Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 11:34:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Smith <wetswimboy2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: An Invitation

An Invitation

By: Michael Smith

Author's Note: All comments are welcome.  Please send to
wetswimboy2000@yahoo.ca



He flew into my arms when I returned from my first year of
university, this boy whose life I had been absent from for four
months.  I lifted him up and kissed him quickly on the lips.

"Let's go start practising!" he said enthusiastically as I
put him down.  Adam had recently developed an obsession with
soccer, so my mother found him a team to join for the summer,
and I had promised to teach him how to play.  As I had just
gotten home and it was late, I told him what all boys his age
hate to hear, that we will do it tomorrow.

After my father had passed away a few years ago, Adam and I
became very close.  It was because of this relationship that my
decision to go away for school was a difficult one, and I
realized how much I had missed him as we sat at the dinner table
and he regaled me with stories about his life at school.

This continued through dinner and well past dessert when my
mother finally interrupted, told him to take a bath and then go
to bed.  As much as I had missed him, I was somewhat relieved,
but I let out a sigh when he readily agreed to do as he was
told, but after getting up he grabbed my arm and dragged me
upstairs.

"I want you to tell me a story, like you used to!" he said.
Like all boys, he hated baths, so to make the experience more
pleasurable for him, I would change into trunks, climb into the
tub with him and tell him stories that I would make up on the
spot while I bathed him.

I feigned a much more extreme state of fatigue and he
laughed as he pulled on my arm, all the way up the stairs.

"Go get yourself ready for the bath and I'll meet you in
the bathroom," I said to him.  In my bedroom I quickly changed
into a pair of trunks and then went to the bathroom and began to
run the bath.  A few minutes later, Adam walked into the
bathroom, carrying a neatly folded towel, pyjamas, and a fresh
pair of shorts.  I was sitting on the side of the tub, and he
put his things down and came up to me.

He lifted his arms and I pulled off his t-shirt, revealing
a smooth chest, slightly more muscular than the way I remembered
it.  Next, I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his
ankles.  Neither of us questioned why I was undressing him.  It
was not that he could not do it himself, but it was part of the
routine that neither of us thought about breaking.

His legs were just as smooth and slender as the rest of his
body, but those muscles as well were more defined than I had
remembered.  I pulled down his shorts.  He was not erect, but
the sudden cold made his penis slightly stiff.  I found myself
looking at it rather than at him, suddenly and mysteriously
fascinated with it.

This was not a part of my brother's body I had ever before
noticed.  It is one of those things that as a brother, one
simply does not think about.  But I felt a sudden urge to touch
it.  It seemed like a long time had passed, him standing there
naked in front of me, his naked body causing me to become hard,
when I finally snapped out of it and told him to enter the bath.

There were not yet any bubbles in the water, so I had a
virtually unobstructed view of his body, which I did not take my
eyes off of as I began a story.  We were leaning against
opposite sides of the tub, both of our legs in front of us, mine
touching the sides of the tub and his touching the sides of my
legs.

He knew the bath routine, and after a few minutes of the
story had passed, he automatically brought himself close to me
and rested on his knees, his back turned to me.

I rubbed shampoo into his hair, not letting the story
falter for even a moment.  Next, I took the bottle of shower
gel, and lathered the soap on his back and his bottom.  As I did
this I felt my erection getting stronger instead of going away.
I knew that this was not something that should be happening, but
I was unable to make myself stop enjoying it.  When I was
finished with his back, he turned around.

I rubbed the shower gel over his arms and then over his
chest, caressing his nipples until I felt them going hard.  I
glanced occasionally at his face, making sure that he was
engrossed in the story so that he would not notice the extra
attention I was paying to his body.  I moved on to his stomach
and waist, enjoying the feel of his taught muscles.

I took some more of the gel in my hands and with only my
index finger and thumb, rubbed it over his balls and onto his
penis.  I squeezed him harder than was necessary, but made sure
to keep the story I was telling him exciting.

When I was finished he put one of his legs up on the side
of the tub, then the other, for me to be able to wash them.  He
then settled back into the water, rubbing the soap off of
himself as I finished telling him the story, which left him very
satisfied, but me desperate for more.

*

Adam became comfortable in his nakedness around me.  The
climate changes during the day as well as who was around
dictated his state of dress.  In the relative cold of mornings
and evenings, when my mother was home, he would always be
wearing something.  When we went outside to play football, he
would always leave the jersey behind.  After his baths, he would
dress in some outfit or another, and then remove it at his
convenience in various locations around the house, so that I
could follow a trail of clothes and find him lying underneath
the covers of his bed reading, or sometimes using the computer,
covered with the throw on the chair, eating ice cream out of a
bowl.

When I found him like this once, a bit of ice cream fell
off his spoon, and I quickly bent over and licked it off the
skin just above where the throw was covering his waist.

He enjoyed the various textures of my touch, and always
gave me something to play with.  If we were watching television,
he might give me an arm or a shoulder; if we were playing video
games our legs would touch.  Physically, he was very clear about
what I was allowed to have, but with whatever he gave me I could
do anything.

I could bite into his shoulder, or rub his foot along the
front of my body.  I could caress the skin of his stomach or run
my nails down his back.  I could kiss the flesh of his lips or
his cheeks only in the morning and at night.  The only time he
would give me his whole body was in the bath.  Only then could I
touch him in places he would not give me otherwise—his nipples,
his thighs, and the places in between his legs.

*

During those first weeks of summer, the same comfort did
not reside in me.  I would never let him see me completely
naked.  If I even thought about nakedness when he was around I
would become aroused.

One night he came into my room when I was masturbating.  He
had been frightened from a nightmare.  I quickly ceased what I
was doing and invited him into my bed.  The following morning I
told him that if he ever enters my room again without knocking,
I would use a belt on him.

That day, when I gave him a bath, he provided the story.
He told me what the nightmare had been.  He had done something
bad (though he wouldn't tell me what).  He knew that he was to
be punished for it, so he waited in his room for me to come, but
I never did, and he knew somehow that I wasn't coming back.

"I'm sorry I didn't knock," he said when he finished
describing the dream to me.  "You can punish me if you want."

I put my arms around him, resting my hands on his stomach,
and pulled his body even closer to mine, so that I could feel
the heat not only from the bath water but from the skin of his
back.

"There's no need," I said.  "I told you that because I was
angry.  Not at you, but at what I was doing.  Adam, did you see
what I was doing?"

"Yes.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.  But why were you
angry?  Is what you were doing something bad?"

"No.  But it can be sometimes.  Have you ever done it?"

"Yes," he answered sheepishly, pulling away from my
slightly and closing his legs to hide his penis.

"I got angry because it isn't something I was ready to
share with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well just now when I asked you if you do it, you were
embarrassed.  Which you don't need to be, but the fact that you
are means that you aren't ready to talk about it with me.  Do
you see what I mean?"

"Yeah."

"Good.  But you know that if you ever do want to talk about
anything, that you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah I know."

"Okay.  Do you want to finish your bath yourself?"

"Yeah, I think so."

*

He invited me into his arousal.  He allowed himself to
become erect the next time I was giving him a bath.  As I began
to touch him in between his legs, he leaned back and his lips
turned into a very slight smile.  I continued to pleasure him as
I leant forward and kissed him on the lips, but this time
tasting his lips with my tongue, and coercing his mouth into
letting me in.

I felt his penis stiffen even harder as I stroked it under
the warm water of the bath, continuing until he had an orgasm.

I took off the trunks I always wore while bathing him; the
ones I wore to hide the erection that I now wanted to make
visible.  I took his hand and guided it, making sure that he
would feel the cum when I had an orgasm.  He looked at me with
awe while it came out on his fingers and then gently washed away
in the water.

I smiled at him.  "Tomorrow," I said, "I'll show you what
it feels like to do that with your mouth."

The End.