If the first chapter was moderately out of character, then this one is wildly so. But it's fiction, so what does it matter.

WARNING: This chapter contains more of the same, plus incestuous rape. If you don't like it, don't read it.

xxxxx

After the horror of almost being caught by Paul's dad, it was a couple of weeks before either of us dared to mention what had happened. I was glad of this, because even though what we'd done had been exciting, and kinda fun at the time, I had no real desire to repeat it. If anything, it made me concentrate on Winnie even more than before, though I of course realised that sex with her was absolutely out of the question for 5 years, minimum. 13 year old girls are considerably harder to seduce than 13 year old boys. Still, it didn't stop me hoping – every time I jerked off (which I did at least once a day at that point, and sometimes twice or even three times) it was Winnie who filled my fantasies. Paul didn't even get a look in.

I had strong suspicions that when Paul jerked off, he thought of no-one but me. I found it flattering at the time, but didn't really think much of it. But it's pretty obvious to me now that the poor guy was in love with me. Every day I would catch him gazing wistfully at me three or four times, and eventually, two weeks after his Bar Mitzvah, he brought up the topic I had been dreading.

I had managed to get hold of a lingerie catalogue, and we were looking through it on my bed. The photos must have been pretty tame, really, but at 13 they were enough to get me excited. I was trying to hide my erection from Paul, who kept glancing down at my crotch to see if I was hard. Without really meaning to I looked across at his groin, and could tell from the bulge in his pants that he was erect. He caught me looking, and I knew before he said it what he was going to suggest.

"Do you wanna... jerk off again?"

"I don't know," I replied, "I don't think we should."

I tried to think of a reason. "What if someone walks in?"

"But all your family are out, who's going to walk in?"

"I guess. But it doesn't feel right, you know? Don't you ever feel it's wrong, somehow?"

Paul must have had a better grasp of the taboos around homosexuality than I did, because his reply was "but we're looking at pictures of girls."

At the time I didn't understand what that had to do with anything – it hadn't occurred to me that what we were doing was gay – and anyway, he seemed to be looking at me more than he looked at the magazine.

I just shrugged my shoulders. Paul leaned towards me and rested his fingers on my boner. Even through the fabric of my jeans, I felt a tingle of excitement at his touch, and without thinking I pushed forward slightly into his hand. He undid my flies and pulled out my hard little dick, pulling his own from his flies at the same time. He began to jerk me off with his right hand while he fondled 

himself with his left. Immediately, physical pleasure overrode the reluctance I hand, and I made no further attempt to resist. Seeing that he was managing to jerk both himself and me, I didn't try to take hold of his cock, and settled back onto my elbows to let him get to work.

I continued to look through the pictures in the lingerie catalogue while Paul massaged my penis in his firm and skilful grip, a slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

He bit his lower lip, gathering confidence, and then took me into his mouth. I gasped at the glorious sensation – even in 2 weeks, I'd forgotten how good it was. I closed my eyes, overcome with the incredible feeling, and could feel myself starting to climb the ladder to climax when the moment was shattered.

Wayne walked in.

This was the worst thing that could possibly ever have happened. To be found lying on my bed with my best friend sucking my dick was bad enough. To be found by Wayne, my idiot brother, my constant persecutor, my sworn enemy: I thought I was going to die.

All I could say was, "Wayne, what are you doing here?"

Wayne smirked, and said, "Look at you two homos!"

My boner had subsided pretty rapidly, so I put it away and zipped up my flies. Paul was too shocked even to do that.

"Wait till everyone hears about this! Kevin and Paul are homos!"

"No, Wayne, you can't tell, please. I'll do anything."

Wayne just laughed.

Paul spoke, finally. "Please don't tell anyone."

Wayne laughed again, stoked his chin, and said, "You'll have to make it worth my while."

"Anything," I pleaded.

Wayne looked at Paul, who's dick was still poking through his flies – and still, bizarrely, erect, and said to him "If you suck me off, I might consider keeping it to myself."

I sensed a trap, but before I could warn Paul, he was on his knees in front of my brother, looking up expectantly. Wayne unzipped his fly and pulled out a monster. In my naïveté, I'd thought Paul's pubescent 4 inches was big, but here was Wayne, 16 years old, with seven fat inches sprouting from an unruly mat of pubic hair. He made us look like children – which we were, I suppose.

My first thought was that Paul must be pretty desperate for Wayne to keep quiet, because he took to Wayne's dick like he was dying of hunger. The girth of it pushed his jaw wide, and it went so far in I thought he would choke. I wanted to pull them apart, to stop him doing this to my best friend, but it gradually dawned on me that he didn't seem to mind. Paul was enjoying himself.



This realisation was confirmed when Paul started to jerk himself off, while Wayne thrusted deep down his throat. I started to feel a little disgusted by the relish with which my best friend pleasured my brother, and wondered whether I could get out and leave them to it.

But Wayne pulled out before ejaculating (there was visible disappointment on Paul's face), and said to me, "Your turn, Kevin."

"What? Don't be disgusting, I'm your brother!"

"So?" he replied, "Come over here and suck it or I'll tell everyone you're a homo."

I didn't move, so he walked over to where I was sitting on the bed, and took hold of my head. He pushed his cock up into my face, rubbing it against my cheek. It was still wet from Paul's saliva, which felt cold against my skin.

I kept my lips tightly closed while he tapped it against my mouth, so he pinched my nose. I opened my lips so that I could breathe, but clenched my teeth. He pushed it between my lips against my closed teeth, and I thought about biting it, but then he squeezed hard with a finger and thumb on my cheeks, forcing my jaw apart. Immediately he pushed his cock right to the back of my throat, making me gag. Again and again he thrusted hard into my mouth, more forceful because I had resisted. My jaw was painfully wide open, and I felt I would vomit.

I heard Paul say, "Stop it Wayne, you're hurting him," and thank God he relented, saying "He's shit at it anyway."

He pulled out, and straight away turned back to Paul, who was only too willing to oblige. I lay back on the bed, panting. When I had got my breath back, I turned to see Wayne ejaculating with a shudder into Paul's mouth, which Paul drank as if it were nectar.

Still kneeling on the floor at Wayne's feet, Paul began to jerk himself off. Wayne watched for a while, and then told us both to undress. I obeyed without question. I'd just learnt that he had the physical strength to force me to do as he wished, so I thought it better to submit without argument. Wayne did not undress. He directed Paul to suck me off, so I moved round to stand in front of Paul's face. My small, hairless dick was flaccid when he took it into his mouth, but his skilful tongue quickly brought me back to the full two and a half inches of my child's erection. Such was Paul's ability that it even distracted me from the ominous and intimidating sight of my brother, pacing around us, fondling my ass, stroking down Paul's back, and rubbing his massive cock back up to size.

He told me to get down on all fours, squeezed my ass, and then said "Fuck him" to Paul. I turned round to see Wayne spit into his hand and smear it onto Paul's dick, and Paul then shuffled close, taking my hips into his hands.

Paul pushed his dick into my ass, giving a little whimper as he did so. It felt warm, and given its slender proportions, it was not uncomfortable. He leant forward so that his torso was in contact with my back, with an arm wrapped under my chest. Holding me closely he kissed the side of my neck and rolled his hips forward to thrust into me. Such was the pitch of excitement that Paul had been at throughout the proceedings, that on just the third stroke he ejaculated.



I allowed him to hold me after he came, but Wayne was less patient. He began to paw at Paul's backside, before pulling us apart and directing me to fuck my friend. Wayne spat on his hand, and rubbed my semi-hard boner back up to full strength, and then pushed me in the direction of Paul's waiting ass.

I ran my hands over his smooth, hairless buttocks, feeling the softness of them, and pulling them slightly apart. Then I shuffled forward and, directing with my finger, pushed my dick into his ass. I found it less pleasurable than being sucked, there being a constant pressure and no variation. Perhaps my undeveloped dick just wasn't big enough to make the most of this orifice.

Holding his hips, I pulled him onto me with each stroke, pushing harder as I got into it. Wayne knelt in front of Paul's head and Paul sucked him as I continued to fuck his ass. It seemed to take me a long time to reach orgasm, mainly because it was so off putting having Wayne facing me, his cock in Paul's mouth and a gaze of terrifying lust that sometimes fixed on Paul, and sometimes on me. But eventually I came, and when I was done I pulled out and sat down without a word.

Wayne took the opportunity to move round to Paul's ass, and lubricating with spit, pushed in his thick cock. Paul cried out in pain, but Wayne ignored it and thrusted over and over again. Paul started a long, continuous moan, which got louder and louder with each thrust.

I tried to reason with my brother, to make him see that he was really hurting Paul, to get him to stop, but Wayne took no notice. Finally I physically pulled him off my friend, allowing Paul to scramble out from under him.

Wayne swung out at me, punching me full in the face and knocking me out. When I came to, my head was being held down into a pillow, and there was a continuous, repeated and intolerable pain in my backside. I could hear grunts from Wayne as he forcibly fucked me, and tearful entreaties from Paul as he desperately tried to get him off me.

Every now and then, Wayne would pause as he swatted Paul away, and then the pain would start again as he took out all his anger and all his frustration and all his surplus sexual energy on me.

That moment of my life seemed to last forever, I seriously wondered if Wayne would ever stop. Eventually, though, I felt him reach a peak and then slow down.

He pulled out with an unpleasant slurping sound, which made him giggle. He zipped up his fly, and as he left my room, he said, "Later, dickwads," apparently oblivious to the fact that he had done anything wrong.

Paul and I dressed in silence, and neither of us have ever mentioned it.