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Frank Brown: Incest teenagers

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Frank Brown Incest teenagers

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Willy stuffed the two remaining sausages into his mouth and started in on the dripping pancakes, clumsily forking in the food with his left hand, since his right hand was busy sliding the silky dick skin up and down his throbbing cockshaft. He never could beat-off left-handed. Cum bubbled from his gaping piss slit and rolled down over his knuckles. He chomped loudly at his food, pretending he was eating pussy now, and trying simultaneously to drown out the sound of his heavy breathing.

"That's what we like to hear, son – a guy enjoying his breakfast. Puts hair on your chest. Isn't that right, mother?"

"Absolutely," Mrs. Manners said. "And girls just love hair on a guy's chest. My! Listen to that hungry son of mine eat."

Willy got half to his feet, his dick above the edge of the table now, his hand pumping furiously. He was tempted to explode right against the twin newspapers, to blow the news out of his parents' hands with the force of his spurting cum alone, to fire his jism straight into their horrified faces, to say, look, you old fans, your guy has more balls than you think. Instead, he shot off against his plate, nearly blowing the pancake cunt off the table. He clenched his teeth and wrapped his toes around the metal legs of his chair, trying desperately to stifle his peed to squeal out his pleasure. As he spurted, he shook all over.

His cock felt so good he could hardly believe it. His orgasms were always that way – intense. Sometimes he thought he was going to faint from the pleasure, like right now. Christ, hold on, just a few more spurts, he thought.

He watched the milky liquid spurt from the piss slit of his bucking dick and drench the pancake cunt. It looked like sugar icing on a cake. It kept cumming, spurting out until there was as much cum on his plate as Mrs. Butterworth's golden syrup. Finally, his dick stopped spurting. Thank God!

He milked the last gobs from his pisshole and sank back into his chair. What in the hell had he done? Christ, he must have been nuts! What if his parents had put down their papers? When he was horny he just seemed to lose his head.

Willy slipped his underwear back on. Now what? Here he sat with three remaining pancakes swimming in cooling cum. Yuk!

"Good morning everybody!" Willy's sister said, skipping into the kitchen already dressed for school.

Down went the two newspapers.

"Good morning lazybones," Mr. Manners said.

"Well, it's about time you showed your face in here, Cheryl," Mrs. Manners said. "Another two seconds and I'd have been upstairs with a switch."

"Sure you would, Mom," Cheryl said throwing her arms around both her parents' shoulders as she stood between and behind them. Then she kissed each of them on the cheek.

Mrs. Manners beamed, and Mr. Manners flushed.

"Kisses will get you nowhere, young lady," Mrs. Manners said. "Sit down and eat your breakfast. You'll be late for school."

Cheryl seated herself next to Willy. "Morning brother."

"Up yours," Willy said.

"William!" Mr. and Mrs. Manners shouted simultaneously, then looked at each other in amazement.

"He talks like that all the time when you two aren't around," Cheryl said. "Worse, even." She smirked at Willy.

"William, I'm surprised at you," Mr. Manners said.

"Sorry, Dad. Can I get ready for school now? Ben will be waiting for me."

"No, William, you may not dress for school now – not until you've apologized to your sister and finished your breakfast."

"I apologize," he said, glaring at Cheryl.

"I accept," Cheryl said condescendingly. Then she eyed his plate of pancakes, syrup, and cum. "My, William, you really love syrup. What are you eating this morning – pancake soup?"

Willy wanted to slug her. It was as if she knew what he'd just done and she was trying to expose him. That was Cheryl's way, though, always picking on him.

All eyes were on his plate now. The cum had melted down and mixed with the syrup for the most part, but Willy could still make out enough jizz to convict him. What was worse, he could smell it. The whole kitchen smelled like cum. In a moment his three prosecutors would be sniffing the air like bloodhounds. What's that peculiar odor? They'd be asking. Then all eyes would fall on him, and they'd know.

"William," Mrs. Manners, said, "whatever possessed you to use all that syrup?" She clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Next time we have pancakes I shall dole out the syrup, young man. And, as for today, you shall eat every drop of what you've so wastefully dumped on your plate. Now eat."

Willy ate, first the pancakes, then the puddle of syrup and cum. The syrup was so sweet that he couldn't taste the cum, but just knowing it was in there made his stomach woozy. When he finished, he looked at Cheryl. She smirked at him as if she knew he'd just been forced to devour his own cum.

CHAPTER THREE

Ben pinched the end of his cock to keep from pissing on the floor. He pounded on the bathroom door. "I gotta piss!"

"Go piss outside, shrimp," shouted Ben's brother, Tim, from inside the bathroom.

"I gotta brush my teeth and wash up for school, too."

"Do it in the kitchen, shrimp."

"Fuck you!"

"Watch your mouth or I'll come out there and fuck you."

Ben went outside to piss. What else could he do? Tim was tough. Tim was so tough he'd been to reform school twice. Tim always carried out his threats, and since Ben didn't particularly want Tim massacring his tender asshole, Ben swallowed his pride and stepped out into the cool, sunny, early morning air of his fenced-in back yard.

The grass sparkled with sun-filled dew. The wet grass felt good between his toes, made him feel sexy. He pulled off his jockey briefs and stretched naked under the sun. The sun felt good, like a warm hand caressing his long body. As he stretched upward, arms reaching for the blue sky, the sparse golden hairs of his armpits bristling in the morning breeze, he let his piss flow.

The piss hissed out in a long golden stream, steaming in the cool air, it felt so good to be rid of the hot stuff at last, and his piss hard-on began to go down some. But even as his dick sank from its proud forty-five degree angle, piss slit pointing at the sky, down to a ninety-degree angle, piss slit pointing straight ahead, the massive size of his cock remained the same – too big!

Why had he been cursed with such a freakishly large cock? It was embarrassing. All the guys in the locker room pointed at it. He had to wear baggy pants to hide it. He'd never measured it. He was afraid to. Why couldn't his cock be the same size as his three brothers – just slightly larger than average? Or as big as his best buddy's, Willy Manners'? Willy claimed he'd trade cocks with Ben any day, but Willy just didn't know the problems involved in having a cock the size of a donkey's.

Ben milked the remaining piss from his cock. As he stroked the big dick he couldn't help but stimulate it. The sensitive cock jumped in his hand. Well, at least the overgrown thing felt good – he'd give it that much. Then he wondered whether the added size made for added sensitivity. Maybe because his cock was bigger than any of the other guys'. It was also more sensitive. Maybe it felt better than any of the other guys' cocks. Ben smiled. Why not? There had to be some consolation for all the problems his dick gave him. He continued stroking his cock. He was really getting horny now.

Ben glanced toward the house. He was safe. The only awake person home yet as far as he could tell was Tim. Brian and Mike had already left for school. It was the squealing of their tires when they took off that had wakened him. And Janet had left also. Her bedroom was empty when he passed it on the way to the bathroom, and she was nowhere to be seen downstairs. And Ma and Dad were upstairs sleeping off last night's drunk. They'd be dead to the world until noon at least. The only creature who could see him was Bernie, the big German Shepherd poised on his haunches at Ben's side. The dog had that inquisitive look on his snouted face, and his cars were cocked with anxiety as if Ben were about to take him for a walk.

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