Hard core stories for the hard core. These stories are all fantasies and should not be taken as portraying either the actions or the inclinations of those individuals appearing in the accompanying photos or gifs. All photos and gifs are reblogs. If you want a post or photo of or about you deleted, please let me know and I will delete it.
It was my first morning home on spring break and, as I’d already told him I expected, my little brother, Kirk, was waiting for me in the bathroom, his pants pulled down to his thighs, exposing that pretty ass I’d come to know so well, the ass that carried in its cleft the boypussy I’d fucked at least once every day I was home for the last two years.
Kirk had had the reputation of being something of a stud in his high school, an idea I found laughable considering how much ball-cream I’d pumped up his boy-hole over the last two years. But that reputation was important to Kirk - it pretty much defined how he saw himself - and it was the key to the hold I had over him. The last thing in the world Kirk would want was for word to get around that he was his older brother’s - his older gay brother’s - bitch. So he knew enough to understand that whenever I told him I wanted to fuck his sweet teenage boy-ass, he’d better make it available for me because I wouldn’t hesitate to out him as my faggot cum-dump to all of his bros.
I remember so clearly the first time I fucked my younger brother. I'd just come out to my family. I was nervous about that, of course, wondering how my parents were going to take it. They weren’t thrilled, that was obvious. Particularly my dad. But they made it clear that I was still their son and they loved me. It might not have been the unqualified affirmation I’d hoped for, but it certainly wasn’t the brutal rejection that some gay guys face when they come out.
I was feeling relatively good about how things had turned out when I ran into Kirk in the bathroom we shared. Kirk and I had always been pretty close, so I had just assumed that he’d have the least difficulty accepting me as gay. But, no sooner had I walked in while he was brushing his teeth, than he turned to me and said, “Stay away from me, you faggot.”
I know I recoiled in shock. This was the last thing I’d expected to hear from my younger brother. I tried to stay calm, though, realizing that the information I’d just shared had obviously come as a great shock to Kirk. "Give it time, bro,” I offered. "I haven’t changed, and you’ll realize that.”
“What I realize,” Kirk retorted, “was that I have a fucking queer for a brother, a fucking pansy who I’ve been sharing my bathroom with all these years, who’s probably been jacking off fantasizing about my hot little body and what he would like to do to it. Just thinking about that makes me want to puke. So you just stay out of the bathroom while I’m in it. I'll be goddamned if I’m gonna provide some jack-off material for a fucking fruitcake.”
Looking back on that scene now, I realize that if Kirk had merely told me that he couldn’t accept me being gay, that he didn’t want anything to do with me, things might have ended right there, with me walking out of the bathroom and the two of us permanently estranged. But Kirk’s raw disgust, his free use of homophobic slurs, really got to me and suddenly I was furious. Who the fuck did he think he was that he could talk to me like that? And I let him know exactly what I thought.
“You better watch your mouth, bro,” I said angrily. "If you’re having trouble accepting the fact that you have a gay brother, that’s your problem. But I’m not about to stand here and let you call me a faggot, or a queer.”
“Why not?” my brother sneered at me. "You are a faggot. You are a goddamn queer. If the name fits you should wear it. Wear it with pride, isn’t that what you faggots say? Wear it with pride? Fucking homo!”
“That’s it,” I almost shouted, my anger now red-hot. "I'm not about to take crap from you, bro.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kirk responded, his own eyes flashing. "Well, what are you gonna do about it, bro?” he taunted, putting all the sarcastic emphasis he could on the word ‘bro.’ "What the fuck are you gonna do about it, you goddamn faggot?”
I don’t know what came over me then, other than a raw fury at hearing my brother insult me the way he had. But the next thing I knew, I had stormed over to him, grabbed a handful of hair and started yanking him out of the bathroom. He struggled with me, of course, but faggot that I might be, he was still no physical match for me, and I dragged him into my bedroom and then pulled him over my lap and began spanking the hell out of his teenage ass.
Doubtless mortified by the fact that he was being spanked like a little boy, by a faggot no less, Kirk couldn’t keep quiet, couldn’t just passively accept his punishment. Instead, he lashed out at me again. "Is that all you got, fagboy?” he mocked. "You spank like a little girl, like a little bitch.”
“I’ll show you who’s the little bitch,” I raged, reaching down and pulling his shorts and briefs off. "I'll show you exactly who the little bitch is,” I ranted as I began smashing my hands onto Kirk’s naked ass, making his twin cheeks jiggle up and down as I unloaded all my fury on them. And I kept spanking those two globes long after Kirk stopped taunting me, long after he started pleading with me to stop, long after he started sobbing and crying as the pain just mounted and mounted. By the time I finally did stop, Kirk’s ass was a vibrantly blistered red and my own hand hurt like the blazes.
I was just sitting there, staring at Kirk’s fiery butt-cheeks, when I became mesmerized by just how beautiful my brother’s butt actually was, how sexy his boy-ass looked, spread across my lap. And suddenly all my anger metamorphed into a raging horniness, an all-consuming sexual lust. And before I fully realized what I was doing, I had tossed Kirk’s body onto the bed, climbed up between his legs and driven my achingly hard cock balls-deep up my younger brother’s virgin ass.
Kirk howled like a wounded wolf as I burst through his cherry sphincter, shrieking and squealing in pain as I took his tight boy-ass and turned it into a cunt to pleasure other men’s dicks. I ravaged my brother’s boypussy as viciously as I had spanked his butt-cheeks, totally out of control, plunging in and out of the hot furnace of his anal-channel like a jackhammer breaking concrete, while Kirk struggled and bucked underneath me, until, in a final gut-destroying flurry of thrusts, I shot a massive load of my hot boy-scuzz deep inside my brother’s no-longer-virgin fuck-chute and then collapsed on top of his back, sexually and emotionally completely drained. A few minutes later, I rolled off my brother’s back on to my own and just lay quietly next to him.
It was maybe fifteen minutes after that that I came back to myself. I sat up and looked down at my brother lying next to me on the bed, sobbing softly, his legs still widely spread, my ball-juice beginning to seep out of his battered bung-hole and I was appalled at what I had done, how I had raped my own brother. But even as the guilt washed over me, I couldn’t help thinking how sexy my little brother looked, all spread out and freshly fucked, how pretty his teenage butt was, how much I had enjoyed plowing my hard boy-cock up his tight, tight ass and, suddenly, I was consumed with lust again. And before I even had a chance to consider what I was doing, I was standing up, rolling my brother onto his back, raising his legs into the air, and positioning my re-hardened cock on his already swollen cunt-lips.
“Oh, no. Oh, no,” my brother moaned. "Not again. Don't fuck me again. Please, don’t fuck me again,” but I ignored his pitiful pleas and rammed my throbbing cock back up his boy-hole and went to work on my second nut. Yet, even as I plowed out my baby-brother’s hole for the second time in an hour, my mind was racing overtime. What I was doing was wrong, I knew that. But it felt so damn good, so damn good, that I knew I wanted to keep doing it, that I wanted my brother Kirk to be my full-time bitch. And I realized that I could do it, too. I could make Kirk my bitch, even though that was the last thing in the world he wanted to be.
The very homophobia that had shocked me so deeply and led directly to my brother’s deflowering could be used against him, could be used as a tool to force Kirk to continue to submit to me, to continue to submit to my cock. A homophobe like my brother would think there was nothing more shameful, nothing more degrading, than having been raped by a faggot, by a queerboy. Someone like my brother would do anything he could to keep his shame a secret, to make sure no one else ever found out that he’d been bitched out, that he’d been forced to spread his legs and take another dude’s dick up his boy-hole, that he’d been used like a woman for another man’s pleasure.
And, after I got my second nut, after I fucked and bred my brother for the second time, I laid it all out for him. I told Kirk he had two choices. He could go to mom and dad and tell them that I had raped him. I'd deny that, of course. I'd tell them that Kirk was as gay as I was and had been coming on to me for years, that in a moment of weakness I finally gave into all his pestering and pleading and threw him a pity-fuck, and it was only afterwards, because he was feeling guilty of what he’d done, that Kirk had decided to blame me for everything.
“Now,” I told my brother, “mom and dad might actually believe you or they might believe me - that could go either way - but no matter which side they eventually landed on, they’d always have doubts about you, about whether you were gay, too, just like your older brother. After all, it’s a scientific fact that the existence of one gay sibling in a family doubles the likelihood that the other siblings are gay. Mom and dad would always wonder about you, wonder whether you were a faggot, too.”
“And,” I continued, confident that my argument was beginning to take hold, “it would be even worse with your friends, once they found out that you’d been fucked by your gay brother. First, they’d wonder how that was possible, how it was that one of their bro’s hadn’t been strong enough to keep himself from being raped by a faggot. But it wouldn’t be long before they’d begin wondering whether maybe the reason that you hadn’t been able to defend yourself was because you actually wanted to be fucked, you wanted your older gay brother to fuck and breed you like a bitch, like a girl. They'll wonder whether the reason you got fucked is that, just like your older brother, you’re a faggot, too.”
“Oh, they might not say it to your face, Kirk, but you’ll see it in their eyes, every time they look at you. You'll see the doubts, the questioning. And you’ll realize that you’ll never truly be one of their bros again. You'll be tarred as a ‘faggot’ in their minds for the rest of your life.”
Just looking at Kirk, I could see that my words were hitting home, and I can’t tell you how great it felt to be using my brother’s homophobia against him. He figured that what I was saying about how his friends would react was true because he knew that was how he’d react if he’d heard that a buddy of his had been fucked up the ass. He couldn’t imagine that even if some of his bros did think he was gay, that they just wouldn’t care. Obviously, for Kirk, someone being gay just closed the book on him and Kirk just assumed his bros would react the same way he did.
Kirk just lay there on the bed, staring off into space for a long while, tears slowly gathering in his eyes as the weight of what I’d just told him sank in. And, then, he turned to me. "What's the other choice?” he asked in a small voice.
“The other choice, bro,” I answered with a smile, “is that you become my fuck-bitch, my straight fuck-whore. If you agree to bend over and let me fuck you whenever I want - and I mean that literally, whenever I want - then I’ll promise that what happens between us will never get outside of this house, and mom and dad and all your friends will never find out that your gay brother fucks you like a bitch.”
Kirk looked up at me, the hatred flaring in his eyes. "Fuck that shit,” he snarled. "No fucking way I’m gonna be your little bitch.”
I laughed in his face. "You've already been my little bitch, Kirk. Twice. And you’ve got an ass full of my cum to prove it. And trust me, bro, unless you agree to keep playing the role of my little bitch, every one of your buddies is gonna know exactly how your gay brother bitched you out and made you squeal like a little girl as he cored a cunt out of your tight asshole. Trust me, Kirk, I’ll personally make sure every one of them finds out all about you.”
“You bastard,” Kirk spat out, tears gathering in his eyes. "You fucking bastard.”
“I may be a bastard, Kirk,” I rejoined, “but you’re gonna be my bitch. Aren't you, bro? Aren't you?”
He just stared daggers at me for a long minute and then slowly shook his head ‘yes.’
But I wasn’t about to let my homophobic brother off that easily. "Say, it, Kirk. Say it. I want to hear you say that you’re gonna be my bitch.”
We locked eyes again but, even as I could see the tears starting to trickle out of Kirk’s eyes, he surrendered. "I'm gonna be…I’m gonna be your bitch. You fucking asshole.”
I couldn’t help laughing again. This was going to be so much fun, so much fun. "Well, okay, bitch,” I finally said, “get your ass over my lap.”
“What…what for?” Kirk asked, trying but not quite able to hide his fear.
“Because I’m gonna spank you again, Kirk, for your bad attitude,” I explained. "Just like I'm gonna be spanking you whenever you mouth off to me from now on. So get your fucking ass across my lap.”
Kirk stuck out his chin and just stared at me but then, slowly, he got to his feet and leaned forward, settling his groin on my lap. Just before I brought my hand down on his still-inflamed ass-cheeks, he turned to me and observed, “You are one twisted motherfucker, bro. One twisted motherfucker.”
Well, Kirk was right on point there, though he didn’t know the half of it back then. But over the past two years, Kirk has learned just how truly twisted I am, just what I’m capable of doing to him when he pisses me off, when he doesn’t do exactly what I tell him to.
Kirk has become quite the obedient little fuck-bitch. Which is why I knew he’d be in the bathroom waiting for me just like I told him to be. Oh, I’m sure he still hates me, hates me for all the things I’ve done to him. But the thing he probably hates me for most is that I’ve made him learn to enjoy getting his boypussy reamed out by my hard dick. He bones up every time I fuck him. Every time. And I never fail to remark on it, too. And I always make sure he shoots his own load of creamy boy-scuzz while I’m rutting around in his tight teenboy hole. I make him enjoy being cunted out by his own brother - by his gay brother. I think that’s what makes him hate me the most. And I just love it.
Reblogged
Sent!
This blog contains adult content. In order to view it freely, please log in or register
and confirm you are 18 years or older
It was my first morning home on spring break and, as I’d already told him I expected, my little brother, Kirk, was waiting for me in the bathroom, his pants pulled down to his thighs, exposing that pretty ass I’d come to know so well, the ass that carried in its cleft the boypussy I’d fucked at least once every day I was home for the last two years.
Kirk had had the reputation of being something of a stud in his high school, an idea I found laughable considering how much ball-cream I’d pumped up his boy-hole over the last two years. But that reputation was important to Kirk - it pretty much defined how he saw himself - and it was the key to the hold I had over him. The last thing in the world Kirk would want was for word to get around that he was his older brother’s - his older gay brother’s - bitch. So he knew enough to understand that whenever I told him I wanted to fuck his sweet teenage boy-ass, he’d better make it available for me because I wouldn’t hesitate to out him as my faggot cum-dump to all of his bros.
I remember so clearly the first time I fucked my younger brother. I'd just come out to my family. I was nervous about that, of course, wondering how my parents were going to take it. They weren’t thrilled, that was obvious. Particularly my dad. But they made it clear that I was still their son and they loved me. It might not have been the unqualified affirmation I’d hoped for, but it certainly wasn’t the brutal rejection that some gay guys face when they come out.
I was feeling relatively good about how things had turned out when I ran into Kirk in the bathroom we shared. Kirk and I had always been pretty close, so I had just assumed that he’d have the least difficulty accepting me as gay. But, no sooner had I walked in while he was brushing his teeth, than he turned to me and said, “Stay away from me, you faggot.”
I know I recoiled in shock. This was the last thing I’d expected to hear from my younger brother. I tried to stay calm, though, realizing that the information I’d just shared had obviously come as a great shock to Kirk. "Give it time, bro,” I offered. "I haven’t changed, and you’ll realize that.”
“What I realize,” Kirk retorted, “was that I have a fucking queer for a brother, a fucking pansy who I’ve been sharing my bathroom with all these years, who’s probably been jacking off fantasizing about my hot little body and what he would like to do to it. Just thinking about that makes me want to puke. So you just stay out of the bathroom while I’m in it. I'll be goddamned if I’m gonna provide some jack-off material for a fucking fruitcake.”
Looking back on that scene now, I realize that if Kirk had merely told me that he couldn’t accept me being gay, that he didn’t want anything to do with me, things might have ended right there, with me walking out of the bathroom and the two of us permanently estranged. But Kirk’s raw disgust, his free use of homophobic slurs, really got to me and suddenly I was furious. Who the fuck did he think he was that he could talk to me like that? And I let him know exactly what I thought.
“You better watch your mouth, bro,” I said angrily. "If you’re having trouble accepting the fact that you have a gay brother, that’s your problem. But I’m not about to stand here and let you call me a faggot, or a queer.”
“Why not?” my brother sneered at me. "You are a faggot. You are a goddamn queer. If the name fits you should wear it. Wear it with pride, isn’t that what you faggots say? Wear it with pride? Fucking homo!”
“That’s it,” I almost shouted, my anger now red-hot. "I'm not about to take crap from you, bro.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kirk responded, his own eyes flashing. "Well, what are you gonna do about it, bro?” he taunted, putting all the sarcastic emphasis he could on the word ‘bro.’ "What the fuck are you gonna do about it, you goddamn faggot?”
I don’t know what came over me then, other than a raw fury at hearing my brother insult me the way he had. But the next thing I knew, I had stormed over to him, grabbed a handful of hair and started yanking him out of the bathroom. He struggled with me, of course, but faggot that I might be, he was still no physical match for me, and I dragged him into my bedroom and then pulled him over my lap and began spanking the hell out of his teenage ass.
Doubtless mortified by the fact that he was being spanked like a little boy, by a faggot no less, Kirk couldn’t keep quiet, couldn’t just passively accept his punishment. Instead, he lashed out at me again. "Is that all you got, fagboy?” he mocked. "You spank like a little girl, like a little bitch.”
“I’ll show you who’s the little bitch,” I raged, reaching down and pulling his shorts and briefs off. "I'll show you exactly who the little bitch is,” I ranted as I began smashing my hands onto Kirk’s naked ass, making his twin cheeks jiggle up and down as I unloaded all my fury on them. And I kept spanking those two globes long after Kirk stopped taunting me, long after he started pleading with me to stop, long after he started sobbing and crying as the pain just mounted and mounted. By the time I finally did stop, Kirk’s ass was a vibrantly blistered red and my own hand hurt like the blazes.
I was just sitting there, staring at Kirk’s fiery butt-cheeks, when I became mesmerized by just how beautiful my brother’s butt actually was, how sexy his boy-ass looked, spread across my lap. And suddenly all my anger metamorphed into a raging horniness, an all-consuming sexual lust. And before I fully realized what I was doing, I had tossed Kirk’s body onto the bed, climbed up between his legs and driven my achingly hard cock balls-deep up my younger brother’s virgin ass.
Kirk howled like a wounded wolf as I burst through his cherry sphincter, shrieking and squealing in pain as I took his tight boy-ass and turned it into a cunt to pleasure other men’s dicks. I ravaged my brother’s boypussy as viciously as I had spanked his butt-cheeks, totally out of control, plunging in and out of the hot furnace of his anal-channel like a jackhammer breaking concrete, while Kirk struggled and bucked underneath me, until, in a final gut-destroying flurry of thrusts, I shot a massive load of my hot boy-scuzz deep inside my brother’s no-longer-virgin fuck-chute and then collapsed on top of his back, sexually and emotionally completely drained. A few minutes later, I rolled off my brother’s back on to my own and just lay quietly next to him.
It was maybe fifteen minutes after that that I came back to myself. I sat up and looked down at my brother lying next to me on the bed, sobbing softly, his legs still widely spread, my ball-juice beginning to seep out of his battered bung-hole and I was appalled at what I had done, how I had raped my own brother. But even as the guilt washed over me, I couldn’t help thinking how sexy my little brother looked, all spread out and freshly fucked, how pretty his teenage butt was, how much I had enjoyed plowing my hard boy-cock up his tight, tight ass and, suddenly, I was consumed with lust again. And before I even had a chance to consider what I was doing, I was standing up, rolling my brother onto his back, raising his legs into the air, and positioning my re-hardened cock on his already swollen cunt-lips.
“Oh, no. Oh, no,” my brother moaned. "Not again. Don't fuck me again. Please, don’t fuck me again,” but I ignored his pitiful pleas and rammed my throbbing cock back up his boy-hole and went to work on my second nut. Yet, even as I plowed out my baby-brother’s hole for the second time in an hour, my mind was racing overtime. What I was doing was wrong, I knew that. But it felt so damn good, so damn good, that I knew I wanted to keep doing it, that I wanted my brother Kirk to be my full-time bitch. And I realized that I could do it, too. I could make Kirk my bitch, even though that was the last thing in the world he wanted to be.
The very homophobia that had shocked me so deeply and led directly to my brother’s deflowering could be used against him, could be used as a tool to force Kirk to continue to submit to me, to continue to submit to my cock. A homophobe like my brother would think there was nothing more shameful, nothing more degrading, than having been raped by a faggot, by a queerboy. Someone like my brother would do anything he could to keep his shame a secret, to make sure no one else ever found out that he’d been bitched out, that he’d been forced to spread his legs and take another dude’s dick up his boy-hole, that he’d been used like a woman for another man’s pleasure.
And, after I got my second nut, after I fucked and bred my brother for the second time, I laid it all out for him. I told Kirk he had two choices. He could go to mom and dad and tell them that I had raped him. I'd deny that, of course. I'd tell them that Kirk was as gay as I was and had been coming on to me for years, that in a moment of weakness I finally gave into all his pestering and pleading and threw him a pity-fuck, and it was only afterwards, because he was feeling guilty of what he’d done, that Kirk had decided to blame me for everything.
“Now,” I told my brother, “mom and dad might actually believe you or they might believe me - that could go either way - but no matter which side they eventually landed on, they’d always have doubts about you, about whether you were gay, too, just like your older brother. After all, it’s a scientific fact that the existence of one gay sibling in a family doubles the likelihood that the other siblings are gay. Mom and dad would always wonder about you, wonder whether you were a faggot, too.”
“And,” I continued, confident that my argument was beginning to take hold, “it would be even worse with your friends, once they found out that you’d been fucked by your gay brother. First, they’d wonder how that was possible, how it was that one of their bro’s hadn’t been strong enough to keep himself from being raped by a faggot. But it wouldn’t be long before they’d begin wondering whether maybe the reason that you hadn’t been able to defend yourself was because you actually wanted to be fucked, you wanted your older gay brother to fuck and breed you like a bitch, like a girl. They'll wonder whether the reason you got fucked is that, just like your older brother, you’re a faggot, too.”
“Oh, they might not say it to your face, Kirk, but you’ll see it in their eyes, every time they look at you. You'll see the doubts, the questioning. And you’ll realize that you’ll never truly be one of their bros again. You'll be tarred as a ‘faggot’ in their minds for the rest of your life.”
Just looking at Kirk, I could see that my words were hitting home, and I can’t tell you how great it felt to be using my brother’s homophobia against him. He figured that what I was saying about how his friends would react was true because he knew that was how he’d react if he’d heard that a buddy of his had been fucked up the ass. He couldn’t imagine that even if some of his bros did think he was gay, that they just wouldn’t care. Obviously, for Kirk, someone being gay just closed the book on him and Kirk just assumed his bros would react the same way he did.
Kirk just lay there on the bed, staring off into space for a long while, tears slowly gathering in his eyes as the weight of what I’d just told him sank in. And, then, he turned to me. "What's the other choice?” he asked in a small voice.
“The other choice, bro,” I answered with a smile, “is that you become my fuck-bitch, my straight fuck-whore. If you agree to bend over and let me fuck you whenever I want - and I mean that literally, whenever I want - then I’ll promise that what happens between us will never get outside of this house, and mom and dad and all your friends will never find out that your gay brother fucks you like a bitch.”
Kirk looked up at me, the hatred flaring in his eyes. "Fuck that shit,” he snarled. "No fucking way I’m gonna be your little bitch.”
I laughed in his face. "You've already been my little bitch, Kirk. Twice. And you’ve got an ass full of my cum to prove it. And trust me, bro, unless you agree to keep playing the role of my little bitch, every one of your buddies is gonna know exactly how your gay brother bitched you out and made you squeal like a little girl as he cored a cunt out of your tight asshole. Trust me, Kirk, I’ll personally make sure every one of them finds out all about you.”
“You bastard,” Kirk spat out, tears gathering in his eyes. "You fucking bastard.”
“I may be a bastard, Kirk,” I rejoined, “but you’re gonna be my bitch. Aren't you, bro? Aren't you?”
He just stared daggers at me for a long minute and then slowly shook his head ‘yes.’
But I wasn’t about to let my homophobic brother off that easily. "Say, it, Kirk. Say it. I want to hear you say that you’re gonna be my bitch.”
We locked eyes again but, even as I could see the tears starting to trickle out of Kirk’s eyes, he surrendered. "I'm gonna be…I’m gonna be your bitch. You fucking asshole.”
I couldn’t help laughing again. This was going to be so much fun, so much fun. "Well, okay, bitch,” I finally said, “get your ass over my lap.”
“What…what for?” Kirk asked, trying but not quite able to hide his fear.
“Because I’m gonna spank you again, Kirk, for your bad attitude,” I explained. "Just like I'm gonna be spanking you whenever you mouth off to me from now on. So get your fucking ass across my lap.”
Kirk stuck out his chin and just stared at me but then, slowly, he got to his feet and leaned forward, settling his groin on my lap. Just before I brought my hand down on his still-inflamed ass-cheeks, he turned to me and observed, “You are one twisted motherfucker, bro. One twisted motherfucker.”
Well, Kirk was right on point there, though he didn’t know the half of it back then. But over the past two years, Kirk has learned just how truly twisted I am, just what I’m capable of doing to him when he pisses me off, when he doesn’t do exactly what I tell him to.
Kirk has become quite the obedient little fuck-bitch. Which is why I knew he’d be in the bathroom waiting for me just like I told him to be. Oh, I’m sure he still hates me, hates me for all the things I’ve done to him. But the thing he probably hates me for most is that I’ve made him learn to enjoy getting his boypussy reamed out by my hard dick. He bones up every time I fuck him. Every time. And I never fail to remark on it, too. And I always make sure he shoots his own load of creamy boy-scuzz while I’m rutting around in his tight teenboy hole. I make him enjoy being cunted out by his own brother - by his gay brother. I think that’s what makes him hate me the most. And I just love it.