DARKNESS CALLS Chapter Two
The lights stayed off for a long time, I think. My memories of the next couple of days were pretty fragmented. The movie camera of my consciousness broke down and everything got reduced to a stuttered series of frozen scenes. Playing them back was like flipping through a photo album, if photo albums included scratch-and-sniff strips.
I remembered Fellers sitting in the armchair as the morning sun slanted across the living room floor and John served him coffee. Fellers was Suraman from Lord of the Rings and John was his servant, Wormtongue. I needed to protect Joey but Suraman commanded me to sleep, so I slept.
Another time I was awake and could smell Joey somewhere near by and my lust for him was going on and off like a light switch being flipped up and down. I smelled John, rancid with old fears, and beneath an overlay of spicy cologne someone who was a mishmash of different scents, of many people all rolled into one.
Later it was night under a full moon and I was running through the trees. The forest was alive with scents and sounds that no words can describe. I was tracking something that smelled like prey. At one point I caught it or one of its cousins: a scrambly-limbed creature roiling with fear-musk and quick-pulsing blood. I pulled it to the ground and as its body spasmed into death, I ate it.
I remember circling the house in the stillness between moonset and sunrise, smelling that the intruders had left and that my home was secure. Then I was back inside, sated, curling around my Joey. I licked and nuzzled him, checking to be sure he was unharmed, then settled down to sleep, feeling peaceful and content. The sleep went on for a long time, broken by moments of body-twisting uncomfortable wakefulness, and the sound of Joey's music lulling me back into sleep.
At some point the album turned back into a continuous movie and I became myself again. I was awake and lying naked in my bed, spooning against Joey. It was around noon and the sun was seeping through the blinds, saturating the room with a hazy glow. The house was quiet enough to hear the growl of a lawn mower a block away.
Joey was wearing sweatpants and his back was bare against my chest. His hair was tickling my cheek. As he breathed I could feel his ribs rise and fall in a gentle rhythm. He smelled really, really good and my dick was really, really hard. I mean the kind of hard that's so intense that it aches.
So there I was, just back from the most mind-blowing trip imaginable, snuggling buck naked in bed against my baby brother, my dick so hard I could use it to break boards at the dojang. What would Ms. Manners say is the proper thing to say in this situation? Excuse me, bro, may I introduce you to my penis? What's that -- you say you two have met before? How interesting. I must have been elsewhere at the time.
Slowly, trying not to disturb him, I began to ease away from Joey. Pulling my dick back from him was like yanking at the collar on a dog that's doing it's damnedest to get at something. Down boy, bad dog, down. So sorry, he's not usually like this. I don't know what's gotten into him. Down boy, down.
Then Joey rolled over and looked at me.
"Daniel, are you awake?"
I've always thought that has to be one of the world's dumbest questions. At the moment, though, my attention was on something else. Joey's face was less than a foot from mine. His amber eyes were right in front of me. His lips and my lips were inches apart. Oops, my measurements were off. Our lips were touching.
This time around it was a real kiss. I pressed my lips against his and pried his mouth open. My tongue slipped in. I ran it over his teeth, then swirled it around his tongue. How someone responds to a French kiss can tell you a lot about them. Some women I've kissed don't do much of anything and I know they're just enduring it. Some women push back and it becomes a wrestling match between the tongues.
Joey sucked my tongue in. He slid his own tongue along the underside of mine as he pulled it down his throat. The suction tugged at the root, sending a twinge from the middle of my lower jaw through my chest all the way down to the base of my dick, exciting the hell out of the dog I'd almost gotten under control.
That bad boy twisted out of his collar and was jumping and slobbering all over my brother's leg before I knew it. I broke the kiss and pushed Joey away. Couldn't get the dog under control, but I got my hands between my brother's chest and mine, getting some distance between us. Sometimes every inch counts. His skin was warm and slick under my palms. A tight little nipple poked into the palm of my right hand.
"God, I'm sorry, bro. I'm so sorry. You'd better go now."
"But Daniel, why?"
The question was so childlike and innocent it left me speechless. I didn't know what to say. The dog strained upward and started slobbering even more, like someone had just offered it a tasty treat.
I tried again. "Joey, if you stay in this bed with me for one more second, I swear I'm gonna rape you."
"No you won't, Daniel." His voice was calm and certain. "You wouldn't do that to me."
"Shit, Joey, don't you get it? I REALLY want to have sex with you."
"I know. That's okay. We can have sex. We've kind-of already started."
"Bro, you don't have to do this. I'm not the demon."
Joey opened his eyes wide and smiled at me. "I know you aren't the demon, Daniel. You're nothing like him."
"But – "
"Daniel, you said that I get to choose."
Suddenly the space between us was gone and I was kissing him again. Or maybe he was kissing me, `cause I think he was the one who landed his lips on mine. My inner judge banged his gavel and ruled that the appropriate disclaimers had been filed and that full and informed consent had been granted. Or maybe he just adjourned for lunch. In any event, he shut up.
I rubbed my palm lightly over Joey's nipple as my tongue slid halfway down his throat. His sucking paused just long enough to let out a small gasp. That soft exhalation hit me harder than the screams of a woman in the throws of orgasm. It was the first escape of pleasure from the Alcatraz that had been my brother's life for six years. I wanted him to have more. I wanted him free to take in all the pleasure there is to be had in the world.
Mostly, though, I wanted to get my rocks off.
I rolled onto him. We were pressed chest to chest. God, he felt so slick and smooth. I ground my hips against his as we kissed. My tongue was thrashing all over his mouth. It slid out over his lips and started wandering across his face. Joey has hardly any facial hair. He has some soft whiskers on his upper lip and a few on his lower jaw and chin, but that's it. He shaves maybe once a week, at most.
His cheeks were smooth and tasted Joey-salty. I nibbled on the edge of his jaw and worked my way down to his chin, then continued my way across the other jaw to the base of his ear. I caught the earlobe between my teeth and sucked it in.
"Oooh," another moan escaped from island Alcatraz.
I did a knuckle pushup on the bed to get a satellite view of the situation. Joey was sprawled out beneath me. His head was tilted back on the pillow, hair flung out around it like a gleaming black corona. From the scaffolding of his shoulder blades the arc of his neck thrust upward. The caramel slopes of his chest rose up and down with each rapid breath. His nipples were hard and erect, like the erasers on my #10 fines.
Okay, that's a pretty eclectic mix of imagery. Words aren't my medium. Someday I'll have to paint him. Oh, yeah -- I really want to paint him.
Meanwhile during all this that bad dog was still slobbering away and a line of drool swung from the tip of my dick to a wet spot on Joey's sweatpants. I dropped my hips to grind into his pelvis as I continued to look down at him. He looked up at me with his topaz eyes and his lips parted in the most beatific smile I have ever seen.
And I felt it.
Through his sweats, pressing against me, his own bad dog was coming out to play. My brother's dick was getting hard.
I had no idea what was going on in his head. After all those years of sleepwalking through life, something was waking up inside of him. And it was happening with me. This would always be his first time. Would he regret that? Would he someday hate me for it? The smile on his face said probably not, but honestly at that moment I didn't care.
I fell onto the bed beside him and slid my hand across Joey's chest, over the edge of his sternum and -- whoosh -- down the concave slope of his belly to the top of his sweats. After the smoothness of his skin that cotton felt way too coarse. It really had to go.
"Bro, can we take these off?"
"Yeah, Daniel," he breathed. "Okay."
He slid his sweats down to his ankles. I reached down and pulled them all the way off. Nothing underneath; we were both buck-naked now.
I cupped my hand under the instep of his foot and rubbed his heel. I slid my palm up the back of his leg to his knee, then over and around to the inside of his thigh. He had hair here, but it was a lot sparser than mine, and so soft.
Oh, yeah.
I left my hand there, rubbing the muscle of his inner thigh, feeling the taut strength of it, while my gaze continued up to take a gander at the only erection other than my own that I'd ever seen. A day of firsts, not just for Joey. His pubic bush was black and thicker than I expected. Unlike mine, which went from forest to woodlands to savanna, his had a sharp demarcation. Forest, plains. It wasn't trimmed, which I've found is one of the best ways to learn whether or not a woman thinks of herself as a lady. It was just naturally that way. The thing jutting out of the middle of the black forest, however, was definitely not lady-like.
I'd never really thought about it before, but I guess guys have all different kinds of erections. When they're flopping around in locker rooms, dicks come in a variety of shapes and sizes, so it makes sense that there'd be differences when they get hard as well. Plus there's tons of variation in women's parts, so why not for guys?
Joey's erect penis was longer and more slender than mine. Proportionally, I mean. On overall dimensions I had him beat, but it's not a fair competition since I'm a bigger guy. His had a bit more of a bow to the curve. And the skin looked smoother and darker. The head of mine has some purple in it; his was more chocolate. Overall, his dick looked good on him. Nice trim, clean lines. So what the hell was I going to do with it?
While I was staring at my brother's dick the dog took a break. He sat back on his haunches, head cocked, not upset but kind of puzzled, like he really hadn't expected to see that there.
Then Joey reached over and ran his hand across my chest. He slid it down my abs, across the rolling savannah toward my own forest.
Okay, break's over. The dog's up and drooling again. I pushed back over him and slowly lowered myself. The hairs on my chest were standing up like whiskers, feeling the sweep of flesh beneath me they guided me in for a landing. I think they tickled Joey; another moan escaped from Alcatraz.
South of the equator the head of my cock made contact with his. I lowered my hips and our dicks slid together, rolling against each other. Then we were chest to chest and my hips were doing the bump and grind. It was shaft-on-shaft doggy wrestling, with lots of tail-wagging slobber.
Pressing against a chest that didn't have breasts made the experience different from what I was used to. Joey's hairless torso was firm and flat, uninterrupted by the soft mounds of a woman's body. It meant more square inches of slick skin-to-skin contact as I pressed my body into his. Doggy really liked that.
I was bearing down on my little bro and there was some whole-body friction going on. My mouth was a few inches higher than his, so Joey tilted his head back and arched his neck to get his lips up to mine. They locked together again and my tongue went spelunking down his throat, searching for surgical scars from that tonsillectomy he'd had when he was seven.
Joey scissored his legs apart to bring them outside of mine. He raised his knees and the inside of his thighs slid up across my hips to hug my lower ribs. He swung his legs up and planted a calf across each cheek of my ass, pulling my crotch tighter against his. The friction between us ratcheted up a notch; I picked up the pace. Joey's arms slid across my upper ribs. His fingers dug into my back.
Sweat and slobber were making it a slippery, squirmy doggy play date down there. Oh, yeah, happy dogs.
The activity level was kicking up and I needed to increase my oxygen intake. I broke the kiss with Joey as I leaned more into things. I sucked in air, blowing into his ear as I breathed out. We were rocking and rolling against each other. Sweat had made Joey's chest as slick as the slip-and-slide we had played on as kids.
Endgame was approaching fast. My scrotum was clenching tighter and tighter and my dick felt like it was Bill Bixby about to turn green and start shredding his clothes. My breath was coming in gasps; Joey sounded like it was a full five-alarm breakout from Alcatraz.
Happy dogs were getting ready to howl. It's coming, it's coming ...
Oh, yeah.
The world closed in to a bright circle of light as every muscle of my body contracted. I think I really did howl. I'm not sure, because for a moment it was back to the snapshots, only this time with flash.
When the movie started up again I was laying on top of Joey and we were both gasping for breath. Our bodies were dripping with sweat. The evidence of dual orgasms was all over us, including a string of jism from one of us on Joey's forehead. Yeah, on his fucking forehead.
Bang. The judge's gavel slammed down. I guess he had just taken a break for lunch. Now he was back and staring at me with an expression of such disgust on his face that it looked like he might spew his meal all over that starched black robe.
"I've got to take a shower." I couldn't look at Joey.
"Daniel, it's okay." His hand brushed against my arm as he reached out to grab me. I was faster.
Doggy was hanging his head low, tail between his legs, as we slinked off to the bathroom. Bad, bad dog. I'm going to have to get a choke chain for that damn dog.
==============================================================
Well, well, well. Danny-boy's integration appears to be proceeding nicely. Guilt is such a marvelous emotion, isn't it? It's so uniquely human. You fuck up, and then you fuck yourself over for having fucked up. Works fine for me -- I love fucking.
InvertedBeast@yahoo.com