Juvie CH 8
Juvie CH 8
I wasn't present during the following conversation. It was relayed to my big bro, Matthew, who then repeated it to me later. So---third party translation if you will. I'll try to get it right.
“Yo Cain---hey come in here, will ya”?
“Sure Cpt, what's up”?
“You know those survey's we hand the punks at intake?
“Ya, I mean I knew they existed, never seen one though”.
“Um um. For the most part they just toss them. You know—intake attitude n shit. But, our little monster back there filled his out”
“You mean, Dillon”?
“Yup—and there's some fascinating shit in here. I've had Mary on the phone all morning verifying stuff”.
“Ya---so what's in there”?
“What was it you reported he yelled at you guys---when you went after him with the straight-jacket”?
“Just screaming that we couldn't put it on him”.
“Naa—naa--the other thing”?
“Ahh—you mean something about having three silver gloves”?
“YES ! THAT”. !
“Didn't make any sense to me. I figured he was delusional. Thinking he was some super hero from a comic book or something. Had his fist up, like he was gonna strike or something”.
“Uh-uh, and that's exactly what he was about to do, too”.
“Sir”?
“Check this shit out—and like I said, I've already had Mary verify this shit.
East Texas Jr. Boxing Asc. Three times, overall winner---silver gloves” !
“NO SHIT” !
“Uh-uh. This boy ain't no red-neck bar room brawler—he's been trained ! And, quite well I may add”.
“Around here ? By who “?
“That's the interesting part—there's more ! His older brother, Matthew – ALSO a three time silver winner, PLUS four times gold” !
“Christ---where does it end” ?
“LMAO—it doesn't ! Our 'little monster' also plays baseball for Tyler. And already knocked down their first state championship. And--Remember a few years back—that quarter-back at the high school ? The kid that suddenly catapulted Tyler to the state championship”? (3A competition)
“Ya—sure, I remember that. They still talk about it”.
“Um-hum. Matthew Dillon”.
“Ill be fucked. Seems like jock-ism runs strong in the Dillon family”.
“Oh, for sure. Or as we might put it ten years from now—the 'force' runs strong in this one”.
“HUH”?
“Never-mind”.
“So, boss—what are you pondering”?
“It's a moral dilemma for sure. I mean, he totally assaulted, and ***** that boy, Turner. It was brutal. If it were up to me, I would have given him 10 years. But, here's the Craftsman's wrench—that same golden glove tournament—is in three weeks—right here in Tyler. And I've already had Mary confirm another thing—our boy is already pre-registered”.
“He didn't plan the part of landing his ass in jail”.
“Exactly—and certainly not the part of adding more time to his ass----he's gonna miss it”.
“Damm—I almost feel sorry for him”.
“Yup—and there's only one thing we can do about it”.
“Ahhhhh boss—you ain't considering----”?
“Which would you rather see in the news ? Jail investigated over early release of repeat violent offender ? Or—jail investigated into sudden deep depressive state of inmate ? From his point of view, he's been training for this his whole life. Following his brothers footsteps. He wants his big bro to be proud of him”.
“Like you said boss, definitely a moral dilemma”.
Captain Braxton hits the PA button on the phone. “Dillon” !
“DILLON” !
“YO” !
“Get dressed---report to Cpt. Braxton”.
“AYE” What the fuck now ? I just been laying around back here—keeping to myself. All I been doing is playing with my dick. Even somewhat depressed, it still demanded daily attention. I jump up and get dressed, sliding into the issued Converse, rather than the heavy boots. I arrive at the office in about 15 minutes.
Walking into the office, without saying anything, I see three guards, and----MATTHEW ! “What are you doing here bro”? I was almost in tears. “Has something happened”? I almost went into a panic state.
“Everything's fine, Dillon. Sit down”.
“We have been going over your intake survey. Very interesting. I talked some here with the guards, and then we had your brother come down and talk to us. I'll make this right to the point. Your orders are to report to intake, and hand in those clothes you have on. Your discharge papers are already ready. That is all—now get out of my face”.
I just stood there, stunned. I wasn't even sure what I had just heard. I looked over at my big bro, confused. As he rose, and placed his arm across my shoulders, he very softly said, “Come on lil bro—ur going home”.
I couldn't fucking believe it. No interview ? No conversation ? No probation ? I was totally emotionless.
“And Dillon, I don't want to see your face in my jail again” ! Braxton shouts out. I just give him a nod. Just as we exit the door, he shouts out again. “Oh—and Dillon, bring home the gold, son”.
Suddenly I swelled up in pride. He knew. Somehow, he knew. I spun around, and with my best Marine attention, saluted Cpt Braxton---a thing totally not required in the juvie system, and quite rare actually. As the tears filled my eyes I manage to mumble out, “Thank you sir---and that's a promise” !
And just like that, I was discharged, and headed home.
The next three weeks were filled with nothing but training. Working out, lifting weights, sparring with Matthew, working out down at the city gym, and, lol, lots of jackin-off :) Strict diet—protein, carbs. No sugar, no salt. Running, swimming, jump-rope. Actually, I had never felt better in my life. I felt like Rocky Balboa. I was confident, or arrogant, lol, not really sure which. Eat, shit, sleep---day in and day out.
I had gained considerable weight since the day of incarceration. Fourteen pounds to be exact. The days of bantam-weight would now be behind me. Now I would fight welter-weight. I had put on a good deal of muscle in just under three months. I was hard---hard as fuck. Just 8% body fat. My abs popped out like eight little rib-eyes on a grill. My bi-ceps rose up like the peak of a volcano, now at 17”. I was damm near as big as my big bro now. I told one of the boy's in the jail one day, kinda showin off a bit, flashing him a big hard muscle, if he bit down on it hard enough, it would break his teeth before he could draw blood, lol. In short, built like a brick shit house. And just 16.
But you don't get this shit for free yo's—uh uh. You gotta work ur ass off for it. You gotta want it more than anything in the world.
My first match would be at noon Saturday. Weigh-in at 8:00 AM. It was a simple draw structure. Who's-ever name you drew—that's who you fought. The only classifications were weight, and either pro or amateur. And just as simple, whoever won this match, fought the winner from the other match. And on and on all day. The final match—for the title would be at 6:00 PM.
Requiem for a Welter-weight.
I was elated to see Cpt. Braxton, and all the boy's from the jail in the stands. Along with four guards, lol. It gave me a new sense of pride, and confidence. I won't bore you with page after page of the event, just to say, I won ! Well, you knew I was gonna win, right ? Otherwise there wouldn't have been any point to the story :)
But Dustin ! When are you gonna fuck something???????
Soon—just hold on.
I won Grand Champion. Now, that is a spot above 'over-all champion'. Over-all means you won all of your matches. But GRAND champion meant that you also had the highest 'points' achieved in your scoring. It's kinda complicated----just google it. I also set the state record as the youngest to ever win the golden gloves---even in a small chapter as ours. Over the next ten years, I would win four more---evening up with my big bro. He was so fucking proud of me.
After the match Cpt. Braxton took all the boy's down to Pasqualies for pizza. He invited Matthew and me to come along. We laughed, we cried. We made fun of each other---mostly about homo sex, lol. We took lots of pictures—a lot with our waitresses. You just just smell the pussy dripping as they hugged the stinkin sweaty champion, LMAO.
Things finally settled down, and Braxton announces it was time to head back to jail. He had promised the 'powers to be' that everyone would be safely back, and tucked in by 10:00 PM. I asked Matthew if I could borrow his Jeep. “I gotta see a guy about a dog”. He just kinda looked at me, perplexed. “No—I don't gotta shit---just need to see somebody”.
He shrugged his shoulders, and handed me his keys. Didn't even ask me for details. Guess he figured I needed to blow off some steam now—you know, alone time. What I needed though, was to blow off my nuts ! They were aching, and I needed something to stick my dick into. And I knew just where to go.
It was nearly mid-night, but seeing a light in the front window I ****** on the door. Shirtless, sweating like a pig, and dudes did I stink :) I had my gloves hanging around my neck when Mark opened the door. (Mark, if you remember from last chapter was the dude we returned the lost dog to that had wandered into the jail).
“DUSTIN” !! “What the fuck dude” !
“YOU—are looking at the newest, and youngest Golden Glove champion in East Texas history”.
“Ahhh---well fuck me” !
“I was hoping you would say that”, grinning from ear to ear.
We wasted no time. Mark flung the door open, and we practically ran back to his room. Shedding clothes along the way, I plop down on his bed on my back. Mark goes straight for my dick—hard as granite by now, and swallows me down. Oh gawd that boy's throat was incredible. Putting a lip lock on me like *********** pussy, (well, no—I wouldn't know what that actually felt like—I'm not that big of a monster), he instantly begins going up and down the full length of my thick meaty shaft. Oh fuck it felt so good. It had been weeks since anything except jackin-off. And three days before the event, Matthew forbid me to even do that ! “Gotta save ur spunk lil bro for the match---spill ur seed, and loose indeed” lol.
After a good twenty minutes of the best head I ever had, now boned to the max, Mark suddenly jumps up from me and flips me over. Spreading my ample hairy ass, he then dives his face right into my greasy wet crack. He runs his nose up and down the hairs, breathing in deep my musky funk. Gawd—even that felt so fucking good. But then---came the tongue. It was as if he had been practicing.
Pulling me open just a bit more, Mark drove his tongue right into my nasty slimy hole. And I mean IN it to. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. While his lips munched on my crack, his tongue fucked my hole like a little finger. I thought I would explode at any moment.
But then, he flipped us both, to where I was now on top of him. “**** ME” ! He grunted in a very low throaty voice. “**** me hard ---you badd ass convict” !
With an evil grin, I look down for a moment, aiming my huge swollen mushroom head, and slam him. Didn't even reach for the lube, I just fucking slammed him. Hard ! Real fucking hard ! Burying my whole shaft to the pubes on the first plunge. I didn't even pause, and assaulted his guts like I was trying to rip him apart. ! I pounded him hard, and fast. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the sweat from my fore-head from dripping down into them. The sweat from my bushy pits was now dripping down my rib cage as well, and my funk driving me crazy. I stunk like an animal, and I was surely fucking like an animal.
And then, then fucker pushes me backwards, causing me to flop out of him. Before I could say 'what the fuck' he exclaimed, “Wait----just wait a sec” !
“Wait ??? What the fuck you mean, wait”??
“I just gotta know” !
Without explaining, Mark reaches over into his nite-stand drawer, and fishes out a tape measure. Ahhh ok, I get it. Taking a quick measurement---the correct way-- (pubes to piss-slit), he lights up like Christmas. “You've grown dawg--- 9 ¾” !
I was ecstatic. Nearly an inch since New Years. “And nearly 7 inches around” . Damm—that was a slab of meat for sure ! I was so fucking proud.
I grab Mark by his hair and aim my dick for his mouth. It was too late now to try to get back into his hole—I was ready to blow !
I slammed my huge cowboy cock straight down his throat. My balls leaped up in their low-hanging sac, and exploded. Like a volcano. I just layed there—buried in his throat, as my cock throbbed with each shot, unloading my thick cowboy juice into his belly. Shot after shot, I became weaker with each one. Twenty-one shots in all, until I finally collapse on top of him, panting like I had just run a marathon. Mark exploded as well, not even touching his dick. Wedged between our belly's Mark unleashes a powerful explosion of his own, coating our stomach's with thick creamy juice. It was so much it began dripping down his sides, onto his sheets.
I rolled off him in just a few moments. I was totally drained of energy. I just layed there, again on my back. But Mark wasn't through. He rolls over towards me, and takes my still half hard dick back into his mouth. Sucking every bit as good as the beginning, gets every drop of my cum residue still on my dick, along with the slime of his guts. He sucked me off for at least 15 more minutes. I thought I would just simply pass out from the over stimulation of my cock-head. But then came the second gift as I cut loose a powerful stream of my strong cowboy piss. He guzzles down every drop. Fuck, I wasn't sure now who was the more hungry—me or him.
We finally subside, and Mark lights up a joint. We suck the whole thing down in under a minute. Finally chillin for a few minutes, we then head into the kitchen for something to eat, and another beer.
We smoke another joint, then Mark looks at me right in my eyes, “You re-charged yet”?
Holy fuck ! But, that I was. I was so hyper-stimulated it took less than half an hour, and I was boned up again. In short—we fucked three times, right in a row. Where all my nut came from I had no idea, but it just kept coming ! I must have pumped a quart of jizz into Mark's ass that night.
Finally back at home, about three in the morning now, Matthew is waiting up for me. Down in the basement on his bed, on his back, buck fuckin naked. And hard :) Watching porn, and gently stroking on his own massive weapon. He looks up at me and smiles. “Get ur nut, lil bro”?
I just grin at him and nod, as I head over to the mini-fridge to retrieve a beer. I turn it up and guzzle down the whole bottle. Grinning again, I just look at him, and mischievously say, “three times” .
“Gawd damm lil bro ! Them nuts gotta hurt bad by now” !
“Oh fuck ya”. I'm already getting boned up yet again, just watching my big bro play with his monsterous 11” shaft.
He pats his hand on the bed as he continues, “Well, why don't you come lay down here on ur belly, and lets see if ur big bro can make you forget all about it”?
I grin again, as I swagger over to the bed, now pretty fucked up from all the beer and dope. I lay down and stretch out my hairy legs pretty wide. It had now been three months since I had felt the power of Matthew's weapon. And I wanted it bad.
I wrap my arms around the pillow, and squeeze my eyes tight. And then he slams me. The best reward is now at hand :)
I never saw, nor heard from any of the boy's from jail again. Kinda sad actually. I guess each had gone their separate ways. Being juveniles, like myself, your records are sealed after discharge. No info could be given out shy of a court order.
I continued to see Mark about once a week for a while. We finally invited him to come along with Matthew and me on one of our camping trips. Finally got a three-way with him, taking both Dillon brothers at the same time :) Damm—what a whore.
About three months after the tournament I went down to the jail to ask Cpt. Braxton if I could start a boxing program for the punks, ur ah inmates there. He thought it was a great idea, but due to the normal short stays of juvenile's wouldn't give them much time to learn very much.
I eventually wrote a short book---more of a handbook kinda thing. “One-hundred reasons why NOT to go to jail”. I got permission to place them in the school library, for free.
I never checked up on Turner—didn't really care.
I never cut McKinney's hair either. I wondered if he made it through his entire stay without ever getting it cut ?? I hoped he was ok.
All that shit has been about ten years now. Together, we expanded Matthew's yard business to include light construction now. Porches, fences, decks, shit like that. We had three crews, and this year celebrated our first million dollar year !
Yup—The Eyes of Texas are Upon You—always. All you got to do, is look up !
Now---LETS FUCK !!
I wasn't present during the following conversation. It was relayed to my big bro, Matthew, who then repeated it to me later. So---third party translation if you will. I'll try to get it right.
“Yo Cain---hey come in here, will ya”?
“Sure Cpt, what's up”?
“You know those survey's we hand the punks at intake?
“Ya, I mean I knew they existed, never seen one though”.
“Um um. For the most part they just toss them. You know—intake attitude n shit. But, our little monster back there filled his out”
“You mean, Dillon”?
“Yup—and there's some fascinating shit in here. I've had Mary on the phone all morning verifying stuff”.
“Ya---so what's in there”?
“What was it you reported he yelled at you guys---when you went after him with the straight-jacket”?
“Just screaming that we couldn't put it on him”.
“Naa—naa--the other thing”?
“Ahh—you mean something about having three silver gloves”?
“YES ! THAT”. !
“Didn't make any sense to me. I figured he was delusional. Thinking he was some super hero from a comic book or something. Had his fist up, like he was gonna strike or something”.
“Uh-uh, and that's exactly what he was about to do, too”.
“Sir”?
“Check this shit out—and like I said, I've already had Mary verify this shit.
East Texas Jr. Boxing Asc. Three times, overall winner---silver gloves” !
“NO SHIT” !
“Uh-uh. This boy ain't no red-neck bar room brawler—he's been trained ! And, quite well I may add”.
“Around here ? By who “?
“That's the interesting part—there's more ! His older brother, Matthew – ALSO a three time silver winner, PLUS four times gold” !
“Christ---where does it end” ?
“LMAO—it doesn't ! Our 'little monster' also plays baseball for Tyler. And already knocked down their first state championship. And--Remember a few years back—that quarter-back at the high school ? The kid that suddenly catapulted Tyler to the state championship”? (3A competition)
“Ya—sure, I remember that. They still talk about it”.
“Um-hum. Matthew Dillon”.
“Ill be fucked. Seems like jock-ism runs strong in the Dillon family”.
“Oh, for sure. Or as we might put it ten years from now—the 'force' runs strong in this one”.
“HUH”?
“Never-mind”.
“So, boss—what are you pondering”?
“It's a moral dilemma for sure. I mean, he totally assaulted, and ***** that boy, Turner. It was brutal. If it were up to me, I would have given him 10 years. But, here's the Craftsman's wrench—that same golden glove tournament—is in three weeks—right here in Tyler. And I've already had Mary confirm another thing—our boy is already pre-registered”.
“He didn't plan the part of landing his ass in jail”.
“Exactly—and certainly not the part of adding more time to his ass----he's gonna miss it”.
“Damm—I almost feel sorry for him”.
“Yup—and there's only one thing we can do about it”.
“Ahhhhh boss—you ain't considering----”?
“Which would you rather see in the news ? Jail investigated over early release of repeat violent offender ? Or—jail investigated into sudden deep depressive state of inmate ? From his point of view, he's been training for this his whole life. Following his brothers footsteps. He wants his big bro to be proud of him”.
“Like you said boss, definitely a moral dilemma”.
Captain Braxton hits the PA button on the phone. “Dillon” !
“DILLON” !
“YO” !
“Get dressed---report to Cpt. Braxton”.
“AYE” What the fuck now ? I just been laying around back here—keeping to myself. All I been doing is playing with my dick. Even somewhat depressed, it still demanded daily attention. I jump up and get dressed, sliding into the issued Converse, rather than the heavy boots. I arrive at the office in about 15 minutes.
Walking into the office, without saying anything, I see three guards, and----MATTHEW ! “What are you doing here bro”? I was almost in tears. “Has something happened”? I almost went into a panic state.
“Everything's fine, Dillon. Sit down”.
“We have been going over your intake survey. Very interesting. I talked some here with the guards, and then we had your brother come down and talk to us. I'll make this right to the point. Your orders are to report to intake, and hand in those clothes you have on. Your discharge papers are already ready. That is all—now get out of my face”.
I just stood there, stunned. I wasn't even sure what I had just heard. I looked over at my big bro, confused. As he rose, and placed his arm across my shoulders, he very softly said, “Come on lil bro—ur going home”.
I couldn't fucking believe it. No interview ? No conversation ? No probation ? I was totally emotionless.
“And Dillon, I don't want to see your face in my jail again” ! Braxton shouts out. I just give him a nod. Just as we exit the door, he shouts out again. “Oh—and Dillon, bring home the gold, son”.
Suddenly I swelled up in pride. He knew. Somehow, he knew. I spun around, and with my best Marine attention, saluted Cpt Braxton---a thing totally not required in the juvie system, and quite rare actually. As the tears filled my eyes I manage to mumble out, “Thank you sir---and that's a promise” !
And just like that, I was discharged, and headed home.
The next three weeks were filled with nothing but training. Working out, lifting weights, sparring with Matthew, working out down at the city gym, and, lol, lots of jackin-off :) Strict diet—protein, carbs. No sugar, no salt. Running, swimming, jump-rope. Actually, I had never felt better in my life. I felt like Rocky Balboa. I was confident, or arrogant, lol, not really sure which. Eat, shit, sleep---day in and day out.
I had gained considerable weight since the day of incarceration. Fourteen pounds to be exact. The days of bantam-weight would now be behind me. Now I would fight welter-weight. I had put on a good deal of muscle in just under three months. I was hard---hard as fuck. Just 8% body fat. My abs popped out like eight little rib-eyes on a grill. My bi-ceps rose up like the peak of a volcano, now at 17”. I was damm near as big as my big bro now. I told one of the boy's in the jail one day, kinda showin off a bit, flashing him a big hard muscle, if he bit down on it hard enough, it would break his teeth before he could draw blood, lol. In short, built like a brick shit house. And just 16.
But you don't get this shit for free yo's—uh uh. You gotta work ur ass off for it. You gotta want it more than anything in the world.
My first match would be at noon Saturday. Weigh-in at 8:00 AM. It was a simple draw structure. Who's-ever name you drew—that's who you fought. The only classifications were weight, and either pro or amateur. And just as simple, whoever won this match, fought the winner from the other match. And on and on all day. The final match—for the title would be at 6:00 PM.
Requiem for a Welter-weight.
I was elated to see Cpt. Braxton, and all the boy's from the jail in the stands. Along with four guards, lol. It gave me a new sense of pride, and confidence. I won't bore you with page after page of the event, just to say, I won ! Well, you knew I was gonna win, right ? Otherwise there wouldn't have been any point to the story :)
But Dustin ! When are you gonna fuck something???????
Soon—just hold on.
I won Grand Champion. Now, that is a spot above 'over-all champion'. Over-all means you won all of your matches. But GRAND champion meant that you also had the highest 'points' achieved in your scoring. It's kinda complicated----just google it. I also set the state record as the youngest to ever win the golden gloves---even in a small chapter as ours. Over the next ten years, I would win four more---evening up with my big bro. He was so fucking proud of me.
After the match Cpt. Braxton took all the boy's down to Pasqualies for pizza. He invited Matthew and me to come along. We laughed, we cried. We made fun of each other---mostly about homo sex, lol. We took lots of pictures—a lot with our waitresses. You just just smell the pussy dripping as they hugged the stinkin sweaty champion, LMAO.
Things finally settled down, and Braxton announces it was time to head back to jail. He had promised the 'powers to be' that everyone would be safely back, and tucked in by 10:00 PM. I asked Matthew if I could borrow his Jeep. “I gotta see a guy about a dog”. He just kinda looked at me, perplexed. “No—I don't gotta shit---just need to see somebody”.
He shrugged his shoulders, and handed me his keys. Didn't even ask me for details. Guess he figured I needed to blow off some steam now—you know, alone time. What I needed though, was to blow off my nuts ! They were aching, and I needed something to stick my dick into. And I knew just where to go.
It was nearly mid-night, but seeing a light in the front window I ****** on the door. Shirtless, sweating like a pig, and dudes did I stink :) I had my gloves hanging around my neck when Mark opened the door. (Mark, if you remember from last chapter was the dude we returned the lost dog to that had wandered into the jail).
“DUSTIN” !! “What the fuck dude” !
“YOU—are looking at the newest, and youngest Golden Glove champion in East Texas history”.
“Ahhh---well fuck me” !
“I was hoping you would say that”, grinning from ear to ear.
We wasted no time. Mark flung the door open, and we practically ran back to his room. Shedding clothes along the way, I plop down on his bed on my back. Mark goes straight for my dick—hard as granite by now, and swallows me down. Oh gawd that boy's throat was incredible. Putting a lip lock on me like *********** pussy, (well, no—I wouldn't know what that actually felt like—I'm not that big of a monster), he instantly begins going up and down the full length of my thick meaty shaft. Oh fuck it felt so good. It had been weeks since anything except jackin-off. And three days before the event, Matthew forbid me to even do that ! “Gotta save ur spunk lil bro for the match---spill ur seed, and loose indeed” lol.
After a good twenty minutes of the best head I ever had, now boned to the max, Mark suddenly jumps up from me and flips me over. Spreading my ample hairy ass, he then dives his face right into my greasy wet crack. He runs his nose up and down the hairs, breathing in deep my musky funk. Gawd—even that felt so fucking good. But then---came the tongue. It was as if he had been practicing.
Pulling me open just a bit more, Mark drove his tongue right into my nasty slimy hole. And I mean IN it to. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. While his lips munched on my crack, his tongue fucked my hole like a little finger. I thought I would explode at any moment.
But then, he flipped us both, to where I was now on top of him. “**** ME” ! He grunted in a very low throaty voice. “**** me hard ---you badd ass convict” !
With an evil grin, I look down for a moment, aiming my huge swollen mushroom head, and slam him. Didn't even reach for the lube, I just fucking slammed him. Hard ! Real fucking hard ! Burying my whole shaft to the pubes on the first plunge. I didn't even pause, and assaulted his guts like I was trying to rip him apart. ! I pounded him hard, and fast. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the sweat from my fore-head from dripping down into them. The sweat from my bushy pits was now dripping down my rib cage as well, and my funk driving me crazy. I stunk like an animal, and I was surely fucking like an animal.
And then, then fucker pushes me backwards, causing me to flop out of him. Before I could say 'what the fuck' he exclaimed, “Wait----just wait a sec” !
“Wait ??? What the fuck you mean, wait”??
“I just gotta know” !
Without explaining, Mark reaches over into his nite-stand drawer, and fishes out a tape measure. Ahhh ok, I get it. Taking a quick measurement---the correct way-- (pubes to piss-slit), he lights up like Christmas. “You've grown dawg--- 9 ¾” !
I was ecstatic. Nearly an inch since New Years. “And nearly 7 inches around” . Damm—that was a slab of meat for sure ! I was so fucking proud.
I grab Mark by his hair and aim my dick for his mouth. It was too late now to try to get back into his hole—I was ready to blow !
I slammed my huge cowboy cock straight down his throat. My balls leaped up in their low-hanging sac, and exploded. Like a volcano. I just layed there—buried in his throat, as my cock throbbed with each shot, unloading my thick cowboy juice into his belly. Shot after shot, I became weaker with each one. Twenty-one shots in all, until I finally collapse on top of him, panting like I had just run a marathon. Mark exploded as well, not even touching his dick. Wedged between our belly's Mark unleashes a powerful explosion of his own, coating our stomach's with thick creamy juice. It was so much it began dripping down his sides, onto his sheets.
I rolled off him in just a few moments. I was totally drained of energy. I just layed there, again on my back. But Mark wasn't through. He rolls over towards me, and takes my still half hard dick back into his mouth. Sucking every bit as good as the beginning, gets every drop of my cum residue still on my dick, along with the slime of his guts. He sucked me off for at least 15 more minutes. I thought I would just simply pass out from the over stimulation of my cock-head. But then came the second gift as I cut loose a powerful stream of my strong cowboy piss. He guzzles down every drop. Fuck, I wasn't sure now who was the more hungry—me or him.
We finally subside, and Mark lights up a joint. We suck the whole thing down in under a minute. Finally chillin for a few minutes, we then head into the kitchen for something to eat, and another beer.
We smoke another joint, then Mark looks at me right in my eyes, “You re-charged yet”?
Holy fuck ! But, that I was. I was so hyper-stimulated it took less than half an hour, and I was boned up again. In short—we fucked three times, right in a row. Where all my nut came from I had no idea, but it just kept coming ! I must have pumped a quart of jizz into Mark's ass that night.
Finally back at home, about three in the morning now, Matthew is waiting up for me. Down in the basement on his bed, on his back, buck fuckin naked. And hard :) Watching porn, and gently stroking on his own massive weapon. He looks up at me and smiles. “Get ur nut, lil bro”?
I just grin at him and nod, as I head over to the mini-fridge to retrieve a beer. I turn it up and guzzle down the whole bottle. Grinning again, I just look at him, and mischievously say, “three times” .
“Gawd damm lil bro ! Them nuts gotta hurt bad by now” !
“Oh fuck ya”. I'm already getting boned up yet again, just watching my big bro play with his monsterous 11” shaft.
He pats his hand on the bed as he continues, “Well, why don't you come lay down here on ur belly, and lets see if ur big bro can make you forget all about it”?
I grin again, as I swagger over to the bed, now pretty fucked up from all the beer and dope. I lay down and stretch out my hairy legs pretty wide. It had now been three months since I had felt the power of Matthew's weapon. And I wanted it bad.
I wrap my arms around the pillow, and squeeze my eyes tight. And then he slams me. The best reward is now at hand :)
I never saw, nor heard from any of the boy's from jail again. Kinda sad actually. I guess each had gone their separate ways. Being juveniles, like myself, your records are sealed after discharge. No info could be given out shy of a court order.
I continued to see Mark about once a week for a while. We finally invited him to come along with Matthew and me on one of our camping trips. Finally got a three-way with him, taking both Dillon brothers at the same time :) Damm—what a whore.
About three months after the tournament I went down to the jail to ask Cpt. Braxton if I could start a boxing program for the punks, ur ah inmates there. He thought it was a great idea, but due to the normal short stays of juvenile's wouldn't give them much time to learn very much.
I eventually wrote a short book---more of a handbook kinda thing. “One-hundred reasons why NOT to go to jail”. I got permission to place them in the school library, for free.
I never checked up on Turner—didn't really care.
I never cut McKinney's hair either. I wondered if he made it through his entire stay without ever getting it cut ?? I hoped he was ok.
All that shit has been about ten years now. Together, we expanded Matthew's yard business to include light construction now. Porches, fences, decks, shit like that. We had three crews, and this year celebrated our first million dollar year !
Yup—The Eyes of Texas are Upon You—always. All you got to do, is look up !
Now---LETS FUCK !!
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