BY Michael Kirwan

     Brian and I didn’t give a shit when we got 86’d from The Clover bar. We both had jobs, which is something most of the regulars couldn’t lay claim to, and could afford to buy our beer by the case and drink at home. Practically every patron of The Clover was running a tab and guzzling until their disability/social security/pension checks arrived at the start of the month. I had a job laying carpet and linoleum and Brian was a short order cook. It might not sound very impressive to you, but us Flanagan brothers were considered great successes in the neighborhood. Old Paddy would welcome us back with open arms in a few weeks, he always did. He thought of himself as a grand patriarch, the drunken habituates as his personal responsibility. Paddy was all about making sure his dipsomaniac subjects minded their P’s and Q’s and remained on their best behavior when frequenting his establishment, dirty and reeking though it may be. Brian and I had grown up in the bar, sent there every night by our sainted mother to collect our inebriated dad who’d stale by buying us cokes and giving us quarters for the juke box and pinball games. They both died last year, him from a bum ticker and she from sheer uselessness. Brian was the baby at 20 and I was the man of the house at 22. We’d pooled the insurance money and gotten a nice apartment for ourselves because the smell of boiled cabbage and despair was just too pervasive for us to stay in the old place after the folks had passed. We hurled curses and barbed insults at the drooling and animated drunkards alike as we exited the dingy tavern, vowing never to return. All in all, it was a highly entertaining evening for the brothers Flanagan.

     We were laughing and embellishing on the circumstances of our ouster and almost half way home before we even noticed our buddy Gerard skulking amiably behind us. His dad had been a lifelong drinking partner of our own dear departed father so he was practically family. We’d all grown up in and around The Clover, hovering on the sidelines until Old Paddy decided we were ready to join in with the big boys. Although Gerard was 28 or 29, he’d never had a job (or a life, when you come right down to it) or bothered with the whole growing up and becoming an adult process. Instead he’d become a serious drunk using whatever money his mother either gave willingly (or not) to maintain his constant alcoholic haze, and when she was completely tapped out he’d come to us. He was a pleasant, innocuous drinker who was supremely content to keep his buzz going and not become an unwelcome guest at life’s table. His own dad, Mr. Clancy senior, had fallen into the path of an oncoming subway train six months ago. Alas, he had imbibed all the insurance premiums and left the family destitute, a condition not especially rare in this besotted and blighted community. Gerry was trailing behind us smiling benignly and assuming he was party to our exile. Because we’d boasted that our place probably had more beer in it than the bar he considered his loyalty would be rewarded. We didn’t mind, he was a good guy. Having Gerry around was much easier than keeping a messy or demanding pet.

      We all settled in around the television, popped open our beers, and discussed the 86ing with much wit and hilarity. After chugging his fourth, Brian announced that he’d be retiring for the night as he had breakfast shift in the morning. He cut the lights as he left so Gerard and I were left in the bluish glow of the TV screen to continue our beer consumption and balance quiet conversation with commercial-riddled programming. It was a nice peaceful state to be in. Relaxed and comfortable, we fell back on the topics and themes that have been staples since our youth while getting slowly hammered. I saved a swig from the last beer for Gerry, as I knew he needed a certain amount of alcohol in his system to pass out or else he’d get all fidgety and not get any rest. I stood up to stretch and head for the bathroom before turning in.

    “Are you sure there isn’t another beer somewhere?” Gerry said, gazing up from the couch hopefully.

    “Naw. That was the very last one, Gerry. Sorry.” I told him.

    “Are you sure?” he whined, “Maybe a bottle of something somewhere?” he rattled the empties in accelerating desperation.

    “Gerry, my lad, you know if there was I’d give it to you but there’s nothing left.” I informed him. I felt bad, it was obvious that he was just a few sips away from settling peacefully on the couch and sleeping until morning. He was so close to his goal it was heartbreaking. I looked into his big mournful eyes and tried joking him out of panicking. “Well, there is the recycled beer.”

    His eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging. Uh, where is it?”

    I groped my crotch and said, “In here.” I could tell he was confused. Hell, we were both so wasted that I wasn’t even sure what I meant for a second. It was supposed to be a joke. “Recycled beer. I’ve been drinking it all night and so if I piss it’s just warmed up beer coming out. If you don’t want it I’ll just take a leak and flush it but it’s practically pure beer now.” I wasn’t even sure if that was true.

    “I don’t know…” he hesitated, weighing the idea of drinking piss against the need for more alcohol.

     “Well, never mind.” I said, relieved that he’d passed on the offer, “I’m beat. See you in the morning.” I moved towards the bathroom, my bladder leading the charge.

     “Wait.” Gerard whispered. “Yeah, what the fuck. At least it’ll be enough to put me to sleep I guess.” He moved forward on the couch and looked up at me. “Uh, how do we do this? You wanna piss in a glass or what?”

    ‘Fuck no. You gotta get it right from the faucet. I’m not messing up a glass.” I swayed slightly as I positioned myself in front of him. He nervously glanced at Brian’s closed door and then turned off the TV with the remote. We were in the safety of darkness. I unzipped my fly and fished my dick out. He adjusted himself accordingly and put his lips at the very end of my dick. My voice was raspy when I instructed him to put more of my dick in his mouth so nothing would spill on the carpet or couch. His spidery fingers clutched at the base of my prick and he eased about half the shaft into the wet cavern of his mouth.

    “This feels weird. “I muttered, closing my eyes. “Suck a little to get me started.”

     He did. In the blackness of the room, dizzy from drinking so much and feeling the warm contours of his mouth encasing my tool, I started urinating. The relief from holding it in washed over me like a sweet wave and I sighed with pleasure. I could hear his rapid gulping as he swallowed the steady stream of recycled beer. It was a really long piss, I’d been too lazy to go to the bathroom when I first felt the pressure. It was startling not to hear the splash from the toilet and feel the juicy constriction of Gerry’s sucking maw. The urine just kept pouring from me and he continued to drink it up. It began not to seem like such a strange thing after a while. As the liquid jet dwindled I mumbled, “Don’t stop yet. There’s more. Try to get every last drop so there’s no mess.” Gerry sucked more vigorously, lapping and swirling his tongue until I was totally empty and my dick was plumping up from his ministrations. My hips bucked, plunging my entire swelling bone into his throat. He gagged and then backed away, settling into the couch. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whispered, “Thanks. I’ll be able to sleep now.”

    “You okay?” I asked moving away from him, my spittle-slick cock swaying heavily before me.

    “Yeah. I’m okay. See you in the morning.”

     “Good night.” I said into the darkness.

     “Yeah, same to you” he replied.

    Neither Brian nor I was what anyone would consider a “ladies man”. We talked about pussy but didn’t get much and made little effort pursuing it. I’d thrown a load into a drunken fat chick missing a few teeth about four months ago and I was pretty sure that Brian hadn’t scored since a pregnancy scare in high school. The girl got an abortion but there was a lot of hard feelings and Catholic guilt involved and the whole thing really spooked him badly. We weren’t all that good-looking either. Pasty-faced, doughy, pale hulking guys weren’t really on the top of anybody’s wish list. Gerard, on the other hand, had no problem attracting women. He was small and lean, affable, with big brown eyes that glistened like a puppy’s. They wanted to mother him (but he already had a mother), save him from himself (although he wasn’t interested in salvation), or simply get a response (which he reserved for imbibing spirits). Eventually they all realized that he was a hopeless cause and moved on. He didn’t seem to mind. I had the dim but distinct impression that he was actually incapable of getting an erection anyway.

      The following morning I’d all but put the recycling incident from my mind. I woke and stretched, glancing at the clock and glad to see I had more than an hour to get to work. I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, my morning piss-on waving like a divining rod through the gap in my baggy boxers. Gerry was just ending his stint in the shower. Like most devoted alkies he slept very little, usually less than four hours of deep coma before the craving woke him up. He’d often spend hours in the shower, the pelting water distracting him from that flesh-crawling feeling before the first drink. He was sitting on the edge of the tub drying his pruned feet when I came in and stood before the toilet.

     “Hey, uh, you think maybe that uh recycled stuff is still okay?” he hurriedly stammered. It must’ve been on his mind since much earlier in day. I was taken aback by his urgency and willingness. I’d figured that last night was a one time only deal and we’d both pretend it never happened, but clearly he was jonesing enough to consider it a serious option.

     “I think it might be too potent, Gerry. It’s been inside me a while, not like last night when it was just passing through.” I said, “It would be really strong and probably taste more like piss than beer.”

     He looked at my hard cock, bloated and pink, jutting from my drawers. “Uh, can we try it, Kev? Then I’ll go to the store and buy some beer. I just need something to get me started.” My dick was still aiming at the direction of the toilet until he said, “Please?”

     I turned and took two steps and brought my prick level with his expectant mouth and slid it inside. My dick was twice the size it had been last night and I could sense Gerry struggling to accommodate the increased girth. He hungrily sucked on it, eager to taste the fermented golden brew but I held back and enjoyed the fevered mouthing on my often neglected member. The soft moist orifice engulfed the meaty tube of my rock-hard boner and it felt wonderful. When he began whimpering and tugging on my ball bag I told him I was ready and concentrated on voiding my bladder. A grunt escaped from my lips as I felt the first flood of urine spew from my plumbing and fill up his mouth. Gerry had so much of my cock buried in his face and the piss was so pungent that some dribbled from the corners of his stretched lips, filling the bathroom with the salty ammonia-tinged tang of urine.

     “Drink it, Gerry. Don’t let any of it slop on the floor. Don’t be wasteful. Tap my thigh if you want me to cut off the flow and give you time to swallow.” I grabbed the base of my buried treasure and demonstrated. He gazed up at me, his eyes red and tearing from the acrid stench filling his sinuses and nodded for me to unstop the blockage. This was a whole different animal from last night’s in the dark, beer-befogged, half-joke. We could see each other and were by most standards sober. And there was nothing funny about the exhilarating sensation of my cock-knob getting a determined squeezing from Gerard’s throat muscles as he swallowed my pee. When I was completely drained I kept on sawing my fat prick between his pulpy lips. “There’s more coming, Gerry. Suck my cock harder and more will come” I panted as I face-fucked my buddy. He obliged for a few minutes before a squirt of pre-cum landed on his tongue.

    He pulled back and gazed up at me, still grasping the base of my meat and cupping my tightened testicle sac. “I don’t think the next thing that comes out of it is going to taste anything like recycled beer, Kevin.”

    “No, it won’t be piss.” I agreed, my tool throbbing, my whole body arching to fit my spit-coated stalk back into the warm womb of his mouth. “But I want you to swallow it anyway. One favor deserves another. I helped you out, now you can do the same for me.”

    He nodded more to himself than me and continued sucking. I relaxed as he worked on my cock. I’d be late for work. So what? Gerard slobbering on my bone was worth the annoyed expressions from my boss and lost wages. After I creamed in his mouth ten minutes later I gave him 20 bucks to go get cigarettes and beer and bring me back a cup of coffee. We didn’t get awkward or treat each other differently. Everything was just like normal. While I sipped the tepid weak coffee, Gerry popped his first beer can of the day and asked me not to tell Brian about our little exchange. “You know how he gets.” Gerry added.

    We soon found how he got after I told him what had happened. For the next couple of weeks Gerry was sucking us both off regularly and drinking piss daily. We had to cut back on letting him have the recycled stuff because his sweat started stinking pretty badly. Brian was always ready to pull his cock out and have Gerry suck on it, even when the three of us were just sitting around together in front of the TV. I don’t think Gerry loved the arrangement but he never complained or hesitated to give head when asked. Maybe on some level it made him feel useful, like he had a purpose in life, nobody asked. Brian even suggested we put a bed in the living room so Gerard wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch. It’s not like anybody else was likely to drop in and visit.

     I stopped in The Clover for a few hours after work, had a few drinks and convinced Old Paddy that we were wrong, we were sorry, and that we’d all be more respectful in the future. He lifted the ban and even gave me a shot of top shelf Scotch on the house, a rare and unexpected gesture on his part (although, like I said, we were about the only regular cash flow he got in that bar). I was looking forward to telling the boys that we’d been un86’d and could return to our former stomping grounds. As I got in the door and tossed my keys on the table Brian came strolling out of his room naked. He stopped when he saw me.

    “Hey, Kevin. We were wondering what happened to you.” Brian said casually.

     I was a bit unnerved by his nudity and kept glancing down at his prick. It was losing steam but I could tell it had recently been hard and in use. He was glowing with sweat but his cock had a distinctive greasy sheen to it and his russet pubes were gummy and matted. Brian noticed my interest and pulled on it a few times to watch my reaction.

     “Uh, yeah,” I said and cleared my throat, “I stopped at The Clover and we can go back now.”

     “Cool,. wanna go out for some Chinese later?” he grinned.

     “Sure. What’ve you been up to?” I asked.

     He nodded towards his darkened bedroom. “Me and Clancy junior were bored so we figured out a new way to entertain ourselves.” Brian confided, stroking his glistening tool all the while. “I’m gonna have a bath now. Why don’t you visit with our buddy and we’ll all go out to eat when I’m done.”

    Brian walked to the lavatory and I went into his room. The shades were pulled so it took a second or so to adjust my eyes. Gerard was laying face down on the bed naked, three or four pillows propping up his groin area. He was smoking a cigarette and I noticed a half-emptied fifth next to the ashtray. His small ass cheeks were raised high and I could just make out the long damp hairs in his crack.

    “Hey, Gerry. You and Brian trying something new?” I asked.

    “Yeah. Brian felt like fucking me so I said he could.” He answered, stubbing out the smoke and taking a swig from the bottle. I could see that his eyes were glassy and unfocused, he must have put away most of the whiskey.

    “We can go back to The Clover now.” I said.

    “That’s great. Won’t they all be surprised to have us back at the bar.” He giggled.

    I reached over and stroked the soft white flesh of his ass. Slowly I traced a finger down the sticky crack, brushing my fingertips on the hairless swollen rim of his asshole. I noticed an opened tub of Vaseline on the bed and some wet stains on the sheets.

    “Is this what he used?” I asked.

    Gerard craned his neck back to see what I was talking about. He didn’t even flinch as my finger sank into his wet bunghole. “Yeah.” He said, “I think so.” Gerry checked out my crotch and saw I had a hard-on. He didn’t know that it had starting growing during my chat with Brian. He didn’t say anything more, just turned his face to the wall and spread his legs wider. My finger came out of his ass and I licked off some of Brian’s cum before starting to take my clothes off. I positioned myself behind him and slowly and gently introduced my cock into Gerard’s slimy canal. It was wonderful. Even though he’d been greased, plowed and shot full of Brian’s spooge he was still tight enough to grip my cock firmly. I fucked his small butt with deep deliberate pacing, loving the feel of his body under mine.

     “Can we go to the bar after?” Gerry asked.

     “Yeah,” I groaned between thrusts, “and I’ll buy you whiskey all night”




       For some reason it ended up that we’d always use my brother Brian’s room whenever either of us wanted to fuck Gerry Clancy. Most of the time the three of us were piss-drunk when we took things that far. Gerry of course was always soused, he basically only had three states of being; craving alcohol, imbibing alcohol, and passed out from drinking too much alcohol. He never refused or argued when Brian or I would suggest that he might want to “lay down for a little while.” Gerry would take some hasty gulps from a glass or can and drift unsteadily towards my brother’s bed, undressing as he went. None of us ever mentioned this activity, we never discussed it or named what we were doing in any way. We had a few catch-phrases for summoning Gerry to action like “Want some recycled?” when he was to drink our piss. To induce him to suck our dicks usually required little more than an exposed penis and some gentle pressure on the back of his neck. I was surprised by the enthusiasm my brother developed for our drunken sex play. Brian, who had been skittish and almost surly about sex since high school, would often initiate the blowjobs and fuckfests, he would spend most of his time around the apartment buck naked or just in over-sized boxer shorts with his prick always on view. I wasn’t that bold. Being the elder and more responsible brother I kept my dick in my pants right up until it was time to feed Gerry or spear him. It was a bit disturbing to constantly have to look at my brother’s bone but considering what we were all doing, I just didn’t know how to broach the subject of modesty with him. In all the years I’d known him I’d never observed this hyper-sexed horny aspect of his character, so I was both perplexed and intrigued. Brian became so comfortable that he’d show off his dick even when Gerry wasn’t around to take care of him. A few times I know he had caught me staring when we’d be sitting on the couch at night watching TV and he’d be idly toying with his cock. His eyes would refocus on the screen but his prod would reach full erection. I never said anything about it and neither did he, but I was glad that I had enough clothes on to conceal my crotch.

     One night after a particularly boozy evening at The Clover bar I was humping an almost comatose Gerry on my brother’s bed. We were face to face, his legs loosely wrapped around my hips. We never kissed or even looked each other in the eye when we adopted this position, he would face in one direction and I in the other. My greased cock was sawing in and out of his grasping child-sized ass, his long but always limp penis mashed between our sweat-drenched bodies. Gerard’s scrotum was large, he had lots and lots of silky skin encasing his dysfunctional balls and I liked the way it felt against my sparse pubic hair. Gerry was resigned to a protracted fucking, he knew that when I was inebriated I wouldn’t ejaculate for forty minutes to an hour and we’d just begun. Brian had shut off all the lights in the house and came into the room. It wasn’t uncommon for either of us to be in the room watching and waiting for our turn to plug our drunken buddy. He was naked and sat on the bed, leaning up against the headboard and stroking his bloated meat. Since Gerry was gazing towards the wall I was in the position of looking right at my brother’s tool. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate on porking Gerry but I kept peeking to assess how hard Brian’s rod was. The room was dark, there was only a thin haze of light coming through the windows. I convinced myself that my brother couldn’t really see how studiously I was watching him play with himself. I could smell the tangy scent of his manhood. I began lunging more deeply into Gerry’s slick hole, my face accidentally coming nearer to Brian’s busy fingers.

      Brian got up and then knelt sideways on the crushed pillow. He told me to face the other way so Gerry could suck him. We had avoided any situations that resembled a three-way until now. We were all very drunk this particular night so it just happened. My brother braced himself by holding the headboard and putting his other hand on my back. I could feel the heat of his thigh brushing up on my shoulder as he began sliding his dick across Gerry’s mouth. We operated in silence, coordinating our movements so the three of us were undulating simultaneously. Because of the awkward positioning Gerry didn’t actually suck Brian, he just kept his mouth open and wetly tongued and lipped the pistoning cylinder as it repeated glided across his face. Gradually my head started to turn. I wasn’t used to facing that direction and it was throwing off my rhythm and the cock-slobbering was right next to my ear. Each time my cock jutted into the little drunk’s tunnel I reoriented my head a fraction of a millimeter until I was eventually looking straight down at Gerry’s closed eyes. Brian’s spittle-soaked cock made contact with my nose and lips on his in-thrust hump motion. We were all so drunk and the room was so dark and we were so cramped into our sweaty grouping that I assured myself that Brian wouldn’t even notice if I poked my tongue out and tasted the flesh of his cock. I opened my mouth and felt the meaty column graze over my lips and teeth and the tip of my protruding tongue. A voice in the back of my mind shouted, "Okay, you tasted it and he’ll never know so turn your face back to the wall! Don’t keep your mouth open or Brian will get the wrong idea. Don’t do it.” But I ignored it. As Gerard mouthed the underside of my brother’s prick I began tentatively servicing the top-side of his head and shaft. Brian sighed and stopped thrusting, pausing with his cock between us, allowing both of our mouths to wet and stimulate his twitching heft. Gerry’s eyes opened when he realized that our lips were connecting and our spit intermingling around Brian’s bone. We stared at each other for a fleeting second before I closed my eyes.

       Brian sighed appreciatively and the hand on my back moved lazily up to the nape of my neck. He caressed me with calming authoritative fingers and gently turned me towards him. My brother took hold of the base of his cock and directed straight into my gaping maw. As his bone filled my mouth and tapped at my throat I felt my own cock exploding, pumping semen into Gerry’s ass. I moaned as I came, sucking inexpertly on Brian’s tool as I wound down on my fucking. Gerry had turned back to the wall and his legs fell from my body. I wanted to stop, I didn’t want to suck dick any more and was just about to spit it out when a flood of gooey cream splattered across the roof of my mouth. I swallowed one more volley before disentangling myself from both boys and lurching towards the door. I was reeling but I looked back to see Brian rolling our snoring friend over and jamming his still-hard dick into Gerry’s cum-dripping asshole.

      We all played the “too drunk to remember” game for the next few days. Brian seemed perfectly willing to forget that I’d mistakenly blown him and who really knew how much was captured in Clancy junior’s besotted brain? The event was hopefully relegated to the order of other Scotch and beer-fueled mishaps like pissing in the closet and destroying pots on the stove. I convinced myself that any curiosity I had about the subject was satisfied completely. I never wanted to do that again.

      Clancy’s mother became very ill right after that night. He had to spend every day and every night with her, helping her get around and making sure she took her medicine. We gave him $50 so he could stock up on liquor during his stint as a nurse and told him we’d be praying for the old lady. Deprived of our usual playmate the brothers Flanagan tried readjusting to not having our whistles regularly wetted. I started getting new books from the library and Brian became agitated and moody. Once I even heard him mutter, “Why doesn’t she just die already?” referring to Gerry’s ailing mum.

      We were sitting in our usual places on the couch watching television and drinking one night. Brian was grumpy and tugged morosely at his crotch throughout the evening. I tried to think of something to do that might snap him out of it.

    “Say Brian, why don’t you and I get dressed up and go downtown this weekend and pick up a couple of girls?” I said. It was a suggestion that he normally jumped on eagerly.

     “Come on, Kevin. Those fucking chicks in the city aren’t going to give us the time of day. We’ve gone out a hundred times and never even came close to scoring. We’re a pair of big Irish louts without enough money to even impress the skanks. We get there, waste money and then get humiliated. The ugly fat ones don’t even give us their right phone numbers. I’m just going to drink until I pass out.” He snarled.

      I read my book and he watched TV. As a treat I broke out some tequila so we could do some shots and maybe get less gloomy. Soon we were pleasantly buzzed and enjoying ourselves again. Brian came back from the kitchen with some cold beers and I glanced at his plump cock bouncing from the fly of his boxers. He tucked it in and I thought that was a proper reaction.

     “Maybe we should try a different kind of bar this weekend.” He said casually.

     “ What do you mean?” I asked.

     “You know. Those other kinds of bars.” He tossed off before taking a swig on his brew.

     “What kind?” I persisted.

      “ The kind that guys who ain’t looking for pussy go to.” He answered.

      “Uh,…” I said.

      “Just a thought.” Brian concluded.

      I read a few chapters of my book and then noticed I didn’t have any more beer. I looked over at Brian to see if he wanted one too but he was fast asleep. I retrieved a fresh can of beer and turned out all the lights. By the dim glow of the television I sipped my beer and tried to figure out what the program showing was about. It made no sense so I reached for the remote control which I discovered lying on Brian’s thigh. His cock and balls were completely exposed through the frayed opening of his shorts, and his knockwurst was rolling gently with each breath he took. I flipped around the channels and finally decided to turn off the set and just finish my beer before hitting the sack. I sat there on my side of the couch in the dark. I watched the movement of that fleshy tube projecting from my brother’s underwear. It seemed to be getting longer but it was so dim in the living room I couldn’t really be sure so I quietly moved closer. Brian’s cock was bigger. His foreskin had eased back and more of his knob was showing. I was sure of it. He was still sound asleep, breathing and snoring, his sausage doing a little independent dance on his leg. I pulled my briefs down to relieve the pressure on my own turgid meat. I put my face closer to Brian’s genitals, promising myself that I would only smell the area and then go to my room. His cockhead had completely shed the confines of its sleeve and glistened wetly, attracting whatever light there was in the murky room. I inhaled deeply. There was smegma and sweat and urine and I couldn’t differentiate the aromas. Brian’s prick rose tenuously from its resting place on his lap and began getting harder. His shaft twitched and rose up from his bush like a monolith. I grasped the base of my brother’s bone with feathery fingers and slowly began licking.

      Brian was asleep. Maybe even passed out, he’d been drinking a lot tonight. He wouldn’t ever know about this little game between his dick and me. A little game. I gripped the stalk a little more firmly and jerked it up and down very slowly. Sheathing and unsheathing his glossy helmet with the thick foreskin, feeling the strength and weight of Brian’s meat being worked in my hand. The rubbery plum of his cock filled my mouth and I began sucking more of his bone past my lips. While I sucked his cock I masturbated my own prick which was as hard as a rock and drooling pre-cum like a kid with a cold’s nose. I gagged loudly when I had almost the entire length in my sucking maw. I just held my position waiting to see if the noise had woken him up. My mouth was full of saliva and rivulets cascaded down the shaft of his boner. He shifted briefly, fingering his balls from his underwear before sinking back into a deep sleep. I eased off his shaft and started licking his balls since they were out already. The couch, his boxers and his balls were thoroughly soaked when I returned to sucking his cock. I felt one of his hands on my hair, then the both of them. He stroked my neck and ears and held my head as he thrust up from the couch burying his prong deep in my throat. I felt so ashamed that he was awake that tears filled my eyes but I continued sucking on his cock. A choked moan escaped before I could quash it.

       “You can moan if you like, Kevin.” Brian whispered in the dark, his fingers tenderly cupping my ears. “It feels good when you moan around my dick like that.”

     I began moaning weakly each time his cock exited from my mouth, and grunted contentedly when it returned. He guided my head to meet his thrusts and pretty soon he was fucking my face. There was mutual growling and a lot of wet sucking noises in the dark room. Brian was hissing as he breathed and my hand jerked furiously on my dick.

      “Mm, so fucking good.” Brian said, “It’s so much better when the other guy really wants it. That’s fucking excellent, Kevin. Gerry can’t worship it the way you can. I fucking love that you love it. Let me stand up so you can do it that way.” Brian stood up, never letting his prick slip out of my lips. “Oh, yeah, Kevin, that’s the way. Stop playing with yourself. You’re gonna shoot too early. Jesus, suck my balls some more. Wow, Kevin you got both my balls in your mouth. I feel your tongue in there. Too bad we didn’t know about this years ago. Oh shit! Suck my cock. Suck my fucking cock, big brother. You suck so good.”

      For the next fifteen minutes I blew Brian there in the living room. All my shame and trepidation were erased by the time his rich pungent cream began splashing my tonsils. I continued sucking, eager to get every pearly drop out of his pud. I’d been dreaming about that special flavor and texture from that time with Jerry. His dick was starting to deflate and I was backing away to relinquish it when he steadied my head more forcefully.

      “Not yet, Kevin. Not just yet.” Mt bother whispered. “Just keep still and leave my dick in your mouth. That’s it. Keep on sucking if you want to. It’s just us, the Flanagan brothers sharing a little fun with each other the dark. We’re both really drunk so this doesn’t count for anything. Right? Tomorrow we won’t even remember it. Almost there, Kev. It’s coming..” Brian crooned from above.

     A short hot jet of liquid landed on my tongue. It took a second to understand what he’d just done. Then his cock contracted and a little stream shot more of it into my mouth. I looked up at him. My brother grinned conspiratorially. “You had a little taste. Not too bad, right? You might as well get all of it. It’ll just take a minute or so and BOOM! We’re off to bed. Gerry does the recycling trick. You’ve seen him. It’s no big deal.” Piss started trickling down my throat. Brian removed his hands from my head, confident that I wanted it enough to hold my place. As I began gulping the acidic yeasty liquid jetting from my brother’s cock-knob, sperm shot out from my dick. It sprayed on Brian’s leg and he took this as a good sign and stopped restraining the full flow of his piss. My mouth was flooded with his strong urine and I swallowed again and again as cum drizzled from my twitching boner. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound. Eh, Kev? Can you taste the tequila? Think you’ll catch an extra buzz from it?”


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