains in Robbie's briefs, I feel the wave of my own piss, aching to stream out. More than anything I want to see, feel, taste piss stream out of my cockhead.
When it comes the stream is hot and ripe. I cannot distinguish between the desire for my own piss and the desire for the piss of my little brother. All I know is that I cannot stop wanting to swallow it, feel it. I am in love with my piss.
But there is more that I want, I crave. I grab the poppers and take a deep hit. The effect is liberating. As I lay in the puddle of my piss, sucking hungrily on Robbie's briefs I knew--with the poppers--what I wanted more than anything was my and Robbie's butt raunch. Breathing in the poppers made me focus on sucking the ass stains in my little brothers briefs. And I looked at myself in the mirror, legs up against the glass, I knew I could watch myself shit, watch myself rub that shit over my cock, balls, briefs, and body, tasting my shit, wanting it to be Robbie's.
I look at my asshole in the mirror. It is dirty. Three days of not wiping well. I love you Robbie, I moan as I feel the shit escape my hole. Into my hands where I use it as lube, where I push it in my mouth. Where I moan for Robbie, wanting him more than all the raunch I have craved. Ever.