Fantasy Come True
Ugh, God, I hate this! Why does it always have to happen at the most inopportune moments? You're standing in line to get a damn sandwich at a fast food joint, then your little brother has to step partially out of line so he can bend over to tie his shoe. And does he kneel down like a normal person? No! He bends at the waist and sticks his ass in the air, knowing full well that he's doing it, knowing full well that he's wearing jeans so tight he can't possibly be able to breathe. He does that and then, sure enough, you're standing in the middle of Wendy's with a raging hard-on. Ain't it just great?
And it's not like you can hide something like that when you're well hung and wearing just a white a-shirt and khaki shorts. And I'm not bragging or lying about being hung. I've been told by damn near everyone who's ever seen my cock. Even my own father. No, not like that! Jeez, you sick freaks. It was just one of those awkward moments where you get caught half naked. And he kinda laughed and said something like, damn, Matt, no wonder the girls flock to ya. Yeah, haha, Dad. Real fucking funny.
So I was stuck standing in line with my hands shoved in my pockets, trying my damnedest to hide my erection amongst the folds of fabric, when Jeff looked over at me, glanced down, and then started giggling like a madman. I swear to God I could've killed him right there. The newspapers would've read, "Horny Wrestler Kills Brother For Laughing." Film at eleven. Honestly, I actually envisioned shoving Jeff's face down on one of the burger grills. Of course, that was quickly followed by me shoving him across the counter and taking him from behind right there.
Why me? Honestly, why me? Of all the people in the world who have to be perverted, fucked up individuals, it has to be me, Matt Hardy. Matt Hardy, the world famous professional wrestler for the WWF who is currently Tag Team Champion with his baby brother Jeff. Matt Hardy, who wants to fuck said tag team partner and baby brother until he screams himself unconscious. Of course, not a single soul in the entire universe knows the way I feel for him. And don't think this is all just sexual either. I love him. I love him with every single droplet of blood that courses through my veins. If I were to cut myself right now, my blood would jump right onto Jeff's arm and hug him with all its affection.
That made absolutely no sense! Forget it. Forget I said anything. Just know that today was really hard on me. Which is why I'm locked in my room, fumbling for that bottle of baby oil I bought just a couple days ago, which is already half gone. That's what happens when I get to come home with Jeff. As if being stuck in a hotel room with him every night isn't hard enough… Notice all the sexual puns I'm making? Being home with him is even worse. He's one of the types who doesn't mind sitting around naked when he first wakes up in the morning. And note that Dad has made a comment or two about Jeff being hung as well. To which Jeff always gives the same reply, "Just like a horse! It has to run in the family or something!" That's because he's seen me naked. And hard. So he knows all about me. Too bad not all about me.
But back to what I was talking about. This is the part everyone wants to hear anyway. Now that I've found that bottle, I'm out of my shorts in an instant, flopping down my bed and stroking a hand over myself before I even get the cap off. I haven't been so desperate in quite a long time. I'm already panting for breath. And the first touch of the cool oil on my cock causes me to jump and moan. I don't care about how loud I may be right at the moment either. Jeff is the only other person in the house and earlier he seemed to find my arousal quite entertaining, seeing as how he laughed when he noticed my predicament. So let him find my shrieks of release entertaining as well. Not that he will. He's shockingly the normal one in this family. After all, he's not the one who's in love with his brother. Jeff may be strange, but by far he's nothing like that. I don't think he's even gay.
Dear God, he's so beautiful, though. My thoughts are all over him as I coat myself with baby oil, almost whimpering at finally being able to feel something besides my chafing shorts. I close my eyes, jerking myself quickly, slipping into the perfect hold that I've mastered during the many years I've been doing this. I like it rough and tight, squeeze as firmly as I can and pull down extra hard. I've been told that's part of the reason why I have such a unique shape. I'm a little thicker in the middle. You have to really look to notice it, but it's there. Quite frankly, I don't care, but I guess when you're blessedly well endowed you never have to worry about size. No stress. Until it pops up in public. Then, lots of stress.
Stress which I finally feel fading away as I pleasure myself, writhing as the feelings flash through me. It's one of those days, I'm gonna be vocal and active about it. Usually I lie still, concentrate, and stay pretty quiet. Not today. Not after having to deal with this for so long and watch Jeff the whole time. I'm moaning loudly, only pausing to gasp for air, and then letting it out again. My back arches into my own touch and for a moment I even thrust into my own hand, gasping at the different sensation. There's something else, though. Something that I need. Even with as wonderful as I'm feeling at this moment my lust is building all the more. I'm feeling greedy. I want all I can get from this.
A few seconds of thought and I turn myself around on my bed, staying on my back, but putting my feet up on the wall. Almost feel sorry for that poster, it might get ripped down again like it did last time I did this. It's okay, though. It's a poster of me and Jeff. I focus on him as I slide my oil slicked fingers down lower, under my balls, till I find my own puckered opening. I touch myself lightly, having to be much more gentle with this area of my body, and make sure there's plenty of lube over me before pushing a finger inside. I gasp and arch my body again, seeking out and finding my prostate instantly. I press on it a bit viciously, my other hand quickly coming down to grip my throbbing cock as I cry out in rapture. This is what I wanted. This is precisely it. So I start myself back up, slowly finding a good rhythm to fuck myself with. And as it becomes familiar and easy to keep I let my eyes trail back up to that stunning poster of Jeff, giving a different, softer moan as I gaze at him.
My eyes fall shut only a second later, my mind going to a place where I get everything my heart desires. Waiting there for me is Jeff as always. There's really no waiting involved. My fantasies tend to start right in the middle. Screw foreplay. I go straight in, finding myself straddled across Jeff's hips. I ride him with all I've got, slamming down on his length like I had been taking it all my life. And I'm screaming for him in my dreams. Always I'm screaming all sorts of obscene things for him. I'm begging, pleading, rejoicing with every breath I take. And he's right there along with me, moaning in that sweet smooth voice of his, whispering words that only I can hear, and gripping my hips as if he were holding on for dear life.
But then the scene switches quite sporadically and now I'm standing up against a wall in a locker room at God only knows which arena. I'm braced with my arms on the wall, bent slightly, legs spread, and he's fucking me like I were the last man on earth. Still I scream. I always scream for him, even in reality, but I can only gasp and whisper my words. In that other world, though, I scream loud enough for everyone to hear me. And Jeff presses himself to my back, moaning softly, whispering right next to my ear all the beautiful words of love that I wish I could repeat to him. I would give anything, anything, to hear such words cross his lips.
Back in the real world, my body is trembling with the effort I'm putting forth. I'm fingering myself just as roughly as I jerk off, three fingers now getting buried to the hilt inside of me, shamelessly penetrating that part of my body that was never meant for such treatment. And my hand is pumping my cock so fast it's shaking my bed. My back hasn't touched the covers in quite a while. I'm so tensed that I can't let myself down again. I can hear my voice, strained and desperate, each yelp just a miniscule bit louder than the last. I know he can hear me. If Jeff's still in the house he can hear me loud and clear. It's an old house, cheap insulation, and my voice tends to travel more than most. I know what I sound like. I've been recorded in these moments both in audio and visual. I know for a fact I sound better than any porn star ever could dream. I even turn myself on with the wanton pleas that spill from my lips. I can't control myself too much at this moment. Staring back up at that poster again, I shout all the more loudly, needing this release so badly that I think I'll pass out if I don't cum soon. I scream like I do in my dreams, begging for what I long for. So close… So close…
I nearly have a heart attack when I hear my bedroom door open behind me. Gasping, I fall back onto the bed and flip over onto my stomach. It's him. It's the center of all of the illicit fantasies I've been having the whole time. How the hell did he get in here? I locked the door! As if reading my mind, he smiles and holds up a familiar key. The skeleton key. It opens every door in the house.
"Jeff, get out!" I bellow with all the rage I can muster.
"Sorry. Did I interrupt anything?" he can't even contain his laughter.
"Get out!" I scream again, feeling my cock twitch like mad. I was so close I could practically taste my cum on my own lips. "Get the fuck out before I kill you!"
"Yeah? Are you gonna use your dick as a weapon?"
"I could right now, Jeff. I really could. Now will you please, get the hell out of here so I can finish?"
Who cares what I'm saying to him. He already knew I was jerking off. That's why he's doing this. He wants to torture me. He wants to ruin it for me. He's done it before. At first not on purpose, until he realized what he'd done and how horribly pissed off it made me. Now it's like his favorite pastime. I watch him with narrowed eyes as he flops down in the chair across from my bed, throwing one leg over the arm and making himself comfortable.
"Go ahead and finish. I'm not stopping you."
"Yes, you are! Get out!"
"Finish and I will."
I can't help but give him the eye now. Is he serious? He can't be. There's no way in all the world he could possibly be sitting there, looking at me with those intensely serious eyes, and be telling me to jerk off in front of him. But he looks completely serious. And he's… He's hard. He's as aroused as I am. I look back up at him in shock and questioning.
"Seriously?" I ask.
"Yeah. I need some visual this time. Listening to you just isn't enough."
I watch as if hypnotized as he reaches down and unsnaps the button on his jeans. The zipper trails slowly down after it and he's reaching down into his pants, pulling his hardened length free from the confines with a sigh. He just stares at me, his fingertips moving slowly over his cock, and waits for me to do as he says. I can't move. I think I'm frozen to this very spot, hunched down to hide myself from him, unable to move because I'm captivated by the delicious sight of him. But as I look at him, his eyes grow more stern.
"Get on your back, put your feet on the wall, and get back to work. I don't care if it only lasts a few more seconds for you. I want to see it."
I'm trembling again, but for a whole new reason. I have to obey him. I don't know why, but I fear that if I don't he'll simply walk out and this chance will never come my way again. I do exactly as he says, lying back down and assuming the position I had been in. I have to grab the baby oil again to lube myself back up after so many long moments of not doing anything. And when I first stroke over myself I'm pleasantly surprised to find that I haven't lost any of it. It's still just as intense, still pounding into my brain. I get right back into the hard fast pace I had set before, but I don't dare do anything with my other hand. I don't want him to see that. This could just be a fluke. He may not be into guys, and certainly not me, and I don't want him to see me fingering my ass if that's the case. He doesn't need to know that I'm gay. But those thoughts are already straying from my mind as the pleasure takes over me. I close my eyes, resisting the urge to look up at my stunning poster, and jerk off for all I'm worth.
"Open your eyes." I gasp as I hear Jeff's voice right behind my head. "Open your eyes." I do as he says and start to tilt my head back to look at him, but he holds me still and keeps me from it. "Look up at my picture. That's the best poster we ever got. What a coincidence that your footprints are all over it on either side of me." I look up at it and sure enough, he's right. There's tons of them on there now that the sun is shining just right on it. Evidence of how often I do this. "You do this all the time. You lie here in front of this picture of me and stroke yourself… and finger yourself. Why aren't you doing it now? I saw you before."
"No," I whisper. "I wasn't."
"Don't lie to me. Do it, Matty. Touch yourself." He takes my other hand in his own, pouring an amount of oil over my fingers, then pushes it up towards my crotch as far as he can reach where he's crouched behind me. "Do it, Matty. I want you to cum and I know you feel so much better when you do it this way."
I don't hesitate in the least now. I plunge three fingers deep into my ass, crying out as I hit my prostate. Then, for the first time I finally just go for it and push in all four. It's an intense mixture of pain and pleasure, filling me in a much more satisfying way, and I nearly come right at that very moment. I open my eyes again, staring at that beautiful picture of my brother and beg and plead to it as if it were the real him.
"Oh God… Please… I need to cum…" I yell out.
Jeff moans softly just behind my head, causing me to gasp at hearing the sound, and then speaks again. "That's right. Beg for that poster to become real. Picture it just like you always do. That's me working your cock, Matty. You're wrapping your legs tight around me. And that's my hard, thick, throbbing, dripping cock filling your tight little ass to the brim."
I wail as he growls all the words I've heard him say so many times in my mind, my fantasies and reality clashing together in a confusing mesh. He's here. He's right here watching everything I'm doing and encouraging it. He's fucking me, touching me, speaking all those dirty words I long to hear. I scream as it suddenly hits me dead center, my body tightening that last final bit as I finally orgasm. And as if I wasn't screaming loud enough, Jeff lunges up and locks his lips tight around the head of my dick, sucking like mad. His name tears from my throat and I think I cum twice right in a row because of him, feeling it as I flood his mouth and he swallows as quickly as he can. I'm shaking like a leaf as I hold myself up, waiting for him to pull away, which he does at last. Once he moves I collapse onto the bed with a bounce, gasping for air as my heart thuds in my chest. Then I feel his lips cover mine and without even thinking about it I open my mouth to him. He does the same and I feel it before I even taste it. My cum. He's pushing it into my mouth, swirling it around with his tongue, moaning from his throat as he does it. I accept it without question. When he pulls back I look up at him and watch as he swallows what was left in his mouth. I swallow it down as well, sharing that most intimate taste with him.
"I never knew…" I pant. "Jeff… Jeff, I…"
"Shhh…" He smiles at me. "Save your strength. I'm not done with you yet."
I think I just died and went to heaven. Or maybe this is hell because only sin could possibly feel this good!
Legalities: Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story.