It was late morning, the kitchen smelled like the greasy eggs Ryan had just finished cooking and that now sat staring back at him from the plate he'd set on the counter when taking a seat on the barstool. He idly scrolled through his phone, still half asleep, while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.
Normally Ryan did not get up so late. But it was summer, he wasn't taking any courses, and he'd spent the night getting railed by a trucker with a fat dick. He scrolled through the messages he'd exchanged with the older man, coming to the latest one that had been sent early this morning.
"I'll be passing back through in a few weeks. Will want some more of that boy pussy then," Ryan read.
He smirked to himself. Ryan had not expected to get any action on a Sunday night. But scrolling through Grindr past midnight occasionally proved to be fruitful. That was often when he got the best dick, and this man was no exception.
He'd been just about to call it quits for the night when the man had messaged him. His profile lacked a picture and provided only scant details, merely that he was 47, 5'10, and weighed 180 pounds. Ryan had been all set to ignore the simple "hey" that the man had sent, that is until a picture of his dick came through.
Ryan spent about a minute studying the close up image of the large dick sprouting from black pubes that crawled up to meet the body hair covering his gut. A quick message back to the man soon led to an exchange of dirty messages and more pictures, most of which came from Ryan as the man demanded to see the ass that he teased in his profile photos.
"Fuck yeah," the man wrote. "Need a tight boy pussy just like that to plug tonight."
"How about I come out there so you can?" Ryan had responded, and soon he was driving to the truck stop off the highway at 12:30 at night.
He and the trucker spent a couple of hours having lengthy and rough sex on the bed in the back of his rig. He was not a particularly good looking man, nor was he in shape, but that hadn't mattered to Ryan. What had mattered was the big dick he'd seen pictures of. That's what had prompted him to initially respond and why he had driven, late at night, to meet someone who hadn't bothered to send a face picture of themself.
And it had paid off. The trucker had taken Ryan from behind, holding his waist so tight that the man's wedding ring dug deep into his skin while he pounded him good. Ryan's screams of pleasure had echoed loudly throughout the cab's small interior and were occasionally interspersed with sharp cracks from the man's hand whacking Ryan's ass.
After he'd blown his first load deep inside Ryan, the trucker had rolled over onto his back and forced Ryan's mouth onto his half-hard cock to clean it. Then, after a short interim for recovery, they went at it again, and by 3AM, Ryan had left the truck stop with copious amounts of the man's thick seed lodged within him.
Ryan typed out a response, "You should get here early in the evening, that way you'll have more time to breed me repeatedly."
The man, who's name he still didn't know, wrote back almost immediately.
"Mmm, wish I had a twink like you at every stop on my route."
Ryan's smirk grew into a self-satisfied grin. Since turning 18 over a year ago, he'd thoroughly embraced his status as a twink, flashing his tight little ass to anyone with a big enough dick to stuff him good.
Of course, it was usually older men that chased guys like him, lured in by his thin body, young age, and firm, bubbly asscheeks. It helped that he was only 5'7 too. Gruff men often enjoyed throwing him around, and Ryan enjoyed being thrown around. Factor in his short, quaffed brown hair and cute, slightly feminine facial features and he was considered the ideal twink.
Ryan was in the middle of drafting an equally dirty reply when the loud thud of footsteps on the stairs turned his smile into a frown.
Since they were the only two in the house, Ryan knew exactly who to expect to come walking into the kitchen, yet that knowledge still didn't stop him from feeling displeasure the moment his stepbrother appeared in the doorway wearing nothing but a yellow bath towel wrapped tightly around the waist.
"'Sup, chief," his stepbrother sneered.
He always called Ryan some type of cliche macho term, such as "champ" or "boss", but with a note of condescension, as if he were mocking him.
"Hey, Billy," Ryan replied flatly.
He didn't look up from his phone as Billy approached the other side of the counter.
"Aw, you didn't have to make me breakfast," his voice was colored by false sincerity that carried a cloying undertone which grated on Ryan's nerves.
Billy picked up the plate to shovel a chunk of runny eggs into his mouth. With deadened eyes, Ryan watched Billy chomp messily on his breakfast for several seconds before his stepbrother paused to offer him a shit eating grin, his thick lips pulling back to exaggerate his already unattractive facial features.
The pockmarks along his cheeks bunched together to give his smile a ghoulish quality, and his thin, crooked nose flattened out, making the pores on his nostrils flair visibly. Ryan stared back at Billy, expressionless, as the yolk oozed through the gap of his two large front teeth.
In the six years since his mother had married Billy's father, Ryan had learned to hide the disgust he normally felt for his stepbrother's abhorrent behavior, particularly when Billy was doing something intentionally to get a rise out of him, just as he was now.
So, Ryan held eye contact for long enough to show Billy that he wouldn't get the reaction he desired before glancing back down at his phone. Billy snorted to himself and resumed eating Ryan's breakfast.
"You know, you should make me breakfast more often," he remarked.
"Or you could just make it yourself," Ryan fired back, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Billy waved him off dismissively, "Women's work."
Ryan gritted his teeth but said nothing in response to the insult, already kicking himself for saying something in the first place.
After a few more minutes, Billy thunked the plate back on the counter and lumbered over to the fridge to yank it open. He dug around inside and pulled out the orange juice. Ryan's eyes drifted back up just as Billy unscrewed the top to begin drinking straight out of the carton.
This time, with Billy occupied, Ryan let his face transform to show the genuine revulsion he felt for his stepbrother. Watching him lift his arm and tilt his head back to chug the juice, Ryan was struck, not for the first time, by the sharp contrast between Billy's face and body.
While his face was off putting in almost every way, Billy possessed a toned and muscular physique. In the three years since graduating high school and joining the army, he had transformed his six foot average build, exercising enough to attain strong, round biceps, broad, firm pecs, and a wide yet flat abdomen.
Ryan loathed to admit that the army had benefited Billy in any way. After all, he possessed the qualities you'd expect an asshole joining the military: arrogance, obnoxiousness, immaturity, ignorance; all of which became more prominent now that he was "defending freedom."
But in regards to his physicality, Ryan was forced to admit, however reluctantly, that the army had allowed his stepbrother to acquire the type of sculpted body most men would dream of, and that Ryan thought of as hot.
Still though, Ryan was bitter enough about his reluctant admiration of Billy's physique that he often reminded himself that no amount of muscle could ever make up for his ugly face or horrendous personality.
Billy was, quite simply, just a butterface, and Ryan always took joy in focusing on the features that made him so, such as the receding hairline that even his standard military buzz cut couldn't hide.
His petty hyper focus on Billy's premature balding was suddenly interrupted when the bigger man lowered the orange juice to let out a loud, wet belch.
Ryan was unable to stop himself from cringing, and overcome by disgust, blurted, "Can't you at least say 'excuse me' if you're gonna burp like that?"
Billy rolled his eyes, "You sound like my ex-girlfriend."
