Hardwood

Assumably everyone knows who the Keno brothers are--those cute little hottie twins that appraise furniture on

Antiques Roadshow.

If I ever have a threesome, it'll be with them, although so far they've managed to resist the lure of the antique furniture at my place. Of course this story is pure fiction...but we can dream, can't we?

One note: Duncan Phyfe was an Early American cabinetmaker who produced some of the finest furniture ever made in this country. His furniture is still prized and sought after to this very day.

))###((

It seemed that no sooner had Leslie put the phone down than Leigh barged into the shop, demanding, "Alright, what's such a big deal that you brought me in when the shop's closed?"

"Just look at this!" Leslie said, gesturing at a small table with a tiltable, scalloped top. Leigh approached it and checked it from all angles. Finally he said, nodding, "This is beautiful! Where'd you buy it?"

"At an estate sale."

They stood side by side for a minute admiring it. Leigh had to admit his brother had gotten a great piece of furniture. He bumped his hip into Leslie's, Leslie elbowed him back, and they shared a look out the corners of their eyes. Leigh smiled, then said, "Well, how much did you pay for it?"

"A lot. But I got my money's worth. Just feel this wood!"

Leigh promptly put his hand on the front of Leslie's pants.

"Not that wood, jackass, the wood on the table!"

"Well, at least you admit you've got a woody."

"Well, duh, this is a Duncan Phyfe!"

"Do you even hear how pathetic you sound?" Leigh moved his hand up and back, squeezing slightly. "You have a hard-on and the best thing you can think of to do with it is whack off about a piece of furniture?"

"Well, you have a better suggestion?"

"Oh, for shit's sake!" Leigh's other hand came over to work on Leslie's belt.

"Man, cut that out. What do you think Mom would say?"

"I don't know, let's call her and ask," Leigh retaliated, grabbing his cell phone and pretending to dial. "Excuse me, Mrs. Keno, would you mind if I drained your son's cock dry? Didn't think so. Thanks, bye!"

"You're a moron, you know that?"

"Oh, shut up," Leigh said, laid the cell phone down--though not on the table--and finished unbuckling Leslie's belt. Next thing, he got down on his knees, undid the button of Leslie's fly, and pulled the zipper tab down with his teeth. It was an art only he had mastered, and it would have made a great party trick except that it wasn't a really smart career move to unzip your brother's pants in public. Leigh had fantasized about it, though. How could you resist a cute blond guy, even--especially!--if you happened to be a cute blond guy yourself?

Leslie's bulge expanded, and Leigh ran his tongue back up the length of it. Even through Leslie's underwear he could feel the hardness and warmth. So he went for it and pulled Leslie's cock free. He didn't hear any complaining--in fact, he half-expected the slit to open up like one of Señor Wences' puppets and yell, "GET DOWN HERE AND SUCK ME, ASSHOLE!"

He licked the length of Leslie's hard-on a few times, then tongued the head, hearing Leslie moan, "Fuck!" That sounded pretty good, so he took his cue and pushed his mouth down the pulsing shaft, then pulled back up. Leslie's back arched, and Leigh reached up and cupped his brother's butt so he could get his mouth down further. Deep-throating was an impossible dream, but there was no law saying you couldn't take as much as you could get. Besides, he liked the taste. Even better was hearing Leslie yell, and knowing pretty soon he would actually grab the Duncan Phyfe table that was behind him. What the hell, the thing was 200 years old, so what were the odds that someone else hadn't gotten laid on it already?

Leslie looked down unsteadily at his brother sucking his cock. It was maddeningly arousing, and he knew Leigh knew it. Then Leigh's fingers started stroking, and Leslie groaned, "Oh, shit, I'm gonna--"

Leigh responded with a magnificent final suck worthy of a major appliance. It would have drawn the dust bunnies across the floor, except there were none because Leslie was such a neatnik. "Aaaaarrrgggghhh!" Leslie screamed, and shot a blast of slick hot cream into Leigh's mouth.

Of the two, Leigh was the cum junkie. He would have eaten his own, if he could have built a long enough straw. So he slurped Leslie's down like it was a milkshake, drawing out every drop. Leslie watched him and wondered, not for the first time, if cum would make a good furniture polish.

Leigh licked his brother's steaming manhood clean, then leaned back and smacked his lips. "You're an idiot," Leslie said.

"Deal with it as best you can," Leigh said. "But only after you're done with me."

"Oh, Christ," Leslie answered.

Leigh had an erection that could cut diamonds, and he was more than ready to have it jazzed off. So he rested back on the fabulous Baluch oriental carpet with his legs spread, knees bent. Leslie knelt between them, and Leigh whipped his fly open and pulled out his swollen cock. Leslie felt his mouth start to water. He began by kissing Leigh's stiff pole from bottom to top, then flicked his tongue over the tip. Leigh's hips began to grind.

Leslie put more pressure on Leigh's head, then delved his tongue into the slit, and Leigh groaned. If Leslie could have catheterized Leigh with his tongue, Leigh would have blasted off right then and there...but then the cum would have nowhere to go, and having your penis blow up like a balloon would be a decidedly bad thing. Besides, there was still a bunch of sucking to do. So Leslie got busy, alternating between sucking, kissing, and licking. Leigh's nails were scraping the carpet, which fortunately had a lot of bald spots already. Leslie loved the taste of the flesh, and savored it while his brother's impending orgasm built up. Finally Leigh's body began to vibrate, and he thrust upward, bashing Leslie's uvula against his palate and spraying a screaming jet of sperm down his throat. He may not have been the ultimate furniture authority Leslie was, but the man could cum like Mount Saint Helens.

"Holy fuck," Leigh said as they collapsed onto the floor.

"Goddamn right," Leslie echoed.

Leigh fished in his pocket and pulled out two little packets labeled: PREMOISTENED TOWELETTES. "What are you now, a Boy Scout?" Leslie said.

"Yeah, and I'm going for my sexual etiquette badge," Leigh retorted and tossed a towelette at him. Leslie didn't pick it up.

"What now?" Leigh said. "You want me to clean you up?"

"Depends on whether you want your sweet ass fucked."

"Well," Leigh said, throwing his packet halfway across the room and reaching for his brother's already-rehardening prick, "Mom always did say I was the instigator."