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Playing a game.

The monster tenant bellowed his own impending release and reared back. Hal glimpsed a gigantic, rosy-red bulb as it jerked and spouted one, two, three, fountains of snow-white cum in an arc across the youth's chest, reaching out for Hal, goblets of thick, white cum splattering against the window panes with an audible thump.

Then the hairy beast was moving around the sling and toward the window, gliding on what Hal's mind visioned were cloven hooves. The long, thick fingers of one of his hands holding the largest, thickest cock Hal had ever seen, lovingly, accusingly erect. Hairy black balls-shockingly four of them-each as big as tennis balls swung as he strutted, slapping against his gigantic, muscle-bound, tattooed hams.

Hal watched, his mouth opening in an unvoiced scream, as the window glass began to dissolve before his eyes.

With the last vestige of control, he pulled his eyes away from the tenant and turned and soared back to the house-not to the studio, which held its own dangers and forbidden temptation, but up the stairs to his bedroom and the bath beyond. He threw himself into his shower stall; turned the water on full blast, pulling the face and naked, writhing body of his half brother into his mind; masturbated himself to a groaning ejaculation; and collapsed into the corner of the stall.

* * * *

Early in the morning, Hal struggled out of bed, weary and unsatisfied in sleep. He felt hung over, the aroma of coffee set on automatic perk the night before, and the urge of going to the door of Jimmy's bedroom fighting for control. He was groggy, only half aware of what he was doing in the murky light of the hour past dawn. Cold in his nakedness now that he wasn't under the sheet, he reached for his silken bathrobe and draped it over his shoulders.

He was on the threshold of Jimmy's door, looking at Jimmy, naked and tangled in the sheets. White sheets, marbled body. Golden, tussled curls and just the dew of light hair on his limbs and tufting on the V down to his delicate, boy's cock. Hal began by wondering how large it could grow, what his channel smelled like. Whether he would moan in pleasure as Hal filled that channel. He could almost feel his hand on Jimmy's knee, moving slowly up his thigh over the downy blond hair. Jimmy's eyes on his, his lips opening as Hal bent over him, letting the edges of his open silken robe brush along his brother's sides. Seeing Jimmy's cock fill out and his hands reach down and encircle both cocks together as Hal's lips met Jimmy's. Jimmy trembling and his back arching as Hal's tongue slipped between his opening lips and his cock slid into his opening channel. Jimmy's legs hooking around Hal's waist and above his buttocks. A shared gasp as . . .

Hal stubbed his toe as it dragged across the threshold of the door, enticing his body to follow it into the room. More awake now, Hal groaned at the frustration of what he was struggling against. And he turned and stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the automatically perked coffee awaited him, inviting him back into the world of sanity and controlled imagination.

Hal poured a cup and pattered out into the breezeway. Peering out into the haze of the misty morning, his eye was caught by the yellow of the Corvette parked outside the tenant's shack, next to the tenant's black truck. There was only one person who drove a yellow Corvette around here-the young lawyer from the end house on the other street of the small hamlet. A perky wife and three small children.

Hal fought the urge to walk out onto the grass and toward the tenant shack. With difficulty he forced his feet to turn toward the studio. The light was on inside the studio. It should not have been. And when Hal entered the room, he stood there, gawking in horror.

There were three of them.

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