After my second shower, I wrapped myself in a plush towel and walked to my room. I could feel the warmth of the towel on my skin as I grabbed some clothes from my drawer. As I was about to get dressed, the distant sound of an engine grew louder, and the crunch of tires on gravel echoed through the house. It was my father's car, pulling into the driveway.
I tucked the memory of Henry's thickness inside me away, like a secret trophy, and focused on getting dressed. The smell of his sczent lingered faintly in my room, a scent that was as subtle as the thrill of our tryst. I picked out a simple t-shirt and a pair of shorts, noticing the slight ache between my legs as I pulled them on. It was a gentle reminder of the fun I'd had with my brother. I simply loved it.
When I descended the stairs, my heart was light, and a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. The feeling of Henry's massive cock stretching me out was still fresh, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation and excitement about the fun we were about to have now that I knew I could handle his size.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in the open-plan living area where the morning sun spilled in through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the wooden floorboards. My father was already in the kitchen, his broad back to me as he unpacked groceries from a couple of bulging bags. He was dressed in his usual outfit: a tight-fitting t-shirt that showed off his biceps and a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. His deep voice rumbled through the house as he hummed an old tune.
"Hey, Dad," I called out cheerfully, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.
Hugo looked over his shoulder and grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Morning, little man. Did you sleep well?"
"Like a baby," I said, my voice lilting with mischief as I stepped into the kitchen. The room was filled with shopping bags and the scent of a great morning.
Hugo chuckled, his large frame moving with surprising grace as he placed a pack of steaks in the fridge. "Looks like you're in a good mood," he said, eyeing me over his shoulder.
"Couldn't be better," I replied, watching him for a moment longer before sauntering over. "You know how much I love a clean kitchen. Let me help you unpack."
Hugo raised an eyebrow, his smile growing. "Sure, you can take over," he said, stepping aside and gesturing to the remaining bags.
As I started unpacking the groceries, my father sat down at the kitchen island, watching me with a knowing smile. "You know, I sent you a message this morning," he said casually, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied, pretending to be surprised. "I must have missed it. What'd you need?"
Hugo leaned forward, his forearms bulging on the counter. "Just wondering if you needed anything special for dinner tonight. Maybe a recipe or an ingredient?"
"Ah, sorry about that," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I had a... busy morning." I couldn't help the little smirk that played on my lips as I remembered the feel of Henry's cock sliding into me.
Dad only smiled back at me " Great to see you in such high spirits," he said, his eyes twinkling.
"So?" He asked, referring to his message. "Did I forgot anything?"
"Oh, I don't think so," I said, placing the last can of beans in the pantry. "It's all good. You got everything we need. In fact," I began, turning to face him with a gleam in my eye, "I think I can whip up something good for dinner tonight."
"Oh, really?" Hugo's smile grew wider. "What do you have in mind?"
I shrugged, playing it cool. "Just something simple. Maybe some steaks, salad, and potatoes."
Hugo nodded approvingly. "Sounds like a plan. I'll go hit the gym, then I'll help you prep when I get back."
"Great," I said, feeling a sudden urge to keep him in a good mood. "Why don't you just chill out and relax for the rest of the day? I'll handle dinner. Maybe afterward, we could all sit in the yard, enjoy the weather?"
Hugo considered it for a moment, his hand scratching the scruff on his chin. "That doesn't sound too bad," he said finally. "But only if you're sure you've got it covered."
"Positive," I said, giving him a thumbs up. "I've got this. You go and get swole, and I'll make sure dinner's ready for when you're done."
He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the kitchen. "Alright, if you say so. I'll try not to wear myself out too much at the gym."
"Allright," I said, a smile playing on my lips.
Hugo grabbed his gym bag and gave me a pat on the shoulder before heading out the door. The sound of the engine starting up and the car backing out of the driveway was music to my ears. I glanced at the clock hanging above the fridge. It was already 3 PM, and the day had stretched on longer than I'd realized, mostly thanks to Henry.
My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I'd skipped breakfast, but the thought of cooking for everyone filled me with a newfound energy. I decided to start on dinner early, eager to show off my culinary skills and maybe get a little bit of praise from my family.
I pulled out the steaks from the fridge, feeling their firmness and smelling their meaty scent. The salad ingredients were already chopped and waiting in Tupperware containers, and the potatoes were begging to be peeled. As I began to prep the meal, I got lost in the rhythmic motion of slicing and dicing, the sounds of kitchen utensils chiming like a symphony of domesticity. Eventually, my dance with the veggies was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen.
Turning around, I saw Henry saunter in, his wet hair still dark from the shower and his chest glistening with a fine sheen of water. The basketball shorts he wore clung to his muscular thighs, the outline of his cock faintly visible through the fabric. He looked like a Greek god that had just stepped off Olympus to raid the fridge.
"Hey, bro," he greeted me, as if he didn't just rock my world a few minutes ago. "What's cooking?"
"Steaks, salad, and potatoes," I said, as I chopped a cucumber.
Henry's eyes lit up at the mention of steak. "Sounds like a feast," he said, as he pulled open the fridge door.
"Don't stuff yourself, though," I called out. "I only wait for dad to get back before I start cooking."
Henry flashed me a mischievous grin as he pulled out a bottle of water. "But I'm hungry!"
"You'll survive," I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "Besides, it's not like you burned any calories in the gym."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Henry said with a wink, taking a swig of his water. He leaned against the counter, his muscular arms flexing slightly as he took a drink. "I had quite the workout this morning."
The air in the kitchen thickened with a shared secret as we both remembered our earlier encounter. I felt a blush creep up my neck, but I tried to keep my cool. "Well, you'll have to save some room for dinner," I insisted, trying to keep the conversation on track.
"Oh, I will," Henry said, his grin widening. "But I can't help myself. I've got the munchies."
I laughed, turning back to the stove to start the potatoes boiling. "Well, I've got snacks," I offered, gesturing to a bowl of chopped carrots and celery sticks on the counter. "But save room for the main event."
"You're so bossy," Henry teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he strolled over to me. He leaned in, his breath hot on my neck. "But I like it."
I shivered, his proximity stirring up the leftover heat from our morning rendezvous. "Just trying to keep everyone happy," I said, not intending to let him get a rise out of me. But the way his eyes searched mine, the playful smirk on his lips, told me he knew exactly what buttons to push.
"You always know how to take care of us," Henry said, his voice dropping a notch, his gaze lingering on my neck. He stepped closer, my arm brushing against his bare side. "I wouldn't mind another taste before dinner, though."
The kitchen suddenly felt much hotter, the steam from the boiling potatoes doing nothing to cool me down. My heart raced as I felt the warmth of his skin against mine. "Now?" I whispered, glancing over my shoulder at the clock. "Dad will be home soon and who knows when Zac will be back."
"We've got time," Henry murmured, his hand sliding around my waist. He pulled me closer, the bulge in his shorts pressing into my lower back. His breath was warm and minty from the toothpaste he'd used after his shower. "Just a quickie," he whispered, his voice a seductive promise.
I swallowed hard, the memories of our morning tryst making my cheeks flush. "But what if Dad-"
"He won't be back until we are done," Henry assured me, his hand moving down to squeeze my ass. "And Zac's out with his friends after practice. We've got the place to ourselves."
"But what about dinner?" I protested weakly, my resolve already crumbling like a cookie in a jar.
"We've got plenty of time," Henry assured me, his hands roaming over my body, rekindling the fire that had only just been extinguished. "Besides, you can cook with your ass in the air if you want."
My cheeks flushed at the thought, but I couldn't deny that the idea was... tempting. "Are you really going to let me cook with you... doing that?" I asked, my voice a mix of excitement and lust.
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"Why not?" Henry shrugged, his hand slipping into the waistband of his shorts. "You said you'd always help me out when I'm feeling like this," he reminded me with a smirk, his cock already starting to thicken against my back.
The words he'd quoted from me echoed in my mind, and I couldn't help the little thrill that shot through my body. "Fine," I said with a laugh, setting down the peeler.
I heard him stepping back, while I eyed the stove with the potatoes. Then the sound of his basketball shorts dropping to the floor. I wanted to wait for his touch, to savor the anticipation, but the sound was like a siren's call, making me take a peek over my shoulder.
His thick cock was free, standing tall and proud. It was a sight that never failed to amaze me, especially considering the size difference between us. His hand gripped it firmly, stroking it to full hardness as I took in the view
He stepped closer, and I had to avert my gaze again. "Just do your thing," he said over my shoulder, his hand still wrapped around his cock. "I'll keep it short and sweet, I promise." His voice was thick with desire as he reached around me to grab the bottle of olive oil from the counter. I watched his hands unscrew the cap before he pulled it behind me and the sound of it drizzling down onto his shaft appeared. I rolled my eyes knowing that most of it would end up on the kitchen floor.
"Dude... seriously?" I laughed. "I hope for your own good that you didn't spill the whole bottle," I said with feigned disapproval. But the truth was, I couldn't help the thrill that shot through me at the image of his cock, glistening with the golden liquid.
"Don't worry about it," Henry said. "It'll just add a little extra flavor to dinner." He stepped closer, his cock now fully hard and pressing against me. "How about you bend over the counter for me?"
I hesitated for a moment, the kitchen counter's coolness a stark contrast to the heat building in my core. But I could feel Henry's eyes bore into the back of my head, I could imagine the eager hunger in his expression, and it made it impossible for me to resist.
With a dramatic sigh, I leaned over the counter, the cool surface sending a shiver down my spine. The fabric of my shirt doing nothing to conceal the cold from beneath me. I felt him stepping closer, his cock now nudging against my ass cheeks, leaving a trail of oil. I couldn't help but wiggle a little, teasing him.
"You're going to be the one cleaning this up," I warned him, trying to keep my voice stern, but failinging miserably.
"Don't worry, little bro, I'll handle it," He replied, his voice a mix of confidence and arousal.
I felt his hand squeeze my cheek before his cock nudged my entrance, still slick from the oil. He didn't waste any time, pushing inside me with one swift movement that had me gasping. The sensation of his thickness filling me was intense, the kitchen suddenly feeling much smaller with his towering presence behind me.
It was easy for Henry to enter me, his cock sliding in smoothly thanks to the lingering openness from our morning romp. His hands found my hips, gripping them firmly as he began to move. The olive oil served as a surprisingly good lubricant, making every thrust glide in and out with a delicious ease that had me biting my lip to keep from moaning too loudly. The kitchen was now a stage for our secret play, the sunset casting a warm glow over us as Henry worked his magic, his thick cock stretching me open once again.
One of his hands left my hip to splay over my back, pressing me down firmly onto the counter. His other hand remained at my waist, his thumb casually brushing over my asscheek with a force that was both reassuring and possessive. It was as if he was playing with me. His grip tightened, and I pushed back against him, eager for more.
His cock steadily worked its way back into me, stretching my hole open as if it had never been empty. He wasn't gentle, but he wasn't rough either. It was the perfect balance of dominance and care, a dance we'd performed enough times now that I knew the steps by heart. I could feel his inexperience with guys, the occasional clumsy angle that made me wince, but I was eager to help him learn. After all, who doesn't love a good teacher-student dynamic?
I reached back with one hand, my fingertips grazing the smooth skin of his thigh as I sought his cock. I guided him, my hand wrapping around the base as I whispered, "Just like that," into the kitchen air. His eyes locked onto mine in the reflection of the stainless steel pan that hung infront of me, a mix of concentration and lust. With my help, he found the perfect angle, his cock sliding smoother inside me with every thrust.
The kitchen was now our playground, the sizzle of the potatoes on the stove the only soundtrack to our play. I could feel that he was more than eager. And as we continued, I noticed him gaining confidence, his strokes becoming more deliberate. He was learning, adapting, and I felt a strange sense of pride in being the one to show this massive man the ropes.
I began to let myself enjoy this new feeling of Henry's cock stretching me open, his every movement causing my belly to tremble with anticipation. His strokes grew more deliberate, and with each one, I felt him hit that sweet spot deep inside me, sending a shiver down my spine. It was a sensation I hadn't expected to crave so badly from my own brother, but here I was, relishing in the feeling of his massive girth filling me up. The oil had made everything slick and easy, allowing him to push deeper with every thrust, and I couldn't help but let out a soft moan as his cock brushed against my prostate.
The potatoes on the stove had reached a rolling boil, the lid rattling slightly from their eagerness to escape. I knew they could be in there for a few more minutes before they'd be perfect, so I focused my attention on Henry's body. His hips slapped against my ass cheeks with a rhythm that was as mesmerizing as it was erotic. Each time he thrust into me, his heavy balls slapped against my flesh. While his cock drove my body to the edge, the sound of his meaty thighs against my skin served as the fuel that kept the image of him pounding me from the mirror's reflection seared into my brain.
The longer Henry fucked me over the kitchen counter, the more confident he became. His strokes grew longer and more deliberate. His heavy breathing echoed in the kitchen, mixing with the sizzle of the potatoes on the stove and the occasional clink of a utensil. His muscular arms flexed as he held onto my hips, his grip tightening with each stroke, his cock driving deep into me with a force that made me whimper. He was in his element, his need for pleasure overpowering any reservations he might have had about fucking his younger brother. But as he took me with a fervor that seemed to be all about his own gratification, he was also giving me more pleasure than I had ever known.
As the potatoes boiled over, the sound of the water hitting the stovetop grew more insistent. "Hey," I panted, trying to keep my voice steady. "The potatoes are boiling over."
"Mm?" Henry grunted, his eyes glazed over with pleasure.
"The potatoes," I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "They're boiling over."
Henry's eyes snapped into focus, and he looked down at me with a hint of mischief. "Oh, right," he said, understanding what I was impliying. But Instead of pulling out or letting me go, he bent his knees slightly and turned me around, my legs wrapping around his waist like a vice. The heat from his body was intense, and the kitchen counter was cold under my bare ass.
"Just keep them on," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he took a step closer to the stove. He adjusted his grip on me, one hand under my thighs, the other around my lower back. I had to lean over to keep my balance, my cheek pressed against the cool metal of the fridge.
The potatoes were indeed boiling over, the bubbling water spilling onto the stove with a hiss. But instead of pulling out, Henry simply chuckled and reached around me, his thick forearms flexing as he gently moved the pot off the heat.
The kitchen was a blur of heat and steam, our bodies slick with oil. Henry's cock was a relentless force, pushing into me as if it had found its home. "It's okay," I reassured him breathlessly, watching the potatoes in the pot dance in the bubbling water. "Just turn down the heat."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine in the mirror. The trust and hunger in them was intoxicating. He leaned into me, one massive hand sliding under my ass to support my weight as he turned the knob with his free one, reducing the heat on the stove. The potatoes were saved from their overly energetic dance, and the kitchen fell into a more sedate simmer.
But Henry's energy was anything but sedate. He pulled out, and for a brief moment, I felt the cold air of the room rush into my emptiness. But then he was pushing back in, his cock slick with our combined juices and the olive oil. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice tight with control. "So good."
"Thanks," I gasped, my eyes fluttering closed. I looked down over his shoulder, the front door in my view. "We should... finish before Dad... gets home."
"Don't worry," Henry grunted, his pace quickening. "I got you."
I felt a second hand slide under my thighs, and suddenly, he was lifting me up and down, using my body to fuck himself. It was a new sensation, one that had me gripping onto his broad shoulders for dear life. He was so much stronger than me, so much bigger, and yet here he was, using his strength to bring us both pleasure.
My legs tightened around his waist as he began to move faster, the muscles in his arms bulging left and right to my body as he held me aloft, his cock plunging into me with a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful. My nails dug into his skin, leaving little half-moons that I knew would be bruises tomorrow. But right now, all I could focus on was the way he felt inside me, the way he filled me up until I was sure I'd burst.
With each lift and drop, I could feel my own climax building, the pressure in my balls growing tighter with every thrust. Henry's breath grew heavier, his strokes more desperate. He was close, and the thought of him coming inside me was too much to bear. I scratched at his back, urging him on, my nails leaving trails of fire across his skin. He grunted in response, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached the edge.
In response, I leaned back a bit, my hands on his broad back to hold myself steady, my gaze drifting away from the room behind him to his eyes and further downto focus on the sculpted landscape of his massive pecs and bulging biceps, pumped from the exertion of holding me. Each flex of his muscles sent waves of heat through me, while his eyes remained locked on me, drinking in the sight of my pleasure, his desire for me unmistakable as he continued to fuck me standing there by the stove.
The head of his cock was a blunt instrument of pleasure, pushing against my prostate with every thrust, setting off sparks of ecstasy. My own cock, trapped between our bodies, grew harder and harder, begging for release. The tension grew, my muscles tightening around him like a vice as I felt the beginnings of my climax. "I'm close," I warned him, my voice strangled. He didn't say anything, just nodded, his jaw clenched with determination.
And then it hit me, a wave of heat and pressure as Henry's cock swelled inside me. His massive muscles bulged and quivered as he thrust into me one last time, his body tensing up like a bow about to release an arrow. With a roar, he emptied himself into me, his warmth filling my insides and stretching my walls in a way that was almost painful. But it was a good kind of pain, the kind that came with a heady rush of pleasure. I could feel his cum pulse out of him, thick and heavy, shooting deep into my ass.
His cum filled me up like a balloon. Each pulse of his cock sent waves of pleasure through me, my own climax building like a storm. I felt his body tense, his massive muscles bulging and flexing as he held me against him, the added pressure against my prostate sending me over the edge. I came hard, my cum spurting out to coat my shirt and his abs.
The sensation was almost too much to handle, a mix of pain and pleasure as my ass clenched around his thick shaft, milking him for every drop. He pulled me closer to him again, until his breath was hot on my neck, his thight grip on my body, as he pumped the last bit of his seed into me. It was hot....
As we both came down from our high, I could feel Henry's cock starting to soften inside me. He held me there for a moment, his chest heaving infront of my own, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
When he finally let me down, my legs were shaky, but I managed to stand. "Look what you did," I said, my voice filled with a playful scold as I gestured down to the mess he'd made on the floor. The olive oil had created a slick puddle around his feet.
"Oh, shit," Henry said with a laugh, his own legs wobbly.
I stepped away from him, my legs feeling like jelly as I made my way to the bathroom. "You clean your mess up," I ordered, pointing to the floor. "And I'll deal with the mess you left inside me." I added, pointing to my stomach with a smirk.
"And the mess you made outside of me," Henry shot back with a grin, looking down at the sticky mess on his abs. I couldn't help but smirk at the sight, and turned on my heel, making my way back to him without a second thought.
My steps were slow, deliberate, as if my body was moving of its own accord. Henry's grin grew wider, his eyes unable to hide the interest in what I was about to do. "You really are a messy little bro," he said, his voice filled with playful teasing.
I didn't respond, my eyes locked onto the mess I had made on his abs. My cum was still thick and sticky, a stark white against the landscape of his muscular stomach. Without a word, I leaned in, my tongue flicking out to taste him. Henry's chuckle turned into a deep groan as I licked him clean, my tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes across his abs, savoring the saltiness of my own release.
"Okay, that was hot..." He said, when I left his abs spotless. "But, you know what else is hot?" I raised an eyebrow in question, my mouth still tasting the musky saltiness of our combined releases. "Cooking," He winked, stepping closer and giving my ass a firm slap, making me yelp. "Let's clean up and get back to dinner before it's ruined. I'm still hungry!"
"Okay, okay," I said, laughing it off and stepping back, letting my tongue retreat from its sweet exploration of Henry's abs. I couldn't resist giving his cock one last lingering kiss before turning to walk towards the downstairs bathroom. Henry watched me, his eyes still smoldering with lust.
