An Inheritance of Servitude

For some reason, the first thing I remember about that day was the coldness of the glass in the passenger side window of the truck 'Uncle' Brad was driving to his mountain cabin. It was June 1994 and a pre-dawn rain had cooled things off. The sky still was overcast and the threat of a storm still lingered.

A few days before, two weeks after high school graduation and a month after my 18th birthday, my Mom had discovered copies of Honcho and Blue Boy under my bed. My grandparents owned several motels and hotels in the region, so I never lacked for a summer job cleaning rooms. That's where I'd found them, great spank bank material for a virgin who didn't know what his sexuality was yet. I longed to suck a cock like one of those in the magazines. I liked girls, too, and had some near misses getting laid, but truth be told I wanked to Honcho more than then Penthouse. I was pretty sure my Mom had told Brad, based on some indistinct words I'd overheard her say over the phone.

Brad was the best friend of my dad and a good friend of my mom's. He was chief operations officer in my grandparents' company. My dad had been chief financial officer when he died in 1991 in a 10-car pile-up. My grades slid. I was depressed for a long time. My mom loved my dad, but I think she bounced back sooner than me, or appeared to, which strained our relationship. That's when I went from dismissing my furtive glances in the school locker room checking out cocks to looking more at older men. I never even fantasized about my dad, but something in me wanted that older male approval. People my age no longer had any attraction for me. AIDS also scared me away from doing anything more than look.

Brad had been around and part of my family's world since I was little. That's how he earned the 'uncle' part of his name with me. Only recently had he become the object of my still partly denied lust. He was like Tom Selleck without the mustache and with more pepper in his hair. He never lacked for girls but had never married. I was NOT looking forward to discussing the magazines and whether I was gay with him. How could he not have a lower opinion of me then with what he probably had learned from my mother?

I audibly sighed with the burden of these thoughts as he nudged my shoulder.

"Hey, cut it out. We're going to have fun and get out of that city heat. We're almost there."

A minute later we passed through the gate of the small cluster of luxury homes. It was funny that Brad called it his cabin. It was more suburban home with rustic finishes.

Brad had tried to fill in for my father, and he'd done a pretty good job. We'd been up here before, hiked, taken nature photos, fished etc. This time, he'd promised me a beer or two. Brad stopped the car in the u-shaped drive and parked it there at the end of the walk to the front door.

Wordlessly, we each grabbed our duffel bags from behind the seats and walked in after Brad punched in the code.

It was stuffy, and he lowered the thermostat setting and got the AC cranked up. Brad then proceeded to do some other similar things to prep the house. I helped him unload groceries, but after I went to my room, unpacked and then ended up lying down on the bed staring at the sentence. I think Brad looked in on me at some point through the open door then went to unpack and unwind in the master bedroom. I drifted off into an afternoon nap.

Brad woke me and again was jostling my shoulder.

"Wakey, wakey, Drew" he smiled. "Hey, I dozed a bit, too, but it's time to get up."

I looked at the clock. It was almost 7:30, and the light was fading.

"Wow, I did not mean to sleep that much."

"Me either, the rain started again and the sound put me to sleep. It's stopped now and should be a good night to stay up late and enjoy the deck. I'm going to grill some steaks."

Brad challenged me to make some salads and bake a couple of big potatoes, and I rose to the challenge. Within an hour we were eating at the kitchen table, which looked out on the woods and deck behind the 'cabin.' We were drinking beers with the meal, which felt terribly grownup to me.

We talked about my going to college, and he reminisced about his own college years.

"You know it's a great time, but it's also tough because you're being asked to make decisions about your future and who you are. Remember nothing is locked in stone though. Don't treat it like they are forever decisions but take them seriously. Enjoy yourself and explore everything, including relationships."

I nodded and said I would.

Brad gave me a knowing smile and finally dropped the other shoe, "Your mom told me you're already exploring, at least in privacy and in your head. She told me about the magazines under your bed."

Despite his earlier words, I still was anticipating some judgment or mild chastisement. Brad didn't deliver it though.

"You know, I guess I'm bisexual, and it started with me in college. I fucked a few guys and let them suck my cock. Bottoming wasn't for me though, and I still love women. An ass is an ass though and a mouth is a mouth, right?"

I nodded again, and Brad burst out laughing.

"Man, if you could see your face right now, then you'd probably laugh, too."

Brad, really? I was stunned and did not see his revelation coming.

Brad said, "Come on, Andy! Speak. What do you think?"

I told him what I was feeling, how I was shocked but glad he wasn't thinking less of me because of the gay porn mags, and then I started asking him questions about his college experiments and what he thought now. For him, it had started with a drunken fuck of a fairly femme guy after a party. Brad had fucked him at the bottom of a dorm stairwell, under the stairs and using some boxes stored there. The guy had fluffed him out of his 'whiskey dick' state first and magically had a tiny bottle of lube with him. Brad said the blowjob had been the best he'd received to that time and the anal was on the same level.

Brad asked me about my sexual experience, and I told him the truth. I was officially a virgin. I had a few makeout sessions with girls that were good that resulted in me fingering them to orgasm and me getting handjobs, some limited oral and things like that. I had no experience with men beyond fantasy.

"Well, when I left college, I thought my experiments were over and I knew who I was. I was going to conform and stick to women, find a wife and do what was expected. Bisexuality wasn't part of my sense of who I was. BUT, I discovered I started to miss it."

I just listened, and then Brad dropped the real bombshell.

"Then, I met your mom and dad and everything changed. We all three became best friends with each other, and they needed me."

Almost nervously, Brad smiled and said, "There's that look of yours again. I know I am dropping all sorts of bombs on you tonight, giving you lots to absorb."

"I don't believe you," I said quietly. His words were neutral but it was the subtext and tone I was rejecting.

"It's true," Brad said. "It really is. Your dad was and your mom is very ... submissive. They loved each other, but something was missing. They both said they knew it but didn't want to admit it because almost everything else was perfect. I had a wonderful man and a wonderful woman who gave me control, and I had the best of both worlds."

Some things in my head started to click into place that made what Brad told me make sense. They were little things I had seen or heard over the years. Individually, they were easy to dismiss but with this big piece of news, it was getting harder to ignore them. Still, I just couldn't wrap my head around it all. I denied it and said so.

Brad said, "I didn't want to show you this tonight, but you're sort of forcing me to show you all the cards tonight, Billy."

I told him I didn't need to see anything and that I still couldn't believe my PTA, bake-sale mom and Chamber of Commerce dad had been in a longstanding menage a trois.

"Just give me 10 minutes, and then I'll stop. If after that you want to pretend we never had this conversation tonight, then I won't say another word. OK?"

Reluctantly, I agreed.

We went into the living room, and he turned on the TV and VCR as I settled into the couch. Next, Brad pulled a hidden key from behind some books in the entertainment center, inserted it in a locked drawer there and unlocked the drawer and then took from it a videotape and popped it into the player.

The first image I saw was of the back of a man's head. I pretended not to recognize it, but when the camera swung around to the side and pulled back, I couldn't deny it was my father. He was collared, naked and kneeling. I could hear Brad's voice instruct him to "tell us what you are."

He looked from the camera and then up at Brad and blushed.

"I'm a faggot. I'm a cocksucker and a cuntlicker. I'm a beta and your slave, Sir."

I heard Brad say, "Good, slut," and then watched his lower half enter the frame and his large, cut cock become visible, too. My father buried his face in Brad's big, loose sac and balls. Suddenly, the video paused and I turned to me left to see Brad had slipped his shorts off and pulled his semi-erect cock through the fly of his boxers.

"Sorry, the boys needed some air," he said with a smile that almost was a sneer. "Do you want to watch more?"

"No," I said. My mind and my thoughts were all over the place, emotionally assaulted. Still, I found myself staring at Brad's hardening dick but trying to look at his face.

"Does it look bigger or smaller in person?" Brad asked with a chuckle. It was thick, long (7+ inches?) and veiny.

I'm not sure why I said anything at all, but I managed a whispered, "Bigger."

"Are you sure? Because it looks bigger on the screen to me," he said with a smile.

I looked again at the TV and he had frozen it on the image of his own cock, a closeup.

"Why don't you get a closer look and get down on the floor, Billy?"

Brad tugged on my arm and I passively followed to a spot between his legs. All these revelations had me in an emotional lockdown mode. So, there I was kneeling, finally with a large dick not two feet from my face. I could smell the scent of his cock and balls, Brad's scent. My smaller cock was stiff and leaking precum in my briefs.

"Here, so you can get a clear view," Brad said as he slipped his boxers down. He grabbed my left shoulder and upper arm, hooking his hand in my armpit and guided me to my knees in front of him.

Now, I could clearly see his huge balls and the loose skin of his scrotum. They hung there, those cum-filled nuts of a real man, the kind of man in the magazines I had wanked to. I love cocks and everything about them, but for as long as I can remember I have been fascinated by balls and scrotums. I looked up at Brad, my eyes were wet and, I imagine, glassy with lust but I looked in his eyes and my cock got even harder. I saw hot steel in them. There was no doubt what I was about to do and he was determined to bend me to it. I felt his hand behind my neck now pulling me down.

With a sigh, I gave in and buried my face and nose in his musky balls. I heard myself moan as I licked and sucked at his sac. I gently took one of his heavy, virile testicles in my lips and sucked at it. I so wanted the seed inside, the seed of an alpha.

He commanded me to look up at him and I did, but I kept my mouth in place, feeding on his masculine power and energy. Our eyes met and he spoke, "Billy, you're taking your father's place as my cocksucking faggot. I like it slow so I expect you to slowly savor and really worship there. That cock is your god, now."

Brad finished with a smirk. That and his harsh words, "faggot" and "cocksucker," were both slaps in the face, verbal assertions of his dominance, a dominance I had no choice but to accept them.

With slow, deliberate speed, my mouth gradually travelled up from his balls and I tongued and licked at the base of his hard-as-rock shaft. Already, my head was somewhere I later learned was subspace. What I lacked in experience I think I made up for in eagerness and lust. Now, I recognize it as swimming in Phallus. I use that term to mean male sexual energy and masculinity. Simultaneously, I was glad to have a cock and to serve one. Brad was more insightful than he or I knew at the time because in that moment I was a convert in the Church of Cock, the Cult of Phallus.

I lapped enthusiastically at the skin of his shaft, tracing every vein and texture. My ministrations ended at his frenulum and a tasted Brad's first drops of pre-cum. His hands guided my head and mouth until my lips were directly over the head of his dick. With a light pressure, he thrust into my mouth.

Within seconds, my mouth was filled. I continued to lap at the underside of his shaft, moving my tongue to generate friction and to savor his taste, his alpha-ness. I sucked like a calf at a teat, hungry for cock milk. The length hit my gag spot and Brad pulled me back a fraction of an inch and left it there.

"You might not be able to take it all the first time, but your dad did," Brad challenged. "Stay right there or pull up a little more. Get used to it."

I sucked and made short stroking movements with my tongue. Somehow this calmed me. Breathing through my nose was difficult at first, but as I relaxed my need for air diminished and it became easier. After just a few minutes, I needed and wanted to take Brad's cock deeper. I discovered my gag reflex was much lower in my throat and slowly I eased the shaft deeper. Soon, I felt the scratch of his pubes at my lips and nose. He was all inside me, and I felt a surge of both pride and submission, a seemingly contradictory combination of emotions. To breathe though, I had to slowly withdraw to the half point of his cock length.

I started alternating between these half swallows and deep throating. I was very pleased with myself and with pleasing him. I needed his approval, coming from the authority and status of an older male. I must have been lost in a haze of lust because I don't remember noticing any of the signs until remembering later his shaft swelling and his breath catching as Brad spooged in my mouth.

God, how clearly I remember that first taste of another man's seed. I neither liked it nor disliked it. Brad's had a meaty flavor, maybe it was the steaks (ha!). Brad told me not to swallow yet as he ejaculated the last small ropes of cum onto my tongue. Twenty seconds later, he ordered me to show me his load.

"Damn! It's even more than I thought. OK, swallow it, cocksucker."

I did. I savored the sensation of it traveling down to my stomach, probably my imagination at work. Since that night, I have had relationships with women and men, but that first taste of cum imprinted on my brain so powerfully. Sometimes I feel I am only truly at peace when I have eaten and can taste it in my mouth.

Brad pulled me up and hugged me.

"I needed that."

Without meaning to, I found myself snuggled against his chest, my cheek resting in his hair. Playfully, I extended my tongue and licked a nipple. He chuckled, squeezed my hard-on, which was dripping pre-cum, then pulled me by my cock, forcing me to stand. He shifted his hand to the back of my head and guided me to the master bedroom. Brad left me standing there while he retrieved a silicon cock ring from the drawer of a bedside table. He stretched it around the base of my balls, which constricted everything but not too tightly.

"Get on the bed on all fours," he commanded gruffly.

I assumed the position, and in that position, I couldn't see what he was doing, but I could hear the snap of a latex glove and the squirt of a bottle. Next, I felt his fingers probing at my asshole.

"Damn, you are tight, boy," Brad said. "Ever do any butt play, even on your own?"

"No, sir," I replied meekly.

"Well, that might be a challenge at first for you then, but I will be rewarded with a tight ass to fuck. And mark my words, I will fuck you."

My cock twitched at this news, and his determined assertiveness.

As he fingered my ass, Brad talked a lot and tried various combinations of fingers and thumb, opening me up.

"Your dad loved it when I fucked him, and he loved my cock. Your mom still does. Even now, the idea of fucking a whole family, having all of you as my bitches is ... arousing. It's almost like all of you were born to be my sex slaves," he said with a laugh.

"We've been discreet so far, but maybe your mom and I will even let you watch sometime or listen through the wall," he said. "You'll get to hear her moan for my cock like you are about to do. She calls it my 'magic wand,'" he laughed.

Once I was lubed and stretched enough, Brad pushed a wide butt plug into my ass. It took some effort but eventually, it went in. Brad then removed the glove and joined me on the bed.

"Straddle my hips and face me," he said.

I noticed his cock, which I later would nickname 'The Hammer,' was semi-erect. Brad was recovering from the blowjob.

Brad reached out and teased my almost purple cock, lightly running his finger along the frenulum. I moaned and he fed me a big drop of pre-cum. I licked his finger clean.

"Goddamn, you are one cute, little twink fuckboy!" Brad said as he lightly patted my left cheek with his right hand. I then felt the tip of The Hammer touching the cleft of my ass. Brad reached under me and removed the butt plug. It came out with a "plop" and I sighed. Brad guided me back and with his right hand, aimed his cock at my asshole.

"Ride that pole, and feel free to do it as fast and as slow as you want, until I tell you otherwise. This is one of your mom's favorite positions. Let's see if it's yours."

I pulled my ass cheeks wide with both hands and slowly, very slowly, pushed down onto his cock. My goal was to get the head in. I tried to relax. That's what everyone said to do. I could feel the bottom, fat ridge of the glans pop into my ass. I hesitated a second or two then slowly used my weight and thighs to push it further in.

Brad said, "God, you are TIGHT! That feels awesome. It's like the first time I fucked your dad. Keep going, boy."

I felt the head slide past my prostate and I groaned loudly.

Brad chuckled arrogantly.

"Oh, you are one horny, little boy cunt. You are going to LOVE me fucking you," Brad said.

I had him about halfway in now. Apart from all the new sensations, my mind was full of perverse thoughts of how this cock had been in the pussy of the woman who gave birth to me and in the ass of the man who spilled his sperm into her. Maybe it was destiny that it would fill me, too.

That was when I felt his balls and sack touch my ass cheeks and realized he was all in. Both of us were breathing heavy. Slowly, I rose higher and higher. I knew it was only inches but its withdrawal felt like miles. Already, I was missing having it all in my ass, clenched tight and help precious there. I stopped before the head could plop out and I lowered myself again.

"You're a full fag now," I thought to myself. "You're full of alpha cock just like some little bitch." I moaned for it.

Brad moaned, and I thrust up and down a second time. It was getting easier. My ass was stretching and full of lube. Both of us were covered in a sheen of sweat. Faster and faster, I humped his cock. Brad started to buck slightly under me.

I'm not sure why I said it, but I noticed a giant, full moon over the lake, "The moon is beautiful."

Brad turned his head and groaned a "yes."

Then, he surprised me by pushing me away.

"Let's go outside," he said, pulling wide the sliding door. "Come on."

There was a small, side table there that was the perfect height, and Brad bent me over it.

"No one can see us here. Don't worry," Brad reassured as he bent me over the table and pushed his cock back in. The table started to rock beneath us, but it held together. A cool, night breeze embraced us and cooled the sweat on our skin as Brad grunted and panted behind me. What the change did for me was overwhelming. With just the slight change in angle, Brad's cock was grazing my prostate and felt waves of pleasure with each contact.