Disclaimer: The following story contains adult subject matter. If you are under the age of 21 you should not be reading this and it is illegal for you to possess it. If you read beyond this point, you are claiming to be 21 years of age, and that it is legal for you to possess adult oriented material.
This is a sexually oriented work of fiction. If sex between consenting adults, homosexuality or therein is offensive to you, DO NOT READ IT! By reading beyond this point you are accepting homosexuality and adult oriented material willing.
This is a fantasy containing characters from popular television culture. Special note. This story does involve incest. Bobby is Remy's younger brother. They are both over 18, but it is still incest.
The Big Easy: Remy and Bobby By R.A. Swain
Remy McSwain stood on the edge of the basketball court in back of his brother's apartment building. He watched his younger brother, Bobby, a 23 year old law student, who he loved more than anyone on earth. He also lusted after him, but those feelings, he told himself, were wrong. He watched his brother's lean body move up and down the court, shooting baskets, occasionally getting one. He smiled to himself. He'd been the one with all the athletic skills. Hell, that's how he got through college, on a scholarship, but then he changed over to criminal science as a major, and ended up a policeman. Detective McSwain, just like his daddy. Only, he was sure his daddy was never like him.
Oh sure, C.D., his uncle and police chief, assured him he and his daddy shared the same peccadilloes, but he knew his daddy never would've had desires for one of his own brothers. Although, some of his uncles were hot looking. The fact that he was standing here, on the edge of a basketball court watching his brother and thinking about how he'd like to play around with Bobby made him distrust himself. If I can think these thoughts, what else am I capable of doing?
Bobby tossed him the ball. "Hey bro, where you at? Come on. Let's shoot a few."
"I'm not dressed for it."
True, he was wearing a a blazer, light blue silk bowling shirt, T-shirt, tan dockers with matching socks, and brown loafers. Not the kind of clothing you wear to shoot hoops.
"So lose the jacket and shirt and we'll play a little one on one, or are you afraid your little brother will show you up?"
"That'll be the day, runt."
"Big words. Talk is cheap."
"Are you trying to hustle an office of the court?"
"No way, bro. Never bet money."
Remy bounced the ball. "What did you have in mind?"
Bobby smiled. "That's a nice jacket. I'll shoot. If I make the basket, then you gotta make it. If you don't the jacket's mine."
Remy laughed. "What do I get if I make it?"
"What do you want?"
"Okay, wiseass. I could use another T-shirt, like say, the one you're wearing."
"You're on," Bobby went center court and tossed the ball in the air. It hit the rim and bounced back. Remy laughed. "You still gotta sink it to get this shirt."
Remy took the ball from his brother, and in a flip of the wrist sunk the basket. "YEAH! I won, pay up."
Bobby looked at his big brother. An older version of himself, more muscular, but very hot. He peeled the T-shirt from his body. "You want me to wash it first?"
"No, I'll take it just like this." Remy couldn't take his eyes from his brother's smooth chest.
"You wanna take another shot?"
"What, for those shorts?"
Bobby looked around the courtyard. They were alone. "How about my shorts against your pants?"
Now it was Remy's turn to glance around. "You're awful cocky, kid. Tell you what. I'll throw in the shirt as well. My shirt and pants against your shorts."
Remy took the ball. "I believe I have the honors. Any kind of shot, right?"
Bobby nodded, and watched his brother do a running lay up, shooting and making it. "You're gonna feel awful foolish standing out here in whatever you're wearing beneath those shorts," Remy said. His mind had already stripped Bobby of his clothing.
Bobby grabbed the ball, took a running start, and copied his brother's moves exactly, to the basket. "Swish! In the hoop! Big brother, I won. You pay up now."
Remy felt a twinge of excitement. He'd lost the bet. Slowly he began unbuttoning his shirt, dropping it on the bench courtside. "I don't know about this."
"You made the bet. Don't play if you can't pay," Bobby said. He was standing a couple feet from Remy. Remy looked around making sure they were alone, and then undid his pants, dropping them next this his shirt on the bench. He felt his cock stirring a bit in his silk boxers with Deputy Dawg on them.
Bobby chuckled. "You're cop right down to your skivvies. Wanna go one more round?"
"I don't have much left to bet with," he said.
"All you got, for all I got," Bobby said.
"That sounds fair."
"Loser pays up out here, before we go back to my apartment."
Remy hesitated. "If you really wanna make this interesting, loser belongs to the winner for the rest of the weekend. I could use a slave to clean my apartment."
"Is that all you want?" Bobby asked.
"Open ended. Anything the winner wants the loser to do."
Bobby walked over to Remy and took his hand. They shook on it. "Big brother, I'm gonna have your ass this weekend."
Remy looked into his eyes, and wasn't sure what Bobby meant. He knew what he hoped it meant, but there would be only one way to find out. "You're shot," he said.
Bobby took and easy lay up shot and in it went. "You're ass is looking good," he teased his brother.
Remy retrieved the ball. If he made the shot he might never find out what Bobby had in mind. On the other hand, it was kind of hard to throw the easy shot. Remy moved about the court and followed Bobby's course, but held back a bit. He had to know what Bobby wanted. The ball flew up, bounced on the hoop, teetered on the rim, and fell, away from the basket. He'd done it now.
Bobby trotted over to his older brother. "Well, big guy, let's see just how big you are."
Remy heard the words, but was looking at Bobby's bare chest. He pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to his little brother. Then stepped out of his shoes, and tugged off each sock. "It is very public out here."
"Drop the boxers," Bobby said. Remy paused, looked around again, and dropped his boxers around his ankles. Kicking them up in the air, he grabbed them and tossed them to Bobby.
Bobby's eyes were glued to Remy's semi-hard cock. "Man, you are my big brother."
"Can we get inside, before I get arrested for indecent exposure?"
"There's nothing indecent about that thing. Sure, let's go." Bobby grabbed the rest of the clothing from the bench and watched his brother's hot ass moving across the courtyard and around the side of the building to his apartment.
Once inside Bobby offered Remy a beer. "Yeah, I'll need one."
"Good, you know where they are, so bring one back for me as well," Bobby said.
Remy glanced at him, but went off to the kitchen. When he returned to the livingroom, Bobby had stripped out of his shorts and was sitting on the couch in his briefs. "It was hot in here."
Remy handed him a beer. "So, what do you want me to do for the weekend?" Remy asked. He sat in the chair opposite Bobby, and saw Bobby's eyes focus on his cock again.
"How big does that thing get?" Bobby asked.
Remy smiled. "A bit bigger than it is. Is that what you want?"
Bobby glanced from his bother's eyes back to his cock. "You're mine for the weekend, but if you ain't comfortable with this, it's just, I mean, " he fumbled for words.
"Are you sayin' you want to..."
"I've wanted to since I was a teenager. I remember you had circle jerks with the older brothers, but you guys never included me."
"You were too young," Remy said. "By the time you were old enough for that stuff we were all outta the house."
"I know. Well, if you're game, I'd like to make up for lost time this weekend."
Remy smiled. "I'm game."
"Good. Since I won, I wanna watch you stroke that monster to full."
Remy leaned back in the chair and ran his hand down his own smooth chest. Looking across the room at Bobby was like looking into a mirror that took off eight years. He slid his hand further down until it was at the base of his cock. Once he took it in hand, he knew, there was no going back. He wrapped his fist around the soft shaft and stroked it several times, it began to grow a lot. Several more strokes and it was pointing toward his belly.
Bobby sat riveted to show being performed for him enjoyment, by his hot and willing older brother. This was more than he'd ever imagined. "Oh yeah, man. Touch your balls," he said, almost a whisper.
Remy watched Bobby's hand slip into his own briefs, and begin massaging his cock. Bobby shifted on the couch and stripped off his briefs, allowing his brother to see his own equipment. It only seemed fair for them to compare. Remy was now being treated to a show of his own, and it felt as though he were watching himself jerkoff eight years ago in his own livingroom. He was totally engrossed in watching Bobby touching himself, he forgot he was jerking off as well, and was getting close.
"I'm gonna cum soon," he managed to say.
Bobby blinked. "Don't. I mean, I wanna make you cum." He moved from the couch to kneel between his brother's knees. "I wanna watch you cum this time, but then I wanna suck you off. Okay?"
Remy felt his younger brother's hands on his cock and wanted to shoot off right then. It felt so right to be handled by Bobby. Especially when Bobby leaned forward and ran his tongue over his hairy balls. This was almost more than Remy could take. Bobby pulled back and pumped his fist up and down the long smooth shaft of his brother's cock and watched and felt as it pulsed to an eruption, spurting into the air, over his fist, and across Remy's stomach and chest.
Remy pulled Bobby to his feet and took hold of the cock pointing toward heaven, and pumped it in equally long strokes, until it too erupted landing and mixing with his own cum. He pulled Bobby down on top of him after the last spurt of hot cream landed on his own cock, and then he kissed him, deep, exploring his mouth with his tongue. He felt Bobby return the kiss.
"This is gonna be a great weekend," Bobby said, when they broke for air.
If you enjoyed this story check out the others in this series, or read the Psyched Out series in the celebrity section. E-mail me at: mnhowler@aol.com