Boys Rassling Story
It was one of
those god-awful August days when all you really wanna do is hide in the shade
with a cooler full of ice and a couple of six-packs -- anything to get away from
the heat. I'd even suggested that maybe we should just close up shop for the
day: nobody in their right mind was gonna be out on a day like this, let alone
bring their car in for repairs, but my brother Jake wouldn't hear of it. Seemed
kinda stupid, if you ask me. As it was, me 'n' Jake didn't have shit to do: I'd
finished working on Charley Sweeney's truck yesterday, and Jake'd spent most of
his time taking apart a carburetor we'd pulled outa Ed Bergen's tractor.
Damn, but it was hot.
The inside of the garage was worse than a fucking oven, so we'd gone outside, sittin' in what little shade there was, relishing even the slightest breeze. Jake picked away at that dumb carburetor, while I nursed a beer and just sorta stared off at nothin' in particular. Finally I found myself looking at our sign, and there was somethin' about it that I couldn't figure. "Jake, mind if I ask you what's probably gonna sound like a stupid question?"
"Nothin' new there, little brother. Let's hear it."
"Well, on our sign, we got 'Smith & Smith Rebuilt Engines'."
"So who's Smith and who's th' other Smith?"
He looked at me like I was some kinda big-time idiot. "What the hell're you talkin' about?"
"Who's Smith and who's th'other Smith? Pretty simple question, way I figure it."
"I'm Smith and you're th' other Smith. Pretty stupid question's the way I figure it."
"Yeah, but - and I mean, just for the sake of conversation - who's to say I ain't the first Smith and you ain't th' other one?"
"Because I'm older than you, that's why. Now shut up; it's too hot t' talk."
Sure, as if a lousy six minutes that separated a coupla twins was supposed t' make the older one of them into some kinda hot shit or somethin'. I never did believe that bunch of horseswill, even when Pop hisself would tell it me. When we were growin' up, those six minutes had been the cause of more scraps than a pond has bullfrogs, and usually over stupid things like who was gonna burn the garbage and who was gonna help Pop with rakin' all the damn leaves outa the yard. As we got older, it got to happenin' more and more, over dumber and dumber reasons, 'specially once we got to be teenagers.
It wasn't that I didn't like my twin; Jake could be a pretty decent guy if he was of a mind to be. More than once, he'd been there right 'side me when I found myself in a bad situation, like when I told the Hansen twins - that's Ed and Mike - that their daddy wasn't Mr. Hansen what runs the post office but his brother. They didn't like that too much, and they probably woulda done a helluva good job of re-arrangin' my face if ol' Jake hadn't come along when he did. But the best fights we ever had were between us; I sometimes think we probably woulda been put on permanent detention for fightin' at school if we hadn't dropped out first. Finally Pop\'d gotten so tired of tearing us off'n each other that he went out and bought us this garage, thinkin' if we had to work fourteen hours a day, six days a week to keep it goin', we'd be too tired to do anything else.Well, he was almost right. It 's hard work when you're trying to grapple with a ton of diesel engine that's real determined to go someplace other than where you want it to. Most days, we'd both be so bone-tired, all we wanted to do was lock the doors and head upstairs to the apartment we shared over the garage. We'd throw a couple of frozen dinners in the over, pop open a beer or two, and watch some TV. Other nights, Jake'd decide he wanted to plow me in the butt, and that could really ticked me off, 'specially on those nights when he knew damn well it was my turn to plow him - and then we'd get into an argument over whose turn it might be, and we'd never be able to find a fuckin' calendar, and then he'd get pissed off or I'd get pissed off, and then before long we'd be rasslin' all over the floor, generally trashin' the place, windin' up with a buncha broken furniture and nobody's butt gettin' plowed ' cause we'd be too fucking worn out to do anything 'cept jack each other off - which wasn't so bad, 'cept when you've spent all day lookin' forward to doin' some serious butt plowing and you have to settle for a hand-job instead.
Still, for some reason, it really bugged me about the sign. Maybe it was the heat that was aggravatin' me; maybe it was just bein' in one of those kind of moods, but whatever it was, I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I think you're wrong, big brother."
"Yeah. I think I'm Smith, and you're th' other Smith."
Real calm, he put down the carb and sat back, smiling as he crossed his arms, restin' them on his chest. "You think so, do you?"
"Sure. No law says the older-by-six-minutes brother has t' be first in everything. Maybe I'm supposed to be first in this."
"Maybe one thing you're sure first at is talkin' like a complete asshole; I'll grant you that. Now shut up, little brother, before I set my mind to knockin' some sense into that pea-brain of yours, as if I didn't have better things to do."
"As if you think you could."
"I've whupped you on better occasions than this, boy, so I'd watch my mouth if I was you. I'd hate t' have t' close it for you." Even though it didn't sound like it, I could tell he was actually enjoyin' entertainin' the idea of doin' a little rasslin', even on a scorcher of an afternoon. Shit, it was somethin' t' do. And, 'sides, rasslin' usually meant some butt-plowin' would follow, and it looked like ol' Jake's dick was warmin' up to the idea. Mine sure was, and, this bein' a Thursday, it seemed to me it was my turn anyway."Think you can? You're welcome t' try."
Still grinnin', he stared at me real hard, like I was some kinda horsefly that wouldn't stop annoyin' him. "All right. C'mon, let's go inside."
"Cooler out here."
"You wanna get us arrested like last time? We don't need the sheriff buttin' in on our family discussions again. C'mon, inside."
He was right there. Last time somethin' like this happened, things'd gotten a little outa hand: 'fore too long, we were both rasslin' buck-ass baby naked on the dirt driveway leading down to the main highway. I'd just about gotten him face down in the dirt, right where I wanted him, when ol' man Kelly cruises by, sees us, and flicks on a siren that brought half the town out to see what the fuss was all about. No sense in repeatin' that particular scene, least not without givin' people enough time t' buy tickets. So we headed inside the garage, and Jake pulled down the big metal door and slapped a small piece of cardboard over the window that said "Back in 5 Minutes", just in case anybody did stop by.
Even though it was darker'n shit, the heat was incredible in there; had t' be easily a hundred degrees, if not more. I'd been sweatin' all day, but just a few seconds after steppin' in there, I could feel myself breakin' into a sweat in places I never knew could sweat. We moved toward the centre of the concrete floor and faced each other, both of us easing down into a crouch. "So what's it gonna be
this time, little brother," Jake grinned at me, "best two outa three, or should I just plan on givin' you the horse-whippin' you deserve?"
"We'll see 'bout that, big brother. Now shut up and rassle."
We circled around each other, hands probin' for an openin', both of us feigning an attack. At one point he moved in too close, and hot damn if I wasn't able to knock his cap off. If anything riles Jake, it's havin' his John Deere knocked off his head � and this time was no exception. He picked it up and looked at the oil stain that started spreadin' across the top of it. "I just cleaned that fucking thing," he snarled as he threw it across the garage onto a workbench, "'n' now you have to go and get it all dirty again. Not a real sociable thing to do, was it?"
"I don't think we're in here t' be sociable, big brother."
"Maybe not, but that never excuses poor behavior. Guess I'm gonna hafta teach you some manners, little brother." He whipped off his t-shirt and threw it on the floor, then ran his hands over his pecs, wipin' away some o' the sweat that'd started mixin' with his chest hair.
I threw my shirt off as well and dropped down into a crouch again, my hands open and ready. "Anytime you wanna start class, let me know."
We circled again, finally locking up collar 'n' elbow, both of us grapplin' to see who'd take control. We were both slick as eels with perspiration that we couldn't get anything resembling a decent hold on each other, but that didn't stop us from tryin' all that much harder. I gave up tryin' to keep ahold of th' back o' his neck and moved down to grabbin' his biceps, pullin' him off-balance while he'd try to push me back. He managed to snake an arm around me and pulled me in real close while he tried t' hook his leg around me. But I was expectin' that: he'd tried that before, 'n' I knew if I kept my feet far enough apart, he'd be shit outa luck. Locked together, we staggered all over the concrete, both of us snortin' like a coupla bulls, the sweat drippin' down into the crevice between our pecs. For a couple of minutes, we didn't seem to be able to do much o' anythin' else 'cept rub up against each other, then I slipped on an oil patch, sending my feet out from under me, knocking both of us to the floor in a heap.
We rolled around, still locked together, squir-min' around on the grease 'n' oil, which just made it that much harder to keep ahold o' somethin', both of us tryin' to be on top, occasionally bangin' into an oil drum or a work bench, then rollin' away from it 'fore either of us could try 'n' use it to advantage. It took him more'n a few minutes, but he pinned me on my stomach, face down on the concrete, then powered my arm back and up past the small of my back. He held it there, and while he did, we both took a breather: we was both pantin' like dogs, and here we'd just gotten started. Way I saw it, no sense in lettin' it end this quick, and it seemed he agreed.
As we both lay there, him on top of me, my arm more or less stuck between us, I could feel him thrustin' his hard dick into my backside, ridin' inbetween my ass cheeks as he wrenched my arm. I figured, hey, if that's how he wants to play it, so I started squeezin' my cheeks, tryin' to grab that dick through his jeans, and it didn't take long 'fore he started moanin' like he was almost ready to shoot, and just for a second I could feel him loosenin' his hold on my arm.
Quick as a cat with a field mouse, I snapped loose and pushed him off, then rolled him over onto his back and jumped on top, wrappin' my arm around his head, plantin' him solid between my bicep and ribs.
"Shit, man, not so tight," he muffled into my armpit, "you're fuckin' chokin' me."
"Bullshit," I snorted, "you've suffered worse'n this. Just consider it just a little payback for that armhold a minute ago." Keepin' the headlock in place, I rolled us both up to our knees and grabbed him with my other hand by the hair so I could start wrenchin' his neck big time, when I felt his hand on my ass, rippin' open a loose spot on my jeans, his fingers tryin' to worm their way into my butt. That really pissed me off, 'specially since he knew fuckin' well it was
Thursday and it wasn't his goddam turn. "Keep doin' that, big brother, and you're gonna seriously regret it."
That didn't seem to bother him none, 'cause all of a sudden, he's ripped my jeans wide open and started finger-fuckin' me. We was both so plastered with grease 'n' sweat by this time that his fingers just slipped right in without so much as a how-do-you-do. Now don't get me wrong; under normal circumstances I like a good finger-fuck much as the next guy - but these weren't normal circumstances: this was my fuckin' brother tryin' to take advantage in a way I really didn't care much for. So then I really slapped on the pressure, crammin' his head in so tight you'd think it was about to burst. He started moanin' real big then, and for a moment, I thought he was actually gonna give.
No such luck. Instead, we were both so slick, he managed to pop his head loose and shove me away. Next thing I know, he roars into me, grabbin' me from behind, wrappin' both his arms around the waist, pinnin' both my arms to my sides, and plantin' one helluva bear hug that had both of us gruntin' and squealin' like pigs. Then he hoisted me off the ground and started shakin' me, which hurt more than you can imagine, like all my insides were bein' squeezed up into my chest. As if that weren't enough torture, he grabs my balls with one hand and starts squeezin' the be-jesus outta them. Furious that he'd try such a low trick, I pulled my arms loose and peeled his arm from around my waist. I wrenched it loose and pulled offa him, then turned to face him, read for bear. But even though I'd gotten out of the bearhug, he still had his hand securely locked in place on my balls. I returned the favor, squeezing his every bit as hard as he was mine. Keepin' his fingers wrapped tight, he took his other hand and back-handed me 'cross the mouth. I did the same, slappin' him as hard as I could, enough to set his head spinnin' purt near all the way around. For more time than you can imagine, we both just stood there, squeezin' and mashin' each other's balls, slappin' the hell outa each other, both of us yellin' and shoutin' in pain and full-out brotherly rage.
He let go first, but I soon followed when he slugged me on the side o' the head hard enough to spin me around. Before I even had a chance to turn around and face him, he tackled me to the floor, smashing me chin-first into the concrete, rattlin' my jaw 'most up into my nose. That stunned me long enough for him to think he'd gotten the better of me, 'cause next thing I know, he's got his dick outa his jeans, and, after slatherin' a little oil on it, he's tryin' to ram it into my hole. He'd just about succeeded when I roared up and smashed my elbow into the side of his head, knockin' him off and poppin' him ass-first on the floor. I musta gotten him pretty good, 'cause he just sat there, his eyes a little crossed but his dick still hard as a rock.
I got up and staggered over in front of him, then reached down and pulled him to his feet by his dick. He was still a little rubbery, so it was easy for me to plant one hand under his arm, snake the other between his legs to grab his balls, and whip him over my shoulder onto the garage floor. He landed real heavy, and I was sorta hopin' that might do it, 'cause I was gettin' more than a little tired. He'd landed face-first, so I dropped down and sat on his back, then grabbed his jeans and ripped a big ol' hole in them, large enough to do some serious butt-plowin'. He didn't even resist as I took my dick out, slicked it up, and rammed it home.
Plowin' deep, I grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and hauled him up a little. Never losin' rhythm, I grunted in his ear, "So, big brother, who's the Smith and who's th' other Smith now?" But if you think my brother was gonna give up that easy, you obviously never tangled with him. I was screwin' him real good, drivin' it in as deep as I could, when suddenly he lets out a yell, and I feel his ass muscles lockin' around my dick, trappin' it in there. I tried pullin' it out, but he was too damn strong: that dick was clamped in there solid. I started howlin' like a cat in heat, yellin' so much I didn't even care when he rolled me over onto my back and then sat up on top of me. Keepin' a tight hold, he pinned my legs to the floor and then raised himself, takin' my dick and my butt with him, then droppin' down and rammin' the small o' my back into the cement.
Boy did that hurt.
I was practically ready to give out loud at that one, but he wasn't quite finished. Still keepin' a firm hold, he twisted around, practically twistin' my dick off in the process, then slapped me hard across the face, "Just wanna make sure I got your attention, little brother." Then he leaned down and started chewin' on my nipples.Now if anythin' drives me crazy, that drives me crazy - always has, always will. I couldn't do nothin' at that point 'cause he had me so fucking crazy at both ends, I couldn't even think straight. Still, I had enough presence of mind to know when I'm bein' railroaded into comin', so I figured I'd return the favor. Pullin' him by his hair off my pec, I grabbed him by the arms and pulled him in tight, aimin' my mouth at his nips, bitin' and chewin' on those little points of flesh, all the while plungin' my dick up his ass, startin' to pick up some serious rhythm in the back door department.You could tell he was startin' to really get into this, 'cause he starts moanin' 'n' then gaspin' for air real bad. His hand locks around his dick and he starts pumpin' away on it like if he don't shoot in the next three minutes, he'll fuckin' explode. He tore himself loose from my teeth and sat up, still ridin' my dick, his hand tearin' up and down his, all the while moanin' and carryin' on. All his yellin' was
gettin' me hotter as well, and I figured it was time to start really
rammin' it home. Grabbin' him by the back of the head, I pulled him
down close and then rolled myself up on top, hoistin' his legs over
my shoulders, feelin' the heels of his workboots diggin' into my
back as I plowed my dick into his butt, hard as I could. His hand
never left his: he jacked it so hard and fast that his fingers were a
fuckin' blur. With his other, he grabbed my chest hairs and started
pullin' on them, then grabbin' my nipples and pinchin' them hard,
drivin' me crazy all over again. I started doin' likewise, 'most near
pullin' the damn hair outa his chest, squeezin' his nipples so hard
his eyes clamped shut from the intensity of the feelin'.
I sat up a ways, then grabbed his ankles and pulled his legs apart, givin' me a wider hole in which to start drivin' my dick in all that much deeper. Three or four strokes like that, 'n' it just 'bout sent right him over the edge: I couldn't even see his hand any more, it was movin' so fat as he jacked that dick o' his for all he was worth
... And then, with one helluva yell, he starts shootin' - all over me, all over himself, all over the damn garage floor, all the time screamin' and yellin' and hollerin' like crazy. And as he shot his load all over the goddam place, his ass muscles started buckin' 'n' twitchin', and that was enough to do it for me. With a big ol' yell o' my own, I rammed into him one last time before firin' my cum hard and deep into his bowels.
For a long time we just stayed like that, yellin' 'n' moanin' 'n' shootin' all over the fuckin' garage. I managed t' plow it in a few more times, tryin' to make it all last as long as possible before I finally collapsed on top of him, slowly easin' my dick outa his butt. He rolled me offa him, and for a few minutes we just lay there in the muck 'n' the sweat 'n' the heat, both of us tryin' to catch our breath, heavin' like a coupla fish caught on a rock on a July day. Then I looked over at him and smiled. "So which one's Smith and which one's the other Smith now, big brother?"
He smiled back. "You get t' be first for now, little brother. Just don't let it go t' your head." Then he reached over and grabbed my dick, giving it one hell of a squeeze, almost enough to tear it off at the root. "I got a feelin' we'll be talkin' 'bout this again later on tonight."
I rolled up on one elbow and grabbed his, squeezin' back just as hard, our eyes locked even as we lay there, smilin' big at each other. "You can just bet we will, big brother; you can just bet we will."
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