Joe gives his horny but immobilized older brother a "helping hand" earning the wrath of his father!

Brothers - Part 15
by Graham
Series: Brothers by Graham

Brothers Spanked by their FatherSometime around 2 a.m., Joe was awakened by heavily breathing moans coming from Josh’s bunk below. Listening for a couple of minutes, he asked in a stage whisper, "What’s wrong, Josh? Are you okay? Are you in pain? Do you want me to get Dad?"

"Nooooo," was the only whispered response.

"Well, what’s the matter?" Joe persisted.

"Never mind," Josh’s curt whisper cut his younger brother’s inquiry off.

Joe lay there another minute or two, before deciding he’d better – he was going to – find out what was wrong with Josh. He slid out and off his upper bunk on his stomach, landing on his bare feet next to Josh’s bunk.

In the sliver of moonlight slightly illumining the bedroom, he saw his big brother lying on his back, with his casted arms and long, right-leg cast, rendering him mostly immobile. His eyes caught the strange look in Josh’s eyes, as he stared into his big brother’s face, and something struck deep inside Joe.

Quickly and furtively, glancing over his big brother’s hunky body, he spotted the huge, erect phallus bobbing and saluting up from Josh’s tight, muscled abdominal area. With lightning speed, Joe realized that Josh was probably in hot, aroused distress.

He sat down on his brother’s bed, right next to the huge flagpole. "Are you horny, Josh? Is that it? ’Cause I can sure understand, and empathize, if that’s it."

"Oooooh, Joe, you just don’t know – can’t know – what it’s like, what’s happened."

"What, Josh?" Joe questioned incredulously.

Josh paused, breathing short, rapid breaths, gulped, and then began a whispered tale to his immediately younger brother. During the almost 2½ weeks he was in the hospital, there was a nurse who worked 12-hour shifts, from 7 to 7, three nights a week. She was probably in her late 20’s or early 30’s, and had begun showing special attention, and spending extra time, with Josh. After midnight each shift that she worked, she bathed Josh, which included soaping and sudsing his penis and scrotum, rubbing and swirling more and more vigorously with the wash cloth, bringing him to orgasm.

At first, he was shocked and thought it had been a mistake; but when, the second night, it happened again; and when after one ejaculation she rubbed oil on his shaft and head, and brought him to another climax, he realized he was a ripe, available toy for her. By the time he was discharged from the hospital, her shifts were producing heavy, sustained masturbation and milking, until the hunky, young stud was drained of semen and of his formerly charged sexual energy.

He had not told anyone about it – until now. But after almost a dozen days without any relief from the tightening sexual tension, he was in agony. His young, male member ached and craved attention, and stimulation, and release – but he was unable to do anything about it. It was making him sick and anxious with lustful longing and frustration.

He knew now first hand the seductive stimulation and rapturous release from a third-person, which he never had imagined before. Josh was so uncontrollably horny, his penis, and deep in the pit of his stomach, the core of his being, craved release. He did not know what he was going to do, or how he could stand it.

Even as he spoke, Josh was aware of how hard he was again. Actually, he had been kept hard for so many days now, without any ability for release by way of a good cum; and none seemed to be on the radar – and his balls still ached.

His rod was getting hotter and more excited, and the erection felt stronger and fuller than he recalled ever feeling in the past. He raised his head and looked down, confirming what he was feeling. His bobbing penis was thicker and longer, pulsating stronger and also much redder, than it had ever been.

The feeling was stirring and pleasant, but was also tinged with the pain of frustrating hunger, drive, and craving desire. The huge engorgement was expanding his member, flooding the hard-on tissues with extra blood, forcing the organ to accommodate the pressure, and his balls ached painfully from the futility of wanting – needing – release.

Joe’s eyes were popping during the startling narrative from his big brother. At the same time, his own pole was growing and tenting in his boxers. Even while he was listening to Josh, something in Joe’s mind and heart leaped to the conclusion he was going to help his big brother achieve a liberating catharsis.

Looking deeply into the tortured eyes of his brother, he spoke in a low, soft, firm voice. "It’s gonna be okay, Josh. I understand, ... I’ll help you. I love you Josh"; and with quiet, gracious dexterity his right hand moved to, and nimbly grasped, Josh’s enormously erect rod.

Josh sucked in air, while softly uttering a long, low moan, and he closed his eyes. "Just relax, Josh," he whispered reassuringly. With the knowing discernment of a young man experienced with such activity, Joe began fingering, at first, then, pulling, pumping, swirling, and ratcheting his big brother’s stiff, hard, engorged shaft in his hand. "Whoaaaaaaa ...that feels so goooood," Josh moaned softly, and the boy turned all pliant and yielding.

"Man, Josh, you really are one hot, sexy stud," Joe remarked with awed admiration.

Josh went instantly wild, with muffled screams that took on a raw, animal edge, and he redoubled his struggling and thrashing, moving his hips up and down, trying to assist his brother and accelerate gaining at last the relief of a release.

Sweat had broken out all over his body from his struggling, and his skin was coated and slippery with rivulets trickling down his sides and legs. His arm and leg muscles bulged as he fought against and with the motions of Joe’s hand. It was a fight that he never really had his heart in, and which he transformed into cooperation, rather than resistance, as Joe’s insistent massaging actions continued.

Josh was moving with almost robot-like fervor along the pleasure road, dazed, almost intoxicated, in a fog of lust, but relishing the wonderful stimulation from the knowing manipulation of Joe’s hand and fingers on his dick. The flooding waves of pleasure suddenly felt so warm and sexy. His crotch was glowing with hungering pleasure.

Sweat was pouring down his head and chest, drenching the pillow and his bed.

Josh’s hips and buttocks were now jerking strongly up and down against the bed, as his younger brother’s hand continued pumping him, sliding up and down, up and down, up and down. In desperation, Josh tossed his head sideways, and back and forth.

He knew this was it: like a volcano, his dick was going to blow! He felt himself being pushed faster and faster, and approaching what he knew in the past used to be the point of no return. As he sped towards the edge over which he longed to plunge, his penis pulsated with desire.

The entire end soon bulged and flared wide, turning darker and almost purple with intensity, the eye of the slit glistening with long strands of pre-cum oozing visibly and copiously, eagerly craving attention. He felt like he was harder than he ever remembered, like it had been more than a year since he had been able to cum.

He started to moan louder as he felt the full thrust of climax building in his hips, balls, and dick. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, arched his back and belly in convex form, and screamed. At the height of his sexual frenzy, he couldn’t help himself, and yelled, "Yeaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa! Yeaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaa!" violently shooting load after load up into the air, and out onto the bed, his legs and thighs and stomach, and his brother’s hand. His member just seemed to explode in Joe’s hand, pulsating and pumping out pints of thick, white, sticky, young, virgin semen, while the throes of spasm after spasm of raw, sex energy uncontrollably pounded his hips and buttocks bouncing up and down against the mattress.

"Yeaaaaah! Yeaaa-aaaaagghaaaa-oooooooo!" reverberated in the small bedroom, as Joe continued pumping and squeezing and slipping and sliding up and down the enormous, erected pole, prolonging his climax into a total frenzy of pleasure. At that moment, Josh felt like he had just now shot more sperm than ever before in his entire life, and it was wonderful. What was happening to him?

He was exhausted and spent, light-headed, panting, gasping, and moaning softly. Suddenly overcome with strong, surging emotions sweeping over him, and the release of his virile, pent-up jism, it was a mix of relief that the intense pain of unreleased need was over, and a sexually gratifying feeling from his long-overdue climax. His big chest and wide shoulder rack heaved and heaved; and he started to cry, softly, as rushing waves of conflicted emotions swept through his body and mind.

He was caught in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. He needed this release – oh how he had needed it! Yet, he was mortified and humiliated that he had allowed – had actually sought (if the truth were told) – getting it from a guy, from his younger brother. He cringed thinking how he could face Joe, after this very revealing and intimate experience.

At the same time, something still deeper in his psyche growled out in the darkness of the nighttime room, to his conscious awareness: More! I want more of this! Do it again! Josh cringed and shuddered, trying to shut out of his mind this stark, undeniable fact that shamed him even as he recognized it.

Joe held onto his big brother’s volcanic pipe until Josh, lying stretched out on his back, began easing up in his heaving gasps. Wiping his hand on the sheet, Joe took Josh’s top sheet, wiped his big brother’s penis, legs, and belly, and pulled the sheet up over Josh

To the surprise of himself, and Josh, he slowly and gently stretched himself out, draped face down, on his big brother, snuggling deep into the hulk’s physique. He did not know why, but he felt so at peace doing so.

There both boys lay soundly sleeping until around 5:30 a.m., when they were awakened by the enthusiastic voices of their younger siblings, about to commence Christmas morning. Get up, Joe! Josh called out in a deep, stage whisper. "Get up to your bed before Dad sees us, and it’s big trouble for both of us!"

Shaking his head to gain more consciousness, Joe moved up and off his big brother, and crawled back up into his own, upper bunk. There their father found them less than 20 minutes later. "Come on, boys! Wake up!" he called. "Look’s like Santa’s been here!"

Both young men smiled, voicing in unison, "Aaaaah, good! Santa’s been here!"

"Hurry, boys. Joe, take Josh to the bathroom, and get him cleaned up – and be quick about it! You can take care of yourself afterward, Joe."

Joe jumped back down and helped Josh up, steadying him as he hopped on his left leg, down the hall to the bathroom. He filled the basin with warm water, and with a wash cloth bathed Josh from his face and neck, down his entire body, to his feet and toes. When he soaped and rinsed Josh’s penis and scrotum, the two boys’ eyes met, and communicated without a word exchanged between them.

Joe emptied the basin, filled it again with water, and got Josh up to balance in front of the sink, while he pushed his hunky brother’s head down into it, to wash his hair. At last, Joe dried Josh, put deodorant on him, and raced back to their bedroom to get him a clean wrap around his pelvis and waist, to accompany Josh’s robe, rarely used before this condition, and helped his big brother slide his arms into the robe, wrapped it around him, and tied it. Joe also quickly brushed Josh’s and his own teeth, and then again steadied his brother’s pogo-stick gate down the steps into the living room.

Christmas morning mayhem broke out, as the little kids tore open presents and exclaimed their delight. Joe got his Mom and Dad, and Josh, cups of coffee from the kitchen, returning to retrieve one for himself. It was a warm, loving, traditional, Fischer family Christmas.

Approximately two hours later, Joe helped Josh back upstairs to the bathroom, to urinate, and then to the bedroom to dress him in a t-shirt, and long-sleeve polo shirt, and socks and slippers, then wrap him back up in his robe. The second oldest brother then left his big brother in their bedroom, while he trekked back down to the bathroom to shower and clean up for himself.

In the soothing, relaxing downpour of the shower, Joe recalled the events during the night with Josh, and immediately sprouted again his own woody. He closed his eyes, began the shampoo-slick stimulation of his own aroused rod, until he shot erupting discharge after discharge into the cascading shower, remembering how feverishly excited Josh had been during the night.

When he had finished, Joe hurried to get dressed as well, and then help Josh back down stairs for the day. Christmas night, the family was all tucked into bed before 11 p.m. Shortly before 1 a.m., Joe descended from the top bunk, came down to Josh’s, and with his agile, skillful hand provided his big brother with a rapid, hot, explosive release, followed up by a long, slow, ravishing, and emptying encore.

During the second one, while he milked his big brother’s big dick with his right hand, Joe pumped and detonated his own grenade with his left hand.

Wiping them both down with Josh’s sheet, he curled up and nestled into his big brother’s hulk frame. Fatigued and depleted, Josh did not object, but burrowed his strong body down into the mattress, nuzzling and resting his head on Joe’s.

Both boys slept deeply there until early in the morning, when once again Josh awoke, and alerted Joe to move back up to his own bunk. So, began a nightly, quasi-ritualistic, routine of the two, oldest Fischer boys. Joe would come down from his bunk, visit his big brother’s, dispense welcome, private pleasure and release to Josh – and to himself – before snuggling down into Josh’s bed – and Josh – to sleep peacefully for the night.

Except the boys were very careful not to allow their father even a hint about their regimen; and Ron Fischer did not even have a suspicion for almost 10 days. Then, on the night after New Year’s Day – a Sunday night – Josh and Joe kissed their Mom and Dad goodnight, who wished their sons a good night’s sleep. Joe got Josh ready for bed, and them himself, and both boys were in their beds by the 10:30 bedtime regime.

In the early hours after midnight, Joe slid down to the floor and crawled into Josh’s bed, affording sweet, relished relief to his big brother’s tense stresses and cravings – and his own – and together succumbing to the strange, but intimate, relationship that had developed between them, they slept the night peacefully together.

About 5:20 in the morning, Ron Fischer burst into the boys’ bedroom, calling for Joe to get up and help him get the truck ready – something they had astonishingly overlooked doing the night before. In the slight moonlight in the room, he was stunned to see his second, adult son, cuddled on top of, and into, his oldest adult son.

“What in the hell is going on here, boys?!” he demanded. Josh and Joe both were startled awake by their Dad’s bursting into the bedroom, and then his stern bark. “Why aren’t you in your own bed, Joe? What are doing in Josh’s?” He turned on the small lamp on the stand next to the boys’ bunk beds.

Joe jumped up off of Josh, bumping his head on his own upper bunk. As he stood up, the blanket he had covered Josh with was pulled off Josh, and the voluminous, now-dried ejaculate from Josh’s tool was obvious. As their Dad turned to look at Joe, he was trying to remount the top bunk.

In a flash the reality struck Mr. Fischer, and he pulled the bare boy back down, off the upper bank, by his long, lean leg." Nooooooo! Don’t tell me. I never would have thought you boys would do this – be like that. Shame on you both! You are not going to get away with this behaviour! I’ll beat both your butts scalding red and hot before overlooking this!"

As their Dad turned to look at Joe, he was trying to remount the top bunk. Joe fell to the floor, and his ankle and leg were pulled up, still in their Dad’s grip. "Daaaad! It’s not what you think! Poor Josh was in misery – agony – Daaaad! – with no relief! I was just helping him get some relief, Daaaad! And, you know how weird and turned on I get, Dad – I don’t know why – and I shot too! he was not about to let his Dad know he’d been jerking himself off too."

"It’s not that baaaad, Daaaaad! – not what you think!" He hastened to explain and justify the obvious situation their Dad had stumbled onto.

“I know how it is for young men, Joseph; but that doesn’t excuse you doing it for – and to – your brother,” Ron Fischer answered. “But Daaaad! He can’t help himself! He hasn’t got any way of relief. Pleeeease, Daaaad! I was only trying to help him out! Daaaaad, pleeeeez!”

Dragging his second son along the floor, he pulled out the same, old desk chair, into the room, in front of the bunk beds. "If Josh has a wet dream, so be it – it’s okay. But not you doing it for him, and to him."

He sat down and pulled Joe around, on his back, to the right, then ordered. Get up on your feet and across my lap, Joseph Daniel Fischer. You can plan on standing all day at work today, young man. Then he hauled the terrified young man down over his knees, and began an immediate, methodical spanking with the blistering hair brush.

Joe did not even try to struggle much, yielding to the inevitable punishment he knew was coming. He quickly began sobbing and bawling, while capitulating to the fiery blasts against his bottom and upper legs.

As usual, his penis sprung a treasonous boner, which was ingratiating its needs against his father’s leg and knee, before erupting. Joe cried and gagged and coughed, but he received the full trouncing his father was determined to deliver – which stung with greater flaming pain after his ejaculation.

His father ripped his son up off his knees, and flung him out of the room, down the hall to the bathroom. Then, turning to Josh, he forcefully flipped the young man over onto his face, and conducted the hardest, hottest, fiercest spanking his oldest son had ever experienced in over 24 years.

Josh was hysterical and sobbing uncontrollably, while his buttocks and thighs were like blistered tomatoes. He could not speak, but was beside himself with shame and pain and misery.

Finished with Josh, Ron Fischer quickly strode down the hall to the bathroom and walked in. There, through the steamy, glass door, he spotted Joe wanking again. Incensed, he pulled open the door, shut off the shower, and pulled the alarmed young man out, sat down on the closed commode, and dragged his adult son back over his lap for a second-act spanking. Joe became instantly crazed with fear and dread, and then pain and agony; but this time he did not sprout an erection, and ended up with a charred rearend.

"Get your brother cleaned up – and nothing more! Then get yourself dressed and get downstairs to help load up the truck for the week. We’ve got work that’s waiting," he ordered

Joe fled, sobbing, back to the bedroom, pulled on a clean pair of boxers, and then helped Josh get out of bed, to the bathroom, and cleaned up for the day. After he had dressed for work, he quickly catheterized Josh for the daytime hours when no one would be at home. Then he scurried downstairs and outside to load up the truck. The ride to the job site was excruciatingly uncomfortable, but he dared say nothing; and he worked all day without once sitting down.

After the unendurable discipline that followed their discovery by their Dad, Joe and Josh were even more humble around their parents, and also much more wary. While the custom and practice between them continued late at night, Josh insisted that Joe leave and return to his own bed, so that they would both be found sleeping alone and separate.

At first, their Dad had intruded unexpectedly into his two, adult sons’ bedroom, seeing if he might catch them in any more misbehaviour. After a number of times of not finding anything amiss, he began to relax with the boys again.

So, for the remaining months, while Josh recovered, and Joe apprenticed in the painting work, their father found no evidence of Joe as the midnight angel, who serviced his big brother’s needs – and his own.


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