Chapter 18

“What I would like to know is was I invited here so you could get out of family weekend, or was it an accident?” I asked Rachel directly when I got the courage.

“That’s what I want to know as well,” Dennis said. He was naked like everyone else was. I noticed he had a rose tattoo on his right shoulder.

We were interrupted by the sound of the front door being flung open. “Whose dick do you have to suck around here to get some breakfast?” Brad’s booming voice sounded so much like his father as he stormed into their house.

The family lit up when Brad arrived. I suspected Rachel was avoiding my question because she didn’t return my gaze. Instead, she smiled up at Brad as he breezily strolled into the kitchen with all the swagger in the world. He was still in his football pants and jersey from the night before.

“Hey, little man! You still here? You haven’t had enough of my sisters yet?” he teased me as he walked past me.

“Your breakfast is where it always is, Brad,” Doris smiled proudly and kept her back to us while she cooked on the stove.

“Mmm, Breakfast!” Brad slid down to his knees and parted her ass cheeks with his beefy hands. He began to suck and lick on his mother’s asshole like a newborn baby feeding from his mother’s tit.

“Oh Brad! That’s not what I meant,” Doris sounded delighted.

I looked angrily at Dennis and narrowed my brows. He had distinctly told me that Brad didn’t have sex with his sisters and mom. This looked like sex to me.

“That’s rimming,” Brad explained with pride what he had just done to his mother. I didn’t know there was a word for licking assholes or even that anyone DID it. It seemed super disgusting but as fascinated as I was with the female anatomy, it was something I was down to try.

I wasn’t so sure I wanted to try it with Lori or Rachel any more though. I still felt this sense of betrayal although I could no longer pinpoint my exact reasons – just that I felt like I wasn’t in on the joke or that I had been dragged along to be the butt of one.

“Brad always was momma’s little brown-noser,” Lori laughed from the table as we watched him go to town on his mother’s asshole like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

THAT IS WHAT BROWN-NOSER MEANS? It finally dawned on me. I’ve been called a brown noser for doing extra credit homework and answering questions in class since I was in Shadowlawn Elementary school.

I never knew what it meant. I just assumed it meant someone who was trying to be the teacher’s pet.

It dawned on me that students were mocking me by implying that I ate out the teacher’s asshole!!

How would elementary students even know about something like this? And if they did, how come I didn’t?

“You know I love your tootsie roll maker too, Queen Lori,” he said as he stood up and started to strip off his clothes. Doris turned around and French kissed him on the lips and remarked how good her backside tasted on his lips.

It was easy to see that I was envious of Brad. He was very muscular, handsome, and had all this confidence. His family perked up and seemed excited to see him. He won the big game, had a hot date last night, stayed out all night (apparently) and then when he got home, he French kissed his own mother.

I would never have thought about kissing mine, until I saw him kissing hers. It seemed very taboo, but the mental image was planted at that moment. Doris looked so serene and tickled.

Brad started stripping out of his clothes right in the kitchen. He was so muscular and athletic. I felt uncomfortable just looking at his body.

“It’s not Queen Lori right now. It’s family weekend,” Lori was eating some bacon and grinning at him with delighted snark on her face. I assumed he meant Queen as in she was a pretentious, stuck-up brat.

I would have said that I thought it was appropriate, but Brad intimidated the shit out of me and when he entered the room he sucked up all the energy and it became focused around him.

“Ah, crap! I forgot about that. Sorry Dad!”

“That’s alright, Son.”

Dennis had called ME Son last night. I wondered if he would say it in front of his actual son now. I felt a little more betrayed and a little more envious of Brad. “How was your date?”

“That guy turned out to be a real weirdo,” Brad stripped out of his jeans and bent over in front of me. He had a stainless steel metal ball sticking out of his meaty ass crack. It was clearly embedded in his asshole. He also wore a thin strap of metal around his waist that was lined with rubber on the inside.

“He sounds perfect for you. You are a weirdo too!”

Brad got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to where Lori was. “Hey, there is no denying that. He just didn’t want to admit he was gay. He tried to kick my ass and started calling me queer and gay-bait while we were making love.”

“You ARE a queer and a gay-bait,” Lori giggled. She didn’t say it in a hateful way. It was like a term of endearment in the tone she was using it. I was confused. He didn’t “look” gay to me at all.

He looked like the picture of masculinity to me. I associated masculinity with Rock Hudson at the time (who also turned out to be gay). Rock Hudson had chiseled good looks, strength, style and they defined what it meant to be a man to me. I assumed he was a heterosexual man – because I hadn’t really thought about it.

I assumed all gay people dressed like Liberace and were effeminate. I based this off the cartoonishly bad exaggerations in comedies. I still had a lot to learn about gay people and life in general at this point in my life. I just believe me when I say that I was having the same sort of existential crises of my belief system as I did when I met Lori and Doris for the first time, and they told me they liked being caged.

The fact that Brad was gay was another revelation that blew my mind in a weekend full of constant challenges to my very limited definition of reality.

The entire paradigm that I had been raised on about being “normal” and “straight” and what good girls did was being re-written and challenged. I suspected that everything I believed might be completely wrong because my preconceived notions were being challenged in a way that my eyes could not deny.

Brad slid across the floor on his knees to where his sister Lori was seated. “You know one good thing about Family Weekend, is that I can do this,” he pulled her hips back against the wooden chair she was sitting in and began to lick Lori’s butthole.

“You know I would never deny you the opportunity to taste me,” she cooed with delight and looked around like she was quite enjoying his tongue tickling her in the spot that she pooped from.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to say it,” he replied quickly in between licks.

“Oh, but no one says it better than you, Braddy-Waddy! You know you want to!”

“Does he know that you and Mistress Rachel own me?”

“He does now, and it’s not Mistress Rachel on family weekends,” Rachel sounded angry. She pushed her butt up against her seat as if trying to lure him to start on her ass.

“Wait your turn, slut!” Lori teased her sister. “Contrary to your egotistical beliefs, we don’t all sit around and talk about the great Brad Wagner all of the time,” Lori informed her.

“Oh c’mon, you wrote my name on your asses last night for the big game! What did everyone say at judgment?”

“No one said anything because we washed the name off,” Rachel rolled her eyes.

“What? You could have said that I made you write that on your butts or something,” Brad sounded disappointed.

“Brad, down boy! Go eat your REAL breakfast. It’s been sitting there getting cold,” Doris brought over some more biscuits and filled up my orange juice. I thought I might have to get out of my chair.

“Yes Mommy,” Brad replied submissively and then he crawled over to a corner of the room. I could see he had a metal cage around his dick. There was a shiny metal bar of stainless steel that ran along what I learned was the “taint” which is the tender patch of skin between the dick and the anus. The bar connected to a metal ball that was in his asshole.

He began to eat cold oatmeal out of a bowl-like he was a dog – a very big, hungry dog. The girls giggled while he made a mess and slurped it up off of the floor.

The family could intuitively tell that I was tongue-tied with confusion.

“I told you last night Brad makes his own schedule. He doesn’t really follow the family weekend calendar anymore and hasn’t for a long time,” Dennis explained.

“Do you hang him at judgment?”

The family laughed at that idea.

“I don’t think the roof could hold him,” Dennis explained.

“On judgment night, I wear an executioner’s hood and I get to hang my sisters and mom. I tell everybody how mean they are to me and how they humiliate me.”

“He leaves out the part where he admits he loves it,” Lori laughed.

Brad admitted with a big sappy smile that he did while he lapped up the remains of the oatmeal. He asked the girls for details about the night before, and they summarized it briefly and he seemed happy to hear it. They left out any details including what I did. It was mostly about the crowds reaction and how much they loved to be left to gasp and choke.

He still had oatmeal dripping down his face when he started crawling over to where I was seated. He could cross the kitchen on his hands and knees like a panther ready to pounce. His muscles rippled and he was hardly a meek puppy.

“I thought you were a submissive when I first saw you,” he got right up in my face. I had worked out that submissive meant slave or whatever it was that Doris, Lori and Rachel were acting like now.

“Nope,” I admitted.

“You swing both ways?” he asked. I could feel his hot breath on my face.

“Oh no,” I was genuinely scared that he’d knock me out of the chair.

“Down Brad! Stop hitting on our guest. Rachel is just babysitting him,” Doris warned.

Brad ignored his mother’s instructions and remained on all fours but more like a gorilla than a dog. He was less than an inch from my face. I kept looking straight ahead and hoped Dennis would intervene. I’d have settled for Lori and Rachel to call of their dog.

Have you ever seen a dog when it is angry and sense an intruder? Do you know how the hair stands up on their back just behind their head? Their body language as they appear ready to pounce? The dog isn’t barking but it is emitting a low growl to let you know it is ready to kill?

Imagine an imposing football player with that same body language and position. He had to be over 6’2 and 200 pounds of solid muscle. I had never seen anyone who had six-pack abs before. I thought he might be a little deformed because I wasn’t familiar with that kind of body definition and vascularity.

“Did you spank my mommy last night, Brian?” his voice sounded so aggressively terrifying that I almost pissed myself. There was no question that I was in danger. I felt like nobody else was moving or saying anything for fear that Brad would turn on them.