Part 4: The Ashes
Author's note- this story contains depictions of same sex incest.
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"I don't believe it." I said to my dad, stepping outside and closing the sliding door behind me. Back in the living room my wife was watching TV with our little girl, completely oblivious to the conversation we were having.
"It's true mate. You can blame bloody Glenn and his big mouth." My father replied.
"I would, but I'm pretty fond of Glenn's big mouth." I joked. I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line.
"So you'll do it?" he asked.
"Fuck, what choice do I have?" I asked back at him.
"If you're uncomfortable..." he began.
"No, no, it's fine dad, I'm in." I said, trying to sound confident.
"Great, we'll see you in a few days." The old man concluded. We said our goodbyes and hung up and I sat outside, staring at the phone for a bit in disbelief.
This whole thing started a few years ago...
I grew up in a house at the end of the street backing on to a nature reserve. Living in the house next door were the Stones- Glenn, his missis and their son Noel. Glenn and Noel were both blessed with a friendly disposition, blonde messy hair and big cocks. On the other side was gruff Charlie Cooper, a bearded redhead bloke who was more silver than red at this stage, his wife and their son, the bodybuilder Andy. Andy looked more like my old man than I did, in no small part due to them both lifting a lot of weights. Not that I'm a slouch in the looks department, but I'm certainly not bulging with muscles like those two. Anyway, that's the basics of who we are.
We've all got wives and kids of our own now and we bring 'em home for Christmas. It's become tradition at this point that the wives and kids will go away for a day and leave us to our annual game of "backyard cricket". Only a few years ago me, Noel and Andy busted our dads having a bit of heavy man-on-man sex in the shed, and now the game has taken on a very different kind of batting style, if you catch my drift.
In short, one day a year, me, the two blokes I grew up next door to and our dads all get together, bum like mad and call it cricket. We keep score and everything- first one to come loses, final cummer wins. Sometimes there's teams, sometimes it's chaos, and full disclosure, more often than not a father ends up copping his own son's cock in the arse, or vice versa.
Like all good backyard cricket games, this one has gotten more complex over the years. Last year Charlie's brother and his two sons joined us, along with Glenn's tradie neighbours. That pushed us up to eleven, enough for an actual cricket team.
Usually, once the day is done, I forget about fucking blokes for another year and get on with things until next December. Turns out not everyone in the group was doing the same, and good old Glenn's enthusiasm for the "sport" had spread to telling a few other blokes. Word of mouth about our mouths had spread and, well, that's what the old man's phone call was about.
Apparently, the eleven of us had been challenged.
By a rival team.
Of eleven blokes.
I was still trying to wrap my head around it all as I sat down to dinner with the family. The wife was going on about our plans for Christmas, how we were getting to my parents' place, arrangements with the kids, etc. I just sat there nodding along and trying to figure out how there were eleven other blokes out there willing to give this a go. Not that I wanted to question it too hard, the backyard cricket match was one of the high points of my year, and the idea of extra players only made my dick more rigid. I was excited and also dead curious how the old man, Charlie and Glenn were planning to pull this off.
A few weeks later we rocked up to my parents' place, arms full of presents, our eldest running around and our new baby dozing in her carrier. Soon enough the Coopers and the Stones came over for the annual champagne with the neighbours, and we all had a good time. I could sense the undercurrent though, between me and the boys. Had they been told too? Did they know I knew? Was dad gonna make some grand gesture to get the wives out of the house again this year? How the fuck were 22 blokes supposed to fit in the backyard? Tonnes of questions which were soon answered.
"Alright everyone. As always, it's great we keep this tradition going every year, we love having youse home for Christmas." My father said, champagne in hand.
"Last year, we sent the wives away for a day at the spa. And since they had such a great time... we're doing it again this year." The old man declared to much applause.
"BUT. Me, Charlie and Glenn decided maybe us boys should do something fun too, so we're off for a day ourselves too! Bit of a father/son day out. Go-karting, whiskey tasting, got a whole day of it planned." He said.
I tuned out the rest of the speech as my mind put the pieces together. So THIS was how it was gonna work. The team wasn't coming to us, we were going to them.
Sure enough, a few days later, the six of us did a convoy to the train station to wave off the wife and kids, then drove for about an hour out to some farmland. Along the way we stopped and picked up Charlie's brother, Cliff, who had split me in half with his giant cock the year before. Joining Cliff were his twin sons, Tony and Jack, who had lasted all of three seconds in last year's match before creaming themselves. The 23-year-olds were clearly just as excited this year, sporting matching stiffies through their shorts.
Glenn also had to double-back to get the two tradies who lived on the other side of him- the older bloke, Kyle, and the younger redhead Ben. I'd taken Kyle's anal virginity last year and I couldn't help but wonder if he was open to the experience again.
Once we had our whole team collected we met up at the address, a big, rambling farmhouse outside of town. I was a little cautious about going to stranger's house but apparently the owner was a mate of Glenn's and the whole situation was pretty above-board.
We all got out of the cars and eyed up the front of the house. There was a note on the door telling us to walk around the back, and we did as we were told.
Boy, were we greeted by a sight.
Eleven blokes, all starkers except for their shoes and socks, standing around and stretching, chatting, scratching their impressive nuts. When they noticed us they gave up a big cheer and we responded in kind.
One bloke, I'd guess maybe in his 40's or 50's, with a clear tradie's tan, short brown hair and a big smile, came walking over to us. His soft short cock flopped as he approached, and I could see it was starting to extend a bit. He held out his arms wide and gave Glenn a big hug.
"Hey mate! Glad you guys made it!" he said in a broad country accent.
"Good to see you Mick." Said Glenn in return, patting him on the back and lowering one hand to squeeze Mick's pale arse.
Mick went around in turn, shaking hands with each of us. Then he called the other players over.
He ran through the introductions fairly fast but I was able to keep up for the most part.
Next after Mick was Don, another 40-something country bloke with a bit more of a tan, a bit less of a belly and a lot more cock than Mick. He was decked out in a blue cap and sunnies but I wasn't going to forget him any time soon, his piece was a monster on the slack. Apparently Mick was a mate of Don's and they were always looking for new challenges like this to push each other.
Then there was Troy, and if you had looked up the word "Adonis" in the dictionary you would have found him. Perfect muscles, mid-30's, short brown hair, square jaw, big smile. Little bit of chest hair and a thin coating of black pubes, but otherwise you could see every inch of the fella's skin and already-stiff knob.
