Date: Wed, 14 Dec 2011 23:33:24 -0600
From: Keith Peters <fman52960@gmail.com>
Subject: "The Brother", Part II of the "The Men of the House" series.

The following story contains descriptions of explicit sex acts between
consenting adult males.  If you are offended or if it is illegal for you to
view such materials, then leave now.  By proceeding further you agree that
you are of legal age and not in violation of any local or Federal laws
governing such.

	I had no idea what I was being asked to do; I only knew it was
something my brother wanted me to do so it had to be alright.  He was,
after all, several years older than me and my parent's had left him in
charge so he had to know best.
	At this particular point in time, my older brother was about five
four or five five and I was much shorter.  I had always thought of him as
being so much taller than me even when we were both adult men.  The truth
is, he maxed out at about five eight and I stopped growing at six one.
	Anyway, as we lay beside each other in our full-sized bed I was
mesmerized by the masculine smell emanating from his armpits.  There were
small puffs of hair under each and when he raised them over his head as he
did now, he smelled more like a man than a teenage boy.  I didn't know why,
but something about the aroma made me want to be closer to him -- to do
whatever he asked me to do.  It was both mesmerizing and intoxicating. It
was like some mysterious cologne that forced me to his desire and ordered
me to obey him.
	He had sent me to bed at my bedtime, assuring me he'd be in shortly
so I shouldn't be afraid.  True to his word, I had no sooner climbed into
bed dressed only in my tighty whiteys than he entered the room smelling of
a freshly smoked cigarette.  In the 60's, smoking was still considered
cool.  He switched on the small radio sitting on the dresser.  I pretended
not to be watching as I watched him slowly undress.  He emptied his pockets
onto the chest-of-drawers before removing his shirt.  He always wore a
white tee shirt underneath.  He took off his shoes and socks just before
unfastening his pants.  He paced the room a bit as if trying to reassure
himself of what he was about to do.
	After several long minutes, he unzipped his pants and let them fall
to the floor.  He, too, wore tight fitting white briefs which blended well
with the white tee shirt he still wore.  I can remember being nervously
excited but not really knowing why.  I knew my brother was cute, a very
good-looking teen, but I wasn't real sure why I was feeling these strange
sensations in my stomach and below.  A few more minutes passed before he
pulled off his tee and crawled under the sheets.
	The whole time he said not a single word and I, in nervous fear,
spoke none as well.  I trembled with excitement as I felt his warm body
sliding into bed next to mine.  His right foot brushed my leg sending
thrilling chills throughout my young body.  Though I would not have known
it, much less admit it, I had a crush on my own brother.
	We lay there for a few minutes listening to the radio play the most
popular hits of the time. He even sang along with one or two, his arms
perched on the pillow over his head, releasing his scent into the room.  I
was far too excited to sleep, so I lay beside him pretending to sleep.  Two
songs after he crawled between the sheets he gave a great sigh and I,
through squinted eyes, watched his hands disappear beneath the blankets.
      He moved and bucked a bit before settling down again, his hands
returning to their position over his head.  "You can scoot closer, if you
want," his voice was oddly husky.  Still trembling, I moved nearer.  The
smell from his pits overpowered me. He put his right arm under my head,
bringing my nose even closer to that incredible scent.  If I had known what
my dick was really designed for, I probably would have shot a load right
then.
      With his left hand, he guided my arm across my torso to rest on his
chest.  Without saying a word, he moved my hand across his chest then down
his stomach.  I understood what he wanted so that when he released my hand,
I continued to rub him.  Several minutes passed when he whispered, "lower."
      My hand moved lower, encountering a small crop of hair that my young
mind was not expecting.  Now, I understood what all the bucking had been
about earlier.  My brother had been removing his briefs.  My curiosity was
piqued.  My hand combed through the strange feeling patch of hair before
following its growth lower.  What I encountered next made my heart skip a
beat.
      His flesh was hard, yet soft at the same time.  I touched the base of
his masculinity then quickly pulled my hand back.  My brother chuckled
quietly at my reaction before encouraging me, "it's okay; go ahead and
touch it."  Now I was nervous beyond belief but I wanted, scratch that, I
NEEDED to touch his private part again.  Following the same path as before,
I traced down his body to his rock hard tool.  To me, it seemed impossibly
large and harder than mine had ever been.
      He shivered when my small hand grabbed his masculinity. Sensing that
I was somehow bringing him pleasure, I kept my hand on him as I moved it up
and down.  My brother moaned out loudly.  We were like this for a while
before he grabbed my hand and guided it to his balls.  I knew how sensitive
these things were, so I handled them with great care.  He wriggled in the
bed, gasping again.
	"Get under the cover," his voice cooed in my ear, more a sensuous
suggestion than any kind of command.  He raised the covers and new aromas
took command of my senses, all of them reeking of masculinity.  I moved
down his naked torso, captivated by the knowledge that I was about to see
as well as feel my brother's most personal treasures.
	I don't know for sure how much is reality and how much is modified
memory but it seemed I took my time moving my hands and face down his naked
flesh.  I was now surrounded by those profound smells that I have since
spent my whole life associating with raw masculine passion.  The sweat of
his balls, the musk from his ass, the aroma of his feet, and, of course,
the sweat from his pits all making a symphony of smells that, to this day,
cause me to become uncontrollably aroused.
	I rested my young head on his abdomen, staring at the huge thing in
my hand.  It was enormous, frightening, and overwhelmingly beautiful. The
large, bulbous head perched atop ah long, thick shaft of steely
flesh. Holding it in my hand, staring down its barrel, gave me my first
glimpse of true power.  Biceps are impressive, ripped abs sensual, but
nothing compares to the sheer supremacy displayed by a rock hard cock with
a loaded pair of balls.  As an adult male, I can now more fully understand
the cause of fear and envy many women experience when beholding a naked
man.
	It isn't the fear of violence or even the envy of position that
causes distress among the unenlightened.  It is the power of passion that
makes them tremble, that fills them with jealousy and desire.  It is this
passion that makes a man with a three inch cock as formidable as a porn
star sporting thirteen inches.  And for any man who has ever felt
inadequate or inferior because he doesn't think he measures up, think
again.  Every man holds the power to give life.  Not just the life of
reproduction, even male insects can reproduce. But we have the power to
give the life of intimacy, connection, love, security and (again) passion.
	"Suck it," my brother's breathless whisper egged me on.  Part of me
was filled with disgust at the thought of putting that thing in my mouth.
I knew piss came from it for starters.  But I had also heard all the lewd,
disgusting things my mother said about men especially the wicked stories
she told when she got home from working at the hospital; stories intended
for mental, if not physical, emasculation. Without knowing it, I was
developing contempt for my own masculinity at a very early age in large
measure based upon her emotional insecurities.
	My hesitation didn't last long.  I was enamored of his manliness,
captivated by the spell of his masculinity.  Tentatively, I extended my
tongue to touch the tip.  Slowly I allowed my mouth to merge with his
manhood. Once inside me, I found myself inexplicably drawn to wanting more.
I swallowed as much of him as my young mouth could take.  It never entered
my mind that in a few short years, I, too, would be sporting such a piece
as this.  At that moment, my brother had the only working cock in the world
and it was mine for the taking.
	The hairs surrounding his manhood tickled my nose but I scratched
it without pulling his piece from my lips.  I stayed like this for quite a
while, moving my head up and down, licking his shaft without removing it
from my mouth.  I doubt I was very good at all at sucking him on this, my
first time, but my brother did not complain.  He let me continue until my
jaws were tired, savoring every moment.  Eventually, I had to back off from
sheer exhaustion.  He hadn't cum (not that I knew what that was until
later) but I was just too tired to go on.
 	I pulled off and resumed my position at his side, my face in his
armpit once again. After having sucked his dick, I thought nothing of
licking the sweat from his underarm.  My tongue moved over the sweat-soaked
hairs which excited my brother even beyond his expectations.  He worked his
cock with his free hand.  I don't know if he came or not, I eventually fell
asleep.
	The next night the scene repeated itself.  The only difference was
that, while I was sucking his dick, my brother pissed in my mouth.
Apparently, he had not yet had a real climax and in his naiveté thought he
was cumming when he was instead emptying his bladder into my mouth.  The
sheer volume of it caused a great mess all over the bed as I was unable to
hold it in my mouth, having no desire to swallow it.
	If I recall correctly, it was our third attempt that rendered the
desired results.  He rushed me to bed, ensuring that my sister (older than
me, yet younger than he) was in bed before he joined me.  I waited with
mixed emotions.  Part of me absolutely loved what my brother and I had been
doing, but another part of me had no desire whatsoever to attend another
piss party.
	As it turned out, my brother had apparently been discussing things
with a friend or with friends.  That night he entered our room and, after
making sure all the doors were locked, got completely naked and crawled in
to bed.  After instructing me to take off all my clothes, he drew me to
him.  The feeling of being naked in bed was new and exciting to me.  But
the feeling of my naked body pressed to his was beyond words.
	I started again with the stroking.  This time I let my tongue work
his armpits first before moving down his body to his crotch.  Once there, I
traced his large member with my tongue, wetting it enough for my lips to
slide easily down his shaft.  I also licked his balls, which he liked a
lot.
	I moved my mouth up his shaft, parting my lips and taking him once
more inside me.  This time I did my best to use my mouth to bring him
pleasure.  It wasn't long before my brother's breathing changed.  It became
shorter and interrupted every now and then with soft moans and quiet gasps.
He used his hips to move his hardness in and out of my mouth.  His hands
were caressing the top of my head while encouraging me onward.
	My own little pecker was rock hard and threatening to rip out of my
skin from my excitement.  I was lying on my left arm and couldn't do much
with it but my right hand was free so I rubbed it up and down his leg as
far as I could reach.  Every time my hand got to the top of his leg, I
would move it around his crotch and use it to cup his balls.  He went nuts.
	His back arched as his hips humped even more of that thing in my
mouth.  Several times I gagged, feeling as though I were about to throw up.
But I kept at it.  Eventually my persistence paid off.
	With one final great arching of his back, my brother moaned (albeit
too loudly) and I felt the satin-iron rod pulsating in my mouth.  I
immediately felt a thick, creamy liquid filling my mouth.  The taste was
salty and more than a little bitter but I knew it wasn't piss so I
continued sucking him as he thrashed about on the bed.  Several times the
unruly monster ripped from my mouth and spat its creamy saliva in my face
and each time I wrestled it back to where I felt it belonged, inside my
mouth.  It was almost a game to me fighting this leviathan as it flopped
and wriggled and disgorged its contents into my mouth and all over my face.
      It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like time was standing
still.  My brother collapsed back on the bed breathing as though he had
just run a marathon.  I rested my head on his abdomen in a pool of the
thick goo his dick had spewed all over.  I could feel the globs of it
running down my face.  I stared in awe and wonder at my brother's pecker
which sill throbbed and oozed as it began to shrink.
      My brother was quiet for a long time, not moving as he waited for his
breathing to return to normal.  "Damn," he finally said before rolling out
of bed leaving me with my head where his body had just been.  If he was in
his post-cum period, I was in genuine afterglow. Unknowingly, I had just
accepted the role of cocksucker to my brother.  For the next six years, I
would be there to pleasure him when he wanted or needed.  Eventually, I
would have had my mouth over every inch of his body from his toes to the
top of his head.  The time was magical for me.
      I had no idea what had just happened, but I knew it was something
wonderful.  I knew it was something I wanted to do again.  Not that I
wanted to be the one spewing, no.  I wanted to be the one making the other
guy spew.  I wanted to hold my brother's dick in my mouth every chance I
could and make it erupt like it just had.  Not just my brother, but my
older brother, too!  My best friend who lived next door, the farmer that
lived across the street, and any other man that would let me all seemed
like likely candidates for me to make happy. (Not that I had those men,
it's just an example; don't get carried away, guys.) Just knowing I was
able to bring another man such pleasure, to take him to those heights
filled me with a purpose that has lasted my whole life. And that was the
second time I came to understand the true meaning of power.

I hope you enjoyed reading about my family.  If so, please take a moment to
drop me a line at dadnson@mail.com to let me know.  As this writing
concerns our family, all rights are reserved.  This work may not be
reproduced either in whole or in part without my expressed written consent.
Publication of this material without express written consent is strictly
prohibited.