A gay adult story: Jesse — A Nightmare of Gay Teen Incest & Abuse by glassnegman ,
A young boy is raped and abused by his two older brothers as they come of age.
DisclaimerCopyright, 2012, Patricia Steel ([email protected])
Do whatever you want with this story, only keep my name attached, please. Please report any and all orgasms arrived at through reading and masturbating to these words. I love knowing that I am deliberately manipulating your mind into an erotic state. This story is to be considered “Fiction” although it has its basis in “Fact”. This is not to be considered a true tale of underage sex, statutory rape, or molestation, as these events happened more than a quarter century ago. Some of the principal parties are no longer living. The only reason I’m telling you that it has its basis in truth, is it might make it all the more sexy for you, and maybe make your orgasms better/stronger/faster. Thank you, and enjoy.
I asked Jesse for his permission to write this story. He granted it, without a problem, and, while some of the scenes are “fleshed out” with fantasy, the basis of this tale lies in the realm of truth. This is a “sexy” story for many of us, who are turned on by “on the edge” topics like incest and gay rape, but we must realize the psychological and physical damage that was done to Jesse, and pledge to ourselves and our children that such abuse will NEVER happen in our own homes. If we can do that, then we can enjoy stories like this, while at the same time raising awareness of these sorts of situations where sexual abuse by siblings occurs frequently, and in the most severe ways imaginable.
PART 1
Jesse was the youngest of three brothers. There was also a sister, but she was just a baby when our tale begins. That in itself protected her from the sorts of abuses that Jesse suffered at the hands, and cocks of his brothers.
Until his oldest brother turned 12, everything was pretty much normal between the three brothers. It had been commonplace in their house, ever since any of them could remember, for the three of them to get their baths together. Then, the oldest brother, Roy, wanted to shower alone, instead. That was fine. Jesse and his middle brother, Brad, still bathed together. Brad was about 10, then, and Jesse, 7, or so, give or take.
I’m writing this from Jesse’s memoirs, told to me over a lifetime. Don’t be too critical of me if I make a mistake here or there with the math, or something similar. I’m just happy to get the events right.
Everyone noticed that Roy would take forever in the shower. Their dad, ultimately, started timing him, and, if he was in there more than 30 minutes, he went into the basement, and turned the hot water off.
These were really poor people, barely surviving on their father’s disablity, and his little odd jobs here and there, plus the little money that their mother earned cleaning houses and such for other people. In the area that they lived, and still live in today, there simply are no jobs to be had. You don’t find a job, you create one for yourself, doing something or other that earns a little money.
Thus, they could not afford 1 hour long hot water showers regardless.
Soon after this, Roy’s abuse of Jesse began. The three boys slept in the attic bedroom, together. Up there, the temperatures were ridiculously hot in summer. They had a fan, but no air conditioner. Three single box-springs with matresses on the floor, pushed together into one huge bed was their sleeping arrangement, with room at the top of their beds for their personal stuff. Jesse had the middle “bed”. When the temperature up there reached near 100 degrees in summer. The only way to sleep was to strip naked, and feel the breeze from the fan on their sweating bodies. Thus, the boys got into the habit of sleeping naked during the hot weather. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen each other naked before, in the bath, but Jesse did notice some changes in Roy. He had gotten more hair under his arms, and down by his cock. He looked stronger, too. His cock looked huge, even though it hung down halfway to his knees, limp just like his own, and Brad’s did. Jesse figured he’d look like that some day, as he resembled Roy in almost every way.
One night, he caught Jesse looking at him lying there, “What the fuck you looking at, little faggot??”
“Um.. Nothin Roy.. It’s just that you look, um.. kinda different than you used to.” Jesse sputtered out in his own defense.
“No Shit, idiot. It’s called being a man, faggot. Something you know nothin’ about. You look this way, when it’s time to fuck girls. When you’re ready to start fucking. Do you know what fucking is, faggot?” Roy continued to abuse Jesse verbally, now getting up on his knees.
“Fucking, yeah… It’s what you do to have babies and shit….” Jesse tried his best. Both Roy and Brad laughed at this.
“Do you want me to show you what fucking is, little faggot?? Roy almost sounded genuinely pleasant in this last request, and Jesse was thinking he had some magazines, or some movie, or something in mind, so Jesse foolishly said, “Yeah, show me!!”
Like a Vampire, you never invite a bully into your “home” — once you do, you can never uninvite him.
“Brad, hold his arms down to the bed for me!” Roy commanded Jesse’s usually quiet brother. Roy positioned himself between Jesse’s legs, grabbed a tube of sunscreen that he kept handy (he and Jesse are copper-colored redheads, who burn on a cloudy day in the middle of winter, so sunscreen is a must), and squirted some on his cock, which was now looking awfully threatening. It had not gotten any longer — still halfway to his knees, if he pushed it down, but it had gotten awfully big around — beercan big.
Now Jesse had never even taken a shit as big as his thumb before in his life. Yet, Roy, stuffing one of his old, smelly socks in Jesse’s mouth to keep him quiet, he shoved his big, white-whale of a cock all the way into Jesse’s ass. Jesse, blinded from pain, thrashed trying to get away— away from his brothers, but more importantly, away from the white-hot pain shooting through his guts right now. It felt more painful than anything he had ever felt before. His eyes burst forth tears. He tried to break away from Brad, who was holding his arms and upper body, in a kind of wrestling hold, but he couldn’t. Roy was holding his legs up and back, with his knees pinned almost to his ears. There was no breaking free of this. Then, to make matters worse, Roy started pumping in and out. Each time he started pulling back, there was the slightest twinge of relief, but when he pushed back in, all the way, so that his balls hit Jesse’s tailbone and spine, all Jesse could do was scream, again and again, muffled by the nasty old smelly gym sock.
I asked Jesse, when he told me his story, why his parents didn’t hear his screaming, this time, or other times, later. He told me his father, being disabled due to various problems, was addicted to opiate painkillers, and spent his leisure-time in a state of semi-consciousness, and his mother, tired from working what jobs she could find, spent a lot of time in bed, resting, and, quite frankly, she dealt with her depression by drinking, and liked to be alone, and frequently stupefied. Between the two of them, they barely managed to care for Jesse’s baby sister; the boys were on their own.