Ask your two Brothers of Strength (M/M alt)

Wherever you begin, you want most of all to be ready for what you find and, as daylight peeks shyly into the stony valley, decide to start with a brisk work-out. Your unlucky brothers, bred to the warrior caste of Strength, will have to make do with swinging axes, hoisting stones, or wrestling each other. Born to the Breeding caste, your exercise is much more enjoyable though no less rigorous. You snatch up a fur rug on the way out of your den and seek out a pleasant spot.

You choose a sandy cleft in the rocks, overlooking the warriors' and hunters' training ground. Maybe it's unkind of you, but you have always enjoyed watching them strain and strive, while letting them see how you, an Orc of the Breeding caste, get to train instead. Today, both your elder brothers are there, and you smile, swelling a bit in the ratty, old leather loin-cloth that you've worn since your first pubes sprouted. It hardly contains your adolescent Orc-meat, now, but for you such display is a point of pride. You tug out your greasy dong and give it a squeeze, letting the pouch of your garment cup your heavy, hairy sack.

You can't actually cum from this, you know, but it does feel awfully good to grip and stroke yourself hard, and see how much sticky pre you can milk from yourself to soak your bush and get your nut-sack all sticky before your arm gives out. The thought of your sack pleases you, and you reach with your free hand to heft and cup and weigh your swollen balls. Your exercise will only increase your need to mate, and increase the amount of potent Orc-cum you can shoot when you finally do get to breed. So you give yourself plenty of time, pumping your throbbing shaft, sliding the thin, sensitive foreskin back around its drooling head, and lean back, bucking into your lazy fist.

At some point, you notice that your two older brothers have paused to watch, leaning into each other's big, sweaty frames to whisper and laugh, sharing some private joke. You don't wave, but do give them a show, even leaning forward with your arms hooked under your knees, to curl down and take the fat crown of your cock between your short tusks and full lips to suck yourself slowly, earning you a smile from both. You take a long moment to savor your own taste. Your mate will be awfully lucky to have such a cock to suck on, when it isn't breeding her cooch or slamming her ass.

You uncurl again, letting a finger slide past your sack to graze and circle your own sticky butthole, wondering how much better your cock would taste after a good, slow butt-fuck. You decide you'll be sure to ask your mate, when you get the chance. You can imagine it so clearly, how much your mate will like it, that you almost get jealous. You love your big cock so much you almost don't want to share. But these past eight weeks leading up to your eighteenth nameday, six long years of playing with yourself have really gotten your sack heavy and full. You can almost feel your seed churn for release, and pump more slowly at the thought. Soon.

Such thoughts and fantasies carry you through the morning, switching hands, changing position to tease your warrior brothers with different views of your breeder's physique, smaller than theirs but eagerly male, pleased to see how hard they both get from watching you. By noon, the early shade has long abandoned you, and you are sprawled in the full heat of the sun, soaked in your own pre and dripping with sweat. Your arms ache as you stuff your drooling dong back into its greasy pouch, and huff your own underarm for your rough, male scent. So fucking hot! You know your mate will love it.

Below, your two brothers have concluded their own training, as well, and are leaning close in conversation, looking your way. You rise and shake the dust from the fur rug, and decide to head down to greet them. Maybe they have some ideas where you should begin to look for a mate. Traditionally, this is a private decision that a Breeding Orc would make after a solemn vision-quest. But you decide time with your dong is good enough, as it is exactly what you'd do anyway as soon as the Shamans left you alone, and it can't hurt to ask. Besides, you want to find out if their sweaty pits smell half as good as yours do. They see you coming, and wait for you as you scramble down a stony path.

"Hey there, Little Bro," the older twin, Gurak, throws a meaty arm around your shoulder, drawing you in for a playful tussle, giving you a chance to nuzzle into his deep, hairy pit for a good, deep huff. Karug, the younger twin, takes the opportunity to tug your too-small loincloth up your butt-crack to grease your sweaty hole, followed by a meaty smack to your ass, followed with a playful squeeze.

"Quite a show up there," he says, offering you his under-arm in turn. You take the offer, raking the hair there with your tusks as you take a furtive lick with the tip of your tongue. Just as good as yours, really, but each of them different. Karug doesn't seem to mind, anyway, just cupping your butt for another friendly squeeze.

"And that's quite a chub you're sporting these days, Bro," says Gurak, reaching in to drag a big, callused thumb along the straining swell of your captive cock, soaking its straining pouch in front. You spread your legs proudly to buck into his hand so he can feel your meat twitch and your nuts tighten at his touch. "Isn't it your nameday? We were surprised to see you, up there."

"Yeah, thought you'd be up and off before the sun to go find anything willing to let you fuck it," agrees Karug, "From what we saw, you're horny enough." They're horny, too, you see, and you can't resist a little-brother urge to tease them a bit more up close, backing your rear into the front of Karug's hips as you innocently press and slide your own hip against Gurak's straining bulge.

"So horny," you admit. "But I wanted to be in top form and, well..." It's a break with tradition, but there is no one around to witness your transgression. "I don't know where to begin. So, I decided you two might have some ideas I'd never even thought of..." You trail off uncertainly, looking to see how this unorthodox request goes over.

Somewhat to your surprise, they neither draw away from your teasing, nor do they seem unhappy to be asked. Karug teases you back, grinding his semi-stiffy against your meaty, boyish butt like you were a girl, and Gurak is still slowly stroking your own hard cock through your loincloth in front. They share a look and smirk with some private joke like twins have.

"Well, as it happens, we might," admits Gurak, as you meet his smirking eyes and buck again into his hand.

"And as you have asked, Little Bro" adds Karug, his breath hot under your ear as he leans in conspiratorily, "we're even allowed to tell you. If..."

"If, what?" They aren't usually quite this friendly, but it must be on account of the occasion - your coming of age. You prompt Karug to continue, grinding your half-naked backside against his humping hips, playing along.

Karug nips at your ear at the teasing. "Can you keep a secret?"