Wild Ones 2 - Disciplined by Uncle Jesse

Mom's stepbrother catches my twin and me exploring our mutual desire

This is the second Wild Ones story. If you haven’t read the first one:

Wild Ones: Sharing with my twin brother

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Riding on a rough and rocky dirt road through the trees was different than ripping around on a maintained motocross track. More jarring bumps, more scenery to look at. My twin brother, Samuel, and I were in our element, though. We had been riding this road to Crescent Lake Lodge since we first started motorbiking back when we were eleven.

Our parents would have been horrified that we had been allowed to go on our own into the forest. But that was the fun of staying with Uncle Jesse in the Canadian Okanagan for two weeks every summer. He gave us our freedom. Never tied us down. Allowed us to explore.

And the lodge was one of our favorite places. It took us almost two hours to get there and was inaccessible to most vehicles, but those who could reach it were treated to a large log structure that had been there for almost one hundred years, a small campsite, and the absolute best fries.

Plus, the craziest collection of old cars, signs, railway equipment, lanterns, and anything else that had been harvested near the property from the turn of the last century.

Our plan today wasn’t to camp. We made the trek today simply for the fries and a chance to enjoy the outdoors. By the time we arrived, we were sweaty and ready for a break.

After we parked our bikes and took off our helmets, Samuel pounded me on the shoulder, laughing. "My ass is going to be so sore," he managed between chuckles.

"Bit of a rough ride," I agreed.

"Always worth it." Samuel led the way up the stairs and into the lodge. The scent of pine logs and lingering woodsmoke inside was immediate. I loved that smell. It was comfy and homey.

We walked toward the restaurant area and wove our way through the antique tables and chairs to reach the order counter. "Two fries," Samuel said to the woman hovering there.

"And two beers," I said. "Whatever you've got that's local."

"Can I see some ID?"

"Sure thing." Samuel and I dug around in our jacket pockets and produced two sets of identification with two identical faces. We could swap and no one would be the wiser.

After the woman checked the birth dates on our cards. Both cards for some reason; as if we'd have different birthdays, she rang in our order on a brass cash register from the early 1900s. The ancient piece of equipment was for esthetic purposes, lending to the old-world charm of the place.

The drawer likely contained cash but beside it was a debit machine.

"That'll be twenty-eight even."

Samuel gripped my arm. "Your turn, Sawyer."

"Sure." I nudged him out of the way and tapped my debit card on the screen.

"Find a seat," the woman said. "I'll bring everything out to you."

Once we chose a table with a view of the lake, stripped out of our leather jackets, and slung them over the backs of two chairs. We took seats across from one another.

"I wish we had more than a week's holiday," Samuel said.

"We were lucky to both get time off work at all. Two weeks would have been asking a bit much of Mitchell." Mitchell was our boss at the motorcycle repair shop we worked at when we weren't in class at the university. He already accommodated our schedule a lot.

Going to see Uncle Jesse at the end of summer was a tradition, though. One we had no intention of breaking. We'd started spending two weeks in our mom's stepbrother's home in the woods from the time we were ten. It was always a wild time with dirt bikes, ATVs, and bonfires.

Wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Was hoping it would be cooler today," I said.

"Not much chance of that. Cools off quick at night, though."

"Smores around the bonfire tonight?" I grinned at him. Stupid question. It wasn't a successful bonfire unless something was cooked on it. Hotdogs or smores. Both would do.

"As long as you don't wipe your chocolatey hands on my jeans again, sure."

I smirked and snorted. Things had got a bit rough between us last night. What started as a nice peaceful evening around the fire turned into a wrestling match on the mulch.

Uncle Jesse hadn't stepped in to stop us. He'd simply laughed, watching us with a beer near his lips. I think beer might have been the problem. Although Samuel and I had been rolling around, trying to best one another since we were kids. It was different now, though. Ever since we had double-teamed our neighbor, our relationship felt more high-strung, as if we were holding back.

I could still remember the taste of my twin brother's lips. The feel of his naked body in front of me as he fucked our shared conquest. Holding Samuel's thrusting hips, my cock riding his crease, and kissing the back of his neck had flipped a switch in me.

I didn't know what to do with it. Either did Samuel. He'd been keeping his distance.

We dug in after our fries and beer were delivered to the table. The crispy potatoes were heaven. In unison, we hummed as we ate. Only stopping to wash them down with what tasted like an IPA. The bottle said it was brewed on Vancouver Island. Not local … but close enough.

"I gotta take a piss before we head back out," Samuel said as he stood and wiped his hands on one of the two thin napkins we'd been given.

"Me too. Take a walk through the museum before we go?"

"Of course."

I finished my beer and rubbed as much grease off my fingers as I could. The washrooms were on the outside of the building at the back. We left through the rear door and headed for them.

The men's washroom contained one toilet in a cubicle, a shower stall next to it, and one urinal. Samuel beat me to the urinal. I wandered close to him as he dug his dick out of his pants.

His cock was identical to mine. He looked over his shoulder at me, his chest heaving for some reason as his gaze wandered my face. I stepped up to the urinal and pulled my cock out.

I swear to God, my brother shivered.

As he started his stream, so did I. He leaned against my shoulder and redirected his dick, so we were spilling in one combined flow. It felt dirty and exhilarating. I touched my cockhead to his to really amp things up. He felt firm and warm. I tapped his cap with mine a couple of times.

The sound he made was so sweet.

Eventually, the confusing experience came to an end as we drained our bladders.

Without a word, we tucked our cocks away, washed our hands, and left the washroom. There was an absence of our usual chatter as we meandered through the antiques we had seen so many times before over the years. The quiet continued as we mounted our bikes.

Thankfully, the ride back didn't facilitate an opportunity for us to speak. We drove straight back to Uncle Jesse's without stopping. The late summer sun was making its way behind the surrounding mountains as we pulled our bikes into the shed behind the house.

This house felt as familiar as our family home. Uncle Jesse had been a constant in our lives from the time we were born. Sure, he was Mom's stepbrother, but she'd grown up with him from the time she was three and he was twelve. He was family as family could be.

His house was a complete retreat from the city. A log home in the wilderness with not a single neighbor for miles. Uncle Jesse lived there alone. I don't think he'd ever had a partner.

I shut the shed door. Still no talking. Pretty sure Samuel was busy processing as much as I was. We'd never done that before; touched dicks.

Sure, we'd jerked off in front of one another. What teenage boy hadn't pumped his cock amongst friends? I rolled my eyes as we mounted the stairs to the back door of the house.

Okay, Samuel had been the only one I'd ever done that with. Didn't mean we should take this newfound closeness further. Or maybe the time had come. Maybe this was meant to be.

"You boys have a good ride?" Uncle Jesse had a roasted chicken in front of him and he was ripping it apart like a starving animal. Some chicken ended up on a plate—some in his mouth.

"As rough as I remember it," Samuel replied. "You'd think after all these years, someone would go up there and smooth that road out. They might get more business if they did."

"Maybe they don't want a lot of traffic up there," I countered.

Samuel tipped his head at me. "Yeah, maybe."

I looked at the plate of chicken and the bag of buns. It was one of my favorite dinners, but I wasn't hungry. I needed a shower, and I needed to close my eyes and think.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Samuel said.

I sighed.

Beat me again.

"I'll get in after you." I briefly considered following him upstairs into the bathroom. Stripping off and joining him under the hot spray of the shower. Feeling his body against mine again.

I shook my head.

No.

Samuel would never feel comfortable with that. What he'd initiated in the lodge's washroom had been a bold move for him. I knew his soul as well as I knew my own. He wanted more of a connection between us, but he wasn't sure how much … or how to ask for it.

I waited in my underwear, sitting on the lower bunk of the room we shared every summer. The bottom bunk was Samuel's. I was up top. We'd flipped a coin for it when we were ten.

When Samuel came into the bedroom, a towel around his waist, I collected my clean underwear and vacated the space. The bathroom was steamy and smelled of Samuel's body wash.

The intoxicating scent filled my senses as I stepped beneath the spray. My cock responded to the image of my brother having been naked in this very space only minutes before.

Groaning, I stroked my stiffening shaft a couple of times then thought better of it. I wanted—no needed to sport a hard-on in front of my twin brother. It was an aching kind of need.

I needed Samuel to know I was desperate for him after what we had shared. Both this afternoon and when we fucked our neighbor. I wanted to feel his lips on mine again.

Scrubbed as clean as I was willing to take the time to do, I exited the shower, dried myself off, yanked on my fresh underwear, and headed for the bedroom.

Samuel was lying on the lower bunk, only wearing his boxers, his chest bare. It was rising and falling faster than the image he was trying to present of his being asleep.

I knew he wasn't. He'd been waiting for me.