To Nifty Staff: This multi-chaptered story should be categorized under High School and Incest. The story takes place in a high school setting, and features incestuous scenes between the main character, his brother, and father - the permutations of which are still to be figured out - in addition to non-familial related characters. While the main character is noted and identifies as bisexual, he will only explore sexual encounters with males through the entirety of this story, thus making this a gay love story.
Hello, Nifty readers! This story has been percolating in my head for quite some time. While there will be a lot of sexual moments featured throughout to get your rocks off to, this is also a love story. Feedback, comments, questions, and suggestions are completely welcome. Please email jbeatle43@gmail.com and I will respond as soon as possible.
Please note that this story is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and situations are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead - is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
If you are under eighteen years of age, or live in an area where reading this is not allowed, please do not read.
Chapter One: Spanking the Monkey is Perfectly Normal
It all began when I was sixteen years old. My father was concerned for my health. Being a well-respected doctor meant he would scrutinize every little thing that would happen to my brother, Adam, and I. Adam was older than me by five years. Neither of us had that much in common with the other, and that's what worried my dad - the difference in our masturbation habits.
"This is the fifth time you've gone to the bathroom, Charlie," my father said from the living room couch, frowning so hard his brow was creasing something fierce. "How long has this been going on? Is everything okay? Adam was never like this."
Naturally, I flushed crimson. If you're a guy, you know very well how often you need your privacy upon entering your teenage years, and it is not something you want to share with your parent, regardless of the fact that you know he went through the same damn thing when he was your age. I was masturbating much more than the average boy, according to my father. And after telling him that this had been happening since puberty began, he was even more worried.
"Is there any pain?" he asked as he looked me over clinically.
"No," I muttered. "No pain. Only pleasure."
I mean, I understood where he was coming from. He was a parent. He had every right to be concerned. It's just...there wasn't anything to be concerned about this. At least I hoped that would be the case. And it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that my father would get all clinical with me. So, I did my best to take it in stride. Even when he said...
"We will have to get you checked out. And soon. I'll make an appointment after work." My father looked at me and sighed. "You'd tell me if anything was really wrong, wouldn't you?
"Yes, Dad," I said truthfully. Because I really would.
"Alright then," he said, understanding that he wasn't going to get anything more from me.
In my professional opinion, my personal love habits were normal considering the way God made me. I was freakishly tall for my age, having begun puberty when I was eight and finished by the time I was twelve. I was six foot five and had big hands and feet. It was an adventure in itself just trying to find gloves, and a fucking trip to find shoes that were a size fourteen...and a half.
And that wasn't the only thing of me that was big. My ass was huge and meaty, but that never bothered me. In fact, I'd be lying if I said I didn't preen like a peacock every time someone, male or female, checked out my derriere. My cock sat flaccid at nearly six inches over a pair of nuts that were basically two softballs glued together and grew to nine and one-quarter inches (can't forget that quarter of an inch now!) when at full mast. And in case you were wondering, yes, I got made fun of many times for being tall, hung and all that jazz.
At first it bothered me. I remember when I ran crying to him the first time the other guys saw me naked in the locker room in seventh grade. He was a senior and said, "Things could be a lot worse than having a donkey dick and an ass you can see from Mars."
"How?" I asked him through tear-filled eyes and a runny nose.
"By having a dick that's three inches soft, five inches hard, and an ass that's as flat as a pancake."
I knew instantly he was talking about himself. Although, his ass wasn't flat. It wasn't entirely a bubble butt, but it also wasn't as big ass mine. It was just perky. Despite that, I immediately apologized, but Adam just smiled this big smile at me and waved his hand like the apology wasn't needed
"Don't be. It's kind of cool knowing my baby brother isn't such a "baby" anymore. Besides, Dad isn't hung, so if any one of us had to be well-endowed, I'm glad it was you."
"You are?" I asked him, scratching the back of my head in confusion. "Why?"
"Don't know. Just am. Do I really need a reason?"
I shook my head no. I was just glad he wasn't the jealous type. I loved Adam something fierce. He was the one who was always around when our father had to be at the hospital. It was just him and me more times than not. And then it hit me what he had said.
"How do you know Dad isn't hung?"
"You know how Dad always made me take a bath with you when he couldn't be home to do it?"
I nodded, remembering our bath times very clearly. It's how I knew Adam was telling the truth when he said that he was half the size I am.
"Well, before you came along, who do you think shared a bath with me?"
I internally facepalmed myself. Duh! That made total sense and I was an idiot for not figuring that out on my own. But then I realized that Adam only saw Dad when flaccid. What if he was a grower? Before I could inquire any further, he explained further.
"If I had to wager, based on his flaccidness, Dad and I share the same sized equipment when hard, but you, Charlie, were just blessed by God himself."
I smiled, and preened, as Adam ruffled my already unruly head of blonde hair and left the house to go smoke weed with his friends. Knowing then that I was tall and thicc and big all over, I figured it had to be a given that my libido would be just as large. So, when my father and I went to the doctor's a couple weeks later, we found that I was right, and my father had nothing to be concerned about, even if he was still hung up on the fact that he never had to deal with this kind of thing with Adam.
"I'm just glad everything is in working order and that nothing about you is abnormal, for lack of a better word," my father said to me when we walked out of the doctor's office and weaved our way through the busy parking lot.
"And I'm glad that you're going to go back and stay in your own lane," I gave him my most withering look. This whole thing had been so embarrassing. My father was a neurosurgeon. He dealt with brains, not the male reproductive system. And that's where he needed to stay...forever.
"I'm your father, Charlie. It's perfectly natural to be concerned with all parts of you. Even the private ones."
"Dad..." I groaned. "Can we just move on? I'm already embarrassed enough."
"Alright, fine. Consider it ancient history."
"Thank you. I app--" My father cut me off to embarrass me one last time.
"Just don't hurt yourself. I know it feels good, and your body obviously has more than the normal amount of pent-up sexual energy, and hormones, than the other boys your age have that needs releasing, but if there's any pain, you need to stop," he said to me in his most clinical voice.
I covered my face with my hands and wished for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Then, of course, I imagined someone opening their mouth up and swallowing my penis whole and instantly threw a boner. In front of my dad. Outside of the doctor's office. Motherfuck my life.
"Can you wait till we get home?" my father chuckled. "Or do I need to hit up a rest stop?"
"I can wait," I mumbled from behind my hands, even though I really couldn't. But it would be a cold day in hell before my father watched me run off to the bathroom to spank the monkey. I know parents know their sons do it, and typically where -- bathroom or bedroom -- but they don't need to know the when. And as if he knew the truth, my father sped home, practically breaking the speed barrier. He pulled into the driveway, handed me the house key and watched me run inside.
"Don't say I never do anything for you, Charlie," my father called out to me with a mischievous wink as he drove back out of the driveway and headed off to work.
And that's when it hit me, it was a cold day in hell.
Fast forward two years to the present day. I was now eighteen, completely an adult, and still pleasuring myself the same number of times in a day. My father was finally over my masturbation habits and had accepted it as a part of who I was. Thank fuck for that. I was also still a virgin, which I was totally okay with. Over the past two years, I'd discovered something about myself. I realized that while women absolutely got me hot and bothered and standing taller than the Chrysler Building, men did too.
When you're as horny as me, and spanking the monkey as much as me, you're going to go find yourself going through a whole lot of pornography. Suffice to say, it didn't take long for me to venture from straight porn to gay porn, with both getting me to find my release in no time flat. And no, I did not have a quick trigger. I just didn't like to edge. I was afraid to really. The one and only time I did that, my father found me a quivering mess on the bedroom floor, having fallen off the bed from the power and force of the orgasm that I had denied myself for almost an hour.
It started out great. I had two different porn videos playing split-screen on my iPad. One was of a guy railing this girl doggy-style as her tits jiggled in front of the camera. The other was of a man at the doctor's office getting a physical, complete with a prostate check. That one was pretty hot, and I made a mental note to one day give myself the same.
I wanted the pleasure to last for as long as possible. It was a Friday night, so I didn't have a bedtime. I had just read an article the other day about edging and decided that that was going to be the night that I tried it out. So, I squeezed a generous amount of lubricant on my hand and got to work sliding it up and down my beer-can thick shaft. I made sure to twist and gently squeeze every time my hand reached the head of my cock. It always made my toes curl and my eyes to cross -- apparently while everyone else's eyes rolled back during moments of intense pleasure, mine liked to cross instead, and I fucking loved it. Before long, my cock was positively drooling with pre-cum, which only heightened the slickness of my cock.
The first time I felt my orgasm approach, it took a lot of strength and willpower to hold off from continuing past the point of no return. I had never denied myself an orgasm before and I found myself having to squeeze the base of my shaft and hold my breath in fear that I wouldn't be able to accomplish the task I had set out for myself. But I did. I found myself stroking myself faster and faster until the orgasm approached a second, third, fourth and fifth time. By that point, I was a sweating, panting mess and could feel every nerve ending in my body lighting up like it was the Fourth of fucking July.
I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and decided that it was finally time to pull the trigger. With one more dollop of lube, I went to town on my penis. Using my left hand to ride up and down my full 9.25 inches, and my right palm to rub circular motions over the head of my cock, I was soon proper gooning. My eyes were permanently crossed, my tongue was hanging out and I was panting like a fucking dog. My hand was flying up and down my shaft, only Barry Allen could match the speed, and my huge balls were slapping the bed hard, but in a pleasurable way.
That was when I felt. The mother of all orgasms. My body stiffened like somebody hit me with the Petrificus Totalus spell. I saw stars, I saw fireworks and I saw my cum shooting out of my dick like a fucking geyser. I was always a shooter, averaging five or six good shots each time I came -- even when it was the fifth of the day -- but this was on a whole other level.
My body was shaking like a leaf, from my head turning into a bobblehead, to my feet and legs twitching like a dog getting rubbed behind his ears, as my brain short-circuited. I could even hear my guttural groans coming out like like a lawn mower sputtering as it attempts to power up but failing. And then, everything suddenly went white. I wasn't sure if that was because I got cum in both my eyes or because I had died and was going to heaven.
The next thing I knew, my hands were flying off my cock, my back was arching, and my ass was clenching. Then, I went flying off my bed like Peter fucking Pan, suddenly becoming weightless in the air and crash-landing on my stomach. Somehow, despite my brain having exploded, it was able to tell my body to keep my ass in the air so I wouldn't smash my boner into the hardwood floor. And for that I was grateful. At least until my father came barging into my room, breathless and eyes wide with fright as he took in the sight before him.
It felt like hours, but it was only mere seconds before my father's face morphed from fear to confusion to understanding.
"Charlie," my father sighed. "Didn't I once say that if you were going to masturbate, to do so as long as you didn't hurt yourself?"
Motherfuck my life.
"Dad," I groaned breathlessly, face still smushed into the floor and cum leaking from my dick like a leaky faucet. "I love you and I'm appreciative of your concern and want to check up on me, but for the love of all that is holy...please GET OUT!" He was seriously killing my post-orgasmic high.
"Just holler if you need me." He closed the door as he walked out, only to open it seconds later to say, "You might want to shower."
"DAD!"
It took me quite a while before I could get up and shower. And even then, I felt like Bambi on ice. My legs were shaking, and I had to hold onto the metal bar in the shower, lest I fall out and have my dad run in on me naked once more. And that was not going to happen.
Even though Adam was no longer living at home -- he had moved to the city and became a big Broadway star and was starring in the lead role of a brand-new original jukebox musical -- we kept in touch. I called him every Friday night after his nighttime performance. Because of my first, and only, edging experience, it was he who called me later that night.
At first, he was worried because it wasn't like me to not call on the dot. When I told him about the precarious position our father had found me in, he howled with laughter...for a very long time. I could only sit there and wait for him to finish with a scowl on my face.
"I'd say it's not funny, but it really kind of is, isn't it?" I acquiesced, scrubbing a hand down my face and grimacing when I realized I hadn't gotten all the spunk off like I had thought.
"Only you, Charlie, could get yourself into these...predicaments," my brother said between wheezes and fits of laughter.
"I can't help it. It's like Dad has this sixth sense for when I'm masturbating. I'd be creeped out if the embarrassment factor wasn't stronger."
"Don't be creeped out," Adam said calmly. Then, he sighed and added, "Dad has caught me plenty of times."
"He has?" I was starting to get hopeful that I wasn't the only one with this kind of shitty luck.
"Yes, he has. Usually, it was when I was in the shower. I'd be in there rubbing one out when Dad would decide that was the perfect time to take a much-needed shit.
"Gross!" I didn't need the image of my father taking a shit in my head, but there it was, burned into my mind for all of eternity. Thank you very much, Adam Gregory McCallister, adoring brother of mine.
"And like you, it was always when I was about to unleash my children."
It was my turn to howl with laughter. Not only was it funny, but it was true. Sperm really is a part of our children. I say a part, because you need an egg to make the whole child. I learned that in health class. I'm not just a beauty.
"I can't count how many times I'd watch my cum go splat multiple times on the shower door as Dad was sitting down...eye level."
"Did he always have some witty comment after you finished?" I crossed my fingers, wished, hoped, thought and prayed.
"Always," Adam groaned. "The best one was when he said, `You know, Adam, I think you could give Jackson Pollack a run for his money.'"
"Oh my gosh!" I cried out with laughter. "I would've dropped dead on the spot."
"What made it even worse was that I had to get out of the shower right after that, rocking a semi, and sometimes with a bit of cum still hanging from the tip of my dick. And you know what Dad would do?"
I was almost afraid to ask, but curiosity got the best of me. "What would he do?"
"He'd fucking hand me a wad of toilet paper, smiling that smile he gives his patients before dosing them up on anesthesia, and then wait for me to hand it back to toss into the toilet while he was still sitting on it."
I couldn't stop the snort from escaping.
"Like he would just lean over, ass rising into the air, and deposit the toilet paper beneath him like it was a wad of used gauze," Adam continued.
I let out a relieved sigh and leaned back against the headboard of my bed. "I'm so glad it's not just me who's had to deal with this." And then my eyes narrowed. "But what I'm now beginning to wonder, Adam, is why the hell you never told me any of this!."
"You never asked," he said, and I could practically hear the shrug.
"What?!" I screeched like a girl. "You mean all I had to do was ask?!"
"Of course, bro. What else are brothers for than to bond over embarrassing fathers?"
I groaned and scrubbed my hand down my face. This time, there was no spunk, and for that I was grateful. It would have been dried up, caked on like makeup, and been a bitch to get off. Almost like drool. The rest of the night, Adam and I shared embarrassing stories that were only made more embarrassing because of our father.
It wouldn't be until many, many, many, many, many years later when our father was on his deathbed that he would tell us that while he knew he embarrassed the ever living shit out of us in our puberty years, he did it not only because he figured it would help bond Adam and I -- which it totally did -- but because it meant we had a father who was totally cool with us being boys and doing what all, or almost all, boys do. And he wasn't wrong. Where most fathers would freak out or tell their sons that playing with themselves was wrong, our father would cracked a joke and then leave us to our misery.
So, if you're reading this, know that even if your father walks in on you with your cock in your hand, spanking the monkey is perfectly normal.