u/Montanadaddy50

I am seeing if anyone can host and help me do some manscaping. Perfer a younger male but any6will do.

The pool house was dim, the air cooler than the sweltering heat outside but heavy with a different kind of warmth. The only light filtered faintly through the tinted windows, casting long, hazy shadows across the tiled floor. The sound of the filter humming in the background was rhythmic, a steady heartbeat that seemed to match the pounding in Anthony’s chest.

He stood with his back to the door, his hands clenched at his sides. He looked at Andrew, who was standing a few feet away, looking like a reflection of himself in a distorted mirror. Andrew’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his skin still glistening with pool water, making his muscles look like carved marble.

"Teach me," Andrew repeated, the words less of a command and more of a desperate plea.

Anthony let out a shaky breath. "You don't know what you're asking, Drew."

"Yes, I do," Andrew shot back. He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking rapidly. "I’m not a kid. I’m not... I’m not confused. I’m empty. Everything with girls feels like a script I’m reading badly. I look at you, and you’re... you’re you. You’re me. But you’re happy with this. With guys. I need to know why. I need to know what that feels like."

"It’s not just about the act," Anthony said, his voice trembling as he tried to hold onto some semblance of reason. "It’s about the connection. The spark."

"Then show me the spark," Andrew said. He was right in front of him now, close enough that Anthony could smell the chlorine and the faint, clean scent of his soap. "Show me what it’s like to kiss a guy. Really kiss one. Not a peck. A real kiss."

Anthony’s heart hammered against his ribs. This was the line. This was the point of no return. He looked into Andrew’s eyes—his own eyes—and saw no fear, only a burning curiosity that mirrored his own deepest, most forbidden desires.

"Okay," Anthony whispered. "But if you freak out, we stop. Immediately."

Andrew nodded, swallowing hard. "I won't."

Anthony reached up, his hand hovering near Andrew’s face. He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the wet hair at his brother’s temple. It was an electric shock, a jolt of familiarity mixed with the thrill of the taboo. He cupped the back of Andrew’s neck, pulling him closer.

Their lips met.

It was tentative at first, a soft brushing of skin that sent a shiver down Anthony’s spine. Andrew’s lips were softer than he expected, warm and slightly chapped from the sun. Anthony moved his lips slowly, testing the waters, waiting for the recoil. It didn't come. Instead, Andrew leaned into him, his hands coming up to grip Anthony’s waist.

Anthony deepened the kiss, parting his lips slightly. He felt Andrew’s breath hitch, a sharp intake of air through his nose. Anthony flicked his tongue out, tracing the seam of Andrew’s lips, asking for entry. Andrew opened for him instantly, his movements clumsy but eager.

The moment their tongues touched, the dam broke.

A groan tore from Anthony’s throat, low and guttural. He pulled Andrew tighter against him, their bodies slamming together. Andrew’s chest was hard against his, the heartbeat drumming a frantic rhythm. The kiss was no longer tentative; it was a hungry, devouring thing. Andrew tasted like the pool water and mint, a flavor that was intoxicatingly familiar yet entirely new.

Anthony felt Andrew’s hands roaming up his back, digging into his shoulder blades. It was aggressive, possessive, exactly the way Anthony liked it. There was no hesitation in Andrew’s touch now, only a raw, desperate need to explore. Their tongues dueled, sliding wetly against each other, mimicking the friction they both craved elsewhere.

Anthony pulled back gasping, his lips swollen and wet. He looked at Andrew, whose eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with lust.

"Damn," Andrew breathed, his voice rough. "That was... intense."

"It gets better," Anthony said, his own voice coming out in a husky rasp. "That’s just the beginning."

Andrew looked down at the bulge in Anthony’s swim trunks, then back up at his face. The curiosity was still there, but it was mixed with a heavy dose of arousal now. "Show me the rest," Andrew said. "Show me how you do it. The... oral stuff."

Anthony’s cock throbbed at the request. He had fantasized about this, guiltily and in secret, for years. Having his brother—who looked exactly like him—on his knees was a fantasy so dark he barely admitted it to himself. But here Andrew was, asking for it.

"Kneel," Anthony commanded softly.

Andrew didn't hesitate. He sank to his knees on the tiled floor, looking up at Anthony with an expression of rapt attention. The height difference usually negligible, but with Anthony standing and Andrew kneeling, the dynamic shifted instantly. Anthony felt a surge of power, a rush of dominance that made his head spin.

"Take them off," Anthony said.

Andrew reached up, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Anthony’s trunks. He tugged them down slowly, the fabric sliding over Anthony’s hips and thighs. Anthony stepped out of them, kicking them aside. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking pre-cum.

Andrew stared at it, his eyes wide. "It looks... just like mine," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Focus, Drew," Anthony said, reaching down to tilt his brother’s chin up. "It’s not about looking. It’s about feeling. Watch the teeth. Use your tongue. It’s not just sucking; it’s about pressure and heat."

Andrew nodded, leaning in. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before opening his mouth and taking the head of Anthony’s cock inside.

The heat was instantaneous. Anthony groaned, his head falling back. Andrew’s mouth was wet and hot, his tongue clumsy as it swirled around the sensitive tip. It was clear he had no idea what he was doing, but the enthusiasm was there.

"Easy," Anthony coached, his voice strained. "Don't just... don't just inhale it. Use your hand. Grip the base."

Andrew wrapped his hand around the shaft, his grip tight. "Like this?"

"Yeah," Anthony hissed. "Stroke it while you suck. Twist your wrist a little. And watch the teeth."

Andrew adjusted, taking more of Anthony into his mouth. He began to bob his head, finding a rhythm that was slightly jerky but improving by the second. Anthony looked down, watching his own cock disappear into his brother’s mouth. It was a surreal, mind-bending sight. Andrew’s lips were stretched around his shaft, his hollowed cheeks accentuating the sharp cheekbones they shared.

"Fuck, Drew," Anthony groaned, tangling his fingers in Andrew’s wet hair. "That’s it. Take it deeper."

Andrew tried, but he gagged slightly, pulling back with a cough. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Too much?" Anthony asked, his chest heaving.

Andrew shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "No. Just... need to work on the gag reflex. Keep going."

He went back in, this time using his tongue to lap at the underside of the shaft while his hand worked the base. He was a fast learner. He started applying suction, creating a vacuum that made Anthony’s toes curl against the cool tile.

Anthony watched, mesmerized. He could feel the pleasure building at the base of his spine, a tight coil of heat. "You're good at this," he admitted breathlessly. "Natural talent."

Andrew hummed around his cock, the vibration sending a jolt of electricity through Anthony’s body. He looked up, his eyes locking onto Anthony’s. The eye contact was intense, intimate in a way that went far beyond sex. It was a shared secret, a bond that was being forged in fire.

Anthony let him go for a few more minutes, enjoying the sensation of his brother’s mouth on him, but he didn't want to finish yet. He had a point to prove. He gently pulled Andrew back, his cock slipping free with a wet pop.

"Stand up," Anthony ordered.

Andrew stood, wiping his mouth again. His own arousal was evident, the tent in his swim trunks straining the fabric.

"Did I do okay?" Andrew asked, his voice insecure.

"You did great," Anthony said honestly. "But now it’s my turn. I’m going to show you why guys say it’s better."

Anthony dropped to his knees. He looked up at his brother, mirroring the position Andrew had been in moments before. He reached out and slowly pulled Andrew’s trunks down. Andrew’s cock sprang free, hitting Anthony’s cheek.

Anthony took a moment to admire it. It was identical to his own—same length, same thickness, same slight curve to the left. It was like looking in a mirror.

"Watch," Anthony said.

He leaned forward and licked a long, slow stripe from the base to the tip. Andrew gasped, his hands flying out to steady himself against Anthony’s shoulders.

Anthony took the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the glans. He applied just the right amount of pressure, using his hand to stroke the shaft in tandem with his mouth. He knew exactly how to make it feel good, because he knew exactly how he liked it.

He relaxed his throat and took Andrew deep, burying his nose in the coarse hair at the base. He swallowed around the head, throat muscles constricting.

"Holy shit," Andrew choked out, his knees buckling slightly. "Anthony... fuck."

Anthony pulled back slowly, dragging his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin before covering them with his lips again. He bobbed his head, establishing a rhythm that was torturously slow. He used his free hand to cup Andrew’s balls, rolling them gently.

"Is this how it feels?" Andrew gasped, his head thrown back. "Is that what it’s like?"

Anthony hummed an affirmative, sending another vibration through Andrew’s body. He could feel Andrew’s thighs trembling against his sides. He picked up the pace, sucking harder, faster. He wanted to ruin his brother for anyone else. He wanted to show him that no woman could ever do this for him.

He moved one hand around to grip Andrew’s ass, pulling him deeper into his mouth. He squeezed the firm muscle, feeling the power beneath his fingertips. Andrew’s hips began to jerk involuntarily, small thrusts that pushed him deeper into Anthony’s throat.

"I’m... I’m getting close," Andrew warned, his voice strained.

Anthony didn't pull back. Instead, he doubled down. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked with everything he had, his hand flying up and down the shaft. He wanted to taste him. He wanted to take everything he had to give.

With a loud groan, Andrew came. His hips jerked forward, his cock pulsing as he spilled down Anthony’s throat. Anthony swallowed it all, his own cock twitching in response to the taste and the heat.

He continued to suck gently as Andrew came down from his high, milking every last drop before finally pulling back. He looked up at his brother, who was slumped against the door, chest heaving, eyes closed.

Anthony stood up, wiping his mouth. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against Andrew’s ear.

"Now imagine doing that with someone who actually knows what they're doing," Anthony whispered. "And imagine feeling that inside you."

Andrew shuddered, his eyes opening slowly. He looked at Anthony with a mixture of awe and shock. "That was... that was indescribable," he managed.

"And that’s just the mouth," Anthony said, his voice low and dangerous. "We haven't even touched on the rest."

Andrew looked down at Anthony, who was still hard, his cock jutting out aggressively. A new determination settled over Andrew’s face. The curiosity hadn't been sated; it had only been whetted. He realized now that the mechanical emptiness he felt with women wasn't just about technique. It was about the raw, visceral connection of male energy.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around Anthony’s cock, stroking it firmly. "Teach me the rest," Andrew said, his voice steady. "I want to know it all."

Anthony groaned, his head falling forward to rest against Andrew’s forehead. "You sure you're ready for that?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," Andrew replied.

The pool house seemed to shrink around them, the air heavy with chlorine and sweat and the promise of more. The boundaries had been shattered, the forbidden door kicked open. There was no going back now. Only forward, into the deep, dark unknown where pleasure and taboo intertwined. Anthony kissed him again, hard and bruising, tasting himself on Andrew’s tongue. It was the start of a new game, one with much higher stakes and infinitely better rewards. And as Andrew’s hand tightened around him, Anthony knew he was exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be, and he had never been happier.

Chapter 1:

The sun beat down on the concrete deck of the family pool, relentless and unforgiving, baking the air until it shimmered in a haze of chlorine and heat. It was the kind of afternoon that demanded stillness, where the only reasonable movement was a slow dive into cool, blue water.

Anthony stretched out on the lounge chair, his toned body glistening under the sun as he let the heat soak into his muscles. He was exhausted in the best way—that deep, satisfying ache that came from pushing himself on the field. As the team’s starting running back, his speed and agility were his weapons, but his identical twin build—lean, defined, and powerful—was just as much a part of his game. He and Andrew had always been mirror images, even down to the way their bodies moved, though Anthony’s strength came from explosive sprints while Andrew’s came from the relentless pace of the basketball court.

The steady thump-thump-thump of a basketball hitting the pavement cut through the quiet, and Anthony smirked without opening his eyes. Only Andrew would be dribbling in this heat. Their similarities ran deep, but their rhythms were different—Anthony thrived in bursts of intensity, while Andrew had the endurance of a player who could run the full forty minutes without slowing down. Still, when they stood side by side, even their own teammates sometimes did a double take.

He didn’t need to look to know it was Andrew.

They were identical twins down to the smallest detail—same height, same build, same sharp jawline that drew glances wherever they went. Even their muscle tone, though shaped by different sports, carried the same athletic grace. To the untrained eye, they were indistinguishable. No one could tell them apart. Their teammates, their classmates, even their own family sometimes had to double-check who was who. Standing side by side, they were a perfect reflection, two halves of a whole, their differences hidden beneath the surface of their uncanny sameness.

"You're gonna crack the pavement," Anthony mumbled, not moving his arm. "Give it a rest, Drew."

"Bored," Andrew grunted, the ball hitting the ground again with a hollow thud. "Thought you were gonna nap."

"I am napping. You're the background noise."

Andrew huffed, and the sound of the ball stopped. A second later, the distinct wet slap of bare feet on concrete approached. "Move over. The sun is shifting."

Anthony lifted his arm, squinting against the harsh light. Andrew stood there, dripping wet, having just jumped in the pool. He looked like a Greek statue come to life, water slicking his hair back and running in rivulets over his chest and abs. For a moment, Anthony felt that familiar pang of confusion—the visual echo of looking at himself but knowing the mind behind the face was so utterly different.

"Plenty of chairs," Anthony pointed out.

"I like this one," Andrew said, shoving Anthony’s leg. He sat down on the edge of the lounger, leaving his feet dangling in the water.

Anthony groaned but made room. "Asshole."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant hum of the neighborhood and the gentle lapping of the water against the pool walls. It was comfortable. They didn’t need to fill the air with words. But Anthony could feel something coming off his brother—a kind of restless energy that usually preceded a tactical play on the court or a stupid dare at a party.

"So," Andrew started, his voice deceptively casual.

Anthony knew that tone. "So?"

Andrew picked at the chlorine-dried skin on his shoulder. "I ran into Sarah at the cafeteria yesterday."

"Sarah? The redhead?" Anthony asked, closing his eyes again.

"Yeah. We hooked up in her dorm."

"Congratulations. You didn't tell me."

"It wasn't... great," Andrew admitted.

Anthony cracked one eye open. "You're complaining about sex? That’s a first."

Andrew wasn't smiling. He was staring at the water, his jaw tight. "It’s just... I don't know. It feels like there’s something missing. Like, physically, everything works, but mentally, I’m just going through the motions. It feels mechanical."

Anthony hesitated. He knew where his own mind went with that statement, but he wasn't about to project his own reality onto his straight brother. Andrew had never shown anything but enthusiasm for women. Anthony was the anomaly. He was the gay one, the family secret kept mostly for the comfort of extended relatives, though his brother had known since high school.

"Maybe you just need a connection with the person," Anthony offered. "Hookups can be hollow."

"I guess," Andrew said, but he didn't sound convinced. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto Anthony’s with an intensity that made Anthony’s stomach flip. "Hey, can I ask you something? And I mean, really ask you without you being a dick about it?"

Anthony sat up, sensing the shift in the air. "Depends on the question."

"About... you know. You."

Anthony crossed his arms over his chest, shielding himself slightly. "What about me?"

"About what you do," Andrew said, his voice dropping an octave, lowering to a conspiratorial whisper despite the fact that they were completely alone. "I’ve never actually asked you the details. You know, about the guys. About what it’s actually like."

Anthony felt a flush creep up his neck, heating his skin faster than the sun ever could. "What do you mean, 'what it's like'?"

"I mean... sex," Andrew said, the word hanging heavy in the humid air. "What’s it like with a guy? Like, the mechanics of it. The... feeling of it."

Anthony laughed, a short, nervous sound. "Dude, are you serious right now? We’re brothers. We don’t talk about this."

"Why not?" Andrew challenged, turning his body fully toward Anthony. "You’re the only person I know who actually does it. I can’t ask the guys on the team. They’d think I was queer. I’m just curious."

The way he said 'curious' made the hair on the back of Anthony’s arms stand up. It wasn't just academic curiosity. There was a hunger in Andrew's eyes that Anthony had never seen directed at him before. It was dangerous territory.

"It's... intense," Anthony said carefully, choosing his words like he was picking his way through a minefield. "It’s different. Guys are rougher. They know what they want. They know the equipment."

Andrew nodded slowly, absorbing this. He looked down at his own hands, then back up. "Is it better?"

"Better?"

"Than with girls," Andrew clarified. "Is the sex actually better? That’s what people say, right? That guys give better head because they have dicks? Is that true?"

Anthony swallowed hard. His mouth went dry. Hearing his brother talk like this was sending jolts of electricity through a system that really shouldn't be reacting this way. But he was a red-blooded gay man, and Andrew was a stunning specimen of masculinity—even if he was his twin.

"It's just different," Anthony repeated, his voice strained. "It’s not a competition. But yeah, generally, a guy knows his way around a dick better than a girl does. It’s just... instinct."

Andrew scooted closer, the wet skin of his thigh pressing against Anthony’s dry leg. The contact was electric. "What about the other stuff? The... rest of it?"

"The rest?" Anthony played dumb, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"You know," Andrew said, his eyes dropping to Anthony’s swim trunks, then quickly snapping back up to his face. "Taking it. Or giving it. Does it hurt? Does it feel good? Like, actually good?"

Anthony stared at him, searching for any sign of a joke, but found none. Andrew was genuinely asking. And beneath the questions, Anthony sensed a deep, bubbling tension. Andrew wasn't just asking for statistics; he was asking for permission to think about it.

"It hurts at first," Anthony said, his voice barely above a whisper. He decided to be honest. If his brother was asking, he deserved the truth. "If you don't do it right. But once you get past that... it’s like nothing else. It’s this fullness. It hits this spot inside you that just..." He trailed off, unable to find a description that wasn't pornographic.

"Just what?" Andrew pressed. He leaned in, his breath hot against Anthony’s shoulder. "What does it do?"

"It makes you feel it everywhere," Anthony admitted, his breath hitching. "You lose control. You can’t think about anything else but the sensation. It’s overwhelming."

Andrew’s breathing had changed. It was shallower, faster. He shifted in his seat, adjusting his position. Anthony didn't dare look down, but he could guess that Andrew was getting hard. The air between them had thickened, charged with a sudden, volatile sexuality that neither of them knew how to navigate.

"Show me," Andrew blurted out.

Anthony froze. "What?"

"Show me," Andrew said, more firmly this time. "Or at least... tell me more. Describe it. I want to know what it feels like to be with you. With someone like you."

"Not with me," Anthony corrected sharply, though his resolve was crumbling.

"Whatever, you know what I mean," Andrew dismissed, waving a hand. "But I mean... we look the same. Doesn't that make it easier to imagine? If you tell me how it feels for you, I can picture it on myself."

He reached out, his hand hovering over Anthony’s knee. It was a tentative gesture, heavy with implication. Anthony looked at his brother’s hand—strong, tanned, identical to his own. He thought about the sensations he’d experienced in locker rooms, the guilty fantasies he’d buried deep down in the dark recesses of his psyche because they were forbidden, wrong, twisted. But Andrew was right here. He was asking. He was curious.

"It’s electric," Anthony whispered, letting his guard down just a fraction. "It starts with the touch. When a guy touches you, it’s not soft. It’s demanding. You feel the heat."

Andrew’s hand dropped onto Anthony’s knee, fingers digging in slightly. "Like this?"

Anthony’s cock twitched in his trunks. "Yeah. Rougher."

Andrew slid his hand up Anthony’s thigh, his eyes never leaving Anthony’s face. The heat of his palm burned through the wet fabric. The intimacy of the moment was suffocating, sharp and terrifyingly addictive.

"And then?" Andrew whispered. "Then what happens?"

"Then you stop thinking," Anthony said, his voice trembling. He reached out, covering Andrew’s hand with his own, not to stop him, but to press it harder against his leg. "You just let go. You let the body take over."

"Show me how you let go," Andrew demanded, his eyes dark with a mixture of fear and desire.

Anthony looked at the pool house. The windows were tinted. Nobody could see them. He looked back at Andrew, seeing the desperation, the curiosity warring with the taboo. He knew he should stop. He knew this was a line that, once crossed, could never be uncrossed. But the blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out the warning bells.

"Okay," Anthony breathed. "But not here."

Andrew’s hand squeezed his thigh. "The pool house?"

"The pool house," Anthony agreed.

He stood up, his legs shaky, and grabbed his towel. Andrew stood up too, his bulge clearly visible in his swim trunks. He didn't try to hide it. He didn't look away. They walked in silence toward the small brick building at the edge of the property, the sun hot on their backs, the weight of what they were about to do hanging heavy and undeniable between them.

As Anthony pushed open the door to the cool, dark interior, shutting out the blinding sun, he heard the lock click shut behind him. He turned to face his brother, the air thick with the scent of chlorine and impending arousal. Andrew stood against the door, looking at him with a hunger that was identical to his own.

"So," Andrew said, his voice rough. "Teach me."